-
Casimir turned away from Cromwell and looked back out into the woods where Kon had disappeared. He had another bite of jerky and opened a small tin he had also pulled from his pack. These were the last of his supply, and he felt a small pang of regret as he popped the coffee beans into his mouth, crunching them between his big orcish molars for the energy contained within. He frowned, there was no time to brew a proper cup, and coffee beans didn't come cheap.
A shame, that.
When he heard the voice behind him he whirled and half-drew Hecatoncheir, before realizing it was Lady Kon and sheathing it again, bowing.
"Apologies Lady Kon, it seems the little fox was unwilling to assault the bandit camp with us, for he has chosen to leave. He did not seem fit for such an assault anyway. Cromwell and I are for the fight, however. Command me as you wish."
He bowed his head again then looked into her eyes. She had said there were nearly forty bandits, a mage, and she had begun to list another when she had become distracted by the departure of the little fox.
"Lady Kon, you said there was a chief, a mage, and a what?"
-
"A giant," John finished. He tapped the excess ash from his cigar away, humming in thought for a moment. He willed his armor to slide away out of sight, it was protective, but not comfortable during long periods. The metal slid away like quicksilver, revealing the burn scars that crisscrossed his arms like dozens of rivers flowing from his chest into his hands. He traced one with a finger as he spoke again. Tracing the scars soothed him somehow, made him believe that he was more than something to be looked at.
And if a dragon couldn’t kill him, then neither would a giant.
His mind steeled against the oncoming battle, the half-giant looked up, bright blue eyes that were somber a moment ago now filled with purpose. He addressed the girl.
“What do you think? You take the mage, I can handle the giant, and Casimir takes the chief?”
Casimir rose, his vigor renewed by the promise of battle. An old teacher’s words came to mind.
‘Pain heals, chicks dig scars, and glory lasts forever.’
Somehow that thought always made him smile a little.
“Now,” he said, cracking his massive knuckles, “Where are they?”
-
I didn't answer Cromwell in words so much as I started walking a path the two big men could handle easily. The giant with liquid armor seemed all right, but the half-orc looked half dead of exhaustion already, which made things more difficult. At least the human hadn't started another rampage. I'd have just let him rage himself into the rocks.
"I'll do my best to get the mage, but my first priority will be thinning the crowd a bit. However tough you are, a swarm of bandits is going to hurt, and I'm willing to bet some of them will flee if they see their friends getting mowed down. I'm hoping that some will cower at the sight of us. Orcs are scary, you're half a giant yourself, and I'm an elf with a bow. I wouldn't bet on it, though. They're incredibly organized and they definitely expected military intervention at some point." Giants are expensive to feed, but the cost of having a mage (presuming he or she wasn't related to the bandit leader) was exorbitant. How many women and children were they moving?
Considering the price of slaves of a certain purity and caliber? They'd only have to move about six or seven a month to break even. The supplies and merchandise they steal is the profit. How loathsome. I felt dirty for even being able to calculate the value of a life, and I've taken plenty.
If Cromwell and Casimir had been Unfoundlings, I would have spent the twelve minutes we took on the mile walk in giving them instructions, but they were not mine to order, beyond this: "If I can get a boost on to the palisade after I take out the archers, I'll be able to start shooting before any of those bastards knows what's happening."
I didn't look behind me for an affirmation; one or the other of them would be willing to toss me a few feet.
We stopped in some thick brush just before the clear-cut in front of the fortified mine shaft. The men looked at me expectantly, but my focus was on the archers. The one on the right was young and dutifully attending to his watch. He probably had hopes and aspirations of proving himself and rising higher than his current lowly station. The other one, a few years older, had given up. He leaned on the wall, head lolling, more in the realm of dreams than the realm of the waking.
Sorry, kid. You're actually paying attention.
My arrow started glowing the moment notch hit string. The alert archer turned immediately, peering into the murky dawn to see the source of the strange light. I caught him right in the heart; he fell with little more than a gurgle. It was enough to snap the other out of his doze, and he died with a second Starlit arrow through his eye.
"Let's go."
-
Casimir left his lance and pack under the tree, figuring he would either return for it or die. He crunched the last few coffee beans and marched off behind Lady Kon and Cromwell. She led them along an easy enough trail, and in a bit less than half an hour they stopped a moment. Kon quickly and easily took out two archers with ensorcelled arrows and Cas rushed forward with her, giving her a boost onto the palisade as she had suggested. She was almost laughably light, and he had no trouble tossing her up quickly and returning to Cromwell.
"You think you can burst through the gate? I'll be right behind you, and we'll sort the lower men as swiftly as we can. If we make a big enough commotion, Kon will be able to thin the herd while they are focusing on us."
Casimir adjusted the strap of his helm and drew Hecatoncheir. He began to feel that stirring that always filled his blood when battle loomed. His mother had called it the "blood-song" and he had always felt it appropriate. He knew in his head that war, while sometimes necessary, was never a good thing. He knew also that killing was not to be lauded, and he did not draw pleasure from it.
