Post by Squee on Nov 30, 2008 6:54:21 GMT -5
Let me be your hero…
“NO! What are you doing? You have to reach him!”
Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?
“He’s holding them back long enough for the rest of us to escape!”
Would you run, and never look back?
“NO! Don’t leave him back there, I beseech you!” she begged, her voice cracking in pitches not even she had thought she could reach. The knight held her arm tightly. Her fingers clawed at it, prying it from her. She stumbled forward and added speed to her step. Another burly knight was coming in through the closing doors, barely wide enough for the man to fit through.
“Stop her!”
“No! Herios!” she screamed as the knight wrapped a firm arm around her waist and hauled her from her feet. She clasped onto the arm in a death grip, another hand reaching for the door as if there was some way it could go through the narrow space and pull her own brave knight in shining armor from harm.
Would you cry, if you saw me crying?
Would you save my soul tonight?
He could hear her screams. His hand was going numb from gripping his sword in an iron fist. Wife she was so close to being. That engagement ring was cradling her finger. Her necklace was around his neck. At this moment, he touched the gloved fingers of his right hand to that necklace. Such a beautiful piece of jewelry, of artwork.
Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?
Would you laugh?
Oh, please tell me this…
As a knight of the kingdom, he placed his duty over life. These raiders from the sea were much stronger than the history records had claimed. They were more disciplined and vicious, attacking with strategy while retaining an “every man for himself” kind of rule. The people of this castle needed to evacuate. The fight may have started on the road, but the raiders had backed them into their cliffs. The palace was built into the wall, secret passages leading further into caves that led to… Herios didn’t know for sure. He wasn’t a palace knight. He was merely a guardian. And guardians had a higher duty than any palace knight.
Palace knights made sure everyone within the palace was evacuated. In situations such as this, they made sure everyone who entered the palace got out the right way. They helped guide the people through the many passages, through the many corridors. They made sure the people made it in and out alive.
Warriors would fight until the order of evacuation was sounded. They would then retreat to a rendezvous spot and aid the palace knights. The people would not be harmed in their care. Palace knights may have been more of the scouts and guides, but the warriors were just what their name suggested: big, broad shouldered men well muscled and suited for brute strength and to take harsh punishment before they collapsed. If a warrior fell, it was said fighting and taking down twenty or more men as they did so.
And then you had your guardians. They were your select few. They were the stallers. They could fend for themselves. They were natural swordsmen. The sword was merely an extension of the arm with a slicing edge. Guardians were known for heroism more than the warriors. While everyone retreated, guardians took position as close to the opening as possible, usually standing in a semi-circle with their backs comfortably to each other. Guardians were believed invincible until suicide missions such as these came up. At the end of this battle, there was a great chance no guardian would be alive. If the enemies made it through the doorway, the many numbers of warriors were waiting for them, organized, prepared and refreshed from their break the guardians had provided them.
Now would you die for the one you love?
Hold me in your arms tonight.
Herios was a guardian. And he stood at the peak of the half circle as the doors continued to close at an agonizing pace to allow in a few more trickling people of the city. With him were six other men, three each on his left and right. They were ready and grim faced.
“I can be your hero, baby,” he whispered to himself. His cheeks began to burn and his eyes felt pressured and hot. Herios fought hard to keep his vision cleared. But, no matter how hard he tried, his vision misted and his first tear rolled down his stinging face.
--
“Allow me five seconds, sir, please!” she went on to beg, set on her feet by the warrior knight. The palace knight was still trying to get her to forget about seeing the guardian knight standing in front of the cracked door. Palace knights were grabbing people by their upper arms as they squeezed in, warriors picked up any children or the lame, hurrying them into the passages.
Gera twisted away from the two knights. The warrior started in surprise and his reaction was a fraction too late. His fingers snagged cinnamon strands of hair, but that was all. Gera had picked up the skirts of her single layered dress and was fleeing for the doors.
“Knights!” bellowed the warrior behind her.
Both warrior and palace knights turned to see the direction of the bidding. They saw the running woman and were also a few seconds too late. Three pairs of hands made a grab for her but failed to catch her. Gera squeezed between the doors and called out Herio’s name as she did so.
And the guardian responded far quicker than the other two classes. He turned, taking in the sight of his torn lady. He held out a hand for her, murmuring softly to himself: “I can kiss away the pain.”
