Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two

by Christopher Pepper

  Nerthus' attention snapped back to the world around her as she heard the moaning and calls for help coming from the ruins of the gate. Both soldiers and civilians alike had been caught in the attack, and there were survivors still clinging to life under the debris.

  Slinging her borrowed pack over her shoulders, Nerthus left the horse where it stood and ran towards the cries for help, joining others in the frantic search for the living underneath tons of stone and metal. Next to her, to her surprise, were the same two girls she had saved earlier. Both looked determined as they pulled up stones and chunks of warped metal, digging with their bare hands.

  Hurried voices caused Nerthus to turn as a few soldiers hurried to join, armed with picks and shovels. In the slowly growing light, Nerthus could see the fear in their eyes. But that fear was fighting and losing against a determination she had rarely seen before. She was about to turn back when three bright orange lights caught her eye. More fireballs descending, probably from some sort of catapult, she thought distractedly. The three fireballs smashed into the garrison itself this time, through the massive structure withstood the onslaught. Flaming bits of projectile and blazing hot chunks of stone rained down on the people torn between saving others and saving themselves. Another of those ghastly howls split the morning sky, loud even over the din of battle.

  “Pike this city,” Nerthus swore as she found and pulled a bruised, battered, but still living soldier out of the rubble.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Alek!” Johan shouted.

  Immediately the big man froze in place. The speed with which he found himself responding to and obeying Johan's orders almost surprised him. He turned to his Commander, who had a strange expression on his face. Uh oh. That was never good.

  “Yeah boss?” Alek asked, trying to sound nonchalant amidst the chaos.

  “Find those catapults and take them out!” Johan shouted.

  Pike me, Alek thought. “Yes sir!” he cried aloud.

  “I can't send anyone else,” Johan said. “You've got to do it fast, or more people will die!”

  Alek understood. He got it, he really did. Johan, the Commander, he corrected himself, had to use any means at his disposal. And that meant him. If he pushed himself, Alek thought, he knew he could be stronger and faster than anyone. But how could he push himself through the bonds within himself? How could he break that tether in him? Even if he could though, would it be enough?

  “You can do it!” Johan shouted, his voice somehow commanding and inspiring Alek at the same time. “Go! Now!”

  Alek half-saluted and as he turned he saw Garm and Vegard looking at him.

  “You got this, Tiny,” Vegard said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Stop holding back,” Garm barked.

  Alek gave them his crooked smile. “Don't touch my stuff while I'm gone!” he yelled, and he took off at a run towards the direction the catapults were.

  As he ran, Alek felt that familiar resistance growing within his body. The faster he tried to go, the more he pushed himself, the greater the resistance in his own mind. The stronger the tether held him back. But he tried to push on despite the difficulty. The cobblestones beneath him became solid plate of color as they blurred past.

  A unit of City Watch saw him bearing down on them. Ten, fifteen men if he had to guess. Alek didn't care, nor did he have time to slow down for them. He drew his sword as he ran and held it out to his right side like a bird's wing. Four of them died almost immediately as Alek all but trampled over them. The feeling of their bones snapping and their organs bursting underneath him made Alek sick, but he didn't stop. A handful more died an instant later as he sliced his blade back and forth as he ran. He was a dozen paces past them when the bodies hit the ground. Alek didn't look back at the survivors.

  Rounding a corner, Alek almost lost his balance and toppled over. Scraping and scrambling on the ground with his free hand he managed to stay on his feet. Almost immediately one of the large, misshapen abominations leaped onto him, elongated fingernails and serrated teeth slashing and gnawing at him. With no time to think, Alek simply came to a halt. The sudden stop sent the creature flying, slamming into the ground hard and rolling, arms and legs cracking from the force. Alek wasted no time, charging forwards, his sword catching the monster's throat as he ran past.

