The worst was the sounds. What was a distant clamour now turned into individual warcries, pained screams, roars and howls.

Gase set his foot down onto the first of the stone steps leading up the wall. His heart pounded erratically as the panic he had been forcing down since the inn resurfaced. The pale moonlight shone onto the stairs and revealed dark and bloody trails of footprints. He looked at Enmon, the man wasn’t faring much better. Gase gave him a nod and started up towards the battle above.

Screams and shouts washed over him as they made their way towards the top of the wall. He pressed himself against the side as another two runners came down, carrying the bloody figure of a hunter between them. As they passed, he heard the hunter groan painfully through clenched teeth. The leather armour on the man’s torso was shredded, blood leaking out to drip on the steps.

Gase cleared the last of the few steps and stopped in his tracks, getting his first proper look at the battle. The top of the wall was a few paces wide with a waist-high parapet on the outer edge. Lit braziers stood along the inner side of the wall, shining flickering light onto the backs of the guards and hunters that stood in front of the parapet. They leaned over, stabbing down with spears and swords, to keep the unseen threats at bay.

Even as he watched, a long claw-tipped limb reached up and closed around the arm of a hunter and yanked him down, dragging the screaming man over the edge. In the next moment, two more limbs latched onto the top of the parapet as the beast pulled itself up.

Grey skin, glistening as if wet, stretched over its wide, flat head. It flinched as firelight from the braziers shone onto the two yellow orbs on the side of its head. The defenders immediately surrounded the beast and hacked at it with various weapons.

It snarled and tried to push itself up further when one of the guards drove a spear into its torso. With a yell, the man pushed the creature off the wall to tumble from sight. The guards and hunters quickly spread out and returned to stabbing at whatever else was trying to climb up.

Focus on the task.

Gase told himself and pulled his eyes away. The wounded were dragged out of the way to the back of the wall. Those that could still walk made their way to the treatment area below. Those that were unable to had to wait for runners and hope that they got there in time. This was the job given to him and Enmon.

Gase quickly moved over to the nearest figure, a woman lying on her back. He made to grab her arms before stopping, seeing the glazed-over eyes of the dead on her face. He cursed but kept moving, driven on by the fighting only a few feet away.

He moved over to the next figure. It was a man, the tabard of the cityguard he wore over leather and mail visible in the firelight. The man was pulling at a hastily tied strap around his leg to tighten it. One of his greaves had been removed and showed the badly torn-up leg, exposing flesh to the air and staining his leggings crimson.

“Grab his arms!” Gase shouted to Enmon over the clamour. Enmon moved behind the man and hooked his arms under the man’s shoulders. The guard glanced up and saw them. A bit of hope mixed with his pained expression.

“We’re getting you down!” Gase shouted and saw the man nod.

He moved to the man’s legs and took them underneath his arms, careful to avoid the open wounds. The guard screamed in agony as the injured limb was moved. Gase did best to ignore the pained cry, figuring it best to get him treatment as soon as possible. Together, he and Enmon lifted the man and made their way to the same stairs they came from.

“One foot in front of the other,” Gase muttered under his breath, the words lost to the raging din of the battle. The reached the steps and began their descent, the guardsman groaning and whimpering with each step.

Gase heard a cry come from above. He looked up to see a man falling down from the wall. He hit the steps in front of them, his yell abruptly silenced as he tumbled off the side and onto the ground below.

Enmon paused for only a moment before resuming their trek, prompting him to do so as well. Both of them cast a couple of glances upwards before they reached the bottom. Near the base of the steps, they saw the man that fell sprawled out on the ground. He was completely still, and his head was bent at an unnatural angle.

“Probably slipped on the blood,” Enmon said, his voice shaking slightly. “That’s some shitty luck.”

They carried the wounded guard between the wall and buildings to the western gate. A cleared space in front of the gate had been converted into a staging area. It was the very image of ordered chaos, people moving back and forth bringing in supplies and wounded, organised by a few officers shouting orders.

Already a part of the space had been converted to a treatment field, alchemists spreading poultices onto lesser wounds and binding them, while healers dealt with the those that required more delicate attention.

A woman in a white robe took one look at the man they were carrying and directed them to where another healer moved between laying figures, cleaning wounds and burning them shut with a glowing piece of metal. The smell of burnt flesh invaded his nostrils and forcing Gase to breathe through his mouth. Both he and Enmon increased their pace and dropped off the man before moving back to the wall, not wanting to stay any longer than necessary.

