Photo credit: juliacasado1 (public domain)
Taen Ajin watched the enemy roll the trebuchet toward the castle walls. Arrows pierced their tall shields, pin-cushioned the monstrous device. As one soldier fell, another took their place. Too soon, it was within range.
The siege was engaged in earnest. At least his family was safe.
The trebuchet swung its fearsome arc, hurling something over the walls. Ajin ran across the tower to see it hit. It disintegrated in midair, spilling colorful fabric across the courtyard.
“Don’t let anyone touch whatever that is.”
An aesor ran up the steps, arms filled with ripped silks.
Ajin recognized them, swallowed hard. “She has my wife.”
Demands followed, then debates. The people were loyal to the taenar. They argued for compromise.
The taen motioned for silence. “Is there anyone more willing to suffer for our cause than the taenar?”
The ranking aesor winced. “Perhaps you, your highness?”
“Yes, ‘perhaps’ indeed.” Ajin shook his head. “No concessions.”
“If I weakened our position because of her, she would never forgive me. I may not see her until the afterlife, but she’ll not despise me then.”
He raised his fist.
“We fight. For the taenar!”
The echoing shouts drowned out Ajin’s fervent prayer.
Word count: 200. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge. Big thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting and for providing such wonderful photos every week! Click here to read the other stories.
Photo © Al Forbes