Chapter 134
Those Who Fight Further
The journey from Westmark to Bluewater Wall dragged longer than it would have if Daegan, Tanlor, and the Twin Garde men had been on their own. But they weren’t alone; they had the full company of soldiers stationed at Westmark in tow. Altogether, they were just over a hundred strong, including a handful of staff from the outpost. They were a slow moving caravan along the forest road, encumbered by supply carts. There weren’t enough horses for everyone to ride, so they were reserved for scouts and pulling the carts carrying all the supplies and weapons that could be taken from the outpost.
It was a loss. A loss that was felt more keenly by those who had been tasked with defending the outpost. But it was one thing to serve your duty, and quite another to blindly jump into a firing rifle. Staying would have meant death for all of them—a futile stand that would barely make a dent in the forces marching south.
Kashin had sent word ahead to Bluewater Wall, warning of the imminent threat. Reinforcing the fortress with their numbers was the best they could hope for, to make Bluewater’s defences as unbreakable as possible. And they could pray it would be enough to withhold the first wave of rakmen until reinforcements could arrive.
If they arrive. Tanlor thought.
Rusk’s report didn’t confirm accurate numbers of the rak army moving south but the estimates were thousands. They would need all the advantages they could get for the coming attack.
They were five days on the road, and the scouts were already reporting skirmishes against rakmen snapping at their heels. It was assumed now that the rakmen had claimed the now empty Westmark keep. That along with the rest of the outposts this side of the Nortara sheet would be difficult to reclaim.
Tanlor trudged beside Daegan, the Twin Garde men forming an unspoken ring around them. Their presence was deliberate, a subtle but direct message to the soldiers of Westmark, whose unease toward the Reldoni prince was still palpable. Tanlor didn’t miss their guarded glances.
The sun was setting when they finally broke the forest path, opened up into a wide clearing. The land opened before them, sprawling in a wide, low valley. A wide river carved its way through the valley like a glimmering thread of blue glass. Bluewater river ran impossibly clear, the way only glacier-fed rivers could.
Looming on the opposite bank of the river was Bluewater Wall. Its stone was weathered from countless years of holding fast against both the elements and the rakmen forces that had sought to breach it time and again. The town of the same name was sheltered on the southern side of the stone wall. The wall itself had been heavily repaired after the rakmen’s last major attack a decade before, the crumbling gaps patched up. The battlements armed and manned.
At the valley's base, the land gave way not to a shoreline, but to a vast cliff of glacial ice—the Nortara Sheet. Here, unlike any other part of the frozen lake, the ice loomed high, a towering cliff of pale blue and white, rising like a fortress above the earth. The river veered sharply towards it, its current drawn into a dark cavern carved into the ice, vanishing into depths through a frozen cave beyond.
Bluewater Wall pressed right up against this icy giant, as if the stone and ice had merged by design, sharing the task of defending the valley. Chunks of fallen ice, colossal slabs from past fractures in the ice, lay half-buried at the wall’s foundation, cementing it further against any would-be invaders.
“Well,” Daegan blew out a breath. “I see what you meant about Bluewater Wall being the most defensible position.”
“It’s not impregnable though,” Tanlor pointed out. “The bastards have broken through it before, with far less numbers than they have now.”
Cru, walking closeby, grunted his agreement. “Aye, I was there at Balfold when they pushed through last time. Back then, rakmen raids were wild roaming attacks, nothing organised. They got lucky—a war party caught the wall undermanned, with enough gaps for a whole line to march through. Duke Rivers, for all his flaws, did put work into this place after that. Patched the cracks and upped the guards.”
“Where is he now though,” Tanlor grumbled, “when he’s needed most.”
Cru only shrugged in response.
“Hiding in his palace in Nordock,” Tanlor went on, “that’s where. He gave his city to the Reldoni, and now won’t lift a finger to protect these lands from the rak.”
“You lads mentioned before you’ve got a plan for the Reldoni soldiers in Harriston,” Cru went on, “seems if there’s a time to pull that card, it’s now.” Tanlor could forgive the Twin Garde captain his hope in this. They all had it. Daegan was a Reldoni prince, and there were a thousand Reldoni soldiers not two days' march from here.
“We’ve got a plan,” Daegan admitted, “but it’ll need more than just Tanlor and me. Once we get past Bluewater Wall and into the town, I was hoping to break away south. Kashin hasn’t exactly broadcasted who I am, so if I play my cards right, I might get to Harriston without them trying to hold me here.”
