Chapter 75: The Last Tower

Michael and Bayle started to make their way along the outer wall toward an area where it connected with the inner wall and castle interior. The Tusinian soldiers had already fallen back to it, overwhelmed by the Stent attack within their outer wall, and the dark of the night was broken up by explosions being thrown by mages and sparks from duels between sergeants whose titles made them as much of a bane for their equipment as it did for their opponents. They reached allies who were fighting off the last of the resistance on the wall, men whose fellows had closed the doors and left them behind. They knew that only death awaited them, and so they fought ferociously to have their memory carved into their foes in blood. Rather than make for the main door, Bayle removed a rope tipped in a metal hook and stood on the edge of the exterior portion of the wall. He spun the rope a half dozen times so that it could build momentum, then threw it at an angle far from the fighting. It hooked into some of the stone at the top of the interior wall and he wrapped a hand in rope before handing the end of it to Michael. He sheathed his sword and buckled his shield to his back, then wrapped his own arm in the rope, grateful he wouldn’t be attempting this in full armor. Bayle gave a silent three count, then leapt. Michael jumped at the same time and they swung what felt like a football field of distance before slamming hard into the wall. Bayle managed to brace himself with his feet, but Michael took the brunt on his shoulder and was forced to heal himself before he was able to start climbing. He avoided looking at the distant ground as he grabbed handfuls of rope and pulled himself up. He was making good speed, but Bayle made him feel slow with the grace and speed at which he made his way up. They were climbing up far enough away from the majority of the other Stent breachers that no one seemed to notice them. Once they crested the wall and settled, Bayle looked at him. “Walk calmly, and when we reach the count don’t try to fight him with me, you’ll just slow me down and put yourself in danger. Just keep me healed and try to secure his family if they cause trouble. He has a wife and young daughter that should be in his quarters.” Michael nodded, but felt dread build in his gut. He would’ve preferred to keep fighting armorless on the front to having to make prisoners of a man's family. Bayle walked fast, but steady, and no one confronted them as they moved. Their Tusinian uniforms were coated in blood, but if anything that gave them more cover than they would’ve had if they were clean. They walked toward a tower near the center of the castle and walked along a wide raised pathway from the wall to it. Just as they were halfway to the door, a man exited the building. He was wearing a full suit of armor painted dark blue with a long tan cap at his waist and a jeweled longsword at his waist. He wore a plumed helmet with intricately painted swirls across it in various blues and purples. To his right was a fully armored retainer in silver armor with only the pauldrons painted to evoke what Michael guessed were peacock feathers. The moment the man in the cape saw them, he stopped, and drew his longsword slowly. The man next to him took his halberd and gripped it in both hands. Bayle held up a hand, but Michael could see him reaching for something with his other one. “Count Oscar, the castle is already lost. Please surrender peacefully so that we can avoid any unnecessary death.” “And who is it that asks me to surrender?” “Lieutenant Bayle.” “I may surrender... to your general. You, though Bayle, are going to die today.” The Count launched himself forward, moving across ten yards in the blink of an eye. Bayle threw a bottle of something at him, but he dodged it, and it instead hit the retainer behind him who started coughing and rubbing at his faceplate. He barely managed to deflect the Count’s sword when he reached him. Michael knew his mission, so drew his sword and shield and ran, trying to make his way to the tower ahead. The Count moved to block him, but was put quickly on his back foot by a half dozen swift strikes from Bayle. “You’re not just a lieutenant,” he said calmly to Bayle as he parried his attacks. “Lukas, don’t let that man through.” Michael got past the count and readied his shield to slam it into the retainer who still seemed to be struggling with whatever chemical Bayle had thrown at him. Before he reached him the man brought his halberd up, and slammed the bottom of the shaft in front of himself with one hand. Michael braced himself to bash right through the lazy attempt at a block, but found himself stopped suddenly as his shield hit the halberd shaft. He was thrown onto the ground with his arm nearly breaking from the force of it. The halberdier lifted his weapon and slashed down toward him. Michael dodged and the halberd sunk a full inch into the stone where he’d just been. He raised his shield and sword and took a more defensive stance, moving two steps back. He didn’t need to divine him to know that the man in front of him was loaded up with titles and deeds. Based on his strength Michael guessed he was at least above the level of strength Lance had been, but somewhere below where Bayle was, though those were very rough estimates considering neither of them had used their full strength against him. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Michael took a few steps toward the man, and the man responded by raising his halberd swinging it diagonally with both hands. Michael tried to parry it with his shield and was pushed back, a deep rend appearing in the front of the shield. If the strike had been just a bit higher it would’ve sliced his face in half. If Bayle hadn’t done something to hurt his opponent's eyes he’d probably have died from that first strike. Michael pushed, trying to gain some momentum, but the man’s defense was ironclad and even though Michael was unarmored, he was still his equal in speed. Michael managed to have the tip of his blade cut against the man’s breastplate, but immediately after, the retainer slammed the shaft of his halberd into Michael’s leg causing his knee to shatter as both of his feet were knocked off the ground, causing him to fall backwards.. He raised his shield above his body instinctively, and the halberd blade smashed down into it, breaking his arm and pushing the shield with such force against his face that he felt his nose break. He kicked out his leg, getting lucky as it landed against the man’s leg, pushing his back he rolled up and managed to push himself back to his feet. The other man didn’t pursue, just standing where he was. He had only been ordered to keep Michael from getting inside, he had no reason to get closer, but Michael was certain if he turned his back he’d be cut down. He started to heal, but hesitated. The man in front of him was stronger, better armored, and more skilled... but how was his pain tolerance? Michael gathered his will and squared his stance, if what he did worked, he wasn’t sure how much of an edge it would grant him. The retainer laughed at him, “Come now, you’ll have a better time just jumping off the wall.” Michael sent all the pain he was experiencing. His shattered nose, his crushed arm, and his shattered knee. He wondered for a moment how he was even standing with all of those injuries, but while it was something he was able to endure the armored man lost his balance and crumpled, losing his grip on his weapon. Michael rushed him at that moment, putting all his strength into charging him with his sword. The man started to react, but it was too late, and the tip of Michael’s blade stabbed through the gap in the retainer's shoulder armor and sank all the way to the hilt. The man gasped, and collapsed on the ground dead. Michael didn’t bother trying to wrench his sword from the man’s body, but instead grabbed his elven dagger and moved closer to the tower, healing himself as he moved and risking a single glance back at Bayle. The Count and Bayle were now a dozen yards further away. Around them was broken masonry, the corpses of Tusinian soldiers and knights that had tried to intervene, and even evidence of an explosion from a mage. Bayle seemed to be slowing, but Michael was too far from him to heal him. There was only one way he could end the fight quicker, and the thought of it made his stomach turn. He stepped into the tower. The walls inside were covered in fine tapestries and floors in rugs sewn with elaborate and beautiful patterns in all manner of colors. He moved through the building methodically, going room to room. He saw some female servants huddled in a closet and held a finger to his lips before leaving. He eventually found what appeared to be the royal bedroom. He saw no one at first, but then a candelabra swung for his head. He caught it on his shield, finding the blow to be much heavier than he expected, and he shoved in the direction of the blow with his shield, pushing a woman wearing a richly embroidered green dress onto the ground as he did so. “Countess?” he asked, unsure of what else to say. She didn’t answer, but her gaze narrowed into a glare of hatred. “I don’t want to harm you, but you are now my prisoner. I need your help to end this. The sooner it’s over, the fewer people will die.” She opened her mouth to respond, but there was a cry from the bed in the back of the room. Michael looked in that direction and the Countess stood quickly and placed herself in between him and the bed. He sheathed his dagger, and buckled his shield to his back. “Grab her and come with me, please by the divine I don’t want to have to hurt anyone.” There was another cry from the bed, and the Countess looked back toward it. Michael took a few steps forward, and saw a small girl mostly covered by a thick red blanket. Her arm was wrapped in bandages and she looked wan and pale. “Do you not have any healers here?” “There was one on the way here when he was slaughtered by a Stent raiding group. There wasn’t time for another one to get here before the siege.” She spat at him. “It’s the fault of you dogs that she’s in this state.” Michael took a few steps toward her and the bed, and her mother grabbed a nearby chair and raised it at him. He raised up a glowing hand and focused on the girl, feeling what felt like a deep gash on her arm start to mend and heal. “There, she should be better now. Please grab her and come with me.” The countess looked back to see her daughter’s eyes opened and confused, color returned to her cheeks. “Mama?” “My love,” said the Countess, dropping the chair to wrap her in her arms. “Please, come with me and I’ll make sure neither of you comes to harm.” She gritted her teeth, but she grabbed her daughter, wrapping her in the blanket on the bed. Michael had her walk ahead of him as they made their way to the exit. He drew his dagger and shield again, he needed to make it look good. Outside the battle was still raging, but Bayle and the Count had wound up close to the tower again. Michael could see that Bayle was bleeding from a number of wounds. The count was weakened too, but it was clear that he would win if the fight continued. “Count!” yelled Michael, startling the child in the countess’s arms and making her cry. That felt worse than the shattered knee had. “Throw down your arms and surrender. I’ve taken your family prisoner. This battle is over!” The count stopped for a moment, to look at him and his wife. His helmet was expressionless, but his shoulders slackened and his posture dropped at the sight of them. He looked back at Bayle, who was still holding his swords at the ready. The Count’s sword clattered against the stone as he dropped it.