  Alek burst into a small open space where a few of the larger streets converged. A park or other such public space, he thought. In the center were three large siege catapults, with watchmen in the midst of reloading them. Corpses littered the ground, soldiers and civilians alike. Some were ripped open, but others were somehow...melted. Covered in severe looking sores, or dead with congealed vomit and blood in their throats. They had died horribly, and the stench was revolting. Four of the abominations stood among them, of them somehow different than the others. It stood on two legs, but was so hunched over it almost walked on all fours. Its hands were broken and contorted so that its digits pointed in all directions. One of its eyes glowed a dull green, while the other was a melted orb of puss and black ichor.

  There was a moment, an instant really, where everything halted. The watchmen stopped loading the catapults and gaped at him, the abominations stared silently, and Alek took stock of his life, wondering just how in the hells he had found himself standing in a park surrounded by monsters.

  “Ahh, what the hells,” Alek muttered, shattering the silent interlude. As he charged forwards he could feel his strength, his power constrained, struggling like a mustang against the bit. He knew he could do more, if only he knew how. Then, to Alek's horror, the hunched over monster pointed one of its ruined hands at him.

  “Kill it,” the monster spat, its voice a gurgling hiss, with fluid oozing from its mouth as it spoke.

  The effect on the others around it was impressive. The watchmen, nine in total, abandoned their catapults and ran at him, cudgels out. The three abominations likewise charged at him with reckless speed.

  “Piking hells!” Alek shouted. He hurled his sword at one of the charging abominations, knocking it backwards with the blade impaled in its face. The second abomination slashed at him with a curved hook of a hand, but Alek caught it by what he figured was its wrist, pulled hard an kicked the monster hard in the chest. Its arm tore free up to the shoulder, and it spun backwards as thick black blood spurted out of its exposed socket. Alek clubbed at the third monster with the arm, a man-shaped beast with some sort of chitin spreading across its face and shoulders.

  The monster batted Alek's makeshift weapon away and lunged forward to bite at his throat with an over-extended lower jaw of teeth. Alek backpedaled, wishing he had more than one sword, and brought his left fist upwards in a vicious uppercut. The blow broke the jaw off the monster, showering Alek in blood and shattered teeth. He swung his makeshift weapon at the monster again, this time the hook-like claw at its tip catching the monster in the neck, ripping it to shreds.

  As the third monster fell the watchmen were upon him, swinging their cudgels. Alek warded them off with his hands, but was surprised that the heavy thuds on his arms and shoulders barely hurt him. He felt like he was surrounded by children, swinging small sticks at him. Emboldened, Alek began thrashing the traitorous watchmen despite their blows. Alek found himself smiling. This was what he could handle; battling bad guys and monsters. No moral ambiguities, no personal scores to settle. No horrific past to confront. Simply evil creatures that needed to be stopped. And stop them he would.

  With a suddenness that surprised him, Alek had no more watchmen left to fight. His fists and elbows were caked in blood. He looked up from his hands and locked eyes, or just “eye” with the hunched over monster. This remaining monster exuded an intelligence and malice the others didn't possess. Something told him that he'd need more than just his bare fists to fight this one. Where was his sword? He needed it!

  There was a sudden give in his mind at the thought. The tether loosened, ever so slightly, and his sword flew out of the downed monster and in
to his now outstretched hand. Alek's smile grew wider as he squared off against the final monster, who moved to keep Alek in front of it.

  The monster's green eye flickered, a brief burst of green light, and the sword in Alek's hand grew white hot. The temperature of the handle intensified until the blade glowed as if still in a blacksmith's forge. Yet while Alek knew the blade was hot, it didn't hurt him. Momentarily puzzled, he looked down at the blade. That was all the opening the monster needed. Shooting its arms forward, a torrent of sickly green energy wrapped itself around Alek, dropping him to one knee.

  Alek now felt feverish, wracked by an intense nausea. He vomited a small amount, and to his dismay felt his bowels loosen slightly. His body felt weaker than had ever felt in his life. Not since the Akvan had he felt at the mercy of such magic. His grip on his sword loosened as the green Power continued to cascade around him in its embrace. But he didn't fall, nor did he drop his blade. For what seemed like an eternity he knelt there, but by degrees the nausea lessened, and his strength returned to his muscles. He rose back to his feet, and the monster took a step back. Only a handful of seconds had passed.

