The Siege

Chapter 2

My heart is pounding as if it were a battering ram, trying to break through my chest. But none of the other soldiers hear, so I take a deep breath and follow the men up the stone steps and through to the kitchens. We race through the bare corridors in stealthy formation, flying shadows of death. When we get to the dungeons we silently dispatch the few guards, but leave the prisoners. They are not our men, and once we capture the castle they will stay in the prison. I did not wish to fight, the precious lives of my fellow soldiers snuffed out like waning candles. Too many lives have been lost tonight, and soon there will be many, no matter who would win this battle. Then bile rises in my throat and I stop and retch until there is nothing left to throw up. I can't do this any more. But suddenly there's a hand on my shoulder, a coarse voice sounding unnaturally kind as the commander for my troop encourages me.
"Come now, soldier. We must fight or die. That is the way it has always been, and that is the way it will always be. It's kill or be killed," he gives a mirthless chuckle and slaps my back in a manly fashion. I wince, feeling the sting of the slap across my back. However I give a smile and a salute, and run to catch up with the others.
I pant heavily, my armour weighing me down and trapping the heat from my exhausted exercising body. We've been fighting for 3 hours and still no reinforcements have arrived for either side. The sweat pours down my sides - a mixture of heat and nervousness. I'm not cut out for a life of slaying despite my skills with weapons. No, give me a field and a scythe any day. The lower levels of the castle are filled with the mayhem of battle - man fighting man in a crazy manner, swords blurring into a pattern of swinging and slicing. I watch the mesmerising silver flashes, almost hypnotised. In my dream-like state, I feel light-headed and dizzy, and my thoughts wander - I'm standing in a meadow gazing at glinting dragonflies.
Suddenly there comes a loud roar nearby, and I clumsily pivot and raise my sword in a desperate attempt to block whatever was coming. A noisy clang, and now there is a muscled man right in front of me, a wild light in his eyes. I blink and shake my head, trying to clear it and snap back into reality. Black spots float and spiral in the edges of my vision, but I blink them away and concentrate on the attack. Wham! Our swords collide, and my arm shakes with the pressure. I dodge the next swing, and duck in for a quick cut aimed at a slash in his armour. But he anticipates this, and steps back, leaving my blow to merely scrape the surface. I take a deep breath, and prepare for the next shot. We parry for a few minutes and I feel my strength slip away. I have to finish this fight quickly. I crouch down, forcing my strained muscles to bend. My opponent narrows his eyes and readies himself, his hand gripping his sword. I quickly size him up, something I regret not doing before, and realise a gash on his leg is bleeding profusely. I allow a small smile before rushing up, up, jumping high in the air, pushing my shrieking muscles to the limit. I block his swing at me, and kick him hard in his injured leg before I come tumbling down on top of him. He gives a cry of pain and collapses under me. I finish him quickly and lie next to him, utterly exhausted and trembling all over. I think I will just lie here forever, untouched in a pool of deep scarlet liquid. A endless black void crashes upon me, and I welcome the darkness.