The Land Of Dostollin

[MA]

right, before you read further, this story may eventually contain something that might offend you. not just bad language and violence, worse crimes.

i have had this idea running around my head for a while, and originally had it set in the present, but i decided it would be a hell of a lot more interesting if it was set in a past age. by the way, it isn't set on Earth, so don't get confused.

i'm gonna go easy on this one, and not do massive chapters like i have a tendency to do. i'm also going to take the description down a notch, i feel like i bog stories down too much with stuff like that.

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Prologue:

Welcome to a bleak world of strife, betrayal and injustice. It is a perverse world ruled by a backwards global monarchy. There are many lawless parts of this world, but the densely populated regions have ridiculous and sometimes conflicting laws. There isn’t a large amount of these laws, which could be considered as a blessing, but the laws that do exist are often petty and only formed for the Monarchy’s gain. This is a tale of many different people; how they cope, live and what troubles besiege them. This world is called Dostollin.

Chapter 1

Johnson lay on the cobbled street floor, letting the more sober men go through his pockets. He didn’t care at this moment in time. He had earned his drinking money down at the barracks for the day and had blown almost all of it, which came to about 11 gold pieces if his drunken mind was working right. He only had coppers left anyway, so these bastards wouldn’t be too happy.

The two men grunted to one another and left Johnson lying in the street, just outside of The Monarch’s Sword. It used to be called The Monarch’s Head, but the regional watchmen found it and deemed it too offensive towards the ‘great’ Monarch. Then another law was passed, stating that any landlord that owned a public house with a name the watchmen found offensive would have their property, stock and staff taken from them and given to the Monarchy (for them to do with as they wish), and as for the landlord; he would either be draughted into the nearest barracks or forced to serve time in jail for his ‘offense’.

Johnson was cut off from these thoughts when he heard a horse and carriage travelling down the dark street, above the muffled shouts and drunken chortling from within the pub. He felt his fingers crack as the carriage wheels simply rolled over them, the driver not caring for a man on the street. Dull pain stretched down his arm and Johnson let out a drawn out wail.

“Bastard!” Johnson yelled at the withdrawing carriage, knowing he would get no reply. Now he would have to work tomorrow with, what he assumed were, broken fingers.

Half an hour later, he got himself up, not daring to move his fingers in any way, simply holding them to his chest. He staggered home where he burst through the door, not caring if he woke his wife or son. After all, it was his home, he was the one that paid the Monarchy so he could reside in it. He walked over the thresh hold, and into a tiny room where his heavily pregnant wife was asleep in a narrow bed. Well, she looked like she was asleep.

Johnson stumbled towards the bed and collapsed on top of it, beside his wife. He was already falling asleep when he heard Mary say;

“You stink.”

Johnson simply grunted in reply. He couldn’t give a shit. That’s when Johnson realised he had either pissed himself in the street, or had lay in some dog shit. Either way, he couldn’t give a shit.

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if you have any questions about it, just post them here.

[Oddey]

I rarely tread through these waters, but after a quick visit, I've decided to watch this one. It's not too bad.

[MA]

YEEHAW! cheers Oddey, really appreciated. i've been waiting to put the next one up for some time, and it will get a hell of a lot better. i hope so anyway. it isn't going to just concentrate on one character.

Chapter 2

Johnson awoke the next morning, late. He didn’t have a bad head as he was used to nights like the one before, or he just didn’t notice anymore. He rubbed his brow, sitting upright on the bed and shouted to his wife, wherever she was.

“Why didn’t you wake me, woman?” He yelled nastily. “Now the sergeant’s gonna find out about this.”

He heard Mary reply somewhere out of the room, but Johnson didn’t hear her. Once he stood up he felt a pang of pain from his whole hand and recalled having it crushed the night before.

“Where’s my damn breakfast?” Johnson yelled again, and actually heard Mary reply this time.

“I’m stripping the sheets, John. Mark wet the bed again.”

“Well that boy is gonna get a hiding when I come home. He’s ten. He shouldn’t be doin’ that anymore. Actually, he should be working by now.” Johnson said as he felt his trousers to see if they were dry; they were.

“Your too pissed every night anyway. And the Monarchy aint gonna find out about Mark if the watchmen don’t come ‘round.”

“Shut it, woman.” Johnson said. He was sick of her undermining him. She should know her place.

