Wanderer

43 - Broken Dam

Frond

"To the walls!"

I can hear Daeron's voice rise above all the others, above the metal, above the cries, above the raw fear pounding through my ears.

I'm trying not to be afraid, because I promised Erenion I wouldn't be. Erenion didn't want me to come, but I finally convinced him that I wouldn't leave him. He warned me not to let him out of my sight, so I haven't yet.

Erenion is smeared with gore but recognizable with the golden circlet glinting in his ebony hair. He takes up Daeron's call.

"To the walls! Amrad, go! Hurry!"

He pauses a split second to make sure his orders are being followed, then lunges forward with his spear Aiglos extended to disembowel an attacker.

I felt a hard pull on my hair. I stabbed wildly behind me, and gasped as a spray of blood soaked the back of my neck. The hold loosened slightly, but didn't let go entirely. Another attacker bashed me from the front, sword bruising my ribs.

"Er - !" I couldn't get the rest of his name out past the pain in my side.

He was there before the thought of death crossed my mind, spinning to look for me. Aiglos left his hand, a bright shaft of light both gorgeous and dangerous, and whistled past my head. The attacker behind me choked on his own blood, and relaxed his hold.

I looked around to find Erenion, but instead, i saw Daeron on the wall above my head, yelling again.

"The gate's going! Brace yourself!" He was almost hoarse with fear.

Erenion frantically called to the remaining elves. They responded, rallying to him as Erenion forced his way to the shuddering gate.

Erenion calls for me, his voice small in the tumult.

I fight my way back to the massive wooden doors. The gate heaves inward, groaning all the way. It buckles, but holds.

"Frond!"

Erenion jerks his head in the direction of the heart of the city.

"Frond! Get out of here! Go! If it comes down, it's all over!"

For a second, I'm frozen in fear and shock. I can't pull my gaze away from the desperation on the king's bloody face.

Then the gate is rammed again form the outside,  and the impact shakes it free of men. The very stones tremble. Erenion is sprawled on the ground, a new wound opened on his face. He looks up, spitting, and yells, a final time: "Go!"

I run, nearly tripping in my terror.

Behind me, I hear a deafening crack and splinter. I risk a glance back. The gates are rent in pieces, hanging limply from their hinges. Our elves tumble from the walls in a morbid shower.

Somehow, I can hear Daeron's harsh scream again, and catch sight of the host pouring through the fallen gates.

That shakes me, finally. My breath catches in pure terror, and I flee.