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Chronicles of Arborell, Copyright Wayne Densley 2008 All Rights Reserved
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 Tomas Cael awoke with a start. Wide-eyed, he stared at the roughly hewn timbers of his bedroom ceiling and tried to bring his thoughts into focus. The humidity lay like a heavy blanket upon him and he groaned as he realised that it was still dark, the night not yet over. Sweating in the unusual warmth of the season it had taken him until the early hours to finally find sleep and he was not happy that it had retreated from him once again. A frown creased his brow as he determined quickly that whatever had awoken him had better be important.
Strangely though it was quiet, the breeze off the sea as warm and as uncomfortable as it had been earlier in the evening. Because of this his window had been left wide open, and he listened intently for any sound in the streets below that might give him some clue to his wakefulness. In the solitude of his room he searched for sounds of discord and could not ignore the unease that was growing within him. Years of travel upon the roads of Kalborea with his brother had sharpened his instincts, and he had learned that he could not dismiss them lightly. It was only a feeling, but he could sense something was wrong, something terrible about to happen.
As he waited in the dark of his room he began to hear the first signs of a commotion brewing in the narrow streets. Heavy footsteps rang dully upon the cobbles, and when the light clink of metal upon metal filtered its way up to his room he knew then that something unusual was indeed happening below. Quietly he got out of bed and moved over to his window. It looked out over the street and even though he could not see directly below; Mallen had installed a canopy over the metal shop's entrance only a few weeks before, he could see clearly to the left and right down both sides of the lane. He sucked in his breath as he saw a number of dark shapes moving eastwards, along the lane towards the harbour. These were not Guardsmen, they were altogether too quiet and too purposeful, his first thought that they must be bandits.
"Damn it!" Tomas muttered to himself. He had forgotten to close up the shop properly and if Mallen found out there would be hell to pay. It would be just his luck that on the one occasion he had neglected to lock up the town would be subject to the unwanted attention of a band of thieves.
Turning quickly Tomas looked for his clothing. It had been spread haphazardly around the room and in the dark it took a few moments to find what he needed. Once collected he dressed hurriedly as he listened for any sounds downstairs. As he pulled on his boots the quiet of the night broke upon the loud sounding of a horn from somewhere near the main gates.
It was an alarm that had an immediate effect. Up and down the street lights came on in windows, and dogs began to bark as townsfolk stirred from their beds. Tomas rushed back to the window but could see nothing further. Still tucking his shirt into his breeches he followed the corridor from his room to the stairs that led to the shop below. Carefully he descended the staircase, all his senses on edge. Only when he reached the door to the shop itself did he realise he had brought no weapon with him. Anxiously he looked about him and found a mattock handle Mallen had placed against the door frame. He had been intending to make a new blade for it in his workshop but had forgotten to put this piece of wood away. For the moment it would have to do.
Clutching the handle in one hand Tomas tentatively opened the door and peered through into the shop. He drew a sigh of relief when he saw the double doors at the front of the establishment were still closed. With weapon in hand he ran to the entrance and firmly settled the mattock handle into a set of brass fittings that his brother had built into the doors. With a cross-brace fitted the doors were effectively jammed shut but he could not leave the shop in such a state. He would need to find the key and then he could lock up properly.
The Brothers Cael Metalgoods Workshop and Store was large, a cornucopia of brass and copper, metal dishes and bowls, jugs and eating utensils; all hung from beams across the ceiling, arrayed upon shelves and carefully arranged within a series of large oak cabinets. It was a testament to the two brothers' hard work and industry but it now presented the younger Cael with a dilemma. In the dim interior of the shop he could not remember where he had put the keys.
"I swear Tomas, if Mallen finds out about this you ain't going to hear the end of it for a month." He whispered anxiously as he tried to place where the keys might be. At that moment he was not overly concerned about the possibility of the shop being robbed. He had no doubt that with the sounding of the alarm the Town Guard would be out roaming the streets, and any criminal element would have already made good their escape. What Tomas was more concerned with was the reaction of his brother if it came out that he had not locked up. A half truth would suffice if he could only find the keys and get the front doors firmly deadlocked.
