By an hour past midnight, the river slaughter ended. Bit a new chaos began. Blood runs down the cobblestone streets of Chambois. Green fire still flies over the city. In response, the embattled city's defenses roar to life. Archers and catapults fire back at the besiegers. Great roars of the aching timbers followed by the thunder clap of the launching nets fill the night. The sounds of shouting and screaming men echo throughout the cobblestone city.
Large thrown stones crash into buildings and homes alike, shaking the earth as if the footsteps of some terrible giant. The bombardment is great and horrible, devastation rocks the city as the battling armies duel with their siege engines. The whisping trails of the green fire float down gingerly like great bright balls of light lighting the city in a haunting green hue.
Lord Jakob and Talbot converse with another with Wilberht present.
"This was a disaster!" cries Lord Talbot.
Wilberht agrees, "We have suffered a great many casualties."
"Enough," silences Lord Jakob, "Such events could not have been foreseen."
"What is our plan now? Half of our army could be dead now." Lord Talbot demands.
"Wilberht," commands Lord Jakob, "Find the Bastard and give me a count of men still able to fight. Lord Talbot and I will seek the Governor and the Fortress Master."
"It will be done my Lord." responds Wilberht. But before he leaves, he asks, "What of Abathea?"
"I pray she is alright."
After evacuating the docks, the pandemonium is far from over. Men carry another to a makeshift aid station made out of one of the taverns. In fact the surrounding buildings have been cleared to make room for wounded men.
Abathea stands in the middle of the cobblestone streets and directs stragglers to the aid stations. She is drenched and shivering as Edwulf approaches her.
Edwulf is about to speak before she turns and utters, "Have you seen Mairye?"
"No I haven't. Abathea, we need to find Lord Jakob."
"No," she decries, "I need to find Mairye. Help me please."
Edwulf huffs, "Fine, she may be tended to. But be warned of what you may find."
She blows past him, "It matters not. I will find her."
She finds the tavern that is the aid point. Most startling is the blood streaked from the ground to the door. Abathea opens the door and a horrific sight is to behold. Healers and Medicine Men go about tending the hundreds of injured. Some lay upon the floor, others huddled in corners. But the worse are treated atop of the bar table. One man writhes in bloody agony as Medicine Men attempt to remove the many arrows from his body. A pile of bloody arrows on the floor implied that he is not the first. He lays screaming while a healer removes the arrowhead. Quickly he holds a bandage to the blood that follows. Another Medicine Man comes with a hot iron, stoked and heated by the tavern furnace. He quickly cauterizes the wound provoking a blood curdling scream from the man.
Some others are viciously burned in which healers apply dry cloths and ointments. Those who could not be saved are dragged into the back rooms, never to be heard from again.
A priest of Anon goes about collecting confessions and offering the rites of Anon.
The smell of iron and burnt flesh is strong and overwhelming. Groans and agonizing moans are prevalent. On another table, Medicine Men attempt to amputate a man's badly burned leg. His screams are muffled by a rag clinched between his teeth. While one medicine man saws, another pours cleaning alcohol over the wound. Blood pours down the table dripping to the floor.
Abathea searches frantically with her eyes, praying Mairye is not amongst the wounded or the dead. "MAIRYE!" she cries out. She is ignored. She rushes in.
Edwulf commands, "Abathea wait! We should not interfere."
She rushes to a healer who tends a man. "Have you seen another girl?"
He waves her away, " Get out of here lass, men are dying!"
She pushes past him, scanning the room in desperation.
Two wounded men spot her frantic state and ask of each other.
"Was that the woman who saved us?" one asks.
"Aye I believe it is," the other answers.
They decide and approach her, "Say, what is the matter miss?"
She responds out of breath, "A…woman…a young woman named Mairye. Have you seen her?"
They look at each other and one answers, "No my Lady, but we shall search right away."
"Oh thank you!" she exclaims.
Just then, two healers carry in a badly burned body charred beyond recognition.
Abathea just stares at in silent terror, praying it is not Mairye.
The two men look at each other again and one says, "I will search the bodies."
The other declares, "I will search the wounded."
"Great Lord bless you two!" Abathea cries, "What are your names?"
"Herold and Bufort, my Lady."
"Bless you two," she says with gratitude.
Then a voice calls, "Abathea!" Its Wilberht standing in the doorway.
But before she can reply, he is brushed aside by an imposing figure in heavy armor..
