The caravan crawled south.
Duncan, impatient at the pace, could feel his anger building. Each time the mud of the track bogged a wagon down, it forced the Fianna to stop and work it free of the cloying earth. Each time, Duncan would place his spear in one of the wagon beds and heave upon the cart with the other men until it tore free of the mud.
They were all tired, sore, and angry. Lady had it little better, as the woods she loved so much gave way to gorse and thistle. Though her coat was thick enough to withstand the sharp spines, she could no longer run and stalk with the abandon she had in the woods around Douglas. She’d even returned a few times to have Duncan pull a stray spine from her paws.
The only saving grace was Vincent and Catherine, whose companionable jokes and conversation had made the journey easier. Others, too, had sought the young couple’s company, and their quick wit and sociable manner was quick to help integrate Sir Armstrong's band with that of the Douglas Fianna.
Owen and Brian, too, had been good company, and the archers knew some excellent songs, which eased the frustrations of the warband.
From what he’d heard from those in Sir Armstrong’s party, they were close to their destination. Lady, scouting ahead had picked up the scent of the enemy, and had confirmed that they had indeed moved toward Arbory Hill.
There had been little rest as they moved, with people swapping out from the carts to catch some small sleep as others worked to free the wagons. Duncan, impatient to move, had refused rest, choosing instead to haul at the axles with the others.
By the second day, the roads had finally dried enough that they made some progress. When the moonlight gave way to the pre-dawn of the next morn, they’d reached the forest at the base of the hill-fort.
As the others set up camp, Colm beckoned Duncan over to where Sir Armstrong, Edward, and Vincent were standing. “You should hear this, lad. If you’re to learn to lead, you’ll not find many better than Sir Armstrong to teach you.”
The knight raised an eyebrow at the compliment, clearly surprised that Colm’s opinion of him was so high. “Thank you, master. I only hope I will be up to task tonight.”
Unable to contain himself,Duncan looked at the knight in confusion. “We attack tonight? Not now?”
Do not be hasty, Duncan. Lady sensing his impatience. There are a great number of scents above, and many are not human.
“We lack the numbers for a direct assault, lad. We also do not know what defences await us.” Colm said.
With grit teeth, Duncan held his tongue.
Sir Armstrong, who had been studying the hill, turned to him. “Colm has the right of it. We are still–as far as we know–undetected. Your hound can scout. She’s been useful so far.”
“I’ll go with her.” Duncan suggested, thinking he might find where the enemy was holding his mother and sister, and find some way to free them.
Both Colm and Sir Armstrong were quick to demur. “You will not!” Came both replies at once. The two men shared a glance, and Sir Armstrong tilted his head, indicating Colm should speak.
“I may not know you well, Lad, but I know you’re headstrong. Headstrong and stubborn. If you were to discover where your family was being held, you’d attempt to rescue them, and then we’d lose you, Lady, and whatever element of surprise we may have.”
Duncan, who had been creating arguments as the carpenter spoke, opened his mouth to let them free, but before he could, Sir Armstrong spoke. “You are not to make a reply. You are to say ‘Yes, Sir’ and be silent. If you wish to learn how to lead, you must first learn to obey. If you do not obey in this, I shall have you beaten until you do.”
Colm frowned at the knight, but held his peace, though Lady let out a low growl. The knight turned to address her. “If you wish your master to survive, hound, then let us teach him as we may. War is a vicious business, and if the boy is to learn, he must learn to be far more vicious than it if he is to survive it.”
Lady, oddly, seemed chastened by his words, and sat on her haunches. The armoured one speaks true. Discipline, as much as courage, won the battles which my ancestors fought. To this especially, listen. But fear not, Duncan, I will not let him beat you.
Seeing Duncan’s betrayed expression, Edward smiled. “I suppose Lady feels much the same in this. Do not take it too badly. You’re young, and patience and discipline will serve you well.”
Duncan nodded. His father used to speak to him like that in the past, and he knew wisdom when he heard it. “Aye Edward. I just worry about my family.”
“As do we all, lad.”
Duncan nodded as Colm clapped him on the shoulder. “So, we attack after Lady has scouted?” He asked.
