The Chosen - Rise of Cithria Part 1

by Kris Kramer

  ~~~~~

  The firbolg warrior stood inches from Aiden's face, laughing at his prey.

  The firbolg were impressive people. Taller than humans, usually by a hand’s width, and strong, like the havtrols from Bergmark, but with an agility that their size belied. Firbolg, being one of the old races, had always been Anduain in spirit, but they’d been apathetic about efforts in the last few centuries to break free from Calderan influence. That is, until a Calderan army slaughtered most of their people while returning from a failed attack on Andua at the beginning of the Uprising. Now, the remaining firbolg had not only joined the war, but they’d become some of Andua’s fiercest warriors, cutting down their enemies with savage glee. They killed Bergsbor and Calderan alike, but they saved a special hatred for anyone who wore the emblem of the wolf, because it had been a Sotheran army, led by the Earl himself, that had nearly destroyed their people. And unfortunately for Aiden, this particular firbolg had seen his cloak, and ever since breaking through the tower door, he’d made a point of trying very hard to kill the overwhelmed armsman.

  They pressed together in a clash of shields and armor, Andua’s soldiers trying to push up the narrow stairwell and the Calderans trying to push them back down. Aiden strained against the raw strength of the firbolg in front of him, their shields locked together, their faces both desperate and angry. This one seemed to be their leader, shouting to the others around him to push forward in their language, the old Anduain tongue adopted by the west. His armor, polished and expensive, had the scratches and dents earned by many battles.

  "Push!" Aiden shouted, and both lines of defenders took a coordinated step forward, albeit a small one, the second row shoving against the backs of those in front. The clanking of armor plates smashing into each other echoed through the stairwell, but the Anduains held strong, using their greater numbers to keep the Calderan defenders in place. Aiden saw the firbolg’s eyes dart up, then his head suddenly tilted to the side as a spear jabbed over Aiden's right shoulder, missing the firbolg by inches.

  Good try, Aiden thought. Malcolm had actually injured the first man who ran up the stairs to engage them, a human who'd barged into Aiden's shield only to take a spear into his arm. The Anduain fell back, replaced by the firbolg, but Aiden had been surprisingly impressed by Malcolm at that moment and was glad to have him at his back.

  The firbolg roared a command of his own, and the Anduain front line, supported by three more behind them, pushed up, and Aiden had no choice but to back up almost two steps. He was out of practice, his strength wasn't what it used to be, and now his muscles screamed at him from the exertion. But he couldn’t give up now. Not unless he wanted death. A spear jabbed in under his shield, missing his legs, and Aiden responded by awkwardly hacking his own sword over his shield at the Anduain on his right. The blow struck armor, but it didn’t have enough force behind it to pierce the metal. Aiden cursed, wishing he had an axe instead, a much more useful weapon in a shield wall than a long sword.

  "Push!" he yelled again. The Calderans surged, and again they gained only inches of ground. The firbolg yelled, and the Anduains pushed them back up another two steps. They were running out of room in the stairwell fast, and Aiden's only backup plan was to retreat to the roof, where they could hopefully cut off attackers as they came up the ladder. That would work for a while, at least until the Anduains rained siege weapons down on them, or just razed the entire tower, destroying it, and them with it. The curved stairwell made it difficult for the Anduain casters and archers to get a good shot at the defenders, so they could hold here for as long as they could push back, but if no reinforcements showed up soon, they wouldn't survive this ordeal.

  A crossbow bolt clanged off the helmet of an Anduain infantryman in the second row, and Aiden glanced back to see that the archers from above had moved in behind them. The second and third rows of Anduains raised their shields to provide cover for those in front, and a call went up in the back lines that no doubt warned those behind that archers had arrived. Suddenly, a barrage of magical bolts hit the walls to Aiden's left, as the dominators began counterattacking. The explosions were small and glancing, but the armsman closest to them, the one protecting Aiden's left side, fell back trying to take cover, a huge mistake. Another firbolg had pushed up to the front line, and he knocked the armsman off balance, sending him sprawling backward against the line behind him. Aiden twisted, partly to cover his now exposed left side, and partly to pin the other firbolg against the left wall before he could cut down the fallen defender. The firbolg leader opposite him sensed the disorganization and pressed in, holding his sword high as he readied to strike.

