“Pike me, are they using swords?” Nerthus breathed.
“Looks like it,” Johan said, dismay in his voice.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“You'll get to the wall,” Garrey said suddenly. Johan turned and saw the grim determination of the condemned in the captain's face. “You won't wait for us. You'll get to the wall, you'll get to your men, and you'll escape this city. Get word to my superiors at Flinthold.” He took a glimpse ahead at the second giant stalking towards them. “We may not be able to retake this city on our own, but we'll make sure there are a hell of a lot less of these bastards for the others to deal with later.”
“But-” Johan began, and Garrey cut him off by putting his hand on Johan's shoulder.
“Get your people and go,” Garrey said before turning and joining his men in their fight.
“You heard the man,” Nerthus said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Uh, okay, yeah,” Johan said. “Where's Edda and the others?”
“Back there,” Nerthus pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I stuck her back there to watch our new friends while I saw what the hells you boys were playing at up here.”
Johan turned to his golem. “Retrieve our comrades back there,” he told it. “Then get to the wall and fight your way to the gate. Alek and Kinnese have already cleared a path most of the way there, and the others are already at the gate, but the monsters are swarming and it may not be clear. We'll meet there.”
“Yes Commander,” the golem said, its female faceplate unreadable. The golem turned and ran towards the back of the column.
Johan and Nerthus shared a brief look and were about to turn and head for the wall when the morning sky darkened to an almost jet black.
Then it all truly went to the hells.
“They driven another of the big ones off,” the Forn woman said, standing on the wagon, one hand over her eyes as she peered ahead of them. “But there's another one. And a lot of the little...ones. I do not know if we will make it.
A sudden desire took Edda, and she turned and spit. Was it unladylike? Quite. But considering the circumstances, she didn't piking care much. A sudden question jolted through her mind. Did she used to spit in her previous life? She spat again, and it felt right. It also pissed her off even more. To deal with so much garbage, to start barely stitching together the scraps of her memories, only to get killed within sight of the gate was infuriating. There was still so much about herself she didn't know.
“Madam,” Edda's golem escort said. “We have incoming to the northwest.”
Edda turned and saw two figures hurrying towards them, a third propped up between them. The man being helped was portly and...
“Egg!” she called out and ran forwards to meet them. Egveny was being helped by the Outrider Toma, who was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, and Naria, the Witch.
“Well that was fun,” Egveny said, his voice weak as the two set him down. The Weaver sat, almost like a child, despite the chaos breaking out around them. Toma chuckled, but he staggered a little. Toma was bleeding heavily out of his shoulder as well, Edda saw.
“What happened?” Edda asked.
“He pushed himself a little too hard is all,” Naria said, digging in one of her bags. She pulled out a small vial and pushed it into Egveny's hand. “Drink this.” She also stepped over to Toma, placing one of her hands over his head injury and another over the slick dark spot on his shoulder. “And this one reopened four different wounds. Gods damn children think they're invincible.” Her hands glowed a soft white, and Toma winced, sucking in air as if he just kicked a stone barefoot. Naria turned to Edda, weariness in her face where seconds ago there was none. “Where are my girls?”
“Wagons,” Edda replied. “They were protecting the people who couldn't fight.”
Naria nodded, a small wave of approval passing quickly over her face, replaced soon after by exhaustion. She walked towards the wagon, absently digging through her bag again as she left.
“Well, I'd like to think I earned my pay today,” Toma said, rubbing at his head. The wound was still there, Edda saw. But it had stopped bleeding and was closed. The young scout worked his shoulder too, testing his range of motion gingerly.
“I don't think we'll get the operation bonus though,” Egveny said between swigs of the Witch's bottle. “We didn't get the third giant.”
Toma shrugged. “Silver Completion Medals are better than none, right?.”
“Ugh,” Edda groaned. “This macho downplaying crap is almost as bad as outright bragging.”