Sir Armstrong chuckled at his eagerness. “Perhaps we will, but it depends on what she finds. Now be off with you, Lady. Bring back word of what we face.”
With a huff of acknowledgement, and a quick lick to Duncan’s face, Lady turned and loped through the forest towards the hill.
Duncan watched her leave, before turning back to the group as they followed Sir Armstrong.
Finding a patch of dirt, Sir Armstrong took a stick and drew a large oval, within which was another circle. He drew a square off to the north, and a line leading from the north to the south.
The dirt-map of the area looked nothing like the towering hill before Duncan, but Colm nodded as he saw it. “Colm has said you can communicate with your hound at a distance. Can you relay to us what she describes?” Sir Armstrong asked.
With a thought, Duncan sent the request to Lady, and he sensed her amusement coming back through their mental link. I can show you, if you like?
Wondering what she meant, Duncan agreed. Suddenly, he felt himself stumble forward, as the world blurred about him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping to clear it. When he opened them once more, Duncan watched through Lady’s eyes as she loped out of the forest into a small area which had been cleared of trees. This patch of bare land quickly gave way to the hillside, and he suddenly could feel her form, powerful and agile, eating up the rocky surface of the hill.
As she neared the top, Duncan looked on as Lady spied the wooden palisade and earth-work which ringed the summit. He spoke, relaying what he saw to Sir Armstrong.
Lady crouched lower and sniffed the air.
What are you looking for? He asked.
There is something else here. She said. Something different. No. I smell two things. One left recently, and his smell is that of death. The other is strange and reminds me of something from long ago.
She crouched lower as a man climbed one of the four towers that stood within the Palisade. Duncan could see that the platform would only house four or five archers at a time, but even with those numbers, they could inflict severe casualties on Sir Armstrong’s force.
She circled the camp for a while until she discovered a gate and a road leading up the slope. Only one guard stood watch, though he had a powerful figure. He saw through Lady’s eyes as she inspected him.
Race: Human
Level: 19.
Class: Reaver
Lady crouched lower and backed away. He is more powerful than both of us. If there are many more at his level, we cannot win this fight.
Keep looking. We have to find a way. Can you get closer? Maybe find a way over or through the palisade?
He felt her agreement, and continued circling, remaining as far out of sight as she could from the guard.
The palisade had been well built, but the large boulders of the old hillfort made the ground uneven, and in some places, Duncan could see large piles of logs tied together now covered gaps in the fortifications.
This must be from the forest below. It’ll still be green wood. He sent. I’m surprised that they’ve done so much in such a short amount of time.
Lady did not reply as she slunk closer to a small gap in the wood. The enemy had filled it with boulders, and she gave a sniff, testing the air. There is no one on this side of the fort. She sent. They likely thought the boulders enough to prevent someone gaining entry. Foolish humans. Do they not think at all? With levels, a pup could lift that boulder.
She kept moving, finding a mound of human waste and spoiled food piled up on the southern side of the hill. Nearby, the fortifications were poorly built and relied more on the slope of the earthworks than on the wooden palisade.
Lady bounded up, her long claws digging easily into the dirt, and she was within. Duncan saw through Lady’s eyes that the hastily built fortification housed only a few structures. Several large tents lay on the higher ground around the central ring of the fort, but Lady could not see within. The outer ring remained bare except for the towers and a few patrolling guards.
She inspected these too, finding them to be level thirteen and ten, though another guard was closer to her own at sixteen.
Lady sunk into the dirt, crawling on her belly to keep as low a profile as she could. Through her keen hearing, Duncan heard only the faintest rustle of the grass as she moved, shifting her weight carefully to muffle her movement.
As dawn crept closer, Lady became harder to make out. Her dark green coat blending with the greens and muddy browns of the hillside. Soon she was atop the central berm and could see into the central ring.
The surface of the inner part of the ring had been largely cleared, and formed a low stone wall with large steps at each point of the compass which led down into the central ring. The ground there was mostly flat, and small drifts of melting snow still fed puddles that spread amongst the cobbled stone.
