The Legends of Mathio
By Bob Burlestein
Copyright (c) 2001 Bob Burlestein
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Zrak had indeed finished everyone off in Mathio’s army with rocket missiles. He captured the survivors and put them to the gun.
Afterward, his army and he rode south, toward Mathio’s hometown. Zrak was planning on showing no mercy.
One of his soldiers yelled at him: “Can’t we rest for Christ’s sake?” Zrak’s smiled vanished completely. “HHHHAAAAALLLTTT!!” Everyone stopped.
Zrak walked over to the soldier. “You wanna stop huh?” The soldier nodded, wondering if he should have asked the question.
“Yes.” Zrak smiled at him and whipped out his plasma gun and held the trigger. The soldier’s vibrating body shot backward. “You can now rest all you like. Forever.” He cackled bitterly.
“MARCH!” Mathio had reached the foot of the mountains. He looked around. Suddenly, fog began to pour out of a deep trench in the mountain. It swirled around, making things almost impossible to see. Mathio wondered forward, trying to see.
He looked down into the deep trench. It looked like it had no bottom. Green mist continued to come from it, swirling around into the day.
Mathio tripped over a rock and plunged forward into the abyss. He fell down, his hair straight up. He brought out his dagger and tried stabbing it into the walls of the trench. The walls were pure marble. No way of getting a knife into that.
He closed his eyes and when he awoke, he was no longer in his world, but a different one. Zrak continued to march his men through the vast land. He would stop only when water or food was needed.
They could finally see the city of Grasmaticu. It was teeming with life. People were about doing chores and doing their daily tasks.
“Take one good look at that city, boys. Cause when we get done with it, it won’t be there any more, just a smoldering crater.” He continued forward with his men.
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