Arturo stopped his horse, who was panting heavily. He had nearly killed her with how hard he was pushing her. Talin Grad couldn’t be more than a day’s ride away. The smell of smoke and cooking food drew his attention. The sun was low, and off in the distance were several fires.
Part of him wanted to stay back in case it was the invaders. He couldn’t fight a camp’s worth of enemies. If the camp wasn’t friendly, Arturo would fail at getting his revenge. That was when he noticed movement nearby and a couple of horse riders came trotting toward him.
I could run, Arturo thought. Instead, he stayed close and realized the riders couldn’t be part of the invaders. They were wearing torn clothes and didn’t look much like fighters. One of them had a spear in his hand while the other had a sword. Both looked uneasy as they approached him.
“Who are you?” the skinny man asked.
“Arturo. Are you part of the camp in the distance?”
“You here to help retake Talin Grad?”
That explained it. Poorly armed people, most likely farmers or shopkeepers. “Take me to your camp,” Arturo said. He hoped the others weren’t as badly trained as these two. If the entire camp was—well, the invaders would have no problem slaughtering them.
“Name’s Dan. This is Jared,” the one holding the spear said.
“What’s behind your cloak?” Jared asked.
“Let’s go.” Arturo urged his horse forward and headed toward the camp. The two followed behind him. Once he got over the hill, he saw the camp. There were few trees and a wide-open plain. No way someone could sneak up on them, at least. The camp was bigger than he expected. Not many tents, but plenty of people huddling by fires.
As he rode into the camp, he could tell most of the men and women weren’t fighters. Most were ill-equipped and would probably die once the fighting started. Arturo was surprised to find himself feeling sad about that. Innocent people fighting and dying to retake their town. He thought he had become heartless when it came to battles. Perhaps it was the reminder of Arindall.
Children were in the camp as well. Some were crying, and others looked lost as their parents didn’t appear to be nearby. Arturo stopped, causing Jared and Dan to halt next to him. “Do you have a leader?” Arturo asked.
“Aye, we do,” Dan said.
“Take me to him.”
Dan and Jared looked at one another.
“Follow us,” Dan said and led the way through the camp.
They headed to a large tent. Arturo stopped his horse and was surprised to see no guards next to the tent. Dan and Jared got off their horses and led the way inside. The leader was much more impressive than the others.
“You look like you can fight,” he commented, eyeing Arturo up and down.
“I’m the best warrior you’ve got,” Arturo said.
“I don’t doubt it. Name’s Navrone Dashone, leader of these sorry group of fighters,” Navrone said. “You two, get back to your patrol.”
Dan and Jared hurried out of the tent, leaving the two of them alone. Arturo kept his cloak on and dropped his bag on the ground. “Do you think this will be enough to retake Talin Grad?”
“No,” Navrone said without hesitation. “We have no chance with our current forces.”
“Why aren’t you getting actual soldiers to help?” Arturo asked.
“Simple. These raiders, or attackers, whatever you want to call them, are entrenched in our homes. Getting reinforcements could take weeks. Our king may take even longer depending on how the rest of the nation is going. I want to attack before reinforcements arrive.”
“Have you seen additional troops or heard something?” Arturo said. Regardless of their current strength, he was going with this group into Talin Grad. They would most likely die or be captured—well not him, but the others. This could be his only chance at revenge.
Navrone shook his head. “I expect the enemy will have reinforcements coming. Why else would they keep hold of Talin Grad?”
“Good point.”
“I’m waiting for a couple of scout reports before attacking. Perhaps, Tarmella willing, we’ll get more warriors like you.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Arturo said. “What if the enemy retreats?”
Booming laughter escaped Navrone, who took a few seconds to compose himself. “That would be the best news. Our odds of victory are small as it is. To save the lives of my people and get our homes back would be a gift from Tarmella herself.”
I hope the invaders don’t retreat, Arturo thought, a little guiltily. He wanted to fight and he would go there by himself if he had to. Doing so would be suicide, which is why he hoped the attack was soon. His blood itched for a fight.
A couple of men entered the tent with soup and bread for Navrone, and he asked them to bring more for Arturo.
“You’ll need your strength,” Navrone said. “I’m expecting a scout any moment now. What I’m told will determine my next move.”
Arturo said nothing, instead thinking about Jen once more. He regretted not being able to talk with her before this fight. The Whispering Mists would be a great help. If time wasn’t of the essence, he would tell Navrone to send someone over to ask for help.
“So,” Navrone took a seat and motioned for Arturo to take one too. “What do you have against these raiders? It’s obvious you didn’t come here out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Personal reasons.”
“All right, have it your way.” Navrone started eating and the tent was silent for a bit until someone entered the tent.
“Kolton! What news?” Navrone asked.
