Karnavia

The Taj’jzik king sat back in his leather saddle, and wiped the sweat from his shining brow. He lifted his left arm to his right shoulder to adjust his cape, but caught eye of something strange to his right. He held up his left hand with an open palm, indicating the force behind him to stop.
“What is it,” Kamran asked in a disgusted tone, “feel a sneeze coming on?”
“Look ahead, to the hill,” Lernus responded.
The Elf king looked to a large hill up ahead to their right. The top was glowing red, with a heavy cloud of black smoke lingering above it, visible in the moonlit sky.
“There’s a farming village on that hill full of my people,” Lernus added in a worried voice.
The band started up the winding stone path up the grassy hill. As they made their way up, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh flooded their nostrils. The mounted party stopped at the burnt wooden fence at the front of the village, with the two kings at front.
The entire village was destroyed. All of the tall oaks within the town were charred and black, and homes very similar to those in Ver’jal were in ruins. Hammocks were strung everywhere, boxes and chests were ripped open and their contents flung across the path, and the bodies of the Tah’jzik villagers could be seen in front of their homes and on the stone road.
Lernus patted his horse’s head to calm it, and slowly trotted into the obliterated village with the band behind him. Kamran quickly rode up in front of him, and pulled his sword from its sheath. Its slightly curved blade was as white as a pearl, with a golden hilt and a ruby the size of his thumb embedded in the round pommel. The sound of the blade scraping out of the scabbard echoed across the ruined landscape.
“Sheath your sword, Kamran,” Lernus advised, “they’re long gone by now.”
Kamran put his sword away, and turned around to face the men, who were visibly disheartened.
“Search for survivors,” he shouted.
“No,” a dark blue Tah’jzik rider replied, riding up to his king and gazing at the destruction with a solemn face, “the Terra would’ve left none alive.”
“Surely,” Kamran unsteadily responded, “surely there must be somebody-”
“He’s right,” Lernus interrupted, “they live to kill. We’re too late for these people.”
Kamran looked away, his face full of horror. The army was as still as statues, their colorful steeds standing idle and the white Elf flags fluttering in the calm breeze. Lernus rode a little ahead, then looked down at the blackened grass, and saw something of interest. He dismounted, and bent down to pick it up.
In his hands was a tiny doll, small enough to fit into one of his palms. He gazed at it with eyes ready to shed tears. He stared at it for a moment, then stood back up. The blue Tah’jzik who had spoken against Kamran earlier was standing by his king now, just as somber as he. Lernus turned to him, and handed him the doll.
“What do you see,” he asked.
The soldier took the doll, and smelled it, then looked closely at the long, black hair, the light tan skin, and the dark brown clothing.
“The cloth smells of Terra breath. The child must’ve been holding it when she died.”
“Yes,” Lernus replied, “but Terra usually leave children behind. Why would she be gone?”
“Perhaps they took her for food?”
“Possibly, but if they wanted food, they would’ve taken an adult, not a small child. The doll was facing to the northeast, as well.”
“Why is its direction significant?”
“If she was alive, she could’ve dropped it on purpose to indicate to any followers where the horde was going.”
“That could be possible, but would a panicked child really be that clever?”
Lernus looked up, and stuck his hand up high, then put it back down after a moment of silence.
“The wind is blowing to the northeast as well. Terra hordes always travel with the wind because they believe it’s their senses guiding them to another town.”
“So we know where they’re going, then?”
“Yes, we do, soldier.”
“So what would our plan be?”
Lernus took the doll back, and looked at it once more, then put it in a small space inside his ornamented torso armor.
“Kill as many as we can.”
“Forgive me, my liege, but should we not send word back to Ver’jal?”
Lernus put his hand on his rider’s shoulder.
“Of course. You will go back and bring word of what’s happened. Tell my son to prepare the armies in case of an attack, and tell him of this village. We’re a good four hours from the city now, so you’d best get a head start.”
The soldier nodded, then turned around to go back to his horse. Lernus grabbed his shoulder again, and turned him back around.
“And tell my son that his father loves him.”
The soldier nodded once more.
“Yes, my king, you have my word.”
Lernus mounted his horse once more as his messenger sped off. He rode in front of the army, and beside Kamran, who still seemed shocked. He looked at him, then whispered into the silent Elf king’s ear.
“Now do you know what we’re fighting?”
He turned away from Kamran and faced the army.
“The horde travels northeast, with the wind carrying them,“ he shouted, his voice full of anger and demand, “we’ll catch up to them and bring them to their knees!”