2
The Hounds at Halem
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The grassland we ran into was the picture of chaos.
To our right, hundreds of feet away, a group of soldiers formed a shield wall, holding the line against a charging mass of orcs.
To our left, civilians fled in droves, desperately scrambling to make it inside the relatively safe walls of the town.
In front of us, a knight led a charge from horseback, taking herself and her soldiers on the offensive.
All around us, men and women and monsters fought and lay dying, transforming this once peaceful farming town into a red wasteland.
This mayhem was the usual fruit of the Legion’s rampage. Wherever the monsters marched, death and destruction followed close behind.
For as long as anyone could remember, the aberrant races of the Legion had repeated this brutal cycle -- killing and pillaging along the northern borders to their hearts’ content. And time and time again, the people of Eostia banded together, doing their best to repel the invaders back north to their homeland.
This was a fact of life, like an earthquake or a wildfire, or any other natural disaster.
But… that cycle changed when the… the Dark Queen and her Black Citadel appeared…
“The Dark Queen?” I mumbled.
Next to me, Keane quirked an eyebrow, but I dismissed his question with a shake of my head.
“Alright,” Hicks yelled, leading us into a jog, “the militia and the Shielders are taking care of the flanks, so Vault himself is leading the center. See that?” He pointed towards the west, where the banner of a snarling black dog on a red background flew high in the air beyond a hill. “That banner means he’s managed to get the upper hand, so we’re to go there and reinforce him.”
He then gave me a dry, fox-like smirk. “And since you’ve already volunteered yourself, you get the honor of fightin' right alongside the Hounds, Ansel. You lucky, lucky, devil.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, despite the obvious gravity of the situation. “Alright, I’m ready.”
The way was perilous. Even though most of the horde was focused in the west, there were still several stragglers milling around our area. And the mass of monsters would only intensify the closer we got to our goal.
Somehow, the sheer pandemonium of the battle worked in our advantage. Most of the aberrants in our vicinity were too preoccupied with their current foes --mostly militia members and soldiers of the Alliance-- to be bothered with a trio of strays like us. We were able to cover some good distance without being interrupted, up until we were halfway to our destination.
At the edge of a brook, a posse of nearly a dozen orcs and two minotaurs surrounded a unit of local militia fighters. The aberrants were sparsely covered by shoddy and rusted armor, most likely pillaged from past raids, and armed with crude cleavers, clubs, and spears.
But even in comparison to them, the men and women of the militia were shoddily armed, and trained even worse. One young man, who seemed to be around my age, was armored only with a tin pot over his messy black hair and wielded a pitchfork. They were already wounded, steadily being whittled down and driven further into the tiny encirclement.
I tensed up, ready to leap in, but stopped when Hicks raised a fist signaling “halt,” and sent me a warning glare. “At least wait for a damn plan,” he said, before turning to Keane. “Take care of the--”
“Already on it,” Keane said, his eyes closed as he gripped a wooden staff and curled his fingers into a strange shape. Within moments, I caught the scent of burning charcoal in the air.
Hicks huffed in annoyance, before looking back to me. “Well, what are you waitin' for? Go get ‘em, Shielder.”
I didn’t hesitate for a moment further. I unsheathed my longsword and banged it into my shield, shouting and hollering, making as much of a racket as I could to draw the aberrants’ attention. A good number of them started in surprise and turned to face me, exposing their backs to the militia they were meant to be surrounding. The militia fighters took advantage of my distraction, slicing and stabbing into the enemy’s backs with wild abandon, pushing forward to break the encirclement.
And then, Keane unleashed his spell.
Three lances of fire streaked over my head, soaring through the air to slam into three of the orcs. I smelled flesh burning, as two of them shrieked in pain, while the third slumped back, killed when it was struck between its eyes.
“Thank you!” a blonde spear-wielding woman shouted to us, as she and the others with her repositioned to stand by our side. I continued my charge towards an orc, ducking under its clumsy swing, and retaliated, thrusting my sword into its throat.
I didn’t have even the briefest moment to celebrate my kill. From my blind spot, another orc tackled me, easily bowling me over into the shallow stream with its inhuman strength. I gasped and sputtered, feeling the wind get knocked out of me as the orc stepped over and began pounding at me with its meaty fists. I tried to put my shield between the two of us, but the angle was just too awkward for my arm to cover me properly. Then, a spear sank deep into the top of its skull, showering me in its blood. I pushed the orc’s corpse off me and climbed onto my feet. A few feet away, I caught sight of the spearwoman, grinning and giving me a thumbs up.
