by Aaron Hodges
“And what about the Magickers?”
“I have them stationed on the walls in case they are needed, but they are under strict instruction not to use their magic unless they absolutely must.”
Caelin nodded and suppressed a yawn. He had spent much of the night surveying the fortress’ defences for himself, and couldn’t help but agree with May’s plan.
Looking around the dining room, he spotted Eric and Inken moving towards them. He smiled, warmed by the sight of their reunion. Joy radiated from their faces as they joined them at the table. Gabriel and Enala appeared next, but Caelin was disappointed to see the haunted look still darkened Gabriel’s face. If anything, he seemed to have lost more colour.
Looking around the table, he took stock of their reunited company. He smiled, though a sadness stirred in his heart as he remembered those they’d lost. The gap left by Michael and Alastair was plain, but they would never be forgotten. Their sacrifice spurred them on, giving them the strength they needed to face the challenges still to come.
“It’s good to see you two again,” Caelin nodded at Enala and Eric. “You seem to have gotten yourselves into quite a bit of trouble since you left us.”
Eric grinned. “I heard you got yourself thrown in prison, Caelin, and had to be rescued.”
“It was all part of the plan,” Caelin laughed. “But what’s this I hear about you two being siblings now?”
“Believe me, it was just as much of a surprise to us,” Eric looked around the room. “I’m glad to see you too, all of you,” his eyes lingered on Gabriel.
Gabriel looked away and his face darkened. Caelin raised an eyebrow. He’d thought Gabriel might have finally forgiven Eric, though he understood the young man’s pain. To Eric’s credit, he let the slight pass.
Enala did not. She reached out and squeezed Gabriel’s wrist, then turned to the room. “He’s glad to see you too, Eric. But there is more here, something Gabriel has kept from the rest of you.”
Gabriel shuddered and Caelin glimpsed the gleam of tears in his eyes. “It won’t leave me alone,” he hissed. “It won’t stop.”
A shiver raised the hairs on the back of Caelin’s neck. “What won’t leave you alone?”
“The demon,” Gabriel hissed. “The thing that came to me in the forests of Oaksville all that time ago.”
“Demon?” May half-rose from her seat, her hand going to her sword.
Gabriel nodded. “That’s what I’ve always thought it to be. It… it came to me after my men were slaughtered by the Baronians outside Oaksville, when I’d come so close… to killing you, Eric.”
Eric swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with the memory, but Gabriel continued.
“I knew it was evil. It appeared as a shadow in the forest, cloaked in the spirits of the dead. Somehow, somehow, it convinced me to listen to it, to take its gift. It offered me resistance to magic, though I never tested it. Not until Ardath,” quietly he explained how the dark magic cast by the false king had slid from him like butter.
“But its gift came with a price. It stole my thoughts, my memories, my very soul, until I had nothing left but hatred. Only my encounter with Enala broke the spell, when it told me to kill her.”
“I thought I had rid myself of it then, but in the cell it returned. It has been with me ever since, whispering in my mind, driving me towards the darkness,” Gabriel hung his head as he finished.
Caelin stared, mouth open in shock. He’d thought it had been madness haunting Gabriel, but now he shuddered at the memory of the darkness in their cell. An evil presence had hovered over them, drawing away their strength. Could it have been Gabriel’s demon all along?
“What –?” the ring of trumpets cut May off before she could finish the question.
A shadow swept over the dining hall. Caelin’s heart sank as he glanced down at his half-finished plate. Then he stood, lifting his sword belt from his chair and strapping it around his waist.
His eyes found Gabriel’s. “We will speak of this after the battle, Gabriel. For now though, I think it’s best if you sit out this fight. Afterwards, we will find a way to help you,” he reached down and squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder. “I swear it.”
Gabriel nodded back, the despair in his eyes unmistakable. But there was no time to offer the young man further comfort now.
The evil at their gates would not wait.
Thirteen
Adrenaline swept through Inken as she picked up her bow and followed the others from the hall. This was why she’d first become a bounty hunter: the thrill of combat, the exhilaration as she tested her skill against another’s. Her strength had returned over the last few days and she was eager to prove she had lost nothing to the darkness of her imprisonment.
She had already decided she would not back down from the battle. Every sword and bow was needed now, and if Fort Fall was lost, the Three Nations would soon follow. There would be nowhere for her to run, no place left to keep a child safe. No, it was all or nothing, and if she had to give her life so others could raise their children in peace, so be it.
Their boots cracked against the brick path as they raced for the outer wall. The mess hall where they had been eating adjoined to the outermost barracks between the middle and outer wall, so it did not take long for them to reach the staircase leading up to the front line. Behind them others were rushing to their respective stations, ensuring the other two walls were manned in case the first fell.
But that would not be today, not if she had anything to say about it.
May led the way, striding up the stairs while keeping her pace in check. Inken smiled at the woman’s self-control. It would not do for the defenders to see their commander panicked, but May seemed to have little difficulty maintaining an outward calm.
At the top May moved off along the wall, her voice bellowing out as she gave orders for the archers to form up. Inken slid her bow off her shoulder and strung it, then stepped into the front line. She sensed the presence of her comrades as they moved in behind her, but she only had eyes for the enemy now. Looking down, she searched for her first target.
