It was a cowardly way to fight a battle, thought Grimm, as he ran back and forth across the wall. Arrows were firing thick and fast from the dark field now, and his own troops of archers were answering back. They often found their targets in tracking where shots came from, but these cowards were literally firing once and then running to a different position. His own men were camped in the same parapet every time, though. A female archer with a shaved head lifted up to fire again, but Grimm saw the captain, Stellos grab the front of her tunic and pull her down just as an arrow flew past where her head would have been. ‘Different positions every time!’ She yelled.
Grimm shouted to the wall. ‘Archers, don’t raise your bloody heads: we’ll do this with swords!’
With the next cry of ‘hooks’ that went up, he ran crouching with the wall as cover to the point, just a single hook, one alone. Putting his feet against the wall and laying back facing the hook, he waited. First one hand, then the next and then a boy’s face came over the wall. Grimm thrust his axe up hard into his face and the boy fell back screaming, for a moment, and then there was silence. They all saw it done and it changed the pitch of the night’s fight. The next time the whisper of ‘hooks’ went up, the guards crouched ready and waiting. Only once, when five tried to come at once, did a single man make it over, but Grimm tossed the man bodily off the wall to land hard below. As he looked over, he saw it. All across the field, a hundred archers all running into position, all with flaming arrows in their hands. Shit.
‘Archers, all constant fire!’ He shouted. They all notched bows and started firing. In moments, the flaming arrows were flying overhead or into his men. They were taking the ones in the field down, but falling themselves as well. Stellos stood and an arrow passed so closely that it burned her face, and she dropped with a cry. Grimm took her bow from her and, standing still, started to fire again and again. One, two, three. His archers were full of panic at their captain falling, but once they saw him standing dead still and daring counterattack they did the same. Again and again, they drew and fired until the field was littered with bodies of archers and their fallen flames.
More than a dozen had passed overhead and he heard the cries and saw the Black Rock guards running to douse the flames. They could do that. He’d lost more men than he’d wanted to, but at least they had stopped tonight’s onslaught. Fire arrows and hooks; this woman was a fucking coward. Grimm stood up on the parapet in clear sight. Seth might be gone, but if they were to win, these soldiers would still need hope that they could win. In place of Seth, he would lead as best he could.
He shouted clearly into the dark. ‘Better luck tomorrow, bitch!’ The men cheered as he jumped down just in time, as three arrows filled the air in place of where he’d been standing. He knelt by the captain Stellos, who was being tended by one of her archers. Her face was not badly burned and the redness and blistering looked like it would fade. She was such a stern woman, with a deep cut to the lip healed more than once, and a knocked ear from the sign of a slave. She looked at Grimm and laughed. ‘They ruined my fucking good looks!’ She said it with a dark laugh.
‘Ha-ha, never fear, it’ll heal and you’ll be back to scaring the boys,’ he said back. She was still attractive in his eyes. Northerners thought strength was attractive in women just as much as good cheek bones or whatever shit the Pellosi liked.
‘I have a favour to ask you.’ He said now.
‘What’s that?’ She asked, holding a wet cloth to her scalded face.
‘I need you to order some of your troops over that wall and haul up the bodies with rope.’
‘Why the fuck would we collect their dead?’
‘So they can’t,’ he said in a dark tone.
Dierdra, the noble Duchess of Twin Plains, screamed in frustration and grabbed the end of her writing desk, then threw it against the floor. ‘What do you mean, you can’t collect the dead?’ She cried.
The captain was a Dark Guard of many years, but had never seen her this angry before. She was a different woman since she’d come back, and her grip on herself was much less than it had used to be. She’d always had a temper and cold ambition, but she was quickly slipping into insanity without her husband at her side. The terrified man spoke back. ‘They are gone. The Northman’s people came over the wall and dragged most of them up with ropes.’
‘That must have taken them hours! Didn’t you try to stop them?’
