Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1537909-Runes-of--War
by Ronin
Rated: 18+ · Sample · Military · #1537909
A force is attacking both Greek and Egyptian temples a band of brave soldiers must find it
      Runes of War


              A dense fog had rolled in from the Aegean Sea sometime during the night, obscuring the predawn light that began to trickle in. A placid wind breathes in making the grass whisper, carrying upon it, the scent of salt and rain. Dew covered the gentle hills making everything seem to glow in a preternatural light within the fog. Only the sound of the surf moving against the beach could be perceived of the sea.  Even the birds slept still, heads tucked beneath folded wings.
              In all the splendor and glory of Apollo, the sun begins its trek through the dome of the world. The fog though, seemed to have a mind of it own and fought the coming heat of the sun. Little by little it began to lose ground and retreat back into the Aegean Sea, much like a giant sea creature being dragged back whence it came, or a worm back into earth. As the fog departed, foot shaped prints had been made in the dewy grass, leading from the sea and moving into the foothills.
The azure skies began to lighten as golden fingers streaked throughout. The few stunted olive trees began to form shadows as the world transformed into dawn. The dew that had enfolded the night world began to dry out. The prints in the grass and dew began to disappear as silently as they appeared footprints that seemed to be much larger then any mans and with a great stride. Finally the sun breached the horizon, its arms engulfing the world in warmth and light, dissipating the evidence of those ominous tracks as spring begins in the Mediterranean.

The light pours softly through the open window and onto the face of the teenage boy who begins to stir awake. He slowly opens his black eyes and blinks against the light and raises a hand to shield against it, then with a sigh, sits up throwing the blanket off him, putting his feet to the still cold stone floor. Shakes his head a bit and unfolds his arms into a long stretch, then suddenly froze. His eyes grow wide as his chest catches. There are no sounds of life around him. There is no sound of bird songs, or sound of insects chatting back and forth. The only noise at all is the sound of the restless Aegean Sea moving against the shores.
The young man stands quickly and looks around the small sleeping chamber he is in, his four other brothers slumber on oblivious to what is happening. He laughs softly at himself and brushes back a strand of black hair that fell over his eye. Pulls on his white kilt and strap his leather sandals to his tan feet. Then creeps over the backs his siblings and pushes back the red curtain that separates the room from the main room. The embers of the great fire still emanate warmth, pokes it quickly as he heads for the front archways. He pauses briefly by the doorway considers taking his javelins with him as the memories of only a few moments ago echo by but decides against thinking them for the jokes he'd have to endure if he came back with them and then explain why he took them with him in the first place.
He stepped outside and stood a moment his face turned up to the sun, feeling its warmth and said quietly prayers to Zeus then started out. The wind playfully tossed about his hair, which was layered in bronze, bands keeping most of his shoulder length hair out of his face. Once again the dead calm caught him up, his heart pounding in his slender chest. Looking around him, he didn't know what to make of this. His nearest neighbor was several miles to the eastern lowlands, farmers. The only other people were the priests of Poseidon at the temple near the beach to the north.
Summoning his courage breathes deeply the fresh spring air and begins to run towards the temple. Through the tall grass that reached to his knees he ran, making a slight detour to check on their sheep and was rather puzzled to see them all gathered so closely together in the early morning. His hand reflexively went to his side where normally a quiver of javelins hung. Looking over his shoulder back up the hill to his home, suddenly wishing he had brought them with him, even if he was poked fun at for it.
                Sighing he took up the run again to the temple, now that it was closer then home was. Just over the next hill he would be able to see the tall spires of the temple. As he crested the hill a severe feeling of dread overtook him, nearly pulling him to his knees. His body already covered in the sheen of sweats from the short run turns cold, as he came to a sudden stop. His knees give out and he tumbles to the ground as his begins to shiver from deep inside of him. The summit of the hill still blinds him to the temple he grinds his teeth and tries to raise but his body betrays him. Once more tries again and finds his body more willing this time but only slightly and with all the strength he can gather, crawls to the pinnacle of the hill.
His eyes grow wide and seem almost to drown in the white as his heart forgets its purpose and his groin tries to crawl deeper inside of him. The birds explode into flight all around him as he hears this unearthly scream that seems to be filling his head. The world around seems to be fading away from him, that bizarre sound still surround him then just as suddenly the bubble is broken the world comes back and he realizes that he is screaming at the top of his lungs as his heart remembers that its job once more. Taking in large gasps of breath as he realizes that he hasn't been breathing.