"Where is that bastard Jakob Wren!?"
Abathea soon recognizes the figure as the Bastard of Thorne.
Wilberht argues, "How dare you curse our Lord in such a manner!"
"Because of him half of my men are either burned or at the bottom of the river." he argues back.
Another figure emerges from behind the Bastard.
"Mairye!" crys Abathea.
"My Lady," crys Mairye and they rush to embrace. She retales, "Don't worry, the Bastard had kept me safe. But look at you, you must be soaked to the bone."
Abathea replies, "I am alright, Edwulf was with me."
The Bastard and Wilberht continue to argue.
"Where has he gone now?" demands the Bastard of Thorne.
"He and Lord Talbot have gone to seek the Governor and the Fortress Master."
"Then we must join him."
Mairye listens intently and utters, "The bombardment…..its stopped.
Abathea soon realizes that she can no longer hear the cracks of the siege engines nor the heavy thuds of falling stones. Nor can she feel the earth tremble.
In acknowledgement, the Bastard remarks, "No…. they are preparing another barrage. They will destroy the city. Come we must move the wounded, it is not safe here."
"Move them!? And where shall we move them to?" Wilberht decries.
"There are tunnels under the old Keep. They will be safe there," the Bastard states.
"Sire," says Edwulf, "Many of these men are too wounded to move. Many will die."
"Many more will die if they are not. Evacuate them." The Bastard commands.
He then announces loudly to the whole tavern, "Gather every wounded man you can! We head for sanctuary at the Old Keep."
The Medicine Men and Healers pause and look at each other unsure of what they heard. The whole building falls silent aside from the moans of the wounded.
Before the Bastard can make another statement, Abathea pleads, "By Edith please, we must move these men to safety!"
The room remains silent, all eyes upon her, the soaking drenched girl. "You will all die if you stay here!"
Two men emerge and declare, "We are with you my Lady." The two from before, Harold and Buford.
Abathea decrees, "Right, we don't have much time. Anyone who is uninjured help evacuate the wounded. The Healers will keep working on those too wounded to move. Help any man you can!"
The building soon comes alive with bustling activity. Less severe men work with another to carry off those too injured to walk. A mass exodus begins as they vacate the aid point and trudge up the cobblestone road to the Old Keep. Abathea remains directing men on who to aid. The medicine men and Healers continue their surgeries and treatments but instead focusing on the most severe. Men carry wounded over their shoulders. Other carry some atop of benches made into makeshift stretchers.
The Bastard states, "I am going to find Lord Talbot."
"Right," Wilberht replies, "I will accompany you." He then says, "Abathea, we must leave."
Abathea argues, "No I am staying."
Wilberht argues back, "Staying here is suicide!"
Abathea fires back, "Then you are free to leave!"
Wilberht looks stunned, he looks at Edwulf and commands, "Convince her."
Edwulf shakes his head and states, "I am staying with her."
Wilberht frowns, "Very well, just try to make it back in one piece."
Edwulf grins, "Do you know how much it takes to kill a Northman!"
Wilberht rolls his eyes and leaves with the bastard and Mairye.
Abathea commands, "Edwulf! Help me with him." as she attempts to raise a struggling man to his feet.
The medicine men and Healers continue suturing and treating wounds on the most critical, even after most of the wounded have been removed.
One healer says, "My Lady you must leave! It will not be safe."
"I will leave when all are out." Abathea states in defiance.
A man lies bleeding on a table, his blood held in only by firm pressure from the Healers.
One crys, "We cannot move this one! He will bleed to death! Leave without us!"
Abathea replies, "No! Edwulf, Harold, Buford, help me!"
They look at her bewildered before realizing that she is attempting to lift the table he is on.
A Medicine Man crys, "Is she mad!"
Edwulf rebukes, "No, this may just work."
Together they lift the heavy table with the critically injured man atop it. A healer stands beside trying to hold pressure to the abdominal wound. Delicately and with great struggle, they manage out of the door and up the sloped streets.
No sooner had they left before the awful snapping of the siege engines sounded again. This time in far larger magnitude.
Green fire bursts forth from the night sky and bursts into magnificent green arcs, they would be beautiful if not so deadly. The crashing of stones rock the earth violently, making it tremble.
Abathea's body aches and her muscle sore and tire. She struggles up the street, even with the company of men aiding her. But her determination is fierce, she will not leave them to die.
