"Fuck yourself, and every useless cunt that came before you!"Cato swore at the nearest sergeant and any other bastard that was close enough to hear. This whole bloody situation had gone to the dogs. Only the 'Shields could've found themselves in a predicament so unnecessarily fucked. Dreams of a warm cot had been quickly replaced by the promise of a cold grave. It was rather impressive just how quickly things could go to shit if you weren't too careful.
"Boss, the Second's askin' for ya," came the voice from his side. The mercenary had a mind to swing a fist just to relieve his frustration but kept his temper. No doubt there would be more than enough opportunity in the coming hours. Gods knew that Cato's arms were already sore from throwing off the last two attacks. It was only a matter of time before the third came. He doubted it would be gentle as the previous attempts, it never was. "Should've just stayed at 'Lakes," the mercenary mumbled to himself. The whorehouse was a normal haunt for his lot and was almost a second home at this point.
The ground shook as Cato made his way from the keep to the outer courtyard. He supposed now he no longer had to deal with the condescending gazes of the local populace. Dumb bastards had cursed the 'Shields when they'd first arrived and now they'd begged them not to leave.
Keen-eyed as he was, the mercenary captain spotted his peer up on the battlements of the outer-wall on the west side. Cato noted that there was still some bustle about which meant that the Second hadn't lost their edge. He didn't think that was likely but who could say when everything was properly fucked.
"I'd say things weren't looking that bad but we're not getting paid to lie, are we? I've got no word from Baron Langier either."
'We're still alive, are we not?' Agatha bit back, her own mood as foul as her fellow's. What a complete and utter catastrophe this had turned out to be. Whatever "this" is, the Blackshield thought, peeking from between two merlons to get a better read on the situation.
The world beyond the stronghold's walls was dark and full of screams. Fires burned within the town, licking the clefts between buildings to throw shadows across the sloped rooftops of Taernsby. Figures moved in the blackness, their passage marked only by the glint of arms and armour.
A great cheer went up to the South, and Agatha turned her head towards it. 'Looks like you won't be getting word for a while yet, brother.' Agatha told Cato, pointing. 'Bastards are hitting the Roe Fort, too! See the ladders?' It was a long way for the naked eye to see, and Agatha wouldn't have held it against him if he couldn't.
Stepping away from the battlements, Agatha swept her gaze across the outer courtyard. 'Redbad!' she hollered, singling out a cluster of men shrouded in company blacks. 'Get your arse up here!'
Detaching himself from the huddle, Redbad did as he was bid. The Master of Scouts was with her in heartbeats.
'Captain?'
'Look there, and tell me what you see.' Following her steady gaze, the old elf stared towards the Roe Fort, his face a blank mask as he concentrated. 'Ladders, Captain. A half dozen, to be precise.' Agatha glanced at Cato. 'And that's just the ones we can see,' she commented, her voice calm in the face of disaster. 'Figure once they've finished with the Baron, they'll be coming for us next,' the she-orc said, hands on hips.
They had tried twice already. The first had been a result of overzealousness. The second, a probe.
'Hope the poor sod got the word out before... you know.'
"Suppose we are," the mercenary captain replied without his usual sarcasm. It was bad news if even Agatha was starting to get snippy. She had a cooler head than most and it needed to stay that way if they were going to survive the night. The shuffle of movement in the town was enough to signal that yet another attack was imminent. A cheer from the South was enough to elicit a curse from Cato as he turned to look towards Fort Roe. He could barely see movement but he would just take the Second's word for it. Bad news hadn't exactly been hard to come by these last few days.
He ran a hand through his mottled hair as he considered this new predicament. "I reckon you're right. We'll be truly and properly fucked., then." No point in mincing words, not with all the shit they'd been through over the years. The Baron's fort falling spelled doom for the 'Shields and their own position. Their initial plan was to hold the two bastions like twin cogs, slowly grinding away the enemy's resolve. That plan had taken a shiv in the back and was now dead face-down in a ditch.
The mercenary took a real hard look at Fort Roe and back to their own position.
"Aggs, thinkin' we best quit this place. Not going to get a better chance," Cato stated evenly. What he meant was that while the Baron's keep was under siege, it presented the ideal opportunity to extricate themselves from this particular situation. No going back once they were properly surrounded. "We push out tonight, head north and then swing 'round east. Meet up with Baron Gauner's men, wherever in the Seven fucking Hells they are, and come back to handle business."
The aforementioned Baron was the third and final noble cunt part of this supposed 'alliance'. Cato wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of waiting on the man to come and relieve them from a siege. Better to be one doing the siege than starving while sleeping on cold stone.
'We leave, Taernsby burns,' Agatha said, jutting her chin out defiantly. The roiling flames engulfing the Crow Quarter were spreading, reaching out across the flowing waters of the Sanguine to start anew in the Noble Quarter. The chaos that had overcome the Roe Fort had not yet reached that part of town, though, it was only a matter of time.
And time, Agatha knew, was the one thing they were running out of, fast!
Guess there's nothing for it, then. 'Very well, brother-captain. Gather your men, and prepare to lead us out.' Turning to her Master of Scouts, Agatha said, 'Go with Cato. Make sure our path is clear. I'll be along with the Second once I've finished up here.' Meeting her eyes, the aged scout nodded, looked away. 'Aye, Captain! As you command!'
Slipping his felt cap back on, Redbad made a shrill, sharp whistle to the men waiting in the yard below.
'Callous! Graves! Get the lads up and ready to move! On the double!' Glancing back at Agatha, the elf waited patiently as she made to address her fellow Captain. Time was of the essence, to be sure, but if Captain Agatha of the Blackshield's Second cohort had business to discuss, then Hell could bloody well wait.