Below him at the foot of the stairway, at the entrance of the temple lay the remains of the priests, or what looks like the remains of them. The steps have streaks of blood down them as if something quite bloody was dragged from the sanctum of inner chambers and down to blood soaked grass. Tears flooded his eyes as kneeled where he had fallen, obscuring this horrid sight before him. Never before had he seen such a thing. Suddenly it struck him that the bits of the remains where not simple tossed about but seem to be put in some form or symbols. They seem to form Death.
Taking great gulps once more he raises to his feet and upon very wobbly legs moved down that wretched hill and towards the temple skirting around torn remains. Slows his breathing as he tries to regain control over himself at the base of the staircase, looking up and into the shadowed entranceway. Ascending the stairs, standing before the darken hallway, staring down at the bloody drag marks upon the white marble, the deep crimson stains were like fresh scars on it. The feeling of dread grips him tightly as he steps into corridor, his arms out before him in the darkness. There his foot strikes something hard and wet as he whimpers softly a prayer, there is no light in here. As he nears the antechamber he saw that a single torch burned casting a shadow against the left wall near the end of the hallway, it appeared to be a body hanging in the air arms out to side and no head on it shoulders. The air moving within this tomb made the torchlight flickers making the shadow seem to dance and sway. That was all he could handle, turning on his heels he bolted for the open air. He slipped on a pool of blood landing face first onto bloody corpse, a scream tore from his lungs as blood trickled into his mouth and covered his hands, chest, face and legs. He could feel a gust of wind upon his back sending goose bumps over his flesh and very faintly like a whisper he could hear the sound of laughter. It became louder and louder as if it seems to be racing from depths within the sanitarium of the temple itself. Fear so great took him and without care he crawled over the corpses and through the blood in the corridor, feeling the dead flesh pressed against his, his screams consistent. Within him something snapped, no longer did he see anything around him only the thought that he must get out repeating over and over in his head.
The air assaulted him as he pulled himself from the temple, the light blinded his eyes. The sound of someone screaming echoed all around him, he wished that whoever was doing it would stop. Everywhere he looked he saw bodies in various degrees of decomposition and in various death throes. Dusk seemed to be coming he thought to himself when suddenly he was grabbed by many hands.           
              Swiveling his head around he saw four of the corpses took a hold of him, in horror he realized that they knew his name and where telling him to calm down. He laughed to himself and wondered who was screaming cause they still haven't stopped. He was turned by one of the undead and slapped. It took a moment to realize that it said something, though he couldn't understand it for he knew not the language of the dead. They threw him down trying to keep him restrained, fear gripped him once more as he struggled against their hold. He noticed that one of them had a dagger on it belt, he lunged for it, unsheathing and drove it deeply into the chest of the one that slapped him.  The corpse screamed like a Banshee, making the boy let go of the dagger to cover his ears as he struggled to his knees.   
            As the corpse hit the ground and the boy leapt on it straddling it as he pulled the dagger out of its chest drove it deep again and again, feeling the blood flow over his hands. He glanced over his shoulder seeing the others looking stunned. He continued to stab, the screaming still continued.
              Suddenly and violently it stopped. His eyes went wide as he looked down and saw the tip of a blade coming out of his chest. A single tear fell from his eye. The screaming has finally stopped. He sighed softly looking up into the sky and was surprised to see that it was sunny out again. A single black bird flew over him and a soft smile parted his lips. He suddenly felt very tired, that is when he began to hear crying around him. Turning his head to look over his shoulder and was surprised to see that three of his brothers suddenly standing over him crying to each other, what for, he couldn't guess. The tiredness came to him again then as he crawled off whatever he was sitting on and thought that his brothers must be trying to joke with him once again but they would have to wait till after his nap in the warm sunshine. He leaned to his side resting his head against the hard marbled wall of the temple, the hilt of the sword scraping it. He closed his eyes and felt as if he was sailing upon the sea in a raft with the suns warmth pressing on him, set adrift to the waiting arms of Poseidon. His blood stained cracked lips split into a smile as another tear fell silently down. He never again moved after that again.
                  The three brothers looked down in absolute horror, two of their brothers lay dead before them. What had happened to their brother, they asked each other as they wept. Their blood stained this holy place, what happened here to drive one brother mad and then to murder the eldest. They turned to the sea to cry their rage and pain, calling to their lord to come and heal this condemned land bathed in the blood of innocents.

