Iron Blooded

Eleven: Bloodied Earth

It was the force of the charge was it’s own undoing.

When our front lines hit the Goblin Horde we were rocked backwards by the sudden resistance.

My head jerked back, slamming into the helmet of the man behind me. The front ranks hacked at the Goblins, shoving forward with gritted teeth and snarled oaths.

It was already too late when we saw the sharpened ends of the rusted pole arms. The momentum of the charge was abruptly arrested as the front ranks realized they had nowhere to go. The smart ones raised their shields, bracing as the crush of the men behind them shoved them forwards.

Others weren’t so lucky. Down the line I saw a soldier panic, turn his head aside to try to avoid the jab of an iron bill hook. He was successful momentarily… at least until the line was shunted forward again.

The tip of the blade pierced him through the cheek and out the other end with a wet squelch.

Seeing his comrade die, the man beside him twisted, trying to climb back over the bodies of those behind.

It quickly became apparent that the men in the rear could neither see what was happening, nor hear the cries of their comrades.

There was only the inevitable press forward, the grind of metal on metal as weapons stabbed and slashed.

I struggled to get my own sword free from the tight squeeze. My shield arm was trapped flush against my side.

I only just managed to get the point of my blade up as a Goblin leapt over the back of the soldiers in front of me. It slashed at me with it's claws, teeth bared.

I shoved my arm forward in a slash. The Goblin knocked my blade aside and tried to stab at me with a cleaver. I tucked my chin and the blade skated across the face plate of my helmet in a flurry of sparks.

Another sudden surge from behind threw me forward and into the Goblin. I could smell it's fetted breath through my visor.

I was held fast, shield pinned and my sword arm caught at an odd angle. With no other option I drew back my head and slammed my helmet into the Goblins face. Once. Twice. Three times.

Black blood sprayed.

Gills was yelling something but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of the battle. I twisted, trying to turn my head to catch sight of him. There was a slash across his cheek that was bleeding freely down his chin and neck.

He was mouthing something but I couldn’t make it out. I tried to focus on the movements of his mouth but it did little to help.

“What?” I screamed but even that was lost to the chaos around us. Gills lifted his spear towards the sky.

A shadow fell over us. Then the unmistakable beat of wings.

I looked up in time to see a gigantic scaly mass hurtling towards us. Claws, viscous black claws the size of daggers descended from above.

They pierced the man in front of me, punching through breastplate and into flesh. Then they withdrew and he was gone.

Men were panicking, screaming as they struggled to get away. But there was nowhere to go. A spiked tail slammed through the line and took the head of a soldier three paces away. The creature turned, arching it’s head like a snake about to strike. I was close to it, too close, and I could see it’s jaws open wide.

A deep orange glow emanated from it’s neck, rising higher and higher. I tried to jerk my shield free of the press but only managed to get it halfway up when the jet of flame hit me.

The heat was sudden and intense. It felt as if I were standing in an oven set to broil. For one desperate moment I thought my armor might protect me.

Then the heat began to melt flesh and I cried out.

I remember the pain, white hot and searing across my neck and shoulder. I remember swinging my sword, trying to strike the Wyvern only to have the blade bounce off of scales. I remember the way men stumbled away, some on fire, others already cooked in their armor.

Then Gills spear caught the Wyvern at the base of it’s neck. The Runes on the hilt glowed blue, and the Legendary bronze tipped weapon bit deep. The Wyvern roared, and it’s rider struggled to stay on at it tried to twist free.

It was now or never. I shoved my way forward, wrenching my still burning shield up as the Wyvern snapped at me. The impact nearly made my loose my footing. Wood creaked and splintered under the strain of jaws larger than that of a bear.

“Now!” I roared to Gills. There was no time to see if he had heard me. No time to know if he’d even get my meaning.

The Wyvern cocked it’s head, rearing back and lifting my feet off the ground. I stabbed at it’s eyes with my sword, managing to spear one. The beast snarled, opening it’s jaws and dropping me to the ground. That was when Gills struck. He stepped forward, grip tightening as he thrust the spear up and out.

