CHAPTER EIGHT

Von Südenhorst cried out in frustration and stumbled back into the crush of bodies. As he fell, his sword slipped from his blood-slick gauntlet and clattered across the road. The rest of his armour was equally drenched in gore and his shield had been wrenched from his arm. The hulking, bull-horned leader of the beastmen was tantalisingly close, but every time he got near, one of the lesser monsters had blocked his way. As the reiksgraf cursed his luck, another goat-faced mutant loomed over him, raising a battered iron sword.

The reiksgraf cried out as the weapon shaved off a portion of his left shoulder. The blade sliced through armour and muscle with sickening ease and the beastman let out a bellow of pleasure as the general’s blood filled the air.

Von Südenhorst scrambled backwards, clutching his arm, furious at his lack of progress. The monsters had massed in such incredible numbers that tactics had become meaningless. As his men tried to hack them down, they simply drowned beneath a crush of iron-clad hooves and stinking, scarred flesh. Dozens of them had died in the first ten minutes of battle.

“Regroup!” he cried, managing to briefly raise his head above the mass of heaving bodies and flailing swords. “Defend the town hall!”

As the beastman swung its sword for another blow, the reiksgraf drew a knife and jammed it deep into the monster’s belly.

The beastman belched black blood and tried to throttle the knight, but as its viscera fell away, so did its strength and it collapsed on top of him with a final grunt.

The general screamed as the creature’s bulk crushed him down into the mound of corpses. A sharp pain flashed in his neck as his head twisted at an unnatural angle and for a moment he lost consciousness. Then, as the weight of the advancing army pressed down on him, the knight wrenched himself free and climbed to his feet.

A fist slammed into the visor of his helmet, knocking him onto his back. The pain in his neck returned with a vengeance and he blacked out again.

When he awoke, he realised that several minutes must have passed. There were no living knights anywhere near him, only hordes of howling, bellowing beastmen, tramping across his battered body in their eagerness to advance.

The reiksgraf rolled aside and the monsters blundered past, too caught up in their impending victory to pay him any heed. He scrambled clear of the charge and saw a group of his men, cornered by the side of the gate and surrounded by an impressive mound of fallen beastmen.

“To the town hall!” His voice sounded ragged and odd, and as the knights looked towards him their faces blanched.

The reiksgraf grinned as one of the men dashed to his side and handed him a sword.

“Your shoulder…” said the man, grimacing.

“The town hall,” repeated the reiksgraf, fending off a blow with his new blade. His attacker stumbled back and von Südenhorst followed up with a fierce backhanded slash that split the monster’s throat like a new mouth and sent it toppling to the floor. The general strode confidently through the battle, waving his men back down the street as he went.

The remnants of von Südenhorst’s army were gathered on the town hall steps. Only thirty of them were left to receive their general, and the host gathering around them was in the hundreds, if not thousands. A few hastily-fired arrows were still raining down from the battlements, but most of the state troops had either died or abandoned their posts.

The reiksgraf barked orders as he reached his men, demanding that they form into orderly ranks, but as he turned to face the oncoming horde, he hesitated. The moon was waxing ever brighter and as it did so, it seemed to feed the lumbering brutes gathering around them. They howled in delight and raised their swords to the writhing heavens, tasting victory.