
“I’m old; I’m not deaf,” Ilka shouted into the shroud of darkness. “I’ve waited while mother moon shifted in her course, and still, you stumble and rattle in the dark. I’m too old to stand for so long. Besides, your deafening stealth is irritating me. Show yourselves already.”
A whoosh sounded. A lone torch flared, followed a minute later by the sound of rushing air and a circle of lit torches, Ilka and her fire at the center.
A man, dressed in the uniform of the emperor’s special elite forces stepped forward, holding the first-fired torch. He stood at the base of the rise that flanked Ilka’s hut, one leg thrust forward, his weight resting on his hind leg, impressive and confident.
Reflections from the flickering flames glittered on the numerous medals covering his chest and the heavy metal bands encircling his upper arms. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Ilka, last name unknown. You are charged with high treason against the empire, and blasphemy against His Most Exalted Imperial Majesty, Emperor Nyxidor.
Continue reading “The Message: Part II”