Part 2
Here comes
Simon stomped up the road to Bree, had his shield on and was part of a twenty man squad. Through unspoken agreement he had been assigned to Lieutenant Green’s squad and Green marched at the head of the group. As one of the older recruits Simon had been switched out for one of Greens newer men so that the youngsters would have someone with a bit more training looking after them. They marched north, not running as that would leave them exhausted, but not a single one of them could forget the fact that the screams that they were listening to were very possibly the screams of their families, so they marched with a determination that was rarely seen. Whoever was causing their people pain would pay the ultimate price. Sensing the mood Green had quickened the march to the speedy march of the Arnorian rangers, 3 steps running, five steps walking. Vast distances could be covered and fortunately these men were already trained for this.
Simon saw his own fear reflected on the faces around him. Everyone was afraid and they were all looking at him. Their sergeants hadn’t said anything and he was the veteran. Even though he had never seen combat either. They were afraid and they looked at him, just looked, with trust and hope. Get us through this, they said, we don’t want to die. He wanted to scream at them that he didn’t want to die either. He wanted nothing more to bolt off, in the general direction of ‘anywhere but here’ throw away his sword, throw away his armour and never think of army life again. He hated them for their trust, even though he didn’t deserve it, and then he hated himself for that feeling.
He had been please to be assigned to Green’s unit, he felt a kinship with him that he didn’t feel towards anyone else. He had decided that he despised officers. But Green was alright. He’d taken Simon aside when he had arrived.
“Congratulations Corporal,” Green had said,
“Corporal sir, I’m a private and proud of it.”
Green had smiled coldly
“I need men to keep these lads together. You are new but they are newer. You’ve got the discipline but this lot will fall apart like leaves on the wind. Sergeants keep the discipline but it’s the corporals that keep the files moving and together. It’s you that the men will look to for leadership.”
Simon was intelligent to realise that he was being flattered and played.
“How do I do that sir?”
“Think of what you would need in their place, and be whatever that is.”
Well now Simon was afraid and wanted to hide. What did he need. He needed confidence. He needed someone tell him that it was all going to be alright. He sighed. Damn Green, he was just like the rest of them. Getting him to do all their dirty work. This time, instead of getting angry, he smiled. He liked that officer. He spent a few minutes considering his next actions and then he grinned.
“hey,” he said to the kid next to him, “bet you five copper that I kill more of the bad guys than you,”
“what?” The boy, was just that. A boy of maybe fourteen and his helmet looked silly on his head. He was pale and visibly shaking.
“Well,” said Simon in a conspiratorial whisper that the entire unit could hear.
“Bree women wouldn’t call out just for a storm would they,” army scuttlebutt said that the strange light was just a freak storm
“umm,”
“Would they?” Simon asked the guy on the other side, an older guy that had had to be drafted into the army.
“I suppose not,” said the soldier.
“So it follows that there must be bad guys, right.”
“Right,” said the boy sounding confident of the reasoning.
“So, I reckon I can kill more than you and I’ve got these five copper in my pocket burning a hole and I thought to myself that I could make some money here. I looked around and I thought to myself that you look like a fearsome fighter, and it’s never been in me to challenge anyone but the best, so I thought I’d bet you my copper that I’d beat you.”
The boy looked hopeful for a moment before his face fell, “but I don’t have any money,”
Damnit, Simon thought it was all going well, the unit was listening and they were interested. Then a thought occurred.
“Alright, who’s got money?” the unit clustered around a bit conferring. Simon waited until he got a reliable total then called out
“Sir?”
“Yes corporal?”
“Whose is that unit behind us sir?”
“That is, I believe, Lieutenant Applefields unit.”
“Would you convey a message for us sir?”
“What’s the message corporal,”
“Can you tell that unit sir, that we have,” he paused and pretended to count “Three silver and 4 copper between us, and that we reckon that we can kill more bad guys than they can. Can you wrap that up in officer speak and pass that on sir.”
After Green had moved off to the rear, the boy tugged Simons sleeve, how do we know how many we’ve killed?”
Simon thought for a moment,
“Well we’ll count,”
There was a pause,
“Corporal, how will we know how many Appleford’s men have killed?”
“Well they’ll count to.”
“But Corporal, how will we know they’re not cheating?”
Simon made his face look horrified
“Are you suggesting that Lieutenant Applefield’s men might be dishonourable?”
