Discover more from Soaring Twenties
Blood! Daemons! Magic! Genre! The always-entertaining
himself Frank Theodat shows us what he’s made of with his latest story. I could see this becoming a full novel, or a whole series even and making Frank here rich.I wonder if he’ll lend me a grand when this happens?
Until then I’ll just have to make do with submissions like this…
Enjoy.
The fog was beginning to clear and the bodies could be seen now.
Raynal couldn't breathe. He could barely stand as it were. His hands grasped the dirt next to his body as he tried to pull himself off the cold, hard earth, but his legs were still numb. The soldier’s mouth flew open with the remains of his last meal launched from his stomach as he rolled to his left, face planting into thick mud.
He wiped his eyes, squinted, and saw them: His band. Lifeless. Cold. Soon becoming one with the remnants of the battlefield.
The naked sky above him was harassed by circling predators preparing their descent to gobble up scraps of flesh that belonged to the men he once called his brothers.
It was morning. Though the land was darkened with the smoke of the burning camp and rotting carcasses, Raynal knew it was morning. But the sun would not rise today.
He lost his sword, helmet, or shield. When he slipped his tongue around his mouth, he found several holes where teeth used to be. All he could taste was blood. Finally, he stood up and steadied himself, placing his hand over his eyes hoping to see better of the land known as Magia – Warlock country.
“All magic is dark magic,” the Captain’s grim voice plagued Raynal’s ears. “Take a detachment of cavalry and scout the roads leading to Castle Auld. Await further instructions.”
They waited. Then waited. After a night of feasting and drinking, their heads fell silently upon their mats into deep sleep until finally, the Great Deceivers came and scorched the camp with rolling monsters forged in iron, spitting flame and great flying beats dropping explosives and gas from the heavens. Their band was easy prey. Now hours after the assault, Raynal was all that was left.
Light rain began to fall as did any of his hopes to be reunited with his own countrymen. Death’s hand was tightening around his neck and he made every attempt imaginable to find a short sword nearby to fall on. Raynal had studied the scriptures: To be a lone survivor of such an onslaught would be offensive to the Gods. If the enemy was gone and he had no one to fight, then his life must be forfeited. This was the law of the Gods.
The Deceivers made magic and industry their gods. Factory smog poured into the air from the great Magia mountains while the old fools flirted with hellions and their black sorcery to secure their positions as the most powerful beings. They had no respect for religion or the old ways. Raynal’s King would rather see these dark practitioners put to the sword than make peace with them.
Soft groans of agony rang from afar. His hearing was not the best, but he knew the cry of a fallen comrade immediately and hobbled his way through piles of severed limbs and decaying horses in a humble attempt to help a fallen man.
A young soldier, his legs no more, whimpered and muttered his prayers. Raynal kneeled before him and cradled his head in his lap.
“Maurice,” Raynal’s voice was soft. “Brother, I am here.”
Maurice’s face was blackened with ash and grime. His left eye was gone. His breathing slow and heavy.
“Bastards…caught us by surprise didn’t they?”
“Yes”
“Damn daemons…with their magic.” Maurice coughed into a fit. Blood dripped from his mouth.
Raynal looked around him, still searching for a sword or spear.
“Remember that night….after the Battle of Manns. The wine, the food, the whores…by the Gods, the whores.” They both laughed recounting such nights of debauchery. They were raw recruits just three years prior. The King’s war against Magia would make them family.
“You never partook…did you Ray? No,” the coughing continued, “too busy writing poetry to that girl you saw back home. What was her name?”
“Penelope.”
“Yes,” Maurice closed his eyes and sighed, “Penelope. Perhaps one day you’ll read her your poems, eh?”
“Perhaps one day.”
“Remember our first march?”
“I do, brother.”
“Gods, we were still boys then. Playing soldier. I’d never seen…my father so…proud.”
“Rest, Maurice. No sense talking of the past.”
“That’s all we have now, Ray. That’s all….we…”
The air expelled from Maurice’s body. Now he was quiet. Raynal covered him with his cape and prayed. As he said goodbye, the ground beneath him began to tremble. Thunder boomed above and hard lightning cracked, shaking the earth. Raynal looked up. He could see the colossal machines in the far distance, with a legion of fierce looking fiends and undead soldiers advancing towards his position. The Warlock’s army would descend once again.
Raynal stood for a moment and began to march ahead. He remembered the farm girl Penelope who stole his heart with a smile. He remembered his hard training days with Maurice and the other soldiers of his band. Back then, they spoke of war as their birthright. They read books on the conquests of their forefathers and would sing the ballads of knights slaying giants, each verse memorized. They would play with wooden swords and shields, dreaming one day they would taste hard-fought glory and celebrate in the brothels and feast halls.
Now they were men and Rayanal was the last one to stand.
He found a dagger still clutched in the hands of a dead old friend and held it firm.
His heart began to race as he watched the unholy horde begin their charge. He regained full feeling in his legs and ran at full speed. Fate was calling his name.
The Gods would favor Raynal today, he was sure of it. Though death was imminent, he felt no fear.
Would his country remember his name? Would the King smile at the news of his bravery? Would they record this day in the history books? Would the bard sing a joyous song of this last stand?
Perhaps one day.
I keep writing this but -- it's so freaking cinematic! You build a great atmosphere and I sensed some hints of modern technology there for a while. And then this powerful warrior who's perplexed by it. Great stuff as usual!
So freaking good!!!!!!! Hypnotizing. Thank you for this.