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Writs, Rumours, and Whisperings

"Sacrifices" (aka Diebin Am Nacht),   by Timothy Parker

     

 
 
lightning flashed for a moment where there had been no storm. When the diamond brilliance passed, a group of maidens, nine in all, stood there, each seated upon a pale steed. These maids were young and beautiful, with dazzling white arms and flowing golden hair. They each wore winged helms of silver and gold, and corselets of blood red, night black or shining silver. Glittering spears and shields they bore, and the very air around them shimmered as if misted with hoar frost or mountain's dew. A cloying, pale mist swirled and churned about the hooves of their mounts, to roll onward down, to obscure even the hill they stood upon. They were silent and still and watching, as if intent upon the conflict 'tho it be distant.
      The sky was strewn with banks of thick, morose clouds that threatened to stifle the breath of a newborn day. The wind was chill and brisk, and 'tho it had a bite, it moved not the billowy tufts that blanketed the heavens. Yet tightly as night held on, still it could not impede much the birth of the dawn, with its resolute grip upon the eastern horizon.

    

 
 
      Longshanks released an arrow, dispatching yet another crossbowman. He glanced back at the wall, startled to see a battle impending there. O'Cuire was moving to engage three armoured foemen, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
      Fighting down the wave of panic that clenched his gut, he waited a moment, and watched his friend enter into battle.
      Timeras made no move to draw his sword, even though his adversaries' weapons were bared. The tallest of the guards carried a Fauchard, a two-foot, single-edged blade mounted on a six foot pole. This one seemed most eager to close. The Black Knight, he noted, hung back, and allowed the other two the initiative. "Perhaps," he thought again, "not so worthy after all."
      The rampart was barely wide enough for two men to walk astride, let alone fight upon. The poleman moved ahead, the other fell back a step to give him room.
      The Irishman stood lightly on the balls of his feet, arms wide and empty, a broad grin

     
 

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All Characters and Situations Copyright © 1994 by Timothy Parker.
All Rights Reserved.



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