Nathaniel nocked an arrow and looked out on the Namdhorians and Darkakin. A contingent of archers lined the walls in both directions and a group of Velians worked above the gates to prepare more oil and light torches. So far they had killed very few of the northerners, who guarded themselves inside a box of shields.
The giants and trolls had formed up behind the last of the white-cloaks. The giants batted massive logs in their hands, eager to bring destruction down on the city. The trolls were an unruly bunch, who required their savage masters to prod them on with spears while the giants dragged them by chains. The smaller monsters had no weapons to speak of, gifted as they were with hardened shells and forearms of spikes strong enough to kill any who got in their way.
Reyna’s arrows flew further, never showing any sign of dipping mid-flight. Her aim was impeccable, each one finding its mark and mutilating the beasts. One troll fell forwards, its knee an imploded mess, and landed against one of the giant’s legs. The larger of the two back-handed the troll with the end of a mighty log, sending the horned beast into the air. The princess’ next arrow caught that same giant above the eye. Any normal arrow would have become embedded in the monster’s thick skin, but once fired from Reyna’s bow, there was no arrow that could be called normal. The pointed projectile exited the back of the giant’s head with explosive force, blinding the colossal beast behind him with blood and brains.
“Good shot!” Nathaniel yelled, watching the giant collapse into the lower city and take dozens of Darkakin to their deaths.
The sound of close-quarter combat drifted down the wall from the north and then the south. Nathaniel stepped back from the elves, confused as to how the Namdhorians had reached the walls already. What he found sent his memory running back to the battle of West Fellion when Adellum had opened the portals into the fortress. Darkakin poured out of the abyss-like portals situated at each end of the battlements.
“They’re on the walls!” came the cries from the Velians.
“Can you close them?” Nathaniel asked Faylen, who had done just that at West Fellion.
All but Reyna turned from firing their bows. The elves examined the distance on both sides, as well as taking a look over the inner edge to see how the gates held.
“There’s too many getting in,” Ezeric noted.
“They can't keep the portals open for long,” Faylen commented. “We just need to break through.”
Nalmar shook his head. “By the time we made it through and reached the portal, it would likely close again. All we would accomplish is getting ourselves stuck on the battlements. We need to stay close to the stairs.”
Nathaniel looked to Reyna, whose attention was still on the approaching giants and trolls. One of the giants had ripped the roof off the tavern in the lower city to use as a shield against the princess’ barrage. It did little to stop her from bringing it down.
“We can't stay up here much longer,” Nathaniel told her.
“Just give me more time,” Reyna pleaded.
The knight looked to the elves and saw the thoughts passing through their heads. They would cut it fine if they stayed on the battlements, but they also knew that the monsters couldn't be allowed to enter the city.
“We’ll take the south,” Ezeric said.
“We’ll take the north,” Faylen replied, swapping her bow for the human sword on her waist.
Nathaniel flicked the switch on the bow and pushed it into the air, as Asher had always done, and collapsed the bow’s limbs. It neatly latched onto his quiver, freeing his hands to wield the Graycoat blade. The length of steel was that of an old friend; he knew its balance and edge like the back of his hand.
The Velians were the first to meet the Darkakin. The red-cloaks kept the baying mob tied up in a ferocious sword fight, giving Ezeric and Nalmar time to fire a few well-placed shots. Their arrows narrowly missed the Velians by inches, but every one found a Darkakin in the face or chest. There were fewer Velians on the north wall, leaving Nathaniel and Faylen with no choice but to attack. Reyna remained safe between the four warriors on the only slab of battlement that wasn't under siege.
The knight did his best to stay out of Faylen’s erratic movements and often found himself pulling Velians back to give her more space. The Darkakin attacked with abandon, their style impossible to adapt to. Nathaniel parried and slashed with the accuracy and methodicalness expected of a Graycoat, but the savages demanded that he use every limb to survive. Kicking, punching, and elbowing the Darkakin was the only thing that kept them from overwhelming him. Booting them over the edge of the inner wall, however, was deeply satisfying.
