Iron Blooded

The sound of the horn was our salvation – and it almost came too late.

My arm had grown numb from swinging my sword. I grunted from the effort of lifting my shield, as the Ork in front of me charged. His tusks shone bright in the ring of torches as he grunted, lifting an axe with a blade the size of my head.

I hunched, forced to duck down as I deflected the blow. The sharp crash of metal on metal was enough to make my already numb arm rattle in its socket. The Ork snarled, beady eyes squinting in rage when he saw me still standing. One of the soldiers beside me lunged, spear shaft aimed for the monster's heart.

The Ork knocked it aside, bringing up his axe in a sweep that nearly took the man's head off. I twisted, boots digging into loose dirt as I firmed my stance. My sword stroke passed halfway through the orks skull with a wet snick. The beast’s squeal was cut off as his body went limp. Then it tilted backward.

“Shit,” I hissed as the grip of my sword was wrenched from my tired fingers. I made a half-hearted lunge for it but was too slow. The muscled body of the red ork tumbled backward down the bluff, knocking another Ork warrior off of his feet. The moment of reprieve was temporary.

For the last few minutes, we had held the tide of orks with nothing but a tight formation and higher ground. But the reality of our situation was beginning to set in. Red orks are a massive breed of monsters, known mostly for their physical strength and brutality. On the wall of Ceris, fighting these monsters had been intimidating enough. But outside of a siege on an open plane with nothing standing between that brutality but our own armor, flesh, and bone? This was something else entirely.

The light of the moon shone off the eyes of the orks in the darkness. A sea of them, and they weren’t slowing for anything. Hands stretched out from the line, jerking me back into formation as the next wave crested the bluff. Without a sword I only had time to grip the edge of my shield, swinging it forward like a battering ram in an attempt to knock my enemy off balance. The ork stumbled but recovered quickly, hefting an iron clad club and swinging for my head. I ducked behind my shield but the sheer force of it slammed into me, knocking me sideways onto the spearman next to me.

The line swayed as men adjusted.

“Shit,” I swore for the second time, fumbling in the dirt as I struggled to rise. The spearman blinked down at me, eyes wide.

His words were cut off in a crunch of metal as the ork with the club staved in his head. I ducked away, shielding my visor from the spray of blood as I scrambled back through a forest of armored legs. Weapon, I needed a goddamn weapon. In a haze I remembered the cursed dagger at my belt and managed to snatch the hilt at the same time I felt the crushing weight.

A boot had landed on my back, pressing me into the dirt and squeezing the breath from me. Above me, the ork loomed, his beady eyes triumphant.

“Little man,” he grunted, his gravely voice heavy with accent. “I will crush your bones.”

I growled into my helmet, trying to twist around to face my attacker. All I could do was struggle in the dirt, weighed down by the strength of the ork and my own armor.

No, I can’t die like this. Face down in a battle I never saw coming.

I wrenched my arm through the dirt, plate scraping against the plate. Slowly, painfully slowly, I got it beneath me.

“Die,” growled the ork and I saw out of the corner of my eye as he rose his club high.

“Why,” I growled as I heaved against the ground with all my might. “Don’t you.”

I manage to shove myself over, jerking away from the club as it descended its deadly ark. Dirk sprayed in every direction, plinking against my armor like rain. Some made their way through the slots of my visor, and I spat, blinking away the grains of sand pricking at my eyes.

I reached down, ripping the Iron Fang from its sheath and plunging the blade into the groin of my attacker. The ork jerked, bloodshot eyes bulging as the knife bit deep into the flesh. He opened his mouth to let out a soundless scream even as the club tumbled from his hand. Then a familiar blade bit into his neck and out the other end.

“Brutal,” said Kato, admiring my handy work before kicking the orks body back down the bluff. The clang of armor and angry cries of orks indicated he had knocked more than a few off their feet. ŕ𝐀𝐍ȱ𐌱ËS̈

“Remind me not to piss you off, good man,”

I rose to my knees, taking my friend's proffered arm and allowing him to pull me up. For a moment we stood there, two brothers in a sea of battle and blood. Then I nodded and turned away. Turned back to the tide of enemies that were hellbent on killing us.@@novelbin@@

“Just another day,” I grunted, retaking my place in the line. The soldiers around me laughed and one, a grizzled veteran with grey in his beard, handed me a short sword. I nodded my thanks. So far we had managed to hold our ground but there was something bothering me. The Shadow Magus hadn’t made an appearance since he had struck at Jorgen. Fear perhaps? But no, that didn’t make sense.

