The air sang with flying bolts and the shrieks of beasts as Reyland dodged the swipe of a wing. The wyvern screeched again, the sound leaving Reyland’s ears ringing as he hissed in pain, ducking underneath its tail as it spun around far too quickly for something its size. The line of soldiers who had been stabbing at the beast with pikes tried to back away, but too slowly. The wyvern’s jaw clamped over two of them in a sideways swipe, lifting them into the air then tossing their mutilated corpses aside in one motion.

Reyland lunged at its exposed back, thrusting his shortsword with everything he had. The tip glanced off a scale, sliding upwards harmlessly as he cursed under his breath.

Its massive orange eye turned on him, blood still dripping from its mouth. It hissed like a snake, a long, forked tongue extending out to taste the night air.

Reyland dove backwards just in time. In a dark blur the creature’s talon came up then struck down right where he had been standing, carving deep gouges out of the earth. Reyland knew instantly his armour wouldn’t have saved him, if he hadn’t moved.

A few soldiers lunged with pikes again, none finding purchase. But it distracted the giant beast long enough, and Reyland dove in once again. This time not for its outer scales, but underneath the beast, to the belly.

His shortsword plunged into the crease between the wyvern’s body and its wing, and the following shriek of pain nearly dropped Reyland to the ground with his hands over his ears. As it was, he barely had time to rip his sword out before the wing came down over him.

The force of wind alone knocked Reyland up off his feet, throwing him into the air and tumbling away from the wyvern as it took flight. The tiny wound against its body dripped slowly, doing little more than enraging it.

Reyland rolled to a stop on the ground, grunting in pain as unhealed wounds began to ache once more. He looked up to see it, little more than a black shadow against a black sky, slowly rising higher and higher into the air.

“The gates! The gates!” A man screamed, and Reyland dared to avert his eye from the wyvern for a second. He instantly regretted it.

They shifting mass of black furs and skins and scales was piled up to the very top of the gate. Teeth gnashed at the bars, claws scraped against iron and the gate shuddered at the pressure.

How… how long is that gonna hold? Reyland wondered, taking a shaky breath. She’ll have to hold long enough. However long that is.

Reyland’s hair and cloak went flying as another gust of wind blew over him. He raised his arms to cover his eyes from the mud and dirt kicked up into the air, but peeked a glance at the wyvern just in time to see it fly towards the wall. He didn’t even have time to shout a warning.

The wyvern plucked two soldiers from the wall, tossing them over the edge as it flew by. Their pained, horrified screams were cut abruptly short as they reached the ground outside the keep, and the horde of Blighted that awaited.

Reyland turned his attention to scanning the walls, until he found who he was looking for. Griff was at the top of the wall near the front gate, greatsword drawn and crossbow slung loaded over his back. Reyland darted towards the stairs, watching the sky for any more signs of the wyvern. Seeing none, he sheathed his sword and ran faster, pushing past dozens of panicked soldiers in his way, until he’d reached the top of the wall.

The beasts were climbing over each other to reach the top. The lines of soldiers tried in vain to push them back, thrusting with pikes and spears down over the edge, but beasts of all shapes and sizes crawled up nonetheless. Reyland took a stab at one as he ran by, thrusting through the eye of a boar-like beast with tusks that split into dozens of points like antlers. He heard the beastly screech of pain behind him, but didn’t slow down. Hopefully that would help the soldiers enough.

As he ran just behind the line of soldiers, a body suddenly stepped backwards, dodging the lunge of a wolf, but throwing themself right into Reyland’s path. He didn’t have time to stop.

They crashed together, tumbling over one another as the momentum of Reyland’s sprint sent them into a spin. When it ended, Reyland was overtop of the other, a pounding in his head from where he’d collided with their armoured shoulder.

“Oi, watch where yer bloody goin’!” The woman yelled, her voice oddly familiar. A second later and Reyland realised why, as he opened his eyes to see the young blonde woman in front of him.

“Maeve?” He whispered, heart beating through his chest.

“Aye! Now get… Reyland?” Maeve responded, looking up at him in shock. “The bloody hell’re you doin’ here?”

“Skreee!” The shriek of a beast came from beside them. Both Ordained looked over, seeing a black, bloated, pig-like creature shrieking atop the wall. Its blood red eyes stared them down, heedless of the spears that pierced its side. It charged towards them, and Maeve pushed Reyland up and away as she rolled backwards, dodging the beast by a hair. Reyland recovered first, his shortsword out in a flash and stabbing down through the back of the pig’s neck.

“Bloody feckin’ hell, mate,” Maeve yelled, a snarl on her lip. “Ya think you could move a bit faster next time!”

“Well I ain’t the one backin’ into someone who’s at a dead sprint now, am I?” Reyland retorted, flicking the sickly, multicoloured blood from his sword.

Two more of the pig-beasts crawled their way over the wall, standing on the backs of the piles of bodies, living and dead, of Blighted against the ramparts. Maeve and Reyland both dropped into a readied stance as the soldiers on either side backed away.

“Take the left one!” Maeve yelled, darting forwards, her spear leading the way.

Reyland spared the briefest of glances over at Griff, making up his mind instantly. The old man would be fine for a few more moments… he had work to do here first.

