The collision of the worlds - Short story (Part VIII)

The next three days passed in a frankiness I had never experienced. Day and night we were preparing for the invasion and attack of the enemy. Some of the soldiers who fell ill during the attack of the ravens recovered, and were immediately sent on to further duties even though they appeared to be tired and drunk in their faces. By now we all knew the true state of things. The commander never hid things from us, he believed that the truth was with what you creating a strong and serene bond between soldiers and officers. Every soldier knew how powerful and terrifying the enemy was coming to us, and also the commander told us the latest news from his correspondence with the Temple of Magic. Reinforcements are not close. They will not reach the garrison for another seven days. And the enemy is on our doorstep. We could already see signs of the army approaching.

We prepared everything that came to us for a long siege. Hundreds of arrows were put up against the wall in suitcases. Hundreds of liters of oil, and tons of stones lined up all along the wall a few feet away. Although we knew we didn't have enough to withstand the siege for more than two days. Their numerical superiority gave us no hope. And who knows what secret those wooden boxes are hiding?

There was a certain reconciliation in the faces of my military comrades. Although none of us had it in our blood, and on many occasions we were faced with impossible odds and eventually won, what awaited us here bore a completely different tone. That reconciliation has brought us some peace. We knew that our journey and our service were coming to an end here, but we were determined to keep our victim remembered. I guess this is the last wish of every soldier, to die a glorious soldier's death that will be restored for centuries. The only trouble was that none of us would survive to take this story further. Reconciliation with destiny, this is what kept us going. Even those reinforced ones who are going to be late will face this foreign enemy, and probably the same as us, be wiped off the face of the earth.

During the night the enemy approached and encamped a mile from our walls. Far enough that we can see them, but at the same time that arrows fired even by long bows cannot reach their first battle rows. Surprisingly, they were lined up to attack with the infantry. There was nothing saying that they were preparing for the siege. In the back of their rows, those strange wooden boxes continued their course, and shortly after dawn they were moved two hundred yards from the walls. Of course, we tried burning arrows, even the magicians tried to disable them, but nothing could harm them. They were overwhelmed by some strange magic. Even stranger was that we couldn't see any streams, nor the people or animals that were pulling those boxes. We didn't see or understand the mechanism that drives them. And that obviously caused a new wave of fear among people.

When these boxes were eventually positioned a hundred yards from the walls, we heard trumpets. Three clear and penetrating noises and their infantrymen were on the move. They progressed slowly but steadily. In their stride one could see certainty of victory.

By noon, the vast ranks of the enemy army were lined up in the field. Regiments of armored infantry, followed by destinies of regiments of archers, and after them cavalry. The majority of their army seemed to come here, to attend to the judgment of our lives. Again, a thunderous trumpet sound, and then people ran out from the background of their ranks, carrying ladders, hundreds and hundreds of them. Our shooters started firing arrows with incredible glowing eyes, but that wasn't enough. More than half of them were able to reach the foot of the walls. They suffered great losses, but their numbers brought an advantage. Soon, despite the arrows and burning oil, they were on the walls. Wherever I looked, the fighting was fierce.

Two armored infantry soldiers jumped in front of me. Through the visors on their helmets, I could see the hatred in their eyes, like never before ... They attacked me at the same time, displaying the perfect harmony of movement. I repelled the attack of the first soldier, but the second one was too fast and I felt the warmth spreading on my shoulder. They both retreated to step back afterwards. I knew I had to act fast. I came up with something called "stroke of the wings" in fencing, which gave me a surprise factor. One of them retreated two more steps, slipped on blood spilled by some transient struggle, and with shouts of agony fell into the garrison's courtyard. The other soldier did better under my attack, dodged with body movement and then reciprocated. It seems to me that we fought for a few minutes, until at one point I noticed a hole in his gard and attacked. My sword ended up in his chest. I stood so breathless looking at him. There were more enemies everywhere on the walls fighting our soldiers, and every time one of ours died, something out of the ordinary would happen.

Some blue light began to radiate from his body, and afterwards, as a long beam, it would rush to those wooden boxes. Every time. Magic, like their souls are stolen.
And then I heard the footsteps, and the whine of a sword in vain. Everything turned black. It's dark.

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