Four Horsemen: Chapter 9 Part 3 of 3

Petor’s spear shot out with enough force to pierce armor, his spear head smacked weapons away, moving with swings and jabs.

“They’ve got too many ladders on the wall. We can’t get rid of them all,” Valter fired a burst of three arrows, taking down three enemy fighters.

Petor pressed into the opening, wielding his spear. Each attack a war of fatigue against the essence he drained to recover.

He read the attacks as the formed. His spear like a snake alive. His blows landed with the power to gouge stone and dent armor, mixing in spear with kicks and punches.

Fighters died under his spear, their essence turned into his power, healing his injuries, recovering his fatigue. His worries and fears melted away.

Valter stored his crossbow, drawing a sword and shield. “Form on me!”

Fighters and guards moved to him as he organised them.

A siege tower’s ramp dropped, smashing onto the wall. Mya braced her self against the other side of the wall and fired her blunderbuss, throwing fighters out the back of the tower and clearing the highest floor.

Desari ran up and threw something down the tower.

It burst to flames as she jumped free, landing on the wall. She sheathed her sword, drew her bow, grabbing an arrow, hitting a creature of shadow sneaking through the wall towards Petor.

The beast snarled, forming into a humanoid, raising its head towards Desari, its mouth opening unnaturally.

Petor slashed through two fighters, heaved up his spear and hurled it, nailing the beast to the wall.

It guttered and died, the spear pinning its core to the wall.

A fighter stabbed at Petor with a sword. Petor turned, grabbing their hand as they slumped, their life force draining into Petor as he drew the sword free.

“You owe me a beer!” Mya yelled, firing her pistol twice more. Killing two more fighters.

Petor ducked under a wild axe swing, slamming his new sword up to the hilt through the man’s chest, throwing him over his back and pulling the axe free.

Even using other weapons and his own body he leached power from others.

He hurled it into another man, throwing him backwards as Petor got among the enemy, using their momentum against them, throwing and checking them while landing kicks that dented armor and blows that broke bones.

“Watch out! Kick those stones down!”

Petor backed away, grabbing his spear from the wall, power rushed through his veins, making him stutter step.

Rubble fell from the wall, landing on the fighters trying to pass through the breach, closing it.

Petor turned his gaze inward. Compressing the essence, the pressure slacked off as the essence flowed easily, filling the new void inside his body.

“Petor, going to need a boost,” Valter yelled. He held the center of the skirmish line holding against the enemy fighters pushing for the stairs.

Guards commanded the others group, ranged in the middle holding the top of the stairs and fending off the enemy trying to get behind the skirmishers with ladders and siege engines.

Petor ran for the stairs as the clouds shimmered above.

“Watch out!” Mya just put her pistol away as a thick bolt of lighting crashed into the top of the wall.

A thread hit Petor in the chest, tossing him back and through the ground as sections of the wall exploded outwards. Petor curled up, rubble hitting him, cracking his left arm and his ribs.

His newfound power repaired his injuries as he pushed off the rocks and stood.

Burned lines like vines ran down the wall, fires had started in some of the arrow baskets.

Petor stopped healing himself and ran up the stairs.

Valter and his fighters had been in the middle of it. Smoke rose from their bodies as Valter coughed blood, rolling to the side.

None of the others even moved. They’d been wearing metal armor, cooked inside. He didn’t need to check them, they were dead.

Petor reached him and forced power through him. Valter groaned and gritted his teeth together, he grabbed his sword and got to his hands and knees.

“The others.”

Petor moved through the bodies, a ladder hit the wall. Petor pushed it back over with the back of his spear, reaching Mya.

Her hands were burned, black markings tracing her shirt and skin to her neck.

“Fuck,” The word came out as a croak.

“Stone, get stone. She held out her hand.

Petor reached into her pocket and pulled out the stone, its glow lighting up a small area. He placed it in her hand, she breathed in, the light dimming as her injuries reversed.

“Go.”

Petor ran for Desari, she had been hit in the back with the blast, it looked like it had propelled her into the wall headfirst. Her fellow fighters weren’t as lucky, some blasted off the wall, others shocked to death. Petor focused on her, she looked up to the sky, her eyes were swimming, blood flowing from her head.