The boy went pale
“No sir,”
“Don’t call me sir, son. I’m not an officer, I work for my living.” He got the laugh that he wanted from the men. There was nothing to this being a corporal lark.
Green came back and it was agreed that the two units would bet each other dinner at the Princing pony for the winning unit and Officer. Simon smiled at that as obviously the officers approved of his idea. He walked a bit taller and he didn’t notice that the other men in the unit followed his example.
It took them about an hour to get to Bree and it was obviously a mess, there were fires, the screaming was louder and it sent a shiver down Simons spine. He straightened his shield and drew his sword. While waiting for his orders.
Green disappeared off down the line and the lads started getting nervous again. They started looking at each other and shifting their weight.
“Right boys,” Simon was surprised to hear himself speak, “Stay together, watch out for your mates. If someone jumps at you, then he probably means to kill you, you make sure you kill that bastard before he does for you instead. You’re in the army now, and your job is to kill anyone that messes with ours, someone’s doing that so we have to start messing back. Remember, shield first then stick it into ‘em.”
He didn’t realise that he was parroting his own drill sergeant.
Green came back and told the unit that they were to make for the town hall and erect a cordon round it ready for the other reinforcements to arrive before they started to clear everything out. Simon liked it, Simple and direct. Hard and fast in, then form the wall, just what he was trained for. He forgot that he was cold and moved his arms to loosen them a bit after the march. They’d left their kit back at camp so they didn’t have any extra weight. He was no longer tired, he was no longer afraid and he realised that he was enjoying himself. He was fighting for his home against unknown attackers. This was the kind of thing stories were made out of. He had his command, despite everything and now they were going to do it. The order was given and he jogged forward with the unit, pushing his way to the front. He was laughing.
They jogged up the road and he was astonished to find Lieutenant Green beside him holding a ridiculously thin sabre. He didn’t have time to comment as they reached the bree gate. Simon wasn’t surprised to find that the gate was open. He ran through and up the street. He ignored the side streets, the people coming up behind him would take care of that.
Later on he would remember the first enemy the most. He would also remember the two things saved his life the first was instinct as he raised his shield in time to block a thrown lump of metal that slammed into the shield with astonishing force. The second was Lieutenant Green who stepped up and stabbed his attacker through the chest. Days later Simon would wake up having had the nightmare that Green wasn’t quick enough or he hadn’t raised his shield in time and that the clawing grey monster had killed him.
He stepped on. There were other men on either side now pushing Green back. He wasn’t the only man that like Lieutenant Green. He saw the next enemy coming, he bent his knees so that the shield was at an angle, the attack was deflected and he stabbed forward feeling his sword enter the things belly, the second one jumped on his shield and tryed to pull the shield down so it could claw his eyes out. He brought his own sword down hard on it’s head and he was covered in goo.
The young lad to his right went to far, in his excitement and Simon cursed as he watched him get overwhelmed by a group of three and felt the grim satisfaction as he saw others further down the line demolish the small group.
“Stay together, hold the line,” This was infantryman’s work now. There were enemies in front of him, comrades beside and behind him. He stepped on in good order. The monsters were coming thick and fast now bouncing off the shields and falling to the stabbing swords of the Arnorian infantry. The road opened out into the square. The town hall was in front of him the entry roads were there, there were monsters in the square and normal people all over. Some dead, some dieing, some already being torn apart. He didn’t care. He had met his enemies and killed them, now he would meet more and they would be no match for him.
“Right lads,” he heard himself say, “time to secure that hall. Follow me, stay together and watch each others backs.” He adjusted his grip on his sword and screamed.
The men surged forward with him. The monsters had time to look up before the organised counter attack smashed over them. The unit reached the doors of the hall and turned to face the enemy as more soldiers met them, lengthening and thickening the shield wall. Over his shoulder as he faced outwards he heard Lieutenant Green arguing with someone in the hall about the fact that this was the army and that they were actually here to help. He looked around. There were still monsters in the square and it struck him that if the square was clear he could then barricade the streets that lead to the town hall that could be pushed into place, archers could be seated on the roof-tops to shoot down monsters and cover civilians that were getting through. The plan took shape.
“Lieutenant Green?” he shouted
“Corporal?” shouted Green seeming exasperated
“Permission to secure the square sir?”
