Iron Blooded

Forty Seven: Losing Ground

It was by the main gate of the city that the fighting was thickest. Fire arrows lit the night air, hissing as they found their mark among the soldiers in defense of Ceris.

In the flicker of firelight, I could see the black and red uniforms of Lord Blackthorne’s men…though I could see no sign of the man himself.

The battlements were teaming with Orks. They clambered up ladders, climbed grappling hooks, and poured over the wall like an unstoppable flood. Behind the melee lay the tower - our destination.

The fighting was thick and desperate. Already I could feel the telltale drain of energy on my body, though it was nowhere near as bad as before.

I would need to learn how to properly use and conserve Mana. In long battles, it could mean the difference between life and death.

“We’re going to lose the wall!” Draxus shouted over the clash of battle. “We need to act now or Ceris will be overrun.”

I nodded and lifted my shield across my body.

“Then let’s push the fuckers back.”

The Orks were so focused on their prey that they hardly noticed our arrival. A squad of soldiers was being pressed hard, back towards the stone steps by the overwhelming numbers of the host.

I signaled my men to follow me at a jog, shaking my head to clear the exhaustion that now pulled at the corners of my mind. We were close now, only thirty paces. Twenty.

One of the Orks glanced up and his black eyes widened. He opened his mouth to grunt a warning to his fellows, but we were already on them.

We slammed into the host with a crushing force. My shield was held in front of me, and my momentum slammed Ork in front of me into the sword of a nearby soldier. Together the man and I hacked wildly, sending blood in arcs as we brought the hulking beast down. No sooner had he fallen to the side than another took his place.

I ducked my head to the side as a sword stabbed past. I heard the grate of the serrated edge against my pauldron. I was shoulder to shoulder with the men around me and there was no room to flinch away. Instead, I heaved my shield forward and brought it down with a crunch on the Orks lead knee.

The warrior bellowed in pain and I took the opportunity to thrust my sword at his throat. He gurgled and hot stinking blood splattered across my front. An Ork Axe buried itself in the head of the soldier behind me, crunching metal.

I tried to retaliate with a slash to his arm but the line of soldiers was suddenly jostled and I was carried nearly off my feet in the press. I shoved back against the press, turning my head to shout at my men to stand firm.

That’s when I saw it. The telltale glimpse of red scales. My first thought was an outrider, but the Sand Drakes that climbed over the walls were much too small for a rider. What was worse - they moved quickly.

The momentum of our charge had carried us deeper into the melee and now, our formation was pressed from from the front and sides.

There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. Our maneuverability had been cut in half. I had only enough time to shout a warning to Draxus before the Sand Drakes reached us.

Class: Juvenile Sand Drake

Level: 20

Razor teeth snapped at my arms. Had it not been for the snake scale gauntlets that now housed them, I might have been down a limb. The Sand Drake clamped its teeth over my gauntlet and jerked its head to the side, dragging me off balance. I fell, losing my sword among the press of boots and armor.

The weight of the Sand Drake was crushing. It tore at my gauntlet with its powerful jaws, claws raking at my chain mail. The Pressure on my bruised ribs made me cry out. I curled my free hand into a fist and slammed it into the side of Drake’s head.

Once, twice. Then it released me. I saw a spear shaft bounce off the Drake’s armored hide. Saw Hade’s mouth move as he shouted to me. The Drake whipped its barbed tail and a man lost his arm at the elbow. I fumbled, hands searching among boots for my fallen sword.

A man’s armored leg knocked into my helmet, leaving me momentarily stunned. My fingers found the hilt of my sword and I snatched it up and managed to rise to a knee before the second Sand Drake struck. It tore the head from the shoulders of a nearby spearman, crunching metal and bone.

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A golden eye flickered and landed on me. Downed prey, and vulnerable… or so it thought. The Juvenile Sand Drake darted between my legs, knocking soldiers over in its attempt to get to me. I gripped my sword and waited until I could see the white gleam of its fangs. The glisten of the saliva along its purple tongue. Then I rolled aside.

Rising to one knee I anchored my bodyweight and gripped the sword with both hands. The Sand Drake skidded to a strop on stone, head whipping towards me. I stabbed forward and into its eye with all the force I could muster.

