Sir Benett

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A respected Knight leads his men into battle. But finds himself not only facing an adversary his equal, but Death himself.

SIR BENNET

 

Sir Bennet led his men into battle, an army of brave and loyal Knights. Their brilliant blue crest shone brightly against their battle hardened armor. As they marched to the battle ground dark clouds gathered over head.

 

As the men continued to march, words of incitement were spoken among the Knights. The morale was high among the men. The words were powerful and the men's spirits were lifted to roaring cheers. But Sir Bennet cast his steely gaze forward. He was fixated on the inevitable battle. He suddenly stopped, and raised his hand giving the signal for his men to yield.

 

Sir Bennet could hear the enemy approaching. He readied his men for battle. They unsheathed their swords, raised their shields, and brandished their axes. They grew silent as they anticipated converging with the enemy.

 

And then they appeared. As well armed and as ready as they were. Their blood red crest stretched across their weathered armor. Both sides stopped for only a moment. And then as if on cue they charged towards each other. Shouting as they fearlessly engaged in a bloody fray. .

 

Death and bloodshed felled men instantly. For they were all skilled warriors with great courage. And Sir Bennet inspired them all. He easily defeated all those that attacked him. His steel cut down numerous knights. And yet he was merciful. For he ended their lives as quickly as possible. He respected all enemies in battle.

 

But then in the chaos of battle an arrow pierced through his armor. A mortal wound Sir Bennet collapsed to the ground as the battle raged on around him. And then Death himself greeted him. “You have fought well brave knight. But now your time has come.” “I cannot leave my brethren behind in the heat of battle. Even now they cry out my name.” “Your wounds are mortal brave knight, and every man must die. Come, it is your time.” “I...am...not...yet...finished!” Shouted Sir Bennet.

 

For even the Angel of Death himself was moved by Sir Bennet's deep resolve. This was not a man motivated by the fear of death, nor was it blood lust. Rather his unyielding sense of duty. His genuine concern for his fellow knights.

 

And then incredibly under the weight of quivering knees, Sir Bennet stood up. He raised his crimson stained blade into the air, and let out a roar that was like that of a lion. With a sense of renewed vigor he returned to the battle as his fellow knights cheered. Their spirits newly roused they fought on with an unmatched valor.

 

Sir Bennet returned to the battlefield with great zeal. His sword flashed like lightning and burned like fire. He was a tempest of death. He felled his enemies to and fro effortlessly. Victory was surely at hand. But then an ominous dark cloud crept over the battlefield. A knight equal to Sir Bennet stepped forth. He was their champion. His armor was covered with a myriad of battle scars. He brandished a mighty Claymore which he rested upon his broad shoulders. He was imposing to behold.

 

Sir Bennet stepped forward to confront his formidable adversary. And when they got sight of each other. Sir Bennet raised his visor, a show of respect. His opponent Sir Everard, returned the veneration. They slowly circled around one another like ravenous wolves. The heavens rumbled in anticipation of their inevitable clash.

 

The battle around them slowly grew silent, until only the moans of the wounded and dying could be heard. Then without warning they charged at one another. And when their steel met it made a sound like thunder. The proud knights exchanged devastating blows and crippling strikes, but neither man would yield.

 

As their battle waged on, fatigue began to wear heavily on the esteemed knights. Sir Bennet grasped his sword tightly his chest heaving with exhaustion. Yet he ready himself for another charge, but his adversary surprised him, matching his attack. Sir Bennet suddenly found himself on the defensive. He was reeling and it appeared Sir Everard may have the upper hand. His foe found an opening and struck him. Sir Bennet staggered from the powerful attack. And when his rival raised his Claymore over head for a fatal blow Sir Bennet miraculously parried it aside.

 

His adversary stunned Sir Bennet saw his opening. He feigned his initial thrust fooling his enemy, and then run his cold steel through his worthy opponent. Sir Everard dropped his mighty Claymore to the ground and fell to his knees, and the heavens rumbled in response. Sir Bennet pulled his sword out and Sir Everard's blood flowed freely into the parched, cracked earth.

 

And then Sir Bennet succumbed to the weariness of battle. His wounds were mortal and he too slumped to the ground as he was overcome with agony. Death came before the two braves Knights to take them away to the afterlife. Neither man protested.

 

The remaining Knights gathered around the bodies of their fallen leaders. The somber Knights removed their helms and took a knee as the heavens opened up with rain. There would be no more fighting, no more bloodshed. The battle was over. The mutual respect for one another was high, and there were no more enemies. Only a brotherhood of Knights.

 

 


Submitted: March 31, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Jason Scott. All rights reserved.

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