Chapter 315: Chapter 312: Enemies At The Gate

Chapter 312: Enemies At The Gate

 

  Dozens of pillars of smoke rose throughout Undergrowth. The glow of burning homes stretched across the horizon. Even from a far-off distance, Stryg could make out the swarm of valley warriors marauding through the streets.

  “What do you see?” Rhian asked.

  Stryg glanced down from the tree, “They’re… valley tribal warriors.”

  “What? A valley tribe? Here? That doesn’t make sense,” Feli frowned. “The valley tribes are at war with Hollow Shade, not Undergrowth.”

  “It’s not only that, why would a tribe march their army into the city?” Maeve said. “It doesn’t make sense. They are at a complete disadvantage. They have no supply lines out here. Whereas Undergrowth’s armies not only have the supplies, they also have the terrain advantage. Once the city’s army is rallied the enemy is done for. The tribes won’t last till morning.”

  Rhian laughed haughtily, “They’re a bunch of idiots! There’s not a single tribe that can match the full might of a Great City!”

  “What if it’s not just a single tribe?” Lysaila said quietly. “Lord Marek was trying to unite the tribes to strengthen his own army. When I left he only had a few tribes with him, but maybe that’s changed?”

  “They’re not carrying any banners,” Stryg noted. “None that I can see… If they are from the Cairn I wouldn’t know.”

  “That’s even stranger. Why would they attack now of all times? There are diplomats from all four Great Cities here thanks to the tourney,” Maeve muttered. “Attacking Undergrowth now is like waging war against the entire Realm.”

  “Maybe they aren’t trying to attack the city per se,” Feli stared at Stryg. “Maybe they’re just trying to get to one person.”

  “The Ebon Aspirant?” Maeve said with realization. “They’re here to kill him? Or worse?”

  “Maybe Feli’s right,” Stryg said miserably. “It looks like the army is breaking off… half of them are headed over here.”

  “How many warriors do you see?” Lysaila asked.

  “Several hundred at least. There are probably more in the other city districts. I can see smoke rising from all around the city.” Stryg jumped down from the tree and landed on his feet, “We don’t have time. They're coming this way.”

  “How many are coming here?” Lysaila drew her curved blade.

  “200 hundred at least,” Stryg said. “They’ve blocked the streets, there’s no running away from this. We’re better off barricading ourselves in the mansion.”

  “How long do we have?” Feli whispered fearfully.

  “Not long,” Stryg said grimly. “Rhian, take Maeve and Feli, find the deepest room in the mansion and stay there. The Katag soldiers are probably already barricading the house as we speak.”

  “Yes, chief!” Rhian straightened her back and raised her hand in a salute.

  Feli hugged Stryg tight and whispered into his ear, “Come back to us.”

  “I’ll try my best,” Stryg said with a rare tender voice.

  Maeve fidgeted with her hands and looked around anxiously, “Stryg… I need to tell you something. I had a dream… I saw things… I saw blood and–”

  “Talk later, we need to act now,” Lysaila said sternly.

  Stryg gently pushed Feli away and looked at Lysaila, “I need your help. You’re one of the best swordsmen I have ever seen. Protect my family,” Stryg bowed his head, “Please.”

  Lysaila stared at him as if he had suddenly turned into a frog, “W-what? Why are you bowing? You don’t have to ask me… You can just command me… The Prime Edict compels me.”

  Stryg kept his eyes on the ground, “I’m not asking you as a prisoner or as some edict-bound beast-kin. I’m asking you from one warrior to another.”

  “What are you saying…?” Lysaila furrowed her brow.

  “I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to say this… I’ve given a lot of thought to this ever since you saved me during the dragon attack…” Stryg took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’ve treated you like a prisoner this whole time, even though you have risked your life to protect my own multiple times. I don’t care if you did it because of some ancient spell… thank you. I am grateful… You owe us nothing, if you wish to run away I won’t stop you. I know you’re skilled enough to slip past the enemy.”

  Stryg bowed his head lower, “I know you must hate me and I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but even still, I’m asking. Please, protect my family.”

  Lysaila stared at him in silence, “...You really mean it, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  Lysaila nodded slowly, “When this tournament is over I’m leaving this place, but until then I will protect your tribe… on one condition.”

