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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 89: Broken Bjarn
Bjarn wiped blood from his face and attempted to count the remaining Forestmen, Dark Foresters, Bulls and Wolfpack. What he saw was horribly disheartening. The Bulls had been the hardest hit, there were less than twenty still fighting, Barbod and Dordrot among them, though both were sagging with the agony of their wounds. The Forestmen and the Dark Forest had lost about the same amount of men and there were three hundred of each faction still fit to fight. The Wolfpack had been the best off, waiting until Orion’s Gates had opened to join the battle. Now the Wolfpack slipped forward and melted into the deserted city to locate sniper positions on rooftops. The Bulls, Forestmen and Dark Forest followed suit, but stayed near the gates taking as much as a breather as they could.
Suddenly the sky errupted into flame, and the splintered remains of the dueling airships swarmed downward. The Allies dove for cover, but there were casulties. The sacrifice of Lord Void had not been in vain, however, for the remaining troops loyal to BloodVaine outside near the gate perished. Now the Allies could rest, and the Knight Kingdomers and healers could rush forward to sort through the bodies, dead or otherwise.
Bjarn looked about for faces he reconised, and relief sweapt through him as he saw none of his friends had fallen. Yet.
Suddenly he realised that he himself hurt, very much so. Bjarn sheathed his bloodied sword and examined himself. He had many cuts, but what really worried him was his left shoulder. A Dragon Master halberd had come crashing down on it, wrong side down so that the shaft had bounced back and the blade had killed it’s own wielder. The blow had broken a bone, but Bjarn could not tell which. No matter. His sword arm still was mostly movable.
Bjarn’s thougthts were interrupted by a shout. Willem, who had taken up watch at the top of a potter’s shop, called down urgently.
“Bjarn, Vos, Barbod! Four score mounted Cross Knights heading this way!”
Bjarn paled. Men he could deal with, they could all deal with. But men on horses was too much.
“Men, regroup and ready spears! Archers, gather in the back and fire at will as soon as the horsemen appear!”
Barbod and Vos gave out similar orders, and soon the weary few remainders of the Allied Army prepared for battle.
“Willem!” Bjarn shouted, “Get the tyco outta here! Gather the Wolfpack and try to get into the Yellow Castle. We’ll hold as long as we can!”
Willem did not bother to argue. With a swift movement, he gave the Sign of the Elk and dissapeared.
A thundering of hooves suddenly exploded into existance. Traitor Cross Knights mounted on might warhorses turned a corner and pounded toward the meager Forestdwellers and Bulls like a massive and bloody joust. Arrows whirled through the air and ten men fell from their mounts.
“AIM FOR THE HORSES, NOT FOR THE RIDERS!” Bjarn bellowed. The archers obeyed and four horses collasped under their riders. But the knights kept coming.
“BRACE FOR IMPACT!”
Bjarn threw down his bow and whipped out his spear, pointed it upward and forward, bracing it agaist the cobbles of the streets. Bjarn looked up to see a mass of mane and hair blurring his vison, and then his whole world exploded. His spear smashed into the chest of the beast and snaped in two, puncturing the heart and lungs. The momentum kept driving the horse forward, even though it was dead. The rider was flung off and landed hard on the ground. He sprand up and prepared to draw his sword when Bjarn’s hatchet split his face open. Bjarn nodded in grim satisfaction and whipped out his sword to duel with another felled Cross Knight. The knight was skilled and Bjarn was growing wearing when suddenly the knight’s eyes grew wide and, gurgling feebly, he toppled over dead. Reno withdrew his blade and nodded at Bjarn, then continued battling.
Bjarn engaged another knight, but he again needed the aid of someone else, this time Aros, to fell the knight.
I can’t take much more of this...
Again the thundering of hooves errupted behind him and he turned, frozen stiff. A long-armed knight with a ball and chain mace was charging straight at him, and Bjarn had not the energy to dodge. The spiked ball itself missed, but the chain hit Bjarn in the legs and with a crack, shattered both of them. Bjarn fell like a log, too weak to scream in agony. The knight dismounted and brought the mace down again, this time on two Bjarn’s right hand. The bones were obliterated, the flesh ripped to shreds. The knight was about to bring down the mace in a killing blow when a spinning knife lodged itself in his neck.