“Risky,” Cru muttered. “And who says you won’t just up and vanish once you’re over that wall, eh?”
“I know it’s a leap of faith,” Daegan met the look in Cru’s good eye.
“Twin Garde’s got your back.”
“I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it,” Daegan replied.
“The men know it was you leading that got most of us out of that camp. Puck and Tar have no doubts in you, Yaref too. What do you need us to do?”
“The soldiers at Bluewater Wall won’t be happy to see any men heading south,” Tanlor put in. “They’ll assume we’re turning tail on the eve of battle.”
“Not exactly a lie either,” Daegan added, a hint of irony colouring his tone. “Feels a bit like it, doesn’t it?”
“We’ll say we’re taking the wounded back to Nordock—Puck, Tar, even you, Cru. You've all got enough battle injuries to warrant it.”
Cru grunted, clearly unwilling to seem like a coward but nodding all the same.
“We’ll keep Daegan hidden as we pass through,” Tanlor went on, “draw no attention. That’s the trick, keeping a low profile. There’s plenty of folk at Bluewater Wall, not just soldiers but families, too. With word of the attack, many will be leaving. We’ll look like just another sorry group, heads down, heading home.”
He looked around at each of them. “Stick to that, and we’ll be out before anyone asks questions. Agreed?”
Both Cru and Daegan nodded agreement. Cru went off to relay it all back to the Twin Garde men. It might not sit well with some of them, but this was their best shot.
“What about him?” Tanlor flicked a nod towards Ardy who was sitting in a cart being pulled, claiming he’d injured his leg and couldn’t walk. Tanlor had been hoping he’d have taken his iceraft back east to Urundock but he obviously decided to hedge his bets by following the soldiers.
“I think we’re stuck with him for now, though I’d wager he’ll be heading straight for Nordock. He’s not going to stick around waiting for the rakmen. I think it was just the fear of leaving Westmark on his own that’s kept him with us this far. Either way, I reckon we’ll be rid of him soon.”
They hadn’t exchanged much words with Kashin on the march. The man kept to the head of the column, pushing the pace. Tanlor felt frustrated with the man, if he’d only believed them sooner then they wouldn’t have the rakmen so close behind them.
A deep bellow of a horn sounded from the woods to the west, carrying clear from the Westmark scouts—a warning. Tanlor tensed, listening for the count. One blast usually meant a small war party they could handle. Two meant they should keep moving fast and avoid engagement. Three blasts tore through the air. Tanlor exchanged a wary look with Daegan.
“What does three mean?” Tanlor called over to Cru.
The Twin Garde men had already pivoted, eyes set on the western treeline, forming a defensive line. Another captain on horseback rode along the ranks, barking orders as he went.
“Unknown enemy approaching,” the captain’s voice rang. “Form lines! Pike hedge formation! Ranged runewielders in the rear. Archers to the trees, spears forward!”
“Pikes?” Daegan glanced at Tanlor.
“Mounted enemies?” Tanlor guessed, equally puzzled. “The rakmen don’t have horses, though.” He squinted at the tree line. “And who in their right mind would lead a mounted charge through a forest?”
Phalanx formation was usually the call against a rakmen rush, not a hedge. The confusion flicked across the faces of the other soldiers too, but they held to their training. Rows of spears bristled in the formation, pointed at the woods, ready for anything that broke from the underbrush.
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Tanlor had taken a new greatsword from the Westmark armoury to replace his shattered one. He left it strapped to his back now, favouring the spear he snatched from the armoury cart. He shouldered in beside Cru and another Twin Garde survivor in the front row. Daegan stood just behind him, revolver and bloodstone dagger drawn, pistol levelled at the dark tree line.
A rustling came from the woods, loud enough to send a ripple of tension down the line. Then a shout—“Rangers coming, hold fire!”
Two figures in green cloaks burst from the shadows, running fast toward the line. A gap opened in the spear hedge, and they slipped through, wheeling around, bows drawn back toward the woods.
Tanlor recognised them both as Moz and Scont.
“What’s out there?” Tanlor demanded as the pair caught their breath.
“You said rakmen had… strange creatures at Twin Garde?” Scont’s eyes were wide, darting between them.
“Giant crab things, yeah,” it was Puck that replied, his voice was raspy ever since his injury. “They out there now?”
“They didn’t look much like crabs, but they were big,” Scont answered.
“We thought it was a mounted rak,” Moz added, eyes still locked on the trees. “But the movement was… wrong. Too quick and… twisted to be a horse.”