  “Name it,” Stryg looked up at her.

  “When you become an Ebon Lord I want you to use your resources to help me figure out a way to break the Prime Edict.”

  “But I thought the Captain was helping you with that?”

  “I don’t just want to break my Prime Edict,” Lysaila glanced at Rhian, “I want to break all the Prime Edicts.”

  Rhian’s eyes widened, “Lysaila… you mean…?”

  “Deal,” Stryg nodded solemnly. “I don’t know anything about the beast-kin’s Edict, nor do I know how useful my help will be, if any, but I will do all I can to break the curse.”

  “My instincts tell me that may be enough, Mortem mage,” Lysaila said softly.

  “So much for talking later…” Maeve muttered, peeved.

  “The little vampiress is right, we should move,” Lysaila nodded.

  “What are you going to do, Stryg?” Feli asked worriedly.

  “If the enemy is really after me, then I’ll do my best to distract them and lead them away from the villa,” Stryg said.

  “Then what?” Feli bit her lip.

  “I’ll try to lose them in the city’s surrounding forest.”

  Feli frowned, “And how exactly will you do that? The trees in Glimmer Grove practically all glow. How can you hide in the dark when all the trees are shining?”

  “I don’t need the darkness to hide,” Stryg smiled confidently. “I'm Sylvan, I have spent most of my life in the forest. Every Sylvan child learns at a very young age how to hide from predators, day or night, it makes no difference.”

  “But this isn’t Vulture Woods…” Feli said weakly.

  “You’re right,” Stryg winked, “This will be much easier.”

  He abruptly turned around and took one last look at Lysaila, “Keep them safe, please.”

  “I will,” she said solemnly.

  Stryg nodded and sprinted away from the gardens and headed towards the villa’s front gate. He reached for Nameless and found nothing. He realized with dismay that he had left his sword back in his bedroom.

  “Fuck me,” he cursed under his breath. 

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  There wasn’t enough time to go back. The tribal battalions would soon be at the gate. 

  As he reached the villa’s wall, he spotted four orc guards standing at the front gate, trembling. They barely even noticed Stryg walk up behind them.

  Stryg frowned, one of Lord Katag’s lieutenants were among the guards, “Why haven’t you all gone to join the rest of your soldiers at the villa?”

  The lieutenant swallowed hard and gripped his spear tight, “Our job is to watch this gate and protect the Katag family and all who are loyal to them… Until our captain tells us otherwise, we will stop the enemy here.” He stared at the approaching enemies coming up the hill with a hardened gaze, and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, “…If tonight is the night we die, then it will be one our families will be proud of.”

  The other guards nodded and slammed their spears in solidarity.

  “It was an honor to serve with you, lieutenant.”

  “One last battle then…”

  “For House Katag!”

  Stryg looked at the soldiers in bewilderment. They were orcs. Orcs. The same orcs who the Blood Fang tribe had warned him about. Orcs were spineless cowards who had betrayed Lunis. They were cowards… so why…? Why weren’t they running away?

  Stryg shook his head, “One of you, give me your spear.”

  “What?” a guard asked, confused.

  The lieutenant picked up the ax on his belt and handed Stryg his own spear, “You may have mine, my lord.”

  “I’m not a lord,” Stryg said but grabbed the weapon nonetheless.

  “A lord is a being who uses their power to protect their people.” The lieutenant looked back at the mansion at the top of the hill, “You’re here and not back there, aren’t you? What more need I know?”

  “Aye!” the other guards nodded in unison.

  They could hear the shouts and the war cries of the valley tribesman now. The enemy was marching closer and closer to the gate.

  The lieutenant stared out at the enemy grimly, “I’d follow you into battle, my lord, if you’ll have me.”

  “As would I!” a fellow guard shouted.

  Another shrugged, “Dying side by side with an Ebon Lord doesn’t sound too bad, hehe.”

  “Our deaths will be glorious!” the last screamed from the top of her lungs.

  Stryg couldn't help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. He could see it in all their amber eyes, fear. They were terrified and yet… they were willing to face their own deaths with their eyes wide open, for loyalty and honor.

  These weren’t the orcs the Mothers had told him of…

  Stryg stepped in front of the guards and pointed his spear at the oncoming enemies, “Run while you still can! I’ll hold them off!”