Egveny rose to his feet, about to respond when the golem with the woman's faceplate came charging over to them. The female golem (if that's how it should be referred to, Edda mused quickly) stood in front of the other golem for an instant. A melodious tone sounded from the female golem's faceplate, and the other golem responded in kind with a tone of his own. They both nodded at each other, and the female golem approached them.
“Mister Bok,” she said, “a pleasure to see you alive. Commander Else has ordered us to take to the inner wall and assemble at the Copper Gate. The Outriders are in the process of seizing the gate as we speak. We are to then leave the city.”
“What about helping get these people out of here?” Edda demanded.
“Knight Captain Garrey declared the city lost. And with such a formidable force between his soldiers and the gate, Garrey tasked the Outriders with pushing ahead to escape, then alerting Bellkeep reinforcements to retake the city.”
“Pike me, we could have done that last night before they smashed the gate,” Edda groaned.
“Had to try and save the people here,” Toma said. “I'd have hated myself if we'd just abandoned these guys.”
“Whatever,” Edda said, not wanting to admit the Outrider was probably right. “Egveny can you move?”
The Weaver didn't get to say one way or another. The sky suddenly darkened, as if evening was upon them. The wind began to whip around the wagons behind them, and a sound like thunder rumbled overhead.
“Oh hells,” Edda muttered. “What is Gustav going to throw at us now?”
Egveny was looking up into the sky, his face curious. Then he jumped as if pricked by a pin.
“Oh no,” he murmured.
Edda gaped at her friend. Despite everything over the past few weeks, she had never seen him lose composure so badly.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Gustav,” Egveny said. “And Titus. Both are coming, no pretenses this time. And they are pissed.”
Ryker watched as Garm waded into the ranks of watchmen, his greatsword crackling with coral magic from his gauntlets. The bald man moved in an almost rhythmical fashion, as if keeping time to some symphony that was playing in his head, Ryker thought. In the morning light, amidst the smoke, screams, and stench of gore, Ryker had to conclude that Garm must have been half demon. Behind Garm fought the Underking, tall and spindle-thin, wielding one of the fallen watchmen's cudgels. Ryker was fascinated to watch the two at work. The hate they shared for each other was palpable, and yet when the fighting turned all but hopeless, the two seemed to fall into some old familiar pattern. Garm was the vanguard, hacking and smashing his way through the watchmen who had them surrounded while the Underking watched his back. So ferocious was Garm's onslaught, so brutal was his blade, that the watchmen soon hesitated to approach him. Even one of the silent abominations thought twice before engaging him. Yet that didn't stop Garm, his Outrider coat slick with the blood of his foes. He lunged forwards as the abomination hesitated, disemboweling the creature with a mighty stroke of his sword. The nearest watchmen actually turning and fleeing at the sight.
Sadly, things were going far less well for the rest of them. Vegard and Pela were much less effective fighters when they couldn't use their mobility to their advantage, and the watchmen had soon hemmed them in, forcing the two to fight side to side next to the wheel that controlled the gate portcullis. The golem that Johan had sent them
was having a rather difficult time dueling with the two other abominations. Unlike the others, these two had decided to show up to the party armed with heavy hammers. The golem's bronze pike had long since snapped, and it was fighting with two swords that strongly resembled oversized legion blades. But the two abominations fought with a crude sort of teamwork, keeping the golem on the defensive as they hammered away, literally, at the bronze armor plating protecting its inner workings.
All of that left Ryker alone with his own pessimistic thoughts as he fought to keep himself alive. He had been forced to keep reinforcements off of the wall from the small army that was massing on the roads below the Copper Gate. A number of ladders and narrow staircases allowed access to the inner wall, and he ran to and fro like a madman to stem the tide of City Watch that tried to join in the battle for control of the gate portcullis. Ryker's arms screamed at him, even with the vigilate coursing through his veins. Gods, how long had they been fighting?
“Almost eight hours, on and off,” the Phaedra whispered into his mind, its voice much stronger than before. “Is this how you spend all of your days?”
