He could feel their presence, the presence of the gods. He could almost feel their hands upon his shoulders. It would not be long until they called upon him to be the Guardian once again. He then chased the thought from his mind; for now he had a battle to fight. He and his men remained undetected, ready upon their armour-clad steeds. They observed the vanguard of the Hothite cavalry gingerly negotiating the shallows of the serene river. They bore worried faces behind their nose guards of bronze and iron and kept their voices low. Their hands were clasped wearily on the grips of their swords and lances. Henry readied himself to become the Artorian once more. He spoke to the gods on behalf of his men with a Warspite prayer, one which Hasler had taught him. All listened as he recited it from the front rank: “Gods that cast shards of light upon the soil of the globe; please hold my body strong like steel, for here we are now at life’s great abattoir. We pray that the suffering be quick and the misery short. Let the toll be lenient and the losses light. May the outcome be glorious! Let it be glorious enough to warrant the vanished lives. It is in you above whom we trust, be with us today as we endeavour!” To Battle... - Extract, Warspite, "The Godling" amzn.to/17a9oRB
Posted on: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 19:44:55 +0000
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