The Tale of Mascath

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A little Tale I sketched while building a background for my book. Hope you like it :)

Submitted: August 30, 2012

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Submitted: August 30, 2012

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“The rain poured upon the city of Mascath, and I was freezing to the bone. In these times of war, people fear the darkness, and the night was long when I reached the gates. They told me no one was to enter, as the enemy was not to be trusted. Told them I was a soldier, offered to fight on the walls in exchange for shelter and food. The answer? My hands wouldn’t match my appetite. And oh, it was big, my appetite. I spied some archers setting their aims upon me as I stood immobile. Walking for 2 days straight with the scarce food and water I managed to smuggle through the mercenary camp, I was in no condition to fight or argue. So I pitched my tent, right outside the wall and slept for a day.

They still didn’t let me in. By the second day they warned me, told me to get away from the village if I were to survive the attack. The war is ruthless, and without reinforcements from the kingdoms, many settlements are lost, for they cannot cope with the undying will of our enemies. I had 2 slices of bread, a piece of smoked meat and a swig’s worth of water. But I still lay there, under the blazing heat of the day. Although recovered from most fatigue and wounds, hunger was setting in. As the night came, so did the rain. I set my canteen in the mud, in hopes to get it filled with rain. Soon after, a hide bottle came flying down to land on my doorstep. I looked up and the Captain atop the wall told me the vile beasts poison he air, poison the water, poison the land. They trusted only their own water. I still don’t understand, but the fluid he threw me was not water. Did they not notice the Flow around it? The next day came with an unusually fair weather. The breeze swept my hair back and forth with a caress’ gentleness, giving me the time and spirit to ponder, bring back old memories, my purpose. The night came early that day, and the wall warned me again that the enemy was near. Hunger and ache overcame me, and I fell asleep for what seemed a measly minute. I jumped, crashing my poor tent, and the noise all around was that of metal and shouts. As I became aware of the scene, I realized I was being surrounded by a large group of the enemy’s host. With newly-found strength, I tried to remember my teachings. Must have been the water. I had energy, and my aches were soothed. The movements flew so smooth, and the words, oh they came flashing into my mind like fireflies in the dark.

I felt glorious, accomplished. Happy.”

“So who is it to blame then, hero? Your masters, the men atop the wall, or yourself?”

“Death is not to be blamed upon, for being welcomed into the Heavens is the greates of honours, my Goddess."


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