'If we plan on coming back here later, perhaps it would be best if we left this place in a sorry state, wouldn't you agree?' Agatha asked, smiling sweetly.
'A tripwire here, some black powder there- you know the score.' Swatting Cato on the shoulder, she leaned in close, close enough to smell the wine on his breath. 'Fifteen minutes. All I ask. Think you can give me that?' Meeting his eyes, she held them for as long as it took to get a reply.
The other captain gave words to the consequences of their choice but Cato knew she could recognize the futility of it. Granted, he'd expected a bit more resistance but one needed to be quick in this business. Had to make a choice in live with it, otherwise lots of folk were likely to get killed. The mercenary captain wasn't entirely unsympathetic to the plight of the residents but he had his own to think about. He also knew their foes weren't keen on massacring everyone either. Can't farm no lands if there was no one to farm them.
"Doesn't sound like I've got much of a choice." Cato gave a telltale grin and headed down to assemble the men. Pausing on the second step, he turned to Agatha. "Got a few nasty tricks of my own prepared round the Noble Quarter. My lads weren't just sightseeing this whole time." The Third was comprised of all manner of miscreants; hedge wizards, sappers, throatslitters. Those that didn't fit in the usual mold of the Company. Properly degenerate bastards that could prove real useful in these situations.
Cato found most of his cohort already assembled. No strict order was given but their sense of self-preservation was truly unrivaled. They knew their captain well enough to know he wasn't keen on staying put. "Alright lads, time for us to take a stroll. And a long one at that. Don't get all sentimental on me though, cause we'll be back eventually. Now the Second ain't as prepared as you and I so we're taking point." He got a few muffled laughs but most were business. The Third was hardly the traditional vanguard but this wasn't the usual battle either.
"Mud," the mercenary barked out to his own sergeant. "Give me ten men, tell the rest of the boys to keep a bit of distance. The old man here is going to make sure we don't walk into nothing crazy." Cato sighed as he failed to elicit any sort of reaction from Redbad. The scout was a damned hard man but the mercenary captain still tried to get under his skin whenever he could.
Ten and two passed through the gate, the rest of the Third soon followed.
No, he didn't. Smiling, Agatha gave her friend one last pat, relinquished her grip on his shoulder. 'Very good,' she said, watching him go. He hadn't made it very far when he turned, called back. 'Well, there's a pleasant surprise!' She laughed. Redbad gave a grunt. His version of a chuckle, Agatha figured. 'Now, off with you!'
Shooing him away, the Blackshield Captain waited until Cato dropped out of sight before turning on her heel to follow the run of the wall. Redbad's gaze followed her until she, too, became lost to him.
Without a word, he descended into the yard.
Men of the Third greeted him there, their voices turning deferential as they recognised the aged scout. Hot on Cato's trail, the elf ghosted between the ranks of cutthroats, like a killer among killers. There was excitement in the air. Anticipation. He found Callous and Graves waiting for him near the portcullis through which they would make their escape.
Like the Master of Scouts, the two men were garbed in dark, formfitting clothes. Their weapons of choice -daggers and side-swords for the most part- were worn tight at hip and across chest. Their boots were muffled, faces painted black. Cato's boys hadn't been the only ones to take a look 'round the Noble Quarter.
'Ready?' Redbad asked the pair, eyes flitting between them.
'Always,' replied Graves, his brown shoulder-length hair tied back, away from his eyes. 'Where's the Captain?'
'Busy,' said Redbad, gesturing for the two scouts to follow him. 'The Captain wants us to accompany the Third as they lead us out.' Callous snorted. 'What? Doesn't trust 'em to do their jobs?' He questioned, his tone bitter. Thus the name. 'Would you?' Redbad replied, ending their conversation with a knife-hand.
In truth, Redbad knew Agatha didn't so much trust the Third as she did their captain. They had been dog soldiers together, after all. And that kind of bond was hard to break, even amongst mercenaries.
Waiting at Cato's shoulder, Redbad counted down the time as the world around them became more ordered. Officers shouted instructions to their centuries as they formed, ready for the breakout. Two cohorts' worth of hangers-on would be coming with them. That complicated things, of course, but then night moves always were.
Fifteen minutes soon passed. The portcullis rose steadily, grinding as it did. Slipping between its teeth, Redbad and his companions led the Third out into the streets of Taernsby. Darkness ate them whole.
Cato near winced as he finally stepped out from the castle's protection. Regret threatened to creep up with each passing moment but he the mercenary was only met with silence. He could still hear the cries of Fort Roe, a morbid but welcoming relief. Mud had made sure to bring the craftiest of the bunch and they went about their business. They were damned good at their job but Cato could sense the indignation from the Second's trio. The mercenary captain would shiv the other two if they pushed but Redbad was proper. The old man's eyes were reason that Cato was still counted among the living.
Quiet continued to persist as the advanced unit proceeded through Taernsby. Most of the abodes closest to them had not yet been completely ransacked. The initial attack on their position had been quick and unfruitful. Mottled shadows stalked ahead of the mercenary captain, most intent on avoiding any possible trouble.
They had pushed up far enough that Cato turned to give the signal for rest of the 'Shields to push forward.
"Pissed m'self the-" Came the voice of one as two soldiers stumbled into the street. Cato readied his magic but unfortunately one of his own was too damn. Fire erupted under the the pair, setting them alight. The mercenary captain learned a long time ago that people don't die quiet when they're burning. Cato didn't even have time to swear as he heard the shuffling of footsteps from nearby. The rest of the patrol was close and they weren't likely to die any quieter.
"Tell the Second their fifteen better be bloody quick!" Cato barked at the tailing scout as he drew steel.
