另类小说人亚洲小说

Chapter 97

Wrath of Rakkal

It was all we could do to keep Rakkal from force marching northward.

“I’m sorry.” I said to Gormfaith. “I have failed you.”

“Failed me how?”

“Your men aren’t getting their rest.”

.....

“Rest? There’s a city with a breach in its wall wide enough for a squad and a half to stand, perhaps two squads of a shield wall. Who wants rest when there is a certain victory, when loot, ravage, and rapine are at hand?”

“I have yet to see a battle with casualties only on one side.”

“Heh. Those are called massacres, not battles.”

And he was right.

They had piled up debris, most of it from the gatehouse.

“We go through!” Rakkal said.

“Brother, there are other gates.” One of his brothers said.

Rakkal snorted. And then stomped. “Fine. Which gate is closest?”

“That doesn’t look all that structurally sound.” Uma said.

Rakkal and his family discussed in their own tongue for a bit, and then we circled our troops around to the western gate.

Oh, perhaps I should mention, we were some four hundred in man-sized soldiers, and perhaps half that much in goblin rabble.

Really, where they got all these goblins from baffled me.

“All right! No trenches, no pauses, no wasted time! Chaaarge!”

And we did. Portcullis, gate doors, troops beyond – none of it did more than slow us.

What followed might not have been a massacre, but it was decidedly in our favor.

“Uma! Take that wing. Ensure no smiths die!”

“Maybe a few? Fine, no more than I can prevent. You lot, with me!”

“Find me their leaders!” Rakkal demanded. “This is now a Red Tide city!”

No fewer than four of his brothers were wounded, and needed to remove themselves from the front lines. When he laid eyes upon the fortress of the knights, he had fewer than half his family members with him.

“Hrm.” He ground a hoof against the cobblestones. “Tomorrow for that. Surround it, and kill all who emerge with weapons in their hands.”

“It shall be done!” said the hobgoblin captain.

“The leaders! Where are the leaders, little brother?”

“I know of a house outside the wall where they took refuge before.”

“Outside. The. Walls.”

“Yes, larger brother.”

“And why,” he slid his thumb along the side of his blooded axe blade, “am I hearing of this now?”

“You seemed determined to take the town, larger brother.”

“Brownbeard!”

“Brother?”

“Take some soldiers and this one. See if you can find me some leaders.”

“If he could just give me directions...”

Rakkal snorted.

“Fine, you come along, then.”

We found only Lord Banks at that house, waiting for a horse to be saddled.

“I yield!” he screamed. “I yield!”

Brownbeard lifted him with his left hand, to look into his eyes at level.

“Whatever you want, just take it!” Banks screamed.

“For starters, I want you.” Brownbeard said calmly. “Now, this can be painless. Where are the others?”

Many men think they are brave until the pain starts; Lord Banks chose not to even attempt to be that man.

#

“Brother, I return! We have five of the eight council of rulers.” Brownbeard hollered.

“Cowards, the ones that I captured.” Rakkal said. “Little brother, come forward.”

“I am here.”

“Good. These two say that it was Lord Banker who spoke for the council when they refused my surrender terms.”

“Banks, my elder brother. Lord Banks spoke as authority when-”

“Which of these men is Banks!?”

I pointed to him. “We surrender! We have surrendered!”

“I’ve heard how you treat your prisoners.” Rakkal drew back his axe.

“Terms of surrender guarantee us our lives!”

“Then you were a fool to refuse them.” Rakkal struck his neck, but required a second blow to sever his head.

I had expected silence, or a clamor as everyone begged for their lives at once.

Lady Ethelred wept openly.

“You! I spoke in your defense!” Lord Morthammer said.

“Is this true?” Rakkal asked.

“It is true.” I pointed at Lady Estridge. “That one also spoke other than to condemn me.”

“Fine. These two are to remain here, but are not to be touched.”

“And the rest of us?” asked an aristocrat whose name I never knew.

“You will be tested for taint, of course.” Rakkal said, his voice calm and even. “And then, I will hear what you will do for me that is worth your lives.”

“Little brother, Uma. Walk with me.”

Uma snorted. “I can use the exercise, but I reserve the right to punch you if make more dawn poetry.”

“Such is the right of family.”

He took us to the southern gate, where the debris was already being broken into smaller chunks with mauls and picks (and some timbers with axes). Goblins darted about, removing the pieces when they were small enough.

I stumbled once while we navigated our way over that mess.

“I thought you had evolutions from mountain goats.” Rakkal sounded amused rather than angry.

“Food was limited over winter. I have a few hundred evolutions left to unlock.”

Uma seemed shocked. “How do you sort them all?”

“Manually, for now. I don’t have the development points to improve my System just yet.”

Rakkal took a seat to observe the dawn, even though just the faintest of blues marked its coming.

“This,” he said, “has been a good night.”

“It has.” Uma said.

“It was good that we struck before their cavalry could recover.” I said.

“We are not here to speak of tactics, but of leadership.” He said.

.....

“You know my heart, brother. I will burn this town to the ground rather than be stuck here.”

“There are no major moves to be made until the summer. Humans are always restless and rebellious, you will not lack for combat here, sister.”

“When we fight the centaurs, I don’t expect to be left here.”