“Some good news,” Kolton said, glancing over at Arturo before continuing. He was wearing better armor than the other fighters and it was obvious he had seen combat. “One hundred soldiers are headed this way from Mylon. They should be here by tomorrow.”
“Excellent. That could be the difference between victory or defeat,” Navrone said. “What about the enemy? Anything new?”
“Nothing. No one has left Talin Gard nor has anyone entered. I sent a couple of scouts to check the coastline. There are empty boats and nothing else. Doesn’t look like reinforcements are coming yet,” Kolton said.
“Good. Get some food and rest.”
“Food does sound good,” Kolton admitted and rubbed his stomach. “I’ll let you know when the other scouts return.”
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Arturo was brought some food by the same two men who entered as Kolton left. “When will you attack? Tomorrow?”
“No,” Navrone said. “Two days. I’ll want the hundred soldiers to rest before attacking.”
Two days felt like an eternity. That was enough time for the enemy to leave or receive reinforcements. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to get some rest myself.”
“All right. I’ll keep you updated,” Navrone said.
Arturo left the tent. He didn’t want to speak with any of the others and get to know them. Most of them would die. One hundred soldiers wouldn’t make enough of a difference. He had fought the invaders and they were trained. The people here would be slaughtered like lambs.
The two days passed slowly. Arturo talked with Navrone and Kolton. Kolton was an interesting man, a former guard to King Harold who had left when he fell in love with his wife, Yelena. His wife had been killed when trying to escape Talin Grad, leaving him in the same situation as Arturo: he wanted revenge.
The hundred soldiers that arrived were far better equipped, as Mylon kept a local militia to combat bandits. Half of their forces were sent. Arturo still thought their odds of victory were low.
All of Navrone’s forces were gathered not far from Talin Grad. The city was right in front of them and the invaders had a few scouts watching them. How many soldiers were in Talin Grad? Arturo took off his cloak and unhooked the sword on his back.
Kolton looked at him more curiously than before. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, though some of the others whispered to one another. Then, Navrone rode forward with his horse, stopping in front of their small army.
Roughly six hundred of us, Arturo thought. Fear was in the air. Some were shaking and a few vomited. Civilians had no place on the battlefield. Farmers, shopkeepers, and who knows what else. These people would die and there was nothing he could do about it.
“It’s time!” Navrone shouted. “Today, we take back our city! Today, we show these raiders that we aren’t to be messed with! Who’s with me?”
The response was underwhelming. Perhaps half the group yelled, and not loudly. There was far too much fear and they had all seen what the invaders were capable of. “Let’s retake Talin Grad. Attack!”
Arturo ran forward. Most of the people didn’t have a horse and he didn’t see the point in bringing Sheila. They would be fighting in a village and he was better on his feet than riding a horse. Once they were halfway to the village, dozens of archers appeared and started firing.
Arrows pierced many in the crowd, who went down yelling. Arturo never stopped. More and more people fell and some began to slow down and were pushed around. Once they made it close to the archers, swordsmen came pouring out of the houses. The first invader to come at him wore the same symbol as the invaders at Arindall. He split him apart, along with three of his friends, with a couple of swings.
Metal clashed on metal and the screams got louder as swords, axes, and spears pierced flesh. The invaders were slaughtering the group. Kolton was holding his own, along with Navrone, but the others weren’t putting up much of a fight. Four of Navrone’s men were cut down for each invader that was killed.
Blood sprayed all over Arturo as he cut through his enemies. Each swing was lethal, decapitating heads and sending limbs flying. Suddenly, the invaders started retreating, which brought a roar from the attackers. Arturo didn’t like how easily the invaders were pulling back.
Not waiting for any orders, Arturo rushed forward and the others followed. Navrone was yelling, though he couldn’t hear what over the screaming. Kolton was next to him and they led the rest into Talin Grad.
The village was a mess. There were still bodies from when the invaders first attacked. Blood was everywhere and most of the buildings were destroyed or had been burnt down. The enemy troops stopped their retreat and turned back to face them.
“Pull ba—” Navrone was interrupted as more invaders came out of the nearby buildings and surrounded them.
Arturo barely blocked an arrow and dodged a spear that would have split his skull. He swung his sword and cleaved through two invaders and blocked an upcoming axe strike. Gritting his teeth, Arturo kicked the axe man in the chest and cut down five more opponents.
The others weren’t having as much luck. More of the attackers were struck down. Kolton was doing his best at killing the enemy and keeping himself alive. An arrow was stuck in his left chest plate. Navrone wasn’t doing much better. His face was cut and he was bleeding from his left side, yet he kept fighting.
There were so many invaders; far more than there were at Arindall. They were relentless, firing arrows and striking at Arturo and the others. It was pure slaughter. Of the six hundred troops who attacked, he estimated a quarter had been slain.
