Lancecain had participated in campaigns since he was fourteen. He hadn’t done much fighting the first year, merely serving as an extra pair of hands to be lent to whoever needed them as he accompanied the army from Winter’s Bounty along with his master. Since, he had left the walls of Victory many times with many armies of different sizes. He’d seen, dismantled, and fought every monster the north had to offer, he thought.
The doomhawks were the most common of those monsters. Every winter, as the knights of the north marched along the path between the Bleak Peaks, the flock emerged from their nests. They weren’t a threat unless an army grew complacent but that didn’t mean they weren’t a challenge.
There were seasons when the elders, the larger, more intelligent of the flock, joined the assault, directing their smaller compatriots with shrill cries. There were also more of them during those times. Defending against two hundred loosely coordinated monsters was infinitely more difficult than about a hundred recklessly diving birds driven half-mad from hunger.
Remembering his roughest encounters with the maneaters, he paled seeing numbers a hundred times the size of the largest flock he’d ever seen. There was a monster for every knight, it seemed, and they were not distracted with rescue efforts. Worse, they weren’t the desperate runts that attacked to survive the winter. Most of those circling above were what they thought of as elders, bigger and stronger variants.
Then there were the monsters among them.
Flying above the rest were doomhawks that Lancecain swore were as large as the duke’s estate, with wingspans five times as long as the elders’. Of the thousands of birds, there were only a handful of the beasts, but he could hear them over the growing noise, their deeper voices reverberating in his chest. If they dove on the fort, especially the civilians…the knights of Victory were capable but not that capable.
The duke agreed as his next words ordered the evacuation of all civilians. Moons urged them to throw down their spades and rushed them toward their order’s building. Lancecain also dug his tool into the snow and gripped his sword. The monsters of the north weren’t known for being peaceful. He bet it would come to a fight and it would be a gruesome one.
“I want fifty knights with ranged capabilities on the walls with another two dozen to defend them,” the duke continued to order. “Don’t fire until the first bird dives. Give the Duelists priority command, we’re going to need them to bring down the big ones.” He paused and his next command was spoken slowly and in a strained voice. “Clear a path and open the south gate. Prepare for an evacuation of the fort. Go.”
“Right away, my lord!” A Bleak Moon knight shouted before running off.
Lancecain stared at the duke with disbelief. Utter disbelief. He never thought he would ever hear a James prepare to abandon Fort Victory. It was incredible. But, in the duke’s defense, so was the horde of monsters blotting out the sky. He supposed it wasn’t the time for suicidal fanaticism but the words drove home the severity of the situation.
“Lancecain.”
He jumped, surprised to hear the duke call his name. He strode forward as the cold blue eyes turned to him. “What are your orders, my lord?”
“Organize the trainees and take them to the Moons’ building. Your job will be defending the civilians along with the seniors. Keep an eye on the battle. The old dogs are too stubborn, no matter the circumstances. If you see the battle taking a turn for the worst, they will listen to you.”
“They won’t follow my orders.” Lancecain understood his popularity. He enjoyed the attention, as who wouldn’t, but not to stroke his ego. A good reputation bred trust and trust was essential for a Duelist. Beyond the walls, there were no laws, only the honor of men. He doubted an army he fought with would ever abandon him, but people didn’t risk their lives for unpleasant people.
Trust also built loyalty. He didn’t know where his future would lead but being a field commander wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. If so, he didn’t want to be like Zachariah, who’d built an army with the resources of the James family, but more like the Northern Devil, who’d built his through his powerful charisma.
“No.” They both understood that the old knights would rather die where they stood than retreat from their home under assault from monsters. “But they will cover your back as you guide the civilians out.” The duke speared him with an intense gaze. “I’m giving you this duty because you understand that there is honor to be found in other places than death.”
In other words, he knew Lancecain wouldn’t throw his life away to prove himself. He had nothing to prove. His master had taken him in the moment his light affinity had been discovered and since, his value to Victory was clearly defined. The same couldn’t be said for the sons of servants and smiths. Someone from more humble origins would rather risk death than risk the appearance of shamefully running from the enemy, especially when the enemy was in their home.
“Can you do this?”
“I can.”
“My lord!”
Lancecain turned as a servant with silver hair sprinted toward them. In his hands, he carried several weapons. He handed over a spear to the duke, a better choice than the sword at his waist.
“My wives are on the wall. My son—"
“He is insisting on joining the fight.”
The duke frowned the barest amount. “He hasn’t fully recovered from his wounds.” He’d been injured during his campaign but the wounds weren’t severe enough to warrant the attention of a healer. They were bad enough to affect his performance and it was a dangerous thing to join such a large battle when not in peak condition.
“He is a James, my lord. That won’t stop him.”
“Mm. Tell him to go the Moon’s building. He will join the defense of the civilians.” The duke gave Lancecain a discrete look that he easily read. Should things go wrong, it would be up to him to convince Zachariah to retreat as well. A job he didn’t look forward to. No one had more to prove than the duke’s eldest.