Storming into her borrowed chambers, Captain Agatha set about rounding up her possessions. Even as the head of a mercenary cohort, the she-orc did not have much in the way of personal effects. A gold chain denoting her command; a suit of black plate; a tulwar taken from a fallen warlord. A few changes of clothes and a chest full of gold made up the rest of her belongings.
It didn't take long to gather up what she needed and, with the help of her aide, Toki, she was soon ready to depart.
'All set, ma'am?' Toki inquired from where he stood by the door. Though he was not usually called upon to fight, the black-haired dwarf was dressed in a suit of half plate. At his hip he wore a mace of cold iron, and his sallet -which bore more scars than the rest of him combined- sat squarely atop the chest he carried in his arms.
'All set?' Agatha replied, giving the room that had been her home for the last few days one, final look. 'Aye, I believe so.' Taking a jug of water from the nightstand, Agatha doused the fireplace, plunging the room into darkness. 'Let's go!'
Slipping past her aide, the Blackshield made her way down to the inner courtyard. Brutus, Wineskin and a few others from her personal guard waited patiently as she strode out into the night. 'All centuries stand present and accounted for, Cap'n,' Wineskin told her, holding her hog's swine-yankers as she climbed into the saddle. She nodded.
'And what of the other preparations I asked you to make?'
'Done and done, Cap,' Wineskin continued skittishly. 'Brutus led a squad to sabotage the portcullis, and Damnation's lot are putting the finishing touches on tha' ticker you wanted.' Smiling, Agatha took a handful of her hog's hair, wheeled her around.
'Alright, then.' She looked to her men. 'Mount up! It's time to quit this shithole!'
Reacting as if by instinct, her warriors set to their tasks with vigour. Toki, still holding his captain's pay-chest, ran off in the direction of the supply carts as Agatha's bodyguards clambered into their saddles. Kicking her hog's flanks, Agatha rode through the nearest gateway and into the outer yard.
Most of her cohort awaited her there. Agatha noted a few watchers still atop the walls, crossbows loaded, eyes watchful. They would fall in with the last century when the time came. 'Lungs!' Agatha bellowed, singling out a squat figure hiding amongst the ranks. 'Why don't you make yourself useful and sound us off, hmm?'
Grinning, Lungs whipped out his prized war horn. Banded in silver, the blasted thing made the most awful of sounds. But it could cut through the din of battle like nobodies business. 'Righto, lads! Cover your ears and brace yourselves! This is goin' to be loud.' Wetting his lips, Lungs began to blow.
The waiting mercenaries leapt into motion in a heartbeat, like dogs of war eager to be let off the leash. 'Okay, fellas,' Agatha said, 'cross your hearts and kiss your arses goodbye! We're off!'
"Sticks, you unrelenting piece of rat-shit! Couldn't have done just about anything else huh?"Cato's fury was met with a casual shrug from the squad mage. Bloody bastard always did whatever he pleased. The captain would've killed the man if he wasn't such a damned good caster. Hard to find a proper Elbion-trained spellslinger like him in this business. Sticks knew that well-enough already and wasn't like to change his attitude anytime soon. It was a real wonder Cato was still sane after spending years with this lot.
Nearly two dozen soldiers filtered into the street, malice in their eyes. "Alright lads, let's handle this nice and quick!" The last thing Cato wanted was the Second riding up on them in the midst of battle when they were supposed to be scouting. Agatha would never let him hear the end of it. The rest of the Second wasn't likely to either. Competition had a way of turning bloody real fast, even between those in the same company.
Cato launched himself into the fray, keen seeing his words through. Steel flashed and the first soldier fell with little resistance. Cries all around the captain told him that the rest of his men had gotten to work as well. Some sprang forth from the shadowed buildings while others were content to pick their targets from range. Poisoned arrows, daggers, fireballs and all manner of weaponry was unleashed. Most of the patrol fell almost instantly, entirely unprepared for the unconventional onslaught. The rest died at the end of a blade.
A horn resounded.
The mercenary turned as the rest of his cohort arrived, extra mounts in tow. He was properly in saddle by the time elements of the Third arrived.
"Hope you didn't forget anything," Cato called out to his fellow captain in both greeting and indication that they should get a move on.
The Second left the fort behind them in a rush of steel and leather. With two centuries of heavy infantry leading the way and two more bringing up the rear, Agatha was fairly certain the company would be okay. Most of the cohort's "strength" -the second's civilian hangers-on and followers- were nestled right in the middle of the column, with Mender and about three dozen heavies safeguarding them as they leapfrogged their way after Cato and his lot.
They were the main cause for concern, and Agatha's primary source of stress. They couldn't fight, and they sure as shit couldn't gauge enemy dispositions or make tactical decisions during the heat of battle. In short, they were pretty much useless.
But like Agatha, the men, women and children of the strength had found themselves a nice little niche right in the heart of the cohort. They were family members and friends, trusted craftsmen and skilled labourers all. A necessary addition to any professional fighting force. Right now though, with the enemy breathing down the Shields' necks and danger lurking 'round the corner, they were anything but.
With that in mind, Agatha kept a watchful eye on them as she rode forward to the head of the column. The officer in charge of the advance was a man who went by the name of Brick. A full-blooded orc warrior, his skin was greener than grass and thicker than steel. Scars criss-crossed his face, pulling his features taut. He wasn't exactly the most handsome fellow in the cohort, but boy was he built like a brick shithouse.
Thus the name.
'Looks like Bad's gon' and started something without us, boss!' his voice called from the dark, accent gratingly thick now that the bloodletting had begun. 'Wan' us to get in there?' he questioned. Agatha shook her head. 'Not yet,' she returned, gazing over the heads of the troops in front of them. 'Let Cato's boys handle the bloodwork for a change. If something goes wrong, then you can throw your lads in.'
