The Last Horn

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

Sige stood at the threshold voices washing over her. Here war lay behind, but they’d found new battles. Those of boasts and clashing bodies. Sige scoffed. Her hand moved to her belt sliding down at the missing hilt.

Soon. Soon she’d hold her blade again.

Twisting through rowdily bodies, her gaze held on the high table. Yeva the bold. Aegar the unyielding. Tasfire the unbound. And more. The greatest warriors reverently spoken of still gathered there.

Behaving worse than a spoiled wild youngling. Where’d their fabled might gone? Did death rob them of sense?

She slapped her palms against the polished table and leaned into their startled silence. Her gaze lingering on each long enough to express her displeasure.

Tasfire rose, running her hand over her mouth. She raised her mug, saluting Sige. “Prove your worth to join us. Relay the glorious tale of your demise!”

Sige straightened, her head flicking back in disdain. “I have never died.”

The lot started, glancing between each other in confusion. Sige could practically hear their shared thought. A living in these halls? They turned back toward her to protest her statement.

Her nose wrinkled and she spoke before they could. “Even once.”

Aegar lowered his drink to the table. “Then why are you here?”

Sige glanced between them again as her chin tilted up. “I am here to summon the Last Horn.”

Yeva reached first. The stopper of pleasure disappeared from her face, and she rose from her seat. “At last.”

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Be sure to check out the other Wednesday Words authors’ take on the prompt.