‘They had archery cover, and if we tried they would have just killed more men. What’s it matter, my lady? They were mostly levies anyway. It’s disturbing to the men, though, is my main concern.’
‘Why is it disturbing?’ The Duchess asked, grabbing his shirt front suddenly.
The captain stuttered with nerves. ‘Well, it scares the men. What are they going to do with them?’
The Duchess wasn’t worried about what they were going to do with them as much as what she couldn’t do now. Elizebetha was a coward with a weak stomach, and she’d never use the dead as fodder for a creature, thus turning her remaining soldiers into an even stronger force, but that’s just what she was planning on doing.
‘How many of them did they get?’
‘We lost one hundred and sixty men last night, and they took up most of the bodies.’
This was another shock, how the night had fared so badly. That’s what happened when she was too busy planning her moves against the King and not worried about the smaller pieces of the puzzle.
‘And what do we estimate on their losses?’ She asked.
‘At least thirty.’He said.
‘At least thirty? So, at this rate they will actually win the battle: they might be dead to a man, but so will we! Now, what’s this shit about the Northman’s forces? The Northman is gone; Seth has left the battle.’
‘It seems they have more than one. This one’s some older man and he’s bloody good with a bow.’
‘How good?’
‘As good as me.’ The Dark Guard said quietly.
Fantastic. Now they had one hundred and sixty bodies of which to share amongst their troop, and soon she’d be facing a force not of three hundred men, but of three hundred Dark Guards. Hopefully, Elizebetha’s weak stomach would save her from that fate. She’d planned to conduct this battle at night. Every night for the next few nights and slowly break them apart. Fire arrows and hooks had won most of her husband’s battles so far, but she was running out of patience.
‘Get the fuck out,’ she said, shoving the man hard in the chest.
Going to her upturned desk, she found her metal flask and, putting the metal flask to her lips, drained it all in two ragged draughts like a drunkard. As she did, she felt the frantic edge to her fade and slowly she began to calm down. She thought to herself about the situation. It was a bad night, but in a way they had done her a favour. The men left in her troop would be even more filled with rage now, thinking of what these heathen bastards were doing to the bodies of their fallen comrades.
She missed her husband and having him by her side, but she was realising more and more that she was losing control of her emotions, and getting more and more filled with anger. She needed to start consuming more blood because she was slipping more and more away from the woman she was capable of being, and becoming just an angry little girl.
‘Guards!’ She called out in a calm voice. Her two loyal men came in and she realised she should actually learn their names: they were good men.
‘Yes Duchess,’ one said as they bowed.
‘Fetch back Captain Reynolds and a bucket, would you?’ She said sweetly.
Chapter 10
It seemed like they had been walking for an age when his sharp eyes started to make out shapes through the snow. She saw the creatures a long time before him, and started to warn him of what to expect.
‘My people are not like me. I’m the only one who has stayed true to the old ways,’ she said. ‘We are from the same land as you, and when we came, we didn’t eat anything at all. The moonlight was enoug
h to sustain us, and here the moonlight shines all the time, so we are much stronger than before. But soon we grew bored. We were here for years and years, never dying, and there were so few of us that we grew weary with nothing to do, and that’s when someone realised. They devoured one of your dead; I have no idea why such a horrible thought came to them, but it did, and then it happened. They were flooded with the memories of that one, all that they had done and witnessed. They saw these things and got to relive them in their minds, feel the pleasure they had enjoyed. Soon the hunting of your kind became something that everyone did, but our bodies aren’t meant to consume meat. It’s a sin, and wrong. Now I’m the only one who looks the way we did, and they shun me. They hate to be reminded of what we once were, and they insult me.’