  Aiden had been in enough shield walls to know that this one was moments from collapse. If that happened, he would die, as would everyone else in the tower. The second firbolg had almost pushed past him, his sword low, ready to gut the fallen armsman like a pig. The only thing holding him back was the confined space and Aiden's jostling with his shield. But every twist to his left gave the leader a clearer shot at him, and he couldn't hold them both off at once, while also avoiding tripping over his own man. He had to make a choice. He could either pick a target and commit, hoping the rest of the defenders around him could compensate until the fallen Calderan was back on his feet, or he could try to defend against both firbolgs, and surely fall himself in the process. So he gambled, and faced up against the leader, knowing that the Goddess had not taken him this far just to see everything fall apart again. He just hoped that the men to his left could somehow protect themselves, and him.

  Fate was indeed on his side, as suddenly Malcolm threw himself forward into the gap, hefting his large shield in one hand and the spear in the other. The spear was useless at this point, but Malcolm either didn't know that, or just plain forgot to drop it and switch weapons. Either way, Aiden could breathe again knowing his left was covered. The boy blocked the firbolg's sword with his shield, seemingly by accident, and used his own considerable size to keep the snarling enemy at bay. He straddled the fallen armsman, who tried to crawl behind the palatine and get back on his feet. Somehow, Malcolm's strength and balance made the whole maneuver, as dangerous as it could have been, look easy.

  More good luck came as Aiden heard a strangely familiar voice shouting behind him to make room. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see a ragged-looking wizard moving through the cramped mass of soldiers at the back, with the posture and grace of someone accustomed to situations like this. Aiden's eyes grew wide as he recognized another old face from his past – the Warhound wizard named Landon, who smiled when he saw Aiden in front of him. Landon deftly moved between the armored men around him and stood just behind the armsman.

  "Duck," was all he said.

  "Get down!" Aiden yelled as he crouched, holding his shield up to cover his head. Blue and white light suddenly flashed out above him in waves, and Aiden felt the air in the stairwell grow instantly cold. Landon's magic was designed to emanate from his own body, pulsing outward as a powerful defense mechanism. The magic froze living skin, causing incredible pain, and even though it only hit those he deemed as enemies, Aiden never liked being too close, just in case Landon made a mistake. The Anduains closest to them screamed out in pain, patches of their skin hardening and turning blue. They fell back, front lines pushing on back lines, trying to escape the stairwell and the blasting cold. They retreated back down to the bottom level in a disorganized mess, giving the Calderans some breathing room, though that wouldn't last long.

  "Reform the lines!" Aiden stood up and watched the retreating Anduains cautiously. "Hurry!" The Anduains were already regrouping at the bottom of the stairs, fresh soldiers moving to the front while the injured ones moved back to let the Anduain healers tend to them. Except that firbolg. He stood at the base of the steps, watching Aiden, and Landon, menacingly.

  "I'm surprised to see you here," Landon said, behind him.

  "Been a lot of surprises the last few days. You need to step back, though. That entire army w
ill be looking for you first when they get regrouped."

  "Right." Landon slipped back behind the second line and waited amongst the archers in the back. Malcolm stood anxiously next to Aiden, still holding that spear. Aiden shook his head and took it from him.

  "Use your sword now." Malcolm nodded quickly and pulled his long sword from its scabbard. Aiden reached over and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, trying to calm his nervous energy. "You're doing well," he said, and Malcolm nodded again.

  The firbolg roared his commands from below, still staring at Aiden like he'd just seen his next meal. The Anduains rallied around him, ready for another push, and Aiden hoped his men had enough strength left to keep holding them back. If they stayed here in the stairwell, at some point they would get overrun and cut to pieces, so Aiden had to judge the strength of everyone around him, to make sure they could fall back before that happened. He looked at his fellow defenders in the stairwell, and he saw Calderans who were weary, bruised and scared. Their breath came fast and heavy, and sweat poured from their faces, but Aiden could tell they had enough in them for more. He could judge a fighter, a true warrior. That had always been a gift of his, and he knew these men weren't ready to give up yet. Even Alder, who stood behind him and to his right, looked eager for a fight, his eyes wild and a small hint of satisfaction on his face.

