The Shard

I heard him, just barely, calling from amid a pile of the dead. His legs were gone, his arms in tatters, and he had not even the strength to open his eyes.

Clutching the trembling remains of a hand, I leaned in close. There was nothing to be done but provide a little comfort and carry on the final words of this dying warrior.

They came slowly, the words, raspy and desiccated between woeful moans.

“We have dealt a terrible blow, but … there is …” — whispers now — “another … crystal shard.”

And then death took him, and it would soon claim our world as well, unless someone among us could find the shard and restore THE DARK CRYSTAL.

May. 18, 2011 dailytaleproject fantasy fiction