by Jackson Lear
Loken flinched against the break in the chain of command. Another smattering of arrows forced us to duck and shift closer to the courtyard. A boulder landed behind us, bunching us together.
I said, “They’re not going to wait forever to blow it up.”
Loken shifted to Wulf and Volbrig. “Take care of it.”
Volbrig sped forward, peeked into the courtyard. A pinched square in shape. Twelve yards across. He whispered twice and threw himself out of way of an arrow breaking against the wall just behind him. Frantic calls ran throughout the northerners. “The barrels are broken and leaking, sir.”
Wulf dug into his spell pouch and crept forward. Peeked. Recoiled quickly as another arrow came close to taking out his eye.
“What’s the delay?”
“It’s leaking slowly, sir.”
More cries, this time coming from behind.
“They’re forcing us forward,” said Zara.
Thumps of boots down the stairs, then a glass bottle smashed right behind us. A noxious cloud of fumes spilled out, gripping the ground as it spread towards us.
Loken snapped Wulf’s name.
Wulf hesitated, tossed a handful of blue powder and another of green. The moment it mixed it burst into a brilliant arc of flame, lighting the side of every surrounding building like the sunrise of a perfect summer day. It caught the Galinnean Fire trickling out of the barrels and erupted into blue flames, followed by an explosion as the barrels obliterated everything in their path. It would’ve been far worse if Volbrig hadn’t started to drain them already, and deadly to all of us if we had run in.
Cries from the sailors bounced back at us as they slammed their fists on the doors. Pools of blue flame still gushed from the remains of the barrels, filling the courtyard and trickling towards the stairs beside the crew’s compound.
Loken pulled Mikael up beside him. “Tell them to stand away from doors.”
Mikael bellowed at the top of the lungs. The banging continued. Mikael repeated himself. The dumbasses couldn’t hear shit over their own frantic cries to get out.
Saskia spun behind us, hand up, launched the first of Draegor’s cubs off his feet and hurtled him towards us with a desperate and panicked look across the berserker’s face. Ewen swung his sword into the berserker’s ax. The berserker landed, shouldered Ewen. Zara shoved her spear into the berserker’s face. Gilmero drove his sword through the berserker’s back.
Another axman came barreling forward, throwing his weapon. Gilmero hit the ground, screamed in desperation as the ax became lodged in his arm.
Another bottle hurtled towards us, shattering right at Zara’s feet. Another floor-gripping mist spilled out, sizzling the berserker’s flesh and melting his leather away.
“GO!” shouted Zara, pushing everyone forward.
The moment we reached the courtyard we were met with arrow after arrow, covering us from three sides. Jarmella crackled with energy, her target catapulted into the air and falling with a sickening crunch as his face impacted with the stone wall.
Wulf slammed into the sailor’s doors, using the doorframe as partial cover, slapped a thick goo on the metal lock and used a silver rod to drive it in like a makeshift key. With a quick mutter one end of the rod expanded violently, breaking the hole open wider.
Volbrig was next, rammed a short pole into the new hole and uttered his command. The pole lengthened at incredible speed, breaking the locking mechanism even further and giving the rest of the troops a lever.
An arrow skewered Helga’s temple. Her eyes faded. Body collapsed. Dead. Loken threw her over his shoulder. “Keep going!”
Bren hissed with an arrow striking him, nicking his scalp and drizzling his face with a stream of blood. Still, he, Vyfred, and Elgrid wrenched down on Volbrig’s ten foot pole, cracking the lock to oblivion.
The door swung open. The crew tried to run out. We tried to run in.
Bottle after bottle broke around us. The Galinnean Fire helped to burn through most of the toxic contents but Bren and Elgrid hissed from chemical heat coming off it.
“The doors!” shouted Loken. “Shut the doors!”
We did so, plunging us into utter darkness, much to the dismay of the nearly-free sailors.
“Wulf, Volbrig, get to the rear wall.”
Wulf repeated his silver rod trick, finding a loose bit of mortar in the wall.
“Stand back!” called Volbrig.