What caught Duncan’s attention, however, were the wooden framed cages, which held at least two hundred prisoners. Most were asleep, or silent at least, huddled together for warmth. Many were only wearing underclothes, though a few still clung tightly to the thin tunics or jackets they had been allowed to keep.
Can you get closer? He asked Lady through his link.
No. Not without risking discovery. Most here would not have seen me before, and those who have would still not recognize my changed form.
And mother?
She sniffed the air. I can smell mother, but your sister is not here.
Where is she? He thought desperately.
There.
Lady pointed her muzzle towards a cage closer to the other side of the inner ring. Beyond it, a large passage seemed to open into the side of the inner ring. Duncan searched desperately for his sister but could not find her in the pre-dawn gloom.
Can you get closer? He asked.
Lady did not reply but circled the area, avoiding the tents and checking about her for signs of guards. There did not seem to be many, which Duncan took as a good sign. There don’t seem to be many guards here. He said as she made her way slowly towards the cage. Can you smell more in the tents?
Lady snuffled at the air for a moment. There are few remaining, less than ten, but that might be enough if they are of higher levels.
But we can defeat them, though, can’t we? He asked hopefully.
There are other scents of men and other creatures in the area, but they are old. There was a larger force here, but they left recently. If we are to rescue mother and sister, we must act soon.
Duncan kept his peace, thinking furiously. If they were to free the captives, they would then need to escape any force that might return. But that was a worry for the future. Right now, he had to save his family.
I see her. Lady sent, and Duncan, seeing through her eyes, saw a group of humans huddled in a cage. He spied his mother, or a woman who looked much like her sitting head bowed in a shift. Duncan quickly recognized some others in the group, mostly village folk and a few farmers. Almost all the captives were women and children, and he knew these were people of Douglas.
A grunt broke the silence, and Lady turned to look at another figure in the cage. Standing near the other end of the enclosure was a tall creature, not a woman, but something else. She wore a collar of some strange metal carved with runes and was staring directly at Lady.
Slowly, Lady slid back down the side of the ring until it hid her from view. From there, she crept a dozen yards away and poked her muzzle around a boulder, seeing the creature staring about, clearly looking for her. She inspected it.
Race: Orc
Level: 11
Class: Apprentice Shaman
An Orc? What is that? Duncan asked.
Lady did not reply for a moment. The orc continued looking for a moment longer and then turned to whisper with a few of its fellows before doing the same with the humans. Duncan saw his mother nudged awake by another woman, and she looked up, her tear-streaked face haggard and tired.
She looked determined, though, and as she stood, he saw bruises and whip marks across her arms and back. She approached the orc woman, and they spoke for a moment, before she glanced in the direction where the Orc had spotted Lady.
Turning back to the humans, they gathered together and huddled away from the sides of the cage, mixing freely with the other orcish prisoners as they all sought protection. They stayed silent, though, for which Duncan was grateful.
After watching a while longer, Lady withdrew. It is time to let the knight plan. She sent.
Done, she slipped back outside the enclosure and began moving swiftly down the hill towards Duncan.
**********************************************************************************
After relaying the information to the group's leadership, Duncan had watched the planning, stunned at how complex it was. He’d always thought orders were simple, like a command to charge, but Sir Armstrong took his time, considering each possibility and regularly asking the others for their opinion.
Drawn on the ground was a map of the grounds, and, as Duncan had relayed what he saw, Sir Armstrong filled in details until the map truly looked much like that of the enemy fort. Sir Armstrong spoke briefly, providing them with the situation as he understood it.
“Our priority must be the lives and safety of those held prisoner, as well as those in the assault.” He said. “Once we have freed them, we can decide what to do with the Orcs if, as you say, they are friendly, we shall offer to allow them to accompany us.”
“And what of my sister?” Duncan asked, unsure whether he was allowed. “Lady said she could not smell her within the camp!”
The Knight looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. “We shall discover what happened to her once we free your mother. It is likely she knows her fate. As to our assault, we must engage the enemy on our terms.”
