The air was cool but tinged with the promise of spring that always came in the throes of the thaw. The sun shined brightly overhead, giving light to the slush and muck of the Outwall streets. In the distance, a very familiar horn sounded a deep bellowing note. The sound sent him deep into the past- to memories of blood, sacrifice, and the death of good men. Billy often wondered why he had managed to survive when so many others never came home. He sighed. Perhaps his survival was just a cruel joke of the gods. There was no home for him to return to.
He looked up at the sun as the horn sounded a fresh note, even closer now. Yes- today would be as good a day as any to die. His eyes drifted across the trash strewn cobblestone and decrepit shacks lining the wide road, their timbers showing signs of decay and rot. It felt a reflection of his soul. As good a place as any to die.
The deep note sounded again, louder and crisper. The Venarans were nearing the city gates. They’d be on his position in moments. His hand tightened around the spear he held while he checked the axe at his side with his shield arm. Behind him stood near two hundred Sons armed in thick layers of chain, faces hidden behind iron faceplates. All the boys he’d been training along with the strongest men from other gangs.
Their business was to be as bloody as it was vital. They were to hold the King’s Road for as long as possible, forcing the Venarans to navigate the warren of Outwall streets to reach their targets. It was a death sentence if Marc couldn’t break the Venarans before their line broke.
Truth be told- there was nowhere he’d rather be.
In the distance, Billy could now see the front line of the Venaran ranks through the city gate, the banner of the golden sun held aloft. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as the horn bellowed once more. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was where he belonged. As if the long years of uneasy peace had been the mistake.
He turned to face his assembled men. They lined the road, forming a solid wall between the buildings on either end. Wide eyes stared at him through slits in their visors. Most of them were too young to have any memory of war. Behind him, the horn blared a deep note. Billy ignored it, his gaze drifting across the eyes of his country-men, some of them no more than a few years into their manhood. They clutched their spears like drowning men clinging to driftwood. Their fear and anticipation were pervasive.
Billy called out to them, “Ay! Shit for brains,” he yelled, eyes drifting across the men. They murmured as they tried to figure out who he was addressing. “You know who I’m talking to,” Billy called as if the target of his ire were obvious.
“Last night after I plowed your mother’s barren fields, she asked me why Venar won the last war.” He rolled his eyes. “I told her it was the same reason she had you- A fuckin mistake.”
A few of the men seemed to be catching on that he was putting on a show. Billy shook his head as if he were being forced to bear the heights of idiocy. “Last night, your mother asked me if you boys were ready for this fight,” Billy yelled. “You know what I told her?”
Billy waited until someone from the ranks called out, “What?”
“I told her that the lot of you were ugly stinking wretches who had trouble telling their dick from their sword- or in other words damn fine soldiers,” Billy said, “Then I asked her to shine my sword.” That elicited few scattered hoots and cheers.
“You know how I know we’re gonna beat those Greencloaks bloody?” Billy called.
A dozen men shouted “How?”
“Balls. That’s how,” Billy yelled, “This morning one of you dumb shits walked up to me, sword in hand, asking why you couldn’t get it out of the sheath. And I swear- that boy had a pair of fucking melons swinging between his legs, and I have it on good authority that that’s the smallest pair we’ve got between us.”
Billy paced the lines, spear resting over his shoulder. “I won’t lie to you boys. We’re between a rock and a hard place now. See to your squishy bits, play with your weaponry a bit and let’s fuck these bastards harder than the man to your left fucks your wife.” Billy raised his spear into the air. “The Rills!” he roared
Two-hundred voices echoed him, roaring defiance. The fear still simmered but was tempered by resolve. He turned to face the advancing Venarans. They seemed endless, still formed into a tight column, shields held at the ready to ward off any unexpected barrages. They hadn’t deviated from the Kings Road yet but would need to in order to get past his shield wall- that or wait for a long and bloody fight to end- which would give Marc plenty of time to harass the extended column and draw them out.
The front of the Venaran lines was maybe forty paces distant, close enough that he could make out the features of the nearest men. Most certainly close enough that any sane man would get his exposed ass out of the line of fire before somebody started throwing sharp objects at it.
Billy stuck his spear into a gap between two cobblestones and left it standing there, as he hiked up his mail skirt and expertly unlaced his trousers. He firmly grasped what he hoped was a sufficiently girthy display of Rillish manhood and took a piss. As his patriotic yellow stream hit the stones, the men behind him went wild with cheers.
