Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  "Get inside," shouted Brenn, as he heard a cry go up behind him. He chanced a look back and saw the two men. One was following, with a sword and shield readied. The other was swinging a crossbow up from his hip to take a shot.

  Khir leapt into the kitchen and ran for the bar room, feeling as though he might drop the heavy sword in his grasp. Gorric entered the kitchen and took a step to the side of the doorway, raising his sword in preparation.

  Brenn reached the door and turned to shut it. A crossbow bolt took him in the left shoulder, spinning him back into the kitchen.

  Gorric lost sight of Brenn as the old noble fell behind a table. He felt suddenly very nauseous and his lips became dry. His mind swam with thoughts as to what would happen to everyone when these attackers decided to turn their attentions to the tavern. Fear gripped him then and he could feel sweat beginning to run down his forehead.

  A movement snapped him back to reality and he let out a roar as he swung his sword at the man who had just entered the kitchen. Gorric's sword caught the attacker off his guard and found it's way between the shoulder plate of his armour and his blackened helmet, cleaving into his exposed neck. The man was dead before he hit the ground and Gorric stared down at the body and the pool of crimson blood that was forming beneath it.

  "Shut the door, lad."

  Gorric was startled to see Brenn standing from behind the table, but he still slammed the door shut and pulled the bar which locked it back into place.

  "I'll never get on your wrong side," said Brenn, looking down at the dead attacker. He smiled at Gorric, then grimaced in pain at the wound to his shoulder. "Let's get back to the others."

  They headed through into the bar room and Brenn closed the door to the kitchen, then called for one of his Ashgar allies to guard it.

  "Brenn, how's the shoulder?" asked Celestius, seeing the protruding crossbow bolt.

  "I've had worse injuries," replied Brenn, handing the curved sword back to the barkeeper. "You should be proud of your boy though. He knocked that bastard right off his feet with that sword of his."

  Celestius saw the blood on Gorric's blade. "You killed one of them?"

  Gorric nodded. "Yes, he's in the kitchen. They're wearing dark armour plating and I could see no crest. The neck is exposed though, so bear that in mind if you run into any more of them."

  "I would expect more to be at the back door any minute now," said Brenn. "The one that shot me will have gone to fetch reinforcements."

  Celestius took his sword from Khir, then heard the sound of metal upon metal outside and, peering out into the square, he could make out the silvery figures of Barentin's guardsmen arriving to defend as best they could. Flames had erupted from various buildings around the square and the whole scene was eerily illuminated.

  "The guardsmen need help out there," stated Celestius. "Brenn, can you fight?"

  "Of course I can," growled Brenn. "Just need to get this bolt out, then I'll be good as new."

  "Let me help with the wound," offered Forven.

  Gorric moved to his father's side. "I will fight, father."

  "No, Gorric. I need you to protect these people here. Do not leave this tavern until I return."

  "Father, I must help…"

  "I said no," interrupted Celestius. "You are the only person who can protect them. How would the two clerics defend themselves?"

  Gorric shook his head. "If something should happen…" His voice trailed off.

  "Gorric, if something should happen to me and I do not return soon, then I want you to get out of Barentin as quickly as possible. Take horses and get clear of the town. These men are numerous and dangerous. They are not bandits so I'm guessing that they are a new threat."

  "Skardans?"

  "No. Skardans don't wear so much armour. Maybe they are from the northlands or the lands not yet claimed. That doesn't matter right now."

  "Why don't we just leave now and escape before they kill us all?" cried Varayan from the back of the room.

  "You have no morals, do you?" snapped Khir at the young thief. "Would you just run and leave everyone to die?"

  Varayan let out an exasperated groan. "I don't understand any of you. You would fight a battle which you could not win, just because of duty or honour?"

  Khir turned his back on the thief and shrugged at Gorric. "Why don't we just kill him now and be done with it?"

  Gorric could see that Khir was trying to raise a smile, but the thought of what was about to happen kept him from doing so. Gorric felt his father's hand grasp his shoulder.

