02.39: The Battle of Blackrain

The ground reverberated with the steady rhythm of marching feet.

Sir Grimric led the rest of my force as it approached the fortified town of Blackrain.

Dust rose as they halted just outside of bow range. Shields were lifted.

The town palisade erupted into frenzy as multiple men left it to inform their superiors. Archers raised their bows.

Sir Grimric rode forward, alone.

His armor gleamed with the authority of a knight of the Royal Guard.

He waited until someone wearing a high quality armor appeared on the walls.

Then, his voice boomed across the field. Loud enough that we could hear it clearly, more than a hundred meters away.

“Those who hold Blackrain! I speak for the lord of these lands, Count Jack Nobart! Relinquish the town to its rightful owner peacefully and you will be granted safe conduct. The Count promises that you will be allowed to leave the county unharmed.”

He spread his arms wide. “I lead Royal troops along with soldiers of the county. Know that when you defy us, you defy the Crown itself and will be treated accordingly. Her Majesty, Laira Nanon, has sanctioned this act for the sake of the security of our realm.”

His voice hardened.

“This is your first and only warning.”

The wall erupted in arguments. I didn’t need to take out my other surprise to know the men were debating whether to follow their orders or not. Some were pointing at Grimric and the soldiers, while others pointed at the bridge that spanned across the Iselau and led to the county of Ironfeld.

I sympathized with the poor bastards. The Ironfelds were not known for being merciful.

Nothing happened for some time beside the men bickering among themselves.

Then, a pigeon rose in the air and began flying towards Ironfeld.

Baron Wulf tensed beside me.

“If they bring reinforcements…” he murmured.

“That will never happen,” I assured him.

“Why?”

“Watch.”

I had just spoken when a bolt flew straight up like a rocket.

Then another.

And another.

One of them skewered the pigeon.

The poor creature tumbled down from the air like a rock.

Wulf’s jaw fell for a second, before he picked it up.

“You- you have five guards with those peculiar bows,” he tried to recall. Smart man.

“All expert hunters.”

Another bird flew toward the other side of the Iselau and met the same fate.

“You are all alone. Surrender, asshole,” I murmured.

Sadly, the commander was a hardhead. The noise of him giving the troops a pep talk reached my ears.

More men walked up to the battlement.

Then, bows bent.

Arrows streaked toward Grimric’s formation, hitting either shields or the ground.

No one was hurt, but the battle of Blackrain had begun.

The two small catapults I had ordered snapped forward with a deep thump.

Stones screamed through the air.

And smashed at the feet of the palisade.

Well, shit.

They would have to get closer. Which meant the operators would be in range of enemy archers.

Grimric’s arm lifted. Godwin and Moore mirrored the gesture from the left and right flanks.

The line advanced. Men marched forward, shields locked together, in a slow, grinding march toward the walls.

A barrage of arrows answered, arcing above their heads. Most bounced off the shields, but a few slipped through, finding calves and arms.

I winced as some of the men fell. Other soldiers flowed around them like water around stone.

One of the wounded was being pulled back to safety; the physicians were already at work.

A few meters ahead, soldiers began planting pavises on the ground, forming a low wall of wood. Crossbowmen knelt behind them.

Cranks turned and bolts flew at the defenders.

The sensible ones ducked.

The foolish ones died.

The catapults’ arms whipped again. The whoosh of flying stones turned into a crash as they struck wood.

It held.

I hadn’t expected the machines built in a week to be anything more than harassment, but a part of me had hoped the Ironfelds had been lazy in reinforcing the palisade.

They hadn’t. Stone wasn’t a rare commodity for a mining town.

I directed my attention at the archer towers. All sentries were focused at the fight. Even the men on the towers on the far side.

Nobody was looking at the forest.

Showtime.

I enhanced my eyesight until the world sharpened. I found two bushes at the edge of the forest that shouldn’t be there.

Ethan and Noah.

Thanks to the divine gift, I didn’t have to reveal my other optical marvel.

Now let’s see if I don’t have to reveal the third one as well.

I pointed the heliograph at them and gave the signal.

ATTACK.

The bushes moved toward the town.

The men on the towers didn’t notice, their attention focused on the battle happening on the other side.

Bolts flew at them, straight and true.

One sentry jerked backward, a bolt buried in his neck. The other caught one in his chest and folded silently. Then, he fell from the tower.

A guard on the wall frowned, noticing the falling body. He slowly turned toward the forest.

My pulse quickened.

A bolt whizzed right next to his head.

“Atta—”

Another bolt found his chest before he could finish the word. He vanished behind the wall.

The man beside him stood transfixed, still trying to understand what had happened, when a bolt slammed into his shoulder.

He staggered, but didn’t fall.

Shit.

I was about to order a preemptive attack, when two more bolts hit him. He clawed at the shafts protruding from his chest.

Then he collapsed.

I took a breath of relief and turned to look back. “Lieutenant Harl?”

The man stepped forward immediately.

Lean and short, the late-twenties man had owlish eyes that stared straight into your soul.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“The coast is clear. Get us that victory.”

He nodded, donned the wet blanket one of his men handed him and left the tree cover, his team of twenty men following behind.

