The Sack of Calth: Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One: The battle for the Vineyard.

The 13th snuck up from the gentle hill with the cover of the smoke as they’re shroud, weapons low and joints of they’re armour jammed with cloth to help soften the clicks. Isilorbor was in the lead, knowing the land better then anyone, Fireblade twitching in his hands, his eyes set and hard on the home of his childhood.

To his far right, Zelderan was leading his men towards the west side while Borermor lead his Company towards the east with Isilorbor on the south. He risked a look to both his friends; they were singular figurers in the smoke, yet all three of them past a nod, knowing this was to be their toughest battle of their lives.

From out of the smoke, Isilorbor saw the walls of the vineyard, he saw a few shadows on look out, yet he remind unseen and moving slowly, ducking as low under the smoke as he could. Then, he saw the look outs spin behind them and run away from their posts, Isilorbor could have sworn he hear two female voices, but they were gone before he could think harder on them, but something travelled down his spine and heart, warning him that something was amiss.

He slowly rose a hand up, the 13th slowly came to a halt, this was the point of no return. Battle-Brothers shared looks with each other and nodded, clasping hands together in an unspoken agreement and good luck. Isilorbor fasten his helmet around his head, the night was so silent it made him feel uneasy. All of the look outs left their post by some blind act of fate.

Finely, Isilorbor thought to himself, some good luck at last.

Thinking of all those who gave their lives for this city, Forsion, Tarlon, Eaernor, all of the men from the Legion and the defenders of Macragge, all of them were going to be avenged!

Picking Fireblade up from the ground, and removing the cloth from his armour joins, Isilorbor rose to his fall height, holding Fireblade high in the sky and lowering it to the vineyard, the rest of the Legion followed suit of their captain.

From the smoke of the vineyard, the Easterlings were all gathered around in a group, watching something in the barn when Isilorbor and the 13th Legion strode out from the smoke like heroics of old, the guards by the gate turned and to their horror was Isilorbor Ventris amongst them. With a flick his hands, Isilorbor beheaded the Easterling guard, his body falling away and he grinned as others who heard the thud of a body behind them.

“Courage and Honour!” Isilorbor bellowed, breaking the silence of the night as he lead one-hundred warriors directly into the Easterling hoard. Panic ensued as the Fourth Company charged head long towards them, some tried to form a shield wall but it was too late, with a bark and a snapping of words, the Easterlings counter charged, pushing down grape vines in their path, weapons raised and throats roaring as the two forces clashed in thunder and blood.

Isilorbor span on his feet, bring Fireblade in a tight circle and removing a head of another Easterling, in the same motion he let the force of the attack carry him onwards, using Fireblade in a two handed grip, bring it over his head and slamming it down on another Easterling. The man raised his shield to protect himself but Fireblade cut thought it, taking his arm and part of his head with it.

The Fourth Company battled with the Easterlings, throwing themselves onto them, using what ever they could to bring harm to their foe. Evernor lost his axe in the chest of an Easterling as another jumped him, the two wrested in the mud as grapes and wood broke under them. The Easterling was on top of him, looking with total and pure hate as he choked the life out of the Gondorian. Evernor grabbed the mans wrists and tried to twist them away, but to no avail, instead, he saw a piece of broken wood with a sharp end, letting of for a instance and grabbing the wood, he stabbed it with all his might into the Easterlings eye, he kept stabbing until the man fell away when he picked up the fallen Easterlings sword and stabbed it into his heart.

“Into the Fires of Battle!” Zelderan roared as he broke from the West gate, Riptide lowered and ramming it into the stomach of a Easterling, it jetting out of his back with a bone crunching snap, the spine snapping like a twig as Zelderan kicked the Easterling with disgust.
“Into the Fires of War!” The Fifth Company returned the roar as they joined their captain, crashing into the west flank of the Easterlings. They died in their scores; blood ran thick and heavy as the unrelenting Fifth Company hacked and slashed at their hated enemy.

Zelderan rose Riptide to block a downward slash to his face, shaking his head at the Easterling foolish enough, he brought Riptide down, the spike aimed perfectly at the man’s neck. The Easterling saw the threat and tried to pull away, but failed as Zelderan placed his whole strength behind his halberd. The spike at the end shot under the mans jaw and into his brain.