Suddenly the sound of breaking glass nearby brought his earnest searching to an abrupt end. The front windows looked directly onto the street and as he turned to investigate he could see dark shapes moving across the walls, projected from beyond the glass by the glare of a rising tide of flame and smoke. Quickly he made his way to the window and stopped dead in his tracks. Upon the cobbles of his town a large group of creatures stood lighting torches, before hurling them onto the rooftops, through the broken panes of ground-floor windows or into open doorways. For a moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing, but the cold reality of his situation came home quickly. They were Hresh. The town of Callenfrey was under attack, and it was not by bandits.
Tomas crouched below the level of the window sill just as five of the Hordim came to his shopfront. In a shower of glass shards the windows exploded inwards and a number of powerful arms reached in, grasping for the mattock handle that held the doors firm. Tomas was not about to stay around. He was unarmed and no match for any one of these creatures. Turning about he ran for the stairs, thinking quickly as to what he should do.
First, he needed a more effective weapon. Mallen had an old sword in his bedroom cabinet and his first thought was to find it before the Hresh below realised that there was someone in the building. He would not have long though. As he reached his brother's bedroom door the shop below erupted in flames, a red glow flickering against the walls at the base of the staircase. He could now have no further concern for their business. Buildings could be rebuilt, businesses restarted. Now he needed to save his own life and be quick about it. As he rummaged through his brother's belongings the sounds of heavy feet thumping up the stairs brought a new urgency to his search.
Under a set of blankets he found what he was looking for, and once he had the sword in hand, pushed the cabinet across the doorway to block any access to the room. Even as it fell to the floor the Hresh crashed up against the entrance. Fists slammed against the flimsy timbers and scimitars cut deep into the door's wood. The Hresh were tearing it apart in their frenzy to get at the young Kalborean and he knew it would not last long. Tomas had to get out quickly. There was only one other exit from his brother's room and he made for it as the Hresh hammered at the door. Taking to the only window, he crawled out onto its narrow sill and took a deep breath.
Some two metres from his position stood the roof of his next door neighbours, the Ballens. With all the energy he could muster he leapt across the gap as the Hordim burst into the room and made for his precarious perch. By an arm's length he cleared the distance and fell heavily against the shingles of the opposing roof. He could not stop there however. As he cleared the roof and took shelter on its other side a small dagger whistled through the space between his arm pit and his waist, embedding itself into the timbers of the home behind him.
Tomas stopped only for a moment to extend to the Hresh a gesture of defiance before disappearing below the roof line. One more leap to the next house found him far enough from the shop, and the Hresh, to stop for a moment and take stock of what he was going to do. All about him the town was going up in flames. Huge pyres were erupting in the Harbour area and he could hear desperate fighting beginning in the streets. Screams and shouting filled the narrow alleyways, and from his lofty hiding place he knew he needed to decide quickly what he should do next.
He had no doubt the shop would be lost to him. Regardless of what the Hordim might take, it was going to burn, just as most of the town around him would. Given this he decided that only one thing remained in Callenfrey that he needed to protect, and that was his fiancee Shemwe. He had known her since he had first come to the port, and had courted her for years before he had finally mustered the courage to ask for her hand. He was not going to allow these creatures to destroy the only person, apart from his brother, that meant anything to him.
Resolved to this course he first had to find a way down to street level. Shemwe lived some four blocks from the shop, close by the harbour warehouses. If he was to reach her quickly he would need to take his chances in the street.
Carefully he peered over the edge of the roof for a way down. One look was enough to dispel any notion of climbing down the outside of the building. Three storeys high, it had no external guttering or convenient window ledges upon which he might be able to make a safe descent. Instead Tomas took his sword and smashed a hole in the roof, tearing away at the shingles until he had an opening big enough for him to drop through. The room below was a bedroom, and it proved an easy task to jump down onto a small bed that lay directly beneath the hole. He landed awkwardly, the bed collapsing under his weight, but he was inside and that was a start. With all his senses on alert he surveyed the room and found it empty. It was a child's bedroom, crowded with toys and colourful wall hangings. As he took a moment to catch his breath he could feel the sweat dripping from his hands, loosening the grip he had upon the leather hilt of his brother's sword. In the darkened room he pulled one of the covers from the bed and dried his palms.
