"Lord Barden, the men, sir," pleaded a voice. "We need only a moment's rest."
Marcus turned to see his lieutenant looking frantically around, his face lined with dirt, sweat and exhaustion.
"It's okay, Thomas. We'll give them at least that," Marcus said, feeling a pang of guilt for pushing the men so hard. But what other option did he have? Their very survival depended on their speed.
When they ventured into the Grey Forest, it quickly became clear that their presence wasn’t wanted. Traps littered the boundary of the woods, ensnaring a fair number of the men in their deadly clutches, while large predators skulked behind them, waiting just out of earshot.
At night, the situation deteriorated. Large wild dogs silently prowled just beyond the men's fires, their eyes gleaming in the dark. One moment a man could stand guard, and the next, he'd vanish without a sound and without a trace. This left the soldiers paranoid and stressed beyond breaking point.
They spent the better part of two days climbing over jagged rocks between the raging river and the forest, their bearing north. The threat of the swine was ever-present, always in sight beyond the river to their left on the western flank.
A massive obstacle stood in the way of both groups—a jagged wall of mountains stretching from the old Grey Forest all the way to the Branside River far beyond the horizon to the west. A natural barrier between the northern and southern lands.
The Swine's aversion to water was their only saving grace, as their hulking bodies lacked the ability to stay afloat.
Desperation swept through the soldiers like a contagious sickness, and Marcus could spot it in their weary eyes. It was a condition he, too, was susceptible to. His jaw clenched as his thoughts turned to his family back in Brancourt. He hoped they were safe, but with a threat like this, he knew their chances were uncertain. The fate of his men might be intricately linked with the lives of all the souls within the city. The weight of their predicament bore down on him heavily, and he felt like he was running out of options.
They needed more than just a miracle to survive this ordeal. If they managed to pass the mountains before the Swine, maybe, just maybe, they would all survive. Doubt gnawed at Marcus, just as it did with his lieutenant.
"We need to press on. We've no other option," Marcus declared, his voice resolute.
The lieutenant's expression darkened, but he knew better than to argue. "Scouts have reported that there's a break in the river over the next hill," he informed Marcus.
Marcus' eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. "Meaning?"
"It's a spillway for the river after a short waterfall, with a section that's not too deep. It might be our chance to cross," the lieutenant explained.
"No, not our chance," Marcus declared firmly. He glanced up the hill with panic in his eyes, and swiftly moved. With decades of trained dexterity, he navigated the sharp rocks and boulders, climbing the steep hill. His heart pounded in his chest as he led the way, yet Marcus couldn't shake the feeling that it might already be too late. As he peered over the crest of the hill, he spotted it.
About two thousand paces away were the shallow waters, resting beside a calm section of the river, just as the scouts had reported. But his hopes were dampened as he saw the Swine marching towards the same spot, clearly aiming to cut them off.
"Shit," Marcus muttered under his breath. The situation was far worse that what he feared, and they needed a plan now.
Lieutenant Thomas pulled himself up beside Marcus and peered over the edge, his eyes widening at the sight of the massive lines of Swine nearing the shallow waters. Marcus could feel his lieutenant flinch beside him. The weight of their situation was almost unbearable, but they knew they had to keep moving, no matter how dire the circumstances appeared.
"We can't let them cut us off," Thomas said, his voice tense but resolute.
"We'll have to go back into the forest," Marcus decided, knowing it was their best chance.
The lieutenant looked stern, wanting to argue, but his training held him back.
"I'll go tell the men.”
“Wait!”
Both Marcus and Thomas froze as something beyond the line of trees far below shifted. Marcus squinted, trying to make out what it was. For a second, he thought it might be just the wind playing tricks on his eyes, but as the movement continued, he realised that something was indeed moving down there.
"What is it?" Thomas asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Marcus pointed to a section of trees. "I'm not sure. But whatever it is, it's making the Swine below restless."
Snorting battle cries echoed through the flatland as the Swine sensed something. Whatever it was, its scent must have been carried by the wind, undetectable to human senses.
"We should go," Thomas suggested, his voice trailing off. But then his eyes widened as he saw a few trees sway, revealing massive shadows moving within the forest.
