Tweet of the Day: Stories Hewn from the Rock: Tombs and Temples
The full moon bathed everything in a pale blue light. It blurred all contours into barely recognizable shapes. Here and there torch lights pushed against the moonlight. We averted our eyes from them lets we be blinded once our eyes darted back to the shadows.
Our guide pointed to the main hall with a slender, gnarled arm, “There my lord.”
“Go, and tend to the horse, we should be back shortly,” I said.
The guide melted away into the blue. Our party hugged the harsh shadows thrown by the torches. We kept our ears open for the baying of hounds or cries of alarm. Deeper into the hall went until we reached the appointed room. Vortigern languished in a cot. Skin hanged loose on the king’s meager frame.
Is he alive or dead?
Vortigern drew a deep breath then woke with a start, “The Champion comes! Woe to us all! The Queen has played her game and we shall all–”
I clamped my hand on the mad man’s mouth. A giant of a man, with a dark beard that reached down to his belly, burst through the door. Caliburn sang as it came off the scabbard.
“Garreth, take the mad fool away. The Horse is mine,” I said.
Horsa swung his battle axe overhead. I jumped out of the way. Sparks flew as the head bit into the stone floor. I swung Caliburn at the giant’s back. His legs gave way the moment the edge connected with the spine. Another swing cut the head off before the shoulders hit the ground.
“GO!” I yelled.
“Brethren they are! Blood they spilled!” cried Vortigen.
We ran out the hall. Men, spilled from every door, torches in hand. We made it to the horses. I stuffed a rag into the fool’s mouth.
“Tristan, take him and go. The rest of you, follow me,” I said. I hoped that the Saxons would fallow us into the forest while Tristan made it to safety.
A hoarse roar came deep from the enemy camp, “MURDERER! YOU KILL MY BROTHER! YOU WILL PAY!”