  "Do as I ask, Gorric," said Celestius.

  Gorric saw the look in his father's eyes and nodded. "I will. Khir will help me protect these people."

  Father and son exchanged meaningful smiles, and then Celestius headed towards the front door. "Brenn, are you ready?"

  Brenn, his left arm soaked with blood, stepped forward. Behind him, Forven held the bolt which had been lodged in his shoulder.

  "I thank you for your help," Brenn said to the cleric. Then, he nodded to Celestius. "Looks worse than it is. Missed anything too important."

  Celestius, Brenn and two of the three other Ashgar men prepared themselves and, with one last glance at those staying in the tavern, charged out into the square.

  Balthus scanned the battle before him. Buildings on the edge of the main square of Barentin were aflame now and tens of Rotians had already been marched off away from their homes. He had no doubt that the captured men, women and children would number in their hundreds. The order would probably be given to kill most of the men and in doing so cut down the numbers.

  The slow-moving guardsmen from the trade town ran to and fro, trying to stand and defend their people, but the Shada-Kavielian force was stronger and better trained. It would all be over quickly.

  The invoker's eyes glanced towards the docks, where another unit of soldiers had headed. A flickering illumination from over the rooftops told him that fires were being set there also.

  Balthus turned to look at Draliak. The commander sat atop his steed, watching the battle with intensity. Occasionally, he would order nearby soldiers to pursue some guardsmen who had broken rank or he would see an opportunity to outflank those still fighting. Draliak longed to join the battle it seemed, but he had remained calm and still, allowing his men to take the glory for him.

  Balthus caught sight of movement from one of the larger buildings opposite him and saw four men emerge from the front door, each armed with weapons. One thing he had to grant the Rotians was that they certainly had courage in the face of certain destruction. These men were rushing out to aid their kin against a force this land has never known the like of. They would fight bravely, but they would be dead within minutes.

  Still, one of the men who had appeared from the building was most definitely a swordsman. The large rotian cut down two Shada-Kavielians with relative ease and joined a group of guardsmen to form a defensive wall.

  "Military," came Draliak's voice.

  Balthus glanced at him and saw that the commander was also watching these new arrivals, especially the swordsman. "You believe he's a soldier?"

  Draliak nodded. His face was partially hidden by the helmet he wore, but Balthus could see the expression of genuine interest in Draliak's face.

  "He's most likely an officer," stated the commander. "Do you see the way he commands those men? They rally to him without hesitation. Yes, he carries rank."

  Balthus shrugged. "Not that it matters. He'll be dead like the rest soon."

  Draliak saw movement from within the building the four Rotians had emerged from. The structure was a tavern, if his knowledge of Rotian architecture was correct. It was wide and tall, but with many windows and a sign above the door.

  "Balthus, that tavern still stands," pointed out Draliak. "There are others in there, perhaps more soldiers. Take several men and make sure it's burned like the rest of them."

  Balthus frowned. Leading an attack on a tavern was not exactly his purpose for
being there. However, it would allow him to bring his skills into effect finally. With a nod of understanding to Draliak, the invoker wheeled his horse around and shouted to the nearest Shada-Kavielian soldiers to follow him.

  The men looked to Draliak for confirmation that they should listen to Balthus and the commander gestured towards the tavern. "Balthus, there will most likely be a rear entrance," he called after the invoker. If Balthus had heard him, he had not acknowledged it.

  Draliak swung his gaze back to the small defensive line, which the Rotian officer commanded. With a slight smile, he pulled his sword from its scabbard.

  "Keep a close eye on that door," Gorric ordered the nervous Ashgar man, pointing at the door leading to the kitchen. The man was the youngest of the Ashgar group and Gorric could see a look of fear in his eyes. "We'll watch out for each other, don't worry."

