Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 21
🕑 Added 2025-06-16 16:00:21 +0000 UTCLianne watched the map in the center of the command center.
"Captain!" A runner skidded to a halt beside her. "Eastern battery is gone. Captain Reed says that he will continue to fight from his positions with rifles."
"Very well," Lianne nodded. Her eyes never moved from the map, she'd seen the last cannon of the battery break apart under the fire and spells of the ships out at sea.
The boy ran off.
The thunder of Irdun cannons shook the very foundations beneath her feet. Another emplacement collapsed in a shower of stone and screaming defenders. Through the haze, she spotted champions leading their forces - their divine auras cutting swaths through the darkness like beacons of doom.
They advanced to the beach on bridges made of frozen sea water and landing craft spelled together into a chaotic mismatch.
The command center shuddered under the thunder of Irdun cannons. Lianne steadied herself against the map table.
"They're using champions like regular soldiers," Joreck said.
"They're running out of troops," Lianne said. "Just not fast enough."
Lianne nodded grimly, marking another loss on her tactical map. Only three cannon positions still held out, their crews grimly loading and firing despite the chaos around them. The distinctive whump of mortars provided covering fire, but she knew it wouldn't be enough.
The war drums carried across the water, their steady rhythm matching the inexorable advance of Irdun's forces. Musket fire crackled in sporadic bursts, punctuated by the screams of the wounded and dying. Through gaps in the smoke, she watched another ice bridge form, more troops marching across its crystalline surface.
"They're pushing from every angle," she muttered, tracing the multiple assault points. Their defensive line was stretched impossibly thin, breaking apart one position at a time.
The beaches, once a formidable line of defense, was now a broken battlefield strewn with blood, shattered debris, and the last remaining resistance of Petor's plants.
"They knew they were going to win. The only thing they didn't know was the cost," She muttered to Joreck.
He hugged her from the side—a rare show of breaking from their discipline and different positions.
"We got a lot of people out," Joreck said into her hair before kissing her on the head.
Lianne closed her eyes, taking in a breath and letting it out again standing upright once more.
"Here comes another push," Joreck said as Irdun troops surged across the bridges towards the beaches. The gun crews that were shooting down from the trenches they'd dug into the top of the beach's incline over the day picked up their pace, rallying to meet the charge.
Lianne's guts twisted at the charge—her kids were down there on the lines and she'd walked them earlier, it the enemy made it to the top of the rise then those same defenses would turn into their graves.
Through the smoke-filled air, Lianne watched the Irdun soldiers pour across the ice bridges. Their steel armor gleamed with holy light, divine barriers deflecting the desperate musket volleys from her gun crews. The endless stream of troops moved with practiced precision, shields locked as they advanced up the beach.
The remaining cannons thundered with their desperate shots. Grapeshot ripped through the front ranks of Irdun soldiers, shredding flesh and armor. Bodies tumbled down the beach, but more troops simply stepped over their fallen comrades, pressing forward with mechanical efficiency.
On her tactical map, Lianne marked another section of their line falling back. The defenders were stretched too thin, exhausted from hours of continuous combat. Her experienced eye caught the telltale signs of imminent collapse - gaps appearing between positions, ammunition running low, wounded being dragged away faster than replacements could fill in.
White-robed champions led the charge, their holy magic cutting swaths through Petor's deadly flora. The enchanted plants withered and died under concentrated divine energy, clearing paths for the infantry behind them. Mortar shells screamed overhead, cratering the beach, but the Irdun soldiers pushed through the explosions with religious fervor.
"Eastern flank is collapsing," Joreck reported grimly. "They're moving through the gap."
Lianne watched helplessly as her defenders broke under the overwhelming assault. Soldiers abandoned their positions, falling back in disarray as Irdun troops swarmed up the shelled beach. Musket fire became sporadic, desperate. The plants that had held the line for so long withered under concentrated spellfire, leaving the approaches exposed.
"There are no more reinforcements," Lianne muttered. She raised her head and looked around the room—the runners, signallers and messengers—most were the wounded now, those that were in good condition having already gone out to the battlefield. I don't have anyone else to call upon.
Lianne drew her cutlass, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light. "There are no more reinforcements left. Those on the beaches, in the trenches, there is no one else to call on. I know that many of you were wounded and took up these posts. They have no one else to support them," she said, her voice firm despite the exhaustion that clawed at her.
She looked into the eyes of the men and women that filled her command center. "If we don't hold, Osola falls. Grab your weapons, follow me, and we make them bleed for every step!"
They pulled on their bandoliers, readied their pistols and rifles—others raised their boarding axes and loosened their cutlasses.