“Aye, Sir. We have several trained archers, and we are all decently leveled. If we can draw out the enemy from their camp, even a level 18 surely cannot survive our arrows for long. It will also draw many of the enemy to the gate, allowing you to circle behind them and free the prisoners.” Colm suggested.
Sir Armstrong grinned. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Colm nodded. “I stood with Lord Douglas since the Battle of Loudon Hill. He proved the easiest way to take a castle is by drawing the defence to one point and storming through escalade at another. Too often are defences so under-manned that there is no one left to guard the rear.”
“You were a Centenar, were you not?” Sir Armstrong asked Colm.
“Aye, once, and long ago.”
“Then you will command the bulk of our force and make use of that bow you carry. See if any others have experience at archery and use as many of our bows as we can. I shall take the others of a high level and attack the enemy from the rear once we free the prisoners. If we cannot overwhelm the enemy, we shall pin them in place until the captives can escape.”
Colm nodded. “There are enough shafts for the trained archers, but we lack bows, especially amongst your men. Sir Carmichael had more, but refused to part with them. His village was hard-pressed, and we left many of our own folk in his care.”
“Aye, I wondered why he had not come. Has he faced any force yet?”
“Not yet, bandits mostly, but they seem to be frequent now. His lands provided our people with safety during the siege.” Colm explained.
Sir Armstrong was silent for a moment before speaking. “We cannot have all that we wish, so we make do. Duncan and Lady have the highest levels, and you both know the lay of the land. You will guide my party into the fort.”
“I ask to come too, Sir.” Vincent said, having approached with his father. “I am handy with an axe, and I have reached level nine and will soon gain my class.”
Duncan watched as the Knight looked from father to son. Seeing the older man's grim but determined face, he nodded his assent and turned to Edward. “We will need to ensure that the captives are fed and clothed once freed. Can you set a few people to task? They shall need to work quickly, as I doubt this fight will last long unless the higher leveled bugger is more resilient than I think he may be.”
Edward bowed to the knight. “We have provisions for the next week if the captives are to come with us. That should give us enough time to return to Carmichael with some food to spare.”
“You provisioned us for a month?” The knight asked.
“More.” Edward smiled tiredly. “While Sir Carmichael provided basic provisions, it would have only lasted a week. The rest I gathered from my home. The storage sheds I used in Douglas were burnt, otherwise I’d have even more. I even have a few barrels of ale.”
“Good man!” Colm said enthusiastically. “An army marches on its stomach and fights on its drink.”
“This army shall not.” Sir Armstrong frowned at the Regfennid. “You may have a drink after we win, not before. I cannot afford drunken men in battle.”
Colm nodded. “Aye, Sir. Though many of the company have never raised a weapon in anger. A bit of liquid courage may see them aright.”
“It also may slow their reactions or cause them to act without orders.” The knight said. “It would be better in this fight for them to run than to reveal our plans unduly. You are in command of the main force, Colm. Keep them back and at range and allow your arrows to do the work.”
“Yes, Sir Armstrong.” The archer said, moving towards the wagon where the arrows were kept.
Duncan and Vincent followed Sir Armstrong as he approached the centre of the camp, beckoning all present to gather close. He went through the plan.
“You all know why we’re here. We have tracked Comyn’s warband from Douglas, and believe he holds many of our own folk prisoner too.” Grumbles answered this statement, as many of the men were as eager to rescue their families and friends as Duncan.
“We aim to rescue our fellows from their captivity in the Hillfort above.” He continued. “Comyn has left his stronghold, though we don’t know for how long, and so we must act with haste. Our aim tonight is to kill or capture the guards and free our people.”
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Duncan watched as the Knight searched about, finding Colm handing out the few sheaves of arrows they had scavenged. “Colm here will command the Fianna of Douglas. His role is to attack at the main gate. It is there we expect to face their most powerful warrior. From what we can gather, he is level nineteen and will be extremely dangerous."
"You only need to engage him with blades if the Regfennid gives the order. Otherwise, fill that bastard with arrows and keep your distance as best you can. We do not know what he might be capable of, but it is likely he will be stronger, faster, and more durable than any of us.”