Soon he saw what she meant. The lumbering creatures slowly came into view and he was truly disgusted. While she looked like a perfectly formed goddess, they appeared as deformed monsters. They had the same pale skin and silver hair, and they still wore little clothing. But their bodies were disgusting. One, a female he assumed, was huge, the fat from her body hanging in rolls around her stomach, and she was massive compared to Silver: she must have weighed at least three times as much, if not more. There were five of them coming towards them. They still moved quickly and with some grace, despite their size, but the sight of them horrified him. As they got closer, he could see their skin was far from pure like hers, and was mottled and rotten, with large red cuts and marks crossing their bodies.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ He whispered as they approached.
‘The flesh, we’re not meant to eat it, our bodies hate it, the cuts are from where they have healed... but unlike me, they can only heal partially, as the dead flesh ruins them.’
The five oversized and disgusting Moon’s Children were there with them in moments; they held short black swords on scabbards and were at least covered enough with ratty clothing that Seth didn’t feel the need to be sick, they even smelled bad, like rotting meat, and looking at their eyes, they were cloudy and wandering. The lead one, a male, spoke.
‘Ha-ha, Silver, what are you doing? You’re not welcome amongst us, and with an actual live man.... You must give him to us,’ he said. His words were spoken in a slurring old Northern dialect, and took an age to say, the creature struggling with each word, like a drunk man at a tavern telling a story.
‘Halcon, nice to see you,’ she said with a curtsey. ‘I have a gift for my mother in this one. I wish to come back to the clan and this is to buy my way back in.’
Seth didn’t know how to react, though he knew he had to follow her and so he would, but he’d had no idea about this: he’d thought they were going to fight her mother, not offer him up on a platter to her.
The fat male laughed. ‘You’re not taking him, I’ll take him, and I will be revered and stories will be told of me, not you, you skinny dog. A live one hasn’t been seen before, and I will take the first to her.’
Silver just turned to Seth and smiled, her silver tongue flashing. At that moment, Seth realised the others didn’t have this: he didn’t see the silver flash from them. Maybe they had lost it or maybe it was her own gift.
‘Give him to us or we’ll kill you here and now.’ He said to her.
She just shook her head sadly. ‘Truly I am the only one who follows the old ways. It’s a sin to kill our own, you heathen,’ she spat.
‘That was long ago and you’re no longer protected, so yield him or die. I know you won’t fight back. You’re too fond of mother moon and what she thinks. She’s dead and cold in this place, though. Why do you think she never moves? She’s dead and so is our allegiance to her.
‘Yours maybe, but not mine, and now I have what I’ve need all along,’ she said.
‘And what’s that?’ He asked.
‘A champion,’ she said, then turning to Seth. ‘Champion, kill these disgusting wrenches.’
Without a word, Seth reached up behind him and, taking the pommel of his sword in both hands, he drew it clean from its hard leather scabbard and delivered a lightning fast leftward cut into the creature that called itself Halcon. It was a huge beast of a man, bigger than Flint or Stone, but covered in fat and bulk. His sword blade flashed through the air and cut deep into its pale throat. The creature fell back with a cry as silver blood poured from its throat, and it tried in vain to clutch the wound, but the silver blood soon soaked the snow. Then the rest were upon him.
They moved fast for their size, but not as fast as her, and yet still there were four of them. Stupidly, they seemed to be waiting in turns to fight him. He wondered how often they had faced a man who could actually fight back with a weapon, and not some crazed dead beast. His sword met the black blade of the female one, and he lashed forward with his forehead, smashing her in the face. She fell back with a cry and he finished her with a quick thrust and draw to the heart. The other two came at once, and he traded blows with them back and forth. They hit his sword hard as he countered their blows, swapping from one to the next. He ducked low and delivered a vicious cut to one’s lower legs, sending it toppling down, and he sprung from the crouch with his sword pointed up as he ran the other through, his body pressed hard up against the stinking, disgusting creature. It fell back into the snow, a look of shock in its cloudy eyes.
Seth walked over to the one that lay in the snow, struggling to get up on its damaged leg. Without a thought, he dropped to his knees with an overhead cut and severed its head. Silver blood sprayed out into the snow and onto him. Seth stood panting and looked at the scene. Four were dead and the fifth was running away from them through the snow, blade dropped in the snow as it fled.