              Chapter One

            A fine mists of spray from the sea washes his strong and proud face as the sturdy wind flows around him. The scents of the sea overflow his senses. The sounds of the gulls tell him that they are nearing land, and sighs to those thoughts. The deep blue Aegean Sea rushes past him as the Trireme cuts a path in those waters. The creaking timbers of wood reverberate in time of the oar men as they stroke as one to the beating drum. The large single sail dance upon the holding on the mast, trying to lurch off and join the gulls, but instead traps the air and help speed them forward. The deeply polished wooden planks keep most of the water from seeping into the wood and move it along to rejoin the sea. Looking up at the bright blue sail where a single eye was painted. The eye of Zeus that sees all that is to come, like an eagle that circle on the currents of the air.
            For two weeks now they have been sailing from Thasos, of Macedonia, having made a raid there with Achilles and his Myrmidons.
            They may be poor backward bastards of Thasos but at least they know how to find silver and gold quite well, he thought to himself.
          The hull of his ship loaded to bear with prizes won from the prowess of him and his men. Having received nods and toasts from the Myrmidons, which of course were returned tenfold back to them. These memories bring a crooked smile to his lips and a gentle laugh, as he looked forward to another raid hopefully to come soon. The Macedonians have of late become rather over active and so raids have been made to help remind them were their boundaries lay, lest they forget.
              "Alexipolis, my lord, we should be coming upon Mycenae before night fall." Xenippos said from behind him breaking his reverie.
              Alexipolis turned to look at his steward. The man was only a few inches shorter then he, but was twice the muscle and weight. His large frame was covered in scars from his hands and arms to his legs and even his shaved head didn't escape them. His dark brown eyes stared up at him. His hands clasped together behind his back. He wore a deep green tunic, held loosely by a gold plated belt. Gold braided horseshoe bands with bullhorns wrapped around his upper arms. His black eyebrows arched as he waited for his lord.
            "That is good, tell the men to prepare to dock and unload. Tonight we shall celebrate our good fortunes..." He paused "May they last"
            "May they last indeed" Xenippos echoed, then turned on his heels and walked across amidships and descended down below decks.
He exhaled and turned around to see that indeed the peninsula was beginning to appear on the horizon. He wondered if Xenippos had been born in the Aegean and not to a den of wild boar, which everyone thinks, and that which he probably ended up eating after his birth. That image brought a chuckle to him as he tapped the railing with his hand then turned to follow his captain below deck.

            The Port of Mycenae was a bustling area, even at night. The torches that lined the port walls cast dancing reflections upon the tides. Sentries patrolled along the fortifications the tips of their spears glinting softly in the purpling skies. Great wooden docks reached out into the harbor like the fingers of a giant out stretched. A number of ships docked this night, merchants and soldiers alike tying down for the night and unloading their cargos. Long poles lined with fishes of all kinds carried on the back of fishers. Cages containing a plethora of animals moved towards waiting carts wagons or simply carried up along the great cobble stone road to Mycenae.       
                Smoke wafts through the air carrying the scents of many kinds of food incenses and torch fires. There is also the great din of human and animal voices echoing around this great port. Everything from laughter to intense arguments intertwines like a great snake.
              The white walls of the city almost acted as a beacon in the night skies as if soaking in the light and reflecting it out like that of the sun. Alexipolis smiled at the sight of Mycenae as he stood at long curved prow of the ship. His crew hustled around him preparing the ship for docking as they entered into the harbor. A loud whisper came from the dock as the harbormaster pointed at them then to the third dock where an opening was.
              Alexipolis gave a crisp salute to him tapping his fist against his chest twice in acknowledgment then turned grabbing up a landing line walked to the starboard side putting a sandal clad foot on the railing and waited. The steer man took the ship in a large arch towards the opening as the oar men gave one last large heave, the ship cutting through the water like a knife.
            The trireme began to slip into the dock, the great oars sliding back into the hull at which time Alexipolis and several other leapt to the dock with their lines then wrapping them around thick docking post then pulling them tightly as the vassal creaked and groaned as it slowed quickly down coming to a stop just inches from the dock. A large gangplank  was dropped to the dock and secured to the ship.           