One of the Greencloaks in the front rank stepped from the line and chucked a spear at him. Billy watched with interest as the spear fell a few paces short and skidded across the cobblestones to his right. Billy hastily shook the last few drops loose and laced his trousers. While the spear did miss, it was still a little close for comfort
He grabbed his spear and backed up to his line. The men shuffled to accept him, and he became one with their ranks. “Shields!” he roared.
As one, the Rillmen raised their shields and leveled their spears between the gaps. Billy held his blade with a steady bead on the Venaran across from him- a man dressed in a plated bronze vest and quilted cloth. The Venarans were largely equipped with their bladed swords and oval shields painted with the golden sun. A muffled command was shouted from within their ranks, and the column fell to a halt.
Billy grinned. “Advance!” he cried.
His men were taken aback as that was definitely not part of the plan and likely seemed madness. Billy stepped forward from the lines without them as if he could care less whether they followed. A moment later, the line lurched into motion and reformed around him in a steady advance towards the Venaran line.
In the distance, he could see the enemy begin to send detachments of soldiers down the side streets as their commanders coordinated their advance through the Outwalls, likely not having expected a blockade of the main thoroughfare. He squinted. Their movements seemed off to him. He recalled most of the targets being on the western side of town, but the Venaran formation was largely breaking off to the east.
Billy shook his head. That was a problem for Marc to worry about. His only job was to hold this road to the last man. He could see the whites of his enemy’s eyes as they flickered across his men with uncertainty. It must have seemed madness to them as well and they searched for a trap that wasn’t there, steady in their indecision.
“Spears!” Billy called, hefting his spear over his shoulder along with all the men in the front line. A moment later they launched a volley of iron into the Venarans who quickly formed a shield wall of their own.
The spears did little damage, but that wasn’t the point. “Charge,” Billy roared, doubling his pace and closing the final paces just as Venaran’s were peeking over their shields. The lines clashed in a cacophony of blood and screams. Billy grinned as he wrenched his axe from a man’s skull.
***
Kid stood a few paces behind Marc as the man stared out over the city. He’d taken up a position on the roof of one of the taller buildings lining the King’s Road, maybe a hundred paces beyond their vanguard. Screams had begun echoing in the distance moments before, and Kid could clearly see their line clashing with the Venaran front line as men screamed and died. Beyond that, scattered fighting had broken out throughout the city as ambushes were spung.
He knew the Venaran forces were huge but the stream of soldiers from the gate seemed endless. He glanced down the line of messengers standing abreast him, a dozen boys of similar age- all looking equally nervous and uncomfortable, balancing on the angled roof.
He turned his gaze back to Marc. The man looked angrier than Kid could ever remember seeing him, though Kid had no clue as to why. Marc muttered, “Why?” over and over beneath his breath as he watched the movements of the Venaran troops.
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Kid knew most of their own forces were lying in wait on the western side of the King’s Road, but the Vernaran’s seemed to be moving east en masse. Kid supposed that was the source of Marc’s frustration. The man’s brow furrowed, and his eyes suddenly widened as if he had come to some realization. “Jeffram, ready the men.”
Marc’s second saluted before running to the edge of the roof and clambering down the ladder that had been raised there. Marc turned to the assembled messengers “Rathe, Chalder, Layman, report to your gang leaders and tell them to bring their men around the vanguard to strike at the Eastern flank.
The two boys ran off at a sprint, following Jeffram down the ladder. “Daylen and Varith, orders are to bring your men through the Rockstone tunnel. Kill whatever you find on the other side.
The boys saluted, fist over heart and scurried off.
Marc’s eyes drifted across the rest of them. “All of you send word to press hard and strike along the King’s Road if you must. We need to press hard.”
Kid saluted with the others and moved to leave the rood but froze as Marc called out to him. “Kid.”
Kid turned to face him, a question in his eyes.
“You know where Melna is?”
An icy lance of fear ran through him as he realized what Marc suspected. His eyes widened. Lissa.
“Go,” Marc barked, “Move them, hide them- whatever you can do.”
“Me?” Kid asked, sputtering. “Why-”
Marc cut him off. “My men need to join the vanguard. They’ll have to hold far longer than I’d thought,” he said, voice hurried as he donned his iron helm, “Go. Now. Don’t let me down.