At the Phaedra's voice, Ryker felt some of the fatigue leave his body. His vision, which had begun to drift, snapped back into focus just in time to sidestep a cudgel aimed at his face. He sliced his blade in an almost reflexive manner and caught the watchmen in the face, who went down screaming, his hands clutching at his chin.
“I was wondering when you'd show back up,” Ryker said, either aloud or in his own mind he couldn't tell. He was too exhausted to care at that point. Ryker wanted to just lean on his sword for a moment, but he couldn't. He saw Vegard and Pela, swarmed with watchmen, fighting hard just to survive. He sighed and hurled himself at the watchmen attacking them, catching two of them completely by surprise as he slashed at the backs of their heads.
“Things don't seem to be going that well,” the Phaedra said. “I wanted to have one last look around before the end, I suppose. Also you need to stop taking that medicine. Your organs are already on the brink of overtaxation. You're going to kill yourself before these monsters get to.”
“Leaving me already?” Ryker grunted as he parried a sword strike from a watchman officer. He couldn't parry it cleanly, however, and the watchman's blade still managed to take a bite out of his shoulder. If he hadn't been wearing his armored Outrider coat, he may have lost the whole thing. He snarled, but the pain was dulled extremely by the vigilate still coursing through his veins.
“Oh, I'm not going anywhere,” Fey said, its voice suddenly pained. “I'm bound to you, whether you open the Door or not. When you die, which looks like it could be soon, I'll be there with you too. Left!”
Ryker didn't ask to clarify, he simply swung his blade to his left. There was a loud thunk sound as his blade lodged between the ribs of a watchman that was about to bring his cudgel down on Ryker's skull. His sword stuck, and as the man fell, Ryker lost the grip on his blade. He was forced to backpedal as the officer with the sword pressed his advantage. Ryker looked around desperately for something more effective than the knives he had on his person when a long slender knifeblade thrust itself through the front of the watchman's throat. The man made a confused, wet gurgling sound before dropping to the ground. As the man fell Ryker saw, to his surprise, the Underking a few paces away. Had the sif just saved him?
“I think he did,” Fey said, responding to his thoughts. “That seems...,” Fey went silent all of a sudden.
“Hey,” Ryker said. “Seems what?” The Phaedra's voice fading like that struck Ryker as more than a little strange. Before he could ask another question, the morning sky began to darken. The darkness fell quickly, and gusts of wind began to buffet man and monster alike on the walls.
“I think someone got our message,” Fey said, cautiously as the darkness deepened. “A few someone's, maybe. I wonder if it...oh no.”
“'Oh no' what?” Ryker demanded, his stomach dropping as some unknown fear began to grow within him. “Who got our message?” Fey seemed to guide his vision down to one of the streets below them. A large, armored figure was barreling through the city streets, wearing full plate adorned with the bell insignia of the Bellkeep City Watch. A large curved sword was in its hand as it fought through Garrey's soldiers. Behind it was that wizard in nobleman's finery that had had that rooftop duel earlier, a small staff in his hands, crooked, with a plain red gem as a headstone. Both paused suddenly, and the armored head lifted up as it gazed at Ryker. A single finger went to its faceplate in a shushing motion, and the wizard gestured with his staff right where Ryker was standing upon the inner wall.
“I think they're rather interested in how we got that message out,” the Voice said, its voice quiet.
A deep, rolling roar thundered across the city, and the remaining giant, which Ryker had surprisingly all but forgotten about, smashed its fist against its chest as if to issue challenge to the new arrivals. It bounded forwards, one of the magic-wielding abominations racing after it like an owner chasing a runaway pet. The armored figure raised a hand in a halting motion and the giant skidded to a halt, a soft roar of acknowledgment its only response. A lower ranking creature deferring to its superior. Beyond them, within the city itself, answering roars were heard. Half a dozen or more of the giants were on the way.