Suddenly a great stone smashes the home beside them, it rains a shower of brick and glass.
Sensing them wavering, Abathea crys, "Come on! Stop for nothing!"
Their pace quickens, and Abathea feels as though she can not keep up. More stones fall and shatter the buildings below them. The crashing of brick and glass echo. The earth rocks violently. More green fire bursts forth and light individual buildings ablaze. Such a ferocity is the bombardment.
Abathea's heart races with fear, though she shall not reveal it. At any moment they could be crushed by falling stones or burned alive by green fire.
Up ahead is the Keep gate. With high walls, and sturdy battlements, it looks as though a shelter to weather the storm. Stones strike against its wall and shatter, but remarkably the wall still holds. Two sentries spot the group's approach as they carry the gravely wounded man on top the table.
Abathea calls, "Aid us!"
The sentries rush forth and help carry the burden. By the time they had all crossed the gate threshold, a great stone smashed into the wall above it.
They set the table down, all breathing heavily.
Abathea wretches and spits bile. Her heart is still racing as she gulps air. Her body was still soaked, cold and exhausted.
Other men arrive and state that they will take the burden from there. Abathea looks up at the glowing green night that brightly lights the courtyard of the Keep. As she looks around, she expects to see soldiers. But instead she sees frightened women and children. They look at her with adulation and a bit of confusion. Abathea fears her work is far from over.
She asks a soldier, "Where are the tunnels?"
He replies, "Right under the keep. I will show you."
She then announces to the crowd, "Follow me! We will provide you shelter!"
Deep within the walls of the keep, Lords Jakob and Talbot along with the Bastard have their war counsel. Stones shatter against the walls, disturbing dust and other debris.
"Crossing the river was a mistake!" argues the Bastard of Thorne.
Lord Jakob replies, "I will admit it did not go to plan."
"TO PLAN?! A third of the army is dead! And another third is too wounded to fight!" shouts the Bastard.
Lord Talbot interjects, "We are here now and that is all that matters."
"Yes we are here! Here under siege without a full army! Tell me Lord Wren, was your plan to simply wait out the siege?"
Lord Jakob grows frustrated, a scowl appears on his face.
Lord Talbot gets between them, "This is not helping. We are here now so we must plan." He then turns and asks, "Mairye, where is the Governor and the Fortress Master?"
Mairye replies, "Should be arriving shortly my Lord."
No sooner than that said does a gray haired man enter the room.
They eye him with suspicion and confusion.
He states, "I am Keeper Gaurinot, the Fortress Master."
The Bastard asks sternly, "Where is the Governor?"
Keeper Gaurinot swallows hard and utters, "He has fled."
"OH FOR GREAT LORD SAKES!" shouts the Bastard.
Lord Jakob asks in a calmer manner, "How many men do you have?"
"Just under a thousand my Lord."
The Bastard of Thorne bellows, "Well this is just great!"
Lord Talbot scolds, "Quiet yourself!"
Lord Jakob asks, "And what of provisions?"
The Fortress Master hesitates, "Well…..uh…uh..we have none."
The Bastard growls, "What do you mean you have none?!"
The Fortress Master stutters, " The….the Governor felt it would be….be best if the grain did not fall to Kilgar."
"Absolutely terrific!" The bastard cries bitterly. "Any more good news do you wish to bestow upon us?" The Bastard asks sarcastically.
"Well…uh… there are still people in the city."
"How many?" asks Lord Talbot.
"Just over six thousand."
The bastard huffs fuming, "This is just fantastic! We have no army, no provisions and an entire city to feed!"
The Fortress Master states, "Most have gathered in the catacombs under the Cathedral of Lady Orlaines. But that is on the far side of the city."
As the Bastard silently fumes, Lord Jakob sighs, "Right. We will make our plans from here."
One week has passed and the infernal bombardment has yet to cease. Abathea, crouched within the damp and dark tunnels under the keep, shivers and coughs. She has been ill ever since the night of the river landings. Accompanying her are multiple other women and children. Mother's attempt to stifle the cries of their weeping children while also trying not to weep themselves. Torch light is the only means of illumination, but it is still not enough. Abathea's eyes have adjusted to the dark but she yearns for sunlight.
It is still far too dangerous to venture on the city streets. Along with the continuous falling stones and green fire. The enemy has also constructed several large siege towers that can peer over the city walls. Atop the towers are elite crossbow men, and despite the distance, their aim is still deadly accurate. And even despite the crossbow men, any mass movement upon the surface will prompt a rain of arrows. Safety is only assured underground.