            Alexipolis walked around to the other side, his long blue skirt whipping around, as his opened shirt bellowed out behind him like a cloak. The long sleeves of the rippled along his arms caught up in the same dance. His hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. The light brown hair had small bands of gold clamps in it, each clamp had a stag engraved in it. His frame was more like that of a panther then of a bull (Xenippos being the latter), large but lean. He had long slender finger, much like an artist though his canvas was of war instead of paint. His dark green brooding eyes took in everything around him, but could become very warm when he laughed. A crooked smile cut his lips as the port master came running over to him huffing and puffing, his long graying hair disheveled floating around his head like a halo.
            "You know you can't be doing that here!!!" He gasped out in between breath as he put his hands on his knees.
            Alexipolis was trying very hard to suppress a laugh, as he patted the harbormasters back leaning in to him
          "Breath Castor, my friend, breath" Patted his back again "That is it, perhaps you should come and train with my Spartan Leontiskos?" He laughed again
            The color drained from his face, as the images of the legendary fearsome training methods of Sparta came to the harbormaster
            "That is alright Alexipolis, I enjoy Mycenae food and Athenian wine far to much to spoil it with...um...physical work." He laughed as he regained his breath. He coughed then went on "But nevertheless you know what Agamemnon has said about such things as that stunt you did. He believes very much about rules and laws, almost as much as Hammurabi himself."
            Alexipolis laughed heartily at that, as the harbormaster looked aghast at his laughter. Alexipolis shook his head and patted him on his shoulder as he started up the catwalk stopped and looked over his shoulder.
            "Agamemnon is more tightly wound then the Gorgon Knot and what he doesn't know won't hurt him, eh?" He winked as he tossed him a gold coin, which the harbormaster grabbed quickly and bowed low, retreating back down the dock.          Alexipolis watched him for a moment then turned walking back up the gangplank.
            Xenippos meet him as he boarded the ship, looking past him at the diminishing figure then back to his lord and shook his head and chuckled lightly.
            "Must you always do that to that poor old man? One of these times his heart is going to explode and then he will be replaced by some young bore of a lad."
              "Yes well, when that day comes we'll have to break him in also. Have you brought up the scepter?" He asked his second in command.
              Xenippos brought up the scepter from beneath his robes. The scepter was three feet long, the tip of it had a snake's head with its mouth open, the fangs were made of silver, and its eyes had emeralds. Gilded scrollwork made up the scales down in the front of the serpent, rubies where inlaid down the back and along the sides. Something was writing in Macedonian, he presumed, along the head. He tucked it back into the folds of his robe and nodded. Alexipolis returned the nod as he walked to steers man; the man looked up and nodded, his black eyes studying in his lord.
                "Ampolous, my friend we are heading to the palace, take care and enjoy the night. Be sure the ship is tied down, I will see you tomorrow."
                "Aye my lord, thank you, tills the morrow." Took his lords offered arm bowed his head and smiled then stood up and started barking orders to the men around him.
                  Alexipolis stood for a moment watching his men hurry around the ship, waiting for as ten of his finest warriors came to join them and together they disembarked. They nodded to the harbormaster then headed into the throng of humanity, though for the most it parted for them as many recognized who they where.
                These men walked like a pride of lions. Proud and sure of themselves they are, without having the arrogance of weaker men. Though no weapons were visible made them no less dangerous, most who saw them thought them as far more terrifying then the lions and tigers that were for sale and waited for someone to walk to close to so that they might swipe at them.
                The city is centered upon the palace and the temple of Zeus, both struggling to best the other in height.  There were many public bathhouses and gathering house throughout the city all full at this time of night. Carriages carried on either the shoulders of servants or slaves scurry here and there weaving in and out the human traffic.
                At this time of the night many food venders were beginning to take down flanks of meat on ropes hanging in the open air. Clothiers began to load up carts with bolts of fabrics from all over the known world, though at this time a trend of Persian robes were in fashion.
                Soldiers in twos and threes patrolled the city on foot, usually chatting to each other or giving directions. The Mycenaean soldiers wore helms that were circular with a nose guard and came to a slight point on the top. A band of studs encircled the base of the helm and in the back two strips of curved banded metal plates protected the neck.
                The chest armor was long strips of leather and bronze banded together protecting up to the chest where band and encircled the torso. It was opened at the underarms where the two pieces tied together. Thick strips of leather hung down overlapping each other, over the top of a pleated kilt. On their shins they wore greaves that matched the design of their cuirass.  Most of the soldiers here didn't carry shields, but did carry spears called Dorys and as a secondary weapon they had xiphos swords hanging on belts that hung from their shoulders and hanging to their thighs. They had bright white tunics and kilts beneath their armor with white capes.   
