Here we go. Done.
An's are deceptively hard for a antisocial person like me.
As we lowered enough to view the battle, I willed Divonna to slow, taking in the sight below with shock. The fight had not gone well for our side, already our armies were being pushed back. The blue crowds had mingled with un-dyed armour so that it was impossible to shoot without fear of hitting a friend. Archers aimed at our steeds the second we came into view. They did not shoot, not knowing our intentions and being too far away to be sure of a hit. Here we had the advantage; gravity would pull our arrows downwards, making them more lethal, while any arrows aimed at us would be pulled back, most likely missing us altogether. Yet I hesitated. Before now I had barely realised the extremity of what was happening; before this battle finished many people I knew would be long gone. Perhaps some already were. Memories of my father arose again in my mind; Kestrel's words had almost broken the strong bonds I had put over my emotions, and I could almost hear the hissing, nearly feel his hands on my shoulder, pushing me away...
"Aim!" I cried, my voice somewhat shaky. In an attempt to return the recollections to their imprisonment, I pulled back the string with my right hand, brushing my jaw with my thumb. Leaning slightly to the left I lowered my other hand, aiming the arrow to where the blue was thickest, by the shore.
"Fire!"
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I was informed of Ekra's attack by yells around me, though I did not waste a second to confirm it. Blazon charged forward, tripping up two footmen and leaving them there, burning and screaming. Heat radiated from the Nightmare and I was still paranoid when moving; I had already seen many men perish from his flaming mane and fiery hooves. But so far I had been unharmed, Aruthi's assumption that something protected the rider proving correct. The second Blazon swallowed the red dust I had been given, cold washed over me like a frozen wind, instantly countered by the heat.
"Sicomba!" The cry from the enemy swept me back into the present; some footsoldier had recognised me. Several others looked my way, and a few attacked me. Cursing, I rose my bloodied sword and lightly kicked Blazon's side, charging towards an army I might have once commanded.
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I glared at the river, almost wishing I had the power to evaporate it. I could see the village across the water; why wouldn't this dumb horse go forward?
The sand across the flowing water stretched forever, rising slowly into colourless hills. I'd never before seen a desert, and all I knew of them was that they were hot.
The horse neighed, stamping the ground. "Damn you," I growled as I dismounted. I didn't want to swim, but this stupid horse refused to go forward.
The water was lukewarm, the current slow. I crossed fairly quickly and clambered onto the shore. Sand stuck to my soaked clothes. I rolled over and became coated in it.
"Who are you?" A little boy with a big nose was staring at me, holding a small dagger in one hand.
"A sand monster!" I cried as I sat, giggling as he nearly fell over in fright.
"Very funny." It came from another person, a white-robed male who looked a lot like whats-his-name-Ekra's-friend. He helped me stand up then studied me for a while.
"You look similar to Ekra, though your hair is yellow."
I grabbed a lock of my hair, pulling it over my eyes. The brown was coated in sand, becoming an odd speckled blonde.
"One minute," I replied, jumping back into the river.
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Again I swung my sword, and again I ended another person's life. My body ached and my lungs rattled in my chest, unable to provide me with enough oxygen. My horse had long ago died under me, its blood coated me, along with the blood of the many people I had fought. My own blood trickled into the mess from several wounds. One lay on my right thigh, a slash that spurted each time I stepped. Another cut lay across my long nose. The most grievous was a hit to my chest. The weapon must have been a mighty hammer to dent my chestplate like that. I could barely remember. Unable to breathe deeply, I wheezed and coughed. My movements were slow, and I began to take on many wounds. I felt as though I was in a dream. Perhaps I was dreaming, and I would wake safe in my bed. Maybe I should sleep now, to wake up there...
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I had been making my way to Aruthi when I saw him fall. No one hit him; it was a small rock that tripped him up. When he didn't get up, I kicked slightly at Blazon's side, willing him to go faster. Enemies and allies alike kept a good distance from Blazon. Even so, I was a target for archers and other ranged fighters. To prevent that I wore chainmail, with my shield over my back and neck.
No one had taken notice of Aruthi, perhaps mistaking him for dead. He coughed and spluttered when I lifted him from the mud, but otherwise did not move. I noticed a deep dent in his chestplate that clearly hampered his breathing.
Praying that the immunity to Blazon's fire would pass on to Aruthi, I lifted him onto the saddle. Then I placed my shield over his back and neck.
"Go back to Port Royale, Blazon. They'll take care of him."
Blazon whinnied quietly then set off, bowling over enemies and allies alike to get Aruthi to safety.
Quickly I realised that Blazon's fire had shielded me from the worst of the battle. It was a rhythm I was caught in; block, swipe, move forward, block again. I focused only on the light blue of my old people, trying to believe that they wanted to be here, fighting me.
Battles are hard. The trouble is, none of them are notably skilled, so I can't have detailed fights... Ohhh. Idea.
Byes