She ran straight into his arms, embracing him tightly. Their lips met with an aching fire that burned in their souls. He held one hand against her head, his sword hand pressed to her waist. Her fingers were curled almost painfully into his hair and around his neck. Her breath was shuddering they unlocked their lips. She instantly hugged him close, voice breaking in sobs. Herios managed a swallow, but his tears were sliding into her hair.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
“Would you swear that you’ll always be mine?” he whispered into her ear. Her answer was only a nod as she pulled away. His fingers cupped her chin. “You have to go. The raiders are coming. They’ll lock you out here with me.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad. I could die with you.”
“Don’t be foolish. Suicide this may be, that doesn’t mean I’ll die.” He tried offering a smile, but it turned out sad. “And that means we’ll have to protect an unarmed woman instead of our comrades’ already armored backs. I can’t have you dead if I survive.”
“Gera!” the palace knight called to her. He made a motioning gesture. The sounds of the raiders were beginning to clatter loudly as the last of the warriors began to stream by.
“Go…” he murmured. He placed another kiss on her forehead then dropped his hand. He grasped her upper arm and threw her to the doors, telling by action he was willing her to be safe.
Or would you lie?
Would you run and hide?
Am I in too deep?
“Have I lost my mind?” he asked himself and his nearest partners. They turned away to face the corridor, one of them rather misty eyed. The first raiders came around the corner, the last warrior went through the door. They closed with a loud bang and a huge block of wood braced them to refuse the enemy.
I don’t care that you’re here tonight.
The guardians shifted into position, bringing their swords to a comfortable rest and balance in their hands. Fourteen eyes turned to the beginnings of the corridor, and the first screaming banshee hurtled himself around the corner. He was followed by hundreds of others.
I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
The first thirty men fell to his blade easily. The bodies began to pile around the guardians. Four minutes into it the first guardian was felled. He was quickly avenged, the raider cut down in a matter of seconds afterward by a screaming man of justice. Blocks and parries, cuts and take downs. Herios had only a cut on his upper arm where one of the raiding men had managed to wedge his sword between his armor. It was what any guardian dismissed as minor. Did it hurt? Only if Herios wanted to be remembered of it.
The raiders only continued to leap at the six remaining guardians, standing like Spartans, swords cutting through flesh and bone and muscle as if it were nothing but scroll paper. But, if one went down, three took the place of that one. The guardians, of course, didn’t have those kinds of numbers.
Seven minutes, and another guardian was down, off the Herios’s right. The raiders turned and began to prey on Herios, attempting to overwhelm him. They charged, crying their challenges like savages. The large guardian returned it, his anger and the agony of losing a dear friend striking him as if he’d been slapped. Instead of retreating, Herios stepped forth, coming chest to chest with one of the raiders and sending the smaller man backwards into his friends. He swung with a brutal side cut and then reversed it into a backhand, pounding the defense of one of the raiders and punching a gash down his torso.
And another got a lucky slice along the side of his ribs. Herios growled and brought an upper hand cut the slice through the man’s chin. Blood spattered the air. His eyes flickered, targeting the next two.
Fifteen minutes were now past. Two guardians fell and were trampled on by the enemy. The outraged howl of one of the still living guardians signaled his absolute pain, having a close relationship with them both. It was three minutes of blind emotions when that one fell.
Herios and the other knight were now back to back, covering each others’ blind sights. Their arms were aching from the constant swiping motions with their swords. Their breathing was labored as they forced themselves into a regular breathing pattern, exhaling sharply with each strike made. Several light cuts and gashes lay on both their bodies. Blood was trickling down Herios’s cheek where a cut across his cheek bone and nose wept. Exhaustion was the only thing that threatened the survival of both guardians at this point. If they allowed it to consume them, they were lost. Herios was fighting to survive, to go back to Gera. He was determined, he was focused.
And then, there was a lull. The raiders held off, a sturdy, threatening circle around the last two men. They stood there, almost quiet. One stood just inside the circle, close to the two guardians.
“You two are trouble makers.”
“We take that as a compliment, rat,” the other man answered. “We are known for our meddling with the opposing armies.”
“But you two are not invincible.” The accent almost made it hard to understand the man. Herios could just understand. “You are no ordinary men, but I am VERY sure you are mortal.”
