Battle In The Meadow

• Alisa White, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

I watched the sunrise over the meadow before me.
Three hours of sentry over, at last. I turned to mount my bay horse.
Ever since the king of Itervi kidnapped king Arthur’s little boy, Nikhra, the Icnecs have been fighting, me included, but this was the biggest army to fight yet. For the past three months we had been attacking supply carts going to the army camp but now we were attacking starved and sick warriors. Oh well, I sighed trotting back to my camp to inform the commander of my observations.
It was an hour later when it started raining, dampening the dark soil under my feet as I trudged back to my tent to strap on my armour for the upcoming battle. My drenched, blonde hair hung over my face as I sharpened my hand-and-a-half sword until I could see my green eyes and my whole tanned and skinny face with out a dent.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a booming war drum signalling it was time to mount.
I put my arm through my shield then slung my full quiver of arrows onto my back and my bow in my other hand then sprinted to my picketed bay and quickly tightened the girth then mounted, as he started walking to his friends.
I caught up to my friend Damien on his black warhorse.
“Great morning Jake, don’t you think?” he asked grinning his convincing smile. No wonder the ladies liked him if put on his dazzling for them.
“Great day indeed. To die.” I grumbled, joking, “how is Alys going?” I asked about the noble he was currently trying to court.
“She still refuses to wed me.” He grimaced then smiled then pulled his horse into formation.
It turned into complete silence as everyone contemplated the risk we were about to take to attack the army barracks.
When the drum signalled to attack everyone kicked their horses into gallop but I hung back temporarily with the archers.
I strung the bow with an arrow from the quiver that was now next to my knee and drew back with the rest of them then released before stringing another one.
When my arrows were gone I pulled out my hand-and-a-half sword out, called my war cry and galloped into the fight, standing in my stirrups.
I galloped into the fight cutting down man after man.
The poor men fell not knowing what happened or why. Oh well it will be their families that won’t like the king and a rebellion will begin. Hopefully.
Their brown skin was covered in blood and their eyes were wide in fright as the swords cut into them.
Bodies were everywhere. Mainly theirs.
When it was finally over I couldn’t hold it in anymore and leaned over and threw up my breakfast then collapsed.
I heard when I awoke that the king killed himself.
We had won and the prince was returned.
I still felt sad. Damien had died.