Uncertain looks passed between the people of Douglas. Their own levels were not that high, but they all knew how much they had changed over the last few weeks. For someone to have reached level nineteen was shocking, and that Sir Armstrong expected them to face him?
Colm saw these looks. “Do not fear!” he calmed them. “I myself am at level 12, and though seven levels below this man, my skills as the Regfennid will boost all of us in our task. We shall be enough to take down one powerful foe. Guard each-other and we shall carry the day.”
The uncertainty faded somewhat following his words. Seeing this, Sir Armstrong spoke once more.
“While you distract this guard, I and my party, alongside Lady, will infiltrate the camp and attack the other guards from within. We think there are less than ten remaining. If we can take them by surprise and quickly, we can aid you in finishing the guard and then make our escape well before Comyn and his main force return.”
Pointing towards Edward and his daughter, the knight continued. “Edward and some of the womenfolk have volunteered to remain here, both as guard and to prepare for the captives, many of whom have likely had little sustenance and warmth. You are to take what weapons you can and wear as much armour as you feel you should.”
“If I am to fall tonight, Colm will take command, and following him,” Sir Armstrong turned, placing a hand on Duncan’s shoulder, “Duncan. Do as they command and if you cannot see them, follow your place in the plan. Colm will begin the attack with his bow. Should we face too great a threat, the signal to retreat are the Armstrong words. If you hear my cry ‘Unconquered, I remain!’, know that the day is lost.”
With that, Sir Armstrong went amongst his people, gathering them together and checking their wargear. Duncan and Vincent went with him, checking each-other’s aketons were securely strapped in place. Nearby, Duncan saw Colm doing the same, making sure each of the archers had bows strung and that all who carried weapons had them to hand.
Duncan followed Sir Armstrong as he approached his people, and was surprised to find that even the younger women in this group had reached level 5. This was far higher than most of the folk from Douglas, who, even with Colm and Duncan’s help with hunting small game on the journey from Carmichael, had yet to reach level 3.
Although numbering only twenty and six, each follower of Sir Armstrong wore an aketon and held a weapon, though most were rusted and pitted. A few even had shields, but they had a hard-used and much salvaged look. They would not last long against heavily armed opponents, but if they moved quickly, there was the hope that the enemy would not be prepared.
Sir Armstrong, satisfied with the men and women under his command, signaled to Colm, and the two groups set out.
Duncan followed Lady up the hill. Both the Fianna and Sir Armstrong’s party moved separately. Colm and the others heading up the track that led to the gate, while Duncan and the rest of Sir Armstrong’s party followed Lady straight up the hill. They would attempt to gain entrance to the fort through the South where the palisade was low enough to climb easily.
Duncan’s party reached the wall first, careful to stay out of sight. The towers, fortunately, were not manned, and only once were they forced to hide amongst the gorse and heather that covered the hillside. Undetected, they made their way up to the earthworks on the Southern side of the slope.
There Sir Armstrong ordered them to hold. “We’ll go once the alarm sounds. When it does, rush them.” He turned to Duncan and Vincent. “You two and Lady are the highest leveled besides myself. Concentrate on taking down the patrolling guards. I shall lead the others through the tent-lines and free the prisoners.”
Duncan and Vincent nodded, waiting.
Lady, uncharacteristically silent, crouched expectantly, her ears back and her tail still.
The slap of a bowstring from the East was followed immediately by a howl of rage and pain.
“Go! Now!” Sir Armstrong hissed, and Duncan and Vincent were the first over the steep berm. As he scrambled up the slippery slope, Duncan felt a sudden fear as he wondered what he might find within the fort. Would they be ready for them? What if they’d seen the Fianna approaching? What if they were all of far higher levels?
He kept moving though, and in moments was within the fort, Lady crouching next to him, Vincent beside him.
Duncan glanced towards the West. There, he could see the nearest guard cresting the rise of the inner earthwork and disappearing within, already charging towards the Eastern gate where the shouts and clamour of the Douglas Fianna could be heard.
Lady moved to intercept him, charging up the face of the inner ring, quickly followed by Duncan and Vincent.
