War, a dreaded feeling for most. Some have said it's palpable the way it hangs in the air. Most times before war horns are blown, drums are beaten, thunderous hooves are heard. You can feel it, an invitation to dine with death. You wait for the course line up, wondering if you will be the next to be carved up, and served to the dogs.
Standing on the battlements with every able man and son, Galaleiath looked over the burnt land. All that separated the queen and her army now were shells of homes, rubble, and smoke from a city that once thrived. The castle they were about to defend would soon fall.
Any moment now the Black Maser would advance, flood through the streets, lap over the walls, and wash them out. He turned to one of his men; spotting a tremble in his jaw, but he stood tall. Alth
