Ashes of War

“Come, oh ancient warrior once brave and bold,

dust off the gray ashes of war.

Arise to do battle once more,

for Evil has crept in and turned the world cold.”

Upon the high parapet of the black castle wall, a darkly cloaked figure stands looking over the devastation that lays on the fields below.

The broken bodies of thousands of soldiers that had crashed upon the black castle walls, like pounding ocean waves in vain, littering the scorched land in heaps. A cold wind whips over the dead, covering all in the dust and ash of the burnt forests that had surrounded the once lush landscape.

He looks upon the destruction and an evil smile comes to his bearded lips. His black crowned head tilts back as a chuckle spreads into a maleficent laugh that is carried across the battle field on the harsh wind.

Down on the ground, his mocking laugh echos as movement begins underneath the sea of dead. Slowly, an unnoticed hand rises from below and claws itself free. Gripping onto the arms and legs of the fallen, another hand emerges as they begin to pull their owner free.

Climbing out of the pile, seemingly awakened by the evil king's laughter, a lone warrior crawls to his knees and then stands atop the bodies that he had moments ago been buried beneath.

His hair matted and caked with dirt, sweat, and blood, the warrior stands and stares defiantly up at the lonely figure on the castle wall. The wind blows the ashes from his battered armor as his tattered red cloak flutters out beside him.

Catching sight of the small figure standing amongst his fallen enemies, the darkly crowned king cuts his cruel laughter and glares down at the fool that dares to still defy his mighty wrath.

The two stare at one another as the wind whips the flags that decorate the high walls that surround the castle's onyx keep; dark clouds move in to cover the evening skies.

Even though his own armies had been exhausted defeating the many peoples that had come to stand against him, the evil king felt secure in his fortress against this one, lone warrior whom had risen from the ashes. What was one more after all? He began to laugh once again, full with brash arrogance.

The warrior grips the hilt of his sword, sheathed at his waist; the leather creaking under his clenching hand.

“Come, fool!” the evil king calls down to him. “Come and I shall defeat you myself, so that you may join your pathetic comrades!” His teeth in bright contrast to his darkly bearded face as he throws his head back in laughter wildly once more.

Lightning streaks across the dark sky behind the dark-crowned king as his laughter taunts the warrior.

The warrior; cracking his own knowing smile as the black gates of the castle boom open to let him in. Into the lair of his enemy to do battle, one final time.

He smiles and thinks of the vengeance that would now be his. Thunder rumbles in the darkening sky as he begins to stride to the dark castle; to at last set the land free.