“Yes, Captain,” Rahlman said, his bright, red moustache puckered as he spoke. “I’ll make sure it’s shroud proof!”
“Nordrachosten Alley, do you know it?”
“Indeed I do,” Rahlman said with a nod. His pacing then ended, replaced with confident strides towards his destination.
Sonja released a sigh and looked up at the bright sun overhead. No wind, and not a cloud could be seen. The calm before the storm. Her team had been selected and she was confident they’d all do their part. Now she just had to hope everything was going well for her brother.
Chapter 14: Dipping in the Toe
“Come on Kallum… Hurry it up damn you!” Sonja said to herself.
Swirling, black clouds that released relentless bolts of lightning and howling thunder swept in from the west. Rays from the setting sun filled the clearer air a pinkish hue, only to be absorbed into the fluffy, black edge of the approaching storm. The fog from Lachtod Bog, and the flame wyverns, were nowhere to be seen. The brothers of Eternity, however, were on their way to Holtur, moving like a slow unstoppable force waving a chaotic storm for a banner.
“Curse it!” Fin Maver stormed out of the command bastion. “We’re going to have to fight!”
Sonja squeezed the Commanders shoulder. “No foreign bastards are going to stand a chance against Holtur!” she said loudly so others could hear. Maver nodded, and she repeated herself again, this time her voice a crackling roar of a scream. “NO FOREIGN BASTARD GETS THROUGH! THIS IS HOLTUR! WE ARE HER SLAYERS!”
A chant slowly erupted around the slayers along the wall walk, “Holtur! Holtur! Holtur!” The cheer spread down the battlements and overflowed into the courtyard, boosting morale for the outnumbered defenders. A blast of lightning cracked through the oncoming storm and the chant was swiftly extinguished by the booming thunder that followed.
Four men zipped ahead of the slowly approaching force. The dying light of sun barely revealed their position. Those black steeds—whatever they were—didn’t seem fazed by the darkness or storm. In fact, they seemed less out of place without the sun lighting up their insect-like faces.
The four horror-steeds stopped in a line, only a few metres from the north gate. A man all dressed in black climbed off, Caede. He lifted his goggles over his helm, revealed a toothy smile, and placed his arms out from his body, palms up as if revering something holy. “So, my good friend, Commander Maver, I believe you have something for me?”
Fin’s entire body was trembling; Sonja had never seen him appear so terrified. He placed his hands on the battlements to steady himself and looked down at the man. “Whatever you are after, I can assure you it does not exist. Not here in Holtur.”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to agree to disagree, Commander,” Caede said, that smug grin not leaving his face. “Your men have proven themselves too incompetent to find it! I guess you lead by example, huh?”
“No Eternity Grail exists here!”
“Now, now, don’t be stubborn,” Caede said, beginning to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. “And don’t worry your little head, everything will be fine. It will be just like before, when I asked you to instill discipline in your men. You remember that don’t you?”
“What yo—”
“YOU MADE ME DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!” Caede’s face went red and he kicked at the air. “And once again, Commander, I will do your fucking job for you!” He slapped the goggles back over his eyes and leapt upon his steed.
“Don’t do this,” Fin pleaded, “there is no reason for any of our men to die.”
“You’ve forced my hand!” Caede urged his steed back towards his army.
Two of the others followed while Crispin—the man clad in crimson—stayed behind. “One final chance,” he said. “The Eternity Grail, or your home!”
“It doesn’t exist here!” Fin yelled back.
Crispin sighed. “Very well, I am sorry, but we must do this.” He reached a gauntleted hand out towards Commander Maver. Crackling flame arced from his hand, through the sky, and blasted Maver’s skull into a mess of blood, brains, and bone.
“Commander!” Sonja screamed, but it was no use. The head slayer was now without a head. His corpse a crumpled pile on the wall walk. Glowing fire flowed like water down from his neck, creating fissures through his body. Whatever power Crispin controlled was beyond anything comparable. “Murderer!” she yelled at the man.