Johnson walked out of his hovel and up the street towards the wooden barracks. He still had his sword attached to his belt in a sheath, and wasn’t surprised the men from last night didn’t take it; it was blunt and the edge was covered in nicks. The only sharp thing he had was his dagger, which was also sheathed. But all of this equipment belonged to the Monarchy. Like everything else.

After passing through the wooden gates of the towns barracks, he saw that the majority of the townspeople’s men were assembled in the courtyard directly in front of him. He tried to join the ranks undetected, but Johnson was quite old, and wasn’t one for stealth.

“Oi! Who’s just walked into the ranks like a scrawny rat?!” The sergeant barked, striding over, his chainmail jingling and belt holding back his gut.

“Johnson, sir.” Johnson replied, knowing not to test his patience.

“Trust you.” The sergeant said, meeting Johnson face to face. “We don’t cater for old bastards that turn up late for company inspection. You want me to get the sheriff down here?”

The sergeants grey eyes looked unforgivingly into Johnsons dull ones. He looked back at him and said; “No sergeant.”

The bully sergeant shoved him back with his gloved hand and strode back to the front, where the corporal was standing, looking bewildered as usual. He was a simple lad.

“Alright.” The sergeant shouted. “Company dismissed.”

[Oddey]

Yes it did. It's an interesting idea really. I look forward to seeing what the monarchy is actually like.

[MA]

this is where more characters begin to get introduced, and you start to get the jist of whats going on.

Chapter 3

Smivey, the sheriff of Haydurg, was in the stone section of the barracks. He was with his brother, William, who was the captain of the regions troops. William was higher ranked than his brother, but Smivey was more dominant and would openly argue with him. They both loved each other, but it ran deeper than brotherly love.

Their father had been the captain of the same region before William, and wanted William, his favourite son, to precede his position. The Monarchy didn’t have a problem with this; the San family were very loyal to the Monarchy, and had been for generations. They even allowed the two sons of George (their father) to stay together, after demands from William.

Their father never knew of their perverted relationship, and if he had done he would have probably had them executed. But Smivey hated his father anyway, and was openly glad when he died. He was not glad, however, when he found out his brother was to take his fathers positon. He had to settle for sheriff.

The two brothers stood well over six foot, and were very thin, but by no means were they weak or poorly trained in swordplay. Their faces were pale and their voices were unusually deep, with their teeth black with filth, dirtier than the average soldier, as they had never cleaned in their lives. It was said that no man could stand too close to them during discussion as the musty smell simply overcome them.

The last man to gag in front of them was the previous corporal as they informed him about battle field tactics with the absence of the sergeant. Smivey noticed this and grabbed the nearest thing on the table which happened to be Williams helmet, and struck the corporal with it until his head caved in. Thus the new corporal.

They were both in full armour, which their father had taught them to always wear, Smivey’s not being as grand or efficient as his brother’s. They were looking at a massive map that covered the top of the whole table, which had various items placed onto it to represent units of men. These items were not officially meant for use as troop representations.

“The Monarchy said they’re not sending any men to Haydurg. We have to do with what we’ve got.” Smivey said, staring at the desktop pieces spread out over the land, a couple dangerously close to Haydurg.

“When have they ever sent us more men?” William remarked, looking at the side of his brother’s head.

“Well, this rabble is definitely on its way to Haydurg.” Smivey replied, pointing a finger at an inkpot. “And this lot are coming in from the East, I suspect they will be waiting for their mates so they can both attack us at the same time.” Smivey said as he indicated towards another item, then letting out a sigh.

“Hmm...” William emitted, rubbing the stubble on his jaw line. “What about sending a messenger to the sheriff of Collern? He owes us for those archers we used to have, before that incompetent fool had them all massacred.”

Smivey thought for a moment. Why did he always ask him for advice and permission? He was the captain, he should sort it out himself. A sheriff wasn’t even meant to organise battle preparations and procedures, it was his job to ensure the running of the town and to force the occupants to abide by the Monarchy’s laws. He looked at his brother and raised his eyebrows. He was glad he asked his permission, it made him feel more powerful than he was.

“Yeah. Do that. Get the corporal up here.” He answered, looking back at the map.

William looked confused. “But Smivey...I would have thought sergeant Smith would be more competent?”

Smivey didn’t look up from the map, both hands on the table. “Do you want me to give you a hiding again, Wil?”

