CHAPTER 58 – THE STABLES
After receiving his orders Mortikahn ran through the inner city alone. In all haste he made his way to the stables, but there was a lot that stood in his way, most of all the thick blanket of a black downpour. Without any foe in sight, Mortikahn took this opportunity to examine the black algae starting to collect between the building walls and the streets. He got close to it, sheathed his sword, and went to touch it with his finger.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”
Mortikahn looked next to him; it was Galastad of house Borigini, counselor to Mitakahn at his trial. He looked different. “Hello, Uncle” Mortikahn called him uncle even though they were cousins by Pride standards. The Borigini did things differently in the Shorelands. All cousins were considered brothers and sisters, so their progeny addressed the older generation accordingly.
“I am relieved to see you,” he smiled. “We were beginning to think you fell in battle.”
Mortikahn always enjoyed joking with Galastad.
“This is no battle. It’s a massacre.”
Because he never could tell when he was joking.
Galastad’s eyes smoldered over the city skyline, drenched, and burning to the ground all at the same time. Where was there room to smile?
“Prince Axion has returned, galvanizing the resistance, all is not lost.”
“No, it is not. I’ve heard, lad. He is welcome news. I’ve been seeing to the evacuation of the downtown area personally after rallying the militia and sending them to the beaches. I figured the rest of you would come along...eventually.”
“Father will be relieved to hear it.”
“Seriously don’t touch that.”
“What is this muck?”
“Its old darkness, before the time of sword and shield. Just don’t touch it…When it first began to show it wasn’t everywhere like it is now. Which could only mean one thing…It’s growing…”
“This stuff is alive? But where did it even come from?”
“Old horrors like this come from the darkest depths of MagnaThora.”
“The Southlands?”
“The ocean deep.”
The beachfront broke one of its flanks and out poured darksiders into the city streets. Mortikahn looked back towards the stables when Galastad stepped between them and him.
“Go, Prince Mortikahn. If we make it through this, we will have to tell my boys of what a courageous stand we made today. Go now, I shall hold them off!”
Mortikahn did not argue. He wiped his forehead with a moment’s hesitation and followed orders, leaving Galastad to fend for himself. After a decent sprint down the boulevards, Mortikahn found Jericho and the rest of the royal guard escorting civilians out of the stables. Jericho along with a select few ran through the ranches and barns ushering the women and children to get a move on. Mortikahn and the bulk of their division presented a front on the southern border of the stables against looting sailors.
These sailors of the amethyst ships snuck around the battle and into the town, killing and pillaging the townsfolk. Jericho ran through the tight clusters of fences and farmhouses, one hand wielding his short, sharp sword, the other hand shepherding the fleeing villagers. “GET OUT!” he yelled, turning his voice to the soldiers accompanying him, “GET THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN OUT!”
Mortikahn stood shoulder to shoulder with his flank of royal guardsmen and militia. Together they charged the scrambled parties of intruding enemies. Mortikahn fought much like his father; dirty and efficiently. He would much rather jump on an amethyst soldier and snap its neck than keep his reserve and only use his sword. That didn’t mean he wasn’t one of the most skilled with a blade. Around him, his soldiers were falling one by one.
Directly to the right of Mortikahn, one of the citadel’s Royal Guard was succumbing to a dark soldier’s headlock. The dirty scales on the opponent’s arms were cutting into the royal guard’s face. He screamed in torment. Mortikahn threw his sword into the dark soldier’s neck and rendered him defeated. Before Mortikahn could help his comrade up or retrieve his sword, two dark soldiers grabbed his arms. He struggled to break free.
They turned him around to face an approaching behemoth. Mortikahn panicked. Never before had he seen a behemoth. Half beast half man, it was the size of a house, and deadlier than any battalion of darksiders. Before the behemoth could clobber Mortikahn, he flipped backwards, freeing himself of his guards. He kicked them in the back of the knees to easily bring them to the slippery ground and retrieved his sword.
