The Blood White Wolf

The End of the War

Crows voiced their hunger, soaring through the sky. They amassed in the hundreds circling bodies that were fresh with the smell of death. In the front of the still warm, yet soulless carcasses stood but a few men at the end of their rope. Two men, opposing several. They had changed from the darkness that enthralled them. One man stood as the precipice of chaos. A white wolf pelt cloaked him. Once, so pure, now soaked with the blood of not hundreds, but thousands of men, women, and children. He held his sanguine coloured sword with all his strength and buried it into the ground to keep steady. He bent over his sword, breathing shallow, quick breaths. He spat on the ground tasting the putrid, toxic air. He rolled his eyes up from the floor and poised his body. He collected his energy and stood straight pulling his sword out of the wet, slimy mud. Seven, in total stood before him. He held his sword without a tremor in his hands. He stared at the seven, shifting his eyes focusing on the one in the middle, "This is the end for you." The sword reached out towards the trees to his right. The seven men prepared to die.

For the second that Trinson took to prepare for the fight ahead, he saw everything. He turned his head to the left and saw a man trembling in his boots. He wore little armour, a poor warrior. He kept tightening his grip on his axe, clammy hands. He was scared to die. Trinson muttered, "Coward" he noticed the older soldier next to him, clanging sword against shield. He showed no fear, yet kept his shield high. He stood, balancing on one foot. Trinson saw his limp, "Weak knee" Trinson turned his focus hearing the roar of the soldier to the far right; A small, agile spearman, a scar marking his left cheek, a greyed iris, "Half blind" Trinson tilted his head staring at the second from the right. He stood wielding his sword with two hands. It was double-sided. No physical weaknesses to exploit, though he stood a step back from the rest, "A family to think about?" Trinson saw the two next to the large man in the middle and could tell they were the ones he had to focus on, "bodyguards, sword and shield." Trinson closed his eyes and loosened his grip. He swung his arm around, un-clipping a horn from his belt, "Would you like a drink before you die?" He stared directly into the eyes of the tall, strong jawed man in the middle, "You're a milk drinker, aren't you?" The large man's face turned red, he un-buckled an axe from behind his back, "Fuck you, do you have a clue who you're talking to?" Trinson smiled, taking a sip from his horn, "Prince-" the axe flew through the air, skimming Trinson's face, "I was right, this is your first real taste of war." The large man stomped the ground and pointed a second axe in Trinson's direction, shaking hands made him seem less fierce. Trinson felt the slight trickle of rain fall from the heavens. He allowed it to set the mood for battle.

"Nilvar, fifty gold coins if I can end it in under thirty seconds?" Trinson's companion nodded his head. The large man grew infuriated and shouted, "I am Lennart, son of King Haroldsson, I demand respect" Trinson replied by turning to his side, and throwing his horn at Lennart. The horn knocked him in the head and fell to the ground. Lennart screamed a roar echoing his frustration and charged towards Trinson, "Like a bull to a target." The time started when the horn fell into the soft, thick mud. Trinson tightened the grip on his sword and opened his eyes. He confronted Lennart and rather than attacking, he parried the axe and disarmed him. Lennart threw a left hook but Trinson ducked and stepped around him. He moved into the proximity of the bodyguard to the left of Lennart. Trinson stopped in his tracks and jumped a step back. The bodyguard took a step forward and swung his weapon. Trinson had to get out of the space between them both so he hopped to his left and kicked the shield rolling on the ground to the left. He slid through the mud. The older soldier approached Trinson. Trinson pushed his free hand into the mud to give him enough space to sweep his sword, he caught the soldier's knee and sliced through the flesh of unarmoured skin. The old soldier screamed in pain as he fell to his knee and Trinson used him to get up. When he stood up he pushed the soldier back pushing him over.