The girl with stars for eyes...

A click-thunk sound came from the treeline behind her a rush of air flew past her head and she ducked instinctively, moved and crouched down low. She drew breath to shout but she never got the chance. Someone else shouted "Attack, attack" from somewhere off to her left, the sound carrying across the still night like rolling thunder.

The warning coming a little too late for her, but at least someone had raised the alarm. Her thoughts were focused on her own situation now though and she peered squinting into the darkness of the woods looking for threats. Click-thunk and another rush of air, this one much closer to hitting it's mark. Her head. Crossbow, she thought to herself in a professional, practiced manner.

The man to her left, one of the commanders' personal guard, stood and drew his longsword. Idiot, she thought; Brave idiot. The firelight glinted off his shell of steel, his armour, and cast shadows across his face now pulled back in a snarl where only moments before there was laughter and smiles. She watched as he stepped over the log he had been sitting on and moved towards the darkness that was the woods surrounding the camp. The massive bulk of his huge frame casting a long shadow in front of him as he strode towards the woods oblivious to the quarrels flying past him.

Click-thunk-thud. The guard stopped in his tracks and stood, momentarily still as death, as if listening to something but she knew better than that, knew a crossbow quarrel had found it's mark. Even as she thought it the mountain of steel and flesh crumpled down upon itself as if between one second and the next the bones that held the guard upright disappeared from within his body. Dead.

She stayed low and skirted around placing the fire between herself and the woods where the sounds of bowstrings now twanged in unison with the click-thunk of crossbows firing their deadly missiles. She knew the fire would spoil the night vision of the attackers and hoped it would offer enough time for the camp to rouse and mount a defence. She silently mouthed a curse for her brother, that flame-red haired idiot that ran off to join the army. She was here to find him and bring him home, but it was proving difficult to find him. Who would have thought it would be so hard considering that shock of red-orange hair he had! She spat a curse and ran.

The clang and ring of steel-on-steel rang out around the camp like like the church bells on Sunday but more deadly. The sounds came mainly from the south and east, and she headed that way running doubled over to present a smaller target for the archers and crossbowmen in the woods. Arrows flew, nothing like the clouds of arrows that flew and fell on a battlefield but enough to give her pause. Stumbling once after a glancing arrow strike across her chest plate she gathered herself and continued on drawing her sword at the same time as staying low. She saw no adversaries yet felt safer having the length of killing-steel to hand...

She crashed to the ground in a clatter of armour and mail with the sword still in hand she had the presence of mind not to fall on it but she was pinned. It felt like a mountain sat on top of her and she couldn't breathe, the weight of the mountain, armour, chain mail combined with laboured breathing from the run and she found herself gasping desperately for air.

She struggled but couldn't move. The sound of a blade scraping from within it's scabbard reached her ears and she knew she had to act, or die. The mountain on atop her shifted slightly and she felt an arm moving; A mailed hand holding a knife searching for a soft spot, a joint in her armour in which to thrust a killing stroke. This is it she thought. This is it...

Green fields, the apple orchard and the smell of baking bread filled her mind. She recalled the sun, swimming naked in the lake near her parents cottage, laying on the grass surrounded by blue bells, foxglove and honeysuckle, sweet scents...But she had given it all up, for this. Sleeping on the hard ground, bloody battle, rough men and death. This time it was her turn and she steeled her mind even as she clenched her jaws preparing for the cold steel, the sharp pain, the point of the blade inside her, searching for her soft heart...A heart that loved once, and wanted to again...

And then the mountain moved differently; Shifted somehow. It moved like one does in the middle of winter, stiff and slow, then went still. She squirmed and shifted and found she could move more easily. She took a few deep breaths and pushed up and out finally dragging herself from beneath the mountain; An enemy soldier. She scrambled away and tried to regain some composure. She recognised the black armour, heavy cloak topped with black bear fur worn by the hulking man; The battledress the enemy preferred. She could picture the ragged face of her attacker, the long matted beard, cruel black eyes, heavy brow and tattooed cheeks...She had to picture it because he didn't have it. His head was gone. No, there it was a few feet away, eyes staring blankly into the night. She wasn't shocked. She'd seen far worse than that.

She then looked up at the young man who had saved her life noticing him for the first time. He looked like a boy; Or would have if his face and armour wasn't blood spattered, brow furrowed with concentration. He stood there, statue still sword hilt grasped in both hands and raised in the Crown Guard (Posta di Corona) eyes scanning for threats. The muscles in his arms bulged, shoulders rock hard and squared...Death waiting for more victims.

She glanced again at the headless enemy, the blade still gripped in his lifeless hand and the cruel-looking morning star strapped to his back then back to the young guard. Had the enemy swung the morning star at her she would already be dead and nothing would matter anymore and she shivered slightly at the thought of having her skull crushed by the wicked weapon. She looked into the eyes of the guard, maybe just a little too long, smiled almost shyly then turned away and ran off into the darkness, towards the sounds of fighting.

The encounter had taken only seconds. He had seen the girl get barrelled over by the enemy soldier he was stalking and saw him reach for his knife, the knife poised to strike. He had run the few feet closing the distance between himself and the struggling pair in only a few long strides and without hesitation had swung his claymore the sword given to him by his father removing the assailants' head from his shoulders with the one mighty swing. There seemed little resistance at first then he felt bone fracturing, splitting and then the blade exited the neck continuing it's bloody arc. The man's head had popped into the air then fell with a dull thud rolling away a few feet but before it struck the ground the young guard was already scanning for further threats his sword in the Crown Guard position. The girl broke free, looked at her attacker then him, smiled and ran away towards the sound of battle. Brave girl. But those eyes...Like spring time, sunshine glistening off the lake, like the stars had fallen and found a home within them. Those eyes...

He moved on and towards the sounds of ringing steel but not the way she had gone. He winced slightly and recalled the arrow in his leg. Somehow it had found a home in his thigh just where his chain mail hauberk overlapped his left tasset, the thigh armour there to prevent sword cuts. Not much use against a random arrow in the dark. It hurt but would have to wait. Blood streamed over the tasset black in the dim light but he put it out of mind; There was fighting to do...And then he wanted to find the girl with stars for eyes...

Read the first instalment of this short story here