A boy gets caught in a thousand year old religious war deeper than he could have imagined.
|Authors note: This note is mainly wrtten for those who plan to r and r further on to other chapters of my story. Right now this story is in a young development stage. I have received comments that these chapters come across as rushed, which I will atribute to the fact that it is an early draft and I have left out some details in order to get the full storyline down. Right now what I am mostly looking for review wise is things on hte overall storyline. Is it interesting? Should I continue? Any sugjestions at all are always welcome, but those are my primary concens as of now. Thanks for taking a minute to read this.|
A horde of men circled Galon. The specks of their torches outnumbered the stars in the sky.
Galon stood watching them circle like a whirlpool, closing in on him with every second. The banners from a hundred nations were raised above their heads. He gripped his sword staring at the massive crowd and laughed with mirth. He would die tonight, but with the help of Haron Roc he would take a thousand of them with him.
His crusade had failed. Galon had used all his might to destroy these under-humans, these followers of Karon, but his numbers were too few. The blood of Haron-Roc’s men had flown the way Karon promised. Those who did not parish fled north to the mountains or south to the coast taking to the see in any boat that could float. Those traitors would be dealt with in due time. Now all that mattered was spilling the blood of as many of Karon’s under-humans as possible.
Karon’s men fired a few lines of arrows at Galon. He rolled his eyes as he dodged or blocked each of them that were close enough. They always tried that. The True men, as they called themselves were so persistent, even when they had failed so many times. He knew today that they would not fail however, but he would make their non-defeat bitter sweet.
The tension rose in the ranks as they grew nervous and fearful. They shifted their gear and pretended to get there flags straighter than they already were. Galon laughed. Maybe these under-humans could learn. Even though he was hopelessly outnumbered they still feared to attack him.
But not all men lacked courage. Some, mostly those foolhardy ones who dreamed of a glorious death, wished for the battle to commence. Throughout the crowd Horns went off sporadically and war cries were shouted. Soon dust was rising on the grassy plain and the sound of shouts and hoof beets filled the air.
The first wave of cavalry swarmed Galon swallowing him in a vortex of hoof beets. He whipped out two shimmering gold blades. Licks of flame shot from their razor edges as they cut through the air. As the cavalry crashed down on him, he began his dance. The blades swung fluently from one position to another. Each time they struck hard on their mark as he dived and ducked, kicking swords and spears away from him as he went. The men wailed as they fell to the ground engulfed in flames.
When Galon annihilated the first wave he noticed a small nick on his arm. It was a small mark he had received in the combat, but it wasn’t the size that really mattered. To the men he had been Galon the invincible. The mark proved something to them; he was invincible no longer.
The initial charge rallied the men’s spirits. They hollered and whooped trying to convince each other that another charge would be worth it. Suddenly they were upon Galon again. They came charging at him in waves of metal, wood and flesh.
Each new wave brought on more merciless slaughter, but it also took its toll on Galon. For nearly an hour he fought off men from around the world. All had come to destroy him. He sliced in a fury, taking tolls on the families of a thousand fathers and brothers. When the men rode home there would be many disappointed households.
Finally, in a last crushing blow, they charged hard and overcame Galon. The dust from the battle caught in his eyes and nose and the fatigue of fighting had gotten the best of him. A sword pierced his arm as another sliced across his chest. Unable to dodge, an arrow pierced his naval. He reeled, dropping his sword, but a grin played across his face. He bellowed out into the night.
“Mortal men shall die, but my legacy shall live forever! High on the mounts does Haron Roc hold strong! And he shall send me back to finish what I started.”
He fell to the ground as another sword sliced through his throat. The last thing he heard was the roar of cheers from the few remaining men.