|Meeting (standard:fantasy, 805 words)|
|Author: Salamander||Added: Oct 04 2000||Views/Reads: 1862/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Short story about two unusual characters meeting each other amidst a field of dead. First in a long series that I'll probably be putting on this site.|
The breeze rustled the leaves softly. It was an interesting sound, and Canor was fascinated by it. It provided a mournful background for the devastation ahead of him. Canor looked at what had been a battlefield a few hours earlier. Corpses littered the area, some with arrows, others with blade handles jabbing out of them. All were silent. The two sides had been fairly equal, but superior tactics had let the...what? Blues? Had let the Blues win. Blues and Reds were the easiest ways to classify them. Reds had blood red armor, and the armor in the field looked no different, despite the blood that caked them. The Blues were in soft, mobile, padded suits. The colors of the Blues were turned a ghoulish purple. Canor wasn’t too sure what had happened. He had just found the battle and stayed out of it, watching the surviving Blues walk off. The archers had empty quivers, and very few swordsmen still had their weapons. Canor sighed. He hated war. So he closed his eyes and sat down on the grass, and began to think about the Otherworld. It was a better place. He had come from there, but had been kicked out when he was needed on Earth. He still had found no purpose for being here, other than to watch wars and mourn for the dead. Canor shook his head and focused again on Otherworld. Gradually, gradually, his mind sank into the Gate, the place where many people waited. It was a small town, really, and he was free to visit whenever he wanted. The Gate was open to everyone who was not a blatantly sadistic person, although evil was just opinion, and could be easily made to exclude some people. Canor’s friend, Dutch, greeted him. Dutch was a chocolate Labrador, who wore a bright orange and green robe. It was a definite contrast to the solid black plate armor that Canor was wearing. Dutch was actually part of Otherworld, but he didn’t like to be there without Canor. “I don’t suppose you’ve done your job yet, Canor? Hmm?” Canor laughed. “Not yet. I try, but I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Dutch quickly turned grave. “You’re in luck, although I wouldn’t exactly call it that. I asked one of the Oracles. She said that you have to do something before, during, and after battle, and that you have to have a warrior’s heart. That was all she said.” Canor sighed. “I’m already after a battle...I’ll come back as soon as I can. Maybe I’ll find whatever I’m supposed to do here...” The Gate’s green lawns vanished from view, and were replaced by the desolate graveyard ahead of him. Some crows had already begun to peck at the dead bodies. Canor shooed them away. It was then that he heard a crunch of a broken stick. He whirled around, to find an exceedingly large snake. It was a dull green, lighter in some places than others. It poised its head and looked at Canor. “Why are you here?” Its voice was a low hiss, and menace was in its tone. “Why do you care, serpent?” Canor snarled, but it had no effect on the snake. “Because there aren’t many people who would stay here long.” It laughed cruelly, and began to slide closer. Canor drew his sword and jabbed it at the snake. “Stay back. I don’t want you eating the dead.” The snake grinned toothily, looking more and more malicious as it spoke. “Then write their names and bury them. Their families deserve to know what happened. They should have the honor to be buried properly.” Canor blinked. Why hadn’t he though of this before? It was a purpose, a dream, a...reason for being here. He suddenly understood, that his mission was to care for the dead in this violent time. Nobody else saw the need... He might be the bringer of peace, the one who ended the wars! The snake chuckled as he spoke. “I’m right, aren’t I? That’s why you’re here?” “On Earth, you mean?” Canor didn’t think that snakes were in the Otherworld. Things of the reptile persuasion tended not to inhabit the wonderful place, although that was mostly because people didn’t like how they looked. But that was just a tiny puzzle, because Canor’s mind was mostly filled with dreams of peace in the future. “I know no other place than Earth. I’m Silvire. Remember my name.” The snake slithered off past the trees. Canor wasn’t sure that Silvire was trustworthy, but he had given him the purpose he needed to live. He stared, as the last of the green snake vanished into the shadows. “See you later, Silvire.” Mocking laughter was the only reply. Canor turned and began to record the names emblazoned on their fallen suits. Tweet
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