Faolan sat there for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at the now-barred gate with four dead Nathra lying just inside the doors. Every arrow had made its mark on one of the bodies. The archers who had lined the path were already making their way back up to the battlements.
A soldier ran over to Faolan to check his wounds.
“They are deep, but you will survive them,” the soldier said. The soldier helped Faolan stand up and handed him his swords.
“Faolan!” A female voice came from the battlements.
He glanced up and saw his mother running toward him and met her at the bottom of the stairs. Auvelia looked toward Kellen, who still sat on the path with his great sword next to him as a soldier bandaged his shoulder. She then looked Faolan over and noticed his bloodied cloak.
She stared straight into his eyes. “Where?”
“My back.” He rehooked his blades.
She turned him around and inspected the wounds.
“I am fine,” he said, not wanting to worry her. “It does not hurt much.”
She turned him back around. “Do not go playing hero. You are hurt.”
“There is no time. The city is under attack,” he said. “I can see a healer afterward.”
Auvelia did not like it. A wound was a wound. She wanted Faolan to find a healer right away but decided not to push the issue.
“Fine. Then make your way to the west gate and aid the general. I must remain here,” she said. “Be careful!”
He nodded, leaped up the stairs, and sprinted down the battlements toward the west gate.
◆◆◆
Gavina watched as the Nathra charged Darnum, the two scouts fighting their way toward safety as they moved south. A portion of the Nathra force peeled off after the scouts and left the main group as it continued its charge toward the west gate.
“They must number close to ten thousand,” Gavina said to herself.
The Nathra were at their doorstep.
“Archers! Fire!” she shouted.
The archers fired their bows in unison in the initial volley, and then the bows produced an uneven rhythm, the archers shooting as fast as they could.
“Brace the gate!” Gavina shouted down toward the road below. The lieutenant made a gesture to his men, and the first three rows moved up to the gate.
Gavina leaned over the wall as the Nathra approached. They were two hundred yards away . . . one hundred and fifty yards . . . one hundred yards . . . fifty yards. She wished she could glance away, as she did not want to witness or hear what was coming, but she had to remain strong in front of her soldiers.
The soldiers braced the doors. The western gate heaved inward, and the defenders slid backward from the force of the initial charge. Sounds of Nathra bones breaking and shattering came from below; their cries of pain echoed.
Gavina lifted her eyes right before impact, but the sounds emanating from below produced vivid images in her mind as the great doors pushed inward. The large wooden crossbeams splintered, and then the gate relaxed, and the cries died down. There was a complete halt, and an eerie silence fell as the doors returned to their original placement.
Gavina glanced down at the mound of Nathra bodies lying lifeless before the gate. The Nathra stepped backward and readied for their second charge.
“Brace!” she shouted.
The Nathra lines charged again. The gate heaved inward, and the crossbeams splintered even more. Again, the sounds of cracking bones resonated, cries echoed, and more bodies piled up. The doors themselves began to buckle under the massive force. There was another pause, and the cries quieted. The gate relaxed.
Gavina felt a shiver run down her spine. She recovered after a moment and glanced over the wall. The Nathra were preparing for a third charge. She turned and walked down the battlement stairs.
“Lieutenant! Get your men back in formation immediately,” she said.
They quickly did as she ordered. She moved to take position before the melee ranks. She drew her broadsword and took a defensive stance.
“Archers! Hold your fire and retreat to the town center!” Gavina shouted. The orders echoed down the battlements.
“Draw your swords!” she yelled.
The sound of two hundred broadswords unsheathing reverberated off the walls. The doors heaved and splintered for a third time. Small sections of the gate exploded, leaving small holes. The gate stopped and relaxed once more. The elven soldiers peered through the holes in the gate and saw flashes of orange-and-black fur. Claws protruded through one of the larger holes and scratched at the wooden beams. The doors heaved inward once more, and the claws disappeared from sight.
