remaining guards by their helmets and mercilessly smashed their
heads together, shattering both of their skulls with his incredible
strength.
Tristan was so
transfixed by his brothers amazing strength that he failed to see
one of the guards free himself from the tangle of bodies on the
ground and rush at him, sword unsheathed. The guard leapt into the
air with a primal scream. Tristan turned and brought his sword up
defensively. A throwing axe took the man in the side of the head,
instantly killing him.
It did little to stop
the guards’ momentum though and his body crashed into Tristan. The
guards’ corpse pinned the young man to the ground and his full
metal plate armor made it impossible for Tristan to budge no matter
how he tried to wiggle free. A strange sense of unease grasped
Tristan as he heard footfalls coming his way. He began to struggle
harder to get free and defend himself.
A scared and weather
beaten hand grabbed a hold of the dead guard and yanked him
unceremoniously off of Tristan. The young Prince looked up as a
stocky old warrior grabbed Tristan by the front of his black
leather armor and pulled him to his feet.
“No time to rest now
lad!” He rasped as he clapped him on the back.
Tristan had no time
to reply or offer thanks as another guard rushed towards him, his
sword swinging down wildly. Tristan rolled off to the left to give
himself some room as he parried another blind slash. He came inside
the guards’ blade and severed his sword arm between the elbow and
wrist with his dagger. As the guards’ sword dropped to the ground,
along with his severed hand, Tristan spun his dagger in his hand
and drove it point up through the guards’ chin into his brain.
Instantly the guards’ eyes rolled up inside his head. Tristan
pulled his dagger free as he spun around. His sword seemed to
almost have a mind of its own as he parried another slash and drove
his dagger through his new opponents’ stomach.
An impossibly large
axe crashed down beside him easily slicing another guard’s head
down the middle. Tristan looked over to find his brother, in full
battle rage, yank the blade of his battle axe from the dead man’s’
head and booted the corpse into another enemy as he prepared
himself to face the next foe. Four more guards fell to their three
blades until all that was left was Henry and his two aides,
standing shocked and shaken. Kevin advanced on them sheathing his
axe into its metal and leather holster on his back. He grabbed
Henry by the front of his robes and hoisted him up to his eye
level.
“Where are my men!?”
Kevin shouted.
Henry whimpered as
his eyes cast nervously towards the dungeon. Kevin turned his head
an addressed the man who had saved Tristans life.
“Gerald, if you
wouldn’t mind.” He said through clenched teeth.
The old warrior
nodded once and turned to leave as Tristan noticed one of Henry’s
aides pull a blade from a leather bracer on his arm and move
towards Kevin. With his left hand Tristan threw his dagger at the
aide. It flew, spinning, through the air whistling as the wind
passed between the split blades and pierced the aides’ throat. His
eyes went wide as he dropped his dagger and put his hands up to
staunch the flow of blood pouring from his neck.
Tristan stalked over
to the second aide and kicked him in the back of the knee. The
young Prince grabbed a hand full of his hair, jerked his head back
and held his sword to the aides’ throat. He looked up at his
brother, who nodded his head once, Tristan spun on the spot
bringing his sword singing through the air as he decapitated the
screaming aide with a backhanded stroke.
All of the remaining
color drained from Henry’s face as he realized he was alone. A
puddle of urine formed at his feet, dripping from his cross
gartered leather sandals. He stammered apologies and invoked the
names of God’s to protect him. Gerald returned with some of Kevin’s
men, each supporting one of a ragged band of guards who
heads together, shattering both of their skulls with his incredible
strength.
Tristan was so
transfixed by his brothers amazing strength that he failed to see
one of the guards free himself from the tangle of bodies on the
ground and rush at him, sword unsheathed. The guard leapt into the
air with a primal scream. Tristan turned and brought his sword up
defensively. A throwing axe took the man in the side of the head,
instantly killing him.
It did little to stop
the guards’ momentum though and his body crashed into Tristan. The
guards’ corpse pinned the young man to the ground and his full
metal plate armor made it impossible for Tristan to budge no matter
how he tried to wiggle free. A strange sense of unease grasped
Tristan as he heard footfalls coming his way. He began to struggle
harder to get free and defend himself.
A scared and weather
beaten hand grabbed a hold of the dead guard and yanked him
unceremoniously off of Tristan. The young Prince looked up as a
stocky old warrior grabbed Tristan by the front of his black
leather armor and pulled him to his feet.
“No time to rest now
lad!” He rasped as he clapped him on the back.
Tristan had no time
to reply or offer thanks as another guard rushed towards him, his
sword swinging down wildly. Tristan rolled off to the left to give
himself some room as he parried another blind slash. He came inside
the guards’ blade and severed his sword arm between the elbow and
wrist with his dagger. As the guards’ sword dropped to the ground,
along with his severed hand, Tristan spun his dagger in his hand
and drove it point up through the guards’ chin into his brain.
Instantly the guards’ eyes rolled up inside his head. Tristan
pulled his dagger free as he spun around. His sword seemed to
almost have a mind of its own as he parried another slash and drove
his dagger through his new opponents’ stomach.
An impossibly large
axe crashed down beside him easily slicing another guard’s head
down the middle. Tristan looked over to find his brother, in full
battle rage, yank the blade of his battle axe from the dead man’s’
head and booted the corpse into another enemy as he prepared
himself to face the next foe. Four more guards fell to their three
blades until all that was left was Henry and his two aides,
standing shocked and shaken. Kevin advanced on them sheathing his
axe into its metal and leather holster on his back. He grabbed
Henry by the front of his robes and hoisted him up to his eye
level.
“Where are my men!?”
Kevin shouted.
Henry whimpered as
his eyes cast nervously towards the dungeon. Kevin turned his head
an addressed the man who had saved Tristans life.
“Gerald, if you
wouldn’t mind.” He said through clenched teeth.
The old warrior
nodded once and turned to leave as Tristan noticed one of Henry’s
aides pull a blade from a leather bracer on his arm and move
towards Kevin. With his left hand Tristan threw his dagger at the
aide. It flew, spinning, through the air whistling as the wind
passed between the split blades and pierced the aides’ throat. His
eyes went wide as he dropped his dagger and put his hands up to
staunch the flow of blood pouring from his neck.
Tristan stalked over
to the second aide and kicked him in the back of the knee. The
young Prince grabbed a hand full of his hair, jerked his head back
and held his sword to the aides’ throat. He looked up at his
brother, who nodded his head once, Tristan spun on the spot
bringing his sword singing through the air as he decapitated the
screaming aide with a backhanded stroke.
All of the remaining
color drained from Henry’s face as he realized he was alone. A
puddle of urine formed at his feet, dripping from his cross
gartered leather sandals. He stammered apologies and invoked the
names of God’s to protect him. Gerald returned with some of Kevin’s
men, each supporting one of a ragged band of guards who
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