The Banished

The cold wind rattled and whistled through the ramparts. Doors and shutters creaked loudly partly due to the wind but also the numerous years of neglect.

A lone sentry huddled in a corner trying and failing to stay warm. A thin layer of frost forming on his beard, from a distance it made them appear older than they were. They shivered the bitter cold finding its way through the layers of clothing and he could feel it in his bones.

Why he thought, why have I been posted to this forsaken place? In reality he knew why the shame of failure in battle led him here along with his comrades. Seven warriors banished to the furthest outpost of the empire, sent far away from the court where time and the harsh environment would leave them to be forgotten. This knowledge along with harsh unforgiving winter stuck to the very soul of the man. He stamped his feet in the vain hope that some movement would ease the coldness in his body. His relief was still hours away, he prayed silently that the enemy would attack, death in battle would restore some of his lost honour and bring an end to this slow march towards death. In reality the enemy had no been seen in the part of the kingdom in decades, another reason why they had been posted here to minimise the chance of them redeeming themselves in battle. The harshest punishment the new Queen could bestow, revenge on the warriors who in their opinion had caused the death of her beloved father by their failure. The truth was more nuanced than that, but in their grief the new sovereign had no room for compassion or fairness. The warriors had failed to protect her father and that was enough for the young Queen, headstrong and angry she took out her grief on those she could.

A howl in the night startled the sentry from his reflections, he looked out over the ramparts to see the local wolf pack that had declared this part of the kingdom as their territory, crossing the barren landscape that surrounded the fortress. Barren because the area had been cleared of trees and foliage to prevent a surprise attack.

Watching the wolves had distracted him but suddenly the warrior felt the hair stand up on his body, the reactions of a lifetime spent surviving in battle warning him even though he could not see it danger was present. Without warning a shadow moved out of the dark recess of the battlements. The warrior reacted trying to draw his axe but whatever it was too quick and he suddenly he felt his own warm blood splatter across his face. Despite the grave injury his warrior instincts meant he was still trying to draw his weapon when a second fatal blow ended his life.

The next morning the sentry’s body was found by his relief Victor, the way the body had fallen at first his comrade thought the sentry was sleeping. However, when he got closer, he could tell something was wrong and rushed to his friend’s side. A warrior of many years he had seen some of the worst wounds that could be inflicted but as he turned his friend over, he gagged at what he saw. He turned away in disgust and anguish unable to control himself, he let out a scream of despair and horror. Feeling dizzy he staggered to the edge of the wall and vomited out into the void of the barren wasteland below.

Victor’s scream had alerted the rest of the fortress, the remaining five warriors rushed to the ramparts armed and ready to confront whatever had caused their companion to cry out in horror.

“Victor what has happened,” cried Wulf.

“Its Erik” Victor replied “He’s dead”