Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Twenty-Two
I very quickly became aware that I was in a precarious situation. I remembered now that I never found out what became of my knives, so I was basically defenseless. I cursed my stupidity and rushed to find a weapon that I could use. I looked to the wagon, but these were only distance weapons. I have never learned to fight with a mallet, and lances and spears are for distance fighting.
I started to panic. An arrow narrowly missed my right arm, catching my cloak and pinning it to the carriage. I yanked the fabric free and ran for the wagon of weapons. I may be unable to help with the approaching warriors, but I could at least help stop the archers. I passed over the crossbows, looking for something I actually knew how to use. Quickly grabbing a bow, I tried to set the string. It took a lot of my body weight just to bend the bow enough. Taking a position between two soldiers, I notched an arrow and tried to pull it back, only to find the bow was too stiff. Thinking fast, I braced my arm on the top of the wagon and used my weight to get a decent pull.
The arrow hit my target through his right hand; it was enough to keep him from firing, but he wouldn’t die. I could hear and feel the fighting getting closer behind me, but I tried to focus. Three arrows, three crippled hands. I placed my shots with as much accuracy as I could, even with bow shaking from the effort it took me to use it.
The arrows flew at us less and less often, until at last no more came. The ten soldiers who had been firing with me quickly dropped the crossbows, turned, and unsheathed their swords in one fluid motion. I couldn’t charge with them, so I grabbed another bundle of arrows and climbed into the wagon facing the fight. I saw Ekohl and the prince near each other. More attackers kept materializing when one had fallen. There had to be at least two hundred of them to our thirty soldiers.
I once again braced my arm on the side of the wagon. With careful aim I began firing at the oncoming attackers, trying not to hit any of our men. With more adversaries advancing every minute, I had no choice but to aim for fatalities. At first, it was hard to shoot knowing that it meant killing a man, but I convinced myself that it was necessary. To defend and protect, I chanted to myself.
The fight had taken half an hour, but it felt like an eternity before the last man fell. I shot forty-one men in all. They were easily recognizable by the location of the arrows that had killed them, as well as the fact that I was the only one who had been firing arrows at them. I had aimed for the top of the nose, directly between the eyes, where the arrow would be able to penetrate the skull and cause a quick death.
Very few of the prince’s soldiers were injured, and none had been killed; the heavy armor protected them from the unskilled and inaccurate blows of the attackers. I escaped mostly unscathed. Aside from the bruises from being tackled off my horse, there was only the soreness from forcing my muscles past their limits by firing the stiff bow.
I immediately started looking around for Ekohl. I found him after a few minutes. He, along with another man, was preparing to reset a dislocated shoulder. The injured man clenched his dagger sheath in his left hand as the joint was forced back into its proper position. He kept himself from crying out, but the contortion of his face clearly depicted the pain he was feeling.
Ekohl saw me, and left the other man to finish wrapping the shoulder. I was relieved to see that he didn’t look hurt at all, just very muddy. His blond hair hung limply around his face, looking every bit like the dark hair of all the other men with so much filth covering it. That was what made him so hard to find; everyone was covered in mud. Despite the grim environment, I couldn’t help but laugh.
I started to panic. An arrow narrowly missed my right arm, catching my cloak and pinning it to the carriage. I yanked the fabric free and ran for the wagon of weapons. I may be unable to help with the approaching warriors, but I could at least help stop the archers. I passed over the crossbows, looking for something I actually knew how to use. Quickly grabbing a bow, I tried to set the string. It took a lot of my body weight just to bend the bow enough. Taking a position between two soldiers, I notched an arrow and tried to pull it back, only to find the bow was too stiff. Thinking fast, I braced my arm on the top of the wagon and used my weight to get a decent pull.
The arrow hit my target through his right hand; it was enough to keep him from firing, but he wouldn’t die. I could hear and feel the fighting getting closer behind me, but I tried to focus. Three arrows, three crippled hands. I placed my shots with as much accuracy as I could, even with bow shaking from the effort it took me to use it.
The arrows flew at us less and less often, until at last no more came. The ten soldiers who had been firing with me quickly dropped the crossbows, turned, and unsheathed their swords in one fluid motion. I couldn’t charge with them, so I grabbed another bundle of arrows and climbed into the wagon facing the fight. I saw Ekohl and the prince near each other. More attackers kept materializing when one had fallen. There had to be at least two hundred of them to our thirty soldiers.
I once again braced my arm on the side of the wagon. With careful aim I began firing at the oncoming attackers, trying not to hit any of our men. With more adversaries advancing every minute, I had no choice but to aim for fatalities. At first, it was hard to shoot knowing that it meant killing a man, but I convinced myself that it was necessary. To defend and protect, I chanted to myself.
The fight had taken half an hour, but it felt like an eternity before the last man fell. I shot forty-one men in all. They were easily recognizable by the location of the arrows that had killed them, as well as the fact that I was the only one who had been firing arrows at them. I had aimed for the top of the nose, directly between the eyes, where the arrow would be able to penetrate the skull and cause a quick death.
Very few of the prince’s soldiers were injured, and none had been killed; the heavy armor protected them from the unskilled and inaccurate blows of the attackers. I escaped mostly unscathed. Aside from the bruises from being tackled off my horse, there was only the soreness from forcing my muscles past their limits by firing the stiff bow.
I immediately started looking around for Ekohl. I found him after a few minutes. He, along with another man, was preparing to reset a dislocated shoulder. The injured man clenched his dagger sheath in his left hand as the joint was forced back into its proper position. He kept himself from crying out, but the contortion of his face clearly depicted the pain he was feeling.
Ekohl saw me, and left the other man to finish wrapping the shoulder. I was relieved to see that he didn’t look hurt at all, just very muddy. His blond hair hung limply around his face, looking every bit like the dark hair of all the other men with so much filth covering it. That was what made him so hard to find; everyone was covered in mud. Despite the grim environment, I couldn’t help but laugh.