The food has all but run out. And by now, some of Kilgar's scouts have crossed the river and scaled the Northside banks. The Lords, fearful of letting the northside drawgate down, are afraid such action will draw saboteurs. In fact all Kilgar needs is some men to infiltrate the city and let down the bridges. For that reason, the walls are heavily watched. The dock gates are barricaded and guarded by a small garrison. The most defended is the bridge locks, held by a company of a hundred men. The Keep itself is well defended, especially as the headquarters and sanctuary of most of the army and townsfolk. But there are rumors of other survivors sheltering on the other side of the city under the Cathedral. The city's defenses have fallen silent, running out of ammunition long ago.
As can imagine, despair has fallen upon Abathea. Having never been in a siege before, she misses the luxuries of Thorne. Even the commodities of her travels would satisfy her more than this. Her nose drips snot, body shivers, and a barking cough continues both day and night. How she longs for the warmth of a fire. More important is how she longs for a morsel. Hunger has ravaged her, stomach growling in anger and aching in pain.
Mairye returns and reveals, hidden from under her tunic, a loaf of bread. She holds a finger to her mouth as to keep a secret.
Abathea's stomach tightens and hungers for it. She whispers in disapproval, "Mairye!"
"What?!" Mairye responds, insulted, "I found it."
Abathea eyes the loaf of stale bread hungrily, her body eager to devour it. But quickly, she stifles such feelings and orders, "Share it with them." referring to the plenty of children crying from hunger pains.
Mairye looks surprised, "My lady are you sure? You are ill."
"I will be fine Mairye, now go."
Mairye nods, then she goes passing small chunks of the bread to hungry children. Many thanks and blessings are passed on her from grateful parents.
Abathea smiles slightly, though weakly from this charity.
Suddenly Wilberht emerges and says, "Abathea, Lord Jakob has requested you."
Shakily, she answers, "Right, I will be right away."
This prompts him, "Are you ill?"
"Just a little, I will be fine," she replies with a stuffy nose.
Abathea follows Wilberht further into the keep all the while the bombardment rocks the earth.
Upon entry, Lord Jakob spots her and rushes to her. He embraces her, stating, "It was feared you were lost. I would have come for you sooner had I not been needed here."
"It's alright my Lord," Abathea replies weakly.
He notices and asks, "Do you need a healer?"
"No, I do not wish to occupy them further. Besides, it is only a minor ailment."
"As you wish."
"You summoned me my Lord?" she asks as she also notices that Lord Talbot and the Bastard of Thorne are also present.
Lord Jakob looks to the Bastard and he states, "We have received word from the survivors at the cathedral."
"Oh that is good," Abathea replies.
The Bastard continues, "Better yet, they have hidden away food stores with them."
"Well that is great news. But how do we plan to gain them?"
The Bastard states, "We will bring them and the food here."
Abathea's eyes widen, she rebukes, "But Sire, they will not survive the bombardment! At least not out in the open!"
Lord Jakob attempts to calm, "Abathea, do not worry, there is a plan."
Abathea responds confused, "What plan?"
Lord Jakob replies softly, "The Bastard, Wilberht and I will take a raiding party across the river and disable as many siege engines as we can. This distraction should buy you time."
"My Lord!" she pleads, "In crossing the river, you surely will be killed…" she pauses in thought, "Wait did you say… me?"
"Yes," Lord Jakob replies, "Edwulf has regaled me of your heroism at the docks and it has been decided that you will lead them to safety."
The weight of realization falls on Abathea as her face turns pale. Her stomach in knots, her heart sunken. She will have to brave the surface and lead people again. She barely survived her first battle.
Lord Jakob declares, "Then it is decided. Wilberht, the Bastard and I will cross the river while Abathea and Edwulf evacuate the Cathedral. Lord Talbot and Sontries will remain here. If the city can hold a little longer, it may give time for the Royal Army to relieve us. We leave by midnight."
By early evening, the parties have set to their starting points. Lord Jakob and his men have assembled at the docks under the cover of night. The bombardment continues, and green fire still lights the city, descending slowly from the heavens.
