Iron Blooded

Forty Eight: Striking Back

I took the tower steps two at a time, bloody sword held out before me.

We had caught the Ork’s in the tower partially by surprise. The sturdy wooden door had been bared and barricaded, but Eric had let me in on a secret. There was a second door around the outer face of the castle - one that could be accessed with a key.

Since we hadn’t possessed the key, it had fallen to me to pick the lock. Not an easy endeavor when Ork arrows bounced off the stone walls all around me. Finally, the rusted lock had clicked and the door had swung inward. Jorgen, Eric, and I had managed to kill the two Orks at the bottom of the stairs before they had time to react. Now, it was just a matter of speed.

The Ork at the top of the steps raced downwards, axe in hand. When he spotted us he growled low in his throat and lifted his weapon in an overhand blow.

I closed the distance between us in a few strides, gripped him by his horns, and yanked him forward.

Jorgen leaped to the side with a curse as the heavily armored Ork crashed down the steps with a resounding clamor. There was no time to find out if he had survived - I knew my men would make short work of him.

I rounded the top of the and spotted an Ork near the door. This one was ready and as I approached he drew back his arm and hurled his spear. I snapped up my shield in time to knock it aside.

I was on the Ork as his sword cleared its sheath. Sparks flew from my sword as my stab was defected. The Ork bellowed and charged me, lowering its head. One of the horn tips caught me in the lip of the helmet, dragging my head aside.

I slashed blindly, felt my sword tip connect with sinew, and stabbed. Moments later Jorgens spear struck the Ork in his unarmored armpit, killing him instantly. I arched an eyebrow at Jorgen who grinned.

“I think I’m starting to get the hang of this Ser William,” he said. My men lined up behind, weapons out, and faces set. Behind them my archers waited on the stairs, bows knocked. There was a score of them in all. Enough, I hoped, to turn the tide of the battle in our favor.

I pressed my shoulder against the side of the door, staring across at Jorgen and holding up a hand.

The soldiers surged forward to either side of the door, waiting for my signal. I listened.

I could hear the sound of battle out on the wall but there was something else…. Something closer. The heavy rasp of breathing and the sword of clinking metal as armor shifted. There were Orks on the tower roof and more than a few.

I threw out the signal for enemy number unknown and waited for my men to nod their affirmation.

Then I began counting down. Eric stepped forward to grip the Iron ring of the door. Jorgen shifted forward, spear ready.

I began to count down.

Three.

Eric ran a nervous tongue across his lips.

Two.

I could hear my own breathing in my helmet.

One.

The young soldier yanked open the door and stepped quickly aside. I shoved off the wall and Jorgen and I led the men into the breach.

For the second time that day, the Mark of the Wind saved me. I saw it activate on my HUD and I had mere seconds to duck as the hatchet whipped by my head to bury itself in the wood.

Six Orks stood between us and the signal fire, weapons raised and tusks bared.

I charged forward using my shield as a weapon. I slammed the rim in the face of one Ork and stepped aside to avoid a spear thrust. Beside me Jorgen ducked under a hammer swing and jabbed his spear forward, dispatching another with deadly precision.

My men were on the Orks in moments and the skirmish was quick and bloody. I lost only one man, stabbed in the neck by a short sword. But in the end, we were able to overcome the enemy. I wiped my blade on the body of the nearest Ork and turned away.

“Well, it looks like they made short work of the ballista,” said Hade from several paces away. He examined the machine, frowning at the hacked wood and severed rope.

“How bad is it?” I asked, pulling off a gauntlet and tucking it under my arm. Hade shook his head.

“Ser William, I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to fix the damn thing. Maybe with a few engineers and a day or two. But…” he shook his head and I sighed inwardly. It had always been a long shot.

“Archers, take up your positions,” I said. “Eric and Hade are with me. I need to get this signal pyre lit. The rest of you spread out and stand watch. I want the alarm sounded the second you see the enemy on the steps.

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“Aye Ser!” came the echoing answer. The Archers moved to their position, adjusting their quivers and preparing to fire. I turned back to the signal pyre.

It was set in a brazier at least fifteen feet above. The pyre itself had only been accessible to those who wished to light it via a ladder and platform. The ladder now lay in pieces on the ground, shattered by Ork blades. I ground my teeth and gazed upwards.

Eric made a sweeping motion with his hand.

“Do you think we could sort of just… chuck a torch up there, Ser?” he asked hopefully. I scratched my chin with my now bare hand.

“We could, soldier,” I said. “But there is no guarantee that the wood will catch. See that there?”

I pointed at the small ceramic pot held in a mounted bracket above the pyre. Eric squinted and nodded.

“That’s oil. It would have to be poured manually over the wood in order for the pyre to catch evening, and maintain its burn.”

Eric goggled at me as if I had imparted some great wisdom.

“Only, how will we do that Ser?” he asked, puzzled.

“Well,” I said slowly, catching Hade’s eye. “We would need someone small and brave to scale the outside of the tower. They could in theory, shimmy their way up the side of the brazier and, well, pour the oil.”

