by Kyle J Cisco
"What is your position within the tribe?" asked Natasha.
"I am Largoth," he said, his voice gruff. "And I am sworn by an oath of blood to defend the chieftain."
"How, does one get that position in the tribe?"asked Natasha. "Just out of curiosity."
"Be of his blood, I am Hargoth's son, and Heir to the Chief," Largoth said, as he turned, and headed closer toward his father. Not very talkative.
Natasha took her first glance around the cavern they called the waypoint. In the light of the sun that poked through along with the several torches that now being carried by some of the Ashanti men. In the middle of the room stood a large stone obelisk, gashes in the face of the stone bore the runes of a people long gone. That thing is ancient, I bet Virgil could read those markings.
She turned toward where Hargoth, and Laura stood.
"What do those runes mean?"asked Natasha, pointing to the obelisk.
"We, do not know the language on this waypoint,"Hargoth said. "But, there are others that have been translated by our ancestors."
"How, many of them are there?"
"This answer is not known, Natasha Romansky."
Natasha however was not excited with his answer nor did it inspire confidence in the man's knowledge of the land which they travelled. She moved off to look at the obelisk that adorned the center of the cavern. The ache of exhaustion from the constant three days of traveling had taken it toll on her. Natasha slumped down to the bottom of the obelisk laying her head upon it, as she let herself fall into a quick nap.
When she was awoken by, Laura three hours had passed, and the group was ready to move deeper into the tunnel network. It was full dark in the tunnels now, and the torch lights were kept to a minimum to decrease the risk of discovery by patrols or other unwanted things that lurked both above them, as well as below...
18
Rows of armored men flowed like liquid down the road leading back toward the Fortress. Evon stood above the sea of steel laid out before him. His stature was that of a Leader. The heavy thud of the passing soldiers echoed throughout the country side. The faint sound of rippling cloth that was being waved about it the wind.
"We, are on schedule, Executor," Stoyan said.
"Good, good. We, should catch them real good I am sure they are not expecting an assault this soon after its fall," said Evon.
The two men stood in conversation for a few more minutes. Then moved back to their mounts once again riding to the front of the column of men. The country side looked barren of life, with most able-bodied men were now in the column behind him. Once more the chill winds emanating from the south blew a winter breeze over the men as they moved on the fortress.
At the camp later that night they could see the fortress over a hill from where they sat. He scanned the walls. There's no lights lit on the northern wall.
"You, see that?" asked Evon, as he grasped onto Stoyan's shoulder.
"See what?" said Stoyan.
"They have lit no lights on the Northern wall of the fortress. Wait. Wait. What if, the army headed back once news of the Devourer's release spread?" said Evon.
"We, need to rest for tonight, Executor, gather our strength for tomorrow," said Stoyan.
"Alright, but a day assault will not fair our men well, Stoyan," said Evon. I will not let them die without reason."
"Would, you, let your men die from exhaustion while taking the walls? They have been marching although the day, and now, you, would have them fight?"
"If that is what is asked of, them, then they are honor bound to do so."
"Then tomorrow night, but don't force them to die tired on the field of battle," said Stoyan.
"Yes, fine," said Evon, as he waved off the marshal, and headed for his tent.
The tent flap was wet with the condensation from the naturally hot air at ground level mixed with the cold wind from the north. He flipped the cloth flap open. He's right. I could not make these men fight in the dead of night. He swept across the room and reached behind his cot, and grabbed the bottle hidden there, and began to swig on the brew. Evon fell into the chair that sat across from the cot, not bothering to take off his lighter riding armor.
A knock came at the pillar at the entrance of the tent. Mother of Light!
"Who is it?" he called out.
"Stoyan."
"Come in. If you must." He said, as he stashed the bottle behind the leg of the chair.
The tent flap burst open as the larger man entered, his tent. Stoyan paced throughout the room, back and forth. A expression of deep contemplation lined his face. His hands were clasped and together, but not still. His hands rubbing the other as if to comfort them.
"What is it Stoyan?" asked Evon.
"Something just isn't right. How can we go on a suicide mission to save one man?" said Stoyan.
"We need, Virgil, for the coming war, Stoyan. He pocesses the power we need to defeat the darkness."
"We, have over come darkness before the coming of this boy." Stoyan said, as he continued to pace the room. "How can I ask my men to die for one man?"
"Because it is their duty to the coventant!" Evon said, unable to contain his frustration. "Why are you bringing this up now? The night before we ride for the fortress."
Evon heard the crack of thunder in the distance, as the sound of rain pattered on the top of the cloth of the tent. His face contorted into a sneer, and he clasped his fists. "Damn this summer weather now we must compete with the rain as well?" The question required no answer.
"You, will ready your men for combat and accompany me in the vanguard. Is that understood Marshal?"
"As you will it, Executor," said Stoyan, as he casually removed himself from the tent and into the deluge outside.
Evon stood at the open tent flap and looked over the camp as lights from the fire were doused out by the terrenchal rain coming in on them. Mother we need your strength. Give us favorable weather for battle. Beyond the rows of tents he could see the watchtower, he spent much time up there looking over the Covenants lands in the hope that one day he could be more than a mere weapon master. He got his wish.
