About two miles from town, I heard a twig snap in the woods about two hundred yards out. Erik perked up, but I thought nothing of it. Moments later an arrow smashed against my shoulder plate, almost knocking me out of the saddle. I quickly dismounted and whistled quickly. Erik ran for cover as I drew my swords. Michael knew what this meant and took to the skies to look for my prey. Taking a knee to regain my breath, I looked for a sign of my foe. I knew my armor would protect me. Until he finds a weakness anyway. Hearing a branch snap to my right, I side step just in time to dodge another arrow, which lodged itself inside the tree behind me. Drawing Vult from the sheath, I look to the skies. Dropping in a hurried frenzy is Michael, who had found my foe. I plunge deep into the forest, only to find Michael latched on the to the archers face. I swung my swords low, cutting his knees open as I whistled for Michael to return to my shoulder. Removing his mask, I was confronted by a man unknown to me. I crossed my swords in front of his throat, poised to end him via decapitation. "Who are you?!" I demand rather horsely. His only response was, "Down with the King! Down with the Tyrant!". He followed this blasphemy with a spit of blood in my direction. I would not let this insult to my honor stand. I sharply moved my blades, removing the head of the traitor. "Deus Vult."(God's Will), is all I proclaimed at this hardly significant event. I returned to the road, Erik, and Charlemagne. I remounted and continued my short journey to the city, shaken but unmoved by this violence.
YOU ARE READING
Azrael
Historical FictionIn alternate world, where cars and guns were never created, we follow one man and his adventures.
