Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

A Moment’s Breath

The Legacies were hoisted high with a violent pull of their ropes and everyone cursed in a wincing chorus as they were wrenched upward for dear life.

A tidal wave of dark sludge was sent up as the drawbridge crashed down into the moat and Legacy cheers filled the air from the battlements.

Michael’s stomach was crushed and twisted as his weight ripped him against the knotted rope. Fear jumped up his throat as he kicked his legs, forcing himself not to rotate mid-air while his shield was rattled by an onslaught of spears and spiked rocks.

Oliver was shaking at the weight of his iron barricade, only barely able to hold it up with both arms, while further down, Aroha and Nichole clung to each-other, sandwiching themselves between their two shields.

Magnus was being drawn up the walls by the waist, and only luck saw fit to grant his limp body safe passage, narrowly avoiding any dangerous projectiles as he was dragged back over the wall.

In one large clump of shields and bodies, the company was pulled roughly back over the stone ramparts where they collapsed to the ground. Sarah cut free her knotted harness and sprinted toward the stairs.

Raeken hurtled down toward the courtyard below, landing in a crumpled heap, tearing up the soil. Sarah exploded onto the forum and fell to her knees beside the Drakonian. He looked rather worse for wear but was not actually in danger of keeling over, though it didn’t stop her from immediately sprinting to find Lillian.

Michael was sat up against the battlements whilst the archers beside him now focused fire on the ladders trying to land and the enemies aboard them.

Nikereus’ forces seemed caught between commands. The masses were gathered at the lip of the moat for one moment and trying to spread along the borderlines the next.

The entire assault came to a halt as the Soiltorn were achieving nothing but a slaughter. Soon even the ladders stopped and the frontline of the forces began to edge away.

Jack couldn’t believe his eyes.

The archers and crossbows kept up their hailstorm of arrows and bolts until Jack called for a ceasefire. “That’s enough!”

For the first time that day, silence lifted amongst the chaos. Jack realised his ears were ringing and took a long slow breath, gripping the rampart stones firmly.

The bulk of Nikereus’ army, though still a horrifying number to compared to their own, was perhaps over a third diminished. And while six and half thousand foes was not a celebratory matter, it was certainly not to be shrugged away.

Jack trudged over to the company, spotting Magnus on the ground as he approached. He pulled off his Javen-helm and knelt next to the boy.

He lay unmoving with several physicians attending to him.

Jack examined the boy for a moment and the medics gave him worried looks.

Magnus was in a bad way. His elbow was entirely loose- while attached with skin, that was all that was keeping his forearm and bicep together. His shoulder was pushed back so far that ‘dislocated’ seemed an inappropriate word to use. And one of his legs appeared to be bent backwards, with the kneecap slid down to the left, again, all inside the skin.

Jack tapped him hard on the chest, like he was waking him in his dorm bed. “Andevār.”

Michael, some ten feet down the way, turned his head to see the mangled boy and a cold dread settled in his stomach. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

One of the onsite healers looked forlornly at Michael and shrugged, helplessly, “He was thrown at a wall, by a wall with teeth... no Legacy could survive that.”

Jack nodded, inspecting the bloodless gouges in his stomach and arm. “Oi, demon!”

On que, Magnus sat up, groaning and rubbing his head, causing the surrounding surgeons to leap back in shock, cursing the boy with phrases from the Ionadae.

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Michael nearly had the audacity to say, there’s no such thing as demons when he watched in horror as Magnus grotesquely pulled his kneecap back up into place with a wet pop! He bent his knee, stretching any kinks out, and with his undamaged arm he pushed himself up. There was still about two feet of stone sticking out of his stomach, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I thought that was just a rumour...” murmured one of the doctors, looking at him in shock.

Magnus pinned his shoulder up against the battlements and clipped it back into its socket, without so much as breathing a sigh of relief. Only when he turned to look over the rampart, the stone spear in his gut clinked against the defences. He tried to grab it, realising that arm was disconnected at the elbow and deferred to his other hand. He pulled the stone out with a fleshy slurp and threw it into the moat. Then finally he straightened his loose elbow and leaned on it with his body weight, and the crowd watched him sink back into it with a sss-gick sound.

Rose, who’d been sitting comfortably since they landed, rolled onto her side and groaned, “If I throw up after seeing that, and anyone judges me, I’ll start breaking knees.”