The two dark soldiers got back up and joined forces with the still approaching behemoth. The royal guard that Mortikahn had saved readied his stance beside Mortikahn. They charged at each other, two on three.
Mortikahn ducked the behemoth’s reach and cut one of the darksiders in half by the waist. The royal guard stabbed the other in the gut, but before he could finish him, the behemoth grabbed the royal guard, picked him up, and squeezed the life out of him. The royal guard dropped dead on the floor. Mortikahn could feel the hate coursing through him for these evil intruders.
Mortikahn used the hate to fuel his fight. He sheathed his sword and took out two arrows. He big dumb oaf lunged for Mortikahn and missed by a mile. One arrow in each hand, he sprinted and got around the behemoth. He used the arrows to climb up its back. Once he got a firm grip around the back of its damp hairy neck, Mortikahn released the arrows and pulled out his sword, driving it into the back of the behemoth’s skull.
The horse knight’s blade bounced right off the behemoth’s skull, but it did not break. The beast began to back-pedal, raising its arms, trying to snatch Mortikahn. He jumped off its shoulder and turned around mid-fall. Mortikahn threw his sword into the behemoth’s neck, right under the jaw. He poked clean through the monster’s skin and drew an abundant amount of blood. The behemoth plummeted to the ground, squishing the bodies of the two dead soldiers. Mortikahn exhaled, walked over to the carnage, the stink of the remains smoking in the rain, and pulled his sword free. He looked around as he wiped the sword clean. It was easy with the rain. There was no one to witness his tremendous feat, single-handedly taking down a behemoth. Mortikahn shrugged it off and jumped back into the fight.
Meanwhile, Jericho worked his way through the stable houses. It felt good to be dry for a second, even though his gear was soaked through and through. He came upon one of the remaining rooms in the stable where a mother was hiding with her children. They were quietly huddled in the corner.
“Why are you not fleeing?” but before the words escaped his lips, he knew why.
Jericho jerked his head back as a dagger almost struck his forehead from a darksider behind him. Jericho backed up and caught a good look at this scum. His skin looked like it was rotting from the inside out. The few teeth that he had left were black and yellow. His tunic was torn and practically falling off. He was holding a bag in his other hand, filled with the spoils of war.
Jericho attacked the sailor. He was a fair warrior, blocking each one of Jericho’s strikes. Left, right, left, right, Jericho slowly backed him into a wall. The sailor threw his bag at Jericho. He parried the bag with his sword, but before he could counter, the sailor had leapt on top of Jericho, causing him to fall to the ground.
Jericho’s hands were tied up, one trying to pull the sailor’s hand off of his throat, and the other holding the sailor’s wrist, preventing him from thrusting the dagger into Jericho’s eye. The sailor had all the leverage, and Jericho was losing the intimate battle.
He begged for help, for Mortikahn, or any soldier of the Royal Guard to come in and save him. But Jericho knew he would have to get out of this mess himself or die trying.
Suddenly, from behind the sailor, Jericho saw a pot get smashed over his head. The sailor stumbled back and dropped his dagger. Jericho picked his sword back up, snapped back to his feet, and rammed the point of his sword into the chest of the sailor, twisting it, and pulling it out of his body.
Breathing heavily, Jericho looked around the dead body in the corner, the family huddled in fright behind it, and one brave boy stood beside the remnants of the broken pot that saved Jericho’s life. Jericho walked over to the boy and kneeled before him.
“You are very brave, lad. Courage like that of a knight. I thank you for saving my life. What is your name?”
“…I…I am…Denison.”
“Thank you, Denison. Now, you must help me one more time and guard your family while you all get to Zepathorum. Here…take this,” Jericho handed Denison the dead sailor’s dagger. “Get them out quickly, I must press on.” And with that Jericho left the house and continued on his path. He came upon three royal guards lost in confusion.
“You three… come with me,” directed Jericho.
The four of them ran down the street into an assembly hall at the end of the row of stables. Inside, as Jericho predicted, were more than twenty civilians hiding out. Children, women, old men, all clenched each other tightly, cowering in the shadows. Jericho heard screams coming from outside.