The blade pierced the top of the Wyvern’s mouth and stuck fast. I was already up and moving, darting towards the Goblin rider that was trying to pull on the beasts reigns to get it up again. With a roar of anger slashed at it. It blocked my blow and I switched stances, taking it’s head off with the back swing.

The head of the goblin bounced to the ground and rolled.

The Goblin line wavered.

“Push!” I shouted, voice cracking. “Push forward.”

There was a brief lull of hesitation in the remaining soldiers. Nearly half a dozen had been reduced to burned husks by the Wyvern. Eyes cast to the sky in fear but when they saw Gills kill the beast, and my blade now dripping with the riders blood, their resolve returned.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

I swung my sword until my arm grew numb. I was bleeding from a cut on my thigh, and a black arrow had managed to bury itself in my Troll Hide coat.

The injury wasn’t serious, but I could feel the tip scrapping against bone every time I shifted my left shoulder.

The tide of the battle had turned in our favor. At the arrival of new reinforcements, Lord Blackthorne’s men fought with a renewed vigor.

Lord Blackthorne himself took down two Trolls on the battlefield. He was splattered with black gore, but no less resplendent in his In his plain armor and red cloak.

At one point, I saw a Goblin shaman rise into the air with it’s staff raised and summon a bolt of black energy to strike at him.

I had shouted in alarm, thinking that without a Magus to shield him Blackthorne was all but dead.

I had been mistaken. It was then that I would witness the true power of a Gifted.

Lord Blackthorne lifted Dawnbringer over head, bracing it with his off hand. The bolt of energy struck and Blackthorne was rocked back by the force of it.

He managed to keep his footing and as I watched the blade of the Great sword absorbed the energy. Black lightening crackled down the sword in rippling tendrils.

Blackthorne gripped the hilt with both hands and stabbed it into the ground, dissipating the energy a boom that made my ears hurt.

Calmly, he took a spear from one of his men and hurled it thirty yards and into the Shaman’s chest. It fell to the ground like a puppet with it’s strings cut.

It was true power. Not like the pure magic that the Magus wielded, but a more subtle force. Blackthorne was a damage sponge, and what he could absorb he could also throw back.

It was then on the battle field that I decided that I wanted to learn from him.

A horn was belatedly blown. I turned to see Dacon leading his riders into the battle at canter, mowing Goblins down before them. They bit deep into the enemies lines and that was when the Goblin Horde truly broke. It was over in minutes.

I shoved up my visor and wrinkled my nose at the smell of charred flesh.

Several feet away Kato walked among Goblin corpses, kicking them over and stabbing the ones not yet dead.

“Where is Draxus?” I asked, scanning the battlefield.

“Probably with the rest of the 3rd. It’s a bloody reunion.” He pointed towards a small rise where a group of soldiers in patchwork armor stood in a huddle. I smiled.

That smile turned to a grimace as the throbbing ache of my wounds fought for my attention.

With my adrenaline fading the pain was growing sharper by the minute. I opened my inventory and pulled out my minor health potion.

It was a slim glass bottle in the shape of a cylinder and the liquid inside was a shimmering red-pink.

I twisted the cork to break the glass seal and lifted the potion to my lips.

“Don’t drink it you damn fool,” Kato grabbed my arm. “Did you hit your head? You pour the potion over the affected area. It only works on external injuries. How have you never….”

He trailed off as I unclasped the fastenings of my leather breast plate. It was blackened at the edges and it would likely need to be replaced. But in the end it was nothing compared to the charred mass of flesh beneath.

“Throne man,” said Kato, shaking his head. “I think that might be one of the most gruesome battle wounds I’ve ever seen. One health potion isn’t going to fix that.”

I grimaced.

"I've got to try."

I lifted the bottle over the wound. The splash of cool liquid made me hiss with pain but I made sure I used the entire contents of the potion. The burns began to steam and itch and I watched in fascination as new skin began to knit together.

