Burning Eastern Europe VIII

Janik's ribs were broken, and he had been stabbed in the thigh. His whole body lay limp like a ball of cotton.

He struggled to raise his head and met the gaze of a Cossack Cavalryman more than twenty paces away. The man was clearly unable to move either, merely cursing without pause in Russian.

Janik spat at him, then suddenly noticed that an Artilleryman half reclining against a dead horse off to the side seemed to move.

He hurriedly called out, "Sergeant, how are you?"

The Artilleryman slowly turned his head. Only after a long while did he painfully manage to say, "For now... I probably won't die."

Only then did Janik see that half his face had been completely mangled, a strip of flesh hanging from his nose swaying back and forth with every breath.

"We... seem to have held them off," he said.

The Artilleryman replied in a leaking voice, "Yes, the cannon is still here..."

Suddenly, his body jolted. He desperately raised a hand and pointed below the earthen slope, as frantic as if he had seen the gates of hell. "There! There!"

Janik followed his arm with his eyes, and his heart clenched. The two Russian Cavalrymen who had fallen from their horses earlier were actually still alive—and at that moment, they were climbing back into their saddles.

"Gun, the Gun!"

Janik frantically looked around and immediately spotted a Flintlock Gun lying not far away.

He was just about to crawl over and pick it up when the Artilleryman said, "It's useless. At most, you can kill one..."

Janik froze. In his current condition, it was more likely he would miss both of them.

"What do we do? What do we do?!"

His heart spasmed again.

They had fought desperately and killed every Russian Cavalryman.