Holt
“To the rider!” “Shield wall!”
Holt backpedaled as a fresh group of soldiers in the blue hawk colors of house Harroway formed a shield wall in front of him. He checked on Ash – the dragon had many small cuts, but it could have been much worse. An abomination had broken through the last shield wall and the barricade had almost been lost because of it. Only a dual Lunar Shock to the creature’s head had toppled it.
Holt’s palms stung. A shiver ran through the dragon bond.
“We’ll have to fight smarter.”
Ash, who still had one of the abomination’s bones between his teeth, spat the bone free and stamped on it. “Cleave off their legs next time. Then their heads shall be easy.”
“Not sure my sword can handle that. It isn’t like Talia’s.”
“We must conserve our power somehow. This is not yet the final hour.”
Holt thought it might as well have been.
The street Harroway had tasked them to defend was well designed. A narrow funnel that led all traffic from the island toward the eastern gate. All scourge forces on foot would have to pass this way and here their numbers counted for less. Barricades created a zigzag run to further slow the enemy. Their carriers could not simply fall here as they had upon the wall, for they needed the street clear to move their own forces through once the defenders fell back.
Yet even a thousand men could not have held this forever. Bodies from both sides were piling up now. It was all some of the soldiers could do to clear a space for the shield wall to work effectively. The bloated corpse of a blighted boar lay where a spear had finally sunk in, too heavy to be moved.
As the last of the reinforcements joined the shield wall, two men hung back. Holt didn’t recognize the Twinblades at first; they wore plate armor splattered in gore and their blonde hair was lost under more grime.
“Our ealdor requires more time,” Eadwulf said. “We must hold longer,” said Eadwald.
“Time for what?” Holt asked. “Soldiers stopped coming this way ages ago.”
“Many move by the walls,” said Eadwulf. “The last of the barrels must be laid.” “The what?”
More squads of soldiers, hauling carts of small wooden barrels answered that question for him. They took the barrels and placed them seemingly at random, but especially beside the stakes and upturned wagons of the barricades.
“More ghouls,” Ash announced. Sure enough a fresh wave of scourge forces rounded the street toward them.
“Fine,” Holt said. Talia had told him to hold the choke point as long as Harroway needed. If the Master of War wanted more time, then he and Ash would give it to him.
“Hold!” men from the shield wall cried as ghouls and flayers hurtled toward them.
“Hold fast!”
The Twinblades drew their weapons. “Our swords are at your command,” they said together.
“I trust you still have your vials?” They nodded.
“Don’t hesitate if things get desperate.” He faced the back of the shield wall, deciding how best to help them. Without a shield of his own, he couldn’t function as part of the wall and even if he picked one up, he didn’t have the experience. Until now he and Ash had stood just behind the wall, plugging gaps and cutting down anything that managed to scramble or leap over the formation.
He had a better idea now.
“Stay behind the lines and help Ash,” he told them.
“I don’t like them,” Ash said.
“I know but they’re good fighters. I’m going to shore up the front.”
Holt pushed his way through the ranks until he was just behind the front row of soldiers. This would be a better use of his power rather than single Shocks. He drew light from Ash’s core and channeled the motes down to his foot.
The Consecration slipped under the shield wall, running out to burn and weaken the scourge on the other side without compromising the formation. In practicing the ability, Holt had learned when the pulses of power released from the ground. Every two seconds, the lunar fire wreaked damage on the
enemies standing upon it. When the light faded, the scourge at the front were left dead or weakened.
“Break!” an officer cried. And, as one, the soldiers of the shield wall opened to stab or hack at the enemy. They reformed and took a step back. Stepping forward to gain ground was not their aim, nor would holding steady help in the long run. The scourge, unlike men, would be happy to climb a mound of their fallen to continue. So, they stepped back, forcing the scourge that rushed forward to trip or fall over their own dead.
Holt marveled at the training and discipline of Harroway’s men. There was a benefit to training troops like these for life. Yet the ferocity with which the ghouls hurled themselves at the shield wall was terrible. Bones crunched, flesh squelched and ripped as they tried to brute force their way through. A stronger flayer hammered its long arms upon the topmost shields.
Holt lay down another Consecration and peered through a gap between two shields to admire the effect. The flayer shrieked and trembled as the magic took effect, allowing a soldier to stab through its torso.
Another flayer leapt off the flames and landed behind the shield wall. A roar followed by a satisfied glow over the bond let Holt know the problem had been dealt with.
