"Friends, comrades, brothers-and-sisters-in-arms ... Ryndoon lives!"
The king's cry lingered a moment in silence. Glory hung in the shimmering heat and wavered through dusty, sun-lit air.
Hoarse voices exploded as one into a collective shout of triumph. Gazes, wild still with the fury of battle, flared wide at the wonder of victory gained. Weary arms raised high, lifting blades that glistened crimson in the tranquil light of a golden afternoon.
Then, like quicksilver, grief transformed the timbre of celebration, as warriors dropped to their knees, mourning fallen comrades. Others rushed to embrace the wounded. The aftermath of battle had begun.
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