Chapter 29 (Patreon)

The gates to Lea’s Slumber opened not long after sunrise. Flint watched from atop the wall as the Iron Army soldiers and the Vikings burst into action, breaking camp and putting out fires. The latter dug old, unpolished armour from their carts and put them on.

“The bastards must’ve forgotten that I have [Marksmanship],” Flint commented. “You can’t hide from [Keen Eye].”

Adam grunted next to him. A small smithing hammer hung from his waist, and he wore iron vambraces under his coat. For the first time since they had met, Adam had groomed his long curly hair and beard. They were both tied back in neat braids. It wouldn’t do much good once the fighting started, but Adam appeared more confident, and that was good enough for Flint.

When the gates opened, Maya and Bjorn wanted to visit the camp. They had heard barking and whines during the night. It was likely the slavers used hounds to keep their prisoners under control. A firm no and an empathic exchange of information was enough to convince them otherwise. Now, both dogs stood with him silently with their backs straight and ears stiff. The plan’s success relied largely on the two canines. Their size, speed, and strength would be vital for bringing down the several combatants in their way.

A case of Twlip’s freezing concoction sat by Flint’s feet. It was empty. He had used [Shape] for his trap and carried a couple at his waist too. The budding alchemist wanted to stay and help them, but Flint sent her up to the fort with Winona. In case the plan failed, she was to collapse the bridge and close the fort’s doors. Even though the guards in Lea’s Slumber were poorly trained, he hoped they’d succeed at holding the structure and keeping the slavers out. Eventually, they’d run out of food and have no choice but to retreat.

Colonel Smith and Captain Ironheart led the caravan up the slope. Ed followed them on foot leading a large crowd of children and young women. Some of them had fruits in hand and smiled as they devoured them hungrily. It helped paint a benevolent image of the two officers. Winona had explained how the slave marks forced people to follow orders and tortured insolence with pain. None of the approaching crowd were willing participants. The rest of them appeared as miserable as the night before but better rested. Flint guessed they’d been on the road for several days.

It came as no surprise that none of the fae were in sight. The larger wagons followed at the end of the caravan and had the heaviest guard. The Vikings wore old army-issued armour, but their weapons appeared out of place. Flint spotted large two-handed swords, axes of varying sizes, and large wooden shields. The iron cap at their centres was rusted and scratched. Flint counted two Vikings by the second last wagon and eight of them around the last one.

“The arseholes must think I’m stupid,” he whispered. “Do they really think those disguises will work? I was with the Iron Army for close to thirteen years!”

Flint inhaled and exhaled deeply. His nerves felt stretched to the limit, however letting it show wouldn’t end well for them. Colonel Smith and Captain Ironheart needed to believe he’d fallen for their plot. He could see their plan. The deserters would wait until everyone was within the walls, and they knew how to control the gate before turning on him.

“Are you ready, Adam?” Flint asked and got a head shake in response. “We’re not going to survive this unharmed. They outnumber us ten to one.” Maya yapped, making Flint chuckle. “Alright. Five to one. I’m sorry, Maya. You and Bjorn are probably stronger than either of us.”

The dogs’ wagging tails stilled when they heard a surprised cry from the approaching caravan. Their ears angled to face it, and Flint rushed to the wall’s edge to get a better look. The two deserters smiled and waved at him. Meanwhile, Ed helped a little girl onto her feet while a middle-aged soldier stood over them. Flint waved back, keeping up the charade. He ran down the stairs, and his companions followed.

“I’m glad you made the right decision!” Colonel Smith exclaimed, crossing the gate’s threshold. “We were worried you wouldn’t want the Iron Army in your hair after becoming a classer.”

“I can’t turn away my old brothers in arms, can I?” Flint put on his best smile, waving at the children as they followed. He waved at a monstrous stone cauldron full of hot porridge by the gate. Dozens of orange-sized bowls sat next to it, washed and ready to go. “I took the liberty to prepare breakfast for everyone. It’s just porridge with some cinnamon and apple, but I’m sure everyone is famished after their long journey.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Flint,” Colonel Smith said, smiling. “Edward, Ironheart, why don’t you help the children get their breakfast. We’ll dine too once they’re done.”

Captain Ironheart glared at Flint but nodded and did as instructed. Ed followed him, guiding the children away from the gate and towards the cauldron. It sat on the opposite side of the gate mechanism where Adam stood.

“Is your friend alright?” Colonel Smith asked.

“He’s mute and not the best with people,” Flint answered. “The villagers aren’t too fond of him, but he’s a big guy, and I need help around the fort.”

“No wonder your company liked you. You take in the rejects, provide great hospitality, and work well.” The colonel sighed. “It’s a shame you left the army. We need more men like you. Things are getting worse out there. The Wyld’s forces aren’t just attacking outposts and towns but have started sieges on cities too. We had orders to gather refugees along the way but had to abandon a few villages due to the heavy fae presence.”

“I understand,” Flint said, watching the carts of humans rolling in. Unlike the people, the horses appeared well-fed and plump. They’d make excellent additions to the workforce after the deserters and Vikings were gone. Even though he made a show of smiling and waving at the children coming in, Flint’s attention stayed on every armed man and woman entering the gates. He counted half a dozen so far. Each cart and wagon had one driver, and then there were the eight Vikings following at the rear. They milled in slowly as the horses struggled against the steep incline.

“Do you have tents, or do you need me to erect shelters for everyone straight away?”

