Legends from Calmdal (Engelsk berättelse av mig)
It was almost noon when a rider on a white horse flew into the Elves capital Veralís. The riders face was hidden; he wore a cloak with a hood over his head.
“ELVIA IS ATTACKED!” He cried. His scream echoed through the Main Street of the capital. “ELVIA IS UNDER ATTACK!”
Some guards ran towards him. “What are you talking about?”
The rider showed his face – he was a young Elve with a long, blond hair. He looked frightened. “Elvia is under attack by Orcs! They have break through the outer gate and is invading the city! The guards have no chance!”
One guard spoke to the other. “The king must know.”
“I’ll tell him”, the other guard said. After a short pause he spoke again; “Messenger. Get to be barracks and tell the rest of the troop.”
The rider set of immediately, and the guards ran away to the castle.
The King of Elves, Mazeria, looked surprised and afraid. “By orcs, you say? This is terrible news indeed.”
“We must send help”, one guard said. “The soldiers of Elvia can’t hold back an army of orcs!”
“Yes, we must send help. Send a troop to Elvia, but tell them to watch out for ambushes and orc camps. If the troop dies before they reach the city, Elvia is lost.”
“It’s a dangerous way through the woods. Do you think they can make it?”
“I hope so. Send Falcion to tell the Count of Elvia a message; the city must be evacuated. Right now.”
The sergeant opened a golden gage, and a white eagle sprung to the air. The sergeant, Ilos, told the eagle something in a mysterious language.
The eagle seemed to understand, and swished away.
The king was lost in thoughts. Calmdal had long been a dangerous place, with battles between elves, orcs and Spirit Lords.
Now, it looked like the orcs had an advantage.
Rilon spied down on the street from his hideout in the clock tower.
The church was abounded, also most of the other buildings. Orc corpses lied everywhere and only ruins were left of the monks sleeping shacks.
Orcs, Rilon thought. Damn beasts. Only slaughtering and killing, eating and shouting…
He jumped down and landed on his feat. He draw his sword and began to walk towards the centre of town; he could hear the screaming and fighting even from here.
“Rilon! Rilon, what are you doing?”
It was Inio, Rilons friend in the army.
“I’m putting and end to this”, Rilon said.
“No, you’re getting away from here! Travel to Veralís, where you’re safe!”
Inio stopped before him, with a strict look on his face.
“I wont leave as a coward.”
“It’s not cowardly!”
“Why are you still here, then?”
“I saw you climb up the clock tower and decided to help you get out of here.”
“Inio, if we give up now, Elvia is lost.”
“I know, but it’s madness!”
“Haven’t you seen them?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
Inio took a deep breath and whispered: “Five thousand orcs are marching towards the city. Another troop of them have taken over the Eastern Wall. It’s over.”
“I don’t believe that”, Rilon said, pale and horror-struck.
Inio sighed and did a hopeless gesture with his arms. “We can’t do anything. Veralís haven’t sent any reinforcements. It’s over.”
Mala, Oracha and Karkot, all friends to Rilon, came running towards them. “Quick, hide!”
They pushed Rilon and Inio into the empty, dark and silent church.
“What are you doing?” Rilon hissed.
Rilon looked out from a window and saw eight or nine orcs with axes almost bigger then themselves and big war hammers.
The orcs searched the aera, it was obvious that they felt their smell.
“We have to get out of here”, Oracha whispered.
“The back door to the garden”, Mala said. “Come on!”
They ran through the spooky church as silence as they could. They reached the back door and flew into the garden.
Two elves where sitting beside a small tree with yellow leaves. When Rilon and his followers entered, they draw their swords.
“Ah…”, one of them said. “Friends…”
They told him their names and he said: “I’m Molion. This fellow here is Parna.”
“Hello”, Parna said. His right arm was full of blood. “A little accident”, he said with a “not a big problem”-gesture.
“A group of orcs were heading this way”, Karkot said to Molion. “I don’t know if they were following us through the church, but if they did, they’ll be here any minute.”
Molion nodded and said: “We need to get to the barricade near the big fountain… if Captain Laurian survived the big attack.”
“Where is everybody?” Oracha said. “The whole city is deserted, except for the battling ones. And some orcs who sneaks around in the alleys!”
“Most of the army is awaiting reinforcements from Veralí. The people have fled out in the woods, and the captain and his men are hopefully doing resistance near the fountain.”
“Lets get there!” Rilon said. “I want to kick some orc ass!”
“Yes… Parna, are you able to walk?”
“Certainly”, Parna said and groaned when he got on his feat. “It hurts a bit, but not badly.”
They began to ran through the garden, and reached the door that lead to a small street. They ran through the ruins and were soon in the centre of town, were a big, silver fountain stood. It was a sculpture of Elvias first count, Paliara. Right now, he was headless.
A group of elven warriors was hiding behind the big fountain. Archers was shooting arrows on a big group of orcs.
Rilon and his companions ran to the fountain and hide. “Captain!” Molion shouted. “We have found some survivors here!”
“Good work, soldier!” The captain said. “We need to get out of here!”
“But sir, we need to hold our positions until reinforcements arrive!” Parna grunted.
