Chapter Thirty
An End Worthy of Song
'To arms! To arms!'
'Oh gods! We're doomed!'
Fymryn drew Dawn's Bane with a shaking hand. They had barely had time to recover since the first wave. They had been hard pressed to hold off ten-thousand foes.
Now there were sixty-thousand advancing on them. How in the name of Mene could they hope to hold off sixty-thousand with a mere seven-thousand?
'Hold fast, soldiers!' Eserren yelled. 'If they take the wall we are lost!'
'You heard Lady Eserren,' Luna bellowed. 'Hold this wall or die upon it!'
'Incoming!'
Fymryn ducked as huge boulders hurtled towards them. The enemy had siege engines too!
The walls shook as the flaming munitions struck them, smashing the skulls attached to the stonework. Chunks of rock fell away, but the walls held. For now.
Next came the ballista bolts, intended to fly over the walls. Fymryn heard a horrible screech and saw a young radiant dragon fall into the courtyard, speared through the chest. A man not far from her was torn away, sheared in half by the bolt which struck him.
Their siege engineers responded as well as they could, but they were one trebuchet down and had just lost a catapult in the barrage. Two ballistae and a scorpion had been smashed too.
They needed the garuda riders to act as spotters, but they too were being struck from the sky, turned into limp bags of unfolded meat and bone by the hell-engines.
'We need to destroy those monstrosities!' Ritterfau yelled. 'On me! We take them from above!'
Auroth resumed her wyvern form and took flight, followed by a pair of fire dragons, the Moon Riders' griffons and a trio of radiant dragons, Orrak accompanying them. They followed the garudas over the walls.
Fymryn saw beams of light slicing through the enemy ranks. Whenever Orrak unleashed her power, she melted the ground under whatever she struck, glowing like a star brought down to earth. The garuda and griffon riders loosed arrows with abandon. Ritterfau was also casting beams of light from his sword. The fire dragons swooped low, raining great billowing clouds of flame upon the enemy, incinerating anything they caught.
Auroth wheeled around, emitting blasts of freezing vapour. She flew low, swiping those too slow to move with her tail.
Bysrrak hovered along slowly, rising over the wall. Other void dragons went with him. Masses of the enemy were obliterated, crushed without warning by the power of the void dragons, squashed into bloody paste.
The radiant dragons surged ahead, unleashing beams of burning light against the siege engines. Fire dragons tangled with sky dragons above, ripping into them in a frenzy, burning them alive. Void dragons ripped ionic dragons from the sky, crushing them against the ground. Orrak speared chaos dragons with shafts of light. Lirrak and her water dragons sprayed acid upon the ground, saturated the earth with water, burning and suffocating earth dragons as they tried to ascend.
All along the wall, the ballistae and scorpions of the Dragon Knights unleashed bolt after bolt after bolt, striking down airborne foes with astounding skill and lethality.
Perhaps they could win this!
And then he acted. Terrorblade had once again let them hope, and now he took their hope and dashed it upon the ground before their eyes.
His avatar lifted its head, its eyes flashing, and he laughed.
At once, the radiant, void, water and fire dragons found themselves powerless. The void dragons tumbled from the sky, landing heavily. The radiant dragons followed suit, some falling amongst the enemy, who wasted no time in tearing into them. Pudge caught one radiant dragon with his chained hooks, yanking its head towards him so that he could hack it off. He bellowed with mirth and hunger, burying his face in the flesh still gushing blood, ripping into it with his teeth.
The fire dragons had less need of their mystical power, but even they were doomed when the ionic dragons began to lash them with lightning.
Using Indrak's power, Terrorblade began to summon a storm of his own, striking down everything unlucky enough to be caught by it. He did not care whether he struck foe or ally, he was enjoying every moment, revelling in glorious power as dragons fell from the sky, blasted apart, reduced to chunks of smoking flesh. Hurricane force blasts of wind swept more dragons from the sky, dashing them against the ground. Spires of rock leapt forth to meet those who fell, still alive, impaling them, horrific standards for Terrorblade's army.
