by C. W Tickner
All of them were scurrying back and forwards or fighting among themselves over the space around them. Most of them Harl recognised. Green Striders, that walked above the others on six tall legs supporting a long thin body. They hissed as they stomped about, snapping at the smaller monsters or trying to use the spikes that coated their legs to knock them away.
The smaller creatures were no less fierce. They were Scuttlers, long and low, supported on dozens of legs hidden under the thick black plates that segmented them down their long bodies. Huge pincers clicked at their front and Harl had seen them cut through the arms of men as easy as cutting twigs with a sword.
Hivers scurried between them all. None of them were flying. They’d had their wings cut off to prevent them from soaring away into the building and possibly getting caught up in the lab with whatever other specimens lurked here. Their bodies were supported on six legs and a patchwork of yellow and black stripes ran across two segments. The wings were usually embedded between the heads and the bulbous abdomen but had been plucked or bred out of them.
Harl had lost his fear of Hivers a long time ago, but seeing so many together worried him. He knew that they were cunning and deadly in a group. He looked at Damen, remembering the fight where the hunter had saved him and Sonora from a group of the monsters and was pleased to see him smiling, even if it was in grim anticipation of certain death.
The last creature was the biggest and it strained on a thick chain, staked in the centre of the battlefield that prevented it from eating the smaller ones. It was the same as the men in the tunnels under Gorm had ridden. This one was larger, a mass of writhing fur, the same that had attacked. All Harl could see was a giant rat. But it wasn’t the same, it was more bulky at the back with beady red eyes and sharp fangs that hung over the bottom jaw. The claws at the end of its four feet were scooped for digging and burrowing and it was already clawing itself into a pit as if trying to burrow beneath the soil. The chain prevented it from burying itself and after straining at the chain, it would scamper out of the hole and try to bite through the thick metal links.
Their general, Silver, rode a fresh mount across the front of the line bellowing orders to flag bearing men to direct the troops into place.
A regiment of spearmen bunched together at the centre of the hill and the general stopped just in front of them. His voice rose over them all, and at the noise, many of the hisses and screeches coming from the creatures below stopped as if they sensed the tension from the dense line of men above them.
‘Stay up on the hill until I say so! Archers first, then spears. Stick to your teams, remember your drills.’
He waved his sword up in the air, swinging it around his head as a line of archers stepped forward and a series of sliver triangular flags were waved along the length of the hill.
As they drew the arrows back and leant down hill, Harl wished he’d brought a bow from the stockpile. They had spent days together as boys practising in the woods. They had only had straw dummies then as targets, but they had cheered in triumph as their shots drew closer and closer until each arrow thunked home. Now it seemed a hollow memory. He’d seen far too much death to ever feel like that now.
The general dropped his sword and a hundred shafts soared down at the beasts. Many went astray, sinking into the reddened mud but over a quarter found targets and the enraged monsters roared, screeched and bellowed before turning for the hill and scurrying up towards them.
‘Terrible shooting,’ Troy said as he crouched behind the shield when then creatures started up the slope.
The general’s lieutenants waved more flags and spearmen spread out down the line stepping in front of the archers just after they unleashed another volley into the oncoming creatures.
A group shuffled past Harl, stepping in front to the edge of the hill and angling their spears down. Their captain had silver lines streaking his face. He gave Damen a curt nod.
‘Watch out for the long ones,’ he said.
‘Scuttlers,’ Damen said, ‘cut off the legs and watch out for the tail end.’
The silver streaked captain looked surprised but glanced back at the clusters of swordsmen behind. ‘You heard him.’ he said, drawing his sword. ‘Go for the legs.’
The archers shuffled back to where a cart had been brought up. It was laden with more swords, axes and maces. They grabbed what they could and turned back just as the first hivers hit the line of spears.
‘Shields together,’ Damen called, stamping his down next to Troy and snapping him out of staring at the beasts now scurrying up the hill.