“I wouldn’t suppose the bodies of our dead comrades would be the evidence?” Herios growled at the leader.
The leader snorted and raised a hand. Herios realized the men surrounding them had shields instead of swords. The shields dropped slightly, showing an archer peeking over the shoulders of the shield bearers. He and the other guardian lowered their swords and pressed firmly against one another for support. They couldn’t fight archers.
“You two are as good as dead. FIRE!”
Herios closed his eyes. Sharp arrowheads punctured through the soft openings in his armor, all hitting. None hit his neck to promise him a short death. He felt the body pressing to his back give way, calling in a face plant. Blood began to puddle. The archers were knocking back another set of arrows. And this time, they would all hit Herios and not be split between two guardian knights.
“A plague… to… you,” Herios hissed angrily. The command to fire sounded and Herios dropped to his knees. The arrows over shot, some even embedding in the heads of other arches or the shield bearers. He grinned. He would take a few more out before he was down, yet.
More sharpened arrows punctured his back, rocking Herios as he placed palms on the cold ground. His eyes lost the spark and determination. He was going to die. He felt it. It was inevitable. He fought the blackness and moved enough to let the enemy know he was still alive.
Oh, I just wanted to hold you…
“I just wanted to hold you…” he whispered as the leader of the raiders stepped up, his sword raised to claim Herios’s life. Gera's image flashed in his mind. A smiling face, no less. It gave him some courage, some strength because he knew how much faith she had in him.
Oh yeah.
“Am I in too deep?” he cried, lunging upward as the leader came down. His sword hand rose, blocking that supposedly fatal blow. He twisted his arm and sent his blade into the center of the leader. He grasped a handful of the leather clothing on the raider. “If I die, you’re going to hell with me.” He wretched the blade more to the right to bring it closer to the heart.
Have I lost my mind? [/i]
“Fire…” the leader croaked one last time.
This time when Herios felt the piercing, the blackness consumed him. He didn’t realize he had hit the ground, taking the leader with him. The arrow through his heart ended Herios’s suffering. He ended up in a pile of bodies, the sword still through the leader's heart. If Herios could describe the sensation then it would be peace.
Twenty two minutes of stall time complete.
I can be your hero, baby.
“NO! What are you doing? You have to reach him!”
Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?
“He’s holding them back long enough for the rest of us to escape!”
Would you run, and never look back?
“NO! Don’t leave him back there, I beseech you!” she begged, her voice cracking in pitches not even she had thought she could reach. The knight held her arm tightly. Her fingers clawed at it, prying it from her. She stumbled forward and added speed to her step. Another burly knight was coming in through the closing doors, barely wide enough for the man to fit through.
“Stop her!”
“No! Herios!” she screamed as the knight wrapped a firm arm around her waist and hauled her from her feet. She clasped onto the arm in a death grip, another hand reaching for the door as if there was some way it could go through the narrow space and pull her own brave knight in shining armor from harm.
Would you cry, if you saw me crying?
Would you save my soul tonight?
He could hear her screams. His hand was going numb from gripping his sword in an iron fist. Wife she was so close to being. That engagement ring was cradling her finger. Her necklace was around his neck. At this moment, he touched the gloved fingers of his right hand to that necklace. Such a beautiful piece of jewelry, of artwork.
Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?
Would you laugh?
Oh, please tell me this…
As a knight of the kingdom, he placed his duty over life. These raiders from the sea were much stronger than the history records had claimed. They were more disciplined and vicious, attacking with strategy while retaining an “every man for himself” kind of rule. The people of this castle needed to evacuate. The fight may have started on the road, but the raiders had backed them into their cliffs. The palace was built into the wall, secret passages leading further into caves that led to… Herios didn’t know for sure. He wasn’t a palace knight. He was merely a guardian. And guardians had a higher duty than any palace knight.
Palace knights made sure everyone within the palace was evacuated. In situations such as this, they made sure everyone who entered the palace got out the right way. They helped guide the people through the many passages, through the many corridors. They made sure the people made it in and out alive.
Warriors would fight until the order of evacuation was sounded. They would then retreat to a rendezvous spot and aid the palace knights. The people would not be harmed in their care. Palace knights may have been more of the scouts and guides, but the warriors were just what their name suggested: big, broad shouldered men well muscled and suited for brute strength and to take harsh punishment before they collapsed. If a warrior fell, it was said fighting and taking down twenty or more men as they did so.