“Everyone get to the walls,” barked Loken.
I have no idea if everyone did.
Volbrig’s ten foot pole shot out again. “Ready!”
Bren, Vyfred, and Elgrid moved closer to Volbrig’s steady voice.
Rocks showered the courtyard door and dungeon roof, bouncing off the wood and slate and cracking both with ease.
“Steady,” called Loken.
“... And heave!” said Bren. “Again!”
“Back up, back up!” said Wulf. He broke another section of the wall free. “Okay!”
Volbrig ran back in, broke the opening further. “Ready!”
“Heave!”
“Ready!”
“Heave!”
I felt Alysia’s hand grip my wrist. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“We’re not doing very well, are we?”
“Considering there’s thirty four of us and a shit load of them, we’re doing remarkably well.”
Rocks rained upon the roof, breaking the flimsy slate twenty feet above us and falling to our scattering feet.
“Heave!”
A bottle of mist landed on the roof, rolled forward, dropped inside. Shrieks and screams broke through half of us as the cloud sizzled through our leather boots and blistering our skin.
“Ready!”
“Heave!”
One brick broke free.
“Fuck it, everyone break the wall down. Cavalry: the left side of the hole. Infantry: the right. Archers: the center. Mages: your choice. Three, two, one!”
A blast of cries, bellows, and spells ripped the wall back, forward, up, and down; an earthquake centralized against an area the size of a shield. The entire wall blew out, turning the heavy rocks into shrapnel and dust in all directions.
“Move!”
We choked and gasped and spluttered through the dust, dodging arrows and rocks as we weaved our way through a narrow courtyard then down a precariously steep set of stairs. Two bottles smashed in front of us, covering the stairs in a slick goo. The captain of the crew and Mikael slipped, their momentum tumbling them to the ground and thumping them both to a stop. The rest of us managed to thread our way over walls, around the slick patches, and reach Mikael and the captain with a sickening drop in our stomachs. Mikael’s leg was twisted around, broken at the hip. The captain had broken one arm and mangled his jaw. Blood streamed from his face as he dabbed his lips and gums with one shaky hand.
A berserker landed to our left, a whirlwind of axes as he charged straight for Alysia. He checked my attack. Knocked Zara’s spear out of the way. Was blasted back a dozen yards by one of our mages. Bounced off a wall, came running forward again. Wulf threw another handful of green and blue powder into the air, blasting the attacker with a dragon’s breath of flames. The berserker kept running towards us, his vision largely obliterated. Zara’s spear landed in his throat. His momentum carried him forward, knocking the spear from Zara’s grip. He threw both axes in a final desperate gesture. One hit. The other went wide. Diomiro ducked down, shielding himself as the berserker crashed into him and toppled over. I skewered the northerner. Twisted. Skewered him again. He finally gave up.
“That shouldn’t be normal,” muttered Zara.
“They’re high on vampire blood,” I said. “Or just high in general. Let’s get out of here.”
We hurried down the last flight of stone stairs towards the pier. A reinforced door the size of a war elephant stood between us. Ludvyk and Odeh threw themselves against the wall, one on each side of the door. Haraj dropped to one knee, locked his fingers in pl
ace. Gaynun stepped up and with a one, two, three Haraj lifted him up to see over the wall. “Clear.”
“Hit it,” said Loken.
Ludvyk and Odeh stepped back from the door. Blasted the hinges and showered us again in stone shrapnel. Diomiro and Kilmur threw their shoulders into the door, forcing it open against its design. One by one we slipped through with two of the crew members carrying Mikael’s wailing body with them.
Our ship was moored twenty yards from the end of the pier. A single row boat was tied to one of the poles driven into the lake bed. It could carry eight passengers at most.
Lindum cried out, dropped to one knee as an arrow skewered his shoulder blade. Loken – still with Helga draped over his shoulder – grabbed him, pulled him behind the wall. Another arrow landed six inches from Loken’s head, bouncing off the wall and breaking apart. Shouts and commands echoed behind us.
I grabbed two coils of rope from one of the wooden beams. Began knotting two of the loose ends together.