“You won’t be. Once the forge and smelter are working, I need you training those heavy infantry.”

“And I am to supervise construction of the ironworks?” I asked.

“No, I have another task in mind for you.”

#

We watched the sky lighten for a minute or so.

“That was your time to ask what your new task is.” Uma said.

“Big brother will tell me when he is ready.”

She snorted. “Little brother is lost in the sunrise.”

“Sister, I can hear both of you.”

“Good to know your hearing isn’t damaged.”

Eventually, when colors other than blue were poking over the horizon, he spoke. “I enjoy your service.”

“It is good to be of service, big brother.”

“I need more than one of you.”

“I am only one year old, and do not dare to think myself a fit mate for Uma.”

Rakkal snapped his neck and torso around to look at me. “You keep your filthy thoughts away from my sister!”

Uma reached out, placing a hand over my skull. “Consider your response carefully. In what way am I an improper mate?”

“Not improper, big sister. But surely someone more fit than a yearling seeks you?”

She snorted, and broke out in laughter. “It’s too easy with him.”

“He’ll learn, as we did, sister. No, little brother. I want you to seek out the place of your birth, see if there is another generation of gluttonous little changelings that can be reared.”

“I do know roughly where that is. The round trip will take about two weeks.”

“Make no promises, I want thoroughness, not speed.”

“May I at least sleep before departing?”

He chuckled. “You may even gather excess food. I suspect your brethren, if you find them, will want some.”

“Perhaps I shall gather some from Narrow Valley.”

There was a short discussion about which town had what supplies, but that doesn’t need to go here.

We watched the sunrise, and headed back inside. I placed an order for my armor, but for a night when I did so little, I was ready to sleep.

Adjusting sleep between night and day had never come easy to me.

So I was walking the streets of Whitehill, surveying casualties and damages, which were both lighter than in Narrow Valley.

“There! That one! That’s our escaped slave.”

Ugh.

“Lord Wren. Just go away, and stay there.”

“No! You’ve forgone your duties to the Guild for long enough.”

I tightened the leather straps affixing my shield to my left arm. He had a guardsman with him.

I had a Flavian sword at my left hip, where the scabbard kept grating on my canteen.

“Lord Wren, your branch of the Guild does not own the Narrow Valley branch. Even if you did, my contract has already been sold to another. I owe you nothing. Go away.”

“Sacritus, seize him!”

Sacritus advanced toward me with a rope. He paused when I drew my Flavian, but he drew a studded mace from his belt.

“You’ve got no armor; I’ve got metal mail.”

“You’ve got no shield. You’ve lost.”

Sacritus shook his head.

Well, I tried.

#

I’m sure Sacritus meant well, and I can’t really fault his training. In terms of strength and raw aggression, the advantage was his.

I had a shield; he didn’t. I had learned by being beaten with clubs, which are very similar to both maces and axes.

And, it was just a matter of time before...

[You have scored a YELLOW CRITICAL for double damage.]

Sacritus was good, but he was no Geralt the Blade. Every time he struck, he turned his side toward me. It was just a matter of trying until I hit the point where his sleeves and vest didn’t meet.

It was a light cut, but it took the edge off Sacritus’ recklessness.

“Sacritus, just stand aside.”

“One lucky blow doesn’t win a battle.” He said, smashing against my shield again.

Add lack of creativity to his list of disadvantages.

I led him around the street, struck him across the inside of his wrist. The mail held, and he didn’t drop his weapon.

“Your armor is of good quality, at least.” I said.

“Keep being overconfident! All I need is one good blow!”

He used a lot of overhand blows. It’s a mistake some warriors make when attacking someone shorter.

I whacked him across the kneecap, again not drawing blood.

“Grah! You arrogant.” Wild Swing.

“Little.” Equally wild backswing.

He stumbled at the uneven sewer grate, and I clonged one off his helmet.

“MONSTER!” I was able to sidestep that one.

His technique was gone, allowing me to...

[You have scored a YELLOW critical for double damage.]

“Sacritus, you’ve lost. Just stand down.”

He answered me with a wordless screech, bringing his mace underhanded against my shield. It finally cracked, down below half of its condition.

“You see, there’s nothing you can do...”

[You have scored an ORANGE critical, for four times normal damage.]

I put the point of my sword between his gorget and helmet.

“Graaclff!” he exclaimed, and coughed up blood.

“Slumber.”, and he did.

Lord Wren tried to run, but even that small fight had drawn a crowd.

An uruk on either arm, he was drawn before me and forced to his knees.

“I curse you creature, for your impudence, vanity, and disobedience.”

The curse had power, but not the focus it needed. It found the impudent, the vain, the disobedient. Need I say it?

“I told you when we parted for the first time to remember who spared your life when another would have taken it.”

“Kill me now, then, monster.”

“Lord Wren, you could have lived out your days a member of the Guild. I have warned you off at every opportunity. This...” I waved my hands to indicate the crowd gathered.

I addressed the Uruk in Goblin. “Have this one taken away and branded as a slave. Have him dressed for the coal mines, and assigned there.”

“You want we should do anything else to him?” asked Nassos.

“He’s just another slave now. Do anything to him that amuses you.”

#