The Great company’s infiltration team. One of their best assets.

As the men moved out, I turned my focus to the fighting happening at the road-facing wall.

The fighting had turned vicious.

They should have placed the barrels of pitch at the base by now.

I saw the tops of ladders being slammed against the wall. I also saw the defenders killing the climbers with rocks and arrows.

A man made it to the top. For a heartbeat, he stood above the wall like a conqueror.

Then, a spear punched through his chest and tossed him backward.

I felt every death. Lives extinguished when they didn’t have to.

You will pay.

Whoever is behind it; The Ironfelds, or someone else.

I will make you pay.

Harl’s men had reached the palisade. The section now empty of guards, they spun their grappling hooks and tossed them over the wooden wall. The hooks stuck and men began climbing. All twenty were soon over the wall and disappeared from our view.

“Are we just supposed to sit and watch?” Wulf’s younger son asked.

“No. We will attack the moment those men create an opening for us.”

My enhanced senses caught the shouts of men.

Had they been spotted?

I turned to look at Lieutenant Rurik, the leader of the rest of the mercenary company. “They might’ve been spotted. Will twenty be enough?”

“It will, my lord,” he said with complete confidence. “Harl’s men have never failed us.”

He knew the man better than me, so I decided to trust those words.

For some time.

In the front, the defenders were struggling to carry heavy pots to the parapets.

My stomach sank.

They then tipped the pots, pouring hot water on the attackers. My men retreated in unison, but not before a man screamed out in pain. My teeth rattled as it kept going.

Shields rose as my men retreated under the barrage of arrows. But they were close to the wall.

Arrows found chests and heads.

The pitch was taking too long to burn the palisade.

So, the men held.

And men died.

Another salvo of rocks crashed against the wall. The defenders jerked backward, but the wall held.

My leg shook with impatience.

C’mon.

C’mon.

If they failed, I would have to use the backup. There was no guarantee it would work.

Then, my eyes caught a flash. From the gatehouse at the back.

DONE

I hurriedly picked up the heliograph and signaled to Grimric’s force.

OPEN

A moment later, a flash came back:

ACKNOWLEDGED

“Let’s go!” I snapped

I rose and lifted my own shield.

The rest of the members of the Great Company and a hundred fifty men of Wulfsden surged from the forest.

Our hearts hammering, we sprinted towards the town at full speed.

It was only little over a hundred meters to get to the gate, but felt like a journey. Men huffed in unison, the noise of our boots in our ears and the smell of sweat and adrenaline in the air.

Wulfsden’s archers began laying suppressing fire, clearing the path for our approach.

Ethan and Noah were still invisible, and still taking out high value targets.

“The gate’s open!” a man screamed in panic from the wall.

We reached the gate, breathing heavily. Sure enough, it was open and a maelstrom of steel and flesh. The defenders were trying to close it, while Harl’s men were trying to stop them.

Then, a wave of men appeared from the town. Too large for Harl’s men.

If the gate closed, all would be lost.

I took out my sword and charged, along with Wulf’s men. Both sides rushed headlong into each other and met in a clash of steel and flesh.

A large man tried to batter me with strength more than skill.

I smiled instinctively. I also was all strength and not much skill. Except I didn’t look it.

The big man got a nasty surprise when I didn’t stagger from his swords’ downward strike meeting my blade.

His eyes were still wide when I kicked his knee. Sadly, the brute didn’t falter. A predatory smile spread across his face.

Keeping our swords locked, I punched him in the face.

He grunted and swung his sword wildly.

I took a step back, narrowly saving my nose from being mangled.

He came at me again, sword swinging wildly.

A bolt struck his torso, staggering him.

I took advantage of the distraction and swung at his neck, creating a fountain of blood. He clutched at the cut to no avail. His strength left him along with his blood, as he crumpled to the ground.

Fool.

I looked around. The defenders lay dead at our feet and the town lay open to us.

Baron Wulf bellowed to his men. “C’mon men! Don’t let it be said we didn’t contribute to the battle!”

The hundred fifty men of Wulfsden roared in unison and charged into the town.

The mercenaries that had been with me followed.

Grimric’s force reached the gate, tired and bloody.

Our eyes met. I nodded appreciatively at him.

He led the men inside.

The defenders faltered as the tide of hundreds of soldiers rushed into the town. One of the soldiers dropped his spear like it had bit him and tried to run. He slipped on blood and fell, scrambling backwards. Nobody paid him any attention.

Ethan and Noah appeared and joined my side. Both were covered in sweat and dirt.

“Good work, boys,” I said, patting their shoulders. “Many men are alive due to your bravery.”

They acknowledged my compliment, but their eyes remained hard. The atrocities Nanoans had committed against the Cha were still fresh in their minds. They hadn’t forgiven them, but they were willing to listen to me.

The air was full of stench and taste of blood.

The town reverberated with the noise of steel hitting steel and men shouting, fighting, pleading and dying. The front palisade was burning.

I let it all wash over me, as bone deep exhaustion soaked into me.

My eye caught the poor soldier lying next to the gate, staring at his blood stained hands.