The battle hardened man stood steady as he glanced up at the partly cloudy sky almost as if he were looking for a moon which he knew he would not see. It was a very dark night making it difficult for Cristoff to visualize much of anything except the gargantuan wall; the wall which was currently illuminated by men who could not even begin to anticipate what was about to befall them on this relatively peaceful night. As the mild, cool, temperate, breeze blew through Cristoff's hair he looked down toward his ax. Then, looking back toward his men he hefted the large weapon up over his shoulder and whispered loud enough for his warriors to hear, “Now!”
They were finally close enough, nearly beached; it was time. The hulking commander, standing well over six feet tall, leapt off of the ship, landing in the waist high water, followed, as he could hear by other subsequent quiet splashes, by one thousand, battle hardened, Gahnen warriors. They, all of them, were headed for the base of the massive wall with due haste.
Cristoff tripped once or twice on a plant or loose rock before reaching the wall, each time making great effort to contain a myriad of rash expletives from slipping out of his mouth and subsequently revealing their arrival to the enemy. But, here he stood, looking straight up at the men who patrolled the top of the seemingly impregnable wall. He could see his men beside him, not well, but sufficiently, due to the remnants of the light which shone down from above. He waited, less than patiently, for his men to shoot their crossbows which had been reconfigured to launch special grappling hooks whose tops were fitted with padding so as to prevent the loud clinging sound that the metal hooks usually made when they struck brick or stone. Then, suddenly, as the imperials moved far enough away from their location along the wall, Cristoff heard the quiet thud of many crossbows being fired. A few hooks missed their targets bouncing off the wall, but enough latched onto the large brick structure to begin the climb.
Cristoff had been one of the first to begin the difficult climb up the solid tan rope which now held both his weight and the weight of the men who were currently below him. He was finally near the top, a few more steps across the brick blocks, and a few more pulls of the rope, would render him at the precipice. A smile spread across Cristoff's face as he relished the fact that by some miracle they had not yet been discovered.
How are we this lucky?
The legatus peaked over the top while simultaneously halting his armies movement up the ropes with his right, ax wielding, hand in the form of a signal. There were guards here and there, but they were far enough away to not hear or see his force of one thousand strong, either hiding at the base, or resting against the wall on the latched ropes which currently dangled from the wall's side. They were running out of time, as any moment now the alarm would be sounded due to the other four assaults which were about to take place. He ducked down, and waited a moment before finally glancing toward his men who waited in eager anticipation of his order. The men gazed up, or across the wall at Cristoff. They looked primed, ready to do what they had come to do.
Their profession is war, and they truly are masters at it. Cristoff's smile widened.
It was finally time, so, without further delay, Cristoff waved the ax which he held on his right side forward, over his head, giving the signal to attack before he himself leapt over the ledge and onto the wall; the battle had begun.
Wearing only thick leather as armor, the experienced, hot headed commander, charged toward a group of four archers which had stood to his left, running in the opposite direction of the guard tower which now stood behind him. Half of his men would follow him north, and the other half would attack in the other direction, to the south.
A moment of terror gripped the archers as they turned to face Cristoff who rushed toward them like a charging beast, holding a hefty ax with both hands, ready to be bathed in their blood. Three of the four were able to string their bows before Cristoff could reach them. Carrying no shield he ducked behind four of his men who were running beside him as they put their shields out in front to block the incoming missiles. After the missiles struck, each with a thud, the soldiers parted, making way for Cristoff as he resumed his terrifying charge, this time reaching the archers before any more shots could be fired.
No battle cry was shouted, as Cristoff and his warriors worked to buy as much time for the other four groups as possible. His ax carved into the first man, sending him off of his feet and onto the ground with a huge gaping hole left in the Imperial archer's side. The other archer was dispatched by a man who came up from Cristoff's left as Cristoff spun bringing his ax up and then down to cleanly chop through the cowering third archer's skull. A pool of blood splattered across the fourth archer who tripped and fell behind the third.
Cristoff's men continued to run around giving him a wide berth like a stream parted by a resolute stone.
Cristoff slowly walked toward the cowering fourth archer atop the wall which appeared to measure near fifteen feet wide. That was his mistake, as the panicked archer reached for a horn that Cristoff had not seen at his side. Moving quickly, Cristoff struck the man with his ax delivering the archer unto death, but not before the alarm was sounded.
The noise of many horns could be heard off in the distance, one sounding off after another. Sounds of alarm moved at lightning speed across the western side of the wall from south to north. Luckily Tiberius and his group were already leaning against the wall's side at the top.
