A flutter of wings, a whisper of air, and his heart quickens.
He hears a fern tickling the breeze, making it quiver, puffing out the dusty irritant.
Jonafer pulls on the leather around his waist, cinching it for battle. A flicker of light on the horizon illuminates a small spot in the darkness, near the horizon, near the earth, near the city where the battle rages. Near where he must go.
The sun burns above him, for there are many leagues between his hillside glade and the war. Here the day has already stirred awake. There, the people tremble in their dreams and in their beds.
There he has been called.
He must run. His horse sought peace years ago and grazes still further leagues away, no longer willing to plunge into fire. Now he wanders, seeking healing for wounds that are inside.
Jonafer’s wounds will not heal, not yet. They are too fresh. They bleed still, inside. But he has no choice.
His sword rests, for now, strapped to his back along with his few possessions. He shrugs his cloak over his pack, but not over his head. He will let the wind blow across his face, awakening him, flinging his long dark hair behind him, his steady pace thudding a throbbing in his head, his mind, his heart.
He kneels one last time before the brook that has quenched his thirst, drinking deeply, his waterskin already full at his side.
He turns and begins running, slow, steady. In a few moments he passes the boundary that has marked his seclusion, but he does not pause. He does not want to think about what lays ahead or what he is leaving. It is what must be. He must go.
He cannot outrun the sun, so the land brightens before he reaches it. He steps on his own shadow. His head is up and he does not see the woods thinning beside him.
Three miles further and he sees the brown line of the road to the city, coming from his left, seeming to cascade, fall into the city like a river flowing slowly through high plains, but gathering speed, knowing there are falls ahead, rapids.
His footfalls on the road crunch and he lets the sound beat like a war drum, sounding out a steady march for advancing soldiers. But there is only him. An army of one.
He runs to the top of the first ring of circling hills, then pauses. He leans over, breathing harder than he used to for such a mild pace, but it has been a while. He pulls a long draught from his water skin, then looks ahead. It is not a peaceful sight.
The sun now reveals the city. It burns. He remembers the towers that should be catching the light, but they are not there. There are instead curly, swirling pillars of smoke. The northern edge of the city is blackened, burned, like crushed rubble, like the forest after the torrents of flame have stripped them bare.
His heart quickens, but only for a moment. He has steeled himself for this. This is what they told him. This is why they called him.
He takes a long breath, then plunges back onto the road.
The sun is in his face as he tops the last ridge, but he only stares down, at the city. Without a wasted thought he begins assessing the devastation before him. There to the left he sees a massed army, but it is smaller than he expected.
He adjusts. The rest of the army must be on the west side. He looks right, north. Ashes, burnt timbers, tendrils of smoke, but no movement. That part of the city is gone.
Very well, perhaps he can use that.
Now his eyes try to see over the city walls, looking for its defenders. But from his vantage point, he can see none.
He hopes they are hiding. He hopes they are regrouping. He hopes, but he also fears.
A battle plan begins in his head, is shoved to one aside as another plan surfaces. And another.
There are no good plans. He must assume he is alone, at least at first. Perhaps others will rally to him. But if not, he will still continue.
He lays down his pack, adjusting the sheath of his sword to lay across his back so he can pull it quickly with his right hand.
He decides. He will approach from the north, from the burnt out ruins. He will search for any in the city still willing and able to fight.
Then he will … well, he thinks, all I can do is fight. We’ll see. We’ll just see.