[ Chapter Six - Unexpected Attack ]
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A voice screamed from the back, crying for help.
'Did that woman cause trouble again?' thought Ashran, then he narrowed his eyes, looking further at the back.
"What's happening now?" said Sir Hector, and because he's mounted in a horse, it allowed him to quickly assess the situation. At that moment, Sir Hector's face turned pale, and his eyes widened. What he saw was something he did not expect --no, something he couldn't believe.
"Fiends . . . Fiends! Everyone, prepare for battle!" Hector shouted and shouted, maneuvering his horse to alert the mercenaries.
". . . Fiends? How can that be?"
"Don't they only come out on specific nights?"
"Yeah, and when the moon glows red . . . but there's still daylight?" said another man, as he looked at the sun setting over the forest, casting a warm, golden glow upon them.
The others were confused at first, but their confusion didn't last long. As the Fiends emerged from both sides, appearing from the high points of the bulky trees and from below. Thus, chaos ensued as the mercenaries closed their ranks, backing against each others back to defend against the unexpected attack.
These creatures had milky-white eyes and fangs as sharp as blades, with blood drooling from their mouths. They lacked a lower body, their trailing intestines visible from their midsections, while they flapped their massive bat-like wings in the air.
The Fiends flew swiftly toward them, and in a short moment, one after another fell victim to their fiendish assault. Some watched in shock as their fellows were brutally killed before their eyes. Without a doubt, for some of them, it was their first time seeing Fiends.
As the Fiends pressed their assault, the mercenaries fought desperately, but the creatures proved formidable. The battle intensified, the surroundings filled with the sounds of musket shots, clashing swords, pained cries, and the haunting screeches of the Fiends—"skreeee!" and "kraaaa!" echoing through the trees.
Meanwhile, Ashran and Trent stood side by side. Ashran held his musket, and Greg wielded his long crossbow aiming at the Fiends. They both held their ground, not in distress, but not at ease either.
Ashran kept firing at the Fiends in mid-air, each one taking two to three bullets to bring down. "Keep shooting their wings!" called out Trent.
As Ashran reloaded, another Fiend flew towards him, but Trent intercepted it. His crossbow bolt pierced the Fiend's left wing, causing it to back away and crash to the ground, wailing and squirming.
"You still good?" Trent asked.
"Probably," Ashran replied.
Within moments, Sir Hector arrived to assist them, still mounted on his horse. In his left hand, he wielded a flaming longsword, with traces of blood dripping from the blade. He charged straight at the attacking Fiends. The Fiends didn't stand much of a chance against Sir Hector. He swung his sword with full force, the flames enveloping it as he slashed through the Fiends. Their bodies were cut and set ablaze, causing them to screech even more.
The battle with the Fiends lasted for about half an hour. They managed to kill quite a few, but some Fiends escaped, carrying the bodies of their fellow dead mercenaries.
Sir Hector couldn't believe what had happened as he surveyed the surroundings. "This wasn't in the Prophets' predictions," he muttered with a heavy sigh. He then ordered a temporary halt to tend to the injured.
After that, they moved forward once again, all too quiet.