The vineyard is a roaring battlefield, men of the west and east battling for the fate of the city that lay burning like a great orange eye in the smoke. The fighting was brutal, what ever came into hand was used, sometimes men had no swords or shields and beat their foes to death with their bare hands, using stone to bash open skulls to those who wore no helmet or had them tore away. The area was tight; men fought literally back to back, shoulder to shoulder, once a man fell dead others stood on his body to better fight.

“First Company! Do your worst, lads!” Borermor yelled as he drew Forsion’s sword, lowering it and leading his men from the east side of the vineyard, ducking low as a Easterling was aiming his sword to finish a man from the Fourth Company.

The Easterling saw Borermor coming, rising his shield to meet the Gondorian and ignoring his kill on the floor, bleeding heavily from a thigh wound. Borermor leapt from side to side, the Easterling leap to where he thought the Gondorian would land next, but instead with precision that only a man of Borermor’s experience could, he stabbed the razor shape point of his sword towards the Easterlings neck. A jet of red gore spat from the Easterlings neck, his Adams apple sliced clean in half as he fell back, hands grasping to steam the fatal neck wound.

Not stopping to admire his handy word, Borermor leap into the battle, his shield and sword working as part of his body, whirling death all around him as the First Company delivered the finishing blow to the Easterlings.

More Easterlings came out of the vineyard, storming out of the door ways to aid their comrades, the cries of the wounded and the roars of the Gondorians as they fought with passion in their hearts.

Isilorbor found himself in front of the doors to the barn, plunging Fireblade into an Easterlings chest and twisting the blade, hate flaring in his eyes as he watched the man die on his blade. Never before had he felt rage so hot in his heart, this was his home! This was the place he grew up from childhood, and there’s…Beasts were destroying it! He had seen orcs butcher women and children, men fall to hideous wounds in battle, even Risthir’s wrath upon Lendes’ body paled to the fury that commanded his sword arm. Twisting the blade on last time, a booming, silk smooth voice called over the dim of the battle, stalling the battle at once.

“Son’s of Gondor, look upon your lord!” Aahrash called from the barn’s roof, two chains in both his hands and two people bound to them by the necks, their hands and feet tied together.

Isilorbor stood tall, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see the two people bound to the Easterling lord. Around him, the Easterlings backed away from the Gondorians, keeping their shields and swords ready while forming into a group together. Blood and bodies were everywhere; the wounded were dragged back to their own as all eyes were upon Aahrash.

“Who commands?” His voice was heavy on the wind, the snapping of banners and the soft groans of wounded were hardly noticed.
“Captain Isilorbor Ventris, Fourth Company, 13th Legion!” Isilorbor barked out towards Aahrash, Fireblade lowered and his necked craned skywards.
Aahrash bowed his head low, a smooth smile on his face.
“I salute thee, Captain Ventris. You truly are your father’s son.” He left his words in the air, looking at his two captives with a dark spark behind his eye.
Isilorbor frowned at the mention of his father, his free hand balling into a fist.
“All of you, Gondorians! I salute you! You have all fought so bravely, and killed so many great beasts and my own. But it does not have to end here, my friends. We can avoid the mindless slaughter that will come…” Aahrash was cut off when Borermor step up, a wolfish grin on his face and shouted towards the Easterling.
“Giving up so soon, Easterling?” The laughter from the First Company was great, mock Aahrash and even Isilorbor grinned widely as he saw the Easterling lord shift uncomfortably on his feet.
“Surrender! And your lives shall be spared!” Aahrash had lost his patience with the mocking Gondorians, hugging the two captives by their chains to so both stood only inches away from the end, gags over their mouths.
Zelderan stepped towards Isilorbor, his eyes locked on the captives and both men shared uneasy looks. Taking a breath to steel himself, he rose Fireblade into a guard stance and answered, steel and hate in his voice.
“We shall not be slaves to serve the will of darkness, Easterling!” The cheers of approval came from Fourth and Fifth Company, but were suddenly silent as they gags were pulled away and two voices cried out.
“Zelderan!” Sabrial cried out, tears forming behind her eyes.
“Keep fighting!” Lavinia shouted out.