  Khir regarded his friend with surprise. Gorric's voice was strong and clear, giving orders as an officer would to his men. It seemed that he had inherited his father's battle sense. Many times, Khir had heard tales of how Celestius had trained as a soldier and had become a well-respected officer, who led his men against those who would threaten the kingdom. How true these tales were was unknown to Khir, but Celestius had given up his place in the Rotian forces to become a member of the noble council and to raise his family in the sleepy country town of Tamriel.

  Khir could see Gorric following in similar footsteps to Celestius and he felt slightly more at ease knowing that his friend was by his side.

  "You." Gorric pointed his finger at Varayan, who was still leaning against the back wall. "Help to guard the kitchen door."

  "Don't order me around," snapped the young thief. "I'll do as I please."

  Gorric glared at him with contempt. "You'll help, or I'll cast you out into the midst of the fighting myself."

  Varayan glanced down at the small blade in his hand and laughed coldly. "You think I'm a fighter like you?"

  "I'm no fighter," growled Gorric.

  "The man lying dead in the kitchen would disagree with you if he could."

  "Just help us," said Gorric, turning away from him.

  He walked to one of the front windows, coming to stand next to Khir. He looked for his father, but could not see him amidst the multitude of figures in the town square. He longed to charge out there and fight alongside the Barentin defenders.

  "Who are they?" Khir asked him.

  "I don't know. The man I struck had his face covered, but they wore blackened armour the likes of which I have never seen or heard of."

  "Perhaps a mercenary force that has been building up over the years."

  "Perhaps, but doubtful."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "They move with the brutal precision of a military force. They have basic formation, but their movements are those of trained men."

  Khir caught sight of a Barentin guardsman being overpowered by two of the attackers and turned away from the scene. "Why are they here, Gorric? Why kill people as they are?"

  "I wish I knew, Khir. They seem to be here to destroy Barentin. Other parts of the town are burning, I can see the light from the fires illuminating the sky above." Gorric could see rain falling outside. "At least the rain may help douse the fires a little."

  Behind them, Forven approached. "I believe we should consider leaving this place," he said. "It would be safer to get out of the town."

  "No," answered Gorric. "I'll not leave my father here."

  Forven glanced at Khir. "They are burning everything, young lord," he stated. "Sooner or later, they will manage to set this tavern alight and we will be trapped."

  Gorric sighed. "I understand your concerns, but we stay here."

  "We should at least head towards the river."

  "Don't you think they will already be at the docks?" Gorric asked Forven, turning to face the cleric. "What force would attack a port and not strike the docks first?"

  Forven held up his hands. "I know, but we are vulnerable here. Your father would agree…"

  "I have spoken, cleric," said Gorric, harshly. "We stay."

  "Who exactly put you in charge here?" came Varayan's mocking voice.

  As Gorric started to answer, the sound of splintering wood was heard from the kitchen. For a moment, everyone in the bar room stood in silence. Then, Gorric signalled for the Ashgar man to stand ready on one side of the door and he himself vaulted the bar to stand the other side. Forven, Rynn and Khir moved to the bottom of the staircase, whilst the barkeeper ducked down behind the bar with Varayan.

  The only sound heard were the cries of men dying out in the square. Gorric gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. Remembering his previous encounter with one of the attackers, he made a motion to the Ashgar man to strike at the exposed neck. The man nodded, but Gorric was not completely certain that he had understood.

  The door to the kitchen was thrown open and a black figure stepped into the bar room, sword and shield ready. Gorric swung with all his strength, but was shocked to see the attacker react quicker than he expected, ducking the blow. Gorric's sword struck the door's frame and sent a painful vibration back along his arm, but he managed to keep hold of the weapon.

  The attacker slashed up with his own sword, a blade a few inches longer than Gorric's and jagged along one edge. Gorric leapt back, barely avoiding the lethal blade.

  "Now," he yelled at the Ashgar man, who was frozen to the spot.

  Shaking his head clear, the young Ashgar man swung his shortsword, but it glanced off the armour's back plating. The attacker, seemingly unaffected, took a step towards Gorric, his shield leading the way. Behind him, a second attacker appeared from the kitchen, turning to face the Ashgar man.