As he wiped away the sweat he paused for a moment and shook his head in disbelief. About him he could hear his comfortable world quickly disappearing into chaos, when only moments before his greatest concern had been the wrath of his brother over an unlocked door. The thought of his brother however, sent a shiver across his shoulders. He did not know where Mallen was, he only knew that he should have already returned home. The thought of what might have happened to him passed through his thoughts as a thousand scenarios fraught with violence and disaster. For Tomas it was unthinkable and he quickly pushed the images from his mind, focusing instead on what lay ahead. With a firm grip restored he began a careful move towards the bedroom's only doorway.
The room was veiled in shadow, dark except for a meagre light that shone down through the damage he had done to the ceiling. In its scant illumination he found the door slightly ajar and was about to step through when he heard a soft scraping sound coming from a small cupboard to his right. Carefully he pushed the door shut and with sword at the ready crept towards the source of the noise. With his free hand reaching out for the cupboard he was sure that he could hear something moving about within.
With one quick movement he opened the door and found the source of his curiosity. A small girl lay in the base of the cupboard, concealed beneath a pile of toys and scattered clothing. She was shivering with fear. Tomas pulled away the clutter so that he might have a better look at her. He could see she was no more than six years old and was dressed in a colourful set of summer pyjamas. In her arms she clung to a small stuffed animal and the look on her face was one of abject terror. Tomas didn't know this child but he could not leave her to be found by the Hresh. The fact that her parents had not run to her defense as he smashed through their roof only pointed to the high possibility that they were already dead. He had no time for kindness but he had no choice either, his conscience told him that this girl was now his responsibility.
"Hello, what might your name be then?" He talked softly, trying to seem as calm as possible.
The little girl looked at Tomas and then at the dull glint of his sword. She said nothing until he placed the weapon down carefully on the floor of her bedroom.
"Janielle. My name is Janielle." Tomas took her in his arms and picked up his weapon.
"Where are your parents Janielle? Are they downstairs?"
The little girl nodded her head. “Mummy woke me up and put me in the cupboard. She said it was a game and I shouldn't come out until she came back to get me. She hasn't come back yet."
"Well I tell you what Janielle, we'll play a game too. Let's go downstairs and see if we can find your Mum and Dad. If they’re not in the house I know a nice place you can stay until they come back. Sound all right?"
Janielle nodded her head once again, and leaned close against Tomas' chest as he opened the door to her bedroom. Beyond the small room the home was brightly lit. All the lamps in the house had been turned on, blazing brightly in every room and hallway. Tomas said nothing to the girl, but he knew this had been done deliberately by her parents, the purpose to make it more difficult for an attacker to find their child in her darkened hiding place. It would be easy to miss something if your eyes were not accustomed to the gloom.
The house was quiet, and Tomas took care to make no sound as he made his way down the stairs and into a large living area at ground level. The front door of the house had been smashed in and to his dismay both parents lay dead at the doorstep. Bravely they had attempted to defend their home but had met a violent end instead. It was something he did not want the young girl to see.
"We're going to play another game Janielle. Can you keep your eyes closed for a few moments? Don't open them until I say so, all right?"
Janielle nodded and Tomas carefully stepped over the bodies of her parents then made his way out into the street. He did not let her reopen her eyes until they were out of sight of the house and well on their way towards the first corner. With smoke billowing about them Tomas stopped to get his bearings. The girl was becoming restless so he put her down on the cobbles and quickly surveyed the immediate area. For the moment the streets were clear. Tomas crouched down and brushed out the girl's long brown hair with his fingers. He did not know whether he had made it any safer for her by taking her onto the streets with him, but he was sure he couldn't have left her behind. If the Hresh were to return she would have been defenseless.
Tomas wiped her face and smiled.
"There, that's better isn't it? From now on Janielle I'm going to get you to walk with me. Will that be all right?"
The young girl nodded once again and took Tomas' hand, and together they made their way down towards the Harbour. The Hordim had already smashed a path of destruction through this part of the town, bodies lay all about the streets and fires burnt brightly from most of the houses. From within some of the burning dwellings he could hear the splintering of glass and the collapse of overburdened structures as they gave way to the flames. There was nothing that could be done however. The Hresh had done their murderous job well and Tomas' only hope was that they had somehow missed Shemwe's house.
