Battle on the Bridge

How does a world once whole, as intended, look after being divided into separate halves. Like a disk cracked down the middle, but either side of the disc expanding further than man will ever travel. In the crack being an abyss yet no one knowing of its origin. Imagine yourself a God, having put love and care into creating a world, what could possibly cause you to split that creation in half, dividing its inhabitants into two separate groups. Well, perhaps the answer can be found after looking upon said inhabitants.

Liron gripped his longsword tight in both hands. Sweat dripping from anywhere that could produce it, heart thumping so loud he could have sworn everyone else could hear it. Unlikely though, as war chants bellowed loud from all directions. He charged down the bridge with roughly 100 men, a small battalion compared to others usually produced for war. But this was barely war, just a group of men that felt like killing some northmen that evening. Liron had charged down this bridge hundreds of times but could still never shake off the fear of being on top of the divide in Eversore's World, a supposedly never ending fall. An abyss that nobody knew the origin of, an abyss that nobody truly knew what might dwell inside. CLASH. The sound of steel kissing rang loud in his ears. Just a few meters ahead of him, the frontlines of the southern battalion had met with the norths. Grunts, screams and cries were heard all around him. pushing his way to the front he readied his longsword, prepared to skewer the first enemy within his reach.

To his right he witnessed Reynold take a mans head clean off with a swing from his great sword, blood spraying from the wound as he booted the lifeless body to the ground and charged towards his next opponent. To his left he witnessed Leanne slice a mans sword arm off with a graceful slice from her scythe. She needn't deliver a finishing blow as she knew she had rendered her enemy useless.  Oh how he loved watching her in battle. Ahead of Liron stood his own opponent, a northmen holding a thin sword. A rapier, they called it in the north. Funny little weapon. He fainted a thrust towards the rapier wielders stomach, forcing him to either side step or back step as he knew he would never be able to parry his five and a half foot tall longsword with the little poker he himself had. He stepped back just as Liron had predicted so he withdrew his thrust, took a step forward following the now scared looking man, and cleaved his steel into the mans shoulder. Blood flowed from the wound as he pulled out his blade like a hatchet from wood and screamed a well known war cry at the top of his lungs.

"Death to the north!"

"Death to the north!" Echoed his allies.

After battle was the only time Eversore's World felt peaceful. Well, at least to the victors of the day which was luckily the south, the side of the world Liron was born in. The survivors always visited the local taverns and spent the night drinking, gossiping, flirting and things of that nature. Liron sat at a table with his closest friends. Reynold, a brute of a man standing at six and a half feet tall, with a lack of hair on his head made up for by his full red beard. It was impossible to be moody when he was around, it's almost as if positivity is constantly radiated out from his body. Leanne, a tough but beautiful looking woman. Her hair had begun greying despite only being in her mid twenties. She behaved like a noble, despite being as much of warrior as any other man, and her being a such a warrior is what Liron loved about her. There were more friends in his circle, but tonight he only sat with two, as the rest were probably somewhere sleeping. It was only a small battle they had fought after all, there was no point in raising a larger battalion when tonight they were only fighting for the fun of it.

"I wonder if what you spoke of yesterday was just your superstition." Leanne had a slur to her voice, the whiskey having an effect on her. Liron knew what she was talking about, as he had probably mentioned it to them about a hundred times by now. 

"Of course it isn't Lee, haven't you heard? The famous Liron has friends in the crack of the earth dying to meet him. Dying to fuck him maybe, with how much he says they talk to him!" Reynold laughed loud enough for the whole tavern to hear him, the quietest he had ever heard him laugh. His friends loved to mock him for his superstition, but Liron knew it was more than that. The closer he was to the Divide, the more he heard it call out to him. Unintelligible sounds, but sounds that he knew were calls. Every day he was further urged to answer them, but that would mean having to visit them in the divide, the abyss in Eversore's world. How would he even go about meeting them? Was he the only one that could hear these calls, and if so, why? He decided that he tonight he would find out. 

