Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

  An arrow whizzed by Vi’s head, smashing a hole through the partially-broken window beside her.

  Son-of-a…

  Her bow was already in her hands, and she turned in the direction the arrow had come from, spotting an archer in a tower a block away. Who promptly tumbled from the tower, an arrow sticking out of his chest. He fell a few stories, landing on the street with a dull thud. Hunter flew by a fraction of a second later, gliding a good ten meters above the rooftops.

  There were shouts from within the barracks, smoke billowing from the windows. Seconds later, guards rushed out of the front doors of the barracks and leapt through the windows…right into the waiting arms of a sea of Ironclad.

  Vi didn’t even have to draw her sword; the Ironclad tore the men apart. Literally.

  More guards spilled out of the building, some carrying shields and warhammers. They began to form a line in front of the building, bracing themselves against the wall. Flames appeared in the windows, the smoke growing thicker every second.

  Vi unsheathed her sword, striding toward the nearest victim. He turned toward her, lifting his shield and readying his warhammer.

  Then slumped to the ground seconds later, his head tumbling from his shoulders.

  Vi didn’t so much as pause, rushing at the line of soldiers, her sword flashing as she dispatched one guard after another, ducking and weaving, their attacks missing her by a wide margin. They may as well have been toddlers to her, clumsy and slow. There was no challenge in it…only the wholesale slaughter of men who had the shit luck to be in the wrong tribe.

  One-by-one they fell, her sword thrusting and slicing at every vulnerable point, every hole in their defenses, until there were none left standing. She ended each of their lives quickly, minimizing their suffering.

  It was the best she could do.

  More guards rushed out of the entrance, and Vi sheathed her sword, turning away from them. She nodded grimly at the army of Ironclad before her.

  “Finish this,” she muttered. “I’ll meet up with Xerxes.”

  The Ironclad attacked the fleeing guards, and Vi left them behind, jogging west toward the other main barracks. She was supposed to meet Xerxes there, then go with him up the main stairway to the Acropolis at the top of the huge hill in the center of the city. There were occasional people walking down the streets, morons ignoring the tolling of the bell. She ran past them, reaching the northwest part of Lowtown in a few minutes. Ironclad had already surrounded the large five-story building, smoke pouring from broken windows on the first and second stories.

  “Where’s Blue?” she asked the nearest Ironclad. They glanced at her, flashing a few hand signals. “Ah,” she murmured, looking up.

  A window on the fourth story exploded outward, shards of glass flying everywhere as Xerxes smashed through it. He fell toward the street, holding two guards by the napes of their necks. While on fire.

  Then he slammed into the street, driving the guards’ faces into the cobblestones so hard their heads crumpled.

  Xerxes stood, his left leg bent at an impossible angle, the armor at his mid-thigh cracked. It healed quickly, and moments later he stomped up to Vi, flames still licking at bits of debris on his shoulders.

  “Bit dramatic,” Vi opined. Xerxes gave an ugly grin. “You busy?” she inquired, glancing at the burning building. Bodies of guards littered the street around it, muffled screams coming from inside.

  “I…FREE.”

  She grabbed one of his left hands, turning southward toward the city entrance. He followed beside her gamely, taking one footstep for every three of hers.

  “All right Blue,” she stated. “Time to climb those stairs and take on the Acropolis. You ready?”

  “READY,” Xerxes confirmed.

  They passed fleeing citizens and the bodies of guards lying on the street, making their way toward the massive stairway near the entrance of the kingdom. The screams of the dying echoed through the air, and Vi sighed, letting go of Xerxes’ hand and walking faster.

  “Come on,” she muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 28

  The wind shrieked in Hunter’s ears as he soared toward two archers standing on top of one of the buildings in Lowtown, an arrow nocked in his bowstring. He drew it back, firing, then immediately grabbed another arrow and nocked it to fire again. It felt right, and that feeling was validated as both arrows flew true, slamming into their targets. He burst past them, gliding over the city, the buildings passing by in a blur beneath him.