She drew her sword pointing it at him.

“Petor?”

“Yeah its me Desari, let me help you.”

She hesitated and lowered her sword.

“Fucking head ‘urts.” Her eyes kept swimming.

“Took a nasty hit there,” Petor put his hand against her head gently, the dent and blood scaring him as he pushed his essence through her.

She groaned and complained, whimpering as she kicked the ground.

“Just a bit more.”

He felt the broken parts of her skull under his hand fuse together as she let out a groan.

“That was not fucking fun.” She grumbled.

Her eyes were more focused.

Petor helped her to her feet, she swayed, holding onto the wall. Arrows hit the crenellations, making them duck.

Mya pushed herself up on crates.

Others were starting to stand, all injured in someway. Valter was the only one to survive in his group.

Golden light appeared over the battlefield.

“Lord Jorai is with us!” A man cried on his knees, bowing his head in prayer.

Spears of ice dropped from the skies, crashing through siege towers. Frost spread from the walls, slowing some, turning others to ice that shattered when hit.

Horns called across the battlefield. The enemy turned and ran towards their camps. Smoke rose up from the ground, covering their retreat.

Petor leaned against the remains of a wall. He so desperately wanted to fall down into a seat, to rest.

He grunted, pulling himself upright, he could sense the life of those around him.

“Grab the wounded we’ll take them to the priests,” Desari yelled, pulling out a health potion.

“Well I guess Jorai had a few tricks up his sleeve,”Petor muttered, picking up a groaning man and pulling him over to the crane.

“I don’t think that was Lord Jorai,” Desari said, breathless as she drank the remains of her health potion.

Petor kicked gear off of the crane, Valter and Mya loading up the wounded.

“You six head below, carry the wounded to the priests, find a cart or a length of wood to make carrying the others easier,” Valter pointed out adnveturers and guards.

They headed down the stairs. Petor released the crane, lowering the wounded pile towards the ground. The six picked out grabbed them at the bottom and hurried down the wall.

Petor cranked on the wheel, pulling the wooden platform back up.

Desari checked the wounded, using bandages and potions, Mya carried armored guards a third bigger than her without problem. Valter rendered first aid, stabilizing quickly and carried people over.

“If you’re wounded but you can move, head down to the ground and off towards the priests,” Valter’s voice spread through the groans and yells of the wounded.

A carriage arrived after the second load, dead were piled up against the interior wall, those with only light wounds carrying those who couldn’t walk.

The fires from the homes behind the walls sputtered out.

“Who’s incharge of this gate?” A man marched up the stairs onto the wall guards flanking him on either side and a priest behind him.

Some looked at Petor’s group.

“Dunno, the guard captain was hit early on,” Mya shrugged.

The captain worked his jaw.

“Adventurers head back to your guild.” He stepped forward, ignoring Mya and the other adventurers, looking at the damage on the wall.

Desari led the way down the stairs, the wounded evacuated to the priests healing. Petor dropped down step by step, tired enough to feel like he was drunk. His body working as if remote. They were all covered in dirt and stains of black and blood.

“Look,” Desari halted on the stairs and pointed through the smoke from the newly burnt out homes. Mya drew her spyglass.

Petor squinted, a man wearing fine armor, untouched by battle stepped onto a carriage of the church. The carriage drove away up the hill.

“Who is that?” Petor asked.

“Jorai’s champion,” Mya put her spyglass away. “You think he was going to join in on the fighting?”

“I think he did,” Desari kept walking.

“The attacks?”

“Yeah,” Desari kept walking down the stairs. “He can pull on Jorai’s power even if he’s not all awake. Make it look like the priests are calling it in and do it yourself.”

“Are the other priests doing that?” Petor asked.

“No, there were too many different spells being cast all the time and they were really channelling power through their priests, I could sense it,” Desari said. “I didn’t see one member of the council on the wall. Each of them are supposed to be able to spell cast. The only spell effects came from runed gear.

Petor looked up into the sky, the only place not covered in the dead, smell of death, of burnt flesh hanging heavy in the air.

What the fuck had they found themselves caught up in?