Straight, beyond the wall, the waited to be let in. She viewed the Roman Commander riding in the distance. He must of provoked them as their drums seemed even louder than ever before. She kept her arms down, until commanded to raise them. She found herself impatient, but kept still with discipline. The bow was tightly gripped in her right hand as the arrow was held I n place by the left. She had everything set. She was ready to raise and release.
She kept focused on those gates. Nothing phased her. She was ready, and frankly growing annoyed with the hold up.
"Listen. Beyond those gates, like the enemy, that we all know, outnumber us."-
Salome listened to the voice of the Roman commander without trouble. She never let her eyes waver their direction, she kept them on those gates, just waiting to be released already.
"-But hope if given, when we add seven more. My brothers, are here for the fight, to align with you, and go against that large enemy-"
Salome blinked as she released her arrow that she was gripping to the ground in distraction. Her focus left as she stared wide eyed at the commander, then accusationally at Guinevere who pressed his instruction.
"Me and my men, will strike them thrice, within the smoke to disorient them. After each strike, we will ride toward the gates, while we are still going in that direction, you will release your arrows at Guinevere's example. When we return, wait until we are stationed to release again. You will release even after our charges, until Merlin decides to put in his contribute. After they set the oil on fire, the army will be divided. That is when we strike. This is the general idea of our battle, watch their movements and improve if any plans go ruined. Be ready. They will release."
The gates began to open as the army began to file in. Before Arthur rode to join his men in the smoky distance, Salome noticed the number to be small.
"They submitted a part. We will stick to the plan. Shoot the arrows, save the warrior's release until Merlin's signal. He knows to wait until the full army comes in." Arthur noted to Guinevere before he rode off.
Guinevere nodded. Salome noticed the affection between the department, and found herself disgusted. It went unnoticed as Guinevere stationed herself next to Salome, who was still giving her a cold stare. If she only knew how she interfered with Salome's plan.
Salome blinked away from her visions and thoughts as Guinevere made her example for the rest to follow. Salome took a deep breath as she lifted up her own bow and new arrow to be set with flame. She had to refocus. She couldn't' think of the given opportunity. No. And she kept the tempting action out of her thoughts by returning to her war mode. Where no second thoughts lingered in her mind. Only to kill the enemy.
Only now, she had to re-wire in her mind which one. Now she was facing two. The grand army she would need all her focus on to help eliminate, and The single man, where too, she would have to place all her focus, but with that focus, Her hatred. Just to feel the satisfaction of his death.
Which one was more dangerous, phased her for a moment. A great number was intimidating, but a personal reason held more weak points within herself.
She had to detach herself. Or her knees would give in on the battlefield. Right then and there, she had to select the enemy. She chose Saxon. She couldn't become distracted with his presence. It was rightful that her blade would only hit their flesh, it was practical, it would win the fight. If she survived with the Saxon number low, then she would allow herself to feel him fall under her blade. Patience would have to satisfy again.
Unlike before, Salome found herself more prone to live. Since it was after now, she would have to wait to take her prize.
Her chest lifted and fell. Her eyes focused, her pupils narrowed. Her blood rushed, her body stilled. Everything was set. She was the warrior since birth instead of the murderer she was tempted to become. She was patient, collected, and ready. She cleared her throat and released.
The moans of men from far away informed her that her hit was successful. Somewhere, out in that field, a man died at her arrow. The number count began. She couldn't wait to get her hands on her two swords.
She repeated the practice of releasing, as the moans continued until finally, the last died out. Silence. The gates opened to invite more chaos to come for the ambush. Salome felt the yearn for her feet to move forward from that drawn line. Her feet slipped twice, she was reprimanded by skeptical looks twice. Guinevere noticed her thrill for more. Guinevere noted in her head how her child-hood friend seemed more eager than before, but she held no suspicions to back up Salome's behavior. Perhaps to win this last fight.
