Fjorrod slowly regained consciousness, unsure of where he was. His first impressions upon waking up were loud and brazen. Everything, from the noise, to the bumpiness of his movements, to the pain, was all very prominent, nothing subtle. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even move. He struggled to regain his thoughts, he was… captured.
As soon as he had the thought, he leapt to his feet. A shout of surprise from the Imperial soldiers behind the cart had the entire line alert to his act. Fjorrod saw some of the Imperials drawing bows, causing him to instinctively duck, and not a moment too soon. Thud, thud, thud, the arrows found the wood of the cart where he had been standing but a moment ago.
He got up, and while still in a crouch, vaulted over the side of the cart, ignoring the other prisoners surprise. Fjorrod was just now regaining his senses, everything up to now had been instinctive. He knew if they caught him he was dead, and even if they didn’t kill him on sight, he was bound for the headman’s axe.
He rolled as he landed, narrowly evading three more arrows. Morphing the roll into a run, he glanced back only to have an arrow whiz by him, taking some hair off of his beard. If he hadn’t turned his head just then, he would have been hit, a hit that, even if it didn’t kill him, would have disabled him, foiling his escape.
Finally making it to the thick forests surrounding the path where he first woke, he weaved in between the trees, putting distance between him and the deadly thrumming song of the Imperial’s bows, making any arrow have little chance to get him.
After losing sight of his captors, he found a tree which he would have been able to easily climb, if his hands were not bound. He attempted to scale it anyway, using the binds as if they were his hands.
Halfway up, Fjorrod heard the sound of people, and instantly stopped moving, just hanging there by his binds. He knew any movement would attract the attention of anyone standing under the tree, and that they would not look up if he remained still. On the other hand, his binds weren’t invincible, and they gave more and more.
He desperately prayed that the person would leave, so Fjorrod could move onto a branch several feet away from him. Looking down, he saw that the person standing there didn’t look like he was going to move in time, and was armed.
Fjorrod’s binds finally gave, making a sharp snapping sound when they broke. The Imperial looked up, only to see a dark figure hurling towards him. Luckily for Fjorrod, the Imperial broke his fall. The Imperial, however, suffered some broken bones. Taking his sword, which was short enough to be more of a dagger, Fjorrod quickly slit the man’s throat. He suddenly tensed when he heard a cry come out of the woods:
“What was that? Caverious, are you okay?”
Fjorrod made several loud, audible coughs, and said in a husky voice, “Fine, I’m fine, I just tripped. Damn this cough!”
The person who cried out, satisfied, said, “Be more careful. We don’t want you tripping over this prisoner.”
Fjorrod remembered Ulfric Stormcloak, how he was still trapped. He couldn’t leave him to the Imperials! Taking a bow and several arrows he found from the dead body beneath him, Fjorrod set out back towards the road, hesitating for a moment when he heard a mighty roar from the sky, only to keep walking, determined.
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@Ben Thanks! Historical, huh?
But back to the writing. It is a good read, particularly when someone other than the protagonist gets injured. Being fallen upon happens to be historical to w... more