Author: After a long hiatus I have decided to begin writing this story again. I believe it has some promise and I was inspired seeing that someone really enjoyed it, I didnt see that before. Anyway without further ado I give you chapter 2. I dont own any of this.
Godric crouches down at the edge of the hill, keeping his eyes just above the horizon, he stares down at a scene of chaos as through a wave of smoke washing over him he can barely make out a group of burning huts in the distance, glancing down closer he notices a group of villagers fleeing the area.
His eyes begin to water and he notices that I sizable group of the villagers are making their way towards him. He ducks his head down before they have a chance to see him. Rubbing his eyes he slowly raises his head again. What should I do?
The wind picks up and gives Godric a clear view of the carnage, and it looks as though for every surviving villager three remain unmoving on the ground. Just before he ducks down again he sees the source of this misery.
Emerging from the shelter of the hovels, several horsemen begin to move out of the town and catch sight of the fleeing villagers. Godric can see them gesturing to each other with their weapons and one clearly indicating for some of them to follow.
Godric is not the only one to see the horsemen and as he glances to the survivors again he can see them take up a renewed panic as their pace quickens and they instinctually glance back at their pursuers.
He ducks down again and scans around for somewhere to hide. I dont know these people, they mean nothing to me. Even as he sees only distant trees which he would never reach he knows that his own thoughts are just in bitterness.
Even as he makes up his mind while cursing fickle fate for putting him here, he raises up his head, watching the horsemen fan out into the valley as the smoke begins to settle once more in a blanket across the area and they are lost to his sight. He hears cries of anguish from the villagers and screams of mercy.
Cursing himself for a fool he gathers his nerves and flexes his muscles. How many were there? What can I possibly do for them? These internal arguments rage through his mind as he lunges over the side, nearly colliding with a young maiden carrying an infant, without a backwards glance she dashes by him and over the hill as he braces himself and runs into the billowing smoke of the village, hoping to spot the now missing horseman before he sees him.
Several anxious moments pass in eerie silence except for the steady press of Godric's feet on the grass, he sees a young boy wide eyed in terror run by him, lost to the world. Gulping, Godric, begins to slow his pace. I should be at this damn village by now, where are they? He looks to the left and sees only grass, looking to his right he sees a dark shape in the fog. He dives to the ground, keeping his eyes on the shape. Isn't this what I wanted? To see them, to distract them.
Steadying himself, he leaps to his feet and shouts at the top of his longs, cupping his hands around his mouth. He waits, bracing himself. He can make out the shape turning towards him and almost before he knows it the shape turns into a clear picture of a frothing horse and a grim rider.
He leaps to the side at the last moment, feeling the whoosh of a blade passing behind his neck as he hits the ground heavily and rolls to come up on his feet. What was I thinking! I can't outrun a horse!
The horseman turns his mount in a slow circle, as though he were toying with his prey. Godric watches as he flexes his grip on the blade, barring his teeth and slowly pointing the tip of the blade at Godric's chest, digging in his heels and preparing to charge.
Godric stands still, heart pounding, mind moving sluggishly as he stares intently at the blade which means his doom. No no no! Please gods don't let it end like this.
The horseman begins to move closer as his horse picks up speed, bringing with itself the promise of death. For Godric time seems to slow and ever breath tastes sweeter, he spreads his feet and tries to calm himself, he has nothing with which to defend himself.
No tricks this time, he thinks to himself in contempt. What was I going to do, burn them all? I only just figured out how to light a twig!
The horseman is halfway to him now and is roaring across the grass, with sword raised high to deal the final blow. The smoke has lifted enough for Godric to make out the swirling patterns on his bare flesh and the rustic jewelry jingling on his arms with ever stride.
Godric feels sweat running down his face and begins to shake, he wants to escape, to flee, to somehow get away from here. Anywhere from here. He tries to move but his body won't respond. Every muscle is frozen in anticipation.
The horseman is just about to reach him. Godric can make out the green of his eyes, the flaring nostrils and the deadly intent prevalent through his expression.
He raises up his arm in a vague attempt to protect his face from the coming blow, slowly and achingly closing his eyes. He begins to accept the inevitable and focuses on the rhythm of hooves on the soft ground. Maybe I am cursed.
The moments trickle by and still he hears the steady pounding of hooves, clenching his eyes shut for what feels like an impossibly long time, unwilling to move or open them with death so near. Finish it! He cries out in his skull, every nerve afire with anxiety, just do it!
Very carefully he opens one eye, through a haze of smoke he sees nothing and cannot make out the figure of the attacker. Opening the other hesitantly beyond ten paces. Unbelieving, he peers into the smoke, trying with all his might to pick something out of the grey.
There, in the distance, he sees a movement. A blur of darker grey rushes one way and then the other in the smoke, and from this he can hear the pounding of the hooves. He crouches down slightly in puzzlement. He got lost? What is this, some sort of game?
He can feel it, the smoke getting thinner while he focuses on the rapidly moving shape. He can feel others nearby now, moving towards him, unable to see them and sure they are unable to see him. Maybe I can still get away! He cautiously ambles away in the other direction of the rider, headed towards the only cover in this valley, the ruined village.
The distance is impossibly far to get to crouched and even still he is not sure where exactly the huts were in this smoke, still not lifted enough to make anything out at a distance. He raises up a fraction, scanning the horizon, hearing nothing. Where are you bastards?
A piercing scream quickly stifled reminds him that he is not alone. Hands clammy and smoke in his eyes, he makes is way in a random direction, determined to do something, anything, to get away.
He stumbled over a suddenly materialized lump that feels too much like a body for his liking. Gathering himself, he continues on until he hears footsteps. A strange voice calls a challenge in a language he has never heard before. Godric freezes.
The challenge is renewed with more alarm, quickly growing nearer. The smoke concealing everything. Godric begins to run forward, throwing caution to the wind in the hopes of getting past.
In moments he bursts through the smoke to find himself to the east of the village with a group of dangerous looking men brandishing makeshift weapons in his direction. Wide eyed in terror he comes up short, raising his hands to attempt soothing he begins to back away, hoping to reach the concealing smoke again before he feels a blade press against his shoulder blades.
Gulping in terror, he slowly begins to turn and face his nearest assailant as the blade comes away and in his periphery he sees a huge fist bearing down on him. Blackness engulfs his vision as he collapses, his last thought a simple, damn.
Author: I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, please review. A shorter chapter but I felt it was a good place to leave off. Have a great day!