Chapter 10 - Howling Dark

The plan had called for stealth, as far as possible. In an ideal world, the attack would have been so all-consuming, so utterly devastating, that the Cloven wouldn't even know that they had been hit.

The gatehouse would be stormed and barricaded, the portcullis winched up, the drawbridge lowered - then held, until the main assault came in force.

But sometimes, stealth can only take you so far.

We had five men with bows, including Caius. Two had slings.

I'd never handled a bow before, and now was no time to learn. Hunched down next to Heiter and Skander - the former impassive, the latter with a hungry, almost feral grin - my hand clamped down on the Interfector's hilt, one thought foremost in my mind:

Please let me live through this-

I could feel the rite coming to a climax. The pyramid of death was tall enough to rise over the shamans, enough that their ugly, oddly-hooked staves saw use at last. Each new skull was hooked, delicately lowered into place, white ash gusting across the courtyard.

It felt like the air was bowing under enormous pressure, frail shapes half-glimpsed through a veil; enormous, coiled like fetuses, struggling to push through.

Apparitions of goat skulls fizzled in the air, patient tics of lightning crawling over the mound like St. Elmo's fire - the chanting and the drumming rising to a crescendo…

Caius's first arrow arched across the distance, and punched right into the heart of the pyramid. It was a beautiful shot, the white-fletched shaft humming with sacred power. When it connected, the effect was like dumping gasoline on an open fire.

There was a plosive sound, a breathless whoomph of unleashing charge. Two energies in utter, irreconcilable conflict had met, and they annihilated each other with a terrible rending shriek.

The monument to sacrifice came apart in a shockwave of black flame and bone shards, lethal fragments scything out like shrapnel - It was a gigantic blast, a retching column of writhing energies and smoke boiling upwards in a whirling cloud.

The beastmen closest to the pyramid of skulls were torn apart, or hurled into the air, or simply vaporized. The overpressure of the gigantic blast hurled those further-out from their feet, as dust slammed out in roiling wall. It scooped out a huge crater from the courtyard's flagstones, chunks of rock and debris raining down like hail.

We charged. I drew the Interfector, the flames licking along the blade fanned to an inferno as we hurled ourselves into the aftermath. My ears rang so fiercely, I could hear absolutely nothing; But as we plunged into the whirling smoke, I could almost feel the screams and howls of outrage reverberating through the air.

Heiter's blades hacked into a shaman, dazed and scorched by the blast. It had time to raise an arm in pathetic defense before his sword split its skull, his teeth gritted in a non-smile as he wrenched the blade free.

The boar-headed beastman came charging through the smoke, fingers curled into claws, fighting tusks spearing right at me - But Skander's axe ripped into it and flung it aside, a great gout of blood gushing from the gash he'd hacked into the thing's throat. 

I raced past as it crumpled, the Interfector's flames searing the air in great slashing arcs; Something in maroon robes bleated with terror as it tried to crawl away from me, and I scythed it down almost in passing as I plunged forward.

I didn't see their faces, not really. To me, they were a scrabbling blur of monstrosity, too warped to fully comprehend. It was like my mind had shut out the most disturbing parts of their nature, leaving only the immediate threats.

Arrows hissed through the air, men shouting and stabbing and hacking; a battle-axe sliced towards me in a murderous arc, and I twisted aside - the Interfector sliced through the orc's arm, and the backswing sheared the upper half of its head off.

I saw Roulle, his mouth wide in a soundless scream, ram his spear right through the chest of a hissing serpent-man. It writhed in agony, forked tongue lashing, yellow eyes wide with agony as it clutched at the crossbar - He raised the rim of his battered shield, and smashed it into the thing's face over and over again, with a fury that eclipsed anything I'd ever seen from him.

The ground shuddered, a dark shape looming through the smoke as an ogre loomed up before me. It swung, hard, with an ironbound club: The Interfector met the weapon head-on and annihilated it, shards of iron and stone spraying outwards in every direction at once. 

Before it realized what had just happened, I swung and took its head off, flames streaming from the lurching giant's neck-stump as it toppled.

Immediately, a pain-shaman in a hideous mask lunged ferociously at me, hoping for the deathblow. Yellow lightning crackled from his scepter as he circled it above, too-long digits hurling a purple-silver powder across the space between us. It burned away before it could reach me, dissolving into smoke as it touched the Interfector's swirling flames.

I took a step forward, but two arrows hit the shaman near-simultaneously - head, then heart - and it dropped as if poleaxed.

Something sprang at me, a crude sword raised. Before it could stab me, I cleaved it in half, leaving the bisected horror to roll across the ground in thrashing agony. Even as it beat at the flames consuming it, a toad-man warbled in distress at the sight of me, backing away - Until one eye abruptly vanished, punctured by a sling-stone, and it crumpled with a moist splat.

