Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 4

The command center's stone walls amplified every echo of boots on stone as runners brought updates to Lianne. She stood over the illuminated tactical table, signalers moved markers as reports filtered in from across Osola.

"Third battery reports two pirate vessels sunk, Lady Commander. But they're seeing more lights on the horizon." The young messenger's voice cracked with tension.

Lianne's fingers traced the harbor's defensive arc. "How many batteries are manned?"

"Five of seven, my lady. Captain Davos and his crews are clearing out the Champions."

"Braden," Joreck beloved hissed beside her.

She put a hand on his arm, the most she could offer—while she agreed with his anger.

"Move to preset three, inform Tilla. How goes the defense of the main ritual site?"

"One to two hundred champions are assaulting her position. Bedrick is holding them back. He does not think that he will be able to hold for long."

She felt her husbands' muscles contract under his shirt.

Grandfather.

She looked at the markers, mind racing through calculations. The surviving batteries maintained overlapping fields of fire, but gaps were forming. Three pirate ships had managed to slip through during the initial assault, disgorging champions onto their shores before being driven off or destroyed.

They'd formed up and were forging a beach head right at the batteries that Davos was trying to clear.

They had to use their dark god's blessings in order to get so close.

"What is the situation on the beach?" She asked.

"The champions are advancing up the beach slowly, taking hits from the supporting defensive cannons. We just don't have the crews to manage all the positions. Those that were sleeping in the nearby bunks are taking up the fight. Others are in the harbor or up at the lake."

"It will take them time to get down, and they'll have to get through the champions in between," Joreck said.

"Report from the temple district!" Another runner burst in. "Champions breached the outer gardens but were repelled at the steps. Twelve of ours wounded, three dead. The undead are holding the line."

Red markers indicated where the fighting was heaviest. The temple, the northern lighthouse, and the main ritual site formed a rough triangle across their defenses. The champions were hitting their most crucial positions with precision.

Lianne's jaw clenched as she studied the markers.

The temple stood as both sanctuary and vault.

Hundreds of ornate chests lay within each containing thousands of preserved soul of a fallen Mardun. Five years of losses, five years of retreat, five years of watching their temples burn across the scattered islands they'd once called sanctuary.

It was their last temple, the last refuge for those souls. If the chests were broken then the souls would be released, filling the other chests. If too many were broken there wouldn't be space for them and the gods of Irdun would lay their greedy claim up on the unwilling.

The gods would claim their power and infuse it into their priest, champions and cultists to hunt down the remaining Mardun—as they had done already.

They were their family members, friends, someone who'd trusted the Mardun ways would protect them even in death.

There were also the enemy, their souls to be offered to Ella and judged based on their actions.

Five years of persecution had driven them here, to this last refuge. Five years of watching other temples burn, of gathering what souls they could save and fleeing ahead of the zealots' torches.

Now all those precious vessels rested in one place—their final temple, their last bastion of hope that someday Ella would ascend and judge them fairly. A place now under attack.

Each one lost would not be replaced, they didn't have the materials to do so.

Even if we hold, if we defend—they know where we are, there is no such thing as willing, just gaining another minute, an hour or a day.

She felt so hollow, and not just because she was undead.

She'd had hope. From Mesurial disappearing, to Osola remaining unknown.

The enemy had found them, had pierced their veil of secrecy. Each day forward would be bought with blood and sacrifice, with no promise of victory—only survival.

Movement caught her eye as her son Kalen darted through the command center, his shoulders broader than she remembered, face bearing the sharp angles of adulthood.

He passed off papers to a signaler, they chatted to him and dismissed him.

When had her little boy grown so tall? He paused at the doorway, giving her a quick nod before disappearing into the corridor beyond.

Back to the cannons, to the batteries. Lianne pushed away the pit, her face tight.

One more day. One more sunrise. It wasn't much, but she would fight with everything she had to give her children that day. Her hand settled on the hilt of her sword, drawing strength from its familiar grip.

She pushed up her captains' hat.

Champions weren't like normal raiders or pirates - they shrugged off wounds that would fell lesser warriors and kept fighting.

Her gun crews had grown skilled their cores growing darker through the bloody harvest they had reaped from their enemies ships. They weren't trained for close combat.

We're spread too thin. The gun crews excel at range, but once the champions close...

The surviving crew members were formidable - she'd seen gunners tear through whole boarding parties with their enhanced strength and speed. But champions were in another league entirely.

A messenger burst through the door, chest heaving. "Report from Ritual Site Seven! The champions there were defeated."

Lianne's head snapped up. "By whom?"

"Unknown, my lady. But the doorway is blocked by burning thorns and vines. None can pass through."

"Burning thorns?" She exchanged a confused look with Joreck. He shook his head.

"We need to get people organized! Families to their redoubts, crews are to band together and work in groups of no less than six gun teams!" Those in the command center focused their attention upon her.

"Those around the lake, I want them to hit the temple, then I want them to work with the constructs to take back the light house and the nearest ritual sites. Those that are in the harbor city I want them to defend the docks then the excess is to help with the ritual sites as well! Once they're cleared they're to support the southern batteries, those around the lake are to do the same but with the northern batteries!"

Lianne cocked her head, cannons, familiar, older—and inland.

"Captain Lianne! Someone is firing cannons at the champions attacking the main ritual site!" A signaler yelled.

Mad bastard.