Fantasy Story in Progress
It was the middle of the night, at the
darkest time of the moon and the perfect night for an ambush. Crouched in the
shadows, you could just make out six dark clad figures. They waited tensely. They could hear the
clatter of horses hooves. The air was rich with anticipation. Around the bend
they came, twenty knights on horseback in
shining black armor, and in their midst, gleaming like the moon itself was the
Queen. She wore silver armor that
shimmered in the moonlight, rode a
white horse, and upon her head was a crown with a small black swan upon it. The
Queen was strikingly beautiful in her shining armor. She rode with an air of authority
that only someone of high birth could carry.
The men hidden in the shadows readied their
bows. There was a hissing sound. Then
suddenly the Queen’s horse reared and sent her flying to the ground. The horse
fell dead with six arrows in its chest.
The Queen jumped up and in a wicked voice screamed, “After them, you
fools!.”
The Knights, in disarray from the surprise
attack, formed a ragged line and charged in the direction from where the arrows came. Again, a hissing
sound and a line of charging knights fell from their horses. The knights
reached the spot where they had seen the figures but there was no one
there. They looked around in confusion.
Then suddenly, the dark clad figures leaped out of the trees scattering the knights.
They wore blackened chainmail, carried long, black swords, and wore full-length
green cloaks with large cowls that obscured there faces. The knights, surprised by this sudden attack
from an unknown enemy, fled off down the road.
The figures ran over to where the Queen had
fallen, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Darn we lost here,” said one of the
figures, the tallest of the group.
“Its fine.
Look what she left behind,” said the one with a crest on his cloak. He
held up a small silver key hanging on a gold chain.
“Is that,” said the tall one.
“Yes it is,” said the other, cutting him off
as he placed the key in a pouch on
his belt. ”Come on,” he said. “Lets get
back and tell Gilan what we found.”
Gilan was not a big man, but he was strong
from years of fighting in the wars. He sat at the counsel table in the rebel
stronghold. The rebel stronghold was located in the Brutties fief. It was a
large castle, one of the biggest in the country with a citadel defended my
seven great walls with the citadel located on the top of a mountain, it was
virtually invincible.
