|Photo by Dan Fador|
Brother Benedict stared at the, seemingly, endless expanse of hills before him and knew despair. In canine form, his senses were far more acute, his speed appreciably faster, his stamina significantly greater but, within his inner core, there was a growing seed of doubt he could persevere and succeed in his quest.
He was the last of the five Defenders who had begun this journey and failure was not an option. The Amulet of Transformation about his neck was the sole Talisman of Power that had survived and, with its power, he must overcome.
Briefly resting, he grieved for the loss of his brethren and the artifacts lost with them. Without the Sword of Might, the Shield of Truth, the Gauntlets of Tenacity and the Greaves of Acuity what chance did a single, aging monk have to defeat an evil so ancient and indomitable words could not describe its vileness? t chance did a single, aging monk have to defeat an evil so ancient and indomitable that words could not describe its Vilene
This story was written for the weekly Flash! Friday Fiction flash fiction challenge photo prompt.