He put his fist over his heart, a sign for courage.
Courage. He needed it, that was for sure.
Putting aside fear and putting duty forward, Edward looked up at the gatehouse. It had been built in a hurry, the main entrance was through a ladder inside the fort, and the slats of wood making up the wall were spread far apart enough that a sword could get through. Shadows moved across the floor of the gatehouse, and Edward moved into place quickly. He took a quick stab into the gatehouse, pulling himself up high enough to reach in.
Edward ducked down just as quickly as he had climbed up, though, for alerting the guard of his presence meant almost immediate defense from the fort.
The skirmish that followed was somewhat useless – neither combatant had a clear view of his opponent, and the slats of the gatehouse were the only defense and the only way in to attack. Finally, Edward felt brave enough to slip inside a crack in the gate, and he approached the ladder.
Countless failed attempts of getting up followed. Each time he would swing up on the ladder and stab with his sword, the guard would jump out of the way and attack. Yet Edward kept on, feeling the need that was called for here.
He swung up again, only to feel someone step on his hand. Edward let go and fell the few feet to the ground. The guard descended the ladder and faced Edward head on. He wore no helmet, and his black hair fell into his dark, slanted eyes. He lunged, and Edward backed away, then attacked. Again the guard lunged. This time Edward knocked his sword out of the way, only to find that the guard was much stronger and Edward’s attempted deflection failed.
The sword weighed heavily on Edward’s arm. Hurry up and kill me already, he thought, blocking another blow from the enemy. The enemy locked his sword down on the ground, and Edward jumped back, pulling his sword free. Immediately, he had to parry another attack. He just barely deflected it, jumping out of the way as his opponent’s sword swiped at his stomach.
This was so much more real than the mock battles with cushioned swords he had fought in training. This was real. It was scary. It was life or death, not just win or lose.
Another enemy joined the first. Edward struggled to fight them off, constantly twisting and turning to hit their swords away only to find the other’s heading at him again. Attempting to stay on top of things, Edward quickly assessed his situation. Two of them. One of me. I’m working twice as hard as them just defending. I’ve got to get something behind my back. Fighting wildly to gain control, Edward backed up against the wall. Now I don’t have to watch my back, he thought.
Cut left. Cut right. Swoop down. Lunge. Edward mechanically defended himself, wondering what he had gotten himself into. An enemy’s sword grazed his side, and Edward gasped in surprise and pain. He twisted around to attack, but as he did so one of the men moved around in back of him. Edward stopped, unsure of where to go. Then something hard smashed into his face and he fell backwards, everything going black before he hit the ground.
Ow… ow… ow… My face… Opening his eyes, Edward moved his hand up to his face, tearing it away after the slightest touch. The skin hadn’t broken, for that he was thankful. But he imagined his forehead and nose were the dark purply brown of a bruise. He opened his eyes wider, only to be met with darkness. Edward groaned and rolled over, feeling the dirt of a cold dungeon floor beneath his hands.
He lost all sense of time in the dungeon. The only thing he knew was that he had failed, and the attempt he had made to take the fort back had been a selfish, stupid thing to do.
Based on my own swordfighting experiences, most of the things in here are things that have happened while I was swordfighting with a friend of mine.
This is all for now, but I may expand it in the future.