  "I need help here," cried Gorric.

  Khir took a step forward, his hunting knife clutched in one hand. He caught sight of the barkeeper edging around the corner of the bar and motioned for Gorric to lead the attacker backwards. He then glanced through the open doorway into the kitchen and could see more dark soldiers waiting to enter the bar room

  .

  Gorric moved back to the end of the bar, where the barkeeper waited, and the attacker suddenly rushed forward with alarming speed. Gorric jumped aside and the barkeeper swung his curved sword as the attacker approached. The sword slammed into the attacker's right knee, which was covered with loose-fitting chainmail, and he stumbled, falling forward and landing heavily on the wooden floor. Immediately, Gorric was on him, lunging down with his sword. The back of the man's neck was not exposed, as Gorric had hoped. Instead, his helmet had a plate guarding against any rear attack and Gorric's sword slipped off it and lodged in the floor. Cursing, he wrenched his sword free and, as the attacker rolled over to face his opponent, Gorric kicked out and caught him under the chin. The attacker slumped back, rendered unconscious by the blow.

  There was a cry of pain behind him. Gorric turned to see the Ashgar man impaled on an attacker's sword.

  "Gorric, no."

  Gorric heard Khir's warning as he started back toward the doorway and saw attackers filing into the bar room.

  "Out the front,” he ordered.

  As they ran for the tavern's front door, it flew open and more of the attackers entered. One was carrying a crossbow, which he aimed at Gorric.

  "The stairs," came Khir's shout.

  Aware of dark forms closing in on them, Gorric ran for the stairs, allowing the barkeeper and a frightened Varayan to reach them before him. The crossbowman lost sight of Gorric amongst the crowd and cursed.

  Khir, Forven and Rynn were first to the top of the stairs, followed closely by the barkeeper, Varayan and last of all Gorric.

  "Is there a window we can escape from?" Gorric asked the barkeeper. "One which looks onto the courtyard?"

  "There is one that looks down onto the stable's roof," replied the barkeeper, leading them off along the landing.

  Behind them, the dark attackers rushed up the stairs in single file. Their heavy boots could be heard pounding up
the wooden steps and this made the fleeing men move quicker.

  "Here," cried the barkeeper, entering a bedroom and running to the only window. As he opened it, the others entered behind him and Gorric slammed the door shut.

  "Forven, help me," he said, grabbing the bed and dragging it towards the door.

  With the cleric's help, they stood the bed against the door and then began shifting the other sparse furniture in the room to the barricade. The door groaned as weight was applied to it from the other side.

  "Go, get out," ordered Gorric, seeing the open window. "Make your way along the roof and watch your footing."

  The barkeeper was the first man out of the window, carefully lowering himself down onto the stable roof, which was slightly slanted and slippery from the rain. The roof ran twenty feet before dropping to a narrow alley below. The barkeeper glanced to his right, looking down into the rear courtyard of his beloved - and now doomed - tavern. Seeing no signs of movement, he started across the roof.

  As Khir began to climb out of the window, Gorric turned to Forven. "We only have moments before they realise what we're doing. They'll have an easy shot with those crossbows if we're not fast enough."

  Forven pushed Rynn towards the window. "We'll need horses," he said to Gorric, terror in his voice. "How many are in the stable?"

  Gorric shook his head. "They'd be upon us by the time we entered the stables. We have to escape on foot. We'll find horses soon after that."

  With the barkeeper, Khir and Rynn moving quickly yet cautiously across the rooftop, Varayan was the next one out and he dropped nimbly from the window, landing with perfect balance on the slippery surface and moving off at double the speed of the others. He looked back at the tavern and saw flames beginning to rise from the building. As he frowned at how quickly the attackers had managed to get the fires started, his attention was pulled away by the sight of several black forms emerging from the tavern's back door. He assumed that the rest of them had fled from the front of the building.