Lianne looked over to Joreck who threw on a bandolier and checked his rifle. He looked at her and smiled—the sight breaking her heart.
She returned his smile.
How lucky have we been to live this life past what should have been our deaths? They'd been on borrowed time ever since they died.
Lianne reached out to Joreck. He took her hand, squeezing it and bringing it up to his lips.
She clenched his fingers in hers, then turned for the door.
The guards opened the doors and walked through.
She pressed a rune to the side of the doorway. lines of fire traced through the command center—papers burning as the staff followed her.
The security doors led out into the maze of tunnels and bunkers around the inlet.
Lianne coughed smoke and dust choked the air, mixing with the acrid stench of gunpowder. Their boots crunched over spent ammunition casings and the remains of the twelve hour battle.
The guards led the way through the tunnels up through the rock out into the late afternoon sun.
Musket fire crackled in sporadic bursts, cut through by the howl and bang of mortars and punctuated by the thunder of cannon fire. Lianne's grip tightened on her cutlass as they emerged into the trench lines overlooking the beach.
The scene before them was chaos. Defenders fought from their trenches—desperately trying to hold back the Irdun advance, their ranks dangerously thin. Water-gliders turned their water-weaving skills to combat, sending razor-sharp streams slicing through enemy soldiers. Wind-singers fueled the fires on the battlefield and turned stones and round shot into bullets.
Champions called down attacks on their positions, as they found them.
"Protect the slingers and singers!" Lianne yelled.
Lianne's eyes darted along the network of trenches, taking in the chaos of the battlefield. A dozen defenders fought desperately at the beach's rise their backs pressed against mud walls as Irdun forces pushed relentlessly forward. One section of the line sagged dangerously, defenders falling under the overwhelming assault.
A gap forming in their defensive line. Irdun soldiers poured through the breach like water through a broken dam, their weapons flashing in the afternoon sun.
"Follow me!" Lianne yelled. Without hesitation, she surged forward, her boots sliding in the blood-slick mud as she charged toward the gap.
A spear thrust came at her chest, fast and precise. Lianne turned, the blade grazing her side as she brought her cutlass down on the shaft, snapping it in two. The Irdun soldier snarled, lunging with the broken shaft, but she stepped inside his guard, driving the pommel of her cutlass into his temple. He crumpled.
Joreck shot him with his rifle and drew pistols, shooting at Irdun charging the trench.
A hulking champion of Irdun stepped into her path, his shield glowing with divine energy. He swung a massive hammer, the air humming as it tore toward her.
Lianne dove, the hammer smashing into the trench wall, sending mud and debris flying. She rolled to her feet, her pistol snapping up. She fired, the shot glancing off his helm and staggering him.
He recovered quickly, bringing the hammer around again. Lianne ducked, the weapon grazing her shoulder with a bone-jarring impact. Pain flared, but she gritted her teeth, stepping inside his swing. She drove her cutlass into the gap under his arm, the blade punching through. He let out a guttural roar, his hammer falling from his grip as she twisted the blade and pulled it free.
He fell to his knees, clutching the wound as blood poured down his side. Lianne ended him with a pistol shot to the face, the crack of the gun cutting through the chaos.
"Joreck!" she called, and he was at her side in an instant, his pistol already barking as he fired into the advancing Irdun forces. They had reached the breach-facing the Irdun forces rushing up the beach.
A soldier with a halberd lunged, the weapon's blade aimed straight for Joreck's chest. Lianne stepped forward, her cutlass catching the halberd's shaft and knocking it wide. The soldier's eyes widened as Joreck fired over her. Blood sprayed as the soldier collapsed.
"Push forward! Hold the line!" The words tore from her raw throat.
Joreck fired his pistol beside her, the shot thundering in the confined space. His target's chest exploded in a spray of gore. Another that had gotten into the trench. Three more Irdun soldiers charged through the smoke, their weapons gleaming with divine enchantments that made her skin crawl.
A flash of movement caught her eye - a mage, his hands wreathed in flames. The spell roared down the trench, heat blistering the air. Lianne dropped to one knee, raising her pistol in one smooth motion. Her shot caught him square in the chest, the mage's spell dying with him as he toppled backwards.
On either side of her Mardun filled the trench, pistol shot and melee weapons were used in close combat, a furious and terrible line.
"Hold the line!" Lianne's voice cut through the chaos of battle. "They will not take this beach!"
Her words sparked something in the defenders. They surged forward, filling the gap beside her and Joreck, weapons flashing in the smoky air.