Sooner then expected, the time for the arrows ran out. Their army was divided and finally, finally, they were released. Finally, she was unleashed. She met them head on, the yearn to feel her blade collide with flesh and bone, became more pronounced, and when the collision occurred, it was more satisfying then ever. It calmed her twisted nerves that only wanted more, more, more
By ones, by twos, by fours. She was unstoppable. She ducked, she plunged, she slashed, she sliced, she tortured by twisting her blades within their bodies, she ended lives by ridding their heads.
And it all alright in her mind, even the practices, she's never pulled on a battlefield. She was being unprofessional, as her peers would say. They knew her fighting, never did she linger to watch them drop. Never had she listened closely to the moans of death. In this battle, if they would look closely, it would be seen by the ones who knew her.
But one, even noticed without living in her village, without being painted blue, without knowing her past. He saw the murderer, it was like looking in a mirror. But unlike himself, hers was unexpected. He's noticed in past fights, her fighting technique. It was quick and to the point. Now he noticed her lingering a bit longer. He noticed her searching eyes. He found himself drawing closer to her presence. Tristan knew what she wanted.
Salome's viciousness continued. Her breathing became more rapid by every body that hit the floor. The thrill was overpowering. It made the swords seem lighter, but the reality harder to believe. She was looking for blood. The ones that came in her way, were just the unlucky ones. She was no longer a warrior. She became that murderer. Grudges, Feelings, Hatred, was all attached, and her anger fueled her will to carry on.
Body through Body, they found their way toward each other.
She had him in her eyes view. She focused on the Saxon she was butchering to the ground by constantly wedging both her swords in him from each side, then found herself looking at the corner of her eye.
Tristan at this point found himself staying put as Saxons noticed his threat to their number and all gained on him to put him down. Salome shortly found herself with this problem, but with her swiftness she quickly slashed her way through one kind of her enemies. She did not so focus on their moans or blood now as her main conquest was in view. She thirsted for his.
She collided with the three Saxons that Tristan found himself backing up from to strategize. She surprised them from behind by taking down one. Her apparent aid to the Sarmatian by taking down the Saxon, only attracted more to come. Tristan knew better that her coming as an aid, and he adapted his mind to taking on four, six when two more came to the scene with the idea to put their army's enemies down.
Salome's senses were so blurred with the excitement from her near satisfaction, that she could not tell that two were coming from behind.
She instead focused herself on the first swing with the both of her swords toward his end as if it were an art. She skillfully swerved them so they would strike his side at such a way, that they wouldn't stop until it was deep within. She then planned to twist both from within before pulling out. Before they even went through it's half point, Tristan half heartedly blocked both and succeeded even though his focus was at the upcoming Saxons behind her. She drew back her swords and rounded them once more for another attempt. Before she drove her arm forward from the side, he moved forward catching her by surprise, finding her surprise to be the perfect time to disarm her. With her disarmed he could get her out of the way from being taken by surprised and killed. When her swords slipped out of her hands by the force his sword put onto both, he drew closer and gripped onto her throat, then driving her around behind him, where he threw her body down with enough force to make the grass feel like brick beneath her head.
Just as a brick would of done, it collided with the back of her head hard enough so that she only had enough time to take in one last image of the world around her before it faded out. She only was able to catch him glancing at her until everything went black.
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She was left disoriented, deaf and blind as she rose from the ground. Everything came flashing at once, explaining why she was rising from the ground In the first place. According to the replay in her head, Tristan purposely put her out of the way. But then, how was she ever rising from the ground in the first place.
The pain In the back of her head made her entire head feel pressured as it rose from the ground, and she found it weakening her arms as she collapsed once more clumsily. She made another attempt, fluttering her eyes open. The green and red was bright beneath her as was the sun that stung the edges of her eyes forcing her to keep them down at the ground. She noticed blurred images around her as the rest of her senses became tuned. She was once again reminded where she was, to bad she already made the mistake of carelessly rising disarmed and unaware of who was paying attention.
