Four Horsemen: Chapter 3 Part 1 of 4 (Patreon)

Chapter 3:

They threaded through streets, people hurried from building to building. Some used buckets, pans and whatever they could to try and douse the fires tearing through their homes. Others called out and cried, rocking back and forth, having lost more than a home.

The broken remains of homes littered the streets.

“Incoming,” Valter raised his hand as rocks smashed through buildings around them, turning them into shrapnel.

Petor glanced at the sky, trying to read the incoming trajectories, following them back over the wall in the distance.

A section exploded outwards, spraying stone and fighters by their armor’s shine.

Mercenaries scarred from battle and hardened eyes that had seen too much moved through the streets at a jog, wearing plate of bronze, led by those wearing silver plates.

“Get out of the streets.” A woman leading a group growled, blue runes carved into her skin and iron studs running down one side of her nose.

A fire pot crashed over a home, spraying it with flammable liquid that turned into a river of fire over its wooden roof, the heat curling Petor’s hairs.

A family ran out screaming, animals that shared the home with them, squealing and screaming their way free, out onto the streets. The family ran in and out of the burning wreck, hauling out what they could, the mother grabbed mud from a side alley with some children and got them throwing mud on the house to try and stop the flames. The eldest ones were sent after the animals.

The  father coughed, and kept running in and out, pulling his children with him, more hands to save as much as they could.

“Petor,” Mya grabbed his arm and hauled him on, Valter pushing him.

“We can help them.”

“Their lives their choices, we need to get the hell out of here.” Rocks smashed into the street behind them and another hit a burned out building, hurling the remains everywhere.

They moved from alleyways to streets, as alleyways became mud traps.

Desari led them onwards without stopping, weaving through streets, the four of them watching others as they passed.

Occasional stone buildings gave way to all wood buildings, rough and crude in their design. Stone roads only ran down the main thoroughfares, the rest gravel and churned mud.

The wall stood in the distance, smoke filling the area behind it, buildings broken by stone and fire, leaving black skeletal fingers reaching skyward.

“Rain be coming,” Mya sniffed the air.

“All I smell is the smoke and dead,” Valter said.

“Shit,” Petor hissed as a section of the wall blew inwards, the top of the wall raining into the street behind it.

“Here,” Mya said.

Petor pulled his gaze away.

On the corner of the curving road that looped from one side of the mountain to the other and the straight roads that radiated out from the cathedral through the city, lay two story building of nailed wood. Moss and rot grew from the wood in places, where its sign had been was just rusted holes in the wood.

The roof started to patter, the first raindrops landing.

“Told you it was gonna rain,” Mya said.

Bells started ringing, Petor stilled and listened.

“That’s in the direction of the wa-“ Desari cut off her words as another bell rang out. “Attackersare inside the city.”

“How can you know?”

“Bells are only rung for major problems, and the fact bells are sounding all over the place and cutting off means that some are getting silenced,” Valter said. “Saboteurs probably behind the walls. Like the ones we met.”

A scream rose from the road around the inn, leading towards the wall.

He rode out onto the street, a woman ran with her baby, a man let out a choking cry, cut down behind her, trying to slow six fighters by himself.

An archer switched their aim from the running woman to Petor and let loose.

Petor grunted, barely remaining in his saddle as the arrow slammed into his left shoulder.

Desari’s arrow went through the enemy archer’s armor burying itself deep in his chest.

Mya fired her pistol, nearly thrown from her mount, hitting the building behind the enemy group building but making the group duck.

Petor searched through his storage, pulling out a sling and glowing balls he’d seen before. He only got a rotation, hurling the ball free, it struck the ground, turning into snakes that raced towards the two nearest fighters. Petor’s mount carried him past, Mya regained her mount as Valter smashed into the group, slipping from his mount into a jog, his sword taking the head of one man as his mount crashed into two others,  to the ground.

He blocked one attack, eviscerating the attacker, and arrow passing over his head, catching an other in the neck.

Petor loaded up a rock, groaning at the arrow stabbing into his shoulder, making him fumble the rock and drop it.

Mya shot one of the fighters that the snakes had poisoned.

Valter threw out a sword, implanting it in the chest of one of the fighters bowled over by his mount. Desari’s arrow hit the other in the chest, sending them to the ground.

Mya missed her shot. Valter pulled his sword back to him, stabbing the last fighter trying to escape the snakes.

The snakes hissed, and collapsed, falling apart into nothing.

Valter caught his blade and walked towards the man Desari had downed with an arrow.

“He’s still alive,” Valter kicked their weapon away.

Petor trotted back and Valter’s mount returned, staying back from Valter and his prey.

“The fuck was that?” Desari hissed as Petor got close.

“I wanted to help.” He winced at his own words.

“Good way to get yourself killed. What were you thinking?” She examined his shoulder.

“I,” Petor let out a sigh, deflating. “I wasn’t. I tried calling on my spear but I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?”

“It burned to try and call on it, like my veins were running with ants trying to burrow their way in.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“We don’t know who we are or who anyone here is. Best that we keep as low of a profile as possible,” Desari continued working without looking up. “Valter, don’t put on your armor, Mya hold off from raising the dead.”

“But its literally the best thing!” Mya whined.

“And Petor don’t call on your gear either. I’ll hold off on the magic and just use my bow and sword.”

“I’m going to need a spear, all I’ve got is a broken one in my storage ring.”

“I can sort that out, but I’ll need some time and a forge,” Valter said.

“For now we’ll see if we can get you a replacement,” Desari said.

Valter sheathed a sword and pulled out a spear, throwing it point up without taking his eyes from his groaning prey. “Here.”

Petor caught it and turned it in his free hand.

“Are you sure.”

“A warrior might be able to work without a weapon but a weapon will always make them stronger. I can make you a proper one later. Desari?”

He makes it sound simple. The spear was made from a brown wood with rusted looking runes, the spear head was a land long in the shape of a flattened tear drop. It was a fine spear.

“What?” She looked over from her inspection of Petor’s shoulder.