Orrak and Byssrak were closer to Dragon Keep, and they hastened to climb the walls, knowing that the advantage was lost. Orrak was struck in the flank by a hell-engine, her flesh rupturing and exploding.
Howling, Orrak stumbled, the nimbus around her fading. Byssrak roared and swept aside a formation of revenants with his tail. Auroth swept in, seized Orrak in her talons, and began to lift her into the air, back over the wall. Byssrak waited until they were clear, despite being hit in the shoulder by a hell-engine, his arm nearly detached and spurting blood. When they were safe, he leapt over the wall and fell in an ungainly sprawl.
Lirrak and a pair of water dragons climbed the walls, hurling themselves behind them. The rest were all dead.
Only a handful of garudas and griffons returned. Ritterfau's garuda crashed into the courtyard, gasping its last breaths with a ballista bolt in its chest.
Now Terrorblade's dragons struck. More sky dragons flew overhead, dropping un-dead, some of them possessed by lesser Demons and filled with their horrible strength. Amongst them came corpses bloated with infernal power, exploding as soon as they struck the ground or anybody unlucky enough to be under them.
The courtyard was soon streaked with blood, and the siege engines fell silent, reduced to bloodied timbers, their crews eviscerated. Carliven and Ritterfau fought alongside their Knights and the Moon Riders just to keep the enemy from the keep.
The un-dead had reached the walls. Earth dragons hauled themselves up the stonework. Some were sent crashing back down by the ballistae. The spitfires churned out bolts, but for every revenant skewered, dozens more awaited.
And then they lost those weapons too. Chaos dragons erupted out of nowhere, tearing the weapons and their crews to shreds. Lightning lashed across the walls as ionic dragons swept overhead.
Fymryn barely needed to aim as she hacked and slashed. There were that many foes upon her. Purist and Donté came to her aid. Purist smashed the revenants to the ground with his mighty hammer, crushing bone and squashing flesh. Donté speared vital organs and skulls with his rapier, blocking and bashing with a buckler. Aiushtha ran hither and thither, blasting un-dead with spells. Rylai had yet to stop waving her staff, impaling foes with lances of ice, freezing groups in blocks, conjuring sheets of black ice to make them slip, even cracking skulls with her staff whenever she had to.
Their archers could no longer loose arrows. Every man and woman atop the wall was now part of a vicious, relentless melee. Fymryn could hear screams as so many were borne down by the hordes of ravenous dead, teeth sinking into them even before they were slain. She had lost sight of Eserren, Caewyn and Bram, but thought she saw arcs of electricity from Bram's armour now and them, as well as the blade of Eserren's bardiche rising and falling, spraying blood as she fought.
Fymryn cast another shadow arc, slicing through three revenants. Still not enough!
Their well organised plans and defences had all but fallen. Now the fight was naught but pure, unfettered, unstoppable bloody chaos.
Their siege engines were lost. Their draconic allies were almost entirely useless. They were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, Terrorblade had all of the power.
The reality forced upon them was simple: they were going to lose. Badly.
They were all going to die.
She saw a flash of golden light, heard bones being shattered, and realised that Marci had unleashed. She could just about see her through the mass of bodies, that golden aura about her as she smashed her way through the un-dead. Mirana was behind her, hacking and slashing with her falchion, stabbing with the shard in her bracer. Davion's sword whirled, setting walking corpses alight even as he struck them down, pausing only to hurl liquid fire from his gauntlets.
In the courtyard, the lunar-cats had been unleashed. She could hear Sagan and Nova roaring as they tore into the revenants below, even working together to rip them apart. The few fire dragons they had left were trying to take on the airborne dragons under Terrorblade's command.
Another grappling pair fell, crushing unfortunate men and beasts beneath them. The fire dragon was dead, and the ionic dragon it had been fighting was quickly finished off by Carliven.