His shortsword carved through the air in a swish, and his dance began once again.

Griff watched the battle with a cold eye. His greatsword was slick with blood, the corpses of Blighted beasts piled over the edge of the wall before him as he stood alone. The soldiers gave him a wide berth, but that was fine. They were trained to fight men, not beasts. They would need to condense their numbers as much as they could.

His blade swung again, chopping down like an axe to firewood against the neck of a wolf that dared to climb over the edge in front of him. He pushed the still twitching body back over the edge with his boot, watching it tumble to the ground as another trio of snarling wolves began the climb.

He scanned the forest ahead of them, looking for an end to the horde. He saw none. Perhaps more worrisome, the wyvern had disappeared into the rain and clouds above. It would return, he was certain. It was just a question of when, and who it would take with it when it did.

Wyrms were petty like that, the lot of them. Unwilling to let an injury stand without taking their pound of flesh in compensation. Idly, he wondered who had injured it, to make it shriek like that. Of course, he already had his suspicions. That apprentice of his had a knack for getting himself into the worst of trouble.

He severed the spine of the first wolf, then the head of the second, before thrusting his blade down the throat of the third as it tried to sneakily lunge at him from the side. The two that had died instantly fell to the ground in heaps, while the one he’d run down the throat gargled and spit on its own blood.

Griff’s dark eyes glinted as he chopped straight through its skull, letting the corpse twitch on the ground before him.

“Glad to see you’re on our side,” a nervous voice said from behind him.

“The Order stands to guard all mankind, Lord Aubrey,” Griff responded plainly.

The baron in question gave a nervous laugh.

“Does not change how thankful I am that you are here,” Aubrey said, looking out over the battle. The baron looked as if he had just been pulled from his bed, throwing on whatever clothes had been nearest at the time. Dishevelled and disoriented, Aubrey looked far from his typical pristine self.

“How are the defences holding?” Aubrey asked nervously.

“Not well,” Griff replied honestly. “Does this keep have more than spear, shield and wall to defend it?”

“We’ve ballistae and oil, near the gates.”

“Then have your men ready them. Quickly.”

Lord Aubrey nodded, then left, already shouting orders. Griff turned his attention back to the wall, before something strange caught his eye. It looked like… a porcupine?

He lunged towards Aubrey, grabbing the nobleman by the shoulders and pushing them both down just as a volley of quills the size of swords flew overhead. Aubrey gaped, his eyes wide. One of the quills had come so close it had cut hairs off his head.

“Be more aware,” Griff commented, pushing the man back to his feet.

“What, what was…”

“Do not pretend to understand the Blight,” Griff interrupted darkly. “The moment you make an assumption of understanding is the moment it takes you.”

The lord only nodded in response, shaking and white as a sheet.

Griff faced the wall again, keeping an eye on the spiked, round shapes of the porcupine-beasts as he cut down two more wolves that clambered over the walls. The sea of beasts in front of him still showed no signs of ending.

To his right, near the gate, he heard the swish of wings, and then the screams of men. Screams that were abruptly cut off, as the talons of the wyvern crushed and pierced the soldiers they held, dropping the corpses into the courtyard.

They were losing ground quickly. Something would need to change, and fast.

“You three,” he called, gesturing to a group of Ordained who were running along the wall past him. All three snapped to a stop. “Guard the wall here.”

He brushed past them, not waiting to see if they were following his orders. The sounds of blades being drawn from behind was enough. Instead, he moved quickly along the top of the wall, heading towards the gates where he could see Lord Aubrey shouting orders, and the first of the ballistae being loaded.

“Bring every bolt we have up!” Aubrey shouted, directing his soldiers that hurried across the walls like ants. “And damn it, one of you get the fire burning under that oil!”

“We’re trying, m’lord! There’s- ahhh!” A soldier screamed as a spike flew over the wall, puncturing straight through his forearm. It was smaller than the quills, but with a serrated tip like an arrowhead, designed to widen a wound if it was ripped out. The man’s face went white in shock, and Aubrey stared with a horrified expression.

Attached to the back end of the spike was a line. Not a rope or string, but a long, thin strip of sinew, squirming and slimy. The soldier merely stared in shock, unable to move, until all at once the sinewy tether was pulled.

A scream escaped the man as he was yanked over the edge of the wall. The scream did not stop when he reached the beasts below. Not for a long while.

“Aubrey,” Griff called as he approached the man. Aubrey was still unmoving, staring at where the soldier had been pulled from the wall.

“Yes?” The baron replied quietly.

“Prepare to retreat to the inner wall,” Griff ordered. “After you’ve gotten some use from those armaments.”

The lord nodded in response.

In the distance, something huge roared. It was a new sound, unlike the wolves howls or the screeches of the wyvern. This call was deep, guttural and vicious in a completely new way. Griff eyed where the sound had come from, straining to see through the gloom and the pouring rain.

He found it quickly. A lumbering, towering beast, little more than a dark shadow moving across the forest. It would have been completely invisible, had its head not been taller than the trees around it. It parted the trees around it like it were walking through water, crushing branches and limbs underfoot without care.

“Aubrey,” Griff said again.

“Yes?”

“Are there ballistae and oil at the inner wall, as well?”

“Yes.”

“Then, change of plans. We retreat now.”