Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 16
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 11:00:04 +0000 UTCPetor watched as the landing craft ground against Osola's shores with harsh scraping sounds.
Armored soldiers splashed down into the water, their plate armor catching the morning sun as they struggled against the waves. The heavy metal weighed them down, but they pushed forward with determination, holding their weapons above the surf.
The first wave of troops made slow progress through the chest-deep water. Their movements were awkward and stilted as the ocean tried to drag them under, but step by step they advanced. Behind them, more soldiers poured from the boats in an endless stream of steel and determination.
The beach remained still and quiet, save for the distant thunder of cannon fire. The first ranks finally reached the shore, their armored boots sinking into the wet sand with each step. They formed up in staggered lines, shields raised and glinting, as they waited for the rest of their forces to join them on the beach.
More and more soldiers made landfall, their numbers swelling as they established a foothold. The mortar crew stayed silent, watching intently as the invasion force grew. Above them, cannon fire continued to rain down on the ships still approaching, but the troops already on the beach stood unmolested, water streaming from their armor as they caught their breath and organized their lines.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife as Petor and the others observed the growing mass of enemy soldiers below.
"Ready," Izzie called from her position by the mortars.
Endel gripped a shell at the tube's mouth, muscles taut.
The lines started to move forward, all dressed up and compact.
Cannons on either side of the beach cut across it. The air filled with deadly grapeshot, turning the morning into a storm of lead and iron. The first ranks of soldiers collapsed as metal tore through their armor, bodies crumpling into the bloody surf.
"Fire!" Izzie commanded
The mortar's deep thump joined the cacophony as Endel dropped the shell. More mortars launched in sequence, their projectiles arcing high before plunging into the packed masses below.
"Fire steady rate!" Izzie's voice cut through the chaos.
Petor reached out with his power, feeling the everburning brambles he'd seeded beneath the waves. The plants responded, thorny tendrils wrapping around armored legs and setting their victims ablaze even underwater. Screams echoed as soldiers thrashed, trying to free themselves from the burning grip.
Emberblooms detonated among the ranks, spraying burning seeds that found gaps in armor and ignited flesh. Holes appeared in the formation as soldiers fell or scrambled away from the supernatural flames.
Further up the beach, his stormvines awakened. Lightning crackled between the wet metal of the soldiers' armor, the electricity finding easy paths through the salt water. Men convulsed and dropped, their comrades stumbling over their bodies.
At the beach's crest, boulderberries hurled their seeds at the oncoming Irdun soldiers, exploding among them like the mortar shells.
Galeseeds launched their deadly projectiles at both troops and ships. The seeds that struck the wooden hulls sprouted instantly, new plants taking root and growing into full plants, firing at those within the ships, those that were trying to get onto the beach and the other ships and people in the near vicinity.
The invasion force's neat formations dissolved into chaos.
Priests and champions in their armors survived longer with their enchanted gear and barriers, protecting those nearby.
Holy spells were cast upon the ground—only to have not effect upon the plants.
Divine barriers flickered into existence, domes of holy energy spreading outward from the priests. The semi-translucent shields deflected incoming cannonfire, giving the battered soldiers a moment to regroup.
Through gaps in the barriers, Petor could see the relief on their faces as they believed their gods had answered their prayers.
The cannons thundered again and again, their projectiles hammering against the divine shields. Where shots found openings between the barriers, they turned soldiers into red mist. Grapeshot swept through the ranks in deadly arcs, while mortar shells continued their relentless barrage from above.
But the barriers couldn't protect them from what lurked beneath their feet. Petor felt the emberblooms respond to his will, erupting beneath the packed formations. Burning seeds sprayed through the soldiers, finding gaps in armor and igniting flesh. The priests' prayers turned to screams as their own protection trapped them with the deadly plants.
The beach transformed into a charnel house. Blood-soaked sand churned under armored boots as soldiers stumbled and fell. Bodies piled up as both cannon fire and Petor's flora claimed more victims.
Everburning bramble spread among the bodies upon the ground, emberblooms sprouting flowers as they feasted upon the bodies.
Nutrients spread to the plants that had been struck by some of the spells, or hacked apart, or hit with mortar and cannon fire.
Barrier breaking rounds meant to end ships crashed into barriers, breaking them and detonating, killing those that had used the barrier for cover.
Landing craft's burning hulls sunk beneath the waves. Others broken up into parts that blocked the follow-on ships.
Some vessels managed to pull away, their crews desperately hacking at the invasive plants, but more ships pushed through to reach the shore.
Grapeshot tore through the ships without barriers before they reached the shore. Those with barriers were targeted by secondary crews.
Fresh troops poured from the new arrivals, splashing into the bloodied water. Galeseeds peppered their ranks through the ship openings.
Where seeds hit wood or flesh they dug in roots and rapidly grew so they could turn into mature galeseeds.
Emberbloom pods burst among the dead, scattering seeds that took root in flesh and wood alike.
They got amongst the oncoming landing craft, continuing the deadly cycle.
The shallows transformed into a hellish garden. Everburning brambles formed a dense, burning mat that latched onto ship hulls.