“Right—"
What he was going to say next was cut off by a powerful screech. Lancecain’s hands snapped to his ears but it did nothing to stave off the pain caused by the horrible sound. The agony lasted for moments that stretched on for an eternity. When it finally ended, his ears still ached from the abuse. Not even the mountain was spared, a second, smaller icefall tumbling down its side.
He vaguely heard shouts telling the members of Waking Beast in the midst of rescue efforts to retreat from its path. Along the wall, knights scattered.
Lancecain barely noticed, his attention absorbed by the source of the disturbance.
Above, the circling birds parted, moving to fly around the outskirts of the fort. The conspicuous movement drew the young knight’s eyes to the sky so he saw every moment as the titan emerged.
The meagre light of the morning was blocked a moment after it was unblocked by the scattering doomhawks, casting a deeper shadow over the knights. A dark shape pierced the screen of gray clouds. As more of it emerged, Lancecain realized it was the tip of a wing. Just the tip.
Next came its head. Even from the great distance, Lancecain guessed its hooked beak was large enough to swallow a medium-sized titan with room to spare, attached to a long, sinuous neck. White feathers crowned its head and its six glowing blue eyes were bright as his beacon spell against the darker feathers of its face. Its enormous body was followed by three colorful, feathered tails, shades of blue and purple mixed with the same white feathers on its head.
“SKREEEEEEEE!!!”
The bird screeched as it threw out its wings. Lancecain couldn’t say for sure but it looked like they stretched from one end of the fort to the other. The sight was so shocking, he forgot the pain of its cry. It was not a titan. He wasn’t even sure he could call it something as simple as a monster. A living mountain hovered above them and the air seemed to tremble with its presence.
“Bulliard!” The duke’s shout snapped Lancecain and the old servant out of their shock. “Get those spears to the wall and then retreat to the Moon’s base!”
The old servant frowned but, with another glance at the force of nature staring down disdainfully at the members of the fort, he didn’t argue, dashing toward the walls at a surprising speed.
“Lancecain. Get moving!”
He hesitated, unable to take his eyes off the creature. “My lord…” It felt ridiculous running off to defend civilians with what felt like the end of Victory readying itself to attack. He doubted he could defend anything the creature had a mind to destroy. On the other hand, if he stayed, he felt somewhat confident in removing one of its large feathers. A slightly less pointless gesture. “What…what is…”
“It seems one of the Lords has come down from its throne.”
Lancecain gulped. If that was one of the enemies the founders of Victory had sworn to triumph over, they were braver and more insane than he ever thought. The thing above him wasn’t something men fought. It was something they worshipped.
Lancecain had participated in campaigns since he was fourteen. He hadn’t done much fighting the first year, merely serving as an extra pair of hands to be lent to whoever needed them as he accompanied the army from Winter’s Bounty along with his master. Since, he had left the walls of Victory many times with many armies of different sizes. He’d seen, dismantled, and fought every monster the north had to offer, he thought.
The doomhawks were the most common of those monsters. Every winter, as the knights of the north marched along the path between the Bleak Peaks, the flock emerged from their nests. They weren’t a threat unless an army grew complacent but that didn’t mean they weren’t a challenge.
There were seasons when the elders, the larger, more intelligent of the flock, joined the assault, directing their smaller compatriots with shrill cries. There were also more of them during those times. Defending against two hundred loosely coordinated monsters was infinitely more difficult than about a hundred recklessly diving birds driven half-mad from hunger.
Remembering his roughest encounters with the maneaters, he paled seeing numbers a hundred times the size of the largest flock he’d ever seen. There was a monster for every knight, it seemed, and they were not distracted with rescue efforts. Worse, they weren’t the desperate runts that attacked to survive the winter. Most of those circling above were what they thought of as elders, bigger and stronger variants.
Then there were the monsters among them.
Flying above the rest were doomhawks that Lancecain swore were as large as the duke’s estate, with wingspans five times as long as the elders’. Of the thousands of birds, there were only a handful of the beasts, but he could hear them over the growing noise, their deeper voices reverberating in his chest. If they dove on the fort, especially the civilians…the knights of Victory were capable but not that capable.
The duke agreed as his next words ordered the evacuation of all civilians. Moons urged them to throw down their spades and rushed them toward their order’s building. Lancecain also dug his tool into the snow and gripped his sword. The monsters of the north weren’t known for being peaceful. He bet it would come to a fight and it would be a gruesome one.
“I want fifty knights with ranged capabilities on the walls with another two dozen to defend them,” the duke continued to order. “Don’t fire until the first bird dives. Give the Duelists priority command, we’re going to need them to bring down the big ones.” He paused and his next command was spoken slowly and in a strained voice. “Clear a path and open the south gate. Prepare for an evacuation of the fort. Go.”
“Right away, my lord!” A Bleak Moon knight shouted before running off.
Lancecain stared at the duke with disbelief. Utter disbelief. He never thought he would ever hear a James prepare to abandon Fort Victory. It was incredible. But, in the duke’s defense, so was the horde of monsters blotting out the sky. He supposed it wasn’t the time for suicidal fanaticism but the words drove home the severity of the situation.