“GET THEM OUT!” He ordered as he ran over to the door where the screams were coming from. Two of his soldiers began getting them up and getting them out of the hall, while the other armed himself and stood by Jericho’s side.
In from the door came five amethyst-clothed soldiers, not sailors. The lines from the battle must be breaking. This battle was almost lost. Jericho took a deep breath and sprang into action.
He jumped up, kicked one back into another one, spun around while switching his sword’s position to backhand, and sliced the abdomens of two soldiers in one fell swoop. They hit the ground as the other two regained their stance and charged once again, while the last soldier battled with the guard that stood beside Jericho.
Jericho alternated between opponents, parrying back and forth; up until he caught the handle of one sword, and swung the soldier around to get hit in the head by the other’s sword. He released the dead one and kicked him into the other soldier, pinning him down on the floor. Jericho walked over to the trapped soldier, kicked the sword away from him, and drove his own sword into the soldier’s head.
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The last dark soldier was still battling with the royal guard. Jericho came up from behind them and cut the soldier’s legs out from underneath him, as Jericho’s companion came down upon the fallen foe with a killing stroke.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You would have done the same for me. Now go, help the troops get them up the road,” said Jericho, as he left.
He wanted to get a look at what was happening down in the city. Jericho peeked outside and saw a most disheartening sight. Not only was the rain pouring fiercer than ever and most of the towers and buildings of the city smoldered with black smoke, but dozens upon dozens of dark warriors were making their way across the roads and grassy knolls for the stables. There were too many of them.
Jericho had to think and act quickly. If he ran, the stables would be sacked instantly. Surrendering any poor citizens that Jericho and his troops missed. If he stayed at the stable and formed a front there was a chance that they could get surrounded. If that happened, they would not be able to secure the gate for the retreat. Jericho was conflicted.
After quickly reconsidering a solution outside of strictly two options, his mind was made up. He ran back into the hall, they were all gone, out the door, back towards the stables. Good. He caught up to them in no time. They had reached Mortikahn drawing in the southern line to meet them.
“Send a quarter of the troops with the retreat,” ordered Jericho, “tell them to hold the gate as long as they can.”
“What about us?”
“We’re going to rush the city and cover your father’s right flank on the beach.”
“We’ll be walking into the most congested part of the battlefield, Jericho.”
“I know. That is why we are going together, cousin.” Jericho finished as he opened all the gates inside the stable. “And we won’t be walking.”
The entire infantry that Jericho and Mortikahn had left were turned into cavalry, and the battalion made their way for the inner city. The rest of the horses were used to help with the evacuation across the boulevards to the city limits.
“BOWS AT THE READY!” screamed out Mortikahn.
They all loaded their bows. The charging cavalry swiftly ran through the approaching enemy on the spanning hills and was now at the boundary road of the inner city. As they crossed the road Jericho screamed, “FIRE AT WILL!”
The arrows were shot straight up into the air and practically disappeared in the rain. Once everyone’s quivers were empty, they switched to swords and entered the thick of the city.
Between the fog and towering buildings, it was hard to see much of anything. The city was pure chaos. The docks were all but destroyed. When they hit the last line of buildings their arrows returned from the black sky and rained down on the crash-landing ships. They met their enemies with two fronts and blew by them with little resistance. The dark soldiers tried to capitalize on the cavalry passing by, but they were caught by the storm of arrows. Mortikahn galloped down the right side of the charge, parrying sword-strokes and decapitating heads one after another.
Jericho looked up at the corrupted city skyscrapers. They were in shambles, ready to crumble to the floor. Jericho remembered when he docked here and was first greeted by Axion and Mitakahn before the funeral. That seemed like such a long time ago. Now the city had completely flipped over. It was a shadow of what it used to be.
Jericho worried about Mitakahn and Anilithion… where they were, if they were okay. He wondered what would have happened here today if Mitakahn was not banished. What he would give to have all of his cousins by his side right now.
