Baked Scribe Flashback : Hard Born
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Josiah squinted out over the hard packed desert, into the blasting wind. It felt like putting his face directly into an open fire. There was no life out here that he could see, but he knew that the people he sought were out there, just beyond the ridge at the edge of the horizon. The people in that valley would pay for their insolence, for their arrogance and failure to show proper respect for the divine allowances which had brought them into being. He gripped the hilt of the sword, letting the tip leave a trail in the sand behind him as he resumed his slow pace forward.
Above him, the sky looked like an unmarked canvas. The midday sun blazed down through the complete absence of clouds and made the searing heat even more unpleasant. He squinted again, wiping the sweat from his brow and then flinging the moisture off of his hand. The objective was close enough that he needed to stay alert, had to be ready. Any minute now, he would probably start coming across scouts or people of the city, out and about in their normal day to day routines. He would expel the vermin in whatever order they happened to show themselves.
No one had sent him on this quest, given him the divine instructions to do what was needed. He had seen the danger, all on his own and realized that he had been given the divine sight in order to take it upon himself to do whatever he could to save everyone. The job would be performed, even if it required his own life for the giving. It was the rarest of moments, where one stood true and put steel to whatever threat may be approaching.
He felt the sound before he heard it. It was a deep rumbling in the ground, as if a massive unit of troops was moving, possibly already aligned and attacking for a battle that Josiah feared could never truly be won. If that ended up being the case, he felt like he would rather meet his maker, standing on his own two feet, instead of having to experience the heartbreak of defeat. And if he fell, but the battle was won, those left behind would remember him as standing tall, facing down the oncoming enemy with no thought to his own safety.
Now he was hearing the noise, metallic as it crunched its way across the sand. There was another noise accompanying it that he did not understand. Something that sounded odd, but for reasons he couldn’t place. He made his way up the hill, using the blade to support himself and peer down from the hilltop.
Down below, there was a great cloud of dust and sand, thrown up from whatever approached. It sounded like some kind of mechanical animal, howling over the wind and increasing in intensity as it drew closer. Josiah hefted the sword and renewed his grip. Whoever was unlucky enough to be at the head of the pack would be the first to feel the bite of his steel.
As he peered past the blade of the sword he noticed with some confusion, the rust that now covered the blade. The metal which had just been gleaming in the sunlight now looked ancient, like a weapon of old that had not seen use in many milennia. As he took this in, the all-terrain vehicle topped the hill ahead of him and raced down into the next valley before rushing up towards him. It slowed as it drew near, and through the windshield, Josiah could make out two people pointing at him, expressions of bewilderment as they took in this person, standing atop the hill and brandishing an ancient broadsword.
Josiah shook his head violently. He could not explain this trance that the enemy had clearly placed him in, but it made no difference, did not matter when he was here to complete his life’s path. Lifting the sword, he charged, stepping into the path of his imminent destiny.
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