Chương 135: Peofrith

Brawl must've heard, because he followed my orders, falling back to help Anchor and the others stave off the other orcs from behind. I couldn't worry about them. They had their job, and I had mine. I leaned back, dodging Mugreth's sword, then wagged my spear side-to-side, trying to build distance between him and I. But Mugreth twisted past my spear, getting within my range, then slashed down.

It would've cleaved me in half if I hadn't leaned away, dodging the blade as best as I could, but it still sliced my arm, leaving a thin gash. Black veins spread from the impact point, and a swell of numbness spread through the limb, reaching for the bone.

"Sage!" I shouted. She turned toward me and contained the wound. My Vitality was nowhere near as high as Brawl's was, but I withstood the attack, and I could still use my arm. I exchanged blows with Mugreth for a minute or two, doing my best to avoid his slices and trying to find a weakness. I just needed an opening, and I'd dipped down to three Presence—I'd used two to slow him down and save myself in our skirmish. He was faster than me, and he was far stronger, which left me in a conundrum.

If Anchor's enhanced arrow—a Journeyman-tier skill—couldn't kill him with a perfectly lined up shot, what chance did I have? I had to attack from above and use my gravity manipulation. I just needed an opening, and— Mugreth backhanded me, throwing me into the wall, then spun around, aiming to cut my head off with a heavy sideways swipe. I leaned to the side just in time, and his sword cleaved through the bricks behind me, creating a hailstorm of stone shrapnel.

"Just die, sameface!" he snarled.

"No," I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Mugreth stabbed down at me over and over, keeping me scrambling back, stopping me from jumping up to my feet. For a second, I considered launching Mugreth in the air with reversed gravity, but that wouldn't help. The streets were too narrow, and he'd land on a roof somewhere. He'd probably survive the fall. I had to make sure I hit him hard enough to kill him in some other way, and without running out of Presence.

A different plan formed in the back of my mind, but it would require three Presence. I couldn't even spare one. But I couldn't do it without getting back to my feet, and Mugreth was doing everything to stop me. The Black Captain was fast, and he kept stabbing at me. All I could do was scramble away.

"Come on, beg, sameface! Plead for your life! Ask me for mercy!" He slammed his sword into the ground, creating an explosion of bricks. As the stone shards flew through the air, they rotted away.

"I might even consider sparing one so weak!" Even if I wanted to give up, I couldn't. Why should I trust someone named the Falsetongue? Besides, I was above making agreements with creatures like this. The portreeve's pathetic arrangement was scarred deep into my mind even with only having known him for a few minutes. There was no way I'd ever be caught behaving like that.

I could either waste a Presence to slow Mugreth, giving myself time to get to my feet, and then not have enough to kill him for good, or I could lash out desperately, buy myself enough time to reset myself, then jump back to my feet and get back in action. The latter sounded far more reasonable. I kicked out at Mugreth's knees, aiming to knock him back. But my feet came up against a solid wall. I just wasn't strong enough to bend his knees backward.

The orc laughed—a cold, terrifying laugh that sent shivers down my spine—then stabbed at me. My eyes widened, but I was still under the influence of Sage's healing art. The orc's blade pierced my chest, filling my lungs with rot. Every gasping breath tasted like I had the worst sinus infection ever, and white-hot pain lanced through my body and bones. I choked and fell flat on my back, and I was about to keep struggling, but I had a new idea.

I held my breath, focusing, and forcing myself to stop breathing, no matter how little control it felt like I had. I could still feel Sage's warm healing swirling in my bones, holding back the rot and keeping me alive, if just barely. Mugreth had to think I was dead, though. I fell still and let my head loll back. The orc pulled his sword out of my chest, and slowly, the wound began sealing, but Mugreth wasn't paying attention anymore. He turned toward the rest of my squadmates.

Maybe, if there had been no other fighting, he would have paused to hack my head off, but for now, he had bigger problems. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! I didn't struggle. I just laid there until Mugreth was past. He marched toward my squadmates—who were currently dealing with the regular orcs who had approached us from behind.

Anchor turned to fire at Mugreth, but the Black Captain twisted his shoulder toward the arrow and it bounced off his bone pauldron. As soon as Mugreth had gotten far enough past me that he wouldn't be able to see me in his periphery, I pushed myself up to my feet slowly and quietly, using my spear to help me stand. Sage's healing slowly gave me strength, and the wound slowly sealed itself. She pressed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, absorbing the pain. I backed away.

I'd only get one shot at this, and I had to time it perfectly. As Mugreth moved toward my squadmates, I positioned myself for a running start, then targeted a reverse gravity well in the sky in front of me, perfectly vertically. Inhaling, I triggered the Art, then raced forward. I passed through the well for a few seconds, letting it lift me up and fling me a few storeys into the air. But I passed through it with my forward momentum and sailed through the air.