“Granted, after you open me this door.” He nodded at me but the threat in his voice seemed to agitate the person he was arguing with
Simon laughed, he was enjoying himself,
“Any archers through yet?” a few men answered yes,
“Well shoot the bastards then,” he grabbed four men from the unit and picked a group of three nearby monsters feasting on what looked like a body of a woman. He charged again. They were so intent on their meal that they didn’t see them coming. Simon ran past the first and plunged his sword into the second monsters back where it pushed through the chest in a bloody spray. The sword twisted as it went in and he heard one of his companions kill the first beast. The third jumped at him and he hit it in the face with his shield making it stagger back. He advanced on it with righteous fury in his eyes.
It was three hours since the beginning of the event.
Corporal Gehnt of the guard pulled his sword from the body of one of the mutants and wiped it on the cloth of one of the nearby bodies. He found that he was next to a wall of a house that didn’t look like it was about to fall down and spill on to the street, so he thought that he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he just leant against it and rested his head. It would only be a moment. He had been fighting now for a little over six hours straight and had been awake, all told for a full twenty eight hours. It had seemed like such a good time. He would get up, put his posh armour on and go and see the coronation. He would cheer with his friends and comrades before going home, eating a quick bite of food before putting on his proper armour, his workmans armour that had lasted him for years and would hopefully last him for years yet. Then he would go to his post and spend the night on duty so that some of the men with families could celebrate with their families.
It had started off easy enough. He had done a quick tour of his district, specifically the areas between walls seven and four before returning to the guard house to have a quick bite to eat and some tea, before starting on the paperwork. There was always too much paperwork, made even worse by the fact that his sergeant had only learned to read and write recently and still had difficulty writing or reading without sounding out the words. He was most of the way through and was beginning to think fondly of having a nice hot bath. Something proper to eat and then a long stay in his own bed, in the rooms that he could afford above a cloth merchant.
Then the bell had started to ring. He hadn’t believed it at first, his paperwork numbed brain causing him to doubt his own sanity. But the ringing hadn’t gone away and he had leapt up, strapping his sword belt back on before running into the courtyard. He had listened to the orders without comment. Go into the streets, check the civilians, prevent looting kill or drive off mutants. Do the job.
It hadn’t sounded difficult. He’d been there when they had to prevent the riot caused by the news that Rohan was invading Gondor, he’d been there to prevent the lynching when House Marchant had lost one of it’s guards to a hanging. You broke up the groups, sent the civilians home and got on with the next problem.
On his way down to his level, he’d seen a man jump out of a window to save himself. The man had hurled himself from a top story window because his son had started contorting, and had come after his father screaming horridly. The man had screamed and gone mad and had broken his neck on impact. The son had then leat out of the window and had started feeding on his fathers’ body. Ghent remembered that the boy had looked almost surprised when Ghent ran him through.
He had managed to find a squad of men and had marched down to where the trouble was worst, or at least as far as he could get. He had got down to the area between walls four and five and had gone to work.
Sims had been the first casualty and it had been surprisingly early on. He’d been breaking up some of the looters waving his sword around and using it as a truncheon rather than a sword and bashing with the flat of the sword rather than the edge. One of the looters had a large chest and had dropped it on Sims foot. Everyone had heard the snap that signified that the foot had broken and between screams of pain, Sims himself had admitted that the accident had been rather funny.
Gataker had been next. A young kid from Ithilien, who had run away from home, wanting a picture of life in the city. Well he had it now. He’d gone into a house at the sound of screaming and had found an old woman writhing on the floor. He’d thought that the woman was having a fit and had gone to restrain her like you were supposed to do. Get something between their teeth and make sure they don’t dash their own brains out. Then he’d seen the rippling muscles under the skin and had seen the massive swelling of the brain. The old woman’s head had exploded all over the poor kid. They’d put him on a cart for he top of the hill after he wouldn’t stop screaming.
Then the monsters had started really coming out of the woodwork. Human monsters, driven mad, by alcohol, terror and the things that they were seeing. He’d pulled more than one gang apart as they’d tried to rape a small girl as if it was the childrens fault that they were turning into monsters. The mutants. The small, feral and furious monsters that would attack anything on sight and had either changed from human children or had literally clawed their way out of their mother’s womb. They were speedy little bastards. They could climb up your leg and eat your face before you even had chance to swing your sword. Finally the scariest one of all was the type of monster that had just cracked. Whatever part of them that had once been human had left leaving the body still alive. He’d seen one of those bastards pull the knife from his side and then, while dying had stabbed he man whose knife it was repeatedly until they were both dead.
By the White Tree that protected them all he was tired and was very dismayed to discover that he was sat down with his back to the wall.
