There is No Home

The land hid under the bodies of many. Wooden houses lay scavenged and empty. Red splatters tainted everything, and corpses scattered above them. The sun was suspended in the air, lining everything with a powder of death. Swords and arrows were as frequent as trees in a forest. This was the town of Lemdal after the Dozen Year War.

The houses were low, almost conquered by the sand dunes. They had no roofs or walls, only ghostly blueprints to a life long lost. Charred weapons and stout torches were scattered as remnants of a battle. The air was filled with dark stony ashes and choking smoke. Persistent fires emitted the only fleeting light within the ash. This was the town of Churs after the Dozen Year War.

Her sword glistened brightly in comparison to the dull town around her. It was still patched with blood from the war it killed in. The bodies she saw all held some sentiment to her, and she does not even try. Tears streamed down her face as she stood aside of her town, motionless. She was Eeva, and her powerful home Lemdal was destroyed.

His armor remained invincible, but his sword was splintered into trembling sadness. He leaned against a pillar in disbelief and agony. Stroking its rugged edges, it was the only spared monument around. He desperately tried to search for his house, only to find it blown away. The cracked borders of his parent’s room remained as a gravestone of their existence. He allowed constant tears to flow from his eyes. He was Vual, and his hometown, Churs, was decimated.

Eeva didn’t act for hours. She was lost, recalling memories in the empty town. She grew, she played, and she loved between the streets of dirt. She could still see her unappreciative self and her family, laughing. Their bodies lay on the floor now, still as settled snow. She wondered how they died, and if she could have killed the cause.

Vual scrambled to replace the rubble. He found a few charred corpses stacked in a pile and rampaged through the bodies for his family. He spent long nights giving everyone a proper funeral. He cried, a child once again. With large rocks from the river, he gave each infinite respects on a tombstone.

Eeva had joined the army when the war first started. Both sides had always wished for a compromise, but the denied kidnapping of dozens of Lemdal oxen forced the chief to declare war. There was still turmoil about the legend that was acknowledged and dusted long ago. The Churs were living on the expanses of desert when the Lemdal came. The land was given to the Lemdal people divinely, but the Churs acted in violence. After much unwanted sacrifice, half of the land became Lemdal, and the remainder stayed Churs. Forests formed walls where the Lemdal lived, and the Churs grew more hate for them in their remaining land.

Vual was one of the last to become active in the conflict. He evaded the army for the longest time, but was forced to join in the final year. Despite his unwillingness, he hated the Lemdal with all of his existence. Vual vividly remembered the first time he was told the old myth. He believed it with his sacred heart and pleaded to hear it retold many times. He hated everything that was Lemdal with a lupin anger. Even in his immature years, he understood how valuable land was. He wanted to live on the land that was once Churs.

Eeva was devastated. She knew that the Churs have succeeded. They were going to come and claim the Lemdal territory for their own. She was the lone survivor and she would kill everyone she could. For the Lemdal culture, Eeva perseveres.

Vual saw his misery as a victory for the Lemdal people. When they claimed the land as their own, he will attempt to kill them all. He knew the day would come, so he spent all of his energy preparing to fight them. Every night, he curled next to his pillar of support, sobbing and tiring himself to sleep. He worked to distract himself with revenge.

Eeva waited for them to attack. She sharpened her sword mindlessly, thinning the edge to slice the chest pieces of her enemies. She scavenged the land for food and weapons. Her wounds did not bother her – they could bleed out for all she cared. All she wanted was revenge for the killing of her family and her love. She repeated the lore in her head, but every time she thought of it, new details erupted. She was falling into the depths of madness.

Vual forged armor with what he could find, nursing to his wounds with a maternal care. He made a bow from the strong wood he could gather. He pulled fibers off of a tree branch, and braided them into a bowstring, delicately and precisely. He recalled the woodworker of the town, fastening bows with lightning, and slowly salted the wood with memories of the big man. His slender, sturdy arms would sooth Vual when his parents did not. He barred his teeth at the thought of him dead, expelling the cakey feeling from his face. He would have vengeance for him.

Eeva tenderly touched her scars, stroking them as if to feel the blade slicing through them before. They swelled up now, the red valleys turning into burgundy hills. She had never been one for healing – that was her neighbor’s specialty. Whenever she would have hurt herself, he would always tend to the wounds with a smile. That was why she loved him so much. Tears fell onto the wounds as she wrapped them with a cloth. For him, she will kill the murderers.

Vual moved to watch his face in the rippling water after a grueling day of crying. His hair had writhed into a bird’s nest of revenge. A beard breathed at his skin, quietly encouraging him. His eyes glittered with impatience and his lips were still red with cuts and scarred with dryness. Overpowering and beautiful were his armor pieces, flashing brightly with the sun. Vual was a shield that no one could break through. He tried to butcher himself with a tear. The ripple dashed across the pond, shattering.