As they arrived, they saw other guards emerging from their tents and into the rising sunlight, unarmoured but carrying a variety of weapons, from axes to pole-arms. Duncan ignored them, following Lady as she leapt upon the closer of the armoured patrolmen. Her tail flashed forward, slashing across the man’s face as he fell under her weight.
His companion turned, and seeing a beast savaging his friend, lashed out with his great-axe. The attack missed, as Lady leapt away. Her jaws coated in sticky blood. Duncan saw she was safe for the moment.
The man she had mauled clambered to his knees, reaching into a pouch at his belt. Withdrawing a flask, he raised it to his lips, drawing from it in large gulps. Duncan, seeing this changed his direction, charging the man with his spear extended.
The enemy guard only managed two gulps before Duncan’s spear slammed into his throat, knocking him to the ground once more. Vincent too had arrived, and with Lady engaged the other guard.
Duncan, however, was focused on the grisly scene before him. Blood pulsed from the wound he had inflicted, and he twisted the blade as Colm had taught him. The pressure opened the enemy warrior's veins to spray their contents upon the muddy ground and Duncan sawed the spear head to open the wound more. In moments, his foe was still.
Duncan was about to turn away, having withdrawn his spear, thinking his foe dead. It was then he noticed the man's wounds were closing before his eyes. He tried to stab down again, this time aiming for his opponent’s skull. The guard’s eyes snapped open, and he saw the blow coming.
With a speed borne of panic, the guard ducked his head just enough that the spear’s tip glanced off the enemy’s skull-cap. The wings of the spear, however, were long enough to catch flesh, and one slammed into the foeman’s left eye, popping it with a spray of viscous fluid.
Mouth opened in a soundless scream of pain, the guard's flailing hands grasped at Duncan’s spear, shoving it to the side as he tried to regain his feet. Knowing that Vincent and Lady may even now need his help, Duncan hurried.
His left hand dropped from the spear to draw his dirk. Leaning forward, he stabbed its point through the guards mail sleeve and into his arm, hoping to release his grip on the spear haft. It did not penetrate far, but it was enough, and the guard's hand came free, only to reach for his own weapon once more.
With a grunt, Duncan slammed his foot into the man’s groin. He raised his spear in one hand and plunged it down again, this time skewering his enemy’s head.
He glowed with a sudden light as he gained a level and knew his foe was dead. Duncan had no time to assign his attributes, however, and he ran to where Lady was fighting desperately against the other guard.
Sir Armstrong reached them first.
As he crested the rise of the inner ring, the knight had charged forward, making no sound but for the slap of his feet in the mud. The noise alerted the guard that someone was approaching from behind, and the man turned, shield deflecting Sir Armstrongs thrust. The Knight did not stop however, he slammed his shoulder into his opponent, knocking the guard sprawling to the mud.
Lady was quick to react, leaping upon the downed man and tearing out his throat in a bloody spray as Sir Armstrong hacked down at his arms and legs until he too glowed. Vincent, however, did not. Duncan saw him lying not far away, a deep gash in his side.
Afraid that his friend had met his end, Duncan ran to his side, eager to render what aid or comfort he could. He stopped as two more enemies approached. The other guards, having awoken to violence, had just watched the death of their comrades, and now sought to take revenge.
Duncan inspected them as they came on, knowing he could not move lest they finish Vincent. He only hoped that they would be of a lower level than he. They were not.
Race: Human
Level: 13
Class: Armsman
Race: Human
Level 12
Class: Guardian
The Armsman was higher leveled, and also the more immediate threat. Wielding a billhook, he came on in a rush. Duncan barely got his spear’s haft up to block the overhead strike of the pole-arm, and his quick counter with the butt of his spear was knocked away with ease. The Guardian’s approach was more cautious, and he circled away from the Billman and towards Sir Armstrong.
Though they were ready for combat, neither man was armored. The Guardian carried a long kite-shield, and a flanged mace, a rare weapon and feared by many armoured Knights.
As he tried to remember all that Colm had taught him, Duncan focused on his opponent, sliding back to create space. Lady. Can you…. He started, but was cut off by her reply.
No, the others need help. They are too low a level to hold against the remaining guards.