◆◆◆
Faolan heard the sounds of wood splintering. He unhooked his swords as a call echoed down the archer line.
“Retreat to the town square! West gate has fallen!” There was a pause. “Archers retreat!”
The archers evacuated the battlements and withdrew toward the town center. Faolan ran down the battlements and dodged the fleeing archers. The air grew silent.
A loud wooden snap sounded as the west gate came into view. Faolan saw the doors break open as he rounded the last part of the wall and reached the top of the west gate. His pace quickened as he took a sharp right turn and leaped off the battlements, his flight vertically parallel to the first waves of the Nathra flooding through the battered doors. He looked down and saw he was descending directly over the lead Nathra. He positioned his swords before himself and pointed them downward.
His descending arc ended as he slammed, knees first, onto the lead Nathra’s back. His swords slid into the top of the creature’s skull. The beast’s limbs went limp, and its legs collapsed as it crashed face first into the dirt road. The Nathra slid to a stop. Faolan rose up and spun a sword out to either side as other creatures tried to pass. Both swords connected with an orange blur. Two Nathra slid farther down the road to a lifeless stop. Faolan pivoted on one foot and spun around to face the gate. His blades followed his turn, taking rounded paths through the air. Two more beasts took fatal blows and stumbled to their deaths. Faolan held his defense where he stood. He continued his swirling movements and dropped two more Nathra as they passed.
The Nathra charge halted. All eyes rested on their newest adversary. Faolan stood tall. He maneuvered his blades straight out to either side and blocked off as much of the path as possible. Several Nathra began chirping at each other. The creatures spread out before Faolan. He counted six cresting his front: too many.
An object whistled past and struck the Nathra farthest to his right. The beast collapsed, and Faolan saw the arrow protruding from its body. Faolan did not chance a look back.
“Down to five,” he said under his breath. Then one Nathra chirped, and three more creatures joined the crescent formation.
“I suppose I could have been more discreet with my entrance,” Faolan quipped to himself.
“Charge!” Gavina shouted. A roar rose from the elven soldiers behind Faolan.
Then, without warning, the Nathra crescent also charged Faolan. The scout extended his swords forward and swung them outward. He killed two and wounded two others. Four beasts made it past his only chance at defense, each landing a blow. Their claws sliced and pierced: through his left side, across his right leg and his chest, and down his right arm. A bloodcurdling scream escaped Faolan’s lips, and the Nathra scattered. Faolan fell onto his right knee. His right sword bounced on the ground and skittered out of reach. His clothes were shredded and bloodied. He felt dazed as the Nathra charged him again. He tried to lift his left sword in defense, but it fell as a sharp pain shot through his left side. He watched as the beasts leaped at him.
Solid footsteps sounded from behind Faolan and turned into soldiers as they ran past him. Sunlight reflected off numerous broadswords as they hummed through the air. The Nathra that had wounded Faolan were the first to fall. The remaining beasts charged the reinvigorated elven defense. The elven soldiers created a defensive for
mation around Faolan. A strong hand gripped Faolan’s arm and helped him to his feet. Intense pain coursed throughout his body from the movement. His eyes rose to meet the general’s beautiful face.
“Thank you, General,” he said.
“You are brave, but stupid. That entrance did more harm than good,” Gavina said, but she softened it with a smile.
“Perhaps. But it was fun,” Faolan said. “Did you see that jump?”
“Of course I saw that jump. And during it, I was thinking to myself, ‘What is that foolish boy doing?’” she said. “My men were stunned at your stupidity.”
“Not envious?” He joked through the pain.
She sighed and shook her head. “Can your right leg bear weight?”
“I think so,” he said.
Gavina released his arm, and Faolan managed to stand on his own. Once she was satisfied with the strength in his leg, she picked up the sword he had dropped. She glanced over the unconventional blade and handed it to Faolan. As soon as he grabbed it, his arm collapsed, and the blade’s edge scraped across the ground. His face tensed in pain, although he managed to keep his grip on the hilt.
