Jenko then blinked in dumb silence and reached for his neck with fingers that didn’t quite feel like they belonged to him. “Take this with you.” He said numbly as he pulled his telescope free and held it out impotently for Tellan to take, “It’ll give you some kind of advantage, at least. I also have two smoke pellets left…they’re yours if you want them.”
Tellan accepted the telescope and pellets with grateful solemnity. “Thank you, brother.” He murmured gravely.
Jenko’s gaze snapped up then and his eyes glistened with terrible anguish at how, on top of all the loss he had already endured from Belial’s campaign, he was soon to lose his oldest friend. “Tellan–” He whispered roughly.
“You are her guardian now, Jenko.” Tellan interrupted thickly and when Vella brought the wagon around, he watched as she gently encouraged the last of the Line of Baldur onto the driving bench, “She needs you. More than she knows.”
Jenko’s mouth worked soundlessly as he looked upon his commander; there were so many things he wanted to say to his eternal comrade, for theirs had been a long existence and one that had been built upon the trust and respect they had forged over the centuries. Asgardian, of the Line of Baldur, the last of his brothers…but all he could do was ask Tellan numbly, “What will I tell her?”
Tellan ducked his head at how plaintive Jenko’s voice was in their goodbye and as he fought for control over his own emotion, he was silent before he replied thickly, “Tell her…that I did all I could. And…” He stopped then, and his voice cracked almost imperceptibly as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”
“I will…my Lord.” Jenko all but whispered back and as Vella gently urged the horses down the darkened path, away from Tellan and his final vigil, everything within Jenko’s soul cried out in devastated mourning.
The smoke of the campsite rose in the air like a choking grey signal, an invitation for Belial’s army that they eagerly answered with skulking menace. Silent hand signals flashed in the darkness as Belial’s drones crept towards the ruin in unison, a careful three pronged approach that kept their numbers hidden; but their progress became halted upon the hissed order from Timran.
Belial’s champion cast his dead eyes across the campsite ahead, close enough that the glow of the fire brought the crackle of firewood, but far enough that the mass taint of Belial’s Dark was still hidden. If there had been any emotion within him, Timran would have smiled in anticipation; they were so close in fulfilling their master’s wishes. But Timran’s gaze fell emotionlessly upon the sleeping form that lay shrouded beside the fire’s warmth and as he glanced at the drone stood beside him, he nodded his order of approach.
“Send the first wave.” Timran’s scratching voice rasped.
The drone’s teeth flashed murderously as he acknowledged Timran’s order and with a turning of his head, he whispered harshly, “First wave, onward!”
The whispered order was echoed throughout the line of Belial’s troops and upon the first unsheathing of swords, the first of Belial’s men slowly approached the campsite in deadly stealth. Every silver clouded eye was focused on the sleeping figure, wrapped against the chill of the air as they slept, and impending victory burned within the approaching soldiers. Timran watched on with hawk eyes, awaiting the moment the angels would be awakened from their slumber and with a hitching of his fingers, he ordered the contingent from the west to join the approach. Hissed orders flowed like the course of a river and when the shifting of murky shadows that were the waiting figures of more of Belial’s men moved forward, Timran’s eyes flashed silver in the moonlight.
When one of Belial’s numbers approached the sleeping figure with his weapon raised in a vicious stab, he brought the blade of his sword down murderously with a grunt of triumph. But the soldier’s clouded eyes widened in shock when the sword bit through the body far too easily, sinking into the ground below with a screech of breaking ceramic and as he stumbled, he lifted his eyes in confusion.
An explosion of sound ripped powerfully across the ruin then, a tremendous thunderclap of titanic magnitude that deafened the ears of Belial’s first wave. The soldiers still in shadow staggered back from the sudden whirlpool of flame that exploded from the sleeping body in destructive force, great churning waves of fire that swallowed nearly all of the immediate soldiers in a dragon’s mouth of devastation. The other soldiers that approached from the side screamed in unison, shocked by the booming sound wave that pounded every chest like a hammer strike, and the heat of ravenous flames was immense as it coiled a crackling embrace around Belial’s fallen. Another explosion resounded from behind the flanking contingent as destructive as the first, claiming even more of Belial’s drones in screaming flames and those not set alight, were sent flying through the air with concussive impact.