The part they were assigned to was the third section south of the gate. The wall was split into these sections, each roughly thirty strides long with short towers rising between them, upon which the archers were stationed. Each section had a set of stairs built into its side, and each had runners assigned to them.

They reached the stairs and Gase saw Enmon glance around before veering off. He went over to the dead man lying on the ground. His hands rapidly patted down the corpse before retrieving a small coin pouch which he slipped into a pocket.

“What?” Enmon demanded when he saw Gase staring at him.

“...Nothing,” Gase said. “Come on, let’s go.”

They didn’t speak much further as they went between the wall and the treatment field, taking one person after another. Some of those had minor wounds and only needed a shoulder to support themselves on. The more seriously injured had to be carried by them.

Time seemed to stretch and blend together in a confusing mess. The ache in his arms, back and legs, grew worse with each trip.

On their fourth trip, or maybe the fifth, exhausted and carrying a woman in leather armour with a nasty gut wound, they reached the treatment field. The healer in the white robe gave a glance at the woman and shook her head, pointing to a pile of bodies lying off to the side before moving away.

Gase paused and looked at the woman they were carrying, noticing a distinct lack of sound or movement. With a bit of trepidation, he gestured for Enmon to put her down. He reached out and held a hand over her lips. No breath. He searched for a pulse and found nothing.

With a sigh, he sank to the ground beside the corpse. He was sure she was alive only moments ago. Neither he nor Enmon had noticed her passing. Looking at her face revealed her to be young, probably no more than a few terms older than Y’rid was.

Gase sat with his arms resting on his knees and looked over the area, feeling as if a weight was pressing down on him. The number of wounded had grown significantly since the battle had started, as had the dead. He turned his hands over and looked at them, stained red as they were with the blood of those he and Enmon had carried. His clothes were the same, even though he had bought them that very day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gase saw a figure hobble up to him and lower itself down with a heavy thud. A hand appeared in his vision, holding out a waterskin. Glancing at the figure, he saw a vaguely familiar face looking back at him.

The man wore the uniform of the cityguard. His leggings had been cut open, and a layer of bandages was wrapped around one of his legs. The limb itself was held straight by what appeared to be part of a spear’s shaft. A sharp herbal scent of some kind was coming from the bandages.

Gase nodded at the man, taking the waterskin and uncorking it. It was only as the first drops slid down his throat that he realised how parched he was. He had to force himself to slow his drinking for fear of spilling.

“First time?” The man asked and made a gesture to encompass the area. “In a horde’s attack.”

“Yeah,” Gase said with a nod before offering the waterskin to Enmon, who had also sat down beside him at some point.

Enmon didn’t seem to notice, his legs tapping onto the ground and his eyes darting around the area. Gase pushed the waterskin into his hands. Enmon yerked, his head snapping towards him.

“Drink,” Gase said. Enmon nodded after a moment and Gase clapped him lightly on the shoulder before turning back to the guard.

“My second,” the man said, looking up at the wall. “I was here when the last horde struck. Thought I’d show the new lads how it’s done.” – The man gave a derisive laugh. – “Age must have coloured the memory more than I thought.”

“Runners!” Came a shout before Gase could respond. He looked over and saw one of the logistics officers. An older man with greying hair who he had briefly met when he and Enmon had first arrived.

He nudged Enmon and stood up, gesturing to the officer. “We should go.”

“Thanks for the water,” he said to the guard as Enmon handed him the waterskin.

“Least I can do,” the man replied.

“Where in Nash’s name is my runners! “The officer shouted, cutting off as he saw Gase and Enmon approach. “There you are. Good. Take a bundle of bolts each and resupply the ballistae on the northern gate tower and the second tower south. Check with the archers there while you’re at it. If they need more arrows or bolts, then come and get them.”

He pointed at a cache of bolts, arrows, spears and other supplies that had been carried from elsewhere.

“And if you see any of the other runners, send them my way.”

He had barely finished his sentence when a roar sounded around the clearing, coming from the other side of the wall. For a moment, the constant sound of battle seemed to die down before it surged back with a vengeance.

“Go, go, go!” The man yelled, sending Gase and Enmon to jog for the supplies. Gase quickly grabbed the only thing that could be ballista bolts, a bundle of shortspear-sized projectiles. He pulled the bundle onto his shoulder with a heave.

