Bliant. I

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He flicked down a pair of bronze goggles over his pale brown eyes. From beside the green glass of the lenses on opposing side stretched dark brown leather strapping the goggles over his temple and behind his head. His short Mohican avoided the straps, the brown of the leather blending into the short sides of his hair. On the left lens there was a smaller lens, clear glass, some sort of magnification piece. He stared down into gaping hole in the petite girl’s chest. The girl, only sixteen with plaited auburn hair and emerald eyes glowing with pain, had had the flesh and the muscle burned clear from her chest. Frazzled ribs and blackened lungs were visible through the fissure. The brown haired man stood still, staring unaffected by the atrocious injury before him.

“She’s done for” He sighed turning to his assistant, a pale red haired girl. “Are you sure?” She questioned, too afraid to look at the injury itself. “If you would look then you would know. Even if I could reconstruct the muscle and skin of her chest the lungs are sure to God not going to survive more than a week” He was disappointed in himself, what he was capable of, and the emotion echoed in his tone. The girl with the gaping chest all the while sat, silent, listening, knowing what was to come. The doctor in the bronze goggles slipped them up onto his brow and turned to a pallet on his right. Laying on it was a syringe on black liquid and beside that was a mouth prop. “I’m not going to lie, this will hurt, but I doubt it can be much worse than what you’re already going through” He told the young girl restrained to the operating bed.

He took the mouth prop and forced it into her mouth to stop her from biting of her own tongue and executing more pain than she was already going through. Then he took hold of the syringe in his hands in leather gloves the same shade as that of his goggles. “I can’t watch” The red headed nurse said, running and hiding behind a large chrome gear which was key to the progression of the clock on the old hospital buildings outer wall. The man sighed, two leathery fingers creating an opening by pushing the left lung aside a little. The entire heart came into view, blackened as the lungs were. Using his left hand the man pushed the syringe into the left ventricle of the heart and slowly the black liquid within it was drained into the girl’s blood stream.

In a palpitation all the pain in her eyes was gone. All life drifted from them and the powerful gritting from her jaw was softened and her jaw hung down. The doctor retracted the syringe from her heart and removed his hands from within her chest. He closed his eyes, resting his bloody leather fingers on her eyelids and closing them in time with his. “Why?” He asked, aimed at the cowering nurse. “Why can’t this bloodshed end? We’re trapped in an impossible war, we get a hundred more dead each day, hundreds more injured, and eighty percent are innocent people trapped between one side and another” He screamed this with anger overtaking him, his face red and his eyes watering.

The doctor felt a nip on his toe, even through the thick boots that protruded up past his shins half covering the brown fabric pants that were held over his shoulder by suspenders of leather the same as upon his gloves and goggles. He looked down as he jumped back instinctively to find a clockwork copper machine that resembled a small scorpion. “There is no rest” He cried, slamming his foot down upon the bot. The metal exploded into fifty so pieces under the thrust of his foot. The scorpion was no longer of harm in having already administered its poison but why allow it prolonged mechanical life. The man fell to his chair, a russet brown wooden chair supported by a gold coloured metal that stood upon three metal wheels. He flicked his toe and slid backwards towards his desk and stopped directly before it, spinning to face it directly. From the second draw down on the right hand side of the desk he revealed an antidote of green liquid in a syringe and quickly administered it.

“Dana” The man addressed the nurse. “I can’t stand by any more, I'm sick of this constant onslaught of sick, of attacks on us even in here” On that note he stared to the ruins of the scorpion. "No matter how small they are" He groaned sliding open another draw and taking from it a small copper machine. The woman with orange hair now rose into sight from hiding. “A gun!” She exclaimed, “And what do you expect to do with that?” The man’s heart sunk, because he knew all he would do would cause more injury, send more people here. But behind that he knew what his plan was, he knew what he wanted and that he wouldn’t use it unless it was in a moment of pure desperation. “I think I can fix this Dana” He sighed pushing the pistol into a holster at his waist. “And what if you can’t?” Dana pleaded. “What if I can?” He left her to consider that, sliding from his surgery into the hallway.