Tanlor’s knuckles whitened around the shaft of his spear. Whatever was coming, it was like nothing they’d faced yet. He could hear the tense breathing of the men around him, the creak of leather and clinking armour as they adjusted their stances.
“Eyes up!” Cru barked. “Nothing charges through this line without tasting steel.”
As if in answer, Tanlor felt a faint tremor in the ground at his feet, enough to send a jolt through his boots. It came again, a heavy rhythmic pounding.
“You feel that?” He heard a man whisper further down the line.
Then shapes emerged through the trees.
Hulking and wrong, moving with unnatural speed like a pack of giant wolves. Tanlor caught glimpses through the trees—thick, plated arms, bodies bent low to the earth.
"Hold," Cru’s voice was hoarse. "Steady, men.”
The man to Tanlor’s other side muttered a prayer under his breath, something about the moons and stone and spirits of war.
There was a roar from further up the column as a black blur tore into the line. Shots were fired from rifles and a few incidiaries from grenadiers blasted, black smoke pluming.
“Focus!” Cru roared, making sure none of the men tore their eyes from their own targets.
Further up, another captain’s command split the tension, “Loose!”
Arrows and stonespears arced through the air, vanishing into the shifting shadows of the forest, as more dark shapes surged toward them, pounding against the forest floor like a hammer on earth.
Then the first of them broke through the treeline and Tanlor saw it the full light of the setting sun—a hulking mass born of dark hide and jagged bone, muscle and twisted flesh.
The creature was a nightmare. Its body stretched long and low, the size of a wagon, and covered in sleek, blackened hide that seemed to absorb the light. Massive plates of chitinous bone jutted out along its spine and limbs, forming natural armour that gleamed in the dark, each plate sharply ridged with a sickly greenish tint.
Its four legs, thick with twisted dark muscle, propelled it forward, claws ripping into the earth with each stride, leaving gouges in the ground. It possessed a long, powerful tail, segmented and weighted at the end, thrashing through the forest with devastating force, splintering tree trunks like kindling.
The creature’s head was a grotesque fusion of wolf and reptile, its maw stretched wide, lined with rows upon rows of jagged, knife-like teeth. From its forehead, twin horns curved backward, ridged like serrated blades and glinting in the light.
“Draega!” Tanlor heard a man scream in fright from the rear line.
The rak perched atop the beast was as imposing as its monstrous mount. Armoured in mismatched plates of dark iron, fused with patches of dense leather, the rak’s armour looked as if it had been scavenged from countless skirmishes. The rak clutched a colossal spear, longer than Tanlor was tall, and tipped with a cruel jagged blade.
Tanlor heard the sharp crack of Daegan’s pistol, the bullets pinging off the rak’s armour, while others sank into the draega’s flesh with little effect. The monstrous creature kept its pace, barreling into their line like a battering ram, jaws snapping onto a screaming soldier. The rak rider atop it angled his spear down, thrusting with deadly accuracy at anyone within reach.
An arrow pierced the rak’s neck, and he slumped on his hellhound’s back, his spear clattering to the ground. But it didn’t matter; the hellhound was loosed and wreaking more havoc on its own than the rider ever could.
Chaos erupted in the ranks as stonespears flew, followed by the boom and flare of incendiaries. The trees shuddered with movement as more of the hellish beasts tore from the shadows, each carrying a spear-wielding rak on its back.
Tanlor surged forward, his spear ready, and drove it into the nearest draega’s flank, aiming for a gap in the bone plates. It barely registered the hit, pushing forward with relentless strength. It swiped at a soldier nearby, flinging him aside like a rag doll.
“Runewielders, focus on the head!” Tanlor heard someone shout amidst the screams. “Archers and riflemen, take down the riders!”
Tanlor’s spear was still lodged in the draega’s flank, it was wrenched from his hands as the hellhound bucked, tossing him back. He hit the ground hard, quickly rolling to his knees and reaching over his shoulder for his greatsword.
With a grunt, Tanlor swung, bringing the blade down on the creature’s hind leg, the steel biting into thick muscle. But even as it lodged into flesh like an axe into wood, the draega barely faltered, forcing Tanlor to yank his weapon free with all his strength.
Around him, spears and arrows punctured the creature's hide, and parts of its body smouldered where a grenadier’s incendiary had struck. But still, the draega tore through their line, its long tail snapping like a whip.
Tanlor barely dodged one swipe of its claws, but a Westmark soldier beside him wasn’t as lucky; he was thrown, his scream cut short as he was flung into the trees.
