The Forgotten

The original group of guards that engaged Lynden had either been killed or retreated. His armour had taken a few more dents causing spikes of pain in his shoulder, making it increasingly harder to wield his sword. Jessica had taken several strikes to her legs and stomach. Her leather armour had torn from the strokes of swords, causing blood to trickle from her wounds. The warhorse had cuts over its legs and after being struck by a spear between one of his armoured plates, the beast was not as ferocious as earlier.

The trio looked upon the throne in front of them, then at the prisoners behind them. There were still troops positioned in front of the captives. To make matters worse, they heard screams in the distance.

Laughing, Myval said, “Were you expecting anyone or was this it? I feel those cries of pain from the streets are answer enough.”

Behind the throne barging through the prisoners were two giant champion guards. They were usually stationed outside the king’s chamber doors. With golden crests on their breastplates identifying their position, one of them brandished a kite shield and a long sword while the other favoured a great two-handed blade, drawing it from his back. The weapons did not seem to hinder them in the slightest, yet what the trio found most troubling was that they could not see any part of their body as it was clad in armour from head to toe. Only their black eyes that seemed to mould into their armour were on show.

Many other guards rallied around their champions as they stalked towards the trio.

Lynden, between heavy breaths said to Jessica, “Leave, please, we cannot win.”

Ignoring his plea, Jessica wiped the blood off her swords with the leather armour she wore then took a few steps forward raising her weapons ready for the charge.

It wasn’t just blades though they had to contend with now. bolts were flying at them. Only moments after readying herself, a stray bolt hit Jessica in the thigh making her fall to the ground on all fours. Lynden took a few hits but nothing penetrating, his armour taking the blows and making some arrows even break on impact.

Lynden rushed over to her, dropping his blade by his side while he put his hands on her back, seeing if she was okay.

“Jessica!”

With a grimace a second later, she responded, “Don’t worry I’m fine.” As she tried to rise her leg gave out, then she muttered, “Though standing might be an issue.”

The pair looked up to see the two champions still walking at a steady pace towards them. Both on the floor, neither would see another day. The attackers were only paces away from them where they would close the distance and swing their swords, killing them where they lay.

A howl echoed through the street, a black figure jumps over Lynden and Jessica on the floor, as it continued on into the attackers, biting into one guard’s shoulder. More black figures came rushing in, hitting soldiers clad in black armour all over the market square.

Soldiers openly screamed in pain and fear. None had seen where they came from nor did they get a good look at the attackers. Some soldiers randomly swung their sword in a panic to no avail.

A white wolf walked up behind Lynden, nudging him with its snout.

Lynden looked up, gratitude in his face before he pointed towards the prisoners beyond the throne and said, “He’s over there.”

The white wolf walked forward, a guard with a spear went to stab the beast in the stomach through another black wolf came out of nowhere to strike his side, biting his leg and dragging him off behind a stall.

For the first time, Myval looked on with slight worry in his face but able to disguise it under his hood.

“I’ve had enough of this,” the king grumbled.

His eyes started to glow red as he began pulling the wills away from the prisoners behind the throne, using their essence to fuel his power. Fixing on every person, he felt their power inside him.

At least he attempted to do so until he got to a boy. Puzzled as this had never happened before, he focused on the captive’s will forcing it to bend to his. Blocked, he could not draw from the boy, his will too strong.

The king then openly turned to the boy in the crowd. Knowing where he was from the probing from his power, he saw a boy in brown rags, dirty with long brown hair covering his face.

Sneering at Rendall, “You there, boy, look at me.”

It took several moments for Rendall to realise the king was talking to him. All the while other prisoners were dying all around him. Rendall hadn’t noticed what was going on, he was just fixed on the ground in front of him.

Rendall rose his head up, slowly turning towards the king as he did, his silver eyes piercing through his hair and the dirt of his face.

“How, how are you alive!” Anger boiling from Myval.

A black wolf charged towards the king, though it met an onslaught of pain. The king, on noticing the attack drew power from two prisoners who immediately fell to the ground, their lifeless bodies unmoving at the blood magic that swelled around Myval’s hand let out a barrage of red strikes at the wolf where it fell to the ground, whimpering.

While the fighting had broken out, Lynden had lifted up Jessica and placed her on his horse. She had passed out from blood loss. He whispered in the horse’s ear to get her to safety and before his friend left, they shared a moment, brushing heads up and down one another’s. The horse ran, charging away from the carnage of the square.

As the horse ran, Lynden saw a black wolf being thrown off its feet by a raw untamed power. He then turned further to see the king’s hands swirling in red.

“No.” He said breathlessly.

Before he could act though, he had to roll out of the way of a large sword swinging downwards towards his head.

Diving into a roll towards his sword, he grabbed the crimson blade from the ground and parried the strike from the second of the two champions. The strength of one blow from the shield-bearing guard put Lynden on his knee as he deflected the blow.

Before Lynden could do anything, the other black and golden champion kicked his foot into Lynden’s face, knocking him down to the floor.

Lynden with his mouth pooling with blood, slowly got up again, having to use his sword to stand up. The two guards gave him the reprieve to stand, not seeing him as a threat to put him down so quickly.

Between coughing breaths, Lynden shouted towards Celer, “Get him out of here now and free them all, please!”

Nothing more needed be said. Celer set off in a dead sprint after seeing the kings gaze lock on to Rendall’s. She wanted to charge at the King though had no idea what she had done to her brother who had only now started to rise again though clearly injured, his face and forelegs covered in deep gashes and fur thick with blood.

