Randyl and McSween turned as Braxter approached, the former with eyes wide and sparkling with life while the latter looked only a shade less nervous than Braxter himself felt. Randyl had the pulsar strapped to his back alongside Corraich while McSween carried no visible weaponry at all, only a cloth satchel which was tied to his back with cord.
"New weapons, new armour. I hope this day finds you are still my old friend even though much else has changed, Brax? I feel we may need all the friends we can get before the day is over." Randyl tried to sound cheerful but couldn't quite hide his true feelings beneath. It was almost as if he couldn't wait to get going, with an urgency underlaying each word he spoke. "Are you ready my friend?"
"I guess." Braxter replied, trying his best to steady the tremor in his voice. "Where are we going?"
McSween shrugged his satchel into what he hoped was a more comfortable position on his back, decided it was no better and moved it again. "To the roof." He ran his hand through his hair which immediately fell back over his eyes and dropped the hand to his side where it patted a staccato beat against his thigh. "We'll be able to view the whole field from there and when the Malgore shows it ugly head..."
"I can take it from it's shoulders." Randyl finished grimly.
"Er, yes...exactly." McSween pushed his hair from his eyes and smiled as cheerfully as if someone had offered him a cup of tea. "Hopefully it might be in range to hit it from there and end this battle before too many of our troops perish."
"And if it's not?" Braxter couldn't help but ask.
"Not? Not what?" McSween had already lost focus on the conversation and had taken to adjusting his satchel once more.
"What if it's not in range?" Braxter asked, a touch of impatience creeping into his voice.
"Ah, then we have to move somewhere closer. And quickly." McSween answered matter-of-factly, smiling once again at Braxter who wasn't sure if he felt comforted by the look or was made even more nervous. "The longer we take to kill the Malgore..."
"The more of my people will die." Randyl growled. His fists clenching and unclenching with impatience and pent up aggression. "Now, if we are all ready - let's do this." And with that he turned and marched quickly from the room.
Braxter cocked an eyebrow and looked at McSween who's lips seemed to be moving but not making a sound. "Did he just say..." Braxter asked. McSween shook his head quickly as if dismissing whatever thought he was having.
"Oh...I'm sure it was just...come on, we need to catch up to him." He said adjusting his pack one last time before setting off at a run which Braxter had no choose but to follow.
They had to jog to catch up to him but this time at least the journey through the town was a lot less congested. Although the occasional civilian still hurried from doorway to doorway, anxious and furtive eyes darting this way and that as if expecting the Ulrogg to leap on them at any moment, most had already taken up arms and gone to join the soldiers outside the Western Gate bolstering their numbers two fold even it was only with town militia and not any kind of skilled fighters. Those who were deemed either too old or too young were housed in buildings throughout the town - makeshift fortifications built up to give whatever protection could be found should the Ulrogg manage to breach the town walls. And around those buildings grizzled old men could be seen peering from doorways and windows, scared but resolute.
Defiance stared out at him as Braxter, Randyl and McSween ran past such places. Along cobbled streets and across the town square, past the sandbag barricades which he himself had helped to build and which now stood deserted and silent they ran, each lost in his own thoughts.
As they reached the Western Tower they began to hear the first sounds of the army gathered outside. Barked orders, the clanging of metal, horses whinnying, feet pounding the hard ground, all these sounds washed over Braxter as he ran into the tower following Randyl, up the winding stairs, trying not to think about what was going on outside the walls.
What was coming.
In through your nose, out through your mouth he thought to himself, remembering what Ja'aris had said to him and wondering how angry the watcher would be making himself right then as he stood at the front line in the Vanguard. In and out, in and out. Up and up.
Until eventually they reached the top.
They emerged into sunlight so bright that it made Braxter squint. A blue sky blanketed them, broken only very occasionally by white clouds which sat unmoving, as if gathered by the gods themselves to bear witness to what was happening below.
It was colder this far up and Braxter drew his leathers about him against the chill. What he saw when his eyes adjusted however, chilled him in a way that his clothing could do nothing to stop. His breath caught in his chest and his mouth ran dry. He tried to swallow but it felt as though his throat was coated with sand and his tongue had suddenly swollen to twice it's normal size.
The site which greeted him, sprawling across the plains outside Boreham wasn't a surprise as such, but picturing it in his mind and seeing it in the flesh were two completely different things.
Boreham's makeshift army was gathered in rank and file, well ordered and standing to attention in their companies. Captains ran the lines, presumably giving orders and commands if not last minute words of encouragement to those they were responsible for but at this height it was impossible to make out individual voices. All that reached Braxters ears was a general thrum of noise from the thousands gathered below.
And from the Ulrogg - not a sound.