  “What are you?” it gurgled, weaving a protection spell that coalesced into a translucent green shell between it and Alek.

  Alek's grin returned. “It's a secret,” he said, taking a step towards the monster. He brandished his sword as the monster prepared another spell. But before they could conclude their contest a thin beam of blue light impaled the monster through the side of its head, sending a shower of blood, bone, and brains through the exit wound as it dropped to the ground.

  Turning towards the source of the blue beam, Alek saw a large covered wagon, drawn by horses and escorted by three bulky, armored knights. A rather fat man in ruffled finery sat in the driver's seat, a fading blue aura around him. The source of the spell, Alek knew. Touching his still-glowing hot sword blade to his forehead in salute, Alek's eyes drifted to the woman sitting next to the driver.

  “Edda?!” Alek blurted out, stunned. Almost immediately he felt the strength and power within himself drain out of him, and his sword felt like a white-hot iron against his skin. He cursed as he dropped the sword.

  “Ox?” Edda called from the wagon, standing up. “Piking hells that is you!” She leapt off her seat and launched herself at Alek, wrapping her arms around his neck and swinging around his muscular frame like a flag. He caught her in his arms and, as the city around them burned, he could think only of her.

  “Wow, you look pretty nice,” he mumbled, nodding slightly at her dress.

  Edda laughed and pecked him on the cheek. Then her nose wrinkled. “Goffs eyes, Alek. You stink.”

  “Ah, yeah,” he stammered, setting her down. “Occupational hazard.”

  Edda disentangled herself from him, a playful smile on her face. “Since when is shitting yourself part of being a soldier?”

  “When he's been bathed in pure pestilence,” the man on the wagon said as it drew close. “Gods man, just from the leftover residue from that spell you should have been killed twice over.”

  “Alek, this is Egveny, a Weaver and friend from Tethis,” Edda said. “Eg, this is Alek. Dominion Outrider, and all around mysterious blockhead.”

  “Gosh she's an angel, isn't she?” Alek grinned.

  “So I've noticed,” Egveny said. “Ahh, one moment please.” The Weaver turned to one of his armed escorts, and Alek was surprised to see it wasn't a man at all, but a golem. “Gears,” Egveny said, “destroy these catapults, if you'd be so kind.”

  “By your command, Mr. Bok,” the golem replied before signaling to the other two, and they set about dismantling the catapults with impressive speed.

  “Not going to magic them away like the others? “Edda asked.

  Egveny slumped back in his seat. “I'm afraid the oil is burning quite low at the moment.”

  “Wait, what others?” Alek asked suddenly. “More monsters, or more catapults?”

  “We encountered a few groups of the City Watch bringing more siege equipment this way,” Egveny sighed, and Alek could almost feel the Weaver's exhaustion in his words. “We destroyed one group, but the others were a little more heavily defended than I could handle. I just hope we stopped these before they did much damage. The Garrison might be our only way out of here.”

  “Hate to say it, Ox,” Edda said, “but we aren't here to stay and fight. We're high-tailing it back to Tethis as fast as we can.”

  “Same with us, actually,” Alek replied. “I just showed up to stop these things from doing more damage to the garrison.”

  “Is it bad?” Egveny asked.

  In response, Alek picked Edda up and carried her over his shoulder as he jumped lightly onto the wagon, causing it to shift and groan under his weight.

  “I'll tell you about it on the way,” he said, patting Edda on her ass. “Let's get the hells out of here.”

  “Light above, I'd really like to think we broke them,” Captain Garrey said, wiping sweat from his brow. “But it's never that easy, is it?”

  “It hasn't been in my experience,” Johan said between breaths.

