Now they were safely inside the tower the priority was to get to the escaping citizens. The tower doors would not keep the goblins out forever so they would be defending their retreat once more soon enough. Nathaniel led Martyn down into the tunnel, following the rest of the guard as they headed into the unknown. Martyn seemed entirely bewildered as they walked down this secret passage which had long slipped from the city's memory. He seemed far more dumbfounded again when they reached the dome chamber, to see that there were eight other passages leading off in other directions. They followed the rest of the men back the way Nathaniel had come earlier, towards the port. As if Martyn's bewilderment could not get anymore, he stopped dead for a moment as they emerged from the tunnel at the port. All of the citizens seemed to have made it safely across the bridge which spanned the Orin river.
The city guards were now beginning to cross the great bridge to meet them. The bridge was a huge marble construction, with stone abutments at each end and eight stone piers, which the arches of the bridge spanned between. At the centre of the bridge were four small round towers, used to support the two drawbridges which met at the middle. The drawbridges could be raised and lowered to allow large ships to pass beyond the bridge and head further up river. These drawbridges were of course made of wood and therefore could be burnt down to cover their retreat, once across the river. They were very solid, built of thick oak beams, but once covered with pitch and set ablaze they would burn in no time. The next crossing was forty miles upstream at a ford, giving them plenty of time to reach Othwyn.
Once on the bridge, Nathaniel began to instruct guardsmen to prepare the pitch. There were always several jars stored in the bridge towers, for this exact purpose. Although it would usually be to stop attackers from crossing the bridge to get to the city. From the bridge Nathaniel could see smoke rising up all across the city. It was a disheartening sight to see the city he loved so much, going to ruin and the hands of a goblin host. The army must be ransacking the city, burning as they went. If they could at least reach Othwyn they stood a chance of mustering an army to retake the city. After all Nathaniel held the keys to the tunnels and could launch an attack from within, giving them an advantage.
Nathaniel's plan was to fire the bridge once everyone was across and then make good their escape. There was a sudden commotion coming from the dock below as men began to charge out of the tunnel. He assumed the worst, that the tower had been breached and goblins were entering the passage. The doors had not held for as long as he had hoped. There was now a difficult decision to make. How many of his comrades would he be able to save before setting fire to the bridge. He wished the decision was not his to make but he would have to get it done to save those who had already crossed. As soon as he sighted the first goblin to emerge from the tunnel he would have to set it alight. "Get the torches ready," he instructed Martyn, who looked back at him with concern. He seemed to understand the weight of the decision Nathaniel had to make.
He knew the guardsmen in the tunnel would defend it to the last, but the more men they got across the bridge, the more there were to defend the people of the city. Nathaniel conducted men over the bridge, urging them to cross quickly. His eyes remained ever fixed on the tunnel exit, waiting and watching for the enemy to emerge. Guardsmen continued to pour out of the tunnel mouth, across the dock, up the steps and onto the bridge. Nathaniel felt all the hairs on his body stand bolt upright as he heard the shrill scream of goblins. In the next moment the first of them emerged from the tunnel, hacking and slashing at the guards who had turned to fight them off.
A single tear dropped from Nathaniel's eye as he reluctantly threw his torch onto the pitch soaked drawbridge. Martyn hesitated but he too followed suit, a look of desperation set deep into his face. The flames took hold almost instantly, cutting off the retreat of their fellow guards. They had been sacrificed to save the others and permit them to escape. These men were no cowards and would fight to the last, taking many goblins down with them. The impact on the huge host which had assembled however would be minimal. Rather than stay and watch his comrades slain, he and Martyn turned to lead the survivors onward. In this dire situation the city guard had been decimated, losing all of its leadership and most of its numbers. Nathaniel had taken up the responsibility of leading them now, as he was the one who knew of the passages to escape.
All that could be done now was to guide his people to Othwyn and hope they could take shelter in the city long enough to rebuild their strength. Nathaniel walked over to the huge crowd of citizens massed along the bank, looking for Ogwyn in the sea of faces. As he walked over, many of his fellow guardsmen followed him over. The people turned to look as they walked over, then all began to kneel and bow their heads in respect. It was a surreal experience to be heralded in such a fashion. They were merely humble guards of the city and not heroes or royalty to be revered. Most of the guard had either fallen in the city or had been cut off when the bridge was set alight. Less than a quarter of the full force was left to protect the citizens now. Nonetheless all of the people bowed to their protectors, led on by Nathaniel who had taken on the role of leading them.
