[Chapter 18 - Revelation]

  His teeth were bared, blades of bone lining the open maw which dove outstretched for my throat.

  I had no time to react, no time to raise the shield which bore heavy upon my arm nor could I shift aside to avoid it.

  All I could do in that split second was watch as he drew closer.

  THWUNK!

  And then he was gone.

  One moment he was before me, the next he had disappeared.

  I looked to my left to see his body thrown back, the shaft of a ballista bolt protruding out from the side of his head.

  Bj?rn stood opposite with a small smile gracing his normally expressionless face.

  He reached back for another, and I conveyed my gratitude through a nod.

  Sometimes that alone expressed more than words ever could.

  I shifted my gaze back to survey the carnage unfolding ahead of me.

  In front of the wagons was the rough shape of a shield wall, the legionaries forming half rings with their shields as they pushed back against the cavalry which drove itself into them.

  Their rows now arced out to encircle the snarling wolves, pila jabbing at any that came near.

  Those that managed to pass were driven away by a flurry of gladii and spiked umbos, the metal gouging flesh and fur alike.

  But even this had not been enough.

  In some areas the formations had collapsed, and in the ensuing carnage all that could be heard was the cacophony of legionary and goblin screams.

  It intermingled itself amongst the clashing of steel and the gnashing of teeth, the wolves tearing into Atreians who hacked desperately at their riders in turn.

  It was a brutal scene, a butchery from which I tore my eyes away.

  My focus however was centered elsewhere, and my gaze darted around in a desperate attempt to find the twins amidst the view of blood and steel dominating the hillscape.

  They had been in the third column, marching alongside the carriage train in the section opposite from myself and Felix, which meant that they would have avoided the initial cavalry charge, the one we had taken the brunt of.

  But that also meant that they would now be in the thick of the fighting, having run forwards to put themselves between the wolf riders and the cargo.

  So where… were they?

  I glanced at unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face, praying with each one that I would find them amongst those that were still alive, my eyes flitting across from soldier to soldier until...

  There!

  I could just about make out the face of Ante, his mouth twisted into a desperate yell between the metal cheek plates of his helmet, his pilum thrust forwards at the oncoming wolf that lunged towards him.

  Valen was with him, throwing himself out in front so that his shield bore the impact.

  Along with the other members of the shield wall who still remained standing, they had held back the riders from the wagon that was just a few metres behind.

  Felix was running towards them, joined by several others who scrambled over the bodies littering the ground as they ran to assist.

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  Roxas on the other hand was faring far worse.

  Her side had fallen, the formation disintegrating into a group of stragglers who fended off the wolves as best they could.

  One by one they were picked off, another life lost to the frenzy of teeth and claw which ripped them apart.

  Yet they still clustered together, the few that still had shields standing to the front while the others fought back with pilum and gladii.

  Roxas had her spatha out in front, a sword which blurred as it was cast down in relentless arcs at the wolves which made their wear near.

  But the panic across her face was clear even from this distance.

  And so it was towards them that I ran.

  ***

  It took almost an hour before the battle was finally over.

  I wiped the blood from my blade, cleaning off the black and red liquid covering it before sheathing the sword back into its scabbard.

  In the distance I could see the few wolf riders who had survived, fleeing towards the hills with a panicked screech as they fled into the distance.

  Those that had not escaped in time were cut down by the pursuing legionaries, whilst the goblins who did not resist were otherwise bound and taken as prisoners.

  Yet no cheer sounded from the soldiers despite the victory they had just gained.

  I could see why as I collapsed onto the grass of the slope, watching the view that stretched out before me with an exhausted but solemn silence.

  The bodies of the wolves were many, as were the goblins that lay dead or dying.

  The corpses of those in blue however were numerously more.

  Most were recruits, a fact made clear by the simplicity of their armour.

  The emblems denoting the trained soldiers however frequented many of the fallen that lay half-buried in the dirt.

  The cargo train itself stood for the most part intact, save for the occasional wagon that had been rendered into little more than splintered planks and bent nails.

  That had owed itself to the wolves who had broken through, alongside the bodies of the horses whose sides bore vicious bite marks of red.

  Still the majority of the wagons were standing, and the ore that had scattered out of the ones that had been destroyed were now slowly being hauled onto the ones that remained.

  The twins fell to the grass beside me with an obvious exhaustion, their metal armour clattering upon impact with the dirt.

  They had wiped some of the blood off their faces, and held their helmets loose in their hand while they trudged their way up the hill slope to where I was.

  And much like myself they said nothing, the sounds of panting was all that could be heard.

  It was clear what was on their mind, it had been their first battle after all.

  But it would not be their last.

  I leant my head back against the dirt, my tiredness rushing over me all at once.

  The gentle swaying of the grass felt nice against my skin, and I savoured the small reprieve I had been granted; a slight rest I could afford, having survived that long ordeal.

  The warmth of the setting sun was comforting, as was the familiar smell of the evening air which graced my nose once again, and for a moment I closed my eyes as I took it all in, taking a break from the world of blood and carnage whose aftermath surrounded me.

  But soon it was interrupted, pierced by a desperate shout which broke the evening quiet.

  “SILVERSONG!”

  My eyes snapped open and I pushed myself up to see the source of the voice which I recognised.

  Among the bodies of the fallen stood Felix, his foot set on the lifeless husk of a slain wolf.

  And in his hands held out a sword, one he had wrenched from its goblin rider.

  The blade gleamed a beautiful silver, a material that was completely at odds with its construction.

  Instead it corresponded more with the crude smithing of the goblins rather than any refined design that its metal suggested, the blade angling itself back with a jagged hook near its end much like the serrated swords of the riders who had drawn them against us.

  The rage this wrought was clear, a fury lacing every word as Felix thundered past me towards the officers standing at the hill’s summit.

  “How the fuck,” he growled, “did goblins get silversong weapons?”

  ***

  The mood was heavy when we returned to Fort Greywatch.

  As if the number of dead alone was not enough, the finding of the silversong blade had depressed our morale.

  I had asked Valen as to why that was so, and he shot me a strange look before he answered.

  “Silversong,” he said, “is prized by all in Arithea. It is a hardy metal, and strong. Yet paradoxically flexible hence its name. It’s extremely difficult to work with as a result, and only dwarven blacksmiths who pride themselves in understanding it are skilled enough to craft weapons and armour from silversong. That was why Atreia came to Northgaard in the first place. For both access to the silversong beyond the Wall, but also for the craftsmen residing in Northgaard.”

  He paused for a moment, his voice quiet but also filled with a solemnity that was not quite in character for him.

  “Goblins have no means of tempering the metal. Nor do they understand its craft. The fact that they have weapons that were made for their use, rather than merely tools they had taken from others, is a dire sign indeed.”

  The next words he chose carefully, his speech softening further as if lost in the very own thoughts he was putting into speech.

  “Dwarves would not forge it for them. The two bear a grudge that no gifts could ever hope to amend. Coupled with the fact that the goblins passed through the perimeter to raid our convoy, the cargo and location of which they had already known…”

  His voice trailed off, his eyes widening in realisation before he turned to look me in the eyes.

  Certainty filled his next words, a fear emerging as he grasped the gravity of what he was about to say.

  “The sword was given to them. Someone is helping the goblins of the north.”