And then you had your guardians. They were your select few. They were the stallers. They could fend for themselves. They were natural swordsmen. The sword was merely an extension of the arm with a slicing edge. Guardians were known for heroism more than the warriors. While everyone retreated, guardians took position as close to the opening as possible, usually standing in a semi-circle with their backs comfortably to each other. Guardians were believed invincible until suicide missions such as these came up. At the end of this battle, there was a great chance no guardian would be alive. If the enemies made it through the doorway, the many numbers of warriors were waiting for them, organized, prepared and refreshed from their break the guardians had provided them.
Now would you die for the one you love?
Hold me in your arms tonight.
Herios was a guardian. And he stood at the peak of the half circle as the doors continued to close at an agonizing pace to allow in a few more trickling people of the city. With him were six other men, three each on his left and right. They were ready and grim faced.
“I can be your hero, baby,” he whispered to himself. His cheeks began to burn and his eyes felt pressured and hot. Herios fought hard to keep his vision cleared. But, no matter how hard he tried, his vision misted and his first tear rolled down his stinging face.
--
“Allow me five seconds, sir, please!” she went on to beg, set on her feet by the warrior knight. The palace knight was still trying to get her to forget about seeing the guardian knight standing in front of the cracked door. Palace knights were grabbing people by their upper arms as they squeezed in, warriors picked up any children or the lame, hurrying them into the passages.
Gera twisted away from the two knights. The warrior started in surprise and his reaction was a fraction too late. His fingers snagged cinnamon strands of hair, but that was all. Gera had picked up the skirts of her single layered dress and was fleeing for the doors.
“Knights!” bellowed the warrior behind her.
Both warrior and palace knights turned to see the direction of the bidding. They saw the running woman and were also a few seconds too late. Three pairs of hands made a grab for her but failed to catch her. Gera squeezed between the doors and called out Herio’s name as she did so.
And the guardian responded far quicker than the other two classes. He turned, taking in the sight of his torn lady. He held out a hand for her, murmuring softly to himself: “I can kiss away the pain.”
She ran straight into his arms, embracing him tightly. Their lips met with an aching fire that burned in their souls. He held one hand against her head, his sword hand pressed to her waist. Her fingers were curled almost painfully into his hair and around his neck. Her breath was shuddering they unlocked their lips. She instantly hugged him close, voice breaking in sobs. Herios managed a swallow, but his tears were sliding into her hair.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
“Would you swear that you’ll always be mine?” he whispered into her ear. Her answer was only a nod as she pulled away. His fingers cupped her chin. “You have to go. The raiders are coming. They’ll lock you out here with me.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad. I could die with you.”
“Don’t be foolish. Suicide this may be, that doesn’t mean I’ll die.” He tried offering a smile, but it turned out sad. “And that means we’ll have to protect an unarmed woman instead of our comrades’ already armored backs. I can’t have you dead if I survive.”
“Gera!” the palace knight called to her. He made a motioning gesture. The sounds of the raiders were beginning to clatter loudly as the last of the warriors began to stream by.
“Go…” he murmured. He placed another kiss on her forehead then dropped his hand. He grasped her upper arm and threw her to the doors, telling by action he was willing her to be safe.
Or would you lie?
Would you run and hide?
Am I in too deep?
“Have I lost my mind?” he asked himself and his nearest partners. They turned away to face the corridor, one of them rather misty eyed. The first raiders came around the corner, the last warrior went through the door. They closed with a loud bang and a huge block of wood braced them to refuse the enemy.
I don’t care that you’re here tonight.
The guardians shifted into position, bringing their swords to a comfortable rest and balance in their hands. Fourteen eyes turned to the beginnings of the corridor, and the first screaming banshee hurtled himself around the corner. He was followed by hundreds of others.
I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
The first thirty men fell to his blade easily. The bodies began to pile around the guardians. Four minutes into it the first guardian was felled. He was quickly avenged, the raider cut down in a matter of seconds afterward by a screaming man of justice. Blocks and parries, cuts and take downs. Herios had only a cut on his upper arm where one of the raiding men had managed to wedge his sword between his armor. It was what any guardian dismissed as minor. Did it hurt? Only if Herios wanted to be remembered of it.
