It had not gone as planned. Reven and his
company of mercenaries hunkered down behind tipped over tables as crossbow
bolts and arrows thunked into
their wooden shield. They had come up through the sewers of the old fort and
walked straight into a trap. The men were already grumbling at having to walk
through human excrement but now their whining was irking Reven more than the
constant patter of arrows. They were there to kill a disgraced lord, it was
their biggest contract to date and they had spent a week planning it. No doubt
the weasel observer that had been sent to liaise with them by the magistrate
had been a turncoat. He would be dealt with as would Lord Umpold, the
mark, but first they had to get out of this room.
The two long dining tables in the
barracks room they had emerged into were taking a pounding and Reven knew they
had to move soon. Umpold must
have paid some serious coin to get this many guards in. He was supposed to be
woefully unprotected. Reven thought this contract to be a gift, something that
would elevate them above the other mercenary bands operating out of Blackcliff but
obviously, the intelligence they had was wrong. He looked over at Agrippa and Muldar who
were behind a table with Kris, “Ag, move forward in five” he shouted across the
room. The guards held a line across the end of the long room, crossbowmen knelt
before the bowmen. More troops filed in behind them choking the doorway, the
rooms only exit. Reven hadn't waded through shit to turn tail and run. He would
complete the contract. At his signal, the men at his sides and those behind the
other makeshift protection lifted the tables and rushed forward using them as
shields to close the gap between themselves and the guards. Taken aback by the
move the hail of fire faltered and the mercenaries used the opportunity to
launch the heavy tables at the front row of defending troops. Swords were drawn and Reven’s men hacked into the startled front ranks of the guards who were hastily
drawing swords of their own. Reven was in the centre of the line, whirling and
spinning with Bloodthirster in
hand. He gutted a guard, his sword going through his chain-mail like a warm
knife through butter. Blood droplets swam about him in the air as his vampiric
blade drank in the crimson of its wielders foes. He decapitated the man to his
left before spinning away from an attack on his right, returning with backhand
swipe which took the attackers arm off at the elbow. Reven’s relentless assault
was mirrored by his men who fed off their leader's fervour for battle. Muldar
shattered and pounded opponents with his mighty war hammer, the big man was
speckled with blood that exploded from his foes with the force of his blows.
Agrippa fought with sword and shield, drawing men in by taking hits and then
launching into them as they extended toward him. Kris and Bran both fought with
short swords in each hand. The twins fought as one, trading blows with multiple
opponents and dispatching them with clinical strikes. Orwin the
youngest of the troop fought with sword and dagger, his unorthodox style of
fighting saw him defending with his longer blade and attacking with his knife.
Soon the guards that had been clambering
to get into the room only moments before were on the retreat and trying to
squeeze back through that same door. The mercenaries spilt out after them,
shouting taunts and slights as the last few guards managed to run clear past
the next line of defenders. These troops were different, big and decked out in
plate armour head to toe. These four iron giants carried two-handed blades
the length of a man and stood unmoving. Reven quickly assessed his options and
a window to his right gave him the opportunity his men needed. “Gentlemen,
through the window and up. Kris, Bran keep climbing, find the fat Lord and
bring him to heel. Ag, Orwin, Muldar get
the front gate open, my friend hungers. Go”. With nods of affirmation the men
clambered out the window and started climbing the rough stonework of the walls.
Reven turned toward the statuesque foursome that faced him once his men were
clear, as one they came to life, taking a step toward him raising their massive
blades. Reven rushed toward them, Bloodthirster held
before him, a smile on his lips and battle singing in his heart.
Agrippa watched Kris and Bran continue
the climb as he, Muldar and Orwin
slipped inside the next window they came too. He waved them off and then
concentrated on the task at hand. They had to get out to the battlements to
raise the gate. Agrippa understood Reven’s logic. This looked as though it was
going to be a bloody fight and the warhound Fang excelled in combat, a lump of
muscle as tall as a horse and almost twice as wide.
