The Bone Fletcher – Part Three
Erik's arm ached. His breath was short and quick, and under his chain mail he felt bruised all over. He was certain one of his ribs was cracked if not already broken.
But still, he found strength to swing his sword. He fought like a man with nothing to lose; indeed, surrounded on all sides, he and his men had long since given up on surviving. They fought only to take down as many as they could, to make the enemy hurt as much as possible in taking them down.
But they were not without casualties. Half of them had fallen, stabbed and ripped apart by the demonic onslaught. The rest had given up on their wedge formation, and now they fought back-to-back in a circle. The small group moved as one, the soldiers somehow managing to keep their fellows at their side as the battle raged on.
As Erik fought, his field of vision gradually grew wider. His body went on some sort of autopilot; his mind fed his body with the instructions to move, but as his battle lust and panic began to subside a little, he began to look past whichever demon he was currently engaging and observe their surroundings.
Not too far away, his eyes picked out a demon which seemed slightly more important than the rest. It was hanging back, giving orders to other demons; surely this was a commander of some sort. He called out to his men.
"Men, advance to my two o'clock!"
With a surprisingly spirited cry, the soldiers began to move in the direction they were told. Slowly but surely, the group began to cut a path toward the commanding demon. The demon's features were impassive at first, but as the group's advance began to pick up traction it grew worried. Panicking, it tried to move backwards, but found itself blocked by its own soldiers as they surged forward to attack the human group.
Soon, Erik found itself face to face with this "commanding officer". It was huge, larger than the demonic horde that he had been facing till now, but that was not all that was different. There was something different, magical about the beast. It snarled, and brought the mace it was holding swinging in a giant arc aimed at Erik's head.
Erik ducked, avoiding the huge blow altogether. In the brief window presented as the demon tried to recover from its swing, Erik darted in under its arm, and plunged his blade deep into the chest of the demon. It began to fall, gurgling in its own blood as it went. And as the demon hit the earth, a miracle happened.
All around them, the enemies that the group had been facing collapsed, one after another. The men lowered their weapons and stared in amazement as they were suddenly surrounded by a throng of demonic corpses. Their respite did not last long; they were quickly attacked again. But the gears in Erik's mind were already turning; the demon's death had to be associated with it somehow. He had to be sure.
Scanning the incoming enemy forces, he could vaguely see a similar demon to the one he had slain, somewhere off to the left flank. He had a target now.
Nothing was working. Not Mesca's heavy blows nor Kale's rapid cuts were able to leave a scratch on the foul beast's black carapace. The demon itself did not even seem to take them very seriously at all; they were nothing but an erstwhile amusement to it.
But then, everything changed. Clint let loose a shot of pure luck rather than skill, but yet it did its job; an arrow buried itself deep into the Demon Lord's eye, blinding it on one side. The feeling of triumph at finally wounding the beast was fleeting, however, as Maraxiform opened its gaping maw wide and shot forth a torrent of ruby flames at the archer.
Surprised and caught off-guard, Clint would have been burned to ashes had Mesca not leaped in front of his brother-in-arms, his shield at the ready, seeking to block off the flames. But the fire seemed to take on a life of its own, as they leaped gleefully around the heavy knight's shield.
Clint watched on in horror as Mesca opened his mouth to cry out, only to have the flames dive deep through his mouth. A moment later, flames exploded from every feature of his body, and within seconds the fire had consumed him from deep within. Clint staggered backward as the charred remains of the knight crumbled toward him.
Elsewhere, a strangled shout came to Clint's attention. As he looked up, he saw Kale similarly engulfed in flames; the demonic bastard was immolating his friends one by one. Clint rose and pulled an arrow from his quiver. But as he pulled his bowstring back, he saw his hand visibly shaking. He let go nonetheless.
The arrow was nowhere true to its target, clattering in a mess next to the demon's feet. But it managed to somehow draw Maraxiform's attention, and its single remaining eye swung around to meet Clint's. It opened its impossibly large jaws again, and Clint knew he had no hope of evading the attack.
Erik swung his blade not with grim despair, but with hope. This, he knew, was the secret to defeating Maraxiform's army. Each demon was powered by a central demon, and once the central demon was defeated the lesser demons would fall as well. It was just a matter of finding each power source.
He wished he could find some way to relay the information to the men at the walls, but isolated as they were, that was proving to be an impossible task. No matter; every power source he destroyed was at least a hundred demons dead, and if they kept it up, they would definitely be able to turn the tide of battle.