Kid didn’t hesitate a moment longer, scampering across the roof to the wooden ladder. The line of messengers had nearly cleared the ladder. Kid raced down the rungs, more falling than climbing and hit the ground hard, taking off at a dead sprint down the streets. He wanted to avoid the fighting where possible, but the fastest route would take him perilously close to skirting the edge of the Venaran lines. He really had no choice; they already had a solid lead on him. His only advantage was that he knew the city like the back of his hand.
He rushed through narrow alleys that would be impassable for a larger man and dove through holes under fences dug by feral dogs long ago, his clothes now dripping with muck and slush, bringing a chill to his bones that soon faded as the exertion warmed him.
Countless nervous eyes stared out at him from cracks in the shutters of the wooden homes, all filled with fear. Part of Kid wished he was with them, huddled inside with the illusion of safety. If the Greencloaks wanted in, the flimsy doors and makeshift shutters wouldn’t keep them out for long.
Many times, he caught sight of Venaran advance parties scouting the streets. Some were having fun with the locals, banging on doors, cracking windows, and laughing all the while. More than once, he saw them kicking down doors to the sound of screams. Whether under their orders or of their own volition, Kid didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter.
Kid dove around the final street corner, panting heavily as he came in sight of Melna’s home. There were bodies strewn on the street outside, both Venaran and Rillish- the men Marc had set to guarding the home. Kid’s heart leapt into his throat. He was too late.
He hesitated, slowing. He could run and never look back; try and carve a new life out somewhere else. Marc would never forgive him, and equally importantly- he’d never forgive himself. Kid steeled his nerves and advanced, rushing down the street and praying no more Greencloaks appeared. He heard crashing and screams come from inside the home.
He knelt next to one of the bodies and pulled free a bronze dagger from one of the corpses. Warm blood dripped from the blade as it gleamed in the sunlight. Kid shuddered as he looked to the door. It’d been kicked in and hung awkwardly on one hinge. He crept forward as more screaming and crashing came from the home, followed by an inhuman screech. Kid crept through the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene.
The room was drenched in blood and scattered with mangled corpses. Lissa and Melna were huddled together on the far side of the room, looks of horror written across their faces. Kryll screeched a piercing wail, his thick claws rending the flesh of a corpse as he bucked against a pair of soldiers pinning him to the ground with a pair of spears wedged between his plated scales. A final soldier faced off against Hilda who stood between him and Melna, frying pot in hand.
The Venaran seemed loathe to turn his back on Kryll to deal with Hilda, leaving the room locked in a stalemate as Kid crept inside. Kryll bucked and wailed, nearly making the men holding him down lose their footing. For all his efforts, he just made the spears dig deeper into his flesh. Rivulets of dark blood cascaded to the floor as his movements weakened, claws digging deep furrows into the wooden floor.
Kid could hardly breathe as he crept behind one of the men, hand shaking. The Venarans wore thick cloth and plated vests. Kid didn’t know if he even had the strength to get the knife through the fabric. That left him with one option. As he was almost upon the man, Kid charged forward with a mad scream. He caught onto the man’s shoulder with one arm and with the other, pushed the dagger into the meat of his neck.
Blood came out in a rush over his hands. The man let out a scream that finished as a gurgle as he fell to his knees. Kid withdrew the dagger and rammed it in again.
The soldier lost his grip on the spear as his hands leap to his throat, pawing at the dagger grinding against his bones. Kid pressed harder against the blade as the soldier’s hands weakened and soon fell away.
The other Greencloak was now quickly losing control of Kryll as the beast thrashed with renewed energy. With a snap the man’s spear split in two, sending a shower of splinters across the room. The man hardly had time to raise his arms before Kryll was upon him, claws rending through armor and bone with ease.
Kid stared wide eyed at the scene as his mark slumped to the ground, dead at his feet. The remaining Greencloak whirled on Kryll, sword at the ready, only to crumple to the floor as Hilda’s pan crashed into his temple. The woman screamed as she followed him to the ground, bashing his skull with the pan again and again.
Kid’s hands were shaking, and the knife fell from his grasp. A moment later, he’d fallen to his knees, vomiting bile across the bloody floor. He gasped and staggered to his feet, fingers scrabbling for his fallen blade. There was time for that later. More enemies could arrive at any moment.
“We need to go,” he shouted, rushing back to the door and glancing outside. More troops were approaching in the distance, this time in force.