Fymryn kept fighting, her arms barely possessing the strength to hold her blades.
They could not win this!
Terrorblade advanced closer, the Direstone hauled along behind him. The defenders of Dragon Keep were putting up a good fight, but it was not enough to save them.
He had lost many of his dragons, but that did not matter. It did not matter if he was the last one standing, the victory would still be his.
And now it was time to show them just how pointless their final stand was. He would show them that their hope had always been vain, that there had never been any hope of overcoming him.
He called upon Uldorak's power, focusing on the earth and stone under the walls.
Marci felt the walls start to shake, and she nearly lost her footing. As she stumbled, she caught sight of the stones about the walls shifting and shaking.
Though the Dragon Knights had ensured that no earth dragon could tunnel under the walls, Terrorblade had the power of Uldorak at his command. He might not have been able to tunnel under them, but he could shake the foundations.
He could knock the stones loose, and bring the walls down.
Marci whistled sharply and loudly, but there was no need. They already knew that they could not hold the walls.
'Fall back!' Mirana yelled. 'Get off the walls!'
'Fall back to the keep!' Davion bellowed. 'Everybody, run!'
There were too many un-dead, and they did not care if they died atop the walls. They remained to tear apart those who tried to flee. The steps were blocked by thronging masses of revenants.
Some desperate men jumped from the walls, vainly hoping that they might survive the fall. Many did not, and ended their lives in broken heaps, blood spreading about them. Those who did found themselves helpless, their legs or spines shattered, as the un-dead descended upon them to feast, their screams of agony cut short as their hearts and throats were torn out.
The Eldwurms had to force their way through the wall of the keep. With Byssrak and Orrak badly wounded and their powers negated, they were almost more of a hindrance than a help now.
Marci's strength waxed and waned after unleashing, and she was struggling to fight now. She would keep Mirana safe as well as she could and…
And then what? With Orrak nullified and hurt, it fell to Marci to smash the Direstone, and she couldn't even get near it. Any attempt would be suicidal, and it would mean abandoning Mirana and her friends to certain death.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't save any of them!
All she could do was buy them some time, a few more precious moments of life, soon to be brought to a bloody end.
Eserren was carving through knots of un-dead, giving Caewyn and Bram the opportunity to lead the few survivors from their section down into the courtyard, fighting their way to the temporary safety of the keep.
Aiushtha charged down another flight, bashing her way through with help from Purist, their advance covered by Luna and Donté.
'Marci!' Fymryn practically collided with her. She had lost her helm and her hair was red with blood, her skin slathered with gore, her blades and armour dripping. 'We have to go! We'll die if we stay here!'
They would die anyway.
It wasn't fair! They had fought so hard! And she would never fulfil her promises to Mirana or Davion.
They could have done so much…
Marci's heart pounded. Little spots of golden light swam in her eyes. She could not unleash fully, not so soon, but perhaps this would be enough for her to go down fighting.
She seized the nearest possessed corpse and threw it over the wall, then spun, driving her foot into the chest of another revenant, pulping its torso.
She had always been a fighter. No quiet end for her. If she was to die this day, she would die fighting.
Carliven gave the signal, loosing a flash of light from his staff.
Atop the walls and in the courtyard, those Dragon Knights he had selected drew strange keenish devices from pouches and belts. They looked like large metal phials, attached to sinister looking needles.
Without hesitation, the Knights drove them into their neck, depressing plungers, pumping the contents of those phials into their bodies.
Within moments, their bodies swelled, tearing their armour asunder. Their skin became hard, leathery, turning red, scales pushing through in random places. Hooked tails of varying lengths broke through each man's skin. Wings, some malformed, some whole, some differing unevenly, erupted from their backs. Some eyes turned yellow as others burst.
A few fell to the ground, twitching, blood running from every orifice, dying as their bodies failed to withstand the potency of Slyrak's blood. Others lumbered on uneven legs to face the enemy, smashing into them with greater strength than they had possessed as humans. Flames leapt from their mouths, some unable to withstand the fire welling up from their bodies and self-combusting on the spot, their scorched corpses dropping.