Harl filed to Troy’s right and Dana slid in beside him so her and Damen were on the outside of their small quarter circle.
The spearmen on Harl’s right held the first hiver at bay, thrusting deep into the black and yellow face until another piled in beside it. After a moment they scurried up on top of each other, trampling the dying underfoot in their eagerness to reach the men behind the savage points of steel.
The first broke through the line as a man was shoved to one side by the press of fighting further down the line. As soon as the hiver slipped past the end of the spear it turned and pounced on him. He screamed as it tore into his face and punched it in a feeble attempt to free himself. The spindly legs clawed around his neck, pulling him closer, before a swordsman behind kicked it off. Someone dragged the screaming man backwards through the mud behind the lines and the swordsman took his place.
Their shield wall rocked as a hiver slammed into it. It used its head to try and force the shields apart and Harl’s feet slipped in the wet mud as he fought to keep them together. He stabbed repeatedly over the top of the shield, feeling the tip of his sword catch the hard bone of hiver mandibles.
Dana leant around and stabbed it until the pressure eased and she ducked back in.
The swordsman who’d kicked the hiver off was pounced on by a pair clambering over the growing pile of dead. His screams were drowned out only by the shrill cries of hunger as the hivers gorged on his flesh.
The mass of soldiers around the man surged in to help.
The captain saw the problem before Harl but it was too late. The men had pushed forward too far and opened up the line.
‘Tighten up,’ the captain yelled.
A long black scuttler weaved into the break in the ranks as the captain’s hoarse voice faded under the hissing shrieks of the hivers. The nearest men leapt away as a second black-plated creature wove between them, turned and headed straight for Dana on the outside of their shield wall.
‘Turn,’ Damen called and they shuffled around to face the scuttler just as it reached her. It smashed into the shield then twisted to the closest swordsmen already fighting the second monster. A man had his back to them and didn’t see the creature as it snapped at him, cutting his leg off. He toppled backward and both scuttlers writhed over him. His comrades stabbed down at the thick armour plates but were unable to stop them from mauling the man.
‘Eyes front,’ Damen called, warning them of another scuttler racing towards them. ‘Hold!’
A scuttler crashed into their front. Its body pushed hard at the wall and Harl had to dig his feet in to stop it levering the heavy shield up.
Troy was red with effort and only a hand put against his shield by Dana stopped it tilting up. Harl heard the clicking as black pincers snapped around Dana’s shield. She lashed a foot out and caught it in the side of the head. It whipped back around, pincers slicing her ankle as her foot slid out on the mud. Damen dropped his shield and ran around them, leaving Harl exposed at the end. The scuttler rose up over Dana as she drew back her knife but Damen was there, swinging hard into the soft underbelly between the legs. The scuttler screeched and lashed out at him, twisting its head to gouge him but Damen had been caught by a scuttler’s reflex before and he was ready. He pulled the sword free and held it up in front of him. His thick arms tensed as the scuttler used its head to batter him aside. The swing was so hard and fast that the creature cut its own hea
d off. All Damen had to do was fight the immense force.
Troy and Dana stared wide eyed as the two pieces flopped to the floor and Damen roared in defiance. A hiver scrambled over the body but the silver streaked captain had rallied more men and urged them forward, the blade forcing it back until it died on top of the others.
A hiver’s yellow face craned around the side of Harl’s shield, making his heart leap in surprise. He punched out with his fist wrapped around the hilt of his sword, feeling something crack against his knuckles. He brought the blade down fast and the steel lodged deep in the hiver’s neck. The body sagged to the mud and the twitching mandibles slowed to a stop.
Men along the line were being pushed back by the onslaught. Hivers swarmed over the thin defensive line, mauling men and leaving them behind for the scuttlers to drag from the ranks. Both sides of their shield wall were opening up as men took involuntary steps back. More monsters pushed forward until the screams intensified and Damen called out above the sound of sword on bone.
