Lysander's breath was driven from his lungs as the black tentacle pressed him into the snow. He struggled to breath against the mounting pressure.
He watched in horror as the inky limbs of smoke tore through the troops that had come to aid his city. The Commodore dangled by one leg, shaken like a doll.
"Stop it!" He used the last of the air in his body to shout. As if it would do any good. As if the Void would listen to him and obey.
From the corner of his eye he saw Hugi thrown to the ground. Lysander struggled against the hold, desperate to get free and do something–anything–to help. With monumental effort he sucked in enough air to speak again.
Men lay all around him, battered and crushed by the Void's indiscriminate show of violence. It didn't even pursue the fleeing men.
"Follow me and be safe," It taunted. "Submit to my rule, and I will protect you."
The voice vacillated between voices, tones, and pitch. It was equal parts eerie and intriguing and terrifying. Titania's voice was woven in amongst the others.
Everyone on the field seemed to hear it, despite the fact that the words were practically whispers on the wind. Some paused in confusion, others continued their quest to flee far from the unbelievable force they faced.
Lysander couldn't blame them. The Cetoans weren't hardened soldiers, trained and forged in battle. They were sailors, on unfamiliar land and weather, facing an unbeatable enemy, and watching their friends die at its whim.
"Why don't you kill me?" He gasped.
"My sweet Lysander," Titania's voice cooed. "I want you to watch first."
"This is another dream," He tried to convince himself, but her cackle of glee made him shudder. He had been fooled before… but he hadn't fallen asleep this time. At least, not outside the city.
This was, unfortunately, reality. There would be no escape.
"Is there no one who will pledge their loyalty to me to save their life?" The Void asked. "Hmm… What about your Commodore's life? Is anyone willing to save him by becoming my servant?"
This new invitation threw the small army into chaos. They would do anything for their leader, but to serve the enemy would be treason.
Could treason ever be the right thing? Some of the younger men wavered. Hadn't Edmar committed the same treason?
Was it unforgivable?
The Void shook the Commodore by his foot again, a loud crack echoing in the air as he cried out in pain. Had his leg broken?
"Last chance…" The Void teased with warbling laughter.
"Lies." Lysander whispered. "All you say are lies."
"Darling man," The Void's whisper was now close in his ear. "How you amuse me."
"No one follow it!" He ignored the voice and tried to call out to the few men close enough to hear him. His punishment was to be pushed deeper into the snow by the dark grasp that held him in place.
The cold was seeping into his bones. Every inch further the Void pushed him into the snowdrift, the more his field of view was hampered, and the more snow fell on top of him from the edges. Before long, he would be buried alive under the white blanket of icy flakes.
"You. Don't. Belong." His aching lungs pressed out another bit of air.
"I belong wherever I want to be. Soon, I will belong everywhere," The Void replied with delight.
Lysander struggled in vain against the black pressure on his chest. His arms were pinned, his lungs empty. His vision began to constrict with the lack of oxygen as snow continued to trickle slowly on top of him.
He wouldn't last much longer.
____________
Riley dodged another gargoyle's dive, its claws scraping against his armor as he thrust his sword upward. He grunted with the effort, and was rewarded with a spray of disgusting blood.
Did the inside of a gargoyle smell worse than the outside of a goblin? The inside of the goblins were definitely the worst scent of the battlefield.
On the ground nearby, another man fell, green oozing from a wound at his neck. Soon, if nothing was done, or even if a lot was done, he would convulse, and die. The doom seemed inevitable, for Riley knew of no way to stop it.
It pained him that the beautiful square should be blanketed in carnage and death. At the edges of the city, there would have been opportunity to clean up the worst of everything before women and children would see the worst of things.
Here, in the center of the city, in the busiest, largest square that at least half the city passed through daily for one reason or another… this battle would leave a scar across the hearts of all of Klain.
He pulled his sword free just in time to parry an attack by a goblin. He hissed in anger as the jagged blade ripped his sleeve at the shoulder.
It was so cold outside that he probably wouldn't be able to feel it if he were scratched. He could only continue fighting and hope that wasn't the case. With a powerful swing, he relieved the offending goblin of his head.
"I think you look a lot better this way," Riley complimented. "It's been far too long since you had a haircut."
He bemoaned the fact that no one was appreciating his sarcastic commentary. He was probably going to die here, with nobody to retell the stories of his amazing victories and dazzling wit.
He looked with distaste at his sword. Under normal circumstances it was a beautiful weapon, polished brightly and gleaming with the honor of valor it represented.
Right now, it was slick with the frozen, blackish blood of his enemies.
Another man fell, to his right this time, and a comrade knelt to help him, leaving a weakness in the line. The goblins surged forward, trampling the two on the ground and barrelling into the younger, less experienced soldiers behind.
A shorter man behind froze in fear, and Riley spun away from his section of the fighting, trusting the men under him to keep their part of the perimeter intact.
Pushing his way through, Riley grabbed the younger man's–boy's–arm and yanked him back before a battle ax wielded by a tall, wiry goblin buried itself in his skull.
"Statue impressions are AFTER the battle!" Riley grumbled at the boy as he made quick work of exploiting the weaknesses in the goblin's armor. A thrust through the armpit as the creature raised its ax again, and it fell to the ground. "Although, you'll certainly win the contest. I haven't seen anyone that still since–"
Riley finally turned to look at the boy's face. His younger brother stared at him, white as a sheet.
"Shayn, what are you doing here?" Riley demanded. "The new recruits are supposed to be doing nothing except fetch-and-carry! And where's Kyler?"
The third of the five brothers, Shayn was barely fourteen. He wordlessly pointed at a body on the ground. The one who had knelt to help and been trampled.
Blinding, cold, righteous rage gripped Riley's soul. He lunged forward, swinging his sword with a practiced yet frenzied dance that pushed the line of goblins backward. The panic in his stomach manifested as fire in his eyes as he dared any of them, all of them, to come within the reach of his blade.
None were foolish enough to take up the invitation, even as Riley bent to sling his younger brother's body over his shoulder and retreat behind the lines.
"MEDIC! MEDIC!!!" He bellowed. The Captain's rage seemed to summon one from the ether, albeit one who looked terrified to disappoint the large, muscular man followed by a timid, lanky teen.
Laying Kyler on the ground, Riley motioned a torch closer, keeping an eye on the sky in case a bold gargoyle needed to meet its end on his blade.
The medic looked the fifteen year old over from head to toe while Riley interrogated the younger.
"Shayn, answer me."
"They called us. All hands needed for fighting. The city is falling." Shayn's voice was low and full of emotion.
Riley's gaze hardened and flickered back to Kyler. The teen's eyelids fluttered slightly. They should never have been sent out to fight. How dire was the rest of the city that his younger brothers had been thrown into this hellish combat?
The medic looked up at Riley with tight eyes.
"I cannot find any open wounds. It looks like blunt force."
"He was trampled." The Captain supplied, and the medic nodded with some relief and understanding.
"His legs are broken, badly. There is a concussion, but he already seems to be regaining consciousness. I don't know if there are any internal injuries, but at least there is no sign of goblin poisoning."
"Keep him safe, treat him and do whatever you can." Riley sighed and turned to Shayn, who flinched beneath his gaze.
The eldest brother was torn. Since their father's death, he had helped raise the rest of his siblings. Did he chastise the boy and send him inside, hopefully to safety, or keep him close, where Riley could watch him and protect him?