Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 38: A Wall of Men

The courtyard of Gate Primaris was alive with the sounds of singing iron and the screams of men. Civis swiped away a blow aimed at his head with the cusp of his shield, using the momentum to drive his sword into a rebel's belly. Blood splattered onto the freshly cut lawn, bright green and dark red.

The Vangen had split up after breaching the Gate Secondus. Lord Hallan's men were trying desperately to hold back the rebels before their arrival, their spears stabbing at anything that wasn't wearing red and gold. Dux and Culter had taken to the right flank while Nox ascended the parapet to assist Lady Kent's bow levies. The task of protecting the left side was left to Civis.

A butcher's knife sailed past Civis' head, embedding into the shoulder of a nearby spearman. He screamed, fell, and was dragged away by auxiliary soldiers before the spear wall closed up. Of course, the Captain had seen fit to send him to the worst side of the front, Civis laughed. There was no one else he trusted more.

"Advance!" Civis raised his sword, the silver metal gleaming in the morning sunlight. The Greenhorns raised their shields and marched forward, with spearmen advancing behind them. A wave of rebels crashed into the shield wall, a raucous black tide of screaming sycophants and traitors.

The Greenhorns held their ground, shields bouncing off whatever trite weaponry the rebels had. In the next instant, the spearman jabbed into the crowd, punching through the rebels meager defenses. Those that didn't die immediately or retreat met their end at the hands of a Greenhorn's ax.

"Advance!" Civis yelled again. The men took another step forward. Another wave of rebels came charging at them. Civis raised his shield, bracing against the impact. Before the rebels could reach him though, a storm of arrows came scything down, the hollow thud of metal striking flesh drowned out by the screaming. A sea of black robes fluttered to the ground, slipping and sliding against the wet grass. The rebels still alive fell back, fearing retaliation now with their numbers reduced.

Civis looked up, shielding his eyes from the glare of the rising sun. Hidden by shadow, he made out Nox's silhouette standing side by side a score of bow levies. Even then, he could still see the Austerlander's pearly white smile. Cheeky bastard, Civis thought. He raised his sword again. "Advance!"

Little by little, the Vangen were gaining back lost ground. Gate Primaris' looming walls came closer into view, the gaping hole in the wooden doors slowly revealing itself. A never-ending tide of rebels continued to pour through the wound, replenishing those recently cut down.

Civis beat back a reedy looking rebel wielding a pair of sheep shears, removing his head with a flick of his blade. He pulled his sword back, checking the edge for nicks, but the blade was still just as keen. Guess the enchantment had been worth the cost after all, Civis mused. When his father had presented him the sword, he'd guffawed at the man for spending so much over something he'd considered trivial. But now, as the blade sliced through men with the same ease as a hot knife in butter, the worth had far exceeded the cost.

Another rebel came at Civis, screaming like a mad man. He launched his arm forward, driving the tip of his sword into the rebel's throat, cutting the scream off into a wet gurgle as he flopped into the grass. The movement had been reflexive for Civis. So many years fighting that his body moved on its own.

How strange the mind works sometimes, thought Civis. For some men, not a thought passes through their head once the heat of battle commences. For others, they never stop thinking. Civis's mind was elsewhere, wondering about the past, the present, and the possible future.

Thinking about his father had started it all, and the blade he'd given him. Father had presented him the sword the day he'd been sworn into the Inquisition. A blade fit for a true son of the Empire, his father had said. And not six months later, Civis used it to start the People's Rebellion. The irony of it all. If only father had stayed alive long enough to enjoy it.