The trench descended into bloody melee. Lianne moved like a demon, her cutlass never still. She parried an incoming sword thrust, driving her blade deep into the wielder's chest. A flurry of strikes came at her - she dodged, her pistol cracking to take the attacker in the leg before her cutlass finished him.
A spear thrust past her guard. She grabbed it, twisting it from the soldier's grip and ramming it through another's chest. Joreck fought at her side, their movements synchronized from years of combat together, holding the line against the endless tide of Irdun soldiers.
Hold for just another minute. And then another greedy second.
A shadow loomed overhead, blotting out the sun. Lianne instinctively glanced up, her breath catching at the sight.
A massive black tower sheathed in a mist, dropped from above.
Lianne braced herself in the trench.
The impact rippled through the ground and her as the mist slapped the ground at the same time-ocean spray.
The impact shook the entire island. Lianne stumbled, grabbing the trench wall to pull herself upright.
The tower was beyond the beach's shallows.
The structure tilted dangerously, threatening to topple. But even as Lianne's heart seized at the sight, thick vines and roots burst from the ground. The plants - Petor's handiwork - wrapped around the prison's base like massive fingers, steadying it. Ice crystallized where the tower met the water, spreading outward in intricate patterns. Stone fused and merged with the ice, anchoring the dark prison firmly to Osola's bedrock
Irdun soldiers and their bridges had vanished beneath the tower.
Water had surged up the shore.
"Stand to!" Lianne yelled. The Irdun were scattered on the beach-thrown off balance from the impact or the surge of water.
The Mardun took up their weapons shooting laying into the stunned Irdun soldiers.
Lianne steadied herself against the trench wall as thunder erupted from above. Cannons at the top of the tower opened fire, their shots streaking across the water toward the Irdun fleet.
The ships hulls were pierced—masts shattered.
Dark shapes leapt from the bridges surrounding the tower. Cultists crashed into the scattered Irdun ranks on the beach.
A terrible rain.
Then the bodies started to rise.
Necromancy!
A whistle cut through the air sharp and clear even above the battle's din. The sea churned, massive forms breaching the surface. Undead leviathans rose from the depths, their rotting flesh still bearing the scars of ancient battles. They smashed into the Irdun ships, massive tentacles crushing hulls and dragging vessels beneath the waves.
Lianne pressed her fingers to her temple, whispering words of sight enhancement. Her vision sharpened, zooming toward the tower's peak.
She staggered. "That hat, the whistle—Draden?"
She said his word, her guts twisting in apprehension.
Draden raised his hands, directing the beasts.
The air grew thick with power, reality warping around them.
Colors blurred and twisted as the ground heaved beneath their feet. Lianne's stomach lurched with a sickening sensation of falling.
The very island seemed to fracture. Showing Osola and the fleet. Then a place with shards of stone amongst a rough see, a shoal with a passage running through it.
The two overlaid one another and snapped into reality.
The island was jarred and shifted, lower and higher—different than it had been. The sun was in a different position, the air coming on a new heading.
Where the Irdun fleet had dominated the horizon, there was nothing but empty sea and alien rock formations jutting from the waves.
Priests and champions started yelling to the heavens—something had gone desperately wrong.
Lianne watched as the stone at the prison's base rippled and flowed like water, forming archways and melting into ramps.
From the dark passages emerged a tide of figures—her heart shuddered as they unleashed their cultivations.
At their head charged Mya, her rifle blazing, while Valter, his armored constructs and Petor flanked her.
They leapt forward with melee weapons, tearing through the Irdun that were hurrying to their feet.
The dead rose in droves on the beach. There were no holy spells to burn them and stop them from rising.
"Their gods are gone!" someone shouted from the trenches. "The barriers are down!"
The prisoners and three of the horsemen crashed into the Irdun ranks like a storm surge, their fury unbound after years of torment. They fought with desperate strength, crude weapons guided by vengeful purpose. Where before the defenders had struggled against divine shields, now their shots found flesh and bone.
Lianne seized the moment, raising her bloodied cutlass high. "To me! Rally to me! This is our chance—drive them back!"
Her voice carried over the din of battle, and the defenders responded with a roar that shook the very ground. They poured from their trenches, surging forward with renewed vigor. Lianne charged at their head, her blade finding gaps in armor and throats with lethal precision. Her pistol cracked, dropping a champion who tried to rally his men.
Joreck moved like her shadow, his rifle dropping Irdun fighters. Where she struck, Joreck covered. Where Joreck advanced, Lianne guarded.
The tide had turned. The Irdun forces, stripped of their divine protection and caught between the prison's defenders and the vengeful prisoners, began to break. Their ordered ranks dissolved into chaos, attacked from the water's edge and the beach's trenches.