Crispin pointed his hand towards Sonja. She braced herself for what was to come, but then Crispin hesitated, giving a sigh instead of a blast. “I had better not,” he said. “Caede still desires to have his way with you.”
“ATTACK!” Sonja screamed at the top of her lungs. She scrambled to her ballista and unleashed a bolt straight at the vile man. Her aim was on point, and the bolt flew true, but it didn’t make impact. Instead, the bolt burst into fire then exploded into ash before him. The same was true with several other ballista bolts. Projectiles from long bows and crossbows burnt to nothing when they should have struck the man for the kill. Squinting through the ash and smoke, Sonja saw vertical rings of fire rotating around Crispin. The bastard had made a blazing shield out of nothing!
Thunder roared, whether from the sky or that chaotic energy that Crispin conjured, it was difficult to tell. He conjured another flaming strike and blasted the main gate, splintering the heavy wood and steel alike. It didn’t force open their defences—not yet—but the gate was engulfed in roaring flame. Surely it wouldn’t be enough to melt through metal!
As if the rage of the slayers meant nothing to him, Crispin casually mounted his steed, the flaming shield of rings morphing to protect both rider and creature. He waved a friendly gesture, like the present circumstances were completely different, then shot off back towards his men. Sonja needed the shroud, now. Nothing Holtur threw at the man seemed capable of piercing that damn aura around him.
Sonja leant down to Maver’s crumpled body. “Commander…” she croaked a whisper. The fiery cracks flowing over him had lost their glow, in their place… nothing. It was as if whatever was there no longer existed. “No…”
“Archaic magic,” Zeilgen said from over her shoulder. She didn’t notice him there before. Hechond was with him too, both armed with longbows. “A thief of the gods. We are outmatched.”
“So I see…” Sonja said. She stood up and looked into the light-blue eyes of the slayer. “But we aren’t just going to hand Holtur over to these monsters.”
“Yes, Captain,” Zeilgen said. “May Ralumina guide the battle.”
Sonja brows furrowed. It was well known—even to Sonja—that the god Ralumina had a disdain for bloodshed. “You worship her?” Sonja asked. An odd thing for a warrior to worship, especially under the current circumstances.
“No, Captain,” Zeilgen remarked. “It would be a great contradiction of what we are. I do, however, show the utmost respect for her, her followers, and champions.”
“If only that Crispin bastard felt the same way…” Sonja tried her best not to look at Fin’s corpse. The coming battle would be far from pleasant, and she couldn’t afford to be conquered by fear before it had even begun.
“The shroud, will they be here soon?” Hechond asked. “Are we still planning to capture them?”
“Yes.” Sonja scanned the land. The last light had died with the sun, the sky was now a dark purple and would soon be black. Pitch black. There would be no moonlight if that storm lingers, and given their fortune, it was likely. No fog rolled towards them from the north, no streaks of fire announced the return of the flame wyverns. The Brothers of Eternity, however, were well on their way.
The clatter of armour, along with weapons belting against shields and aggressive chants, made avoiding that fear a little more difficult. Sonja was wrong to believe they were simply a rowdy militia, they were soldiers in a war, and the slayers of Holtur were nothing compared to them.
“Orders, Captain?” Zeilgen asked.
The commander was now d
ead and command of the north wall fell completely on Sonja. She was best at aggression, not defending. Against monsters, not soldiers. Maybe it was best to look at this force as one giant beast? When you can’t destroy the head, you wreck the limbs, make it unable to move.
“We attack…” she said. “Not Crispin, not Caede. We launch ourselves at them, cripple their force.”
“If I may, Captain,” Zeilgen said, “I suggest we fight them in the courtyard. Their numbers are far greater than ours, at least there we should be able to control their numbers.”
