The lifting of the Curtain: Chapter one (2)

Steffanes turned , and now he knew what faced them on the road.
Walking straight towards them at a slow pace, about a hundred meters
away from Kinloch and Steffanes, a group of twenty or so armed men and
women where making their way along the road. They were clearly not
soldiers, and by the large sacks slung over most of their backs, and the
tattered and wild nature of their garb, Steffanes instantly knew them
for bandits.

It was then that Steffanes could see that the bandits had seen him
and his soldiers. They stopped in their tracks, for now unsure of what
to do. They clearly had not expected anyone besides them to be on this
road, least of all Gardenan troops.

“ Shall we ride them down sir?” Asked Sergeant Kinloch, as his hand reached for his blade.

For a moment, Steffanes considered what to do. Then he declared “ No,
The ground is too muddy, our horses shall fall if we charge.”

Turning around he shouted “ Driver Stop the cart! The rest of you,
dismount and tie your horses to the chart. We form a shield wall on me!”

In almost not time at all, Steffanes’s orders were carried out. The
cart stopped, and every soldier dismounted and tied their horses to its
sides. Before he could even blink, they were standing ten to each of his
side, their shields raised as they faced the bandits with him. They
formed a kind of semi- circle, doing all they could to guard the way to
the cart behind them. Kinloch was beside him on his right, his face
steely and determined.

It seemed for a moment like the world had stopped, as the two sides
faced each other. Then a cry, some shouts, and the bandits charged
forth, weapons in hand. The Gardenan soldiers kept their shields raised,
their feet planted firmly to the muddy ground.

Then one of them threw what looked like a javelin as she ran, with an
aim as sharp as any of the soldiers of Gardena. It flew straight for
Steffanes’s shield, and in a moment it hit, right in its centre. The
point sunk deep into the steel, and Steffanes found that he could barely
keep it lifted.

With no time to pull the javelin out, Steffanes did what he had been
trained to do, and threw his shield down. Grasping his sword with both
of his hands, he took a step forward.

The bandits where upon them now, with the bulk of them hitting the
shield wall. With their maces and swords, they swung down upon the line
of steel before them. The soldiers did not waver, keeping their
discipline as they stabbed through the tiny gaps in their line.

Yet one faced Steffanes, a large axe in her hands. She was a fairly
tall young woman, broad of shoulder, who wore no armour, simply breeches
and a rough cotton shirt. Her angular face was twisted in anger, and
she wore her black hair in a long ponytail.

With a cry of rage, she lifted her axe over her head, and ran
straight for Steffanes. The instance before he reached him, the young
officer simply turned one step out of her way, letting his opponents
momentum take her past him. She stumbled slightly as she brought her axe
down on thin air.

Taking his opportunity, Steffanes swung his sword down on her with
full force. Yet the bandit was quick, swiftly turning about while bent
down, and brought her axe up hilt first to shield against his blow.
Steffanes struck the wood, and for an instant, the two of them matched
their strengths, pushing against the others weapon.

Steffanes found the Bandits strength near enough a match for his, and
could not force her axe down. Both were breathing hard, straining all
their efforts at each other. Suddenly, he felt her make a swift kick for
his shins, and instinctively backed away. Seizing her chance, the
bandit got back to her feet, and before he knew it, she was swinging her
axe at him again, this time in a right-hand sideways sweep.

Rather than dodge, Steffanes raised his sword to parry the blow away.
The bandit yelled, and swung again, this time striking from Steffanes’s
left. Again he parried, and then made his own move, swinging his blade
at her legs. She in turn parried his strike, and turned his blade
upwards with her axe. Raising her weapon above her head once again, she
prepared to strike a killing blow.

Yet this is precisely what Steffanes had anticipated. As she raised
her axe, he bent over slightly, keeping his sword gripped under him. In
the moment she brought her weapon down, he dodged it, only slightly this
time, and forced his blade forward in an upward thrust.