With a roar, Rosa, Radjar, Sir Dractor, Graygon, Fraun, Keavur, Derrick, and Caimlin charged into the outer courtyard, followed closely by the bright-pink Dragon Masters. The Cross Knights stared stupidly at the gaudy colors, think a new subfaction of Eastern Knight’s Kingdom was attacking. They waited too late to flee and were shredded by the Dragon Master scimitars.
The Dragon Masters formed a circle around the survivors, brandishing weapons menacingly. Rosa, Sir Dractor and Graygon made a beeline to Bjarn, where Reno, Aros and Barbod already were.
“Is he-?” Rosa began.
“No.” Reno cut her off.
“Barbod, are there any chariots that can be repaired?”
“There are a few with only missing wheels…” said Barbod doubtfully.
“We’re on to it!” said Fraun, and he and Dordrot went to scavenge. Sir Dractor and Graygon were about to carried Bjarn but Voolmark broke through. “No, don’t! You might make something worse. There might be...ah...yes…”
Dispite the small remains of Mana, Voolmark was able to create a simple floatation spell that lifted Bjarn into the air smoothly. In the background Fraun and Dordrot pounded frantically at a almost-repaired Bull chariot. Radjar, finished with talking to Vos, ran over and paled visibly.
“Oh, tyco...Bjarn…”
Caimlin stood to the side and coughed. “Err..are you all that is left?”
Gerald Vos nodded grimly. “Orion’s gate was a death trap. Too many were lost on both sides.”
Fraun and Dordrot was finished with the chariot. Muttering softly, Voolmark guided the broken body of Bjarn to the bed of the chariot.
“I'll take him to Shainya and Jack.” Reno volunteered. Rosa, Sir Dractor and Voolmark also agreed to go.
“All of you should go back and rest.” Caimlin said firmly, “You have battled enough. My Dragon Masters will take care of the rest.”
“The Wolfpack are infiltrating Orion as we speak.” said Barbod.
“Then I will go too.” said Graygon.
“And I.” said Radjar, “Vos, lead the remainder of our forces back to camp and stay there.”
The parties disperced, Caimlin, the pink Dragon Masters, Graygon, Radjar, Keavur and Derrick into Orion, and remainder of the Forestdwellers and Bulls, Rosa, Sir Dractor, Barbod, Vos, Fraun, Dordrot, Reno, Aros, Voolmark and Bjarn back to the camps.
Barbod was at the reinsagrupacion musica cofradia california of the chariot, not trusting anyone else, even his fellow Bull, Dordrot, to drive the chariot with the wounded Bjarn.
“Don’t worry, old friend,” he growled in a low voice, “we’ll get you out of here all right.”
But it was slow going. There were bodies, armour, weapons, and general debris everywhere. They were continually forced to detour in order to spare the injured Forestman king dangerous pain. Voolmark was walking behind the chariot to keep Bjarn’s pain at a minimum, but with Mana drained, there was precious little he could do.
They came to what resembled a ravine. It was a huge gash in the ground, torn up by the battle and the catapult fire. There was no way around, without going over a thousand yards out of their way. However, Reno had a solution.
“There was a catapult here,” he said. “That’s what concentrated on the fire on this spot. Look, there are still several beams here. We can make a bridge.”
“The beams barely reach across,” said Gerald Vos, doubtfully, “And the trench is nearly man-high. I wouldn’t trust the chariot on such a weak bridge.”
“We can reinforce by standing underneath,” said Aros. “What other choices do we have?”
“Several,” said Voolmark, “but they would all take too long. Bjarn does not have that time.”
“Then let us get on with it,” said Fraun, jumping into the trench, and putting his hands under the beams for support, “Come on, there are enough of us.”
The others started to join him in the trench. Then Dordrot happened to look backwards.
“Cross Knights!” he yelled. “Thirty Cross Knights on foot!”
The Cross Knights had already seen them, and broke into a run on his cry.
“We can’t risk Bjarn,” said Sir Dractor, “Get him across!”
Shoving Dordrot and Aros into the ditch with all the others, he turned to face the Cross Knights.
“Get Bjarn to safety,” he told them. “I will deal with these interlopers.”
And dropping his visor, he broke into a run towards the Cross Knights. With all the others underneath the beams, Barbod began to slowly inch the chariot across the makeshift bridge, all the while praying that it would hold. Behind him, Sir Dractor was confronting the Cross Knights.
