Page 381 of Of Empires and Dust
“Du haryn myia vrai,” Tessara said, approaching Erik, blood and dirt marring her previously pristine plate, her breaths heavy.You have my thanks.
“Det er myia haydria, Inari,” Erik said with a dip of his head.It is my honour, Queen. He turned and found Shadow, leaping into the horse’s saddle as the elves of Vaelen swarmed them, pushing the Uraks back.
Dann appeared beside him astride Drunir, Lyrei at his side. “You all right?”
Erik nodded, drawing a sharp breath. “To Salme.”
Dahlen broughthis left blade up, turned away the swing of an Urak sword, then slid his right blade deep into the creature’s gut. He pulled the blade free, just until the tip left the flesh, then drove it back in anew and ripped it out. The Urak’s intestines spilled onto the ramparts as it stumbled and fell to the ground below.
He spun on his heels and thrust his blade up through the jaw of another Urak attempting to crest the walls. The steel carved through its chin, lips, and nose, cleaving bone and flesh alike.
Before he could push the ladder from the palisade, a hand slapped against his chest and pushed him backwards. Nimara threw herself past Dahlen, swinging her wicked, double-bladed axe into an Urak’s chest. She yanked the haft back towards herself, causing the creature to fall to a knee. In a flash, she released the axe’s handle, then grabbed one of the short axes at her hip and slammed it down into the back of the Urak’s head.
Nimara yanked the axe free and slid it back into its loop, pulled the Urak over onto its back, and heaved her weapon free of its chest. She planted her foot on the creature’s side and pushed it over the ramparts.
“We can’t hold the walls much longer.” Erdhardt wiped blood from his eyes and looked out at the shifting sea of leathery skin that swept over the land. “As soon as one of those Bloodmarked makes it through, we’re done.”
At the rear of the Urak horde, the night ignited with flashes of lightning and pillars of fire. They’d all heard the horns, and even then Dahlen could see the purple banners bearing the white dragon jutting from blocks of archers who rained steel down upon the Urak flanks. Erik was here. He’d made it.
“Always at the last minute, little brother,” Dahlen whispered.
Erdhardt swung his hammer into an Urak head rising above the parapet. It hit with a crunch. The beast fell in silence, and Erdhardt planted his foot on the ladder and kicked it free of the walls. “I say abandon the walls. Fall back into formation in the streets, funnel their numbers into smaller spaces. Spaces where the Lorian mages can rip them apart.”
“No.” Dahlen looked along the walls, where Salme’s defenders were hurling spears and loosing arrows into the Urak onslaught below. “We need to make them bleed for every inch of this city. We need to hold these walls for as long as we can. Erik’s arrival changes everything. Salme may yet live to see another sunrise, but only if we drag it through the night.”
Erdhardt looked as though he disagreed, but he gave a sharp nod. “As you say, Lord Captain.”
“Bloodmarked!” The cry rose somewhere to Dahlen’s left. He looked over the ramparts to see the enormous creature hauling itself from the second trench. Its runes illuminated the mass of bodies that lay in the blood-soaked dirt. Two spears punched into its chest, causing it to stagger, while three more sank into the corpses at its feet.
The creature charged forwards, ripping one of the spears free as it did. It hurled the spear with inhuman strength, and a scream pierced the night as the steel slammed into a woman’s chest and sent her soaring to the ground some twenty feet behind the walls.
Two arrows punched through the Bloodmarked’s head in quick succession: one through the ear, the second barely a finger’s width to the left of the first. The creature dropped, limp and lifeless. Dahlen looked to the roof of the wooden tower built into the walls on his left. Tharn Pimm knelt against the low parapet, already nocking another arrow. The man was a monster with a bow.
They fought tooth and nail for what felt like an eternity, until blood covered every inch of the walls and bodies had piled high on both sides. Dahlen’s muscles burned from swinging his swords, and his bones ached. He’d seen Darda Vastion taken by a black spear to the head, and three of his Silver Wolves had fallen to Urak claws and steel. Yoring, Almer, Nimara, Erdhardt, and Jorvill Ehrnin all stayed tight to Dahlen, hacking and slashing at everything that dared come over the walls. And for every defender of Salme that fell, three Uraks did the same. Slowed by the trenches, the creatures were hammered with arrows and spears, dying in droves.
That was until cries erupted from the ground inside the walls.
Dahlen turned to see Uraks spilling into the city. The warriors he’d positioned on the ground slammed their shields together and levelled their spears, taking the charge head-on.
He’d barely reached for the horn around his neck when a column of the Lorian cavalry came blazing along the eastern section of the wall and smashed into the Urak flank like a hammer.
The spearmen surged forwards, drove steel through anything that still moved after the charge, and formed a new line across the now-shattered gates.
More screams broke out, and a section of the wall erupted to Dahlen’s right, wood and bodies lifting into the air amidst a shockwave of fire. A second explosion sounded, and a third and fourth further in the distance at the western wall, plumes of fire burning in the night. The Bloodmarked had breached the walls.
Erdhardt whipped his head around and met Dahlen’s gaze.
“Abandon the walls!” Dahlen roared, opening an Urak’s throat as it reached the top of a ladder. He grabbed the horn and blew in four sharp bursts. “Fall back!”
Another explosion illuminated the night on the eastern wall, where Exarch Dorman was holding the ground.
“Abandon the walls!” Dahlen roared again, pushing two men towards the stairs. Below, the shield wall was holding across the gates and the cavalry were smashing through the Uraks that were beginning to trickle through the breaches.
Hands grabbed Dahlen’s shoulder and spun him. He stared into Nimara’s eyes as a black spear glanced off her thick pauldron – where his chest had been – and skittered upwards and off into the city.
Dahlen’s heart froze in his chest, and the air caught in his lungs.
“Hafaesir forged you those eyes for a reason,” Nimara said, grabbing the side of his head. “Use them. This city will fall if you do. I will fall.”
