Warriors' Mired Blades
Isaac Somas galloped full speed at the tan warrior who sprawled himself out on the base of a massive oak with his sword at hand just toying it like a baby would a rattle. He didn't spring to action at the site of the approaching horseman, but his bright blue eyes seemed to know all that was happening for they tensed and then relaxed in a split second. Isaac's long hair trailed behind which contradicted his terrifying face that disclosed his horror and dismay. His tall frame no where matched the warrior's, but Isaac's bearded face made the warrior's own beard look like that of a boy's. Leaves rustled about twirling towards the heavens. Isaac painted and screamed a muffled scream of unintelligible words. The warrior remanded motionless. "They come! The blackness will overcome! They want," panted Isaac with saliva lining the corners of his reddish-tented beard, "They want you. You are beckoned forth by the ferocious, loyal knight of the former, old Queen Jambell of Sweden." Tenderness and compassion rode into the eyes of the young warrior as a boastful grim lengthened across his face he said, "Nothing is to fear. I will answer once again. This time I will finish my work. Sweden will once again be in the hands of great King Herald." "No," fear and sadness once again crept into Isaac's pale, greenish, blue eyes, "The Queen has killed him, and now she beckons you as a finality of her self-proclaimed kingdom. You are to face Knight Joel in her challenge. The people are wondering what the outcome may be. The citizens of Sweden will follow by whether you win or die," a swallow echoed through out as Isaac stepped back for the warrior to speak. A flash of anger and a hint of vengeance revealed for a second, but were soon overcome with tenderness and confidence. The stocky warrior sat up at this and drew in the dirt with his massive foot. "No fear. I will defeat Knight Joel and the people will revolt when they see wickedness triumphed." A warm smile spread across the warrior's face as he held his sword up towards the heavens. The sun brilliantly traveled to the raiser tip of the massive sword and returned to the base of the weapon. The warrior's brilliant, blue eyes twinkled as he thought back to his childhood when he had become a man. It was the days when he had nothing. His parents were long since passed away and all he had was his job as a stable tender and his many daydreams as he longed to be a knight. ________________________________________________________________ "Shawn!" "Wake up this instant, you are to tidy this place up, not sleep!" A young woman of the age of twenty or so towered over the straw mound that served as a bed for the blond headed seventeen year-older with sky blue eyes and soft blond hair. "They attack. They will kill everyone. Hide! They will," mumbled Shawn unintelligibly in the edge of his dream world. "Oh. Yawn! Sorry Sarah," pleaded Shawn, "I was measly dreaming of my great knight days to come. Why, I was even saving you! To think," "Don't you be doing any foolish thinking. And, go clean up. Thank heavens you found time to water the horses. But, why couldn't you tidy this place up, Shawn? Oh well, but, you do know the crisis at hand?" "As a matter, I don't know of anything," stated Shawn as he puffed out his chest and stood up so elegantly it appeared as if he were still pretending to be a knight. Sarah, doubtfully, leaned back as to judge whether Shawn was sincere; and when she came to the conclusion that he was serious, she went on, "Well, you know about Great King Herald's poor marriage with the shrewd lady Jambell." "Of course." "Well, now Queen Jambell has left with a good portion of the Swedish army on her side. God have mercy on those men's souls. Anyway, King Herald has no choice but to act now to keep the people from revolting. He is going to attack sometime tomorrow and he has proclaim that all able men must join the ranks to save Sweden." "No! I must see my mentor Old Knight Charles." With this, Shawn pounced from the mound of hay and pierced through the heart of the street toward the home of his mentor. Frantic, Shawn stumbled into Knight Charles' home and bellowed, "Is it true? Must you leave for the battle as well? Oh, tell me. You must!" Panic striven, Shawn bowed at his teachers feet as his eyes radiated signs of yearning and courage. Knight Charles placed his frail, old hand limply on the boy's broad shoulders and said barely audible, "I will not go, but you must join the ranks of the soldiers. You will be fine. Remember my lessons. I have taught you everything a warrior must know." His voice rose incredibly in decibels making Shawn start to his feet. "Here now, take my finest sword and armor. They should fit you nicely." With this the old man disappeared and returned barreling a fine sword and armor fit for a king. Charles smiled rays of care. "I couldn't," Shawn hesitated. "You must!" The old man then said beaming with a proud smile, "I