Even those who survive the transition were badly flawed, and they were soon isolated, their former comrades fleeing before them in horror, leaving them to be overwhelmed by the relentless dead or plucked from the ground and torn apart by dragons.
Carliven snarled. 'Slyrak's blood was not enough! He lied to us!'
'Davion warned us of this,' Ritterfau recalled. 'He and Slyrak warned us that this might happen.'
'We need more time to perfect the process.' Carliven stared at the injector in his own hand, scowling before concealing it.
'We have no time, Brother!' Ritterfau protested. 'We need to retreat!'
Carliven fumed. 'Fine! Call the men back. Now!'
Ritterfau seized a horn from the corpse of one of his men and blew, sounding the retreat.
Their last gambit had failed them.
'Marci!' Mirana cried. 'Marci, we need to retreat! Come on!'
Marci obeyed. She grabbed Fymryn's arm, pushed her forwards, and moved to cover the retreat.
Davion pushed past her, pressing his sword into her hands. 'Clear the way! Slyrak and I will cover you.'
Before she could protest, his body began to swell. Scales emerged from his skin, becoming one with his armour. The wings and tail erupted from his back.
Slyrak roared and swung his fists, smashing un-dead aside. He paused to spare her a brief nod. 'Protect the others, Marci. I will bring him back to you. I promise.'
Marci believed him, though whatever time she and Davion had left would be brief.
She ran past Mirana and started to hack with Davion's large sword. She was not trained to handle it, but her strength was enough, as was her determination and stubborn will. Fymryn moved with her, her blades carving through flesh, crescents of darkness slicing through whatever they touched. Mirana hacked and stabbed at anything which came close, watching Marci's back and flanks.
Slyrak jumped down behind them, still fending off waves of un-dead. Their weapons bit into his scales and he roared, unleashing a torrent of flame from his jaws, turning those closest to him to ash, rendering the rest into flailing, stumbling torches.
A roar distracted him, and then something slammed into him, dragging him across the ground. A sky dragon.
The dragon roared and leaned forwards, intending to tear out his throat.
A javelin struck it in the jaw and it screeched, turning away from its prey. Garrisan shouted a challenge, waving his bloodied sword.
There was another roar, lower and more guttural, and a dark shape streaked past, a blade slicing into the sky dragon's flank. Luna brought Nova around and sent her charging towards the dragon again.
Slyrak roared and smashed his fist into the dragon's head, then kicked it off. The dragon screeched, beat its wings, and prepared to swoop again.
Another winged shape struck it, forcing it to crash into the wall. Auroth lowered her head, digging her fangs into the dragon's neck, wrenching scales and hide from the bone. Luna rode in again, tearing into the wing with her blade. Garrisan hacked at its flank, drawing blood with his trusty spatha.
Marci, having gotten Mirana and Fymryn to the entrance of the keep, sprinted in, light enveloping her as she moved at the speed of a lightning bolt, Davion's sword held out before her like a lance.
She drove the flaming blade straight into the dragon's back.
As the dragon wailed, Slyrak advanced, smashed his fist into its head, pivoting just as Marci had shown Davion, and felt its skull crack under his fist. Auroth tore into its neck again, ripping through the jugular. Blood coursed between her fangs as she disentangled herself.
'Fall back!' Ritterfau cried. 'Fall back!'
The huge blocks of stone which formed the wall were starting to come loose. Some were crashing down from on high. He heard screams as men were crushed under them.
'Run, you idiots!' Luna barked.
'Marci will get you to the keep, Davion. I must let you return.' Slyrak did not spare another thought as he relinquished control and allowed Davion to return, resuming his human form.