Smiling, his face horrifyingly disfigured by the light of burning buildings, Brick grunted, aye.
A distant booming sound came from behind them. Turning in her saddle, Agatha watched as the Stag Fort fell apart under a sequence of explosions. 'Bet the bastards weren't expectin' that!' Brutus laughed harshly. Wineskin and a few others laughed with him, though, Agatha sensed a certain grimness in the way they laughed. Detonations meant the enemy was now within the Stag Fort.
Had they been waiting for the Blackshields to abandon their position... or were they just a bit too keen to sack the place?
It didn't matter now.
'Column's moving again,' she spoke up, filling her men's hearts with iron. 'On, now! On!' Riding ahead with a number of her bodyguard, the Captain greeted Cato with a dismissive tut. 'As much as I enjoy shooting the shit, maybe we shouldn't do it here?' Agatha bristled. If they took too long, or got bogged down fighting a rearguard action, then her cohort was as good as fucked. Cato's bunch would be okay, of course. They could bail while their sister cohort took the brunt of it.
"Point taken."Cato knew things were well and truly fucked when Aggs was in a worse mood than him. 'Course she had good reason. The Second was carrying a lot of extra baggage. The sort that needed to be fed and protected. Cato didn't envy his fellow captain but hardly considered her a fool. A company of this size was more than just its swordhands. All manner of folk kept them in business. The Third just wasn't exactly great at protecting others, and certainly not in this particular situation.
Explosions from the fort behind them was enough to spur the rest of the Third into action. The remnants of the enemy patrol were quickly hunted down and dispatched. They couldn't afford another unexpected meeting. Bastards were half-drunk and completely dumb, the 'Shields weren't likely to get that lucky again. If their current predicament was any indication, Luck had fucked his wife and left Cato with the kid.
Initially their pace had been brisk and unbothered. The sort of thing one hoped for when trying to get the hells out of a burning city. Cato swore as he saw a sign from one of his forward scouts. He motioned for the rest of the cohort to slow their pace as he rode forward.
"Bad news, Cap."
"Already fuckin know that Knees, just tell me what it is." Cato was doing a piss-poor job of hiding his frustration and frankly he didn't care.
The scout looked as if he was trying to pick which words would anger his captain least and then gave up on the effort entirely. "Bastards' been busy. Blocked off the main street we came in on originally. Gonna have to go around unless you got a crew of sappers and a few spare days." Cato knew they had some of the former but certainly not the latter. He looked at the scout, prompting the mercenary to continue. "We can double back and hook around from the East district..."
Cato knew the city well-enough at this point. That was no short distance, and no saying if their foes weren't already behind them. The mercenary looked down the only remaining open street. Realization found the captain like a hammer to his balls. "The Promenade."
The column was moving at a steady pace, and yet Agatha's anxiety continued to grow as word came down from the Third. 'What do you mean the street's blocked off?' she asked, eyeing Cato's runner warily. The man explained their predicament in terms that wouldn't get him beaten. Agatha bit her tongue. 'Well... shit.' Sliding her gaze to Brick, she nodded resignedly. 'Looks like you're up, brother.'
Smiling, the big bastard threw a crisp salute. 'Instructions, Cap?'
Dismissing Cato's man with a lazy wave, Agatha said, 'We're heading to the Promenade. You know the place?' Brick's smile broadened. 'By now it's either a looter's paradise or a sniper's haven. You'll have you work cut out for you, to say the least.' Brick shrugged, unfazed by the threat to discipline, or life. 'I'll keep my men in order and movin',' he promised her, his voice like gravel. 'Anything else?'
'Yeah,' Agatha said, 'don't stop for strays. We're going straight through and God save any motherfucker who gets in our way.' The men laughed at that. So did their officer. 'Aye aye.' Brick shouted a few commands to his waiting troops, and the column started moving again. Riding back down towards the rear, Agatha held up an acknowledging hand to Mender and Toki. 'The Strength doing okay?' She shouted across to the chief physician.
Mender's eyes glowed from beneath her hood. 'They know the score,' she replied. Agatha nodded, rode on to where Sallow's boys were bringing up the rear. 'Trouble's brewin', Cap!' The old veteran greeted her. Agatha shrugged. 'Trouble's always brewing, Sallow.' Staring back down the street, Agatha grimaced as the shadows started to move about, like cutthroats scenting prey.
Sallow drew his blade. 'Turn and address?'
'If you deem it necessary.' Agatha shot a wary look over her shoulder. The strength and the pay wagons had begun turning towards the Promenade. A few squads held the intersection, waiting for her. Agatha aired her tulwar. Sallow's brows shot up. 'Cato's got the front,' she explained, smiling down at him as she flourished her blade. The steel shone in the firelight. The shadows hesitated.
Cato worked to calm his nerves as he waited for word from the Second. He could sense that most of the cohort was doing the same. Most had been through eight different kinds of hell, but experience could only cover for so much. You could only be so ambivalent when charging into almost-certain death. The captain figured they'd make it out of the city one way or the other. Question was how many men would be at his back when they did. The 'Shields had been through some real nasty, expensive scraps. Cato could only hope that this one wouldn't make it too high up the list.
He have the signal to push towards the Promenade as soon as the runner returned. The column anxiously began to gather momentum. Hesitancy was replaced with the knowledge that forward was the only way out. If it needed to be done, better to get it over with. Cato motioned for Sticks to ride alongside him for a moment. "There's bound to be skulkers all about in the windows. No games here Sticks, first sign of contact and I want them learning a hard lesson. Level the damn buildings if you have to." The squad mage gave him a pointed look but rode back to his original position without any other complaints.
Once they were close enough for caution to no longer have a place, Cato gave the order to charge. The vanguard of the Third rode into the Promenade and immediately cut down anyone in sight. Screams of the dying melded with cries of confusion. The sheer volume of chaos told Cato that the the area had been anything but empty.
