I’d arranged a team of men to bring with me and we stood adjacent in the front two rows closest to the gateway. There was a hubbub of chatter all around at the news Haster’s men had joined us. If our situation hadn’t been so parlous, there would have been excited laughter and joking.
I ran through ideas and thoughts in my head – I intended that we’d use Ploster to break into the central tower, then we’d kill all the archers and knock out the keystones if we could. With luck, we’d be able to do it before the enemy could come to see what was happening. In reality, they’d have great difficulty in disrupting our plans and I wasn’t absolutely sure they’d even try, since I didn’t think they’d know about the keystones. The central tower was strategically important, but not drastically so.
“How long till full dark, do you think?” asked Beamer, squinting into the sky. He knew the answer and was just talking to pass the time.
“Less than an hour and we can go,” I told him.
“Think it’ll work?” he asked.
“Of course,” I told him with a wink. “We’d not be going if I wasn’t certain.”
“It’ll be nice to give those archers a taste of their own medicine, at least,” said Weevil, making a stabbing motion with his knife. He had an enormous iron-headed mallet slung across his back.
I waved the pair of them to silence. There was movement at the south end of the bridge. A figure stepped into sight and strolled through the south tower gateway. He was alone – I knew who he was and he didn’t need to bring anyone with him. He stood almost impossibly tall for a man – broad and misshapen. Then, he wasn’t a man.
“Who’s that stupid bastard?” asked one of Haster’s men.
I didn’t get a chance to answer – Sinnar did it for me. “That’s the Hungerer, lads. Come to send us all down into the pit.”
20
The Hungerer came slowly towards us across the south end of the bridge. In the dying light of day, he could have been almost mistaken for a man, clad in filthy grey rags and with his raggy, dirty black hair. He stopped, less than fifty yards from us and stared at our ranks. To a man, we stared back, into the wild eyes of madness. His thick arms were bare and I could see a mixture of weeping pinks and blacks across his skin, where the Pyromancer’s flames had ignited his flesh.
Ploster was near me and his power surged across the intervening space, seeking to do whatever harm to the Hungerer his magic would inflict. I followed across the warp and weft, pursuing in the blink of an eye. The Hungerer was there – like a vast, malevolent tree trunk, with its roots anchored across the place he was standing. These roots reached out, spreading lazily towards us as they tried to grasp the threads of our existence. Ploster attacked – he tried his best to destroy our foe, using everything he had in a single, great expulsion of sorcery. The Hungerer didn’t even flinch, and Ploster retreated at once, defeated utterly.
With us watching, the man on the bridge began to writhe. He bent double and then straightened, twisting and grunting as he did so. A sound reached us – a ripping, rending noise that came from the structure of his body tearing itself apart. His legs thickened. His arms and shoulders spread to an impossible span as he transformed into a creature much larger than he had been. Throughout it all, the grunting didn’t stop and it made me wonder if the changing subjected him to a great pain. I could have ordered the attack at any point. I’d seen other soldiers do it before. It hadn’t been enough to prevent the transformation in the past and I was sure it wouldn’t be now.
It took much less than a minute to reach completion. The eight-foot man became a twenty-five-foot giant, strong enough to uproot trees and with a feral look that spoke of insanity and a lust to destroy.
“He’s a big bastard,” said Sinnar, raising his voice so that all could hear. “Let’s cut him down to size, eh?”
I had no doubt that the Hungerer heard the words. They wouldn’t have angered it any more than it already was. It was born with rage and it wouldn’t stop until we were all dead, or it died trying. The Emperor had used it as a shock weapon in the past. I’d assumed it had been killed long ago, but I’d been away from Hardened for too long. The creature had come out of hiding for reasons I’d probably never know and here it was in front of us.
The Hungerer made a noise – somewhere between a hideous laugh and a growl. It took two long strides, which took it to the far side of the central tower gateway. Its upper torso and head were lost behind the tower. Arrows flew by, striking it in the legs and stomach. Several more came after the first, with Shooter and Eagle spending their ammunition in a futile effort to weaken it.
