September

Issue 36

     We’re all going to die. The young magic-worker’s thoughts were dark today. Despite his not knowing the time of attack, he knew it would happen soon.

     Morent gulped down his waking ale. The cool, sweet fluid restored energy to a body that hadn’t felt sleep in two days. The metal mug felt heavier than it normally would have. The twenty-five-year-old wizard sat on the front steps of a crowded tavern. Many of the soldiers he’d arrived with were inside, telling jokes and singing songs to try and relieve the stress.

     “Are we going to be all right?” a voice uttered in front of Morent. He lifted his head to see a common soldier, dressed in Sarnoutha’s national colors of green and silver.

     “Do you think we’ll win?” the man said.

     Morent looked back down, locks of his shoulder-length black hair draping themselves in front of his eyes. “Look around. Only fifteen hundred of us, against who knows how many Karysians, probably packed into warships heading right for us.”

     “But we’ve got you, a wizard. Doesn’t that help?”

     “I doubt I could help you guys much. I’m only halfway through my training. Besides, one complement of soldiers and a wizard aren’t exactly adequate to hold off an invasion.”