Giants roared in the distance with their numbers dwindling under Reyna’s deadly aim. Nathaniel’s stolen glance gave a Darkakin the chance to barrel into him, taking the two beyond the melee and next to the princess. The savage paid the knight little attention, desperate to get off of him and stab Reyna in the back. The thought of it enraged Nathaniel and he gripped the Darkakin’s face in the manner of a vice. A quick headbutt, up into the man’s nose, had the savage yelling in pain and rolling off. Nathaniel retrieved a small dagger from his belt and plunged it deep into his enemy’s throat. He held the savage down until his gargling stopped.
“We need to go!” Faylen warned. The elf extended her hand creating a shockwave powerful enough to force the Darkakin back, giving the Velians a chance to regroup.
Nathaniel agreed. It wouldn't be long before a foe more powerful than the Darkakin stepped through the portal, searching for the one who could slay so many giants and trolls.
“Just one more!” Reyna replied, her eyes aimed down the length of her arrow.
Ezeric and Nalmar returned, their scimitars covered in blood. “We need to get off the wall,” Ezeric panted. “The portal has closed on our side, but there’s already too many inside the city.”
“We need to retreat,” Nalmar added.
The Velians clashed with the Darkakin just as Reyna unleashed her next arrow. The final giant took the arrow in its throat and the magic built up inside the arrow caused everything in its throat to explode, filling the lumbering beast’s mouth with blood. It managed another step before falling back into the horde behind it. There were still a number of trolls who had survived and continued their rampage.
“Reyna!” Nathaniel called. “We have to get off the wall.”
The princess protested with a look but nodded in agreement. Faylen warned the remaining Velians about being overrun, hoping that they would follow them down the stairs.
“Go!” they shouted back, determined to keep the Darkakin from reaching their homes.
Nathaniel was the last to step onto the stone staircase when the northern portal closed, leaving behind the single, biggest threat the knight had seen since the battle begun. Standing by the edge of the wall, looking down on them, was a lithe figure clad in black and gold armour, her features concealed behind a hood and half of a mask. In one hand she wielded a double-ended spear.
Reyna wasted no time aiming her enchanted bow. Nathaniel’s eyes couldn't keep up with the arrow, but the knight was sure he was about to witness the death of another general. Only the weapons gifted to them by Valanis had the power to put the Hand down for good, and Reyna wielded Adellum’s bow with mastery.
Nathaniel blinked hard when the arrow was sent careening off at an awkward angle. Faster than he had seen, Samandriel Zathya had whipped up her spear and deflected the arrow at the last second. Her counter-attack would have been limited had she not been a disciple of Valanis. The dark elf threw out her arm and cast a ball of green flames down upon the stairs. The emerald fire consumed the stone, hugging it as if the stairs were made of wood.
There was no way down…
The knight turned around to spot the next set of stairs, but they were on the other side of the king’s platform and covered with Darkakin. Above them, the Velians made a courageous effort to repel the savages, but it was only a matter of time before they would face them and Samandriel.
Nalmar dived down after Ezeric and both elves dropped into a crouch and roll after hitting the roof. Faylen and Reyna looked back up at Nathaniel with grave concern having met the same conclusion regarding the distance.
“Jump!” Ezeric shouted up.
Nathaniel turned his attention back to the battlements, noting Samandriel’s advance. The general strode along the wall without a care, sure that she had trapped her prey.
“Go!” Nathaniel barked.
“I'm not leaving you!” Reyna replied, her tone absolute.
A new horn blared from the east of the city, its pitch different to those that had warned of the attacks. It blared three times in quick succession instead of the continued horn they were used to. The sight of another dawn would have surprised Nathaniel had its light not revealed the hundreds of white and blue sails. The fleet of elves powered through The Adean’s waves, heading straight for Direport on Velia’s most eastern edge. It should have been a sight to inspire hope, but the knight was one of few who knew that the battle was about to take a turn for the worse.
“Reyna…” Faylen said with a hand on the princess’ shoulder.
