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Posted by Rudrah on October 30, 2008, 7:34:22
Lydia's shouted commands mingled with those of her fellow officers and their well drilled troops formed a line of three ranks, the first kneeling. All in all, the invading force was heavily outnumbered; perhaps six or seven to one by the opposing native warriors. Never-the-less, their muskets and steel blades gave them a significant advantage over their more numerous foe's wooden spears and shields.
A brief hiatus ensued while the larger native force psyched itself up to charge the patiently waiting invaders. Clan chiefs and champions haranged their warriors, drawing ever louder and more enthusiastic responses until the field fairly range with their war cries. Some of the bolder warriors seemed insulted or contemptuous of the unusually quiet invaders, who stood silent and unmoving across the clearing, and flung short throwing spears or shot arrows which fell short of their enemies brown uniformed ranks.
Finally the native's matriarch, a tall broad shouldered warrior, raised her spear and with a deafening shout the entire mass of island warriors charged their enemy. Feirce, ululating war cries rose from the warrior's as the pelted across the clearing, intent on overwhelming the smaller force.
From her position on the left flank of the line, Lydia tore her gaze away from the wall of shining brown flesh thundering toward her like an unstoppable human wave and fixed her attention on her commanding officer. The tall, muscular captain kept her heavy sword firmly raised above her head, her ebony skin gleaming darkly in the hot sun. Long, tense seconds passed as the invading soldiers waited for their commander's order to open fire and with each passing moment Lydia felt a sweetly aching fire grow and swell unbearably in her lower belly.
The mass of charging natives were a scant dozen yards away from the invader's first rank when their commander's sword slashed down. A score of junior officers shouted the order to fire in voices tinged with relief, though the cause of Lydia's relief was far different from her fellow officers.
The invader's first volley decimated the leading group of astonished native warriors, their bullet riddled bodies dropping like puppets whose strings had suddenly been cut. The second rank of uniformed women smoothly replaced the first and unleashed a torrent of lead that felled more natives, slowing their charge as warriors tripped and stumbled over the bodies of their fallen kinswomen.
Lydia's eyes shone wetly as a third devistating volley struck the native warriors, punching through their useless wicker shields and sending more fighters screaming and spinning to the ground. The invader's musket balls often passed straight through a warrior and struck the one behind her, knocking both fighter's down, shrieking in agony.
Stunned by the sudden death erupting from their enemies weapons, the native force's charge faltered. A few exceptionally brave warriors managed to leap over their fallen comrades and continue the charge, emerging out of the thick white cloud of smoke only to be spitted upon the long bayonettes topping the ends of the invader's muskets. Two more volleys tore into the howling native fighters before they finally reached their foes orderly ranks, turning the battle into a vicious hand to hand melee.
Lydia managed to fire her pistol one last time into the face of a charging warrior before dropping the useless weapon and drawing her sword. A snarling native fighter thrust a spear at her midsection and the young officer parried the blow and immediately lunged at full extention. Though the shorter fighter swiftly moved her shield to block her enemy's thrust, it's bright steel tore through the uncured hide and sped on, drawing an outraged wail of pain from native woman as her attacker's sword plunged into her unprotected midriff.
Lydia grimly held on to her sword as her wounded foe dropped to her knees, screaming and clawing at the blade protruding from her stomach. With a hard yank she pulled her blade pasted the native warrior's clutching hands and immediately thrust again, driving her sword deeply into her opponent's chest. The stricken warrior lurched back from the impact of the blow, her arms waving madly as she emitted a last choking scream and sprawled backwards on the ground.
Lydia watched the woman's dying spasms as if hypnotised, her eyes shining wetly with a dreadfull mixture of triumph and lust. Around her, soldiers and warriors fought and screamed and died; the cacaphony of battle punctuated by an occassions musket shot. When the young officer finally looked up, most of the surviving native fighters were trying to flee back through a battle ground thickly covered with their fallen clanswomen, leaving a handfull of warriors to fight to the death.
Somehow, the native's matriarch had survived the carnage and managed to battle her way to the spot where the invader's commanding officer stood. Crimson streaks ran down the huge warrior's face from a bayonette cut on her forehead and more blood hemmoraged from a bullet hole high on her broad chest, painting the round slopes of her heavy brown breasts a shocking red. Despite her wounds, the tall champion feinted a thrust with her blood slathered spear at the brown uniformed woman's head, then lunged foreward, slashing at the invading commander's chest.
The large warrior's spear tip ripped lenghwise down the front of the muscular soldier's shirt as she danced backwards, leaving a long shallow cut between her full, shining ebony breasts. Bringing her long sword on guard in a two handed grip, the uniformed woman stood her ground, her broad, handsome face set in a look of stubborn determination.
The matriarch stamped foreward and the captain's sword swept up, parrying a second, then a third thrust from her taller adversary. Growling a curse in her native language the muscular warrior lept at her foe, aiming a savage thrust at her head, but the uniformed woman still held her ground and dropped to one knee. As the large fighter's spear sped over her head, the experienced soldier's sword lashing out in a wide cross cut, leaving a deep slash across the native matriarch's belly.
A wild, despairing scream erupted from the huge warrior and her spear fell from her hands as she brought her arms down, pressing them against the gory wound on her stomach. The captain's back stroke flashed across her throat, turning her howl into a choking gurgle as more blood fanned from the her slashed throat. The stricken matriarch fell to her knees, one hand scrabbling weakly at the hilt of a knife sheathed at her waist, the other futily attempting to stem the flow of life blood from her wounded throat.
Lydia's captain rose and stepped back in surprise, her dark eyes widening as she watched her dying foe grasping at the blood slick handle of her knife while trying to stumble to her feet. Finally, the native warrior's knife fell from her nerveless fingers and with a last defiant glare, the tall matriarch collapsed, crashing to the ground at the feet of her enemies commander.
An eerie silence claimed the battle field, broken only by the cries of the wounded and dying. Heaps of native warrior's lay dead on the blood soaked ground, only a few brown uniformed soldiers among them. As Lydia surveyed the carnage, a small grin stole unnoticed across her thin lips.
She was home.
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