Chapter Eleven
Lycurgus opened his eyes. He had just stepped through an orb and he believed he had fallen asleep.
He felt something was wrong. His hand sliding beneath his coat he fingered his weapon as he sat up. The touch of the hilt calmed him, like the presence of an old friend.
Lycurgus looked around, finding himself in a wide field of perfectly trimmed grass. There were flags set at odd positions, and there were--obviously manmade--hills.
The man slowly stood up, resisting the urge to take off his jacket.
The heat! Where am I? he asked himself, glad for the little shade his hat provided, even if it caused his head to sweat more then it would without the hat. Lycurgus felt a little guilty for being in such a bright warm place while his brother Ryden was stuck in cold Gaea, forever sunken in winter.
The warmth was strange, but calming to him.
Lycurgus faintly remembered there used to be a time that things would warm up in Gaea, but for years now it had stayed cold. It was always cloudy and raining or snowing.
He stood there with his arms crossed for a while, contemplating what to do.
“Foooooooooorrrrrrrd!” a masculine voice called from just beyond the nearest hill.
Lycurgus spun in the direction of the voice, his grip tightening on his weapon. The call had sounded much like a battle cry to the ears of a man who has been through much conflict in the past few years. First it was on the borders of Gaea, but they had been pushed back to the center of the city a few months back after holding out under a siege that had lasted years.
From the sky dropped a small white ball, no bigger than an egg. It came flying with a destructive force, and Lycurgus was lucky that it did not hit him on the head. He had noticed it in the last second and his trained reflexes got him out of the way to spare his head, but he still got hit in the shoulder.
With a grimace, his hand shot up to the sore spot, which had flared up in his shoulder, sending waves of pain through his arm. He knew that it was probably already changing from a red to a yellow shade, soon to turn the disgusting bluish-purple bruises usually do.
Moments later a balding head appeared over the hill, attached to a heavy old man. The man stopped at the top of the hill from being so winded. He then spotted Lycurgus below, with his ball held between his thumb and index finger, a foul look on his face.
“Hey!” the man yelled, his round face puffy and red. “What are you doing with my ball?”
Lycurgus looked up at the balding man with an expression of boredom. “You,” he said, walking steadily towards the man.
“W-what?” the man asked, his eyes growing wide when Lycurgus procured a sword from his trench coat. He stumbled backwards clumsily.
“Were you the one who attempted to kill me with this device?” Lycurgus asked, by now almost at the top of the hill, a dark glint in his red eyes. He flashed the ball at the man.
“Y-y-you're not supposed to be here! People aren't supposed to be on the golf course! Today the place is closed to the public!” the man stammered, falling back onto his rear in his rush to get away.
“Are you not a person? I thought the public is made up of people,” Lycurgus said, taking his top hat from his head with the hand holding the ball. He had grown too hot, and beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead.
YOU ARE READING
Ashes
Mystery / Thriller"Once a being has been named, it has power. Be sure to take care of yours. I'd know how important it is, because I lost mine." Joshua is always fretting over the "what ifs" in life, but never trusts his gut feeling because it's always wrong... at...