“I’m not leaving you,” Reyna said again, nocking another arrow.
“You have to go.” Nathaniel could feel the tears welling in his eyes. They were about to be separated and risk never seeing each other again.
“I won't,” Reyna said through gritted teeth.
“I’m so sorry…” Faylen’s words were directed at Nathaniel just as much as they were to Reyna. The princess didn't have time to react and Nathaniel simply watched as Faylen grabbed her and threw the younger elf from the wall.
Reyna screamed in protest on her way down, but she managed to hit the roof and roll back up unscathed. She yelled and made to reach the bottom of the stairs again, but Ezeric and Nalmar held her back.
“Go,” the knight nodded at the roof below. “Get her to the port and stop this from getting any worse.”
“I’m sorry,” Faylen whispered before jumping off the wall.
Nathaniel climbed to the top of the stairs and loaned his blade to the Velians. The Darkakin were shoulder-to-shoulder; something that didn't work well with their barbaric fighting style. Many were thrown from the battlements by those fighting beside them, thinning the mob just enough for Nathaniel to spot Samandriel on the other side. It wasn't long before they were all pushed back and forced to ascend the king’s platform. As the last of the Darkakin fell to Velian blades, a double-ended spear lashed out, killing three of the red-cloaks in a single swipe. The remaining two soldiers were impaled and kicked from the rampart.
Samandriel’s head tilted, her golden eyes fixing on the folded bow latched to Nathaniel’s quiver. “You carry the bow of an Arakesh but you’re not him, are you?” The elf flashed a wicked smile that spoke of the horror she was about to unleash upon him.
Nathaniel readied himself for death. The knight gripped his hilt and dropped into a fighting stance; he wasn't going to just roll over.
Samandriel advanced with a black cloak billowing behind her and the spear pointed at his chest. As if from nowhere, a firm hand gripped the elf’s shoulder and a diamond-tipped short-sword pierced her armour, poking through between her breasts. Samandriel’s eyes went wide in shock, though only a gasp escaped her lips.
Despite his surprise, Nathaniel took a breath, thankful that Asher had come to his aid. His smile fell away with Samandriel, who dropped to her knees, giving way to Alidyr Yalathanil.
The white-robed elf wore a grimace in place of his usual smug grin. “You never could see the bigger picture, sister,” he whispered in her ear.
Samandriel’s eyes began to glow and the veins under skin took on a golden hue. Nathaniel had seen this happen up close at West Fellion, after Reyna killed Adellum with his own bow. All of her limbs shook violently and a bright light shone out of the wound in her chest.
“Now then…” Alidyr said as he casually tossed Samandriel’s body over the side, into the city. “Let’s see about getting that gem, shall we?”
Now the elf grinned…
43
Promises made, promises kept
Asher could barely see the remains of the gates now. The Velian resistance had been pushed back again and again by the Namdhorians. In the distance, the white cloaks of the northmen had dispersed, their numbers diluted by the Darkakin. The enemies’ advance had been too fast for some, and Asher had been helpless to do anything but glimpse the slaughter of the innocent citizens who hadn't retreated in time. None were spared, a barbarity the Darkakin shared with King Tion’s men.
Doran came running by, bursting out of the fray, with a Namdhorian knight held over his head. The dwarf bellowed in rage and launched the white-cloak through the window of a butcher’s shop. The son of Dorain laughed, more than happy being in the middle of a good fight, and charged back in with his axe and sword swinging. Tauren had been separated from them when they were pushed past the first side street. There was no time to worry about the young man and even less time to worry about how they might regroup; the forces of Valanis were limitless, it seemed. For every Darkakin or Namdhorian the ranger put down, another was ready and waiting to replace them.
A horn from the east continued to blare out in quick intervals, though its meaning was lost on Asher. If it was a rallying call it made little sense to him since they would only be pinned against the wall. The ranger ignored the horn and any other thought when a monstrous roar echoed from inside the ruined gate. The ground shook with the rhythmic footfalls of what could only be a horde of trolls. Asher couldn't count on both hands the number of trolls he had slain, but defeating the beasts under these conditions would be infeasible. Traps needed setting, bait laying out, and a decent ambush point was preferable. Taking the big monsters on from the front with a battle going on around him was beyond his capabilities.