Timran’s eyes impassively followed the trajectory of a ceramic bottle lobbed over his head from an unseen source and he spun at the resulting explosion that spewed fire upon the line of soldiers behind him. Screams tore devastatingly from the mouths of stricken soldiers and, from the lush canopy of the oak tree that towered over the campsite, Tellan pounced down with all the angered fury of an attacking predator.
Steel blazed with white heat as he crashed devastatingly amid the survivors of the first wave of Belial’s men and with a roar of defiance that brought forth the power of Asgard, Tellan launched fearlessly into battle. Belial’s men fell like autumnal leaves as the angel cut and thrust through the line of drones, spinning and slashing with such graceful economy that ten of them were struck down before they even realised he moved among them.
When one sword was finally raised in a hasty guard against the relentless onrush of Tellan’s bastard sword, a mighty kick slammed into the soldier’s stomach stole the wind from him and a final stab to the neck dispatched him easily. Tellan immediately duck and wove under the heated blur of a retaliating swing from the fallen soldier’s brethren and as he rose, he brought his dagger underhand. The blade punched deeply into the soldier’s abdomen and even as he was pushed off in a dying gurgle, the bastard sword streaked forward for another kill.
Tellan’s constant motion was a blur of shrieking steel and the life of another of Belial’s drones was claimed through fountains of blood that hissed through the writhing flames. Tellan crouched at the shouting rush of another soldier and as he met the charge with a solid shoulder into the man’s diaphragm, he vaulted him into the eager embrace of the ravenous fire.
“Send the next wave.” Timran hissed dispassionately from the cover of the wood, heedless of the fire that roared behind him and devoured the soldiers that hadn’t escaped the projectile’s blast.
Tellan grunted when a soldier wrapped his arms around his shoulders and with a ferocious, backwards hitch of his head that stunned his attacker, Tellan flipped him over his shoulder. A final thrust into the prone soldier’s chest chased the taint of Belial’s Dark from his soul and with an upwards glance, Tellan snarled at the line of soldiers that charged him with roaring challenges.
With swift alacrity, Tellan hauled his blade free and sprinted forward himself, meeting the line of seven soldiers with a roar of his own. He brought his bastard sword overhead with devastating power, shattering the guard of the first soldier enough for a quick thrust of his dagger into the man’s neck. Steel shrieked over Tellan’s head as he immediately spun and swept the length of the bastard sword at shin height, slicing through muscles and tendons of the soldiers that had clustered around his initial attack. Screams ripped from the fallen when two soldiers collapsed upon the ground like broken toys, clutching the spurting wounds in their legs, but still Tellan moved swiftly. Upon his rise, he thrust his sword into the stomach of an attacking soldier and with a pivot that brought his elbow into the solar plexus of a second, Tellan pivoted back again. He claimed the neck of a third soldier with a reversed–grip slice of his dagger that sprayed arterial blood and while the man collapsed in a gurgle of death, Tellan gouged the blade into the
clouded eye of the second soldier. Even as the blinded man collapsed in twitching spasm, Tellan heaved his bastard sword overhead with a roar of exertion and brought his blade down devastatingly upon the neck of one of the crippled soldiers at his feet.
“Kill him.” Timran hissed, his disconnected instinct aware that already so many of his men had fallen under the might of the Asgardian’s blade. Tellan dispatched the last of the second wave with a final thrust into the chest and as screaming oaths scalded the air, the angel glanced up through sweat and blood.
