The battle had begun below. Wilson knelt by the cliffside of the mountain that stood to the side of the bridge leading to the Citadel. It was here, amidst the cover of the trees, that Wilson was looking out on the battle. For a while, it seemed as though they had the upper hand, but it hardly surprised him when the Ravennites defending the bridge suddenly turned the fight around, sending many of their adversaries over the edge. From the Citadel’s walls, Wilson watched volley after volley of arrows raining down on the Domineers. He gritted his teeth as more and more of his allies continued to fall. If they did not switch up their strategy soon, he feared that the battle would be lost before sunrise and their efforts wasted.
It did not take long for the Domineers to realize their strategy’s utter futility. As the Ravennites continued to spear them one after another, the Domineers started scrambli
On top of the tower, Rowan was shaking as she felt her restraint beginning to fail. She turned and ran back to Delmar’s map room. Altha noticed her run off.“Where are you going?” she asked, feeling worried for her. She could not believe how serious this plight had become. Even Delmar was struggling to defend his people against the onslaught of the Domineers. They were storming the ground and the long catwalks, and they had the Ravennites vastly outnumbered.Suddenly, like a blur in the corner of her eye, Altha saw Rowan rush forward and take a leap off the side of the overlook. “Rowan, no!” Altha cried.Rowan had retreated back into the map room, where she had left her bow and quiver when Delmar ordered her to take shelter. She grabbed her bow and slung her quiver full of arrows
Rowan had nearly four dozen arrows packed into her quiver before the battle, and she had just used the last one. Although she did not miss a single shot, the Domineers’ numbers were too great for her to handle on her own, but with her help, Alex was able to lead the Ravennites around him to stand their ground and keep their enemies away from the tower. Not knowing what else to do, Rowan decided that her best option was to make her way down to the tower armory and retrieve more arrows. The battle was not over yet.Even from across the distance of the plateau, Rowan’s attention was suddenly captured by a terrifying sound. She looked out with wide eyes across the battlefield and saw the Citadel’s gates being opened. She shook her head in terror, her arms beginning to tremble. It could not be true; the Domineers had taken the gates. Now Malachai and his men would be flanked and crushed, just
The sun was beginning to make its ascent as the sky started to lighten. It was at that moment, when all the Ravennite warriors were being overwhelmed by the immense loss of hope, that a great sound suddenly rang throughout the mountains and over the Citadel. It was a deep sound, loud and echoing, originating nearby from the hills south of the plateau’s land bridge. Alex opened his eyes and gazed up curiously. All the fighting had suddenly ceased everywhere, and everyone turned their attention toward the source of the noise. There was no mistaking; it was the sound of a horn.As it rang up, Robert and Caine looked over to their left. The sound of the horn was originating about a hundred yards away, from the hills skirting the mountains surrounding the Citadel. Caine took a step back in intimidation. “Oh, no,” he muttered, a look of genuine fear on his face.
Robert Morenno and his personal guard stood on their hill aside the fight and looked on hopelessly. Caine was visibly afraid and seemed to know that the battle was already over. The arrival of Darowe’s forces was the last thing he expected. He gave his leader a serious look. “Morenno!” he urged him desperately. “It’s over! We need to retreat!” Robert did not respond to him. He turned his attention toward the bridge and saw Malachai and Alex fighting their way across. Suddenly, he reached over his shoulders and pulled two, curved swords from the scabbards harnessed on his back. With a furious glare on his face, he ran down the small hill and charged into the battle. Caine was shocked and bewildered by his actions. “YOU FOOL!”Malachai had completely forgotten how tired he was. All that mattered to him right now was finishing off their enemy. It had become enti
Summer, 2008 The Adirondacks, New York “the Dark Zone” One does not navigate through the Appalachian Mountains with ease if he does not belong there, especially in the dead of night. The glow of a single propane lantern is hardly enough to illuminate the darkness while surrounded by the great clusters of tall trees. In the pitch blackness of night, a group of young men slowly made their way through the woods. Two of them were leading the way; one holding a small propane lantern in front of him while the other stood by his side, wielding a rough-edged stone shortsword. Following just behind them, a third man was carrying a wounded figure around his shoulders. At the rear of the group a second swordsman was standing guard. They had been lumbering through the woods for a couple of miles, senses on edge as if waiting for something to jump out at them from the trees. The light emitted from the lantern slightly illuminated the holder’s face, revealing a large, dark bruise on his temple.
As the head of the small group began to withdraw his blade, a sudden rustling in the trees behind them caused him to jerk around. Before he could brace himself for the worst, his comrade whom he had sent to scout ahead only moments earlier emerged from the darkness, much to his relief. He let out a soft exhale and released his grip on his stone sword. Then he looked at his returned partner as if waiting for him to provide news of some sort. Instead, he just nodded and gestured to the dark path behind him. That was all the man needed to know that a safe haven of some kind was just ahead of them. He turned to his other compatriots. “Let’s move,” he ordered, then pointed down at the wounded slump still lying on the ground. “Grab him. Let’s get out of here.” Without hesitation, the one who had been carrying the half-conscious victim picked him back up and slung him over his shoulders. The rear guard produced his sword again and resumed his position, while the leader of t
April, 2010 North Elba, New York “Lake Placid” It was barely six in the morning as the reddish spring sun struggled to cast its light through the young boy’s bedroom window. The early sunlight magnifying through the glass would be enough to wake anyone from sleep, but the boy was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to the sun, fully clothed and fully groomed, as if he had been up before the break of dawn. He was wearing a light, gray-striped DC hoodie and a pair of bluejeans defaced by holes in the material of various sizes. His dark hair was long and ragged, reaching halfway down the back of his neck and almost over his eyebrows, and his expression was one of bitterness and exhaustion. Not exhaustion due to lack of sleep, but rather mental fatigue. To him the weight of everyday life pressing do
As soon as Nickole descended the stairs, the savory scent of buttermilk pancakes enveloped her. Her mother’s knack for homemade pancakes had the influence to sedate her thoughts and welcome her to a brief state of bliss. Sometimes it was just what she needed to fully awaken in the morning. Nickole walked into the kitchen where her mother was stacking fresh pancakes onto a square ceramic dish. “Morning, Mom,” she greeted cheerily. “Good morning, sweetheart,” her mother responded as she proceeded to cut up an apricot. Nickole opened the refrigerator and pulled out a 59-ounce bottle of Tropicana before walking over to the counter to retrieve a small glass. “That smells really good!” she said, inhaling the warm scent of the breakfast. “Thank you, Nicki,” her mother smiled and placed the dish of pancakes on the island