Song

It was a red dawn.

I stood on the wall looking over the field of battle. My sword hung at my side, dragging me perceptibly downwards as I stared at the scarred earth. The land that now was clawed in furrows had been our most prosperous farming district. Oily black smoke billowed upwards to choke our once-beautiful city. The enemy had taken to burning their dead and our dying where the wind would sweep their stench to us. Some of our children had fallen sick from the unclean air.

I turned away, facing now inwards. The Great Kings had formed our city out of white marble and bluestone. Now red streams laced the streets where the blood of our wounded ran. Before the end of the day these same streets would run with rivers of lifeblood bled by our women and children.

There were far too few of our men left. We could not hold the city.

Already the remaining men had begun to look somber. Even those who were not of the Guard could tell that something was terribly wrong. I clapped a hand on the shoulder of the nearest Watchman. It was time for the meeting of the Guard. Our king was dead and the laws of our people left power in time of war to the Commander of the Guard. Any fully commissioned officer of the Guard could attend our meetings, but our force was stretched too thin. Only the Captains could be spared and not all of us.

The End of the World

“How do you get to the end of the world?”

“Long days of hard walking.”

“What about the sea?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t you have to cross the sea to get to the end of the world?”

“It depends on where you start from.”

“Where should I start from?”

“Wherever you are right now.”

“I’m laying on my bed looking out the window. That seems a silly place to start such a long journey.”