Abathea and Edwulf stand at the Keeps gate. Abathea shutters quietly, desperately trying to hide the fear within her and also the worry for Lord Jakob and Wilberht. Such an attack like theirs would certainly guarantee death. More importantly, she fears appearing weak to the people who look up to her. Behind them dozens men stand ready to cross the treacherous moonscape that has become of Chambois. Landmarks and buildings are unrecognizable and shattered to heaping ruins. The haunting glow of green fire brightly illuminates the devastation.
Edwulf places his hand upon her shoulder to calm her and says, "We just need to wait now. Don't worry."
Lord Jakob, Wilberht, and the Bastard along with a company of one hundred volunteers, row silently across the river in one of the last remaining barges. Quiet as theives they are, coming slowly up against the cliff face to the southern banks. The cracks of the catapults and the aching groans of timbers mask their approach. This venture is suicidal in nature and all aboard are aware. Even if they survive the attack, they would have to retreat back across the river all while under fire. Their survival is not guaranteed.
They must now scale the cliffs while silent. Improvised crossbows fire makeshift grappling hooks up the cliffside. Many catch and have a sturdy hold. The climb would be perilous even for a normal man but much less to fully armored and armed soldiers. But these volunteers are aware of the dangers.
Lord Jakob makes a quiet statement, "Alright men…. women and children are counting on us. Do it not for the King or your Lords but for the people of Chambois. May Anon's blessing be upon us." He then kneels and says a silent prayer.
Fists are raised silently in unison, all agreeing on this undertaking, as Lord Jakob begins to ascend the first rope. An impressive sight given the weight of his armor. If any man had reservations, he withheld it. Not a disagreeing word was spoken. Even as sweat beads off of the many faces and the darkness hides the fear in their eyes.
"Well you heard him. Do you want to live forever?" whispers the Bastard of Thorne and he begins to climb. Other men follow suit, taxing the dangers of scaling a cliff exceeding a hundred feet. The fall to the river, though not lethal on its own, but with heavy armor, would mean a certain death by drowning.
The climb is dangerous, and though many stumble, none fall. Once the company has assembled on the cliffs, Lord Jakob looks out at the camping army. Their tents erected and camp fires blazing brightly. The siege engines chip away at the city's walls, and crossbow men stand atop the towers searching for any targets. All none aware of the attack that will befall them.
Without a word, Lord Jakob draws his sword and begins his march to attack.
Abathea and Edwulf stand silently waiting for the signal to attack.
It is not until Edwulf says "I bets they'll have fine meade stashed somewhere."
This is when Abathea realizes she can no longer hear the fine snapping of the catapults. And with a surge of courage, she cries, "Come on! Now is the time!"
Edwulf barks, "Come on you sons of whores! We must move before they start again!"
She rushes forth into the ruins, tripping on bricks and crunching glass underfoot.
Dozens of men with carts and wagons stumble behind her. With the city essentially leveled, it is not hard to make out the carcass of the cathedral only a mere half a league away. What would be a simple and short venture in peacetime is now dangerous and tedious in war.
Rubble and debris conceal the street and unsteady mounds make it easy for one to lose their footing. The wagon carts catch and strike debris producing an awful crashing sound. If their opponents weren't distracted, Abathea is sure they would have been spotted.
Abathea can see across the river, green fire cast above the opposing embankment.
She swears she can hear the faint crashing of swords and roars of men. She deeply worries for their lives.
Edwulf grabs her shoulder breaking her trace, " Come, they are doing their part so we may do ours. We must continue."
The company treks through the shattered remnants of a lively city. Completely devastated now, hardly a building stands aside from the cathedral and the Keep. Littered timbers and demolished bricks lay about. What disturbed Abathea the most was the strewn personal items of the homes. Entire livelihoods ceased within a week, collections of heirlooms and precious things are now scattered or destroyed. Beautiful furniture pieces violently dismantled, fine plates and cutlery littered about. Precious tapestries in tattered ruins.
But the most bothersome to Abathea was a doll, a lone girls doll, just sitting barely within the debris as if it was hidden there on purpose. It's pitiful state haunted Abathea forcing her mind to wonder about the owner and their fate. And vise versa, perhaps there is a little girl still who searches for this doll, and maybe will never know its fate. The more she wonders, the more distressingly perplexing it becomes. The doll yearns to be with its master, and she may never return. The more Abathea fixates, the more her mind contrived wild and unrealistic theories. These disturb her most as she fleets from ideal to ideal. What if the girl knows where the doll is? Is she the only survivor? What happened to her family? Did they flee? Or perhaps… could… could there be the body of a little girl buried in the rubble beneath it. This inclination shutters her and eats at her very soul. Should she bring it with her? What it do her any good? To put her mind at ease, she decides to leave it there as a sort of memorial to whoever it belonged to.
