CHAPTER 4

"People, are like birds." says a man, a mercenary of the Westmarches "I understand now. That some are vultures, some are ravens, some are simple songbirds...But all are just birds. They fly away from place to place, stuck in time thinking freedom is ahead, just a flutter of wings away"

"You think we will die? You...I remember you, you're..."

"Doesn't matter now. Even caged, we sang our song. Now we must only wait for the cat's siren call: the hissing wind, our foremost enemy, now, has caught up to us"

"Misery, misery and death. Cur, is that all you think about?" says another one "You're lucky, lucky you were a bird and not a worm, I say. Cur, but you sound more like your wings have been shotdown by a kid's bowsling..." He turns to the other men in the bar

"So what? Men, misery and death has caught up to us! But I'd rather die a fool, believing I was something greater, than a fool believing I was nothing! If all men are birds, then we are the hawks that ate the entrails of our enemies, and blot out the sun with our wings!"

The sun, you've forgotten the sun. How long? How long has it been since you've walked along the grace of God, before, in those rolling plains of golden wheat, with your child and wife by your side? That home burns by now. "As above, so below!" you remember those words.

An old crooked figure beckons you. "Stranger...take this sword, it has served us well...take it and plunge it deep...inside the heart of the Master..and the fire...it will soothe you..."

"Who are you?" you say.

"I am an old friend" he answers. "You must see now, that I and my mistress, have saved you many times...it's time to repay the favor..."

It is the next day. You are the only man to leave that fortress with your life.