Wood smoldered where the thorny vines made contact, flames spreading across vessels that lingered too long. Ships caught in the thickest growth found themselves trapped, unable to break free as fire consumed their hulls.
Armored warriors leaped from their burning craft into what they thought were safe waters, only to discover depths beyond their height.
The brambles sensed their movement, thorny tendrils wrapping around legs and arms. Soldiers thrashed as they were dragged under, their heavy armor becoming their tomb. Bubbles and screams marked their final moments before the dark waters claimed them.
The few ships that managed to retreat didn't escape unscathed. Petor ensured their hulls were heavily seeded, plants burrowing deep into the wooden planks. As the vessels fled, the seeds roots spread throughout their structures.
The retreating warships gained unwanted passengers - living weapons that would continue to grow and spread long after they rejoined their fleet.
Have them spread to the warships when they get back.
He took control of the gale seeds and emberblooms, giving them new commands, any ship that escaped would spread his seeds to the other ships.
A group of champions pushing through the carnage. Their enchanted armor gleamed despite the blood and gore coating it, divine barriers flickering around them as they advanced up the beach.
Grapeshot tore through the champions' formation in a deadly spray of metal.
Divine barriers flashed brilliantly as they failed, enchanted armor sparking and crackling as the protective magic overloaded.
Bodies tumbled into the bloody sand, their expensive gear offering no more protection than common steel. Those still standing staggered, their formation broken, as more cannon fire bracketed their position.
Water shot skyward amongst the Irdun fleet. Through the spray, Petor saw the massive tentacle rise - rotted flesh hanging in strips from its enormous form. The appendage moved with impossible speed, slamming into an Irdun warship.
It cracked through the ship's barrier as an after thought.
The vessel's thick oak hull offered no more resistance than kindling as the tentacle crushed it, splitting the ship down its center.
It grasped the ship and hurled it into another ship, breaking through its hull and rigging while slapping the ship sideways.
More tentacles burst from the depths. Each one was large enough to wrap around a ship's hull twice over, their decaying flesh somehow still containing terrible strength.
They lashed out in every direction, grabbing onto warships and dragging them underwater as the kraken pulled itself free from the water.
The water churned with broken timber and thrashing limbs as the creature's full form emerged. Its head broke the surface last - a thing of nightmares larger than any whale. Empty eye sockets gazed at the fleet with an intelligence that should not exist in death, while rotting flesh sloughed off its ancient skull into the bloodied water.
The undead kraken's tentacles continued their assault, methodically destroying every vessel within reach.
The morning air filled with the sounds of weapon fire, splintering wood, screaming men, and the deep groans of the monster itself as it pulled ship after ship into the depths.
Holy spells started to strike the kraken, burning it as another kraken burst out of the water, smashing through several ships before it disappeared beneath the waves.
Petor turned his attention back to the beach—it was a slaughter, hundreds—maybe thousands—lay dead but the Irdun were taking bloody and terrible ground.
***
The afternoon sun beat down on Anvil-spike island as Valter jogged along the packed sand. The beach path, once pristine, now bore the marks of countless refugees who had fled through the portal.
His boots splashed through Anvil-spike's shallows portal's threshold. He skipped through a break in the convoy at the portal and emerging into the shallow waters near the conch on the Osola side, the midday sun hanging high above.
Where earlier there had been panicked crowds and crying children, now organized lines moved with practiced efficiency. Supply carts rolled past in measured intervals.
Stone had been pulled out and fused together to create a roadway where the ground had been churned up.
Near the massive conch shell that anchored the portal, Jalen and his gun crew maintained their vigilant watch. Their weapons gleamed with fresh oil despite the grime that covered their uniforms. Dark circles rimmed their eyes, but their postures remained alert.
Two were crouched in the water, pushing their mana into the enchanted plate—powering and keeping the conch stable.
"How's the conch doing?" Valter called out, studying the intricate shell that enabled their evacuation.
"Still keeping us nervous but we've learned when it needs a minute to recover and when we can keep it going," Jalen replied, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.
Valter crouched to examine the enchanted plate beneath the conch, noting the subtle patterns of wear in its metallic surface. "Keep up the good work."
"You too, we just have to stand here, you're the one running everywhere," Jalen let out a tired laugh.
"Keeps up the cardio in my older years." Valter flashed a grin. He spotted Bedrick. "Back to it then."
Jalen nodded and went back to his watch.
Valter's gaze swept across the procession of evacuees heading for the portal. Children clutched their parents' hands while elderly couples supported each other, their worldly possessions reduced to what they could carry or pull. Despite the haunted look in their eyes, they maintained perfect lines, a testament to their discipline even in crisis.
A young mother bounced a fussy infant while her older son gripped the hem of her dress. Behind them, an old man steadied himself on a wooden cane, a small pack slung over his shoulder. The organization impressed Valter - this was Bedrick's influence at work.
He spotted the older man talking to several traders, keeping things flowing.
"I didn't think that you could organize so many people this quickly and this efficiently," Valter said.
