A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1012 - The Counterattack - Part 11
1012: The Counterattack – Part 11
1012: The Counterattack – Part 11
“Indeed,” Oliver said.
“I will bring you a gift of the most exotic sort.
A foreign General’s head.”
“You’d better, Captain!
I’ve never seen a General’s head on a spike before!” Firyr rejoined.
The three of them went charging away together.
Jorah noted their advance, and gave the order for his troops to part before they could collide.
Verdant went first.
In a charge, the ridiculous strength granted by Bohemothia was outlandish.
He shattered the second line by himself – it didn’t matter that his spear hit a shield.
The man was sent flying back anyway.
Tolsey and Firyr came after him.
Firyr practically threw himself into the gap that Verdant created, seeming completely devoid of fear, whilst Tolsey pulled his fate tight and stoically, and set into the men in front of him with a dutiful diligence.
Now the way to the tower was all but open.
There was only a single line of men blocking their way.
Of course, they looked to be the most intimidating of those men.
They wore an armour different to the rest of the entire armour.
This was armour that shone gold.
Whether it was truly gold, or whether it was simply an alloy, like what Oliver had seen in the Capital, it was impossible to tell, however, the significance of the colour still remained.
They were the General’s guard.
“General Khan…” Yadish said slowly, cautiously, seeing the state of the battlefield.
Karstly was being chased by three Rogue Commandants.
They were nearing him, but he was keeping ever so slightly ahead.
Another few minutes, and his party would likely be torn apart, Yadish reasoned.
The problem lay straight below him, in what seemed to be an especially stubborn four hundred men.
“Those four hundred once more,” Khan said solemnly, a contemplative edge to his voice.
“They certainly have the pulling of destiny to them – however, if they mean to make their way forward, the only thing that they shall reach will be their own graves.”
With how certainly Khan said that, Yadish was inclined to believe it.
Even with the enemy right below him, gunning for his head, Khan didn’t seem surprised for a second.
This had to all be according to his grand plan, Yadish reasoned.
Chapter 18 – Slaying a General
“NOW!” Oliver shouted, seeing his own window of opportunity.
It was only he and Blackthorn that remained.
Everyone else had played their part.
They’d built their bridge.
Verdant, Tolsey and Firyr still held the way open, as did the infantry, even as the officers began to pull back to regroup.
It was a target down an archery range, and all that was left was to loose the arrow from the bow.
Oliver could see the ladder now.
He knew exactly what he had to grasp.
His will began to whirl up inside of him, as he felt a sense of certainty.
It was only a mere single line of men.
Gold armoured they might have been, and fierce their auras, but they would not stop him.
Not that mere few – Oliver was determined to prove that fact.
Walter lurched forward in response to his words rather than a touch of his heels.
By now, that battle horse was as in tune with Oliver as his men were.
Verdant had left Oliver veterans.
He’d managed to build the bridge forward without them, and now Oliver was determined to make good on his Vice-Captain’s hard work.
Blackthorn kept pace with him, the muscles of her own black mount lurching beneath her, matching the colour of her hair, as the braided tail swung out behind her, from beneath her helmet.
The Patrick men forced the way open even wider as Oliver came, allowing further room for him.
He rushed past, at full gallop now.
He eyed down the spears pointed his way, and he saw the gaps in the shields.
Barely, he reached for a power that he’d already overused that day.
The slightest drop in demand.
He could feel the Fragment’s exhaustion, but with the want of the men being as strong as it was, he grasped for the power anyway.
When he met that wall of men, he did so with purple in his eyes.
They were all Second Boundary, each of them, and there must have been nearly a hundred surrounding the tower’s base.
Nevertheless, Oliver’s sword came up as it would for any other man, and it came down the same, bulling its way past chainmail, into flesh and bone, ending the life of a Blessed soldier, as if he was nothing more than the common rabble.
He sliced through both spears in an armour in the same motion, fuelled by the last of Claudia’s power.
There was nought that could stop him.
He plunged past the wall, into the empty space beyond, and he continued to ride until he was at the very foot of the tower.
His ears rang, and his heartbeat from a sudden nervousness.
It felt as if he was up somewhere very high, and with thousands of eyes on him, watching him expectantly.
Then, suddenly, Blackthorn came after him.
She’d made use of his charge, and killed a man of her own.
She thundered to a halt beside him, and gave him a firm nod.
“Let’s go,” Oliver said.
He dismounted quickly, recovering his resolve.
He gave Walter a swift pat, reluctant to leave him, but well aware that there was little other choice.
Blackthorn hurried to do the same.
Now the whole circle of golden-armoured troops was closed in on them, shouting words of fury in their foreign tongue.
It sounded like they were casting magic spells to Oliver, so passionate was their fury.
Spells or not, he did not have the time to stay with them.
With a swift motion, he threw himself onto the base of the wooden tower, and he grasped for the first rung of the wide ladder.
With a mighty pull, he began his climb, rung by rung, he sped up it.