What reason would a magus have to fear a bunch of soldiers? No, there was a reason the Magus was biding his time. And I could only guess at what it was. I risked a glance backwards to my archers and managed to catch Astrid’s eye. She tossed her braid over one shoulder, tilting her head in question.

Watch our flank

I mouthed to her, hoping against hope she could make out my words. I waited for her solemn confirmation before sliding my visor back into place. If the orks had the presence of mind to swarm the bluff and surround it, they would have been in a prime position to cut us off. I had anticipated that action and instead had ordered my archers to guard the sides and flank of the formation, picking off straggling orks that strayed from the main body.

The thick and dense brush around the hill itself was our best weapon. Orks that tried to cut through it were slowed and vulnerable to my spearmen and archers. More than once I’d see orks lunge forward attempting to circle us from the side. Well-placed arrows dropped them where they stood, and the bodies began to pile, creating further obstacles.

Still, the threat of the Magus and the Chief’s son was far from idle. At any moment the winds of this frenzied attack could shift and become more calculated. If that were to happen, the battle would become a meat grinder.

I stepped forward, stabbing at the throat of an ork to my right, and hacking at the exposed thigh of another. In the corner of my vision, I could see that my Iron Blooded ability was active. True, my blows dealt my enemies more damage. But I was also aware of another risk – one I hadn’t understood until Ceris.

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The power came from somewhere. And the source was me.

“You have to learn to control your mana well, Will.” Lord Blackthorne had told me. The seriousness in his eyes let me know the severity of his statement. Since I first manifested an ability, I have been using them without any training or direction.

I thought of the first time I had unlocked Bastion. Of the power that had spread from my shield as I had slammed it down into the stone. If that power had been more directed, more controlled.. then what could I accomplish?

I deflected a strike on my shield's edge and stumbled, jostling as the line dipped. I regained my footing long enough to catch a spear strike on my blade, knocking it aside. The iron blade of the ork spear whipped by my head, scatting off my shoulder pauldron. Sparks cut the night as I stepped forward and stabbed him in the eye.

Power, that was the crux of it all. Power in its many forms…. And those without it.

“Where’s Ser William?” A voice, distant but strong carried across the battlefield. I made to turn my head but there was no time. An ork rushed me, screeching as it lunged. I caught the sword strike just barely, my shield arm screaming with effort as I shoved back. Who could be calling me now?

“Here!” I shouted as I swung my blade at my attacker. He moved back, barring his fangs. There was a murmur of voices from behind, and I caught a glimpse of Astrid striding towards me. There was no time to look. Astrid tried to force her way through the ranks, but the men were too tightly knit.

“I have a message for Ser William,” she called, her voice almost lost to the clash of battle. “Pass it along.”

Soldiers bent their heads to one another, whispering, shouting, even laughing. My heart swelled with dangerous hope.

Let it be good news for once I thought, even as the doubt crept in. Please let it be good news.

“Ser William!” The soldier beside me, a spearman with a mustache leaned towards me. The sound of heavy battle died around me.

“The reinforcements have arrived from camp. The Magus is with them, and he wishes to draw the other Magus out. To challenge him on the battlefield. He requests you prepare yourself because when the horn is sounded the tide of the battle will shift. He needs you, your men, ready for battle.

I blinked, relief flooding my veins like cold water.

“Tell the bastard we’ve been ready,” I said, shaking my head. “And tell the messenger to ask him what took so long.”

My last two words were drowned out by the sound of the horn. Not the low guttural rasp of the ork war horn. This one was smooth, crisp, and familiar. The men cheered and I couldn’t help but join them.

“About damn time,” said Kato.

***

Before that day I had never seen two magus duel to the death.

Back then, I had only stories told by veterans around the fire at night. Many Magus develop an ability at a young age, and from the moment that power manifests, they are set on a path they can’t divert. Discipline, training, natural ability, and skill determine how powerful a wielder will be. From then on, they have simply to manifest, and be placed in a school of magic.

“That isn’t all,” the Veteran had said, as he dried his boots by the fire. “Some say the Magus are blessed. Touched by the hand of the God King himself, and granted abilities beyond our ken. Perhaps that’s why society elevates them the way they do.”

“Treats them like gods more like,” grumbled Draxus under his breath. “If the intent was to spoil them as children and send them off to the academy to become war machines then mission accomplished.” I had pretended not to hear him, though a few other soldiers had shot him looks at the obvious blasphemy.

“If you’d ever seen them fight you wouldn’t be so quick to condemn then,” said the Veteran, leaning back as he watched the fire crackle. If the old soldier had been offended he hadn’t shown it. Instead his gaze was distant, recalling some memory only he could see.

