Shadows Wait To Play

                        “What say you, Bremen?” Cup asked.

                        “Grim news, Cup,” the older Knight replied.  “Scouts report that these creatures are appearing everywhere.  Eagles’ Heights is under siege, and nearly every Corilium settlement from here to the Canson Mountains have met the beasts.”

                        The other Knights remained silent as they digested what they had heard.

                        “Unfortunately, we seem to be bearing the brunt of the assault,” Bremen said.

                        “Any word from Arkan or Prince Falcon?” Arsenal asked. 

                        “Nay.”

                        “And Eagles’ Heights?”

                        “No word,” Bremen answered.  “I pray they are fairing well.  No doubt Blackhawk is giving them hell.”

                        Titan had produced a flask of amber fluid.

                        “To battle,” Titan, the man-mountain, offered.

                        “To battle,” the others answered in unison.  This was an ancient tradition among Knights of combat, no matter the rank.

                        They drank deeply from the flask, taking turns until it ran dry.  Then, they reinforced their magical warding spells and pulled their weapons free of scabbards as the wave of demons swept into the front lines.

                        “Merciful God,” Arsenal whispered, as the first thousand men to engage the beasts and the subsequent horde of robed sorcerers were slaughtered.

                        “Bah . . .” sneered the indomitable Titan.  “I’ve never met an enemy we could not crush,” he said, as he pushed his way forward.

                        Arsenal looked to Cup and Bremen, and then followed.

                        “What do you think?” Cup asked.

“I think we pay for our arrogance,” Bremen answered quietly, as he and Cup joined the battle.