Seth looked to her. ‘What about that one?’
She was watching him with a slight smile on her face. ‘Kill them all, I said.’
Chapter 11
Josettes back ached from the long travel, sitting on the hard wooden seat of the old wagon as it bumped and bounced along the disused trail from Black Rock to Pellota. They had left that morning, and in a wagon like this, the trip would take a day at least. She knew that within a few hours the Dukes army would start his first night of attack, and she hoped her troops would fare well. She sat in the wagon staring back at Flint, who sat across from her, his big knees hitting hers every few moments. The chests of gold placed under his seat could be heard clinking softly inside the lid.
Her archer’s hood was drawn fully over her face and she was little more than a small hooded figure sitting there in silence. She could speak Northern, but didn’t talk to him, his brother, or the other Black Rock man. She was too busy thinking about the task at hand and trying to make herself ready for it. She trusted the man Goldie about as far as she could throw him, which was to say not at all. He had the smug look of a gambler who often won and had seemed much too happy to take the gold to find these mercenaries, and then much too disappointed when she, Flint, and Stone had gotten into the wagon. The big Northern brothers were dumb, but they looked loyal. They talked about Seth in almost hushed tones, as if he was something to be revered.
She understood because she felt so close to the same way. He was the one of the only men who had shown her any kindness in this life. He’d saved her that night when the guard had tried to cut her down. He’d tackled the man hard with no thought of his own injuries, and then with blood of his own dripping from him, his first words were to ask if she was alright. She remembered that moment so vividly, his eyes looking on her, concern so clear in them. Later, he’d called her ‘beautiful’ and kissed her. She knew it was as much for the morale of the troops as for her herself, but still it was the first kiss she’d wanted to give to a man since she was young, the first one she hadn’t been forced to give.
Now, she had a mission to either get these mercenaries, the Red Bastards, to come to the fight and actually fight, or to find an agent of the King and convince him to send word to the King. She almost had to laugh that it was her in this position, of all the people they could have picked. A
former pleasure slave, murderer and now mercenary. Josette didn’t feel like she was the best woman for the job, but she also knew why Duchess Elizebetha had picked her. She would never let Seth down as long as she drew breath. She knew he’d never be hers, but that didn’t mean she would stop how she felt. It was silly, but it felt good to love a man, even if it was one she’d only met a few times. She felt some of her hate towards all men starting to let go, just thinking of him.
She had begun to hear passing voices, horses, and other wagons, and she knew they must have joined the main trade road. They had held their breath upon leaving the Keep, hoping the Duke wouldn’t have men on this old trail, but he didn’t. Now they were so close to Pellota, and still she had no idea what they would do on arriving.
The wagon finally pulled to a stop and she knew they had reached the main gates. It was late, so the wagon was going to be inspected. She heard Goldie speaking and joking with the guards in Pellosi; at least he was good at something. A leather clad hand pulled aside the fabric of the wagon’s back flap and a helmeted head of a young guard peered in. He wore the red of the city watch and a bored looking face. His eyes passed over her completely and looked at the two huge Northern passengers. Goldie called something out and the young man laughed and shut the curtain.
Within moments they were rolling through the gate and into the city. She could smell it through the canvas of the wagon, and soon heard the hustle and bustle of people, wagons, and hawkers on the streets crying their wares. This was a trading city, and even though the sun had gone down a few hours ago, it was still lively. She knew this place well and liked it well enough. She’d had some of the best times of her life here. This was the place she’d been inducted into the Cold Death, where she’d learned to use a bow and take back her strength. Before she’d been so lost and worthless, but Dagosh had saved her from the noose and more, and now she was someone. Still, she stayed clear of the city itself, especially on nights like this. She was still a pretty girl, and walking alone in any of these darkened streets would require a dagger and the will to use it.
Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 2) Page 5
