April

Issue 31

    The eleven stood before their leader on a burial mound carved from the top of a small hill.  Fully armed and armored, the Knights Templar prepared for a last stand on the rock-exposed ledges of the mound.  High mountain slopes rose behind them while deep stretches of forest hemmed all other sides.  The body of their Patriarch lay unattended inside the tomb with no time remaining for a ceremony.
    Yero surveyed the meager defensive positions offered by the tomb hill.  A few stones jutted upwards to provide a limited cover amongst grass and trodden flowers.  He directed Dirk and Ives to roll open the gravestone capping the pinnacle so that the sepulcher could be used for the wounded or to offer temporary respite from enemy missiles.  
         Twelve would stand against the thousands clamoring in the wood.  The Captain’s urgent missive flew on the leg of one of his hawks.  Yero had only a moment to begin with a short prayer so that his Knights would have time to properly prepare themselves for the battle.  He winnowed all thought but one.  For though he would endeavor to promote their bodily survival, one duty arose to prominence.  What exhortation would he bear to his fellow Knights?