THE WINGED ARCHER
It was back then in the days of the Winged Archer
that brave men learned to fear the night. Round the
campfires of the frontier patrols, those who had good
armour slept in it. Others slept under heavy shields.
Some stayed awake all night. Some never woke, for
the arrows that came from high in the darkness of the
night sky struck silent and without warning.
Then, there came occasional glimpses. Sometimes
when the wind carried sparks high from the fire or
when the dark clouds opened to let a little moonlight
through. It was much in the nature of these warriors
to argue and they argued long about what had been
seen or had not been seen. Those who thought
themselves older and wiser blamed the small tribes
that cursed the spread of the empire. A good bowman
or two hiding way beyond the light of the fires could
do this. But there were those who knew what they
had seen, up there in the night sky.
They had seen a Winged Archer come like an angel
of death to punish those who went too far into the
badlands. At first, few could see this fearful thing but
little by little the sightings became frequent and soon
all knew to fear the realm of the Winged Archer.
So, think of this. When you are on the edge of what
you know. When you fear that thing that is out there
in the endless desert. When they say there is nothing
to fear but fear itself.
Remember the Winged Archer.
The Winged Archer was published in
Volume 1, Issue 1