Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 26: Form a Line

"Fark this shit!" Cent roared as he shot up from his chair, plate clutched tight to one hand. He reared back and flung it at the Right Hand, metal disk spinning in an arc before ramming into the half giant's skull. The creature snarled as its head snapped back, ashen locks whipped into a frenzy. It clutched at its forehead, tugging frustratingly at the disk embedded into its skull.

Everything else went to shit after that. Moss flipped over the table over, silverware and crockery crashing and clattering to the floor. Elba ducked under as a flurry of arrows whistled past, embedding into the wood, into the wall behind her, into an unlucky rebel's chest as he made to run.

"Kill them!" She heard the Right Hand shouting. She peaked over the makeshift barricade, saw the towering monstrosity finally rip the plate from its skull, blood red ash seeping from the massive gash in its forehead. It pointed towards Cent, motioning for the Chosen to charge, before a chair came sailing overhead and smashed it in the face.

Cent searched for more furniture to throw as the Right Hand righted itself back up, nose broken in several places, dark bruises running up its deathly pale face. It caught the next chair with one hand, flicking it back with even greater force. Cent ducked as it sailed overhead, bursting into splinters as it collided into a rebel instead. The man barely had time to scream before he was catapulted away.

"Aurora will protect us!" The Jarl screamed over and over again, as if the mantra would truly protect him. "Aurora will protect us! Aurora will protect us!" His words were cut off as a spear shot out and snatched him by the throat, catapulting him off his feet with surprising force.

Shayn roared like a madman close by, axe chopping at anything wearing black armor, chips of broken glass clattering to the ground like scattered marbles.

Tergrid huddled near one of the corners, forming an impromptu shield wall with several others, eyes wide, teeth gritted in a furious snarl as she jabbed and sliced and stabbed.

All around Elba, men died by the score. Despite the Lightbringer's overwhelming effort and numbers, they were still clearly outmatched. Iron weapons bounced off the Chosen's armor or were easily batted aside. Skill outmatched fanaticism as droves of rebels were cut down in sweeping arcs like ocean waves against an indominable beach head.

The Chosen were slowly taking back ground, forming a line and spreading out, pushing the rebels back. Some of them had bows out now, sniping at open targets, arrows thudding into tables, walls, exposed flesh. One rebel made a mad dash for the Right Hand, sword held high in a charge. The creature didn't even draw its weapon as it grabbed the man by the throat and flung him aside. The rebel barely had time to scream before he smashed into a wall and fell bonelessly to the ground.

Elba gasped as a spear whipped past her and embedded itself into a nearby Lightbringer's chest. She ducked down, the familiar tremble of fear in her bones mixing with the wedging pain in her guts and the terrible realization of what was at stake here. She didn't have her own life to think about now. Amidst the chaos and death, new life was blooming inside her. A life that could very easily be snuffed out.

Libro's child. Their child.

How she hated herself now, thinking she could face the madness of this world with brave words and courageous thoughts alone. She should have taken Libro's offer. She should have ran back to Byzantia the moment she realized she was pregnant. At the very least, the child would have been safe, and now her selfishness had doomed them all.

The hair on Elba's neck began to prickle. She looked up, realized she was alone behind the barricade. Moss, Cent and Libro were nowhere to be found. A hand gripped the table above her, the flesh of its fingers pale and desiccated, sharp knuckles poking against the skin.