After the fifth Crimean body in a row with nothing worth taking, Jispin pursed his lips and thought, then headed for the treeline. On a hunch, he went a few paces inside the line of bowed tree limbs and started searching parallel to the glade. In the dim, watery light he spied a T-shaped furca leaning against a tree with a soldier’s bag and travel gear hanging from it. He took it out and planted it upright into the soft ground two paces form the trees. Walking inside the treeline he’d collect three or four before taking them out to prop up in a bunch together. In ten minutes he’d collected 37, then went back to helping the Kilpan fighters finish the task, eating jerky and apples taken from the supplies he’d recovered as he worked. Continue reading Career Change, Part VI
The squire lifted his chin and spoke in a language Jispin didn’t understand. He shook his head. The squire tried a different language, or at least it sounded very different to Jispin. Guessing his question, he replied “I am Jispin… Jispin,” as he pointed to himself and resumed cleaning the gore off his blade on the fallen man’s shirt before returning it to his scabbard. He looked up at the squire, then around. They both noted there was only one other man remaining on horseback, the unarmored knight. The two Argentain horses and the other squire’s mount were standing, stamping nervously, blowing noisily, and steaming like a boiling cauldron in the suddenly quiet drizzle of rain. Continue reading Career Change, Part V
Several hurled javelins before closing the last few yards, about half formed into some sort of three or four-man formation with sword and shield in front and a spearman poking over or around them, the rest formed a general line and tried to rush and overwhelm with superior numbers and speed. Four tried to get a clear shot with a bow but quickly gave up trying to see anything targetable in the heaving mass of men, tossing their bows aside and either rushed in to back up their fellow soldiers. Some Crimeans wore small black and yellow streamers on their arms or helms, and some started trying to do an end-run on the line to get a side-shot. The Argentain archers were in nearly the same predicament, but the superior number of men they faced gave them a small advantage, and Argentain arrows found their mark among the more numerous foes standing three spear-lengths away. Continue reading Career Choice, Part IV
The knight turned to face the sounds that he apparently noted as well. He left his shield slung where it was, and flipped his spear around gently to make sure the small pennon attached near the head was hanging free and visible. Continue reading Career Choice, Part III
Stepping around the tree, he saw the other soldier kneeling with an arrow knocked and ready but not drawn, his back straight and the bow at an angle to avoid the branches and small tarp they’d strung up overhead to protect them from the rain. The archer was a huge man who wore more armor than his now dead partner did, and his cloak obscured any clear openings. Jispin took the only attack he could. He inverted the long and still bloody knife in his hand and plunged it swiftly down into the exposed neck, angling between the high leather collar and flesh, just inside the collarbone. Jispin aimed for the heart, hoping to take major arteries and throat. He torqued the blade around after the hilt stopped its downward thrust against the gorget. To Jispin’s great surprise the mortally wounded soldier, veins flowing with adrenaline from the impending encounter with horsemen, managed to drop the bow, grab his arm with one hand while drawing a knife with the other, and fling the boy forward over his shoulder onto the soggy earth. Continue reading Career Choice, Part II
Gotta keep writing. There is a long story I won’t bore you with as to the delays in getting sequel/prequel published properly, so in the meantime i thought I’d write a short story. Not in the same universe, more Conan-esque. Young barbarian getting a start in life.
Working title might be “Career Choice”, Part I. I’ll be posting daily until it’s done, something around a thousand words per day. Here we go: Continue reading New series / short story
Today is Memorial Day. It’s a day set aside to remember those who served and died wearing an American military uniform. It is a Federal holiday commemorated on the last Monday in May. I’m a vet, and I know a lot of vets. I don’t know a lot who died in service, but I have met a few who later met their fate while still much too young.
To all those who served honorably, and paid the ultimate cost, I salute you.
May you soul rest in a better place.
The idea of “what is worth fighting for, dieing for?” is a theme much looked into in literature and fiction, and different people are looking for different answers. I hope that I may have given some people insight through my humble writing. If not, there are greater pens than mine in the world, and I ask you to keep looking, and never give up hope.
Here is a fine place to drop in and say “hi” if you are swinging by from the Sunday morning book thread.