Defenders

“HUNTER” by Osman Andrei

The War-king’s son knelt at the clearing’s edge, hot-eyed with rage and grief, and watched as the Pict children emerged like ghosts from the depths of the trees and quickly carried the fallen warlord away, deeper into the clasp of the wood. But the screams and guttural cries of battle snared him like invisible ropes, reminding him of his duty: a warrior first, and then a son, and lastly a child. There was nothing he could do now anyway. The children would carry him to safety, like other fallen ones; this was their task in times of war.

Ftero tripped back into the field, picking up a fallen spear and throwing himself as if possessed upon the attacking warriors. Flecks of spit and blood glistened in the air as he whirled in the midst of three horsed warriors. The whirring swords followed him as if in slow motion, unable to keep up with his wraith-like agility. He ducked and rolled beneath the flailing hooves, thrusting upwards with both hands, his knuckles white against the dark wood of the spear. A rain of blood spilled down from the horse’s belly, but he was already gone, emerging like smoke behind the unhorsed Roman.

The Roman snapped around, sword slashing, and Ftero ducked through the arch of a rearing horse’s legs, his bared teeth flashing in sharp contrast to his dark skin and darker tattoos. The Roman growled an oath, slashing away at the bucking steed, as the lithe Pict warrior vanished deeper into the fray and the shredded mist.

In the cloud of dust and din, an arrow hissed out from the fray and lodged itself deep in Ftero’s shoulder. He fell to his knees with a grunt, closing his eyes momentarily in pain. Fhina leapt towards him, clearing a path with her sword, but a Roman soldier was faster.

“Ftero!”

At his sister’s cry, lacking the strength to even throw himself aside, Ftero braced his spear against his good shoulder and thrust back, piercing through torn chain mail. The soldier’s gasp emerged as a gurgling of blood, and he toppled upon him.

“Bloody little savage.” Fhina reached them and wrenched the corpse away off of Ftero’s small crumpled body, hoisting her younger brother over her shoulder and picking up the dropped sword. Under the cover of a last volley of arrows from the retreating Picts, she turned and ran to join their painted people. They vanished like forgotten spirits into the darkness of the wood.

"Angreek87"