  Suddenly, a horn sounded outside the tower and the Anduains stopped in confusion, peering behind them. It took only seconds for them to notice something amiss, and they quickly retreated from the stairwell and ran back out the tower door. Aiden heard shouting, blades clashing together, and the whine of powerful magic outside. He cautiously stepped down to the base of the stairwell to find an empty bottom floor. The doors were cracked open, damaged beyond any kind of quick repair, so there was no point barricading or even closing them. The sounds of combat were louder now, so Aiden moved to the open door, holding his hand up to keep everyone else back, and peered out from inside the tower.

  He saw chaos outside. The forces of Bergmark were here now, streaming out of the forest behind the Anduain lines, and also veering east, toward the bridge. They must have been in the area and caught wind of the Anduain attack, deciding to take advantage by attacking the smaller Anduain tower force first. The horn had been an Anduain trying to warn his allies that a new enemy was on the field, because now more Anduains charged across the bridge far in the distance to meet the incoming Bergsbor forces. In the field just outside the tower firbolgs, elves, nuathreens and humans fought havtrols, dwarves, and their human slaves all for the right to eventually wipe out the small force of Calderan soldiers defending this tower.

  "Bergsbor are attacking!" Aiden heard Finias' voice and turned to see him coming down the stairs with Kat over his shoulder. They were both bleeding from head wounds, though Kat was unconscious.

  "What happened?" Malcolm rushed over and they laid her down on the steps, Riordan leaned over to take a look at her wound.

  "The roof exploded," Finias said.

  Riordan ran his hands through Kat's blood-matted hair, examining her head. "It's fixable," he said finally, "but not here." He turned to look at Aiden, who quickly understood.

  "What does that mean?" Malcolm, who had held up well in the shield wall, was now losing his temper. "What do you mean not here?"

  "Carry her," Aiden told Malcolm. "We'll heal her somewhere else. We're leaving this tower."

  "What? Why?" Alder stepped forward. "We held them off. We can do it again until reinforcements come."

  "No, we can't. No matter who wins that fight outside, they'll still outnumber us ten to one. Probably more." Aiden glanced back outside, gauging distances to the tree line to their south. "If we don't leave now, we're dead."

  Silence throughout the room affirmed Aiden's assessment.

  Alder stepped up next to Aiden, looking outside carefully. "Then how do we escape with two armies fighting right outside?"

  "We pray," Aiden said calmly. "Then we run."

  A chorus of silent, curt nods followed, and Aiden knew there was no time left to waste. Malcolm lifted his sister into his arms while Finias held out his bow, an arrow already nocked. Riordan and Landon, longtime veterans of these wars, stood together and shared a knowing look. Decnar Alder rallied his men behind him, spearmen, armsmen and archers, some injured, some exhausted, but none ready to give up. And Aiden stood in front of them all, ready to lead them out to safety.

  He thought back to three days ago, to a time just before finding that Warshield on the road outside Alvarton, before meeting Finias and then finding Riordan outside his door. He'd been convinced then that this life was over, that his time in battle had come and gone. Yet here he stood, in a broken tower, with a small group of defenders looking to him for leadership, looking to him to keep them alive, despite the scar on his face. He didn't understand how he'd gotten here, but he was glad for it, even with the specter of death looming over them. This is what he was, what he’d been born to do. He had his second chance now, and he wasn't going to let anyone who counted on him down. Not now, not ever.

  "We'll swing around the left side of the tower and go south, into the trees. If we get split up, we rally on the far side of the woods, at the other end of the plateau." He paused. "Hopefully all of us."

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Aiden held up his battered shield, sheathed his sword, and grabbed his lucky goblin spear. One day, he'd have to replace it with something a little sturdier and sharper, but not today. Today, he wanted something in his hands he trusted, that he felt comfortable with. He patted his thigh, rapping the armor loudly, and Bastion emerged from behind the legs of the nearby soldiers, tail wagging, completely unaware of what he was about to get himself into.

  "Let's go," he said to the dog, and charged out the door into the fray.

  The Captain