              Alexipolis and his men approached the palace and swept up the grand stairway that was lined with great-ridged pillars. In front of the palace on a small grass parkway was a statue of a bearded warrior in a striking pose with a spear held over his head grandly.
            At the end of the marbled staircase where two large timbered doors, strapped together by metal bolts. On each side of the doors were two life size busts of Agamemnon placed in alcoves in the walls. 
            The doors swung open as they came near, a middle-aged man stood before them. He had black hair with streaks of white and black eyes. He wore a bright smile but his eyes took everything in and spoke volumes of deceit. His white robes seemed to absorb the torchlight in this small antechamber. The cuffs and hems of his robes had a red stripe.
            The chamber itself was circular design with thick pillars lining the walls. The floor was marbled and the walls held a painting of Zeus sitting in Mt. Olympia, bare chest and almost looked as if he starred at them no matter where they stood in the room.
            "Ah, my friends you have finally returned to this" He spread his hands open before him "Our fair city of Mycenae" He finished with a smirk while his eyes bore into them with an air of superiority 
            "Perhaps, Kaphalos, we should go see Agamemnon now, since that is whom we have come to see and not his long winded lackey that likes to talk too long holding up his king of his prize" Alexipolis said softly then smirked "Perhaps we should tell your king of how long we had to wait out here with his treasure?"
              Kaphalos clenched his weak jaw muscles staring hard at the other man, but then quickly dropped his glaze away then whispered.
            "Wait here and allow me to announce your presence to my King."
              With that he spun on his heels and yelled at the door guards to open the door for him and disappeared into the next room his white robes trailing out behind him like a serpents tail.
              "I think I know now where the meaning 'Snake in the grass' came from!" Laughed Andrippos as he made a forked tongue with his fingers, which brought a smile to both Alexipolis and Xenippos.
              They turned to each other; Andrippos arched his brow and glanced at the doorway quickly then back to the rest of them. He thanked the gods that he was neither king nor lord and had to put up such creatures. The lions would have a bellyache eating such rotted meat as that. He struggled not to laugh at that. Alexipolis watched him and had a good idea what was going through the other mans mind, and shook his head.
                "The lions would indeed have a bellyache having that for dinner!" He said it straight faced though the rest of his men burst out laugh as Andrippos grinned out at them.
                "What was the joke here?" Kaphalos said as he strode through door a snide sneer on his lips. Everyone grunted and stifled their laughter, though a few snickers escaped. He looked at all again as a deep hatred brewed in his eyes and very calmly he spoke "Lord Agamemnon will see you now." And with that he spun and led them into the throne room.
                  They entered between two statues of bearded warriors with only chest armor, a helm half on their head, and with a half cape. They had a long lance held in there right hand with a writhing snake in there left. The rest of the body was bare. The hall was immense with well over dozen statues the same warrior but in different poises.
                  A pool about five feet wide and ran almost the entire length of the hall. Small braziers lined the edge, separated every three feet. In a small cage beneath each brazier were sticks of incenses. The lights reflected on the water that was still as glass. Great pillars lined the hall about every ten feet, the bases where red with blue painted shafts. Decorated on the walls were the struggles of the city of Mycenae.
                Starting with the God Zeus stepping down from Mt Olympia laying the foundation for Mycenae. Others showed many of the great wars they have been involved in. The floor was made of marble, sporadically around were engravings of different symbols of power to the gods. Tapestries of the gods hung on the walls.               
                Slits cut into the roof, if it were daytime the sun would a wash them in light.  Near the end of the hall sat Agamemnon, on the raised dais. Five levels it rose to its plateau, on which sat a large throne. The throne itself was about six feet tall; the entire throne was made of gold. The feet of it where sculpted in like eagles claws; there where two carved serpent heads made of bronze, that over looked the back of the chair. Behind the Throne that stood nearly fifteen feet tall
              Agamemnon himself was a man of shorter statue, though rather wide. He wore a long light brown beard; it hung to his chest coming to a point. The hair on the side of his head were rolled and pulled to the back of his head and weaved into a long braid down his back. He had light green eyes that held in them both cunning and cruelty, they took them all in then simply watched as Alexipolis and his men came. He wore long black robes, with gold trimmings.
