Iron Blooded

Fifty Six: Wrath of Man

Perhaps it was madness that made me laugh.

Surrounded on all sides by the grimness of death. Mangled bodies of allies and enemies lay before me. Since arriving in this brutal world I have seen my share of violence.

I had walked the path of battle, and like every soldier, I had come to know its cost.

Flame bloomed before me, a wave of deadly heat that threatened to devour me whole. I could feel the heat before it reached me.

“Brace!” Shouted Draxus from behind. Metal clattered as men threw up their shields, hunkering down against impending impact. The Firebrand snarled his victory, as the flames swirled towards me.

Item Activated: Helm of Aegis.

I smiled and this time the Firebrand caught it. His eyes narrowed through the slits of his helm. Then, they widened. I saw Urksol turn his head, and saw the tightness in his body even as the flame bloomed around me.

He shouted orders, wrenching at the reigns of his mount. He was far too slow.

The heat was sweltering, enough to singe the hair from my brows and make my dry lips crack.

If it hadn’t been for my helmet, the fire would have seared the flesh from my bones. As it was, I had the time I needed to make the only move available to me. I lifted my shield, legs thrown wide in a fighting stance.

Then, I did what I had only done once before. With all the force I could muster I slammed the shield forward and outward.

There was a whoosh of air and fire before me scattered. A force of blue energy swept forward, rattling windows as it passed. The Firebrand saw it coming and raised his lance.

A shield of flame sprung before him. Then the shockwave struck. The force rocked me backward boots skidding on the stone as my hair whipped in the sudden gale.

Windows shattered, Orks were knocked into buildings like rag dolls thrown by the hand of an angry god.

The power struck the Sand Drake full-on, and the beast staggered, knocked sideways by the sheer energy behind the blow. The shield of flame protected Urksol from the blast, but his mount was unsettled, jerking its head from side to side as it tried to right itself.

The Firebrand growled something that sounded like a curse, but the animal was heedless. It thrashed as it tried to turn and its great barbed tail lashed out.

Two Orks fell to the ground screaming, eviscerated. I swung back towards Draxus and found him already nodding to me in understanding.

It was a chance, however slim. An opening that we had no choice but to attempt to exploit. I opened my mouth to call for the advance, to signal my men towards the sliver of freedom that had now opened up to the side of the Firebrand himself.

So I didn’t see the lance coming. I saw Draxus’s eyes widen, and saw the horror reflected in Hade’s face as he looked past me. I had only the time to half turn before the flaming lance Firebrand struck.

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth in anticipation of pain. None came. There was only the sound of my heavy breathing inside the metal of my helmet. A rasp, in and out, in and out.

Had I died already? It didn’t feel like death.

I opened my eyes.

Before me stood a man from legend. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, his eyes brimming with unnatural power.

In one gauntleted fist, he clutched the burning black lance that would have ended my life. The blade was inches from my chest and I swallowed as I realized how close I had come to being impaled.

The man’s lips curved upwards.

“I’ll take it from here, Blackbriar,” rumbled Hadrian Blackthorne.

The sound of steel on steel made me look around, back the way we had come. Soldiers were climbing from the rooftops on ropes, dropping to the ground, and surrounding the Sand Drake.

On the other side, I could see the Orks reeling to face a flanking threat. They were now caught between the jaws of Lord Blackthorne's split force. The ambush had worked.

“I have to apologize for my delay,” said Blackthorne casually, turning to face the Firebrand who now watched him with guarded eyes.

“I had a few matters to attend to, but I don’t make a habit of leaving my men to the wolves.”

Urksol titled his head, his expression calculated.

“The Black Horse,” he said. “I know that symbol. Lord Blackthorne, is it? I know of your family and their deeds. But you will find they mean nothing here - not when you face one such as I.”

The Firebrand jerked suddenly forward in his saddle, throwing out an arm and causing an arc of flame to spin toward Lord Blackthorne like a whip.

I took an involuntarily step backward, but Blackthorne was unperturbed. He lifted the black lance and, with precision, began to whirl the shaft in the air.

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The fire dissipated with a hiss of air. Blackthorne held the lance out to one side and spun it faster with a single hand. The wind began to stir. Tendrils of power curled forward and I dug my heels in against the sudden pull.

I was being tugged forward towards the Lord in front of me, his cape whipping in the wind.

Lord Blackthorne glanced at me, and his eyes brimmed with power.

“Stand back,” he commanded. I had only a few seconds to obey, turning my body against the pull of the tide of magic and taking two steps backward. Then another.

It happened in a flash. One minute Blackthorne spun the shaft, tendrils of magic pulled towards him where he stood. The next, he took a step and whipped his arm forward. The lance left his grip with such force that the remaining windows in the street shattered as it passed.

Urksol barked a word, flinging his hands before him in a wall of orange flame.

But Blackthorne hadn’t been aiming for him. The black lance slammed into the Sand Drake’s chest, burying itself so deep the point erupted from its back.

The animal let out a scream that rattled my helmet. It swung its head, golden eyes rolling. And then it tumbled forward, crashing into a nearby house.

Urksol shouted in alarm as the beast fell. I saw him try to free himself of the saddle, eyes wide with panic as his mount tumbled sideways. One of his armored boots was stuck, caught in the leather strap that held him in place.

A spray of dust went up from the broken houses. The Sand Drake death throws crushed several Orks, one sent flying backward into the darkness.

I turned back to my men.

“Press forward!” I called. “The Firebrand is down. Don’t let him escape with his life.”