The new wave that careened towards him was twenty strong and Tellan knew that, even with the halo of devouring fire he had surrounded himself with, such numbers would be overwhelming for him. He straightened up with the withdrawal of his sword, and sprinted for the cover of the ruin with the hope that its stony walls could bottleneck Belial’s numbers. Screaming death followed his heels with thunderous footfalls and as soon as Tellan leapt over the edge of a destroyed window, he swung his bastard sword in an arc that scored deeply through the soldier in immediate pursuit. He lunged forward with a vicious thrust that stabbed another enemy behind and as Tellan turned at the sound of a shout beside him, he raised his dagger in a guard. The downwards force of the striking soldier pressed insistently upon Tellan’s strength, but with the retaliating knee that sailed unforgivingly into the drone’s stomach, Tellan rolled over the soldier’s buckled back. The shouting strike of another enemy behind claimed the doubled soldier with an oath of frustration, and Tellan met the following thrust with a downwards cross block of both his weapons. With a roar of aggression, Tellan’s forehead smashed into the nose of the newest soldier and as blood burst across both their faces, he rammed his dagger under the soldier’s chin.
A grunted challenge from his left heralded the arrival of another slashing enemy and as Tellan spun with the dead soldier still upon his dagger, he thrust the body onto the oncoming spear of screaming steel. The new soldier’s blade became entrenched in his brother with a wet thud of meat and, his own dagger still embedded in the jaw of his enemy, Tellan plucked the hatchet from the dead soldier’s waistband. With a mighty thrust that claimed the stomach of the soldier behind his ‘shield’, Tellan brandished his new weapon in a guard against the oncoming soldier that approached his blind side. Tellan ground his teeth resolutely as he swept the hatchet around the blade of the deadly short sword that lunged for him and, with a final thrust that dropped his opponent to his knees, he glared at the soldiers that clustered thickly around him.
The first that broke the line charged him with a screaming challenge and Tellan threw his newfound hatchet with terminal precision into the soldier’s chest. The soldier was lifted cleanly off his feet and as he sailed backwards, the other drones rushed forward as one. Tellan met them with a diagonal guard that thwarted the overhead strike of the first soldier, granting his free hand purchase upon the offending wrist as he thrust his bastard sword into the stomach of the second soldier beside him. Tellan spun immediately with his captured soldier still in hand, and as he threw the man screaming onto the waiting blade of one of his brothers, Tellan brought his bastard sword around for a strike that claimed a third life. As soon as the skewered soldier slid from his shocked brother’s blade, Tellan was there with a thrust of his bastard sword that punched cleanly through the last soldier’s abdomen.
Tellan spun with the drone still upon his sword and as he glared at the ten surrounding soldiers that approached him tentatively with weapons raised, he fumbled in his pocket. As soon as he produced what he was looking for, he withdrew his sword from its temporary sheath and kicked the dead soldier into the group of waiting drones. But only a few roaring steps were granted by the enemy as they surged forward, for Tellan threw one of Jenko’s smoke pellets upon the ground and an oily cloud of thick smoke plumed into the air.
Even as his enemies recoiled with gasping chokes, Tellan surged forward with a brief lunge for a fallen short sword and in a whirlwind of death that lasted for a bare few seconds, he tore devastatingly through the cluster of soldiers. Metal flashed through the smoke cloud like crackling lightning, and with very manoeuvre that brought him closer within the circle of a new enemy, so came a spray of blood that brought the death of another soldier.
When the smoke cleared only Tellan stood, panting and sweating heavily, surrounded by the bodies of the soldiers that had fallen before his might. He glanced up under his brows at the screaming oaths that heralded yet another wave of Belial’s followers and – aware that his stamina was beginning to fade – Tellan fled deeper into the maze of the ruin’s ragged walls, dripping blood from his weapons. As he ran on, he became aware that shouted challenges echoed along every wall and when a figure launched from above blotted out the moonlight, Tellan realised he had at last become surrounded. He speared his bastard sword upwards even as he pivoted from the falling soldier’s weapon and as Tellan spun again, he threw his liberated short sword at the soldier that rushed him from further along the corridor he ran. Tellan dipped briefly for a fallen knife before he sped along again, determined that he wouldn’t become overrun if only he kept moving. But when he vaulted over a broken column, his progress was thwarted by a screaming arrow that shattered into the stonework a mere inch from his body.