Smivey didn’t see it, but William grinned to himself, and walked out of the door.

-----

the brothers are probably going to be a couple of the most interesting characters in this story, along with a few others that will be entered later on.

[STM]

Molluck you've struck another great story! I think you should have your stories put into one massive one and send it to your local editor!

[MA]

thanks Scrabtrapman! i'm glad you like it. its really enjoyable to write, so i'm pleased i have a couple of readers for it.

Chapter 4

The young corporal Jack Tallon was walking towards one of the wooden sentry towers outside of the barracks, when he heard a voice he recognised shout his name. He turned to see the stout sergeant walking towards him from the stone building of the barracks.

“Yes sergeant?”

The Sergeant reached him, breathing heavily. “The captain and sheriff wanna see yeh.” He said, beginning to walk back to the barracks, Jack ran to catch up and walk by his side. “And I aint no messenger boy, alright? Keep to the fucking barracks next time. Dunno what they want with you anyway, you’ll fuck up anything.” The sergeant grumbled, his chainmail jingling and axe tucked into his belt, knocking against his legs.

Jack said nothing. Like he always did.

The sergeant left him at the stone building’s door, and headed to the courtyard of the barracks, where he monitored any new recruits. Jack entered and climbed stone stairs to a corridor where the wooden door to the officers room resided. He knocked and heard a muffled, deep voice from within say; “Enter.”

Jack walked in and saw the two tall men standing over a table looking at a giant map, not saying a word. Jack didn’t like being around these two men; he had heard stories about them that made him feel repulsed and fearful of them. He also knew for sure what had happened to the corporal before him, seeing as the sergeant decided to tell him on his first company inspection as corporal.

Smivey and William were still looking at the map, not saying a word, as if they knew what each other were thinking and had no need for speech. This made Jack nervous, but he did not utter a single word or noise. He simply looked at their clothing, and could see a vast difference.

Smivey wore a chainmail vest with simple, steel pauldrons on his shoulders. His sword was sheathed and he had never seen it drawn. William, however, adorned a grey breastplate with the Monarchy’s symbol engraved into it; a castle that was meant to represent that of which the Monarchy themselves resided in, with their closest and most trusted servants. A black cape was pinned around his neck with a golden broach, and his sword hung from his belt, its scabbard studded with silver.

Finally William turned to him, and said “Now listen corporal, we will not go over this again.”

Jack nodded, hiding his anxiety with a false smile. Smivey began to talk.

“We have two average sized units of outlaws in our town’s vicinity. One is camped out in a wood to the East of here, the other is on the march.” Smivey said sliding his finger over the map in general directions, even though Jack couldn’t see. He turned to him and frowned, “Come over here, boy. You need to know this.” And he focused his attention back on the map.

William looked at Jack, and so he cautiously joined them at the table. The smell of their clothing reached his nostrils as Smivey continued, Jack trying to remain unphased.

“Do you know what these outlaws call themselves, corporal?” Smivey asked, looking up at him from the map.

“Yes sir.” He replied, recalling what the sergeant had told him a few months ago when outlaw attacks on neighbouring towns had been increasing. “The People’s Defenders.”

Smivey cracked a smile, which was rare, and said “Well done, corporal.” Then looking down at the map once more. “We average – and by we, I mean my brother and I – that the other unit of outlaws coming from the West will take at least a day to reach us, assemble and contact the other unit to order the attack. Now we want you to ride to Collern as fast as possible and demand that sheriff Douglas Wentle supply us with a small unit of men, immediately.” Smivey said, then standing up to his full height and looking directly at Jack.

“Now don’t mess this up corporal, this is very important. We need those men. Tell him that Captain William San here,” He indicated toward his brother without looking at him, who was staring intently at Jack. “Will inform the Monarchy about his recklessness with our valued archers if he does not cooperate. Now you will lead this small band of men to the West of this town and attack the outlaws from behind.” Smivey then leaned in over the table towards jack, putting his hands on the map.

“Don’t fuck this up, corporal.” He said again, with a slight shake of his head. “Do not get spotted, otherwise they will retreat and the scum will be back in greater numbers, all the wiser. We need you - in fact I need you - to kill the majority of them so that they return to their cave, or wherever they reside, demoralised and exhausted. The captain and the sergeant will take care of the outlaws to the East. So it will only be me and a few guards in the town, and as good as I may seem, I can’t take on a whole unit of outlaws.” He said, his face not suggesting any type of joke or sarcasm.