We're winning, I thought, as I swept around to impale a snorting apeman through the chest. Powerful arms dropped to the creature's sides, as I wrenched the Interfector free - It was already burning, already charred by the time it hit the ground, swathed in hungry blue flame.

We're-

A crow-eyed, feathered shaman - bird-like, spindly and scrawny but reeking of sour magicks - raised both hands in a desperate invocation, a dark blast of ozone-crackling energy leaping across the distance. It hit one of Tomas' men, and exploded him in a spray of guts and armor. Gore splattered the ground, thick arterial ropes of it.

Roulle howled something, wrenched his spear free from the dying snakeman, and heaved it with all his might. The spear hit the crow-witch and punched through it, pinning it to the wall with a resounding thunk that echoed above the chaos. Momentarily disarmed, he pulled his hatchet from his belt as a snarling dogman sprang for his throat, teeth bared-

But then Shujiro was - abruptly, inexplicably - there. His curved sword hissed, and the dogman's head tumbled away as its body completed its arc. Briskly, he strode through the smoke, killing and cutting; Each time his sword flashed, a beastman spurted blood and collapsed like a puppet with strings cut. Every blow was a deathblow, and he seemed almost contemptuous in the dealing of death, as if this was all somehow beneath him.

A claw stabbed towards him, from the folds of mottled ceremonial robes. I opened my mouth to shout, forcing myself to run faster as desperate lightnings crackled along the talons of something horned and scaled-

Somehow, Shujiro sensed it. He turned, and flicked his blade in a precise motion.

Fifty feet away, the spellcaster's head split like a carved fruit.

But there were more of them, scrambling away from us in sheer panicked flight. Even as Ran whirled his spear in blindingly-fast circles, each thrust flickering out faster than a snake's tongue, claiming another life with every stroke, I knew the truth; We'd killed most, but not all.

Some of the beastmen had already vanished into the shadows, others fleeing flat-out for safety. Now, it was only a matter of time before serious opposition was mustered.

"The gatehouse!" Caius's voice cut through the chaos, rising above the din. A red-eyed, rat-tailed monstrosity - iron-hard fur bristling in raised spikes around it - hissed, squirting fear-musk. It was armored up to the neck, but an arrow punched through its muzzle, another through its eye, and it died a messy, thrashing death. "Forward!"

The sheer shock of assault had disordered the beastmen. Those that weren't fleeing had been cut down; I'd left at least six charred and burning, in as many frantic seconds. One man was swearing and gripping at his arm, which hung limp at his side - Brother Jozan dragged another with him, dead or merely unconscious.

I looked around, realized that no-one was trying to kill me, and sprinted forward to help. I threw the man's arm over my shoulder - Between us, we staggered towards the beckoning doorway, a few steps behind the others. Something at that exact moment struck me as wrong, but I couldn't place what it was - "Lay him down!" Jozan was saying, as we eased him to the ground.

I could see the fatigue on the priest's face as he knelt, already mouthing the words of a prayer. As ghostly light flared as his fingertips, the man's breathing eased. His eyes open, cleared, and he clasped the priest's hand before swaying - unsteadily - to his feet.

"How many do you have le-" I began, and Brother Jozan shook his head. "As many as the Four will," he answered, unhooking his mace from his belt. It was clear that he'd been using it, the flanges encrusted with gore, as his fist clenched around the grip.

With his free hand, he pulled a glass bottle from his belt, grimaced, and swallowed the fluid within in a single gulp. When he tossed it aside, it smelled strongly of herbs and turpentine.

"Steadies the hands," he said. "Would that the Gods made Mana potions."

I felt my heart sink.

Not many, I thought. And we'd barely begun.

---------------------

In a way, we were fortunate that a rite had been in progress. The gatehouse, I assume, was protected by sentries - But they'd been lured forth to join the prizing of the skulls, and we'd butchered them or put them to flight. An hour earlier or later, and they'd have been entrenched within the stone structure.

That was where our luck ended.

The twin towers of the gatehouse were designed very much on classical lines. 

Each had two floors, a single flight of steps leading up from the guardroom to the second floor, with murder-holes and arrow-loops to rain death down on the heads of invaders attempting to storm the gate. 

Each held three points of entry and exit: The main entrance, the exit to the battlements, the steps up to the roof.

When manned, a handful of guards could have held off ten times their number of attackers...From the outside. When the enemy was already within the walls, the arithmetic of the situation changed drastically.

More, when the first attack had come, the defenders had done exactly as they'd been trained to; they had barricaded the doors, taken up their weapons, and sold their lives dearly, fighting to the last man.

