BoT: Chapter Four
by Dan Archer

The chilling wind rushed into Sortik’s face, a cold mask suffocating him in its grasp. The sensation of flying through the air at such speeds was a new one to him, and he could tell it wasn’t the same for Eldes. Where they were headed, he had no idea, but the flight was exhilarating enough on its own. For an aged man, Eldes has a firm grip, thought Sortik.

    “We’re nearing our destination now,” he shouted over the gale. “Hold tight.”

    An ominous mountain came into view between gaps in clouds. Atop the mountain, torches burned brightly, rivaling the sun’s glare. Eldes began to descend upon the mountain, and Sortik felt as if they would crash onto its surface and become one with the earth. Eldes seemed to sense his anxiety, and chuckled to himself, dramatically slowing down before making contact with the mountain. They landed comfortably, and Sortik took a look around. They were standing on a large, flat plateau overlooking the countryside of northern Azer’Tor. The plateau circled in a crescent shape around the mountain’s true peak, which rose into the air majestically. At its base lay the ring of torches Sortik had seen from above. There was more than enough room to walk, and Eldes seemed to know this as he began to make his way solemnly toward the torches. Sortik followed curiously, but at his same slow pace. Upon reaching the ring, Eldes turned to face Sortik.

    “This is where Bardull, Pyro, and I battled Mortis one last time before his banishment to Ethereal.” He waved a hand around. “This is also where Pyro is buried, for it was always his wish to be buried upon the battlefield in which he died.” After this, Eldes was silent, and turned back to the mound of earth at the center. Sortik did the same. As time passed, each fresh breeze brought a fresh wave of sadness upon his heart to where tears streamed down his cheeks without his knowing why. Eldes kept a watchful eye on him, but said nothing. Sortik knew something must be causing such mourning, and he longed to search within himself to find out why. Eldes seemed to read his mind.

    “What troubles you, young one?” he prodded gently. “You hardly knew the man.”

    “I do not mourn only the death and sacrifice of the great Pyro,” he started slowly, formulating his thoughts into words. “This place... it’s one of the Last Sanctuaries. All the emotions of past spirits flow here, and far more strikingly here on Pyro’s grave. The emotions here are not the tranquil ones of a normal death under normal circumstances following a normal life; they are the pains of war. The stories of misery and bitter death return here from the lips of the whispering wanderers. Tales of such woe that they cut into the deepest wounds of the heart, tales that wrench tears from the eyes until you feel like you may never stem the flow. Such are the tales of war.” He turned to Eldes. “What do we fight for? What motive have we for such destruction of both our own people and our enemy’s people?”

    “We fight simply because we must to survive. We enter full-scale wars because of decisions from a higher authority that rules us, and commands that we fight for his desires. If they desire land, so be it, we must obey. It matters not whether it be wealth, whether it be honor, whether it be fame, the king’s purpose most always boils down to such shallow matters. And yet, we must fight for his banner, or for purposes we find deep within ourselves.”

    “Then this is a pitiful state of life,” choked Sortik, turning back to the grave.

    “Perhaps, but it always comes down to a select few to tip the balance of war.” Eldes placed a comforting arm around Sortik’s shoulder. “We are the chosen, Sortik. It is in our hands to end this conflict, or at least prolong the peace that will reign after this. The emotions you feel here, I feel them as well. They are a large part of my motivation to fight, they are my drive. To know that I may end these tales, that I may avenge those who died at the hands of my enemies, it drives me to such strengths as few men can imagine.”

    Sortik shook his head. “In engaging our enemy in battle, we merely add to the burdens which this place carries. The voices here do not all belong to the men who fight alongside us, they belong to our enemy as well. We do not fight a heartless foe, we are in a struggle against our own race. Mortis may use Gorls, but he, too, has a heart. To get to our race, we must crush the Gorls. That much can be done, for those abominations feel nothing but hatred, bloodlust, and the triumphs of victory. I may be persuaded to battle them. I see no reason in taking the life of our brothers, however.”

    Eldes sat down beside Pyro’s grave, Sortik did not follow suit. “I had also formulated your same opinion, Sortik, long ago. Long ago, at a time when I had first begun active participation in the Great War. I had always carried out tasks for the Brotherhood, but had only been required to eliminate beasts, not humans. Bardull knew I was not prepared for that. Mortis, on the other hand, got those missions, and made short work of his targets. Such was the case that when war came, I was placed in the battlefield with the other soldiers. Of course, we Titans were spread out among the different areas of the battles, so I was alone in mine. When in battle, Sortik, you come to realize rather quickly that you must fight for your life. You must fight to survive, whether you would like to kill or not. It did not bother me then when I crushed those men’s skulls with a single blow of my staff, nor did it cause me any remorse when my sword plunged into their hearts, silencing them for eternity. It sounds cold, and it is. Only after the battles, did I recollect what I had done, and I became sick the first few times. I begun to attempt to find a purpose within myself. What could possibly entitle me to so mercilessly strip another man of life?

    “Day after day, I continued to wonder. As those days passed, so did more battles,” Eldes grimaced. “So did more lives. I consulted Master Bardull one night, when I could not sleep. I told him about my feelings concerning my actions, and asked him what purpose we could possibly have for such killing. He taught me that if we did not put down our enemies, they would run rampant across our lands. If we entrusted rule of Azer’Tor into Mortis’ hands, the deaths would surely not end there. Mortis, if I know him well enough, would surely seek out those that had fought against him or that were not loyal to him and have them all destroyed. So while the price of war is great, the price of defeat is far greater. We must learn to put our priorities in their proper place, for we fight for our enemies. It seems like that would defeat the point of fighting them, but we benefit our entire race by fighting. By fighting, we spare their sons and daughters their lives, and a lifetime of suffering.”

    “Surely, this argument could continue for eternity, Eldes. I do not wish to engage in such pointless matters, however.” Yeah, war is quite pointless, Sortik thought to himself, mentally rebuking himself for careless word choice. “I will fight, for I do not wish to waste your time. However, I must emphasize the importance of my being near Valter in doing so. I have a duty to myself and to another to protect him with my life, and it is such that I will not turn back on it. I fight out of loyalty to my king, and I fight for the lost damned, but above all, I fight to uphold my duty.”