“I’ll take the gate tower, you take the southern one,” Gase said to Enmon. The gate towers were the nearest, being next to the gate. It also seemed to be where the fighting was most concentrated.

Gase took off at a jog towards his destination, the heavy bundle on his shoulder bouncing uncomfortably with each step. Luckily, he didn’t have to go far.

He quickly reached the stairs nearest to the tower and took them two at a time, pausing only to shout the officer’s orders at two other runners who were carrying down a wounded hunter. He took a breath as he reached the top of the steps to steady himself before clearing the wall.

Immediately the sounds of battle grew to a cacophony assaulting his ears. He saw a group of men surrounding a beast that was pulling itself up over the wall, continually stabbing it with spears and hacking at it with polearms. With some effort, he managed to turn his eyes away from the fight and onto the tower, at the end of the section of wall.

He hurried along the top of the wall, behind the line of defenders, stepping over and past injured men and women.

What was called a tower was more an elevated square section of the wall, a little higher than himself. Another narrow set of stairs lead to the top of the tower. Climbing them, he finally reached his destination and stopped in his tracks. The absence of a parapet gave Gase a clear view of the area beyond the gate.

Creatures of all shapes and sizes crawled over and between the ramshackle houses of the slums bordering walls. Some were smaller than him, others were the size of wagons. Many used the buildings as stepping stones, those that hadn’t collapsed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop to get closer to the top of the wall.

Further out, past the slums, he could just make out a mass of dark shapes in the moonlight, moving closer. They swarmed over the ground like leaves blown over the forest floor.

And in the midst of it all, was a massive creature. The monster towered above the other beasts in some twisted semblance of a man. It strode on both its arms and legs as it marched down the road leading to the gate. Above it circled a swarm of dark flying shapes, diving down before rising back up into the air.

Around Gase on the tower, several archers and crossbowmen stood around a large ballista and rained projectiles onto the beasts below. They shot arrow after arrow in an attempt to stem the tide.

Gase saw the monster throw its head back. The same roar as before came from it. The sound was even more fierce without the wall to soften the blow. He felt his hands clench around the bundle on his shoulder.

A few arrows and bolts were sent its way, but those that found their mark seemed little more than an inconvenience for the giant. Gase snapped out of the trance when one of the men turned and noticed him. Or more likely, noticed the bundle on his shoulder, going by the man’s relieved expression.

“Finally!” The man exclaimed. “The bolts are here!”

He and one of the others immediately went to the sides of the ballista where two cogs were mounted. The two men began to turn the cogs, using some mechanism to draw back the string.

One of the remaining guards fired off a shot from her bow before pulling a dagger and throwing it in Gase’s direction. “Cut those bindings.”

Gase quickly dropped the bundle and picked up the dagger. He cut through the ropes tying the bolts together and removed one of the projectiles. It had a length twice that of his arm and ended in a vicious-looking barbed head.

He heard the sting of the ballista lock into place with a click and looked over to see one of the men turn to him. “Bolt!”

Gase threw bolt to the man who caught it and armed the ballista.

“Loaded!” The man shouted.

“Got it!” The guard from before replied, dropping her bow and running over. She took a deep breath and seized the handles of the ballista. Glowing symbols lit up on its steel arms. A creaking sound came from the string as the metal arms pulled forward, increasing the tension further.

“Aim for the big one!” The man yelled at the woman.

“You think!”

The ballista tilted and turned on its mounting as the woman swung it to the side and aimed, the beast no more than thirty strides away and drawing closer with each passing moment.

With a loud snap, the bolt was released.

Whether by intention or bad timing, one of the flying creatures chose that moment to dive down. A blur slamming into the flyer, driving it into the monster. The force of the hit pushed both to the ground.

Gase watched with bated breath, and his heart sank as he saw the monster picked itself back up. The once flying form was pinned to its chest by the bolt. It reached up and tore the corpse away along with the projectile. Blood poured down its chest, but it quickly became clear that the strike had been too shallow to be lethal or crippling.

“Fuck!” One of the men cursed.

The statement was punctuated by the beast as it turned to them. It opened its maw revealing rows of flat teeth as it roared. The sound shook the air, reverberating in his chest and forcing him to take a step back. He could hear the rage expressed in that sound and felt the blood drain from his face. A coldness settled into his stomach as the monster advance once more.