He was about to reply when the Armsman slashed his bill forward, aiming a blow at Duncan’s head, while holding the butt of his polearm high to ward any counter. Duncan raised his foot as he’d been taught, but was surprised when the haft of the bill slapped into his calf hard enough to bruise and was then pulled back quickly so that the hook of the bill caught in his leg. He stumbled off balance, falling to his knee. He raised his spear, thinking to thrust at the Armsman, but his enemy had already moved.
The booted foot which caught Duncan in the face knocked him back into the mud. He kept his spear to hand, but blinded by the kick, it suddenly forced him to rely on his other senses.
He felt the hook being pulled from his leg and swept his spear towards where he thought his enemy stood, hearing a hiss of pain. His hand lifted from the haft, and Duncan wiped the mud and blood from his eyes, rolling as he saw the polearm descend once more towards his head.
He rolled towards his opponent, surprising him as the bill landed in the mud where Duncan had been. Now Duncan was within his guard and he withdrew his dirk once more, or tried to. The blood caking the blade stuck it within its sheath.
On his knees before his enemy, Duncan resorted to tactics he’d used against the other children in Douglas. Grabbing the booted foot of his enemy, he heaved it towards him. Finding traction in the mud, he threw himself forward, slamming his body into the man’s other leg, knocking him off balance. The man dropped his bill as he fell, but Duncan ignored it, reaching instead for the man's dirk. Pulling it free in one smooth action, he stabbed it, left-handed, up and under his enemy’s chin.
He didn’t stop stabbing until the man’s head was nearly off.
Exhausted by his efforts, Duncan gasped a deep breath and rolled off the corpse, his hands already reaching for his spear. Finding the Bill instead, he planted the butt into the mud and levered himself to his feet, seeing Sir Armstrong hard-pressed by his enemy.
Coated in mud and blood, Duncan staggered forward, each breath coming as a laboured gasp now. Sir Armstrong had seen him too, and moved to his side so that the Guardian now stood between them.
Unaware of the enemy behind him, the Guardian activated an ability, smashing forward with his mace, and shattering Sir Armstrong’s shield. He was about to follow up with another blow when the bill slammed down into his left shoulder, cleaving flesh, bone and organs as it buried in the mans chest.
Sir Armstrong, all too aware that even such a savage blow might not mean instant death, wasted no time. He thrust his sword forward, stabbing it deep into the head of his opponent before wrenching it free and hacking it one final time into his still moving foes neck.
The Guardian fell to the floor and lay there unmoving in death. “Well done, lad.” Sir Armstrong said, clearly exhilarated by the victory. Duncan nodded tiredly and turned, looking across the fort. There he saw Sir Armstrong’s people surrounding the last of the enemy guards.
Lady, standing let out a howl, which froze the enemies, and she leapt forward, followed quickly by the others. Blood fountained as Sir Armstrongs men cut down their foes. In moments, many were glowing with a soft golden light as they gained levels from their kills.
Towards the East, a great cheer came, and Duncan smiled. We did it! Turning in that direction, he saw Colm and the rest of the Douglas Fianna storming into the compound, ready to do battle, but finding no further threats.
Duncan’s thoughts quickly turned to Vincent. Lady, Vincent is hurt. Can you heal him?
I will be there soon. She replied, and, as he staggered tiredly to where Vincent lay, he heard the approaching patter of the Cu-Sith’s paws.
Lady immediately licked at the wound, but her healing alone would not be enough. Vincent had lost a great deal of blood, and the wound was so deep Lady’s healing could only keep him stable for a while.
Vincent opened his eyes, coughing. “Duncan?” He whispered. “Did we win?”
Duncan reached out carefully, avoiding his friend's wound as he grasped his hand. “We did. I had hoped you’d gain a level, so it would heal you.” His tiredness and emotions combining so that his voice came out in a sob.
“I…” Vincent coughed again, this time his lips flecked with blood. His eyes were wide with pain and fear as he realized his death was close. “I want to see her, Duncan. I want to see Catherine.”
Duncan looked around, but Catherine had remained at the encampment with her father. “You will.” He said, though the promise he knew was hollow.