Strategising about killing men. Sonja nodded, eyes wide and distant. “You have a mind for defence, Zeilgen.” Waiting would be harder. If she was in combat she wouldn’t have to think, and if she died in the melee, her thoughts would mean even less! “Stay close Zeilgen, I could use your head.” Her gut twisted at her poor use of words! “Both of you, send word down the line. When you are done, report back to the command bartisan.”
“Yes, Captain,” Zeilgen and Hechond both said in unison, then jogged down the wall walk relaying her command.
“Come on Kallum! Where are you?” Sonja yelled out over the battlements.
The marching of the foreign force had grown considerably louder now, the Brothers of Eternity would shortly be upon them. Torches among the ranks displayed how far the army stretched, it was much larger a force than she had initially expected. Were Caede and Crispin even among this mass of men right now?
Lightning arced through the clouds, splitting off into multiple arms that whipped about the earth and sky alike. It terrified her. Not for the raw display of power in the sky, but how the light displayed her inaccurate estimation of the enemy’s vast numbers. For a brief moment, she could see an endless horde of men. The camp she spied on during the sun must have been merely an advanced camp, for in that flash of light she witnessed so much more. Sonja would have to round up every person in Holtur—sick, elderly, and child—twenty times to match their numbers. Even so, she couldn’t see beyond the mountains, how far could this force stretch? Perhaps hunting for the Eternity Grail would have been a more efficient use of the sun after all.
Sonja felt powerless. All she could do was watch the advance and pray for a miracle. Prayers and observation were never her strengths.
“Captain, the men are ready,” Zeilgen reported back all too quick. How long had she been watching this wave of war creep towards them?
“They know to avoid Caede and Crispin,” Hechond followed up.
The force kept a distance from the town, about a kilometre away, seemingly separated by an invisible barrier. Clever, the range was too far for the ballista turrets to be effective. Despite coming from the west, they remained clear of the kuhvi paddocks, clear of the marked; the Brothers of Eternity must know of Glacious. The eastern ranges kept the army away from Holtur’s east, and the Brothers of Eternity all formed around the north. The army filled out evenly, ranks of men falling into position as though they had done so hundreds of times before.
The Brothers of Eternity had ceased their marching, but the clattering of metal against metal continued drumming the beat of war. The storm released a melody of booming thunder. Ice-cold water began to pour down from the sky, weighing down furs while layering a discomforting rhythm over the pounding cacophony outside their walls.
With the storm’s release, the first wave of attackers charged. Three small squads of heavily armoured men charged.
“Take them out before they reach the walls!” Sonja called out.
She fired her ballista into the central squad. Her bolt struck into the shield of one of the attackers. It was a large shield, just as tall and wide as the warrior who carried it. It was hard to see the whole thing unfold between blasts of lightning and the downpour, but she swore that after the man was knocked down, he stood back up and continued his charge.
While bolts flew more effectively than arrows, the wind and rain drowned their efficiency. “Heavy bolts!” Sonja called out. She loaded up a heavy bolt herself, then fired once more. The aggressors were closer by the time she had fired. These men were big, not men, but something else. They looked human, but stood two to three times as tall as any man she had known.
The second bolt shattered the shield of its target, the wielder fell to the ground… then got back up! Whatever they were, they didn’t die easily! That explained why they had been sent out ahead, they are indestructible! Another heavy bolt slammed into the chest of the aggressor whose shield had already been busted. He hit the ground, making no attempt to climb back up. Sonja sighed with relief. If these creatures could recover from a shattered chest, Holtur had no chance defeating them.
At the speed they were moving, she could probably launch another four heavy bolts—five tops—before they reached the gates; provided she moved fast. The next bolt destroyed a shield, followed by a chest cracking projectile, shield, then chest. She’d knocked down three of the aggressors in the central squad. Another ballista had taken down one more and destroyed the shield of another. She was unsure how the flanking squads suffered, but even so, the central squad was still six men strong.
