The last embers of the sun marked the end of the day.
The warrior and the priest picked up their pace, their steps steady and firm, dark circles around their eyes.
“We should reach that village fast.” The mage complained, straightening his slouched back, “I don’t want to spend another day in the forest, my legs have started to hurt from all the walk” he continued while adjusting the heavy bag on his back.
“By the goddess, if I had not taken the holy vow, I would have cursed nonstop about the atrocities I had to go through for the past week.” the priest added correcting his holy tunic, sweat dripping down his forehead.
“Who told you to be a war priest, go back to the monastery.” The warrior laughed and moved forward after stabilizing his breath.
The priest snorted at his comment, “The village should at least have an inn for us adventurers.”
As they reached closer, the village fences became visible. The priest paused suddenly,
his eyes wide as his face twisted with a scowl. “I smell death here, be careful.” he warned, equipping his mace.
The warrior heeded the warning, unsheathed his broadsword. Their steps closed to halt, but poised. Tension spread through their arms. They scanned, finding no ambush laid in the surrounding.
“I would bet my last month’s pay, something is wrong here” the warrior said, clenching the sword pommel hard while moving toward the wooden entry.
The village was desolate, too quiet for a place of this size.
The atmosphere was somber as two approached the gate and saw Two armored people guarding the town gate.
The priest’s eyes flashed silver with gloom, “they are not living.” the priest lunged toward the guards.
His mace raised high for a downward slash.
“Stop” shouted a man who ran out stumbling from inside the shabby wooden shed.
The mace hovered midair, air whipped out from the aborted strike. The dead also rose again.
“Don’t you know, The dead are the enemy of the living?” The priest lashed out his body trembling.
The warrior also closed the distance standing beside the priest eyeing any movement.
“These are the creation of a benefactor that is protecting our village, ohh great priest” the man knelt down, with snort running down his nose.
“Who is this benefactor you speak of?” the warrior asked as his eyes glued to the man, trying to discern the truth.
“Come I would take you to meet him, he is the one protecting our village from bandit attacks.” The man stood up with a smile on his face brushing off dust on his trousers.
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Lord Phrase.
Very enjoyable! If you don’t mind some constructive criticism, maybe spend some more time editing?
Excellent story. The tension, the atmosphere, the writing style, outstanding.