[Deaths] on a battlefield
Title: miscalculation
'Verse/characters: Death be not Proud; a member of the opposition; Eduard De'Ath, Julian De'Ath
Prompt: 58A "lies"
Word Count: 265
Notes: after blood in the water.
A rattle like hollow rifle fire echoed across the field, followed by an odd green flash in the darkening sky and another rattle.
The Morrigan disappeared in a cloud of screaming crows. The Horseman's son, as far advanced into his lines as the Morrigan had been, simply disappeared, between blocking a sword stroke and taking advantage of someone's distraction. The next swing went through empty air.
Then the first cannonball hit, cratering into his reserves. The second hit where Azrael had been standing. The third in the knotted mess of crows and deaths, still trying to find that damned deity-named bitch.
His spies had been feeding him lies, he realised suddenly, but too late, watching the fourth plume stream out from the hillside they'd reported the De'Ath watching from. This wasn't another city, another bridge, another careful testing of each other's strength as the councils scrambled to bring their full arms to bear on that upstart.
No, this was the De'Ath knowing exactly what he was doing, and bringing in arms of his own.
He couldn't help but salute his unseen opponent, as he heard the approaching whistle.
"The leader's down," his niece said, her eye still against the telescope she'd been using to spot for him. "Five degrees right, one up for the next shot." She looked over, met his eyes. "He saluted."
Eduard De'Ath paused, one hand on the winch, then nodded. Stood up straight--she joined him, the telescope held at near parade rest in her hand--and saluted the crater, before he bent back to the task and she raised the telescope again.
'Verse/characters: Death be not Proud; a member of the opposition; Eduard De'Ath, Julian De'Ath
Prompt: 58A "lies"
Word Count: 265
Notes: after blood in the water.
A rattle like hollow rifle fire echoed across the field, followed by an odd green flash in the darkening sky and another rattle.
The Morrigan disappeared in a cloud of screaming crows. The Horseman's son, as far advanced into his lines as the Morrigan had been, simply disappeared, between blocking a sword stroke and taking advantage of someone's distraction. The next swing went through empty air.
Then the first cannonball hit, cratering into his reserves. The second hit where Azrael had been standing. The third in the knotted mess of crows and deaths, still trying to find that damned deity-named bitch.
His spies had been feeding him lies, he realised suddenly, but too late, watching the fourth plume stream out from the hillside they'd reported the De'Ath watching from. This wasn't another city, another bridge, another careful testing of each other's strength as the councils scrambled to bring their full arms to bear on that upstart.
No, this was the De'Ath knowing exactly what he was doing, and bringing in arms of his own.
He couldn't help but salute his unseen opponent, as he heard the approaching whistle.
"The leader's down," his niece said, her eye still against the telescope she'd been using to spot for him. "Five degrees right, one up for the next shot." She looked over, met his eyes. "He saluted."
Eduard De'Ath paused, one hand on the winch, then nodded. Stood up straight--she joined him, the telescope held at near parade rest in her hand--and saluted the crater, before he bent back to the task and she raised the telescope again.