No man stood in her way as she ran, either being engaged with others or fear making them unmoving statues, only being able to watch what was happening.

As the wolf got closer to the boy Arthur was the first to speak, “You’re actually real.” Bewildered by the thought that she existed.

More prisoners dropped at random around them, seemingly those who had lost all hope were easy targets for the king, his power gathering around him in swirls no longer just in his hands but his whole body.

Lynden, seeing the strike the king was about to launch at his friends, threw his knife from his belt towards Myval. He aimed towards his chest, a sure shot for a strike though he knew it would be unlikely that it got so close.

As if on cue, the king turned to the blade coming towards him, destroying it with a large surge of red waves that would make anyone question whether the weapon existed at all. The attack served a purpose, as in anger the king had let go of most of his magic to defend himself against the knife.

“I am done with you, Lynden. Guards kill him. He has been a thorn in my side long enough.” The king roared at his two champions.

The knight looked upon the wolf, Arthur and Rendall. In the time he had distracted the king they had broken the magic bonds. Rendall was on the wolf’s back. Many ran for side streets, houses or any cover they could find. All were now running from the bloodbath that had become the square.

Turning back to the champion with the two-handed sword, Lynden stepped back avoiding his strike at his stomach. As the sword swung past, he stepped nearer the guard, his sword pointed as he stabbed into the champion’s rib cage. Bones, armour and flesh cracked and broke apart for the blade, though the giant before him did not falter.

Pain blasted Lynden’s face as he got hit back by the other champion, who had let one hand off his sword and backhanded him.

As Lynden fell back, he held onto his blade.

“At least you bleed,” Lynden said while vision failed him as he fell to both knees.

Arthur looked upon his friend, as he ran like many others, following the wolves out of the city. Blood coated the back of Lynden’s head, he had lost his helm in strikes gone past. He watched Lynden sway on his knees before the final stroke came, the large guard with the kite shield walked up behind the him and plunged his sword down into Lynden’s spine behind his neck.

Tears welled up in Arthur’s eyes, his friend and mentor had given everything for them. Everything was not enough.

Arthur screamed in defiance and noticing his anguish, Rendall, who was near the front of the people leaving, halted by pulling Celer’s fur to get her to stop. The boy saw Arthur fall to his knees and then Rendall turned his gaze to see what the man saw. The boy, so use to death of friends and family, saw another die for him. No more would he stand by and do nothing.

In the corner of his vision, Rendall saw a group of dead soldiers, few of which were archers as their bodies where littered with quivers and bows.

Sprinting over with strength returning out of nowhere, Rendall grabbed a bloodstained bow and three quivers, placing one on his back, one on his waist and then pulled a handful of arrows out of the third.

As he prepared himself he looked back and walked over to Celer, his best friend and family.

Not getting too close or being at risk of being pulled away by her, Rendall said, “I love you.”

Turning in the opposite direction, Rendall sprinted towards the array of soldiers, his strength that had been absent from the days in prison returned. What’s more is that while he ran, his eyes started to glow, the world seemed to slow around him.

Letting the sensation wash over him, Rendall made his way through the masses of refugees and as it started to clear he began to fire. Launching arrow after arrow each was a fatal blow, the projectiles hitting the opening of necks, chests or eyes.

Celer looked at her brother, confused at why he would run back, headlong into the jaws of death. That was at least until she saw him witness the knight that saved him killed, the man that if it wasn’t for him she would have never of known the perils that he was in. Without hesitation, Celer howled, the streets of the city intensifying into a warcry.

A boy and a pack of wolves stood against an army, tearing into the enemy line causing destruction but soon the numbers would be overwhelming and engulf them. Rendall was unfazed by the odds, locked eyes with the King as he came into range with his bow. As the silver-eyed boy focused, his ability to move faster increased and he was able to see actions before they became any danger to him.

Myval gazed in horror at the boy, who should have died years earlier. Before the king could think any further, he saw three arrows rocket towards him. Barely having enough time, he raised a blood-red shield that dissolved the arrows into ash, their remains floating towards the floor.

Lowing his guard after the attack, Myval prepares a barrage of spikes to launch back at the bow but before he was able to fire, an arrow shredded through his cloak, slicing open his arm as it slides past.

Rendall launched arrow after arrow, the king barely able to prevent the constant volley Rendall was firing his way. He refused to stop until Lynden’s great warhorse who now stood alone ran in front of the boy and began to nudge him back with his head.

Angry, the boy shouts, “Stop it, I must kill him.”

“Rendall, we must go, we cannot win as we are,” Arthur yelled towards the boy, nearly a hundred paces away.

“I can’t, not again. I can’t let another person die for me without there being some justice in this world.”

As the final words left Rendall’s mouth, a nearby house shook then crumbled to the ground. An impact the size of a wagon hit the home, yet it was not a wagon, it was the uncontrolled blind force of Myval’s power.

The wolves still caused chaos to the enemy but they were tired. Their strikes were becoming sloppy and they were taking hit after hit, a few of the wolves barely able to do more than lash out with their jaws if someone got close.

“You’ve failed no one.” Arthur said and continued while watching the last of the peasants clear the area, “We will return to end him and his reign but we cannot do that as we are now.”

The warhorse continued nudging Rendall back pace by pack until the boy said, “Celer, let’s go.”

With Rendall jumping upon the white wolf and Arthur on the warhorse, they and the smaller black wolves ran out the city using every last bit of energy they had to get to the safety of the woodland.