Zelderan took a step forward, his eyes and mouth open in terror as his heart screamed out, just like his friend, Isilorbor took a step back as if he was slapped in the face.
“Let her go!” Zelderan screamed at Aahrash, but only to be returned with a cackle.
“Oh, now you wish to speak.” He leaned closer to Sabrial, whispering something into her eye, and to Zelderan’s disgust his tongue licked Sabrial cheek deeply, biting her ear and smirking at Zelderan.
“You bastard!” Zelderan hissed, his grip of Riptide strong enough to make his whole body shake like an earthquake was under him.
Isilorbor raised the point of Fireblade towards Aahrash, his voice now filled with power, like thunder before a storm.
“Release them! They are innocent!”
“Until proven guilty.” Aahrash held both chains in his hand and in an eye blink, a silver flash shot from his hip has a sword was drawn, holding it at ease in his hand.
Isilorbor and Zelderan stepped forward, Borermor jogging up to his friends and standing by their side. Both men hardly breathed as Aahrash spoke his demands.
“One final chance, men of Gondor! Surrender now and you may live this day!” There was no room for argument in Aahrash’s voice, staring down into the Gondorians with triumph in his eyes.

Both Isilorbor and Zelderan had sworn oaths to do their duty, no matter the cost. No matter what enemy threw themselves at them, they were to meet them with sword and fire, their last words upon this oath was ‘Sword’s first, Heart’s second.’ Zelderan looked to Isilorbor, his eyes desperate to find a way of saving his wife. Isilorbor nodded, turning towards Aahrash and spat a single word at him.

“Never!”

Aahrash did not hesitate in his action, with a flick of his wrist, his sword leapt into Sabrial’s back and bursting out of her stomach. With a gasp, her head shot up and resting on Aahrash’s shoulder. Trying to draw breath, Aahrash leaned forward and kissed Sabrial deeply, bring his foot back and kicked her from the barn, letting of the chains while dragging a screaming Lavinia with him.

Isilorbor watched Sabrial fall from the roof, his legs rooted to the stop as he watched a woman he had known since he was born fall. A eye breaking shriek burst from Zelderan’s lips as he dropped Riptide, screaming in anguish as he ran towards his falling love, holding up his arms to catch her before she met the ground.

Horrified beyond words, Isilorbor simply watched as Zelderan fell to his knees with Sabrial in his arms, his gauntlets pressing on both ends of the wound on Sabrial’s body as he fought to keep her alive. Borermor was the first to recover, his shock turned into blind rage as he drew a single breath and bellowed an order.

“Slaughter them all!” He bellowed long and loud, rising his sword and led the 13th into the Easterlings once more. The Fifth Company roared with more rage then any of the two Companies, Sabrial was more to them then just the captain’s wife, but they all bore a single diamond on their armour where their hearts were in her honour.

In honour to the Jewel of Calth.

A number of the Fifth Company formed a small ring around Zelderan and Sabrial, raising their shields and bearing their swords, they let none pass. Isilorbor still remained rooted to the stop, watching the men of the 13th butcher the Easterlings without mercy nor regret. His mind commanded his legs to walk towards the ring of men; they looked at the captain of the Fourth Company and parted. Zelderan had tears flowing freely from his eyes, looking up at Isilorbor like a lost child, before his face and eyes hardened in resolve.

“Kill him, Isil!” He snarled at his friend.
Isilorbor simply nodded, taking one last look at Sabrial before adjusting his helmet and running towards the barn, knowing a way in that the Easterlings did not.

Ignoring the battle, Isilorbor was behind the barn and found what he was looking for, a small door leading down to the cellar of the barn were they kept the wine that was bottled and to be sold. It was locked from the inside, but that would not stop Isilorbor. He took a few steps back and aimed Fireblade at the wooden door and charged, throwing his whole weight in his sword and the door, it gave way and broke under the attack.

Isilorbor cast himself into the darkness, and on a mission of vengeance.