Quick Author's Note:
I know this chapter is a little messy. I apologize if the descriptions come across confusing. I did my best to make it understandable. I've had this chapter typed up for ages but I've been trying to fix it for so long. Honestly, I'm just tired of revising it and I'm still not satisfied, so, here it is: Chapter 12! Now I can finally move one with getting the rest of the story posted, ha.
-CPop.
At least a dozen figures dressed in black sprung from the darkness.
The orange masks tied across their faces were a dead giveaway. They were Syndicate.
The horses spooked, bucking and whinnying wildly in their constraints as the dark-clad assassins darted between them. The farmers yelled and ran about, some trying to control the horses, others trying to defend the carts. One of the ambushers leapt on Kennon and bowled him over. He let out a shout as he went down.
Mariella drew her swords and moved forward but another of the thieves jumped in her path and engaged her. She could only hope that Kennon could hold his own as she dodged and parried blow after blow.
At last, she cut her opponent down only to have two more come at her. As one of them lunged, Kennon came from the side, slicing deeply into the other with his enormous blade. The thief went down screeching in agony, his rib cage torn asunder. Mariella continued to battle her attacker while Kennon fought off another that had cornered another of the men. At last, her opponent fell and she again moved to assist Kennon.
"There's too many!" he shouted as Mariella came up to his side. Even as he said it, a dozen more enemies seemed to spill out of the storm.
Immediately, Mariella spun around and seized one of the farmers by the wrist.
"Listen to me!" she shouted over the cacophony of the rain and thunder. "Ride back to town and alert the Sergeant! Tell him we need reinforcements at the western fork, now!"
The man looked petrified but he nodded. Quickly, Mariella hacked at the straps tethering the nearest frightened horse to its cart. Grabbing it by the reigns, she steadied it long enough for the man to mount. At once, he took off galloping in the direction of Southshore.
Returning to the fray, she began to slash away at the ambushers, the hope of Sergeant Dean's arrival bestowing her a fresh wave of courage.
Suddenly, a shock of pain pierced her right arm. Crying out, she swung to the right, crushing an enemy's face in with the heavy hilt of her sword. The thief fell backward and lay motionless on the sodden grass.
Glancing down she found that a dagger protruded from her upper arm. With a roar of pain, she tore it free. The split muscle throbbed agonizingly but she dove back into combat, throwing the dagger at a thief advancing on one of the men. The dagger embedded itself in the thief's throat and blood spurted from the critical wound and showered the farmer. He screeched and threw his hands over his head.
One thief, two thieves, three more syndicate fell by her blades. Kennon was bringing them down two at a time but they still kept coming. Mariella could feel herself slowing. Her reflexes were becoming sluggish and her breathing was harsh. Here and there, she would get nicked by blades in the weak spots of her armor. Six, seven, eight thieves. She was suffering blood loss: she could feel it in her light-headedness and the sensation that her right arm was slowly turning to jelly.
How long had it been?
Where was the Sergeant? Were they coming? What if the messenger never made it back to town?
Suddenly, she heard Kennon holler in pain and she feared the worst. Spinning around, she searched the fray frantically. It was chaos: bodies everywhere, supplies scattering the flooded landscape. The thunder and pounding rain roared in her ears. Her heart hammered in her throat as her eyes swept the field for any sign of her brother-in-arms.
Then, she found him. A short-sword protruded from his mid-section.
Time ceased.
In a split-second of horror, she watched as her partner dropped to his knees, gripping the hilt of the blade buried fatally in his organs.
"Kennon!" she screeched. Ripping off her helm, she charged the killer. The assassin was standing over her fallen comrade, still taking in his moment of victory when Mariella smashed into him. She ran both of her blades deep into his gut. The man's eyes bulged and she could see the dark stain of blood pouring from his hidden mouth and down his throat. Savagely, she tore her swords from his body and stepped back, letting him hit the ground where he writhed and convulsed in the mud. After a moment of cruel pleasure, she turned away from the dying man. Sighting Kennon's crumpled figure on the grass just a few feet away, she struggled toward him.
No, no, he's alright, she tried to convince herself. She just had to get to him. The guardswoman refused to believe the grim truth until she felt his still pulse, heard his silent heart and empty lungs. But she never found out, she never got there.
Another opponent came at her, wielding a deadly-looking Morningstar. He swung and Mariella tried to dodge, but another attacker came from the side. The mace struck her powerfully in the stomach as she parried the second attacker's assault. She hit the ground hard, all the breath leaving her lungs. The fingers of blackness groped at the edges of her vision as she struggled to keep consciousness. Her abdomen throbbed in agony, feeling as though her stomach had just been ripped clear out of her body.
Both attackers advanced on her. Throwing herself to the left, she slashed at one of the thieves, the Morningstar biting deep into the mud where her head had been seconds before. At last, her blade cut into the ankle of the second attacker, a female, and she fell, but the mace-wielder moved above Mariella, his weapon held high. She stared up at him, her world rocking sickeningly as she blinked rain out of her eyes. There was shouting and pounding rain. The sky beyond the assassin's head was a great black maw, ready to swallow up the young soldier forever. Strangely enough, she thought she heard her name.
Just when everything seemed lost to Mariella, an enormous figure came barreling out of nowhere. Everything happened so fast, it took a moment for her to understand in her battered state.
There was a lethal-sounding crunch as the hurtling figure collided with the unsuspecting Syndicate. They flew out of the disoriented guardswoman's range of vision and she rolled over in the grass. Her body screamed in protest but she pushed herself up just enough to search the battlefield.
Where was Kennon? She must find him!
Numerous figures came thundering past her except they weren't wearing all black and hiding behind orange masks. Their tabards bore Southshore's coat of arms and their shining armor was a stark contrast to the blackness the storm had spawned.
Struggling to her feet, she began to hobble in the direction she thought Kennon had fallen but the world was spinning too fast for her.
Attempting to steady herself, she looked at her feet, placing one foot painstakingly in front of the other. Then, she realized the grass was getting closer and closer.
She was falling, falling. And she couldn't do a thing about it.
But then, a strong arm caught her.
"Mariella!" a familiar voice shouted from far away. Very far away.
"Kennon," she murmured, her eyes suddenly flooding with tears. "Kennon's dead."
And she fell face first into the black and silence.