“Can it get through?” asked one of Haster’s men. There was hope in his voice.
“If it crawls through the gateway, we can beat the shit out of it as it comes,” said another voice, filled with bravado.
“How do we kill that?” said another.
“We stab it until it falls over,” said Sinnar. There was eagerness in his voice.
The Hungerer didn’t come through - it came over. I saw what it was doing at once and ordered us to withdraw fifty yards to the north. The tower was tall, yet not so tall that our opponent couldn’t jump and reach the top. I heard it scrabble and growl to itself as it hauled its enormous bulk to the flat top of the tower. Once it reached the summit, it stood upright and looked down at us, like one of the incomprehensibly large statues that the Emperor had placed near his palace. It crouched and put one hand on the roof’s edge and then vaulted down onto our side of the bridge. The stone barely trembled even under this impact. For a brief moment it loomed above us, looking down at our ranks from its great height. I knew it was giving fear a chance to take hold of us. I wasn’t frightened, but I had no wish to fight the creature. Not here and not now.
With four quick strides, it was amongst us. Shields were useless, as was almost anything. Where before the width of the bridge had been to our advantage, now it was the opposite. With more space, we could have surrounded the Hungerer and brought extra swords to bear on its pale flesh. As it was, we were reduced to a frantic scramble to avoid the swinging blows. There was no chance of complete avoidance – each of its attacks killed someone. It was simply a matter of how many fell each time. I’d dropped my shield as soon as it had attacked and I carried my sword in both hands. The blade wanted to hurt the creature – it thrummed softly in my hand as if it had been designed with this exact thing in mind. Or perhaps it has become so attuned to your own desires that it reflects them as its own, came the thought.
I went for the tendons and ligaments at the back of its knees. There was a chance it might topple over the edge if we managed to unbalance it. My first blow landed off-target, opening up a long, shallow cut across its calf. I’d not expected to see any blood and none came. Usually hitting these bastards was like chopping wood, so I was satisfied that I’d caused even this minor wound. The Hungerer didn’t seem to notice and it swept its arm horizontally in front. I watched three men be knocked to the ground and a fourth was catapulted off the bridge. The Hungerer chuckled, low and malicious at its success.
We had no hope of holding our ranks, so we spread out as much as we could. Those at the back could do little more than watch as their fellows were crushed and mangled by the giant we faced. I darted in and out, each time marking its flesh. Others did likewise – Craddock hewed at its ankle and Sinnar tried enthusiastically to drive his sword into its stomach. A fist descended and Sinnar was knocked back. He jumped at once to his feet, staggered two paces and then joined the fray once again.
A man went flying past my vision, the moment captured vividly by my sight. His eyes were closed and his chest cavity ruptured. He flew over the side wall and vanished, his death saving him from the terror of the endless fall. I sensed the Hungerer seek me out – I’d hurt it too many times for it to let me continue any longer. Upwards I stared, ever upwards, into its bottomless grey eyes, sick with madness. It kicked at me and I stepped aside. My sword clashed off the bones of its foot as it we
nt by. Above me, a clenched fist the size of a barrel thundered towards me. Again, I was able to escape certain death – I jumped forward and the fist rocketed over my head. Almost without realising it, I’d accessed my battle senses, letting me predict the giant’s attacks and reducing them to a state where they were almost clumsy to me.
“Come on!” I roared at it, smashing another attack into its thigh. The more it wanted me, the fewer of my men it could kill.