“That’ll be a wicked scar,” said Kato approvingly. “One to impress the ladies with, eh?”

He made to clap me on the shoulder and then though better of it. The pain of my burns was reduced to a dull ache. Much of the skin had healed and it was tender and pink to the touch.

With the battle won, most of the soldiers milled about, checking for wounded or dead comrades.

Healers combed the battlefield to aid the wounded. One made her way over to me when she saw the arrow in my shoulder.

She had me lay on the ground, propped on my side as she worked. Her eyes strayed to the still healing burns.

“A good thing you weren’t wearing plate armor, soldier,” she said as she gripped the remnants of the broken shaft with a pair of tongs.

“Or that wyvern fire would have roasted you alive.”

“You hear that will? You're lucky you're poor.”

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” I grumbled.

“Not really.” Kato yawned.

“You’ll want to bite down on this.” The healer reached into her robes and pulled out a leather dowel. It had the imprints of several bite marks already in it.

“I’ll be fine,” I told her, unwilling to put the thing in my mouth. She sighed.

“Very well.”

Then without warning she gripped the shaft with her tongs and pulled it free in one fluid motion.

“Fuck,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Agh.”

“I warned you.”

She knocked away my hands as I tried to stop the bleeding and replaced them with her own. After a moment of concentration, a soft glow emanated from her palms. The relief was instantaneous.

“Thank you.” I said as she packed her bag. Her healer level was low, but I got the impression she had seen more than a few battlefields.

She inclined her head to me.

“Let me know if you have any lingering pain. The wound should be completed healed within 24 hours. Just know that the energy to heal wounds comes from you. You may wake up tomorrow feeling fatigued and nauseas.

“I think that’s already a given.”

Kato watched her walkway with someone akin to regret.

“Do you think if I stab myself she’ll heal me?” he asked wistfully.

I was spared having to answer as my HUD blinked.

Quest Incomplete.

What? I sat upright, pulse suddenly racing as I checked through my notifications. I had gained a few levels in the battle, and the subsequent boost to my stats was visible.

But there was no explanation as to why my Quest was suddenly marked as incomplete. I frowned. Incomplete.... not failed.

“Shit.”

I pushed myself to my feet, sore muscles protesting. Looking around, I scanned the battlefield with a growing sense of panic.

“Kato, where is Dacon?”

The young warrior frowned and I watched his eyes scan the field as mine had moments before. The furrow in his brow deepened.

“Come on.”

We picked our way across the battlefield, past soldiers stacking corpses of Goblins to burn. A group of mounted men were gathered together on the other side of the field.

I made my way towards them and I pushed my way through the ranks.

Ser Robert was laying on the ground, his face screwed up with pain as a healer tended to him. At first glance he appeared mostly unharmed but when my eyes dropped to his leg, I realized that was far form the case.

The Knights knee ended in a bloody stump. His brow was beaded with sweat and even the healers looked strained as they worked to stop the bleeding.

“Ser Robert,” I said, dropping to a crouch beside him. “Where is your Lord?”

The knights eyes were wide. He was likely in shock, but I needed answers.

“They took him.” said the Knight softly.

My stomach dropped.

“Who took him?”

One of the Healer’s cut an irritated look at me as he washed the leg with clean water. Ser Robert shuddered, his eyes staring past me to focus on nothing.

I gripped his shoulder hard.

“Who took him?” I insisted, my tone urgent.

“I will have to request that you don’t manhandle my patient,” snapped the Healer. “Someone remove this man.”

Hands descended from above and I felt myself wrenched upwards and away. I spun, fist cocked back and ready to strike but it was only Draxus.

“He’s gone,” I said, jaw working. “Ser Robert said they took him. I can only assume he means the damn Horde. Or what's left of it."

Draxus glanced past me to where the Knight now lay.

“Possibly. What are you going to do?”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

“The only thing I can do."

I turned, jamming on my helmet.

"I’m going to go get him.”