The Swine started wading through the shallow waters, their giant savage weapons raised, ready to clear a path through the forest. Marcus's heart sank as he realised that this was the exact location the Swine were after. If they carved a path through the forest, they would have free rein of the lands to the north.
"We're too late," Marcus muttered, feeling the weight of the new revelation.
Thomas leaned in, asking, "Too late for what?"
Marcus pointed to the massive horde of Swine to his left. "If we don't stop them here, they'll march through the North, slaughtering every human in their path until they reach the Citadel."
Thomas swallowed hard, understanding the gravity of their new mission. Marcus knew he too had family in the city, as well as a fiancée. The realisation of the stakes was written all over Thomas's face.
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Marcus swore under his breath, his mind racing for a solution. He scanned the surroundings, desperate for any sign of hope or redemption, but found none.
Just then, the Swine let out a triumphant cry as they reached the eastern bank. Suddenly, as if to respond to the invaders, the forest erupted with movement as monstrous creatures emerged from the trees. Giant bear like beasts, mottled brown and black from the Grey Forest, charged forward to defend their home. With massive bear claws that could crush a man's skull and limbs as thick as tree trunks, the Wolvegrens charged towards the Swine like an avalanche.
From his high vantage point, Marcus could feel the ground tremble with the weight of the approaching footsteps. It was truly a battle of titans: fully armed Swine grunts facing off against the raw power of the Wolvegrens.
As the Wolvegrens crashed into the Swine lines, Marcus felt the impact reverberate through his chest. The size difference between the two groups became obvious. The Bear-men towered over the Swine, effortlessly tossing them around like children. Witnessing their strength sent a shiver down Marcus's spine; he knew he would never stand a chance against such formidable creatures.
The Swine numbered in the thousands, a seemingly unstoppable force, while the Wolvegrens were only a few hundred. Yet, the Wolvegrens had chosen the perfect spot to defend their home. The break in the mountains and the shallow waters forced the Swine to come through a narrow entrance, creating a funnel-like passage. The uneven terrain, combined with the presence of water, made the Swine's footing precarious, causing them to slip and stumble as they advanced.
The Wolvegrens were strategic in their approach, staying on dry land and avoiding the water. This tactic left the Swine's hooves struggling for traction, causing them to falter time and time again. Despite their sheer numbers, the Swine were met with fierce resistance from the Bear-men.
Marcus could see that the battle was far from one-sided. The Wolvegrens fought with a ferocity and unity that belied their smaller numbers. They moved in coordinated packs, taking down Swine after Swine with calculated precision. Their strength and agility were formidable, and it was clear that they were not to be underestimated.
"We can't let them reach the Citadel," Marcus said, his voice filled with determination. "We have to stand with the Wolvegrens and stop the Swine here and now."
Thomas nodded; his fear replaced by resolve. "The men?”
Marcus's heart raced as he barked out orders, determined to buy the Wolvegrens enough time to hold their ground.
"Get anyone who's got a bow and arrows to spare to approach the Swine from here. Everyone else can arm themselves with rocks and steel!"
As Lieutenant Thomas sprinted down the hill, Marcus kept a vigilant eye on the battlefield, calculating how long it would take his archers to get within firing range. Every second counted, and he prayed they could make it in time to make a difference.
His gaze fixed on the ongoing melee, and his heart sank as he witnessed one of the Bear-men fall under the weight of several Swine grunts. It seemed they had found a weak spot in the creature's thick fur, exploiting it to their advantage. "Shit," he swore under his breath, his mind racing. He quickly spun around to gauge Thomas's progress.
To his relief, Thomas was already among the men, barking orders and organizing the troops. The soldiers moved with purpose, quickly understanding the situation. They swiftly gathered their weapons, preparing to climb the hill and rush into the fray. Despite the odds stacked against them, their determination shone through even from Marcus' vantage point. He could see tips of spears, and longswords along with bows and quivers. The men may have abandoned their armour to cross the river, but they all had tightly held their weapons. Marcus grinned at the sight. It was a glimmer of hope.
However, he knew they couldn't afford to falter or hesitate. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what lay ahead. Within a few moments, his men joined him on the hill, and as one they navigated down the sharp descent towards the battle below. As he clambered down, he could feel adrenaline surge through his veins, sharpening his focus.
