Arches

I spoke into the arches— half the church behind me, flanked by my men with their torches and fears, “release the child.”

There we stood, at the behest of men with ash hearts. Staring into silence, hoping for words, not further war. But we didn’t bring the right gifts for that.

A series of thrums and punctures filled the air. Light dwindled as half my force lay dead or dying from crossbow bolts. I pressed against a low wall.

“You don’t have to do this! If you come quietly we can work out a deal!”

A soft laugh floated through the darkness.

“I’ll take that as a ‘No’ you creepy fuck!”