1736: An Iron Curtain – Part 6 1736: An Iron Curtain – Part 6 Quickly, they sent the few ladders of their jurisdiction tumbling back down to the ground, and then they were all but free of responsibility, save that of helping their allies to the left and right.
And it was to the right that Oliver looked towards – towards General Blackthorn, and the approaching disaster that was King Germanicus.
He saw a massive hand reach up and grab one of the square crenelations.
So broad was the man’s hand width, that he managed to pinch the stone, covering it nearly entirely.
And then with his other hand, he tossed up a mighty warhamr, letting it land on the stone in front of him, confident that no other could lift it but he.
It flattened a man in the back – a man of Germanicus’ own army – for where it landed, pinning him beneath it, and forcing him to attempt to squirm back to his feet.
But not before a spear thrust through his neck, ending him.
It was onto that corpse that Germanicus jumped, seeing the hamr retrieved.
He stood, not three rows of n away from a waiting General Blackthorn.
General Blackthorn was a mighty large man, both in height, and in broadness.
He had more than enough muscle to fill his mighty fra.
And yet, by comparison to King Germanicus, he seed small.
It was like seeing a young teen face off against a fully grown man.
Seeing them square off against each other, with Blackthorn’s own n as a temporary shield, Oliver felt a sudden regret for the distance between him and his Commanding General.
They’d both taken the south wall together, but they hadn’t stood right next to each other.
There were two Colonels’ worth of n that Oliver would have had to wade through to reach him.
“…Now, indeed, what do I do?” Oliver thought to himself.
He was quite certain that none could take on Germanicus in single combat.
Not even himself.
But he was no stranger to fighting n mightier than he was.
Gorm had been such a man – and it was together that they brought him down.
For the likes of Germanicus, there could be no better strategy than to simply fight together against him.
If there had been another Sword present, closer than Oliver, in the form of the Minister of Blades, he would have been the far more reliable option.
Even Gar seed better to send on ahead of Oliver, rather than Oliver leaving by himself.
There was a good distance to cover, and the problem of command to sort out in his absence, but King Germanicus was most certainly not the sort of man to wait.
“GENERAL BLACKTHORN!” He bellowed, greeting him with a display of his hamr.
He bowled through the first row of n that stood in front of him.
Strong n, a good deal of them were.
There was even a Second Boundary soldier amongst them.
All of them held him at range with their spears, and yet his hamr had no trouble reaching them, and casting them aside.
It was a level of strength that bordered on miraculous.
To see grown n – and so many of them – tossed so easily and so swiftly, that was a sight to behold.
Not the sort of thing that a man could see on the battlefield often, save from the effects of a completely undefended cavalry charge.
Blackthorn growled in response, and forced his n aside.
Another two ranks King Germanicus might have been forced to get through, but General Blackthorn was not the sort of man to wait either.
He was bristling like a wild animal.
His movents were jerky from an animalistic fury.
The blood of the House Black beat through his veins like a whirlwind of fire.
It acknowledged the mighty – perhaps a mightier foe than that Black blood had ever seen in the long history of its ancestry – and it demanded that its inheritor et it.
It was a glaive that General Blackthorn wielded.
A weapon that was more suited to the charge of cavalry, and yet so ingrained in its use was that General that he used it on foot as well.
There was a spare sword at Blackthorn’s hip, but one rarely saw him use it, for there was rarely an opportunity when General Blackthorn would ever see himself disard.
Oliver’s heart sank, as the two circled each other.
“Gods be good… This is… Damn it.” He cursed himself.
He wondered if this was what the n felt like, seeing their General fight on the front lines and take such a degree of risk in their place.
Blackthorn’s life was far too important to be squandered so early.
He ought not to have been doing battle by himself, no matter the circumstances, and especially not against a man like Germanicus.
Blackthorn did have his own guard with him.
Third and Fourth Boundary n they were – and yet, they were completely useless.
The n that ca after Germanicus were his own guard, sent by Tavar, of equal strength.
Not only did they hold the Blackthorn bodyguards at bay, but they were nurous enough to overwhelm them, and attack Blackthorn himself, if not for explicit orders from King Germanicus not to interfere.
“Gods be damned, I have to move regardless,” Oliver said to himself.
He didn’t have a Commander nearby to takeover his position from him.
Nor was Gar the sort of man to be trusted with taking command of anyone – even himself, at tis.
He had to be made to change his clothes, and sleep properly.
The only thing he really did by himself was eat, and fight.
Because of Oliver’s own presence there, he’d neglected to bring a strong degree of veteran n.
Those he did have were soldiers, not exactly experienced Commanders.
He did not even have a Sergeant-Major amongst them.
Just the usual requisite amount of Sergeants.
For all that they’d achieved, so swiftly, did Oliver have to abandon them.
In their sudden might, they were seeing n continually pushed off the wall before they could even land.
And it was that which Oliver seized upon.
“N OF N!” He said.
“YOU NEED NOT!
LET US TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR MIGHT, AND SEE VICTORY EXTENDED!
LET NOT A SINGLE FOOT LAND HERE IN MY ABSENCE, NOR A SINGLE HAND REACH THE TOP OF THE WALL!
THE SECTION IS YOURS!
YOU DO CLAIM IT!”
Reviews
All reviews (0)