CHAPTER SEVEN
A BRAZEN CALL
Mercius was hung over. He woke with bleary eyes and a head filled with hammers and drums. His mouth tasted like donkey shit, and his body felt like he had been run through a meat grinder.
The night before was joyous and fun, from what he could remember. He had been in Drurador now for three years, and Jax and Sophia had finally married. The ceremony was short and sweet; emotional and beautiful on a late spring day that sang with birds and sunshine. The celebration after had lasted till nearly dawn, and Mercius had been one of the last revelers to seek his bed. He didn't even remember how he got there.
Looking around his sparsely furnished room, Mercius sighed and kicked his legs out of bed, steadying his head in his hands for a dizzy moment before rising. He walked the few strides it took to get him to the other side of the room and rinsed his face and mouth in the bowl of cool water that stood on a wooden stand. He stretched his naked body and another wave of agony bolted through his skull.
He had grown in the past several years from the lithe boy that had escaped Asgoroth's dungeons to a handsome young man. His boyish good looks had not disappeared entirely, but now the man that would soon emerge was becoming apparent in his features. He still wore his dark hair to his shoulders, and the natural redness had increased since he had begun his life outside. His strong jaw was now covered with a stubble of black hair, and his green eyes burned with undiminished ferocity. His body had grown more muscular and fine, but he still moved with the lithe grace of a wolf.
Now, trying to shake the nausea and pounding headache, Mercius dressed. He wore his studded leather kilt and a pair of stout boots. He strapped his dull iron cuirass over a thick leather vest, placed Illuricht at his back, and made his way out into the daylight.
He groaned softly as his eyes flinched away from the bright morning sun. Mercius knew that today would not be a fun day to train. The children that he had helped shepherd over the mountain three years ago were now his faithful charges. He had taken to training them in the ways of combat as soon as they entered Drurador, and had maintained the training with a fervor that he hadn't known he possessed. They were unruly and excitable at first, but Mercius had drilled that out of them with hours upon hours of strict, disciplined training and exercise. They, too, had lost most of their childish appearances, and were approaching young adulthood as formidable men and women.
Mercius grinned to think about it. He was proud of them. They had hated him for a long time, he knew, for he pushed them to their limits and beyond without mercy. They cursed his name and swore silently at his appearance. But they had, eventually, taken a swelling pride in themselves as a unit. More youngsters had asked to join in the training after witnessing them spar in the practice yard. This had boosted the young trainees' esteem to such a degree that they no longer hated Mercius. In fact, they began, strangely, to admire him. They saw with every passing day their skills increase, and they eventually began to love Mercius for making them who they were.
Today, though, Mercius was not at all looking forward to the lessons. Even the thought of spears and shields and swords made him cringe as he made his way through the bustling city of Drurador towards the practice yard where Mercius drilled his students.
Suddenly, Mercius was struck on the back so heavily he almost lost his footing. Turning and reaching over his shoulder for his blade, he saw Jax grinning like a bear. Mercius let out a deep sigh and shook his head.
"You're lookin' a little worse for wear, lad," Jax said, his grin remaining.
"Must've been a hell of a party," Mercius replied, now with his own lopsided grin. "Congratulations, old man. Just in case I didn't say it last night."
"Only a couple hundred times," Jax said, putting his arm around Mercius' shoulder and walking toward the practice yard. "Those youngsters are looking better and better every day," he said, changing the subject.
"Indeed, but they're still not ready to fight. Their bodies work the way they should, but their minds are still too young. I only hope that they have years yet before they are required to utilize their skills."
"Bah, don't worry too much about it lad. They'll prove you proud, I'm sure."
Just then, there came a sound that everyone in the city dreaded hearing. A brazen horn called from the walls, signaling danger. Jax and Mercius shared a glance before bolting for the wall. They climbed the stone steps three at a time, and demanded to know what was happening of the first guard they saw.
An old man in dented armor answered them: "Raiding party," he said gruffly. "Two thousand demons, is the word. Have our work cut out for us today." With that, he strode away.
Mercius and Jax peered over the wall and saw a single horseman galloping like mad back to the city.
Jax, under his breath, said, "The last of the scouts. The others must've seen first whatever he's running from."
As the horseman turned to look over his shoulder, his pursuers broke from the tree line behind him. It was a horde of snarling demons on beasts of darkness. They roared their battle cries and whipped their mounts to greater speed. The horseman did the same. Mercius, with his keen eyesight, could see the despair in the man's eyes.