Which meant that the doors to the first-floor guardroom had already been battered down.

"Get that drawbridge lowered!" Caius was shouting, striding forward with singular purpose. "I want that portcullis raised and spiked open - Keep the bastards away from it, no matter what!" Men were hauling battered, axe-scarred furniture past me, manhandling bed-frames and chairs into an improvised barricade.

I took the steps three at a time, right behind him. Skander and Tomas were already laboring at the winch, hauling at the chains: Metal creaked and groaned as the portcullis rattled upwards, with a rusted screech.

By some miracle, the doors to the battlements were still standing - We slammed them shut, as I dropped the thick bar into the brackets. Others tore polearms from the walls and wedged them into the doorway, moving with desperate speed.

Every moment counted, now. It was a blur of frantic activity - I glimpsed Heiter coaxing the logs in the fireplace to life, where pots of heated sand and sheets of lead waited for use. One of the ballista had survived, and Roulle was manhandling it to the opposite window, a case of bolts strapped to his back.

Caius was at the far wall, the wooden shutters of the stony windows shoved open. He had the metal case of the lightstone in hand, as he reached out to wedge it into a crevasse of the stonework.

Already, it pulsed with light - White, then blue, bright as a flashing strobe. It did little to illuminate the darkened plains outside, but anything within a mile could probably see it; I could only hope that our army, fast-approaching, would.

Outside, I could hear braying. Howls. A strange murmur in the air-

Footfalls, I realized. Running feet. Lots of them.

In the distance, bone horns were blowing. Their discordant notes were picked up on, echoed by others, a sound like some abyssal leviathan surfacing from the deep-

I hurried down the steps into the guardroom, where the rest of our small force stood ready. Sixteen of us, in total; It didn't feel like it'd be enough. Anywhere close to enough.

"Here-"

Someone thrust a crossbow into my hands. From where, I didn't know - there must have been a few left on the racks, ignored by the beastmen. For a moment, I stared at it in utter confusion; then, something clicked, and I cranked away as fast I could.

Outside, crowds of beastmen were already gathering. It was as if they'd been summoned, the way the goat-headed apparitions almost had. I saw Neanderthal heads, heads with lizard skin, with eight arachnid eyes, with fractal insect eyes, necks topped by long-muzzled bestial features - An impossible number of monsters with impossible forms.

The horns continued to blow, with bass flourishes, calling the Faithful to the attack…

Cobblestones and other missiles flew at us. I could see the maroon-robed priests at the back, glimpsed through the hooting crowds, urging them on; "Pick your shots!" Caius shouted, as bows twanged, the first arrows hissing across the distance - I saw figures in the crowd twitch and drop, then the louder creak-whoosh of release as the ballista fired for the first time.

The huge bolt whistled overhead - Whoever was firing had gauged the range just right, but there were so many targets it was impossible to miss. I heard howls - Pain, distress, fury - as it ploughed into them, the dull thud as it spitted a struggling rat-man to a column; Stones clattered from the gatehouse's walls, others rattling against the stone slits of the windows and the crude barricade.

Someone snatched the crossbow from my hands, fitted a bolt, fired. I was promptly handed another, and I hunched down behind the reassuring solidity of the wall, as I cranked that one too. As bolts and arrows streaked down the courtyard, the zip and zing became meaty thuds of impact: It was all I could do to keep my head down, fighting the panic churning in my gut-

Trapped. We were trapped. There were thousands of them out there...How long could we hope to hold them off?

If anyone else was thinking the same thing, they didn't show it. With my back to the wall, all I could hear - other than the baying of the mob outside - was the twang of crossbows and bowstrings, feverishly winding as fast as I could.

We couldn't hope to kill them all, but that was never the point. As misshapen forms jerked and tumbled, limbs flailing as they crumpled to the ground - roars of shock and fury, pain and fear echoing hollowly as they dropped - every one we shot was a warning to the others. Keeping them from building the momentum they needed for a charge.

If they swarmed us all at once, we'd have been overwhelmed. But the beastmen, like all other beings, feared death - the narrow entrances meant that two at most could reach us at a time. In an era of guns and explosives, things would have been very different; Here and now, their options were limited.

Or so I thought.

---------------------

Another wave of crossbow bolts, flying flat and hissing through the pack. I could smell blood, viscera, fear, hatred. Hear the squeals of agony and slow-boiling rage. It was overpowering, choking, enough that I might have frozen up if I looked too closely. Instead, my perceptions narrowed down to the frantic winding motions of the windlasses, the shouts and snarls from all around me.

"We're holding them!" someone shouted over the crack of flying arrows. I glanced to the left, saw Caius's boots, and forced out: "Are we?"