“Again!” The woman shouted, and the two men at its side began resetting the string as several of the flying creatures broke off from the swarm and lifted further into the sky.

“Above!” One of the archers shouted. “We’ve got incoming!”

“Keep them off our backs, we’re taking out the big fucker.”

Gase knelt down next to the bundle and pulled out another bolt as the remaining archers and crossbowmen sent arrows into the air. He risked a glance upwards to see a bunch of forms circling in the moonlit sky above. Even as he watched one of them dived. It pulled up just above the tower and screeched.

If the monster’s roar was intimidating, then this was pure agony. Pain lanced through his head, blanking out all other senses. He could feel his legs give way underneath him and the ground rushing up to meet him, but that was nothing compared to the pressure on his mind. It felt as if something had reached into his head and squeezed.

Slowly, Gase’s senses returned. He shook his head, finding himself lying on the ground. The sounds of the battle were gone, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He felt something dribble down his chin and reached up to wipe it away, his hands coming away with blood.

Around him, the guards were in a similar state, slowly picking themselves up with dazed expressions. The woman behind the ballista was the first to get to her feet. She stumbled back a few steps, trying to keep her balance. She had just regained it when the creature from before, or maybe another, slammed into her. It took her off her feet and over the edge of the wall.

Gase’s heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the spot where she had stood only moments before. Knowing he couldn’t stay still; Gase pushed himself onto his feet as his hearing returned.

The guards reacted admirably, one of the archers taking up position behind the ballista as the other two returned to turning the cogs on its side. The rest shot arrow after arrow into the air in the hopes of deterring more of the creatures.

It was not to be, however, as three more of the beasts dove down. One of them was caught in the neck by a lucky shot and sent crashing down into the wall. A second took out one of the men working on the ballista. The third opened its elongated, beak-like mouth.

Gase barely had time to clamp his hands over his ears and take a step back. It did little to help. Again, the horrible screech sounded out. It entered his skull, bouncing around in its confines. His vision blurred and he was sent reeling back. The ground gave way beneath his feet, and he fell, tumbling down in a series of impacts.

When his mind cleared, he was lying on the wall at the base of the steps leading up to the tower. In front of him, the battle was still going strong. Defenders threw sluggish strikes at the beasts starting to climb over the parapet. A few were backed away, clutching at their heads. The sound seemed to have affected them as well, to some extent.

The only benefit seemed to be that the beasts were similarly affected. One of the creatures, a thing of matted brown fur, dragged itself over the parapet. It fell onto the wall before rising shakily, the two tail-like appendages on its back swaying in the air.

Seeing its weakness, one of the hunters that were quicker to recover rushed over and brought down a pollaxe onto its back. The blade severed one of the appendages and bit deep into the beast, driving it to the ground. Another two defenders joined him in hacking at the fallen enemy.

The ringing in Gase’s ears began to subside as he once more pushed himself up with a pained groan. He had just found his feet when a shudder running through the wall nearly sent him back down. It was accompanied by a loud thud, heard even over the ringing in his ears, and coming from below.

That monster made it to the gate.

Another impact shook the wall, accompanied by the sound of wood cracking under pressure.

“Its going for the gates!” A man yelled peering over the edge of the parapet. He took his spear and hurled it at something below, only to retreat as a beast snapped at him from the other side.

Gase looked up to see more of the flying creatures above. They seemed to be growing in number.

A roar came from the monster below followed by another impact.

“Its breaking through!” The one who threw the spear yelled. He looked around before seeming to make up his mind. “Down! Retreat!”

He immediately followed his own words and made for the steps leading down.

“Get back here, coward!” A guard shouted after him. The words had barely left the man’s mouth before he was forced to strike at a new beast climbing over the edge of the wall.

Gase hesitated for a moment before making for the stairs as well, knowing he wouldn’t be much help here. There was nothing he could do, and he hated it.

The sound splintering of wood reached his ears. Gase moved to the edge and looked over the wall to see pieces of the gate lying on the ground.

Then the first form darted through. Black fur flattened against its back as it made for the staging area beyond. It was quickly followed by more as cries of alarm ran out from the healers and wounded near the gate. Gase felt his stomach sink at the sight.

The defence of Riversedge had come to an end. The horde had broken through.