Jack did not laugh.

At last Smivey broke his gaze and half turned to his brother, still leaning over the table. “Anything else, Wil?”

“Yes. Do this well, and I personally will make sure you are given the respect you deserve for such a feat. Sergeant Smith won’t treat you like a simpleton again.” He then grinned at Jack, thinking many things.

Jack diverted his gaze to the map and said “I won’t let you down, sirs.”

Smivey frowned at his brother and said, without turning towards Jack, “No, you best not.” Smivey then stood up and rubbed his nose casually. “Go then, with haste. Take the fastest horse you can find in the stables.”

“Yes sir.” Jack answered, smiling at the prospect that he could finally leave. He soon dropped it when William smiled back, displaying his brown, almost black, teeth in a wide grin. William continued to smile at Jack as he turned to leave, making him feel uneasy about turning his back on him. He felt relieved once he had shut the door.

As Jack descended the stairs, he hoped captain William San hadn’t taken a liking to him.

-----

getting a bit twisted, i know.

[Oddey]

Backwards indeed... Jack seems a prime choice for the hero. Time to see if he turns out to be one. Or if anybody does.

[MA]

yeah, this story does have a dark tone about it.

Chapter 5

Sergeant Duncan Smith looked at corporal Jack in disbelief as he stood by the recruitment table in the corner of the courtyard.

“They want you to go to Collern? What am I sposed to do?”

“Sheriff Smivey said you are to attack the outlaws to the East with the captain while he stays here with a few men.” Jack informed as subtly as he could.

Duncan huffed. “Sheriff Smivey, pah. He aint even meant to be interfering with stuff like this. And what if another unit decides to attack while this town is empty?”

“Well...with the reinforcements, I’m supposed to ambush this other unit to the West of here.” Jack said uneasily. He knew the sergeant wouldn’t like it, but it was better than being under the, frankly weird, gaze of the two brothers.

“There’s another group?” Duncan said, his voice slightly quieter.

“Yes, that’s what the reinforcements are for.” Jack answered, suddenly realising the tone of his own voice.

Duncan looked at him and said “You don’t wanna know what those two will do to yeh if you fail this, sonny.” And with that, he left the courtyard.

Jack knew the sergeant enough by now to know when he was exaggerating and so dismissed it, and headed for the stables in the town outside of the barracks.

Within minutes corporal Jack was riding from Haydurg on a brown horse. The horse did not have armour as Jack thought this could slow him, but he was beginning to have second thoughts about it; he would soon be in battle.

Collern wasn't far from Hardurg, and the corporal soon had it in his sights; a small town with mainly wooden defences, like Haydurg. He rode up to the town's gate and was spoken to by an armoured man wielding a lengthy halberd.

“Who goes there? Off your horse, now.”

Jack did no such thing and replied with “Corporal Jack Tallon of Haydurg. I am under strict orders from captain William San of the regional troops to speak to the sheriff of your town. There is an upcoming battle that may become a massacre if you do not give me access.”

“Alright corporal.” The guard said. He looked up to the wooden sentry tower next to the gate and shouted “Open it up, Bill.” The wooden gate then stressed the hinges by slowly creaking open, and Jack swiftly rode on through.

The town was nothing special, if anything it wasn't as advanced as Haydurg, if that was possible. It didn't even have solid ground, it was simply a dirt track leading to the sheriff's office, with hovels and simple shops spread around irregularly on either side. Many soldiers could be seen dotted about the streets, seeing as there was no barracks here. Jack questioned their ability on the field of battle; they didn't look prepared for anything.

Jack climbed from his horse once he reached the wooden building that was the sheriffs office, and strode inside. He immediately saw the back of a portly man standing in the centre of the large room with many soldiers milling around him, two were talking to him and showing him pieces of map.

“Sheriff?” Corporal Jack spoke above the din, after forgetting the name Smivey had told him.

The sheriff turned around with three ragged pieces of map in his hands. He had a thick moustache and mottled skin, with baggy chainmail that showed slight patches of rust. The chainmail shirt was not tucked into his belt or trousers, making him look shabby. When he spoke his voice crackled with age.