He and his squad had fought long after they were supposed to. They had been dismayed when the order had come down that all children were to be separated from their parents and taken to the top of the citadel under guard and that if they’d started to change that they were to be put down immediately. It was a horrible order and Ghent couldn’t even conceive of the mind that you would need to be able to give such an order but that was why he was King and they weren’t. The order had been disobeyed once and one civilian and one guard had paid the price. The guards name was Harvey, and the fathers name was Gathan. Ghent had made himself and his men remember it so that they wouldn’t be tempted to disobey that order again.
They had fallen into a pattern. They would fight their way from one end of the level to the other, the gate down to the next level had been closed, there were still civilians out there but the order had been given and the guards on the gate already looked as though they were about to be overrun so Ghent had to assume that it was the right thing to do When they got back to the top gate they would take on some water, count their losses, grab replacements if they could, sit for a moment and then head back out.
Then one by one his men had disappeared. Beltar, Corrin and Torruth had fallen when a group of the mutant children had charged his group. The Assault had been sudden and frightening in it’s intensity and the three guards had been killed before anyone had realised what was happening. Colrig had gone into a burning house to rescue someone who he insisted was still in there. The unit had waited for ten minutes before giving up hope that he was ever coming out. Flirran, Pedest, Komric and Phelanor had been injured when a house had collapsed. Corrack gone, Geldar dead. Dear heaven Geldar was dead, what would he tell the widow?
Ghent was crying and he didn’t realise it.
But the ones who he knew were dead were not as bad as the ones, where he’d suddenly turned around and they simply weren’t there anymore.
He heard a scream down the street and saw a woman running towards him being chased by a madman with an axe. Her dress was hanging off her, her feet were smoking and the beast in a mans body was dribbling as he howled at her to come back. Ghent leavered himself up and leapt in to meet the mad man.
He parried the downstroke and punched him in the face, screaming for the woman to run, he twisted aside from the next stroke and his weariness caused him to fall. The madman stood over him triumphantly with his axe raised the insane grin spreading across his face. Ghent saw it all. The place where a tooth had punctured his cheek after Ghent had punched him. The cut across his chest that looked as though a mutant had attacked him. Ghent felt the fury grow in him. He would not die today at the hands of a madman who barely knew which end of the axe to hold. He lashed out at the mad mans knee and heard a crack. The mad man howled and didn’t know what was happening as Ghent’s sword severed the mad mans head from his neck.
Two more madmen ran to meet him and with a snarl Gent stepped forwards. The first one swung overhand in a massive strike but Ghent was inside the blow and already pulling his sword from the man’s guts trailing blood and bile after it. The second man had a sword and waved it with some semblance of knowing what he was doing. Ghent let the fury take him for a while and shouted taunts at his attacker, goading him, provoking him and just before the killing thrust Ghent wondered if this is what it would be like to go mad.
He stood for a while breathing deeply, he must not go mad, he must not go mad, he must keep going. People depended on him. He slumped as his full fatigue hit him again and he started moving towards the top gate and almost wept when he saw that it was closed. The fires were really taking a hold now and it was becoming hot. Really hot. He stripped off his mail and dumped it in an alley next to a well. He drew up some clean water and drank before pouring the rest of the bucket over his head. He was very tempted to give in. Find a hole somewhere, crawl into it and die. Then he took a breath and pulled his uniform back on. Then he pulled his armour back on. He cleaned his sword and got it back in the sheath on only the second go. Then he walked back into the streets. There were virtually no monsters around now, just the odd one and they were staying away from the fires.
Fires, this was important
He rubbed his eyes and slapped himself in the face hard, and thought for a moment and found his second wind.
He reached out and grabbed a passing man.
“Fire,” he said and waited expectantly. The man did nothing.
“Well?” demanded Ghent, “Fire, get a chain going. He grabbed three more men and pointed them in the direction of the well. A few more men joined him. He set some more people to gather everyone together in front of the gates. He found some more guardsmen and set them to finding any more civilians and hunting the last of the monsters. It didn’t occur to him that he had given orders to several sergeants and he would have been even more horrified when he would have realised that they obeyed him. More people were sent off to both gates to scrounge food and medical supplies. He was very surprised when a few members of the white guard showed up and asked him what needed doing.
He looked around and realised that he was no longer tired. The day was getting late and there was work to do. He grabbed a bucket.
It was fourteen hours since the beginning of the event.
