Iron Blooded

When we rounded the corner of the main road, the gate came into view.

It was lowering, the teeth of the portcullis nearly halfway to the ground. We would never make it, not even if we ran.

A cry of anger and desperation tore from my throat.

“Wait!” I shouted, desperate to be heard. “Hold the gate. There are people here!”

The guards atop the inner wall hesitated. I could see their pale faces from the flicker of growing firelight. There is fear In many of them and even hesitation. I can use that.

“I am Ser William, Blackbriar,” I said, projecting my voice to the top of the wall. Behind me, my men, and the crowd of townsfolk we’ve amassed on our flight through the city stand huddled together. Markus’s wife stands nearby, rocking her child against her.

“They’ll let us in,” she whispers. “They have to let us in.”

“Ser William!” calls a soldier from atop the battlements. His shadow shifts and I see a veteran soldier wearing the pins and livery of a Captain. A Captain of the Guard?

“Captain,” I say, relieved. “The City wall has been breached. Is Lord Blackthorne with you? I have come to deliver these people to the safety of the inner wall. Efforts may still be made to reclaim the walls, but-“

“I must stop you there,” called the man from above. He shifted and I saw the shadow of something in his eyes… a sort of calculated coldness.

“I have my orders, Ser William.” He said. “I am not to open the gate for anyone, man woman, or child. I have a responsibility to those who live in the inner city and my orders are clear. The gate remains closed.”

There was a silence, broken only by the dismayed whispering of those around me.

I gritted my teeth, anger flaring as I fought to suppress my own rising dread.

“And who would give such orders?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“The Lord Governor himself.”

There was no apology in the Captain's voice, no note of regret. He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back as he delivered a death sentence to half of the city he had once called home.

I glanced out across the street, seeing the flare of firelight in the distance. The shapes of people and families running for the perceived safety of the inner gate.

“Captain,” I said, hearing the desperation in my own voice and hating it. “These are the people of Ceris. My men and I can assure you that no enemies breach the gate. You spoke of duty, but do you not have a duty to the citizens trying to seek shelter within your walls? If nothing else have mercy on them.”

The Captain only shook his head.

“I have my orders, Blackbriar. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find another way.”

“We have orders from Lord Dacon,” growled Draxus, stepping up beside me. “Where is Lord Blackthorne? Surely he would not sanction the actions that condemn hundreds to a meaningless death?”

“Lord Blackthorne,” the soldier sneered. “Is not in command here. Now take your leave soldier, and perform your duty as you see fit. I will do the same.”

He turned and disappeared beyond the wall. No amount of shouting, cursing, or threats made him return, though I tried. At last, I turned away, half-blinded by rage. Draxus shook his head, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Who would order this…” he whispered. “Who would…”

I could see his own disbelief reflected in the faces of the townsfolk.

“What are we to do?” asked an Elderly man. He clutched the hand of an old woman, and the two of them drew closer together.

“Our homes have been burned, our goods taken. There is nowhere to go.”

I saw the panic begin to manifest and knew that the mood of the growing crowd was now balanced on a knife's edge. They were betrayed by the man they had assumed would protect them in times of war. All for the illusion of his own safety.

Why had we come to Ceris? As fodder to stand between a fat nobleman and his own guilded palace. I blinked shaking away the rage and focused. Right now, I have only two objectives. To find Blackthorne and deliver these people to safety by any means necessary.

“Move out,” I said to my men and the townsfolk. There was a ripple of uncertainty. “Where will we go?” asked a man, I recognized as Markus. “You want us to go back into a city teeming with bloodthirsty Orks? We’ll be slaughtered.”

I turned on him.

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“You are free to do as you wish. If you want to die on the blade of an Ork, be my guest. To everyone else, I offer the only thing I can. An escort to the outer city and a chance, however slim, of escape. Stay with us, and you might have a choice at survival.”

Markus gritted his teeth but looked away. His wife smiled at me and nodded.

“We thank you, Ser William.” She said. “For your bravery and your commitment to us. It’s more than can be said of our own Lord.”

She surprised me by turning and spitting towards the gate. Several of the townsfolk mimicked her action, turning hateful glares at the men along the walls.

“This won’t stand,” I said. “He’ll be brought to justice.”

The woman smiled again, but the doubt in her eyes was easy to discern. Like many, she knew that the Noblemen of Kadia played by different rules than the rest of us. He would likely get no more than a slap on the wrist for his actions today, and never mind the pain and deaths it caused.

I motioned to my soldiers and we took up a loose formation around the refugees. At my orders, we began to move as quickly as we could. Through houses, avoiding main streets, and pausing to allow any struggles to catch up with the main group.

It was slow going and every wasted second made my palms slick with sweat. Twice a nearby explosion of flame made me jerk, expecting at any moment to be facing down the Firebrand himself.

There were bodies in the streets.

