A last look [short story]
Released this blog with this story I wrote a few days ago, I hope you like it.
opened my eyes and try to veer unnecessarily in the dark, the last thing he could remember was the ground beneath my feet cedidiendo dragging the depths of the earth. Extend my hand and hold on tightly the handle of my sword through the avertura from where I had the purple precipitate was filtered light and the heartbreaking sounds of the battle that was still in the area. The clash of steel became a melody in the distance between the bursts of powerful magic.
My eyes began to adjust to the darkness when I heard the scratching on the stone. Turn the sound raised sword to kill the enemy but I stopped my arm to see that before me was the warrior who fought back moments before they cede ground below us, had fallen on a huge stalactites protruding from his chest now, his skeletal hands frantically clawed at the stone a futile attempt to return to the fight.
Lower the sword and sat on the wall opposite him, knew that would not die, no, it was already dead, on its grayish osamente could still veer bits of skin, under her muscles and ligaments. It was a horrible show but it was already used to it, the nicromantes were numerous in the enemy ranks and little could be done against these human remains driven by dark magic, just could be mutilated while our magicians performed their devastating attacks against their masters, our worst nightmare was thinking that maybe the next battle will fight against our comrades dead.
His eyes looked at me, the skin of his face had lost to decades of human traits, but under the mask mummified his eyes shone with an intensity only possible by the fire of hell. From abroad came
the jubilant shouts of my comrades who do not hesitate to decipher, the enemy retreated, we had won this battle, it was only a matter of time that I found. Observe the enemy
fallen and I was amazed to veer Paulato changed their look in my eyes, burning eyes that reflected their times ago gave way to a look of fear and pain. With a shudder I understood what happened, the magic of nicromante is blurred in the distance and with it the control exercised over him, but his body retained enough magic to keep the spell temporarily free from his master control back after so many years lost consciousness. What were once tried to talk her lips, screaming, her hands tried to grab the vacuum in an expression of utter despair. Maybe the magic would take hours to disappear and return your soul to eternal rest.
After a few seconds seemed to understand this, turning his head toward me and his eyes scanned my sword with suppliant gesture, the shadow of his lips moaned whispering a wish that clearly understood, nodded and put me taking my gun with his body stretched out, grab your rusty hand and squeezed, I corresponded with their meager forces gesture closing his eyes and nodded. Recite the spell slowly, I knew it would be enough to stop the low magic which contained his body. The magic flowed through my body into my hand, the edge of the sword glow, Hold up your arm and watch her face for the last time a quiet, expressing appreciation before they cut his neck and break the spell forever. Drop the sword and I'm kneeling in front of his motionless body that slowly crumbled to ashes and for first time since my first day away and battle cry for a fallen opponent.