  Hunter angled upward, gaining altitude and turning in a slow circle, scanning the rooftops below. He spotted another archer in a guard tower ahead and to his right, their bowstring drawn. Hunter followed the archer’s gaze, spotting a line of Ironclad surrounding a large building a block away…and a woman in a brown leather uniform beyond, near the wall of the building.

  Vi!

  He nocked an arrow, firing it at the archer, right as the archer fired their arrow.

  The arrow struck the archer in the chest, and he fell from the tower. But the archer’s arrow flew right at Vi, missing her by mere inches. He saw Vi grab her bow, nocking an arrow and turning toward the falling guard, then Hunter.

  Damn it, he thought, soaring by her. Never gonna hear the end of that one.

  Hunter focused, scanning the rooftops again, finding another couple of archers atop the main wall around the city. He flew toward them, reaching for another arrow, but his quiver was empty.

  Damn.

  The archers saw him coming, and they fired at him. Hunter swerved out of the way, but he was too late; one of the arrows clipped his breastplate, ricocheting off.

  That hurt.

  Hunter cursed, fleeing from the archers, dodging left and right erratically. More arrows whizzed by, and he dropped down until he was flying a few feet above the rooftops, putting as much distance between himself and the archers as possible. No more arrows whizzed by; he flapped his wings, gaining altitude until he was a few hundred feet above the city.

  Then he scanned the streets, searching for Vi.

  The northeast and northwest sections of Lowtown were overrun with Ironclad. Guards from the smaller barracks were advancing toward them from the southern part of the huge city, some flanking huge carriages rolling down the streets.

  “The hell are those?” he wondered.

  He glided over the city, eventually finding what he was looking for: a figure in a brown uniform sprinting down one of the side-streets toward the northwestern part of Lowtown. Toward a large building surrounded by Ironclad. It had to be the barracks Xerxes had been tasked to take out.

  Hunter rotated his wings forward, feeling his stomach flip as he began to dive down toward the city, the wind howling in his ears. Then he leveled out a few dozen feet above the city, zooming over the street leading to the barracks. Vi was already there; he spotted something huge leaping out of the fourth-story window; it was Xerxes, a guard in either hand. His brother dropped to the street, smashing the guards’ faces into the cobblestones.

  He heard a shout to his left, and spotted an archer on one of the rooftops. Hunter cut to the left, flying at the man. He unsheathed his sword, flying right over the archer and thrusting his blade through the man’s face.

  The sword was torn from Hunter’s hands, and Hunter circled back, landing on the rooftop. The archer was most assuredly dead; he yanked his sword free from the man’s face, taking the arrows from the archer’s quiver to refresh his own.

  Back in business.

  He strode to the edge of the roof, peering down at the barracks. Flames roared from broken windows, smoke rising into the air.

  Vi and Xerxes left the other Ironclad, making their way south toward the city entrance. Phase three was next…the storming of the Acropolis.

  There was a rumbling sound to his right, and Hunter turned to see a long column of guards approaching the Ironclad surrounding the barracks, accompanied by one of the huge carriages he’d seen earlier. From here h
e could see that the carriage was heavily armored, metal spikes covering its surface.

  “Aim!” one of the guards shouted. Six guards grabbed a wide hose extending from the side of the carriage, pointing it at the Ironclad. “Fire!”

  A jet of black liquid shot at the Ironclad, dousing them instantly…and forcing them backward. The guards aimed the stream upward, black liquid showering down on the beasts.

  “Ignite!” the guard shouted. Hunter spotted a guard holding a torch, and drew his bow, firing an arrow at the man. The arrow took him down…but not before he’d thrown the torch at the group of Ironclad.

  Shit!

  The black liquid ignited, flames spreading rapidly over the Ironclad. They screamed, their guttural voices piercing the air, setting the hair on the nape of Hunter’s neck on end. He watched in horror as his people burned.