Hade was trying hard not to smile. Eric looked back and forth between us before it dawned on him. His face paled.

“But I’m afraid of heights Ser,” he said weakly.

I grinned.

“Then it’s the perfect time to wring that fear out of you.”

Five minutes later Eric’s blonde head bobbed as he carefully placed his feet and hands. His legs were trembling, but his face was a mask of youthful concentration. I watched as he scaled the outer portion of the tower, the night wind stirring his hair.

The only sound was the twang of archer arrows and the occasional shout of the men below. Eric tested his newest foothold before tentatively stretching up to grip the end of the brazier.

Carefully, he lifted himself up, pushing off with his right foot and leveraging his body up and over. Hade let out a soft sigh of relief as the boy’s blonde head poked back over the edge of the Brazier.

He was smiling now and I nodded my approval.

“Go on lad,” I said.

Eric scaled the edge of the brazer, boots scuffing against rusted metal. Once he slipped only his grip and upper body strength kept him from plummeting to certain death. At last, he reached the oil pot and plucked it out of its bracket. Moments later I heard the sound of liquid being poured.

“It’s done, Ser William.” Came the soldier's voice. I nodded and lifted my own lit torch.

“Ready?” I asked him. There was a pause and the sound of shuffling. Then an answer of affirmation.

I waited a few more beats for good measure before stepping forward and tossing the torch straight upwards in the air.

Eric’s hand shot out and caught it, juggling it wildly before he managed to grip the right end. Hade snorted through his nose.

Moments later the hiss and roar of flames indicated that the plan had been a success. The light grew, and with it I could see much more of the battlefield. While the fighting over the gate was the thicket, from my vantage I could now see the other sections of the city.

Gills and the 3rd bravely held their own against the remaining stragglers that had attacked their side of the wall. Meanwhile, the Eastern gate seemed to be under heavy assault. Even as I watched, several outriders poured over the walls. One of them, an Ork in black armor with a flaming spear clutched in one fist, raised a hand. A bolt of fire shot from his hand, catching two soldiers in the chest and sending them flying backward in a spray of orange sparks.

One of them tumbled backward off the wall, while the other fetched up against the ramparts and did not rise again. Smoke curled from the Orks fist. I swore.

He was a Fire Magus. And one trained for battle.

"What is it Ser William?" asked Hade, following my gaze.

"Trouble," I said. "We need Lord Dacon's reinforcements. And more than that, we need Lord Blackthorne here. An Ork Magus is a powerful foe, and not one common soldiers are equipped to handle."

I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking. One of my archers glanced up.

"They are retreating Ser William," he said. "We have the bastards on the run."

Relief surged through me. I leaned out from the parapet as far as i dared and caught site of Draxus holding the line with his men. The Orks were indeed faltering. Where there had been a brutal confidence to their movements before there was now hesitation among them. Even desperation.

I saw the moment their line wavered and broke. Draxus thrust his blade in the air, roaring his triumph. The men surged forward and, with the help of the archers on the tower, the Ork Host was pressed back.

Most of the beasts fought hard, unwilling to be taken down. The few that turned and ran were shot in the back with white-tipped arrows.

Ork's clambered back over the walls, filing down the ladders and back to the safety of the ground below. Or at least, they tried. Draxus and the men chased down those fleeing like hounds on a rabbit.

Several soldiers shoved at the ladders, pushing them out and away from the wall, causing the Orks to fall squealing like pigs towards the ground.

Others managed to chase and skewer the Orks with spears before they could descend the walls. I watched all of this with cold calculation. There could be no mercy in this war - it was a lesson I'd learned well over the past few months.

I was a soldier, and war was grim work.

Eric dropped down beside me and I clapped him on the shoulder.

"You did well lad," I told him. "You have the makings of a good soldier."

Eric stood a little taller under my scrutiny. I resisted the urge to smile, knowing how it felt to be a bow praised by a man he admired.

"I think," I said slowly. "And Hade agrees with me - that you would make a good addition to my company. I understand you're employed with the city guard, and life as a soldier might not be what you pictured for yourself..."

I met his gaze.

"But the offer is there should you choose to accept it."

Eric's eyes lit up.

"I would be honored Ser William, Ser," he stumbled, then flushed when he realized he'd said the honorific twice.

"Then consider it official."

I ruffled his hair and turned away, aware of Hade's eyes on me. The soldier arched a brow, joining me as I made my way to the stairs. He was silent for several heartbeats, his face troubled.

"You said Company Ser William," he said at last. "Not Squad."

There was a weighted pause in the air and I let it pass.

"I did."

Hade sucked in a breath and then let it out again.

"You play a dangerous game, Ser, with forces far greater than your own."

I raised a brow.

"Are you opposed?"

Hade chewed on his bottom lip, thoughtful.

"No," he said at last. "Whatever decision you make, the men and I... we'll follow you. I just hope for all our sakes, that it isn't to the gallows."