Iron Blooded

Blood oozed between my fingers, dripping down my mail and onto the floor.

Every breath was agony, and yet I knew I couldn’t stop. Not now, not when I was so close to my goal. My HUD flashed a warning as my vitality slowly drained away. I gritted my teeth and pressed on, my boots leaving bloody footprints back the way I had come.

Ahead, the great gilded door stood before me. Runes of power pulsed and hummed along the edges of the stone. The power was palpable - a weight in the air that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

It was madness, I knew. But I refused to turn back now.

Pressing my shoulder to the door I drew my sword with my free hand, chest rising and falling against the pain.

“This ends now,” I growled into the cold air. And then I stepped within.

*** [Present Day]

The heat of the burning plains was relentless and unforgiving.

I tore a piece of monster jerky off in my teeth and chewed, grimacing at the taste.

Around me, the men of the Kadian Army’s forward unit hunkered down to rest. The pursuit of the Ork Host had gone on for 6 long days, and now we were closing in.

I gazed across the dunes of the plains, spotting a small cloud of dust in the distance.

“The scouts have returned,” I told Draxus, swallowing my last bite of jerky and rising to my feet.

My friend grunted and drew an arm across his brow, glancing at the sky.

“Three hours until nightfall,” he said. “They’ll have to stop to rest sometime.”

“So will we.”

I ran an eye over the temporary camp, noting the dark circles under many eyes. It had been a hard run and the longer it dragged on, the more haggard the men became. My only consolation was the knowledge that the beaten and broken Host, which had begun to fracture since their leader's defeat, was just as worn down.

Instinct had told me to press that advantage, though I knew it came at a cost. The sooner the Firebrand was a corpse, the better.

The small cloud of dust materialized into the two figures as the scouts drew closer. Eric and Astrid strode towards me, the latter covered in a thin layer of what looked like tan mud.

When I arched a brow the northern Archer shrugged.

“Camouflage,” she said simply. I didn’t contradict her. Of the hundred or so men under my temporary command here, half of them were made up of the 3rd Auxillary. Twenty of them were my own, and the rest were a few squads wearing the livery of Lord’s Blackthorn and Dacon.

“So,” I said, nodding to Astrid, and picking my helmet up from where it lay. “What’s the verdict?”

Astrid bit her lip, brows creased.

“It’s both better and worse than we thought,” she said, hefting her bow on her shoulder.

“The Host has indeed fractured, and with their loss of leadership that was expected. But there are… other factors we hadn’t anticipated.”

Draxus moved beside me, restless on his feet.

“And those would be?”

Astrid grimaced.

“The Khan’s son.”

I swore turning away and gripping my helmet so tightly my knuckles turned white. This had been exactly what I’d hoped to avoid. Even with Urksol defeated, if his son managed to rally the now splintered Host, we would have trouble on our hands.

“How many?” I asked, turning back to face Astrid.

“At least Five hundred, maybe Eight. The Orks suffered heavy casualties during the siege, and several of the Tribes split of from the main body. But still…” she trailed off, the grimness in her expression reflecting the mood in the small circle around me.

All eyes now turned to me. I gripped my helmet in both hands, staring down at the dark metal. A faint sheen of purple power coated the metal, marking it as a legendary Item.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Before me, two paths of action branched.

I could press forward, preserving our momentum and confronting the remnants of the Host. That seemed madness, but only one other option remained. Retreat.

“Well,” said Kato with a sigh. “This complicates things.”

Draxus adjusted his sword belt on his waist, face grim. “We can't risk a direct confrontation,” he said. “Not now. Our only chance would be to hit them while they sleep.”

“Easier said than done when the Host knows we’re coming,” Kato stuck his tongue in his lip, scratching at his eyepatch.

“Damn thing still itches.”

“That’s because it’s only been a week,” I pointed out. “Quit messing with it.”

“Eye eye Captain.”

Draxus let out a long-suffering sigh.

I lifted my helmet onto my head, leaving the visor open as I surveyed the sky.

“There might be a way,” I said at last. Kato and Draxus looked incredulous. Hade looked like he might puke across his boots.

“Is it really worth the risk, Ser William?” the soldier asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Even now their numbers far exceed our own.”

I nodded. “I’m not debating it. I believe the danger lies in the risk of letting them go. If the Khan’s son gains a foothold here, he could very well end up rallying the Tribes to his cause once more. In its current state, Ceris wouldn’t last the week. When it falls, the southern lands will be next.”

There was another reason, a reason I wasn’t keen to advertise. Lord Blackthorne had pulled me aside only moments before my departure. His face had been pale and gaunt, the results of several days spent in the tents of healers trying to undo the damage he had suffered.

