Four Horsemen: Chapter 3 Part 2 of 4 (Patreon)

“You want to question him?” Valter pointed his remaining sword at the groaning man on the ground.

“And quick maybe, people are looking,” Mya had dropped to the ground and was reloading her shot cylinders with round shot, paper cartridges and flash caps. She bent down to pull off coin purses and gear, storing it away. Petor put the spear away as well.

“Valter patch up the paladin here,” Desari slipped from her mount, drawing a dagger and stepping past Valter.

He turned on Petor, raising an eyebrow at the arrow. He stored his sword, holding up a hand, forestalling Petor getting from his mount.

“In there deep and bone right behind it.”

He grabbed the arrow, turned it, shifted it side to side and pulled.

It came free with a tearing feeling.

“Damn arrowheads,” Valter pulled out a pair of pliers, shoving them into the wound. Petor cried out as Valter rooted around, jerked the pliers from side to side and pulled.

“Fuuuuuuck a dwarf,” Petor panted.

Valter inspected the arrow head and threw it away. “Good that was all of it.”

The man in the street screamed in a way that clawed up the back of Petor’s skull, Desari’s back blocking him from view.

Mya hummed to herself, looting the dead.

“You got ointment or bandages?”

“Yeah,” Petor pulled it out and gave it to Valter. He poured water over the wound, ointment and bound it. Desari wiped her hands on the now dead fighter, pulling off their coinpurse and a medallion. “Mya.”

She tossed them over, Mya catching them and storing them away.

“For the group,” Desari pressed with her eyes.

“Urggh, fine, but only if I’m doing the trading.”

“Deal,” Desari reached Valter and Petor.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I am right here,” Petor grumbled.

“Anything from him?” Valter jerked his chin towards the newly deceased.

“Yeah,” she looked troubled. “We need to get the hell out of here, come on.” She jumped up on her mount. Mya and Valter followed, continuing on their route through the city.

Signs and the sounds of fighting rang out in the city as they headed for the wall.

“Prepare yourselves,” Mya drew her pistol and pulled up her reins as they turned a corner, facing the last of the houses and the gate out of the city.

A group of guards wearing the symbols of Jorai and random mercenaries fought against a larger group of fighters wearing the same symbols as those in the cathedral underground, they protected their friends hauling on chains to draw up the porticullis.

Petor looked to Desari.

“Support the defenders.” She gritted her teeth and drew her bow, searching for a shot as she controlled her mount with her knees.

Mya fired, knocking an attacker flat. Valter fired a bow, slamming into another and throwing them backwards. He dismounted, using a built in lever and pulley system to draw back the metal string.

Petor fumbled with his sling as Mya fired again, her shot took a man in the face and hit another in the chest that was hauling on the portcullis chains. The portcullis shuddered, half falling, those around the man, covered in his gore as they grimly continued on their task.

Desari’s arrow buried itself in a woman’s eye, tottering backwards before her body realized it was dead and falling over. Petor whirled his sling, and released, hitting an enemy fighter in the head, dazing them for a mercenary to stab them in the stomach with a spear.

Mya’s pistol bellowed again, taking another victim.

Desari did the same as Valter raised his bow and fired, the bolt passing through his target and, stabbing into the stone wall behind as he set his foot in the stirrup again and strained against the levers and pulleys.

Petor whirled his slingshot hitting the ground, it bounced, hitting Valter in the back, loosening his grip, the lever in his hand tearing free as it slammed forward.

“Fuck, my bad.”

“Fuckers,” Desari hissed, drawing another arrow as the porticullis slammed shut against the stone again, those that had been hauling on it, turned to join their allies on the ground.

Petor dodged a javelin as Mya fired at the thrower, opening a hole through their armor as they clutched at it, their mouth moving like a fish on dry land.

Petor swung down from his mount and drew his spear.

Valter stored his crossbow and pulled a sword and shield.

Desari slipped from her mount, clicking and snapping her fingers to the side. Her mount moved away from the battle towards the alleyway she pointed.

Petor patted his mount, feeling naked without his armor adrenaline surging in his veins. She neighed as if annoyed to not join in the fight, following Desari’s mount.

Mya and Valter dropped, their mounts following the others.

Desari pulled out a sword as Mya pulled her cylinder free, replacing it with another, snapping the whole gun closed as she drew her sabre.

Valter bashed a fighter back with his shield, another stabbing at his side. Petor stabbed the man in the neck, Mya blasted the one Valter had thrown back and Desari flowed through the opening, taking off another’s limb, cutting him down as an axe swung over her head. Valter got the edge of his shield up, but it was torn to the side, a red line across his arm. Luke moved to his side as Mya’s round shot left his ears ringing, the axe-fighter’s joyful grin as he swung for the deathblow a gorey hole.

Desari blinked against the blood in her eye as Petor stabbed over her, catching a fighter in the side, essence flowed through his spear, green and black veins sucking it into his hand as she aged before his eyes, her face twisting in pain as she pulled the spear free.

A man slammed his shield into Valter and stabbed at Mya, cutting her pistol arm, she slashed out at his hand, but he’d drawn his blade back too fast. Desari drove her sword up and into his side as Petor turned to the left, they’d broken through the enemy line.

He smacked his targets arm back from a blow, freeing up the mercenary to headbutt him. Petor’s stab drove through their plate armor and tore back out.

“Kill the bastards!” The mercenary kicked the dying man away, and turned to face the other faithful attackers.

"To the evergreen we go!”

“For the darkclouds and still waters!”

“All waters lead to Pekari!”

“Karenthal take me!”

The attackers eyes turned crazed as they redoubled their attacks, not caring for the wounds they took on. Defenders fell in surprise.

Petor was pushed back. Valter could only defend with his shield, Mya’s arm dripped blood as she fought off sharpened iron with her sword.

Desari countered and gave ground.

Petor gritted his teeth, power flowing through his spear from every wound he inflicted. He sunk into a daze relying on muscle memories without the memories of gaining them. He stopped trying to control the fight, sinking into that place of actions and reactions. That place where muscle and sinew, training and experiences took over before his brain could ever think or process it.

There was a purity, a freedom there. He stopped fighting, reacting, he started to read.