He staggered back inside. Kryll mewled softly on the floor, the strength seeming to have faded from his limbs. It was only then that Kid realized how mangled he was. It looked like somebody had taken a hammer and chisel to his plated scales. Some were simply missing, revealing tender, bloody flesh beneath. Lissa had already crawled to him and was stroking his back with blood-soaked hands, tears streaming from her face.
Hilda limped on unsteady feet toward her daughter, and that was when Kid noticed the deep, bloody gash running the length of her left leg. On the far side of the room, Melna was staggering to her feet. Kid ran to her, offering his arm to support her.
She took it with a weak, grateful smile. “We have to go,” he said, voice cracking.
Melna coughed, placing a hand over her mouth as she did so. “Child, do I look like I’m capable of running anywhere?”
Kid opened his mouth to respond but found words had failed him. It wasn’t as if he could carry her.
“Are they coming?” she asked.
“More of them are almost here,” Kid whispered.
“Take me to him,” she said, eyes on Kryll.
Kid held her arm as he led her to the fallen beast. He helped lower her to the ground by his side. Kryll’s eyes flickered to them, but he seemed to lack the strength to lift his head. A pained mewl escaped his snout.
Melna laid her hands atop him, stroking the bloodied scales. “My dear friend. I fear this is where I leave you. It has been an honor.” Her eyes drifted to Lissa. “Remember what I taught you and know that there is still so much more to learn.”
Lissa cocked her head in worry and confusion. “What do you mean?”
Melna ignored her and Kid was surprised when Melna looked to him. “On the altar is a Golden Briar. Bring it to Billy. He’ll know what needs to be done with it.”
Her hand reached out and found his shoulder, pulling him closer. “Tell Marc-” Her voice cracked. “Tell Marc the girl is everything I’d hoped.”
As she released him, Kid nodded. “I will.” As he strode toward the altar, a brilliant pink light shined from Melna’s hands. He squinted his eyes as he looked over his shoulder to her. Kryll’s wounds were knitting themselves together before his eyes, broken scales mending and regrowing over his soft flesh. Melna’s blue eyes shined radiantly with power, glowing almost as brightly as her hands as tendrils of pink light searched out Kryll’s wounds. Her wrinkles deepened and flesh sagged along her face and her arms before it began to grow taut around her bones as if her very blood and flesh were being sucked away. The brilliant light dimmed as her eyes drooped.
Lissa was screaming while Hilda and Kid looked on with wide eyes. The light faded, Melna’s hands trembled, and her emaciated corpse fell to the ground, flesh wrapped tight around her bones.
Lissa fell over her, shaking her body and screaming her name over and over. Kryll’s eyes blinked as if waking from a dream. He rose to his feet, turning to see Melna. A keening sound fell from him as he knelt next to Melna, pressing his snout into her.
Kid finished his journey to the altar, seeing the thorny, golden brooch resting atop its surface. He scooped it up, wincing as the thorns pricked his fingers, and deposited it in one of his pockets. He turned, walking back to Lissa. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her firmly away from Melna. She struggled in his grasp. “We have to leave. Now,” he reiterated.
“I- She-” Lissa seemed incapable of words. She slumped in his grasp before rising to her feet of her own accord, eyes still trained on Melna.
Kid pulled her to the rear of the house where Hilda leaned against the wall by the rear exit. Lissa’s eyes widened as she saw the wound along her mother’s leg. “Mom, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hilda said, reaching out and stroking Lissa’s cheek. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Kid saw the lie through the pain in Hilda’s eyes. His eyes drifted to the wound. He doubted she could walk more than a few paces at a time before collapsing. He said nothing, pushing the door open and looking outside. The way was clear for now. Kryll’s keening continued from behind them until Lissa called his name.
Kid looked over his shoulder to see Kryll nudge Melna a final time to no avail before lumbering toward Lissa. Kid grabbed her and pulled her through the door, running into the streets. He heard Kryll’s booming footfalls behind them followed by the door clicking shut.
Lissa looked over her shoulder, a look of sheer terror crossing her face. “No,” she whispered.
Kid grabbed her as she tried to run back, hauling her away from the house. It took every ounce of his strength to keep her from escaping as she clawed at him, screaming murder and tearing at his arms. As a crash and the sounds of fighting erupted from within the building, she collapsed in his grasp, seeming to have broken.
Kid pulled her along down the street, looking back a final time as they turned a corner. Smoke rose from the home and flames flickered in the windows. Nobody would be following them the way they came. Kid tore his eyes from the sight and focused on leading them to some semblance of safety.