18.

Erak Bloodsworn lvl. 9

Strength: 33

Vigor: 21

Durability: 21

Perception: 18

Processing: 15

Erak let the flow of power rob him of his mind for a moment as he waited for everyone to get ready for the sprint to come. Rutledge had swiftly deposited the energy core to Julius, telling the man that she had trouble enough walking without the hindrance. Nevia watched, leaning against a wall, only moving when they were ready to set out, and only with great effort.

“I will fall behind. Do not slow down for me. Get my soldiers to safety,” Nevia’s words were half whisper and half hiss, pain robbing her of her composure. Erak nodded and she straightened, the weight removed as she waited as the last stragglers got to the edge of the rubble line.

A whole block of houses had been leveled to nothing more than skeletons and strewn charred timbers jutting out to the sky. Then there was the gentle hill that the Armory sprawled across. In the old days it had been plain hardpacked dirt with no signs of vegetation. Now it was fields of burnt ash where grass once lay, two roads running towards its gates, marred but still passable.

They were going to run through the fields of ash and dust and hope to make it to one of the smaller gates before someone shot them. Erak didn’t let his hopes get too high at the prospect as the nearly fifty civilians shuffled around nervously like sheep.

It was a no man’s land of burnt scoured earth. Erak had been watching off and on and nothing had crossed that hill, guns on both sides firing and scorching the air all around the circumference of the Armory. The two guns they had silenced left them a thin corridor to run down. As long as the Armory didn’t fire on them.

“Constance. You’ll take the lead. Then the civilians and the professors. Then my squad, the Lord Bloodsworn, and I’ll pull the rearguard.” Nevia’s each sentence sounded like she was forcing a boulder uphill. Her voice breathless as she rasped out her orders. Her bandages were spotted red and Erak watched as they spread out as she talked.

Constance took one look at her pale officer and the bloody bandage before snapping off a crisp salute. She bayed her orders, forcing the last of her men into position before they took off. Not in a fast all out sprint, but in a steady jog that the civilians could keep up with.

Rutledge was spry for her old age, holding her cane in one hand as she stayed tucked back at the edge of the crowd. Julius was already red faced and sweating as he carried the orb up the hill, then it was Nevia’s personal squad, spread out along the edge of the crowd. Erak stepped forward, one foot past the line of demarcation before he turned back to see Nevia swaying.

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Erak looked back at the edge of the crowd and the dying Nevia. She would slow him down, increase the risk of a stray bolt from a cannon obliterating him. She was a risk to fulfilling his oaths that went beyond combat.

Erak held shield and spear in one hand and reached over, grabbing Nevia under her knees and lifting her up and over his shoulder. He spun and bounded, pushing off as hard as he could as he raced to catch up with the crowd. Nevia beat weakly at his shoulder, her fist thumping ineffectively on his armor.

“You fool. I’m slowing you down. Leave me.” Each sentence was punctuated by the sound of knuckles on steel. Erak just kept his legs pumping, hardly feeling the strain of carrying her as he got close to the end of the train of people.

The soldiers glanced back and there was a palpable sense of relief as they saw Nevia slung over his shoulder. They turned back and began to chide their charges to move faster as they began to move up the hill.

“Erak. Behind us.” Erak turned back and saw what she was talking about. A swarm of Hellspawn filled the horizon, twisted and pale bodies wheeling on the ashen winds as they began to circle above them.

Erak turned his head back around and began to stride faster. He caught up and ran in stride with the soldiers and they began to look panicked as they glanced back. Their urging began to be filled with fear as they pushed the civilians harder.

“Move it you fat sacks of shit! Move it!” Podzki screamed at them as he turned to look over his shoulder. His features became frozen with fear and he tripped and stumbled, catching himself with one hand and started to sprint up the hill.

The circling Hellspawn began to dive, their dark talons outstretched as they screamed in joy of the hunt. Erak wasn’t a fan of being hunted. He tried to shift his hand, to get the spear at the ready so he could fight, but the straps on his shield were in the way and he couldn’t adjust while holding Nevia to his shoulder.

They strained up the center of the hill, the scarred wall of the Armory rising to blot the horizon. Gun emplacements were burnt shells, craters where they had once stood. Soldiers scurried through the walls, visible as they ran by the holes in the outer walls. Men and women in Imperial uniform took up position, casters aimed at the sky and the swarm behind them.

Erak could feel the hot breath of the demons on his back and Nevia cried out, either in pain or fear he knew not. Then a wall of fire was flashing overhead, the grounds lightening as the golden-red fire illuminating the world. The sizzle of flesh burning filled his ears and the screams of the hunt devolved into screams of agony as bodies began to fall.

Corpse after corpse hit the ground with bone shattering force, but more and more of the monsters came. Erak risked a glance back and saw that they had forced their way through the barrage and the distance was not measured in inches rather than feet. Nevia’s sword slashed weakly and parted a talon from hand. She went limp against him, her entire being exerted in the effort. She still clung to her sword with a maniacal grip, refusing to yield it even as she perched on death’s doorstep.

“FIRE!” the command boomed out and the world turned red. Erak’s vision drowned, lost by the intensity of the blast of fire that covered the world. He staggered, blinking tears from his eyes as the rest of the party screamed and cowered, falling to the ground. Even Nevia’s soldiers staggered and fell, losing their grips on their discipline for a moment.

“Quickly! To the gates!” hands grasped and pulled at him, gentle and guiding as fellows spoke in Imperial, trying their hardest to guide the survivors onward. Erak kept blinking, trying to free his eyes of the burn and the glare of red superimposed over them.

He looked up, vision still inundated red, and saw blurry doors swinging shut and the clamor of the Armory swelled up and rolled over him like a wave.