“Lancecain.”
He jumped, surprised to hear the duke call his name. He strode forward as the cold blue eyes turned to him. “What are your orders, my lord?”
“Organize the trainees and take them to the Moons’ building. Your job will be defending the civilians along with the seniors. Keep an eye on the battle. The old dogs are too stubborn, no matter the circumstances. If you see the battle taking a turn for the worst, they will listen to you.”
“They won’t follow my orders.” Lancecain understood his popularity. He enjoyed the attention, as who wouldn’t, but not to stroke his ego. A good reputation bred trust and trust was essential for a Duelist. Beyond the walls, there were no laws, only the honor of men. He doubted an army he fought with would ever abandon him, but people didn’t risk their lives for unpleasant people.
Trust also built loyalty. He didn’t know where his future would lead but being a field commander wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. If so, he didn’t want to be like Zachariah, who’d built an army with the resources of the James family, but more like the Northern Devil, who’d built his through his powerful charisma.
“No.” They both understood that the old knights would rather die where they stood than retreat from their home under assault from monsters. “But they will cover your back as you guide the civilians out.” The duke speared him with an intense gaze. “I’m giving you this duty because you understand that there is honor to be found in other places than death.”
In other words, he knew Lancecain wouldn’t throw his life away to prove himself. He had nothing to prove. His master had taken him in the moment his light affinity had been discovered and since, his value to Victory was clearly defined. The same couldn’t be said for the sons of servants and smiths. Someone from more humble origins would rather risk death than risk the appearance of shamefully running from the enemy, especially when the enemy was in their home.
“Can you do this?”
“I can.”
“My lord!”
Lancecain turned as a servant with silver hair sprinted toward them. In his hands, he carried several weapons. He handed over a spear to the duke, a better choice than the sword at his waist.
“My wives are on the wall. My son—"
“He is insisting on joining the fight.”
The duke frowned the barest amount. “He hasn’t fully recovered from his wounds.” He’d been injured during his campaign but the wounds weren’t severe enough to warrant the attention of a healer. They were bad enough to affect his performance and it was a dangerous thing to join such a large battle when not in peak condition.
“He is a James, my lord. That won’t stop him.”
“Mm. Tell him to go the Moon’s building. He will join the defense of the civilians.” The duke gave Lancecain a discrete look that he easily read. Should things go wrong, it would be up to him to convince Zachariah to retreat as well. A job he didn’t look forward to. No one had more to prove than the duke’s eldest.
“Right—"
What he was going to say next was cut off by a powerful screech. Lancecain’s hands snapped to his ears but it did nothing to stave off the pain caused by the horrible sound. The agony lasted for moments that stretched on for an eternity. When it finally ended, his ears still ached from the abuse. Not even the mountain was spared, a second, smaller icefall tumbling down its side.
He vaguely heard shouts telling the members of Waking Beast in the midst of rescue efforts to retreat from its path. Along the wall, knights scattered.
Lancecain barely noticed, his attention absorbed by the source of the disturbance.
Above, the circling birds parted, moving to fly around the outskirts of the fort. The conspicuous movement drew the young knight’s eyes to the sky so he saw every moment as the titan emerged.
The meagre light of the morning was blocked a moment after it was unblocked by the scattering doomhawks, casting a deeper shadow over the knights. A dark shape pierced the screen of gray clouds. As more of it emerged, Lancecain realized it was the tip of a wing. Just the tip.
Next came its head. Even from the great distance, Lancecain guessed its hooked beak was large enough to swallow a medium-sized titan with room to spare, attached to a long, sinuous neck. White feathers crowned its head and its six glowing blue eyes were bright as his beacon spell against the darker feathers of its face. Its enormous body was followed by three colorful, feathered tails, shades of blue and purple mixed with the same white feathers on its head.
“SKREEEEEEEE!!!”
The bird screeched as it threw out its wings. Lancecain couldn’t say for sure but it looked like they stretched from one end of the fort to the other. The sight was so shocking, he forgot the pain of its cry. It was not a titan. He wasn’t even sure he could call it something as simple as a monster. A living mountain hovered above them and the air seemed to tremble with its presence.
“Bulliard!” The duke’s shout snapped Lancecain and the old servant out of their shock. “Get those spears to the wall and then retreat to the Moon’s base!”
The old servant frowned but, with another glance at the force of nature staring down disdainfully at the members of the fort, he didn’t argue, dashing toward the walls at a surprising speed.
“Lancecain. Get moving!”
He hesitated, unable to take his eyes off the creature. “My lord…” It felt ridiculous running off to defend civilians with what felt like the end of Victory readying itself to attack. He doubted he could defend anything the creature had a mind to destroy. On the other hand, if he stayed, he felt somewhat confident in removing one of its large feathers. A slightly less pointless gesture. “What…what is…”
“It seems one of the Lords has come down from its throne.”
Lancecain gulped. If that was one of the enemies the founders of Victory had sworn to triumph over, they were braver and more insane than he ever thought. The thing above him wasn’t something men fought. It was something they worshipped.
