Red looked pale, and he saluted Daniel upon his arrival.
“Sir,” the man said. “I…forgive me. I don’t know how to say it. Tower Red is gone.”
“Gone?” Daniel asked, feeling ice thickening around his spine.
“The goat-men,” he said. “They rushed us from the Wedge, thousands of them. I managed to escape during the attack. I was ordered to, I swear. I ain’t no coward. But they smashed down the doors of the tower like they were nothing, and against that many, we couldn’t…we…”
Daniel grabbed his shoulders and shook him to force him to calm.
“Deep breaths, soldier,” he said. “Tell me again, how many?”
“At least two thousand,” the man said. “Please, we have to get help. We have to go back there. They might still…”
From beyond the river came a single, high-pitched shriek. Following it were thousands more, a sound so painful that Daniel clutched his hands to his head, his fingers jammed into his ears. He knew that sound, though never in such terrifying volume.
“To your places!” he screamed, hoping they heard his voice above the noise. “Man the walls, and form ranks along the river!”
He drew his own sword and rushed to the nearest staircase leading up to the wall. Before he even reached the top he saw the swarm growing on the opposite side of the river. Bird-men, a veritable legion, flapping their wings and shrieking like the wild things they were. Their feet were long, their claws sharp, and the river was a paltry defense against them.
“Everyone along the river,” he shouted, realizing the bird-men intended no delay, no siege to prevent flight. The water roiled as the creatures dove into it, using their wide, flightless wings to push them forward. When he was back on solid ground, Daniel grabbed the nearest man and yanked him close.
“Get to the stable,” he shouted into the man’s face, determined to be heard over the chaos.
“Sir?” he asked. His eyes were wide, but he appeared to be in control of himself.
“Take the fastest horse and ride to the Yellow Rose! They have to know. This isn’t just a single pack.”
“Then what do I tell him it is?”
Daniel glanced at the river, where the first of the bird-men were being hacked to death by his soldiers as they attempted to scramble out of the water.
“Tell them it’s an army,” he said. “The whole damn Vile Wedge has come for blood. Now go!”
He shoved the man back, then rushed to the river. They had just enough men to form a single line along the shore. With the water slowing the beasts, the advantage was theirs, at least for a short while. Daniel thrust his sword, letting a bird-man impale itself on the blade while its enormous beak snapped futilely at his neck. He twisted the handle before kicking the creature off, then he swung again and again, batting at a second bird-man that flapped free of the river with an awkward gait. His sword easily crushed its thin bones.
All around him men screamed as beaks snapped down on their arms and long raptor claws raked against their exposed flesh.
“Fall back!” he screamed. Bodies of the dead floated all throughout the river, obstacles against the remaining forces, but too many bird-men were making it clear of the water. “Fall back to the tower!”
Daniel led the way, his old legs pumping as hard as they could. Others passed him by, younger and faster than he. From behind he heard screams, wet snapping sounds, and overwhelming it all was that continuous, mind- numbing shriek. Into the tower he ran. Several soldiers stood at the door, watching. The moment the last man entered they slammed it shut, flinging the heavy bolts in place. Immediately the door shook as bodies smashed into the other side. Digging soon followed, sharp claws scratching grooves into the thick wood.
“Find anything you can to block the door with,” Daniel ordered before climbing the stairs. His bones ached, but he ignored the pain easily enough, for even on good days his body gave him trouble. To the very top of the tower he climbed, opening a hatch in the ceiling. He grabbed a wrapped package from his closet, then up he went, climbing onto the small flat space. Other than a few stacked stones there was nothing to keep him from falling, and on his knees he overlooked the surrounding area. The full moon kept the land lit, and he directed his gaze to the river.
The bird-men continued swimming across. At least three thousand, he guessed, as the creatures swarmed throughout the inner compound, looking like a horde of vermin from that height. A few failed to climb the sides of the stone, the rest taking turns scratching at the door. Daniel shook his head, knowing it would not take long before the door fell.
Goat-men. Bird-men. Daniel’s gut told him the wolf-men were a part of it as well. A coordinated attack. He shivered to think of who could ally the beasts together. It was their constant squabbling that had kept their numbers in check for all these years, their inherent hatred of each other that had protected the people on the other side of the river from any real danger. But somehow that was gone.
“Ashhur help us all,” he said.
He unwrapped the package. The gold of the scepter shone in the moonlight. Daniel lifted it above him and spoke the command word. The blue pillar shot into the sky, the beacon visible for miles upon miles. He stared at it, daring to have hope. Twice more he activated it, and each time he noticed the bird-men below staring up as if mesmerized. He wondered what the creatures’ pathetic brains thought of the light. Perhaps they knew what it meant. After all, they’d coordinated an assault on multiple towers. Despite his years, not to mention his experience, he still hadn’t given enough credit to the beasts.
“Where are you?” Daniel muttered, staring at the sky. He’d never called for the angels before, but this seemed as perfect a time as any. At least he might inform them of the attack, ensuring that the riders he sent to Lord Hemman didn’t have their warnings go unheeded. The minutes passed, interminable due to the constant squawking and screeching.
At last he saw white wings. They were almost above him by the time he spotted them, for they came from the east. Daniel raised his arms, waving, but something was wrong. The wings were even larger than he expected, and as the creature dipped, he realized it wasn’t an angel at all, but a winged horse. Two people rode atop it, their bodies just faint silhouettes. Slowly he lowered his hands, and he felt his innards tighten. Silent, he watched as the horse circled twice, then continued west.
From the horse shot a blinding object. An arrow, Daniel realized, as it smashed into one of the bird-men. It was only one, and then they were gone, flying toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. The acknowledgement made Daniel feel better, but only by a miniscule amount. At least someone else, one of the elven Ekreissar, apparently, would help spread the tale. Perhaps an army might be raised in time. Perhaps thousands of lives might be spared.
From below he heard the shattering of wood, and he glanced down to see the tower doors had broken. His men fought bravely, using the cramped space of the doorway to their advantage, but defeat was inevitable. He had barely fifty men left. Against three thousand, what could they do?
One last time he used the scepter, calling Ashhur’s name so the light would pierce the night. As it faded, and the starlight replaced it, he let out a sigh. Wherever the angels were, it wasn’t where they were needed. From his limp hand he let the scepter drop. Down the side of the tower it fell, smashing as it hit ground. A puff of blue smoke rose from the pieces, drifting away to nothingness as the bird-men swarmed through the gateway, killing their way ever higher.
At last he heard movement from the hatch, which he’d left open. Drawing his sword, he turned. A single creature came climbing upward, its wings making it difficult for the thing to get a grip on the rungs. Daniel shoved his sword down its throat, then kicked in its beak. It fell, the noise alerting the rest to his presence. The monsters scrambled upward, biting at his thrusts, using their impressive strength to hurl themselves at the hatch, ignoring the ladder altogether. Daniel laughed as he fought, thinking he might be able to kill them off one at a time, brawling as the hours passed and he whittled the thousands down at the ridiculously slow pace.
That thought didn’t last long. One of the bird-men’s beaks locked tight when he stabbed it straight through its throat and into the back of the brain. It fell, hurdling backward so violently that it yanked the sword from Daniel’s hand. Weaponless, he backed toward the edge of the tower, preparing himself. He would not be their food. A single step and off he’d go, falling, the ground to be his killer instead of the freakish leftovers of a long-forgotten war.
