Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 63: Airborne

"Charge! Charge you bastards!" Regis roared as he charged his horse through the shattered gate, guardsmen flanking on either side as they rode beside him, spears couched beneath their arms, tips like needles of night under the clear, blue sky. They clattered over broken cobbles and tortured metal, punching through shields, armor, flesh, stabbing at anyone and anything unlucky enough to get in their way.

"Die!" Cent screamed as he thrust out, nailing an Iron Knight in the helmet, black blood spattering the air as it tumbled over. Moss caught one in the chest, wood pole snapping off in the process. He swore, drew a massive black ax and started hacking away instead. Chaos spread as the formation changed, forming a larger wedge.

Regis threw his spear as one knight tried to jump him, ramming it in the stomach, sending it sprawling back. He drew his sword, pointing it at the massive iron keep before them.

"The bridge!" Libro shouted behind him. "Make for the bridge! Follow the Jotuns!"

"Make for the bridge!" Regis roared out the command, his voice drowning out the noise of battle, the clattering hooves, his own heartbeat thundering in his chest. Nido's tits but he'd forgotten what a good charge had felt right. Seemed the boy had finally done one right.

Up ahead, the Jotuns were making quick work of any resistance. They fanned out, opening a clear path for the Vangen to charge past, separating Raylein's forces into halves. Two of Beslog's sons were already at the drawbridge, tugging at the chains, muscles bulging beneath their furs. Even Brand seemed to be struggling, brow knitted in dire concentration on Beslog's shoulder.

Regis gasped as something metal flashed in his vision, a cauldron boiling over one of the walls. Two soldiers heaved the contents over, splashing over one of Beslog's sons, the firemaned Jotun screaming as it tumbled to the ground in a heap, kicking and squealing.

"Shit!" The drawbridge groaned as it buckled, starting to rise back up, cries of terror as Beslog tossed an Iron Knight's corpse at the soldiers, a loud crunch as they impacted. "Captain! We might have a problem!"

"Nox!" Libro barked. "Focus fire on the cauldrons! Keep them off the Jotuns!" He flicked a finger towards the walls. There was a loud choom as the Austerlander fired, the twang of his crossbow echoing over the battlefield. Seconds later, one of the cauldrons burst apart, its contents spilling out and swallowing up a handful of screaming, gurgling soldiers.

Regis turned, was about to congratulate the man when a shadow passed over him. His guts lurched as he was plucked from his saddle,grip tight on his sword as he watched the ground sink away from him.

He looked up in a panic, saw two fingers pinched around his shoulders, lifting him. Two golden, glowing eyes stared at him from a nest of wiry hair, a familiar voice calling out for him.

"Regis! We have a problem!" Brand came into view, standing on Beslog's shoulder, thin face slick with sweat, dark bags tugging at his eyes.

"I can see that, lad!" Regis said, eyes near bulging from his skull as he caught sight of the ground. "Could have warned me before you plucked me off my damn horse!"

"No time! We have to get the bridge down now! Give me your sword!" He reached out, palms slick and dripping red.

"Nido's tits, lad! What the seven hells happened?" Regis demanded.

"I'm fine! Just give me the sword! I need to cut the chains if we want to get in!" Brand's eyes fluttered for a second and his legs stiffened as he nearly pitched off Beslog's shoulder.

"Like feth you will! You can barely stand by the looks of it!" Regis looked up at the bridge, teeth gritted on what to do, or more precisely, what he knew needed doing. Didn't like the solution he'd come up with, but damn him if he was going to let the boy push himself too far. "Toss me!"