Blood And Stone

Chapter 51: The Dead Rise Again

Lyric balanced on the back of her horse, pushing it toward the trees as she looked back at the children. They copied her movements, their small fingers gripping the reins tightly. As they reached the edge of the trees, she lept. Her small legs pushed her from the back of the horse. Her hand pulled at the reins, turning the horse and sending him in the opposite direction. Her free hand gripped the branch closest to her and she pulled herself into the tree. One by one, the children followed suit. Soon, the trees bowed and swayed with the weight of the Ulfheðnar young. They disappeared into the canopy and left Rissa and the rest charging toward the Sithaurian wall alone.

Raising her hand and spreading her fingers, Lyric gave the orders to spread out. The children responded without hesitation. "May the Gods watch over and protect you all." She thought as they dashed away. She pressed forward, each step calculated and light. Her muscles wanted to ache but she refused to allow it. There was no time for the soreness from the long ride. There was only time for action.

Rissa's loud whistle echoed through the trees. Noir's howl issued her orders and the wolves powered forward. They disappeared, becoming nothing more than a ghost of themselves as their speed increased. Rissa then sent half of her men on horseback around the city in an attempt to flank the enemy.

Lyric darted through the trees, creating the hedge wall before she stopped in shock. The streets of her beloved home were covered in snow, ice, and blood. A thin layer of water froze as it mixed with the crimson of lost life. Bodies of Sithaurians lay scattered about, lifeless and cold. Many of them seemed to be frozen with a look of horror on their faces. Her heart shattered. She stared for a moment. Her brain struggled to make sense of the carnage and her heart simply could not take it. She only fell out of the trance as she watched Noir bring down an armed skeleton, saving Xenya from death.

She moved, dashing through the trees once more. Her eyes darted around. Horse and skeletal riders littered the streets, charging at the Sithaurians mercilessly. On the other side of the hedge wall, she could hear the sounds of a fierce battle. She climbed, pulling herself swiftly up the tree. She settled in the branches and gazed out toward the Blue River. Torvir and what could only be the grotesque Celik'r fought against various archers and tricksters. Lyric's eyes searched the battle before finding Raven, her dagger tearing the throat of a being that was missing a nose and its genitals.

The arrow nocked itself, hugged the string with a tight grip, and loosed itself faster than she could comprehend. It whistled through the air and buried itself deep in the red eye of another Celik'r. Raven's head jerked up, her purple eyes meeting with Lyric's brown. A smile crept across her face as her daggers spun to end the life of yet another enemy.

Several young Ulfheðnar moved to form a line in the trees, facing toward Raven and her Tricksters. Volley after volley of arrows rained down as swiftly as the snow, dropping bodies left and right. The sight of the arrows spurred the Sithaurian archers forward. They formed two lines along the bank of the Blue River. As the first released their arrows, they knelt and the line behind released theirs. Irritated screeches rang out among the trees as the enemy shielded themselves behind the thick trunks. Raven took the opportunity, her Tricksters swiftly throwing their daggers, pinning the bodies to the wood. Raven and three others ran along the pinned Celik'r, dragging their blades across their throats and coating the fresh snow in red.

While Lyric and her group of young archers aided the Tricksters, Rissa, and the wolves tore through the streets. A great sense of pride rose in her chest as she watched Noir take down a skeleton, saving someone who must have been rather important. The woman soon rose to her feet and darted off to fight again. Noir followed the woman, her eyes glazed with bloodlust as she did.

Rissa entered the battle closer to the front of the city, her axe cutting down anything that did not have skin or was covered in moss. Her horse began to skid on the thin sheet of ice that covered the cold ground, forcing her to dismount and send the beast running. A smile spread across her dark lips as her eyes took in the scene before her. The Bäckahäst were mighty, huge horses with muscle upon muscle. Even with their strange mossy exterior, they were thick with it. They calmly convinced the Sithaurian people to climb atop their backs and become whatever the skeletal army was. They would lose half of their forces within minutes if this didn't end. So that became her goal.