35 Rallied (1/2)
A cloud of dust formed behind me and only grew as others began to follow in pursuit. I was oblivious to the forming dust cloud or to the thunderous clamor of hooves and paws behind me. The beating of my own heart pounded deafeningly in my ears, it was too loud to hear anything else, besides my focus, was solely on the black plumed of smoke that came streaming from my first and only home.
It's funny how quickly and slowly time passed as I rode, it felt like riding through sludge as if the air itself tried to oppose such a hapless reunion. Although, that was probably just my own imagination. Still, it felt like I was in a dream, maybe because I've had this nightmare already.
I just hope it doesn't end the same.
I rode quickly through the forest pass, soon riding by the familiar fields that encompassed the town.
I crested a hill, my horse panting with exhaustion, then looked down to see my worst fears realized. The once serene town was engulfed with uncontested flames, ravaged bodies were strewn carelessly across the bloodstained cobbled streets.
Observing the grand atrocity made me feel so small, I felt so insignificant, foolish for even holding the belief I could help. The smiling faces of Sir Richard and Aliece flashed in my mind before going to occupy the same places as Rachel and the others. Any semblance of peace I recovered after losing my squad was lost.
In fact, the pain I felt at losing my friends seemed insignificant in comparison. Broken dreams littered the ground like the burning trash piles that now filled the streets.
Where rage had previously flooded me, I only felt disappointment and shame. Sir Richard spent so much time training and teaching me, but I didn't come in his time of greatest need. I failed him, I failed again.
As I was pitying myself, condemning my own failure once again, the sounds of raging battle could be heard. Only a valiant cry of battle brought me back to my senses, the voice of Sir Richard, gripping the reigns I rode towards the Order's stronghold to the east.
I rode past felled villagers laid unnaturally on the ground, ones that had fallen long before I arrived. But my focus was on the stronghold before me, it was battered, scorched with fire and flame. But men stood valiantly against the tide of demons that swarmed at the base of the walls, threatening to drown any soldier caught in its tide.
A battering ram crashed as the demons clamored up the few ladders still on the wall, but any that climbed were easily cut down with swift strikes.
Fireballs, enhanced-arrows, lances of light, a hail of projectiles rained down into the demon ranks, but as one was struck down two filled their place.
The defenders fought with ferocity, but even at a distance, I could see their weariness. They fought with everything they had left, the few remaining defenders striking down demons with deadly efficiency, but this was to be their last stand.
The last bastion, to take as many of those damn demons with them.
I looked around, as I was watching the battle, my Beast Riders caught up and now waited for my orders. My fearful expression turned to expressionless stone as I announced.
”That stronghold is my home, in it lies my friends, even now the one I know as my father is fighting to protect those still within its walls.” I looked back acknowledging my unlikely allies. I drew Sir Richards...My mythril sword saying.
”I have done nothing for your support, but I ask all of you now, will you fight for me? Will you follow me to the gates of hell to kill those demons!” I exclaimed while raising my sword above my head.
Their cries carried over the sounds of battle, silencing both demon and human alike. I kick my horse's flank and lead the charge at the hundreds of demons swarming at the base of the stronghold.
Our approach reverberated over everything, the deafening clamor of pounding paws on the cobblestone paths were only rivaled by the shrill war howls that rose collectively from both wolf and wolf-men.
The orange glint of the setting sun contrasted with a stark white light that gleamed from the Moon Claws, glowing around us as we charged. Fear filled the eyes of every demon, but Sir Richard and the others didn't waste a precious moment.
Checkmate.
It was a pretty familiar scene, reminiscent of something, but I can't pin exactly what down. We crushed the demons between our frontal charge of cavalry and the wall, pinning them between nashing teeth and an impassible wall with death raining from above.