Wrath of Fate
Chapter the Fifth
The Battle at South Murond
South Murond, Unnamed City
Zephiel readied the short spear, inverting his grasp on it. He took aim and launched the projectile. It struck one of the enemy soldiers in the heart. Zephiel drove his wyvern down, low enough to retrieve the short spear and then jerked the reins back. The wyvern shoved its wings downwards quickly, propelling them back into the sky.
All around the city wyvern riders from Biran were using similar tactics. While they held the front line siege machines bombarded the city's structures. Thieves and footsoldiers ran around the city getting rid of the minor resistance that the riders left in their wake and looting the houses out of reach of the siege machines.
Zephiel swung his wyvern around in the sky. He observed the battle down below. The city had been poorly defended even though it was far from off guard. The defenders were obviously new to this sort of thing. They weren't trained for battle and the city's layout was poorly planned making it even harder for the defenders. And this city was not alone. They had conquered two other cities on their way to this one and both were easy prey to the mighty lords of the sky and the siege machines that traveled in their wake.
Soon the battle was over, though it was not even worthy of the term battle. It was a slaughter. Zephiel, Vaida, Murdock and several other Biran generals sat around a table discussing the losses and gains from the battle. While figures were presented Zephiel's mind strayed and stayed drifting between the conversation and other matters. He thought about his mother and father and most of all, his sister, all of whom he left behind in Biran.
Yuguo Woods, Deep Forest
Voltaire stabbed the first of the five Ositian knights his lance went through the armor and came out with blood on its tip. One of the enemy knights hurled a javelin. Voltaire jumped to his left only to be bashed in the side by one of the other knights. He got up quickly and backed up to a tree. The four remaining knights closed in around him bearing their shields in front of them and their spears beside them. Voltaire lowered his lance and prayed. He placed his foot against the wall and pushed off stabbing straight into the center of one of the knights' shield. The knight screamed in agony as the lance's tip separated tendons and cracked bones. Voltaire aimed right. His spear broke the man's shield and tore into his hand. He managed to shove the knight back enough to break the halo they made around him. He drew his lance out and stabbed the same knight whose hand he pierced in the gut.
Three knights on one. Things were looking up. Voltaire held his lance firmly in one hand and kept his shield up with the other, maintaining a defensive position. The knights around him seemed to be considering retreating. Voltaire wouldn't mind that. He had been through enough desperate battles before, when he was still with Ramza Beoulve. The knights finally charged. Two came straight from the front and the third was walking around to find an exposed side. Voltaire spun his lance with his fingers using momentum, rather than his own force to deflect the two spears from in front. On slammed straight into the ground and the other went into the air causing its owner to keep running. Running straight into the last knight. Voltaire jammed his knee into the crotch of the knight whose spear was stuck in the ground then turned to face the other two. They managed to get back up with great difficulty, staggering under the weight of their own armor. Voltaire decided it was time to show them what a dragoon was truly capable of.
Eastern Keep, Bedroom
The count of the keep kneeled on the ground, an arrow was in the back of his knee and a pointed, slim sword was inching into his neck. All around him the battle raged. Soldiers fought with soldiers; enraged militia fought with thieves and raiders. Igros stood in great splendor and glory…
Then he woke up. His breath came in ragged gasps. He gripped his sword which lay beside him.
"What's wrong?" a female voice said softly from the shadows of the night enshrouded keep.
"Another vision. They keep getting clearer." He responded.
"Go back to sleep. We have lots to do tomorrow." The woman said.
"Like what?"
"We should go back to Igros. You never know what could happen. It's time for the lord of the Beoulve to reclaim his house." She said. "Good night."
"Good night." He replied.
Yuguo Woods, Deep Forest
Voltaire crouched down for two seconds. Then he sprung into the air his jump exceeded the height of normal humans' jumps, propelling him nearly fifty feet into the air. He inverted his grip on his lance, making it point downwards. His fall was fast. In the one second it took to reach the ground he positioned his lance to strike one of the knights. The lance hit at the base of the breastplate, stabbing through the waist and coming out the buttocks. Voltaire yanked the lance out and faced the last of the knights. He didn't look like he was up for a fight. He turned and ran screaming into the woods. The clashing of metal against metal could be heard as he ran into the outpost of the reputed Hokuten Knights, the order Voltaire served.
Caelin Encampment
Raven gazed into the fire, no matter where he was fire always seemed to bring him back to Priscilla's company. Reuniting with her was a coincidence he guessed. But being separated was fate. He grasped his sword and lifted it to his face. He gazed into the orange tinged edges. How many times had those edges been red?
South Murond, Unnamed City Two
The catapults were set up at the edge of the battle field. The wyverns were well fed and the darkness of night provided cover for the silent lords of the sky and their deadly steeds. The footsoldiers would stay behind to guard the main camp this time. The thieves had slipped on their darkest cloaks and were preparing to go to the city. Zephiel approached his wyvern, the strongest and fastest wyvern from the line that served the king and his family and lieges. He could see Vaida walking around inspecting the preparations and reassuring the soldiers.
Zephiel mounted his wyvern. "Let us ride, my friend to sky and to battle, for land and for glory." With that he jerked the reins. The wyvern shot into the air, gliding silently towards the city.
This particular city was larger than the others they had invaded but by no means any better defended. The civilians were running around in chaos as boulders smashed their homes and other buildings. The defenders were doing their best to bring the citizens to a safe location but were having a difficult time.
Then the riders broke cover. It was like a lethal rain shower. The defenders numbers were nearly cut in half in less than five seconds. Zephiel took to low flying. He tore up arbalest units and toppled the city's poorly constructed guard towers. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Vaida's unit. All was going well.
Caelin Encampment
Raven stirred from his half consciousness as he heard a noise coming from the forest. He could here someone shouting and a man barking some incoherent words. Soon he could distinguish the conversation, or rather argument. A man had obviously been taken captive. Raven approached the sounds carefully and silently. He had his silver sword with him, its edges hot from its exposure to the flames.
"Let go of me now or you're going to miss the feeling in your arms for the rest of your life. I warn you."
"Shut up, dog! No stowaways are tolerated!"
Raven recognized the voice. He ran towards the group. He found three soldiers of Caelin and a very familiar character in their charge.
"Release him" Raven said.
"We don't take orders from you, sellsword!" one of the soldiers spat contemptuously.
"Not my problem." Raven replied. "You're dealing with the saint of swords."
"You talk too much, Raven." The swordsmaster replied.
He quickly grasped the wrist of one of his captors and twisted it. He slipped behind the man and thrust him at the two other soldiers. He then placed his hand on the pommel of his Wo Dao.
The soldiers quickly got up. "Traitor! Scum! You're crimes shall be dealt with-"
Before the man could finish, both Raven and Karel had their swords at his neck.
"Take me to Lord Kent." Karel said flatly.
"Yes." The man said, shakily. He could feel the sharp point of Karel's blade and the burning touch of the still hot silver sword.
South Murond, Unnamed City Two
Zephiel swept down, bringing his spear low to strike a dumbfounded soldier. He couldn't help but notice how unprofessional all the defenders were. Not once in all their raids had he seen a competent soldier. It was as if they abandoned the south of Murond. Or maybe they had.