His men, while tired, showed no signs of flagging behind. His heart swelled with fierce pride; he would have to make sure each and every one of these brave souls was decorated when the war was finally over.
"Onward, men! To our three o'clock, a new power source!" A triumphant cheer rose among their ranks, as they understood that their Knight-Commander had just found new prey. Armed with steely determination, they forged onward into the thick of the demon army.
Roaring loudly, the Demon King rampaged around the cavern looking for its prey. Clutching his bow in fear, his breath running ragged in his lungs, Clint cowered behind the questionable safety of a large boulder, one of many in the cavern.
Of the five, he was the last one left.
He should have died in that blast. Rex had shoved him hard from the side, into Maraxiform's blind side, and as his friend writhed and cried out in agony, Clint had been thrown into the hiding spot where he now crouched under.
He had cursed himself for his cowardice, even as he had listened to Jonah's screams from behind his rock. Now Maraxiform was looking for him, and it was only a matter of time before it found him. He closed his eyes, waiting for death to strike.
But even as he clenched his eyes tightly shut, he could hear the voices of his friends berating him; he was letting them down, all of them. His kingdom, his people, his brother; all of them had been counting on him. And here he was, just waiting for the inevitable.
Clint, what are you doing?!
He opened his eyes. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to do so crouching stupidly behind some god-forsaken rock. He reached back to his quiver; one more arrow. Well. Best make it count.
"Follow me, men! The next one is just within reach!" Erik yelled. He swung his blade in tight, controlled arcs, but moved forward boldly. Unquestioningly, his men followed behind him, but the going was rough. The move was bold, reckless; but undoubtedly, the next power source demon was just in view. Only about three opponents stood between them.
But those three opponents did not make it easy for Erik. They fought with clear desperation; perhaps they knew of his stratagem, and they knew that if their master died, they would perish as well. But that mattered little; his goal was close enough. And after that, the next one.
In getting past the three lackeys, he suffered a deep gash in his shield arm. He grit his teeth, and pushed forward; finally, he stood face to face with the commanding demon. Wasting no time, he brought an end to the short but brutal skirmish between its forces and his men.
Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen.
As the power source demon was pierced by Erik's sword, it opened its mouth and laughed openly even as it died. Around him, the demons redoubled their efforts, cutting down a large number of his men, who had unfortunately let their guards down to catch their breath. Beyond the immediate wall of demons was a loud clatter of fallen metal and flesh; another section of the demon army had fallen, but not the ones Erik was facing.
A mistake? Or a trap? Erik had no time to ponder this question. A demon's claw raked across the knight's faceplate, not drawing blood but enough to startle him. Around him, his men were being assaulted on all sides. Already spent from their reckless charge and deprived of the rest they sorely needed, the resistance they put up was a token's worth at best. It was a slaughter.
Erik's heart sank. These men trusted him, and he had led them all to their doom. He let his sword fall to his side, and did not bother to parry the demon's blade that was swiftly looking to take his head from his shoulders.
It didn't matter anymore. They had lost.
Drawing a deep breath, he peeked out from behind the stone; Maraxiform was currently facing the other way, completely oblivious to his position. More time to aim. Good. Exhaling sharply, Clint rolled out into full view.
"Hey, ugly!" Clint shouted. With a snarl, the demon's head swung about, its maw already open and gaping. Clint loosed his bow at the same time the demon spewed forth its ungodly flames. The projectile flew straight and true, right through the flames, emerging from the other end wreathed in the demon's own power. Clint's sharp eyes followed the arrow, and even as the flames threatened to engulf him, he did not look away. The ruby arrow disappeared into the demon's jaws, and Maraxiform reared back suddenly in pain. Clint's last view of the demon was of it clawing desperately at its own mouth as ruby fire began dancing around the edges of its lips, and then his world ended in a burst of heat and pain.
A/N: So here's part three. I swear, nothing has given me more problems that Clinkz's backstory. And the odd thing is, I've known all along which direction I wanted to drive it toward, but the words wouldn't come to me as naturally as all the other times. It's so frustrating.
I'm probably never going to do another multi-part backstory again. I only did it for Clinkz because he's my favorite hero, not only to use but also his bio is really interesting. But it introduced all kinds of problems, and to be honest I'm starting to regret how this one turned out. But well, we've come so far. One more to go.