"You! Take over!" the Sergeant said, and ducked down beside me. He'd been firing regularly for God-knew-how-long; Caius's deadly accuracy had taken a withering toll on the enemy, but he couldn't keep it up forever. I held up a crossbow, and it was promptly snatched from my hands and put to use - the flat whack of the bolt echoed in my ears, and I devoutly hoped it hit something.

"For now, lad. For now." Caius said, wincing as he shook the sting from his arm. He fished in his pouch, and pulled forth a slender crystalline vial. "They're softening us up. We're shooting the front-runners, keeping them from getting ideas...But it's only a matter of time before they get clever."

The blue fluid was viscous, rolling sluggishly as he turned it in his palm; He looked like he'd have preferred anything to drinking it, but he uncorked the vial and gulped the contents anyway. Caius shuddered, made a face, but nodded as he flexed his arm - "Tastes vile," he explained. "Not good for the heart, either - But what can you do, eh?"

There was a bang, a flare of light visible even through the windows. Dust streamed down from the rafters, flame-light twitching weirdly outside. 

An explosive arrow, falling short. 

"Save those for the big ones!" Caius shouted, getting to his feet. "Pace your shots - Aim for those who look like they mean it!"

He stood up, fired twice, and two short screams told me of two hits. His first quiver was more than half-empty, now; the other, with the special arrows, looked distinctly diminished.

"That's one got-"

"Got him!"

A whoomph of something catching light. A high, burbling shriek - distinctly inhuman - rose over the crackling roar of flames, the wind fanning a choking smoke towards us.

"They're trying to burn us out now," I heard one of the men - Argic, I think - mutter, as he tossed his crossbow to me. As I bent to my work, gritting my teeth as my fingers began to ache, I caught snatches of conversation overhead.

"Burn us out? It's stone, it'd never-"

"No, but we do."

Those ominous words hung in the air, in the momentary lull. While aiming wasn't easy, it didn't need to be: our archers were firing out through arrowslits made for that exact purpose, and there were too many to miss. What mattered was target selection - the Cloven might all be intent on our deaths, but it was taking time to marshal a proper force to storm the gatehouses.

Every moment was another victory for us. Every second counted.

From somewhere upstairs, there was a crash. A thudding, thumping, uneven sound, one that went on and on. "On the battlements," someone breathed, and I felt my blood run cold.

"Gabriel!" My head snapped up, the crossbow clutched in his hands. Caius squinted, fired - I heard a distant squalling shriek, before he turned his gaze on me. "You're wasted here, lad! Take Jozan and get upstairs; Keep them from getting through!"

Oh God, I thought. "I-"

"Slingers!" One of the men shouted. He pointed, and I risked a glance over the lip of the window; I could see ape-men in the distance, spinning clay bottles on leather cords. When they let fly, I ducked, instinctively - But instead of the whip and crack of sling stones, I could smell sickly-sweet naphtha, as liquid splashed the outer wall.

My eyes went wide. Those are-

The bottles were filled with oil, leaving a spreading slick. I glimpsed a flicker of flame in the roiling gloom outside…

The beastmen started to loose flaming arrows.

At this range, they looked like fireflies, or falling stars. Most fell short, or went wide - Crude shafts clattered from the walls or off our improvised barricade. They were primitive by anyone's standards, with simple iron tips...

-But there was no mistaking the burning rags knotted around them, flame licking across them.

There was a whoomph as the oil-slick ignited. Flames leapt up, painfully bright and incandescent as more flaming arrows thumped home. One man let out a yell as his clothing ignited - He dropped to the ground and rolled and rolled, as his friends beat at him with their cloaks to put him out. Choking smoke billowed forth from the abrupt inferno, sour tongues of flame leaping and dancing; It hung in the air like a miasma, men reeling back as they coughed and gagged.

I heard chanting, as I lurched to the steps. Ran was at the far corner of the room, his bulging eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, his webbed fingers making mystic passes through the air. As Jozan glanced back, stricken, Throne Gazer's invocation reached a crescendo; A sphere of water gathered over the spreading flames, pouring downwards in a torrent that drenched the wood. 

The salt-spray smell mingled with the reeking smoke, as the flames flickered out - I saw his grim expression, as he took up his bow again, the barbed tips of his arrows glistening with stingray poison.

"This is merely a reprieve," Gazer warned. "It will not hold them long."

"Long enough! Keep firing, lads - Make 'em pay!"

"Gonna be a good one, boys!" Skander shouted - Stalking back and forth like a caged beast, he hadn't even bothered with a bow, gripping a sword in each hand. "Gonna taste like all our old days at once!"

A roar of agreement came up, as men clashed their weapons against their shields. It was bellicose, defiant - Pitifully small against the hoots and jeers of the beastmen, but all the more significant for that.