I smiled back, pulled the spear out of the orc’s head, and chucked it back to her. “Thank you!” I repeated to her, as I turned back to the small skirmish. With our help, the militia quickly managed to turn the situation around, striking back and managing to slay most of the enemies. However, a handful of orcs still remained, along with the two minotaurs.
Just across the brook, the pot-wearing man was backpedaling away from one of the minotaurs, using his shoddy pitchfork to try and keep the beast away as he did so. But his foot slipped suddenly on a loose, wet rock, sending him stumbling down.
”Shit!” he screamed as he fell, the pot falling off his head and rolling over into the distance. He rolled over onto his back and began to desperately scramble backwards. “Shit! Shit!”
The minotaur let out a victorious snort and hefted its machete high over its head for the killing blow.
I managed to make it just in time to place myself between the two of them, catching the cleaver with my shield. Still, that mighty blow was jarring, sending a jolt of pain down the length of my right arm.
“Hicks!” I shouted, and the Hound was there within a heartbeat, easily sliding behind the minotaur, sinking both swords into its back. The aberrant let out a muffled whine as both its lungs were pierced, and then slumped forward, dead.
I let out a heavy breath and shook my arm around, before turning around and offering the man I’d just protected a hand up. “Are you alright?”
He hesitated briefly, looking at me in shock, before accepting my hand with a nod. “Y-yes. Thank you,” he said as he stood. “I--”
Whatever else he was going to say was completely drowned out as a monstrous cry assaulted our ears. The other minotaur, the last remaining aberrant of the small group, roared in outrage at the sight of its dead kindred. It trailed a hoof along the ground once, twice, thrice, glaring hatefully at Hicks. Somewhere behind me, I could smell burnt wood, most likely from Keane preparing another lance of fire.
With another growl, the minotaur began rushing forward, raising its club as I rushed in front of Hicks, ready to receive its charge.
And then a horse landed on top of the monster, the sheer force of the impact pulverizing both creatures with a resounding crack.
...What?
How the hell did that just... what?
Before I could ponder the event any further, a massive man fell from the sky and slammed onto the ground before us, cracking the terrain under his feet.
At over seven feet in height, he was just as tall as the minotaurs, and easily dwarfed the three of us. His long blonde hair resembled a lion’s mane, falling wildly around his back and shoulders and connecting to a thick beard. His body was a mass of tanned, rippling muscle and scars. He wore only a loincloth, a pair of vambraces, and sandaled greaves. In his hands, he held a strange eastern weapon, the handle of which made up half of its length, which left me wondering if it was a sword or an oddly curved glaive. He scanned the surroundings for a moment, before his golden eyes finally landed on Hicks and Keane.
I was surprised when he smiled, raising a hand in greeting. “What-ho, Keane! Hicks! How goes the battle?”
Once again, I was left wondering: What?
“Dammit, Ghirem!” Keane shouted, stomping up to the much larger man without even a hint of fear. “Watch your aim! You damn near hit us with the horse!”
“Ah, did I?” That man, Ghirem, seemed genuinely surprised at Keane’s outburst. He glanced over at the dead minotaur, then towards Hicks and Keane. “Hm, but I hit my mark, and didn’t harm you at all. So I suppose it’s fine,” he said, completely dismissing the mage’s accusation.
He then folded his arms and glanced over the rest of our group curiously, ignoring the curses and complaints the two Hounds sent his way. “The Legion sure is energetic today,” he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “The imps are faster than normal, and a couple of the orcs even got some good hits in. This is a good batch!”
Was he… actually happy that the enemy was this strong? “What the hell are you talking about?” The words escaped me before I could even think to stop them.
When he caught sight of me, he did a double take. His gaze traveled up and down my form, absorbing every detail. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat nervous, as if a dangerous beast was sizing me up as prey.
“I’ve never seen this one before,” he finally said, taking a step forward as he addressed me. “Who you be?”
I couldn’t help but reflexively take a step back as he approached. “Ah-- I’m Ansel,” I managed to stammer.
