I saw to bodies in the water, boys just like us. One was peppered with three arrows and a huge splinter almost as big as him impaled the other. There was shouting all around us, it sounded like many were hiding behind the wreckage of the ship, just suck in the shore. Another group of shouts came from our left on the other side of the wreckage of the boat, washed onto the shore. Donal saw me try to peep around the rock at where the shouts were coming from.
“There are about twenty in the wreckage of the boat and thirty behind another rock over to our left,“ he yelled over the sound of the sea and the arrows whizzing past. “The rest are scattered around,” Then he stopped and looked sadly at the bodies in the water, “or dead.”
No one dared move and we sat in terrified silence. To our right was the other ship with the rest of us in. They had reached the shore but were pinned down like us under hail of arrows. Catapult shots continued to fly over our heads, in two different directions.
Behind us I could just make out the rest of our fleet, racing towards the shore. Many ships where gone however and the rain of catapult fire was not stopping. Our catapult fire had stopped however and only tens of shots now came from out boats, the number decreasing with every volley.
How could we be doing this badly? Hundreds of boats do not just sink! We cannot have lost that many! In only a few minutes!
Way further along the beach an attack was going on. Hundreds of men had landed safely and were now charging up the beach, gunpowder packs in hand. They were being slaughtered though. Men were falling every second, arrows ripping through their chests.
My feet were still in the water and I tried to pull them out but the pain in my stomach stopped me. I pulled up my shirt to see blood in my bandage.
Some stitches have ripped! I almost passed out in shock. I am going to die! I am going to die! Then I reassured myself that it was not much, and I was going to be ok.
Then a piece of bobbing wreckage moved. It shook from side to side and moaned and I gasped in fear. Then a boy stuck his head out; it was streaked with blood and water.
“Help me…” he pleaded, “…help me, please. I am stuck, I hurt my leg, help me please.” The boy looked badly hurt and I knew the blood on his face was his.
Before we could stop him Donal ran out towards the man, sprinting into the shallows beside the boy. Quickly he dislodged the boy and started dragging him back towards us. The boy’s leg was definitely broken as it was twisted at a horrific angle. As Donal pulled him back an arrow whizzed past him and splashed it the water behind him. The archers have seen him!
“Run!” Shouted Detarian and Donal strained harder. Another arrow flew in and broke on a rock right next to him. Donal was back in seconds, the boy safe against the rock.
Donal suddenly spun around and fell face first onto the sand, into the safety of the boulder. Sticking out of his back was an arrow, embedded almost up to its proud feathers of red and white.
“Donal!” I yelled, crawling over to him and I turned him onto his side. He was not breathing, he had stopped moving and when I checked he had no pulse. “Donal!” I shouted again, shaking him.
He’s dead!
I started crying then and there. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
He can’t be dead! He can’t!
“Wake up! Wake up!” I yelled, sobbing more and more, tears rolling down my face. “No!” I screamed.
This should be me! I should be dead not him! I was already injured, already almost dead. I should have been me!
I could barely believe it. Donal who had shot a man and cried for two days! Donal who laughed with me when we were pushed in the river. Donal who sent me ahead during training to draw fire and had to rescue me. Donal who saved me from the wolf finishing me off. Donal who just gave his life to rescue someone he did not know!
“Donal!” I screamed one last time before lying exhausted against the rock. I lay there sobbing, sobbing in the middle of the battlefield that killed my friend, the battlefield that slaughtered our army.
I turned to see a huge group of men, some on horseback charge out of the city towards the beach.
They killed him! They killed Donal!
I felt rage build up inside me, a red-hot anger that consumed everything else.
They killed him!
I waited until the men had nearly reached our boulder then burst out from behind it, giving out a roar of anger.
As I ran forward fires erupted in my palms. The first horse reared up, his rider flying of his back. I ran to the rider and pinned him down with my foot. Now to burn him, burn him with the…fire? My hands are on fire? My hand suddenly went out and I stared at them. Magic? I looked up, straight at a sword that was held in front of my face. I looked around, tears of sadness and anger rolling down my cheeks. As I looked around I saw that many swords points where pointed at me, some less than two centimetres from my face and head. I dropped down to my knees defeated. There was no way I could win. The rider crawled away from beside me, looking at me with a mix of horror and surprise.
A man stepped into the ring of soldiers around me; he had a small flame burning in his hand. He was most definitely a Mage.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Fredric is a teenage first-time author from the UK. This book Recruited Mage being his very first.
Recruited Mage Page 13