But they were there. Where the plains ended and gently became the hills which Braxter had so recently crossed with Randyl, L'non and Ja'aris after leaving Heldaro, the Ulrogg had gathered. They too stood in what Braxter presumed were their own monstrously distorted version of battle lines but at this distance it was too difficult to make out individuals.They stood in the shadows of the trees which lined the plains, or maybe they were the shadows and all Braxter could make out were the darker shapes of bodies, many bodies, as they moved and writhed, wild but restrained as if hungry for the coming battle but held in check at the point of that restraint being broken.
All that he could be certain of was that they were many - perhaps not as many as the army standing directly below him but enough to scare him through to the marrow. He wondered how close they would need to be before the men below could make out the beasts and whether they would have the nerve to stand their ground when they did.
"Aaaa..." Braxter tried to say a prayer that they would be able to do just that and failed at his first attempt. He coughed and swallowed thickly fairing little better on the second attempt as his voice came out little more than a croak.
"All hells! They're really here!" he managed at last.
"Yesss, yesss!" Randyl growled with a fierce smile spreading over his face. "This is the day we take our revenge." He put his arm round Braxters shoulders, pulling his friend close.
"Can you feel it my friend? The sense of battle? The blood in the air? Victory and justice wait for us." Randyl breathed deeply and when he exhaled Braxter couldn't be sure if the breath he could see was because of the cold air or was actual smoke from Axis-y-Garrasdanne. "The pending defeat of the enemy?" He winked at Braxter who immediately felt a little colder.
"They look pretty alive at the moment Rand. And look how many of them there are. We've never seen so many in one place before." Braxter said, doing his best to stop his teeth from chattering and uncertain if they did so because of the cold or something else.
Randyl showed nothing but excitement however. "Good. It will be easier to kill more of them if they present themselves so. Like lambs filing themselves into the slaughter house." Braxter tried to smile back at his friend but what he managed was closer to a wince. "McSween - is there any sign of the Malgore?" Randyl's smile turned into a sneer and he spoke as though he had a foul taste in his mouth.
"Not yet." McSween stood on the other side of Randyl, his hands holding a looking glass up to his eye as he scanned the assembled Ulrogg army. "But..." he paused ominously and if it had been anyone else Braxter may have thought the pause was for dramatic effect. With it being McSween however, such things could well be because he had simply lost his train of thought.
"But?" Randyl prompted. McSween lowered the bronze tube from his eye and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He held the looking glass out to Randyl.
"At the back. Under the oaks. I couldn't make it out at first but...well, see for yourself."
Randyl took the looking glass from him and held it to his eye, scanning instantly over the open plains between the two armies and then laterally over the enemy. Where the hillside flattened out trees and bushes had taken root haphazardly and were clumped together randomly as is natures way. A group of oak trees gathered closely together as if conspiring to hide in their shadows the thing which stood at their base. In amongst these shadows shapes began to form and movement could be seen, illuminated by a pale blue radiance. As Randyl watched the glow became stronger, more pronounced and as a result the shapes became more defined and he began to make out Ulrogg dragging something forwards and out from under the trees, out from the shadows.
Three times the height of the Ulrogg who moved it, oval in shape like a huge egg layed by some hellish creature, black but illuminated from within by the source of the blue arcane glow and marked with runes of the same colour which pulsed with a slow rhythm, bright and then dim, the vessel stood upright. Light grey mist rolled down it's sides as Randyl watched the Ulrogg position it at the rear of it's army. Once in place there blue fissures appeared running vertically along it's length from tip to base, cutting it into eight equal sized pieces. Slowly these fell to the earth until all eight lay on the ground, fanning out from the centre and there, shrouded in a rapidly dissipating mist, stood the alien horror known as the Malgore.
"Nightmare." Randyl breathed the word softly, possessing enough humanity from the being he was before merging with Axis to remember what such things were and saying the first thing which came to mind. The Malgore stood on two thick muscular legs and flexed it's arms out to either side, stretching. It's body was covered in a course, dark fur just like the Ulrogg and a similar, if bigger, head stood on it's shoulders housing bone white teeth, sharp and bared. Huge pointed ears were mounted on the sides of it's head which, as Randyl watched, it turned first to the left then the right before looking up at the sky and then down to the earth. But as terrifying as the Malgore looked already, its true horror was revealed when it leaned forwards and a second pair of arms loosened themselves jerkily from its torso. Sticking out to either side they folded and unfolded on themselves. Now looking more insectile than the bear-human hybrid of the Ulrogg, if the children of Boreham had ever been asked to pool their ideas of what monsters populated their nightmares, the Malgore would most certainly not have been far from the sum total.
"Is that it, my lord?" McSween asked nervously, wringing his hands.
"What is it? What do you see?" Braxter pressed in the silent moments before Randyl replied.
"Yes it is McSween." He said simply. "The Malgore is here."
"Then we must act fast." McSween's nervousness seemed to vanish as the confirmation of the Malgores presence spurred him into action. "We need to find a place where we can be close enough to it without being seen so we can use the pulsar to best effect."