"Who knows, maybe every time I visit the tavern, Gerald laces my ale with hallucinogens." He joked, tired of being ridiculed by his friends. Gerald was the bartender at the Forgotten Tavern, their favourite one to visit after a long night of killing the north. To be honest, Liron did not have any personal problems with the north. He knows they have been an enemy of the south ever since Eversore split the world in half. They battle over politics and religion. The south believe that Thousands of years ago, Eversore, the creator of all had divided the world into two as a punishment, due to mans inability to live amongst each other in peace. The north believe that the divide was a good thing, they are uncertain of what caused the divide, but they believe there was once a time where Eversore's children lived in unity. Until a Tyrannical king in the south named Reji The Broken invaded the north with the goal of taking over their land. Reji is an important figure in both the south and the north, although both having severely different views on his morality and ethics.

Liron had withdrawn from the tavern sober, as he knew he had something important to do that night. Perhaps the most important thing he would ever do in his life. More important than his petty battles with the north, more important than his early morning sparring sessions with his trainer Dollivan, more important than his study sessions with his mentor Gent. Tonight he would enter the Divide, or at least make an attempt to. He debated whether or not to bring his sword, realised it was a foolish thing to debate and swung it onto his back. He heard a knock at his door, this was no surprise, soldiers live together in barracks which were the closest buildings to the divide. This was intentional, so that they would hear or see when the northmen were gathering near one of the many bridges over the Divide. Each barracks held hundreds of people, though Liron knew only one person would knock at this time.

"Not now Erna" Shouted Liron, but he knew the boy would enter anyway. Erna opened the door and peaked his head round the corner. He was a small boy, barely five feet in height. He was a darker boy, not tanned like Liron, but black, with long hair held back in four large braids. Barely having seen sixteen winters, Erna looked up to Liron as role model, everyday knocking on his door wishing to practise his swordsmanship with him. If he said he was too tired, Erna would ask to speak philosophy and history with him instead, despite Liron having an interest in neither. 

"Why do you wear your sword, Have you not already won todays battle?" Erna asked with genuine curiosity 

"Haven't we spoke about you getting involved in grown ups business? Me wearing my steels is none of your concern. Go back to sleep, you've got to grow taller if you hope to ever join a battalion, and 4 hours rest isn't helping" sternly said by Liron, this is how their relationship was. Liron had often felt like the child's father, which he didn't mind, he had always wanted to be a father.

"I thought you said height did not matter, and that my speed was enough to take down a man of any size?" He had a sad look in his face, Liron often forgot how much his words meant to the boy.

"If you wish to be the best you've at least got to get some meat on your bones, as I've said before look at Kenin. Only a year older than you but-"

"Double my height. Yes, I know. We both know I would beat him in a second"

Liron laughed. It was true, despite being fourteen Erna had the potential to be one of the greatest fighters he had ever seen.

"Are you going to the Divide?" Erna asked with a fearful look in his eyes, the look he always had when they spoke of the voices Liron had been hearing. Liron had told many about the voices, yet this boy was the only one who believed him. People said it was the young being naïve.

"I am. If I don't, I feel like ill end up insane. Constantly hearing things that nobody else can. Ill met them today... whoever's been calling out to me" thinking about what he could possibly meet down there always scared him, but if he always let fear stop him from doing something, he wouldn't be able to go to war every day.

"Can I-"

"No Erna, you cannot come. I'm putting myself at risk by going so close to the divide, away from the bridges. Ill be damned if I put your life at risk too." Liron felt bad but it had to be said "Go to sleep Liron. Ill speak to you tomorrow and fill you in on everything that happened."

Erna looked upset, but he had faith in Liron's ability with a sword. 

"Be safe Liron. Ill never forgive you if you end up like my father."

He left the room and closed it behind him. Liron thought to himself. He wondered whether he should speak to Leanne before doing what he was about to do. He decided against it, he would talk to those who were calling out to him first.