The Dark Crusaders

WARNING! THe Following content is rated PG-13, please do not read if it may offend you, or make you sick in any way.

Prologue: A City Destroyed

Dark Crusaders stormed into the city, killing whoever came into their path, children, animals, women, men, everything. Their horses trampled over stumbling children and fallen men. The whole town was filled with screams and crying. Children hid in terror, hopeful the Crusaders wouldn't’t kill them.

Their leader, Arman shouted to his troops, “Burn all the buildings down and kill anyone who tries to flee from them.” Torches sailed across the town, setting buildings on fire, startled children ran out of their hiding places only to meet the blades of their destroyers.

Smoke filled the air, making a veil above the city. “On to Sarya, the Siygan’s capital!” Arman yelled, turning his horse to the North Trail. Horses stormed out of the city, leaving a dead city in their wake.

A boy scrambled to the other side of the village, hoping to lay in a pile of dead bodies, to look like he was dead. Unfortunately a Crusader on his way out came behind him, giving him a hefty blow on the back with his spear, blood came out in torrents, the boy fell down, barely able to get up. The Crusader turned and left. But he was alive, and managed to pull himself up and slowly make his way towards a spring on the east side of the village.

He was losing blood fast and bodies spread over the ground made his task difficult, since he couldn't’t avoid them he had to stumble over them. Some were his best friends and parents but he didn't have time to shed tears now, he had to survive. Finally he reached the spring and lapped water up greedily. The water tasted more like blood than water. He gagged barely able to keep the foul substance down, his stomach contorted in pain, writhing around like a giant snake. After a few minutes he was able to sit up, next he had to try to keep his wounds from killing him. Then he took some mud and plastered it on his wound as his mother, a nurse, had showed him. It would keep him alive for a while, at least a few days.

He found a spot comfortable enough to rest in, a miracle considering the carnage the Crusader's had left in their wake. He laid down, careful not to fall asleep, if he did, it would mean absolute death.

But then something caught his attention, he could hear giant wings beating in the midnight sky. Griffins were known to come to the scenes of battle and death to gorge themselves on the remains of the dead. He could only hope they would bypass the smoldering town and give him a chance to survive.