"Shields!" he called as the familiar twang of bows echoed around them. Most of the Third didn't really have conventional shields but had a real knack for finding cover. Sometimes that cover happened to be their fellow mercenary. Cato quickly summoned his own telekinetic barrier so as not to be turned into a fucking pincushion. Explosions rocked either side of the Promenade as Sticks and his boys went to work.
Rubble rained down as the Third pushed forward. Enemy soldiers were scattered but were already beginning to regroup. Cato and those with him could easily break through the enemy lines and out the city. The problem was, well, everyone else. Wagons weren't exactly known for moving very fast and the initial volley had done more damage than expected. Creating a gap between their forces at this point would mean a quick death.
"Poll, keep it thin!" he ordered the sergeant. The mercenary charged forward with twenty men in tow, intent on keeping their escape route relatively open. Meanwhile, enemy troops began to pour out of the adjacent buildings. "Fucking rats."
Every man and woman who fought and bled for the Second carried a pilum. From the moment they signed up, the average foot soldier was given two. To train with. To carry and keep safe until the moment came where it would keep you safe. During her notoriously short stay with the infantry, Agatha had learnt not just how to throw it, but where to aim for maximum effect. Of course, with her orc blood, she was stronger than the average human soldier. Meaner, too.
Her first pilum punched clean through a shield to spit the man sheltering behind it. The fool hiding behind him didn't fare much better. 'Second rank! Make ready!' Wheeling her hog in behind the line of Blackshields, Agatha issued the command with a swing of her sword. 'Throw!'
Taking a few halting steps forward, the 'shields let lose their javelins. Chaos ensued as shadowy figures were impaled or thrown clean off their feet. Many more were wounded, their shields sundered, armour pierced. Seizing the moment, Agatha gave the order to draw steel.
Swords rasped from scabbard throats. Axes were hefted to clatter against shield in intimidating display.
'Forward!' The she-orc bellowed, her brow furrowing as her 'shields drove off the rabble that had meant to harry them. In their haste to get away, the warriors of the north forgot to take their wounded with them. Her own gave them the courtesy of a quick death; they couldn't expect much better.
A horn blew, somewhere off in the direction of the Promenade.
'Gods fuck the Third,' Agatha cursed under her breath. 'Sallow! Get your men regrouped and moving. We can't afford to get drawn out.' The centurion straightened, nodded. 'On it, boss!' Reeling her hog about, Agatha led her bodyguard along the column towards the front. The strength cowered helplessly as their men- and womenfolk shepherded them onwards. Ever onwards. Towards freedom.
Or death.
Thundering onto the Promenade, the beast-riders under Agatha's command split to form two tuskers as they came under threat from hidden archers. A few men from Brick's century, the first to make it onto the Promenade, squirmed and fell as arrows pierced their defences. 'Fucking cowards!' Agatha heard Brick yell. 'Come out and fight!'
Racing along the Third's flanks, Agatha made a quick headcount as the enemy arrived to do just that.
The mercenary's blade rose and fell in almost rhythmic succession. There seemed no shortage of enemies and that was a big godsdamned problem. Cato looked to the east as earned himself a moment to breathe. The 'Shields route out of the city still appeared to be relatively open, but the door was closing fast. Progress with the main host was slow but they were moving. He supposed that was about all he could ask for at this point.
Sensing it was time to make another push, Cato swung his mount around to call out orders. Instead he was met the sight of incoming rider, or what was left of him. All that remained was the lower part of his torso and the steed apparently hadn't noticed, or cared. The mercenary captain braced himself as the two animals crashed bodily into each other.
He attempted to roll as he hit the cobbled street of the Promenade and grunted in half-success. Pain had knocked the air out of his lungs; his vision swam. The unrelenting din of battle would've left Cato more disoriented if he wasn't so bloody used to it. Cato shook off the remaining doldrums as he retrieved his fallen blade only a few feet away. The decision saved his life as an enemy soldier charged him, thinking the mercenary an easy target. Cato may be greedy, reckless, and an irredeemable drunk, but he was not an easy mark.
"Can't even catch my fuckin' breath," he complained to no-one in particular. Despite the precariousness of the situation, the Third was faring relatively well. They were used to this type of melee. Even so, things were getting worse by the minute. Clearly Agatha had sensed the same as her boar-riders burst through on the flanks. No doubt she'd have a few words for him if they both made it out of this mess.
"Dhaji!" Cato called out, searching for yet another of the Third's company sergeants. The Kaliti native was at Cato's side moments later, silent and imposing. "We're moving. Tell the men to stop fucking about." This was their lot; to fight for every damn inch until they reached the otherside of the city's gates.
The men in their path scattered as the hog riders stormed by. A warrior in black tossed Agatha a throwing spear, and she caught it on the fly. 'Tusker!' She commanded. For many, the word might not have meant much. But to the men and women of the Second, it was as sure a sign as any to get the fuck out of the way.
Forming into an "arrowhead," the mounted warriors met the disorganised enemy head-on.
Raising herself up in the saddle, Agatha hurled her spear past her hog's lowered head to fold a man in half. Another was knocked to the ground, his guts spilling from his belly to trail under her hog's hooves. The rest of her riders followed, sowing bloody destruction through the rank-and-file of the ill-prepared but otherwise eager enemy.
'Got some vigour in them today, lads!' laughed Agatha, tulwar drawn and red along the edges. A man leapt at her. she swept the broad blade around to take his head off, then, span to deflect a spear-thrust. Behind them, through the gap left by her charge, heavies under the command of Marbeck were pouring on through. 'Press the advantage!' she heard the dwarf in question shout, bristly beard protruding from beneath his helmet's cheek guards.
