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Part III
Chapter 1:
Krodasch
The village of Krodasch was gone. There were no more children, parents, not even pets or farm animals. The buildings lay in ruin, bodies dismembered, strewn about. The village was gone.
Marcus stood at the edge of the ruins of Krodasch at sunrise. His wolf pup, which he named Gideon, after the guardian angel, trotted into the village sniffing about.
Marcus’ first stop was the general store. He needed supplies for his journey back to his own village; which hopefully was still standing.
He made his way toward the store watching his step as not to disturb any final resting places of villagers.
Marcus walked up the steps to the general store, and cautiously looked around. There was no front door, but nothing was ruined aside from a few shelves overturned. He could stock up, here.
Looking around, he found food, water, and a new type of pistol musket; it was labeled “Revolver”, whatever that meant.
He picked one from behind the counter and noticed there was no plunger for the powder, nor were there any powder bags for it. How was he supposed to load it when the powder would fall out of the holes in the other end and no plunger to pack it? Then, he noticed in the case six, silver, cylindrical items; about the same size as the six holes in the “Revolver”. He picked one up and hefted it in his hand while looking at the new type of musket.
Marcus’ thumb went over what seemed to be a lever of sorts and the pistol “Revolver” opened up, in half. Did he break it?
“Well, that was a waste.”
Marcus studied the pistol revolver a bit more and put the small, silver, cylindrical object inside one of the holes in the revolver. It fit. He put the rest in the other holes. They fit, too. He tried to put the two halves together; carefully, without breaking it, again. It seemed to click into place.
Marcus looked it over again, pulling back the hammer, as you would a musket, the barrel turned and locked into place.
“Hmmm...”
He pointed the pistol revolver out the window, toward the building across the street and pulled the trigger. A loud “bang” pierced his ears, and his hand kicked back, hard. The wood sign across the street shattered.
“Whoa!”
Marcus smiled, put it in his bag, and looked for more of those small, silver, cylindrical objects.
***
Kritzia was infuriated by the loss of her youngest minion; one of her favorites. But, yet she felt a hint of relief that Marcus was not dead and that he managed to survive. That meant that he was strong. A man like that could help the population of her species, and siring more would make for a grand kingdom. But how could she do that to him; the man she once loved so much it hurt? But if they were destined to be together, then it should be done. They could live for as long as their hungers would sustain them.
As she paced back and forth in the cavern, Kritzia made up her mind. They would be together in either life or death. She preferred life.
*** |