~S

The Siege: Part Three

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This time we did not form one single, impenetrable unit, we merely attacked. I gave the order and my sixteen brave friends sprinted behind me through the moist, bloodstained courtyard and hurdled over the many lifeless lumps that littered the ground. I had my eyes on the large wooden gate that protected the houses and homes of the inhabitants of Hungate Castle; however my hopes dropped even lower as I came closer to see that it had been smashed through and ten red dressed soldiers blocked the entrance to perhaps double the amount of green. I transferred all the rage from on top of the wall into my run and my trusty blade and as I was almost upon the men I leaped into the frosty air. Proceeding forward seemed to take longer than it should have, but this was all the more time to get my attack honed. I pulled my sword back in the air and jabbed a random man inbetween the neck and the shoulder. But if he screamed, I would not have realised because I landed on a not-too-happy enemy soldier.

“What the”- he blurted out as I slammed into his back and forced us both to the cold, dirty floor. I pressed my shield to the back of his head and pushed his screaming face into the ground. I broke his feeble neck. Just then my attack team arrived with a thunderous clatter all around me. Green troops that had been caught by surprise succumbed to the power of my soldiers blades and landed either side of me. I stood up, and ran again. Hacked at my right where I slashed open a back and smashed the persons spine in two, no time to stop. Two men had their backs to me; they were fighting two of the defending red soldiers at the base of the demolished gate. My eyes narrowed and I slowed down, I cut the left mans leg off at the knee to which he toppled, and I beheaded the other. Amazed glares came before thankful nods from the two defending soldiers; one patted me on my shield, a symbolic gesture. I turned around to see the ground covered in green soldiers bleeding and some crying, fourteen of my sixteen soldiers were still standing, a minor victory, I thought.

I pushed forward with my men, who had been joined by the ten defending the broken gate, into the civilian district of the castle. We all lowered our heads briefly as we seen houses burning, and children lying dead in the street, slaughtered. I was sure I seen a tear stroll down the dirty cheek of the comrade next to me. We progressed past the houses towards the screams of battle. Before us was a prestigious set of white stairs that went up to the keep. Exactly one-hundred and one steps ascended a small hill and held up a large marble building that displayed a beautiful array of different columns on the outside. A raging battle was taking place on the stairs, and my men were ready for it. I gave them all a brief look and then jogged up the stairs missing out two every time. As I ran, I studied the battle; these were not mere enemy soldiers. These were skilled warriors that Rulf had sent to attack; they must have been from the deep end of his army. They looked powerful by just studying them, however I did not back down, and neither did my men. One of the enemy knights stepped down three steps and squared up to me as I stopped. My eyes were dragged from his helmet to meet a rusty broadsword hanging from his hands. It was almost the length of my body. He raised it up without warning and let it drop towards me, the large chunk of sharpened metal getting ever faster trying to destroy my body. I only just had time to squeeze my shield in front of it, but even then the blow knocked me down and I fell five steps. Bruised, I slowly stood up to see my attacker advancing towards me.

