for
generations to come.
The war party quickly approached the edge of
the city’s deep shadowed underbelly and stopped. The driver atop
the war machine held his whip at the ready, waiting Chief Al’Rul’s
orders.
Fanger gazed at the Chief, his breath held
captive while his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He dared not
speak. Any sound, even the faint creaking of his boots, would be
seen as a reason to be the victim of a rash blow to the skull from
the Chief’s fierce mace. He glared out into the mist at the
treacherous crickets that bellowed during such a revered moment—a
chieftain’s first official order of a raid.
Chief Al’Rul slowly raised his clenched fist.
An open palm would mean retreat and was considered the lowest level
of cowardice. An upraised fist meant to move in on the target of
the raid. Al’Rul jabbed his rocky fist into the sky, the muscles of
his arm rippling beneath his silky fur. Fanger raised his fist to
the sky, followed by the fists of the accompanied mercenaries.
“Tonight,” Al’Rul’s voice hissed out his
words, his eyes burning into the shadow, “we will become legends
among our people. Our faces will be carved out of stone of the
mountain and will live in the memories of all to see for the rest
of time. Tonight we are Phooka ! For blood and glory!”
“ Blood and glory!” The echo of the war
party rumbled in the field, silencing the crickets of their
delightful song.
***
Merrick and Amaeya crouched low in the grass,
their disguises bundled under their arms. The war party had
descended into the underbelly of the city and had set up a small
camp. A tiny flickering campfire wavered under the heavy shadow of
the city.
Merrick pulled his mossy hood over his head,
positioning the horns to lie just above his ears. He gave his head
a quick shake, testing the sturdiness of his work.
He cast a glance at Amaeya. She fumbled with
the hood, struggling with the weight of the thick moss. Merrick
laughed at the sight of her, an angry mossy beast muttering curses
and with flailing arms. The merry sound eased the anxious grip on
his heart. Anything was better than thinking about what would
happen if their disguises failed.
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
Merrick fought the urge to continue his laughter. He didn’t wait
for a reply before tugging the hood to its rightful place upon
Amaeya’s head. She gasped with relief.
“Oh praise the gods! I thought you were going
to have to hack this thing apart to get me out!” She spat into the
grass, a sour grimace on her face. “I fear I shall never get the
taste of moss out of my mouth.”
“I suppose there are worse things,” said
Merrick, pulling her horns into place. He wiped the lightning power
from his hands onto the grass. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s
one thing you need to know about the powder coating the horns. It’s
extremely combustible, so if you value having a full head of hair I
suggest keeping them away from open flames.”
He could see Amaeya’s eyes dart up to her
horns, her face pale and frightened. Merrick found himself once
again brimming with laughter. I really must be going mad, he
thought, I may be dead by morning and all I can do is
laugh.
“We better get going. I have no idea how
we’re going to get up to the city, but there must be a reason
they’re camping out beneath it,” Merrick said, drawing Amaeya’s
cloak tight around her shoulders, concealing her body. “We’ll lay
low in the grass until we get close enough to see exactly what
we’re dealing with.”
“Sounds like a plan. Or at least closer to an
actual plan,” said Amaeya from within her shaggy hood. “For blood
and glory!”
Merrick tilted his head, confused at her
words. “For what ?”
“It’s what the Phooka say,” she said as she
crept forward in the grass, “before they do something incredibly
foolish.”
Chapter Six
“I see your war party is eager to begin.”
Luthen stood in the
generations to come.
The war party quickly approached the edge of
the city’s deep shadowed underbelly and stopped. The driver atop
the war machine held his whip at the ready, waiting Chief Al’Rul’s
orders.
Fanger gazed at the Chief, his breath held
captive while his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He dared not
speak. Any sound, even the faint creaking of his boots, would be
seen as a reason to be the victim of a rash blow to the skull from
the Chief’s fierce mace. He glared out into the mist at the
treacherous crickets that bellowed during such a revered moment—a
chieftain’s first official order of a raid.
Chief Al’Rul slowly raised his clenched fist.
An open palm would mean retreat and was considered the lowest level
of cowardice. An upraised fist meant to move in on the target of
the raid. Al’Rul jabbed his rocky fist into the sky, the muscles of
his arm rippling beneath his silky fur. Fanger raised his fist to
the sky, followed by the fists of the accompanied mercenaries.
“Tonight,” Al’Rul’s voice hissed out his
words, his eyes burning into the shadow, “we will become legends
among our people. Our faces will be carved out of stone of the
mountain and will live in the memories of all to see for the rest
of time. Tonight we are Phooka ! For blood and glory!”
“ Blood and glory!” The echo of the war
party rumbled in the field, silencing the crickets of their
delightful song.
***
Merrick and Amaeya crouched low in the grass,
their disguises bundled under their arms. The war party had
descended into the underbelly of the city and had set up a small
camp. A tiny flickering campfire wavered under the heavy shadow of
the city.
Merrick pulled his mossy hood over his head,
positioning the horns to lie just above his ears. He gave his head
a quick shake, testing the sturdiness of his work.
He cast a glance at Amaeya. She fumbled with
the hood, struggling with the weight of the thick moss. Merrick
laughed at the sight of her, an angry mossy beast muttering curses
and with flailing arms. The merry sound eased the anxious grip on
his heart. Anything was better than thinking about what would
happen if their disguises failed.
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
Merrick fought the urge to continue his laughter. He didn’t wait
for a reply before tugging the hood to its rightful place upon
Amaeya’s head. She gasped with relief.
“Oh praise the gods! I thought you were going
to have to hack this thing apart to get me out!” She spat into the
grass, a sour grimace on her face. “I fear I shall never get the
taste of moss out of my mouth.”
“I suppose there are worse things,” said
Merrick, pulling her horns into place. He wiped the lightning power
from his hands onto the grass. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s
one thing you need to know about the powder coating the horns. It’s
extremely combustible, so if you value having a full head of hair I
suggest keeping them away from open flames.”
He could see Amaeya’s eyes dart up to her
horns, her face pale and frightened. Merrick found himself once
again brimming with laughter. I really must be going mad, he
thought, I may be dead by morning and all I can do is
laugh.
“We better get going. I have no idea how
we’re going to get up to the city, but there must be a reason
they’re camping out beneath it,” Merrick said, drawing Amaeya’s
cloak tight around her shoulders, concealing her body. “We’ll lay
low in the grass until we get close enough to see exactly what
we’re dealing with.”
“Sounds like a plan. Or at least closer to an
actual plan,” said Amaeya from within her shaggy hood. “For blood
and glory!”
Merrick tilted his head, confused at her
words. “For what ?”
“It’s what the Phooka say,” she said as she
crept forward in the grass, “before they do something incredibly
foolish.”
Chapter Six
“I see your war party is eager to begin.”
Luthen stood in the
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