Simon stomped up the road to Bree, had his shield on and was part of a twenty man squad. Through unspoken agreement he had been assigned to Lieutenant Green’s squad and Green marched at the head of the group. As one of the older recruits Simon had been switched out for one of Greens newer men so that the youngsters would have someone with a bit more training looking after them. They marched north, not running as that would leave them exhausted, but not a single one of them could forget the fact that the screams that they were listening to were very possibly the screams of their families, so they marched with a determination that was rarely seen. Whoever was causing their people pain would pay the ultimate price. Sensing the mood Green had quickened the march to the speedy march of the Arnorian rangers, 3 steps running, five steps walking. Vast distances could be covered and fortunately these men were already trained for this.
Simon saw his own fear reflected on the faces around him. Everyone was afraid and they were all looking at him. Their sergeants hadn’t said anything and he was the veteran. Even though he had never seen combat either. They were afraid and they looked at him, just looked, with trust and hope. Get us through this, they said, we don’t want to die. He wanted to scream at them that he didn’t want to die either. He wanted nothing more to bolt off, in the general direction of ‘anywhere but here’ throw away his sword, throw away his armour and never think of army life again. He hated them for their trust, even though he didn’t deserve it, and then he hated himself for that feeling.
He had been please to be assigned to Green’s unit, he felt a kinship with him that he didn’t feel towards anyone else. He had decided that he despised officers. But Green was alright. He’d taken Simon aside when he had arrived.
“Congratulations Corporal,” Green had said,
“Corporal sir, I’m a private and proud of it.”
Green had smiled coldly
“I need men to keep these lads together. You are new but they are newer. You’ve got the discipline but this lot will fall apart like leaves on the wind. Sergeants keep the discipline but it’s the corporals that keep the files moving and together. It’s you that the men will look to for leadership.”
Simon was intelligent to realise that he was being flattered and played.
“How do I do that sir?”
“Think of what you would need in their place, and be whatever that is.”
Well now Simon was afraid and wanted to hide. What did he need. He needed confidence. He needed someone tell him that it was all going to be alright. He sighed. Damn Green, he was just like the rest of them. Getting him to do all their dirty work. This time, instead of getting angry, he smiled. He liked that officer. He spent a few minutes considering his next actions and then he grinned.
“hey,” he said to the kid next to him, “bet you five copper that I kill more of the bad guys than you,”
“what?” The boy, was just that. A boy of maybe fourteen and his helmet looked silly on his head. He was pale and visibly shaking.
“Well,” said Simon in a conspiratorial whisper that the entire unit could hear.
“Bree women wouldn’t call out just for a storm would they,” army scuttlebutt said that the strange light was just a freak storm
“umm,”
“Would they?” Simon asked the guy on the other side, an older guy that had had to be drafted into the army.
“I suppose not,” said the soldier.
“So it follows that there must be bad guys, right.”
“Right,” said the boy sounding confident of the reasoning.
“So, I reckon I can kill more than you and I’ve got these five copper in my pocket burning a hole and I thought to myself that I could make some money here. I looked around and I thought to myself that you look like a fearsome fighter, and it’s never been in me to challenge anyone but the best, so I thought I’d bet you my copper that I’d beat you.”
The boy looked hopeful for a moment before his face fell, “but I don’t have any money,”
Damnit, Simon thought it was all going well, the unit was listening and they were interested. Then a thought occurred.
“Alright, who’s got money?” the unit clustered around a bit conferring. Simon waited until he got a reliable total then called out
“Sir?”
“Yes corporal?”
“Whose is that unit behind us sir?”
“That is, I believe, Lieutenant Applefields unit.”
“Would you convey a message for us sir?”
“What’s the message corporal,”
“Can you tell that unit sir, that we have,” he paused and pretended to count “Three silver and 4 copper between us, and that we reckon that we can kill more bad guys than they can. Can you wrap that up in officer speak and pass that on sir.”
After Green had moved off to the rear, the boy tugged Simons sleeve, how do we know how many we’ve killed?”
Simon thought for a moment,
“Well we’ll count,”
There was a pause,
“Corporal, how will we know how many Appleford’s men have killed?”
“Well they’ll count to.”
“But Corporal, how will we know they’re not cheating?”
Simon made his face look horrified
“Are you suggesting that Lieutenant Applefield’s men might be dishonourable?”
