Blades

Petra drew his sword halfway out of his sheathe and checked to make sure the blade was still attached. Darwin next to him chuckled without looking down.

"Cork it, Dar," Petra muttered angrily, but Darwin continued to laugh through his nose. 

"Didn't they take it when you were in the middle of the fight?" he said. 

"Yeah, so?" Petra retorted. 

"Why would you check your blade before the battle if they are probably going to take it during the fight?" Darwin asked, finally looking over at Petra. 

"How in the fires of Lynn am I supposed to know what faeries are going to do? Next time they might just take my legs. That might be what really gives them a laugh," Petra slammed his sword back into its sheathe. He folded his arms crossly and spat down into the muddy ground around him. 

"I hate this place," he said, "sign up for glory, they said. Defeat the goblins, and come home a hero, they said. Nothing about any del'matting faeries meddling with your business." 

A few horses nearby pawed the muddy, cold ground nervously. Their nostrils flared, and the sound of their huffing breaths made most of the men squint towards the horizon. The sun was starting to set which meant the goblins would be out soon. Sometimes a few bold goblins would brave the burning sun to try to surprise a few squadrons. Every man out there had lost a friend to those early raids, so they all kept a wary eye. 

The tell-tale windy-whistle of a crude goblin arrow brought the yells of squadron leaders, and instantly, 350 shields went into the air as though one large defensive structure. The single arrow landed with an echoing thud in the silence. One of the horses whinnied, and the goblins' cries began to fill the air.

Slowly the shields came down and the song of blades began with the unsheathing of hundreds of participants. All save for one. 

Petra held his bladeless handle in front of him, aghast. 

"I hate this place." 

Darwin's laugh echoed throughout the battlefield as the clang of battle-ready metal began its cacophony. 

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