He struck her stomach, point first, and his blade sank through his
opponent’s woollen shirt into her flesh. He felt the bandit slump
against his shoulder as she fell, dropping her axe, his sword lodged
inside of her. Blood came out of her mouth, and a droplet landed on his
shoulder. Drawing his blade back, he shook her off of him, letting his
foe collapse to the floor.

He looked down open her as she turned her body to face him. Her left
hand was on the gaping wound he had made, blood freely flowing from it.
She looked up at him, her face a mask of vain defiance.

“ A pox on you, and all Gardena”, sounded the groan from her lips as
her life ebbed away, her head slumping down as her breath stopped.

Without knowing why he did so, Steffanes knelt down over her, and
placed his hand over her eyes, closing them. He felt he should say a
prayer of some sort, but he did not know the right words. So instead, he
simply whispered “Go in peace”.

Rising to his feet, he suddenly became aware of his surroundings
again. Turning to the directions the bandits had come from, he saw that
some of them were now fleeing, dropping their sacks in their haste to
get away. Directing his gaze back towards his men, he saw that all
remained standing. Lying before their still raised shields, nine or so
of the bandits where dead.

Kinloch approached his commander, the blood from the bandit he had killed now being washed away by the rain.

“ They’ve retreated sir, and all our men are safe and sound. Shall we pursue?”

Steffanes motioned to speak, but then he felt himself choke on his
words, and stumble on his feet. He was now all too aware of just how
much he was sweating, how heavily he was breathing. His heart has
thumping in his chest fit to burst, and Steffanes held his hand to his
breastplate.

Then he felt Kinloch’s hand on his shoulder. Turning his face up,
Steffanes could see that the old man had a look of concern on his face.

Placing his hand on Kinloch’s shoulders, he smiled, his chest beginning to subside as if soothed by the old man’s presence.

“ I’m fine Kinloch”, Steffanes Reassured his sergeant, in a low tone
so the other soldiers would not hear. “ Just a bit fatigued, that’s
all.”

Taking his hand off Kinloch’s shoulder, he stepped forward, in the
direction of his troops. Without a word, he raised his sword into the
air. As he had hoped, they all cheered, heartened that their commander
was alright and proclaiming their victory.

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Steffanes spoke,
addressing all of them in the best authoritative voice he could muster.

“ I need eight of you to dig a few graves, and bury the bodies. Six
of you, inspect the sacks that they dropped, find out what it was they
had stolen. The rest of you, stay with the horses. I want us ready to
ride again in less than an hour, we still need to reach the fort by
nightfall”

Without hesitation, the soldiers began following his orders. With a
speed that surprised Steffanes, they organized themselves into three
separate groups, with some dragging the bodies away, others walking
towards the carts, and a small few standing by the horses.

Kinloch made a move to go and help the soldiers, but Steffanes,
seeing this, ordered “ Stay here Kinloch, I need to speak with you.”

As Kinloch approached him, Steffanes began to drop his mask of
authority. He lowered his head slightly, a sense of melancholy coming
over him.

The old sergeant did not sense this, smiling at the young officer. “ I
must say, well fought sir. Truly, your father taught you well.”

Not even raising his head, Steffanes, in barely more than a mumble, said “ Thank you, sergeant.”

Kinloch now sensed what was going through the young man’s mind. “
Your first kill, I don’t doubt?” The old man asked in a soft voice.

A nod from Steffanes was Kinloch’s answer. He sighed, and said calmly
“ All I can say, my lord, is that you’ll never get used to it. But over
time, it gets less hard to deal with. It-“

“ It comes to you?” Kinloch was interrupted, and as he was cut off he
saw Steffanes raise his head. The young man’s tone was mocking, but not
spiteful, and Kinloch could see a faint smile on his lips.

The old sergeant paused, then in a moment gave a faint smile. “ Aye, as you say so, my lord.”