"Wouldn't it be easier to..." Braxter began and Randyl lowered the looking glass, both he and McSween staring at him questioningly so he had no choice but to continue, regardless of how uncomfortable he felt now that he'd paused to actually think about his idea for a moment.
"Well, I was just wondering..."
"Speak. Make it fast." Randyl barked.
"Well why don't you just assume your dragon form and fly over there to use the pulsar?" Randyl stared at him, his face cold and passive. Braxter shuffled from one foot to the other, wishing once again that he'd simply held his tongue.
"It wouldn't work." McSween broke the silence, answering on behalf of Randyl who lifted the looking glass to his eye and resumed his search for a place they could move to. Braxter breathed a sigh of relief as he continued, glad to be out from under the scrutiny of Randyls intense stare. "The weapon could not be wielded with any accuracy while in that form but also, and probably more importantly, frustratingly so even," he paused and glanced at Randyl before continuing, "he'd be killed before he got there by the Ulrogg using their own weapons. He'd be an open target and would almost certainly be knocked from the sky before he got even close."
"You mean they have pulsars with them? All of them?" Braxter asked, disbelieving.
"Oh yes, of course. But don't worry." McSween noticed that Braxter had lost what little colour had remained in his face and did his best to reassure him. "They won't use them against our army. They'd prefer to capture as many of us as they can so we can be farmed just like those others they've taken. If they used their pulsars against us our army would be wiped out in minutes."
His intention was good and Braxter tried to take solace in that even if he took no comfort at all in his words. He looked down over the army and by chance managed to pick out L'non and Ja'aris. They stood together in the space between their respective companies - the vanguard and the reserve - facing one another, their hands on one-another's shoulders, heads thrown back and faces skyward. While others moved all around them quickly finding their places among the gathered soldiers, the watchers stood apart, much as they had their whole lives. Present but not belonging.
"It's their remuriat." McSween spoke from beside him.
"Huh?"
"It's their remuriat. It's like a prayer of good luck, good fortune and clarity of thought and purity of heart all rolled into one." He explained and Braxter felt a pang of sorrow at seeing them so. He had known them only a short while and it struck him not for the last time, just how close to them he had grown. Even Ja'aris with his sarcasm and criticism, they had both taught him so much as they travelled from Brookdale - the fundamentals of swordplay and basic survival skills amongst other things - and he vowed to himself that after the battle he would learn everything he could from them about life and about the world they lived in. Maybe, if they were willing to teach him, he'd learn about their order.
Their remuriat appearing to be over, they looked at one another, taking each others wrists in the warriors grip they embraced. A few words were exchanged and both grinned broadly.
As brothers.
Then they were turning, looking up at the West Tower, directly at Braxter, McSween and Randyl - Ja'aris with his black eyes and tattooed, bald pate reflected in the bright sun grinned fiercely and L'non - black eyes under black brows, dark locks of thick black hair framing his face as he smiled faintly.
They raised a hand each and waved once which Braxter and McSween both returned and then they parted and went their separate ways. Ja'aris jogged to the front of his vanguard, leaping deftly onto a black charger which had been held their for him by a stable hand. L'non walked determinedly to the reserve troop where his own horse waited.
Braxter felt the pang of sorrow deepen then and murmured his own prayer to any God still listening that whatever else happened that day, his friends would be kept safe.
It was a quick prayer however, interrupted by a rumbling which started in the distance and slowly but steadily rolled over the plains, growing in volume and depth until almost as a physical thing it washed over the army of Boreham, bouncing off the town walls and reverberating among the men gathered before them.
"Wh-" began Braxter.
"It's the Malgore. See for yourself." Randyl said simply, handing the looking glass to him. He raised it slowly to his eye as if wary of what he might see through it but curiosity got the better of him and proved too much to resist.
His breath caught in his chest when he first saw the Malgore. It stood with all of its four arms thrown out to the sides and it's head tossed back as the malevolent howl burst from it. What made it worse was that the cry was then taken up by each of the Ulrogg, all joining together as if part of some infernal choir from hell.
The effect on the army below was immediate as they began to shuffle uneasily, cringing, recoiling and trembling in fear as their nerves quickly began to fray. The beginnings of a scatter could be seen, especially around the edges of the units but the Captains quickly leapt into action - barking words of encouragement, orders or in some cases plain threats when everything else failed.
"Yesss." Growled Randyl again. " I can feel you. Can you feel me, I wonder? Do you know me? Oh, but you will do soon enough. You'll all get to know me soon enough." He spoke as if locked in some dark conversation between himself and the Malgore and Braxter looked at McSween but saw nothing in his expression to make him feel any better. He handed him the looking glass wordlessly.
"Oh." Was all McSween said, after raising the thing to his eye and Braxer knew what he meant without any further explanation being necessary.
"And so it begins." Whispered Randyl.