Raegn watched the behemoths crash into the wall of shields. Wood splintered and bone shattered. The leather of his gloves groaned as he tightened his grip around his spear. The cries began to reach his position of safety behind the majority of the formation and filled his ears. Ulrich’s hand on his shoulder came at the exact moment his own weight shifted, drawn forward not by conscious thought but by boiling blood.

“It’s time,” the Old Bear said and took to a trot. Raegn was silent, but immediately on his mentor’s heels and wishing the old warrior would abandon the measured pace. The sounds of battle grew as they approached and the clouds above stretched toward the city in long tendrils like scraggly fingers.

Of the five companies in the second line, Ulrich’s was the middle. It offered the best position from which to command the others, while Raegn’s was to the Old Bear’s left. From this closer position, Raegn watched the battle unfold before him. The shield wall had broken, but several dozen paces away Bastion’s warriors fought on. The voidlings, flailing masses of claws, carapace legs, and distended muscle, overwhelmed those who had strayed too far from their comrades. His toes curled and he forced himself to stay in position rather than run out and fight. At least all the behemoths had been killed and it seemed that three of the five companies had been able to maintain their integrity and fight as one.

When the last of the voidlings fell the order was given for the front to retreat and Ulrich commanded their line forward. Battered and bloodied, those who survived funneled through the openings between each company. They did not speak, though some of those within the new front offered small words of encouragement or praise.

Landon was among them. The son of a smith, Landon had grown up surrounded by sharpened metal and had quickly become an adept warrior. Raegn had trained and sparred against the smith’s son since they were both boys, largely because they were the same age and equally sized. Landon’s face was built of hard angles, just as though a hammer had molded him, and the deep brown hair on his head was so thick it might have been made from clay. He was certainly one to test Raegn’s nerves, his rowdy nature grinding against the stoicism of Ulrich that Raegn attempted to emulate. Even so, he was one of the few in Bastion that Raegn could truly call a friend.

Landon hailed the last of the surviving warriors making it through the formation while Raegn focused ahead, waiting for the next wave of Void. What began as a soft rumble turned to a noticeable vibration of the earth as the enemy barreled towards them. He instinctively let embers ignite, filling his soul with Light. Ulrich’s voice rang through the valley, distorted as though it were thunder that carried his words.

“Sons of the spear - daughters of the shield!

Our ancestors have echoed through time!

May our actions grow their song!

Fight until your shield splinters!

Fight until your spear dulls!

Fight until the Heavens themselves come to take you!”

The formation screamed cries of war between each phrase and taunted the death that bore down on them. Raegn grinned. At last, the Bear of Bastion had joined them. This would be a true battle. One where glory might be found.

The rumble surged as Bastion’s warriors slammed their spears against the ground. Behemoths, their hulking mass of dark, grotesque flesh, crushed voidlings underfoot as they picked up speed. The creatures were tall as three or four men and charged forward in an attempt to crash through the shield wall as they had in the previous wave. One of them bore down on Raegn’s company, two legs thick as trees propelling it forward and periodically pushing off the ground with its misshapen arms for balance. Ulrich’s voice echoed across the rock walls once more.

“Voca!”

The language of the Divine. A relic itself as it was never used in conversation, yet Bastion had used it militarily since the Void War. Whether it was the language or that Ulrich spoke it, he was unsure, but the words stirred Raegn’s heart all the same. The embers in his chest surged upward into tall flames and fed the orb at his hand. The behemoth disappeared behind the bright sphere at the distance, but he need only wait a few moments more for portions of its outline to become visible. Ulrich’s timing was perfect.

“Solvo!”

Raegn willed the Light forward and the orb darted away, one of five lances of golden-white. It tore through the middle of the behemoth, vaporizing flesh and leaving a clean hole through its center. The massive creature toppled in a cloud of dust.

“Voca!” Ulrich’s voice boomed.

The fire still crackling in his chest, Raegn let the heat pour down his arm again. The next behemoth was noticeably closer and the delay to Ulrich’s next command was brief.

“Solvo!”