Eeva awoke one morning to laughter that sounded like her brother’s. The melancholy bursts of happiness seemed like a dream. She touched her eyes tenderly but felt no tears. A desire to see her face and what she had become, still and unfeeling, overwhelmed her. A shard of mirror lay in her view and attracted her attention. Her eyes were blood tainted, hungry for revenge to fill the void. She was skinnier but fiercer than before. She wore clothing that accented her pale blonde hair. The mirror slipped from her grasp and brought itself down, distorting.

Eeva’s face fell. She gave up. The sky crumpled. Resemblance was devastating.

Vual’s legs collapsed. He cried sorrowful. The ground caved. Memories were lethal.

She wanted no revenge. She needed to leave forever.

He didn’t want retribution. He needed to disappear.

She betrayed all. She tore at her protection, resting a dagger on her neck. Pressing slightly, she tasted pain and remembered. Her family had been secretly suicidal for generations, and Eeva regretted not being able to help anyone. When her brother killed himself, Eeva set herself to be in a position of anti-self harm. Her perspective of war resembled suicide, but she would die honorably. A noble death would pride her and allow her to pass with no regrets. The sword was lowered and sheathed.

He abandoned everything. Uncovered became his sword and to his chest it went. Rays of heated pain leaped from the puncture. The feeling unsettled him, flooding him with delicate emotions from his past. The war and the fear of bloodshed consumed him again. Vual dropped the knife in fear and shock. It seemed wrong for all the perfect reasons.

Driven by dead promises, Eeva had to live. Loosely wrapping cloth around her neck, she quickly sharpened her loyal sword and silenced it. The rest of her possessions were assembled on the ground, quietly dusting away. Her sword moved tirelessly at her side. With a light step, Eeva set off.

Pushed by the fears of the past, Vual must go on. He carried only a small dagger, just enough to propel his needs. With armor fully equipped, he left his sword on the doorstep, neatly abandoned. The sky seemed so dead when he left.

The forest was the fence, repelling the Churs. Their destructive arrogance had brought most of the trees down. The Lemdal people had always valued nature. They cared for the arbors, only selecting the dying ones for torches. The woodland had always been sacred to Eeva. Her height now exceeded even the tallest trees. Step after step, she ran away from her home, the tears streaming reluctantly from her eyes once again.

Churs was a desert town that survived in the high heat and harsh sand. The village was split by a stream that started in the mountains. The peaks were impossibly tall, so that you would have died before you reached the top. Vual used fabrics to cover his face and dry his eyes. The desert held nostalgia in him, and now raging fires swelled in every corner of the dunes. The Lemdal must pay for their actions, but he knew their satisfaction would surpass that.

The forest ended at the plains, where the desert eventually buried tall grasses. Small wall-less huts provided Eeva cover from the coming sun. Lemdal never received too much heat. The Churs must have been savage to live in such conditions. The shade in the hot temperatures lured Eeva to a standing sleep, waiting for the army to attack.

The desert ended at the plains, where rough sand morphed into refined forests. Chiseled sand structures had once provided rest, and they would do so one last time. The warm interior pleased Vual and the sunlight sang to him. This heat was the essence of life, and the Lemdal must have been dead to not enjoy it. The light breezes persuaded his eyes to close, dreaming until his land was sought.

The urge to join her people overwhelmed Eeva. The smile of the shade would be her last comfort as she ventured out to face certain death.

The memories of happiness prodded Vual back to the conflict at the present. He left everything as he entered the plains between the different lands. Death shall be his today.

A figure in the distance brought Eeva a strange sort of hope.

A figure in the distance granted Vual a unique kind of eagerness.

From its scent, she could tell it was a Churs person.

From its gait, he could infer that it was a Lemdal person.

As they approached one another, Eeva could see his face. Worn hair poured over dark, tanned skin. He seemed like an average Churs dweller. Her face curled into an artificial sneer.

As they continued walking, Vual could see her features. Pale hair cascaded over equally fair skin. She seemed like a normal Lemdal warrior. His attitude overcame with false anger.

“Churs scum!”

“Lemdal rat!”

A breeze blew and daggers emerged like fallen leaves. Rushing towards one another, the blades reversed.

A puncture to the stomach. A stab to the heart.

“For Lemdal, the village of the forest!”

“For Churs, the town of the desert!”

A final breath. Still four feet from each other. Eternal loyalty to home.

Sorry for the lack of updates! I’ve been pretty busy with school and things, but I did manage to finish this for a writing contest. You can check it out here, but I doubt that you’ll have time to submit anything. Also, its for grades 7-12, so…

Hope you enjoy!