Argades ordered his men forward, the thugs had fewer numbers, save for the fact that the majority of the defender’s were untrained or those rescued during the convoy’s travels. Their bodies were visibly shaking in the presence of men that reminded them of the ones who had enslaved and tortured them in the first place. Some of the women may have hardened their hearts and killed their original captors, yet the fear and trauma of captivity was not easily forgotten. These men had not been starved, beaten, and shackled, they were in peak condition and would not willingly give up their heads to those weaker than them.
Damastor led the charge, heavy wooden club in hand, swinging with all his might. The weak and untrained men held their spears, attempting to form a staunch line of spears, but the form was shoddy, with gaps between the men and women. Damastor easily muscled his way into one of these gaps and smashed his oaken club into two men. Flinging the defenders aside and wrenching open a hole in the line. What few spear thrust’s the untrained mobs were capable of were often weak and unstable, the force of the attack pushed aside by the attacker’s or unable to penetrate their thick hide armor.
Seeing their vanguard’s success, as well as the weakness of the defender’s, the initially hesitant intruders were emboldened. The few trained guards present were mostly injured, only the two Ocealus guards could put up a decent fight, yet they were soon overwhelmed by the enemy numbers. One brigand could take on four or five of the mob, easily holding them at bay without intending to win. All the while the remaining core members like Damastor or Argades with another would focus on eliminating the only threats, the Ocealus guards.
The constant skirmishes and conflicts along the journey had depleted the Temrenosian forces, a small force of bandits such as these would never have been a match for them before. They were still not a match, but the lacking manpower in trained fighters was starting to show. The casualties at the Kallithene Hills were especially difficult, which resulted in their forces being hard pressed, attacked on all sides, and forced to employ untrained civilians in attempt to put up a brave front.
It was Leucena who fought the hardest, tearing away the unwieldy dress and standing firm in a simple tunic that exposed much of her skin to Argades’s leering gaze. She knew what fate awaited her, should she be captured, her attention was on Argades, her eyes burning with hate. “I belong to no one Argades! I am no one’s pet, and I would sooner bite my tongue than go with you willingly…” Leucena swung her staff with surprising dexterity, showcasing her impressive skills. Her swings came fluidly, one flowing into the next, a twirl of the body would add to the force of the blow, striking in quick succession and keeping her opponents on the back foot.
Yet even as Leucena pressed forward, knocking down one enemy, and beating back the next, she was only an individual. Damastor and Argades had quickly taken down the Ocealus guards, leaving them alive but bleeding from numerous concussive blows to the skull. Instead of moving to contain Leucena they turned their attention to the other side where their three men had been holding against the mass of defender’s.
The injured Temrenosian soldiers were the first ones to fall, targeted by the dangerous duo as they sought to eliminate any threats to their retreat. Two of the brigands had died, one at the hands of an Ocealus guard, and the other a lucky thrust through the armpit. Even with their numbers reduced to seven, and being outnumbered two to one, the brigands were successful in isolating Leucena from the rest. She had been so caught up in the fight, so focused on the enemy in front, she had failed to realize how he was rarely attacking. He had in fact been dragging her away, falling back deeper into their side of the field, separating her from her allies.
By the time Leucena realized what was happening, she was surrounded. Argades, alongside Damastor had come up on her flanks, keeping their distance but slowly boxing her in. The remaining enemies had formed up with their makeshift wooden shields and held back her allies who were desperately trying to break through the shield wall formation. However, the main fighting forces of the defenders had been taken down, they did not have the strength to press through an enemy who was intent on doggedly defending their position.
“Give up Leucena, I don’t want to have to harm your pretty face. But I will if you leave me with no choice! Throw down the weapon and none of your people need to be hurt.” Argades slowly closed in with his shield raised, he was confident in victory but had seen what the woman was capable of. Both his subordinates followed suit, pressing in towards the woman, defending against the sharp blows banging against their shields.
On her end Leucena was growing desperate, she now had fully realized her folly, how she had played right into her opponent’s hands. It was not the valuables they were after, the Taureas were here for her and her alone, only now realizing the depths of Argades’s personal obsession. The reality dawned upon her that there was no escape, that no one would come to rescue her because of the ongoing attacks outside, even now the building shook from the intermittent fighting at the rear of the structure.
“Dammit! Curse you Argades, don’t think for a second that you will be able to escape your punishment. Lord Caedyrn will hunt you down!” Leucena opened her mouth and prepared to bite down, yet she hesitated, failing to extend her tongue. Argades in a moment of fear struck out with his club, knocking her hard on the back of her head. Damastor moved quickly, grabbing hold of the woman before she hit the ground and proceeding to restrain her, stuffing a prepared rag into her open mouth before she regained her bearings.
