The cat
"The air is hot yet sharp as a whistle. Thunder and rain should be pouring in by now. Still no trace of wind, however.
Half of Hedonfield is still empty, ersatz; obsolete. One half is occupied by the forces of the nearest city; the other, still to be filled with repugnant creatures from the stranger land.
Flags carried by the forces wave and flail in the soft wind suddenly hailing in from the east; of the colour red, blue and white with the emblem of green lions on the back.
"If you venture to ask yourself where the name 'Hedonfield' comes from, you would be irrevocably astounded. Thus is etymology a beautiful matter - a subject like no other.
As for 'Hedon', the name stems from the - what the civilians call -'old King', His Majesty's nickname 'Hedonfellar' for his precious acts of hedonism within those black walls of such a magnificent castle standing in the clouds.
"The standing forces support this old Cloud King - whose true existence you would currently be unable to testify.
Ah! Here comes the sound of a silent march from atop the hills just three hundred and eighty metres from where the old King's forces await their battle.
Land was lost, see, and they are to fight back for it against a seemingly unlimited number of enemies. Yet they know this not. Unprepared as they are, the chances of gaining a hopeful victory by this evening are already drowning in sunlight by the ocean waves.
The other landers creep towards the hill edges. Most are on horses, some on foot. Many are foul creatures with spears and skilled to the best combat, heavenly drawn within their monstrous veins. Some are men, women included, bearing axes, snakes and venomous daggers of all sorts.
As these enemies march and slither towards the Hills, the other half of Hedon's field ceases to breathe for but a moment to observe the odds against them.
Hope is failing, as you can feel, while the number of the other landers continues to grow and grow, as if some God was breathing them into His palm and sprinkling them across the countryside.
"Yet that is not how things work, in this Universe.
On spur of moment, the thousand against a mere hundreds-group ceases to convene and, as if the whole field were holding its very own breath, a mist snakes onto the scene.
The air is still warm but sultry. The sun begins to fade and the light dims.
Everything has been encompassed within a grey, misty haze of shadows awaiting their Death.
"All forces are invisible to one another now, covered by the great wall of this fearsome mist.
Without warning, however, a figure emerges from the side of the other landers.
The figure is of small stature, yet thin and wiry. At first it is black, then brown, finally fading out to a greenish colour.
The figure is a young boy, no older than sixteen. He wears long, wavy hair-beautiful-white sleeves with a freezing-white garment covering his entire torso. As for his legs, they are blue. Bare, but blue, covered by a thin line of blue, hazy light.
After walking so adequately, so painfully slow, the forces realize he also carries a flag of his own. And he carries it so beautifully, so elegantly towards Hedonfield's centre, as if following a rhythm of some sort.
He raises the flag-once in full sight-and fixes it in the soft earth below. He smiles, turns to his peers two hundred yards behind, dripping with saliva from the excitement of murdering, raises his right fist and roars. This roar is troglodytic, pure yet victorious.
The other landers roar with him - their enemies shaking with dread.
The war has begun - may your love be with you."
YOU ARE READING
I; Labyrinth
Science Fiction'There's a strange sensation of the absence of essences. There's nothing.' In the year 3032 a.D within the walls of the Minnesotan city 'Yesté' live three of the world's most revolutionary people innate with what is known as the 'tenth intell...