All I could think was: Will anyone live through this?

---------------------

The stench of molten lead hung in the air, as we labored up the steps. Black vapor boiled upwards, as Heiter looked up - He'd tossed the rest of the lead ingots into the cauldron, and made sure to stand out of the way of the bubbling, noxious brew.

"Right on time," he said, and jerked his head towards the door; I could hear impacts splintering off it, the relentless pounding of fists and less-human limbs. "They're getting creative, out there."

"The ballista?" Jozan said, his face grim beneath his helmet.

Heiter shook his head, as he fed more logs to the flame. "Broke after the third shot. We're lucky it lasted that long." He looked almost tranquil, as he rose; There were two men at the windows, firing at distant targets, as Roulle pressed himself flat against the wall next to the opposite door - He gripped his spear like a talisman, wincing at each impact.

I could see the bar juddering each time a weight crashed into it, the polearms we'd wedged in place flexing under the impacts. Even worse was the view from above - Shaggy, misshapen shapes moving between the buildings, the torchlight glinting on their jagged iron blades and axes, on flaying knives and hooks on long poles.

It felt like the entire city was coming to kill us, and I might not have been wrong: From the frantic blasts of the horns, it was clear that the alarm had been well and truly raised.

"So many of them," I muttered. "All this, just for us?"

Heiter gave me an odd look, as close to a grin as I'd ever seen on his face. "Not just for us," he said. "Can't you tell? They know the army's coming."

My heart skipped a beat. We might yet live.

"Gabriel!" Jozan called out. "Lend me your aid!"

He'd put his shoulder to the remains of the ballista, and I hurried to his side - Together, we rolled it over to the door, shoving it in place as the ironwood trembled beneath successive impacts.

"Here-" Roulle said, kneeling to push the wedges in place, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He threw a glance at me, managed a smile. "Waiting's the worst part, isn't it?"

I'd have nodded, if I wasn't aware of the hammer of my pulse in my ears.

"Yeah," I forced myself to say, aware of the cold, clammy sweat clinging to my skin. "Yeah."

The world had shrunk to this sweat-soaked, furnace-hot expanse. Claustrophobic. Suffocating. 

"Sir Gabriel," Roulle was saying - "If I don't survive this, you'll tell my family, won't you? That I wasn't afraid…"

I looked at him. Saw his young face, smeared with ash and dirt, his eyes reddened by the smoke.

"Everyone's afraid," I said, and clapped him on the shoulder. The way Caius or Skander would have done, fighting down the sick sensation of fear that roiled in my gut the entire time. "But we're not dead yet."

Another thump, one that seemed to make the foundations of the building shake. The roof, this time; My hand dropped to the Interfector-

"Leave it," Shujiro said. I started, looked around - In all the confusion, I'd entirely forgotten about him. He'd been kneeling quietly in a corner, as far away from the smoke and the panic as possible. His slave knelt beside him, her eyes bright with fear; Even as I looked on, he opened one eye, and said "Again."

She hesitated. But it seemed like her fear of him was greater than her fear of what was coming, because she brought her hands together - as if praying - her lips moving in a voiceless invocation. There was a smell of woodsmoke, a faint glow of emerald light that welled up from between her hands, twisting streamers of radiance flowing into Shujiro.

"What are you doing?" I said. I could hear my voice wavering - You'll appreciate I was under a lot of stress at the time. Above, claws scrabbled at the trapdoor; there was a vile snuffling, as if some predator-beast was prowling directly above us. I remembered the slow beating of massive, leathery wings from before…

"Readying myself," he said. Calmly, as if we were taking tea together. "Preparing for the moment where life meets death, when all is made clear."

I could feel the beginnings of a migraine pulsing at my temples. "Help us," I forced out, fighting to keep my voice level.

"I intend to," Shujiro said, his thin lips curving in a slight frown. "When they break in, as they most assuredly will."

"There's something on the roof-"

"It's too large," he answered, calmly. "It's too big to enter, too stupid to break down the door. Put it out of your mind." 

A glance to his side - "Again," he said, a warning note to his voice, now. The elf visibly cringed, but then she was casting again, as if that alone would save her.

He favored me with a measured, calculating gaze. "You should compose yourself, 'Sir Gabriel'," he said. "Until then, kindly leave me to my preparations."

I could have screamed in frustration, but I forced myself to turn away.

---------------------

It was about then - right then - that I noticed a change in the noise. The hiss and spit of projectiles had continued, but it was mostly coming towards us, now, as the braying of the beastmen grew louder.

"Why aren't we shooting back?" I said, hurrying to Heiter's side. A crude arrow whistled through the window, glanced off the stone, and drew a bright flurry of sparks.