Marci whistled for Sagan and he bounded over, his fur streaked with blood, his fangs and claws covered in gore. Marci leapt onto the saddle, remaining long enough to help Garrisan and Davion up onto Sagan's back. She nudged his flanks and whistled, and the lunar-tiger ran for the keep. Auroth flew behind them, swooping low overhead.
Behind them, the once mighty walls of Dragon Keep began to crumble. Those still atop the walls, living or otherwise, fell in the tumult of stone and rock, crushed and broken. The great gates fell into useless heaps, and barely anything save for a few sad spires, consisting of naught but ragged stone which had somehow remained standing, lost and lonely standards of a failed final stand, was left to stop the remainder of Terrorblade's army now.
Auroth took on her human form to run through the doors of the keep. Mirana was still loosing arrows, with Dierdd at her side, his bow also singing. Rylai was hurling spells, fighting off exhaustion just to buy them a few more moments. Only when Marci and Luna had pelted through the doors on their night-beasts did they withdraw, allowing the doors to be slammed shut behind them.
They had to leave those too badly injured to walk to their grim, agonising fates. Some gave in a let the dead claim them, fell upon their own swords or cut their own throats. Others fought to the end, clinging not to hope, for that had failed them, but to anger or whatever honour they could hold to.
Though the diminished survivors could perhaps hold the enemy back for a few hours, there was no denying that they did not stand a chance now.
Dragon Keep had fallen.
Pudge lumbered along, chomping happily on the meat he had torn from the corpse of a fire dragon. 'Mmm! Well tasty, this! Hot too! I could make a nice curry outta this meat. What do ya reckon, Terrorblade? 'Ow about a nice side of fire dragon curry before we finish 'em off?'
'No,' Terrorblade said, not really caring. He was enjoying this, and he could feel the swelling anticipation which came with his imminent victory.
He had fought for so long to be free of Foulfell. Now, not only was that goal soon to become a reality, he would become the master of all of Creation too.
The remainder of his horde, thirty thousand strong, waited for its last command.
There remained only a handful of survivors to oppose him. His force would wipe them out.
Then he could claim the remaining souls of the Eldwurms for himself, and with them he would become the sole pillar of Creation, and therefore gain the mastery.
Slyrak had sacrificed his soul for nothing. This end had always been inevitable. Nothing would deprive him of his well-deserved victory now.
'And now their hope dies. Advance,' Terrorblade ordered. 'This is the last day of their world. Tomorrow shall be the first of mine.'
It was a sorry lot who despaired in the remains of the Hall. Out of seven-thousand, a mere three-hundred and twenty-seven remained. The Dragon Knight Order had been all but destroyed in a single day, and soon naught would remain of them but memory, if Terrorblade willed it.
Some of the pillars with their carven dragons had fallen. Where the Eldwurms had forced their way in, they had been forced to pile up what rubble and wreckage could be spared. What remained was piled against the doors.
It was all hopeless. Terrorblade could force his way in within moments. He would want to prolong their suffering though.
Some men and women openly wept, knowing that they faced the end, knowing that they had lost. Their sobs could not drown out the wailing of the wounded. Many of those injured would die in hours, maybe minutes, and for some that seemed to be a bitter mercy.
Carliven and Ritterfau were arguing over what to do next. Ritterfau was saying that they should try to run, but Carliven knew that there was no point. There was nowhere to run.
'We wait for the end.' Carliven stated, propping his staff against his chair as he sat. 'The strength of mortals has failed at last, and the Dragon Knights are no more. I die with Dragon Keep and its memories. Go and die in whatever way seems best for you.'
Dierdd and his surviving comrades were praying, wishing for Mene to take them into Her embrace. The Moon Riders were silent, bereft of hope with their goddess weakened and fading.
Mirana held her head in her hands, weeping. 'I told them that they had hope. I told them that they could win. And now... they died for nothing.'
'No, Princess,' Garrisan told her gently. 'Better that they died with hope in their hearts, for a cause they believed in, than meet their ends with nothing to hold on to.'
