Now Regulus could see a path to his target.
Before he could move, Janto cut his way through the lightly armoured Khurtas, heeding Regulus’ words and making for the shaman who still knelt in the dirt. Regulus was quick to follow, reluctant to allow Janto the glory of killing the wytchworker.
As Hagama, Kazul and Akkula vented their ire on the Khurtas, Janto and Regulus ran forward. The branches that ran along the ground from the base of the wall began to converge, pulsating with unnatural life as they snaked back towards the shaman.
As the Zatani warriors raced towards him, his bodyguard began to move forward. They lumbered into Janto’s path, hefting their massive warhammers, their faces showing no emotion as they created a phalanx of bloated flesh and muscle.
Janto threw himself against them, howling as he charged, axes raised high. He ducked the laboured swing of a hammer, which thudded into the ground sending a sod of earth flying into the air, and buried an axe in the thick skull of the first giant. As it fell he wrenched his axe free, turning to face his next foe as another warhammer swung in at him. This time he was not so quick, and barely had time to dodge away as the hammer came in. He took a glancing blow to the shoulder but it was still enough to fling him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Regulus took advantage as Janto fell. The Sho’tana warrior could take care of himself; there were still enemies to slay.
As Regulus neared the shaman he saw his emaciated arms were buried deep in the earth. From where they dug in, foliage sprouted from the ground, running in a pulsating thread towards the curtain wall. Where his flesh ended and the branches began was impossible to tell, and something about it turned Regulus’ stomach. He fought back bile as he raised his blade. The shaman didn’t look up, so completely was he transfixed by his own sorcery. While Janto took on the bloated bodyguards the shaman was undefended. Regulus did not pause, hacking down and severing the shaman’s arms at the elbow. The old man screamed, reeling back, raising his stumps high as they spewed white blood into the air. Another swipe of Regulus’ blade saw the shaman fall headless to the ground.
Janto roared, and Regulus turned to see he had defeated another two of the gigantic Khurtas. His dark armour shone in the moonlight, slick with blood, and his sky-blue eyes peered from behind his helm as he searched the night for his next victim.
Already the branches that had sprung from the arms of the shaman were beginning to wither and die. They blackened, crumbling fast, and Regulus could see their way of escape would be cut off if the foliage that had grown up the curtain wall did likewise.
‘We have to go,’ he shouted, running past Janto. Regulus didn’t wait to see if the Sho’tana warrior heeded his warning, but sprinted for the base of the wall where his other warriors still fought.
The Khurtas had massed now, and Regulus took solace in the fact their screams rose high. His own warriors only roared back in fury as they cut down the savages who swarmed all around them.
Regulus fought his way back to the wall and Janto added his bulk so they could push their way through the mass of bodies. Those Khurtas that did not relent were hacked aside. When Regulus reached Akkula, Hagama and Kazul he turned, his back against the wall.
‘Climb!’ he bellowed. ‘And climb quickly, we don’t have much time.’
Kazul was the first to leap up onto the branches. Already Regulus could see that they were blackening, going brittle, and he knew they would not hold for long.
Akkula was next, climbing the wall like an ape, as the three remaining Zatani defended the bottom of the wall. The Khurtas were wary of attacking now after seeing so many of their kind slain, but still they jabbed in with their spears, eyes wide with fear and bloodlust.
Regulus turned to Hagama, about to bellow at him to move, when an arrow hit the warrior in the throat. Hagama fell to his knee, blade falling from his grip as he grasped the black shaft protruding from his neck.
Before Regulus could rush to his warrior’s side, Janto grabbed the pauldron of his armour.
‘He’s gone,’ growled the Sho’tana.
Regulus shook off his grip, moving forward to aid Hagama, but the Khurtas were already taking advantage of the stricken Zatani. One stabbed forward, finding a gap between the black plates on the warrior’s torso, the curved blade sinking deep.
‘We have to go now!’ Janto cried, just as he sank an axe into a Khurtic skull.
Regulus knew he had to leave, had to make it to the top of the wall before his escape was cut off, but he could not drag his eyes from Hagama. They had grown up together. Hagama had been with him every step, never yielding, never faltering even when the Gor’tana had been brought low and they were forced into exile.
And he would not want you to die here. He would want you to live. To avenge him.
Regulus roared, long and loud, sweeping his sword left and then right in a last defiant display, before leaping onto the vines and branches that still held fast to the curtain wall.
He could see Janto above, making his way up the wall with ease. Kazul and Akkula were further ahead, one of them, Regulus couldn’t tell which, dragging a screaming Khurta off the ladder of branches as he passed. The foliage was becoming more brittle with every yard they climbed, and more than once a handhold crumbled in Regulus’ grip. Over the sounds of battle, he could hear the foliage cracking as it dried, rotting with every passing moment.
An arrow hit a branch next to his head, which shattered into brittle shards. More arrows followed as the Khurtas saw the Zatani were vulnerable as they climbed.
A sudden volley rained down from above as someone, Regulus couldn’t tell who, organised archers up on the wall to cover their climb.
The branch he held suddenly broke, and Regulus slipped several feet before finding his grip. He was near the top now, Janto had just made it over the wall, but he still had at least twenty feet to go and it looked as though the wall of greenery might collapse at any moment.
Regulus moved with more urgency, ignoring the sounds of battle raging around him. All that mattered was reaching the top, surviving, so that he might avenge his brother Hagama.
As the lip of the battlements came within reach, the wall of foliage moved, cracking and grinding like a beast in its death throes. It lurched backwards, and Regulus felt the cold bite of panic in his stomach as the wall slipped beyond his reach. To his left a mass of vegetation fell away, dropping to the earth far below. Regulus made to leap, but the branches at his feet gave way before he could. He reached out an arm, one last attempt to save himself before he plunged a hundred feet to the earth below. His hand gripped something hard, solid, and for a moment his fall was abated.
Looking up he saw a face he recognised. Nobul Jacks stood at the battlements, one hand gripping the wall, the other reaching out with his hammer.
‘Come on,’ yelled the Coldlander through gritted teeth.
Regulus leapt, still holding the hammer, hoping against hope that Nobul Jacks was as strong as he looked. The wall of branches collapsed behind him as he jumped and Regulus held his breath as he swung, hitting the wall, expecting to fall, but Nobul held him fast. Regulus scrabbled at the wall, clawed fingers finding purchase as Nobul hauled him over the edge. They both landed in a heap, Regulus heaving breath into his lungs.
Nobul stood, and Regulus glanced up at him. ‘I owe you my life again, Black Helm,’ he said with a nod.
‘There’ll be plenty of chances to pay me back,’ Nobul replied. ‘Of that I have little doubt.’