Sparks flew through the night as William's sword clashed with his adversary's. He dealt blow after blow with expert skill. The knight became winded under William's assault. He was no match for the Norman's powerful aggression. With one final blow the man fell and William charged forward.
He ran toward the next solder. The man was huge, with bulging muscles and a stomach to match. He carried a battle-axe and a long wooden shield. William could see the red springs of hair spilling out of his helmet. William struck first, slicing the man across his mid section. The cut was not deep enough to put him down though. He swung at William with the axe. The man missed his mark and hit the metal of William's shield.
William's army was advancing behind him. Some men were on horse back, others on foot. The sound of metal against metal was everywhere. Men yelled in agony, as they lay wounded and dying. Light for the torches in the camp highlighted the chaos.
William could smell the tents being burned as he fought his assailant. The man was wounded. Blood spilled from the deep gash across his chest. He attempted to best William and it was a mistake. The man lifted his arms to bring the heavy axe down on William's head, intending to split him in two, but William moved too quickly. He plunged the tip of his sword into the ogre's chest and the man fell to the ground with a resounding thud.
William scanned the battlefield. He spotted Rory taking down a man twice his size. The line was holding. His pride in his men was short lived as he searched for Areana. His heart was racing. Where were the knights he had assigned to protect her? He turned in circles trying to spot them, but was no sign of them.
William's eyes suddenly fell on one man. He recalled his name as Tomas. He was an excellent fighter and expert swordsman, who distressed him further when he realized the man, was dead. Tomas was slumped on the ground against one of the remaining tents. His throat was cut. Obviously one of Harold's men had gotten the best of him.
To William's dismay he spotted a second of those men. The arrow protruding from his lifeless chest told him all he needed to know. Something was terribly wrong. Enraged he began to whirl around searching the crowd for any sign of Areana. There was no sign of her. He charged forward. His sword sliced though the air as men ran toward him. He was able to fend them off easily.
He ran straight for one of Harold's men. The man was on his horse. He reached the horse in the other direction to avoid the blow of William's sword, but he could not. The horse pranced nervously as the man was dragged from the horse. William didn't brother to kill the man. He leapt on the horse and headed straight through the camp.
Harold must have taken her. He searched for any sign that would indicate what direction they were headed. He spotted several horse tracks leading out into the forest. He had no time. He knew that if he wasted any more time he might never catch up to them. William knew he had to hurry. He could only guess how far they have gone by now.
Rory wiped the blood from his long sword. He spat on the dead man and sword an oath under his breath. He glanced up and saw William galloping toward the forest of Rouen. Rory quickly looked around Areana. When he could not see her he called to one of his men. "Brice! Gather ten men and follow me, William needs us." He pointed in the direction William was headed. The man quickly assembled the men and they rode off to Rouen.
William's lungs burned with each intake of air. He knew his horse could not keep this pace for much longer. Its nostrils were starting to lather, and it was beginning to tire. He urged the beast on. He was not about to let them escape. He had to find her. Williams heard hoof beats on the ground behind him. Was this an ambush? He turned his head to see who followed and smiled as he saw his colors blazing despite the cloak of night. "Rory." He rode on they would catch up.
When William reached the tree line the path became narrow. Branches from the trees scraped against his shield leaving little scrapes in the painted dragon symbol. His eyes began to adjust to the night and the horse slowed its pace slightly. The beast managed the rocky terrain well.
Up ahead, deep in the weather bare trees he noticed a small light flicker. They were close he could feel it. As the light from the torches the men were carrying became more apparent he slowed his horse. He would give his men some time to catch up and they will surround them.
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