As they approached, they could see the Wolvegrens fighting valiantly, pushing back against the Swine with all their might. The archers stationed on higher ground started sending volleys of arrows into the shallow waters where the Swine struggled to cross, finding gaps in the beast's armour and forcing them to stumble as they crossed.
"Keep pushing them back! Hold your ground!" Marcus yelled, his voice reaching the hearts of his men with courage. He picked up a rock from the ground and moved into position, clutching it tightly as he prepared to throw. The enemy was formidable, but so were his men.
He spotted a group of Swine attempting to flank the Wolvegrens from the left. Without hesitation, he hurled the rock with precision, hitting one Swine on the side of its head. The creature grunted in pain, momentarily disoriented. It was just the opening the Wolvegrens needed to strike back and gain the upper hand.
Inspired by Marcus's actions, his soldiers followed suit, hurling rocks at the Swine with determination and accuracy. The combination of arrows and rocks created a formidable assault that began to push the Swine back.
In the heat of battle, Marcus felt a deep sense of pride as he watched his men lob rock after rock from their high ground. They fought as one, united by the shared goal. They weren’t just soldiers; they were brothers, bound by duty and honour.
A break-away group of swine ran up the hill towards them, aiming to stop the volley of arrows and stream of rocks. Marcus shouted orders and spears appeared in some of the men’s hands aimed directly downhill. For the Swine, it was a fatal mistake, as trying to climb jagged rocks while dodging the sharp end of spears and rain of arrows was nothing but perilous.
Blood soaked the rocks below as the Swine fell and the break away dissolved into yet another fatal attempt to cross the river.
As the battle raged on, Marcus knew they were making a difference. They were giving the Wolvegrens a fighting chance, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. Their resilience and determination were an unwavering force against the Swine's onslaught.
With each passing moment, the sounds of battle filled the air, echoing in Marcus's ears. He fought with everything he had, his heart pounding in his chest. The fate of their people hung in the balance, and they would not back down.
Despite the pain and the stinging sensation in his hand, Marcus refused to relent. He knew that every rock he threw was crucial to the battle's outcome. With each projectile hurled, his hand grew more bruised and bloodied, but he pushed through the discomfort, gritting his teeth against the pain.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins dulled the immediate sensation, allowing him to focus solely on the battle at hand. His mind zeroed in on the Swine, their massive forms advancing relentlessly. He aimed for their vulnerable spots, finding openings in their thick hide, and launching rocks with precision.
Beside him, his men fought with equal determination. The archers continued their barrage of arrows, while the soldiers armed with rocks followed Marcus's lead, unleashing a relentless assault on the enemy. The Swine were taken aback by the resilience of their opponents, unable to anticipate such a fierce defence.
But with every throw, Marcus felt the strain on his hand increasing. His palm throbbed, the blood mingling with the dirt and sweat that clung to his skin. He tried to ignore the pain, willing himself to focus solely on the task at hand.
A particularly sharp rock slipped from his grip, slicing deeper into his palm. Marcus hissed in pain, but he quickly shook off the discomfort, determined not to let it distract him. The battle was far from over, and they needed every advantage they could muster.
The Wolvegrens fought with unmatched strength, their roars echoing through the forest. They clashed with the Swine, showing no fear in the face of the larger force. Their loyalty to their home and their people fuelled their ferocity, matching the determination of the human soldiers alongside them.
Amidst the chaos, a brief respite presented itself as the Swine momentarily withdrew, disoriented and thrown off balance by the unexpected resistance. Marcus took advantage of the lull to catch his breath, wincing as he examined his injured hand. It was battered and swollen, the blood still flowing from the cuts.
His lieutenant, Thomas, appeared at his side, concern etched on his face. "Sir, your hand! You need to tend to that wound," he urged.
Marcus nodded, knowing that he couldn't afford to ignore the injury for too long.
"I'll be fine," he reassured Thomas, though the pain in his hand made him question the statement himself. "We must keep pressing forward. The Wolvegrens are counting on us."
With a deep breath, Marcus steeled himself and rejoined the fight, this time clutching the rocks with a bit more caution. As the battle raged on, he refused to let the pain stop him.