Evon moved through the tent passed the table holding the map, he glanced one more time at the forces arrayed there. Then moved into his private quaters attached to the command tent. His body fell upon the cot, and sank into sleep.
Men lay dead all around the bottom of the walls of the fortress, screams sounded from those still clinging to life. Fires burned black smoke across the field. In his hand a bloody sword, bodies surrounded him on the ground. An arrow struck him in the chest.
Evon awoke in a panic. It was just a dream. Cracks sounded throughout his lower back as he raised himself from the cot, and over to the rack of armor. This had always been his ritual. A large standing mirror showed the reflection of man that had been plagued by war, but born to fight. He strapped the leather of his grieves to his fore arm. I must do this. We must do this. For the light, and mankind this day. He grasped the hilt of his sword and fastened it to his belt. Completing the ritual, he gazed into the mirror with his one good eye going over the armor one strap at a time.
Marshal Stoyan burst into the tent, and Evon spun in surprise his hand ready at the hilt of his sword.
"Executor, the men are formed up and are awaiting your command," said Stoyan, as he flashed a quick salute. "My apologies for startling, you." The man looked at Evon's hand that still grasped the sword as if he poised to strike at the moments notice.
"You, are fine Stoyan. Let us go, and win this day in the name of Light and the Mother."
"Yes, Executor," said Stoyan.
There was a vigor in the man's voice that had not been there the night before when the man was explaining his doubts in the mission at hand. Evon admired the man's ability to follow his orders. The two men headed from the tent. The sight of rows and rows of soldiers the stood outside the command tent arrayed for battle nearly brought a tear to Evon's eye.
Upon emerging from the tent the men gav
e a raucuous cheer of excitement. Spears and swords were lifted skyward in triumph. Evon gestured for silence andf it fell in an instant.
"Everything is on the line today." He began. "The fate of mankind is in our hands today. The actions we take may very well determine the fate of the world this day. We, march upon the fortress of light, our home. This however is small compared to what I ask of all of you, for next we move on the black spire. We, are going to bring, High Chaplain Virgil, back or die trying."
The men cheered once more. He felt the wave of excitment for the coming battle and knew it was time to move out. "Form up into battle array, and await my command. Bring forth the battering rams," said Evon, as he turned and lowered his voice.
"You, and your men will lead the charge on the gate. They are the best warriors we have. My company, and guard will follow behind."
"As you wish, Executor," said Stoyan, as he gathered up his greatsword, and headed toward his men.
19
The sun glisened off Evon's plate armor, as he stood surrounded by battle brothers of the order. Behind him was ranks upon ranks of armored men, and levy militia. Against them stood no army but the massive stone walls built by those who seek to attack it now.
He raised his sword, and with a chopping motion signaled for the attack. Arrows loosed raining firey hell down upon the walls. Setting the bails of hay outside the walls ablaze. Evon and his battle brothers along with the battering ram manned by Marshal Stoyan's men advanced on the gate. Evon's stark white cloak swayed back and forth in the breeze. The six pointed star printed in gold silk upon it. A few more steps and the men broke into an all out sprint toward the walls.
The smoke from the fires that burned accross the battlefield covered the advance almost all the way to gate. Thats when thier luck ended with a great gale the wind changed directions. It blew the smoke from the advancing troops and back onto the Army of the Covenant.
Evon, and his men found themselves advancing with no cover, as arrows began to pelt the attackers. Men began to fall letting out wails of pain as they hit the ground. An arrow struck Evon in the upper thigh. It paused his advance for only a moment as he pulled the arrow from the meat of his leg. A warm sensation began to flow down his leg, the blood stanined the trousers he wore beneath his armor.
As the battering ram aproached the gate, the defenders lobbed rocks and other objects down upon the battering ram, and its crew. Arrows dropped some of the men out from under the protection of the battering rams upper area. But the sides left open made the men weilding the device extreamly vulnerable to arrow fire. Though as men fell from the ram others from the tortise formation behind the ram ran up to take its place.
With another raise of his sword, the levies spurred into action carrying the makeshift ladders they had crafted for the past days since the retreat. The men yelled as they carried the ladders forward through the smoke that had blown back onto them. Their footsteps falling all at once sounded as if thunder were rolling in toward the walls of the fortress.
Levies poured into contact with the wall and the audible sound of ladders clacking against the walls could be heard at the gate.
"Pull, release," Stoyan commanded.
With every release came the thud of the battering ram smashing into the gate. The Wooden gate was beginning to buckle under the assualt. Evon, could hear the clash of swords coming from the walls above him.
"AHHHH," came a yell from above as one of the levies was thrown from the wall, and came to rest at Evon's feet.
"Continue your assault Marshal. Me, and my men are taking the walls. I shall meet you in the courtyard."
Stoyan nodded in approval "Pull...Release."
The sound of splintered wood sounded throughout the battlefield as the gate toppled to the ground as it had been jarred from the large hinges that held it in place. Screams of men could be heard from the otherside of the gate that now lay almost flat upon the ground. Evon took a last glance as Stoyan's men moved the ram to the side and signaled for the rest of the proffessional soldiers from the rest of vassal lords charged through the breached gate.