The Hungerer took the challenge and tried to swat me into the abyss, with a side-swipe of its arm. It was a near thing and it took all my skill to roll beneath the blow, raising my sword as I did so in the hope of adding another minor injury. My own attack missed and I jumped to my feet, only to be knocked down by a kick to the stomach. The power was tremendous and I felt my breastplate crumple inwards. Something flexed and grated deep within me and I worried that I’d been smashed inside. Towering above, the Hungerer raised a foot to stamp the life out of me. I tried to roll and would have been too late, except for one of Haster’s men, who appeared next to me with his sword raised above his head, the tip pointing at the sole of the Hungerer’s foot. The heel came down and the sword burst through the tough flesh of the creature’s foot. The Hungerer didn’t complete the stamp and it jerked away, with the sword embedded up to the hilt. Haster’s man fell down with blood spurting from his mouth. I tried to catch his eyes – to convey a silent expression of my gratitude before he died. It was too late. He vomited up what looked like gallons of crimson and his eyes dimmed.
The unknown man’s sacrifice had bought some time and distracted the Hungerer from its efforts to kill me. It reached down and plucked the sword from its foot and threw it away. At its feet, men danced in and out, hacking at its legs. The Hungerer had many cuts now, but it didn’t seem concerned. It’s going to kill us all I thought to myself. The fury rose within me and I pushed myself upright. Something felt wrong inside my chest, yet it didn’t impede my ability to walk or fight and I lurched towards the melee again.
Before I could engage, I sensed something whisper past me. I recognized it as Ploster’s spirit – he was trying his hardest to do something that might allow us to snatch a victory. I couldn’t prevent myself from following – I was curious even in this most dire of circumstances. Across the intertwined threads that underpin our existence, I watched my friend as he tried everything he could to harm the giant that was killing us. Where before the Hungerer had seemed to be the trunk and roots of a giant tree, now it was even larger, like dozens of trees merged into one. The unbound threads of those it had killed drifted gradually away – they were always reluctant so soon after death. It wouldn’t be long until they lost all memory of how they’d been fixed to the tapestry.
In that place, I hunted. I didn’t know what for, or why I did so. In a way, I was a difficult pupil – eager to look, but scared to learn. I found something, hidden deep within the Hungerer’s sorcery. It was a thicker thread than the others – like a massive rope that would anchor a ship to the docks. I flew towards it, unseen and unfelt by the Hungerer, though I took no conscious efforts to hide myself. I took hold of this rope. I had no hands, yet I grasped it and pulled as hard as I could. It shuddered and resisted, so I pulled again, angry that it hadn’t succumbed to my wishes. This time, it snapped and the severed ends snaked away from me as if they’d been held under great tension.
I returned to the world. The Hungerer was shrinking, diminishing in size as if its essence were being sucked away. It made no sound and within seconds, all that remained was the savage, misshapen man who had first stepped onto the bridge. He looked around him. I wasn’t sure if he was confused or surprised that his giant form had been snatched away. Although I was not within the tapestry, I must have left a part of my being behind me. Already, the Hungerer was trying to re-join the ends of the rope I’d snapped and within seconds, the rending sounds of his body’s growth began. The soldiers around him continued to whittle away at his body, yet he hardly seemed to care at the damage they did.
“Kill him!” I shouted, doing my best to elbow my way through the melee.
It was doing to be too late, I thought to myself. I was wrong. Lieutenant Sinnar was there. He dropped his sword and wrapped both arms about the Hungerer’s waist. Sinnar was near to seven feet and even he was dwarfed by the man-form of our enemy. Still, he was as strong as an ox and he heaved the Hungerer two feet off the ground. Before I could reach the pair, Sinnar had taken seven or eight quick steps and carried himself and the creature with him over the side wall and into the rift.
“Harry!” I called, breaking free from the men and dashing to the wall. It was too late. Sinnar was gone. I looked over the edge – the darkness denied me even one last glimpse of the man who’d served the First Cohort as well as anyone.
I stared dumbly into the distance. I was aware of a voice – Lieutenant Craddock – as he marshalled the troops back into ranks and moved them forward to the central tower gateway. It was the enemy’s great loss that they hadn’t followed up with troops, content to let the Hungerer do their work for them.
“Tyrus?” It was Ploster. “We need to move, Captain. This is our chance to shatter the bridge and save the men! Do not delay, else you make a nothing out of Harry’s sacrifice.”