Gaynun studied our only way out. “They’re ready for us. Four mercenaries. All with bows.”
“Bren! You and the mages are to leap onto the ship. Take them out. Zara? You and six sailors will then take Miss Kasera to the ship.”
I shoved one end of rope into Bren’s hands. “We’ll secure this side. You drag the row boat towards you, we’ll drag it back when it’s empty.”
Bren looked to Loken for the okay. Loken accepted. “Do it.”
Bren grabbed onto the loose end and – hoping like hell that the rope was long enough and that my knot would hold – sprinted down the pier with the mages running behind, launched himself into the air and burned through every spell he had to land on the longboat twenty yards away. The mages sliced through the waiting bowmen. A clash of steel rang out from below deck.
Alysia, Zara, the captain, first mate, and four other crew members hurried into the row boat and paddled as fast as they could while two of the mages on the ship helped to drag them forward.
A hail of arrows struck the pier, pushing us closer to the water’s edge. Another arrow hit Helga’s dead body.
“Smoke screen!” shouted Loken.
Jarmella and Adalyn cracked a stuffed wrap of tar and powder, hurled it forward.
A northern spell blasted Loken and Helga into the water. Two of us grabbed onto Loken’s thrashing hand. Pulled him back up. Two more struggled with Helga’s lifeless body. Jarmella’s stuffed wraps billowed with smoke, partially shielding us from the castle, but it wasn’t enough. Saskia shrieked as an arrow pierced her leg. Another northern spell hit, flinging Ewen off the side of the pier and into the freezing water.
The row boat thumped against the ship. The mages helped Alysia up. Bren waved back at us. Wilbur was by my side. “Help me!”
We threw the rope over our shoulders and ran away from the ship, into the volley of arrows. Another yelp came from behind, followed by a splash of water.
“Stop! STOP!”
Twenty yards. We doubled back. Loken pushed Lindum, Mikael, Saskia, Ewen, and four crew members into the row boat. Bren, Alysia, Zara, and the rest of the mages hauled them towards the ship.
I still had no idea where that vampire was but I was getting on that ship no matter what. Wilbur and I ran back down the pier. The northerners were regrouping, charging towards us. A spell from our side knocked one of them back. Another propelled him forward. A berserker fell in front of me, slamming into the ground. Wilbur and I stabbed him at the same time. I twisted my blade. Wilbur did not. We ran back as Loken pushed more soldiers and crew members into the row boat, ten this time instead of a safe eight. The row boat skipped across the waves as half the vanguard dragged it to safety.
The crew were beginning to man the oars, turning the ship around to head onto the lake. Another group made it across, the ship moving faster with every additional crew member. Loken and I were in the last group, throwing ourselves in and using Helga for cover as arrows rained down upon us. The rickety row boat lunged forward, faster then slower, our momentum uneven as those onboard the ship dragged us forward, us bouncing over the waves and holding on for dear life while the northern longboat finally hit full speed.
A spell – a simple yet well timed spell – found its target, blasting the row boat out of the water, rolling to the side and crashing upside down, scattering every one of us into the freezing water. The icy lake scolded me in an instant, the water finding every inch of my flesh and attacking me from all sides, killing my hearing, sight, and sense of up and down in the early winter night.
I grabbed onto a pair of legs. They were attached to someone holding onto the capsized row boat. Someone else clung onto me. Legs, arms, and bodies writhed in the water while shouts of, “Hold on!” from the ship offered zero comfort to my shivering limbs.
We were dragged through the water, apparently moving at a solid running speed while several crests of waves cascaded over us, drenching my head and shriveling my balls. A disconcerting numbness kicked in almost immediately, foggying my mind and loosening my grab around someone’s legs.
A dozen hands reached down, grabbing on and pulling us over the edge and onto the cold wooden deck.
“Everyone get below!” shouted Bren.
I was dragged down the narrow stairs, my heels thumping as I tried to right myself. An oar soared above my face, a sailor rowing for his life with sweat streaming down his forehead. Alysia and Zara wrenched free my cloak, jacket, tunic, trousers, and boots, leaving me with in my soggy undergarments as they ran their hands across my chest to warm me up.