Tiberius, while sneeking a peak over the wall's outside edge, saw the patrolling Imperial soldiers turn towards the south in response to the noise. Tiberius, knowing immediately that he had no more time, gave the signal, leaping in single stride over the ledge and onto the wall. He sprinted in front of his men, long, thin, curved dueling sword, like the one that Eleven used, in his right hand and a medium-sized circular shield in his left to defend against arrows. He reached the first group of two archers which had turned around, right before Tiberius presently sliced the inner thigh of the one on the left before the throat of the one on the right. As they both bled out, he moved to the next group, his troop now right on his heels. Raising his shield while he charged, Tiberius felt the impact of two arrows before reaching his next victim.
More than a few Imperial soldiers had already begun to organize, pulling out their swords, and preparing for close quarters combat. The one in the lead, charged Tiberius, believing he stood a chance. After Tiberius' swift reproach, as the man's innards spilled out across the floor, Tiberius knew that the once brave Imperial soldier would have encountered a far less cruel fate had he chosen to throw himself off of the wall on his own accord; his shrill screams echoed that thought as the man was then thrown down to the island floor.
Tiberius struck down the next, and the next. One after the other they fell before the ex-praetor, who, just weeks ago, had been on their side.
As his men fought beside him, Tiberius spotted Eleven and Gretel attacking and defending nearby. Tiberius, facing south down the wall, then evaded a sword slash to his neck by leaning backwards before slicing the soldier's side. As Tiberius' enemy leaned slightly to his left in response to the fresh wound, Tiberius stepped to his own left, swiftly delivering an efficient but awkward looking stab to his right which soared through the flesh underneath the unsuspecting attacker's jaw, then continued on, flying through his tongue and brain before exiting the top of his skull. Removing his sword the dead man fell to Tiberius' feet as the legatus moved on to the man who still bravely pushed his attack even after seeing the speed at which his companion had fallen. After quickly dispatching the next attacker, an allied soldier to Tiberius' right leapt in front of Tiberius, taking an arrow which was meant for him. Tiberius then subsequently ducked to the ground due to a shout from Kanii which was directed toward him and the men who were fighting at the front beside him. Kanii followed, “Loose!”
At that, arrows whistled out from over Tiberius's head flying toward the enemy.
There's Kanii, but where's Zackarius?
Gretel stood back up, weaving in and ou
t, striking and retreating as she had been trained to do by Relius the traveling swordsman. Although many years had passed since her training, it was still fresh, she had kept it that way. Her instincts were sure and she moved with unrivaled grace and precision.
Already soaked in blood, Gretel moved out of the way of a large war-hammer which had been swung in her direction on accident by an ally; it was close, too close. She nearly took a swing of her own at the man in retaliation, but quickly decided against it, deflecting a sword strike instead as two enemies pressed her. She brought the attacker on her left towards her as she deflected, simultaneously kicking out his right foot as she shoved him over the ledge. Then, the second attacker struck, his sword bouncing off of her chain-mail armor, his aim a little off. Gretel immediately took advantage by shoving her sword straight through his throat before continuing to bash his face with her shield as she removed it. She then speedily reached out slicing an interloper's eyes before he could reach her with the swing of his ax. The man shrank back behind his allies, as he was carried away, his shrill screams were heard by all. He will be put out of his misery soon enough, thought Gretel with a feeling akin to pity.
Gretel stepped out of the front line for a moment, taking the opportunity to look around. She spotted Tiberius nearby, fighting with his men. Eleven was now fastening a long rope further back which they would soon use to climb down the opposite side of the wall. Then, looking further back, Gretel could make out Kanii working with the archers in the center.
Why hasn't Tiberius given us the order yet? What is he waiting for?
Suddenly Tiberius called out toward her over the shouts and screams of battle, “Gretel, find Zackarius!”
Tiberius then turned to dispatch another enemy soldier before continuing, “Hurry, we need to leave!”
Gretel nodded her acknowledgment before turning to head back toward the center of both fronts which were heading in opposite directions along the wall, hoping she would find the kid along the way.
The enemy at this point was now fully alerted, forming full solid lines on both fronts, many of them archers, who, in the moment, had become swordsmen. As she glanced back, Gretel could see that, even though the advantage still belonged to them, progress was being slowed, as expected.
It had been more than a few moments since Gretel had left the front, moving south. As she continued to squeeze through Allied lines, the men standing shoulder to shoulder due to the fifteen foot width of the wall, Gretel continued to search the faces of those she passed, both, those standing tall pushing forward, and those lying dead on the floor, but none bore the face of the young Zackarius.
Where could he be?
Gretel moved over to the ledge on the inside side of the wall, squeezing passed soldiers under Tiberius' command as she began to near the northern front. She had run into Kanii along the way, but still, she had not yet seen Tiberius' messenger. Then, suddenly, over the screams of battle she heard something faint, it was someone calling her name, but it didn't sound like it was coming from either in front of or behind her. As Gretel further strained to hear, she heard it again, but this time it sounded like it was coming... from below her.
