Castlings, sketch

Not a short story.
Just a sketch about something I will write someday, decided to make this for some friends to read. Working title: The Castlings. Not currently being written though, perhaps someday.

Sir Dethfyre was dead.

Erodian’s mind was numbed by shock. His friend, the champion of his people, the only hope for the Castlings’ survival, was gone. Many questions floated around his mind like angry ghosts. Why, How. But he brushed them away. None of that mattered right now. Their leader was dead; there was no coming back from that. He wondered who would bring Gwenlynne the news.

Rain pounded on young Zack Dragonwake’s shoulders as he sat on the forest floor, backs rested upon a tree, his tears mixing with the water. He was sobbing inconsolably, his whole body shaking with the effort, but his grasp on the sword’s hilt was strong. He couldn’t let go of the sword.

It was hours till the rain finally calmed down, and with it, Zack. A calm, cold feeling dangerously crept up from deep inside him, quickly consuming his entire being. Such an empowering feeling. His eyes, still moist, now had a dangerous gleam to them. His grip on the sword’s handle tightened even more as he brought himself up. He was completely soaked, but he didn’t care. He started making his way back. Not to the Castlings, no. Now was not the time to waste himself in the pubs drinking with his friends in the memory of Sir Dethfyre. He could mourn later.

Turning east from the village’s entrance, he headed towards the mountains. He wanted revenge.

And for that, he needed Holdway the Knight.