The Drake went rigid, body arching as its tail lashed. There was a stinging pain, followed by a line of hot blood that ran down my chest to soak the shirt beneath my armor. There was no time to take stock of my injuries. With a roar I shoved forward, throwing my body weight forward and behind the thrust. My sword blade met resistance, metal screeching on the armored socket of the eye. Then something gave way.

My sword sunk hilt deep into the eye socket, punching out the other side of the Drake’s head with a spray of blood. The creature jerked twice, tail lashing back and forth. Then it went still.

I stumbled to my feet, breathing hard. I planted a boot on the corpse of the Sand Drake and heaved my bloody sword free. Then I turned back to the battle.

Draxus was pinned up against the side of the rampart, wrestling with an Ork that held a wicked-looking cleaver. There was blood smeared across his face, though whether it was his or not was impossible to tell.

The Ork saw me moments before I struck. He released Draxus, raising his free arm as if he might block my swing. I sheered his hand in half. Draxus finished him off with two sharp stabs to the center of his chest.

“Nice of you to join us,” panted my friend. Sweat mingled with blood to run in scarlet rivulets down his neck. Moments later Hade was at my side.

“Ser William,” the men need direction. We’re being pushed back.”

I set my jaw.

“Where is Lord Blackthorne? Has there been any word?”

Hade grimaced and adjusted his grip on his spear shaft.

“Only Rumors Ser. They say a messenger arrived from the inner wall, and told him something, I don’t know what, that had him racing for The House of Refuge with half his household guard. I don’t know much else, Ser William. I’m sorry.”

“The House of Refuge?” I turned, scanning the city but I could see nothing but the dark silhouettes of buildings, and beyond them the rise of the second wall of Ceris.

I turned back to survey the battle. Hade was correct. It was chaos from end to end on the wall. The sea of soldiers in armor and livery met the powerful red tide of the host as they slowly but inevitably pushed us back towards the steps leading down to the city.

It would only be a matter of time before the Orks completely overran our position. I glanced around, willing for something, anything to catch my eye. Something did. My gaze snagged on the now abandoned Ballista sitting atop the tower. The soldiers that had been manning it were likely killed when the Orks overran the walls.

From my current position, it was impossible to tell if the weapon was still in working order, but from the vantage of the tower top my archers would be able to fire uncontested, and without fear of hitting their fellows. That, and I would have the vantage to send a signal to where Lord Dacon and his men were stationed. It was worth the risk.

Without delay, I flicked the Drake blood from my sword and caught Draxus's eye.

“I need eight men and the archers,” I told him. “The rest I’ll leave to you and Hade to hold the line. Wait for my signal. If you can hold for that long we might have a fighting chance.”

Draxus grimaced.

“Will…” he started but I shook my head.

“Trust me on this, brother. If I fail here the city might not last the night.”

Draxus looked torn for a moment before he sucked in a breath and set his jaw.

“Alright.” He said. “Retake the tower and light the signal fire. We’ll hold until we see it lit. That’s all I can promise you.”

We clasped forearms.

I stepped away from the man I had learned to call brother and trepidation filled my chest. I would light the signal fire and call for reinforcements, but how long would those reinforcements be in coming?

Was Lord Dacon even now besieged on his own side of the wall while Lord Blackthorne and his men hunted unknown shadows in the night?

I felt a surge of anger at the thought. What could cause a man to abandon his men at a time like this?

But I knew the answer even as I turned away to gather my men. Even as I raised my sword in the air and called the archers to me.

It was all coming together now, piece by piece. There was rot within the walls of Ceris. Rot within the Kingdom itself. How long had it been allowed to fester? And just how deep did it run?

My men rallied to me, Jorgen and Eric among them. The young soldier gave me a serious nod, his too-large helmet tipping over his head.

“Ser William.”

I turned my mind away from darker things and back to the present. I needed to regain control of this battle, and I would start by taking back the high ground.

“Soldiers in the front, archers in the back. Keep up, stop for nothing.” I looked around, meeting each gaze with steel of my own.

“And give them hell.”

The men closed in around me and we surged forward past the mass of struggling soldiers and Orks. We stepped over corpses, wound our way past where the fighting was thickest, all the way doing our best to stay alive.

My arm was numb from the blows my shield took. My sword was wet with blood in the light of the moon. It was madness. It was chaos. And yet, for the first time, I was forced to admit that part of me felt more alive than I ever had before.

There was something in me that had been growing over the past few months. Something I was beginning to recognize as more than just acceptance.

Hunger.