A loud crack interrupted Jericho’s thought. A skyscraper above him had finally given into the torment of the day, between the rain, the battle, and black algae it was toppling over into another tower beside it. Jericho called for everyone to move out from under the plummeting debris when he was caught by a piece of glass in the arm. It cut right through his armor and broke his skin. Jericho quickly wrapped it up and led the cavalry under the wreckage. His hand was wet with what was most definitely blood, but there was no time.
He mumbled under his breath. “Please make it. Please make it.”
The tower came down right over them, raining chunks of itself at them sporadically. Did Jericho just lead them right to their doom? He thought they were fast enough to make it. The truth was right in front of him now, not at this rate, no way. Then the edge of the falling building grinded up against the closest standing tower, slowing its fall. The stall gave them enough time to just skirt by before the remnants of the once Linchester Tower found its final resting place across Broad Street.
Jericho checked his wound. It didn’t look bad, but it was still bleeding. Another loud crack sounded off down the block, and then another and another, loud enough for every district to hear. Jericho led his battalion out of the inner city as the towers collapsed all around them. Mortikahn took the lead, for he was already familiar with this area, as they came upon the northern edge of the beaches. He looked back at the dying city. After this there might be nobody left to save…
The dragon kingdom warships had covered the entire shoreline, to the point where Anilithyìstad could no longer see where the reinforcement ships landed. It mattered not. Anilithyìstad screamed out from his left “HOLD THE LINE!” but it was pointless. The lines were failing. They were getting clobbered, attacked on all sides equally as hard on the beach. Anilithyìstad was getting overwhelmed. He could only do so much. They were not worthy foe, but their sheer numbers were no match for Anilithyìstad’s response team.
He was cutting down enemies left and right, saving countless soldiers. But the enemy front just kept rolling in, without end. And even still, upon the horizon, more ships were entering the bay, just to crash against the beaches and docks.
Now the inner city collapsed. The overflow would obliterate them. Not to mention, the left flank was about to break. Anilithyìstad galloped towards the extreme left of the line. He got there just in time. He read the enemy force like a wild tide, and here came another wave. He got his men in ranks and braced them for the direct assault. They were the end of the line. They had to hold the line.
Thankfully Anilithyìstad had a brief moment where the center of the fight was in control so he was able to respond to the left. Now the only question was, what of the right flank? He could tell, it was wavering. There was nothing he could do right now. In came a surge of enemy troops trying their best to get around them. Anilithyìstad broke out from behind his soldiers so he could bring his horse to a gallop and outflanked the strike force, a diversion.
Like water hitting rock, the Dragon Kingdom’s army bounced off and collapsed in on itself in a failed attempt to flank the edges of the left line. Anilithyìstad cut back in and right through them. He heard screams from the right flank and feared the worst.
At that moment on the other side of the frontline, Jericho and Mortikahn had arrived with their cavalry.
“Gather the troops! Split them into two brigades. I shall lead one far right. You shall lead the other after my brigade along the edge of the line,” commanded Jericho.
“What of the left side?” asked Mortikahn.
“Look closely. Your father is holding it.”
Hooves paved the dirt in dire haste. The horse princes were in their element. They once again divided their outfit of troops into two separate divisions. Jericho led his division to the extreme right of the beach first. They charged with their horses, screaming like wild animals to gain momentum. Mortikahn waited until Jericho’s charge was halfway between them and the battle, and then called his division forward.
Jericho’s division came down hard upon the battlefront, sweeping back in all the scattered enemy troops attempting to break the line along the edge of the frontline. Mortikahn followed behind him, and together, the two divisions formed a hook maneuver, shoving the entire right flank of the battle back towards the middle and the water. What was left of the already small army of royal guard soldiers had won their part of the battlefield for the time being. They had collapsed both enemy flanks in on its center.
Mortikahn held back with his division to make sure no reinforcements got around them after the hook. “Regroup!” shouted Mortikahn, “ARM SPEARS!” he continued as more dark troops ran up at them from the shores, “FIRE!” Everyone, including Mortikahn, threw their spears far over the foot-printed and blood-spilt sand, into the chests of the approaching enemies.
