Surviving Skirmishers-Personal Narrative

This time both Raiders thrust at me at the same time, over and over. I barely got my shield between one of the thrusts and my body. I didn’t have the angle to avoid both for long, since they had spread apart from each other. I felt another body on the ground at my heel, and then jumped back over it. Neither men had expected the move, they thrust into thin air. However, a Wolf slammed against my side as he struggled with a Raider next to him. The force of the hit unbalanced me, letting my two opponents recover and take my former space. I felt another push against me, and then saw the Wolf next to me staggered to one knee. My heels sank into the sand.
“Help, Lord Solon!” He shouted. The Wolf’s head was bleeding, having taken a brute blow.
I backhanded
his opponent with my shield, which sent the Raider’s rusty sword flying. It was all I could do to help, before parrying the Raider’s brother again. The man’s friend lunged at me, but I’d recovered and swept my shield down to deflect his thrust. Having enough, I spun towards the Raider and sliced his leg open. He wavered a moment then fell, crippled. I spun again, putting the injured man between me and his partner.
Julie jumped the other Raider.
The man lost his head to her sword, spraying blood everywhere. The grisly act startled my other opponent, making it easy for me to finish off the crippled Raider. The Wolf next to me had recovered and was back on his feet, someone else had finished his opponent. I looked around us, tasting the coppery tang of blood drippled from my nostrils. I licked my lips and tasted the blood from the cut before spiting it out onto the ground. The surviving skirmishers were fleeing back to the pine trees. We had cleared the flank.
“We’ve got them boys!” Scout shouted. Scratch was next to him employing hand commands to our men. The Wolves were all breathing hard, but alert. Based on their training, our warriors almost instinctively set a circle of protection around Julie and me.
“What took you so long?” I asked Julie, while looking over our other companions. For the most part, the Wolves looked whole. Only a few of our men looked wounded; fortunately, none of them were among the dead at our feet.
“Jerk,” she answered. “I had my own pair of slavers to deal with. They out number us three-to-one until Scratch arrived with the rest of the Wolves.”
“Still, you’re the one with the marine training,” I
kidded.
Julie rolled her eyes. “You’re the warlord.”
“White Wizard,” I answered, still dragging in deep breathes from the recent exertion.
“What happened to your nose?” Julie asked. Her sword and shield was covered in other people’s blood.
“I managed to smash my nose while shield bashing a couple of guys,” I vented.