Please take a moment to view full-size. Had a lot of fun postworking the magical fog and smokey affects on this one. Callum was never sure about all that had happened on that day, the day that he lost Lady Abigail. Much of it was lost in the fog, the fog on the ground, the fog of war. It had seemed like a good day for an ambush given the humans hated such weather and the elves could get in close without being seen. But maybe the old citadel ruins had not been the right place to strike, maybe they should have waited until Shaw's troops had moved deeper into the forest, maybe he should have shot Shaw with an arrow right away when he had the chance. Ah the damn maybes. Callum could never let go of all the ways that maybe he could have made their strike better. All's he clearly remembered was Abigail falling in the hail of arrows that met them when they first rushed the column of men. Why had those archers been ready? It was as if they could see through the fog but humans could never see in the fog the way that elves could. That is why they had set the ambush in the first place. In hindsight, it had been a strange fog, not at all natural. It didn't feel like that when they first attacked. But as the battle pressed they could see it swirling in strange strands that seemed to stick like glue. Then suddenly a space around them would become clear, exposing them to attack. It had to have been a spell! But who would cast a spell like that for the humans? They surely couldn't do it themselves....their magic was pathetic and weak. Someone, a wayward elf or fae, must have helped them. And the way Shaw's sword had glowed as he and Callum met on the field of battle. Now that was strange. Only swords with elven protective magic were supposed to shimmer like that. Granted it had not been strong, not like his, but still it was unmistakably there. But only for Shaw, not the rest of his men. There was something about Shaw that was different from the rest of the humans, something very dangerous. Callum had never fought a tougher man - the two of them were as equal as any two adversaries could ever be. Stroke matched counterstroke for what seemed eternity. They had fought to a standstill, chests heaving, swords down, exhausted to the point of being unable to swing their sabres or raise their arms. Both were beaten and yet neither was defeated. Callum was never really sure what happened next, by then he had been too wasted and bloodied to think straight. He seemed to remember both of them being joined by small parties of their own men, words being exchanged and then both of them being pulled from the field by their own kind. But yet when he later asked his men about what had happened and who had come to his aid, no one could remember, no one knew. What happened to Callum that day remained a mystery to him; a mystery that pulled at his soul. Why was he still alive? Who had come to his aid, and Shaw's? Surely there was magic afoot that day, but who had cast it and why? It was a fog that both played with and plagued his memory. Such was the fog of war. Callum by phoenix1966 at DAZ Shaw by phoenix1966 at DAZ Callum's outfit is tough style by Laksmi at DAZ Shaw's outfit is Slicer by vampir3princess at DAZ Slicer textures by Sarsa at DAZ Magic Effects brushes by Orestes at DAZ Previous

"Parting Words"