Battle 3

He was crouching behind a bush, but there was nothing to be seen or heard, not even animal sounds. He checked the string on his bow one more time. It was indeed still there, and it was indeed still strung. He knocked an arrow and drew the feather back to his ear. He had lost count of time – such small measures of time were just about impossible to keep track of without tools anyways. So he settled on being ready at any moment. He took deep breaths and started working up a focus. He needed that. He'd figured out a plan that could work, but it took skill. Probably, more than he had.

A little while later, a party came galloping through the field. To him, it looked as if they were galloping through free terrain. That was not the case, however. They were riding on a small road leading to a fort, obscured by the bushes and trees and whatnot. He took a deep breath, and aimed at a person riding in the midst of the soldiers. The only person who wasn't wearing an armor, and couldn't ride very well.

The arrow shot true, and embedded itself into the mans arm. He screamed as he fell off the horse, but he was not dead. The soldiers stopped to tend to the man, those not needed to treat him quickly started forming a defensive ring around their charge.

He ran out of the bushes, racing towards the soldiers, knocking arrows and firing them as quickly as he could. They spotted him before long, but luckily none were equipped with bows. Soldiers were very particular about that; you had one weapon, be it a spear, sword or bow, mounted or not, light armor or heavy. All of these things had different classes and these soldiers were a standard heavy armor, mounted sword kind.

Meaning he would have the advantage. They'd be mounted too high to effectively attack him. He didn't bother counting them – he'd have to slay them all no matter. Charging at them, he got off five arrows, before he tossed the bow aside, and pulled out his sword. The first soldier to stop him moved his horse so that he faced a broad-side, shield covering the soldier. He knew the maneuver – the soldier would stab at him, from the side of the shield. Instead of parrying it and ending up in an exchange, he rolled under the horse, and came to his feet on the other side. The soldier had put his whole weight into the stab, and left himself completely open on the other side, not expecting a single enemy to manage to get past fast enough.

He quickly spun and stabbed the soldier through the waist, taking advantage of one of the few gaps in the armor. The soldier slid off the horse without further strife. Spinning around, he used his free hand to clap the rump of the horse, so it galloped off. Unfortunately for two soldiers, it's path was right through them. The three horses collided, throwing the two soldiers off. He couldn't be bothered with finishing them off yet, as more pressing matters came upon him. In the form of two mounted soldiers. One trying an upwards swing, leaning off the horse, the other wanting to ride past him, and stab him in the process. He stooped down low, and swung his sword at one of the horses' feet, causing it to fall over. The rider didn't get to finish his upwards swing before the horse collapsed under him. Despite managing to fell the horse, it still had enough force to kick the sword out of his hands as he made contact, forcing him to draw the falcata laying across the small of his back to deal with the other soldier. He barely managed to dodge the stab, and the sound of cloth ripping could be heard.

He quickly lunged after the horse as it passed him, throwing the falcata at it's hind-legs, he managed to fell that horse as well. He quickly surveyed the field, and saw that there were six soldiers on the ground, and two at horse. The two on horse posing the immediate threat. Luckily for him, they thought him unarmed, and took their time coming near. Satisfied grins on their faces for being the ones slaying the person who had killed their brothers. Not a mistake he would forgive them for.

He bent down to his boots, and quickly dragged out two knives. Not the largest knives anyone had ever seen, but good enough to slay two cocky soldiers. He dashed over to the closest of them, and mounted his horse. The unexpected move made the soldier drop his sword, grabbing better hold of the reigns, to better fight for control. Realizing too late that he was unarmed, he died with one knife lodged tight into his neck. He sighed as he let the knife go, it was stuck too well into the the soldiers spine.

Taking control of the horse, he threw the other knife, and struck the last mounted soldier in the face. Not a mortal wound, but enough to make the soldier recoil. He moved the horse alongside the soldiers horse, grabbing the soldiers arm, and taking his sword by twisting the arm at a slight wrong angle. The human body was weak like that, turn a joint just a few centimeters the wrong way, and you had broken it.

Using his newly acquired sword, he slit the soldiers neck, before jumping off the horse. He had six unmounted people to take care off. Mounted soldiers at foot were easy prey, however. He started with the four who had not decided to take care of their lord, and had gathered in a line to better defend each other. They were advancing steadily, but carefully. Being a cavalry-man meant that they only taught you how to advance. Even if the person you were trying to take out had shown that he could take care of you and your three friends with ease.

He ran straight at the person furthest to the right, who raised his shield to block the incoming blow. A blow that would never hit. Instead, he put his shoulder at the shield and pushed at the man. He stumbled backwards, flailing his arms, but received a stab to the throat before he could steady himself, and fell over before realizing what a mistake it had been to move his shield-arm.

Before his first target had even hit the ground, he sent a slash at the person next to him that hit the back of his helmet. The soldier took a dazed step forward.

He stepped to where the soldier had been standing until recently, pushing him two more steps out, and stabbing at the knee of the third soldier. He hit, and the soldier went down. The last soldier, decided to do the most standard maneuver he had ever been taught, which was to move his shield as far out of the way as possible, while stabbing at the target. Problem with the maneuver, was that it revealed the precious armpit. And that was where he received his finishing blow.

The soldier who had gotten a hit to the back of his head had just recovered and upon seeing the scene, got into a rage. He swung his sword wide, his shield hanging useless to the side. Rather than to indulge the soldier in his rage, he dodged the first blow by a slim margin, and dragged another hidden knife from a pocket on his thigh, stabbing it up under the chest-plate of the soldier. Hardly a mortal wound, he took the knife back out again, and slit his throat. The soldier on the ground hugging his knee received the same. A quick slit throat and a gurgling death.

Having seen the whole scene, the three remaining people all threw away their remaining weapons. “We surrender!” the lord said, who apparently had figured out that an arrow in the arm wasn't mortal.

“Great. Line up neatly so I can tie you up.” he said, as he approached. The first soldier died with the question still in his eyes, the second with a dreadful realization. He didn't see what the noble's dying face was, because he scrambled to get away before dying from a sword through his back.

As he walked about the corpses, looking for his various weapons, he noticed that the blood had started seeping into a stream running along the road. He shook his head, even rivers turned red where he was at work.

“Great work.” a voice shouted as he located his sword. He turned towards it, and gave a mock salute.