Wait and Perish or Take Action


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Wait and Perish or Take Action

The horseman began to arrive in the land of the great tyrant Alex. This valley and this castle belonged to him. The thick fog around them obscured many things in the small town.
They were walking through a dark and muddy forest of thin, ugly and sad trees. As they approached the town, the forest seemed to bid them a sad farewell. Was it empty like this before?
It must have been full of life? But now, because of Alex's curse, it was all fog and rain and falling apart.
Reality was falling apart.

Dante looked behind him.
He gasped in surprise.
The muddy cobblestone road they had come down was crumbling upwards towards the sky. It was as if the road had begun to deteriorate behind them after they had crossed it. They had not felt such an effect on the way.

Earthquakes. There were frequent small tremors. Inside the town they could see buildings crumbling.
The horseman warned his army, telling them to form a single line. When they looked at the buildings, they could not see more than two or three buildings away because of the dense fog, and they disappeared into the mist, as if they had been torn apart and were floating in the air.

Alex's curse must have affected the whole population.
As they passed through the center of the town, they saw a statue. Alex the Conqueror in all his majesty seemed about to kill Marko, the former ruler of this place, with his jagged sword. In the statue, Alex's sword was resting on Marko's neck and he was laughing evilly. The plaque beneath the statue read "Glorious Alex, Saving Us from the Bastard Marko".
Dante grimaced. All the horsemen knew it was a lie.

The army of horsemen continued in single and double columns, not too far apart from each other.
Dante rode to the front. They had to take the path along the side of the mountain in front of them and get to the castle on the hill. But the rain and the lightning were so angry and sad, as if they didn't want them to go on. There were no people around and it was as if their tears were falling from the sky.

For a few hours they continued slowly down the road.
They traveled carefully along the path and the road on the side of the mountain. Lights began to appear ahead. The camp lights. One, two, three...
Dozens of camp lights and tents around them.
The earthquake seemed to be less around here.
As they got closer, they started to see people. On the way to the castle, they had thrown a lot of tents around.

Children were sitting in groups of two or three inside the tents, scared, to stay out of the muddy, torrential rain and the forest.
Some mothers were breastfeeding their babies, trying to comfort them, who began to cry when the lightning struck.
When the men with their hands to work saw the army of horsemen approaching, they walked curiously towards the road and began to crowd around them.

Dante slowly stopped his horse and called out, "Who is in charge here?''
Slowly the people began to separate, and an old man sitting in a wheelbarrow appeared in the middle.
The young man behind him grabbed the wheelbarrow and started pushing it and moving towards the newly arrived army of horsemen.

''I am in charge here, I was, I think I still am...'' The arms of the man in the cart were wrapped around him with a rope. His sparse white hair was wet from the rain and stuck to his face. Some of his teeth were missing, you could tell when he spoke. Maybe even his tongue was damaged. From his facial features, it became clear that this man was Marko the Bastard from the statue below. His feet dangled from the wheelbarrow on which he sat. They moved with gravity as if they had no life in them.

Dante looked up at this man he felt sorry for, he spoke in a confident tone of voice because the people were listening;
"Lord Purre Marco? Is that you? We thought you were dead, we didn't know you were... crippled, we thought your son had written the letter we received.
"It would have been better if I had died, son.''
"We're very sorry we're late. The spell, the magic of the witch you mentioned was preventing us. We lost many of our wizards before we got this way. Some of them stopped coming. Scared... Many died. The tyrant was working with a very powerful witch indeed. There's an army of horsemen here. Yes, I know you specifically asked for a lot of wizards. But we have only a handful left.''
"No. Join us in despair, son. The tyrant is not a problem. The witch who gave him the agility spell is. The witch who makes his soldiers feel no pain is a problem. It's the damn witch who can rip the fear out of their hearts that is the problem. We can't win this war without our wizards. Welcome aboard. Welcome to the resistance.''
''But Lord Marco...''
"Don't talk, young man. You're a young and ambitious commander. It's been 13 years since I sent you that letter. Let me show you what we've done in 13 years.''
He gestured with his head to the surrounding tents. His hands were tied because he was injured. People were listening to them, waiting for hope. They were whispering among themselves, wondering if the new soldiers would save them.

''Could they really make it?''
''Will they save us?''
''Please save us from the Witch!''
''But they have so few wizards left, the witch is so powerful, how will they succeed?''

Dante looked around and turned to his soldiers.

''Horsemen. Will you live like this and let people live like this, or will you fight with me for freedom! We have to eliminate this tyrant, whatever his deal with the witch is. Children must run and play in the streets again. Fathers shouldn't wonder when my family will die. Now say it! You have families, too. You have people waiting for you! We will fight with our metal! We will protect our wizards with the last drop of our blood! It is our right to save these people. We are trained to fight and we live to save! To save the hope of these people! Are you ready to fight!''

The soldiers shouted yes and began to beat their swords against their shields.
Dante walked to his horse and turned to look at Lord Marco.

"My lord, will you now show me the direction of the castle?

This story is inspired by and written for The Ink Well Prompt #102 Sympathy. Thank you so much for reading.

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You are a great writer, the story absorbed me as I read it. I hadn't remembered how slow the postal service was in those days, 13 years is a lifetime. Poor people.

Witches are mysterious creatures so time and space can work differently 🤗😁

Fantastic story, the setting, the epic atmosphere, I liked everything. A fight against good and evil with magic in between, I loved that. I hope there will be a second part and we will see a decisive battle.

Thank you so much! Actually writing battles is really hard so... I dont know if I can pull that 🤗🤗

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