  The two men were standing in one of the smaller side courtyards of the garrison. Gustav's forces had taken that section of the wall and had begun pouring down into the courtyard. The Outriders, with a detachment of Bellkeep soldiers, had finally routed the invaders in an intense, up-close fight. And now all at once, the garrison and its surrounding walls were quiet.

  The hurried footsteps of a runner broke the brief reverie, and a young page exchanged a few words with Garrey before bolting in another direction.

  “I've got to go check on a few things,” Garrey said. “Stay available. Things may have just gotten a little more...complicated.”

  “You got it,” Johan said, turning back towards his own men. All of the Outriders were bleary-eyed, but they still seemed alert. Vegard had opened his medico kit a few moments before and passed out vigilate to the men. It was a highly concentrated stimulant with some medicinal properties that Outriders sometimes used on long missions where sleep was scarce. It was a very potent herb, far stronger than the Sourvine the men carried on them. But too much of it could cause serious problems, so it stayed sealed up in Vegard's pack until he thought it was warranted. Johan rolled his shoulders, feeling the hints of aches and pains to come before taking a dose of vigilate himself. He hoped that they wouldn't need to rely on it too much. Johan walked over to Garm, who was running an oiled whetstone down the blade of his greatsword.

  “Garm,” Johan said, “go fetch our...cargo from the garrison. Things may start to get a little more hectic around here, and the last thing we want is him slipping away in the confusion.”

  “Aye,” Garm said, saluting automatically before jogging back into the garrison. A small seed of self-doubt began to grow in Johan's mind as he watched the man. He looked back at the rest of his men. Again, the worry and regret began to seep into his mind. Did he get them all killed by chasing down the Underking like this?

  “The right course may not always be the smart course,” Johan whispered to himself, another of his favorite phrases from Aldir's book.

  “Pike me,” Ryker said, suddenly next to him. “That gods damned book is going to get us all killed.”

  “Gotta die from something,” Johan said, forcing a smile. “Glory isn't all that bad of a reason.”

  Ryker gaped at him, dumbfounded. Behind him, Vegard barked out a laugh then groaned a bit, rubbing at his injured jaw. Toma chuckled a little as he checked the string on his bow.

  Johan was struck suddenly by what he saw in Toma. The kid had all but transformed in less than a year. From some noble's son, soft but determined, to a true Outrider, hardened by duty and sacrifice. He should be the poster child for enlisting, Johan thought with a genuine smile.

  “Hey Toma,” he said, walking to their scout, “have you shot any monsters with those new arrows of yours yet?”

  “Uh, no sir, not yet,” Toma said, looking up. “I o
nly have two more, and I kind of wanted to save them in case Kinnese tries something.”

  “Fair enough,” Johan said, nodding. “But do me a favor? Next time those things show up, don't hesitate to let one fly. I'm interested to see what your tinkering can do.”

  “Yes sir,” Toma said, his face brightening as a small, eager smile spreading as he began to shift the contents of his quiver around.

  Approaching figures caught Johan's eye and he turned as Garm and the Underking emerged from the garrison. A few paces behind them was Nerthus, looking less than pleased as she carried a tattered-looking pack over her party dress. Despite himself, Johan felt his heartrate pick up a bit at the sight of the Umbra. He wondered if Aldir ever had the time for such pleasant distractions.

  “Who's the sif?” Nerthus asked as Garm brought the sifar over. “He's your secret spur of the moment mission I take it?”

  “Yep. Target of opportunity,” Johan said, smiling. “I'll tell you more when we get out of here.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Nerthus said, annoyance in her voice. “The gate's smashed all to the four hells. Piking catapults blew away our easy escape. We're going to need to find an alternate exit.”

  “Damn,” Johan said.

  “No good deed goes unpunished, huh?” she said, a rueful grin forming.

  Another Bellkeep runner, no older than ten summers, ran up to Johan, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

  “You're the Outrider Captain, yeah? Sir?” the boy asked.

  “It's 'Commander',” Johan corrected him, still smiling. “What can I do for you?”

  “Captain Garrey needs you. That huge guy of yours just came back.”