In Like A Lion

The murder of crows circled above, dread harbingers of his army’s advance.

Pasha gazed at the hill before them taking in every curve as though it were a beautiful woman lounging on a chaise. Atop the promontory sat a squat square keep, its angles jarring against the rolling cliff. It was many generations older than Pasha dared hope to recite, the head and seat of some trumped up local lordling. All Pasha knew was that he lay in their way.

Following the ridge’s spine, blue-gray stones curved into round towers forged in a different era, the beautiful body to the cranium-like keep. Man’s toil was impressive, Pasha had to admit. In a different life, a rabble of one hundred armed with nothing but pitchforks intermixed with chipped spears and bent bows with poorly fletched arrows might hold up ten thousand from that fortress.

Alas for those that buzzed around within its walls today, it was not a different era.

With something resembling a heavy heart, Pasha struck the stone over the long bronze cylinder. The powder sparked to life, and danced along the metal as though it was celebrating a newly come Spring. Pasha smiled at that thought; indeed it was a new Spring, a new era.

And at his bombard’s roaring fury, even the crows scattered.

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A/N:

Been nose to the grindstone on edits (draft four yay!) but needed to flex the drafting fingers. If you've enjoyed this, please leave a like and an insight below. If you really enjoyed this, tips to fuel my coffee addiction are always appreciated. All formatting is designed for desktops. Want to read more? Below are the best of the very best of my works: