Tweet of the Day: White Privilege and Fiction
The morning fog rang with the clash of steel. Men danced like shadows from a candle’s star in the thick fog bank. An axe flew through the air. It shattered my shield on contact. The thrower followed it with naked blade in hand. I shifted left. Caliburn lanced the Saxon’s right eye like a boil. His scream rended the air as he clutched his face. Another slash from Caliburn opened his throat and silence the screams. The fog waned. The sound of hooves filled the woods.
“Let’s go!” I shouted.
We ran down a rutted path. My knees ached every time my feet pounded the ground. But fear carried me. I scrambled over a moss cover stone. The horsemen bore down on us. A rope strung across the path unhorsed him. His followers brought their mounts to a halt.
From behind boulders and bushes, archers rose. Arrows flew true. Three hit the second rider in the chest, neck and eye. I jumped from hiding. Caliburn sank in the fallen man chest like a hand though the surface of a pond. He twitched but for the moment. Around me the carnage was complete.
“Gather the horses and any valuables. We ride.”
This battle was over. One of many to come.