Something clanged off Agatha's left pauldron, and the she-orc turned just in time to see a crossbow bolt spin and disappear into the black maw between hogs.
'They got fuckin' snipers!' Someone warned. An instant later and another someone was tumbling from their mount, a bolt in their throat. 'Move!'
Mounted once more, Cato hacked at any bastard that got close. His arms burned with exhaustion but the mercenary did not relent. Slowing down meant death, it was that simple. So the mercenary captain cut at any and every cunt he could find. The Second's charge bought the 'Shields some precious space and they were quick to take advantage. This wasn't the company's first scrap and they didn't want it to be their last.
A cry from his side, followed by a wet gurgle. Cato turned to see a fellow 'Shield with a crossbow bolt lodged in his throat. "Fucking archers," he swore, echoing the sentiment of any self-respecting sellsword. The mercenary was ready for the second shot and was quick to duck the projectile. Instead he ripped the very same bolt from the ground with his telekinesis and sent it right back to the cowardly bastard who owned it. Cato wasn't sure if he found his target but there was no third shot.
The 'Shields continued to fight their way down the Promenade, inch by bloody inch. Cato didn't even bother trying to figure out how many of his men were still standing. He'd take the count when it was all said and done.
"Incoming!" A 'Shield cried out just as a large fireball crashed into a squad of the company. Cato looked to the window but could no longer see the enemy mage who slung the spell. A talented mage was too bloody dangerous in this situation. Cato signalling for those closest to follow him as he rode right up to the building. He quickly dismounted and turned to the handful of 'Shields that were with him.
"Buy me five minutes." With that, he plunged into the building.
The Blackshields pushed their way forwards despite fierce resistance from the enemy. If not for the ordered ranks of heavies, Agatha might have had difficulty telling who was who. But then how could she ever mistake her boys for anyone else? 'Bring it about!' She shouted over the din. 'Wheel! Wheel with me!' Their initial charge had made waves in the enemy ranks, enough to help a century of her 'Shields turn a flank.
A fireball slammed into them out of nowhere, setting a handful of men alight.
'Where the fuck did that come from?' Agatha heard Wineskin cry out in alarm. He had never been the bravest of warriors, but the screams were definitely starting to get to him. Ignoring him, Agatha rallied her riders to her for a flanking charge. 'Steady now!' she shouted. 'Wait for them to engage!'
A bolt slipped past the dark slit of her vision. A second crinkled the metal covering her elbow, a near miss.
A rider fell from his saddle, three arrows in his side. There was no time to slow down. 'Now, lads! Charge!' Cursing the Gods looking down on them, the hogs swept in to take the enemy formation from behind. A chorus of anguished, angry cries went up as the hogs split their enemy's formation in two, opening up a corridor through which more Blackshields could pour.
And so they did, butchering as they went. Agatha watched as one fool, so hopped up on battle-lust he was practically blind, cut down three men in the blink of an eye. There would have been a fourth, but he was already fleeing by that point. Towards the gate.
Towards freedom.
'Keep it together!' Brick, red to the gills and blowing hot air like it was going out of fashion. 'Keep it tight, ya pricks! 'S how we like it, no?!'YES!The men chanted, though, for all the noise they could have been shouting anything and still would have made as much sense.
'Sir!' Agatha felt a rider tap her shoulder with his javelin. 'Wagons're are coming!'
Staring through the fire-lit darkness, Agatha nodded at the man's observation. 'So they are,' she said, digging her knees in to her boar's side. 'Back around we go, boys! Don't stop moving!' It was then, of course, she saw it. The firebolt. A bright blur in her periphery, it sailed right over her head.
Cato burst into what undoubtedly was some rich bastard's townhouse. Most of the furniture was either gone or completely broken, he doubted their owners had fared much better. The mercenary captain immediately spotted a trio of soldiers huddled in the foyer. Bastards seemed busy arguing over an ornate vase. Clearly they'd not been expecting a 'Shield to casually stroll into their new home.
Surprise turned to anger, but it was far too late. A wave of telekinetic energy slammed into the trio, knocking two to the floor and another into the wall behind him. Cato was already upon them before they had a chance to recover, blade quickly wet with their blood. The large thud was fortunately covered by the cries of the battle outside. This allowed the mercenary to make his way halfway up the stairs before his presence was noticed yet again. Longsword and shortsword in hand, Cato made quick work of the pair that stood in his way.
His lungs burned from the sheer pace of his efforts. One more spell from that fire-flinging cunt could be real trouble. He quickly pivoted around the rail and up the final flight of steps. Even as he crested the last set, Cato could see the mage and knew he was too late. The mercenary heaved his shortsword in desperation and it clattered into the window frame beside the caster. His only consolation was that it caused the mage to fire the spell prematurely.
The mercenary dropped his other sword as well, allowing him to quickly close the distance. His fist shot out and caught the mage square in the jaw; he followed with another for good measure. Stunned, the mage could not react as Cato went for his foe's legs and lifted him up and out of the window. One glance told Cato that the mage was dead. He didn't even see a 'Shield walk up and slit the dead man's throat for good measure.
No, instead his attention was drawn towards the wagons.
The fireball caught the lead wagon plumb, killing the driver outright even as his passengers threw themselves over the sides in an attempt to save themselves. A few, too slow to react, screamed as their clothing ignited along with the wagon. "Help them!" A woman cried shrilly. "Oh, Gods! Gods, please, someone help them!"
"Brutus!" Agatha's voice was like ice water, bringing the men back to their senses. "Take this lot and keep the lads moving! We need to take the Brigand's gate if we want to get out of this mess."Aye, that's what this is, thought the she-orc, reining hard about so that her boar faced the burning wagon and its screaming occupants.
