Haamond Dovki let his sword become heavy in his hand as he swung it downwards, the blade slicing through his enemy. The Unknown, a mysterious enemy the Keddish people knew nothing about. They were their only enemy, and if there had ever been another, it was forgotten. The black shadow fell back, screaming it 's haunting cries as Haamond pushed it into full retreat. He and his foe clashed again, the Unknown 's shimmering weapon materializing to block Haamond 's sword blows. Haamond fought harder, pushed harder. His battle armor, hard steel etched with stories of long ago--fit to his body perfectly--was beginning to weaken. It made a great clanking noise every time Haamond moved. His sword, which would have glinted in the orange sunlight of the
…show more content…
There was a long pause, despair hanging in the air.
"He was among the slain counted in the Battle of Tref," the messenger finally said. It was as if that terrible news was the last straw for her. The woman looked down, her eyes becoming moist. Soon he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Her entire body convulsed with sobs, and her son could only look on at the spectacle unfolding in his doorway, an expression of worry and question etched on his dark features. Her older son put down his brother and told him to go find the cat, then approached his mother slowly. Shifting nervously, the messenger did not know whether to leave or not.
"Mother, what is it? Is something wrong?" asked her older son, coming up beside her. The woman put out a hand, trying to compose herself. She could not.
"Is it about pa?" the boy inquired further. Nodding she turned to her son, collapsing onto his shoulder. The messenger could see that the boy was almost the right age to become a warrior, and already as tall as the strong men in the fields. He looked at the messenger, something of cold blame in his eyes. Embracing his mother, he waved the man away. The messenger turned, listening to the sounds of sorrow and grief behind …show more content…
His mother had been gnawed away with worry; sorrow would have no better effect on her. Closing the open door, Cobyn helped her inside. She sat down, drying her eyes some, then bursting into tears again. Cobyn tok a seat beside her, placed his strong arm over his mother’s shoulder, hugging her and letting a tear or two moisten his own eyes. Although Haamond had spent most of his days fighting the dreaded war, he and Cobyn had grown close in the days before it. However, his loss did not make Cobyn filled with grief alone, he also felt angry. Not at the army for drafting his dad as a warrior, but at the cold, heartless Unknown that had slain him mercilessly. They seemed to have nothing inside, as empty as shadows, instilling fear into every man woman and child 's heart. Plus, the Unknown killed everything. Cobyn clenched his teeth together, hearing them grind. He looked up at the sword Haamond had made for him, to take and use when he was of age: 16. Cobyn saw the deep engravings--telling tales of old, and myths of the land--etched into the silver metal. The shinning edge that would cut down any Unknown, and the majestic hilt crafted by Haamond 's own hands. The sword was magnificent, but it had not been tested in battle, and never proven its worth, making it only a bauble.
I will avenge my father with that sword, Cobyn thought, gazing at it distantly. His mother continued to sob, while Cobyn was plotting his
There was a long pause, despair hanging in the air.
"He was among the slain counted in the Battle of Tref," the messenger finally said. It was as if that terrible news was the last straw for her. The woman looked down, her eyes becoming moist. Soon he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Her entire body convulsed with sobs, and her son could only look on at the spectacle unfolding in his doorway, an expression of worry and question etched on his dark features. Her older son put down his brother and told him to go find the cat, then approached his mother slowly. Shifting nervously, the messenger did not know whether to leave or not.
"Mother, what is it? Is something wrong?" asked her older son, coming up beside her. The woman put out a hand, trying to compose herself. She could not.
"Is it about pa?" the boy inquired further. Nodding she turned to her son, collapsing onto his shoulder. The messenger could see that the boy was almost the right age to become a warrior, and already as tall as the strong men in the fields. He looked at the messenger, something of cold blame in his eyes. Embracing his mother, he waved the man away. The messenger turned, listening to the sounds of sorrow and grief behind …show more content…
His mother had been gnawed away with worry; sorrow would have no better effect on her. Closing the open door, Cobyn helped her inside. She sat down, drying her eyes some, then bursting into tears again. Cobyn tok a seat beside her, placed his strong arm over his mother’s shoulder, hugging her and letting a tear or two moisten his own eyes. Although Haamond had spent most of his days fighting the dreaded war, he and Cobyn had grown close in the days before it. However, his loss did not make Cobyn filled with grief alone, he also felt angry. Not at the army for drafting his dad as a warrior, but at the cold, heartless Unknown that had slain him mercilessly. They seemed to have nothing inside, as empty as shadows, instilling fear into every man woman and child 's heart. Plus, the Unknown killed everything. Cobyn clenched his teeth together, hearing them grind. He looked up at the sword Haamond had made for him, to take and use when he was of age: 16. Cobyn saw the deep engravings--telling tales of old, and myths of the land--etched into the silver metal. The shinning edge that would cut down any Unknown, and the majestic hilt crafted by Haamond 's own hands. The sword was magnificent, but it had not been tested in battle, and never proven its worth, making it only a bauble.
I will avenge my father with that sword, Cobyn thought, gazing at it distantly. His mother continued to sob, while Cobyn was plotting his