Through the fires and dense smoke the two figures made their way eastwards. Tomas had a strong hold on both the girl and his sword, and together they negotiated a path around piles of fallen debris, the bodies of hapless townspeople and heaps of personal belongings left thrown into the street by the looting Hordim. For her part Janielle did not seem to recognise what she was seeing. The dark of night and the flickering shadows thrown by a multitude of fires had turned the normal order of the narrow streets into something surreal, something almost dreamlike. Tomas concluded it was a good thing that she passed by such horrors without recognition. The morning would no doubt bring with it a true measure of the disaster the town, and this little girl, would have to face.
Tomas did, however, have a plan. Finding Shemwe was his first priority, removing the Horde from Callenfrey next on his list. Janielle would have to stay with Shemwe and her parents. His only hope was that they were all still alive.
Through the burning streets they walked, carefully trying to avoid any chance of an encounter with the Hresh. Tomas could hear the wails and cries of distress rising within the township, but above these sounds of anguish he could hear something else growing. From the direction of the Barracks there came the clang of metal upon metal and it was becoming more urgent. A battle was developing, one that he would need to join as quickly as possible.
In one fluid movement he scooped the young girl back into his arms and made a run for Shemwe's house. They had come far enough that only a single turn in the street remained and Tomas ran with all the speed he could muster. Through the choking smoke and falling timbers he made his way, holding Janielle close. It was a headlong dash that ended abruptly only a short distance from Shemwe's front door.
The creature that appeared out of the smoke did not see Tomas until they were too close to avoid each other. In a sickening crash the two collided, a shower of stolen booty cascading onto the ground as the Hresh tried to avoid a heavy fall. Tomas had no such opportunity. With Janielle in his arms he could do nothing but roll onto his back as he fell, taking a heavy blow to his shoulders and the back of his head as he hit the street. Momentarily stunned he struggled to regain his feet but his head swam, his vision darkening as he struggled to remain conscious.
"Run!" was all he could yell, pointing to the narrow lane they had been making for. Janielle understood and took flight as Tomas turned to face the Hordim. Luckily the Hresh was having troubles of its own. Enmeshed in a long piece of coloured silk, the Hordim was trying to untangle itself even as Tomas stood shakily before it, struggling to maintain his balance. Fortunately for Tomas the dizziness passed quickly, and both combatants stood ready at almost the same moment. The young Kalborean had to take a step backwards though. The Hresh was huge, powerfully built and equipped with an ornate metal breastplate and dark leather armour. His multicoloured skin shimmered in the red firelight, and his heavy features ground into a sly smirk as the warrior realised what had run into him. Tomas had no idea how he was going to fight such a beast, but he stood defiant nonetheless.
From the Hresh's belt the creature pulled a long curving scimitar, its blade honed to a razor edge. Flicking it once in its hand the Hordim warrior advanced, ready for anything Tomas might attempt, but he had no real clue how to defeat such a creature. It was simply too powerful and too well-armed, and as the younger Cael shaped up to defend himself he knew that he would not be able to overcome it alone.
The Hresh moved forward, scimitar ready. Tomas slashed out at the creature, trying to keep it at arm’s length but the Hresh parried the strikes easily. It was a trained killer and it knew Tomas would be no match for it. In two quick strokes of its weapon the Hresh disarmed him, sending his sword skittering across the smooth cobblestones. Tomas watched as his only hope came to rest too far away for him to retrieve it. Completely outclassed by the warrior he could do little but wait for the inevitable strike that would rend the life from him.
In that instant however, he decided that he would not go quietly. Scooping up a piece of burning timber he charged directly at the Hresh. The Hordim raised its scimitar high above its head ready to deliver one final, fatal blow when suddenly it let out a piercing shriek. In a spasm of pain the warrior's scimitar fell from its hands and it grabbed awkwardly at its throat, a wet gurgling sound rising from the Hresh's mouth as it tried to turn to face a new, unseen assailant. Only then did Tomas notice the spear tip protruding from its neck. As he watched, the Hordim fell onto one knee and then collapsed to the side, dead. Looking past the crumpled form he could see the smoke-wrapped form of a Guardsman standing quietly in the semi-darkness.
"There ya go me young fella. That'll teach the blighter to make sure somebody ain't creeping up behind him, eh?" The Guardsman smiled and then cocked his head in the direction of the town Barracks. "I don't know what business you might be about on such a fine night as this but you'll be required at the Barrack's Square soon enough. You'd better retrieve that sword and see if you can find any survivors who can fight. They'll all be needed shortly."
