Chapter 28 #2
Black energy struck out, throwing Seb’s friend across the ruins, battering his body into the stone rubble with a sickening crack. The reaper turned back to Seb, advancing with another hiss and another crack of its dark whips.
And Thea leapt through the air, landing in a crouch in front of Seb, dragging him down behind the wall of her shield.
The impact of the reaper’s magic nearly split her shield in two. It shuddered through the timber and into her bones, which came alive at the touch of power. Together, she and Seb braced themselves behind the barrier as the creature struck repeatedly.
‘Shield wall!’ she heard herself shout, as the dark sorcery recoiled, readying to attack again. ‘Shield wall!’ She didn’t know if anyone would hear or if anyone would listen. The calamity across the ruins was no longer contained to the creatures of power and the best of the Thezmarrians.
Heart in her throat, she readied herself for another blow, not sure the shield could withstand the continued assault.
But suddenly there were bodies around hers, shields thudding into place alongside hers.
A shriek in the distance told her the Warswords had overpowered their opponent.
‘Drive it back,’ Thea bellowed. ‘Drive it back to the Warswords. They can finish it off. They can carve out its black heart!’
Shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Thezmarrians, their shields overlapping, Thea led the formation forward, forcing the creature back, its attacks growing weaker against their braced armour.
Beyond their formation, the Warswords at last escaped the poisonous tendrils, brandishing their blades.
More and more shieldbearers and warriors joined Thea’s wall, shields slotting into place, their strength growing as they advanced inch by inch, pushing the —
A spray of hot liquid rained down upon them, and even in the dim light, Thea saw the black-streaked red. A reaper’s blood . A trickle of it ran down her face and her nostrils were filled with the scent of burnt hair.
She peered through a crack in the wall as they pushed onward, to see Torj brutally bringing his hammer down on the creature’s head, and Hawthorne, covered in blood, holding a wet mass in his clenched fist - another heart.
‘Forward!’ she yelled, putting her whole weight into the shield.
Together, they drove the monster back.
A victorious shout echoed across the ruins and something thudded on the ground, rolling towards Thea’s boots. Slowly, she lowered her shield.
The head of the reaper lay there. Its clouded blue eyes now blank, staring up at the sky.
The remaining darkness ebbed away and Thea’s unit gradually broke apart, a wet sucking sound filling the silence as Torj used a dagger to cut out the creature’s heart.
Nearby, someone threw up into the dirt.
The morning light that had been swallowed by the creatures of darkness slowly returned, illuminating the aftermath of the battle in horrifying clarity.
Thea had been so caught up in what was happening with her own unit, she hadn’t seen what had happened to the others. Men lay sprawled across the ruins, some bleeding profusely, some with limbs sticking out at strange angles. Then she remembered —
‘Esyllt!’ Dropping her sword and shield, Thea threw herself to where she’d seen the weapons master thrown from his horse.
She felt Kipp beside her as they rushed to what remained of the city walls, finding Esyllt amidst the rubble, his back against a half crumbling stone pillar.
His grey hair was matted with blood – his own.
Thea skidded to her knees beside him. ‘Esyllt, can you hear me?’
The weapons master groaned, his chin clumsily lifting from his chest. ‘Yes, unfortunately I can…’ he muttered.
Thea sighed with relief, sitting back on her heels while Kipp examined his head wound.
‘You’ll need several stitches, Sir.’
‘Not by your hand, boy,’ Esyllt growled, wincing beneath Kipp’s touch.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Sir. Only the best for you.’
Esyllt scoffed, causing a line of blood to leak from his mouth.
‘Kipp,’ Thea said, suddenly remembering. ‘Get the black satchel from my saddlebag. I might have something.’
Kipp was already on his feet.
‘Where’s Vernich?’ Hawthorne’s voice boomed.
Waiting for Kipp, Thea peered across the carnage, searching the grounds for the older warrior.
‘There!’ someone shouted after a moment, pointing to a limping figure approaching them from the northern ruins.
As the older Warsword drew closer, Thea could see that under the grime and blood, he was pale. The fabric around his left leg was split open, as was the flesh beneath it, fresh blood pulsing from the wound.
‘Torj!’ Hawthorne shouted as he rushed forward, catching Vernich as he stumbled.
‘What happened?’ Torj demanded, joining his fellow warriors and peering down at the grotesque state of Vernich’s leg.
‘Cursed thing got away,’ Vernich answered through gritted teeth. ‘It clawed the shit out of my leg and then… It exploded. I thought it had blasted itself into nothing, but… when my senses returned, I saw it, a black shadow drifting out to sea, towards the Veil.’
‘Fuck,’ Hawthorne cursed.
