A/N: Sooo…my first KKM fic. Actually, my first fic in a long time. I haven't written in ages, except reports for school, but those don't count. Sorry if I'm a bit rusty. It's 2am and I could care less about grammar and spelling. Anyways, this is just randomness on my part. I was terribly bored tonight and had nothing better to do. Not sure where I'm going with it and whether I'll finish it. ;;
--
Wolfram's horse charged at break-neck speed as its rider spurred it on, fiercely snapping the reins and digging his heels sharply into the animal's flanks. Bringing out his sword, he easily cut through the line of men before him, slashing his way to the forefront of the battle. With each swing he could feel the metal of his blade making contact with flesh and bone, but paid it no mind. As a soldier, he had been educated in the art of warfare and had been forced to draw blood on several occasions before. The adrenaline of battle coursed through his veins so that everything else around him seemed insignificant. His mind was alert and focused, only seeking to be the victor at this point. Dark crimson splattered across his royal blue uniform as he continued to press forward, his usually innocent eyes narrowed, seething with intense ferocity as the melee continued all around him.
It had been an ambush. A small group of insurgents, heavily armed and adequately trained had descended upon them. Ruthless in their methods, they did not even give out so much as a battle cry before they rushed down the hill in the direction of Wolfram and his entourage.
He should have seen it coming, or rather heard it. The men were all on horseback. In truth, he had felt the vibration upon the earth, could hear the galloping hooves, but neither he nor his friends had any time to properly react before a cluster of men surrounded them. Wolfram did not even have a chance to question their leader or determine their motives before they began their onslaught.
This was obviously a mission of pure carnage, the blond reasoned seeing as the soldiers did not appear to have anyone particular in mind as they mercilessly hacked and slashed their way through his accompanying forces. He wondered what their intent was exactly. Was this a declaration of war? If so, then from whom? He certainly didn't recognize any of them. Were they human? Mazoku?
No time to discern that now, he thought regretfully.
A sharp cry of pain diverted his attention to the left where a large, fully armored man had impaled one of his comrades. Wolfram's eyes shifted to the enemy. He had never seen such armor before. If only he could figure out who these men were. It was more than just mere curiosity; it was the need to give them an identity. For Wolfram, it was easier to direct his hatred toward something if he knew exactly what it was. Otherwise it was just a waste of time. His gaze did not remain on the man for long however, and was soon fixed on the eyes of his friend. They were a deep shade of azure, and as the haze of battle temporarily left him, his mind quickly sprang to life. It only took him an instant to recognize the owner of those eyes, and the knowledge caused his heart to seize momentarily. The normally immobile muscle seemed to shift into his throat as he watched the scene in shocked horror, anguish evident in the swirling pools of blue before him. Wolfram turned to help, but was immediately accosted by another soldier. Metal hit metal with a loud clang and a shower of sparks as both men brought up their weapons. There was no time to aid his friend, likewise there was no point. He had already slipped out of the saddle and was now laid out on the ground, a dark puddle pooling around his lifeless form.
Wolfram gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. He was clearly no match in strength for his opponent, no matter what level his swordsmanship skills were at, but this minor technicality would not deter him in the slightest. As anyone who knew Wolfram could attest to, what he lacked in power, he certainly made up for in persistence.
Shifting his weight, he managed to urge his horse back in a quick motion, causing the swords to break apart. The soldier immediately drew his weapon away, preparing to attack once more. Wolfram braced himself and waited to repel his opponent when he felt something hard connect with his lower back. Wincing in irritation, he turned to find a pair of men fighting to his rear, one of them had inadvertently elbowed him in the ribs. The blond let out a soft grunt and nudged his horse forward a bit as his opponent brought his sword down once more. Fighting in such contained quarters was both dangerous and bothersome, he mentally remarked, bringing his sword up once again. Not only was it exceedingly difficult to battle with broad swords, but also hard to avoid the enemy's blows, whether they were directed towards him or not.
With this thought, searing pain shot through his left arm as the blade of his opponent's sword sliced through the sturdy fabric of his uniform, cutting deep into his skin. The blond repressed the urge to cry out and instinctively jerked the reins to the right. Realizing his mistake at having left his vulnerable side open, he quickly whipped the horse back around and brought his own sword down in a horizontal slice. His reaction was so fast; even he did not have time to register its repercussions as the head of his adversary rolled to a stop near his horse's right hoof. The boy looked down at the head with a mix of mild shock and nausea. He had killed men before, but never in this fashion. They had usually died sometime after the wounds were inflicted, never directly from one of his attacks. He was startled at the ease in which he had accomplished this and discomfited with the fact that he felt no remorse. Bile began to rise into the back of his throat, but he hastily swallowed, forcing it back down along with the emotions that rose with it.
In an instant he was ripped from his thoughts and literally hurled back onto the field of battle as a small explosion sent his horse rearing. The fall managed to jar his head and knock the wind out of him. Unfortunately those were the least of his concerns as a tangle of hooves threatened to trample him. He immediately rolled to the side, shielding his head as a large hoof planted itself into his back.
Wolfram let out a strangled cry that came out as more of a squeak due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He certainly could not die like this; he would never forgive himself if his own horse was the cause of his demise. Quickly, he reeled to one side, hoping he wasn't placing himself right back into the path of danger. His shoulders sagged in relief as he watched his horse tear off into the crowd of soldiers. Wolfram lay on his side, his mouth open, attempting to gasp for air. It took the boy several minutes to compose himself. His lungs burned, but he forced them to work once more as he pushed himself up onto his knees. His left arm still stung, but the blood was already beginning to clot and dry around the fabric of his sleeve. That would do well to staunch the bleeding, his mind said. Still a little disoriented from the fall, he crawled forward on his hands and knees, searching for his sword. It had fallen somewhere nearby, he was sure of it.
Bodies lay strewn across the ground, many of them badly disfigured, saturated in blood, or moaning in agony. Wolfram inhaled deeply and winced. He wasn't sure what had been injured after his horse decided to use him as a welcome mat, but he would have preferred it if the damn beast had kicked him in the head. He could deal with a concussion better than the current pain in his lungs every time he took a breath. As he muttered a few more curses to himself, his eyes lit up as they fell upon his sword. Wasting no time, the blond quickly scrambled to his feet and snatched the weapon up. He surveyed the battlefield, his heart sinking a little at the sight of so many of his slaughtered comrades. The fight was far from over, but he could already tell who the losing side was.
--
A/N: I know, that's a terrible place to end it. I really had more to write, but I'm getting tired. yawns