remaining along the top of the walls. Most were lost under a writhing grey and crimson mass of
feeding wraiths.
Axis seized Belial‘s shoulder, leaning close, his pale eyes fierce. ― I should have been able
to stop this!‖ he yelled above the screams of dying men and the whisperings of Skraelings.
Belial almost toppled over as Axis‘ grip tightened painfully on his shoulder. He grabbed
the top of the swaying ladder for support. ―Damn you, Axis! Don‘t give in to self-pity now! Pull
yourself together and rally your men—listen, they call your name!‖ Faint shouts of BattleAxe
reverberated up from the alleyways as men did battle with the Skraelings who had reached the
ground.
He shrugged free of Axis‘ hand and pushed him down the ladder before sliding down
himself.
Axis jumped down onto the ground, slipping a little in the bloodied snow. ―To me! To
me!‖
Thus began the desperate street battle of Gorkentown.
The narrow winding, twisting streets both aided and hindered Axis. On the one hand the
Skraelings could not mount a mass charge without pounding against a strong line of determined
defenders; on the other hand, lines of defence were often broken when Skraelings clambered
over rooftops to fall upon the men as they watched the streets before them rather than the roofs above them. All fought bravely, with Axis rallying barricades when it seemed they might fall,
standing shoulder to shoulder with his men as the Skraelings attacked. He tried firing the houses
lying between themselves and the Skraelings, but too often burning walls fell upon his own men.
They would have to save Gorkentown with their swords and little else.
On the other side of the barricades the two SkraeBolds rallied their writhing forces,
directing the attack to the most vulnerable spots in Axis‘ defence lines, hissing and spitting at the
Skraelings until the wraiths were driven to even greater measures to reach the men. The
Skraelings were murderous foes. Barricades that would have held for days against an army of
men fell in only minutes to the wraiths. The wraiths could climb, sinking their claws into the
slightest hookhold in the barrier. Better than climbing was slithering through spaces that cats
would get stuck in, their toothsome faces grinning in anticipation, their hearts emboldened by the
sudden spurt of fear which crossed men‘s faces when they saw the wraiths emerge from
impossible places.
The wraiths fed well. Barricades fell and were marked with the piled and torn bodies of
the men who‘d died defending them. There had been five lines of barricades in Gorkentown, but
as the sun started to streak the eastern sky as crimson as the streets, Axis rallied those of his men
that were left on the final line of barricades before the gates of Gorkenfort itself.
Weeks of relentlessly slicking the fort‘s walls with ice had made them much harder for
the Skraelings to climb, and those that had reached the top of the fort‘s walls had been relatively
easily disposed of. The IceWorms, who had wrought so much damage to the town‘s defences,
vomiting forth their Skraelings behind the walls, were too small to severely threaten the fort‘s
walls, their heads rearing uselessly twenty paces below the battlements. Still, Borneheld‘s men
had died as well, and the WarLord strode up and down the walls of Gorkenfort, cursing each and
every one of his men, cursing Axis as the town‘s defences were breached.
Atop the fort‘s walls Jorge and Magariz stood watching the desperate fighting in the
streets below, their faces grey and haggard. They ached to seize weapons and rush out to aid
Axis and his men. Yet they could not. Borneheld had ordered that the fort‘s gates remain closed
no matter what happened in the streets below. Hard as it was, it was the correct decision. No
matter the desperation of the men trapped outside, no commander should risk the safety of the
entire fort.
Axis and all his remaining men were exhausted. They had been tense and alert for
twenty-four hours, fighting desperately for almost twelve. All had wounds, and many were weak
from blood loss caused by deep lacerations. Those not fighting leaned against walls, many
slipping to the ground in exhaustion, knowing they were almost certainly dead if the Skraelings
leaped on them while they were off their feet. Some pushed themselves wearily to their feet,
others stayed down, beyond caring. Units had been decimated and men fought beside strangers,
most in the grey of the Axe-Wielders, some in the brown of the regular Acharite forces.
At times during the street battles, Axis had desperately tried to reach within himself,
reach within him to the power he knew was there. If he had once found the power and the
knowledge to sing the Song of Recreation, why didn‘t the deaths of his own men stir him to sing
death and destruction upon the Skraelings? Through the haze of exhaustion and pain clouding his
mind Axis realised that he needed his father, needed his knowledge. He felt like the five-year-old
child he had once been, given a man‘s sword for the first time, knowing that it could kill, yet able
to do no more than drag it uselessly behind him as he wobbled across the courtyard. He found
himself screaming his father‘s name as he plunged his sword into a Skraeling‘s eye, as if that
could somehow magically bring his father to his side.
But all he could do was use the sword he had finally grown into, and pray that he would
live beyond this nightmare. As those of the men that were left, less than three thousand of the
eight that had originally manned the walls, gathered outside the fort‘s walls, Axis was so
exhausted he could no longer even maintain the Icarii ward of protection about him. Perhaps,
after all, death would not be so bad—a kindness after all he had witnessed and the futility he had
experienced this night. He leaned against a wall and slid wearily to the ground, his sword
extended before him.
Belial slumped beside him, exhausted. Blood plastered his fine sandy hair to his forehead
and exhaustion carved deep lines from nose to mouth.
Axis closed his eyes, but they flew open as a man screamed close by.
―They arrive,‖ Belial said shortly, helping Axis to his feet again. ―Have they not fed
enough yet?‖
Axis wavered a moment and Belial had to steady him. ―They seek me, I think, Belial.
Their appetites cannot be sated until they taste my blood. If they do that, then Achar lies open to
them forever and you may as well fall upon your sword.‖ Stricken by a horrifying thought, his
eyes widened. ―Belial! What will happen to Faraday should I fall?‖
―Borneheld will keep her safe,‖ Belial said shortly. ―Come, the men need you now.‖
Axis followed him. ―The gods must know she would be better feeding the hunger of a
Skraeling than living out a long life with Borneheld,‖ he muttered.
The Skraelings were massing behind the last line of barricades, and a number were
already swarming over the top of the hastily built wall of carts and boxes. As Axis came closer to
the barricade, Belial already well ahead, a bulky shape dropped out of the sky in front of him.
Axis stopped dead, his eyes narrowing in surprise.
―Your men die, Axis Rivkahson,‖ the SkraeBold hissed, ―and you tremble close to death
yourself.‖ It stepped closer, wings extended behind it, taloned hands held ready to strike. Axis
forced himself into a combative frame of mind, knowing that men depended on him. He would
not die now, not yet. There must be more than this. He slowly raised his sword before him.
The SkraeBold gurgled happily as he saw the sword sway in Axis‘ battle-wearied hands.
The kill would be easy. It crowed its triumph to the sky for a moment, then, lowering its head,
leaped forward.
But Axis had a little more determination left than the SkraeBold had anticipated. He
swept his sword before him in an arc, catching the SkraeBold across a shoulder, opening the
creature‘s flesh until blood flowed. The SkraeBold screamed and twisted to one side, then
changed the direction of its attack, driving in low below the arc of Axis‘ next sword swing, its
taloned hands seizing Axis about the chest and waist and driving him to the ground. The creature
worked its claws closer and closer to his flesh, tearing at Axis‘ tunic and mailshirt with its beak
and tusks.
The strength of the SkraeBold was phenomenal, and although Axis was stronger than
most men he could not free himself from the grip of the beast. Its breath, so close to his own
face, smelt of rotten carrion, and Axis gagged, unable to fight back until he could catch his own
breath. He tried to turn the sword in his hand, to turn it so that he could plunge the blade down