Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 64: Mad Dog

(There's been little talk of Culter ever since our confrontation. The man has seen fit to slip back into the shadows, biding his time. For what end I do not know, but ever since that day I've seen no malice in his eyes, no challenge in his voice. Is it a feint, or has the mad dog of the Vangen finally been put to heel?)

-Captain-Chronicler Libro, an excerpt from, "The Siege of Middengard"

"Charge! Follow me men! Into the keep!" The Captain roared as he whipped his horse into a frenzy. The creature screamed, lifted onto its haunches before riding off. The sound of thundering hoofbeats grew from a song into a symphony as the rest of the Vangen followed after.

Culter's heart hammered in his throat with every jolt of the saddle. The carnage he'd seen so far was nothing short of a masterpiece. Jotuns tearing men apart like rabid wolves. A gate the size of a castle blown apart in seconds. Regis flying through the air like a bloated trapeze artist in some demented circus. It was too much. Too beautiful to comprehend. It was by far the best war he'd ever been in.

Men were scrambling to get out of the way. Culter lashed out with his dagger, cutting, stabbing, slicing into anything that looked even remotely like an enemy. He stabbed one man in the eye before his horse sent him careening into the air. Another went flying past and he swiped, scoring a lengthy cut across a chest, rivulets of Star Steel chainmail spilling into the cobbles like coins.

Music to Culter's ears.

"Where's Regis?" Civis shouted over clamor. He was positioned beside the Captain, the no good bootlicker, spectacles bouncing over his crooked nose.

"Stayed behind! Covering the courtyard with Brand!"

"That wasn't part of the plan!"

"We'll adapt!" Culter could see the edge of a smile crease up one side of the Captain's face. He sucked in a shuddering breath, teeth gritted as he forced it out. Without a word he stabbed down, spearing a man through the helmet and sending him tumbling down. The shadow of Ferrus Keep's inner gates passed over them, its sanctum jostling with men either running for their lives or trying desperately to keep formation.

"Clear the area! Kill them all!" The Captain roared. Seconds later and Nox's crossbow boomed out, nearly losing control of his horse as the air scooped up a reedy looking iron knight, pinning it to a massive column. The Vangen's pikes made short work of any who tried to oppose them. Star Steel spearheads punched through Star Steel armor without effort, sweeping men aside like snow off a doorstep.

Culter could feel his smile stretching with every cut and slice he made. His arm was up to the elbow in blood, staining his fingers a deep crimson, his dagger painted in equal measure. It wasn't the stiletto he knew and loved, but that part of his life was over now. He'd felt its sting, given it back in kind and let it leave his grip eternal. Perhaps that was simply how life was. You take hold of something, let it carry you for however long until you're finally able to let go.

Whatever resistance Raylein's forces had for them in the keep quickly broke as Culter and the rest of the Vangen poured inside. Horses ran down men in droves, stamping them with their hooves, metal armor booming like church bells. Pikemen swept and chopped, stabbed and cut, driving men back or cutting them down.

Culter spotted a nest of soldiers trying to run away, dropping their weapons to make it easier. He slipped his boots from the stirrups, maneuvered into a squat and catapulted off his horse straight towards them.

The closest man let out a scream as Culter landed on him, knees slamming into his back as they both hit the ground. They slid across the smooth, polished tiles, Culter's dagger cutting over the backs of knees, slicing into tendons, more men joining the chorus of screams as they fell. The man he was riding came to a jolting stop and he leapt off, crushing the soldier's throat with a well placed stomp on the back of his neck.