章 4: "Blood in the Thicket: Price of Survival(Revised)
288AC
Into the Shadows
The air seemed to thicken as the squadron moved deeper into the forest, the shadows of the trees growing longer with each step. The sounds of the outside world began to fade, replaced by the rustling of leaves underfoot, the occasional snap of a twig, and the whisper of the wind through the branches above. Damien's eyes remained sharp, scanning every movement, every flicker in the underbrush. He could feel it—something was out there, watching them, waiting.
The men moved quietly, each guard in formation, their weapons ready but sheathed, moving like shadows through the trees. They stuck to the plan: no one too close or far. They were evenly spread, each man silently keeping to his part of the perimeter.
"Keep your heads down," Damien muttered to Merwyn, his voice barely above a whisper.
Merwyn gave a short nod, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes darting around. "Stay sharp," he whispered back, his words weighted with experience. "We'll make it through. But no sudden movements. We need to hold our ground."
Lukas, the youngest of the group, couldn't hide the tension in his stance. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting the bandits to leap out from the trees at any moment. His grip tightened on his spear. "I've got a bad feeling about this, sir," Lukas murmured. "I don't like how quiet it is."
Before anyone could respond, the silence shattered. A distant rustle of leaves broke through the air, followed by a rapid, almost unnatural series of movements. The men froze in place, but it was too late. The first arrow thudded into the trunk of a nearby tree, sending a spray of splinters into the air.
"Ambush!" Damien shouted, his voice clear and commanding. "Take cover!"
With practiced efficiency, the squadron dispersed, scattering to predetermined points. They were surrounded. Figures began to emerge from the undergrowth—men cloaked in tattered cloth, faces hidden behind rough-hewn masks. They were quick, their movements feral and savage, and they had the advantage of numbers.
"Don't let them encircle us!" Arthur barked, drawing his sword and slashing at one of the bandits who came too close. "Stay close, and keep them off the horses!"
Damien also drew his sword, the steel gleaming faintly in the dim light. His gaze darted around, searching for the leader. "Form up! Defend your position!"
The first wave of bandits charged, their weapons raised high—rusty daggers, crude axes, and crooked swords. Damien's blade flashed out, meeting one of the bandits head-on. The clash of metal rang through the trees as he parried the strike, his movements fluid and practiced. With a swift counter, he drove his sword through the bandit's chest, the man's lifeblood spilling out in a spray of crimson.
"Get ready, men!" Damien shouted, his voice steady. "We push back—together!"
Merwyn swung his sword in a wide arc, knocking away another bandit's axe before stabbing the man in the gut. The force of the blow sent the bandit stumbling backward, his eyes wide with shock as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
"Watch your backs!" Merwyn called out, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "There's more in the trees!"
Another bandit appeared from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malice as he lunged for Lukas. The young guard barely had time to react, his spear raised just in time to catch the bandit's blade on its haft. The impact nearly knocked Lukas off his feet, but he twisted the spear, swinging it around in a deadly arc that caught the bandit in the shoulder. The force of the blow sent the man tumbling backward, a scream tearing from his throat as he fell to the forest floor.
"You've got it, Lukas!" shouted Arthur from across the clearing, slashing at another bandit who had tried to flank him. "Keep it up!"
But the bandits weren't slowing down. More emerged from behind trees and bushes, surrounding the squadron from all sides. The rustling of leaves grew louder, almost deafening, as the bandits closed in.
Damien's eyes narrowed as he saw a flicker of movement—a signal. The leader was a tall, wiry man wearing a weathered cloak with a sharp, cruel smile. He raised a hand, and the bandits seemed to hesitate momentarily as if waiting for something.
"This is your last chance," Damien shouted, his voice carrying through the chaos. "Leave now, and I'll spare your lives."
The bandit leader laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "Spare us? Do you think we fear you, boy? Your men are already dead. There's no escape."
With a signal, the bandit leader raised his blade, and the remaining bandits rushed forward in a coordinated attack. The sound of clashing steel filled the air, each strike a testament to the ferocity of the battle.
Lukas fought bravely, his spear thrusting out with precision, but a bandit caught him off guard, slashing a gash across his arm. Lukas grunted in pain but didn't retreat. Instead, he gritted his teeth and struck back, impaling the bandit's side with a powerful thrust. Blood poured from the wound, and the bandit collapsed in a heap.
Merwyn was fighting two bandits at once, his sword flashing as he dodged their strikes. He ducked under a wild swing from one and drove his sword through the throat of the other, the man's lifeblood spraying onto Merwyn's face. The older guard didn't even flinch. He was used to it.
Arthur, too, was in the thick of the fight, cutting down one bandit after another. His blade was slick with blood, and he moved with the deadly precision of a man who had seen countless battles.
"Damien, we need to take down the leader!" Arthur shouted, his voice hoarse with exertion. "He's the one controlling them!"
Damien's eyes locked onto the bandit leader, who fought with deadly grace, his movements almost fluid. The man had a cruel smile, clearly enjoying the bloodshed. Damien knew this would be the true test—the fight that could determine the fate of the squadron.
With a roar, Damien pushed through the chaos, his blade flashing out as he cut down one of the bandits who dared to step in his way. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline fueling every strike as he approached the leader.
The leader turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw Damien approach. "You think you can beat me?" he spat, raising his blade—a jagged, rusted thing. "I've killed men like you for sport."
Damien's sword met the leader's with a loud clash, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through his arm. The leader was strong—stronger than any of the others. But Damien was faster. He sidestepped a wild swing and thrust his sword toward the leader's chest. The leader grunted, deflecting the blow at the last moment with a swift twist of his sword.
"Not bad," the leader sneered, his eyes flashing contemptuously. "But you're still a child."
Damien's expression hardened. He wasn't a child anymore. With a roar, he pressed forward, launching himself into a flurry of strikes. The leader barely had time to react, parrying each blow but never landing a strike. Damien's sword slashed across the leader's arm, drawing blood. With a final, powerful thrust, Damien drove his blade deep into the leader's gut.
The leader gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his wound. As the bandit leader fell, the remaining bandits faltered, their confidence shaken. Seeing their leader dead, they hesitated, unsure whether to continue fighting or flee.
Damien didn't give them a chance. "Finish them off!" he shouted to his men. "Don't let them escape!"
The squadron moved swiftly, cutting down the remaining bandits ruthlessly. The forest was filled with the sounds of clashing steel, the shouts of battle, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Within moments, it was over. The remaining bandits were either dead or fleeing, disappearing into the depths of the forest, leaving the clearing silent and bloodied.
Damien stood, panting, his sword slick with blood, his chest heaving. "Is everyone alright?" he called out, his voice tense.
Merwyn, his face grim but unscathed, nodded. "We've lost no one, my lord. But it's a close thing."
Damien looked around at the fallen bandits, his expression hard. "We'll move quickly. There's no telling how many more of them are out there. Let's get back to the horses."
The squadron gathered their wounded, checked their surroundings one last time, and returned through the forest, knowing the danger wasn't over yet. But for now, they had survived. And that was enough.
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