Holt aided the shield wall three more times before almost falling to his knees from the effort. He backed out of the formation, stumbled on his shaking leg, and drew ragged breaths. The dragon bond was still intact but the first cracks at the edges were showing. Ash’s core was about one quarter drained in total. Holt could only draw up to around one half before his bond would fray.
Eadwulf steadied him. “Time to go.”
“The last barrels are being laid,” Eadwald said.
Holt nodded. There were indeed a lot more of those little barrels stacked along the street – all the way back to the gatehouse itself.
“Order your men back then,” Holt said. “Ash and I will cover their retreat.”
He was about to run to Ash’s side when cries of panic rose from the soldiers.
“Abominations!”
A few soldiers at the back of the wall broke and fled. Holt found it hard to blame them. Holding against those monsters was about as likely as
holding back a juggernaut at full tilt. Most shocking was how many stayed and held, each one braver than any rider in the face of such foes.
Before Holt could consider options, two abominations broke through the shield wall with sheer force.
One of the skeletons lacked weapons. It didn’t need any. It kicked, crushed and knocked men aside. Soldiers flew, crunched against building walls and crumpled. The other held a great sword in one hand and a scavenged pike in the other, stabbing with a monstrous reach.
Out of the corner of his eye, Holt saw the Twinblades tip small vials to their mouths.
Ash bounded toward the closest abomination – the one without weapons – gathering light between his teeth. The dragon sent a beam against it, and the abomination brought its bony hands together, conjuring dark power of its own – the same black magic the smaller casters wielded. The abomination cast its own spell to clash with Ash’s power and the channels of magic battled for dominance in the air.
Holt would have helped but the second skeleton bore down upon them and he had to keep it off Ash. He sent a Lunar Shock which glanced off its shoulder. That got its attention at least.
Holt dodged the pike thrust at him and rolled to avoid the sword. He placed a half-charged Consecration before pirouetting away. It was better than nothing. The abomination howled as the ground it stood upon became infused with lunar magic. Despite being weakened, it raised its sword and struck down with such speed Holt could only dodge again. Forms, guards, stances and craft were nothing against this thing.
The next attack came too quick. Out of instinct, Holt raised his own sword to block the strike, knowing as he did so he would be crushed. Then two more blades raised in time to aid his own. Eadwulf, Eadwald and Holt’s combined and enhanced strength managed to block the blow, catching the abomination’s sword in a bind with all three of theirs.
Holt had a split second to decide what he did next. He saw Ash’s magic push his opponent back, felt the dragon’s core drain at an alarming rate but Ash couldn’t just drop his attack or else he’d be struck by the skeleton’s magic. Holt decided. Still on his Consecrated ground, he already felt a slight boost. Why not amplify that? He pulled on magic, sending it out to his muscles, especially to his shoulders and arms. His Ascendant’s body
drank the power in, demanding more than before to feel the benefit now. But the difference, well, it was indescribable.
With a light push, he threw off the abomination’s sword stuck in the bind. In a single leap he crossed the distance between himself and the giant’s leg. With all the force he could muster, he swung his sword at its knee. All in what seemed an eye blink.
Holt landed in a crouch and ceased the flow of magic. Ash’s core dipped well under half its total strength.
Reality came back to him in a jolt. The light of his Consecration winked out. His legs ached from the jump; his shoulders burned from the effort of his swing; the blade of his sword had broken. Yet the abomination’s lower leg lay broken beside him too.
He turned and ran out from under the giant as it fell, heading to Ash and yelling. “Use what you need, boy – take it down!”
Holt felt the quake through his soul as Ash’s core flickered. The beam emanating from his mouth swelled, blasted the abomination’s magic aside and burned a hole through its midriff.
It was a Pyrrhic victory. With the shield wall broken their retreat was in disarray. Ghouls swarmed towards the barricades at a frightening speed. Even above, Holt saw smaller animals scurrying up walls and along rooftops; squirrels with shining green eyes, cats with bile running from their mouths. Everything was being thrown against the defenders.
“Fall back!” Eadwulf cried.
“To the gate!” his brother yelled.
Holt jumped on Ash’s back. “We need to do what we can to cover them.”
And they did their best, turning every so often so Ash could rake with his talons, breathe his lunar breath, turn again, and tail swipe some more before running on. They were the last to make it through before the portcullis of the eastern gate banged shut.
They kept running. Over the bridge. To the first outpost of the inner ring, narrowly avoiding attacks from swooping stingers that made it through the crossfire. They only stopped with the others once they were through the next gatehouse.
“Rider,” Eadwulf called to him.
His brother waved him over too. “Our ealdor would see you.”
Ash growled. “Can’t we get a moment?” People hastened to step aside as Ash made a beeline for the Twinblades.
