Borne of Fire

Chapter 41

To the East the land rose gently at first but became steeper after a time and their pace was slowed accordingly. Where they had made good time and progress over the relatively flat land from Heldaro until now, even through the dark of the woods, here they found that more care was needed. Although thick with ankle deep grass, the ground offered little by way of footholds meaning that slipping was a potential hazard - the morning dew which had been left behind by the dawn mist had become a surprisingly tricky issue as the gradient increased. A number of times Braxter was forced to lean forwards and clutch at handfuls of grass while his feet scrambled for purchase lest he slip all the way down to the bottom of the slope. It's just a hill! He told himself over and over but the fact that his legs ached, his feet screamed with pain and now his shoulders, back and neck had joined the chorus meant that he couldn't really hear his own reassurances. But he looked ever upwards at L'non, Ja'aris and Randyl ahead of him and he kept going with a determination which he had discovered through all the challenges he had faced over the last few days. Regardless of how bleak things seemed sometimes and how insurmountable the task, sometimes literally, he knew you had to just keep going. Don't stop, don't even think about stopping, keep going. Until eventually...

He reached the crest of the hill and stood beside the others looking down over the town of Boreham.

It was huge.

At least by the size of any towns that Braxter had ever seen, granted that they only numbered a handful, and by the expression on the face of Randyl, he was similarly impressed. Whatever part of Axis-Y-Garassdanne remained sentient within him had obviously not prepared him for this site and he grinned fiendishly as they stood together, momentarily silenced.

Oval in shape, the perimeter stone walls stood as high as ten men standing atop one-anothers shoulders. In place on the top of those walls guards were stationed as lookouts on platforms beneath banners which stretched out in the wind proudly depicting the coat of arms for the current Baron - a silver eagle with wings spread before a golden sword and spear, crossed on a background of deep red.

The walls themselves seemed to go on and on with it's oval shape stretching the town from East to West and rugged hills cradling it North and South. The Eastern wall housed a gate the size of the biggest building Braxter had ever seen with guards standing at it's base, armed and in numbers. But however many they numbered, it didn't seem enough to control the chaos which was currently being wreaked before them.

There were people everywhere - standing, walking, running, lying down dead or asleep - it was hard to tell the difference. They were on foot, on horse, on cart. Alone and in groups. Some stood in silence, some shouted at one another, some shouted to one another. They wore rags, they wore makeshift armour to go along with their makeshift weapons. Hundreds upon hundreds stood before the gates, hungry, tired and broken as they tried to find their sanctuary within Boreham's walls. Guards stood at the gates stripping weaponry from the people before allowing them to pass through, piling them high into wooden carts - swords, axes and knives but also pitch forks, spades and hoes. A true representation of Kreatons people was on display in all it's variation - few too many soldiers in these recent times of peace and far too many farmers to be prepared for war. Even as Braxter watched a cart load of what looked more like farming equipment than weaponry was hitched to the back of a horse before the animal was lead away into the bowels of Boreham. The town was a fortress and the people were seeking it's protection but to be granted that protection it seemed that they had to pay with the very things which they had been using for protection thus far.

Braxter felt his hand dropping subconsciously to the hilt of his sword, his fingers running lightly over what was quickly becoming the familiar feel of its hilt. As unskilled as he was, he felt a rush of comfort that he had at least some protection close to hand and was unhappy at the thought of surrendering it. He was certain that the others would feel even more reluctant than he to relinquish their blades and the first feelings of doubt about the practicality of Randyls plan began to take root in his mind.