‘Two steps back!’
Harl felt the weight try to force them further as he back peddled. His feet slipped out as something crashed into the front of the shield. Beside him Troy tumbled as the pressure gave way and their wall split apart.
Chapter 35
I need a drink, a proper drink. I head to storage to find no alcohol had been loaded. How bloody inconsiderate. In the meantime I’d better learn to make my own still.
Harl raised his sword ready to stab anything that came through the gap. The seconds stretched ans instead of a beast bursting between the shields the weight of creatures in front disappeared and the sudden onslaught ceased. In the quiet, the moans of the injured rose above the distant shrieks of monsters and the sound of legs scurrying downhill.
Harl and Troy peered over the tops of their shields together. All down the length of the battle line was a waist high wall of broken men and monsters. They formed a barrier of flesh and bone. Harl peered over it and watched as the creatures retreated.
An Aylen hand rested on the arena wall and Harl wondered if it had moved the beasts back after the initial attack either to protect the humans from slaughter or to prolong the battle. Something told him that if the Aylens intervened it wouldn’t be because they were trying to save them. There was excitement written on the three faces that towered over the landscape. The Aylen were enjoying themselves.
The general ordered all men to positions behind the barricade of bodies and they formed a thin line with smaller groups of reserves clustered at the rear waiting to infill or rush forward. The groups shuffled apart to make a path for the general as he galloped towards them. The muscle heavy mount snorted as he reigned in beside them and looked down at Damen.
‘They’ll herd them up the hill,’ Silver said. ‘Our best chance is to hold our position and keep the high ground.’
Damen grunted and the general seemed briefly offended before Damen spoke.
‘Push the bodies down,’ he said, giving one of the carcasses in front of them a nudge so they wobbled. ‘It’ll clear the way and we can charge. All about momentum.’
The general grinned, stretching the silver paint that covered the scars beneath the cracking flakes and flecks of blood. ‘Bold,’ he said. ‘It could work.’ He turned to an aide whose slower mount had just caught up. ‘Send orders that when they reach midway we push the piles down.’
‘The bodies of our men as well?’ The aide asked.
The general cocked his head, checking for disobedience. ‘All of them,’ he said.
The aide nodded, clicked his tongue and turned his mount.
‘Tell the men on the second horn to charge down, full speed.’ The general said.
The aide swivelled around, ‘Charge, sir?’
‘All about momentum,’ he said giving Damen a wink.
The aide turned white and looked as if he was considering disobeying.
‘You heard me,’ the general said. ‘Go, or you’ll be at the front of it.’
The aide turned and sped off.
The silver streaked captain who had spoke to Damen before the fight scratched at a wound on his arm and coughed. The general looked around.
‘What about the scrabbler, sir?’ the captain asked.
The general looked down the slope at the giant rat. It was an apt name. The mound of fur was snuffling at the huge steel pin that poked through its chain into the bloody ground.
‘Save it for me,’ Damen said.
The general laughed. ‘Save it for both of us.’
Like a cliff the Aylen hand dropped behind the creatures. A thunderous shockwave rippled through the ground and in a surge of claws, legs and carapace, the creatures stampeded up the hill.
The general rode off down the line, calling for the men he passed to get ready. He blew the horn as the staggered ranks of beasts reached halfway to the top of the hill.
Damen slammed his shield down next to Harl’s and Dana. Troy shuffled into place beside Harl and nodded.
‘Push,’ Damen yelled and together they dug their feet in and shoved the row of carcasses forward over the edge.
Harl looked over the top of the shields as the weight disappeared and saw the bodies roll down in a long line that stretched across the hill and along the line before smashing into the creatures.
Most of the hivers rose up on their back two legs expecting to rise up as an instinct to fly kicked in but the bodies tumbled into them, knocking them down.
The scuttlers were able to let the bodies roll over their armour plates, but the striders, towering nearly three metres up on six spindly legs were flipped over by the barrage of broken bodies.
