Book 4: Chapter 60: The Battle for Hume IV |
Tain deflected a spear with his shield, pushing into the horned-man’s defense as he jammed the ruin that was left of his sword into his eyes, pushing it deep into his skull. He turned around, grasping his shield with both hands as a bladed arm swung toward him. The blow lifted him from his feet and threw him back. He rolled, spitting out mud and blood as a cleaver swung toward him. He leapt onto his feet, dodging it, and swung his shield, braining a harby that had been grounded by a blast of flame further afield.
He’d been separated from the others for a while now, but he didn’t have time to even think of rejoining them. He ducked down, grabbing half a spear that was on the ground and jamming it upward, managing another killing blow and buying himself another half a second. Another cleaver swung toward him and his shield gave out, shattering from the hit. He felt a fracture in his arm for just a moment before it healed and he gripped the splintered wood of his shield in his hand and jammed it into the cleaver holder’s throat. As the horned man fell he grabbed his dropped cleaver and swung it wildly, buying himself just a bit more space.
He smiled. He was going to die. Eventually the healing would stop, or he’d take a lethal hit, or his body would simply give up. His every muscle was already shrieking at him, begging for him to stop moving. He wasn’t planning on giving up though. If they wanted to kill him, they were going to have to earn it.
He buried the cleaver deep in the shoulder of a chitin-armored horned-man before swinging around with a gauntleted fist and managing to hit a diving insect-creature killing it instantly. He grabbed its corpse, smashing its lance-like nose into a diving harpy’s leg before he was suddenly hit by a whip-like tail that sent him skipping across the battlefield like a stone.
He landed hard against a large stone. He coughed out a mouthful of blood before his shattered spine healed. One of the scorpion creatures was approaching him, with four bladed arms unfolded and its clawed arms opening and closing as it approached. It was easily four times his size, and it seemed to be smiling gleefully as it approached.
Tain stood up, wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his right gauntlet and raised both of his hands in front of his face.
“Come on!” he yelled. “I’m not dead, yet!”
The creature chittered with glee and charged forward toward him.
Tain went to swing a wild, angry fist at him, his mind clear of all thought in that moment. The creature stopped just short of the strike though, not allowing him the satisfaction of even an ineffectual strike, and swung all four of its bladed arms toward him at once.
No blow landed though.
He opened his eyes to see a golden figure armored in gold. He had caught the scorpion’s blows with his sword and shield. He pushed them off of himself and cried out with a voice that Tain recognized, bringing down his sword in a downward strike that sent a spray of ichor into the air. He sheathed his sword and turned to Tain, holding out a hand.
“Rein?” he asked, taking the offered hand. The golden figure drew him into a brief embrace before drawing his sword again. Tain saw a spear down on the ground and grabbed it. They stood back to back as rift creatures began to surround them. Tain could see hundreds more figures of gold appearing.
…
Trina felt the moment that Michael’s healing began to fade and immediately began pouring out her old healing energy to those around her. She was amazed that he’d managed as long as he had. Thousands of men and women kept standing by his sheer will even as he fought. She could understand his hesitation to make for the rift. The truth was, they likely wouldn’t be able to hold out without him. Still, if only the current rift creatures outside of the rift survived and the rest were cut off, they could save Hume and that was the priority. She was going to keep everyone standing as long as she could.
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She deflected a spear with her buckler before sending golden flames across her sword. The horned man hesitated when he saw the fire of it and she quickly ran him through before deftly dodge a globule of acid, dismissing the smite as she moved. She didn’t have reserves like Michael did, but she’d learned other tricks to compensate. She dodged and shuffled around the enemy, keeping them distracted with feints and parries, never meeting them head on, and activating smite only for the killing blow. She was lucky the king had granted her a titled sword, otherwise it would’ve long since melted away.
She moved to Clara who was holding up a barrier as a half-dozen harpies swooped and scratched at her. She was nearly there when a horned-man caught her in a charge. She barely managed to adjust her body in time to keep from getting gored, but she was still tossed backward, landing roughly in a patch of mud.
She quickly healed herself and continued her run toward Clara. Her barrier was fading. She wasn’t going to make it in time.
Just before Clara’s barrier faded, a golden figure jumped onto it and launched herself into the air, skewering a harpy with her rapier before landing with her boot planted firmly against a horned man’s face. She deflected a spearblow with her buckler before running through the horned man that had just rammed Trina, twisted her rapier brutally as she dragged it up through his stomach before drawing it back and kicking the body to the side.
Lys turned to Trina and gave her a wink.
…
Lance swung his sword, the momentum provided by his horse allowing him to carve through a scorpion’s flank as he passed. He’d somehow managed to survive another pass through the rift-creatures disorganized lines with his horse intact. He looked around for the knight that had been charging with him, seeing only an empty horse at his side. He grabbed it by the reins to keep it with him as he charged for a small gap to gain some breathing room.
He narrowly made it, finding a moment to take a breath and sweep his eyes across the battlefield. He needed to rejoin the other knights if he could. The less cohesive they were the greater the risk would be.
He couldn’t see anyone. In fact he couldn’t even feel Michael’s healing. Had he pushed too far afield? Just as he was about to reorient for another charge he saw gold appear back toward the lines. At first there were only a few dots of it, then suddenly there was a constellation. He heard the horse next to him whinny and he turned to see that riding it was a knight in Stent armor wearing no helmet. His head was shaved and he nodded at him as he raised a lance of gold launching his steed forward.
Lance stared wide-eyed as he watched the golden specter of Jakub charge directly into the fray, running through a coiled centipede-creature, a near match for the one that had killed him, with a fierce smile on his face. Lance wasn’t certain of what was happening, but he raised his sword and charged after him.
…
Michael and Davi charged, tearing through the enemy fiercely with claymore and sword. It had been some time since they’d fought together, but they quickly fell into the old rhythms of Michael pushing forward deliberately at his side while Davi used his immense strength to create wider and wider openings for them to move through. Michael, Davi, and Pyotr were the frontliners of their group, but Pyotr rarely stayed still long enough to build a good rhythm which meant that Michael and Davi had usually been paired together on the front lines.
Michael began to pull back his healing, slowly, so that the other healers would be able to compensate. As he did so he was better able to focus on the battle at hand. His automatic strikes became more measured, deliberate, and forceful. Smite covered his armor completely so that even the slightest touch would cause the enemy to burst into holy flame.
They fought through to Ollie and Marcus, Pyotr arriving shortly after with a flourish. While Michael and Davi were fighting the other three took a moment to stare at Davi.
Marcus swallowed hard. “What is this?” he asked Michael.
“New blessing. The gods are juicing me up quite a lot for this. It should give everyone some breathing room. We have to move for the rift now.”
They all nodded and gathered together. Ollie threw one last fireball before raising his staff. Michael felt him extend his magicka outward, feeling it wrap carefully around him and the others. Then they all started to lift off.
Davi was rising with them, but flexed and fell back down, nodding his head and pointing to the rift. Then pointing to himself and the battle that raged around them. He was needed there.
“I missed you ya ginger bastard,” said Ollie, flinging a bolt of fire into the face of a diving harpy.
“We all did,” said Pyotr.
“Kill 'em all,” said Marcus.
Davi smiled in gold and charged into the fray, every swing of his claymore slaying another rift creature.
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