“I’m afraid they won’t come. After all, it’s a dangerous road through the woods and with all this orcs around…”
With a bang, Karkot was hit buy a black arrow. Pierced and certainly dead, he hit the ground.
“NO!” Oracha cried.
Stunned, Rilon stared at the corpse of his old friend.
“YOU DAMN CREATURES!” Oracha screamed. “YOU CURSED BEASTS! I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”
Oracha ran, with his sword ready, towards the orc troop.
After just some seconds, a big orc pierced Oracha with a giant claymore. Rilos fell down to his knees. “This can’t be happening…”, he whispered.
One other archer fell dead down to the ground, and the captain cried: “Get out of here! All of you! Flee into the woods!”
An army of elves with golden armours stormed the market.
“The soldiers of Veralí are here!”
The orcs advanced into the market. They came from every direction. Rilon draw his sword and began to fight.
A deafening noise broke out when iron stroke to steel, when axes and swords faced each other.
Rilon slashed down an orc, and ducked when another swung his enormous weapon at him.
Rlion looked up and saw the captain been stroked down, dead. In the next second, an orcish boot stepped down in front of him. Rilon rolled over and avoid the giant war hammer.
In over an hour, Rilon fought. Orc after orc fell dead down at the ground, slashed buy his sword, and soon silence lied over the market.
Exhausted, Rilon fell down on his knees again. He heard someone nearby:
“Inio, Oracha… Karkot… no… you can’t be dead, you must not be dead…”
With growing apprehension, Rilos looked up. Mala stood over the corpses of Oracha, Karkot – even Inio… all of them was dead.
The captain of Veraldí stood leaning on his golden sword, with sadness in his eyes. “This is horrible… all those men, all dead. All gone…”
Rilon stood up, felt the blood leave his aching head, and collapsed.
Someone was talking.
Confused, Rilon opened his eyes and looked up on a white ceiling. “What?” He said hoarse.
“I said; you better get up now. You need some food.”
Rilon suddenly remembered what had happened, and sat up quickly. “Elvia! The city! Are we still defending it!?”
Androfoth, Elvias shaman, smiled sadly. “I’m afraid, dear boy, that it’s not much left to defend. The orcs may have fled, but half of the commoners of Elvia are dead, and many, many soldiers. Almost whole Elvia are in ruins. This is a dark day.”
Shocked, Rilon leaned back on the pillows.
“And I can’t understand”, Androfoth continued. “Why they are celebrating our victory. Because, to me, it was no victory at all.”
“My friends…”, Rilon said with shaking voice. “My friends… Inio, Karkot, Oracha… they’re all dead…”
“I’m so sorry, dear boy. Many people died this day, it’s hard to all of us.
“But Mala? He’s okay, right?”
“I don’t know. Two Veraldí soldiers brought you here. I haven’t left my hut since the battle started.”
“I need to get to the capital”, Rilon said and sat up. “The King and the Elven Council will prepare for an attack, and I…”
“How can you be so sure?”
“What…? They… they can’t not just let this happen and do nothing?”
“No, you got a point there. I still don’t know how we will revenge this defeat.”
“We need to attack the orcs. And win this time.”
“But the Spirit Lords? You’ve forgotten them.”
“They have been nice and calm the last few months…”
“But they are on the move again. One of their scouts has been seen near the village of Izoria. More attacks are coming, Rilon. I’m afraid we are outnumbered and weaker then our both enemies.”
The Woods of Mirilidon
“Take care of yourself, Rilon.”
“You to, Androfoth. Thank you for all of your help.”
Rilon left Androfoths hut and walked down towards Elvia. The city was still smoking, and all of the corpses weren’t gone.
I need to find Mala, Rilon thought.
He entered the market, and saw a couple of monks who loudly talked with two Veraldí soldiers. On a bench nearby sat Mala, sad and lonely.
Rilon stopped in front of him. “Mala…”
His old friend looked up. “Rilon? Where have you been?”
“Unconscious. Listen, I’m off to the capital…”
“And I’m going with you! I need to visit my family; they’ll worry sick about me when they hear about the attack.”
“Orachos parents lives there to, right?”
“Yeah… I don’t now how I’m going to tell them, but I have to… and you now what…?”
“He got a five year old little sister, who awaits him back at home. He promised to teach her how to use a sword.”
Rilon swallowed and looked down.
“Let’s get moving.”
“But… the funeral…?”
“I’m trying not to think about it!”
“Okay…”, Mala said quietly.
The two friends slowly walked towards the Outer Gate.
Elvia lied in ruins.
The buildings was burning, the people slaughtered. Rilon couldn’t say how many citizens that had fled into the woods, but it didn’t look as many of them. And the woods were very dangerous, so many shouldn’t make it that way.
Jag skulle ha knäckt nacken av dig om du nu hade haft en hals...!
Oftast fungerar språket bättre om man skriver på sitt modersmål. Det är väldigt många fel som gör det svårläst, och en del som helt enkelt blir komiska. Stavning bör t ex vara någorlunda korret, och man märker direkt när du bara skriver med svensk meningsbyggnad.
Mitt förslag är att du skriver på svenska istället, som du säkert behärskar mycket bättre. I övrigt är det väl inget fel på berättelsen.