Tales From a Thousand Worlds

Wisdom From The Ashes

Part Nine – Awakening

Screams echoed from the small camp through the hills surrounding it, torn from the sleeping form of Nhaqosa. Abasan, Niati and Lakach were startled from their sleep at the sound of it. It soon became apparent that they could do nothing to aid the minotaur. All they could do was watch on, uncertain and deeply concerned. Nhaqosa writhed on the ground even as he continued to sleep. His crippled hand reached out towards the sky, clawing futilely at the air.

A loud cracking sound like the breaking of bones came from him and the cries sounded even louder. Then his hand dropped down to his side and his eyes snapped open, the shouts ceasing in an instant. Sitting up, he reached for his maul and brought it around before him.

“Kwaza?” Abasan asked tentatively.

“It is me, Abasan,” Nhaqosa rumbled in reply. He looked around the small, empty camp. “Where are the others?”

“They are gone,” Abasan told him. “They left with Zethar to take part in his rebellion. They abandoned you.”

“No, old friend. I abandoned them.” Abasan started to protest but Nhaqosa interrupted, reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder. Abasan became aware that it was the hand that had been crippled but now appeared whole and mended again. “You are a good friend, Abasan. But do not make me out to be more than I am. I am merely mortal, and as such I am fallible, just like any other person.”

~~~~~

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