Tellan jumped back hastily with a snarl and, as his eyes flashed up at Timran perched upon the broken teeth of a dilapidated archway above, Tellan shuddered at how sinister a shadow his former brother cast upon an old memory. A screaming soldier flew against Tellan’s side then and with the barest parry that displaced the soldier’s rush, Tellan pivoted him until he stood in the way of Timran’s imminent arrow. Even before the arrow had fully found its mark, Tellan abandoned his shield and sped along the line of a ruined wall, desperate that he reach safer cover before Timran could draw again. Belial’s army was enough of a danger in spite of how many he had taken already, for they still outnumbered him drastically. But with Timran now involved, Tellan knew his already exceptional luck had finally reached tilt.
He leapt for the sanctuary of a reasonably covered battlement as an arrow ripped the air only centimetres above his head; but still Tellan pounded around the corner that would lead him well away from Timran’s bow, heralded by the screams and footfalls that brought news of reinforcements.
Tellan snarled when he was brought face to face with the clouded eyes of more soldiers and as they rushed for him from the opposite end of the narrow corridor, he readied his guard with defiance. He was slowing, he knew as he thwarted an attack meant for his head, changing the course of the blade’s energy with a well–timed deflection that sent it biting into another soldier’s neck. He swung his bastard sword even as he spun and when it tore deeply into the guts of yet another enemy, Tellan brought his new knife up in a reversed–grip guard that stopped the oncoming blade from slicing his face. He punched the pommel of his bastard sword into the stomach of the soldier before him and as the enemy buckled with wheezing breath, Tellan plunged his knife deeply between heaving shoulders.
A shrill whistle from behind tugged upon Tellan’s instincts then and, as he hastily flattened himself against the dilapidated wall by his side, he gasped silently at the deadly arrow that pierced a soldier’s chest in his stead. He threw his found knife opportunistically at Timran, his white hair blazing in the moonlight that suffused the passage as he dodged out of the way, and Tellan glanced at the battlements above.
Using the fallen body of the shot soldier as a stepping stone, Tellan hastily sheathed his bastard sword and ran up the wall as best he could, stretching desperately for the lip of crumbling stone above. He hauled himself up in spite of the rushing soldiers that bit at his ankles with clashing weapons and as soon as he brought his knees onto level ground, he rolled under the vicious swipe of an unexpected sword.
Tellan rose with a devastating uppercut into the aggressor’s stomach and as the soldier retched violently, he slammed a ringing downward punch into his jaw. Tellan then gripped the stunned soldier’s head and twisted wi
th the rotation of his pivot, granting him enough momentum to dodge an onrushing overhead strike that sought his neck. Tellan unsheathed his bastard sword once more and with the felling of his latest enemy, came another deadly whistle of arrows. Tellan immediately collapsed onto the ground, knowing that from this angle of elevation Timran could easily pierce his heart, and he feverishly rolled away from the danger of the battlement’s edge.
But when he leapt sprinting onto his feet for escape, he juddered to a halt before the sea of faces that choked the limited space of the narrow battlement ahead. He pierced them with a solid stare, those that must have stood a hundred strong, all with weapons unsheathed and walking purposefully towards him.
His breath hitched in his throat then; he knew he had made his choice in staying, that this great battle was a sacrifice he gladly offered for the safety of his wonderful niece. But exhaustion already loomed at the threshold of his abilities and as he readied his bastard sword into a defiant guard, he wondered how long he would last against so many. Tellan deliberated his breathing as he watched them approach, his eyes flickering over the line of faces that snarled at him in imminent attack. They approached one step at a time, knowing as a single unit that their numbers gave them the advantage over him, in spite of how many of their kind lay dead among the maze of the ruin. Tellan readied himself for the death that awaited him, still strong and steadfast in his decision and as he stood there, he comforted himself with the knowledge that soon he would be reunited with his commander.
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