Honor and Death: a Knight's Demise

QUICK NOTE: The main character in this story had a sword that literally sizzled when used in battle. Its heat could penetrate virtually anything. Please remember, this is a fantasy story. Thanks, and please enjoy.

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A gallant knight slowed his steed before reaching the river's edge. He knew from pixies' gossip that this water was delicious and healthy to both the body and soul. After the battles he had recently fought, he'd need all the healthy water and magic anyone and anything could offer.

The knight's fine horse drank greedily, as it had been almost a full day since his last water break. And time wasn't the only factor that had passed between then and now. There were narrow escapes from the jaws and fire breath of two ferocious dragons, battles with barbarians, and even a fight to the death with a proud territorial ram up in the high mountains of Shadascar.

Fortunately for the silver-maned stallion, its senses couldn't detect death. For if they could, he would have known that his master was still bleeding from a battle axe wielded by a deranged barbarian, which caught him below the ribs just before his sizzling sword pierced the madman's Adam's apple.

As the noble beast was shaking off some water, his once mighty rider lay a few feet away, coming to grips with his own mortality; breathing becoming shallower with each heartbeat.

Hyperion wanted so desperately to rise from his sprawled position and raise his powerful sword up to Heaven, in order that he may leave this side of existence and enter into the other side with valor. However, being critically wounded, the knight could barely even conjure up a silent prayer, let alone raise a limb with his plate armor weighing him down.

Cold, he thought with bewilderment. The air is becoming chilled, as if a snow blizzard is on the horizon. But of course, he knew that was certainly not the case, as this was the season of intense heat, when the dragonflies and locusts reached full size, and the land was twice as green as any other color until you reached the water.

The pain of the open wound was almost enough to cause him to scream, if he could even muster enough air from his dry throat. Which he could not.

His last cognizant acts were a thought ...

Damn those blasted barbarians for not sterilizing their blades before battle!

.. and a hearty belly laugh which sent blood spewing from his mouth.

After that, there was only darkness and silence, until there came the most beautiful singing his heart had ever felt. It appeared to be delivered by what may have been a million Angels. No lyrics, as far as he could tell. Just indescribable harmony, and a feeling of peace that accompanied it which overtook his whole self, whatever of his self was left to be overtaken.

And then there was The Magnificent Light!

The End {of this story}