Below, a wave of men surged towards the wall, weapons raised in defiance. The snow had cleared during the night but the ground remained frozen white, slowly giving way to the incoming tide of black. The screams of the enemy and the banging of shields carried up to the defenders, breaking on the steel of their courage.
Inken smiled, proud to stand amidst the best of the Three Nations. But as the sunlight glinted off the weapons of the enemy, Inken felt a trickle of fear slide through her chest. Her hand drifted to her stomach and she found herself retreating a step before she caught herself. She bit her tongue, struggling to find the nerve to step back to the edge. Within, a voice was screaming for her to flee.
“There’s more of em today,” an old warrior stepped up beside her, his amber eyes looking down at the oncoming enemy. He held a massive war hammer casually in one hand.
“Seems that way,” Inken swallowed.
“Won’t matter much, so long as they stay down there,” the giant commented.
Inken found herself grinning, her fear falling away. Reaching up she drew an arrow from her quiver.
“That’s what you said yesterday, Alan,” Eric muttered from behind her. “And my arms are still hurting.”
Inken jumped as Alan’s laughter boomed out across the wall. “You’ll get used to it, sonny. I expect they’ll be throwing the anvil at us now, after yesterday. And whatever else they can get their hands on.”
Caelin nodded. “Ay, they’ll want a win after yesterday’s slaughter.”
“Well, sonny, they won’t have any luck while I still stand,” Alan grinned. “Kanker here and I have never lost a fight, and I don’t intend to start today,” he hefted the great hammer in both hands.
“Is that so?” Caelin grinned at the older man. “Well, just see if you can keep up with me then, old man.”
Inken chuckled as Alan replied with a toothy grin. She eyed the
older warrior with a professional eye, and guessed Caelin might find himself outmatched on this occasion. Despite the greying hair and lines on his face, Alan held the war hammer seemingly without effort and he moved with the natural grace of a fighter.
“Here they come,” Enala commented.
Turning back, Inken swore and nocked her bow.
From down the line she heard the call from May. “Archers: draw, loose!”
Sighting down the arrow shaft, Inken found a man at the forefront of the charge and fired. Along the wall the other archers did the same and a volley of arrows swept out to meet the incoming tide. The enemy ranks faltered as it struck, the front line disappearing beneath the deadly rain.
Screams carried up to the wall, but despite the devastation at the front, the men behind came on.
“Archers, nock, draw, loose!” May’s voice rang out again.
Inken drew a breath and released it, losing herself in the rhythm of the bow. With each volley she reached for her next arrow before the last had even found its target. They managed a dozen volleys before the first of the enemy reached the base of the wall.
“Fire at will! Fighters, at the ladders!”
Then the enemy were firing back and Inken hardly heard May’s words as she ducked beneath the crenulations. The hiss of an arrow’s passage raised the hairs on her neck and she swore, rolling sideways to come up in a new position. Leaping to her feet, she quickly sighted on an enemy archer, loosed, and ducked back out of view.
Glancing around, she saw the first of the enemy had reached the battlements and were leaping from their ladders to engage with the defenders. Their shaggy coats and black leather armour stood out in stark contrast to the red, blue and green of the defenders. So far, none had managed to gain a foothold on the walkway.
Yet there was no stopping the flood of men racing up the ladders.
A crash came from nearby and she looked up in time to see a man climb into view. Without thinking she drew back her bowstring and loosed her arrow. The bolt struck the man in the chest and flung him backwards. He toppled out of view.
Inken reached for another arrow and found her quiver empty. Cursing, she realised they had spilt from the quiver as she rolled. Tossing aside her bow, she drew her sabre. The next man to clamber onto the parapets was met with steel, his skull shattered by her first swing. As he fell, Inken took up position to the side of the ladder and waited for the next attacker.
A roar came from her left and she looked up in time to see Alan charge into a cluster of three black-garbed enemies. She turned to help him, but quickly realised there was no need. The war hammer caught the first man mid-charge, smashing him from his feet, even as the giant’s fist crashed into the face of a second man. The man’s head bounced backwards into the stone with an audible crack. Panic swept across the face of the last man and he turned to run.
Dropping his hammer, Alan leapt after the man. Grabbing him by the neck, Alan hoisted the man over his head and tossed him at two enemy warriors who had just gained the battlements. The man screamed as he flew into his comrades, knocking them backwards off the wall.
Alan swept up his hammer and turned to see her staring. “Watch yourself, missy,” he nodded to another enemy who had just appeared.
Inken grinned back, pleased her assessment of the old warrior had proven true. She doubted even Caelin could keep up with such a man. His strength was prodigious and with that war hammer he appeared to be all but unstoppable.
The enemy approaching her had no such skill and in two breaths she had speared him through the heart. Stepping back, she swung to check on Eric. A tingle of fear went through her as she saw him facing two men.
Before she could move to his aid, Enala leapt in from the side, her short sword stabbing out to catch one of the men in the stomach. As the other turned towards her, Eric surged forward and the Sword of Light crunched through bone. The man crumpled beside his comrade.