The three mercenaries made their way along the
hallway they found themselves in. It was richly furnished with rugs, paintings
and sculptures that dotted the floors and walls. They moved quickly down the
corridor toward the front of the fort but the sound of approaching footsteps
arrested their advance. Orwin
tried the closest door, it was locked. He started racing down the corridor to
the next door but the guards that were searching for them rounded the corner at
the end of the hall and immediately formed up to advance on Muldar and
Agrippa. The warriors drew their weapons and dropped into fighting stances as the men came on. Muldar
shouted with glee as he launched himself into the fight. Agrippa was more
economical with his movements and dropped a man with his first swing, shouting
over his shoulder for Orwin to
continue to the gate. The boy
stood for a moment, hesitant, watching his comrades wade into battle. His hand
played with the hilt of one of his throwing knives as he weighed his options.
He watched the massive Muldar pulp
another opponents head with his war hammer and without another thought, he pushed
the door closest open and padded inside.
Kris and Bran emerged through the highest window they could reach. They
both massaged their fingers to ease out the ache of the climb. The twins were
armed in a similar fashion and both unslung their bows and nocked an arrow. It
was quiet up here in the loftier sections of the castle and no expense had been
spared here. Where bare rock was sported throughout the rest of the fort, here
wooden floors had been laid and wooden panels lined the walls. The wood had a
dark polish over it and the panels on the wall were adorned with masks of all
shapes and sizes. The twins were a little unnerved by the sightless parodies of
faces that stared out at them but they carried on regardless. Hugging the walls
they made their way through the gloom of the corridors the first soul they came
across was a servant that was hurrying down the hall they were travelling,
carrying a silver tray in one gloved hand. They crouched low behind a cabinet
and when he came into view Bran smashed the man in the side of the head with the
pommel of his sword whilst Kris jumped out to catch the falling tray. Bran
stopped the man from hitting the floor and the pair bound his hands and gagged
him. They pushed his recumbent form underneath the cabinet and continued their
advance heartened. Servants meant blue bloods, and the sooner the one they were
after was dead the better.
Reven decapitated the last of his foes and watched the man's body drop
away as gouts of arterial blood sprayed the walls a lively crimson. He had
taken a battering over the past ten minutes. Fighting the four big bastards had
been tiring and he had been opened up across the stomach and had taken a length
of steel through the thigh. The group of guards that came after that had sliced
through his cheek, ripped his ear and almost cost him a finger. He wondered to
himself how many times over he would have been dead if it wasn't for the gifts bestowed upon him by his union with Fang. The resilience, superior healing,
heightened senses, speed and strength of the warhound
coursed through him. The wounds on his stomach and thigh had already crusted
into cuts and were no longer painful. He wiped blood from his face using one of
the fallen guards ripped tabards. He had to regroup with his men. A stairway
lay ahead that spiralled up to the next floor. Reven bounded up it hoping to be
reunited with Agrippa, Muldar and Orwin.
Agrippa and Muldar had
been victorious against their hunters but they had both taken a beating and
were breathing hard. They sheltered in a side room as guards continued to
search for them. Muldar was
wrapping some ripped table cloth around a deep gash on his upper arm, trying to
stem the tide of blood. Agrippa was concerned, the next fight they might not
walk away from. They were still supposed to be getting to the gates, as per
their orders from Reven but the guards seemed almost endless and they fought
with the fury of a man defending his home even though they appeared to be hired
help. “We have to move” Agrippa said to
the big man who was just finishing tying off his makeshift bandage. Muldar nodded his assent and picked
himself up off the floor, “We should find the boy” he said as he limbered up
with his war hammer. Agrippa moved past him patting one of his shoulders as he
did so. He moved over to a door and listened for movement with his head pressed
against its dark wood. Muldar was just behind him as they moved
through the door and further into the fort.
Orwin was crouching between some shelves
in a storeroom just off the main courtyard. Stealth and brought him this far
and now he hid between the various rolled tents and flagpoles that were stacked
along the shelves, he found himself to be stuck. Guards were patrolling
backwards and forwards on the inside of the gate that he needed to get open. He
had waited for them to be relieved or move off but to no avail. If he didn’t
act soon it may be too late and there were too many men out there for him to
take alone. He would wait a bit longer before returning into the fort to locate
his friends.
Kris
and
Bran were in trouble. They had found the lords lair but before they could burst
in kill the old bastard they had been set upon by a score of heavily armoured
troops that had been laying in wait for them. Now they were running for their
lives, stopping occasionally to turn and fire
arrows at the men that rushed after them. They had found some stairs and headed
down them. Horn’s sounded behind them that echoed through the corridors of the
fort warning of their presence. “Those bloody horn’s will bring every guard in
the fort down on our heads”
screamed Bran as they ran. The noise of clanking armour from below made them
arrest their descent, forcing them onto another floor of the building. They ran
into cover as more noise from along the corridor they were in spooked them.