A mess, plain and simple. Why the fuck did I listen to Cato?
Grimacing, she rode back to the wagons. The families and camp-followers were used to carnage. Normally, after particularly large-scale scraps, it was the women and children who would help scour the battlefield for loot, knifing the occasional enemy who yet lived. Blood and guts and carrion calls did not scare them. But this? This was a bit too close to home, a bit too... visceral.
It hurt Agatha to see them so terrified.
"Move 'round!" she ordered, thundering into their midst, an avenging rider in black steel, coated in the blood of the foemen. "We have to keep moving! You lot," she pointed her tulwar, "Help the wounded into the wagons... and cut those damned oxen loose for Terah's sake!"
Warriors in black surcoats or wearing company patches raced to do as ordered. A couple beat at a woman with their cloaks as she dropped and rolled, trying to douse the flames. The magefire burnt on, however, and before long the woman stopped moving altogether.
"Fuckers,"Agatha cursed under her breath, watching in anger as an archer was thrown from a second storey window to be butchered in the street. It was a small consolation, but at least her Second were doing as she had bid and not taking prisoners.
Sallow's rearguard marched into view as the column started moving again, past the burning wreckage and the bodies of the slain. From the way they carried their shields, formation locked, Agatha could tell that Sallow's boys had made hard contact with something. And are preparing to do so again.
"'Skin, Merry, you two are with me!" Riding down the column, past the strength and Mender's meat wagons, Agatha heard Wineskin ask, "What're we doing?" Agatha looked over her shoulder, smiled, like it was all so obvious.
Cato was ready to snap back at the corporal but swallowed his words instead. There had been a struggle here, a hard one at that. His only consolation was that few wore the black of the Company. A good mage could be worth fifty soldiers, they all knew that. Still, he doubted any were keen on trying to justify the sums. A private handed Cato the reins to his steed and the captain quickly mounted.
"Status?"
"Lead wagon looks like its seen the wrong end of a wyrm," responded the sergeant. "Second's trying to get them moving." Cato swore, knowing that Agatha was probably cursing him all the same. The situation could be worse, but not by bloody much. He allowed himself a moment to truly observe the chaos that surrounded them. It was fucking mayhem and yet not entirely forgone. The 'Shields were holding formation, for the most part.
"Send the 5th and 6th squads to assist with the wagons. Ludor and his sister are dumber than bricks but they've a way with folk." A rider simply nodded and then rode off. There was a time for playful quipping and this sure as hells wasn't it. Now that the Second had joined them in earnest, it was time to make their final push out of the city. He had no doubt that they were being closed in on from behind. The only way out was forward.
The mercenary captain swore as he kicked his mount into motion, riding hard towards the vanguard.
Sallow's century had reengaged by the time Agatha's riders reached him. Locked shield to shield, their backs turned to her and the slow-moving column, they had met the enemy as one cohesive unit. Making the most of the narrow town streets, the veteran mercenaries lashed out with boards and swords to stem the oncoming tide.
Agatha saw a man who was more steel than flesh take a shield boss to the face. He crumpled under the hammer blow that followed. Another, equally armed and armoured, hooked a shield aside with his axe to open up the man standing behind it. That singular victory was rewarded when Sallow drove a shortsword into his armpit, dropping him to the blood-slick cobbles with a clatter.
'Keep at it, lads! Glory to the Second!'
Long may she live, thought Agatha, unable to get past the literal wall of bodies blocking her path. 'You!' She pointed to one of the trailing mercenaries. 'Give me your javelins. Quickly, now!' Handing them off, the mercenary stepped back as Agatha stood up in her saddle. Merry and Wineskin echoed their Captain, drawing short-hafted throwing spears from the braces tied to their saddles.
Aligning her hog so that it faced perpendicular to Sallow's rearmost rank, Agatha picked a target from amongst the enemy mass. An officer, from the look of his gold-inlaid helmet. She took a breath to steady her aim. Threw.
The javelin sailed over the heads of her mercenaries to catch the officer squarely in his visor. An impressive shot, if a little risky. But then what is war but a series of risks? The Captain mused, hurling her second javelin in a flat arc to skewer the shield of another foeman.
More projectiles began to fly from the rooftops to either side of the street to salt the enemy ranks. The few archers Agatha had, providing cover for Sallow's boys. The enemy started to waver, broke like tidal waves upon the shoreline. It was then a horn began to sound from up ahead.
The Brigand's Gate was secure. Time to get the fuck out.
The Brigand's Gate came into view along with what remained of the Third's vanguard. Barely half, he noted upon quick glance. More than a few had already bought the farm but most were either lagging behind or 'missing'. Desertion was hardly unheard of considering their current predicament but Cato wasn't bothered, mostly 'cause he'd ordered it. They had plans to come back to this city and do what needed doing. It would be whole lot easier if they had some help from inside. Wouldn't be too difficult for a handful of men to slip in among the enemy's ranks during this chaos. Gods only knew there were enough uniforms to pick off the ground at this point.
He'd not explained this to Aggs but she was clever enough to see the numbers. Even if she weren't, the other captain knew the Third well enough. Cato and his lot got shit done, even if it wasn't always the cleanest.
Cato swore as an arrow grazed his shoulder, bringing him back to the matter at hand. The Gate's defenders were on their last legs but still dangerous. Luckily a couple squads from the Second were here as well to help make the final push. He launched a wave of telekinetic energy at group of guards charging down the stairs towards them.
"Poll! Get in there and get this fucking thing open!" Cato watched as the sergeant led a squad up the previously occupied stairs towards the gate controls. Minutes of brutal, desperate fighting ensued until finally the gate sprang to life. The captain didn't need to give any order as the 'Shields poured through Brigand's Gate and out of the city. Cato quickly gave the order for another two squads to hold back and protect the gate while he led the rest north to the forest for cover.