“DRAW SWORDS!”
Metal sliding out of sheaths sounded off as the soldiers braced for another bout. “WE MUST HOLD THIS GROUND MEN! FOR THE PRIDE!” Mortikahn’s steed kicked up onto its hind-legs as the horse whaled with prominence.
“FOR THE PRIDE!” screamed out every soldier wielding a sword for good. They kicked their horses into action.
Another wave of Dragon Kingdom soldiers clashed against Mortikahn and his cavalry regiment. Mortikahn’s shield stood out amongst the rest in his company; only alike with that of Jericho’s and Anilithyìstad’s shields. Instead of gold and crimson circular shields, theirs were black and brown “U” shaped shields, with three points at the top and one point at the bottom, and the symbol of a mighty silver stallion on its hind legs, resembling very closely to the pose that Mortikahn’s horse had just performed.
Strike after strike seemed to enhance the outline of the horse on Mortikahn’s shield as he continuously blocked one sword stroke and retaliated with one of his own. Foes were dropping all around him. Mortikahn followed the thought in his mind like instructions, block, stab, parry, block, stab, dodge, block, stab, finish, block, stab, kick. It was clockwork.
Jericho was still pushing his small group of cavalry through the line, making his way from the far right to the center. Jericho ran both through and against the grains of the lines, his division gradually dispersing and reinforcing the entire right-half of the battlefront. He released the rest of his battalion into the left flank and reconvened with his uncle.
The time for retreat was now. There was little more they could do. Anilithyìstad was preparing to make the call. Three dispatchers were huddled behind him, protecting his blindside. He turned to give his orders, “Call for the retreat. One of you go to Mortikahn and inform him, one of you inform the inner-city evacuation team…time is up, and you,” he pointed to the dispatcher in the middle of the three, “make haste to the gates, tell them to begin the flight to Zepathorum if they haven’t done so already. Go! Now!”
The three messengers saluted and galloped off. Anilithyìstad then turned to Jericho, “You have to get to city hall.”
“What!?”
“The capital building. We must retrieve the city’s records and family heirlooms,” explained Anilithyìstad.
“Uncle, we don’t have time!”
“We must do this, son. We must honor the ancestors, and all that they have done for this city before we give it up to the enemy, even if it is not our own kingdom.”
“I see.”
“Do it for your uncle.”
“For King Theomitus! So, what’s the plan?”
“Leave now, you know where it is. The same hall where we held the wake for the king. You will be quicker alone. Take all that you can carry. If you have time…remember your history lessons and grab Arkenorth artifacts worthy of rescue.”
“Yes, uncle. Anything Castle Ark related. Right away.”
“Good lad, good luck.”
They nodded at each other and headed off in separate directions. Jericho made his way back into the city and prayed it wasn’t one of the towers destroyed. Anilithyìstad kept fighting as he continued to keep an eye on Mortikahn’s position. Their regiments slowly came back together in the middle and Anilithyìstad signaled to Mortikahn that he was ready for retreat.
Mortikahn returned. “Father, I met Galastad in the city. He has been leading the evacuation downtown, he is their salvation.”
“He did his part just as you did yours. But we saw the fall of the city from here. It is time to go.”
The retreat orders were put into full effect. The wounded and defeated soldiers were the first to retreat with Mortikahn leading the way. Anilithyìstad stayed back and held what little land they could along the center of the beaches. The safety net that Jericho and Mortikahn had created when they rolled through the city center dwindled exponentially, and a frightening number of darksiders were bearing down on Anilithyìstad’s right flank.
Naturally, all of the hard work he put into the left flank was immediately undone. He slowly moved his battalions back to avoid getting surrounded. This army of darksider sailors were some of the worst he’d ever seen. They were winning by sheer numbers and that just pissed Anilithyìstad off. Soon enough the retreat was in full effect, and his battalion grew too small to stick around any further. So, he took the ones still not completely exhausted and made their way to the city limits.