The boy went pale
“No sir,”
“Don’t call me sir, son. I’m not an officer, I work for my living.” He got the laugh that he wanted from the men. There was nothing to this being a corporal lark.
Green came back and it was agreed that the two units would bet each other dinner at the Princing pony for the winning unit and Officer. Simon smiled at that as obviously the officers approved of his idea. He walked a bit taller and he didn’t notice that the other men in the unit followed his example.
It took them about an hour to get to Bree and it was obviously a mess, there were fires, the screaming was louder and it sent a shiver down Simons spine. He straightened his shield and drew his sword. While waiting for his orders.
Green disappeared off down the line and the lads started getting nervous again. They started looking at each other and shifting their weight.
“Right boys,” Simon was surprised to hear himself speak, “Stay together, watch out for your mates. If someone jumps at you, then he probably means to kill you, you make sure you kill that bastard before he does for you instead. You’re in the army now, and your job is to kill anyone that messes with ours, someone’s doing that so we have to start messing back. Remember, shield first then stick it into ‘em.”
He didn’t realise that he was parroting his own drill sergeant.
Green came back and told the unit that they were to make for the town hall and erect a cordon round it ready for the other reinforcements to arrive before they started to clear everything out. Simon liked it, Simple and direct. Hard and fast in, then form the wall, just what he was trained for. He forgot that he was cold and moved his arms to loosen them a bit after the march. They’d left their kit back at camp so they didn’t have any extra weight. He was no longer tired, he was no longer afraid and he realised that he was enjoying himself. He was fighting for his home against unknown attackers. This was the kind of thing stories were made out of. He had his command, despite everything and now they were going to do it. The order was given and he jogged forward with the unit, pushing his way to the front. He was laughing.
They jogged up the road and he was astonished to find Lieutenant Green beside him holding a ridiculously thin sabre. He didn’t have time to comment as they reached the bree gate. Simon wasn’t surprised to find that the gate was open. He ran through and up the street. He ignored the side streets, the people coming up behind him would take care of that.
Later on he would remember the first enemy the most. He would also remember the two things saved his life the first was instinct as he raised his shield in time to block a thrown lump of metal that slammed into the shield with astonishing force. The second was Lieutenant Green who stepped up and stabbed his attacker through the chest. Days later Simon would wake up having had the nightmare that Green wasn’t quick enough or he hadn’t raised his shield in time and that the clawing grey monster had killed him.
He stepped on. There were other men on either side now pushing Green back. He wasn’t the only man that like Lieutenant Green. He saw the next enemy coming, he bent his knees so that the shield was at an angle, the attack was deflected and he stabbed forward feeling his sword enter the things belly, the second one jumped on his shield and tryed to pull the shield down so it could claw his eyes out. He brought his own sword down hard on it’s head and he was covered in goo.
The young lad to his right went to far, in his excitement and Simon cursed as he watched him get overwhelmed by a group of three and felt the grim satisfaction as he saw others further down the line demolish the small group.
“Stay together, hold the line,” This was infantryman’s work now. There were enemies in front of him, comrades beside and behind him. He stepped on in good order. The monsters were coming thick and fast now bouncing off the shields and falling to the stabbing swords of the Arnorian infantry. The road opened out into the square. The town hall was in front of him the entry roads were there, there were monsters in the square and normal people all over. Some dead, some dieing, some already being torn apart. He didn’t care. He had met his enemies and killed them, now he would meet more and they would be no match for him.
“Right lads,” he heard himself say, “time to secure that hall. Follow me, stay together and watch each others backs.” He adjusted his grip on his sword and screamed.
The men surged forward with him. The monsters had time to look up before the organised counter attack smashed over them. The unit reached the doors of the hall and turned to face the enemy as more soldiers met them, lengthening and thickening the shield wall. Over his shoulder as he faced outwards he heard Lieutenant Green arguing with someone in the hall about the fact that this was the army and that they were actually here to help. He looked around. There were still monsters in the square and it struck him that if the square was clear he could then barricade the streets that lead to the town hall that could be pushed into place, archers could be seated on the roof-tops to shoot down monsters and cover civilians that were getting through. The plan took shape.
“Lieutenant Green?” he shouted
“Corporal?” shouted Green seeming exasperated
“Permission to secure the square sir?”
