The arid wind had an unlikely softness to it. Not slashing at my lips or rippling against my vestments like it had so many other days on similar plains. Instead it was gentle, carrying the buzz of millions of insects, far too important in their own view to give a care about our assembled might. Â
With all the fanfare the bugs could provide, the might thud of a march just as irregular swelled forth, the hard packed ground echoing every strike of a staff. If the peals of laborious breath that predicated every step werenât enough, the lurching figure seemed to loom in a tranquil tumbling, as each every step that didnât spill the taker upon the ground was a graceful oddity.
âCharmigge!â The bark of authority tore my gaze ever so suddenly.
âSir!â I did my best to both show respect but keep my guard up.
âInvestigate that, and may you be watched overâ His words were soft, but left my sense ringing like the time a shield had bashed my tooth out.
My practiced steed moved forward without hesitation, âSirâ I half remember saying as I prayed. Less than thirty strides later, I sat atop Genthrie, feeling stupidly at ease looking down at this horrid figure.
Sharp scales seeped from around itâs maw, slicked back until deep maroon eyes filled me with warmth from below the rags of their owner. âThank you Charmiggeâ it hissed in an almost unremarkable sincerity.
I never asked how it knew my name, nor did I question why that didnât bother me. âWhat for?â It spilled from my mouth like a tawdry confession after the good casks had been tapped. Â
Deep purple slashed across itâs face as a tongue cleared away an unnoticeable offender.  âFor the shadeâ the half rasp came.  âAnd for coming to slay the demonâŠâ the words were fleeting, pulled from the air by the heavy sound of hoof falls. Â
âCharmigge, slay the demon. Do not lose your way now.â My superiorâs barking felt uneasy, like they were muffled by a mouthful of porridge and horrible manners.
âThere is not yet a demon hereâ I found myself declaring, a curious tail rising from the lump of rags and scales. Needle like teeth on full display as their lips pulled taught.
âGet yourself together Woman! You know the prophecy, upon this field, upon this day, in this age, the demon will show itself, and we are but the head of this force, ninety strong to stand against a great evil that could turn others to their side if allowed to speak, and fearsome enough that none of lesser will would raise arms against!â Vicar Captain Wenyet was always good of reminding me of what was right.
My heart pounded and well oiled plates rustled as Genthrie and I turned, back to the figure in rags.  âWhat are you doing Charmigge!â the Vicar Captain yelled while moving his had to his sword hilt.
Every buzz in the field of insects hit me like a wall of limbs, echoing screaming as we had burned the âbanditâ towns to the ground, carting off survivors to work off âpenanceâ in our capitol. The array of assembled armor in the distance, what had started as a band of five had grown as we ârighteouslyâ set about to build our army. Each town sending their finest they could spare, without contest to our side at seeing us approach.
I lowered my spear, the haft sliding back towards the figure in rags as the point became leveled at the Vicar Captain. Again Genthrie took my subtle prompting and began to canter forward. âI remember Sir, we came here to slay the demon!âÂ