"We're almost out of arrows," he said. "Crossbow bolts too, from the look of it."

"Already?"

"Are you really that surprised?"

Wood splintered. Chips flew, and I flinched. A sliver of steel shone through the timbers of the door to the battlements, a vicious roar coming from without as it shuddered under another massive blow. I glimpsed a hulking, bull-headed shape - More than one - dents beginning to appear as the minotaurs hacked away, throwing blow after unrelenting blow against it.

"They're bringing up axes!" Roulle shouted, struggling to be heard over the din.

Below, there was the unmistakable sound of soldiers on the move. Heavy infantry, more than two-score of them, was beginning to tramp down the courtyard, the crowd parting before them. The rims of their red-painted shields caught the light, and I had to look away-

It wasn't paint.

They had maces. Axe-rakes. Swords.

As the crude phalanx advanced, a flaming arrow - one of Caius's, no doubt - whistled across the distance; It erupted in a searing spit of flame, one that retched a brief blossom of orange fire into the lightening dark, but the demi-human he'd hit kept walking, growling beneath its rusty helm.

"Looks like they're getting serious, now," Heiter said. Behind them, I could see black shapes swarming forward, boiling towards us in a mass of twisted limbs and snarling mouths and glinting steel. It was like a scene from a nightmare, made worse because it was starkly, undeniably real.

A hulking beast-centaur led the advancing line from the front, armed with a huge double-edged sword. A firebomb struck it, shattering against the thing's armor, swathing it in liquid flame; It simply strode on, leading its kin forward. I could hear them howling in bloodlust or defiance, banging their weapons against the armor - And there were the drums, always the drums, driving them on.

Warded against fire, I could tell. The accursed priests and shamans of the Horde had risen to the threat we posed.

They accelerated, digitigrade legs managing an unexpected burst of speed. One of our archers fired a final shot, reached back for another arrow, frowned when his questing fingers found nothing.

"I'm out," he said, tossing his quiver to the ground, leaning his bow carefully against the wall. He drew his serrated shortsword, pulling out his knife with his hand - "See you later, lads," he said, in fine imitation of Sergeant Caius, and then he was gone.

Soon, we would be gone too.

"Help me with this," Heiter said. He'd pulled on a pair of heavy woolen gloves over his own gauntlets - almost like mittens - his muscles bunching as he gripped the handle of the cauldron. I echoed the motion, without thought; It took me a moment to realize that my gauntlets weren't heating up at all, not even warming my hands as my fingers clenched down.

"Would be a shame to die without using this," he said. "Three, two, one...Heave!"

We heaved. A torrent of molten lead poured from the window, down onto the skirmish line. Screams - terrible screams - boiled upwards, as the smell became demonstrably worse. I couldn't look without leaning out, which was a good thing.

I had no intention of seeing what molten lead did to flesh.

"Gods below," Jozan muttered, his gaze locked on the door. There was a raw-edged perforation in it, now, a bestial red eye peering through the hole-

Roulle stabbed. Something bayed in distress, staggered away as he wrenched his spear back. "One less," he said. He tried to make it a joke, but the hacking resumed; I could see the milling, stinking forms outside the door, now, more blows landing with renewed fury.

We had a minute before they broke through. Maybe less.

"Heiter," I said. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but - Here and now - what difference did it make? What harm could it do? "You wanted to know. The truth is, I'm from another world. I was sent here, Heiter - Why, I don't know."

A pause. "They're almost through!" Roulle shouted, stabbing again and again; I could hear the savage, spitting growls now, the furious animal slavering at the host of nightmare creatures beyond.

"Huh," Heiter said, and looked me up and down. He drew his swords, steel rasping on leather.

"-Should've stayed home."

---------------------

In the end, it took less than a minute.

The first beastmen who made it into the gatehouse was a massive brute, a hulking minotaur almost twice my size. It was hunched, bent forward as it crunched through the splinters, lowing vengefully at the harm we'd done to its kin. It had a single pauldron strapped to one shoulder, a steel gut-plate shielded its corded torso, clutching the axe it'd use to break in.

Roulle's spear punched through the thing's throat, but it kept coming. It clutched at the shaft, forcing him back through sheer force, cleaving furiously at the air in hacking chops - But then Jozan's mace broke its skull, and it crashed backwards from the shattering blow.

But there were others behind it, pouring in from the battlements. Some had spears, but most had iron swords or cleavers, or the occasional steel blade stolen from the dead; they scrambled through the gap, over their dying champion, snorting and slavering in their sheer desperation to get at us.

I was already slashing with the Interfector, hacking away at the press of bodies. The burning blade cleaved through torsos, through limbs, through the leather squares of shields - I stabbed a spider-headed nightmare through the skull, and it shrieked as the bulbous tumors of its eyes boiled in their sockets. 

