The pebble shot out like a bullet, hitting the sprinting figure of Trent with much greater force than Redwald could have participated.
The pebble hit Trent's. A groin and a moan of pain emitted from the dashing figure of Trent. The little figure visibly slowed down his steps, almost moving in a limp as Trent pressed against the bruise caused by the flying pebble.
Trent was delirious, flirting between losing consciousness and remaining focused. But his steps trembled, as the world began to spin all in front of his eyes. The world flipped and twisted as everything in his view lost its colour.
Slowly the lost control of his body, an unmeasured step followed, as did his body as his poorly placed leg lost its strength, tumbling onto the grassland.
.
Redwald gloated in satisfaction as he saw the midget plummet in his track. Satisfied with this little trick he thought of work much to his delight. Though the celebration of his success was cut in half as he realised he would crash into the ground sooner, and with much greater impact than he had ever expected.
"May the spirit of Tarenmouth protect me."
The figure that is yet to land, flapped his arms around, as he half imagined it would help him soften the impact. Though Redwald doubted his actions contributed anything at all.
The ground seemed to only inch closer, and much faster as Redwald curled into a ball, with his arms wrapped around his legs. Before crashing back down, Redwald cursed Thormond's irrational actions, mostly due to his adrenaline than his hatred for the giant.
.
The lumbering giant sped up, his long sore feet ached in fatigue, but he nevertheless carried on with great unease. There in his view, two figures registered. One of Trent lay dormant on the grassland, another of Redwald aching in pain and screamed of pain as if something broke.
Thormond glanced at the two opposing figures, his adrenaline crept as he sought to deal with the opposition leader first and foremost. But the cries of Redwald hit him like an arrow, and concern overcame his priorities. A fallen comrade heeds a helping hand.
The giant dragged his body, guided by the desperate cries of his comrade. The face was flustered in concern, yet also with confusion. His hands hung with uncertainty as he didn't know what he was to do.
"My – my shoulder." The redhead hid his face, pain-stricken.
"I –" the soldier dropped down, knee first as he was out of words.
Thormond tried reaching Redwald's shoulder, but the injured comrade only backed away.
"No, stop. Go. Go get Trent."
Thormond glanced at Redwald, "But… but your."
Redwald swung his arm at the giant in front of him, backing him away
"GO!" the redhead shouted, his voice enraged. But his face shone the colour of crimson red, one of pain and teary eyes.
.
The giant faulted, but he left the tormented soldier in the place he fell. He was silent, deafly silent as he was out of words. He only walked, walked away from the scene as asked and requested.
Thormond approached the other scene, where Trent lay dormant as if he was fast asleep. He crouched next to him, still doubting if Trent was genuine in his unconsciousness, or if his acting was really good.
"Hey."
The giant placed a thumb under Trent's nose, soft wind tingled his fingers as Thormond confirmed Trent was still breathing. But just not responding.
.
The sound of horse hoofs resounded behind Thormond as accompanying presences approached.
Kent looked at the scene, he had been there through the thick and thin. Witnessing the whole pursuit from the beginning to the end. But the lord only shook his head softly as he scratched his head deep in thoughts.
Deryk hopped down from his stallion as he checked on his status of Trent.
"Fast asleep," the commander told himself, partly reassured. He then focused his attention on Thormond. "and you?"
Thormond only had a monotonous expression "I'm fine."
Deryk nudged his head towards his stallion. A signal to the giant. "Hop on."
The commander then with his arms scooped underneath, carried Trent and lifted him to the back of his stallion. Whereby Thormond stabled the still conscious Trent on the back of the animal. Treating Trent with care.
Three men in arms rode on the fine horse. Deryk steered towards another nearby horse, upon which 2 more men were on the majestic horse.
"Milord." Deryk and Thormond spoke up in greetings, though not in much of a flamboyant mood.
"Let's return. We have seen so much already."
…
A trumpet resonated its presence, as its sound traversed the nearby fields for everyone to hear. Fallen soldiers, injured men, and cheerful victors all sighed after the trial. Though some reacted with sheer brilliance and excitement, whilst others could only carry a despondent look on their face. It was certainly not a conclusion to which everyone could be satisfied.
A battle, big or small, could only leave some in glee, whilst another in sorrow. There must be a victor, and with a victor, there would always be a loser. But it's at these moments that one must accept their defeat, and grow upon their failures, becoming someone born anew, better, and stronger than before.
Kent rod back to the centre of the battlefield, where a nice stretch of open plain resided. As the lord steered towards the campsite where stashes of food, water, clothing, and weapon were placed upon long unused wagons. Around the campsite, there were about 2 dozen non-combatants. These two dozen men were the hired hands that Kent organized.
Kent stared off away from the central campsite. In the distance, groups of men that were no larger than dots on the horizon slowly made their way to the gathering point. The conclusion of the Trial has come, and so did his men's approach to their fated result.
On his back, Redwald kept his silence, thou through the corner of his eyes, Kent could see the redheaded warrior holding in his inner agony.
"Why must one hide? When one can openly ask for another's assistance?"
Redwald gave a bitter laugh.
"Why would one ask, when hawking eyes rest upon the Lake of Judgement?"
Kent hit back at this remark. "But I don't endorse the Lake of Judgement, but applaud the acknowledgement of one's defects."
"Defects?" Redwald looked upon the sunset far away, the sun gleaming and revealing its scarlet hue. The reminiscent of a distant memory surfaced.
"Hah, that I bare non. Neither present nor the past had I been flawed."
Kent could only look forward to the distance, a deep breath out as he sightly shook his head. His right hand was on his chin, scratching as he fell into his inner thoughts. Eventually, the mount carried both men to their destinations.
Redwald leapt off the horse upon arriving. "You have my gratitude, milord." The redhead knight gave a bow, though one of his arms was dangling without any strength. His face was solemn as if the pain was not an issue.
.
"A stubborn one." Deryk's coarse voice remarked.
"Yeah… How are the others."
Deryk looked at the passengers that he dropped off earlier.
"One's drifted asleep, and another injured by his brutality."
The lord dismounted, walking towards the wagons that enveloped the site.
"And the rest?"
Deryk followed on feet. He took a quick scan of the soldiers that are scattered around the battlefield.
"Scars and bruises, a child's pain. But not to be taken lightly."
Valuable insights from the seasoned veteran, Kent agreed with his commander's assessment. The lord shaped his hands like a bucket as he scooped a mouthful of water to satisfy his thirst.
"Then let us toast tonight and move at the first sighting of the sun tomorrow."