Darkness Descends
This story is part 2 of The Sacrifice, a 5 part series that is a sequel to The Siege and started in A New Day Dawns.
Darkness Descends
Two months had passed since that horrific night, and though the memory of the battle loomed heavy in our minds, we knew that we had to get on with our lives. The spring celebration drew near, a time when we celebrate the return of life after the long winter and ask the Dagda to bless the seed that we plant in the fields, that they may produce an abundance. Preparations began in earnest and despite the sorrow that still lingered over Caer Flaunys, we all began to laugh again as the day of the celebration approached.
The day arrived and the Great King opened the celebration with a prayer. Games were played, races run, and as night fell, the feast. And while the dead were missed, as were the Knights, we began to forget out sadness. We began to laugh again.
I was a look out that first alerted us to the problem. Not by sounding a horn or shouting a warning, but by his body crashing though a table filled with food, and arrow in his neck. The laughter and music died as I ran towards him. One look at the arrow was all I needed to see as I sounded the call to arms.
My men sprang into action, most gathering their weapons and donning armor as the rest hurried the women, children, and elderly to what we hoped as the safety of the king’s hall. As I stood with my men, memories of that night rushed back to my mind as I saw them.
In a scene eerily reminiscent of the last battle, I saw the same black armor, the same twisted swords, the same glowing red eyes as the army of darkness tried to enter, to once again foul this place with their presence.
My men gathered in the courtyard, ready for battle. As important as the last battle was, this one was more so.
We could not fail.
Two months had passed since that horrific night, and though the memory of the battle loomed heavy in our minds, we knew that we had to get on with our lives. The spring celebration drew near, a time when we celebrate the return of life after the long winter and ask the Dagda to bless the seed that we plant in the fields, that they may produce an abundance. Preparations began in earnest and despite the sorrow that still lingered over Caer Flaunys, we all began to laugh again as the day of the celebration approached.
The day arrived and the Great King opened the celebration with a prayer. Games were played, races run, and as night fell, the feast. And while the dead were missed, as were the Knights, we began to forget out sadness. We began to laugh again.
I was a look out that first alerted us to the problem. Not by sounding a horn or shouting a warning, but by his body crashing though a table filled with food, and arrow in his neck. The laughter and music died as I ran towards him. One look at the arrow was all I needed to see as I sounded the call to arms.
My men sprang into action, most gathering their weapons and donning armor as the rest hurried the women, children, and elderly to what we hoped as the safety of the king’s hall. As I stood with my men, memories of that night rushed back to my mind as I saw them.
In a scene eerily reminiscent of the last battle, I saw the same black armor, the same twisted swords, the same glowing red eyes as the army of darkness tried to enter, to once again foul this place with their presence.
My men gathered in the courtyard, ready for battle. As important as the last battle was, this one was more so.
We could not fail.
Labels: Stories, The Sacrifice
posted by R.C. at
11:56 AM
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