Marci moved in and hugged Mirana. Mirana sniffled and wrapped her arms around her handmaiden, her tears lost in Marci's hair.
Davion removed his helm and wiped the blood and sweat from his face. He let his helm drop with a clatter next to the bench he sat upon.
'I am sorry, little mouse.' Slyrak rumbled. 'You fought long and hard. You deserved a victory. But it seems that fate does not will it to be so.'
Davion did not respond. Part of him felt numb and disbelieving, the rest was full of sorrow and regret.
He had known that he would die sooner rather than later, such was the way of things. Even if Slyrak had not been bound to him, rare was the occasion in which a Dragon Knight lived beyond the age of fifty.
What he regretted was dragging his friends to the grave with him. He felt sorrow for the hopes which had been shattered, the slim chance that they might live. He had made his bargain for nothing.
'If it is any consolation, you should know that I could not have picked a braver or more capable warrior than you to fight with.' Slyrak said. 'I hope that you can forgive me, Davion, for forcing this upon you. If there had been any other way, I would have spared you from this.'
No. It had to be this way. Davion responded in thought. And if you had not, then Terrorblade would have won anyway. At least we got the chance to fight for our world.
'If only you had been born a dragon, Davion. But perhaps it is better that you were born a mortal. I never believed much of mortals, but if there were more like you and your friends, this world would be a better one.'
Sometimes it only takes a few.
Davion became aware of movement. Marci had just sat down next to him, her clothes and armour streaked with blood, her skin wet with sweat.
Davion sighed. 'I'm sorry, Marci.' He didn't manage another word. It was too much. He felt his chin tremble and his shoulders started to shake. He couldn't stop himself from crying. What was the point?
He had wanted her to live. But even that wish could not be realised. She was going to die here, with him and the rest of the world.
Marci wrapped her arms around him, letting him weep into her shoulder. She was weeping too, lamenting the inevitable loss of her friends and the ones she cared for.
'The legions aren't coming, are they?' Jorsen surmised glumly. 'The Imperium has forsaken us.'
'They will come for us.' Garrisan said, but there was little conviction in his voice now. 'Perhaps… perhaps the winds were against them. They wouldn't just abandon us!'
'They must know that we are lost. They must know that there is no hope.' Aiushtha murmured.
'Perhaps they were ordered to turn away.' Bram muttered.
'Lina would not ask that of them!' Donté argued.
'It doesn't matter. This is it, isn't it?' Fymryn whispered. 'This is the end.'
'Yes.' Eserren answered, her voice heavy. 'I suppose it is.'
'Maybe we can hold them off from here?' Caewyn suggested. 'Maybe we can… maybe…' her shoulders slumped as she sighed. 'We can, can't we?'
Eserren said nothing. She did not want to lie to her. Instead, she simply put an arm around her adopted daughter's shoulders. 'We'll see each other again, Sweetheart. I'll look for you in whatever awaits us beyond.'
Davion lifted his head and wiped his eyes. He hadn't cried like this for years. It felt bitterly fulfilling, and exhausting, to release his anguish at last.
Marci smiled sweetly at him, managing to lift his heart even now, at the end, and signed at him. She did not regret meeting him or becoming entangled in his fate.
'For what it's worth,' Mirana said as she sat next to Marci, dropping her barbute on the floor. 'I'm glad we all met. And I'm glad we're all here, together, at the end of all things.' She held Marci's hand. 'No matter what happens,' her voice broke a little, 'it's been a privilege to know you all as friends.'
'Even me?' Fymryn asked.
'Even you. How can we not be friends now?'
Fymryn dabbed at her eyes. 'You're right. I don't suppose Selemene or Mene matter to any of us now.'
'All things come to an end.' Byssrak rumbled from the back of the hall, the ceiling barely high enough to accommodate his bulky frame. 'Even us.'
'It seems that our time has come.' Lirrak gurgled. She leaned down and nuzzled Auroth with her snout. 'Perhaps the end will be a relief.'
