The Last Watch: Sparks of Defiance

“Is that all you’ve got!” Red cried. The vast army was still drawing in from all directions. She couldn’t keep this up forever… but she had to endure for as long as she could! Her only thought was that Roric must have evacuated everyone by now – but even then, they couldn’t have gotten far enough to be safe. No one in the Common Ground was safe anymore.

She kept fighting, though the normal-sized warriors were starting to thin out. In their place now came the larger beasts. A single mighty blow could still bring them down… but it cost her more energy, required a slower, more focused swing. Thankfully, the larger ones were slower too, letting her weave and dart among them. But her reserves were dwindling fast. Her strength was leaving her.

Was this it? Was this truly as far as she could go?

Suddenly, those around her began to falter, stepping back, drawing away. At first, she thought they were only trying to avoid her hammer. Then she heard it – a shriek above. She recognized the sound instantly. Without a thought she charged straight into the press of enemies just as the dragon smashed down into the gap where she had stood a moment before. The air filled with the sharp, acrid stench of sulfur, and the ground trembled violently under the beast’s colossal weight.

Swinging her warhammer in a furious arc, she scattered those still in her way and sprinted toward the beast. She couldn’t afford to let it spew fire in the open.

♦♦♦

Bertram and Baldwin reached the machicolated turret of the Turning Tower, breathless. The turret overlooked Tarlmere’s lower gate. From here, despite the fog and darkness, they could see the panorama of the enemy army stretching across the fields, curving toward both flanks of the town – where two desperate battles were raging.

“If only the tower had been built on the far side of the town!” Bertram gasped.

“Look at Red!” Baldwin pointed. For a moment, both men stared in awe.
“She’ll soon fall,” Baldwin added, his voice tight.

“That’s where the dragon is!” Bertram thrust his arm toward the chaos, already moving toward a loaded catapult. He began to drag it into position.

Baldwin rushed to his aide. “What if we hit Red too?!” he shot at him.
“Do you even know the chances of even hitting the beast at all?”

“With a little imagination…” Bertram added with a grim smirk, and pulled the lever.
A groan of wood and the twang of twisted rope cut through the greater thunder of horns, drums, and the army’s roar.

♦♦♦

The guards around Beatrix fought their way toward Roric. It was clear they had begun doing the same—holding the flank as long as they could. Struggling against exhaustion, Beatrix poured all her imagination into one thing: making her comrades’ shields true. They seemed to shine with a faint glow.

Though surrounded, they had achieved their goal – the flank’s advance was slowed, the town encirclement broken for now. Perhaps, just perhaps, if they could hold a while longer, the Tarlmerefolk might yet escape.

“Hedgehog formation!” Roric cried as they cut down the last of those between them. Immediately the guards shifted, back-to-back, shields outward.

But then a shade monster, massive and grotesque, like the creature Anang had become, charged Beatrix. It struck her down, and in that instant every shield lost its glow. The beast would have crushed her outright had another guard –not even pausing to shout– thrown himself with all his might against it. As he drove into the creature, his form grew. With each step, his sword stretched and thickened until it was great enough to cleave the monster in two. He rampaged on, a colossus nearly three meters tall, scattering foes in a straight line toward the enemy’s heart. And then – he vanished.

“Alard!” Beatrix screamed, her cyan eyes flooding with tears. It was not just a comrade’s name, but a lover’s.

Another guard hauled her back into formation as she trembled with grief.

“You need to step out of it, Beatrix!” one shouted.

“We need you!” Roric barked, straining as he shoved back the enemy.

The glow returned to every shield.

♦♦♦

Two strides before Red’s hammer would have slammed into the dragon’s scales, a massive jagged boulder crashed down on the spot. The dragon twisted in a flash of wings, narrowly escaping. Its talons seized the rock, but the impact gave Red her opening. She swung from the right with such force that the dragon’s skull slammed into the boulder, shattering stone.

Red felt the entire army at her back – its breath on her neck. She thought she would faint. Yet she clambered up the dragon’s body, onto the rock, and raised her hammer for a finishing blow – likely her own last as well. But the beast, dazed and dented, lurched back, badly wounded.
Then it began to rise, each wingbeat ragged and dying.

Red took advantage of the single pause and the high ground she’d carved out for herself – a boulder that put her above the melee – and fit another dral between her teeth. Her eyes opened a fraction wider. It took no more than two breaths before the first attackers surged at her again – and fell as quickly as they came, battering against the arc of her war hammer.

With great effort, it staggered into the air, its head caved, before finally climbing to the spire of the Turning Tower – the absurdly tall cone stabbing into the clouds. Its talons ripped through the roof-tiles as it clung on. For a moment it sagged, as though it might collapse, then it reared back and let out a roar greater than any before.

The sound rolled across the entire field. Horns, drums, and shrieks answered at once. The whole enemy host surged into a frenzied charge toward the walls, a semicircle of steel and shadow closing in.

The noise of it – the movement of countless shades at once – was unbearably deafening.

“That’s their leader!” Baldwin cried.