She takes a deep breath and prays she may never have to see it again.
Across the river, Lord Jakob cleaves his longsword through the cables ending in a great THUCK! This causes the support system to snap and results in the collapsing of the catapult. Chaos ensues as the opposing army, caught completely unawares, struggles to fight off their attackers. Many of Kilgar's men haven't even properly donned their armor. Clashes of swords and cries of wounded ring out the night.
Wilberht's arrows fell many of the crossbow men atop the towers. Tents are set alight by torches, some with occupants still inside. Another siege engine falls, it's support cables cut. Lord Jakobs company of men greatly benefit from their surprise incursion. Many felling Kilgar's disoriented soldiers rather easily.
Abathea and company come into the cathedral's carcass. Most of the building still stands but most of its stained glass is scattered into colorful heaps on the floor. The far side of the cathedral has collapsed. Abathea searches but cannot seem to find the entrance to the fabled catacombs.
Abathea states, "Does anyone know where it could be?"
Edwulf sniffs the air, "Aye, I know."
He follows a scent to a pile of rubble, dusting it off, it reveals a trap door.
Abathea Joins him as he pulls open the door, doing so releases a horrible stench. The acrid smell of urine, feces, and death.
Abathea gags and nearly vomits.
Edwulf grins, "Found it!"
Abathea holds her hand to her mouth in order to keep from emptying the contents of her stomach.
Edwulf notices, and pulls from a boot a small flask. He pops the cork and waves it in front of Abathea's nose, stating, "Here's an old sailor's trick."
Immediately, the scent of potent alcohol hits her. But to her surprise, her nausea disappeared.
"Thank you."
Edwulf nods and looks down a series of steps into blackness. Abathea looks too and shockingly eyes look back at her. This startles her, causing her to stumble back.
Figures emerge from the darkened abyss. Many emaciated, dirty and pale. All reek of horrible stenches.
"Great Lord bless you!" one cries.
Many are women and children, but some men are among them. What started as a trickle becomes a flow of people exiting the catacombs.
Abathea asks, "How many of you?"
One tattered woman responded, "Several hundred. But one of the tunnels collapsed, killing all inside."
Relatives call back and forth to each other.
Edwulf demands, "And what of the food stores?"
" We have none," one replies.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HAVE NONE!?" Edwulf shouts.
The man replies, " It was all in the tunnel that collapsed. We can't reach them."
Edwulf looks at Abathea speechless. All look at her for guidance. This overwhelms her. She musters a bit of courage from her disappointment. "It doesn't matter. We must get them to the Keep."
Edwulf argues, "And how do you suppose we feed them?!"
"We will scavenge what we can." She then asks, "Is this all of you?"
The man answers, "No, some of the sickest cannot move."
Abathea acknowledges, and then commands, "Harold, Buford."
"Yes my lady?"
"Take who you can and search for survivors. Bring all you can. We will carry them on the wagons."
"Right away!" Harold responds and he and a group of men descend into blackened catacombs.
Edwulf rebukes her, "We cannot take them all."
"I will not leave them here." Abathea argues calmly.
"How do you suppose we feed them all?!"
"I will speak with the Lords and we will accommodate. For now we need to get them out of here."
The Bastard smashes his shield into the skull of yet another enemy, blooding it further. Several siege engines have been set alight in flame.Bright is the night now from flames spewing high in the sky.
But the attack is losing momentum. As Kilgar's men rally, The Bastard's forces tire. Having lost some of his number, they are now on the defensive.
Lord Jakob slashes through another foe, a man however beside him is felled by an arrow. Looking ahead, he can see a crossbow man on a tower, his sights clearly on him. Before Jakob can brace, the crossbow man is shot down by an arrow. Jakob looks behind him and sees Wilberht behind him, feverishly wielding his bow.
He nods and Wilberht responds, "By you side my Lord."
Abathea and the company trek the ruins with a populous of a few hundred refugees. The most ill are carried on the carts that are roughly driven over the uneven broken ground.
Abathea can't help but stare across the river. The great siege towers in flame, shooting columns of smoke high in the night sky. She can only worry for the safety of their companions as they battle for them. More worryingly is the fact that she has to confront the Lords without the sought after food stores. And with more mouths to feed, it could become greatly problematic.