A second horn blew. The sound shifted from low to high and carried across the battlefield like a call of their own great beast.
Harl drew his sword and let the shield fall. It was too heavy to race down with. Damen let his roll down and hefted two hand axes from a thick belt around his waist. Harl looked left and saw Dana with a long knife in each hand. Beside him Troy hefted a smaller round shield, testing the weight of his short sword as if unsure he’d made the right choice.
Damen roared an unintelligible battle cry and sprung over the edge of the hill. As one, the line cried out and swarmed forward, following him into the fray.
Harl raced down and saw to his horror that he was running straight into a scuttler that had dodged the rolling bodies. Damen ran across his path to intercept it and slid on his knees, churning up mud as he chopped an axe under the plates, cutting off half a dozen legs before standing and running on.
Harl knew what was coming. The scuttler’s head snapped out, missing Damen and whipping towards Harl. He rolled aside and came to his feet, surprised at having dodged the savage mandibles.
What he didn’t miss was a lone hiver in front of him and he slammed hard into the monster.
They crashed together, tumbling over and over in a roll of silver, black and yellow. He could feel the legs scraping his back and all he could do was to hold on to his sword hilt and hope to get his feet under him. The ground levelled as they rolled under something green and came to a muddy stop. Harl kicked out, throwing the hiver off him and scrambled to his feet. The hiver screeched as it landed against a thin green pillar, a spike protruded through its head, its mandibles twitching as it died.
Where had the pillar come from? When he realised it was the leg of a strider he almost soiled himself. He was alone, under its green belly and it must had felt the hiver impact its legs. To make things worse he had let go of his sword.
The leg with the hiver twitched and launched the body towards him. He sidestepped and the carcass tumbled past him.
Spotting the sword in the mud he dived for it as the monstrous leg of spikes swiped at him. Mud filled his mouth and blinded him but he rolled, sensing the leg stab down at him. It sank deep into the mud next to him and he twisted again to avoid a second leg as it thrust down at his head. Feet slipping, he finally got his stood and wiped his eyes. The strider stamped
in a circle, flicking its legs in the hopes of skewering him.
He glimpsed the silver handle of his sword half buried in mud and threw himself at it. He grabbed the cold, wet hilt and before the strider above could move, he jumped and stabbed up into the smooth underbelly, jarring the blade sideways.
A leg whacked into his side and threw him forwards into the mud again. The blade tumbled from his hand. He spat a gob of mud on the ground and felt anger and warm liquid flood over him. Yellow blood was pouring on him from the strider’s wounds and he knelt, grabbed the sword then as the legs shuddered he dived out from underneath. The huge green bulk sagged between the legs and collapsed into the sticky sludge.
He looked around at the carnage in the centre of the field and tried to take in the dozens of skirmishes between men and monsters.
Dana and Troy were battling a pair of hivers while Damen had had either fought his way to the general or chance had placed in each in the other’s path. A familiar face stared down at him and Harl swallowed when he saw Grakka watching with the others above. His hand swept down and plucked a man nearby, lifting him screaming up into the air. Grakka tilted his head back and dropped the helpless man into his gaping mouth.
Hisses rose as the creatures saw the hand coming down again and they tried to flee the bigger threat, but the men around held them in check or slew them in their moment of terror.
Harl thought Grakka would finally swat him down or eat him but instead the hand picked out the huge steel pin that held the scrabbler in place and the screeching noise of the free rat mingled with Grakka’s booming laugh.
The scrabbler clawed indiscriminately at the nearest moving targets, swiping at a strider and plunging its snout into the flailing body. Its long fangs shredded the creature in two before it pounced on a team of spearmen as they tried to move in for the kill. Some spears struck home, burying themselves deeper as the scrabbler spun, knocking more soldiers back. It leapt on a scuttler and sunk its teeth through the armour, lifting the creature up and tossing it aside like a toy.