Fragments Gallery
In the Face of Death
Hold the line. Those words echoed in my head; they were the last orders I received from my commander. Shortly thereafter I had seen him go down amidst a wave of pikes. I doubt anyone could have survived that.
For him, and for the people back home, I remain here. Many of my soldiers feel the same. We will remain to defend our friends and families. No matter the cost.
Now I wait here, my soldiers lined out on my flanks, watching those damned revolutionaries reform up on the other side of the field before us. We had broken their previous charge and slowed their momentum enough that their leader had pulled them back to reorganize. Still our brief victory had cost us much.
Many, too many, of my men lay either injured or dead. We have done what we can to get them behind our lines and treat their injuries but here on this field there is only so much that we can do.
It is a true mark of my soldier’s courage that now they remain beside me. I have seen forces crumble and run when faced with lesser forces than that which faces us. I am proud to stand beside these brave men and women and glad that I have the privilege to be among their number.
I suspect that this next charge will sweep us aside and I can see in my soldier’s eyes that many of them suspect the same thing. Still we remain and we will not break. We will never break.
I look down the lines. I see my soldier’s battered shields, chipped blades and tattered cloaks. Some of their helms are dented and most of their armour is scuffed and marred; much different from the gleaming brilliance that they normally possess. This has already been a long day and it will only stretch longer.
A solemn horn sounds from across the field. The revolutionaries were sounding an advance. They are coming.
"Hold the line," I bellow. Down the row grim grimy faces turn in my direction. The determination I see in their eyes is staggering. Their expressions tell me their purpose; to take down as many revolutionaries as they can before they themselves fall. Tears sting as they pass over a long cut in my cheek.
"You know who you do this for," I called out, "You have already made them proud. You have already done more than anyone could ask. But now... I am asking you to push yourselves a little further. For them continue the fight."
A roar from further down the field draws our attention back to the revolutionaries. They have begun to charge. Although some of their troops appear worn many more seem fresh. My heart falls as I look across at them. There were so many of them. With the meagre forces we had arrayed across the field there was little chance that we could do much more than delay them. Still I lowered my visor and lifted my tired arms, bringing my sword and shield back up to a ready position.
Behind me the Sergeant in charge of our archers sounds the volley and a flight of arrows flies overhead. The shafts pepper the oncoming hoard and some few fall. The rest hurtle on like an avalanche of flesh and steel. Another volley shoots overhead dropping a few more as they surge forwards.
We brace ourselves as they draw close. The clash of metal on metal as they hit us is deafening. The charge breaks upon our shield-wall; we viciously push back against them with our shields and then retaliate with our blades. I bash the first to challenge me with my shield; he staggers to the side to be finished by the soldier on my left. I block a descending axe on my shield and respond by chopping at his outstretched arm. He staggers back into the ranks behind him clutching a shortened limb. I spun my blade in my hand as I met the next warrior's blade with my shield. As he too staggered back another jumped in to take his place.
I'm not sure how long we fought for. The rush of battle quickly took hold and I lost track of time. Everything blurred as I blocked and retaliated. When I took a cut to the shoulder and then a second injury to my side I almost fell, but one of my soldiers stepped up to steady me. As he stepped back into place I regained my balance and continued to fight with one thought on my mind.
Hold the line.
Eventually there was no one left to face. Confused I looked around. The revolutionaries were retreating. From across the field I could hear their horns signalling a retreat. Towards the edge of the field their retreat is being harried by mounted soldiers in my lord’s colours. Things made more sense when I saw that. Reinforcements had arrived.
All around me soldiers are on the ground, some friendly some not. Already my tired forces are sweeping through the area, pulling our injured out and finishing the injured revolutionaries. I join in.
Horsemen are now returning from their chase. They begin to form up a short distance away. I can't help but notice how clean their armour is. Most of it still gleams in the evening sun.
The Calvary commander rides up to stand before his troops. Upon seeing me he salutes with his blade and wearily I return the gesture.
We live another day, I think as I bleakly look around, but at what cost?