Tomas strode forward and shook the man's hand.
"Thank you friend. My fiancee lives but three doors from here and I must ensure her safety first. Be assured that you will see me again at the Barrack's Square within the next few minutes."
The Guardsman seemed content with his promise and disappeared back into the smoke as Tomas turned to find Janielle. He could hear the soldier calling to the townspeople of Callenfrey to arm themselves as he searched for the girl. Janielle had not gone far though. She had sought shelter behind a set of stairs and ran out to Tomas' side as he went to collect his sword. With the girl in tow they made for Shemwe's house, and to his dismay found the front door smashed in, her father, Master Sandofel, cut down at the threshold. In a panic he ran inside, unsure what he would do if any of the Hresh remained, but he needed to find Shemwe. That was his only concern.
The ground floor living area was brightly lit, Tomas could see that the Hordim had ransacked the downstairs but there was no sign of Shemwe or Madam Sandofel there. He left Janielle upon the staircase and ran upstairs, searching each room as he went. He found nothing. Her room was empty, he could find neither Shemwe nor her mother within the home. Then he remembered the safehold.
Many homes in Kalborea still had them, an unfortunate legacy of years of violence and war. Hidden behind a false cupboard or built into a wall space, they were small rooms where the residents of a house could take refuge in times such as these, hidden from view and hopefully to pass unnoticed. Many people did not even bother building them anymore but Tomas knew that Shemwe's house was old enough to still have one. He need only find it. Carefully he re-checked each of the upstairs rooms, and found what he was looking for behind a large bookcase in her parent's bedroom. It was an easy matter to find the lock and haul the bookcase aside.
In the absolute dark of the safehold Tomas stepped forward and called Shemwe's name. An older voice answered. It was filled with terror and loss, a fearful whisper in the gloom.
"Who is it?" Tomas recognised the voice. It was Shemwe's mother, Madam Sandofel.
"It is Tomas. I am looking for Shemwe. Where is she?" He could not help the nervousness that his words carried. He was deathly afraid of the answer he might hear.
"Shemwe? She's off for the night, staying with her friend. You know, that girl Adelaide, daughter of the Seamstress in Abott's Lane."
For a moment relief washed over him but then he realised his task was not yet done. If Shemwe was still in Abott's Lane then she was almost on the other side of town. He would need help to get there. Carefully he drew Shemwe's mother into the light. He was always surprised by the marked similarities between his fiancee and her mother. Both had the same ferocious red hair and he had learned quickly that they had the tempers to match. It came to him in that moment that her hair had been what had first brought Shemwe to his notice. He also had the same flaming red hair and had used it as common ground to start talking with her, though that seemed a very long time ago. As he looked at the older woman's frightened visage he knew he needed her mother's strength now.
"Madam Sandofel, I need for you to do something for me." Tomas turned and called for Janielle. She had been sitting upon the stairs and had not moved since they had entered the house. She came at his call and when the girl was by his side he introduced her to Shemwe's mother.
"Janielle, this is Madam Sandofel. She is going to look after you whilst I go on a short errand." He then turned to the older woman.
"This girl needs someone to look after her for the time being. Keep her safe until this danger has passed."
Mrs Sandofel nodded her head and took the young girl into her arms. Tomas found a small candle upon a near table and gave it to her.
"I am going to find Shemwe. Re-lock the safehold until morning. I am sure the danger will have ended by the rising of the suns, but if it hasn't I will return to you at dawn and we can then find a safer place for yourself and the girl."
As he turned to leave a strong hand grabbed his arm. Madam Sandofel held him tight and looked earnestly into his eyes.
'You find my daughter, Tomas. Promise me you will do this."
Tomas did not hesitate. "While there is breath in my body I will keep her safe. Take care of this young one. She needs a soft voice about now."
The older woman patted his arm and bade him go.
"May providence keep you Tomas Cael. I will watch the girl. You find my Shemwe."
With that Tomas closed the safehold and took up his sword. With Janielle safe he stood alone in the empty hallway and took stock of what was now before him. Shemwe was on the other side of town, only a short distance from the Barrack's Square. He resolved to keep his promise to the Guardsman. The only way Shemwe, or anybody else, could truly be safe would be when the Hordim had been expelled from Callenfrey. The Barracks Square would be his next stop.