“Ansel?” He hummed and closed his eyes, as if savoring the name in his mouth. When he opened them again, he nodded fiercely and smiled, showing me many sharp and bloodied teeth. “The blood of your enemies suits you well, boy! Well done!”
...What?
I glanced down at myself, more than just a little confused. Indeed, most of my armor and clothing was covered in dark red splotches. But… I’m pretty sure most of it was actually from when I was laying in a puddle of my own blood just a little while ago.
“That’s not--”
“Look, Ghirem,” Hicks cut in, before I could correct him. “This is a nice chat and all, but we are needed elsewhere, so we should really get going.”
“Are you now?” He tilted his head in curiosity. “And where go you two?”
“To the boss,” Hicks pointed towards the banner, still visible in the distance. “We’re supposed to reinforce him there.”
Ghirem placed his hands on his brow to shade his eyes, and somehow, he managed to smile even wider. “Ah, so he’s at the front of the battle!”
“Yeah,” Hicks nodded. “Think you can help clear the--”
“Good!” Ghirem shouted so loudly that it made my ears ring. “There are countless aberrants along the way!” And with that, he squatted down, leapt right over our heads, and sprinted off towards the west, in search of further adversaries.
“...the way,” Hicks finished.
I’m not sure how to even begin processing what just happened.
“I’d say ‘you get used to him,’” Keane told me, probably having noticed my bewildered expression. “But in truth, there’s no getting used to that.”
“Who was that?”
“Ghirem,” he said with obvious disdain in his voice. “He’s some mountain man we picked up some time ago.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Honestly, he’s a great fighter, but he’s also an absolute lunatic. Can’t walk five minutes without him trying to find a wild animal he can wrestle down, or some shit.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Hicks shrugged. “At any rate, we’re lucky he’s going to draw away pretty much every aberrant from here to there. Let’s take advantage of that and get to the captain,” he said, drawing nods from me and Keane.
Before leaving, I turned back to face the locals. The curly-haired teen still stood behind me, also looking taken aback by Ghirem’s words and actions.
I stopped and turned to see the young militia fighter from earlier standing there. “You guys’re okay?”
He too appeared taken aback by Ghirem’s words and actions, but managed to recover enough to speak. “I, uh--Yeah. I just wanted to thank you again, sir Ansel. I owe you my life.”
“I’m not a ‘sir,’” I corrected. “But don’t worry about it; I--”
Before I could continue, the spearwoman ran up behind him, tackling him into a hug. “Pepin, you idiot!” She cried out, wrapping her arms so tightly around his torso I was actually surprised I didn’t hear his ribs crack. Her green eyes practically shone at me with gratitude.
“Well, you could say I owe her my life, too,” I finished with a chuckle.
“Hey, Ansel!” Hicks shouted back. “Quit fucking around with the bumpkins, we’ve still got a job to do!”
“Well, I gotta get going,” I said to them. “Stay safe, alright?”
“We will,” she called out, as I moved to join the Hounds. “Goddess be with you!”
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We managed to reach the Hounds’ rallying point without any further incident. I guess Ghirem’s wild charge must have been very effective at grabbing the enemy’s attention. Me, Hicks, and Keane arrived at a small barn atop the hill. All around the perimeter, several aberrants lay dead. A good number of them were missing arms and legs, or cleaved apart altogether. From this vantage point, I could easily overlook almost the entirety of the battlefield. To the north, west, and south, I could see our allied lines clashing against the orcs.
But they weren’t moving at all. I thought Hicks said we had the upper hand earlier.
“That... doesn’t look good at all,” Keane muttered with a frown, as we walked further into the area.
Several men, all wearing the snarling black dog’s insignia, stood at the ready just outside the doors. Though they cast me odd looks, they nodded in greeting to Hicks and Keane as we entered.
Several more mercenaries were gathered inside, catching their breath during this brief reprieve.
And there, leaning against one of the barn’s columns, was someone I immediately recognized. The leader of the Black Hounds, the mercenary hero who united all the free companies in Eostia into a single entity: Vault.
He was an imposing man, possessing a tall stature, a muscular frame, and a square jaw. He wore a long red cape over his dark armor, with a pauldron proudly displaying the black dog. His dark russet hair was cropped short, his beard trimmed to a stubble. At his side, also leaning against the pillar, was a massive greatsword, easily as long as he was tall.
