OOC: Hello again! I promised a quick chapter, the other time, and I failed your expectations. I am very sorry about that v_v I will not make excuses, as it is completely my own fault. I will try not to let you down in the future. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though!
Chapter 11: The Princess
"Stand! Hold ground! Do not let them pull you in!"
The schiltron of bug warriors made it to where the Nailmaster and the Knight were making their last stand. Their formation split up into a semi-circle, with shields facing the shadow horde and the spearmen behind them. Like a dam of shells and weapons, they stood against the tide of shadows, stabbing and cutting at it. The tendrils lashing out were cut before they could latch onto any of the soldiers, and attempts to brute-force through had failed. Sly swung his blade towards the horde, a few times, before jumping back and over the formation, landing on the ground, panting. He was greeted by the commander of the formation – a grizzled-looking ant with a lance held tightly by its 4 arms, and a mask he wore on the top of his head like a tricorn hat. An eyepatch covering one of the eyes, and more cuts and nicks on his shell than one could bother to count. He offered, the Nailsage a hand to stand up.
"You and your lads came in the nick of time. Thank you. Who are thee?"
"We are the royal guard, in service of the Princess." – the officer replied, bumping a fist against his chest in a military-kind of salute.
"The princess?" – the smaller bug reiterated, while falling on one knee to catch a breath. The ant looked over the ranks, and pointed somewhere in the general direction. As the sage looked, his eyes widened. All these disciplined bugs were not the main force, or even a vanguard. They were … a distraction. For the shadows to follow and break their teeth against. The main power behind the attack was behind.
The crimson cloak. It was hard to see. It darted from one shadow to another, piercing them with a needle, and leaving before they could even realize they were dead. The Knight, crossing blades with one of the bigger shadows, was distracted just trying to follow what was going on, and the shadow took advantage of it, pushing with its shoulder and throwing the tall bug off-balance. It slid back, falling to the knee. The shadow used the momentum to lift its own thorny weapon to the skies, and bring it crushing down upon the Knight.
CHHINK!
Instead of cleaving through the warrior, the sword cleaved through earth and rock. The shadow realized it fell for the same trick as before, but it was too late. A single slash was all it took. The head was separated from the body, and the carcass soon broke apart, into dark shards and puddles littering the battleground. The Knight's chest heaved up and down, the cut shoulder bleeding something dark over the remains of the cloak. But it had time to observe. The third shadow was … busy.
PFTANK! PFTANK! PFTANK!
Finally, the knight could make out the outline of the warrior. It was a very … small-looking bug. Most of her body shrouded by the crimson cloak. She wore a mask, not unlike his own, and in her hands, a very unique needle. Its speed was almost blinding, and she was driving the shadow back with a flurry of blows, making it back away, and parry with the blade and the hilt, just trying to endure past it.
SHHHINK! HRSSSK!
It was no use. One carefully aimed blow severed the fingers, making the creature roar, and spawn new ones. But it gave the crimson warrior a much-needed window. She leaped over the shadowy creature, summersaulting in the air and making it look up, while its weapon was still down.
"SHAW!"
The needle surged forward, thrown by a skillful hand. It accurately pierced through the shadow's neck, sticking out on the other side. On a string connected to the weapon, the bug pulled herself close to her target, kicking it in the chest with all of her weight. It was enough to topple the wretched one. As it fell, she pulled her weapon back and sliced the head off of its shoulders, before pushing away and flipping a few times in the air, and landing on her feet. This was not an attack. More… an execution. The crimson cloak moved with elegance and finesse the Knight had never seen before.
Amazing… She could have held off all three…
The two briefly exchanged glances, but there was no time to lose. With the phalanx of bugs besieged from the front, the mass of shadows was vulnerable from behind. That is where the two heroes struck. Their weapons cutting swaths in the shadows, the mass's screeches and hisses growing louder. Each strike felt like carving through tar, and seemingly just as pointless. But it was not true. The horde was getting weaker, as the flow of darkness from the well was getting thinner. The Nailsage, having climbed the top of a hut, saw that.
"They're running out of steam! Come on, bugs! Push back!"
"ARU! ARU! ARU!"
The phalanx moved forward. Step, shove, stab, repeat. They fought together, as one, the front ranks covering themselves and the backline with shields, and stabbing with swords through gaps. The backline wielded their spears, over the shoulders of those in the ground. They began breaking the waves apart, forcing them away from the last hut, where the survivors were hobbled up. A weak, frightened sound of cheer came from behind, as the poor souls did not know if it was too early to celebrate. It gave the soldiers heart.
The tide was turning.
The shadows did not ask for mercy, not they were given any. They died as they existed, uncaring and blank, as they were pierced by nails and needles. The Knight cleaved through some. The mystery warrior wielded a sharp thread, which, like a whip, cut through many in a single swing. Caught between the two forces, the shadows fell. The reinforcements thinned until there was no more. A howl of pain and anger escaped from beneath, from inside of the well, as the tendrils were dragged back, deep underground.
The battle was … finally over. The soldiers cheered, raising their nails into the air, in a triple salute.
What little left of the shadows was dragged back into the abyss, leaving Dirtmouth behind, like a hollow shell. The ground was littered with broken glass, broken doors, rubble, and carcasses of those who were not fortunate enough to escape their homes. In the midst of battle, they were slashed to pieces, what little remained of their shells laying shattered on the ground. The warriors' cheer was joined with a weak and frightened voices of the populace, who now slowly walked out of the shack. Female bugs holding their children close to themselves, and the males going up in the front, though skittish and visibly terrified still.
The ant officer approached the Red Cloak, and fell on one knee, closing all four hands together in front of himself.
"Reporting in, Lady Hornet. The battle is won and all of your soldiers are accounted for. No casualties."
The bug in the crimson cloak acknowledged it with a nod, and passed by her soldiers, who all took the knee as well. Though silent so far, and small in stature, she was a fearsome warrior, and a commanding presence. Following their example, the Knight knelt too. It felt so natural… to kneel. A sense of normalcy felt upon committing such a simple motion. He looked down, not daring to raise his eyes at the small, yet powerful creature. The only one who did not was Sly, the Nailmaster. He approached the Lady, carrying his oversized nail on the shoulder, and nodded his head, in a sign of recognition and respect.
"Thank you for coming to our aid, your Majesty. Without you and your valiant warriors, Dirtmouth would have not survived the night. Thanks to you, the shadows are all gone, back to that accursed well…"
"Yes, they are all gone." – Hornet finally spoke. Her voice suited her, it was both measured and fierce. The princess slowly looked over the people in front of her. The few dozen bug soldiers loyal to her, the frightened but grateful denizens of Dirtmouth, who were all kneeling in the dirt, and then the two defenders who held off the horde for so long.
"All… but one."
The Knight looked up. The tip of her sharp needle was pointed… at him.