Click the Read More button to see what I have so far written. It’s not much, but slight editing has been done at this point. I will also be posting a “Who’s Who” page later, as I write more. It’ll have very little at this point, as I only have the main characters, and a few supporting characters, in mind. There will also be an outline page soon, that will give the outline of events up to the start of the novel, as the CHARACTERS have knowledge of. The true outline will not be posted publicly, but I may release it at a different time.
The crowd was a little to rowdy this day. Even though, normally, the tavern was loud and raunchy, just something about today was different. It seemed that there was much more talk, and yelling, then was normal. But, what was to be expected, the kings forces had marched on the nearby town of Hillbrad, met resistance, and slaughtered every man, woman, and child there.
A general pallor had fallen over the village, if it could be called that, as the people waited for their turn to die. Every table was filled, ever hand with a cup of ale. Even those that would normally turn up their noses at something so strong drank their fill. As the women of the night went from table to table, giving the men, and no few women, their last pleasure on this world. Priests walked from hovel to hovel, farm to farm, granting their charges their last rites, and blessing them on their ways to the stars.
Strangely, the only man not to take this melancholy outlook was the blacksmith. People wondered if there was something he knew that they did not. Did the king need one more blacksmith, or perhaps he had already sold out to their oppressor? Still, why did they care? They were the walking dead, nothing would be able to change that, not now, not ever. Even as the questions were whispered, the smith smiled, and kept pounding at the metal that would become someones horseshoe. Those few that dared ask the strongest man in the village what was on his mind got shrug in answer.
In the distance, the people started to see smoke. Knowing that the rebels had attacked the scouting force of the army, they started to pray. Why had the stars not aided them as they promised? What would befall the children?
The first of the screams ended their thoughts, and they ran. The clang of the blacksmiths hammer keeping the time for their feet.
“Captain, the rebels have attacked the main force,” the warrior was obviously worried, as the Captain had a history of killing the messenger, “what are your orders?”
Captain Felixus looked over his maps, and smiled. The warrior knew what was coming, and slowly backed out of the tent, not wishing for the knife that the Captain hid on him at all times to find its way to his heart.
“Give the order to advance.” The Captains refined voice echoed throughout the tent. Looking at his map, he pointed at a small dot that not ten miles from his current postion, and chuckled. “These rebels have not learned their lesson, it seems. There is a small farming village near here, destroy it. Those that have strong backs are to be collared, women enslaved. Kill the children, but leave at least one alive that can make it to the rebels camp and tell the tale. However, make sure that all that child sees is the death around him. I wish him to spread the story of how those that ally with the rebels will be killed. Give his family the Dragon, make him watch, and make sure that he knows his part in this extreme history. He is to be the one that stops these rebels, so that we no longer have to fight them.”
The warrior nodded, and walked out of the tent. Hearing his orders given, the Captain glanced at his map, tears falling from his eyes.