But when his blood began to fill with song, when he felt his tired body reinvigorate and tingle. When he felt the storm of struggle he realized, somewhat ashamedly, that while he did not like to kill, he loved to fight.
Dance with me, Death.
-
(Note: The song bit was written by Bard/Drum, and has allowed its use here. What a guy amirite?)
The end of John's cigar glowed for a moment, the only indication of his presence in the darkened forest. The elf dispatched the two guards with practiced accuracy, then vaulting herself upon the surrounding wall to lend support.
Slowly, it rose up within him as Casimir spoke. Not quite fear, not quite excitement, not quite anger, and yet it was all three; the feeling built and built within him, like a monsoon, until after Casimir finished, and a great song of his people rang in his head as he smiled, almost humming the tune.
"I hear the cries of women and children underneath some heathen lord.
And once again I grasp my shield and I take up the sword.
For the calling of the raven’s feast,
So the worm has plenty at my board,
Come at me and die, you dogs,
I was a man before I was a lord."
He turned to Casimir.
"Commotion? Now commotion I can do. Take my shield when we get through, it will help."
Liquid metal rose to coat his skin, and he drew on his cigar once more before spitting it from his teeth. He grabbed his shield from his back, melding the metal on his fists to the back of it, and nodded at Casimir.
In a split-second, he was off, rushing toward the gate with shield outstretched. All was quiet except for their feet on the ground until his shield met the wooden gate of the outpost.
A thunderous crash followed, doubtlessly rousing any guard in earshot, and the crossbeam split in two, spilling John and Casimir both into the courtyard. As the guards mounted, John pounded his shield into the earth beside him where Casimir could grab it.
The soldiers rushing to defend the gate recoiled as they were met with the sight of John, appearing as no man, but as a frightful war-golem, an elemental of steel given power by the earth and loosed upon them for their transgressions. They met his armor-coated eyes, his gaze as cold as the Salvar mountains and trained on them for one purpose and one purpose only.
To save the weak by destroying those that would prey on them.
His armor grew tendrils downward, his strength growing with the power of the earth, his rage growing with it as he clenched his fists.
"Come and pay for your evil, cowards!"
-
That's right, boys. Leave your archer up on the wall while you do some sort of loud dance number really far back. That makes a lot of sense.
If I'd wanted a steel drum set announcing my presence, I would have hired a band. I wouldn't have minded the one I got, except he found the need to run me up and then run back. What the hell?! In decades past, I would have had Mutt and Hammer at my back. Though neither of them were as big as Cromwell, we would have been through this door and halfway to our target, because Unfounded doesn't mess around. Even in the Red Forest, the disparate groups of strangers I'd been stuck with had come together to destroy Pode's minions.
What had happened to the plan here?!
This is what I get for hiring two strangers because one's big and the other's a half-orc. Stars above, this would have been faster on my own.
Bandits were already rousing well before the men crashed through the barrier. One noticed me scramble into the archer's tower. "Intruder!" Of course I shot him through his damn throat, but the damage was done. Everyone woke. Several already had a little armor and some weapons drawn by the time Cromwell shattered the wooden wall and drove his shield into the ground. A few corpses laid waiting for him on the inside of the palisade already - fools who didn't understand that when dealing with an archer who only had a limited angle, the best idea was to stay the fuck back and let the mage deal with it.
A moment of quiet fell after the metal man's challenge. The low ranking rabble stood still, not even really sure how to start fighting him. Deeper in the cave, I could hear water dripping and children crying. I could also hear a giant grumbling at having his breakfast interrupted, the rustle of mage robes, and the deliberate donning of at least some light plate.
I looked at the scene from my perch. A crossbow bolt thudded into the log just in front of me, and I answered with a whistling arrow that brought its mark to an end. I had no idea how the big guy expected the half-orc to pick up a wall of delyn that didn't have anything for him to grasp. I had no idea how anyone expected to use it.
Well... it is a wall. This poor bastard beside me has a longbow and appropriate quiver. I bet that angle and a more powerful bow would be a dangerous combination. Hmm.
-
Casimir followed Cromwell into the crushed gate. He bore a vergescu, and without obvious purchase on the huge slab of heavy metal that Cromwell had left him he did not think he would be able to even lift it, let alone wield it in combat. Cromwell's challenge sounded out, and Casimir let out a roar of his own. Holding Hecatoncheir on high.
It worked as intended, drawing the bulk of the camp's attention to the two knights standing at their gates, seemingly alone. In a moment it all began in earnest, an axehead flashing forward only to be rebuffed by the pure white shield he bore, the ensorcelled brand in his right hand lashing out like lightning, splitting his attacker's skull at the temple. A sword flashed finding his mail, the padded gambeson beneath absorbing the brunt of the force. He turned and drove the sword deep into the bandit's unarmored chest, slamming his shield forward to drive the corpse from the blade.