The Light Lance hit true, piercing through the neck.

“Voca!”

Raegn felt the skin on his arm begin to itch with the constant energy flowing into the limb.

“Solvo!”

Another hit. It impacted at a slight angle due to the behemoth’s position to Raegn’s left but destroyed whatever vital organs were in the beasts’ upper torso.

“Paratus!” Ulrich ordered.

As his target fell Raegn saw another behind it, unphased by a glancing blow from the neighboring company. Who commanded them? Henndar? Raegn pushed the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter. The behemoth could not be allowed to reach the shield wall. Hitting a moving target with a single shot would be difficult, but he had not spent all of his training on spear, sword, and shield.

The Light would kill a man the same as it did the Void. A mistake, and crime, he would not make willingly.

“Conquin!” Raegn yelled.

His unit dropped to a knee and left him the only standing member. He stoked the fire and gripped his arm at the wrist before continuously calling forth the Light. His shoulder strained and threatened to tear at the joint as he forced his arm to move mere inches. The beam cut across the behemoth and bisected it just above the legs as it lumbered forward.

“Paratus!” he ordered, slinging the round shield from his back to find the arm slot and grip while pulling his spear from the ground. The shields of his company linked in unison, his only slightly delayed, while the voidlings took the final strides to crash into the wall of wood and steel. The beasts howled and shrieked as they impaled themselves upon three dozen spears slotted in the gaps.

Even if Ulrich had used the Light, his commands would no longer reach the entire formation over the sounds of battle. Each company became a ship amidst a violent sea. Raegn grinned through his panting, for he was in control of his destiny now. He waited until the voidlings had massed against their shields and were about to climb atop the formation before issuing his command.

“Dis!”

With a synchronous yell, the shields in front slammed outward and shoved the enemy away.

“Eiecit!”

Another yell. The wall broke apart and spears thrust into the newly created gap, each finding black blood and creating a ripple of yelps and flailing limbs. They retracted the same as they had come, barely extended beyond the reformed wall. The voidling front surged forward and clawed for the human lifeblood that lingered just out of reach.

“Dis!”

Raegn felt a carapace crack through his shield as he followed his own command. The push of another warrior in the small of his back helped to press away the mass of attackers.

“Eiecit!”

The thrust felt good, a welcome repetition from the strain in his shoulder moments ago. He pulled back behind his shield and braced, anticipating the next impact and reveling in the fight.

So had Bastion defended the Realm from the Void since its creation. The company mimicked the city—a single, impassable point against an unrelenting tide. Bastion’s population was full of capable warriors, but only a rare few trained as Raegn had. The endurance required of the Sentinels to survive on their long scouting trips lent itself to his ability to fight for extended periods. The rest of his ability simply came from drills performed before the sun rose and long after it set under Ulrich’s watchful tutelage.

The wave of Void fought to the last. None broke through the shield wall. Raegn did not bother to count how many times they had repeated the sequence of attack, though the tightness in his muscles as he released the embers informed him of the toll it had taken his body. He clasped a hand over Landon’s shoulder as the company rested, shields on backs or used as a seat to avoid sitting on the blood-soaked ground.

“Can’t help but think we’re better off than the last line, eh?” Landon offered with a grin. “Guess it’s easier when those big bastards don’t get close.”

“A credit to better timing from the one in command,” Raegn replied.

He left Landon to rest with the others and stretched his legs on the short walk to Ulrich’s company. It wasn’t hard to find him. The Old Bear was planted firmly in front of his forces and peered down the valley, the spike on top of his large axe coated in inky liquid. Raegn never understood why his mentor chose to use the weapon in that manner, the head so much heavier than the tip of a spear, but no one dared complain about the result.

“I’m not sure Henndar has the endurance for another wave,” Raegn said as he approached. “We should swap his unit with one in the rear.”

“Agreed. I’ll leave that to you.”

Raegn frowned. No praise? He had cut a behemoth in half, for Light’s sake! Had the Old Bear not noticed? “I—” he began.