Quickly he made his way back downstairs. He stopped only for a moment to cover the body of Shemwe's father and then moved out into the fire-lit streets. Luckily the Hordim had not fired Shemwe's street or any of the town to the east. Apart from the harbour which was burning furiously, the Hresh seemed to have let it be. They probably felt they had done enough to ensure everything burned eventually, but the lack of the creatures on the street left Tomas wondering what might have happened to them. Above the crackle of the flames he could hear a great uproar to the north and as this was the direction of the Barracks he set off at the run, sword in hand.
It was not long before he encountered other townsfolk also making for the Barracks. By the time he had made four streets he found himself one amongst more than fifty men and boys, armed to the teeth with whatever they could lay their hands on. With pitchforks and machetes, axes and makeshift lances, the townspeople had risen to take back their town but he could see the effect the attack had drawn on the faces of all of the Men. Black with soot, or bloodied with sprays of red, there was an underlying grimness that tried to conceal the horrors the Hordim had visited upon each one of them. Like himself they had all been caught unawares, property and family taken from them by the assault. It made Tomas angry and as they raced for the Square he could only hope there would be enough manpower gathering to turn the Hordim away.
Together the mob ran for the Barrack's Square. Through great plumes of smoke they charged, winding their way through a tangle of wanton destruction and death. The town had been assaulted in such an efficient manner that the young Kalborean had some difficulty recognising exactly where they were. Great piles of rubble from collapsed buildings blocked the narrow streets, the entire shop district had been reduced to tortured mounds of charred wood, and smoking drifts of smashed brick littered the cobblestones. Everywhere was the smell of death and in the midst of it all townsfolk stumbled about, stunned by the ferocity of the attack. It was not yet over however.
When the ragtag militia reached the Square they were confronted by a thick wall of smoke. There was no clear sign of the Hordim but the townsmen came to a halt at the edge of the parade ground and formed a series of ranks across the width of the street. A breath of wind parted the fumes and as they cleared the Barrack's Square exposed itself to the waiting men. Across its length lay the bodies of Guardsmen and Hresh, the Barracks itself a shambles, smashed almost to the point of collapse. To the north were the Hordim, hundreds of them reforming for the next phase of their assault. Only a few Guardsmen remained alive, fighting a losing battle against a unit of Hresh that had bottled them up inside a small stone armoury. It was only a matter of time before they would also fall.
Tomas was in the first rank of a militia that had grown as they stood there to more than six ranks deep. As they waited for the battle to come more men were arriving at the rear of their number and each new face bolstered the courage of them all. Any fear Tomas had felt previously evaporated before the horror of what he had seen on the Square. It was an unavoidable truth that the Hresh had to be destroyed or they would all lose their lives. This absolute certainty freed him from any concern for his own safety, his only wish to survive the coming battle long enough to make it to the eastern side of the Square. If Providence favoured him it would be there that he would find Abott’s Lane and Shemwe.
The Hresh noticed the townsmen immediately. In a chorus of shouted commands the Hordim formed into four lines and began a deliberate advance towards the militia. The Hresh were a disciplined fighting force and Tomas could see in their eyes an expectation of unbridled violence. Chillingly he could see no sign of fear amongst the warriors, their advance a series of quick rushes followed by a raucous display of insults and taunts, each step a pounding crash of hundreds of heavy iron-shod boots in unison upon the cobbled square. For some of the townsmen it was too much. The creature's advance left fear grinding in all their chests and the ranks began to waiver as the Hordim came closer.
Tomas could feel it too. The Hresh were engaging in a deliberate process of intimidation and it was going to work if nothing was done. Quickly he looked at the street in front of him and found a plate-sized piece of crumpled brass. With this in one hand he began to hit it with his sword, shouting and swearing at the Hordim as they surged closer. It was an idea that took hold quickly. Within seconds anything that could be brought to hand was pounded in a deliberate show of defiance. It was a crude strategy but it kept the Men together.
For almost a minute the two opposing forces hammered at each other's will until a horn blast from within the Hordim sent the entire crue charging forward. As one the militia stood their ground awaiting the inevitable clash of arms.
