Dragonworld: The Will For Power

Part 19: The Rebellion Of The Paupers

Fighting in the field

A man fell to the ground, cut down by an arrow.

"Hold your ground!"

A swarm of arrows rose up into the sky, before descending down.

"Hold your ground!"

Thump. Thump. Thump. The arrows flew in fast, their sharp ends hitting the outer edges of the shield.

"Keep your shields locked!"

Matlo really felt that last group of arrows. Two of them had embedded themselves into his shield. His arm was burning. It felt like his shoulder wanted to separate itself from its socket. He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

"Stop spitting, Jol," someone yelled.

Another swarm of arrows rained down upon the defenders.

"Shit, one got through. It hit my leg," a man screamed. Blood was flowing through the ranks.

"Keep your shields locked, you stupid bastards," yelled the commander.

Matlo looked to his right. There, Palik Jahansun was sweating profusely from under his helmet, his left arm up holding a shield, trying as much as he could to keep it interlocked with the other shields.

The enemy let off another round of arrows.

"Shield wall! Shield wall!"

Thump. Thump. Thump. Another arrow got through.

"Fuck!" More blood ran down.

"Jan, are you getting hard, yet?" Karl yelled, while holding his shield up.

"Nah, I only get hard when I see your mother," replied Jan. He then squatted a bit more in order to get better leverage on his shield.

"Shut up, you stupid bastards. Concentrate! Keep your shields in position," yelled the commander.

Thump. Thump. Thump. More arrows hit the shield wall.

"How much longer do we have to keep this up? My arm is about to fall off," someone yelled.

"Don't make me get over there and slap you! Keep your shields up," yelled the commander.

To the right of the men in the shield wall, in the distance, a small group of men was running towards the forest.

"Let's go men! Follow me," yelled Faikel, making sure to run as fast as possible, sword in one hand, shield in the other.

They ran into the forest cover, where they continued to run a while longer. Then they stopped, turned around, and got into position. They were ready. Waiting. It wasn't their time to go yet.

"Fuck! Fuck this shit," yelled one of the men in the shield wall, as arrows were raining down on them.

"Get ready! We are going to charge," yelled the commander. The men squatted down, their ears perked up to hear the ultimate command. One hand was still up holding the shield, while the other had reached down for the sword.

"Here we go. On my command. Three, two, one. Charge!"

At that word, all the men disconnected their shields, drew their swords, and started running towards the other line, screaming at the top of their lungs.

It didn't take long for them to cross the chasm separating the two sides. Running over muddy terrain, jumping over fallen bodies, making sure not to get hit by enemy arrows, the men tried to sprint in unison.

The opposition was ready for them. Their shields down on the ground forming a barrier, their long pikes pointing straight towards the onslaught of men, they wanted to take down as many as possible before it got to hand to hand fighting.