The Daring Adventures of Amorous Prince Dietrich: Woes and Hose, Volume 3 by Igor Ljubuncic

Author:Igor Ljubuncic [Ljubuncic, Igor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-18T05:00:00+00:00

More noise, from behind.

Dick turned and saw Komptur Sieger and his Drechknights approaching. They kept a loose formation and ran at an easy, steady pace, showing no sign of fatigue. Without slowing down, the komptur pointed his named sword at the seething riverbank. The knights veered to the right, heading off to staunch the new attack.

Dick felt he could breathe again, walk again. His arms were steady enough.

He joined the battle.

The fighting was ugly. Dick couldn’t fire over the heads of the Hyevans to the north without the risk of hitting a friend, but he could easily shoot at the boats on the river. He put both pistols forward, aimed, and fired, the recoil turning into satisfaction. Two enemy soldiers toppled from the prow of a hide canoe. Dick tossed the weapons away and drew a new pair, searching for targets.

Crispin shouted a warning.

Dick spun and saw a knot of enemy men breaking through the Hyevan lines. The soldiers in the front walked with bows raised, firing at an alarming fast rate, leaving a trail of wailing, injured defenders in their wake. The second line of enemy troops hacked the fallen Hyevans with their curved swords, shearing off arms and legs raised in a futile plea of mercy.

Dick aimed.

An enemy man quietly dropped to the ground, blood leaking from a hole in his side. Dick aimed, fired again. A second soldier turned into a lifeless doll, falling down mid-stride, crushing his bow under him.

“To me!” Dick shouted, not sure if anyone would hear or understand him. “By the Saint, kill them!”

Next to him, Crispin fired his pistol. The bullet went through the hand of an archer and into his belly, doubling him over. Some of the Nils’ men did seem to heed the call, forming up around Dick, going one knee down in the soft soil, the butts of their arquebuses pressed to their shoulders. A volley erupted, making Dick’s ears ring.

The enemy soldiers disappeared in a burst of smoke and blood. The din subsided, replaced by ragged shrieks from the wounded. One of the foe was writhing on the ground, gripping his crotch. Another was trying to crawl away. Yet more were coming.

An arrow zipped past Dick’s head. There was a wet gurgle somewhere behind him. More guns fired, and Dick winced from the cold throb that expanded through his skull. More arrows flew past, the fletching of one whipping against his shirt.

That was fucking close. I’m not dying to some stupid arrow.

He aimed his own pistols, trying to find the shooters. Behind a mound of corpses, he saw an enemy archer, getting ready to release the bowstring. Dick’s bullet hit him in the shoulder, spinning him like a mule’s kick. The man fired the arrow into his own foot, pinning himself to the ground. Dick finished him with a second shot, bits of brain and hair flying in a clear, bright arc. Dick grunted with hard satisfaction—he would have cackled with glee if he had more air.

More pistols. More death.

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