  God-damn son-of-a…

  Hunter fired an arrow at the guard who’d issued the commands, taking him down, then firing another and another, killing the guards holding the hose. The Ironclad not covered in flames backed away frantically from their burning comrades, who ran and thrashed blindly, spreading the burning oil to everyone around them. More and more Ironclad burned, fully a third of them dying horribly in front of Hunter’s eyes.

  And there was nothing he could do to save them.

  A second carriage rolled down the street on the opposite side of the Ironclad, blocking the road and trapping the remaining Ironclad between the carriages. Hunter leapt from the edge of the roof, flying to a rooftop closer to this second carriage, then landing and nocking another arrow. He fired it at the guards picking up the carriage’s hose, striking one of them. But another took the guard’s place. Hunter shot more arrows, felling a guard with each one, until he had no more arrows left.

  “Fire!” a guard commanded.

  Oil shot out from the hose, dousing the other Ironclad, who tried to flee from the deluge. But the veritable wall of burning Ironclad stopped them…and any that tried to leap over their burning comrades were ignited themselves. Flames spread quickly over the entire army.

  He grabbed the hilt of his sword, seriously considering jumping down and attacking the men. But with the fire and smoke – not to mention the dying Ironclad thrashing about and the prospect of getting doused in oil himself – there was no point in him doing so. The Ironclad were as good as dead, and nothing he could do would change that.

  Hunter grit his teeth, watching for a moment longer, then forcing himself to turn away.

  You should’ve…

  He stopped the thought immediately, focusing on what he needed to do.

  Meet up with Vi. Fly her into the Acropolis.

  Running across the rooftop away from the massacre, he leapt off the edge, feeling the air fill his wings instantly. He flew upward and forward, spotting the Acropolis in the distance atop the hill in the center of the city, a long stone stairway leading up to it. Xerxes and Vi were already sprinting up it, a long column of Ironclad following behind them. A veritable army of guards were waiting for them at the top of the stairs…along with another large, armored carriage facing away from the approaching Ironclad.

  And as Hunter watched, a door at the back of the carriage swung open, a huge spiked cannonball rolling out…and down the steps.

  “Oh shit,” he swore, pumping his wings harder. He was still a good half-mile away from the stairs…too far away to do anything. As if there was anything he could do.

  The cannonball rolled down the steps, picking up speed as it did so, crushing the stone under its incredible weight. It careened right for Vi and Xerxes…and the Ironclad behind them. There was a steep drop on either side of the stairs. Which meant there was nowhere to run.

  Xerxes charged up the stairs, passing Vi and sprinting up the rightmost side of the stairway to meet the oncoming cannonball. Xerxes ran right into it, shoving it to the left even as it smashed into him, sending him flying backward and rightward.

  The big guy flew thirty feet into the air, then fell another hundred feet to the hillside beside the giant stairway.

  Hunter watched as the cannonball rolled leftward and downward, barely missing Vi – who’d moved all the way to the right – and barreling toward the Ironclad. The Ironclad threw themselves at the cannonball one after the other, shoving it further to the left, sacrificing themselves for their comrades further down the stairway. It worked; the cannonball rolled off the stairs, plummeting to smash through a few buildings downhill.

  Vi charged the guards at the top of the stairs, the Ironclad army right behind her.

  The guards unhooked the carriage from its horses, shoving it down the stairs at the approaching army. It rolled toward Vi, who dodged it easily, making her way to the top…just as Hunter reached the stairs behind her. He landed, folding his wings behind him and drawing his sword, running after Vi.

  She reached the first of the guards, her blade whirling so fast it was a blur. Blood sprayed all around her, everyone who dared to get too close paying the ultimate price for their hubris. But she was only one woman, and there were hundreds of guards in her way.

  Luckily Hunter hadn’t eaten that morning.

  He focused on his hunger, letting it dominate his mind. Willing forth visions of an ancient past, of soldiers crying out the name of a fallen Legend.

  Za-ga-mar!

  A familiar rush of adrenaline came over him, his heart pounding in his chest, his vision growing sharper. Clearer.

  Za-ga-mar!