'I am sorry, Princess.' Garrisan sighed. 'I would have gladly given my life so that you could claim your rightful place as Empress. I have failed you for the last time.'
'You've never failed me, Garrisan.' Mirana told him. 'Nor have you, Marci. I could not ask for anybody more loyal to fight at my side.' She shuffled closer to Marci and caressed her cheek. 'And there is nobody else I would rather meet my end with.'
Marci smiled sadly, her eyes moistening again, and held Mirana's hand in place. She did not need to say anything. She would have gladly given her life for Mirana. It seemed that they would meet their fates together, sharing in something one final time.
'I still wish that I could have seen my sister one last time.' Rylai murmured. 'I wanted her to know that I did not hate her in the end, that I missed her, that I hoped… it doesn't matter now, does it? Nothing matters any more.'
'No,' Luna said, casting aside her helm and shaking out her long white hair, beginning the process of tying it back once again. 'No, nothing matters now. We've lost. But that doesn't mean that we have to submit meekly. I won't.' She took up her blade. 'I say that if we are going to die this day, then we should make Terrorblade remember us. We die fighting. We die together.'
Purist nodded. 'Aye. Together we stand, and together we fall.'
'Yes,' Fymryn agreed. 'Let's end this together.'
Aiushtha scraped her front hooves across the stone and sighed. 'Maybe it's better that we get this over with, all of us, as one.'
Mirana leaned in and kissed Marci's forehead. She pulled her tiara free and set it upon her brow. 'Together.' Marci nodded in agreement.
Davion took in a breath and picked up his helm. 'Together.'
'We shall make ours an end worthy of song,' Donté said as he cleaned his rapier. 'It's a shame that we will not be able to hear it. Though perhaps if there is a heaven for heroes such as us, we shall meet there, and we can compose such a song. With Mirana's lovely voice and Marci's sweet whistling, it would be beautiful, and we shall make the gods themselves weep at our passing.'
'Whether we are remembered or not, I swore that I would live as a Knight, and that I would die as a Knight.' Eserren nodded. 'And it has been the greatest honour of my life to fight alongside all of you.' Caewyn gave her hand a squeeze, smiling up at her. 'And it has been the greatest joy of my life to be a mother to you, Caewyn.'
Caewyn flung her arms around Eserren, and Eserren embraced her in return.
Bram took up his sword, his features stony and set. 'I should have followed you when you left Weiß Wache, Davion. At least we can fight alongside each other, one final time.'
'It will be an honour, Brother.' Davion promised.
'That it will,' Jorsen concurred. 'I know we've had our differences, Davion, but I have to admit, you are a fine Dragon Knight, and I am an arse.'
'You have some good qualities, Jorsen.'
'If this is about letting Marci sneak into your room, I thought it was only fair. If I can't let two lovers have their way before the end of the world, then what kind of man would I be?'
'Shall we go then?' Caewyn loaded her crossbow with one of her needle-point bolts. 'I wouldn't mind sticking this bolt in Terrorblade's eye, but I'll settle for one of his lackeys too.'
'It's a shame we couldn't have that competition, Caewyn.' Mirana said. 'I was actually looking forwards to that.'
'We almost had one today. Why don't we call it a draw for now?'
Mirana chuckled. 'For now.'
Davion looked to Marci, who smiled at him again. At least they had known true love, even if it had only been for a short time. And if there was an afterlife waiting for them, something Terrorblade could not claim, maybe they would see each other again.
If not… he wouldn't know, and at least his curse would be at an end, and perhaps they could all know peace.
He leaned forwards and kissed her, holding her close. He did not want to part from her, and she did not want to part from him.
They stopped at last, and he savoured being close to her for as long as he could. Words unspoken lingered in her beautiful eyes, as they did in his.
At least they would die together. Terrorblade would not take that from them.
