Thursday, March 26, 2020

The Ember Sword Chapter Twenty



Esme paced in front of the bedroom window for the tenth time. From his seat at his desk, Carlisle watched the moon light her face before she moved on, turning at the wall and going back. All day and all night, she’d worried and paced.

“They’ll be back, my love.”

She didn't pause her manic steps. “All my children, those of my womb and those of my heart, are gone.”

“I know this.”

Hadn't he struggled to focus on his letter? How did one ask for help from a neighboring clan when there was no telling what truly transpired in distant lands?

“My warriors are on a mission without their leader.”

“It was the right thing to do, Esme.”

She spun to face him. “Was it?”

“Of course. You are wise. You knew we needed bodies here to defend the citadel, and yet you knew your sons needed to find your daughters.”

“If they attack, we are outnumbered.”

“Nay.” He rose, crossing the room and taking her in his arms. She remained stiff and unyielding. “They have the same number as our guard. You saw to that.”

“But half our guard is untrained.”

Carlisle nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “I fell in love with your optimism. Where is it now?”

“Somewhere in No Man’s Land, I believe.”

“ʼTis a serious situation, I know, but you made the best decision you could.”

She sighed. “Maybe so.”

Through the window, a light in the distance caught her attention. “Carlisle, someone is coming.”

“Are the gates open?”

Wrapped in each other, they stood in front of the window and watched the envoy head their way. “Nay, I didn't think it best.”

“Good choice.” He rested a hand on his wife’s back and watched as the sentinels on the gate lifted a hand in greeting. They were too far away to hear the exchange. 

“Oh, no.”

Her moan echoed in his soul. Not their children, not their warriors, but the savages they’d once fought; the battering ram being a dead giveaway.

They moved as one, throwing open the chest at the foot of their bed and gathering their armor. Quickly, they tied the leather pieces on and donned their helmets.

Esme gripped her necklace and said a prayer as they rushed down the silent hall. Carlisle handed her longbow to her as they exited the building onto the battlement. The night air was damp and cool, but they felt none of that as they prepared to defend their home. Still walking, Esme pulled arrows from her quiver and nocked one on her bow. 

“I need you to hand them to me one by one as I release them.”

“Aye.”

She went to work setting up, aiming, and releasing arrow after arrow. She hit one man in the shoulder, making them aware of her presence, but she was protected by the narrow slit she shot through. They couldn't have hit her if they’d tried, though none of them appeared to carry longbows. 

“I count ten,” Carlisle said from her side as he offered another arrow.

“Nine,” she announced as she took one down.

“They’re going to break the gate in the next few thrusts of the ram.”

“Dammit,” she swore as one of them lifted his shield in time to block her arrow. “The sentinels will have to hold them off.”

“Where are Eternal-Fury and Wolf-Hammer?”

“Last I saw them, they were heading to bed,” she replied.

“Figures,” he muttered. “Shall I wake them now?”

“Give me one more.” He handed her another arrow and she managed to take down one more warrior. “Go get them, please. Tell them eight of The Forsaken are at our gates and will be through in the next few minutes.”

“Aye.” He kissed the side of her helmet. “Take care of my warrior.”

“Always.”

He hurried down the walkway to the door, sliding through amid the noise of the battering ram slamming into their wooden gates. At the other end of the hall he took the stairs to the main floor and found Caius and Athenodora’s door. 

He knocked briskly. “It’s Demon-Hide.”

A few moments passed before Athenodora answered, a robe pulled over her shift. “What’s going on?”

“The Forsaken are here. Eight of them, main gate. They’ll have it breached in minutes. Make ready.”

She nodded and hurried to obey. Carlisle made his way back, meeting Esme on the stairs.

“They’re through,” she informed him. 

He swore viciously. “Those two are coming.”

“Let’s hope we have enough fighters.”

He did hope that, but his optimism slipped as he heard the tell-tale sounds of combat in the courtyard. 

Esme and Carlisle turned to head out the front doors and assist the sentinels in defending their home. Athenodora and Caius joined them at the last second, she with her sword and he with his battle ax. Carlisle moved away to open the door for them all when he heard a scream from behind him. Whirling, he saw an ax buried in his wife’s chest and Athenodora gaping at her spouse.

With a roar, Demon-Hide attacked Wolf-Hammer. He didn't have the chance to pull his weapon from the body of his chieftess; his foul plan was poorly thought through. Athenodora dropped her longsword to tend to her leader, her friend, her comrade.

“Esme! Oh, please. Oh, please.” She pulled her cloak off and pressed it to the wound, looking down into cloudy eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn't know.”