“Go around him!” I shouted to my troops, to which they obeyed, but they were clever about it, one of them strayed too close so the knight took a large sweep at him to which the man ducked. This was my opportunity. Disregarding my sturdy shield, I moved as quick as lightning and jumped onto his back. Using all of my force and weight, I pulled him down to the stairs where we toppled together for an unknown number of steps. I ended up on top of his steel-armoured body with my sword clutched in my right hand and my left on his face. He had misplaced his death-bringing broadsword, but this did not stop him doing damage, he punched my right arm with the force of ten men so it went numb and I toppled to the left, where he tried to take advantage and grab my throat. However I moved my sword in towards my body and it pierced his think armour and ripped through flesh. I heard a loud grunt through the shiny helmet and I felt warm blood flow down my wrist. Are you dead? I mutely questioned him. No, he physically replied, he lifted me up into the air and threw me onto the stairs where I landed on my back. Pain shot through me from the blow. I noticed, as I landed my gaze back upon him, that my sword was still sticking from the right-side of his stomach, he seemed unaware of it. Ignoring the pain as he lunged at me, I kicked out at the pommel of my blade, forcing it to the left, a crunching sound followed by metal hitting metal came from the persons’ torso. I kicked the blade so it tore diagonally upwards through muscle and ribs and it clanged against the inside of the knights’ armour. He fell on his face and stayed motionless. I too stayed still for a few seconds to catch my breath, they better not all be as tough as this one, I thought. Standing up, I pushed the heavy body over and yanked my sword from the armoured man. It was covered in a deep red blood that contained all the memories of that man that I had just slain. I disregarded the thought and turned around to see three gaunt-looking red soldiers remaining, and many bodies entangled on the red-stained stairs. So many. These two words bounced around my mind continuously and I pondered a question. What is the point in all this death? Step by step I took, towards the three remaining troops of my command. But the battle was not over. Inside the keep was King Rulf, leading his powerful attacking group through the halls of our Kings home, and if there was one main thing that stood out from the rest of the nagging emotions that were rebelling against my own conscience; it was that I was going to stop that devil in disguise, even if it took every ounce of my own depleted life. 

>G

Goodbye.

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The wheat crop had grown long this year, the heat of summer sun tied with the light rains giving it a perfect welcome as it crept from below the soils. The field seemed larger when the crop had towered so high. The daytime sky was clear and as blue as the Mediterranean oceans, or what I had imagined them to have looked like when having the image read to me. A light cloud hovered over every hour or so but there was little more moisture in the air than what came with that. The trees shone a light emerald around the field and the grasses below a shining darkness by comparison. The heat caressed my bare body, as it always did on these days as I plunged into the pond in the centre of the crop. Why it was there we had never decided with its bulrushes surrounding its edges, a pit only as deep as my forearm was long.
The water flushed over me, clear water, grey rocks on the bed glimmering under the liquid. I feel the water fill my ears, my nose, and with my eyes open I watch the sky. The blue is darker when viewed from within here. The water stings my eyes, but I refrain from blinking and potentially locking it within my sockets until they open again. The pond was perfectly circular, if my frame was twice as large I could touch the sides when completely outstretched, but I rest in the centre. Small fish begin to peck at my skin, but I stare onwards, still.
I imagine I’d like to be a fish; the dense water over my body relaxes me. Of course, the circumstances would differ; air is to me as water would be to a fish. But all the same, I imagine I would like to be a fish. The sun glares on, the water magnifying it, my skin hotter below the surface. I remember the first time I had lay in this pool, hiding, escaping the world as it was. I had felt as if I was invisible to the outside, I was away from everything. And I was, to an extent.
I had been running, hiding, through our families fields, through the tall crop. And I had came to this; A pond. I dived in, skinning my chest as I plunged to the bottom, and there I rested flat against the water until my father had caught me and scalded me. I made a snorkel from hollowed bamboo the second time I’d came, the first my having to surface for air had given my position away. Since then, when I had ran, and hidden, this was where I came to relax, to be relieved of the outside world. I was hidden in a clearing of trees, through a field of long crop and in a pool of water. Today I had left my “snorkel” behind as my brother had come with me. I was to be leaving soon and I wanted him to know the hiding place that I used when father was stressed.
I surface moving the top half of my body until I was at a ninety degree angle upon myself. “And that. That is how I escape it.” I tell my brother, him having stared for a minute at my lifeless body submerged in water. “I will miss you brother.” He replies his tone was stern for him, tense even. “And I you, but I must leave, if you could come with me then you would be free too, but I imagine that we’d both me subject to more pain there than here.”I inform him, my hand now on his shoulder as I’ve steadied myself to standing.
“You don’t have to go though, neither of us do.” He insists now, his stern tone lost.
“I wish that were true, but with mother gone and father as he is, I must.” I look to my feet, avoiding his gaze, knowing this pains him more than it does me.
“Then you shall promise, that you WILL return.” He whispers, a tear falling from his cheek to his worn boot.
“I promise.” I whisper in return knowing that I’ve broken the promise. Knowing that for it he will hate me. For tomorrow I leave, and I do not return, as long as money reaches my brother it will not be in vain, but I will not return.
I pull my brother towards me, stepping backwards as I do. His toes reach the side of the pond and I push him to his knees, myself now by his side. His hand hit the water hard. “Goodbye.” I sigh, fighting away the tears, the pain. And in silence I walk away, hearing him sink into the water, listening to the sound of him hiding from everything he fears.
I was carted to the city the next hour, and from there I was shipped across the sea. I was paid to carry the flag into war. The flag of my country; unarmed and ahead of the first line. And there, as I strode my head high, I would be shot.