“Yes young man?” The two soldiers that were in mid discussion with him looked at Jack.

“Corporal Jack from Haydurg here, sir. I have orders from sheriff Smivey and captain William to request a small band of men from you to help defend our fair town from an inevitable attack of outlaws.” Jack answered as people continued to wander around the room, breaking his view of the sheriff a few times.

“I'm sorry corporal, we have a unit of outlaws on the march to our fair town right now. I'm sure Haydurg can cope with a rabble of malnourished bandits?” The sheriff replied, not in a callous tone, but in a more informative one. He then turned away from Jack, looking at the pieces of map in his hands as he said “The captain knows what he's doing.”

“No, sir, you don't understand.” Jack said earnestly, making the portly sheriff look back at him, eyebrows raised. “We have two units of outlaws that are going to attack Haydurg simultaneously, one is hidden in the wood to the East waiting for the other unit coming from the West to attack. Our men are going to eradicate this unit in the East, but we need your help to intercept the others, otherwise our town will be overwhelmed with the troops absence. Please sheriff, time is of the essence!” One of the soldiers standing next to the sheriff shook his head as if in disapproval, and the sheriff himself frowned.

“Ok corporal, you can have a small band of soldiers, but it is imperative that I have them returned tomorrow so we can defend our own town.”

“Thank you, sheriff. I will ma-” Jack begun.

“My name is Douglas Wentle, and I want you to tell those two brothers that they need to assist me with my own troubles with these outlaws once you return my men. We cannot take the strain.” Douglas interrupted.

Jack thought for a moment, and remembered that Smivey had told him to blackmail Douglas about the unfortunate archer incident, meaning that sheriff Douglas was in fact in their pocket. The brothers would not like this.

Jack nodded, wanting to get back to Haydurg as fast as possible. Sheriff Douglas turned his back to the corporal and shouted for 35 men to volunteer themselves to Jack. And Jack did get 35, many older than he would have liked, some not even armoured, but he got them.

“Sheriff...are they in full armour?” Jack questioned, looking at the soldiers.

“Yeah, they're in full armour.”

He led the soldiers outside and mounted his horse, moving slowly at marching pace. He looked behind him to see the group following, not in rank and in no particular order. Now was not the time to linger on marching etiquette though. They left Collern.

-----

tell me what you think, fella's!

[Oddey]

An interesting point... I wonder what'll happen next.

[MA]

a shorter chapter.

Chapter 6

Sheriff Smivey watched Jack leave the room and looked at the back of his brother's head as he stared at the corporal. Smivey could tell he was still grinning.

“Don't even think about it, Wil.” He said in his deep voice.

This took captain William by surprise and he spun around. “That boy could go far.” He replied as if he knew nothing of what his brother had implied. He then showed his filthy grimace to Smivey.

Smivey scowled at him. “Will you stop smiling like a damn fool? The Monarchy must be run by lunatics if they find your sort fitting for the rank of regional captain.” William dropped his friendly gesture. Smivey then sat down in a wooden chair and said “Fetch sergeant Duncan. We need him to assemble the troops.”

William did not move. Smivey then looked up at him. “Did you hear me, brother?”

“Yes. I heard you. Now, get the sergeant, sheriff.” William replied defiantly, and he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Smivey looked at his hand and smirked. “Will you never learn, William? I may not have armour as glorious as yours, and my sword may be less sufficient, but I am the one that gives you permission, advice and punishment as I see fit.”

“Your sword is as sharp as your wit, brother.” William answered. With this Smivey leapt to his feet, never being one for patience.

“If I tell you to fetch the sergeant, you will do so. If I tell you to leave that boy alone, you will not interfere with him.” He said, voice raised. He then shoved William in the breastplate, knocking him back. Smivey knew he would never be the first to attack.

“Maybe that boy will take your place one day, brother! Maybe then I can have someone worthy of my attention!” William shouted.

Smivey grabbed his brother by the shoulders and forced him into the door. He had forgotten in the sudden excitement about William's breastplate and punched him in the stomach, meaning his fist hit the metal and he grunted in pain, stepping back to look at his knuckles.

“You fool, Smivey! You're sometimes too quick for your own good!” William remarked, unharmed but slightly shaken.

William then grabbed Smivey's chainmail and pulled him towards himself, where he kneed him in the stomach. Smivey, always being one to handle himself better than his brother in these types of situations, ran into William and shoved his back into the door, winding him.

