Beyond the Twilight Veil: a flash fiction anthology

A Dance of Blades

Prompt - Dodge

Thwack. The wooden training sword smacked into Osbryth's arm, jarring the bone. Aelfwin chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow.

'Dead again.'

Osbryth cursed, spitting on the muddy ground. The training square was hastily assembled in the centre of their camp, four wooden poles wrapped around by a long strip of ribbon. They had been on the road for weeks, eight-thousand men marching to war to protect the borderlands from the horde of goblins coming down from the north. After little more than three years, all that was left to fight were the peasant boys and old men. The real soldiers were all but gone, those few still alive relegated to futilely whipping the conscripts into shape. Aelfwin was one of them. It was not going well.

'Let's go again.' Aelfwin commanded.

Osbryth sighed, and raised his sword. He could feel the welts already beginning to swell. They had been at it all day, and all he wanted to do was rest. His breath was ragged, his legs weak, ready to crumple beneath him at any moment.

'Again, boy.' Aelfwin shouted. Then the old warrior was upon him, raining blows that Osbryth could just barely parry, each one knocking him further off balance, gradually pushing him back to the edge of the square. With his back against the makeshift fence, Osbryth looked up at Aelfwin's upraised sword. He limply held his own up to block the blow, but the strike came down, turning Osbryth's sword into splinters, and thudding against his skull.

'When you cannot block, learn to evade. You are small, use your opponent's momentum against him. We will try again tomorrow. Get some rest.'

Tomorrow came, and Osbryth had made no such progress to speak of. It always ended the same way, a sword crashing down on his head. He wondered how many times he would have to be hit to suffer some permanent damage. Another day of training came, and another, with little success, before it came time to pack up camp and keep moving. The men were responsible for carrying their own things, weighty packs filled with spare coats and bedrolls, while the tents travelled in carts, driven mostly who were simple carriage drivers before they were soldiers. Most of the men travelled on foot, wearing through their boots in the thick mud, while the few remaining knights rode on horseback, high above the lowly commoners. Osbryth was far in the rear of the procession, safe enough from a frontal assault, but if their foe took them from behind, he wasn't sure he would be able to survive, or make it away in time. Just up ahead he could see Aelfwin on his grey charger. It rained for most of the journey, and when they stopped to make camp and continued training, Osbryth fell from slipping in the wet mud more than he did from strikes from Aelfwin's sword.

'If you can't survive the weather, you'll never survive a battle.' Aelfwin scolded. Each day ended the same, Aelfwin finishing Osbryth with an overhead strike, and Osbryth failing to parry and moving too slow to dodge.

They marched on for another few days, eventually reaching their destination. It was an old outpost, its walls crumbling, and ivy infesting the cracks in the bricks. It looked abandoned.

'That's not right.' Aelfwin rode up beside him. 'There should be a garrison here. We're too late.'

Aelfwin was right. Flies buzzed around corpses littering the courtyard, the stench of rotting flesh almost too much to bear. Osbryth pulled his tunic up to cover his nose.

'Where are the assailants?' Aelfwin wondered aloud. He had a point. Other than a few bodies, there were no goblins to be found. They had apparently no intention of holding the outpost, only wiping out its defenders.

'Build a pyre for the dead.' Aelfwin called out, and all around him, men began collecting wood, and piling up the bodies, both human and goblin alike outside the fortress walls. When they had all been gathered, Aelfwin set the pyre alight. He stayed long after all the others had retired to their beds - finding empty rooms in the fort – simply to watch the flames.

He was still there when Osbryth came down in the morning, staring at the smoking remains.

'We were sent here to relieve this garrison, not bury them,' Aelfwin lamented. 'All that remains is to avenge them, if we can find their attackers.'

As soon as his last word escaped his mouth, the blast of a horn came from the fortress wall. Two long blows, then a pause. Two long blows, then a pause. Enemy approaching. Osbryth and Aelfwin rushed to the wall, where they could see a great goblin host, malignant creatures in scrappy armour, crude banners flapping in the wind. They had come from the east, same as their own force. Had the goblins been following them the entire time? If so, why wait until they had entered the outpost, rather than attacking them on the road?

'They have us pinned now.' Aelfwin said. Clearly he had had the same thought. We've got nowhere to go. Behind us is goblin country, and this host blocks our way home. We will end up like the others here.

'Not if we fight.' Osbryth said. Aelfwin simply scoffed. A large goblin at the front of the rabble stepped forward, and raised a vicious-looking sword with a jagged blade. It opened its mouth and roared, half-gurgling, half-braying. The horde charged. The few trained archers they had atop the wall fired, picking off a few goblins here and there, but not enough to thin their numbers. The fastest goblins, those that reached the wall first, began to climb. They piled over the walls, bearing rusted swords and broken axes, some brandishing only sharpened claws. There was another roar from deep within the goblin horde, and a great, lumbering troll appeared, and charged, battering itself against the gate. Aelfwin drew his sword as the first goblins crested the battlements, cutting down the archers in a matter of seconds. Osbryth joined him, sword arm quaking in fear. Osbryth held back, watching Aelfwin hack his way through the invaders, while he himself barely held his own. It looked like with Aelfwin there, victory might be possible. Then the gates crashed open, and the troll burst through, along with scores of ravenous goblins, who barrelled through the defensive line in the courtyard. Aelfwin began to shout a command that was cut short as a long, jagged blade plunged through his back and out the front. The goblin leader held Aelfwin's head in its gnarled claws, bearing its teeth in what looked like the vicious imitation of a smile. The creature dropped Aelfwin's limp body, and stalked over to Osbryth, pushing its own warriors out of the way, some falling on their comrade's spears below. It swung its sword frantically, Osbryth barely parrying, until, right up at the edge of the wall, where one more step would send him plummeting to the massacre below, his sword snapped in half, and Osbryth fell on his rump. The goblin leader laughed, and raised its sword above its head, just as Aelfwin had done countless times in training. The old knight's words echoed in Osbryth's head.

When you cannot block, learn to evade.

Time slowed as the goblin's sword came down upon him. Justas it seemed his life was about to end, he snapped into action and rolled away,getting to his feet behind the goblin. With all his strength, he shoved, andthe creature toppled off the wall, dashing its head on a rock below. Seeing theirleader dead, the goblin horde inside the courtyard scattered and fled, andthose atop the walls were cut down as they froze in fear. The troll, agitatedby the frantic goblins, rampaged through its own allies, before being brought downby archers, and a well-thrown spear straight through the eye. Where once hadbeen the screams of men and the howls of goblins were cheers, and the survivorson the wall congratulated Osbryth, clapping him on the back and lifting him up.Osbryth looked down at the body of Aelfwin. I did what you taught me, atlast. He thought, his ears still ringing from the sounds of battle. They hadwon one battle, but who knew if they could withstand another. At least for now,it was over. But he knew that there would always be more.