@ElderGod-Carrots
For my first assessment peice this year, I have to write a short story inspired by a picker that my teacher chose. Mine was a picture of a woman, standing in the snow on the field holding a red cape (I can’t find the actual picture, I’m sorry)
It’s only 600-800 words (You can go fifty over and I have oops) but I’d like someone to review my first draft, please.
It is unedited so gramma and shit wound be great, and remember, it’s a short story so I don’t have much room for all my ideas which suck but I’d greatly appreciate the help!
Thunder rolled over head, aided by the occasional fast flash of lighting, illuminating the tents that lined the other end of the battle field. It was a grim sight if Dorian ever knew one, but battle was never pretty, not in the slightest.
Soldiers mingled and weaved through tents that were too small and didn’t keep out the chill of the winter weather, the mountain wind ripping through them like a blade. Many of the men had taken a real blade to their chest, too.
Dawn was only minutes away and battle would strike up again. The prince could practically smell the fear radiating from the men around him.
It was then that the young male felt a presence beside him, yet he didn’t take his eyes off the enemy lines. He knew who it was, anyway.
“Do you think we’ll win?” He asked the captain of the guard.
“Yes.” Aeron replied, monotonously.
Dorian sighed, “Let’s hope we do.”
Battle raged around him. Metal on metal clashed, screams penetrated the air, dragons roared and blood splattered on armour. Valis and his army had pushed them back over the field and nearly destroyed the right flank. Dorian could see Aeron trying to reform the lines with little luck on his part but the man kept on fighting.
The Captain swung his sword, taking down men left, right and centre. He moved like the wind, there one second and then gone the next, taking down the next man that tried to attack. Dorian knew it was one of the many reasons why he admired the man.
But it only took a second. One second for the great captain to falter and a cry to escape his lips. The man who had stabbed him smirked devilishly, twisting his sword to gain another cry from Aeron as he fell to the ground.
Dorian screamed. Charging through the ranks of men to plunge his sword into the man who had killed his captain. His second father. Too late. He was too gods damned late.
A cry was ripped from his throat. Dorian hauled Aeron onto his back, using one hand to fight off any enemies that came his way.
Gone. His captain was gone.
There was no real time for a proper funeral. Not in the midsts of battle. But Dorian would honour the fallen soldier before he went out and fought until his last breath. Aeron’s second, Bowen, had joined him and the healer as they stood on the mountain side. The healer held Aeron’s blood red cape in her hands, letting it flutter and drift in the wind. Neither the prince nor the second had words strong enough to honour the soldier so, with a simple nod of his head, the healer let the cape go. The red of the cloth stood out against the snow that had begun to fall, as it flew over the battle bellow. A dull roaring filled Dorian’s ears as the descended back into the battle that they were loosing.
Without Aeron, there was no one to lead them properly. Bowen was doing a fairly good job but it was hard for Dorian to tell. All he knew was the sword in his hand and the enemy in front. Yet hope seemed to grow in him as he watched an unknown figure walk into the middle of the front lines, ignoring the shouts from the once second in command.
They held their hand to their chest, the brown clock billowing around them as they spread their arms and a blaze of gold, red and orange erupted. Valis’ army burnt to a crisp and Dorian’s men charged at the stragglers. The figured was gone almost as as soon as it appeared and the prince sent them a silent prayer.
Then, the man of the hour emerged. Valis’ shoulder black hair waved in the wind, sword in hand as he stalked towards Dorian. This was it. Dorian would win for Aeron. For his kingdom. For all of his fallen soldiers.
No words were exchanged as Valis made the first move, aiming a swing to Dorian’s left which he parried. Valis snarled and swung again, Dorian sliding his leg out and knocked Valis off his feet as he did so. But the man was on his feet in an instant, attacking again, and again, Dorian reflecting every blow. Yet he did not balk, did not cower. He put his plan into action then. He laid his trap, going to attack Valis and leaving his left side exposed for an attack. The older man didn’t hesitate to attack, but that’s when Dorian plunged his sword into his exposed neck. Blood sprayed, splattering like stars over the prince’s armour.
The cold, lifeless body dropped to the snow, soldiers around Dorian screaming, “Valis is dead!” “The Prince has succeeded!”
Dorian released a breath. The battle was over. They had won. The prince sent a silent prayer up to the heaven in honour of the fallen captain.
I know, it’s not my best peice if work but uh, yeah, here it is. Also, it’s currently unnamed hence the lack of title.