Smivey took this time to get over his blow and then advanced on William once more, striking him in the cheekbone with his already injured fist. William lay against the door for a few seconds as Smivey observed what he had caused.

Slightly out of breath, Smivey said to his brother “Do you understand now, Wil?”

William laughed and said “I could never beat you, brother.” At which Smivey found a sick pleasure.

“Now get yourself together, and do as I tell you.” He replied. William did so, obediently.

-----

you start to see the relationship the brothers share, sort of bittersweet. i don't think their storyline is going to be straight forward, either.

[Oddey]

I think this will be a fine addition to your style of stories. Continue.

[MA]

Thanks Oddey.

Chapter 7

Once the sergeant had been called to the officers room for a briefing by Smivey and William, he left and descended the stairs, a little dumbfounded. The outlaws had been quick and sly to get this close to the town before being noticed by scouts. And now it was time for him to organise the men of Haydurg, ready for battle.

Sergeant Duncan Smith was a very experienced soldier, and had risen through the ranks the hard way; by surviving on the field of war, proving his ability to lead troops and outmanoeuvre enemy units. But he wasn't as fit as he used to be.

He entered the courtyard from the stone section of the barracks and rang a bell hanging from a stand, which called all troops in the barracks to arms.

Sergeant Duncan looked on rather disapprovingly as Haydurg's soldiers unenthusiastically filled into the courtyard and lined themselves up, messily. He was halfway through shouting the corporal when he remembered he was in Collern. He sighed and walked to the front of the unit, then filtering through the ranks, counting the men.

Once he had finished he shouted “We have 57 men. Where's the other bloke?”

“Gareth died last night, sir.” One of the men shouted.

“Oh.” Duncan said, already moving towards the front again, not caring about how he died. “Okay men, I just received word from the captain and sheriff that outlaws have hidden themselves in the wood just to our East, and are planning to attack. Its our job to ensure they do no such thing, so check your weapons and seek the storeroom if they are damaged or broken, we leave at the captain's say so.”

The soldiers murmured to themselves, and the sergeant could tell they were not happy about going into battle on such short notice. Duncan noticed this and decided to tell them that the captain would be joining them. It seemed to raise morale.

“Alright, when I ring the bell, I want you lot to form up here as quick as possible, none of that pissing about like you did earlier. Then we'll march for these scum bags to the East. Dismissed.” Duncan didn't think it a good idea to tell them the intricacies of the battle, and that there was a second unit of outlaws to the West that was going to be ambushed by the fairly new corporal; it could sway their minds from battle.

Johnson heard what the sergeant said as he stood amongst the troops, and felt that shiver of fear run through him like it always did just before battle. Once the sergeant had dismissed them he made his way to the storeroom with a few other soldiers to see if he could route out a better sword.

There was a few other men in the room, sorting through tables of old weapons and looking at the items hanging on the walls. He knew one of them; Bill. He was slightly younger than Johnson but looked a lot older due to his raw-looking face and numerous missing teeth.

“How are you, Bill?” Johnson asked as he began to filter through the weapons on the table top.

“Not too bad, Johnny. Bit of a shock, aint it?” Bill replied, picking up a wooden Heater shield with the Monarchy's symbol calved into the front. “I cant even say goodbye to my woman.”

“Same with me and my kid. And I've gotta fight with this.” Johnson said, holding up his crippled hand.

Bill looked at it, frowning. “Broken?”

“It sounded like it when the bloody carriage rolled over it.” Johnson answered, looking at a spiked-ball flail.

Bill was happy with his shield and left the storeroom, patting Johnson on the shoulder as he left, saying “I'll stick close to yeh.”

Johnson gave up and decided to stick with his old sword.

[Oddey]

So this is where Johnson comes into play... Keep up the good work.

[MA]

tar. i do like Johnson, seeing as he was the first character i introduced. he represents the working class people under the scrutiny of the Monarchy. and Bill, he'll come into play more a bit later.

Chapter 8

Corporal Jack led the men steadily to the far West, and eventually saw from the top of a hill the unit of Outlaws far in the distance marching towards the Haydurg perimeter. It looked like a unit of about forty-odd men, and they were out in the open, so Jack had no idea how he was going to launch an ambush successfully.

