Sindors Fall - Short Story

  1 min read  

The clangor of steel rang out in the courtyard, men and women fought for their very lives against those that poured in from the breach in the gate. Arrows whizzed by, dangerously close, in an attempt to stem the tide of corruption. The order was given to fall back to the next line of defense but it was already too late for most, with a heavy heart Sindor ordered the inner gate sealed much to the dismay of his soldiers. Heavy pounding on the wood from dozens of desperate fists were suddenly silenced and all sound ebbed, save that of the carrion eaters circling above crowing out in delight.

“This is just a temporary reprieve Sindor, we cannot hope to prevail.” A honeyed voice said in the back of Sindors mind.

“Don’t listen, it’s only trying to fool you. Get your men on those ramparts.” He thought to himself, blocking out the voice. A clipped order to have the, notably diminished, forces of the first gate arm themselves with bow and arrows to join the others on the wall. He was so proud of his men at that moment after having suffered such a hefty defeat they still, one and all, marched in lockstep towards the armory. There were wounded of course, those laid out in rows along the sides of the thoroughfare to the palace. Incantations and prayers blended in with one another as mage and priest alike tried hopelessly to deal with the latest influx of dying. Novices as young as ten were seen running up and down the line with coloured ribbons, to pick and choose who required the most urgent attention. It wasn’t enough.

The death knell rang out with the sound of a splintering gate…