"Suppose if I fail, they will come after me. That's the chance for you to push through. Don't stop. I will lure them as far away from you," Aden added, his voice low but resolute.
The captain showed his discontent with the plan, a slight "tch" escaping his lips. Yet, he knew that there was no other viable option before them.
Aden met the captain's gaze unflinchingly. "It's all right, captain. I'm not planning on dying yet. I will find my way to the seaport one way or another."
Captain Willem took a moment to survey their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the harpies that had them surrounded. Their arrogant, pretty faces seemed to mock the resilience of the people as if they knew they held the survivors firmly within their claws. It was a daring tactic proposed by a foreigner who, mere weeks ago, had been a captive of the imperial forces.
The captain turned his attention back to Aden, searching the young man's eyes for any trace of doubt or hesitation. After a moment, he gave a solemn nod. "All right, you have a go."
Aden wasted no time in putting his plan into motion. "Hjalmar, Kazama, listen up. I need a diversion," he uttered, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "I have to circle around so I can throw my spear into her heart."
The samurai, Kazama, nodded his understanding. "Hai," he agreed, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
Hjalmar, the Fjordic pirate, also signaled his assent. "Okay," he rumbled, his grip tightening on his battle-worn axe.
The warriors surrounded Aden, their bodies tensed and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. They would be the diversion, the bait that would draw the harpies' attention away from Aden's stealthy approach.
Aden took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. He knew that the success of his plan hinged on precision, timing, and no small amount of luck. But he also knew that it was their best, perhaps their only, chance at turning the tide against the harpy queen and her merciless brood.
With a nod to his comrades, Aden slipped away from the huddled group, his movements silent and furtive. He would circle around the outskirts of the village, using the burned-out husks of buildings as cover, until he was in position to make his strike.
The fate of the villagers rested on his shoulders, a burden as heavy as the spear he carried.
At the vanguard, Captain Willem leaned in close, whispering the details of Aden's plan to Corporal Knightly and the rest of the defenders. Their faces were etched with grim determination as they nodded their understanding, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in their eyes.
The harpies, ever vigilant, noticed the hushed exchanges among the people, their keen senses picking up on the subtle shifts in the atmosphere. These vulgar vultures were eager to see what the beleaguered survivors would do – would they surrender, allowing the harpies to tear their limbs asunder, or would they go out in a blaze of defiance?
The winged creatures flapped their wings and screeched, mocking the villagers with their raucous cries, provoking them to reveal the secret plan they were concocting.
Kazama slipped behind a villager, nocking an arrow against his bowstring, his movements fluid and precise. Hjalmar slowly loosened the grip on his chained iron gear, preparing for the inevitable clash.
"Let's go," Captain Willem uttered the order in a hushed whisper, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.
Kazama rose his bow in a swift, fluid motion, his keen eyes picking a target to his left. Without hesitation, he released the arrow, the projectile slicing through the air with a faint hiss.
"Keahk!" a harpy's scream rent the air as the arrow found its mark, the creature tumbling from its perch and hitting the cold ground with a sickening thud.
"Hey! Hey, come here! Come get some!" Hjalmar bellowed, swinging his chained iron gear in a wide arc. Another harpy fell victim to the pirate's brutal onslaught, the sheer blunt force of the weapon knocking it from the sky.
Yet another harpy leaped forward, its talons outstretched as it bore down upon Hjalmar. Gilbert was there in an instant, bashing the creature aside with his sturdy buckler.
"Thanks, Neckbeard," Hjalmar grunted, a fleeting grin crossing his weathered features.
The harpy queen watched the unfolding chaos, her lips curling into a sinister smirk as if she had been expecting this very turn of events. With a shrill screech that pierced the night air, she signaled her brood to attack, and the harpies surged forward in a wave of feathers and talons.
Villagers screamed and cried out in terror as the defenders engaged the harpies, their weapons clashing against the deadly curved blades that adorned the creatures' wings. The air was filled with the sounds of battle – the clash of steel against steel, the sickening crunch of bone, and the agonized cries of the wounded.
It was a scene of utter chaos, a maelstrom of violence and desperation that threatened to consume all who were caught in its wake. Yet, amidst the pandemonium, Aden slipped away, his movements silent and furtive, determined to seize this opportunity and strike at the heart of the harpy scourge.
"Fjordic, the queen!" the captain barked, his order directed at Hjalmar as the harpy queen now found herself momentarily unprotected by her brood. Without hesitation, Hjalmar swung his chain, the metallic links whistling through the air.
The queen, with the grace and fluidity of a dancer, leaped to the side, her movements swift and smooth as she dodged the attack. Hjalmar's chain grazed her waist-length dark hair, but that was the extent of the damage he managed to inflict.
The queen retaliated with a vicious kick aimed at Hjalmar's midsection. The pirate, his reflexes honed by years of battle, blocked the strike with the coiled chain in his hand, his lips curling into a smirk. He had succeeded in drawing the queen's attention, a crucial step in their plan.
As the harpy queen focused her wrath on Hjalmar, Aden seized the opportunity to slip away from the group, his movements silent and furtive. He would not engage any of the harpies directly; instead, he aimed to sneak around the outskirts of the battle, maneuvering himself into the queen's blind spot.
Kazama, his quiver nearly depleted, unleashed the last of his arrows in a desperate volley aimed at the queen. With a single, powerful flap of her wings, the harpy queen conjured a gust of wind that effortlessly deflected the projectiles, rendering the samurai's efforts futile.
Undeterred, Kazama sheathed his bow and drew his katana from its saya, the curved blade glinting in the flickering firelight. He was prepared to engage the harpies in close-quarters combat, his stance low and his movements fluid, like water cascading over stones.
The rest of the defenders focused their efforts on the harpies that swarmed around them, their weapons flashing and their muscles straining as they fought to keep the winged creatures at bay.
"Everyone onward! Go, go, go! Keep your heads down!" Captain Willem's voice rang out, his command spurring the villagers into motion as they pressed toward the road that would lead them down to the safety of the seaport.
Amidst the chaos of battle, Aden separated himself from the main group, his path diverging from that of his comrades. Hjalmar and Kazama, aided by the other volunteers, provided a masterful diversion, drawing the attention of the harpies and allowing Aden to slip away unnoticed.
He crept along the side of the burned-out buildings, using their charred remains as cover, avoiding detection from the harpy queen's keen gaze. He could hear the sounds of battle raging behind him, the clashes and cries a testament to the bravery of those who had chosen to make their stand.
Aden's grip tightened around the shaft of his spear, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his grasp. He was sure of his ability with the javelin, a weapon he had trained with since childhood. He was determined to take advantage of this opportunity for as long as he could keep the harpy queen within his reach. He was sure his spear would find its mark and pierce her heart, striking a decisive blow against the winged scourge that threatened to annihilate them all.
A memory flickered through his mind – his belief that the windcutter was a powerful technique that required the user to tap into the very depths of their strength, and thus could not be used with ease or frequency. If he was correct, then the queen harpy would not be able to unleash such a devastating attack again for some time.
He had to kill her before she regained the ability to utilize the windcutter once more. The fate of the villagers, their hopes of finding sanctuary, hinged upon his success in this daring gambit.
With stealth and determination etched into every fiber of his being, Aden crept ever closer to his target, his eyes fixed upon the harpy queen as she battled Hjalmar, her movements graceful and deadly. The moment of truth was rapidly approaching, and Aden knew that he could not – would not – falter.