"My Lady," a ill appearing woman Saya.
"Yes?"
"May Anon bless you, you have saved us."
Abathea, unsure how to answer, utters, "No, they have saved us," pointing across the river.
The rays of dawn pierce the smoking columns. Lord Jakob's number is only a few now. Having fallen back to the cliff's edge, the valiant company of heroes are in their death throes. Greatly outnumbered and back to the river, all they can do is hold ground. Kilgar's army holds a semi circle around them. Wave after wave of men charge only to be repelled. But this time is different, no attack is made.
The men parts and steps forth is a white bearded man with balding hair. His attire is more formal with a great flowing purple cape.
He announces, "So this is the army of Wren that I have heard of." He spots Jakob especially, "So it is true, one has survived the slaughter of House Wren."
Jakob remains silent, out of breath.
"And a Brethren Ranger? Not many of you come down from your mountain top.
Here to amend the failures of your brethren?"
Wilberhts face twists in scorn, he steps forward but Jakob hold him back.
"Lord Kilgar, Have you enjoyed your massacres?" the Bastard says.
Kilgar grins, "And Yes The Bastard of Thorne. What have they offered you this time to break your isolation? I hear you only work for coin."
The Bastard clenches his teeth.
Jakob asks, "What do you want Kilgar? You would have killed us otherwise."
Kilgar's lips tighten and says, "I simply wish to see your surrender."
"We are not surrendering." Jakob rebukes coldly.
Kilgar, irritated, says, "Stop this nonsense and surrender Chambois already. Your resistance is futile."
"Why, so you can crown yourself King? I know your claims are false." Jakob states.
Kilgar's face shows annoyance, "King Daunte is cowardly and weak. It is time for a new house to rule and it shall. I, Lord Kilgar Verillion, will claim the True Throne and avenge my son's death."
"By slaughtering your way to the throne?!" the Bastard denounces.
Kilgar, even more annoyed, shouts, "Enough of this! Will you surrender or not?!"
Jakob replies, "We will not become prisoners to be ransomed."
"Who said anything of ransom."
The Bastard growls.
Kilgar smiles smugly, "How about I make you a deal?"
Jakob responds, "About what?"
"If you can defeat my champion in a duel, I will spare you and….I may be will call off the siege."
"Accepted," Lord Jakob replies firmly.
Wilberht rebukes, "My Lord, he lies!"
"I am well aware Wilberht," he says. He then shouts, "Bring forth your champion."
Kilgars lips tighten into a wicked sinister grin, "I have always wished to see the legendary Knights of Wren do battle."
Lord Jakob whispers to Wilberht, "Evacuate the men to the otherside of the river and call for aid. I will distract them here."
"I will not leave you my Lord!" Wilberht decrees.
"Do not intervene." commands Jakob.
Out of the surrounding army, comes a lone knight wearing spiked gray armor. He is far taller than his companions, imposing height and of sturdy build. His weapon of choice is a battle mace, a large spiked ball of iron drags behind him churning up earth.
Lord Kilgar announces, "This is Raxus the Bllood Seeker. My finest champion."
Bellowing from within the horned gray helm is a gravelly voice, "It will be a pleasure destroying your lineage."
Wilberht urges, "I beg you Lord to reconsider."
Lord Jakob rebukes, "It will be an even fight," before donning his helm.
The survivors of raid hastily clamor down the rope to the stationary barge. All who remained are Lord Jakob, Wilberht and Reynalt the Bastard of Thorne.
Raxus approaches slowly with heavy footsteps, his mace churning earth behind him. Lord Jakob drops to his knees and invokes the blessing of Anon, a ritual much recited.
Raxus denounces, "Your god will not save you now."
"I pray not for me," Lord Jakob states as he stands, great sword wielded in defense.
Raxus strikes first, swinging the fearsome mace with great force. But Jakob deflects it off of his sword.
Jakob closes to strike, opting to thrust his blade. But Raxas swings his mace and deflects the blade. The two standoff, carefully observing one another after successfully testing the others defenses.
Jakob breaks the stalemate by swinging upward, The Blood Seeker however, steps to the side, twirling and adding momentum. As Lord Jakob stagers forward, just barely does the spikes of the mace scratch against his armor with a horrid metallic screech.