Before she actually had herself half way up due to the burst of her regained energy, she felt a pressure other then her head throw her back down. This time it was resting on her back , and continued to physically push her into the ground as if the attempt was to bury her within it.
She yelped in pain like a kicked dog as her full on attempted scream was cut short by her lungs being crushed. She felt a few ribs crack as she was pushing herself up. Her arms and legs began to flail and her body dropped an inch to the floor as her breathing was completely cut off by the applied pressure. She saw another foot shift next to her head. With something to attempt to work with to get the pressure off of her, she grabbed for the foot, clumsily letting it slip. However, she felt something that sparked her to make another grab. With both hands, she reached for the ankle, grabbing a dagger with her right hand from within the boot. With it, she stabbed the back of the leg, causing whatever what was on her to falter back. With her body released from being pinned to the ground, she quickly rose and began to crawl as fast as she could like a awkward fawn occasionally tripping over it's own feet. She never found herself this defenseless until now with no idea in which direction her swords were in. She began to help herself up. No way was to die like a coward. If she were to go, it would be with her swords in hand. Not defenseless. This encouraged her to scout for her swords even more, if she were to die, she wasn't going to die like a fool. She became more focused and determined as before quickly searching while lifting her body up on her weakened legs. She stumbled a bit and hit the ground once more, but a few feet ahead of her now, was at least one. She found it quicker just to hurriedly crawl to it's resting place.
With her fingers inches away from it she yelped in pain again as a heavy foot supplied with a heavy boot stomped on her ankle, not only pinning it, but making it useless as the bone snapped in three. With her adrenaline pumping and frustration growing, she lifted her left leg and instinctively kicked, hitting the Saxon square in the groin. With him falling back dropping his sword, she quickly collected her legs and flipped herself around so she could see her attacker. She scooted back to get farther from the attacker and to draw closer to hear sword. With sword in hand, she lifted herself with both arms and balanced herself with her left leg. Putting her right down pained her, but it made her a bit more steady when standing. Finally, she saw the brute that has been causing her problems ever since she woke up. With one ready swing, when he stumbled forth still regaining his composure from his last blow, she swung her sword at his, knocking it out of his hand. He looked up agitated but with another thing coming. With his shield, he swung at her head knocking her in the side of it. She made her way to the ground in a turned angle, but instead of colliding to the floor once more, she was caught. She fell limp In whoever caught her and began to spit up blood as if she had enough. The person who held her tried their hardest to get her out of their arms before it was two late. With their support, it was a easy target to her side, which the Saxon took perfect advantage of while challenging his new opponent. With her limp and held up, he swiped his sword, slashing her side. Her energy was too low to submit a scream, instead she just slipped out of his arms, unceremoniously dropping.
Tristan did nothing to save her from hitting the ground. He took the sudden freedom as an advantage, as the Saxon didn't expect for him to quickly react after being tossed the burden of a body. As soon as she slipped, he released and bought up his sword, running it right across the Saxon's neck
The Saxon dropped his sword, and immeadietly fell to the ground. Tristan watched the body fall and then began to study his surroundings. He found time to look down at her without being attacked. Her heard her deep sighs as he watched her chest rise and fall, the rythmn becoming slower as her breath became weaker. He stared blankly and crouched down. With the back of his limp fingers, he lightly felt for her heart, careful to not allow the encounter to linger. He felt it's light beating.
"You will get through this. You're not allowed to die" he whispered as he lifted her up. Her eyes half opened, and then fluttered back closed. She wasn't allowed to die.
Hmmm, what is Tristan thinking? Don't we all want to know? Well, we all know Tristan as a mysterious character, through legend and movie. It's what makes Tristan Tristan. If you're wondering what he's thinking in situations like this, don't worry. Use your imagination, but all will come to be seen. What he was thinking when he did something big, or said something, etc etc. You just have to sit tight and finish the series.
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