“Fight through the pain. The battle is not over.” Gavina’s previous smile faded. She turned away and fired an arrow.
Faolan glanced at the standard formation the soldiers created around him, three lines deep by ten columns wide, a simple line formation. The Nathra had been charging into the soldiers’ blades, and not one had made it past the front line.
One Nathra began chirping. The rest stopped and listened. The beasts formed two condensed lines, one behind the other.
“What is happening?” Faolan said.
Gavina’s silence gave no answer.
A soldier approached from behind and whispered in Gavina’s ear. Despite the runner’s caution, Faolan could hear his message.
“The townspeople are evacuating through the east gate. South gate has fallen. Nathra have flooded into the town center and will flank us soon,” the messenger said.
“Where are the rest of my men?” Gavina asked.
“Two hundred melees are surrounded at the bell tower. We were on our way to reinforce you here, but we were cut off once the south gate fell. I put it on myself to warn you. Archers are scattered throughout the town. The rest wait at the east gate for our arrival.” The messenger then stressed, “General, Nathra pour through the south gate. We must retreat.”
Faolan watched as Gavina assessed the situation. She looked at the Nathra. Suddenly, she seemed to have an epiphany.
“Front line, get down on one knee! Guard high! Third line, turn around and guard the flanks!” Gavina shouted as loud as her lungs could bear.
The soldiers reacted.
The second Nathra row leaped on the backs of the first row. The beasts on the bottom jumped, and then at the last possible moment, the Nathra on top leaped again. The second beast row jumped off their kin and passed over the elven formation, landing behind the soldiers’ lines. The first Nathra line reinitiated their charge from the front, and the second Nathra line charged from behind. The beasts created an assault with two fronts.
Two more beast lines flew over the elves.
“Hold the formation! Two-step retreat!” Gavina shouted.
The soldiers held formation as the general ordered and prepared to move.
“Faolan, can you fight?” she asked.
“Yes,” Faolan lied.
She nodded to him.
“Initiate retreat!” she shouted.
The soldiers synchronized their steps. They took two steps toward the town center, and then they yelled out a battle cry and sliced through their attackers. The soldiers took two more steps in unison, and then stopped again and yelled, cutting into the enemies within reach. The rhythm continued. The general remained in the middle of the formation and continually reassessed the situation. Faolan moved into the rear line, which faced the town center. He took up an aggressive stance and fell into sync with the formation as it retreated. A Nathra leaped, and Faolan struck it down as pain spread through his body. His blades quickly dropped to his sides, but he struggled on.
The retreat continued. Two steps. Hold. Two steps. Hold.
◆◆◆
The lush forest east of Darnum swayed with the rhythmic swells of the wind. The leaves rustled over distant battle cries. The innocent citizens of Darnum made their way toward the tree line. Some ran. Some walked. Children cried in their mothers’ arms. Men ushered their families forward.
As the townsfolk neared the forest edge, everyone slowed to a stop, and awe rose on their frightened faces. An ominous dark-cloaked figure emerged from the forest and stopped before the refugees, standing nearly seven feet tall. Relief and reassurance rushed over the evacuees as they noticed a long, blue-furred muzzle protruding out from the dark hood and the two heavily muscled legs, bent at the knee, which extended out of the cloak. The thick, blue-furred thighs flowed into large calves.
“Caedmon Conn has come!” an elf exclaimed.
A horn sounded in the distance.
“Why do you flee Darnum?” Caedmon asked.
“The Nathra are attacking the town!” a man shouted.
“Why?”
“We do not know why, great guardian,” a female elf said fearfully.
A soldier who was aiding the evacuees came forward. “Many of our men are scattered throughout the town. Can you aid them?”
“Of course, but where is the commanding general?” the wolf asked.
“The last report placed her at the west gate,” the soldier said.