              Several long silver and gold necklaces wrapped around his neck. On both wrists laid several gilded bands. Most of them braided lengths of gold. He sat straight in his throne, his heavy hands rested on the armrests and lying across his lap was his scepter of sculpted gold with silver inlay. 
            The Spartans walked slowly through the great hall towards the king all following into order behind their lord. As they drew near the throne his men stopped and Alexipolis moved to the base of the dais and knelt to one knee; his men followed suite. He rose slowly and looked up as Agamemnon looks down upon him with a mixture of boredom and a slight distain.
            "Alexipolis, my brothers commander, how did the excursions into Thasos go?" Agamemnon asked in a slow and condescending voice that seemed to reverb throughout the hall.
            "It went well, my lord, Achilles and I and our men routed King Aulis, crushing the main force between the Myrmidons and my Leontiskos. Where the demands you gave were delivered to King Aulis and this was his reply."
              He moved his arm in an arc behind him towards Xenippos, who moved forward to stand beside his lord reaching into his robes.
              Agamemnon leaned forward in his throne, the fires of greed igniting his eyes and face. Everyone could see his fingers itching to hold his prize. Xenippos pulled the scepter out, the torchlight played over the shaft of it. The gemstones glistens brightly twinkling like the stars in the night sky. Standing he ascends the dais then kneels again before the king holding it out before him and above his head. 
            Agamemnon reached out to it, running a fingertip along its length then taking the scepter into his hands. Holding it up the reflecting light plays across his face as a wicked smile plays on his lips. He turns back to Alexipolis as Xenippos backs down the dais to where the other men stand.
            The King paused for a moment looks as if he forgotten they were there, then smile faintly as he leans back into his throne staring at the scepter then back to the Spartan.
            "You did well indeed, commander. Your deeds shall not be easily forgotten and word shall be sent to my brother. Now feel free to join the feast that will take place tomorrow, drink all the wine you can hold and eat like a king!" His eyes drift back to the scepter that lies in his lap, "Have Kaphalos make accommodations for you and your men here in the palace."
            He looked back down to it once more.
            "Yes my lord" He bowed low and looked back up, be careful my lord lest your greed becomes your undoing, he thought to himself as he watched the other man.
            "Also my Lord, King Aulis says that hostage of the scepter Thasos is a bond of truce, not submission." He studies him for a moment, wondering if he even heard him.
            "Yes, yes, that is all. You are dismissed, warrior" He looks up as his eyes darken then dismisses him.
            Alexipolis bowed deeply then turned nodding to his men who then fell in behind him and left the great hall. Kaphalos was waiting for them and gave a snicker to them as they came towards him, and without a word he nodded to another servant who told them to follow him and he will show them to their quarters.

              Later that night, after a large room has been made ready for them they sit together around a fire pit in the common room. Alexipolis and his men sit in a circle on pillows all relaxing. The windows open to the night air, which is cool and crisp this night making the curtains dance. The wind moves through the room gently playing with the men's hair, that is now unbound and making the fire writhe.
          Xenippos runs a hand over his shaved scalp as his brow furrows then cracks his neck, looks over at his lord,
        "Something is amiss here, Alexi, I don't know what yet, but I will."
        "I know what you mean," Andrippos said as he stretched out his arms and yawning deeply, "Agamemnon is up to something. Did you see the way his eyes and posture changed when he handled that scepter? I wonder what this means?"
        He finished with another great yawn.
        Alexipolis sat quietly for a bit before answering, trying to focus his thoughts as he studied his men. Then he to yawned and stretched.
        "Perhaps here is not the place to discuss such things." He said as he nodded towards the far wall, "But something indeed is amiss. Tomorrow is the feast, I want all of you to keep your eyes open, enjoy yourselves of course, but be on your guard. Report to me if you see or hear anything. If we find anything we should report it to Menelaus when we get back."
        He looked around at his soldiers then smiles to them, "But now we need to sleep, so stop talking like a bunch of old laundry women and sleep."
        They all laughed at his words then rose and left for their rooms and bedded down for the night. Their last thoughts were of women calling their names as a great darkness slowly engulfed the horizon behind her as a great fire bellowed deep within the darkness with white spirits screaming and twisting around through it.
© Copyright 2009 Ronin (holfortyj at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1537909-Runes-of--War