Up on the hill overlooking the battle-weary Yellow Castle, Shainya turned away from where Jack, up to his wrists in blood, was doing something to Green Fox’s leg and muttering fretfully.
“Brix and blox, there’s alot more...stuff...in a man than a dog...you there! Hand over the those shiny tweezers - NO! not that. Oh tyco, nevermind, here you hold this kneecap in place and I’ll get the - hold it, I said, don’t tremble so, it’s only a kneecap...just without the flesh and gristle that you usually see along with it...brix and blox…”
Shainya did not smile. She had had three men die right infront of her while she had been trying remove various remains of weapons and she felt horribly numb emotionally. Suddenly she saw a band of - she blinked - pink - Dragon Masters come around a bend and enter the gates of Orion. There was nothing she could do from her location, and she watched helplessly for minutes until she spotted at party exit Orion and come towards her. She reconized the figures of Barbod and Graygon immendiatly, and then she spotted Rosa, Sir Dractor, Reno and Aros. Someone was in the cart, obviosly wounded, but she couldn't tell who -
A lump grew in her chest. Bjarn. She about about to run down to aid them in constructioning a bridge when she spotted the Cross Knights the same moment Dordrot did. Once glance told her that they would not make it in time, and Sir Dractor stood little chance of holding off the knights for long. A scream ripped from her throat, and for a second she did not realise she was calling Bourne’s name.
He appeared by her instantly, demanding, “What!?”
“They won’t make it!” she screamed, gesticulating toward the teetering chariot and it’s guiders.
Bourne took in the situation calmly, but with lightning speed. He raised an arm and screwed his eyes shut. Shainya felt like bursting, shouting at him, “What the tyco are you doing, help them!” but she bit her lip until it bled. Then her eyes widened. As she watched, the beams beneath the chariot seemed to harden and lengthen, becoming straight and wide as like it was meant to be a bridge. Barbod was too busy to notice, but Reno stared at the beams as if transfixed until Aros nudged him urgently.
“How do you do that?” asked Shainya stupidly.
Bourne shrugged. “I simply convinced the wood they would like to be straight. All things are sentient, it was simply a matter of asking them to do what you want. Besides, the Mana has no affect on me.”
The chariot had reached the top of the hill. Sir Dractor was not with the group.
“Here, bring him over here…” said Shainya tenderly. Graygon and Aros set Bjarn down on a clear table. Jack came over, a grin slipping off his face as he spotted his old schoolmate.
“Foxy is patched as the Rose Marie’s sail, but he’ll hold...oh...brix and blox...!”
Tears ran in dirty, crusted lines down Shainya’s cheeks, and she practically crushed Jack’s arm in her frantic grip.
“Help him! Tyco! Do something!”
Jack stared at Bjarn, his face turning pale as milk behind his beard and the smears of blood. He saw the shards of splintered bone that jutted from the ruin of Bjarn’s legs, and the jellyfish-spatter that remained of his right hand. His mouth worked soundlessly.
“Megablox you, do something!”
“I... I-I-I…”
Some of the others pulled Shainya away from Jack, who was beginning to look half-mad himself. She did not resist, though she continued to scream at him to do something for Bjarn. Aros spoke to him in a calmer voice.
“Is there anything that can be done, chirurgeon?”
“I…” Jack swallowed hard, and tried again, “I don’t know how. His legs are splintered like glass, his hand’s a pudding...nothing short of magic could heal such wounds. I might be able to keep him alive, if he’s not already gone into shock -- but his legs, his arm-- I haven’t a prayer of saving them.”
“Do what you can. No one will blame you.”
Jack could not look away from the twisted body of his oldest friend.
“Aye. Aye.”
He whirled towards the makeshift group of healers behind him.
“You lot! I want poultices and painkillers, bandages and cauteries! Get splints, leeches, elixirs, and anything else you can lay your hands to! Torches, lanterns, too-- it’ll be dark, sooner than we want it to. If Death comes for Bjarn today, He leaves empty handed if I have to beat Him off with my own two hands! And if any of your fancy-pants mages can lend a wand, get them over here!”
The group scattered to obey, and Jack leaned in close over his old friend.
“Bjarn, I left you behind once. Jack won’t be making that mistake again, you can count on it.”
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