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Simple soldiers marching to war They throw their bodies as weapons Down against our homes We yield no pain Front by front they hurl themselves on Smashed, shredded, slaughtered The carcasses flow into a river of death Strewn by the roadside A septic puddle of loss Our cold eyes glare on remorselessly We ignore the warriors lain to waste Churn them into mist in our tracks So that on this stormy night The air is thick with death

Chapter Two Voco Anihilo Morrus Cruroranhel held onto the splintering rung tightly with one hand as he caught his breath, his taught muscles barely visible beneath the layers that had come with middle age. He hooked his elbow around the rung, passed his torch from one hand to the other and lifted his un-hooked arm to wipe the sweat off of his brow. He had not climbed this ladder in a long time and he didn’t remember it being so tall. Holding the flaming torch in his left hand he pulled himsel...

Simple soldiers marching to war They throw their bodies as weapons Down against our homes We yield no pain Front by front they hurl themselves on Smashed and torn and shredded The carcasses melt into a sea of death Strewn by the roadside A septic puddle of loss As our glaring eyes look on remorselessly And we ignore the battlers lain to waste Churn them into mist in our tracks So that on this stormy night The air is thick with death

Chapter One Expectations always ran low for Everto, his parents had pushed his eldest brother, Malum, to attend a medical college and it was assumed that his second eldest brother, Torqueo, would inherit the family business; a large and profitable coal mine that extended deep into the mountain range on the eastern border where Lyrrea met Azhendor. Nothing was planned for Everto, he was left to his own devices and when he, on the rare occasions that he did, spoke to his parents or his brothers...

Simple soldiers marching to war They throw themselves as weapons Down against our homes We yield no pain Front by front they hurl themselves on beaded limbs fly senselessly Slaughtered, wounded and shamed the sky is awash with blood the ground is awash with bodies Strewn by the roadside A septic puddle of loss As our glaring eyes look on remorselessly And we ignore the battlers lain to waste Churn them into mist in our tracks So that on this stormy night The air is thick with death