A dark object fell from atop the gate, catching Asher’s eye on its way down. A moment before it landed amid the Darkakin and emerging trolls, the ranger noted the object’s shape had arms and legs, but it was the glow surrounding it that made him look twice. The impact went unheard, drowned out by the battle cries and clashing swords. The body’s silent fall was followed by an almighty expulsion of light and energy that sucked all the sound out of the world. Then it exploded. The trolls inside the entrance were instantly flash-burned, along with any and all who stood within twenty-feet of the body. The rest of the energy emanated from the impact site in waves, with each one wreaking destruction and chaos.
Asher was knocked off of his feet, a fact he was thankful of when every window in the street shattered. Large cracks appeared up the walls of the buildings and even the stone of the main gate and outer wall.
“RANGER!” The word boomed across the city with an unnatural resonance.
Asher found his feet alongside Doran, who paused to snap a Darkakin’s neck, and searched for the source of the magnified voice. Others were starting to get up now, if somewhat dazed. No one got up around the gates, where a visible scorch mark scarred the ground. The tunnel through the main gates had been partially blocked by the dead bodies of trolls, allowing a moment’s reprieve.
“RANGER!” the word resounded again.
Asher looked up, following the path of the fallen body until his eyes settled on the king’s platform. The details were fuzzy at that height, but he could see a man in white robes with a blade to the throat of another man, who was held on his knees.
“Alidyr…” he hissed.
“Is that Nathaniel?” Doran’s question sounded distant thanks to the ringing in the ranger’s ears.
Asher’s heart sank when he noted the knight’s attire. It was a turn of events the ranger couldn't make sense of. Where was Reyna? Where were Faylen and the other elves? Had he already killed them? Unfor
tunately for the Namdhorian knights getting up around him, the questions boiled his blood. Asher sprung on them, cutting open throats and chest cavities in a blur of steel and silvyr.
“What are ye doin’?” Doran shouted after him.
Asher ignored the question and ran for the steps on the southern wall. The ranger avoided the fighting that still raged in the side streets and dashed past the main gates. The area around the scorch mark was bare, where every body, dead or alive, had been swept away. Those that were still getting up succeeded in keeping their lives, lucky as they were that Asher was in a rush.
The stairs were another issue.
The Darkakin that half jumped, half ran down the stairs of the battlements had been largely unaffected by the recent explosion. Asher gripped his blades and growled with feral rage, ready to cut down any who got in his way. Those at the front barked their guttural language at him, their eyes fixed on what they thought would be an easy victim. Before it could come to any blows, the ranger covered his eyes, shielding them from the bright, yellow flash that wiped the closest savages from existence. The stonework blew out under the barrage as more blasts of magical energy hammered the Darkakin. Asher looked down to his right and saw Hadavad aiming her staff at the savages. The ranger nodded his appreciation and ran on, through the smoke and clouds of ash. Any who survived the mage’s assault was easily dispatched by a hack and slash of his short-swords.
His sprint to the top left him with burning lungs and a tight chest. Asher wiped the blood and sweat from his brow and tried to ignore the disheartening amount of Darkakin still beyond the walls. To the east was a sight he had almost forgotten would come. Hundreds of white and blue sails were spread out along the horizon on a glistening ocean that came to life in the light of dawn. The elves were here…
That’s why he couldn't spot Reyna or the others on the wall; they had gone to fight a different kind of battle. The ranger did his best to forget it all and focus on what lay before him. He stepped up onto the king’s platform to find Alidyr waiting for him. The elf was a shadow of his former self, adorned in tattered and dirty robes that matched his features. Nathaniel was on his knees, by the edge of the rampart, both hands grasping Alidyr’s wrists. The elf had the man by the hair in one hand and threatened to slit his throat with the other.
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