Gretel immediately looked over the wall facing the inside of the island. As she looked down Gretel saw, struggling to hang onto a loose brick which jutted out of the wall, a desperate Zackarius. He appeared to have gotten himself stuck somehow about thirty feet from the top, seventy feet from the bottom. It didn't seem to Gretel as if he would be able to hold on much longer, so, without hesitation, she shouted down before turning, “Hold on; I'm going to find a rope!”
Moving away from the wall Gretel began south, quickly looking for one of the grappling hooks which were no longer being used. After a few more moments passed, all while squeezing between people, and stepping over the dead bodies that were being trampled by the fighting warriors, she reached the area where they had climbed the wall.
Unlatching one of the hooks from the ledge, Gretel pulled the rope which it was attached to, to the top. Then, after wrapping the rope quickly around her body, she carried the climbing equipment, as quickly as she could, back toward where she had seen the young man dangling from the side of the wall.
After nearly being knocked over the side once or twice herself, Gretel arrived back at the place from which she had seen Zackarius. Gretel, looking over the wall to make sure he was still there, identified his location before latching the hook onto the wall. She followed by dropping the rope down to where Zackarius could reach for it.
After safely grabbing onto the rope, Zackarius shouted up, “Thank you!”
“No problem; you're lucky I got here when I did,” replied Gretel.
Zackarius went on, “Since I'm already halfway, I'm going to head down and meet you guys at the bottom!”
“Sounds good!”
Before Gretel could turn away, Zackarius called out again, this time with a slight tinge of embarrassment, “It wasn't my fault you know; I was doing great until one of our own pushed me over!”
Gretel smiled humorously as she called out, “Yes, yes, I know, you are a great warrior, and you can tell me all about what happened when we meet up!”
If it wasn't for the darkness, penetrated only by torch and moon light, Gretel thought she could recognize a slightly red shade indicative of bashfulness, come over the boy's face.
Turning around, as Zackarius began to slowly make his way down to the bottom, Gretel's smile faded, her mind refocusing on the battle. She now needed to deliver the news to Tiberius quickly before anything else went wrong. At that, Gretel quickly faced south before speedily making way toward the location where she had last seen her brother.
Even though Tiberius still danced around most of his opponents, he struggled due to the possession of only one eye which caused him to make mistakes that he would not normally make, and the various minor cuts he had sustained only served to give evidence of his new learning curve. He had even stumbled once or twice due to his new lack of depth perception, nearly giving his enemies the fighting chance they had been looking for.
Tiberius had wanted to practice before he again entered combat, but unfortunately, this had not been possible because they had left for the island immediately after arriving at the Red Isles, and he, of course, could not train in front of his men as it would be both unwise and improper for a commander of his stature and authority to do so. No, he and Eleven would train in private some other time, but for now, this was practice enough, as true experience was indeed the better teacher.
Moving in and out, attacking, retreating, deflecting, evading, he was a spectacle on the battlefield by any warrior's standards. Tiberius fought beside his men on the front lines, something unusual among men of his rank, but it was something he not only demanded of himself, but also of those who served him in similar station. His actions gave evidence to the fact that Tiberius believed a good commander does not order his men to fight and die for his ambitions without first being willing to personally fight and die beside them; to personally lead them into battle in attempt to bring his own ambitions to fruition. Why did he believe this? Because Tiberius knew that were he in their position he would expect nothing less; why should men fight and die for a man who was not willing to do the same thing which he had ordered his servants to do? Why should men serve someone who is not willing to sweat and bleed beside those who were attempting to make his own vision a reality? As far as Tiberius was concerned, such a man is not worthy of his position or the power which his position granted him.
Suddenly, while dealing a fatal blow to another attacker, he heard someone urgently call out his name. Stepping away from the front line in order to address whoever it was that had spoken, he turned to see Gretel approaching. Tiberius listened as she spoke, hoping for good news, “I found him clinging onto a ledge on the island side of the wall. Apparently he had been pushed off, so I gave him a rope. He went down saying he would head south to meet up with us at the bottom.”
“Good,” resp
onded Tiberius with a subtle look of relief before continuing, “Get Kanii and inform her that we are ready to go.”
Gretel nodded before heading off to do as instructed. Tiberius then turned toward Raulf, who had previously been fighting beside Tiberius, “Raulf!?”
The officer shouted in reply,“Yes commander!?”
“It's time; you're now in command of the fleet! Keep pushing the attack until you meet up with Cristoff!”
“Yes commander!”
“And Raulf,” continued Tiberius.
“Yes!?”
“Good luck!”
Tiberius watched Raulf nod as he looked back, before Tiberius then made way north, heading for the location where his small group would meet up before descending from the Western wall.
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