One Moo'r Plow - Book 2: Chapter 43: The siege of Greysong Keep 2.

Hatred blinded even the sun above. Sheer rancor and cruelty outshone the oppressive glory from on high on this day, and carried the defenders through their actions. Valencia’s cruel orders pierced the veil, parted the fog and set to motion the machinations of death. Tyranny overruled glory in this moment, and I was grateful for it.

There would be no slow, methodical siege here. The host down below advanced on the walls at a breakneck pace, barely kept orderly as they marched over the slog of stones and uneven ground. Coming right for the walls, to punch into and through them. This we knew, and so did they. If the battle spilled into the fortress itself, it would be half-lost already.

The second mage lay senseless, eyes rolled back in his skull. A frail, thin form unsuited for war. Already rendered unconscious by the Godtouched’s splendor. Valencia’s blows woke him. He whimpered, and while I pitied the man, for he had all of the dreadknight’s hatred focused upon him, his duty was required.

“I can’t.” The mage gasped in pain, breath labored as he turned away from the second sun’s approach. “It burns to see.”

“Then see no more.” The dreadknight snarled, and the man’s pupils went black. With one hand, she steered him towards the wall. For a brief moment, I really thought she would throw him from the battlements.

“Do you feel that power, mage?” Valencia guided him through the chaos, pointing towards the immense aura that exuded from the horde’s center. “Empty every scrap of magic you have at that, or meet them face to face.”

There was clarity and strategy to her cruelty. Unable to see the sun above, the man’s magecraft flowed freely. Fire erupted from the ground below the horde, red jets that crackled upwards to consume. Flights of arrows loosed from the walls, for all the good those did against the hides of minotaurs.

Ballista bolts proved somewhat more effective. Massive rods of steel launched at blinding speeds plowed into the horde, and I saw individual figures crumple on impact. Yet the walls held precious few of those launchers, and the horde cared not for those that died before them.

Spears struck rock and lightning danced off the walls as fire was returned. A man next to me was flung backward, gored through as the force of a thrown spear carried him clear off the walls. I strode along, an entire bundle of ballistae bolts carried on my shoulder. Humans cranked back the mechanisms to notch the great deathslinger, painfully slow. Even with my help, we were doing too little to stop the tide that would soon be upon us.

Where a general’s inspiring presence faltered, Valencia’s hatred drove the defenders onward. The dreadknight approached, barking orders all the while. She was not in gleeful malice, I observed. Everything about her was now tight and focused. Professional, almost.
“The impact made is too slow for the resources spent.” I gave her my blunt opinion. “We will slow them, but they will reach the walls.”

“Yes.” Was all she spoke in agreement. “Help the lobber crews instead.”

We parted ways once more as she strode along the walls, her presence flogging the defenders onwards. I left the walls behind, squinting downwards as Valencia’s presence grew dim. Once more, the sun began to beat down, heat and the presence of overwhelming glory sapping will from my very bones.

Teeth grit, I stomped onwards, determined to forge through this brilliant hell.

They were unable to aim, I found. A spear had soared over the wall and pierced right through the mechanism that adjusted this crude catapult. The humans ran about, trying to find a way to fix this so they could lob explosive projectiles over the walls and into the horde’s midst.

I offered another solution.

Chains were used the drag along the heavy, dense orbs that would explode on impact. For now, they were desparked. Simply massive steel shells whose inner workings were not yet activated. An area cleared, I grasped the chains in both hands and began to drag. Around and upwards, I swung the dead orb and then let it fly upwards, heaved towards the sun even as I squinted away. It cleared the wall with a considerable gap, flying out towards the mass of enemies.

The dud had been throw successfully. Now, it was time to try on that was live. Chain in hand, I gestured at the captain to step in and spark it. He did and ran clear as I began to swing the massive boulder of metal, well aware that whatever was inside would explode on impact now. Either my swing cleared the walls or there would be a chunk missing shortly.

Under my breath, I cursed the glare that threatened to make my grip slip, The second sun made for a massive target to aim at, moving closer as it was. Yet even glancing at it rushed fatigue through my blood. Yanked upward and let loose, the chain trailed behind the soaring mass of metal. I watched it clear the wall, then felt satisfaction as an explosion tore through the air moments later.

There was little time to stand and feel proud about myself, however. The next one was dragged forward and sparked, and through my strength was sent to join the others. With sheer brute force, I outperformed the other lobber crew, the volume of bombs sent flying far exceeding theirs.

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They were required to make adjustments between payloads sent flying, reel the range closer and closer between every shot. Fast as the humans worked, they could not keep my pace. The strength of my body soon cleared the stockpile of munitions, the sound of explosions its own reward for every bomb hurled skyward.

The stockpile was empty, I was informed. I had nothing more with which I could help the bombardiers, and the walls called once more. More than one human was startled by my emergence, weapons being drawn as I emerged atop the walls once more.

