by P R Glazier
~
Alonso felt the empty pit in his stomach; he toyed with the shaft of his spear, turning it over and over like the knots he felt within him. No signal had come. Yet quite clearly now he could hear the tramp of many feet crossing the moor. High above them flashes of energy could be seen through the mist, something was going on, he knew it was the two great battle ships fighting each other high above. He felt the many eyes of his comrades behind him, all staring into the mist ahead. The army that advanced towards them could only have come from one place, from inside the dark elven realm. Droplets of water clung to his hair plastering it to his face. He shuddered. He had never been in battle before, not on this scale. Sure he had been in small skirmishes throughout his life, that was part of living where they did. He didn’t really know what to expect. He didn’t really expect to survive it, for he knew in his heart that although they were greater in number, they were far less in strength compared to the metal enemy they were about to face. He smiled at the irony, his ancestors may have faced this same enemy, on this same spot, but many years in the past, he wondered how they fared. His only hope lay in that the old-one Amndo would find a way to somehow switch off the energy from the rift, somehow weaken this oncoming army. It was a tall order. He looked to the skies; the flashes of light from the warring Leviathans had stopped. Where were the Gnome and the leviathan? He needed the army that was inside that machine if he hoped to have the remotest chance of winning this fight. He shrugged off these thoughts of despair and looked around him at his fellow countrymen. Suddenly he was proud, he saw determination and a rugged resolve in the faces of all he could see, no fear shone in their eyes. He smiled at Shanria, she rocked from side to side, transferring her weight continuously from one foot to the other, her curved scimitars held one in each hand, her eyes burning bright, her mouth a snarl. A salty tear ran down his cheek, he left it there a badge to his humanity, an emblem against the evil, the inhumanity that they were about to face. He turned back to look into the mist, “let them come,” he whispered under his breath.