Sir Armstrong had already set about freeing the prisoners, and as the first cage was opened, grateful humans and orcs spilled out into the fort. Duncan watched them for a moment. “We freed them.” He told his friend. “We saved the prisoners. You’ll be known as a hero Vincent.”
Vincent closed his eyes, tears springing from them as he moaned. “It hurts. God, it hurts. Where is she?”
Colm approached with a grin spread wide upon his face. It faded quickly when he saw Vincent’s condition. The Regfennid picked up a fallen flask and offered it to Duncan. He spoke quietly, not wanting Vincent to hear. “Let him drink, lad. None should die thirsty.”
Duncan lifted his friend's head, taking the flask, and helped him swallow some of its contents. Vincent’s eyes widened as he swallowed. He swallowed another gulp, and his hand rose with sudden strength as he pulled the flask closer to his lips.
Surprised, Duncan looked down at the wound.
It was closing!
He chuckled, the sound turning into a belly laugh as he realized the flask was the one that his first enemy had drunk from. It must have been the cause for that man’s wounds to close also!
“Look for more flasks!” He told Colm quickly, “and tell the others to do the same, give them to the wounded.”
Colm looked confused, but Duncan stepped back, revealing the now closing wound in Vincent’s side. “Look! The flasks must contain a healing potion! I don’t know what magic they contain, but they heal!”
Colm’s eyes widened, and it was not long before the men and women of Douglas were searching the dead and the tents.
Another dozen flasks were found and passed out amongst those too badly wounded for Lady to heal.
As soon as Vincent had finished the flask, his wounds now healed, he fell into a deep slumber. Duncan, refusing to leave his friend lying in blood, put his available attributes into strength, and lifted his friend, carrying him to one of the tents to rest, kneeling beside his friend as he said a quick prayer of thanks.
A babble of voices from outside arose, and Duncan shifted to peer through the tent-flap. There he saw that Sir Armstrong had taken command of the fort, and was speaking to a group of the now free prisoners. Duncan could see his mother amongst them, and could barely restrain himself.
He stumbled to his feet and ran to her, causing her to scream in shock as he swept her into muddy arms. “Mother!” he said, holding her close. Those around them backed away, somewhat surprised by his rush, but their concern eased as he lifted his mother in a hug.
She froze for a moment before she recognized him. His face had not been healed and was streaked with mud and blood, and he was now much taller and well muscled than he’d been only weeks before. “Duncan?” she asked, before screaming his name in joy. “Duncan!” She wrapped her bare arms around her son, suddenly weeping as she collapsed into him.
They held each other for some time, before his mother pulled back, her hands going to either side of his face as she looked him over. She fussed over his broken nose and mud stained face, wincing as she saw how much he’d changed. “We’ll have you cleaned up before long. Is your father…?” She began.
He shook his head. Voice choking as he tried to find the words.
She looked pained for a moment, closing her eyes before opening them once more. “He would be so proud of you.”
Duncan, tears carving tracks in the mud and blood coating his face, spoke. “Thank you, ma.” He said, aware suddenly that many of the others were watching.
Sir Armstrong wiped at his eyes. “I’m glad you found your mother, lad. You fought well.” He turned, raising his voice so that all present in the fort could hear him. “You all fought well, and victory is ours! Gather what you can, for now we must away.”
“No, you shall not leave, human.”
The Orc woman with the collar stepped forward. Sir Armstrong, surprised at the simple reply, paused his speech, looking at the Orc angrily. “No? Who are you to give orders?”
“The Vampyr and its men have gone and shall not return for many days.”
Sir Armstrong frowned. “Vampyr? But those are…” He gave the Orc a considering look. “You say it will not return for many days? How do you know?”
It was Duncan’s mother who replied. “We heard its men talking. They said they were marching north to fight with Balliol. They said the King was dead.”
Sir Armstrong frowned. “Dead? King Robert? Did they say more?”
The Orc’s brow furrowed. “What more do you need them to say? They left the Dungeon all but unguarded, and now you have captured it.”
“What Dungeon?”
The Orc pointed towards the cave mouth within the inner Ring of the Hillfort.
“That Dungeon.”