Jack held his hand out to the side to signify for the men to stop, and thought for a moment. He didn't have much battle knowledge, and now wished the sergeant had been ordered to complete this task rather than himself. He went for the most basic approach, even though there were life's at risk.

“Men, when I say advance, you will do so with haste. We need to reach these outlaws before they make it to Haydurg or have time to retreat.” Jack said atop his horse, not even turning back.

“Right, advance.”

He trotted down the hill with the bedraggled men behind him, towards the outlaws. Within a few seconds the outlaws had spotted them, and Jack could see the unit leader shouting, ordering them to turn to face Jack and his men. This unnerved Jack, seeing as the only armour he wore was a leather jerkin.

He was closer, but was still only trotting. He drew his sword and held it to the right, then shouting behind him “Charge men! Make haste!” Jack went into a canter, and heard the men running behind him, beginning to shout.

Jack reached the outlaws first and crashed through the front line with ease, due to the fact none of the outlaws had spears. He was almost immediately knocked from his horse when an outlaw swiped at his chest with a sword, but it narrowly missed Jack and he retaliated with a stab into the man's ribs, slicing through his clothing and flesh. Jack withdrew his sword to see the end dripping blood and the man fall to the ground.

The outlaws soon surrounded Jack and he was having to fight them off on all sides. It was a miracle none of them attacked the horse, but just as Jack thought this, his horse reared up, frightened, and Jack fell from it onto his back. An older looking outlaw ran towards Jack and he just managed to get his sword between him and the enemy, making him literally run onto the end of it.

At last, corporal Jack's men reached him and began to fight them fiercely. He got up from the ground and blocked an outlaw's sword which would have sliced his head clean off. Jack then twisted it around with his own sword as the metal of both scraped against each other, and thrust his blade into the man's stomach in the new opening.

Corporal Jack was young; only eighteen, and was exceptional in combat. But due to his young age and small frame, he was knocked to the ground yet again when an outlaw, a huge beast of a man donning a beard, pushed him over with his round shield. The outlaw held a mace, and lifted it up to strike Jack with it; a killer blow. But another man got between himself and the outlaw, smashing a war hammer onto the skull of the man. He dropped to the ground instantly, his face landing in the mud in a most undignified manner.

Jack just about managed to see the back of the soldier's head that had saved him as he got back to his feet, and made a mental note. He stood once more, swinging his sword into the neck of a man, leaving it buried midway through, blood spurting high and the outlaw gurgling with his tongue hanging out. He pulled it back out and wiped his face of blood.

He turned amidst the heat of battle and found a man running towards him, roaring with his axe held high above. Jack strategically dropped to his knee and chopped the poor man's leg off halfway up the shin. The man fell to the, now bloody, ground, screaming in agony. Suddenly Jack's sword became wrapped up in chain, and he looked to his right to see a tall man wielding a two headed flail, tugging on the weapon in an attempt to pull the sword from Jack's hand.

Jack dropped the sword and backhanded the man across the jaw with the little amount of time he had to attack. The tall man seemed unharmed and spun the flail in the air, making the tangled sword fall to the ground, then swinging for the corporal's head. Jack ducked just in time and pulled out his dagger. He leapt forward and plunged it up to the hilt into the tall man's groin. He shrieked in pain and fell to the ground, writhing, as his trousers slowly stained with blood.

Picking up his sword and sheathing his dagger, he spotted a young outlaw with his back to him; he must have been roughly Jack's age. Poor kid, brought up in a lawless and hopeless society. But this thought didn't stop him impaling the lad on the end of his sword, his body being so thin that it passed straight through, Jack able to see the tip over his shoulder.

He withdrew it and let the limp body flop to the muddy earth. He then heard a man behind him shout “BASTARD!”, and spun around to come almost face to face with another outlaw. He managed to block the madman's attack with his sword, the blade touching his nose. He used both hands to shove the man away from him, but he came back just as quick, laying strikes upon his sword with incredible power, making Jack's hands absorb the shock that travelled down the blade.

One of Jack's men joined and assaulted the outlaw with a massive blow to the sword, making the outlaw drop it with an unhealthy sounding twang. The outlaw punched the soldier in the face leaving him dazed for a few seconds. Jack stepped in once more and hacked the outlaw's left shoulder, causing his arm to hang limply by a few strands of flesh, clothing and exposed nerves.