“Well done,” Inken commented as she joined them.
“Thanks,” Eric panted, flashing a weary smile.
As the next wave of enemies swept over the battlements they leapt together to meet them, swords flashing in the morning sun. Inken’s heart thudded hard in her chest, strength warming her arms as another enemy fell to her blade and she ducked beneath a swinging axe.
Yet even as she fought, regret touched her. This had been her life as a bounty hunter, an existence filled with excitement and danger. But that life seemed a thousand years ago, and it felt now as though she were reaching back to a past long gone. Sadness stirred in her stomach as she realised how empty that existence had been.
She had been drifting through life before, living each week for the thrill of the hunt, but now she had finally found her purpose. Not for the first time, she thanked the Gods she’d made the right decision all that time ago, when she had sided with the company and joined their quest, when she had joined the fight to save their world from Archon.
And as she slashed past another enemy, she realised with a smile that this war would be her last fight. Not because of the life growing within her, but because she knew she could not return to her old life. After this, she could find no joy in such an existence.
No, there had to be more. Glancing at Eric, warmth rose in her throat at the thought of starting a life with him. It would be an adventure all of its own.
She swore as a blade sliced past her face, coming far too close, and then brought her sabre around to block the next attack. The hilt rung in her hand, but she did not flinch back from the power in the blow. Reversing her swing, she hammered her blade into the man’s skull. Wrenching her sword back, she kicked the man through the gap between the crenulations.
Swinging around, Inken surveyed the wall, ready to aid her friends if necessary. A tingle of panic started in her stomach as she saw the enemy were beginning to gain the upper hand. The black-garbed warriors had won purchase atop the battlements in several places and now more were pushing up the ladders behind them. Around them the defenders were falling in greater numbers, their coloured cloaks dotting the walkway amidst the hordes of fallen enemy.
Then she saw the old warrior Alan, still standing his ground amidst the slaughter, a calm centre amidst the storm. Where others were being forced back he stood like a boulder, immovable as the enemy pressed forward around him. Black-cloaked bodies lay strewn about him.
Yet Alan’s defiance also threatened to cut him off from the other defenders as they retreated beneath the enemy’s weight.
Seeing the threat, Inken screamed to the others. “Follow me!”
Knowing Eric, Enala and Caelin would not let her down, she charged into the ring of men gathering around the old warrior. She took the first one in the back, bearing him to the ground as her momentum carried her forward. Pulling back her blade, she leapt to her feet, her steel finding a second victim before the others could turn to face her.
Then Caelin was there, his sword like lightning, dancing amidst the enemy, too quick for thought. His foot lashed out, knocking an axeman off balance as he parried the sword of another. Eric followed him in, the long blade of the Sword of Light cleaving into the enemy ranks, and Enala too, her short sword stabbing low beneath the enemy’s guard.
In seconds the fight was over, the enemy overwhelmed before they had a chance to regroup.
Together they re-joined with Alan, helping him to dispatch the last few enemy on his other side. As one they faced the next wave of attackers, their weapons red with the blood of the fallen.
Inken’s heart raced, her movements beyond reason now, beyond thought. She attacked with a primal instinct, developed from her years of combat. The enemy fell like autumn leaves before their fury, and though her lungs heaved and she could hear the laboured gasps of her comrades, Inken knew not one of them would back down.
Around them the other defenders took courage from their defiance and began to press back against the enemy, making them pay for every inch of bloody stone. Where the enemy had gained footholds
their numbers quickly shrank, falling away beneath the fury of the defenders’ blades. Together, the men and women of the Three Nations stood atop the wall, and defied the might of Archon.
Inken heard May’s roars of encouragement from further down the wall. Bit by bit, the defenders drove the enemy back.
Slowly the tide turned and the anger in the eyes of the enemy turned to fear. They had been winning, had been within an inch of claiming the wall, but now that triumph was slipping through their fingers.
Inken smiled as panic spread through the enemy ranks and they began to retreat back towards their ladders. But with men still surging up from below, they had nowhere to go, and there on the battlements they were slaughtered.
It took a few minutes for Inken to realise there were no more enemies left to fight. Blinking in the bright sun, she looked around and saw the last of the enemy had fallen to the defender’s blades. Below, the black tide was retreating and men were leaping down from the ladders in panic, desperate to escape the fury of the defenders above.
Her friends stood around her, wide smiles on their faces.
“We did it,” she laughed.
“Ay, we did,” Alan smiled. “But I am afraid this is just the beginning.”
*************
Gabriel watched from a distant window as the defenders began to clean up in the aftermath of the battle. They started with the enemy, with defenders taking it in turns to lift the lifeless bodies between them and toss them back out into the wasteland. There were more than he could possibly count, though he knew in his heart it was still not enough. Archon had countless warriors at his disposal, along with whatever nightmarish creatures waited out in that vast wasteland.
When the defenders started with their own fallen, Gabriel could hardly watch. They brought them down one by one, carried solemnly on stretchers to be laid out on the ground below. There a great pit had been prepared, although men were already working to make it larger. The losses today had far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