Slowly, he stood, taking up his sword, and turned to address those who remained. 'We're going out there. We're going to fight, one last time. We may have no hope left, and this may be the end, but we have still achieved one intention: we came here to make our final stand. We did make a stand. We fought and died together, for what we believed in. Some of us were enemies beyond these walls, some of us were not. But here, on this day, none of us were enemies.
If we should die today, then let's all die together. Let's make our last stand together.'
Terrorblade brought what remained of his army to a halt as the doors of the keep opened and the stragglers and survivors emerged.
They barely formed any ranks as they walked through the ruins which had once been the seemingly unassailable walls of Dragon Keep.
They were grim, bereft of hope. Faith, pride, honour and the bonds of friendship all were all that kept them going now.
There were maybe three hundred of them. Carliven, the gravely wounded, the dying and those who could not find it in themselves to raise a weapon had remained behind.
The rest had marched out before the ruins of the gates to face the end, to fight one last time, to stand and fall as one.
At the front, he could see the red scaled armour Davion wore. At his side stood Marci, the wurm-forged handmaiden, and Mirana, the Princess she so loyally served. Eserren and Caewyn walked with them. Fymryn did not hide, she stood at the front with her friends. Luna glared at Terrorblade from across the field. She had been prepared to die for a long time. This way, she could perhaps atone for her crimes. Sagan and Nova growled softly, eager to follow their companions into battle, not caring that this would be the last time.
The surviving Eldwurms had followed them. They were the Pillars of Creation. If Creation was to end, they would not allow it to end without a fight. Such was their duty.
Terrorblade was more than happy to indulge these fools. He would not be moved by sympathy, and he had no use for mercy.
The survivors readied their weapons. Marci lifted her fists, motes of golden light starting to sparkle in her eyes. Mirana nocked an arrow to her bowstring, the tip glowing faintly. Flames flickered at the edges of Davion's sword as he lifted it.
Pudge was at the front of Terrorblade's army, slobbering and hungry, eager to get stuck in.
'Wait, Pudge,' Terrorblade instructed. 'Just one more moment. Let them realise that they never could have won against me. Today is my victory.'
At Terrorblade's will, the remainder of his earth dragons stomped to the fore, crushing a few unfeeling and unthinking thralls under their feet. This would be a short end to the battle, but an enjoyable one all the same.
'Now,' Terrorblade laughed. 'Finish them off!'
Pudge lumbered forwards, chuckling, drooling and hefting his cleaver. What a feast this would be! The un-dead shuffled along with him, the dragons roaring as they advanced.
Mirana raised her bow. She felt no fear. She may as well have been numb. She was going to die today. They all were.
All she felt was regret, and soon that would not matter either.
She hoped there was a heaven, like Donté had said. She hoped that she would get to see Marci again. Perhaps Marci and Davion could be together there. Perhaps they could be happy.
If not, maybe there would be another life, and another chance.
There was still hope, it seemed, even now, at the end of the world.
The massive, grotesque Demon and his allies came ever closer, taking their time. She could hear Terrorblade laughing, revelling in the surety of their demise.
Davion reached out, clasping hands with Marci. Mirana breathed in, savouring the last breaths, knowing that she would meet her end with her friends and the one she loved. She would rather they had all lived long, fulfilling lives and met their ends in peace. But she was no goddess, and even deities had rules and limitations.
This was the end.
A war horn blared.
Mirana lowered her bow, her eyes widening. Marci looked round at her, shock all over her face. At Mirana's side, Garrisan gasped.
Terrorblade looked up, confused, and Pudge and his entourage came to a halt. Pudge scratched his head, squinting at them, wondering who had sounded the horn.
The call was long, booming, proud, echoing across the barren, blood-soaked ground. Rolling over the hills and flowing across the ruins of Dragon Keep, the call was heard for miles around.
It was a call Mirana, Marci and Garrisan all knew well.
From the south-west, very close, they heard the thunder of hooves, and the ground trembled. The hoarse roars of sphinxes and the howls of anubi followed the bellowing of the war horn.
The legions of the Helio Imperium had arrived.
