The human archers cycle through their ranks; those in the front would take their shots, and fall back to let the next rank take theirs. This was decided so that the inexperienced archers didn’t hit anyone in front of them by accident. Just a little over half of the human archers even managed to get their arrows to fling forward on the first couple of shots they took. By the time their fourth, and fifth time came around, however? They worked like a well-oiled machine. Loose the arrows, fall back, move forward, loose arrows, fall back, move forward. The human ability to adapt and learn is truly something amazing. Even the cowardly, weasel of a man who had tried to convince me to do all the fighting was doing his part; though the paleness of his face displayed his fear. Though their forearms were reddened, quivering, and bloodied, they continued their task. All the while, some of the Efran children who had wanted to help, bring arrows to refill the empty quivers of all.
The Efrans that climbed the walls were assailed by the arrows, while I, and about ten men from the infantry that had broken off pushed back against them on the walls. To ensure that none of us are touched by any stray arrows, I keep a dome of wind howling around us. With spell, sword, and spear we pushed them back to the first ladder, leaving scores of scorched, slashed, and broken bodies in our wake. I heal the wounded as we push on, and make sure everyone’s Repels are kept up.
The ratman climbing stabs up at me with a spear, and I yank it out of his grasp, before sending him falling back to the ground with a solid punch, before pointing my wand down the ladder.
“I allow the blood of the salamanders to flow through me.”
Burning ash washes over those climbing. The first catches a face full and falls backward back to the ground. The one underneath was smart enough to raise his shield.
“You that bind the all, move for me.”
The aether slams against the raised shield, and I hear its arm snap. Or perhaps that’s the rung it clings to as it, too falls from the ladder. One more cling to the ladder. I throw the spear of the first down with as much force as I could muster. The spear punches through the top of the dogman’s head, and the ladder was finally clear. As another tries to begin to climb, I yank the ladder up over the wall, onto my shoulder, and toss it into the town like a javelin. The ladder smashes into one of the buildings at the edge of the 15-yard clearing between the walls and the beginning of the maze of wattle and daub buildings. The ladder broke apart against the wall, and the show of brute, wild strength invigorates the defenders. We push to the next.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Glancing over the side, I see a contingent of Efrans break away from the main force, and split off in either direction; one heading toward the watch tower above the outpost, and another heading toward the treeline, and then toward the surface of the lake. As they neared the shoreline, the General’s forces rushed out and ambushed them; overwhelming them quickly. Another contingent was sent out from the main force, and the General’s forces vanished back within the woods. Perhaps they knew instinctually not to challenge the apostle. A break-off force of about a hundred Efrans chases the General and his forces into the woods, and I hear combat erupt near the watch tower as the small reserve force we had kept there makes contact with the force that broke off in an attempt to flank our position.
Gore stains the wooden walkway, as we step over the bodies of the already slain. Still, more drop-down in an attempt to charge the infantry, but it is not enough. The soft clicking of ladders being set against the walls behind our small group, and ahead of us lets me know that it's time to retreat. We have killed maybe fifty Efrans altogether on the walls.
I begin to back away, and most of the others follow suit, a deerman, the only Efran that had come up to help on the walls, charges forward into the crowd with its horns lowered. Its antlers skewer the first enemy it comes across in the chest. The Efran grabs hold of the antlers as it dies, and the others stab forward with their swords and spears. The first three points are pushed away by the invisible shield over his body as the deerman tries to pull away.
I rush forward in an attempt to try to save him, but the fifth, sixth, and seventh attacks run him through, and his body goes still. I order the others with me back across the body-strewn walkway, and I make sure that those following us do not get to them. Flaming arrows smash into their shields, and blue bolts of lightning crash against them, and coalesced aether pushed them back as we retreat to the stairs leading down into the small clearing in between the walls and the rows of houses, and hold there. I send the ones who had been up there with me the longest back down to rest and ask them to send up an equal number of more rested people to help hold the staircase.
Like this, we hold. We hold for dear life against wave after wave of Efrans. Few of us die, but most of us hold on. When I see that the others are waning, I send them down for rest, and others come up. We hold as the apostle’s spells send shockwaves across the skies, and shake the earth. We hold, even as a part of the wall gives way and the Efran’s main force begins to assail us from both sides. We hold against flying arrows and flowing blood. We hold with sword, shield, spear and spell and grit. We hold for the dear promise of breaking dawn bringing relief and breaking the siege.