With practiced movements the thugs of the Taureas family had quickly secured their prize. Not wanting to overstay their welcome, and fearful of the return of the main force of defenders, they collected their dead while beating back their remaining opponents. They left nothing behind that could identify them, withdrawing and returning the way they came, leaving only the unconscious, injured, and crying defenders. Leucena was gone, bound, and gagged, slung over Damastor’s sturdy shoulders.
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Outside the battle was nearing its end, the frontal assault by House Duris had failed, most of the attacker’s lying dead in the courtyard. Losses were light on the defender’s side, as Maatilani and Jezebela’s fierce flanking assault had resulted in the execution of many of the enemy’s frontline fighters. Yet it was only following their victory at the front that Maatilani realized the truth, their attack was merely the distraction, the real attack was at the rear.
Opposing Timeaus and his party was yet another inhuman creature, this one an abomination of wood and decayed flesh, but possessing the same ferocity, strength, and regenerative capability showcased by the monster at the Kallithene Hills. Luckily although it possessed similar physical traits, it was slow, and lacking the intellect of the other. It was also in a wretched state, Timeaus’s party having whittled it down considerably, what looked like wings had been sheared off, blackened, and burnt at the tips. With the rest off its body showing similar wounds, as if it had been dipped in molten iron, chunks of what appeared to be bark lay scattered about the floor, the body littered with holes.
Dark black ichor oozed from wounds across its body, an arm held by a single strand. Yet even with such wounds, wounds that would have killed any creature six times over, the monster showed no pain, its face a mask of frozen anguish. Across from it, Timeaus and his party were in an utterly exhausted state, Paulus was down, armor cratered into his chest, struggling to draw in air.
Niko was barely able to remain standing with Mera for support, his knees and legs shaking like a newborn calf. Spurius and Timeaus stood tall with axes ready, prepared to fight even though their exhaustion was obvious. It was when they noticed the arrival of Maatilani and the reinforcements that they seemed to finally relax, believing in the powerful warrior’s ability to handle the situation.
Maatilani ordered the rest of the soldiers to stay back, understanding that additional soldiers would only get in the way, before downing a vial of crimson liquid. Her veins turned dark crimson, muscles expanding as the dark liquid pumped seeped into her body, her eyes glowing with increased intensity. Before the weakened creature could make its move, she pounced, thrusting her spear through its chest, and pinning it to the nearby wall.
“Timeaus! Axe now!” On command Timeaus tossed his axe to the woman who proceeded to cleave the monster apart. With enhanced strength, her every strike caused the air to scream as the axe head bore down on the petrified flesh, separating the layered strands with relative ease.
Had it been at the start of battle, and the wooden soldier in peak condition, it may have stood a slight chance, but provided almost no resistance in its current state to the human weapon. Its weakened regenerative abilities were unable to repair or reattach the damaged limbs. Vine like tendrils struggling to repel the final blow which pried open the monster’s chest, exposing the magical shard.
Without hesitation Maatilani plunged her fist into the things heart, her hands taking firm hold of the flesh around the crystal shard and yanking with all her might. Flesh stretched and tore, wood buckled and cracked, and with a victorious roar, she came away with a dense handful of flesh, the shining purple crystal shard at its center.
A rousing cry of victory rose into the night sky, with the rest of the crowd falling suit. The corpse of the wooden soldier left pinned to the wall, awaiting the Scholar’s return. Yet the victorious cry had also informed those within the building of the victory, and soon the reality of their losses would be known. For the Apollonius and Mera, the loss of their mother would separate the group. Those who wished to chase pursue the unknown group, and those who wished to hold until the Scholar’s return.
The appearance of a bloody and beaten Malakos, along with news of the loss of his escort and information on two more wooden soldiers and their equally powerful controller only helped to sow further discord among the ranks. Maatilani forbade the brother and sister duo from leaving, tightening the guard around the compound, while requesting assistance from the Scylla and sending word to the Scholar.
Although Maatilani did all she could to contain the siblings, she simply did not have the manpower to prevent their escape. She was also personally incapable of giving chase as she suffered the aftereffects of the potion, the counteracting poison depleting her stamina and forcing her into a weakened state. All the while Timeaus assisted his niece and nephew, their group alongside those lower ranked scouts loyal to him slipped out under cover of darkness.
Even without a lead Apollonius and Mera would search every sector of the city until they found signs of their missing mother. Gods help the people involved when they found them, as neither child would grant a merciful death. As the Little Witch’s brew would be especially virulent this time around.