Bedrick chuckled as he checked his ledger. "I've been a quartermaster for most of my life and then a first mate for my sins. Organizing some people to head through a portal or get teleported to a whole new world. It ain't that hard." He winked at Valter.
Valter smiled.
"Assembly point three is is ready for you." Bedrick pointed off to a square of people and supplies laid out.
"Alright," Valter started jogging towards them.
The evacuation procedures the Mardun had implemented were working with clockwork precision. Guards directed traffic flows, healers checked the elderly and infirm, and scribes recorded names and destinations with careful attention to detail.
Something tugged at Valter's awareness, like a whisper just beyond hearing. He stilled, armored fingers flexing unconsciously as he processed the feeling.
Something was wrong.
Turning slowly, he scanned the area with practiced eyes. The refugees continued their orderly movement, supply carts rolled past without incident, and waves lapped peacefully at the shoreline. The conch maintained the portal.
Champions burst from a nearby storage building. Divine light erupted from their hands, accompanied by thunderous explosions that sent refugees flying. Bodies crumpled to the ground as screams pierced the air. Children wailed for parents while the elderly stumbled and fell in their panic to escape.
The champions sprinted forward, unleashing spells, with weapons raised.
Valter's helmet materialized atop his head and Kalvor's shield on his arm as he positioned himself between the fleeing civilians and the attackers.
He channeled mana into a protective barrier. The translucent field sprang to life just as another volley of attacks struck.
The barrier absorbed the devastating energy, its surface rippling under the assault, taking the power from his core like a punch to the chest.
The crack of gunfire shattered the tense silence as Jalen's crew opened up on the charging champions. Bodies crashed to the sand, their divine light flickering out.
But three champions pushed through the killzone, their armor absorbing hits that should have dropped them. Valter ran forward to hit them from behind.
The surviving champions' voices rose in harmony. Runes carved into their armor began to pulse with blinding light, transforming the champions into pillars of radiance.
The explosion hit like a tidal wave. Divine energy erupted from the champions in a searing flash, their bodies literally coming apart at the seams. The blast swept outward, sand turning to glass beneath its touch.
Valter got up his shield, as the attack slammed into him, his feet carving furrows in the ground.
Valter's heart pounded as he surveyed the devastation. Bodies lay strewn across the beach, some whole, others... He grimaced, taking in the carnage, triaging those who could be saved and those who couldn't.
Civilians who had been queued for evacuation now lay broken and scattered like discarded dolls. Supply carts had splintered apart, their contents thrown across blood-stained ground.
His eyes flicked to Jalen and his crew, now silent and still. The young commander's eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, his face frozen in that final moment of surprise.
Valter's armor clanked as he ran, storing his new shield. He dropped beside a woman whose leg bent at an impossible angle, her face grey with shock.
"Its okay I've got you." He scanned over her, looking for her worst injuries. Just the broken leg. He sat her up against a crate, careful of the leg. "I'll be back I have to check on other people who are hurt."
She nodded numbly—probably not hearing what he'd said.
He moved from one victim to the next. Checking them as he moved, those with the worst injuries he worked to stabilize.
A child with burns covering half his body. An elderly man with a chest crushed by flying debris. Some he could save. Others...
"Triage the wounded, keep people clear!" Bedrick's commanding voice cut through the chaos as he waded in with several fresh gun crews behind him. The old sailor's face was grim but determined as he took control of the situation. "We'll put the wounded over there. Alan, you're the best healer amongst us, you run it." He pointed to two of his men. "You two tell the other gun crews I want them checking the area for more champions. The rest of you triage and get them over to Alan."
Valter moved between the wounded, his armored hands glowing with healing energy. A young girl whimpered as he knelt beside her, her arm mangled by shrapnel. The healing magic flowed from his fingers, mending torn flesh and fractured bone, fixing the tricky internal bleeding.
Gun crew members moved amongst the wounded and set to work too.
"Valter, you got a way to contact Mya?" Bedrick's voice cut through the sounds of pain and panic.
"Yes," Valter replied, already moving to the next victim.
"Tell her what happened."
"After this," Valter said, channeling more mana into a man with severe burns.
"We've got them man, you need to tell her," Bedrick insisted.
Valter continued his work, sweat beading inside his helm. "I've got the mana to spare."
Rough hands grabbed his shoulders as Bedrick hauled him upright. Valter's first instinct was to throw him off, but the look in the old sailor's eyes, and knowing that he was emotional stopped him.
"You need to tell her and figure out a plan of how to get everyone off of this island," Bedrick's voice was terse. "I've got them now."
Valter's gaze snapped to where the portal had stood. The shell lay broken, its runed surface cracked and blackened. Their life-line to Anvilspike was cut off.
His heart sank as the implications hit home. Without the conch, their only remaining escape route was the planar gem. The bitter truth settled in his gut - they didn't have enough mana to evacuate everyone.
The sound of children crying cut through him, memories of Annabelle and Devin flashing through his mind. With a heavy breath, he nodded.
He pulled out his crystal, powering it up as broken beast roars echoed in the distance.
"Mya—"