There weren't any spare runners to send for Aggs but Cato was confident she'd find him. Mostly cause she was likely of a mind to beat him half-to-death.
Agatha didn't know how many men she had lost. Dozens, at least. Entire squads wiped out, centuries on the brink of collapse. Even so, the Second continued to push forwards, clearing and cordoning off the buildings and side streets lining The Promenade.
Enemy dead lay scattered in the shadows. Busted windows wept firelight into the street as rooftops collapsed, sending sparks shimmering into the night sky. Agatha didn't want to die in Taernsby. The town had never been on her bucket list of places to visit.
But pay was pay, and nothing paid half so well as war.
'Get those fuckin' carts moving, come on! Push 'em if you have to!' Centurion Marbeck's voice was like gravel, rough on the ears. It put fire into bellies, stirred the souls of men. Listening to him bellow orders reminded Agatha of the previous Captain. Gone now. Like the rest of the Old Guard.
'Ain't this a breeze of a night manoeuvre,' Marbeck shouted over to Agatha, organising his squads into defensive positions around the Brigand's Gate. 'Fuckin' trust Cato to land us in a heap of shit! Ain't that boy got no fuckin' sense?' A good question, that. Any other day, Agatha might have humoured Marbeck.
As was, she could barely contain herself from tearing the man's head off.
'That's Captain Cato to you,' she chided, staring down at the dwarf from atop her hog. 'I'd suggest you start showing him the respect he's due as Captain of the Third, or by Terah's tits, I'll have you back to digging latrines like you did in the glory days!'
Marbeck flinched at the vehemence in his Captain's voice. Rare was the day one got to see her so angry. 'Yes, Captain, of course! I only-' His voice spluttered out. Clearly, he had taken her words to heart. The rest of the men had too, from the way they all turned away from her the moment she cast her gaze around.
The fighting at the rear of the column picked up again. Agatha, angered by the persistence of the enemy and her own folly, sent Marbeck and four of his squads to relieve Sallow.
'Has anyone seen Redbad?!' She shouted, her hog shying beneath her.
'I'm here, Cap.' Agatha grimaced as the elf appeared by her side, bloodied, but no worse for wear. Thank all the Gods. 'Where the hell did you get to? Thought I told you to scout us a path out of here, not to leave us in the lurch.'
'Did Captain Cato not send a man to warn you? I thought-' The look on the she-orc's face caught his eye, stilling his tongue. 'Apologies. I was busy.'
'Busy?' Agatha never got mad at Redbad, but her patience was wearing thin. 'Busy doing what?'
'Opening the Brigand's Gate,' he said, stoic as you please. It was then she noticed his missing blades, and the blood weeping from a torn sleeve. 'You're bleeding,' she pointed out, temporarily lost for words. Opening the Brigand's Gate? Alone?
Redbad saw the question in her eyes, said, 'Captain Cato sent a squad to seize the gatehouse, but the bastards had already set up shop there. They'd built a barricade on the stairs and had crossbows armed and ready. Seeing this, I led Callous and Graves up the walls to help them.'
'What do you mean, up the walls?'
'Exactly that. Once we were inside the gatehouse and behind them, it was merely a matter of sticking the knife in and twisting.' Agatha felt her jaw drop. Merely a matter... Who in the seven hells is this man? 'I see,' she said, regaining some of her composure. 'Callous...'
'Died. Bolt to the brainpan.'
'And Graves?'
'Still kicking, last I saw. Man's positively wicked with a blade.' Redbad smiled, and suddenly Agatha found herself smiling, too. 'Very good.' There would be time to mourn Callous later, not that he had been particularly likeable. Turning in her saddle, the Captain watched as the last of the wagons trundled through the tunnel leading into the countryside.
'Go back up to the gatehouse. Once the last element is through, lower the portcullis, and sabotage the winch.' Nodding, Redbad snapped off a quick salute before vanishing into the darkness. Spurring her hog towards the gate, Agatha gave the burning town one last look goodbye.
The Second mostly caught up by the time Cato managed to unfuck what remained of the Third. It'd been damned tough to keep people moving after the Brigand's Gate was out of sight. The mercenary sympathized but he wasn't fond of being a cunt hair's distance from a sortie. Gods knew that the 'Shields gave those bastards reason for pause, yet that couldn't be counted on. They just needed to go a little further. It was common for sellswords to turn tail when things got too bloody. Not the 'Shields of course, but their foes didn't know that.
They'd finally made camp in a small hamlet about two hour's ride from Taernsby. Cato hadn't heard much from the Second up until now, too focused on getting themselves outside the devil's grasp. He hadn't heard anything from Aggs but still wasn't too worried. If she'd bought it, half the Second would've strung Cato up by now.
"Cap?" The weariness of the man's tone immediately drew Cato's attention.
"Gods Poll, looks as if you've been under a smithy's hammer." The mercenary captain could see that the sergeant had properly been through it.
"They just didn't want to give it up. Probably would've held it too if it weren't for that sergeant from the Second. You know the one, always by Captain Agatha's side. Uncanny bastard. Weren't quick enough to save Gnolf, Crake, or Lop but that's just the business." It was clear from Poll's tone that he blamed himself more than anything. Responsibility could be a real bastard in this line of work. They'd both been doing this long enough to know the sergeant wasn't looking for any pity.
"Speaking of, know where she's got to?"
"Saw her pass through the gate, looked pretty rough. Probably out cold somewhere." Cato nodded and waved off the sergeant. The mercenary captain made his way to where most of the Second had set up. A few questions found him at small house which had been 'requisitioned' for the 'Shields use. It was there that he found his fellow captain looking about as good as he felt.
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