"He won't make it," Mercius whispered. He forced his body to be still: he wanted to leap over the wall and aid the man fleeing for his life, but he knew it would be futile.
Taking another look over his shoulder, then back to the sanctuary of the wall of Drurador, the lone rider seemed to make up his mind with grim determination. Suddenly, he wheeled his mount and headed directly for the horde of terrible demons. They were shocked, and their battle cries faltered as the horseman crashed into their ranks, his sword hacking wildly. He downed five demons with his charge before they regained their composure.
The man was torn to pieces in an instant.
Mercius sighed his regret, but there was nothing he could do.
Then he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Are we to fight, sir?" It was Darius, one of the older ones who had crossed the mountain with him three years ago. He was large and blonde, with a laughing face and deep brown eyes that always seemed to hide some secret joke. Darius and his friend, Peter, had joined Mercius' trainees. They, at first, had just watched the young ones going through the exercises as Mercius instructed them, being several years older than all the others. Over time, though, they apparently had realized that Mercius knew things about fighting that they had never thought of, and asked if they could join. Mercius included them in the training sessions, but gave them slight superiority over the much smaller children. They had performed tremendously in the role, and had become Mercius' right-and-left hand men.
"No, Darius," Mercius replied. "Today is not our day. The soldiers of Durador will defend the wall today, and you will watch and learn from them."
Darius didn't attempt to hide his disappointment. He believed that the young troop was ready, even if Mercius did not.
Mercius saw the man's face drop and said in a firmer tone, "I'm counting on you, Darius. Go and tell Peter what I have told you, and make sure that the troops don't do anything stupid." With a sigh of resignation, Darius strode from the wall.
The demons had reached the wall, and were standing in a seething mass before it, obviously awaiting some signal to attack. The defenders covered the rampart, and were awaiting their doom in tense silence.
Mercius saw, out of the corner of his eye, the old man who they had first spoken to striding purposefully behind the ranks. He removed his helmet and Mercius recognized him as the commander of the Duradoran troopers, Tyrmon. His white hair was wet with sweat, and hung in his face.
Mercius caught Tyrmon's eye and said to him quietly, "The fliers will come first. Have your archers and javelins ready." Without a word, the old man nodded and strode away.
"And what will your role in today's events be, lad?" Jax asked Mercius.
"I'll do what I can on the wall, Jax
." Mercius paused, then, "You should go to your wife. She'll be worrying about you."
Jax shook his head before saying, "She'll have her hands full, and I'll only get in her way. No, lad, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."
Very shortly after their arrival in Drurador, Sophia had been asked to join the council, as the oldest of them had died, and their numbers must always be kept at seven. She had joined them, and taken well to her role; it was nearly the same roll she had held in the small village from which they had fled, with the only difference being the number of people that she was helping to govern.
Mercius looked back down into the huddled mass of demons on the field below him. Today would be tough, he knew, but the soldiers were stout and skilled, and would not flee.
With a suddenness that caused the soldiers around Mercius to flinch, the air was rent with a terrifying shriek, and a hundred winged demons flew from the forest half a mile from the city. The demons on the field surged forward and began to scale the walls. Mercius saw the defenders draw their swords and check the buckles of their shields. He heard the archers, both along the walls and massed in the courtyard behind him, bend their bows.
The shrieking flying demons were in range in an instant, and Mercius heard someone behind him shout, "Loose!" The first volley of arrows darkened the sky, interspersed with massive javelins launched from the wood and metal mechanisms along the walls. Several demons fell from the air, but many more came on. After the first coordinated volley, the archers began to fire at will, and for a moment all Mercius could hear was the whisper of arrows over his head and the shrieking wails of dying demons.
Then, breaking his trance, Mercius heard the snarl of a demon, much closer, and looked to his right to see the first grey, taloned hand cresting the top of the wall. The hand was severed by a guard, but many more came on.
Mercius and Jax, standing behind the row of guards on the wall, couldn't kill any of the creatures; they simply had to wait until they could draw their weapons and do some good. Within moments, though, the guards had been pushed back by the sheer mass of demons pouring over the wall. The guard before Mercius was pushed into him. As Mercius regained his balance, he saw the guard thrust his sword into crouching demons neck, just as a long black blade took him high in the shoulder. He spun with the blow, and Mercius looked into his agonized and terrified eyes before the demon withdrew its blade and sliced the man's head from his shoulders, sending it spinning to Mercius' feet.
