Tweet of the Day: Forever
The mountain rested between two sheets of fog. Wisps flew about the rounded summit in the early morning gloom, while at the base the a slower current broke against the hedgerows that separated it from the farmland. The dying embers of a dozen campfires glowed within the soup. Some men shuffled about the cold, but most rested under their tents. The sunrise dispelled the long hanging clouds above. Hundreds of orcs marched over the rise. Think lines of leather, steel and muscle. Behind them neat rows of Aos Si, clad in brilliant ring maille. The Summer King rode in a chariot covered in resplendent bronze and gold. To stare at it was to stare at the Sun itself.
The King’s shield bearer blew the first trumpet. The barbarians in the front ranks howled like wild animals. They raced down the southern slope of Badon. Dazed men scrambled from their tents. Their captain waved a long blade the reflected the morning sun. A second blast of the horn signaled the King’s own troops charge. They thundered down the mountainside. A wave of green and silver surged down to the valley bellow.
Just as the front ranks were about to hit the hedgerows, twin horn blast erupted from withing the barbarian horde. It parted left and right. The rear troops to the rear tried in vain to stop their forward advance. Some tripped over themselves and tumbled down the mountain trampled by their fellows.
The captain waved the silver sword as the ground fog yielded to the morning light. Men ripped tents apart. Exposed, the ballista crews aimed their heavy bolts at the gleaming mass. Others opened fired with bows from the cover of the hedgerow protected by their fellows who wielded wicked spears between the brambles. Magical armor was no match for momentum and well placed shots.
From a nearby hill, a top a chestnut steed, I pulled Caliburn free from the scabbard. Iced formed on the blade as it met the humid air.
“NOW!” We rode around the hill and up Badon’s northern slope. More horns blared. Sigrun and Sigurd turned their troops about and crashed into the enemies flanks while we hit their rear. Caliburn rang as it sliced through steel. The King wheeled his chariot about, my mount proved swifter. My sword tore into the shield bearer as the the horses collided. I tumbled over and hit the ground on my back, hard. The King lept from the wreckage, spear in hand. I grabbed a shield. The spear pierced the thin wood. I angled it so as to trap the spearhead. He lurched forward and I kicked. He tumbled down a few paces. I caught the glint of metal from the corner of my eye.
I rushed forward and pulled it from underneath my dead mount. The Monarch lunged, but I sidestepped the charge. Caliburn was an extension of my will. Off went the tyrant’s head in a hot fountain of blood. It landed amidst his beleaguered troops. A wail spread among them. They collapsed under the sheer weight of ranged fire and barbarian axes.
The Hunter fell to the Prey.
It was over.
I left my brother, silver replica in hand, to organize the aftermath while returned to Virocorium and my wife. we waited for our son to be born. My left forearm never fully healed from the shield piercing thrust, but it was strong enough to cradle little Arcturus as we sat in the patio while the women maintained order in the Geta home. He would lead the new defense alliance between the cities of Britannia, against anyone who dared to raid our homes.
Summer left and never came back.
The Isle on the Lake saw only Fall and Winter.
The Queen sat alone on her throne, hand on her swollen belly.
She whispered to the new life to come.
“Oh Mordred, my Champion to be, you will reclaim all that their is.”
So we come to the end of Severus the Rogue. I’ll will, if I recover from this cold, create a page for it and link all the chapters/posts together.