Their foul stench rolled off them, mingled with whatever intoxicants they'd consumed to drive them into a killing frenzy; It was the smell of the charnel house, of the abattoir, of the sewer, only more immediate and infinitely worse.

I had a moment to realize that Shujiro was on his feet, now. His curved blade described a hissing arc, as he cleaved through helmets and through shields with equal ease - For the first few desperate seconds, there wasn't a single drop of blood on him. Then a spear stabbed at him, scraping against his chest-plate hard enough to scar the golden glyph, and I heard him yell at last.

It wasn't a cry of pain. He simply seemed disgusted at the thought of a beastman actually laying hands on him. His blade sliced through the goat-headed horror's throat, but another threw itself at him before he could recover; the rat-thing had knives strapped to each wrist and one to its tail, and it drew blood before he stabbed his sword right through the thing's torso, severing its spine as he tore it free.

Time seemed to skip and stutter. An axe slammed into my shoulder, and sent me staggering back a step. The bull-man I'd been fighting - snorting through flared nostrils - howled as it swung a billhook at me, only to gurgle when I eviscerated it with the Interfector.

I kicked the burning corpse hard, sent it cannoning into the horned beast-things clawing at each other to get at me; In the moment it bought me, I swung the Interfector in a vicious arc, and turned them all into living torches.

This was hell in zero-gauge, a point-blank orgy of killing. It was worse than the camps, like nothing I'd ever seen - the world swam as I moved entirely by instinct, dodging blows without seeing them, twisting to take them on my armor, swinging at anything that came within reach.

I could hear the rising song of adrenaline in my ears, as my back slammed into something; I risked a glance, realized I was back-to-back with Jozan, clubbing furiously with his mace as his shield bashed back blows and bashed in teeth-

"By the Four!" he was shouting. "By Earth, Fire, Water and Air, be cast down and unmade!"

Heiter and Roulle were fighting side-by-side, the former laying in, the latter shielding his flank with his scarred and battered shield. Heiter didn't slash; he stabbed, over and over again, the way a boxer throws jabs. He plunged first one sword, then the next, into throats and bellies, gouging and rupturing. The same ghostly radiance from before shimmered around his blades, gathered around him like an aura, brighter than I'd ever seen.

I was hit again and again, but armored up to my neck, I didn't care. The Interfector's arc-welder flame swept back and forth, molten metal spraying where it met iron plates and mail - It hacked through them and into the flesh beneath, to frantic, juddering squeals of pain.

Shujiro fought alone. It was like he'd established a half-circle in front of him, and anything that entered it died. His blade moved faster than a hummingbird's wings, viridian light pulsing at the edges of his eyes, ambling across his knuckles.

Whatever enchantments his slave had whispered over him, she'd given him a sword-arm faster than lightning, a blade that moved so fast it was just a killing blur. Always slashing, never stabbing, he danced the razor edge across throats and through limbs, blood misting and spraying in a rippling wake; In the first frantic seconds, he'd accounted for more than the rest of us had.

Combined.

For a moment, it felt like we were holding them back. Keeping them at bay.

And then I heard wood collapsing with a roar, and I realized - dimly, as I fought for my life - that this wasn't the only breach. To braying, bestial cheers, clawing hands wrenched down the barricade, misshapen forms pouring in with blades in hand. It felt like the entire gatehouse was reverberating with the clash of hand-to-hand combat as Caius's men gave ground, desperately stabbing at the beastmen they would never kill fast enough.

The sight of reinforcements spurred the Cloven Ones on. Another surge came, and I knew this would be the worst rush yet. A wolf-headed nightmare snapped at my throat, spittle flecking its jaws as it tried to wrench the Interfector from my grasp. I winced as the thing's wretched carnivore-breath - stinking, like an open sewer - gusted against me, the reeking stench almost blinding.

With my free hand, I slugged punch after desperate punch into it, the shock of each blow reverberating through me as I felt bone shatter beneath my hammering fist, dark blood spraying over the knuckles of my gauntlet as I smashed that hideous face out of all alignment-

It wouldn't die. It just wouldn't die. Something tried to bury a dagger in my guts, and the blade snapped against my armor - I kicked out, desperately, and the wolfman's grip loosened just enough for me to swing the Interfector across in a great, carving arc.

More screams. Bubbling shrieks, as acid flame scorched into them. Hellish blue flame lit the smoke-filled chamber, the murky air thick with screams, blows, thrashing figures and the dull glint on steel.

How many - I had time to think, chopping at the press.

How many can we take with us-

An axe hooked into Roulle's shield, and dragged it down. He had to let go, or he'd have been pulled after it: He wrenched his long knife from his belt and stabbed it into a jackal-man's eyesocket, but something with flickering lizard-eyes smashed a nail-studded club into the side of his head.

