<u>Chapter 52 - The Songblades</u>
Rask roared as he blew back a beautiful curved blade. The white robed mercenary before him danced back a few feet. He and his allies wore half masks covering up to their noses and had their hair tied in knots with a long pin running through the bun. The Songblades, if he recalled right. A bunch of swordplay fanatics that thrived on open battlegrounds when fights were chaotic and already halfway complete. Here on the walls, however, where space was limited and ranks were tight, the Songblades were children.
Children staring down the Wolf of Metsiphon.
Rask cared not for cruelty. Not when a blade was poised at Xenaria''s throat. He kicked over a severed head and stabbed down into the chest of a fallen white robed warrior. The Songblades sneered at him and bent low, preparing to strike again.
Right. Get angry. Come at us.
If he could take down a famed band or mercenaries here, he might yet restore some of the lost spirit from the day before. Sure enough, they came again. Spearmen beside Rask stabbed at them, but they danced beside the long weapons, now constrained to a narrower path, at the center of which Rask stood. He howled and split a head down the center, blood spraying out from all sides. The man''s companion had a genuine look of shock. He gasped upon seeing the red splash against his white garb. He leapt back, but without grace. The spearman to Rask''s left took the opportunity to stab again, and skewered the enemy.
"Good man," Rask huffed, nodding to the soldier. The remaining Songblades retreated back to the siege tower, slipping between dumbfounded Tarmian soldiers who stood still, eyes fixed upon Rask''s red sword, gore sliding down its edge. They were hesitating. A fatal mistake to make before a hungry wolf.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Rask ordered a charge which he personally led, pushing back enemies past their gangplank and driving them to the corner of the right side wall. Caught between Xenarian soldiers of the right wall and those on the front wall, some took the leap down and screamed as they fell. Others tried attacking, but trembling arms full of fear were no match for Jengard Rask. He slew them as they came while his spearmen kept him from being surrounded.
The right wall was now completely free of enemies and archers renewed their assaults. There was still a siege tower there, but no enemies came out of it as a squad of spearmen with shields stood at the mouth of the gangplank. "Break down the bridge!" Rask commanded. "Let no further enemies encroach upon this wall."
He then turned his attention to the front wall where the enemy had gained a foothold, and the Iron Turtle Mercenary band were slowly expanding it. Those would be troublesome to deal with. A group with little interest in fighting and only moving while hiding behind protective equipment. A group specialized for taking city walls. Their thick—
Rask''s jaw dropped.
Crown Princess Emeria leapt from stone parapets, proud and resplendent hair flying free. She dropped into the middle of enemy lines and poked at them with her thin blade, weaving between them with light footed hops that could put the Songblades to shame. The Turtles dropped their guard and did their best to catch the royal heir. Black armored Queen''s Guard followed her lead and decimated the mercenaries shortly after. Emeria danced back along the parapets, nearly falling off —causing Rask''s heart to skip a beat— and landed safely within allied lines as Xenarian soldiers roared battle cries and charged.
The foothold was quickly regained and spear squads positioned themselves before siege towers while archers renewed their task. Soon, even the thunder of a battering ram ceased.
Rask raised his fist. "Three cheers to her highness!"
The soldiers with him cheered and he found it within himself to laugh despite the grimness that had been hanging in the air not a few hours earlier. Emeria had saved the day. Xenaria, it seemed, had a future yet.