“We’re buggered” Kris said to his brother, Bran nodded his assent and pushed
his fingers to his lips. They listened as the furtive footsteps came closer.
Whoever they belonged to they were trying to be quiet, sneaking along the edge
of the corridor. All was near silent until troops barrelled out of the stairway
and into the flickering light of the lanterns that lit the hallway. They were
shouting challenges down the corridor that seemed to be directed at somebody
other than the twins. The curses that flew back were distinctive in their
flamboyant use of language, “There’s only one person I know that swears like
that” Kris smiled at his brother as they both rose from cover. Muldar was
bellowing at the guards that were still filing into the hallway, “By the Great
Bull’s dangly balls, you filth have no place amongst such warriors. Return to
the dung pile you came fr….”
He faltered as Kris and Bran stepped out of the shadows. “Hah” the big man
screamed, “You’re doubly buggered now”. Agrippa was smiling as the twins
approached and turned to face the foe. “Fight or flight Ag?” asked Kris as they
bunched together, “Bit of both I’d say, pin the front ranks and let's get out of
here” as the twins drew their bows more heavily armed troops rushed in at their
backs. Agrippa sagged as he turned and saw them coming. No retreat against
numbers too great for them to prevail against, hope was fading fast. The troops
pressed in on all sides and a wizened old man stepped forward, “Drop your
weapons scum” his voice boomed above the clamour of the troops, “Our Lord
wishes to have words with you before he washes his alter with your blood”. The
four mercenaries turned to regard the man, his voice so compelling that their
grips loosened on their weapons at once. Agrippa was the first to resist the
magical compulsion but too late. The guards were on them, bludgeoning them to
the ground, knocking them senseless, the four warriors drifted out of
consciousness almost as one.
He ran to the gate, straight for the mechanism that would raise the
hefty portcullis that barred entry. He struggled with the release but using all
his strength pulled it free. He repeated this on the lever on the other side of
the gate and the massive web or iron slowly rose as the counterweights did
their work. A low reverberating howl rumbled from nearby, rolling through the
courtyard like thunder. It was met by Reven who also howled as the blood of his
last opponent dripped down his face. The tide of blood was about to turn.
Orwin
was about to move off when the horns sounded. Most of the guards that had been
milling around the courtyard on their patrol routes rushed into the fort in
response, leaving only a handful of guards in their stead to watch over the
gates. Orwin knew
it was to be now or never. The horns meant things had escalated even further
inside and they needed support. He drew two of his throwing knives and moved
out of the storeroom into the open space of the courtyard. He immediately
regretted his decision. The handful of troops he saw from his vantage point
were mirrored on the other side of the gate by a force of equal size. The
youngster was outmatched but driven by a devotion to his comrades and the duty
bestowed on him he acted regardless. The first of his blades sang through the
air and lodged itself in the flesh of the guard's neck, neatly landing between
his body armour and helmet. The guard pulled the blade free as he dropped
covering those nearest to him with a spray of bright red blood. The guard
turned to face Orwin as
another thrown knife thumped into the face or another dropping him without a
sound. Both groups of guards rushed at him. Orwin
threw once more but only managed to knock off a helmet. He hastily drew his
sword and the knife sheathed at his hip and roared his defiance.
Orwin
blocked a blow from the first guard to reach him but he saw a second man
swinging a sword at his head that he knew he couldn't stop. Involuntarily he
closed his eyes and waited for the blow to connect. It never did though,
instead, he was pushed roughly to the ground as a whirlwind of death ripped into
the onrushing guards. Reven was a fearsome sight to behold. As soon as his
first stroke fell, beheading a guard, his sword started to drink hungrily. As
Reven whirled and spun striking out at the guards he was surrounded by a rain
of blood. The guards were cut down like wheat. They fell back under Reven’s
assault. Blades shattered as they tried to match Bloodthirster,
hands were taken off at the wrist, legs severed at the knee. Reven pushed on
pausing only to point at the gate. Orwin
struggled to move he was so mesmerised by his leader but he knew what needed
doing.
