He motioned to speak but went silent as dark shadows appeared in the courtyard. As they formed two lines on either side of him Yadi showed no fear. The shadows took their true forms, they were mages of the kingdom. Before the battle had begun he had ordered each of them to be as ghosts watching over each entry point. He also told them not to show themselves to anyone and come to this courtyard only when the enemy was defeated. He knew there were 15 entrances into his kingdom and so he quickly counted them twice just to be sure. There were fifteen Mages on either side of him and instantly he knew the battle was over, his kingdom had survived.
He lowered the head of Grock as he felt his knees weaken. Emotions within were overwhelming. Somehow he remained hard of expression as the mages spoke of what had occurred. He was told tales of Angels, of foreign kings bringing their armies to Ebulon. Yet through all of these stories his gaze was directed back to the sky, there was not a single cloud within them. A sight almost never seen in the dead of winter. He walked forward, his stride not as strong as it once was. Even though they stood only meters from him the voices of the mages were distant to his ear. He heard more stories of warriors who could summon dragons, a healer whose skill surpassed all the surgeons of Ebulon. He heard a story of a possessed statue and a vague description of something too terrifying to speak of.
He walked further, the entire time his gaze still skyward. Even talk of exploding corn, talking animals and the hall of heroes being vandalized couldn’t stop his stride. When he had heard all the stories of great warriors and the air became silent he had reached the end of the line of mages.
Suddenly he fell to his knees, his sword before him as he dropped the head of Grock. The mages moved to help until they understood what was happening. He hadn’t fallen from injury but from gratitude. The demonic legion of thoughts left his head and for the first time in over two days he felt he could breathe freely once more. He could feel a tear form and slowly fall from his right eye. He did nothing to hide it; he would not be the last king of Ebulon, something that terrified him beyond words. Closing his eyes he called upon his powers, giving thanks to the heroes, in all their shapes and forms for saving his beloved kingdom.
He concentrated hard, his eyes remained closed. He wanted to ensure that they all knew of his gratitude. With the last of his thanks given, he violently opened his eyes at the sound of something heavy and wet crashing before him. All except one of the mages shared his confusion at the pile of half-cooked Orcs in front of him. Narrowing his eyes, he found himself asking. “Why do they smell of Honey Glaze?”
Copyright
Copyright 2013 Shane Porteous Walter Rhein Vanna Smythe Neil Shooter R.M. McDaniel Kaine Andrews Brandon Ellis L. Blankenship Jenelle Leanne Schmidt Tom Barczak SKN Hammerstone Jennifer Priester Kate Porteous Wayne Borean Matthew Taylor
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 cover art and cover by Tom Barczak
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