Demon-Hide advanced on Wolf-Hammer who ducked and swerved, hiding behind pillars and dancing across the bottom of the stairs. Behind them the front door split down the middle, the sentinels and the Forsaken spilling into the room in disarray. 

Renee locked weapons with one of the warrior women from Blackthorn who hissed and spit at her. Ignoring the tactics, she rammed her sword deep in her belly, spitting on her dead body before using her shield to block the blow coming at her from a scarred man. She barely noticed that someone was laid out on the floor, but she absolutely noticed that her fierce leader’s spouse was attacking one of their own. 

She pushed the disfigured fighter away from her, cutting his arm in the process. He didn't appear intent on backing off, but she needed to know what was afoot with Caius and Carlisle. In her irritation, she brandished her sword in circles, catching her enemy off guard before leaving a diagonal slice in his chest.

Angelique fought nearest Carlisle, and Renee went to assist her in taking down her opponent. 

“The attendants are in the cellar!” Angelique shouted. “They were told to hide.”

With a grunt, Renee went left while Angelique went right, and the man went down. “We need to see what’s going on with Demon-Hide.”

With a look of surprise, Angelique jerked her head in the direction of the two men. Caius cowered on the ground near the stairs, blood coating his body. As they watched, Carlisle took a swing with his ax, removing a finger. 

Wolf-Hammer wailed.

“What the bloody hell?” Angelique shrieked.

Carlisle did not lift his gaze, but Renee read the look of rage on his face. His lip curled, he answered the sentinel’s question. “This treasonous bastard attempted to kill your chieftess.”

Whimpering, Wolf-Hammer lifted his non-injured hand. “Have mercy!”

“You don't deserve mercy,” Carlisle growled and cut off the outstretched hand.

With an inhuman sound, Caius fell to the ground, clutching the bloody stump.

The stench of death all around her, Renee whirled to assist in the fighting going on behind them. The new sentinels were grouped two and three per Forsaken warrior. Shaking her head, Renee headed to the two who struggled the most and gave them assistance.

With Athenodora, Carlisle, and Angelique tending to the chieftess, the sentinels were the only ones left to fight. There were six remaining Forsaken, and five sentinels who were skilled enough to fight them. Though they tried, Pire and Vera were the first True-Sworn sentinels to fall. Renee had miscalculated in helping Bianca and Gianna when the others had actually needed her help. As Cynthia went down as well, Renee realized there was a chance they might not win the fight.

“We could really use some of the senior attendants right about now,” she muttered as she locked swords with a female. She wore bones tied into her hair, and Renee longed to yank one or two out. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Lauren fall.

“Fuck!” Magwyn cried out as she caught a spear in the thigh.

They were losing.

Their chieftess was bleeding out.

“Gianna, Bianca, go to safety.”

They didn't obey at first, but she shot them a hard look as she blocked a blow to the head. They scurried off, and then there were three.

Three sentinels to defend Sandhorne Stronghold against six massive warriors.

Not one to back down from a fight, Renee continued to raise her weapon in defense of her home. It mattered not when her muscles ached and begged for relief. It mattered not when sweat stung her eyes. Jeska and Viktorija joined her, standing in a tight ring with their backs together. They circled, forearms brushing, and defended against the six combatants aiming to kill them.

“What the fucking hell do we do now?” Viktorija said in low tones.

“Die defending the citadel if need be.”

Though they knew Renee was correct, neither Viktorija nor Jeska wanted to die that day.

“Perhaps if we ask Demon-Hide to help,” Jeska began.

“Are you daft?” Renee barked. “His wife is mortally wounded.”

Jeska tried again. “The senior attendants?” 

“If one of the newer sentinels I sent into hiding thinks to find them and tell them to come our way. None of us can leave to hunt them down.”

The Forsaken were apparently done waiting to be the victors. They attacked as one, moving in synchronicity toward the trio of women. The sentinels blocked, ducked, and attempted to jab a few of them in vital organs. Though two fell from nonlethal wounds, four more remained.

Magwyn let out a searing cry when she stood and limped her way toward the skirmish. She hacked through the back of one of the men, then dropped her sword and fell with him. Blood pooled beneath her, and Renee didn't have time to find out to whom it belonged. She dearly hoped she wouldn't have to inform Irina her mate had died.

Three on three were much better odds, and Renee renewed her energy to fight off the last few. What she didn't expect was to hear horses' hooves through the mangled door.

“More?” she whined before she could stop herself.

The Forsaken in front of her sneered. “Aye, beiskaldi. Our reserves have come to burn your city to the ground and have the sword for ourselves.”

“Over my dead body,” Viktorija spat at him.

“With pleasure,” he replied.

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