by B. H. Young
"The luck of the Gods has seen him run through," she said.
The Gods, he thought. Were coincidences merely the mask of meddling Gods? Do they bother involving themselves in such matters, placing people on a path, shaping and molding them with such invading hands? Had they allowed him to survive all this time, placing the Blackphisk in his possession so that he may seek out the true threat and deliver justice? Would they even care so much to bother with it all?
Honorable was the oath he took, always holding himself to the high standards of serving justice in the name of law, but the path before him lay littered with unknowns. Rules he bound himself to in the face of carrying out his duty no longer seemed important anymore. The Iron High Guard he had given his life to, now stood corrupted from the highest perch, entwined within the Eldafienden's grasp. A darker path awaited his decision, one there was no hope in returning from, but was paved with certainty. We are the monsters at the gate of the world to keep the devils at bay Ginrell had told him. He was not even sure why he remembered such gloomy words from his old friend, but thought he understood them now.
Lucinda, still clutching to the horse, spoke out to him and broke his daze. "We can go to Northanos." Her voice was distant and shaky. "He's dead, there is nothing left. We can deliver the Blackphisk to your Royal Overseers and I will confirm it just as you wanted."
He would not have expected such a recommendation from her, but should have as he knew she was simply trying to escape and Northanos would be as good a place as any to do that. But it was an ocean away, as were the Royal Overseers. A simple letter would not be enough to draw attention from them, nor was there certainty it would even find its way to them and had it, by then the Eldafienden would have its members sitting as stewards. There would be little that the remaining Iron could do to that kind of uprising short of all out war. And what of the order placed on him by conspiring hands? It spreads three kingdoms with a grasping span that leaves no corner blind. Could he even carry the words to them unscathed?
"No. By then it may be too late," he said, still fixated on Sylo's corpse.
"What then?" she asked.
Godzton turned his head back to the Roltharian's nervous gaze. He clenched the bottom of the carry bag at his side and stood. "Now, I go after them," he said and stood.
The dark and broadening sounds came out of nowhere shaking the clouds, rolling over the land, and reigned endless in their torment. Lucinda tightened her shoulders, pressed into the antsy horse, and wobbled her head to the dreary clouds looking for the source.
"What is it, thunder? Horns of some sort?" she said with a shrill voice and frightened squint.
It was deafening. The intense weight of the progressing boom froze Godzton and he looked on aimless into the horizon. "There are no horns in this world like that," he said.
A fluttering tremble grew under the noise thundering of wings and a stream of mixed shade spread above him as a panic of birds of all kinds surged across the gray canvas. Pigeons, crows, vultures, red birds, and blue birds all flown as one, as if trying to escape the unseen reverberation. He could not help but to stand scared, allowing fear to crash into him, stiffening his bones as the hairs danced on the back of his neck. As if he had stepped into one of the dreams, he wanted to move, but couldn't. Lucinda ran to him and wrapped tight around his waist, tucking her head to his chest. He wanted to comfort her as much as himself, but logical thought drained, withering away and he could find no answers to give to the cursing rumbling.
The voices in his head panicked with no answers as well and all of the sudden fell deaf as a memory revealed itself, in the mournful resonating clamor, stepping out from behind the black curtain of forgetfulness and whispering to him. Godzton remembered part of the story, and the trumpets shook the land.
About The Author
AUTHOR NAME is B.H YOUNG
Born and raised in Florida, B.H. Young is an artist and writer.
Find out more at http://bhyoung.blogspot.com
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