Today’s post is once again a short short story, just a thousand words, didn’t take much time to write, but this time it’s a little more in my genre. 😉
I hope you enjoy my short story: His Knight.
The ground was rough beneath his hands. He gripped the grass with his small, thin fingers. The blazing green eyes searched the battle field below him just off the cliff he knelt upon. The wind blew through his long blond hair.
His name was Rinlad.
“Please, Father. Please don’t die,” Rinlad whispered in a choked voice. He could see the two armies moving toward each other. His father’s halted. So did the enemy. They stared across the open space between them. His father rode up to the front. Rinlad knew it was he when he saw the bright ride tunic he wore. The garb of a knight. A knight of high rank. His father.
The man who told him stories in his bed when he could not sleep. The man who, when he came home every day, would pick him up and throw him up high into the air, nearly touching the ceiling and then catching him on his way down.
The man who smiled. Who laughed. The man he loved most.
His father drew his sword. The polished blade glinted in the morning sun. Rinlad wriggled on his stomach closer to the edge of the cliff to get a better view.
The enemy leader drew the battle ax he wore strapped to his back and raised it high in the air. Rinlad swallowed. In the still air he felt like it was louder than a dragon’s roar. Then his father charged. Into battle he went, swinging his bright blade this way and that. He cut down three enemy before they had even a chance to draw their weapons.
Rinlad’s fear grew into excitement as he watched the fiery red tunic of his father cut into the enemy ranks.
“That’s it, Father! Go get ‘em,” Rinlad whispered to himself, his thin fingers curling into fists. The bright blade flew through the air and Rinlad grinned as it brought down an enemy. The two armies were really at it now. Rinlad’s eyes darted back and forth as the battle grew. Many men had fallen on both sides and they mingled now. Rinlad focused on his father once again. He was the best fighter in the army. He kicked enemies from atop his horse and kept his blade crashing constantly into their helmets.
Then he was down. Rinlad gasped and his eyes filled with tears, blurring the scene. His horse had been cut down by a massive battle ax. The leader of the enemy army. The leader motioned for five men to kill him and they moved in and completely covered the red tunic of his father. Rinlad watched anxiously down from his cliff to where his father had disappeared but he was gone. But wait, there was a small flicker of a red tunic. Then a silver blade pierced completely through an enemy’s chest and stuck from his back, and his father was up! Oh, how he was fighting! The blade arced through the air, knocking through enemy after enemy. The battle raged and soon all five enemy were on the grassy earth, lifeless and cold.
Rinlad has quickly dried his tears and could now see his father clearly again. He did not have blood on him, but he limped badly. Perhaps he had sprained it from falling off his horse when it’s legs had been cut.
His father waded into the battle again but this time he was almost always covered by enemy. Without the extra height of his horse to tower above most of the armies, Rinlad could not see him except brief glances of his fiery red tunic or the blur of his silver blade.
His father was winning the battle! The enemy were falling before his army and they knew they were losing. Many were already retreating.
Then the leader appeared. Rinlad sucked in his breath and his heart began to thump in his chest. The armies parted, and the two leader’s faced off. The red tunic of his father against the dark chest plate of the enemy.
The bloody battle ax against the bright silver sword. The weapons met. Rinlad gasped as his father’s knee gave out from under him and he buckled, then fell to the ground. The leader of the enemy took the chance and leaping forward, brought his ax up to bring it back down upon Rinlad’s father.
“No, Father. No!” Rinlad cried out. Tears spilled down his face, but through the blur, he saw the silver blade come up just in time to block the evil ax and deflect it into the soft grass. Then his father was up. No matter how many times he fell he was always back up in an instant. The sword swung once again in a straight, silver arc. Again and again it met the battle ax. Again and again the battle ax deflected it. The enemy leader has noticed the knight’s injured leg and was now pressing the man back, back, back.
Rinlad’s father did not give up. He continued to fight. The power of his blows did not lessen. His leg buckled once but he straightened it. Oh, how it must hurt, but his father did not act like it did. Oh no. He did not. He fought the pain as hard as he fought the enemy.
Rinlad hit the grass underneath him as hard as he could.
“Oh, Father keep fighting! Beat him! Beat him!” Rinlad whispered.
His father did continue. And then he beat him. He struck the battle ax with his blade, then sliding it down the wooden shaft, crashed it into his enemy’s hand. The enemy leader dropped the battle ax and gripped his hand with pain, and then he stiffened. Rinlad’s father’s sword had pierced his chest. It stuck from his back like a spit stuck through a chunk of meat for roasting. Then it slid out, and the enemy leader fell the soft earth, his blood staining the grass crimson.
There was a moment of silence, and then the enemy ran. They ran as fast as they could and Rinlad whooped for joy. His father had won. His father had not given up. He had gotten up. And he had won.
His father leaped upon a new horse and with the remaining soldiers of his army behind him, road for home. Rinlad stood from his position on the cliff and watched as his father came nearer. He had survived the battle. Had won it.
His father was coming home.
Copyright © 2018 Caleb E King
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