  The guards' voices suddenly grew silent, yet Stryg did not hear the sound of footsteps running away. The four orcs stepped up next to him, two on each side. They smiled grimly at each other and nodded. Their legs still trembled, but they did not run, they stood their ground and faced their enemy with eyes wide open.

  “For House Katag,” the lieutenant whispered.

  “For the Ebon Lord!” another guard shouted.

  “Dammit, why are you all so stubborn!?” Stryg shouted angrily, but he found himself smiling shakily. 

  The two hundred tribal warriors marched up the hill, a mere twenty paces away now. They were close, close enough. Stryg stretched out his hand and channeled orange mana until his arm burned from the inner heat. A small cyclone of flame exploded out from his hand and splashed over the hill, covering it in a searing orange inferno.

  Red sigils manifested above the army and formed a protective wall. The flames washed over harmlessly.

  Stryg slowly lowered his hand. His body had gone stiff.

  How?

  He had channeled copious amounts of mana. The flame cyclone spell was a creation of House Noir. It was one of his strongest flame magics, a smaller version of Loh’s own signature spell, and yet… it had been stopped completely. The enemy’s ward shield hadn’t even suffered any damage.

  If they can easily stop master-class flame magic then that means…

  As the smoke cleared and the red wards faded away, a black cloaked figure stepped out from among the snarling tribal warriors. The man pulled down the hood of his cloak and looked at him with mild surprise. 

  The stranger’s hair was snow-white, and his skin a pale blue. But it was his eyes, his dark purple eyes, that caught Stryg’s attention.

  “It’s you…” Vaughn whispered.

  A shiver ran down Stryg’s spine, “You were there,” he mumbled. “That night… you were there.” His lilac eyes grew cold, “You were there with Marek and that goddamn vampire!”

  “Yes, I was,” Vaughn said calmly. 

  “So the Cairn has come to kill me?” Stryg hissed angrily.

  Vaughn smiled, amused, and revealed his prominent fangs, “Child, I am not an idiot.” He raised his hand and gave a signal to his men, “Leave the boy to me. Kill the orcs.”

  “What!?” Stryg yelled.

  Ward sigils shot out and surrounded Stryg in an instant and before he could react a red sphere manifested around him.

  “My lord!” the lieutenant yelled.

  The tribal warriors rushed the guards and attacked them relentlessly. The orcs shouted with fury and tried to defend themselves, but they were quickly surrounded and overwhelmed by the onslaught of warriors. Stryg watched helplessly as sword, ax, and spear plunged into the lieutenant and his comrades. The orcs were dead before they fell to the ground and yet the tribal savages did not stop until the guards were nothing but blood and crushed flesh underneath them.

  “No!” Stryg screamed and stabbed his spear into the red sphere. The wards flared brightly with power and his spear snapped in two. Stryg threw the pieces aside and slammed his arms against the sphere futilely. “Damn you!” he screamed,

  “Please, stop resisting, it will not help,” Vaughn said sympathetically. “The manor is being surrounded as we speak, this will all be over soon.”

  Stryg roared with frustration, tears burning his cheeks. He was as helpless as he had been a year ago. Unable to protect the ones by his side. Unable to kill the ones he despised.

  A bolt of lightning shrieked from above and struck the center of the battalion. Dozens of valley men and women went flying into the air, their bodies charred to a blackened crisp. Vaughn jumped away in surprise and quickly created a red dome above himself.

  A second, smaller lightning bolt struck the red sphere imprisoning Stryg. The red wards flared brightly as the blue lightning crackled around them until the wards cracked and shattered unceremoniously.

  Stryg dropped to his knees and looked around in a daze. A small figure emerged from the smoke. An old woman with a cane shuffled through the burnt grass. Her grey hair was a mess and she had bags under her beige eyes from days of little to no sleep. She carried no weapon nor battle armor, she only wore a simple grey robe. She should have seemed weak, incapable, but in that single moment, Stryg had never seen one so powerful.

  Ismene placed herself in front of Stryg and the hundreds of tribesmen, and looked her enemies down with a calm, steel gaze. “Stand up, child. We have a battle to win.”

 

 

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