This weapon, I recalled, was famously known as Thousandlimbs. Given the countless dismembered monsters outside, I think I could make a pretty good guess as to where the name came from.
He perked up once he noticed the three of us approaching. “Hicks, Keane,” he greeted. “You sure took your sweet time.”
“Apologies,” Keane replied with a shrug. “Maybe next time we’ll just ask the aberrants to let us through politely.”
I flinched, shooting Keane an incredulous look at the cheek he’d just shown his commander.
Vault, however, just let out a disinterested grunt before looking me over. I couldn’t help but tense up, feeling somewhat nervous now that I was the focus of a veritable legend. He frowned and turned to Hicks, gesturing towards me. “Who’s the ginger?”
“That’s Ansel,” he responded, meeting Vault’s gaze without a hint of concern. “He’s one of the Shielders that came with us from Ken.”
“I’m-- It’s good to meet you, captain Vault,” I spoke up, hoping that my stuttering voice didn’t give away my nerves.
Vault crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow, his frown lessening somewhat. “The fuck’s he doing here, then?”
“Eh, we found him lying half-dead in a ditch, and Keane patched him up. After that, he was sticking to us like a lost pup, so I decided I might as well drag him along.”
“‘Lost pup,’ huh?” Vault laughed at that, somehow finding the statement humorous. “Alright then, pup,” he said, giving me a small smirk. “So long as you don’t interfere, I don’t mind you nipping at our heels.”
“Erm, r-right,” I said with a hesitant nod, somewhat unsure of what to make of that.
A moment later, the barn’s doors opened again. My heart leapt to my throat as I turned and saw an orc walking through the portal.
How the hell had it managed to get in here? Had it killed the men outside? How had none of us heard the struggle, then? Were there other aberrants outside, also about to storm in?!
My hand fell down to my side, and I almost grabbed my sword before I noticed the black dog emblazoned on its breastplate. The orc stopped in front of Vault and made a gesture with its arm, which vaguely resembled a salute.
Ah, right. I’d almost forgotten that the Hounds counted aberrants amongst their ranks, too.
Theirs was an army that had been formed from numerous other free companies, all united by Vault. Man or aberrant, young or old, they didn’t discriminate in the slightest. So long as one was strong enough to fight, the Black Hounds would welcome them. This philosophy made them into a force so massive they could sway the tide in the war against the Legion.
I could practically feel everyone’s amused eyes on me as I awkwardly let my hand relax, feeling my cheeks heat up.
The orc muttered something to Vault, who breathed out a curse and nodded. “Alright, gather around!” He shouted, motioning for everyone in the barn to form a loose circle around him. “The situation’s changed; we’ve lost the advantage,” he stated bluntly. “Some orc came along and rallied the enemy. So now we’re locked in a stalemate.”
“What the fuck?!” A man shouted. “We have the cunts cornered! How did--”
His outburst abruptly died when Vault turned his gaze towards him. “The way things are looking now,” he continued, "they’ll probably catch their second wind soon, and break through our lines. And since we’re already spread thin enough as is...”
...Such an event would result in us being overwhelmed and decisively defeated. We all must have realized this at the same moment, as the men around me looked as if the aberrants had already come and trampled over us.
This… this was…
“Fuck,” Hicks simply said.
Vault, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest and simply nodded. “That sums it up, yeah. So, we’ll have to change our plan, too.” With that he knelt down, pulled out a knife, and drew a rough map on the dirt, illuminated by a beam of light flowing through the ceiling.
“Our main lines are engaged to the west, with the Shielders and the bumpkins taking care of the flanks north and south. But it’s a good thing that the aberrants have more balls than they do brains. Here,” he said, tapping at a gap in between the center lines. “They fucked up, you see? There’s a ravine here in the gap between the center and north flank, goes right into the canyon over there.
“The orc chieftain will be there in the middle of it all. So, all we have to do is get through that hole in their formation and kill it.” He drew an arrow, going from our position, through the gap, and into an ‘X,’ behind the enemy lines. “Without their leader, the aberrants will break.” Vault lifted his gaze from the crude map, and met Hicks’ eyes. “Hicks, take this lot with you. I want you to lead this attack.”