I heard him howl, a sound of miserable and solitary pain, as chunks of flesh went with it. He staggered, flailing with his spear, but misshapen hands seized him and dragged him away from Heiter.

"Roulle!" I shouted, desperately, uselessly. An ape-thing hurled itself at me, and I raised the Interfector to spear it right through the heart. As it immolated, squalling and thrashing on the blue-hot blade, I saw I was already too late. Roulle's remaining eye met mine, for one desperate moment-

And I saw. The agony. The terror. The knowledge that his life was over, and that only Hell would follow.

"Hel-"

He made a low, startled sound - a sharp exhalation, a hiss of breath escaping - as the first sword punched into him. Then the next, from behind - I heard the shllllkk shlllkkkk of the blades stabbing into him over and over again, rising and falling in a swift, savage rhythm. Roulle had time to scream once - just once - before he disappeared beneath their feet, and vanished from sight.

No, I thought. No, damnit-

Heiter's swords flew faster, faster. Backed up against the empty cauldron, he fought to keep them at bay; He stabbed an orc in the throat, smashed it in the face with his pommel as it gurgled on its own blood. His other blade punched through the chittering mandibles of something with too many eyes - It let out a shriek as it toppled back, three-fingered hands clutching at his wrist, vicing down around his arm.

It didn't let go.

Somehow, somehow, he held them off for a moment more. Forced to one knee, he whirled one sword in a desperate arc of steel - When a tiger-headed horror rushed him with a scimitar, he swatted the thing's slash aside with a furious parry, and jammed his sword right into the middle of the beastman's body.

Black gobs of blood sprayed as Heiter twisted his blade to make sure it stayed down, the beast’s roar-shriek distressingly loud.

"Hear me Gods!" Brother Jozan called out, desperately - "By Your Light, the wicked are blinded…!"

There was a brilliant flash behind me. Howls, as Cloven reeled back from the abrupt burst of blinding light. The Interfector hacked sideways into a throat, split a hideous iron mask - and the equally hideous face below - in two, as I barged my way forward through scrum, trying to get to Heiter-

I saw the blow coming from the side, a flash of motion as a hammer swung at me, but it was too late to do anything about it. The maul slammed into my side, hard enough to send me reeling - it punched the breath from my lungs and I went over, slamming sideways into an eyeless horror that had been trying to gut Jozan. 

It hissed at me with snapping needle fangs, a hiss that turned into a screech as I speared the Interfector through its thigh.

The thing's entire weight crashed down on me. Momentarily flattened beneath that coiling reptilian weight, I tried to shove it away, as stinking fluids gushed over my armor. I was kicked, stomped, hacked at as I wrenched my arms up, vainly trying to shield my face. All I felt was a desperate, clawing panic, the hooting and jeering of the monsters on all sides filling my world-

Steel flashed. A hand thrust at me, and - with an unmerciful jerk - Caius hauled me to my feet. He was covered in gore, his sword snapped in half, but he used the broken blade like a dagger, stabbing and hacking to buy me time to stagger upright.

"Heiter's-" I gasped out, my throat raw from the smoke.

"He's gone, lad! He's gone!" Caius shouted.

Gone? I thought, in that blankly frozen moment. How-

From the corner of my eye, I saw his corpse - Pinned against the wall by two spears, punctured right through. The first one had been stabbed through Heiter so hard, it had stuck in the stone pillar behind him. The other had gouged out his throat, his head lolling grotesquely forward against the leaf-shaped blade that had killed him.

I hadn't even seen him die.

A woman's agonized scream split the air. High-pitched, full of terror, it lasted for the fraction of a second - then ended, and the finality of it was somehow worse.

"No!" I heard Shujiro howl. "Bastards! She was my property! Mine!"

Oh, I thought - vaguely, without any particular triumph. Oh, he's still alive.

Skander's shaggy shape loomed before us, the big man hammering away with flail and sword. Each sweep of his weapons flung bodies back, but I could see the blood trickling down his scalp, the gashes and cuts he'd taken from impact after impact.

"This is it!" he bellowed, even as he crushed a rat-beast's skull. His sword impaled a frogman through one bulbous eye, and he wrenched the thing's mace from a sucker-tipped hand. With a surge of effort, he windmilled it in a furious overhand blow, shattering a centaur’s kneecap before it could ride him down.

Skander’s meaty hand seized the bleating creature by the throat, and he wrenched it in the way of an axe that cleaved down into his unfortunate shield’s spine.

"There's hundreds of them, we're going to have to fight like madmen-"

And then I saw the angels.

Next: The Fall of Dawn