Street Battle Scene [744 words]

I just wanted to know if this fight scene flowed well, I wrote it a long time ago and I’m considering rewriting it but I’d appreciate some second opinions!

By the time they were ready to fight, Sir Blake was already at the gates with their guardsmen. All together the men numbered no more than thirty, most wore leather padding and worn surcoats. The only men that stayed in the estate were the squires and servants.

Daniel could feel his heart pounding as they entered the street, the familiar pang of excitement that he felt before a fight burned in his core. His palm was sweating under his leather glove and his fingers were tight around his sword’s hilt. The men were silent as they shuffled towards the smoke that rose over the buildings. They were joined by a few of the city guards, cloaked in red and white. Daniel could feel his arm tiring under the weight of his shield, it had been long since he’d seen battle.

Once they rounded the corner a gruesome sight greeted them. Half a dozen men lay dead and bleeding on the brick road, blood stained the white marble of the nearby houses. The remaining guards fought desperately, forming a tight circle around the litter. The attackers seemed to be a mob, perhaps a gang from the Gorge. The rabble must have numbered around forty men, all armed with various, mismatched weaponry. The loud banging of hand cannons could be heard as the guards kept the assailants away. Smoke rose from the fight, joined by the smell of blood and sweat.

“For Kellburg, to battle!” shouted Sir Blake as they charged towards the rear of the attackers.

Daniel felt his feet run beneath him, almost out of his control, he raised his sword in the air and brought it down as they met the bandits. His blade bit flesh, and blood flecked his face. He turned and watched as Sir Blake cleaved a man in two from behind.

Their opponents now realized their precarious position, turning and fighting back against the northerners. Steel met steel, the tight quarters of the street allowed little movement and Daniel hid his body behind his shield. He could feel spears thud against the wood, each strike bruising his arm. A hand cannon fired beside his ear, causing a painful ringing that spun his head.

Ignoring the pain, he lowered his shield and continued his onslaught, stabbing his sword into the packed ranks of the brigands. He could feel it slide into flesh, piercing cloth and leather. Blood from the struggle coated his hands and arms, dripping upon the cobblestone beneath.

Ryan fought beside him, Daniel watched as his brother struggled to remove his sword from a man’s throat. Ryan smiled from under his half helm, and nodded to Daniel as they pressed on. Their skills were nothing compared to the sheer strength of Sir Blake, who swung his greatsword with a ferocious grace. Heaving and puffing, the beast of a man cut his way through the crowd, blood spattered across his armor and blade. His face was hidden behind a closed visor, scratched and dented from many past blows.

Gradually, the Orangehands and their men pushed their enemies back, routing the bandits in a matter of minutes. Daniel was bent over, panting for breath as he tore off his own helmet. He sheathed his sword, taking in his surroundings.

At least twenty men were dead, only four of their own. Blood had pooled in various areas of the street, the bricks had been stained a deep crimson. Carlotta was safe but shaken, hardly able to speak as she was carried off to the castle by what remained of her personal guard. Daniel was unharmed, save for his sore arm.

“Can’t say I was expecting this when we set off from home. It’s not even been a full day and I’ve already bloodied my own sword,” Ryan joked, receiving a few laughs from their retainers.

Sir Blake joined the laughter, “Well, these bastards won’t be coming back for a while.” His tone changed as he addressed the dead, “We’ll bury our own lads, leave the rest for the city watch to burn. I pity them, no northerner should die in this city.”

The men nodded silently, before being interrupted by Ryan, who inspected the dead attackers. His voice was frantic and shaky, “Daniel, this isn’t good.”

Daniel slowly walked towards his brother and the body that he was hunched over. His eyes widened as he saw what caused his brother’s shock. The bandit’s corpse wore torn rags, bearing the faded sigil of House Orangehand.