My stomach lifted and adrenaline surged, like I'd just sprang off a massive jump. And as soon as I was above Mugreth, I triggered the Art in the opposite direction, but at an angle this time, dragging myself downward. As I fell, I activated my spear's resonance Skill. I slammed into Mugreth with enough force to drag him down to the ground, but I aimed my spear right for the back of his skull.

The resonance Skill allowed me to pierce through his bone, and the enhanced force of the gravity field made me strike with such force that the orc's skull shattered. Gray gore scattered on the road in front of me, and I tumbled out of the gravitational field, rolling, then digging my heels and pushing myself up—it wasn't pretty, but I mostly stuck the landing. The same rush of gratification poured through me, like I'd just landed a flip after launching off a jump while skiing.

I came to a halt on the road behind the others.

"Are you alright?" Sage asked.

"I'm going to need…a little bit more healing," I said, patting my chest.

"I'm almost better." I coughed, hacking up a glob of black liquid that my lungs rejected.

"We're not out of the woods yet!" Anchor called.

"And we need your spear, sarge!" I raced to the front of the formation, running to Brawl's side. He said, "Good work, brother." I stabbed a regular orc, and Brawl slammed his flail through the crowd. We were creating quite the mess, and there was a heap of bodies in the street ahead. But slowly, the orcs slowed down. We killed the last of them as they tried to rush us, then raced up to the ramparts of the wall for a better view of the battle.

The wind had picked up, blowing much of the smoke away, and now the rain was sheeting down, putting out the fires and clearing the air. Sir Aldhelm cleared out large swathes of orcs with his Arts, and Ceonwin and the other thegns led the charge on the ground. At first, I wasn't sure what Sir Theamund's Arts were, until a surge of flame splashed down from a tower, falling on the orcs and roasting a street-ful of them.

Our armies pushed in through the gate, taking losses but beating back the straggling orcs and funnelling them toward the thegns' techniques, where we could finish them off for good. Some orcs tried to flee, but there was nowhere to go except back to the great hall. I said, "We can't let them lock themselves in there." No matter how exhausted I was, I saw a place where we could help.

We raced back up the slope, slaying straggling orcs as they tried to barricade themselves in the great hall, but Brawl smashed down the door before they got too far. We couldn't take the entire hall alone, not with almost all of our Presence collectively drained, but we could keep the doors open. A few other squads of sappers joined us and pushed into the hall, cleaning up the straggling orcs. Finally, there was the portreeve, who had woken up and fled back to the hall, making for the sewers.

But I intercepted him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, then threw him down to the ground. I pointed my spear at his back.

"Tell them what you did," I said.

"Tell them your plan."

"I—I had no plan!" the man blubbered.

"Everything I did was to save the city!"

"And what would the civilians tell me happened to the city gates, I wonder, if I asked them?" I said.

"You're done. Tell us what you did! Did you open the gates for the orcs and let them in? Did you try to lure us here? And did you make a deal with Mugreth?" The portreeve spat on my boot.

"He paid me! He promised me that I would keep ruling the city after this was all over, as an honourary Black Captain, but that everyone would respect me afterward, when it was a city of orcs!" I shook my head.

"No wonder no one respected you before."

"Wh—what's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll figure it out," I said.

"And buying the Subtle Men, sending them after Lord Ceonwin? That was you too, wasn't it?"

"Of course it was! If he wasn't alive, your little plan would've fallen apart, and I'd be sitting in my chair right now, ruling my city as it should be ruled! With an iron fist!" I shook my head and turned away from the portreeve.

"Disgusting." Then I turned to face the crowd of sappers and others gathered. They were all looking at me with surprise. Then Lord Ceonwin and his thegns stepped forward.

"Yes, it's true. Four Subtle Men tried to attack me—but they had been paid by the portreeve. There are traitors in our ranks, and they will, apparently, sell their entire city to the orcs. For that, I sentence this man"—he pointed his great warbrand at the portreeve—"to death by drawing and quartering."

"No!" the portreeve exclaimed.

"You can't—no, my lord, I have always been a faithful servant of you…and if Sir Egric was alive, I'm sure he'd vouch for me…"

"He's dead because of you," Anchor snarled.

"So that's just grasping at straws now, isn't it?" I didn't want to look at the portreeve anymore, and truly, I just wanted to rest. But there was lots of work to do still. We had to harvest all the presences from the orcs and distribute them properly, then help clean up the city. Lord Ceonwin marched over to me and asked, "Is Mugreth dead?"

"Dead," I replied.

"And we took a few shamans along with him." Ceonwin raised his eyebrows.

"Very good. You're shaping up to be quite the fine soldier."