“We can sort that out later,” Captain Ironheart said, joining Flint and the colonel with two bowls of porridge. The superior officer accepted the breakfast and dug in hungrily. “This is great, Flint! We haven’t had a hot meal in days. We didn’t see a lot of game on our way here.”

Captain Ironheart’s change in tone made Flint’s hand itch for his crossbow. It hung from his shoulder with a stuffed quiver at his waist. Even though both men had bowls in their hands, Flint was sure they’d have no trouble cutting him down. Most weapon-focused skill stones enhanced the user’s speed. Both carried swords at their waists and shields on their back. He had never seen Captain Ironheart draw his weapon but was sure things had changed since he changed career.

“We’ve got a hill giant problem,” Flint said. “We’ve had one visit a couple of times. He threw a giant boulder at us not long ago. Fortunately, it didn’t damage the walls. I guess such a presence is enough to keep most wildlife at bay.”

“Hill giants?” Captain Ironheart’s back stiffened. He glanced at the colonel but got no response.

“We ran into a pride of Verdant Lions a few days ago,” Captain Orwell said, ignoring Ironheart. “It cost us a wagon of refuges and six men, but we were lucky enough to get away.”

“Survival is a bonus of its own.” Flint’s eyes drifted to the dogs. He had posted Bjorn by the cauldron, and much to his relief, all the children had crowded around him. They ate their porridge while stroking the big dog. Ed had taken control of serving and was now helping the women. Meanwhile, the people that had ridden in on carts didn’t move. It was for the best. There was less risk of them getting hurt if they got hurt. Flint didn’t see the slavers’ dogs either. He guessed they were hidden in the wagons.

Maya sat not far from him. Her head came up halfway up well past when she sat on her haunches now. She remained at attention, eyeing the armed men. Flint could sense her nerves through empathic sense. He tuned the deserters’ talk out while focusing on their connection and the carts coming in.

Sweat dampened Flint’s shirt under his coat, and his heart rate picked up. When the colonel’s eyes left him to lick the porridge clean, Flint slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped a vial of the chilling concoction. It hadn’t activated yet while still in the dark, but that would change soon.

When the final wagon started rolling in, he did another count. There were twelve armed men and women within the walls. Two stood on either side of him, and three nonchalantly waited around Adam. The rest stuck to the carts. Meanwhile, the children and Ed were left unguarded. Then once there were no more vehicles left to enter the grounds, Flint pulled Twylip’s creation out of his pocket and threw it at the Colonel. The man drew his sword in a flash and slashed at the container breaking it. The mixture splashed his face, hands, and arms, making him scream.

It was the signal Maya and Adam were waiting for. Maya rushed towards the men sitting atop the wagons while Adam trigged the hidden mechanism by the door crank. The wooden platform erected around the entrance collapsed, and the giant stone slab it held fell. Flint didn’t see how many men it landed on, but blood splattered across the stone floor with a disgusting crunch and squelched. Cries sounded outside the walls as the slab cracked, spilling the hidden containers of Twylip’s freezing concoction.

The children screamed and tried to run, but Bjorn barked and got in their way. Flint had given him the task of guarding any non-combatants on foot, and the bear of a dog understood his responsibilities. The children and Ed retreated into the corner between the wall and the cliff, crying and screaming. Flint didn’t like scaring children, but it was necessary to keep them safe and out of the way.

Captain Ironheart dropped his porridge bowl and fumbled for his sword. Flint barrelled forwards, but his opponent swivelled out of the way. “A sucker punch isn’t going to work a second time, you filthy Wyldblood,” he growled. “I’m faster and stronger than you in a fight.”

“You’re a cocky arsehole, though,” Flint replied, putting some distance between him and Captain Ironheart. By the time the sword was out, Flint had already cranked his crossbow. He caught a glimpse of Colonel Orwell on the crying and wiping at his face desperately. The skin had darkened and was peeling off. Blood dripped from cracks between them. “You shouldn’t have come here, Captain. There’s nothing keeping me from killing you now.”

Ironheart charged just as he loaded the first barrel. Flint tried channelling Focused Shot to slow his Perception of time, but it was too late for that. The deserter slashed wildly, forcing him to dive to the side. Flint fired as soon as he landed, but Ironheart covered his vitals with his left arm. The bolt bounced off man’s gauntlet, and he ran at Flint once again.

Rolling out of the attack’s path kept Flint from reloading his crossbow. However, he managed to stick his foot out and hook Ironheart’s ankle. The captain stumbled forward several steps before catching himself on the cliff wall. Flint scrambled onto his feet and ran towards Bjorn. As predicted, Ironheart was much faster than him. He caught up with Flint without issue, forcing him to change direction. The sudden change made his pursuer stumble, and Flint got the opportunity to load the crossbow’s second barrel finally. Instead of trying to escape Captain Ironheart’s following charge, he fell into a crouch and fired. The bolt bit into an unprotected thigh, inciting a violent scream.

Flint would’ve preferred to take most of them prisoner, but Captain Ironheart foolishly signed his death sentence by ripping the bolt out of his leg. Blood seeped through his trousers and onto the floor straight away. He realised his mistake too late and looked at Flint with widened, panic-filled eyes. Captain Ironheart dropped his sword and desperately clutched the wound. There were several threats still left within the wall, so Flint charged into his opponent and kneed Ironheart in the face before kicking his sword away. Then he moved on, leaving the spoilt lordling to bleed to death.