“I hope holding that long and losing those men was worth it,” Holt said. “It will be,” Eadwulf said.
“When the princess has her way.”
Just then, Pyra’s voice entered Holt’s mind. “Get well clear, little one.”
She roared and Holt craned his neck to see her fly low over their outpost, straight for the island they had just abandoned. Every ballista in range fired to cover her.
Once Pyra and Talia were at the walls of the west quarter they began bathing the island in fire. A few swooping turns belching flames and an inferno began. Pyra emerged unharmed and without any stingers on her tail.
“What was in those barrels?” Holt asked. “Pitch, resin, pig fat,” said Eadwulf.
“Poured onto the streets and thrown against walls as we fled,” said Eadwald.
Holt was speechless. The blaze spread as it hungered for thatched roofs and wood.
“The scourge burn,” Ash said in awe.
A quiet fell over the outpost. Rattling armor ceased as soldiers stood still. The endless buzzing in the air even dropped and the ballistae too fell silent.
“The Master of War knows his trade,” said Eadwulf.
Eadwald held up a new sword and scabbard. “To replace what you lost.” “Thank you,” Holt said, taking the spare blade and discarding his
broken one. “Where is Harroway?” “Follow us, rider,” Eadwulf said.
Holt got down from Ash and followed the Twinblades. They entered a fortified tower, climbing several floors to a small command room. Through a narrow window Holt saw the fires of the west quarter dance upon the surface of the lake, reflecting enough light to stave off the darkness on this side of the city.
Inside the war room, stewards and other non-combatants repositioned blocks of colored wood upon a great map of Sidastra. Breathless messengers relayed news to them or passed scrunched notes before dashing off. A purple block and a white block sat by a small isle on the inner ring. Holt reckoned that stood for himself and Talia.
Lord Harroway stood at the center of things, studying the map, gesticulating, and barking orders. When he caught sight of the Twinblades he stopped and stomped around the table to greet them.
“Holt,” he said roughly, clearly deciding to follow Talia’s suggested protocol, “fine work out there. How is your dragon?”
Some choice words sprang to Holt’s mind, but he refrained from speaking them. Now wasn’t the time to let grudges influence him. “I’m afraid it cost us a lot to hold that choke point. Ash’s core is running low already.”
Harroway frowned. “I see,” he said, though it was plain he didn’t much understand the mechanics of magic.
“Your men deserve more praise,” Holt said. “They fought like riders themselves.”
Harroway beamed at the Twinblades like a proud father. “I only pick the best. But let us save further self-congratulatory statements until we win the night.”
“You think we’ll win?” Holt asked. “The swarm has backed off, has it not?”
Just then Talia burst into the room, face dirty, glistening with sweat and eyes burning. “This is just a respite,” she said. “It won’t end until the queen dies. We need to force her into the fight.”
“I would think burning half her swarm would force her out,” said Harroway.
“This isn’t a usual swarm,” Talia said. She steadied herself. “Good idea on rigging the island. It was hard but the right move in the circumstances.”
Harroway inclined his head. “I’ve reports that our other outer ring traps are filled with bugs too.”
“Then Pyra and I will go while the skies are clear.” She only seemed to notice Holt at that moment. “You’re alive!”
Holt patted himself down. “Seem to be. Ash’s core won’t last much longer.”
She bit her lip. “We do what we can. That’s all. Stay alive, please.” With that she dashed off.
Holt clenched his jaw, feeling they ought to have said more.
Harroway entered a low conversation with the Twinblades so Holt took a few moments to himself. He moved to glance at the map of the city again. Red crosses had been placed upon the western quarter and on other
locations on the outer ring. More islands had fallen then or were about to be set ablaze. Even if they pulled through the night, Sidastra would suffer for it.
Although Holt could not see them making it to dawn. Just how would they even begin to kill the queen when it took Champions and Lords to bring one down?
And they hadn’t even considered Silas yet.
His heart began hammering; the dragon bond picked up with it. He was spared spiraling in his own thoughts by Harroway calling him again.
“The brothers tell me your magic is of benefit to a shield wall. Slowing the wretched bugs as we fall back will be invaluable.”
“Ash and I will do what we can,” Holt said. “But eventually our magic will run out.”
Harroway harrumphed. “As will our arrows and bolts before the queen emerges at this rate. You’re dismissed for now.”
Happy to leave, Holt descended back to the courtyard and to Ash. He pressed into the dragon and Ash wrapped his neck around him, and they enjoyed a quiet moment together.
Around them troops began moving again. The remaining trebuchets continued to whistle and thump, ballista teams called to one another, and siege equipment groaned as they repositioned.