Ogwyn and many of the other scholars were at the head of the flock, they too knelt in respect. Nathaniel approached him and offered his hand to help the elderly man to his feet. The rest of the crowd stood up after, like a great wave spreading over the ground. "We must leave this place with all haste. I cannot say if they will pursue us or not," he explained. The scholars began to rally the people and all looked to Nathaniel to make the first move. He ordered guards to walk the sides and back of the crowd, for protection. He then began to walk the road toward Othwyn. It would be a long, arduous march for everyone and would take them at least a week to reach Othwyn city. They had no food or shelter with them, so would be relying on themselves to catch food and make shelter along the way. Before reaching the sister republic, they still needed to cross a second branch of the Orin. This meant heading south first to ford the river, before turning west.
The forlorn group of survivors trudged along, leaving their homes behind, for who knew how long. There was a quiet mood amongst the people, everyone clearly uneasy about their situation. As Nathaniel looked around him he felt apprehensive about his new responsibilities of leading the survivors. The day dragged on as the pack moved southward, still dark and gloomy from the ominous cloud cover above. As daylight began to wane Nathaniel grew conscious they would need to find somewhere to spend the night. There was no shelter anywhere to be found and it seemed they would all be spending a night under the stars. By the time they reached the branch of the Orin Nathaniel knew he could not ask any more of his people. They would make camp on the banks of the river and cross the ford in the morning.
He set about organising groups of citizens to fetch firewood and sent some rangers to try and hunt supper, whilst posting other guards as sentries. The first night would no doubt be the hardest as everyone grew accustomed to their new situation. Nathaniel stood by the riverbank looking back over the camp, where hundreds of fires had been lit and groups of people were huddled close around them. From out of the gloom he felt a strange, warm presence near him. "Nathaniel," came a soft, familiar voice from behind him. He spun round to see Eira stood there. Her face seemed lit up in the darkness and her smile was comforting. She approached him and threw her arms round him in a tight embrace. Nathaniel could feel himself dissolve into her arms, happy to escape his woes for a brief moment. After breaking the embrace they stood together in silence, gently holding the other's hand and staring out over the camp.
By the morning the camp fires had all but died down and there was a peaceful quiet around the camp as people woke and prepared for another day on the road. The gloom was also beginning to lift as the clouds seemed to thin and allow more sunlight through. Nathaniel had managed to get a few hours of shut eye, lying next to Eira during the night. Worry had been on his mind but they had a long day ahead of them so he needed the rest. The group assembled on the road and Nathaniel watched the line as they began to ford the river. He had forced Eira to join Ogwyn and cross the river, as he needed to keep his mind focused on guiding everyone safely to Othwyn.
There was a furore stirring at the rear of the column and soon people began to run, screaming toward the ford. Nathaniel unsheathed his glaive and, grabbing his shield, ran to where the tumult seemed to be stemming from. As he bolted over it soon became abundantly clear what was causing the ruckus. A pack of Venbeasts ridden by goblins had caught up with them during the night. Chaos had spread among the people, many of whom were being cut or mown down by the attackers. "Archers! take them down!" he called, trying to rally his men. The goblins did not discriminate between the guards and the citizens, cutting them both down regardless. There must have been at least fifty of the beasts charging through the rear of the masses, slashing and hacking their way through.
Finally the guardsmen began to fight back, many arrows hitting their mark and bringing down the attackers. Nathaniel managed to form a phalanx and stood firm against the attackers, drawing them in and allowing the citizens to flee across the ford. The riders seemed to focus on the guards, knowing the others would be left hopeless without them. Another phalanx formed nearby and together they began to try and tackle the attackers. The riders started to circle the two phalanxes trying to break through the line of shields. If they got too close a spear was thrust out, one or two striking the beasts and causing injury. It was not enough however and Nathaniel knew they needed to start bringing them down or they would turn to the defenceless people. He forced a gap in the shield wall and drew a rider close to him. As the venbeast charged him down he hopped up on top of the phalanx and launched himself at the goblin rider. With a swing of his glaive in midair he cut the goblin down. Landing on the venbeast he struggled to take control of it but managed eventually to bring it to heal.