“They truly are glorious on the field of battle. Terrifying, mind you. But glorious.”

I had only ever seen one Magus from a distance, and that had been my first day with the 3rd Auxiliary. That Magus I had learned, had been nothing more than an apprentice. Even then his power of storm and lightning had been impressive to behold.

At the sound of the horn, the orks had hesitated. Some still darted forward, carried by the momentum of their charge. But their blood lust was a mistake, and they were quickly cut down by my men as confusion spread among their ranks.

Silence spread across the plains, cut only by the pounding of hooves in the distance.

An ork bellowed something in their guttural tongue and I saw the reluctance in the front ranks as they eyed us. They knew that if they kept hammering our meager forces, eventually their numbers would win out. Still, the cost was high judging by the red-skinned corpses now piled at the bottom of the bluff. And they knew now that reinforcements had all but arrived.

For a moment it seemed as if the assault would continue. Then an ork wearing a thick iron helmet shoved his way to the front, knocking smaller orks out of the way. He was massive and the way he carried himself tugged at grim memories. I recalled standing along the wall, watching as human captives were killed before us.

My stomach dropped as I stared into the slits of that thick dark helmet. It was him, the Chief’s son. I heard a few gasps down the line as my men came to the same realization. Draxus stepped forward, shield raised.

“Hold,” I said, throwing out a hand. Draxus shot me an incredulous look. I understood his anger. This was the ork not only responsible for killing human slaves but also for facilitating the attack that led to the storming of Ceris. My first inclination was to step forward and make him answer for those crimes in cold steel. And yet, something stayed my hand. A caution born of instinct.

The Chief’s son tilted his head, seeming to take me in. I noticed that the ranks of orks around him had stilled. Still as if waiting.

“Fall back,” he growled, and his voice was deep and cold. At first, I thought I had misheard him. Even the orks around him shifted, restless and uncertain. Finally, another warrior turned, clapping a fist to his chest.

“Chief,” he said, his voice low. “Why retreat? We have these rats on the run. Why not push them? Break them and avenge your father. He would not hav-“

The orks words were cut off as, without warning, the Chief’s son turned and split his head from his shoulders. The orks nearest the fallen warrior shied away, weary of their leader's bloody sword. The orks head bounced along the ground, rolling to a stop between our two lines.

“I said fall back,” snarled the new Chief. This time there was no hesitation. Slowly and reluctantly, the orks began to shuffle back into the night. I watched, sword raised and heart thumping as one by one, the horde disappeared into the shadows.

“They’re retreating,” said Draxus. His brows were furrowed as he scanned the night air. “That ally horn must have intimidated them.”

“That or they know something we don’t,” said Kato. The warrior flicked blood from his blade and raised a brow above his one good eye.

“Either way I’d say we’re lucky to be alive.”

The words stung, but I accepted them without complaint. In the end, I had agreed to take on this mission. And though we had accomplished what we’d set out to do, it wasn’t without a price. If there had been any doubt in my mind about what path lay ahead, there was none now. To survive in a world this harsh, we needed an edge. And I knew exactly what steps had to be taken.

“We hold for now,” I called to the men. “When the reinforcements arrive then we..”

In the end, it was pure luck that saved me. As I turned my boot caught on a loose root in the sand and I stumbled forward, nearly losing my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Darkness bloomed from within the center of our ranks. Shadows snapped out, spikes spearing several men near me. Armor crunched, and soldiers cried out in pain and alarm.

A line of fire lit itself long on my cheek as a shard of shadow tore across my face. I stumbled, dropping to a knee even as my own voice shouted Astrid's name. From the center of the concentration of the shadows, I saw him. The strange man seemed somehow inhuman. His eyes, the color of cats, were fixed on me. Then one of Astrid’s arrows whizzed by, hissing at it passed through tendrils of darkness.

Moments later, the Kadian horn sounded again – this time much closer.

The Shadow Magus hissed, eyes narrowing in anger. Then he turned and stepped into the center of darkness. Moments later, he was gone.

“Will,” Kato dropped down to his knees beside me. I saw Draxus shouting orders to the others, warning them to stay on their guard. But the charged tint to the air was gone. The Shadow Magus had retreated with the horde. Likely to regroup for the battle to come.

Kato studied the wound on my face until I slapped his hand away.

“I’m fine,” I said, ignoring the tremor in my own voice.

“That,” said Kato, nodding approvingly. “Was an assassination attempt. But it’s going to leave a wicked scar.”

“How about that? Draxus leaned on his shield. His armor was splattered with ork blood but his face was determined.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were afraid of you. The only question is why?”