“Holy hells,” Garm's voice so close to Ryker made him all but jump out of his boots. Ryker turned to his comrade. Garm simply stood there, soaked in gore, mouth hung slightly open as he watched some kind of childhood nightmare unfold around them. “I mean, I knew shit was bad, but this...”
Pela and Vegard were tending their wounds as the golem, its armor dented and smashed in, began cranking on the portcullis wheel, turning it much faster than Vegard and Pela combined were earlier. The golem had paused for a moment as it listened to the answering roar of the giants, and then resumed, spinning the portcullis wheel even faster, muttering curses in its metallic voice.
“I think I would like you to bring me to my cell now,” the Underking whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
An unpleasant sensation spread throughout Aleksander’s mind. The smell of rotting crops and fetid water washed through his mind. Something dark had just arrived. No, not something. Someone. He tensed unconsciously, feeling the faint wave of power through his body.
“Hells,” Kinnese said, stepping backwards. “That's Gustav I take it?”
Alek didn’t need to turn to see who Kinnese was talking about.
“Yeah, it's him,” Alek said, pulling his Legion sword out of the shredded abomination before him. “Pretty sure they are the cause of all this.” From their vantage point on the inner wall, Kinnese and Alek watched as hundreds of watchmen and monsters, some still wrapped in those hideous cloth strips, threw themselves at anyone who dared show their face. Garrey’s men could be seen here and there in their phalanxes, wielding their spears and shields to fight off the creatures. But with the arrival of Gustav and Titus, the creatures became much more focused in their actions.
The citizens of Bellkeep, Alek saw, had had enough. A wave of extreme panic washed over them as word of Gustav's arrival spread, and they finally broke. Wagons and horses were spurred on recklessly. Families struggled to hold onto each other as they ran as fast as they could. Belongings and supplies were thrown to the ground as the people fled towards the Copper Gate, uncaring of the battle for control of it. The fear that had arrived with the traitors Titus and Gustav was greater than that of the rampaging monsters destroying their homes. Alek searched the rushing masses, his eyes looking everywhere for his friends. He wished he could join them. Warn them. But there was no time. Again, Alek was out of time.
Some distant part of his mind, some quiet voice cried out that the work wasn’t done. It pleaded, begged, and demanded him to stay, because people still needed him. The inner wall and its gate was secured, for the moment anyway, but it would need defending if the men and women still trapped in Bellkeep were to flee through it. He would be needed.
But if he could stop those two responsible...
“You knew Samnusen, right?” Alek asked suddenly. “The guy I ripped apart, I mean?”
“What?” Kinnese asked, the question taking him off-guard. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah I did.”
Alek gazed at the legion sword in his hand. “If I could take him down, do you think I could stop those two?” He pointed his sword at Gustav, whose armored frame was cutting down multiple defenders at a time.
“I have no idea. And I'd think you'd rather not find out.”
Alek turned to look at the traitor, and at the longsword the man held.
“Give me your sword,” he said. The lack of emotion or inflection in his otherwise vivid, articulate voice gave Kinnese an instant of pause.
“Wh-what?” the traitor asked.
Alek took a step closer. “I said give me your sword. Now. Before I take it from you.”
Kinnese hesitated only for a second before he flipped his sword in his hand and held it out to Alek, hilt first. Alek took it, handing Kinnese his own Legion sword. Alek swung the blade a few times, testing it. It was much heavier than the legion sword, meant to be held with two hands instead of one. But it was unnaturally light to him. It felt right.
“Heh,” Kinnese said, his voice unsure as he looked down at the legion sword in his hand. “Been awhile since I had one of these. What, uh, what’s your plan now?”
Alek ignored him and jumped off of the wall. Was he ready for this? Would he ever really be ready? It didn't really matter, he thought. There were monsters out there. They weren't his monsters, though. It wasn't the Akvan. But if they weren't stopped, the whole cycle of pain and loss and rage would begin again for countless others, and Alek would be damned if he would let that happen.
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 46