Not wanting to waste any time, Holt got on Ash’s back to sit in peace and opened the bond to look on the core. Some lunar motes swirled freely so he got to Forging. If they were lucky, he might hammer enough of them in for one extra Shock or Consecration.
Talia
The skies were clear, but it would not last for long. Pyra flew fast to the north, while Talia gleaned as much information on the state of the battle across the city as she could.
Though the bulk of both their forces and the scourge were concentrated in the west, carriers had landed ghouls wherever else they could. But Talia, Harroway and their war council had anticipated that. And in this regard, the scourge at least seemed to be acting as expected. Perhaps Silas, or the Sovereign, or whatever dark power drove the scourge now had not anticipated the living changing tactics too?
Harroway had done the work, and damn him, he’d done good work. Strategic outer islands had been cleared of ballista teams to make those islands appear weak and easy pickings. Talia and Pyra were en route to the most northern one now.
“I sense them,” Pyra said. “Crawling all over the island.”
Talia smiled. The ghouls and bugs would have hoped to kill the people there, infect them and raise them as more drones for the swarm. But the island was empty and was as rigged to ignite as the west quarter had been. And with the sky briefly clear, Pyra had free reign.
Their bond burned in satisfaction as the scourge below burned. Homes could be rebuilt. Walls repaired. Yet whether ghoul, juggernaut or abomination, it didn’t matter; all were consumed by such a blaze. Pyra’s pleasure became her own, and for once Talia did not resist it.
After torching the island, Pyra turned east. Talia bid her fly low to the lake so the troops at far flung outposts might see them at work. Let them know a dragon rider was with them.
Yet their domination of the sky ended there. Shrill shrieks came from the west. Talia twisted her head around to see distant stingers and carriers reemerge from the cover of the storm clouds, descending near vertically like a shower of putrid stars. The swarm had regrouped and now focused all its effort in one direction. Since the west quarter had been torched, the defenders had no more traps to spring.
“We should go back,” Pyra said.
“We can’t,” Talia insisted. “There aren’t enough men to defend the south, east and north because of this plan. We light the traps and then head
back.”
Pyra roared and pushed herself on even harder. After torching one of the rigged islands in the east, Talia feared their cunning plan was now being used against them. While she and Pyra flew around the city, the scourge pushed in the west with only Holt and Ash for any magical aid, and he said Ash’s core had been low already.
When they lit the eastern isle without encountering resistance, she knew they had been played. The swarm was happily sacrificing pockets of its numbers to keep the fire rider occupied – yet she couldn’t have left those scourge forces alone or else the beleaguered defenders would face a fight on all fronts.
At least with the west quarter impassable by foot, the scourge ground forces would have a harder time pushing in.
Pyra turned south. On their way, Talia saw just how tenacious the scourge could be.
Ghouls crawled out of the lake, spreading across the embankments of lesser islands, connecting islands, and any patch of land that lacked walls. They wouldn’t make it through the gatehouses on their own, but they were cutting off escape routes, forcing battalions to fight their way through even as they tried to retreat.
Talia and Pyra were halfway to the southern islands when the western sky streaked with silver.
“No,” Talia cried.
“Clesh…” Pyra said, her voice betraying fear. Pyra’s fear sent a chill through Talia.
“Hurry, Ash and Holt are alone!”
They were so far away that Pyra couldn’t hope to communicate with Ash. Speed was now critical.
When they burned the southern island, there was no pleasure left in the purge. Pyra set the bugs ablaze and they circled back, flying with all their might to the western front. The fighting had advanced deep into the inner ring.
A storm of silver lightning traced Silas and Clesh’s progress. The Storm Lord flew toward the central ring, then toward the palace itself. Then up, and up, until the black sky lowered to engulf the palace roof, and Talia lost sight of their foe.
Stingers buzzed all around them. Pyra tucked her wings in and dove, pulling up just above the lake’s surface where the heat from the burning west kept the stingers at bay. The lake’s surface gleamed like a pool of blood; blood that boiled and churned as ghouls climbed out onto the embankments. The swarm only slowed as it attempted to cross the final bridge between the inner and central rings. There, beyond the ruined gates, the blue hawk banner of Harroway still flew. Assailed on all sides, the battalion fought its last desperate stand as troops fled in disorder to the palace grounds. Swords clashed like thrashing claws, spearmen thrust against
oncoming juggernauts and did not waiver.
Talia wished to aid them, but the palace was still lost in darkness. As they began their ascent, a screaming roar rent the night – enough to sap the last of the heat from Talia’s heart.
A dragon had died.
