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Bloodsworn Ch. 12
🕑 Added 2024-11-05 04:36:15 +0000 UTC12.
Erak stomped down and was rewarded with a slurry of brain and bone as the undead popped like a grape. They were weak but veritably endless, a horde without fear or pain, absorbing the strength of the Erak and his escorts without complaint.
Twisted heaps of ruined flesh and bone, brunt and shattered from casters and knives and rods of heavy metal. Still they kept coming. Scores if not hundreds, filling the basement in their silent fury, one after another the soldiers and Adjudicators fell and were dragged away as they fought closer and closer to where they hoped the doors were.
Nevia’s blade shone in the flashes of crimson light, spattered with sticky red-black blood as she cut and hacked her way free of grasping hands. Rutledge’s little blade was like a sparrow, pecking here and there and when it struck bodies to never move again.
Julius hit about himself with a pipe he had liberated from somewhere, striking in a wild frenzy. Erak watched him hit the wall twice, both blows nearly shaking the pipe out of Julius’s hands as he screamed in rage and fear.
“BLOODSWORN! WE NEED TO LEAVE!” Sergeant Constance screamed at him, her smaller form nestled against his back as she fired around her as fast as she could regain her Essence.
Erak nodded and kept pushing forward, his spear near useless in the tight confines. He kept it gripped in his shield hand as he struck all around him with his free hand, crushing fragile human skulls with a blow each time. These undead with their pale faces and bloodless limbs excited nothing in Erak. There was no challenge here, just mindless stalks of flesh to reap.
The group stuck tight to him, keeping his flanks clear of grasping hands even as they paid for it in blood. Erak struck the walls, looking for the maintenance tunnel that would lead out of the basement and into the sewers. Only the light of the casters, throwing bolts of illumination to show the sea of gray faces, his only hope of seeing the entrance.
Another flash, close to his arm, and another body tumbled backward seared through. The undead had been blocking Erak’s view of a simple door with a neon lettering over it.
SEWER. It was simple and plain and so ordinary that Erak might have missed it, if not for the stray shot. He kicked the door, steel meeting steel and the door buckled and blew in backwards. Erak turned and shoved Constance towards the sewers and the dim green light emanating from it. She didn’t hesitate, screaming for her men to follow her as Erak held firm, a bulwark against the undead.
Rutledge and Julius flowed past with a pair of Adjudicators still alive with them. Nevia was in the middle of the rearguard, her sword slicing apart the undead as the undermanned squad who had been the rearguard fought desperately to hold on. Erak slammed the butt of the spear against the floor,gaining their attention.
Nevia backed up and looked at him and he pointed his finger into the sewers as he stepped forward. The soldiers retreated in near panic, Nevia the last in the field, waiting for him to back up.
The pressure of the gray men pushed against Erak and his spear and shield worked in tandem, having room to strike straight towards the heart of the horde finally . Every stroke caused death, every swing of his shield crushing and inevitable. He was a god in that tight hallway as he slowly backed up, the ramparts of the freshly dead forming a wall to protect the band from the rest of the horde.
Erak entered the dimly glowing sewers and frowned at the broken door he had kicked. He had been a bit hasty in that moment. He picked the door up, ignoring how it was bowed in the middle and wedged it sideways into the door frame. Metal squealed as he twisted the doorframe and door to form a mass of metal that only partially blocked the doorway.
“Fucking Gregor!” Nevia spat as she looked around at her much reduced command. Constance was the only sergeant still alive. The other two had disappeared in the mass of pipes and shuffling hordes.
Nine soldiers were still alive aside from Nevia, less than a third of their original command. Two Adjudicators, clutching their weapons and looking about in shocked horror, and the two professors.
Imperial Sage lvl. 6
Rutledge had been rewarded with plenty in the tight confines, in fact the old woman was groaning and grimacing with her eyes closed as she affixed the points to herself. Julius was groaning and shaking, but Erak saw that he hadn’t gained any levels.
“Erak, our losses are catastrophic. We need to regroup,” Nevia pleaded. Erak shrugged and then waved at Julius to come to him. The man rose slowly, drenched in sweat and staggering as if drunk as he came up to them.
“How may I help you, Lord Bloodsworn?” Erak didn’t sense a single note of sincerity in his voice. Erak told him what he wanted and the other man shrank slowly as he translated.
“Lord Bloodsworn insists we continue to the Armory. We shall regroup now and push towards the Armory from underneath. Hopefully avoiding more unpleasant surprises.”
“Erak. The damn sewer is glowing. There are unpleasant surprises in this place.” Nevia seemed shrunken on herself. The losses having piled up over the last few hours till she seemed a shell of herself.
“Lord Bloodsworn says to stay behind him. He will face anything and everything in the sewers. Collect the strength you have earned from battle and we will march in five minutes.”
Nevia nodded, wiping her blade free of gore with a piece of cloth and resheathing it before going to the small huddle of her soldiers. She gave her orders, breaking the squad into two fire teams, one under her and the other with Constance in command.
“Do…do you think we will survive.Erak?” Julius whispered. Erak looked at him and shook his head in disappointment. Survive? He was thriving.
He would reach his Queen and honor his oaths, but the challenge was here. Erak felt as if he was being woken for the first time in his life. Rising from a deep sleep, shaking the drowsiness from his limbs as he took in this new world.
Death was here, perched and feasting on the Empire, but Erak was not an Imperial. This wasn’t his society. He had his people, but they were like him. Ice and strength molded into flesh, the heat of war a beacon for them.
Erak signed to him a few words of encouragement before leaning his spear against a wall as he shook his gauntlets off, intent on plying out the scraps of flesh and bone caught in the grooves. He had his own levels to look at while everyone regrouped, more strength to claim.
Erak felt his face twitching, the smile threatening to bloom. He had left warriors behind, those who had sworn to stand with him, but he couldn’t help it. The glowing water of the sewers offered enough light for him to see the ripples in the water, heading toward them.
Another Challenge coming for him.