Arturo refused to fall here, not until he had his revenge. He attacked furiously, striking down enemy after enemy. Before long, he cleaved a path and saw who he had been looking for: a man with black hair and gold lining his black armor, wielding a curved sword.
He is here, Arturo thought. Time seemed to slow down. These past three years had been so full of fighting. He had pushed himself every day and he hoped it was enough to kill this man.
The man used his curved sword masterfully, slaying five men in seconds. The ground was red with blood and the man didn’t even break a sweat as he turned his attention to a couple more. Rage filled Arturo. This man had killed his brothers and helped ruin his life.
Ignoring everything around him, Arturo charged. The invader slew the last three soldiers around him and met Arturo’s blade. What? Arturo didn’t understand; his sword should have shattered the blade!
The man was quick, blocking Arturo’s strikes with ease. The invader dodged his next attack and his sword split a wooden bench in half. The man countered and Arturo barely evaded the strike, gritting his teeth as he blocked the follow-up blow.
Their swords intertwined. For the second time, Arturo was shocked he couldn’t push the man back. Physically, he should be stronger and his sword was heavier. How was he having so much trouble? The enemy looked calm; his green eyes bore into Arturo’s.
“You’re the best fighter I’ve ever faced,” he grunted and stepped back, avoiding Arturo’s next few attacks. “Even better than the two brothers I killed a few years ago.”
“Those were my brothers!” Arturo growled and attempted to chop off the invader’s head. The curved sword knocked his blow aside and sharp pain erupted from his left cheek, thigh, and stomach. Blood was dripping down his armor and splashing the ground. He took a few steps back. How did he cut through my armor?
“Well done. You moved quick enough to protect your vitals.”
Arturo felt fear for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t afraid of death; every soldier went into battle knowing there was a chance of dying. His fear was failing to avenge his family. If he died now, Jen would be left alone. Whoever this person was, he was an expert fighter; his strikes were precise.
Arturo was infuriated to remember his father saying this man was the best fighter he had ever seen; that even if Archard, Arturo, and the twins fought together, they would be slaughtered.
Arturo gripped his sword tightly and attacked again. His opponent grew serious and counterattacked. Three more cuts, each quick and precise. Only Arturo’s reactions had saved his life again. The curved sword struck his left rib cage, right shoulder, and left bicep. The air left him as a foot connected to his chest and he was slammed into a wall.
The invader remained where he was, smiling at Arturo. “This is rare indeed. You’ve not only blocked some of my attacks but survived six cuts. Would you be interested in joining me?”
“Never. I’ll kill you for what you did,” Arturo said and raised his sword into a defensive stance. There had to be a way to break the invader’s defense. But how? A few more strikes and he wouldn’t be able to fight at all. His body was already enflamed as blood dripped down from his wounds.
The invader eyed Arturo and moved forward, his blade held high. Seeing his chance, Arturo rushed forward, blocked the invader’s strike and closed the distance. His shoulder slammed into the man’s mouth, sending him stumbling backward. Now’s my chance! Raising his sword, he swung with all his strength, ready to strike down this evil man.
A burning sensation erupted from Arturo’s stomach and his attack stopped mid-swing. His sword slipped through his fingers and landed on the ground with a loud clang. He looked down to see the invader’s sword buried hilt deep in his belly. Blood was dripping down the man’s chin, but that was nothing compared to Arturo’s injuries.
He wrapped his fingers around the blade, his hands shaking from pain and exhaustion. This is it. I couldn’t do it. The realization was more painful than any physical injury. Letting go of the blade, Arturo fell onto his back as the life leaked out of him from all his injuries. The ground all around him was quickly turning red.
“My, my, you are quite the fighter,” the invader said, wiping his chin. “First person in this region to harm me.”
Arturo wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of answering. He was dying. All he could do was wait for the sword to plunge into his chest or bleed out.
The invader knelt and stared at Arturo’s face. “As you have been a worthy opponent, I shall give you my name before you die. Kyrad Durmaddon.”
“W-what?” Arturo couldn’t stop himself from saying and regretted it instantly as he coughed. Durmaddon. That was impossible. The entire Durmaddon family should be dead.
Kyrad’s grin widened. “So, you recognize the name. I’m glad these lands haven’t forgotten their true rulers. I—” his face grew serious and he stood up and looked around. A few seconds later, he moved his sword and deflected three arrows and a spear from hitting him.
Two more invaders ran up to them. “Sire, someone in that direction can use the power!”
“You’re a dead man anyway,” Kyrad said to Arturo and turned to his two men. “Let’s pull back. We aren’t equipped to deal with a power user right now.”
Arturo wished he could move, but his injuries were too much. His vision was beginning to fade. What was going on? How could Kyrad be part of the Durmaddon family and why did they wait so long to return? He couldn’t think much more as darkness took him.