TYLER WODEN | SHORT STORIES | SHADOWS IN BRUGES | PART 2/3 | THE LARK
Shadows in Bruges
The second part of Eagle’s gritty journey through Medieval Bruges — part 2/3
***If you missed part 1, click below***
Part 2
Eagle’s actions were instinctive, his body reacting with the honed precision of a seasoned warrior. Clutching a shield from the carriage’s rear, he became a moving fortress amidst the chaos.
“Brace!” His voice cut through the fog, a command more to himself than anyone else.
As an arrow found its mark in the shield’s sturdy wood, Eagle spared a glance towards Lila. Prostrate, she offered no aid.
Eagle’s focus returned swiftly to the danger at hand. He crouched low, shield aloft, his mind already racing ahead. No time for rallying, he thought, Silas needs me.
As Eagle propelled himself into the fog’s embrace, arrows — whispers of death — became a rhythm he could read. Just one archer, he deduced, moving to the beat of the unseen foe’s draw and release. This was the kind of knowledge that came from years on the battlefield, the kind that had earned him his name. ‘Swift as the eagle,’ they had said. Today, he would show these ambushers why that name was both a title and a testament to his prowess.
Eagle plunged into the heart of the battle, his blade an extension of his will. The fog was thick, but his senses were sharp, honed by years of conflict. He moved with lethal purpose, his eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the commander.
The first assailant lunged at Eagle, a dagger gleaming in the dim light. Eagle sidestepped, his sword slicing through the air, meeting flesh. He did not pause to watch the man fall. There was no time to waste. In such situations, each step forward was earned through steel and strength.
Eagle grimaced as another attacker, armed with a crude axe, roared towards him. Eagle parried with his shield, the impact resonating through his arm. With a swift, brutal thrust, his sword found its mark. He pushed forward, his boots slipping slightly in the mud and blood of the narrow street.
From above, the twang of Mara’s bow sang out, her shadow sent arrows which found their targets with deadly precision. Eagle spared a thought for Silas, hoping he was holding his ground.
Eagle leveled his breathing. He was close now. The commander was just a dozen paces away. As Eagle moved through the chaos, his heart pounded in his chest. Not with fear, no, Eagle rarely felt such an emotion. It was the thrill of the impending duel that made his heart pump blood faster to the places it needed to be.
Eagle cut down another enemy. As he closed in on the commander, his focus was absolute. With every sense attuned to the imminent clash, he dispatched another assailant with a swift, clean stroke.
But in that moment of triumph, fate turned treacherous. An unexpected force hit Eagle from the side, a blow he hadn’t seen coming. Pain seared through his shield arm under the impact, his world spinning.
In that distorting blur, Eagle saw the commander’s smile widen, a familiar predator sensing the weakness in its prey. Eagle’s heart pounded with determination and alarm, and he fought to regain his balance. His sword was still in his hand, but his shield arm hung limply, a throbbing reminder of the unforeseen strike.
Eagle advanced, his heart pounding, as an arrow narrowly missed him. As he reached the commander in waiting, Eagle’s mind was suddenly flooded with a vivid memory. Captain Falkner, the man who now stood before him as a formidable veteran warrior. Years ago, they had been fierce enemies on a blood-soaked battlefield. It was there, amidst the clash of steel, that Eagle’s blade had carved a lasting mark.
Now, as they faced each other again, Falkner touched the scar that marred his visage, a twisted reminder of their past encounter.
“You know, Herr Václav,” Falkner began with a cold smile. “Every time I see my reflection, I’m reminded of our last meeting. This scar you left… it’s been a constant companion, a memento of your handiwork.” Eagle remained silent, his focus unwavering. Yet his arm throbbed in agony as Falkner continued. “In war, we find our true selves, Herr Václav. I knew we would meet again on the battlefield one day.”
The words echoed the same sentiment Falkner had expressed years before, a prophecy now eerily realized.
Shaking off the weight of memory, Eagle returned his attention to the present. The pain in his arm was a stark reminder of the immediate danger. Yet, despite the pain, Falkner’s presence here could not be mere coincidence…it was the inevitable intersection of their fates. It was God’s will.
Eagle’s thoughts briefly turned to the future, to what the end of this ordeal might bring. A sense of foreboding filled him.
Refocusing on Falkner, Eagle tightened his grip on his sword. With renewed determination, he stepped forward, ready to face not just the commander, but also the ghosts of his past.
Falkner, his expression one of cold anticipation, stepped forward, broadsword ready. Falkner looked fresh and ready for the fight. Eagle blinked, taking in the sight of his old adversary.
“So,” said Falkner, the scar a grotesque testament to their shared history. “You’re alive. That’s something we shall have to remedy, Herr Václav.”
End of part 2/3
Now to shamelessly tag people because, well, maybe you’ll thank me. :-)
Hazel Paradise Jamie Northrup - Minimalist Hustler Mike Lewis Cher Hin Chong Veronica Llorca-Smith Emilina Lomas KAKA LAM 嘉嘉 @iamkakalamkk KAKA LAM 嘉嘉 @iamkakalamkk Sy Le Synapse Network Cipher Max MCristina Content by Maria Cristina DeBriyn canary James Altucher Dani Grant Dave Pell Will Lockett John Snow Simeon Haughton Mi Mike Monteiro Mrt steven turner Tracey Turner Kevin Cheng Gary Vaynerchuk Scott Galloway Vinícius Baggio Fuentes Rex Hammock Denise Larkin, BA (Hons) James Jordan Darius Foroux
