Luke Scull - The Grim Company

There was an awful whining noise. It was coming from Brianna. The wizard was convulsing, staring up at something in the distance. Sasha followed her tortured gaze, saw the summit of the Obelisk looming above the walls and knew that the Tyrant of Dorminia was flexing his might. Red spittle ran down Brianna’s chin and her eyes bulged as if they would burst from their sockets at any moment. He’s killing her.

‘So… strong…’ Brianna uttered.

‘No!’ screamed Sasha. The dying wizard looked at her, blood leaking from her eyes to run like tears down her cheeks.

Then, incredibly, she began to straighten. Her bones splintered and jutted from her shattered body as she forced herself upright. ‘Get inside… the city…’ she said, her face a bloody mess. She jerked again as something snapped in her back. ‘Salazar,’ she managed, spitting out half of her tongue. ‘This… is for you .’

And she exploded. Blood and viscera sprayed the mercenaries closest to her, but something else emerged from the mage’s corpse: a bolt of glowing red fire that hummed for a second or two and then roared off at blinding speed towards the Obelisk. It struck the top of the great tower in an explosion of falling masonry and flame. When the dust cleared, a smoking hole the size of a house was visible.

Sasha wanted to run away and never look back. Instead she took a deep breath and raised her crossbow. The pressure inside her was gone. Salazar’s sinister magic had been broken by Brianna’s final sacrifice. All around her men were reclaiming their weapons from the ground. The mercenaries in front of the damaged gates of the city hauled the great battering ram up between them. They took a few steps back, unleashed a great war cry and launched themselves forwards. The wood splintered and the gates were torn away from their hinges.

Crimson Watchmen immediately poured through the breach, swords raised. The mercenaries tossed the battering ram aside and drew their own weapons as their comrades rushed in to help. Brodar Kayne nodded, gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and moved to join the fray.

Sasha took another deep breath and followed.

The crossbow clicked. The bolt missed her target, sailing harmlessly wide. Sasha swore, reached down and drew her sword as the burly Watchman leaped the bodies of two of his fellows and brandished his own blade. Before he could reach her a Sumnian plunged a spear into his side. It sank deep, piercing his chainmail, and he staggered. The mercenary was on him in an instant, his long dagger plunging into the soldier’s neck. He went down, choking on blood. The black-skinned warrior pulled his spear free of the corpse and returned to the huge melee just ahead.

Sasha had no idea how much time had passed since the battle began. They had been forced back from the gates by the Watch, and now the soldiers formed a wall of crimson in front of the entrance to the city. Behind them, she knew, an unknown number of militiamen waited.

There were still a few archers on the battlements and occasionally an arrow would pick off a stray mercenary, but the bulk of the conscripts were apparently engaged in defending the breaches in the wall. From what she had seen, the archers were poor shots. With the fighters on both sides packed so closely together, they were as likely to hit their own men as the enemy.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of the chaos. The Sumnians were clearly the superior fighters, faster and more skilled, but their leather armour offered scant protection from the Watch’s swords and the arrows from above. General Zahn bellowed instructions from a nearby hillock, his four guards forming a shield wall around him. In the distance she could see General D’rak’s company eager to engage. They were awaiting the signal from Zahn, but it didn’t look as if that was coming any time soon. The western gate and the three major breaches in the city wall formed choke points that greater numbers would do little to penetrate, and there was no sense in providing more targets for the archers.

Another Watch soldier noticed her and came sprinting over just as she finished reloading her crossbow. This time Sasha put the quarrel in his stomach, stopping him in his tracks. He lurched away, clawing at his midriff, his agonized cries haunting her from where she knelt in the shallow depression. A few archers had taken shots at her, but she was at the very limits of their range and the arrows had gone far wide.

She tried to calm her nerves as she watched Kayne and Jerek cut a bloody swathe through the Crimson Watch. The two men were like forces of nature, Jerek a whirlwind of axes chopping at arms and legs while his older companion moved as serenely as a cloud before striking like lightning. He seemed able to read every single blow before it landed. Even as she looked on, Kayne sidestepped a sword thrust and smashed the pommel of his greatsword into his attacker’s face, dropping him like a sack of potatoes, and then spun around to dodge another Watchman’s overhead swing. An arrow took the soldier in the back at almost the exact moment he stepped into the Highlander’s path.

Sasha shook her head. The old barbarian had an uncanny knack of being in the right place at the right time.

A loud grunting drew her attention closer to her hiding spot. Three-Finger was grappling with one of the city’s defenders, stabbing him repeatedly through a hole in the man’s armour. Blood splattered his scabrous face but he kept on stabbing long after the soldier had stopped twitching. He saw her watching him, gave her a yellow grin which turned to a bellow of pain as an arrow suddenly pierced his shoulder.

She squinted up at the battlements. The militiamen had returned to the wall in force and were now raining arrows down indiscriminately, hitting mercenaries and Watchmen alike. Dark-skinned Sumnians and scarlet-clad Dorminians fell to the ground, pierced by missiles.

There was a sudden blur to the side of her. Like damned souls escaping from the gates of hell, the White Lady’s pale servants glided past with unnatural speed. The women went straight past the fighting, ignoring the arrow-strewn killing field, and began scaling the walls with their bare hands.

Sasha’s mouth dropped open in shock. They crawled up the stone like spiders — a sight so unnatural it filled her with sudden horror.

The first of the women reached the top and disappeared over the side. A moment later the broken body of a militiaman tumbled over the wall, his head at a crazy angle to his neck. More conscripts fell from the wall, dropping like flies.

Sasha glanced at the hillock again and saw General Zahn gesturing wildly at General D’rak and his company. The thousand mercenaries raised their weapons and began to advance.

She reached for another bolt and her hand came away empty. She hesitated for a second, then discarded the spent quiver and drew her sword. The mercenaries and Watchmen were locked in combat outside the walls, while just inside the city pandemonium had broken out. The White Lady’s servants were seemingly unstoppable, moving with blinding speed and striking with bare hands that carried the force of a hammer blow. They twisted and spun and attacked from impossible angles, bending like quicksilver to avoid the desperate lunges and swings of the Watch and militiamen. Soldiers fell with their heads crushed, their necks broken, their spines shattered.

She had to look away. Not even the Watch deserved this. Salazar was their true enemy. Brianna’s last desperate act had disrupted his magic, but she knew he was still up there in the Obelisk, watching them, waiting until he was sufficiently recovered to launch another deadly spell.

Come on, Cole. You can’t fail. If you do, there will be nothing left of the city but corpses.