there would be no one spared, no pity, and no remorse.
Gideon hadn't been as fast as he had hoped. He'd not been close to the road leading back into Wayland, opting for a vantage point on the Isthmus where he could better see what was in the bay. That advantage had cost him his ability to get ahead of the surging front of Mordred's forces.
Still, under the cover of the forest, Gideon had managed to pass the slower progress of the giant Anakims as they moved a great swathe of trees from the path of the army following behind them. But cavalry had ridden ahead of everyone else and were already plundering the first village in their path when Gideon arrived on horseback.
Many bodies of the villagers lay strewn in the road among the two dozen or so common structures, some of which had been set ablaze already. The hybrid soldiers were busy killing everything that moved. Mordred would have no use for prisoners, only the cattle and horses that might be added to his army's stores.
As Gideon breached the tree line, he nocked and released arrows in rapid succession until his quiver was spent. Each broad-head shaft found its mark true, leaving more than a dozen ponies running wild without their riders. Still wearing most of his stolen Wayland armor, Gideon drew quick attention to himself among the villagers running terrified around him.
Two riders approached from among several huts already burning. Both of them archers, they drew and released arrows at Gideon. He backhanded the first away and caught the second in the same hand. He felt alive again, renewed, forgiven.
Gideon knocked the arrow and returned it to the rider who had shot it at him. He drew his sword as the second rider drove his horse hard toward him. Gideon waited for the man to swing, fell backward in his saddle to dodge the broadsword, then followed through by rolling backward off the hind quarters of his horse, coming to stand below the other rider. Before the hybrid soldier realized where he was, Gideon struck him in stomach from below. The rider sagged in his saddle, trying to fall, but his boot remained lodged as his terrified horse dragged him away from the village.
Only a few riders remained. Most of them had realized by now that their fellows were dropping like flies. They ignored the villagers and came at Gideon head on. He ran on foot to meet them. Each of the three raised their swords, preparing to strike him down.
Gideon raised his own blade over his head and sent it spinning toward the rider on his left. The sword hit the hybrid square in the chest, knocking him from his mount. Gideon dodged to his left side, as the others closed in, retrieving the soldier's sword as it tumbled to the ground from his hands. He whipped around and slung that sword at the second rider, catching the hybrid in the side.
Gideon retrieved his own sword from the chest of the first as the third rider came at him. However the soldier had second thoughts after seeing how his fellows had faired. He pulled up short, leered at Gideon and then rode hard back down the road toward Mordred's advancing army. They wouldn't be far behind now.
As he surveyed the damage, Gideon realized he'd come too late to save most of the villagers. Only a few could be found weeping among their fallen loved ones. He procured a fresh horse and heaved himself into the saddle. 'Mordred's army is on its way!' he called to anyone left who might listen. 'In moments this place will be reduced to rubble! You must get away!'
Gideon turned his horse to the dirt road leading back into Wayland. With a kick of his heels to the animal's sides, they broke into a gallop. At least, he might have a chance to warn the other villages which still stood between Mordred's army and Wayland's king.
DEADLY RAIN
Ethan had helped some of the priests to secure their ailing High Priest in a secluded chamber within the Wayland Temple. The man appeared to be nearly a hundred years old, barely skin and bones left to him. He was surprised someone had not formally replaced him, but apparently it was not the way things were done. For all his years, Isaiah still remained vital, and Ethan hoped the man would stand as his own High Priest for years to come.
He and Seth and the other Nodian Order priests had spent several hours drilling the men of Wayland's Temple. Much improvement had been made despite their initial resistance to being told what to do by foreigners. They simply had no time left to prepare.
Levi had taken it upon himself to organize what weapons he could from their armory, passing Ethan once again with a trolley full of swords, crossbows, and gunpowder kegs. He paused long enough to giggle, saying, 'Who would have thought they would have this stuff here?' He went on his way muttering about each grain of the stuff being worth far more than gold for whatever he had in store. Ethan couldn't be sure since The Order here had no cannon to speak of. Still, Bonifast was notorious for his ingenuity if nothing else.
Ethan found Isaiah and Seth with Emory in one of the main halls of the Temple. They were arguing amongst one another, when Ethan joined them.
'Despite my agreeing with you completely, we really have no choice in the matter,' Emory said to an exasperated Isaiah. 'We are bound to do the King's will and he's made it clear.'
'What's going on?' Ethan asked.
'The King has requested-' Seth began.
'Demanded is more like it,' Isaiah cut in.
'-that his royal guard be assembled,' Seth said.
'What's so bad about that?'
Isaiah barely controlled his fury. 'The problem is that he's demanding a bodyguard of one hundred of The Order's finest warriors.' He looked at Emory, disgusted. 'Apparently they are under contract, with His Majesty, to provide exactly that.'
'It's been that way since before I even joined The Order, Master Isaiah,' Emory explained. 'There's nothing I can do about it.'
'But that's nearly a third of the warrior-priests available here,' Ethan said.
'Yes, and they'll all be needed desperately on the frontlines when Mordred attacks,' Isaiah said hotly.
Emory shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do, truly.'
An hour later, Ethan watched with the others as one hundred of the Wayland Order's priests marched in their priestly robes, outfitted with swords and bows, toward King Stephen's palace several miles away.
'It's a mistake, what the King is doing,' Seth said.
'It may be one of his last,' Isaiah added.
Ethan simply watched them go. He thought, probably, that one hundred men, even priests of Shaddai, would make very little difference, when considered against the size of Mordred's forces. He wondered very much if these Wayland priests would fare well at all against the hybrid soldiers. The giant Anakims were an altogether bigger problem, to say the least. One strike from their great arms would dash half a dozen men to the ground.
As he stood there wondering how they might possibly put up a fight against Mordred's army, an odd shadow and then another, passed over them. Ethan turned to find something he had never seen before-never even fathomed. A Man-o-war sailing ship drifted over the Temple suspended in the air by what appeared to be great tents of sail cloth. It remained as silent as a cloud except for the occasional groaning of the wood.
Ethan stood there on the Temple balcony stunned by this odd bird, until Isaiah threw him to the ground. He noticed Seth go down as well, then he heard the great explosion nearby. A section of the roof, higher up, mushroomed out in a gout of flame heaving ceiling tiles, wood, and concrete over them in a great wave which tumbled down, landing in the courtyard below.
More explosions followed in rapid succession, deafening them as debris rained down upon them from every direction. Ethan scrambled to his feet, realizing they must flee.
'Grenades!' Seth shouted as he helped Isaiah to his feet again.
Man-o-wars filled the sky over Evelah in mere moments while their crews dropped round grenades down upon the city. The fuses streaked white smoke behind them, trailing down, down until they tumbled onto roofs and
