The Peacock’s Lament
The song of the peacocks echoed in melancholy wails under the blood-red dawn of the desert sun.
He stretched. His bones ached from the cold that had crept into his thin mattress during the night. All around him the tents were struck. Get up at daybreak and ride all day, make haste, make haste, for another war.
Another worthless war. He clenched his teeth. Worthless?
At least his taking up the sword for the Dark Lord in that Black Land far to the North had saved his family’s freedom. Once more.
But what if he did not return this time?