“You’re right, Jon. The time for mourning is later.” I had always possessed a strength that let me act in the moment and put everything else aside. The need I had to put the safety of my men first would allow me to behave no other way. I turned away from the edge and pushed my own hurt aside. Ploster’s face bore the sorrow I was sure was on mine.
“Come on,” he said quietly.
I found the squads I’d assigned to the task of accompanying me into the tower and we crept forward into the gateway tunnel. The heavy doors that provided access stood impassively as we gathered around them. It was almost dark now – there was just enough light for us to see, yet not enough for Lord Flax’s men to see what it was that we intended.
“Can you open it?” I asked Ploster in a whisper.
He shrugged as if to say that he either could or he couldn’t. He gathered himself, causing ripples to stir the air. He was fatigued, but he wouldn’t let that stop him fulfilling his duties. There was a dull thump when he unleashed his sorcery at the door. It creaked and splintered. I gave it a push – it was still sealed. Ploster swore under his breath.
“You have to pull his beard three times,” whispered Trusty. “It makes him angry.”
I waved him to silence, though I wasn’t upset at his words. We lived on the humour, even if it wasn’t always delivered at an appropriate moment. I was already thinking ahead to what we’d have to do once we got inside. The enemy were likely already aware that we came for them, given the noise Ploster had made at their door.
The air stirred again. Ploster was angry – I could feel it pouring off him. He was angry that he’d been so ineffective against the Hungerer and that for all his centuries of existence, he’d been powerless to influence the fight. I didn’t hold anything against him – it was something he’d need to deal with himself. This next time, the door did more than splinter. It ruptured down the middle and was torn open. The space behind was illuminated by harsh torchlight. There was a man there, holding a bow in one hand. His other hand was pressed over his stomach, to stop the blood flowing from a tear in his stomach where shards of the door had exploded into him. There were other men in the room. They held bows and looked worried. Something whistled out of the doorway. One of Haster’s men – Turvey – collapsed with an arrow in the throat. Loafer took another in the shoulder. He looked at it like it was no more than a bird shit on his armour and he snapped the end of the shaft off.
Then, we were through. I went in first, using a shield to block any further missile fire. Two more arrows clanked away, deflected harmlessly. The gateway tunnel took up much of the ground floor space, so this room was cramped. There were steps leading upwards and I saw several pairs of feet clustered around the opening which led to
the next floor.
I used my shield as a battering ram to push aside three or four of the enemy. They shouted in fear when they saw how determined we were. Having endured two days of these bastards taking leisurely aim at us, we didn’t hold back and the men on the ground floor died quickly. A few arrows came down from above and Loafer took one in the thigh. This time he cursed his luck and I sent him outside to see Corporal Grief. He wasn’t happy with it, but I wanted neither a liability nor another dead soldier.
We didn’t have much time to act – as soon as the archers had heard our attack on the door I felt sure they’d have sent someone to the south tower with a message. They could easily shout it out of the window and be heard by Callian’s men in their camp. If I were in the same position as Flax, I’d have likely sent a large number of men to see what was happening, even in the darkness.
Sure enough, the trapdoor to the tunnels beneath the bridge was open. I called for my squad to follow and I jumped down the first three steps. Whatever the Hungerer’s kick had done to me there was no sign of the injury now, much to my relief. Before I descended out of sight I glanced back and saw the other squads sheltering beneath their shields in the room. We had no need to storm the rest of the tower – not yet at least.
“Come on down, lads,” called Corporal Plink. “Don’t you want to say hello?”
I took the steps three at a time. Their treads were high and even, lit by lamps which the enemy had left burning for their own use. I still had my shield and my dagger was in my other hand, since it was better for confined spaces. The steps went down a single flight and then switched back on themselves for another flight. Near to the bottom, a man entered the stairwell. He looked concerned, as well he might. I drove my dagger into his chest, killing him and knocking him onto the floor.
Death's Chosen (First Cohort Book 3) Page 22