His tired dark eyes had met mine, and once again I had felt the rift that now lay between us.

“I have a job for you, Blackbriar. If you’ll take it.”

I had rocked back on my heels, unsure of what to make of the nature of that request.

“I will, My Lord,” I said cautiously. Lord Blackthorne had wiped the sweat from his brow with a strip of linen. I remember then that he looked less like a warrior of legend and more like a man then I had ever seen him.

That alone unsettled me, though at the time I was unsure why.

“Back in the streets, when you and your men faced off against Firebrand. He said something then, something that’s stuck with me.”

Blackthorne coughed and turned to the side to spit flem. I waited, pulse racing.

“He alluded to the fact that he wanted something the Lord Governor had. Enough that he would lead his Host to walls of a city that has stood for hundreds of years.”

I had frowned then, unsure of what he meant.

“I thought the price he spoke of was the city itself.”

Blackthorne snorted. “What use would an Ork host have for a city? No, they live their lives on the move, the host is a machine made up of Tribe’s that run on glory and bloodshed.”

It made logical sense but as I remembered the events in the House of Refuge my stomach turned over.

“What do you think he’s after, my Lord?” I asked.

Lord Blackthorne closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he seemed somehow stronger.

“I don’t know,” he had said. “But I want you to find out.”

***

The light of the half-moon was the only thing to guide us. Four hours later we crouched in the tall dry grasses of the plains, staring out at the Host encampment. The men were sweaty and exhausted, having just spent the past few hours running in armor.

It was a gamble, but I hoped it would pay off. There was a solid thud and a soft hiss of pain from somewhere behind.

“No torch was a bold choice,” grumbled Kato as he strode up beside me. His unsheathed sword was covered in a strip of dark cloth, hiding the gleam of metal while remaining in hand.

Mine was the same. I had ordered all of the men to use the remaining cloth, repurposed from spare cloaks and blankets, to wrap their boots and pad their armor.

The result looked odd enough, but it served its purpose. I rose slightly from my crouch long enough to risk a glance to the far right. Somewhere ahead, Astrid would be making her move.

I watched as a warm breeze stirred the grass around us, looking for any sign. It was long before I spotted movement on the edge of the Ork camp.

Four dark figures bend low, darting their way from shadow to shadow. I tensed, sweaty hand gripping my sword as I waited for their approach.

Four Ork Sentry patrolled in pairs, heavy boots stomping the Earth. I could hear their strange guttural language drifting on the breeze as they went. The light of their torches cast strange shadows on their red skin, and I was reminded of just how large and formidable they truly were.

Astrid stopped at the edge of the firelight and knelt. The other Archers, still in the grass, took up positions behind her. I watched as she raised her bow and sighted down the shaft. I licked my lips.

A single mistake could mean the difference between being the hunter and the hunted. But Astrid was well aware. She shook her head, hood falling back as she took aim. I saw her mouth move as she said something.

Then the arrow lanced through the night. It took the Ork in the eye, and his head jerked back. Another arrow found his companion's throat and I watched with tense shoulders as one of the archers darted forward with a small knife and finished the job.

The soft thud of the body made me wince and I held my breath. When nothing happened I released it and waited for Astrid’s signal.

She turned and was about to raise her hand when a second pair of boots on cracked Earth made her freeze. Deftly she pulled an arrow from her quiver and turned. An Ork Raid boss had strode from the camp clad in little more than leather armor.

Focused as he was on what was in front of him he failed to glance to the side as he made his way towards the grasses edge. Astrid remained still, watching him come to a stop only ten feet away. There was a pause and then a splatter of liquid.

“Shit way to die,” muttered Kato even as the two arrows Struck him in the neck and behind the knee. The Raider Boss’s knee buckled and he let out a grunt cut into a gurgle as the knife opened his throat.

“And that,” said Draxus approvingly. “Is why you don’t fuck with Astrid.” He gave Kato a significant look. The one-eyed soldier only grinned.

“Fear is for the weak.”

“Focus,” I growled, and the two of them lapsed into silence. I watched as Astrid and her crew dragged the bodies into the tall grass. The Orks were heavy and it took several long minutes for them to complete their work.

I watched the edge of camp, tensing when I saw the flicker of torches. Another Ork had come and this one was flanked by several soldiers. A patrol? The lead Ork pointed towards the hills and snarled something I didn’t understand.

The soldiers, dressed forward, took off at a trot.

“Shit,” I hissed. “It’s a scout patrol. And they’re headed right for us.”