Tales of the Battlefield: The Fall of Heroes (Bowman)
He drew the bowstring to his cheek. He felt the slight breeze on his face. He 
lined up his shot. The arrow flew. It landed squarely in the chest of a warrior 
with his blade above his head, ready to deliver a killing blow to one of the 
Bowman’s comrades. The blade slipped from the warriors hands as he slouched 
to his knees. The Bowman’s comrade scooped up the blade from the ground, 
staggered to his feet and moved off to continue the fight.
          
Another arrow flew, another enemy fell. Arrow after arrow found the warm, 
slick embrace of human organs. The Bowman’s quiver became very light, very 
quickly. The rocky outcropping up which the Bowman stood gave him an ideal 
vantage point from which to deliver death from a distance, it also gave him 
bird’s eye view of how badly they were losing this skirmish. They were easily 
outnumbered two to one and were losing ground by the second.


The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The Bowman hit his belly, 
narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two. He came to his feet, a dagger in each 
hand, and stood toe-to-toe with a behemoth of a man wielding a blood-stained 
battleaxe. The behemoth roared as he heaved his weapon into motion. Though 
deadly, the axe was slow and the Bowman was agile. He easily ducked under 
the wide arch of the axe and delivered two quick slashes to the behemoth’s 
thigh as he stepped to the behemoth’s side. Bellowing in rage, the behemoth 
delivered a bone-jarring back hand to the Bowman’s head sending him to his 
back on the stone. The Bowman recovered his footing quickly and sidestepped 
an overhead chop which buried the axe’s blade in the stone where the Bowman 
had been only second before. The Bowman delivered a multitude of slashes to 
the behemoth’s right arm from his wrist to his shoulder, several of which bit 
bone. The arm fell limp at the behemoth’s side as he tried to leverage the axe’s 
blade free from the stone. Seizing the opportunity, the Bowman sank one of 
his blades deep in the behemoth’s neck. The behemoth turned quickly causing 
the dagger to rip a gash from his right jaw to his left clavicle. His remaining 
arm shot up catching the Bowman’s neck in an iron grip. As quickly as he 
caught the Bowman’s neck, the behemoth’s grip began to weaken. Blood 
Poured from the behemoth’s neck in thick, red waves, leaving the air smelling 
of copper. The giant mans body sank slowly to the ground, releasing the 
Bowman’s neck him to gasp for breath as he staggered backward.


After regaining his composure, the Bowman stooped to retrieve his bow 
from the edge of the outcropping. As he stood an arrow slammed into his 
shoulder, sending him tumbling over the ledge. The ten foot fall landed the 
Bowman on his back, forcing the arrow through his shoulder. The adrenaline 
coursing through his veins numbed the excruciating pain in his shoulder. The 
Bowman rolled on to his hands and knees, his head swimming. As he began 
staggering to his feet, a heavy boot landed squarely between the Bowman’s 
shoulder blades,forcing him face first back into the dirt which forced the arrow 
back through his shoulder, opposite the way it had just gone.


The pain blanked his mind. His body began operating on instinct, feebly 
attempting to crawl away from the threat behind him. A heavy blade tore 
through his back and chest and sank into the dirt below. “That’s for Borror,” the 
words slithered through the darkness and somehow found what was left of his 
fading consciousness. He began to fall,through the ground and into darkness. 
Out of the darkness, what could be loosely described as a hand engulfed him 
and pulled him deeper and deeper into the darkness.




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Derek
Short Story
Fantasy
writing Derek
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