  He closed in on the line of guards ahead, time slowing, his mind seeming to lift out of a fog. He reached the nearest guard, watching as the man raised their shield to block. Hunter kicked the man’s shield, sending the guard stumbling backward…and at the same time making Hunter do the same. He spread his wings wide, floating down a few steps, then charged at the man. One slash to the legs and the guard doubled over…and Hunter grabbed him, tossing him down the stairs to be trampled by the oncoming Ironclad.

  Then he turned back to face the other guards, watching as Vi mowed through them, moving even faster than he could. He joined her, allowing Zagamar to guide his sword. Men fell to it in a symphony of blood, even as a wave of Ironclad crashed into the guards all around him, tearing the pathetic humans apart. Hunter ducked, dodged, slashed, and stabbed, planning six moves in advance, every movement flowing like a deadly dance.

  The guards didn’t stand a chance.

  A few minutes later – a much longer period of time for Hunter than anyone else – he was surrounded by the bodies of his enemies.

  Hunter shoved Zagamar out of the forefront of his mind, feeling a shift as he became fully himself once again.

  Vi stepped up to him, her arms crossed.

  “About that archer,” she began.

  “Yeah yeah,” Hunter grumbled. “I knew you weren’t gonna let that go.”

  She chuckled, patting him on the shoulder, then glancing back down the long stairway. None other than Xerxes was sprinting up the steps toward them. Utterly intact, of course.

  “Thanks for saving our necks,” Vi said as Xerxes reached them. “Took balls to do what you did.”

  Xerxes rolled his eyes at the pun.

  “All right,” she stated. “Let’s go dig under that wall and take on the Acropolis. I’ve got a meeting with a king.”

  * * *

  Hunter wrapped his arms around Vi’s waist from behind, then spread his wings. He flew them upward, Vi’s weight making it take more difficult than usual. But he managed to gain altitude slowing, rising above the wall surrounding the Acropolis. Ironclad lined the western part of the wall, stones and dirt flying as they dug furiously. Hunter held Vi tightly to him as they rose ever-higher, the Acropolis ahead of them.

  “Don’t enjoy this too much,” Vi warned. “Keep your sword sheathed, m’kay kiddo?”

  “Ha ha,” Hunter grumbled. “I prefer it consensual, remember?”

  She chuckled, the pointed ahead.

  “See that balcony over there?” she aske
d. There was a large stone balcony several stories up on the Acropolis, looking over a large interior courtyard. It was a good twenty feet above them, and perhaps a hundred feet away. “Drop us on it.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Huh?”

  “Figure of speech,” Hunter explained. “Looks like there’s two archers on it.”

  “That’s why I’m carrying my bow,” Vi replied. She aimed, then fired one arrow, then another, taking them both out. One through the right eye, one through the left.

  “Damn you’re good,” he muttered.

  Go faster,” Vi urged. They were almost level with the balcony now.

  “I’d go faster if you weren’t so heavy,” he shot back.

  “All muscle baby.”

  “Uh huh,” he teased. But of course she was right; her torso was as hard as a rock. He flew a good ten feet above the balcony, then spread his wings out wide, gliding down to it and dropping Vi. She bolted forward, and he landed on the balcony as well, following after her. There was door ahead leading into the Acropolis; Vi opened it, stepping into a wide hallway beyond. The walls and floor were made of slabs of fine granite separated by grout of gleaming gold, the ceiling a good twenty feet above their heads. Armored guards stood on either side of the door they’d opened.

  “Stop!” one cried.

  Vi cut them both down in a flash of silver, her blade already back in its sheath even before the guards’ bodies struck the floor.

  “Damn that was pretty,” Hunter said, following Vi forward across the hallway.

  “Tell that to their families,” she retorted.

  There were two more guards in the hallway ahead; they unsheathed their swords, intercepting Vi and Hunter. Vi mule-kicked one of them right in the chest, throwing them a good fifteen feet backward. Hunter reached the other guard, faking a thrust at his belly. The guard took the bait, moving to block the attack…and Hunter followed with a second thrust to the man’s groin.