Agrippa, Muldar,
Kris and Bran were bound at one end of a great hall. Hands tied to ankles and
heads pulled back, necks bared. Huge Tapestries hung from the high walls
depicting bloody rituals and sacrifices performed by goat-headed men. The hall
was full of guards and servants from the fort. The elderly wizard had donned
purple robes and uttered incantations over the mass of men that had gathered to
watch the sacrifices. A hushed descended as a lone figure walked to the front
of the room. He wore loose-fitting purple robes that barely covered his obese
bulk and wore a stuffed goats head that covered his own face. He held a
long curved blade in one hand and a censer in the other that billowed purple
smoke in its wake. As he reached the chancel where the men were bound he turned
to face the adoring crowd. “Let these sinners wash Heskor’s
alter with their blood. Our Lord and Master bids us do his holy work so that we
may endure”, the crowd responded in unison, “and endure we must”, “The blood is
our life” the leader shouted, “and spill it we must” the crowd retorted. They
chanted over and over ‘spill it we must’ as the leader turned to face the four
men. The mass of worshippers swayed as they said the words led by the old
wizard. Louder and louder they chanted as the goat-headed man raised his wicked
blade. He smiled down at those he was about to slaughter, flexing the fingers
of his hand that held the sword aloft, ready to strike.
Another voice entered the mercenaries dazed minds as they looked up at
the purple-robed leaders smiling face. A whisper at first, it grew louder and
they started to speak the words aloud as one. Lord Umpold
couldn’t hear what they were saying properly under the cover of his mask but as
their voices grew in strength the words became clear. “I am Their vessel, I
give life to Their wrath, I am the bloody-handed reaper. I am ruin, I am death,
Their collector of skulls” they repeated the words over and over confusing the
big man. “Silence” he hissed at them. They continued and regained their
composure as they repeated the words throwing off the dreamlike state the
wizard's compulsion had left them in. Their voices rose and were joined by
another that boomed through the hall drowning out the noise of the crowd. The
masses chanting faded as the words reverberated around the room. Two guards who
stood at the door at the far end of the hall to the chancel were flung through
the air as the doors were flung wide. Reven sat astride Fang who slowly walked
up the central isle of the hall. The old wizard was first to react using his
booming voice to try and persuade Reven to turn about. As soon as the words
left his mouth they were replaced with a well-thrown dagger. Orwin’s
blade buried itself so that only the tip of the hilt could be seen protruding
from the old man's mouth. As soon as the man fell it was as if a spell had been
broken. The masses groaned and wailed as if waking from a nightmare and
confusion reigned as people scattered in front of Fang’s bulk as if only truly
seeing it now. Reven slipped out of the saddle and mounted the dais on which
his men and Lord Umpold
were.
Orwin
had pushed the doors at the end of the hall shut and was preventing people from
escaping. Some of the guards had started to regain their wits and were heading
his way. Reven walked straight past the stunned Umpold and
freed his men as the distraught Lord looked on. The now free mercenaries
recovered their weapons and formed up at Reven’s back. With a flick of the
wrist, Reven loosed Fang on the guards that were heading toward Orwin. The
war hound tore into them with relish, scattering them all over as he barrelled
through them to stand at Orwin’s
side. Lord Umpold’s
goat-head headwear had fallen off and tears streamed down his face. He fell to
his knee’s grovelling at Reven’s boots for mercy. Reven had none. Agrippa, Muldar and
the twins drew their blades knowing what was to come. Reven loosed Bloodthirster
neatly severing Lord Umpold’s head
from his body. Holding the head high he addressed the crowd, “We will not judge
you heathens. You murders of men and twisters of fate. We will leave your fate
to the gods. If you make it out of this room the gods smile on you and you
shall live. The rest of you be damned”. With that he secured the lords head to
his belt, trailing blood as he walked toward Fang and Orwin. The
crowds parted to let Reven and his men pass. When they reached the doors Reven
threw them wide and turned to face the crowd. He drew his sword and beckoned
the mass of people forward. “Kill them all” he said under his breath as he
gutted the first man that came within his reach.
The slaughter in the hall was immense. Not a single member of Umpold’s
congregation made it out though their blood seeped through the doorway and into
the hall beyond. The story of the bloodletting reached far throughout Orland
and despite the viciousness of the act it was used as a cautionary tale for
those who would turn their backs on the Gods.