Threatened

The arrow tore past Chaise’s ear. Before another had the chance to do the same, he had spun his horse round to face the challengers. At first, he could see no sign of them, the dappled light gave the impression that the clearing was peaceful with the evening breeze making the leaves on the trees around Chaise. But then the peace was shattered as three figures dropped from the trees, brandishing swords, and one a bow with an arrow notched. Chaise dived onto the neck of his stead just in time as the arrow was released from the bowstring with a twang. He heard the men growl in annoyance and the second arrow they had sent had also failed to hit its mark. As he rose cautiously, he saw the archer replace his bow for two blackened long swords.

‘Three against one. Not bad odds, but then again not good.’

Chaise unsheathed his own sword as they advanced on him. He sat in wait as they approached, feeling his horse jittering with anticipation next to his legs, watching the looks of menace upon all their faces. As soon as an enemy was close enough to strike, they did, swinging their blade at his neck. Chaise brought his own sword up just in time to block an attack that was aimed at his neck and pushed it back vigorously with the adrenaline that was pumping through his body.

To his delight, it struck skin. The man stumbled and swore loudly, dropping his sword, clutching his arm as it bled profusely. He looked up at Chaise with a look of vemon but suddenly his expression changed and he was instead grinning evilly at him. Chaise guessed the reason too late.

He had only managed to turn halfway when the attack came. The steel of the sword caught his shoulder and dug in before it was withdrawn. Chaise’s grip on the hilt of his sword loosened but it was pure will power that helped him just manage to keep hold of it. However, his sword arm was weakened, his attacks were weak and badly aimed.

The attacker was next to him now, sword high, ready to strike, but Chaise punched out with his good arm and struck him hard on the side of his face. The man hesitated then shook himself. The attack had missed but all three of the enemy were now advancing on him, together, surrounding him. He edged back slowly on his steed.

‘Shit, this is not good!’ he thought to himself, looking around desperately for some form of escape. As the men approached him, Chaise kicked out and caught the man in the face and then without pausing he rammed his sword into the man’s chest. He fell. Chaise turned in the saddle and caught a blow from a fist to the back of his head. His head cracked forwards, and Chaise felt sickness rising in his throat as wooziness overtook him.

He was therefore unprepared when the next attack came. The blade sliced across his forehead, a line of flaming pain following it across Chaise’s skin. He let out a cry of pain. Blood ran into his eyes, blurring his vision. He received another injury when the blade came back, slicing open the back of his hand as he raised it automatically to his face. He gasped as the blade left a ribbon of pain across his hand.

Chaise struggled to sit up on his horse and wiped an already filthy sleeve over his eyes to clean away the blood. He saw the two men standing either side of him, not making any effort to attack him. This worried him more than if they had been running at him. He felt a sense dreading expectancy. Then he saw the reason. Even more men were emerging from the trees around the clearing, swords raised arrows notched, aimed at Chaise as his horse reared. They were laughing. Chaise grabbed the reigns and turned his horse but the men were encircling him.

Then to his left, he heard a rustling in the trees. As he turned, a pair of feet planted themselves squarely on his chest winding him, before he even had a chance to raise his sword. He fell from his horse hitting the ground hard.

The three men moved towards him. Chaise tried to push himself up but couldn’t, with hardly any breath left in his body from the fall. His hand scrabbled around on the floor hoping for his fingers to close around the hilt of his sword, but Chaise saw that it was just out of his reach. He could see the other men standing behind them; still laughing except now their laughter seemed far away. He made one great effort to reach his sword, but his arm was forced to the ground as a heavy foot was planted on it forcefully. He raised his head as far as he could when one arm was pinned to the ground and saw the men were now next to him.

“Knock him out would ya!” a harsh voice yelled.

The foot hit him on the side of his head and the darkness finally overtook him.