Arrows and bolts from the smaller arms bounced off the shields like a child throwing stones at a mountain. An unarmed giant wailed in pain as projectiles pierced into his flesh. Arrows lodged into his skull and a bolt rammed into his eye socket. He went down, but kept running far longer than something inflicted with that level pain should be capable of.
The remainder of the central squad ran through the main gate like it wasn’t even there. Their iron armour would only add to the bulk of their huge, thick bodies. Slamming against a mostly charred wall wouldn’t have been much effort. Further down though, she saw that another squad had busted through the western length of the Holtur wall. Somehow those massive things created enough force to burst through metres of stone and mortar.
Screams erupted from the slayers below. The giants didn’t stop running, they drove forward with their shields before them, crushing slayers against each other and trampling them when they fell.
An eruption of stone, followed by more cries of pain, burst from the east. Through gate and wall, all three squads had made it into Holtur. The giant bastards were massacring Sonja’s men. She fought back the urge to jump into the fray and give the filthy things a taste of her claymore, only to notice another segment of the army had began to advance. They weren’t moving as fast as the initial attackers, instead they were marching in an orderly fashion.
Zeilgen, with his fine blade, and Hechond, with a pair of spiked maces, ran down to join the melee. Sonja wanted to fall in with her fellow slayers too. Instead, she loaded up her ballista and began firing at the approaching force. She could only hope that the projectiles launched into darkness crippled the advancing troops. Sonja continued firing; each man she finished off now was one less that could hurt her slayers.
Lightning tore through the sky as Sonja fired another bolt. The arcing illumination chased the flight path of the projectile, giving her a clear opportunity through the darkness to watch her shot. It sheered straight through a man’s skull, through the neck of the next soldier, then skewered through three more, pinning them to the ground. Bile rose in Sonja’s throat. She just killed five men like they were beasts. But they weren’t beasts. They were people. People who have parents, lovers, family. They were like her, and she had slaughtered them without hesitation.
Frozen by murderous guilt, Sonja suddenly felt useless. Cheers erupted from below and she glanced down to see that the massive men had all been defeated. Dead and injured slayers were being pulled aside by the still capable. Fortunately, it appeared the slayers had taken less casualties than she had expected. Those fuckers hurt her slayers, her people. She thought about her family and friends, the little girl she met at the Wounded Wyvern a few months ago, and all the people of Holtur who were just like them. Suddenly she found herself reloading the ballista; she wasn’t going to let these monsters touch any one of those people.
That brief mome
nt of hope slipped through the rain as she fired again. A cold feeling washed over Sonja—colder than the wind and rain—and she swore something was flying overhead. Those shadow-things? Her gut twisted as she tried to understand their role in this event. Were they friend or foe? Was Rigst among them, or was that her mind playing tricks on her? She pushed back her worry and continued firing ballista bolt after ballista bolt.
Once within a hundred metres of Holtur, the second strike-force began to sprint. Slayers fell into formation around the busted gate and breaks in the walls. Sonja unloaded a few more bolts prior to their arrival, noticing that Caede and Crispin held back with a small force of their own. Were they afraid to enter the fray themselves? It seemed unlikely, the two held considerable power. Perhaps it was an opportunity for the others to prove themselves? With how Caede behaves that would be no surprise.
If every segment of their force attacked this way, in waves, Holtur may be able to hold out. For how long though, Sonja was unsure. This army was huge, and if at any point they wanted to crush the slayers, it wouldn’t be hard to send an endless stream of bloodthirsty brothers to do so. Caede was playing a game. The players were his men, the goal was Holtur.
These men—dressed in furs and leathers, not too different from her slayers—were a lot more fallible to projectiles than the wave of giants. Screams of pain and terror erupted with blood, guts, and brains as they continued their charge. They didn’t fall back, they continued on with fervor and lust for blood.
The Holtur Curse (The Holtur Trilogy Book 2) Page 17