It’s not enough. Our weapons are breaking and far fewer of the tribe are left than the colony, despite the ferocity and valiance with which they fight. Broken spears lay next to bodies as others desperately try to reach for a proper weapon. Right in front of me a hunter stoops to retrieve a colony sword destined to never rise again.
Astera and Horas have made their way through as well now, leaving a much clearer trail than I had, and together we slash from the perimeter. With Horas in our centre, and myself and Astera by his sides, we manage to clear a path back towards the last line, where a shockingly reduced number of survivors still hold the colony back from the children.
All around us tribesman fall. Warriors from both sides cling to our ankles as we wade through the bodies, some pleading for help, others trying to drag us down with them.
Orrian continues across the carnage, facing the never-ending onslaught of challengers as they approach him. There’s movement from behind, even in the low light I can see the glint in the shadow’s eyes as he charges Orrian’s exposed back. I don’t remember moving but the next thing I know I’m weaving back through the pandemonium.
Something trips me, an arm, a head, it doesn’t matter. I roll to one side before throwing myself forwards onto my hands, avoiding the fatal blows as I splutter sand. I’m unbalanced but I make a beeline straight for Orrian’s assassin.
I leap forwards, thrusting as I dive. Fortunately, my blade disappears through a gap in the plating, vanishing so far into the soldier’s side that my knuckles brush his skin. I grunt as I heave the sword upwards, rising onto my knees for support.
The soldier goes limp, fresh dark liquid wets my grip. My breath catches in my throat, the dark closing in around me as I stare at the vague outline of my hands. For a passing second, they are illuminated, painted with my deed. The man shudders at my feet with the sword still embedded in his side. He is no longer real, separated from me by a thick haze, my senses dull as I move into another reality. Cries and impacts are muted, these crimson digits before me surely cannot be my own, I certainly can’t seem to feel them. I just killed a man, it finally dawns on me where I am, surrounded by death and pain. It feels as if everything has suddenly been brought into reality as the warm liquid drips from my fingertips. My blood rushes through my ears, and I stumble as a dark figure brushes past me. The nightmarish hands before me are still facing upwards at the stars, once again they briefly illuminate. Something shifts inside me in recognition that this is wrong, but it can’t quite tell me what.
Different screams penetrate the bloodshed. They cut deep to the bone, filling my veins with ice and bringing me back to reality. As I turn another volley of arrows dart across the night sky, this time flaming, covering the entire beach and thudding into distant wood.
The rafts. The archers are targeting the children. The rafts have been separated into two groups. The first, already someway out into the bay, are led by Jaq and Ryfon. The second is being commanded by the Sage and Tharrin. A few of the stronger archers manage to land arrows into the outer rafts but the majority fall harmlessly into the ocean. It is the latter who has most of the archers’ attention directed towards them.
I am too far away, helpless to do anything but watch as the next volley strikes, finding the young and the elderly alike. The raft is too wet to set alight, but several lit cloths are forced to jump into the depths. Some part of me recognises that a battle continues around me, that part shouts from a long way away. The archers are now ignoring the first group entirely as Jaq and Ryfon paddle furiously to get out of range.
Ryfon ushers the rafts away, encouraging the children to join in paddling against the tide, meanwhile Tharrin and Sage Malach abandon theirs. Jaq is standing and gesturing wildly to the other group, his message gets through as moments later Tharrin hoists the board on his shoulders. The small heads polluting the water disappear from sight as they take shelter beneath it.
CRASH! Something cold and solid smashes into my temple knocking me sideways. My vision blurs, darkness intruding from the edges. In a similar and yet so different way to Jaq and Tharrin, I drift off into inky depths.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Get rid of the others, they’ll just slow us down,” a distant voice commands.
“Yes sir,” a different voice obeys.
I strain to force my eyelids open, grey shapes blur in the darkness through the narrow slit. The largest of them stops above another, this one horizontal at its feet.
“Please, no,” a husky voice pleads.
A brighter silver connects the two monochromatic figures with a wet slide before withdrawing again. The husky voice grunts before saying no more.
As blackness creeps back into my vision, rapidly invading from the peripherals, the figure straightens before shrinking towards other laying blurs.
I sink back into unconsciousness.
My head swings and connects with something solid, regular sides imprinting themselves against my cheek. At the same time a droplet collides with my forehead, proceeding to run down my brow. I raise my head as the world shifts into focus.
It’s still night time so I can’t have been out for too long, the shadows are thicker now, penetrated by the blaze of many torches and lanterns.
I am sitting on a large wooden floor which bumps and tilts randomly beneath me. Each corner of the board ends in a grid, rising a few feet above my head
