The Last Days

You see my homeland is named Lonely Island; it’s divided in two the North and the South. The North is the lawless land of the savage barbarians whilst the South is the Nobel Kingdom of Landsdown. For centuries upon centuries there have been numerous battles between the barbarians and the Landsdownians but the time from which my tale is derived, was the last days of the greatest and longest war between the two sides.

"John! Over here", it was Brandon. He had somehow fought his way up to the battlements, which was now swarming with barbarians.

I tried to get over to Brandon but the ferocity of the barbarian I was combating drove me back. The barbarians wore no armour, unlike my companions and I, so they had the advantage of speed. Plus they were extremely strong and could wield enormous weapons.

I was having trouble. The barbarian I was fighting had the largest great sword I had ever seen, I could barely take the weight of it and I was tiring fast. I was just about to give up and die when an arrow lodged itself in the barbarian’s throat. The rest of the garrison had arrived from the courtyard below. It took but a moment to overthrow the barbarian climbers with just the weight of our now superior numbers. However, the barbarian horde had only sent maybe 500 from an army of around 10 thousand whilst the whole garrison of Midsummer Keep was around 2000. The surprise attack had severely weakened us. We now had an estimated 1500 men. Five hundred barbarians with the element of surprise on their side had killed their own number of the garrison plus probably a few more. Although few of the barbarians escaped alive, myself and most likely many more men trained in the arts of war considered this a highly successive raid.

"Brandon!" I yelled as I searched for my friend among the living and the dead.

My heart stopped when I recognized the face of Richard Mead one of my oldest friends, an arrow to the heart had killed him. As I searched the dead I began to realize how severely the army had been devastated. I couldn’t force myself to believe how many friends and acquaintances I saw amongst the dead. It was the worst and the most unforgettable experience of my life. How could people do this to each other?

"Over here!" it was Brandon.

"Thank God! I thought you were as good as dead", I said

"Not I, it takes more then just one battle to kill me", said Brandon

"Although, chances are I’ll be dead before the end of the war", concluded Brandon.

"I heard the northerners are preparing for a final blow, and this time there going to use all of their forces", I said.

"We’re the walking dead John," said Brandon.

"Yes, but at least this time will be able to go out side by side my friend…"

"They’re coming from the southeast, southwest and north, it’s a pincer movement", I stated.

"They’re taking there time, trying to decrease our morale by showing off there superior numbers", said the Captain of the guard Richard Hathaway.

"There’s no point in that, our morale is as low as it can get", I frowned.

"Well they’re barbarians what do you expect" concluded Richard.

"It’s a decoy!" I cried after very little thought.

"That’s impossible, why…" said Richard.

"Just think about it, it’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, show off your numbers while a small group of skilled men attacks your enemy at its weakest point ", I insisted.