Garom : Short Fiction Contest Entry

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Word Count : 331

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Garom

My thoughts reeled, I was already working on instinct. My staff connected hard with the head of one soldier, and flowed into the nose of another, as my left hand jetted flames into a third. My body moved in a flowing motion with my horse beneath me; constantly shifting my balance ready for the next strike of staff or fire.

Garom reared and his front hoofs took several soldiers in the face, crushing helmets and nose-guards as often as bone. Then, spinning on the spot, the powerful warhorse forced the attackers back and gained me a few seconds breathing room to gather my wits.

They had come from nowhere and I was surrounded before I knew it. Had the situation with the Carasans deteriorated so quickly during my time away? Surely an army couldn't be crossing our lands unmolested this way if the King knew already! I had to get away and give warning.

The brief breather allowed me time to remember a more complex spell, and I cast a cord of air from my hands, thin as wire and sharp as a razor. They all piled back in, eager for the kill. Swords, maces and axes surrounded me and sought my flesh. My spell hit and heads from the nearest five soldiers fell to the ground in a neat row, and another dozen just behind reeled from the dying remains. I wheeled Garom into the opening and dug my heels in sharply.

Spilt blood glistened on his black coat, the acrid scent strong in his flared nostrils; the horse didn't need more encouragement. As flames danced from my fingertips, he sprang over the dying men and through the ones behind in two quick bounds. In a swirl of armour and weapons, I was suddenly staring at open grassland ahead of me. I clutched Garom around his powerful neck and bent low as we galloped away. I had to tell the King...

War was coming!