Evon climbed the ladder with a speed unlikely for a man in full plate, but for Evon Krich this was nothing but a stroll in the courtyard. He heaved himself over the ramparts. There he stood face to face with the hillmen that had been left to guard the fortress. He gripped his sword, and smiled as we cut through the unskilled foes. Every few seconds he glanced around for the man he had fought during the retreat hoping to duel him once more. A kick sent the arrow in his thigh poking out the other side. The pain caused stars to form in the perifial of Evon's vision. A quick strike took the man down, his chest opened exposing the sinue and bone of the man's ribcage.
Without hesitation Evon pulled the arrow through the other side of his leg, and continued toward the next group of foes. Levies that were on the wall began to flank Evon on both sides, as they pushed toward the gatehouse atop the wall.
Below the battle for the gate raged as the me were funneled into the fortress gates. The gates of the fortress were made narrow for this exact reason. Forcing the enemy into a kill box as they made their way around barriers, to meet the foe on the other side. They didnt think they would be assaulting through their own defenses one day.
Meanwhile up top of the ramparts Evon found his nemesis from the retreat he weilded his giant axe with a finese not known to the men of the hill tribes. Evon jumped down to the staircase that lead up to the top of the ramparts and began decending the stairs headed straight for the man.
The few men that came between him and his quarry tunbled from the stairs as they came to rest on the ground. As his foot hit the last step he used it to launch himself forward in a massive thrust at the enemies midsection. It was sidestepped and Evon ducked the incoming blow from the ax. He then caught the weapon as it hit the ground holding it there and delivering a savage punch to the man's throat.
The larger mans stumbled back, as he tried to catch his breath from the strike. But that wasnt in the cards for him as Evon pushed the attack harder. The larger man tried and failed to catch a blow. Evon's sword bitting deep into the mans leg. A river of blood flowed down the hillman's leg. Though Evon did not stop there he spun dodging a half hearted blow. Delivering another strike the man's unarmored arm. The ax toppled from his grip, the large ax throwing up dust as it contacted the ground. Evon strode over to the man. Two of the man's men stepped in to try and save thier general, but evon made quick work of them killing on with a slash to abdoment. Then ducked the incoming blow from the other man. He grabbed the mans head and tiled it up and he snapped his neck with a ridgid twist.
When he reached the general he was crawling away, from the doom he knew aproached. Evon put his boot to the man's back, and applied pressure. The man's forward movement stopped, instead he squirmed in vein trying to escape. Evon sent a kick into the man's face. He grasped the man's long untamed hair in his fist, as he lifted the man's head from the dirt.
"Tell, your men, to surrender and I shall let you live another day on this earth," said Evon.
The leaders eyes met Evon's the moment before hauking a luge at him. Evon dropped the man's head in disgust.
"I...never surrender...to men of the star." As the man starred at the sigil enblazon on Evon's chest plate.
"Then you shall die." Evon brought the sword down severing the man's head in a single blow.
The body lay twitching on the ground for a few seconds before the blood stopped flowing from the wound, and became still. Around him the remaining hillmen dropped their arms, and began to run toward the hole that was left in the opposite end of the fortress's outer wall.
"Let them go," yelled Evon, over the cacophony. "Reclaim the Citidel."
The levies atop the walls poured forth into the courtyard, and headed toward the gate to the citidel. While Evon headed toward Stoyan, who was making sure the foes near the northern gate were dead. The ones still moving earning a second thrust from the Marshal's greatsword.
&n
bsp; Death and destruction lay in the couryard, and atop the walls of the fortress, as the bodies of the dead leaked the last drops of their lifes blood. Arms could be seen as they dangled from the ramparts. Spears, arrows, and swords littered the interior of the courtyard from where men had died. The stench of blood was thick in the air, and Evon caught the sound of the crows already hovering above waiting to feast on the fallen.
"Marshal, move your men to the hole in the outer wall, and set up a defensive position there."
"Yes, Executor," said Stoyan, as he turned to his men. "You, heard the Executor, move out."
Out of the corner of Evon's vision, he saw Lord Castellano aproching him. He tunred before the man could arrive.
"Ah, Lord Castellano, I am surprised you formed up for the assault," said Evon, narrowing his eyes on the heavy set lord. "With all your blathering of leaving at the council meeting."
"Do not take my disagreement over your choices as cowardess. Executor."
"I was not the one to say it, yet it seems your pretty clean for being in the combat." Evon's face grew into a condesending smirk. "None the less I am glad you are here take your men, and position them on the southern wall."
The man's face tunred red as an overripe tomato. The veins in his neck, and head looked ready to burst. "Unless, you, think this task belittles you in some way?"
"No, no, Executor, it is the honor of house Castellano to do this duty for you," said the over weight lord, as he turned tail and stormed off fuming in the direction of the southern wall.
A horn burst sounded to the north. Evon rushed up to the top of the nearest rampart. Splayed out before him stood a massive army. Mother of Light...