“Granted, after you open me this door.” He nodded at me but the threat in his voice seemed to agitate the person he was arguing with
Simon laughed, he was enjoying himself,
“Any archers through yet?” a few men answered yes,
“Well shoot the bastards then,” he grabbed four men from the unit and picked a group of three nearby monsters feasting on what looked like a body of a woman. He charged again. They were so intent on their meal that they didn’t see them coming. Simon ran past the first and plunged his sword into the second monsters back where it pushed through the chest in a bloody spray. The sword twisted as it went in and he heard one of his companions kill the first beast. The third jumped at him and he hit it in the face with his shield making it stagger back. He advanced on it with righteous fury in his eyes.
It was three hours since the beginning of the event.
Corporal Gehnt of the guard pulled his sword from the body of one of the mutants and wiped it on the cloth of one of the nearby bodies. He found that he was next to a wall of a house that didn’t look like it was about to fall down and spill on to the street, so he thought that he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he just leant against it and rested his head. It would only be a moment. He had been fighting now for a little over six hours straight and had been awake, all told for a full twenty eight hours. It had seemed like such a good time. He would get up, put his posh armour on and go and see the coronation. He would cheer with his friends and comrades before going home, eating a quick bite of food before putting on his proper armour, his workmans armour that had lasted him for years and would hopefully last him for years yet. Then he would go to his post and spend the night on duty so that some of the men with families could celebrate with their families.
It had started off easy enough. He had done a quick tour of his district, specifically the areas between walls seven and four before returning to the guard house to have a quick bite to eat and some tea, before starting on the paperwork. There was always too much paperwork, made even worse by the fact that his sergeant had only learned to read and write recently and still had difficulty writing or reading without sounding out the words. He was most of the way through and was beginning to think fondly of having a nice hot bath. Something proper to eat and then a long stay in his own bed, in the rooms that he could afford above a cloth merchant.
Then the bell had started to ring. He hadn’t believed it at first, his paperwork numbed brain causing him to doubt his own sanity. But the ringing hadn’t gone away and he had leapt up, strapping his sword belt back on before running into the courtyard. He had listened to the orders without comment. Go into the streets, check the civilians, prevent looting kill or drive off mutants. Do the job.
It hadn’t sounded difficult. He’d been there when they had to prevent the riot caused by the news that Rohan was invading Gondor, he’d been there to prevent the lynching when House Marchant had lost one of it’s guards to a hanging. You broke up the groups, sent the civilians home and got on with the next problem.
On his way down to his level, he’d seen a man jump out of a window to save himself. The man had hurled himself from a top story window because his son had started contorting, and had come after his father screaming horridly. The man had screamed and gone mad and had broken his neck on impact. The son had then leat out of the window and had started feeding on his fathers’ body. Ghent remembered that the boy had looked almost surprised when Ghent ran him through.
He had managed to find a squad of men and had marched down to where the trouble was worst, or at least as far as he could get. He had got down to the area between walls four and five and had gone to work.
Sims had been the first casualty and it had been surprisingly early on. He’d been breaking up some of the looters waving his sword around and using it as a truncheon rather than a sword and bashing with the flat of the sword rather than the edge. One of the looters had a large chest and had dropped it on Sims foot. Everyone had heard the snap that signified that the foot had broken and between screams of pain, Sims himself had admitted that the accident had been rather funny.
Gataker had been next. A young kid from Ithilien, who had run away from home, wanting a picture of life in the city. Well he had it now. He’d gone into a house at the sound of screaming and had found an old woman writhing on the floor. He’d thought that the woman was having a fit and had gone to restrain her like you were supposed to do. Get something between their teeth and make sure they don’t dash their own brains out. Then he’d seen the rippling muscles under the skin and had seen the massive swelling of the brain. The old woman’s head had exploded all over the poor kid. They’d put him on a cart for he top of the hill after he wouldn’t stop screaming.
Then the monsters had started really coming out of the woodwork. Human monsters, driven mad, by alcohol, terror and the things that they were seeing. He’d pulled more than one gang apart as they’d tried to rape a small girl as if it was the childrens fault that they were turning into monsters. The mutants. The small, feral and furious monsters that would attack anything on sight and had either changed from human children or had literally clawed their way out of their mother’s womb. They were speedy little bastards. They could climb up your leg and eat your face before you even had chance to swing your sword. Finally the scariest one of all was the type of monster that had just cracked. Whatever part of them that had once been human had left leaving the body still alive. He’d seen one of those bastards pull the knife from his side and then, while dying had stabbed he man whose knife it was repeatedly until they were both dead.
By the White Tree that protected them all he was tired and was very dismayed to discover that he was sat down with his back to the wall.