Caedmon lifted the cloak off his shoulders and let it hang against his back. He lowered his hood and revealed his wolflike features. The ancient guardian was a unique creature, one of a kind, a magical creation. His eyes alone suggested the magnitude of mysteries hidden within. Caedmon’s right eye had the characteristics and vision of an owl; its iris was a deep orange. The wolf’s left eye had the characteristics and the vision of a lion, its iris colored sandy yellow. His ears were pointed over canine jowls, and his upright, blue-furred body was all muscle, his arms strong and ending in deadly claws. His posture was unique as well; he stood on the balls of his feet, his heels hovering above the ground.
Caedmon rose to his full height as he unfolded his legs and rolled his heels down to the ground, and then he sprinted off toward Darnum. His lion eye moved in quick, short movements as it focused and refocused on the subtleties of the east gate. His owl eye did not move and remained fixed in its socket. He perceived its field of view, though in lower detail in the daylight.
The ancient wolf guardian ran through the open east gate, dodging the fleeing citizens and soldiers as he maneuvered toward the town center.
◆◆◆
Faolan swung a sword up in defense as a Nathra attacked. It jumped straight into his blade and died on impact. His arm buckled and collapsed under the force of the attack. He staggered to the side, and the world around him began to spin. He shook his head and tried to refocus his vision, but the dizziness only worsened. He stumbled and dropped to one knee.
“Faolan!” Gavina said.
She searched his clothing and realized the severity of his wounds. She could see he had lost a great deal of blood. His clothes were soaked. The formation stopped its retreat and defended Faolan where he fell.
Faolan felt the world growing distant, pulling away from him. His grip on his swords loosened. His right sword slipped from his hand. He touched the side of his head and attempted to stop the world from spinning. His eyes lowered to the dirt, and the ground rotated as they tried to focus.
A bloodcurdling scream sounded.
Faolan looked toward the source and located a screaming soldier. The soldier was rolling in pain as a Nathra tore into him. Gavina rushed to aid the dying elf.
Faolan shuddered at the screams.
Gavina shot an arrow into the Nathra’s chest, but it was too late. Life had faded from the soldier, and he was released from his pain.
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The world spun around Faolan. He helplessly watched as the soldier died. A flood of frustration rushed into him. He was angry with himself for being so weak. He glanced around at the crumbling elven formation.
“Come on. Focus,” he whispered.
Another scream sounded off to his left. Faolan arced back his left sword and threw it in the scream’s direction. The sword flew the distance and hit its target. The sword pierced between the frenzied Nathra’s ribs though it was too late; the Nathra collapsed on top of a second dead soldier. Faolan shuddered as the screams echoed within his mind. He shook his head, and the world went black. He doubled over his knee and fell on his side.
Gavina ran to Faolan and knelt over him. She put her hand to his neck and felt for a pulse, which was weak. Then she looked at her soldiers’ crumbling defense as another scream filled the air. The beasts no longer attempted to create a second front. The maneuver had ceased, successful.
“Formation break! Ring defense!” Gavina commanded.
The soldiers broke the line formation and reformed around her in a defensive circle.
She grabbed Faolan’s arms.
“On me! Move!” Gavina commanded.
The soldiers’ formation followed as ordered. They maintained their defensive ring around the general and transitioned into a crescent formation as they neared a building. Gavina propped Faolan up against the closest wall. She tried tending to his wounds but knew she could not help him. The wounds were deep and bleeding profusely. Her blood-coated hands trembled as she frantically tried to stop the bleeding.
An eerie howl pierced the air; it sent chills down spines and made hair stand on end. The battle quieted as all stood still. Another howl rose in the distance, closer than the first. Swords and claws nervously shifted toward the east. A blue-furred figure raced toward them. The elven soldiers cheered in unison and watched as the wolf guardian approached. The Nathra were not pleased to see the uninvited beast charging toward them.
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