have taught you all I know. You must learn the rest yourself. You will take care. That I know." Much later, as the skies crowed with dark clouds and the heavens rumbled in dissatisfaction of the actions of men, the soldiers marched on nonchalant as they over paced the enemy. Isaac Somas leaned toward his friend Shawn as Isaac good humorly mocked him as an effort to pass away the time and fear. Shawn cared less. He knew it was all in good taste. He would only smile and look onward as he nodded his head. "Stick with me. No trouble will come to you. I will help you when you in time of need," said Isaac so confidentially and friendly. Isaac's beard revealed a hint of a smile and good taste. Shawn just smiled and looked on. He looked onward at the victory that he felt lay before them. One solider ahead of the two would nod off words of encouragement or impart something in jest. It all fit too well as they marched onward with their heads up high. The army approached the green field enclosed with submissive woods. The lines prepared for battle. Shawn edged forward to the front of the pack. The signal was given and onward raced the men. Huffing out of breath, Shawn clashed with the enemy sides and swung his piece of weaponry in the air and down it would fall plastering his sword with blood and mud. And when the rage of war was upon them in the heaviest and as the dirt splat up onto each man's uniform, the loyal Swedish warriors became discouraged and victory seemed to slip from their grasps. But, Shawn gnashed his teeth and carried his sword down with might and courage, which was followed by the enemy as they clung to what life they had left. Mud would kick up into the faces of others and down would come another foe as the swords shook throughout the battlefield in the pattering of the rain and the grumbling of the darkened heavens. Shawn raged with determination and grew as Sweden's hope of victory. Each man he slaughtered brought closer Sweden's victory. And, the Swedish men found victory in their reach once more. Stumbling to the ground, Shawn caught glimpse of a black stallion through his water burning, blue eyes as they struggled for sight. This stallion was saddled for a knight and stood contained by the haste of the rampant battle as the horse invited him as it stood in a mixture of mud and the blood of its knighted owner. Shawn hurdled the saddle and fit snug into the seat. His dream had become reality. Shawn and the horse were one as they spliced through the infantry of the enemy lines or as they galloped through the mud and broken grassy field to take down a savage enemy knight who slain friend after friend. The enemy savage knight headed toward the unexpected Isaac, but dislodged from his path when he met the inviting and mysterious, blue eyes of Shawn. The rain pattered around them and stirred up the ground. The men faced each other in sport, but as soon as blood streamed from Shawn's shoulder and intertwined in the mud. It was no longer a game. It was life or death. It was harsh war. Killing thundered about the knight and Shawn. Shawn jabbed in his sword for a fatal blow of his component's heart but only killed the air. Swing after swing and clash after clash, finally, the relentless enemy was knocked to the ground. The enemy's helmet fell from the knight's head like a hammer and rolled safely away from the fallen knight. To Shawn's astonishment, the knight was not many years senior of himself. As he rose his sword with both hands over head ready to stake the enemy into the ground, he realized the battle was over, and it would be useless slay another. Pity overcame him. "What is your name?" Shawn demanded with his sword still ready for the fatal blow. "Conner, Joel Conner," said the knight with evident fear in his fiery brown eyes. "Please. I will leave. I will never return." "So be it," Shawn let down his sword with ease as the knight scrambled out of Shawn's reach. The fierce knight hastily saddled up and rode off swiftly with the other retreating men toward the beckoning woods. The thunder and rain soon retreated into the distance as the knight had. ________________________________________________________________ Shawn eyes came back to life. They no longer had a hazy cover to them, and he once more listened to his old friend. His past days where far away from the crisis at hand. "Will they?" Isaac asked curiously like a kid asking why he had to go to bed and knowing full well the answer. "Will they what, my good friend?" "Will the people follow you if you defeat Knight Joel, and will you be able to defeat him." It had been nine long years since then and Shawn has since become both a man and a knight. He had since then accomplished much and learned life's harsh treatment. The thunder roared in the oncoming distance. The rain began to beat on the dirt lain path. Shawn just raised his sword, smiled, and gazed onward towards the victory that lay before him.
Copyright © 1999 Daniel A. Souers |