“Before you go, know that this battle is far from over. This day will test the limits of every warrior in this valley.” Ulrich turned to look him in the eye. “Be wise.”

Raegn met the gaze and forced himself not to close his hands into fists. The contemplative warrior was before him again, not the fearless Bear of Bastion that could kill a behemoth with only an axe. He turned back the way he had come. “Bene pugnare,” he muttered.

“Honestum mori,” came the reply.

Still willing to say the words, he thought. Fighting well was a given, but Raegn doubted the Old Bear would want him to take any risk that might cost him his life. The old fool was too cautious. It was a miracle Raegn had ever been permitted to join the Sentinel’s or fight at all. His eye twitched at the thought of sitting in council meetings with his ass growing sore on the throne with each passing day. He counted himself lucky that he could stand with Bastion’s brave warriors in battle.

His company still rested as he passed by, though more were beginning to stand and mill about in quiet conversation. He found Henndar leaning on his shield and giving words of encouragement to his formation. The man’s eyes met Raegn’s from beneath bushy eyebrows and the weary soldier found the energy to stand straight and step away.

“There are likely to be more behemoths in the next wave. Fall to the rear and have your paired unit from the next line come forward,” Raegn said, flatly.

“Of course, Lord Raegn,” Henndar replied. The man pulled at the corner of his mustache and Raegn crossed his arms, waiting for the order to be relayed. Just as he was about to shout it for him, Henndar found the courage to speak. “Thank you.” The words started meekly but grew in strength as Henndar continued. “If not for you, many of my men would be wounded or dead. Thank you for covering for my weakness.”

Raegn mulled over the praise, hoping to find joy rise within. Instead, he found pity for the leader unable to protect his own. He sniffed, biding time, but only the pity remained. What would Ulrich say? Something encouraging, but laden with disappointment, probably.

“We are what we overcome, Henndar. You can thank me by fighting valiantly should you face the enemy again.” That sounded good. Like it might have come from the Old Bear himself. Henndar looked at him with a tilted head. Had the man expected harsh criticism? Perhaps Ulrich had been right—his reputation could do with some softening.

“Of course, Lord Raegn,” Henndar said. He saluted smartly and turned to inform his unit of the orders. They hoisted spear and shield and began to march away from the front line. The company to their rear, having noticed the movement, moved to fill the gap.

Raegn returned to his own unit and noticed that the two to Ulrich’s right were also mid-swap. Keeping the line fresh, he noted. Smart, but unneeded in our case. So long as the shield wall held, a company could rotate internally to stay rested. Ulrich would know this, but the swap wouldn’t have been because the shield wall was tired, it would be the unit’s commander who was fatigued and unable to hold off another wave. While in formation, only the commander was permitted to manifest the Light, limiting the chances of fratricide. It was not unheard of for warriors to die at the hands of their own kind in moments of panic, their bodies torn apart by the Light.

“How many more waves like that, do you reckon?” Landon asked when Raegn arrived back to his original position.

His friend’s hands were woven together, each flexing the knuckles of the other in turn. Landon was a capable warrior and a good Sentinel, but had barely made the cut for endurance. By the end of the last scouting trip he’d been able to do little more than keep up near the end. It was one of the reasons Raegn had chosen Raelle to be his second for the vanguard, though once behind the safety of the walls her allegiances returned to the Elite Guard rather than the Sentinels. He broke his eyes away from the dark clouds rolling towards them to glance at Landon. Would his friend have the endurance to last the entire battle? Had he made a mistake and given the spot of second-in-command of the company out of affection rather than merit? Landon would try to represent the position well and never admit to being a weak link, but Raegn could not afford to let pride endanger others.

“I’m not sure. I’m going to rotate the front to keep the wall fresh, though. Our company will stay in this fight ‘til the end,” Raegn replied.

Landon nodded. “Good...good.”

Enough of the others overheard and started to shuffle themselves into new positions. Eleven new faces now stood alongside Raegn, though he took note that Landon had ended up directly to his rear. Not willing to order him back another row, Raegn simply hoped that his friend would have the energy for accurate thrusts and to help push against the coming wave.