“No, fuck off.” Hicks’ response was immediate. “That right there? That is the most painful and elaborate form of suicide I’ve ever heard in my godsdamn life. Even if-- and that’s a big if-- we manage to kill the chieftain,” he said, “we’ll still be surrounded by a bunch of pissed off aberrants, Vault. What do we do then, just fucking die?”
Vault shrugged, completely uncaring about the blatant insubordination. He drew another arrow in the map, this one going directly forward into the enemy formation. “I’ll be leading a cavalry charge to punch right through the center. Provided you kill him fast enough, we’ll catch all the bastards’ attention once we get there. So if you do manage to get killed, it’ll be your own fault.”
Hicks crossed his arms, meeting Vault’s calm gaze with a glare. “And what if your charge doesn’t work? What’re you gonna do then?”
“Die, I guess,” Vault said. “In which case, you have my permission to bitch and whine all you like.”
I was stunned by the casual indifference with which he spoke about the possibility of dying. Did he really have such supreme confidence in the Hounds and his own skill? Or… did he simply care that little about his own life? ...No, that was ridiculous. Vault and the Black Hounds weren’t known for giving up easily or failing. If he really, truly believed that this plan had merit, then it must.
“You don’t pay me anywhere near enough for this kind of shit.”
“No, I do not.”
Hicks finally relented and lowered his gaze with a huff. “Fuck my life,” he declared, as he stomped away, calling for me, Keane, and some of the other Hounds to follow him outside. Once outside, he heaved a sigh, took a look at our group and spoke up.
“Right. Boys, some of you probably remember this Shielder, Ansel.” A handful of them nodded. And indeed, their faces did look vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place names to them. “Ansel, you probably don’t remember them, so I’ll make this quick. That’s Reese,” he said, pointing to the shortest man, who had a strong, stout form and a full head of thick black hair. “Young Edd,” this time, it was a thin, blue-haired boy, who looked like he was even younger than myself. “Landel” was an older man with an impressively waxed mustache and a halberd. “Ryam” was a tanned man wielding a large tower shield alongside a spear. And finally, “Fat Edd” was… well, he was fat. Possibly one of the fattest men I’d ever seen. He was clad in full plate, and carried a shield, a morningstar, and an axe at his back.
Hicks sighed again, exasperated, before continuing. “So, as you already heard, we’re to sneak behind the enemy lines and kill the orc leader. Lucky us,” he said, dripping such sarcasm that the Hounds couldn’t help but let out a few uncertain chuckles.
Keane stepped forward, looking over the hill, then pointed. “You all see that? That’s our entry route.”
I had to squint to see it, but I did manage to spot a ravine roughly in the same position where the gap had been in Vault’s map. It was surrounded by a thin canopy of trees, making it hard to see where it even ended.
“It should give us enough cover to sneak in without getting spotted,” Keane said, drawing a nod from Hicks. “Maybe if we’re quick enough, we can get out that way, too.”
“That’s as good as it’s gonna get, then.” When Hicks turned back to the rest of our team, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his face suddenly twisted into a snarl, as he yelled, “What’s with the long faces, you ugly bastards?! We’re winning this! Let’s go kill us some fucking greenskins!”
His rallying cry sparked something within us. It wasn’t enough to drive away the anxiety roiling in my stomach, but it did fire me up to press down on it, to stand strong, to see our task through. I shouted back in affirmation along with the Hounds, and moved to fall in along them as we began jogging towards the ravine.
“Ansel.” Keane placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. Behind his spectacles, his gaze was hard and serious. “Vault doesn’t normally place this much faith in a newcomer--specially not an outsider. So no matter what you do, don’t fuck this up, do you hear me? We can’t afford to go back for anyone, so try not to fall behind.”
It was a ruthlessly utilitarian mindset, but… I couldn’t bring myself to begrudge him for it. Our mission here would determine the course of this battle, and the fate of the town of Halem. There was just too much hinging on this for it to be allowed to fail.
So I just nodded again. “I understand.”
He held his stare for a few moments longer, before releasing my shoulder. He spoke up again as we moved to catch up to the others. “And if you do wind up getting into a bad spot… At least try to take some of the bastards with you.”
There was a tiny hint of humor in his voice there, but I could tell he meant every last word of it.