Men and women. Even a few children, the sight of which made my stomach drop. None of them should have died. The city should have been evacuated, and the people given a chance to migrate to safety deeper with Kadian borders.

My own thoughts were reflected in the faces of the men around me. In them, I saw sorrow, pain, and most notable of all - anger.

I made my decision then, as we climbed through an alleyway littered with bodies and buzzing flies.

For better or worse I had been granted power, chosen as a gifted, and marked as a man of legend. And I intended to use it.

***

By the time we reached the central building, my men were exhausted. We had encountered several groups of roaming Orks, one of which had been led by an Ork Raider Boss that had nearly been the death of Draxus.

I pounded on the heavy wooden door and called out, praying I’d be heard.

At the sound of my name, there was a fumbling inside, and the screeching of something heavy across floorboards.

Then the wooden crossbeam was removed and the door swung open.

“Ser William,” Ser Connel looked relieved and he swung the door wider, he and his men stepping back to allow the refugees inside.

“Aren’t you a sight,” he said, tiredly. “The men and I were preparing for another fight. What’s…”

He trailed off when he saw my expression.

“Where is Lord Blackthorne?” I asked. Ser Connel hesitated then jerked his head towards the back room.

“He’s in there.”

I stepped past him and into the main room. Soldiers lined the walls, some leaning against it, others slumped on the floor.

There was an air of quiet exhaustion to them - an atmosphere born of men who believed that they would die before the night was out.

The room beyond had been a sitting room once. The furniture had been moved, shoved against the far wall. On a long table lay Lord Blackthorne. Three healers in veils crowded around him, and among them, I saw a flash of blue eyes.

"Hand me the tongs," said Joanna, her voice calm but stern. One of the other healers produced a pair of small metal tongs and passed them to her. Joanna leaned down and I saw the damage for myself.

Lord Blackthorne had been struck by the shaft of a spear. The plate of his armor had been melted around the shaft, fused in place. And, I realized as Joana gripped a piece and peeled it away with a squelch, fused to skin.

Blackthorne bit down on a leather strap, breathing hard through his nose. Blood trickled down the table and onto the floor with a steady drip drip drip.

"You must remain still my lord," said Joanna as she held a hand over the Lord's wounds. Soft white light glowed light the room. I shut my eyes against it, and when I opened them again it had faded.

Lord Blackthorne's chest rose and fell. His bleeding had stopped, and even as I watched new pink skin began to sprout from the sight of the burn.

Blackthorne's breathing slowed. He spat out the leather strip and rose to a sitting position.

Joanna turned and her eyes found mine. Beneath her veil, her mouth curved at the corner.

"Ser William," she said. "It is good to see you alive."

At the sound of my name Lord Blackthorne turned his head. There were dark circles under his eyes. He slid to the edge of the table, boots resting on the ground.

"Thank you," he said to Joanna. "I feel myself again. At least for now."

Joanna huffed a laugh, veil fluttering.

"If you want my opinion my Lord, you should stay and rest. You were halfway to death less than an hour ago, and you're already approaching mana exhaustion. If you press yourself any further...."

"I'm well aware."

Lord Blackthorne stood with a grimace and one of his Knights lurched forward to support him. Blackthorne waved a hand at him.

"William," he grunted. "I must speak with him alone."

Joanna hesitated before sighing and gesturing to the other healers.

"Come," she said. "There are many other injured and we have our work cut out for us."

She paused before me, her ocean eyes sparkling with something fierce. There was a silence between us, one that I longed to break - though I didn't know how.

"I am glad you are well, Will of Blackbriar," she said at last. Then she strode from the room, followed by the other healers.

Lord Blackthorne watched her go, his expression caught between weary and amused.

"She is fond of you," he said thoughtfully. "More so than I would have guessed."

Heat flooded my cheeks and I glanced away.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

Lord Blackthorne considered this, teeth worrying at his lip. Then he shrugged.

"It is... complicated. And for more reasons than one. There are things about Joanna that you do not yet know." At my expression, he straightened and ran a hand across his face.

"There is much you don't know," he said. There was regret in his voice. Regret and the sort of weariness only a man who has seen countless battles might experience.

"That is my fault. There were things I didn't understand... things I should have shared with you. Only, I couldn't be sure back then."

"Speak plainly my Lord," I said, my voice devoid of the patience I once felt.

"Or speak not at all."

Blackthorne arched an eyebrow, but his expression held more approval than irritation. He nodded and reached for a tunic that was folded on the table beside him.

"You are owed that much, and more," he admitted, pulling the shirt over his head.

He winced as cloth scraped his wounds.

"So I will do as you request, Blackbriar. I will tell you the story of how the God King came to be. And when I am done, when your curiosity is sated, then I have only one request of you."

I lifted my chin.

"And what might that be, Lord?"

Blackthorne smiled grimly.

"That you join me in the hunt.”

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