~S

The Siege: Part Two

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The giant wall I stood upon shook violently as the men ran at our home. Just as I pushed a ladder that rested against the wall, it tumbled away into the sea of humans, sending a man who was halfway up flying. I turn and parry the sword of a green dressed man behind me, follow up by kicking him in the knee so he loses his footing and thrust my blade through his chest. He screams and lands on the ground dead. I get a sour taste in my mouth as I know I’ll hear his screams in my next sleep.

Looking right towards the ballista I see my men engaged in fierce battle. They seem an equal fight for the enemy, which is bad due to the sheer amount of men they have, we needed to get off the wall. I begin to call out to them but I get cut off by a tall archer beside me, “Missile!” he shouted too late. A huge rock the size of ten men flew through the thick air and exploded in the middle of the wall. Shards of stone flew in every direction as I dived backwards to avoid the blast. Even more men screamed when the initial explosion receded, shouting out for aid because their legs were trapped or they needed help to retrieve someone. Standing up and wincing as my torso pained me I looked forwards at the damage. Most of the top of the sturdy wall was still standing but I could already see it cracking away at the pressure point. The boulder must have tore a hole in the lower half of the wall so there is nothing to hold up the top. I raced forward and shouted “Get off the wall!” at the top of my dry voice to which several of my respectful men obeyed. But still just less than half on my entire battalion were on the other side of the damage to the wall. “Run!” I commanded as two men seemingly jogged over to me. Mere seconds after, another six sprinted across. Suddenly the tremor returned as a second rock pelted into the already crippled wall and penetrated it; launching right out the other side and slowly rolling into the courtyard amongst the debris of our home’s first line of defence. A large chunk of the wall in front of me descended into the pit of attackers who were smashing chunks of it the wall away with bettering rams. Upon the wall as it fell were seven of my men, there eyes staring at me as they fell, longing just to be by my side, and feeling cheated by death as it stole their souls in such an easy way. This left a small proportion of my troops trapped on the other side of the now gaping hole in our wall. Roughly twenty; still fighting off enemy troops who seemed to have aimed their attacks to that side.

“Let’s go rescue our men!” I ordered and my twenty strong followed me down the staircase. As I stepped into the courtyard I noticed three things: A metallic taste in the air which I presumed was the thick stench of blood. Villagers fleeing as the enemy dogs poured into the courtyard via the hole in the wall. And more importantly, a large congregation of red and green soldiers mixed together, slashing, stabbing and shouting. “We need to go through them.” I stated as I turned to face my men. Continuing through the shocking looks I received from one or two I said, “We’ll move through as one impenetrable circle. All facing outwards with our shields in front of us. Agreed?” My men exchanged glances of determination, terror and violence.

“Let’s do it” confirmed a ginger-haired soldier, no more than nineteen years of age. War is a cruel act, I thought.

“Excellent” I exclaimed and turned to face the disarray of fighting men. “On me!” I added and trotted towards the bloodshed.

I pressed against a sturdy man on my left as the scared-looking fighter on my right pressed against me. Pushing our shield arms out-front we aggressively drove through the main body of the attacking group. Green garbed men bounced off our shields as we formed one single body. I occasionally stabbed my sword underneath my shield or over it at the men who refused to budge, I wounded one in the thigh, he fell to the floor and got trampled by our leather boots. Shifting my gaze to my right at the man, I noticed his posture was inefficient; he was unable to defend from high attacks. I was about to tell him when what I thought came true and a blood-stained spear rose above his seemingly useless shield and pushed through a gap in his chain mail above his shoulder. One single scream emanated from him, it was a sanity destroying scream that made every bone in every man shudder. He dropped to the ground and I had no choice to fill in the gap in our now flawed group. Another four men fell before we made it through the pack of fighting which seemed never ending, each one having their life torn from them by a soldier who was one of thousands of puppets controlled by the twisted King Rulf.

