Final Stand (A tale from old Dasaria)

[Starkwolf]

“I’m getting to old for this.” The tiny, old halfling sighed. He read the letter before him again, just to be sure. It had come his way from an old associate. “I’m retired. Damnit. Retired!” He stared at the candle before him, watching as the wispy greasy smoked reached for the ceiling of his not quite run down home hidden within the woods along the road to Dasar. “It happens now then?” The halfling seemed to be speaking to himself, but nodded as if someone answered him. “This is the end then.” His neutrality had died long ago. When he’d come to Daris he had sworn to do nothing but sit on the fence. To watch, give aid to those in need, perhaps become a judge for some court. His path had led down a different route though, landing him high up in a criminal organization, and eventually seeing him to the Queen’s side as a trusted guard and advisor. He’d given that up, in the end. Given it up and gone from Daris, to live out the rest of his days in quite contemplation, to wonder of the mysteries of his Lord God Anu.

Now was the time of action. The halfling stood, near resolute. He made for his door then stopped, a deep and shaky sigh leaving his pale lips. He was to old for action, yes…to old and frail. “There is nothing that can be done Bracht! Nothing! Best to stay here…yes…here alone. You are at death’s door, but no need to hurry through!” Turning, his aged eyes found the doorway to his basement. Opening the door, he made his way down into a dank earthen hole. Only one part of his basement had been finished. At the far end, two walls, part of a floor. In the middle of that floor, strapped to a pedestal white and silver armor. It like its owner showed its age. Rust here and there, countless dents. The old halfling made for the armor, then again hesitated. In the end he made his way to an earthen corner and backed into it. Voice raised he yelled at the armor as if it was accusing him a coward “To damn old. To feeble. I can’t remember the incantations to my Lord! I would be a hindrance to whatever forces they could muster!” He continued to stare at the armor. It stared back accusingly. After a few more moments the halfling let out a distressed moan and scurried up the stairs, back into the light. He slammed the door, leaning against it huffing hard at the effort. “To old! Nothing I can do…no! Nothing, she is beaten. Even if I could make it to her I could not protect her! Better left to Kurich, or to Raef, yes! Raef must be with her. Let me die in peace. I have fought so long!”

Hours later, the halfling awoke. He’d fallen asleep somehow, his back to the door he’d slid to the floor and his joints ached badly. But that was not what had awoken him. No, he’d woken to a sound. “Probably some bird. Yes…a small bird, searching for its mate” There it was again. It only took a moment this time to discern what he was hearing. It was screams. They came from the road, men dying. A battle! “They must be here now then. It is time. The Varanites have finally come. They’ll burn the farms. Burn them! But I am hidden. Safe!” In the end it was guilt not duty that brought him to action. No one, not one person would have faulted the old halfling for staying hidden. For staying out of it and dying alone. But he’d sworn an oath, to Queen and Country. Sure he’d left her service ages ago. But her eyes, so soft as she christened him a Knight of the Fist. She said, in that soft voice, “Your Lord surely smiles upon you this day Sir Bracht Frostridge of Daris, you have given of yourself to protect me and these lands we both hold dear. You make me proud.” He’d cried that day, before his friends as she’d given him his armor.

Bracht Frostridge slowly stood, his old joints protesting every movement. There was fire in his eyes now, his mind made up. He did not make for the basement, for his armor, his vestments of Anu. Instead he made for his bedroom, ripping open the chest at the foot of his bed. Silver sparkled. Oh how it sparkled, age had not touched this armor. It looked as new as the day he’d first adorned it. Withdrawing each piece with care he slowly readied himself for battle, placing each piece of his Crusader plate on carefully. He checked straps, tightened some, loosened others. He was scared. He would die today. But he would die in battle, much like his friends. His friends. A smile crept to the old halflings face. “What of the LDS?” a chuckle “Oh they’ll have some nasty tricks for them….yes nasty tricks.” Tears now. He searched about for his mace, worried when he could not find it. It took a while for him to remember he had given it away. Fully armored he made for the door. An hour later, his slow labored walk had brought him to the road to Dasar. He turned not for his City and his Queen, but for Daris, where it had all started. “She is well protected. It is Daris where I can do my best.”

It took him some time to reach the farmlands. When he did, he was appalled. He said a prayer for every body he found. He could not bury them, frail as he was, but he did them what service he could. The sounds of struggle reached him soon enough. He could hear magic, arrogantly thrown around. He heard a scream, his old eyes trying to focus on its source. The scream sounded again, he heard “help me” plain as day. It sounded like a girl. His eyes focused then, and he saw the witch, strapping a women in patched armor to a pole. Whispering words thought long forgotten an orb of Holy Magic sprang up around the old halfling, his hand went again for a mace that was not there. He moved as fast as he could and when he was close enough he hollered. “Stop this witch! Let the girl go!” The Ji Lynn turned, an eager smile upon her lips, which withered when she saw the Crusader armor. “Stop in the name of the Queen, fight me!” The smile came back to the witches face when she saw it was but a frail old halfling. She died with that smile still on her lips Holy Fire striking her down.

The old halfling made for the girl, who was hurt terribly, and would not live long. He reached for her tied hands not quite able to reach, as she muttered over and over “Thank you” He was busy with the knots at her feet so he did not see her eyes widen, did not hear her die. Only when something splattered his helm did he realize something was wrong. He stood then, gazing up at the girl, confusion on his face. Her throat had been cut. In days past he would have reacted to the danger behind, but those days were long gone. He didn’t even feel the dagger enter his back, it took him a while to realize he’d fallen to the ground. Above him a man grinned down at is unblinking eyes. “This un’s dead too. Gone ta his maker I’d wager. Purty armor though.” The old halfling moaned as he was flung about, his armor ripped from his body. “Alive then. Suffer wretch. Die slow. No mercy for the likes of you. Dasarian.” That last a curse. Spit from the mouth of his killer. Now left for dead, Bracht’s eyes found the sky. Tears slipped from his old eyes, as he gazed at his Lord’s domain. He could not move, his spine neatly severed by the dagger in his back. He heard feet, perhaps the man had come back to finish him. Soon the sky was blocked from his vision, and in its place a face, a young face. A boy, near manhood by the looks. “You tried to save my mama.” The boy then removed his cloak, covering the old halfling, who was nude. “You killed a Witch. Bettin’ you would killed that Solider too, had ya heard him. Bettin’ your to old for that though. Don’t worry none. I killed him.” The boy then tenderly lifted the old halfling’s head, and Bracht realized he’d brought back his helm. The boy slipped it on. “Your armor is small but heavy. I couldn’t lift the rest of it. I’m sorry.” The old halfling managed a weak smile.
“Anu bless you son. I am sorry for your mother….” Whatever the old halfling meant to say it was lost. He died then. Quietly, with a smile upon his face. The boy, buried the old priest, next to his mother. He never forgot the name Anu, and one day grew to serve him.

And so passed Bracht Frostridge, High Priest of Anu into history…

[Ludovic]

This is a fantastic story. I was genuinely moved by this.

[Will]

Rest in peace.

[StormRunner]

Very neatly written, Stark. I'm sure Bracht's conversing with Anu in the skies now.

[ChikenKannon]

Very. Very moving.

[KoolestLoser]

Aw man, that makes me sad...

A really moving story, Stark...Bracht deserves the rest.