Something landed square on Tanlor’s back. Whether it was the creature’s tail or some missed strike from an ally, Tanlor didn’t know. He was knocked flat, his nose hitting the frosty ground.
On your belly was a quick way to get a spear in your back.
Instinct kicked in, and he rolled just as the beast’s jaws snapped down where he’d been.
Or teeth.
Now on his back, Tanlor saw it, looming over him—the underside of the beast, exposed and unarmoured. Without hesitation, he thrust his greatsword up, sinking it deep into the vulnerable flesh. For the first time, a guttural bark escaped the draega, black ichor spilling from the wound as Tanlor stabbed again and again, tearing through the creature’s belly.
The creature’s legs began to buckle. Tanlor rolled out from under it just as the beast shuddered and collapsed in a heap of quivering muscle and black blood. It lay sprawled, riddled with spears and smouldering from incendiaries.
All around him, Tanlor could se through the smoke and haze, the line of soldiers struggling to reform. The soldiers were bloodied and battered but holding strong as another draega fell further down.
Horns blared, sharp and urgent, slicing through the chaos.
“March!” the order rang out, echoing down the line. “There are more on our tail! Break for Bluewater Wall! Carry the wounded, abandon everything else!”
Men stumbled over the fallen, pulling comrades to their feet, hoisting the wounded onto shoulders, leaving supplies and abandoned weapons scattered in the bloody snow.
Tanlor, muscles aching, gritted his teeth and hauled himself up. He reached and yanked a nearby soldier to his feet. The man’s face was pale, streaked with blood and soot, eyes glazed with the shock of battle.
“On your feet, man,” Tanlor said, pushing the man forward.
Somewhere up the line, Daegan was shouting, his voice barely audible over the horns and cries of the injured. They had to move. A distant draega roar echoed from the trees—a reminder that the rak were far from done with them. Rak horns followed.
Far. But not that far.
“What in all the thirteen hells are these things?” Tanlor breathed as Daegan joined his side. Blood smeared across his face, his eyes were wide and fierce. Tanlor couldn’t tell if the blood was his or someone else’s.
“I don’t know,” Daegan admitted.
“Draega,” Cru muttered, yanking a spear from the fallen beast at his feet. “What else could they be?”
Tanlor looked down at the sprawled beast on the frost-covered ground. Even in death, it was a monstrous sight, black ichor oozing from wounds like tar. Even now, the creature seemed ready to leap again.
Tanlor kept his sword clenched in his fist as they hurried down the winding path toward Bluewater Wall. At this distance, he could make out tiny figures moving along the battlements— soldiers that had been witness to the attack. The heavy portcullis was already being hauled open, armoured riders spilling out on horseback to meet them, lances at the ready. The cavalry—a welcome sight.
Daegan was running beside him, the bloodstone dagger still in his grip, his expression was concerned. "Those things," he panted, "the dagger didn’t work on them."
“You tried it?”
“Of course I did,” he replied, a touch defensively.
“What happened?”
"Nothing. Usually, it draws…something, a kind of pull, you know? I just let it do it. But with those creatures, it was like there was nothing there. Hollow.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I think… I think they really are draega. True draega, the kind that the priests talk about. Demons crawled up from the hells themselves.”
Tanlor had never been one to frequent the temples. When a man wields a sword, he shouldn’t do it with the name of a god in his mouth. That had been what his grandfather had taught him. When you raise your sword, you do so because it is what you believe is the right thing to do. To serve and protect the people of your lands. Because it is your duty. Not because a god told you to.
It wasn’t a surprise to Tanlor that Daegan hadn’t believed in draega either. Daegan hadn’t believed in rakmen until he’d seen them for himself. But he had to agree now. These hellhounds were the closest thing both of them had ever seen to a genuine demon.
Ahead, the Bluewater Wall’s cavalry thundered to meet them, horns blaring as they circled the column, vigilant for any rakmen who might dare a final assault. Tanlor glanced back and saw more of the hellhounds stalking the very edge of the treeline, the rak riders holding spears aloft. But they didn’t engage with the horsemen, instead watching to see who would charge first.
Tanlor turned his gaze forward, urging himself onward. His chest burned, but he didn’t dare slow down. Relief flooded him as they reached the bridge spanning the crystal-blue river. They crossed and passed under the arch of gate.
Tanlor glanced back through the gate and saw the hellhounds melting back into the trees, the rak riders pulling them into the shadows.