He and his squad had fought long after they were supposed to. They had been dismayed when the order had come down that all children were to be separated from their parents and taken to the top of the citadel under guard and that if they’d started to change that they were to be put down immediately. It was a horrible order and Ghent couldn’t even conceive of the mind that you would need to be able to give such an order but that was why he was King and they weren’t. The order had been disobeyed once and one civilian and one guard had paid the price. The guards name was Harvey, and the fathers name was Gathan. Ghent had made himself and his men remember it so that they wouldn’t be tempted to disobey that order again.
They had fallen into a pattern. They would fight their way from one end of the level to the other, the gate down to the next level had been closed, there were still civilians out there but the order had been given and the guards on the gate already looked as though they were about to be overrun so Ghent had to assume that it was the right thing to do When they got back to the top gate they would take on some water, count their losses, grab replacements if they could, sit for a moment and then head back out.
Then one by one his men had disappeared. Beltar, Corrin and Torruth had fallen when a group of the mutant children had charged his group. The Assault had been sudden and frightening in it’s intensity and the three guards had been killed before anyone had realised what was happening. Colrig had gone into a burning house to rescue someone who he insisted was still in there. The unit had waited for ten minutes before giving up hope that he was ever coming out. Flirran, Pedest, Komric and Phelanor had been injured when a house had collapsed. Corrack gone, Geldar dead. Dear heaven Geldar was dead, what would he tell the widow?
Ghent was crying and he didn’t realise it.
But the ones who he knew were dead were not as bad as the ones, where he’d suddenly turned around and they simply weren’t there anymore.
He heard a scream down the street and saw a woman running towards him being chased by a madman with an axe. Her dress was hanging off her, her feet were smoking and the beast in a mans body was dribbling as he howled at her to come back. Ghent leavered himself up and leapt in to meet the mad man.
He parried the downstroke and punched him in the face, screaming for the woman to run, he twisted aside from the next stroke and his weariness caused him to fall. The madman stood over him triumphantly with his axe raised the insane grin spreading across his face. Ghent saw it all. The place where a tooth had punctured his cheek after Ghent had punched him. The cut across his chest that looked as though a mutant had attacked him. Ghent felt the fury grow in him. He would not die today at the hands of a madman who barely knew which end of the axe to hold. He lashed out at the mad mans knee and heard a crack. The mad man howled and didn’t know what was happening as Ghent’s sword severed the mad mans head from his neck.
Two more madmen ran to meet him and with a snarl Gent stepped forwards. The first one swung overhand in a massive strike but Ghent was inside the blow and already pulling his sword from the man’s guts trailing blood and bile after it. The second man had a sword and waved it with some semblance of knowing what he was doing. Ghent let the fury take him for a while and shouted taunts at his attacker, goading him, provoking him and just before the killing thrust Ghent wondered if this is what it would be like to go mad.
He stood for a while breathing deeply, he must not go mad, he must not go mad, he must keep going. People depended on him. He slumped as his full fatigue hit him again and he started moving towards the top gate and almost wept when he saw that it was closed. The fires were really taking a hold now and it was becoming hot. Really hot. He stripped off his mail and dumped it in an alley next to a well. He drew up some clean water and drank before pouring the rest of the bucket over his head. He was very tempted to give in. Find a hole somewhere, crawl into it and die. Then he took a breath and pulled his uniform back on. Then he pulled his armour back on. He cleaned his sword and got it back in the sheath on only the second go. Then he walked back into the streets. There were virtually no monsters around now, just the odd one and they were staying away from the fires.
Fires, this was important
He rubbed his eyes and slapped himself in the face hard, and thought for a moment and found his second wind.
He reached out and grabbed a passing man.
“Fire,” he said and waited expectantly. The man did nothing.
“Well?” demanded Ghent, “Fire, get a chain going. He grabbed three more men and pointed them in the direction of the well. A few more men joined him. He set some more people to gather everyone together in front of the gates. He found some more guardsmen and set them to finding any more civilians and hunting the last of the monsters. It didn’t occur to him that he had given orders to several sergeants and he would have been even more horrified when he would have realised that they obeyed him. More people were sent off to both gates to scrounge food and medical supplies. He was very surprised when a few members of the white guard showed up and asked him what needed doing.
He looked around and realised that he was no longer tired. The day was getting late and there was work to do. He grabbed a bucket.
It was fourteen hours since the beginning of the event.