From behind the ranks of the Townsmen a number of youths took up a position atop one of the buildings that overlooked the square. Armed only with slingshots and lead fishing weights they unleashed a hail of heavy shot into the Hresh. Howls of pain erupted from the ranks of the Hordim as the lead struck home. Bones fractured and faces were torn by the heavy missiles, Hresh fell under their own ranks, but nothing could stop the momentum of their charge. The Hordim hit the first rank of the Militia as a dark armoured wave and completely crushed it beneath their number.
Tomas went down with the rest of the first rank and thrust upwards with his sword as a Hresh attempted to step over him. Pain flared in his shoulder as a nailed boot smashed down upon his upper arm but the sword found its mark and the Hresh collapsed, blood pouring from its side as it fell. Above him Tomas could see little except a melee of stabbing metal and sprays of blood as the two forces ground into each other. The Hresh were larger and better equipped, the Militia desperate but fighting for the safety of their homes and families. It was to be a battle that neither side would retreat from.
The second rank collapsed beneath the vicious assault but the third held. Composed mainly of men wielding spears and axes, the remains of the militia stabbed and hacked at the Hordim, bringing them down as they advanced. Caught now in the confines of the street the townsmen fought desperately so as not to be overrun. Tomas however, was pinned beneath a surging tide of nailed boots and heavy bodies. The Hresh he had killed lay across his torso and he was held firmly by its weight. His sword was gone, kicked out of his hand by the tide of dark warriors advancing around him as they pushed the townsmen back. In the smoke and desperation he lay still, and in the chaotic struggle went unnoticed by the Hordim as they passed.
Inevitably the sheer number of their enemy began to force the town militia into the streets south of the Square. Retreating slowly they kept their ranks intact, but the Hordim were beginning to wear them down, scimitars and armour too powerful a force to be held at bay by pitchforks and axes. As the battle moved slowly southwards Tomas had the opportunity he needed to haul himself from beneath the dead warrior. Only just in time did he find his freedom. From the east another group of townsmen were advancing towards the rear of the Hordim. Obscured by the billowing smoke none of their number had yet seen the desperate battle being fought in the confines of the street to the south. Quickly Tomas realised they now had a chance to turn the tide against the Hresh. If they could cut off the creatures in the narrow streets they could surround them, and then destroy them.
Tomas picked up the first weapon he could lay a hand upon and shouted at the second group, waving his hands above his head and pointing at the Hresh that were on the brink of breaking the militia's ranks. They saw him immediately and broke into a run. As a tide they passed Tomas and crashed into the rear of the Hordim. This group of townsmen had armed themselves with spears and lances, no doubt found in the gatehouse armoury, and they used them with deadly effect against the unsuspecting Hordim. It was then that the battle turned.
Caught between the two groups of militia the Hresh reformed and took up a defensive position. Attacked from the north and the south they fought desperately to regain the Square but found themselves trapped and unable to break out. Still their discipline did not falter.
From the centre of the crue a single command was shouted and as one the Hordim turned their backs on the southern group and charged at the militia to the north. Overwhelmed the Townsmen broke and the Hresh kept up their charge, running directly for the Barracks and straight towards Tomas. Providence had kept the young Kalborean relatively unharmed but his luck was about to run out.
From the main gates a horn blast trumpeted across the Square. Immediately the Hresh veered to the west and raced for the walls, the remains of the town's militia hard on their heels. One rank of the Hordim held back, fighting a rearguard action as the rest of the crue made for the parapets. They were in retreat but their job had been done. The town burnt freely now, its skyline a sea of flame and choking smoke. From the recesses of this smoke another smaller group of Hordim, summoned by the call, barreled into Tomas, knocking him to the ground once again. Winded, he managed to roll back to his feet just as one of the Hresh lunged at him, flicking the scimitar from his hand with a quick upward stroke of its own weapon. On the downward stroke the warrior was going to kill Tomas but then a flash of recognition stayed its hand. Instead the Hordim turned the blade as it fell and hit Tomas with a sickening thud across the side of the head, knocking him senseless. Mallen's younger brother fell heavily but was caught, scooped up in a powerful arm by the Hordim as they raced to the walls. His last thought as he passed into unconsciousness was that he had failed Shemwe's mother. Then everything went black.
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