Jakob responds with a defensive stance but is swiftly pushed back as multiple swings of the mace cause him to stagger back. Lord Jakob attempts to block but instead the mace wraps around his sword. With a quick yank from Raxus, he is disarmed.
Wilberht stands horrified.
Raxus taunts, "Your gods will not save you now."
Jakob torts, "I have just begun to fight!" With that he strikes Raxus's helm with a flurry of punches. Closing the distance where Jakob is inside his guard and preventing him from using his mace. Metal strikes metal screeching as dents form from blows.
Raxus falls back, then jukes aside.
Causing Jakob to stumble forth. But as he turns back, the heavy mace goes screeching up his helm, casting deep gashes into the faceplate. The noise is deafening, and causes Jakob to stumble back. He hastily removes his helm, his piercing blue eyes and black hair shine in the sun.
Raxas stands in a more triumphant pose, Lord Jakob taunts him. This prompts him to swing down, but instead of Jakob dodging, he allows the mace and chain to wrap around his arm. This stuns the audience and more importantly Raxus. Jakob yanks him closer and with a great swing, using his helm as a club, strikes him in the head knocking him back and to the ground.
In a display of chilvery, Lord Jakob throws his opponent's weapon down to his side and states, out of breath, " It is finished then." With that he goes to collect his own discarded sword.
The army, stunned by such a display of prowess and honor, remains silent. Raxus looks to the thoroughly entertained Kilgar who only nods.
As Jakob pulls his sword from the ground, a sudden woosh causes him to turn. Just in time as Raxus swings down. Jakob attempts to block but the spiked mace crashes into his armor. Puncturing his armor and body alike as it sinks into his shoulder. Raxus rips it from him and swings again this time sledging the mace into the Lord's side. The spiked mace pierces deep into Jakob's side. Blood pours out of the holes of his armor. His face is pale of shock and out of breath for one of the blows pierced his lung. He kneels defeated.
"MY LORD!" cries Wilberht.
Raxas utters, "Pathetic," as he takes an execution stance. Lord Jakob, on his knees gasps for air.
Kilgar announces, "It is over then. All of House Wren has been extinguished. And it will be known that I, Lord Kilgar, was the one who finished them."
Raxus asks, "Any last words?"
Lord Jakob attempts to recite the rites of Anon but the word will not form.
Raxus say, "Very well," and goes to swing.
"Treachery!" crys Wilberht, his arrow striking the shoulder of Raxus causing him to miss. This is followed by an upper swing from the Bastard causing Raxus to stumble backward. Wilberht continues firing arrows which shatter and deflect off of Raxus's armor. Thus allowing the Bastard to gather Lord Jakob and carry him to the cliff's edge.
Lord Kilgar's cries, "Kill them!"
Wilberht fires arrows indiscriminately at individuals who charge them. The Bastard grabs a rope and a firm grip of the mortally wounded Jakob. With that, he jumps from the cliff face with both of them. His grip tightened on the rope, instead of a graceful descent, it became more of a controlled plummet. Both men's armor crashing into the barge. The bastard curse as he is sure his ankle is shattered. Lord Jakob lays in a cluttered heap of bloody armor, unmoving. Wilberht, after detecting his Lord has departed, jumps from the cliff. Grabbing the rope, he slides down to the barge.
"How is he?!" Wilberht demands.
The Bastard groans and curses, "Not good!"
Across the river a grappling hooks is fired to the barge. Wilberht takes it and ties it to the hull. He then goes to tend Jakob. Men across the river pull the barge back to the docks. As they do so Kilgar's archers fire down from the clifftop. The Bastard attempts to cover Jakob and Wilberht with his shield whilst arrows fall around them. Archers from the cities wall fire back and cause Kilgar's archers to withdrawal from the cliffs edge.
Apon reaching the docks, Wilberht has almost fully cut Jakob from his armor. Carefully cutting the bands to the straps. He throws the injured Lord over his shoulder and dashes for the Keep.
Abathea and Edwulf talk amongst each other within a room deep within the Keep.
Soon the earthquakes and dust are unsettled marking the resuming of the bombardment.
This prompts Edwulf, "That didn't take them long."
"I hope they are ok," Abathea says.
Edwulf, "Well they are tough bastards, I'm sure they are –"
He is interrupted when Wilberht bursts through the door. His expression is of grave distress and his tunic bloody. Abathea and Edwulf eye each other deeply concerned.