We continued up a different, yet identical set of stairs back onto the wall to rescue our men but when we got there, my emotions flipped upside down. Bodies. Everywhere. Mostly men dressed in the red tunics of Hungate. Over half of my soldiers had been slain. Rage aggressively pushed aside reason, emotion and any consideration for my being as I push my way backwards through my appalled men. I turned. “These men did not deserve to die.” I stated. “Each soldier fought for this grand castle and its worthy inhabitants, and in my eyes, each is worth a place next to the Great Lords throne. But now it is up to us. We are going to crush these desecrators into the ground that we walk on; we will grind them into the very depths of Hell with our swords and shields. Let us go face the devil.” I concluded. Turning my back on awed stares from my men, I descended the stairs into the fiery pits of Satan’s glorious bloodshed.

 

>G

The Siege: Part One

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There I was. Waiting. In the first large courtyard of Hungate Castle. This courtyard was the closest one to the Badlands, which is where the enemy loomed. Just outside our castle walls there was an army only distinguishable by the terrorising war-horns and the echoing drums from beyond. Trying to intimidate us. I stood proudly at the top of a column of soldiers; my soldiers; my garrison; I was in charge of roughly fifty men that held a sword in their right hands and a shield in their left. They looked so scared. Dressed in predominantly metal armour, but with flashes of red cloth from underneath they obeyed my every command without hesitation. Looking around I see identical columns of troops standing adjacent to mine, there’s at least twenty, all standing, waiting. Every single soldier had one word rattling through their mind like an unwanted pest scraping on the inside of their worried skull: Defend.

It was tense when the officer rode up on a large brown stallion; the officers’ name was Sir Pasco. Wiping sweat off of his brow with his gauntlet he boomed,

“The King has issued the order, do whatever necessary to defend your homes! Do whatever necessary to defend your family!  And do whatever necessary to defend your King!” to which every swordsman, archer and spearman exclaimed dedicated cheers, including me. “King Rulf has made a mistake by trespassing within our lands with his weak army!” continued Sir Pasco. “They will not be alive to make that mistake again! May the Gods prove this battle, short, easy and casualties a few. Best of luck my brave men!” He ended his speech and rode off back in the direction he came from, wading through loud cheers and war cries.

I turned to my men, gave them a long and trustful stare then shouted, “Onto the walls!” and with a point of my gleaming blade lead my fifty-few up a narrow staircase onto the first defensive barrier between us and the enemy. On the stone wall stood archers, each at their own crenel overlooking the fearsome Badlands. I stopped and shouted, “Take position along the wall and fend off any ladders that you encounter. Any enemy that makes it onto the wall, kill them!” I strode over to the crenel as an archer moved one step to the left and saluted me. Looking out was a sight I would never forget, an uncountable number of men stood about eight hundred metres from our castle walls, each garbed in a dirty green colour with cheap chain mail torso’s, sword in one hand, shield in another. Among the army were various contraptions including catapults, trebuchets, battering rams and ballistae that would tear down the walls we were stood on like it was scissors going through paper. The archer gave me a worried look when I patted him on the shoulder and wished him luck. Further along the wall I spotted one of our own ballista sitting upon a formidable looking square-shaped tower, it was basically a giant crossbow that sat and fired giant bolts over a great distance. Not far until the enemy will be in range for them to impale the dogs. I thought.

Giving my sturdy men a reassuring glance I sat and waited for a mere seventeen minutes before the enemy drums stopped, the war-horns creased and the emanating sound of ugly shrieking exploded from eight hundred meters away and drowned any possible sound from escaping anyone’s lips, every green dressed soldier ran at the feeble walls crying one single word and holding the note until it formed an uniformed scream: Attack.

>G