My men joined me, and together, shoulder to shoulder like brothers, we flanked Lord Blackthorne as he stalked towards the dead Drake. He reached up, gripping the hilt of Dawnbringer and drawing the sword from the sheath on his back. The weapon gleamed, dancing with golden light.

The Orks were in a full-on panic now. The organized vicious host that had stood against us only moments before was devolving into a teeming mess.

Ork Raider bosses shouted orders in their thick language, but their voices were lost to the growing chaos.

Several Orks raised their weapons, shouting as they rushed towards us. Blackthorne brought Dawnbringer before him, and, calmly and methodically, he sliced the charging Orks in half with the arc of golden energy.

Entrails splattered the ground. Orks squealed like dying pigs.

Lord Blackthorne stepped over the steaming corpses.

“Keep your guard, Ser William,” he said in warning. “Urksol may have been taken by surprise but he is no less dangerous.”

I relayed orders to my men to spread out, and together we made a half-moon formation to bristling steel.

We advanced with a measured pace, searching the dust for any sign of movement or flash. Should flame come, we had only moments to react before we were engulfed. What’s more, magic flame seemed unlike normal fire. Judging by the speed with which it spread and the way it clung to things that shouldn’t burn…

It was a risk, and no one knew it better than Blackthorne. As we approached the carcass of the fallen beast, the Lord’s pace slowed. He brought his blade up before him, gaze scanning the settling dust.

Some of the Orks had broken and fled. Others had been injured when the Sand Drake fell. One Ork lay partially crushed beneath the meaty forepaw of the Drake.

He wheezed a cough of blood, eyes wide as we approached. I killed him with a thrust through the eye.

Blackthorne made a gesture nodding to the cloud of dust now hovering before us. I nodded my understanding and circled my hand in the air.

Hade split off from the main force with Jorgen and Kato, and the three of them circled hard right. They came to a stop before the cloud of dust, waiting.

Blackthorne shifted his grip on his sword and, raising a finger to his lips, he stepped forward into the shroud.

I signaled both groups forward. The thick dust clung to the air, making it hard to breathe. It coated everything, painting the landscape in white and grey.

There was a corpse on the ground before me. Was it man, or Ork? I couldn’t tell. The body of the Sand Drake was curled half back on itself, blocking the entrance of the street where it had fallen. I saw the barb of the tail resting on the ground, still covered in a sheen of gore.

There was a flicker of movement at my side and I whirled, nearly taking Eric’s head off as he stepped forward. The young soldier's eyes widened.

“Fucks sake, careful,” I mouthed, the sound barely leaving my lips. At the expression on my face, the boy flushed.

He pointed towards the body of the Drake and made a motion with his hand. I frowned, unsure of the meaning.

I followed his gaze. Eyes trailing along the ridge of the creature's spine. A leather harness strap wrapped around its chest, looping through the saddle. Which was now empty.

I signaled my men to halt and spread out, heart pounding as my eyes searched the gloom around us.

I could see the shadow of Lord Blackthorne from somewhere up ahead. The glow of his sword was a dead giveaway of his position. Apparently, that had been his intention.

The first Raider boss burst forward in a swirl of dust and Blackthorne pivoted, bringing the blade down in a blow that cleaved open the Orks skull.

Blood sprayed several feet in the air and the Ork fell to the ground with a clatter of armor.

Blackthorne waved a hand before him, trying unsuccessfully to clear the dust in the air. On the right, Hade, Jorgen, and Kato, advanced around the animal's front. They were searching, eyes darting between ahead and the ground.

I saw a lump on the ground near the creature's back and gestured with my sword. Blackthorne glanced around and grimaced. He stalked forward, lifting his sword to strike.

Dawnbringer glimmered with lethal power. No strike came. Instead, Lord Blackthorne set one boot on the lump and shoved it over. It was nothing more than a cloak thrown over a body.

Blackthorne lowered his sword.

“He’s gone,” he said, his voice cutting through the air. I lowered my own blade.

“How do you know?”

Blackthorne nodded towards the saddle. Tentatively I stepped forward.

The saddle was empty.

But that wasn’t all. On the far end, still held to the Sand Drake by a leather strap, was a leg. It appeared as if the leg had been hacked at the knee, white shards of splintered bone protruding from the flesh.

A trail of red blood led away from the beast’s corpse and into the street beyond.

A horn sounded in the distance.

“It’s the signal for retreat,” said Blackthorne. His dark eyes looked weary.

“You took a stimulant, did you not?”

I hesitated for a moment, and he cocked an eyebrow.

“If you’re concerned that Joanna would face prosecution for giving you what is widely considered an illegally crafted item, I wouldn’t worry.” He said.

“That she gave it to you though…” his eyes grew thoughtful.

“She must be either quite fond of you, or wish you dead.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure what to say. Lord Blackthorne blinked and shook his head as if ridding it of thought.

“Good,” he said. “Then you still have some fight left in you before you crash. I’m going to need you, in the hunt to come.”

He tilted his head, dark eyes glittering.

“What I will ask you to do might be...unsavory to some. We’ll be confronting men - perhaps killing them, though I hope violence can be avoided. I need to know if you’re up to the task.”

I glanced around at the corpses on the ground. Some men, some Ork. Half the city was no more than a burned-out husk… a shell of its former self. So many had died, and there was one man to blame.

I gripped my sword hard enough to make the leather hilt creak.

“I’m with you, My Lord.”