Valencia’s orders forced them back to their posts.

“Finished.” I confirmed. My handiwork was visible from afar, bodies strewn and craters blown into the rock. Yet it had not slowed the horde. Done considerable damage, yes. Left many lifeless or unable to fight, but the tide continued forward. Their formation was breaking now. Barely constrained earlier, they now surged in uneven clumps, bellows and horns and bloodlust all at once.

War-beasts bounded ahead of the tide, ripjaw predators tamed, harnessed and carrying riders upon their backs. Stunted, drake-like creatures that lept over obstacles and each other in their eagerness for the slaughter.

Beasts the previous Garek remembered little about.

Beasts that could climb walls, I learned with some horror.

The vanguard of another that soared from the second sun, fearful presence upon its back. This one resembled a crimson wolf with the wings of a dragon, gliding down towards the walls as the lesser beasts scrabbled up the walls from below.

A single look was all it took to know that a Godtouched rode upon the beast’s back. I could make out little through the glare, but the presence that approached spoke of what it was.

Claws came over the wall as the war-beasts lunged over the top, riders all but strapped to their backs. Shouts and screams rose as rock was flung from their gouges, soldiers cut down by claw and fang. Minotaurs with spears and flails lashed out in eager cruelty from their backs, laying into everything they could.

My spear gored one through the neck, its momentum stopped by my strength as it charged a cluster of archers. Hooves dug in, I snarled and tipped it back over the wall even as it fought me. It was strong, of course. But I was more than it, even with gravity to aid me.

Spears came around as the humans were called to order, poking at the warbeasts even as they lept around with near-suicidal fervor. I glimpsed a minotaur berserker slice the bindings that kept himself secured and leap from his mount, axe in either hand.

Ballista bolt lugged in hand, I aimed at where he would land and hurled with all my strength, praying it would not miss and strike the formation of soldiers beyond.

It did not.

The bolt struck through the center mass, staggering the fervent warrior before his hide became riddled with arrows. Even then he surged up and onwards, fervor in his eyes and bloodlust in his bellow. My claymore silenced his rage heartbeats later.

I saw Valencia tear bloody furrows from a beast that had lept at her with his fists. One hand supported the clawing, thrashing monster above herself while the other ripped through its underbelly. With a howl, she tipped it back, over the wall and to the rocks below.

Rage swirled about her now, laced into her aura. Hatred’s heat overtook the cold cruelty of her presence as she bore down on another raider. I took her example and did the same.

They had come here to kill or die. I would be happy to help them on this path. A warbeast charged me across the wall, bounding over and through groups of soldiers as its rider bore down on me. Single-minded desire to kill me and take my blessing.

I lept aside and brought the claymore down just behind the beasts’ neck. Blood covered me as the now-corpse abruptly slumped forward and toppled to the side, its rider trapped underneath.

Blade raised, I stepped around the beast to find the raider pinned and trying to heave the body away with one hand, mace in the other. For a moment, I locked eyes with a minotaur that had traveled all this was to extinguish my life. Journeyed so far just for the chance to kill me and claim what was mine.

The blade plunged down and the light left his eyes moments after.

He looked shocked in the end. That it could be over just like that. If any gods would take him, he went to meet them now.

I hoped he found nothing.

Vitriol built within me as I moved along the walls in desperate defense of the humans. Hatred blossomed further the more carnage I saw. So great was it that I grew blinded by fervor.

The lance from above nearly ran me through. Only at the last moment did I leap aside as the archon from on high swooped down to run me through. Wings brushed overhead as the great beast soared past, the lance whipping around to catch a group of soldiers instead of me. It pierced one through and heaved the man upwards as the archon flapped its wings, then shook the figure loose with disdain.

A vortex spawned below it, swirling darkness that dragged it down as Valencia raged. The figure on its back gestured, and the archon disappeared with its rider. It blinked back into existence out over the valley, a faint shape silhouetted against the blinding light as it soared upward.

It would be back. Soon. More riders pushed over the walls in its wake. Chaos had now well and truly ensued, order barely kept through Valencia and Adric’s efforts. I charged the nearest group of raiders, determined to kill them before they could disrupt the ballistae further.

Only for the Archon to appear from the light and rake the wall once more. Now I glimpsed the figure upon its back as the great being swooped past. A minotaur with white fur, long and lanky as it hunched in the saddle and guided a pale lance towards a group loading the great bows.

Another scattered ballista bolt grabbed from where it lay on the ground, I calculated course and hurled the steel rod with all my might. It whistled through the air, aimed right at where the archon’s center mass would be by the time it reached the target.

Instead, the figure glanced back, locked eyes with me and swatted the bolt from the air with a flick of his lance.

It vanished once more, entire gigantic beast and rider displaced in a heartbeat as the horns of war sounded below.