With a roar, Mercius grasped the demon by the throat and threw it high into the air, over the wall. Before it landed, Mercius had Illuricht in his hand and was dancing in among the slathering demons. Blocking a wild slash of a demon spear, Mercius spun and severed the thing in two before moving on to his next victim. His blade sang with black fury as he sliced and jabbed. He smashed the spiked pommel into the face of a tusked and hairy creature before reversing his grip and jabbing the tip of his blade through the things mouth.
He turned and saw Jax. The old man's twin curved blades were spinning, blocking blow after blow. There was a pile forming at his feet. Mercius fought his way to his friend and they shared a grin before launching themselves back into the fray.
Mercius had no concept of the overall battle. He was lost in death, killing and surviving with equal intensity.
Suddenly, he heard his name. He pulled his blade from a dying demon's throat and turned to see Darius, covered in blood and holding his great double-headed axe in both hands. He was standing below, in the courtyard. When he saw that he had gained Mercius' attention, he shouted over the screams of battle, "They have breached the gate! They're coming into the city!"
Mercius, without responding, leapt into the courtyard twenty feet below. Darius ran ahead, leading Mercius to where the demons were pouring into the city. Mercius' heart fell as he saw the mass of ugly creatures piling through the shattered wooden gate. Thankfully, the main gates had held so far, and only this small doorway had been breached, so the demons were forced to bottleneck as they came through. Archers were silently and swiftly loosing arrow after arrow into the seething mass, but the demons were coming through too quickly.
Darius didn't wait for Mercius as he gazed at the carnage. Instead, he ran to Peter's side, and immediately the two were hacking and slashing, creating a small pocket of destruction. Mercius looked again to the gate and saw a small group of the Duradoran soldiers fleeing back toward him.
Mercius grabbed the first man by the arm and saw the fear in his eyes. Without hesitation, he shouted into the man's face, "Who's in charge here? Who's in charge of holding the gate?"
The man cast his eyes around before locking his stare on something. His face blanched visibly as he pointed. Mercius looked and saw a crumpled mass of rags and bone and stringy flesh surrounded by a pool of blood.
Mercius grabbed the man's face and forced him to look into his own eyes. Mercius felt the eyes of the remainder of the men set to guard the small gate on his back. They were watching to see what would happen, so Mercius said loud enough for them all to hear, while still peering into the first man's eyes: "The gate must be retaken. Your friends on the wall cannot hold if they have this threat at their backs. Now form up as you were trained and come with me."
As he spoke, he saw the fear in the man's eyes being slowly replaced by determination, and perhaps a little shame. They formed up within moments, and Mercius led them at a run toward the gate. Mercius saw that Jax had joined Darius and Peter, and had brought a small force with him from the wall. Satisfied that the newcomers could dispatch the demons in the courtyard, Mercius charged the gate.
He jumped high into the air and came down with Illuricht, cleaving a demon's head in two. Pulling his blade free, he spun and severed a taloned arm then jabbed the tip through a single, bloody eye. Again, he became lost in the battle rage. He danced death as he felt the black blade in his hand sing with the glory of it.
He twisted and spun and leapt, leaving a trail of steaming corpses in his wake. He paid no heed to the troop he had mustered, only to the death he was dealing.
He fought on, completely lost in fury. He was covered in black demon blood, and felt the multiple wounds he had sustained. He was bleeding from a bite on his thigh, and it had filled his boot with blood. Still he fought on.
He sliced the tip of Illuricht across a lanky demon's face, and then felt a punching pain in his shoulder. He spun, feeling the spear still his body, terribly close to the spine, and roared his rage as he drove his black blade down into his attacker. Illuricht sliced cleanly through collar and torso, severing the thing on the diagonal. Just as he dislodged the spear from high in his back, there was another sharp pain in his side, and Mercius looked down to see a small knife being pulled from his ribs by a six-armed beast. He drove the tip of his blade deep into the thing's throat and twisted it. Its jaw exploded with the force of his thrust, and he pulled out the black sword and spun to face his next victim.
Mercius realized suddenly that he was entirely surrounded by seething, slathering creatures. He glanced around and saw, to his utter shock, the tall wall of Durador in the distance. He had fought his way out of the city for at least a quarter of a mile. He knew that he had no chance of fighting his way back through the horde that now surrounded him. So, with a rage-filled determination, he threw himself at his closest foe.
He would die, he was sure, but he would take as many of the monsters with him as he could.