Blood literally poured from the stump and the man screamed, falling to his knees, but grabbed the blade of Jack's sword with a gloved hand. Jack was about to yank it back when he saw the man's eyes roll upwards into his head, and he fell sideways onto the raw nerves of his mangled shoulder.

Jack looked around him, beginning to feel the ache from using his sword, panting. His men were winning, from what he could tell. The space in which they had been fighting was strewn with bodies; some dead, some unconscious, some injured and some crippled. The few men that were still fighting were ganging up on the stragglers of the outlaw unit, seeing as the others had apparently ordered the retreat and could be seen fleeing in the distance to the far West.

Jack felt swelled with pride for his feat, and looked around himself. One thing he noticed; a man as pale as a lily hugging a young lad on the ground. Both were dead. And one had his arm hanging by strands. Jack realised what he had done, one of the worst crimes. He had slain the son of a loving father in front of his eyes. He thought about how bad this made him, and for some reason he imagined that captain William San would like him even more if he found out about it. He wretched and was sick over his boots.

-----

quite a long chapter due to the battle scene.

[Oddey]

Sometimes longer is better. More!

[MA]

glad you like it Oddey.

Chapter 9

Sergeant Duncan gave the men a few minutes to prepare themselves, and rung the bell again. The soldiers, old and young, ran into the courtyard from different directions and assembled themselves into a smart(ish) looking unit, much in contrast to the previous performance.

Duncan pointed at the closest soldier in the front row and said “You, go to the officers room and tell the captain we're ready.”

The soldier did not say a word and ran into the stone section of the barracks, soon returning with the tall captain behind him. The captain walked right up to Duncan and asked “Are they adequately equipped, Sergeant?”

Duncan, even outside, could smell the man's clothing suffocating him, but luckily for him he had been in their service for over 6 years, and so had grown resilient to it. Every one of those years in their service had been spent in Haydurg, too.

Duncan looked up at the man, wearing his breastplate as usual, but also an iron helmet for battle purposes, and noticed his left cheek was slightly swollen. “Yes sir.” He replied.

“Good. Now lead the men out of the South gate and around the town palisade until you reach the Eastern side. I will catch up with you once I find my horse.” Captain William San ordered.

“Okay sir.” Duncan began to walk away when William grabbed his shoulder, making him stop immediately.

Duncan thought he had offended him at first, but relaxed once he realised he was giving him further orders. “Do not attack until I say so. Right?”

Duncan nodded solemnly and continued once more to the front of the ranks. With this William left the courtyard and headed for the stables.

Duncan picked up the large, round shield he had left leaning against the wall, knowing that no other soldier would take it; it was meant for the sergeant. It was plain enough, only displaying a metal boss in the centre. Sergeant Duncan had tried to get the old blacksmith that used to live in Haydurg to fix a spike to it, but never got around to it, and eventually the blacksmith moved to Fawlentide; a bigger town and better for trade.

Slipping the heavy shield onto his arm, he went about ordering the men to march in tow, as he led them to the Southern gate of Haydurg behind the barracks.

Johnson marched alongside Bill within the ranks, looking at his crippled, and now swollen, hand. How was he going to wield his sword with this thing? It was bad enough having a blunt and worn blade for a weapon, without having to deal with the inability to even hold the hilt firmly enough to pierce another man's flesh.

“Reckon these outlaws'll put up much of a fight?” Bill asked him. Johnson looked straight ahead as they marched and replied “They better not.” To which Bill laughed.

The unit, led by the sergeant, eventually reached the Eastern side of the Haydurg palisade, and Duncan ordered the men to stop.

“Men, turn to your right, and do not move until ordered to do so.”

The soldiers clumsily turned to face the wood a fair distance ahead of them, some of the men that had shields lay them on the grass, so they didn't become tired of holding them unnecessarily. Sergeant Duncan walked to the front once again, facing the wood, and pulled his axe from his belt, sliding his hand down the wooden handle until it was almost at the end; perfect grip for chopping.

-----

you've caught up with me now. may be a bit of a delay for the next chapter.

[Oddey]

It always seems I miss bits by a while, but now that I'm here, I might as well tell you that even though I missed this bit, it's still pretty good.

[Rich]

I like this. Will there be more?

[MA]

definitely mate, writing it up now.

and i'm chuffed you read it.

[Oddey]

Any update on this on the way, MA?