With his own mount, he could now start exacting some damage on the goblin pack. He was able to divide the company, drawing some away from the phalanxes and giving them an easier task to bring down other riders. The archers rallied again and started to harass the pack, taking down some of the riders, but leaving the beasts still alive and dangerous. Nathaniel directed his efforts in taking down each of the beasts after the archers had managed to dispose of the rider. Slowly but surely the pack of attackers was starting to diminish and the losses to the guard were now minimal. Suddenly one of the riderless beasts launched itself headlong over one of the phalanxes, landing in the middle and flailing its claws, tearing down the men. Nathaniel turned his beast to charge it down, slicing through its thick neck with a swift swish of the glaive.
He knew it would only be a matter of time before venbeast he was riding turned on him. The creatures were inherently evil and would only endure his control for so long. It bucked up, dropping him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. The creature then turned and was about to dash its claws into his chest but Martyn jumped in front to protect his friend. The claws of the venbeast smashed down onto his shield, dropping Martyn to his knees. A second slash broke the shield to splinters and the third carved open his friend's chest. In a flash Nathaniel was on his feet and thrust his glaive up through the beast's head, killing it instantly. He then turned in despair to his friend, watching the blood ebb out of the wound. He dropped down to Martyn's side and without hesitation, whipped his medallion from round his neck and placed it on Martyn.
With his eyes closed he found himself praying that his friend would survive, oblivious to the pandemonium that still erupted around them. Suddenly Martyn coughed violently, blood spitting from his mouth. As Nathaniel feared the worst he could see the blood in each cough became less and less. He pulled back torn clothes from the wound and could see that scar tissue had formed, sealing it closed. Martyn it seemed would survive by all the graces, but he would bear a horrendous scar down his cheek, neck and chest for the rest of his days. As they both looked around them it seemed the last of the attackers had been fought off. The ground around them though, was filled with hundreds of their dead. It had been hard fought and whilst they had not lost many guardsmen, most of the fallen were the innocent citizens. Nathaniel hung his head in shame. It was only the first day of a hard journey and already he had failed to protect his people.
The days that followed were not much easier, as enough food was difficult to come by for a group so large. The rangers were able to catch small animals but hardly enough to feed all the mouths. Starvation was setting in and people were becoming weak. Nathaniel was worried that many of the older folk and children may not survive to reach Othwyn as the days pressed on. As hunger set in, people became more and more exhausted, causing the line to spread right out along the road. If they were attacked again it would be impossible to defend everyone and hundreds more again would die. To make things worse, the worry was preventing Nathaniel from sleeping. His judgement would be impaired and he did not know how he could lead his people in such conditions. It became harder to keep track of the days as each one seemed much like the one before and spirits among the people gradually declined further into despair.
The hazy sight of Othwyn on the seventh day could not have come soon enough. Elation began to spread down the line as the news travelled. Their destination lay ahead of them and the prospect of safety and shelter with it. The bedraggled pack of men, women and children slowly approached the outer gate of the city, Nathaniel at its head, accompanied by Martyn and Ogwyn. The gate was small, merely an archway enclosed by oak doors. Guards stood atop the gate structure which was mere metres above the ground. In his mind Nathaniel had expected a city of equal grandeur to Ollorath. His preliminary estimations also did not expect they would have much room to house the thousand or so survivors from Ollorath. "Who seeks entry to the City of Othwyn?" called one of the guards stood above them on the ramparts.
"We come from Ollorath seeking refuge," Nathaniel replied as their spokesperson.
"More survivors from Ollorath," mused the guard, as if speaking out loud.
"More survivors. Who else has come?" questioned Nathaniel.
In the next moment the guard disappeared from his perch and the gates began to open. Nathaniel began to lead them into the shelter of Ollorath and was met by the guardsman from above. "The other survivors arrived several days ago. They said no others had survived," he explained, "Your ministers, they came by ship.""Where are they?" Nathaniel demanded, feeling anger building up inside him. Lydan and the others had betrayed the city and abandoned its people. Nathaniel was beset on revenge. "They are in the great hall at the city centre, with our own ministers," the guard admitted, perhaps guessing what Nathaniel intended. "Will you see my people are fed, we have travelled far with little to eat?""I will see to it myself sir," he replied graciously. Ogwyn and Martyn followed Nathaniel as he marched his way through the streets to find the great hall and the treacherous ministers.