The raiders only continued to leap at the six remaining guardians, standing like Spartans, swords cutting through flesh and bone and muscle as if it were nothing but scroll paper. But, if one went down, three took the place of that one. The guardians, of course, didn’t have those kinds of numbers.
Seven minutes, and another guardian was down, off the Herios’s right. The raiders turned and began to prey on Herios, attempting to overwhelm him. They charged, crying their challenges like savages. The large guardian returned it, his anger and the agony of losing a dear friend striking him as if he’d been slapped. Instead of retreating, Herios stepped forth, coming chest to chest with one of the raiders and sending the smaller man backwards into his friends. He swung with a brutal side cut and then reversed it into a backhand, pounding the defense of one of the raiders and punching a gash down his torso.
And another got a lucky slice along the side of his ribs. Herios growled and brought an upper hand cut the slice through the man’s chin. Blood spattered the air. His eyes flickered, targeting the next two.
Fifteen minutes were now past. Two guardians fell and were trampled on by the enemy. The outraged howl of one of the still living guardians signaled his absolute pain, having a close relationship with them both. It was three minutes of blind emotions when that one fell.
Herios and the other knight were now back to back, covering each others’ blind sights. Their arms were aching from the constant swiping motions with their swords. Their breathing was labored as they forced themselves into a regular breathing pattern, exhaling sharply with each strike made. Several light cuts and gashes lay on both their bodies. Blood was trickling down Herios’s cheek where a cut across his cheek bone and nose wept. Exhaustion was the only thing that threatened the survival of both guardians at this point. If they allowed it to consume them, they were lost. Herios was fighting to survive, to go back to Gera. He was determined, he was focused.
And then, there was a lull. The raiders held off, a sturdy, threatening circle around the last two men. They stood there, almost quiet. One stood just inside the circle, close to the two guardians.
“You two are trouble makers.”
“We take that as a compliment, rat,” the other man answered. “We are known for our meddling with the opposing armies.”
“But you two are not invincible.” The accent almost made it hard to understand the man. Herios could just understand. “You are no ordinary men, but I am VERY sure you are mortal.”
“I wouldn’t suppose the bodies of our dead comrades would be the evidence?” Herios growled at the leader.
The leader snorted and raised a hand. Herios realized the men surrounding them had shields instead of swords. The shields dropped slightly, showing an archer peeking over the shoulders of the shield bearers. He and the other guardian lowered their swords and pressed firmly against one another for support. They couldn’t fight archers.
“You two are as good as dead. FIRE!”
Herios closed his eyes. Sharp arrowheads punctured through the soft openings in his armor, all hitting. None hit his neck to promise him a short death. He felt the body pressing to his back give way, calling in a face plant. Blood began to puddle. The archers were knocking back another set of arrows. And this time, they would all hit Herios and not be split between two guardian knights.
“A plague… to… you,” Herios hissed angrily. The command to fire sounded and Herios dropped to his knees. The arrows over shot, some even embedding in the heads of other arches or the shield bearers. He grinned. He would take a few more out before he was down, yet.
More sharpened arrows punctured his back, rocking Herios as he placed palms on the cold ground. His eyes lost the spark and determination. He was going to die. He felt it. It was inevitable. He fought the blackness and moved enough to let the enemy know he was still alive.
Oh, I just wanted to hold you…
“I just wanted to hold you…” he whispered as the leader of the raiders stepped up, his sword raised to claim Herios’s life. Gera's image flashed in his mind. A smiling face, no less. It gave him some courage, some strength because he knew how much faith she had in him.
Oh yeah.
“Am I in too deep?” he cried, lunging upward as the leader came down. His sword hand rose, blocking that supposedly fatal blow. He twisted his arm and sent his blade into the center of the leader. He grasped a handful of the leather clothing on the raider. “If I die, you’re going to hell with me.” He wretched the blade more to the right to bring it closer to the heart.
Have I lost my mind? [/i]
“Fire…” the leader croaked one last time.
This time when Herios felt the piercing, the blackness consumed him. He didn’t realize he had hit the ground, taking the leader with him. The arrow through his heart ended Herios’s suffering. He ended up in a pile of bodies, the sword still through the leader's heart. If Herios could describe the sensation then it would be peace.
Twenty two minutes of stall time complete.
I can be your hero, baby.