“Don’t die,” muttered Alysia.
Zara peeled off her cloak. Wrapped it around me. Slapped me across my face. “Stop being lazy and help get us out of here!”
I stared back at her, barely coherent.
“Now!”
I climbed to my feet and threw myself at one of the oars – we all did – two to an oar to speed us away as fast as possible. My heart burst from the ordeal, the exhausting run and flight down the stairs, running the row boat back and forth, the ice bath from hell, and now rowing for my life.
Arrows hit our ship, thunking heavily into the wooden boards, one piercing our sail. Someone up above hissed, taking a hit in his shoulder.
The thunking eased, then silenced completely. The first-mate continued shouting. Jarmella did the same. “They’re still coming!”
We rowed – half of us with practically no experience at all, the other half seething at our ineptitude.
“Duck!”
Arrows rained upon us again, the archers now standing at the end of the pier with us well within their range. Everyone from the top-side threw themselves down below, rocking the ship as they scrambled to get under cover.
We were two hundred yards out. The northerners were renowned for being able to hit a target four hundred yards away. At this point they were aiming blind, hoping that an arrow would get lucky and find its mark. When that seemed to fail they turned their aim onto the sails.
One of the crewmen yelped; an arrow slicing along his arm. The captain fell through the opening, landing face-down beside me, gasping with an arrow piercing his throat.
The first-mate didn’t let up. He ran to the front of the ship, barking and gesturing. One side needed to row faster than the other to steer us. Then he started snapping at each of the soldiers, swapping them around so that the decent rowers were evenly placed and the bad ones were less of a liability.
Eight archers hailed us with arrows, turning our ship into a porcupine as each bowman loosed two full quivers until we finally slipped out of range.
The first-mate continued shouting at us, equally terrified of owing his life to imperial soldiers yet now having to bark at them to keep us all going.
The water sloshed around the side of our ship as our speed settled. Gaynun peered up over the edge. We all held our breath, wondering exactly how far a vampire could jump at full speed. Could they actually reach a quarter of a mile? How was their aim? What happened if it crashed
into the winter water?
We never found out. By the time we did reach a quarter of a mile we started to let our guard slip.
“I don’t see any boats or ships coming after us,” said Gaynun.
The first-mate clapped his hands together in a ‘keep going’ gesture. Our pace eased but we had settled into a decent rhythm.
Half a mile out, Loken climbed up to the top. “I think we’re okay.”
The first-mate barked at a couple of the sailors. They released their oars, passing the duties over to the soldiers on hand, so the sailors could work the sails. There wasn’t much in the way of wind but the night was young and we still had a chance. The problem was that most of us hadn’t slept now for two full nights in a row. The soldiers and I were trained in that. The sailors weren’t, and they started tripping over themselves as their vision failed them.
The first-mate seemed to calm down once we were a mile from the coast. He clapped a couple of people on the back – soldiers mostly – giving us a heavily accented, “Good.” Perhaps he remembered that he was alive thanks to us.
Alysia lit a lamp. Checked the captain. Dead. She gently closed his eyes.
Loken called out. “Saskia? Help us with the injured.”
“Yes sir.”
It was too difficult getting Mikael with his broken hip and twisted leg back up to the top so Loken, Saskia, and Alysia remained below deck and patched everyone up with basic stitching while rummaging about for jagged arrow heads.
After finally getting an appreciative, “Okay,” from the first-mate, he released me and a few others from rowing duty.
I was a bloodied mess. An ax had slashed my face and arm. I was covered in nicks. Burned from the noxious cloud. Arrows had sliced me. Glass splinters covered the back of my hand … and I was one of the better-off survivors. Alysia stitched my face while Saskia worked on the less serious cuts with a powder followed by a bandage.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” muttered Alysia.
“We all are.”
She jabbed a stitch through one cheek. “This will leave a scar.”
“I’ll grow a beard.”
She fell silent, still tending to my wounds. “Is Draegor …”