‘Here Thea.’ Kipp’s voice called Thea back to poor Esyllt. She just hoped she’d been right about what Wren had packed for her…
‘Esyllt,’ she said gently. ‘Who in our forces is trained in battlefield healing? Did we bring healers’ kits?’
The weapons master groaned as she helped him sit upright.
‘Esyllt?’ she prompted.
‘The Warswords,’ he said. ‘But by the looks of things, they’ll need to tend to their own. Some of the commanders —’ he grimaced as she parted his matted hair around his wound.
Thea looked up at Kipp. ‘Go speak to them, see who among them can take care of the wounded.’ She peered into the satchel and heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Tell them I have some supplies.’
Kipp was about to launch himself towards the commanders.
‘Kipp?’ she called out, and he stopped instantly, turning back.
‘Find Cal, will you? Make sure he’s alright.’
‘On it,’ he told her with a salute.
Along with several others, Thea worked into the midmorning tending to the wounded shieldbearers of Thezmarr.
While she knew she’d never be as skilled as Farissa or Wren, she was grateful for the lessons she’d insisted upon, for the tasks keeping her hands steady in the aftermath of all that had come to pass amidst the ruins of Delmira.
She saw numerous shieldbearers displaying signs of shock.
Farissa had warned her about that, and she knew were it not for keeping busy, she would likely be experiencing the same.
Thea was careful to distribute the contents of Wren’s satchel herself, because her sister had not only packed a range of healing supplies, but poisons as well.
Wren’s nothing if not prepared…
Thea lost herself in the work, wrapping gashes with clean linen bandages, sure to tell every ‘patient’ that she wasn’t a real healer and they’d need to visit the infirmary upon their return to Thezmarr.
None of them seemed bothered by her proclamations, merely thankful for her treatments that she hoped would keep any infection at bay.
‘Thea?’ Kipp said softly.
Thea whipped around. ‘Is it Cal? Have you —’
‘Cal’s fine. A few scratches, stinks like a foul chamber pot, but fine.’
Thea’s whole body sagged with relief. ‘What is it then?’
Kipp’s face fell. ‘It’s Lachin.’
‘What about him?’
‘I thought you should know. He’s… He’s dead.’
Thea blinked, the words refusing to settle. ‘Dead?’
Kipp nodded.
Thea’s hands fell away from the shieldbearer she was treating and she sat back on the damp earth, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. ‘He’s…’ but she couldn’t form the sentence.
‘Here.’ Kipp pressed something cool into her palms. ‘Drink that. You haven’t stopped since…’
Numb, Thea lifted the canteen to her lips, only to find the burning liquid wasn’t water and for that, she was grateful. She hadn’t realised how cold she’d become.
‘How? How did Lachin die?’ she eventually managed.
Kipp grimaced. ‘One of those things near sliced him in two…’
Thea forced down the bile that had risen in her throat and tried not to picture their comrade. ‘Gods.’
A shadow fell over them as Hawthorne appeared at Thea’s side. The Warsword surveyed the line of warriors, all bearing marks of her treatment, and offered her his hand. ‘I think you’ve done all you can here.’
Thea took it, warmth flooding through her as he helped her to her feet.
‘You’re unharmed?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes. Unharmed.’ She scanned his body, noting the countless gashes, the mottled bruising already forming across his skin.
He followed her gaze. ‘I’ve had much worse than this,’ he murmured.
Thea reached for her satchel. ‘Let me help —’
Hawthorne shook his head and stilled her hands, swallowing them with his. ‘Rest now.’
Then, he was walking away.
They were always leaving one another, it seemed.
It was some time before Thea registered Cal had joined her and Kipp, sporting a gash to the collarbone, but otherwise unharmed.
‘I thought you told us there was “no one” in the picture, huh?’ Kipp said, following her gaze trailing Hawthorne across the ruins.
Thea ignored him. Her own shock had sunk in as she walked, wandering the rubble aimlessly, waiting for orders.
She forced herself to take deep breaths of the crisp morning air, ignoring the metallic tang, and took comfort in the presence of her friends on either side of her.
In the midday light, she could see the blood, both human and wraith, staining the earth.
At the centre of the ruins, the Warswords convened.
Vernich’s leg had been sewn up rather gruesomely, but he stood as straight as the others, arms folded over his chest as they considered the heap of gore at their boots.
‘We should burn them,’ Torj was saying.
‘And toss the ashes out to sea,’ Vernich added in agreement.
But it was Hawthorne, covered in blood and filth, who shook his head. ‘We take the hearts,’ he stated. ‘We take them back to Thezmarr.’
And so, with the hearts of monsters in blood-soaked sacks, and the bodies of fallen comrades fastened to riderless horses, the Warswords mounted their stallions once more to lead the warriors of Thezmarr home.