He felt revitalized, exultant. He stepped in front of Cromwell's shield to use it to guard his back as his foes pressed towards him. The fury of his mother's kin flooded him, made him perceive detail and intent in sharp relief.
His heart thundered and his blood felt like lightning as he struck down the nearest to him, spilling his belly on the dirt.
-
Blood pounded in John's ears, punctuated by the clash of sword on shield, or Casimir shouting as he struck down another of their enemies.
Another soldier rushed him, sporting a crudely made metal helmet, a sword and wooden shield. He swung his sword down, connecting with John's forearm as he drove his fist into the man's helmet, denting the thing and crushing the skull inside. Another fell beside Casimir, their pile of bodies growing as an arrow bounced off of John's armored shoulder. His head rang mightily, but over it he heard a roar, deep and gravelly, almost like the sound of a rockslide. A lull in the combat followed, and through the hole of the mine stepped a giant, fifteen feet tall at least. He bore a scowl upon brown, almost black skin, and nearly appeared to be carved from the earth itself, as if it were a creation of the mine. It opened its mouth and roared again, raising a maul with a ten foot haft, and a massive head.
John's blood boiled at the thought of battling it, and he answered with a roar of his own, drawing his metal roots back into his armor so he could move again. He stepped forward, and a younger soldier swung an axe at his head, just missing as John grabbed his forearm and punched the man in his ribs below his shoulder, hearing a crunch as the man fell, writhing in pain. He snatched the fallen man's axe from the ground and sprinted forward with as much speed as he could gather, bowling over an archer as he ran.
The giant turned its attention to John now, and John swung the axe over his head, hurling it at the monstrosity. The giant flinched as it bounced off of one of his pauldrons, and swung his massive hammer to the side, and John barely had time to anticipate the attack before the head of the maul struck his body, sending him flying into a nearby shed, blowing through one wall and crushing several barrels inside.
Pain erupted from his shoulder and hip as John pushed himself to a knee, looking up through a haze of dust at the giant, who seemed intent on finishing him off before turning his maul upon anyone else.
-
The distraction of two big, burly men in armor meant that there was much less attention on me, so I grabbed the longbow and its arrows, then launched myself over the wall to land lightly on its interior. I sent an arrow spinning over Casimir's shoulder and into the skull of a man still five paces away from him, meanwhile dashing for the cover of Cromwell's shield.
Bad decision. Another bandit was coming around at the same time to try to catch the half-orc in a flank. He'd been hidden from my sight, especially since my eyes had been momentarily turned the other way. Instead of startling back, the black-haired human startled forward, stabbing into a weak point in my armor. Cold steel lanced through leather, flesh, muscle and organs like an awful claw of death.
I don't remember drawing and shooting. I just saw the arrow punch through his head, and then he was nothing but a body.
His sword fell with him, pulling out of my body and letting forth a viscous red torrent. I gasped at the sharp, sucking pain and dropped to a knee, curling up behind the shield and pressing my hands to my wound. I'd been stabbed before, but I'd never bled quite so much, quite so fast.
Aaye Earlon... A prayer to the Sea-Star flitted across my mind of its own accord, and I felt the wound tingle throughout. Faint sparks of light peeked out from my fingers, but I didn't know if I had the time for the... whatever this was, to work.
Megillion grant that no one else come around that shield for a minute.
Beyond the big dark gray wall, I heard a door open under the sound of all the pandemonium. Someone scoffed contemptuously, and the atmosphere of the entire mine changed. The bandits seemed to grow louder, bolder, angrier.
Their mage and chief had taken the field.
-
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bandit thrown onto his back by the violent force of a long arrow through his head. Casimir heard a gasp of pain from behind the shield Cromwell had thrown down and he stepped back to see Kon laying there, blood seeping through her fingers. Another bandit was rounding the great escutcheon, an axe held on high, and Casimir threw himself forward, leading with the shield to slam into the human and send him sprawling. He stood over the wounded elfmaid and roared protectively, smacking the blade of hecatoncheir against the vergescu he bore.
The bandit had risen and closed again, lashing out with his axe, Casimir dismissively caught the axe on his shield and brought his sword down on the arm that carried it, then over and across his neck. He spared a look down at Kon.
"Will you live my lady?"
It was then he felt the change in the bandits, and looked up to see the man who was clearly their chief and his mage emerge into the melee. The chief was a head taller than Cas and bore a broad bladed axe, sized for two hands, on his shoulder and a sword on his hip. He was armored in mail not unlike that worn by the knight, and carried himself as a man born to battle. Casimir continued to stand in defense of Kon, but his eyes focused on the warrior approaching them.
For the first time in this assault, Cas felt unsure about his ability to defeat such a foe, especially in his state of adrenalized exhaustion. He reached deep within himself, coaxing the fire in his blood and stood yet straighter and taller.
I am a knight, and I will put myself to the hazard. My honor is my life.