The Fallen Knights

Chapter 7

Sann's POV

No amount of silence could erase the sound of screams assaulting her ears. The chaos seemed to rise out of nowhere. One minute it was pitch black, next there were soldiers everywhere as far as the eyes could see. The sounds of clashing steel and armour hit her like a wall and her breath caught in her throat.

She looked around as the gruesome vision of the battle played on around her. Rivers of blood flowed on beneath her feet as armours of humans got pierced again and again by spears, arrows and swords. Horses screeched as they fell by catapults firing giant stones at them. And in the middle of it all, she stood as calm as a lake.

She looked down at herself, she was wearing a shiny armour of steel with intricate swirls of gold carved on it. Her helmet had wings on top of it just like the ones on her back. She felt herself move her wings as if to stretch them after standing idle too long. The feeling of the giant muscles covered with white feathers feeling foreign after not having them. She could feel the power in her own form, like she could send the twenty men closest to her tumbling away with one swift clap of her wings.

And still she was calm as a cloudless day. She knew this scene, she knew this place. This battle. This wasn't her first battle, nor would it be her last. She looked down at her hands and saw a longsword gripped there. She didn't know how it got there but she relished at the feeling of it. It felt right. Loosening and re-tightening her grip on the hilt, she felt the reflexes rising to the surface, and looked around her once again. All of this was familiar, like she was supposed to be here.

And then, without her consent her body started moving forward, closer to one of the two men duelling before her. She could do nothing, say nothing as she dodged and ducked from the unknowing blows from the other soldiers battling one another. She was invisible to everyone, or they simply chose not to attack her. As she closed the distance to the two men who were fighting, she saw the one with blackened armour run his sword through the other's abdomen.

His opponent made to open his mouth but only blood dribbled out of his gaping mouth. Any noises he made were quickly gobbled up by the scene around them. As he tried to move his hands to pull the sword from his body, he looked around with terror in his eyes.

There was no one to help him, even Sann knew this but still, the man in his desperation sought out his fellow soldiers. And then just as fast as the one in the black armour had attacked, he pulled his sword back and the man crumbled to the dirt.

Sann spared no glance to the man lying lifelessly to the ground but came to stand by the one that defeated him. Beneath his dented and scratched black armour, there were countless cuts and a rather big gash on his left leg. He took off his helmet and his curly blond hair spilled out. It was plastered to his forehead with sweat, blood and grime, and the blacks of his eyes were enlarged from the adrenalin of the battle. His chest rapidly rising and falling, his lungs trying to supply his muscles' increased demand of oxygen.

He dropped to his knees, suddenly out of strength, now that the blunt of his wounds catching up to him.
He lifted his left arm and speared the tip of his bloodied sword down into the ground and took strength from the hilt, trying to rise back to his feet. But his left leg was losing too much blood too fast. And he stumbled back down. A familiar look of pain and discomfort etched onto his face.

Sann stepped infront of him and she could feel herself changing forms, her armour became dull, covered in dirt, her already tall stature increased more in height and her wings were hidden into thin air. She became one of the soldiers who fought for their lives around her.

The kneeling soldier before her raised up his dark eyes, looking at her tiredly from beneath his blond curls. He wasn't getting back up again and they both knew it. That's why she was here.