Magnus looked at the retreating army and walked sharply over to one of the ladder-control levers, giving it a sharp crank. And with less preamble than their original entrance, he hopped onto the wall.

“Going somewhere?” asked Jack, who’d been curiously watching him the entire time.

“I’m getting my scythe. Must’ve dropped it.” The pale boy stepped down onto the outer ladder and quickly turned his vicious gaze onto Jack. “Call me a demon one more time and you’ll find yourself in no fit state to speak again.”

He dropped out of sight and Jack smiled in his eyes, turning to Michael and his companions. Around them, the noise of war had faded, and though there were sounds of sorrow and hurt to replace it, they were a lesser evil for certain. Jack couldn’t even begin to think of something to say. “You lot, okay?”

They nodded, smiled, and gave thumbs-ups while lying face down.

“How long until they find a way to bridge the gap?” Aroha asked, tossing away an empty quiver.

Jack shrugged, wiping a spot of blood from his face which didn’t seem to belong to him. “Soon, I’m sure. And Nikereus will make quite a show of it when they do.”

The array of monsters was retreating back up the meadow as a contingent of Mountain Wolves and Soiltorn split off, making their way back to the cavern at haste.

“We need to deal with the Heart Stone,” said Nichole. “If we keep up this siege then we’ll all be dead before nightfall, whether the gates hold or not.” Her face was gaunt from exhaustion as she closed her eyes, resting her head on the battlements.

Carter sat up, combing back his hair awkwardly. “There is something I probably should’ve mentioned, though frankly I’ve had a busy morning.”

The company turned to face him as Lain and Sidney hobbled over.

“Nikereus has the Heart Stone... buried in their chest. Infused. If we want to destroy it, then we’ll have to make our way to the centre of that army, and take the crown from the Monarch, themselves.”

Jack and the others fell into a deep, devastated silence, while Michael chose to turn to Rose, who was only just sitting up straight up.

She looked at him as she too leaned back against the battlements. Her cocksure smile was gone and instead she simply looked down to her hands.

Michael followed her eye-line and jumped with fright. “You’re bleeding!”

Rose looked down and shook her head quickly. “It’s not mine.”

She explained what had happened. She talked about Willem and their defence of the north-west wall.

“We were late reinforcing the front gate because we took him to Lillian. She managed to stop his bleeding, but he looked so pale lying there.” Rose shook her head. “He wanted me to leave him. To let him go. Archie was his only friend.”

Light as a bird, Michael took her hand and simply asked, “Is this okay?”

Rose nodded and tightened her bloodied grip on his hand. They sat for some time, listening to their friends make plans. To the wind, as it blew over the battlements, unaware of the bodies strewn upon it. To the silence in between, knowing it would be gone soon enough.

After some time and agreeing to call a War Council to straighten out the details, Jack trudged over to the two Legacies, casting a wary look over Nikereus’ array.

The fields were no longer green meadows at the base of a valley, but one long stretch of dust, mud, and filth, littered with wounded beasts and near-dead Soiltorn. Many were pierced with arrows and bolts lying half dead, while others struggled with the weight of the moat sludge, slowly slipping to sleep. He looked back to his sister and realised several others were awaiting orders, watching him as they sat on the brink.

Jack cleared his throat and set his shoulders. “Lain, find Avery and do what you can to patch up the main gate. Take James, too. Rose, Carter, and Michael, you three come with me, we’re going to draw up a plan to see out the night. Oliver, Nichole, and Aroha, you go find Sarah and start rounding up some other Legacies to move some bodies. You all okay with that?”

They nodded softly and Nichole asked, “Where should we take them?”

Jack stood, helping up Michael and Rose. “I’m not sure. We don’t have a lot of time. Or space. Maybe dedicate some of the dorms,” he said, putting down the crossbow and tapping an armoured archer on the shoulder. “Put those Creations out of their misery.”

“Sir, we shouldn’t waste arrows-”

Jack turned toward him and said firmly, “Then don’t miss.”

Nichole, Oliver, and Aroha were mounting the staircase when Jack hastily called, “Nichole!” His scarred face was tight with grief.

She stopped, looking back to him with a frown.

“You lot just saved the lives of everyone left behind these walls. Thank you.”

The company shared a small look and all gave a collection of half shrugs.

Oliver gave a little smile. “This is Fort Guardian. It’s in the name, isn’t it?”