Rain fire upon them

As the siege for the Isle takes place, what can Doran do?

“Boy go to the Western Tower and ring the bell, the people need to know. Now!” The fisherman ran in a rush to the tower, nearly stumbling. Doran stood at the docks just staring at the misty night. “May the Gods have mercy upon us” Doran headed from the docks to the barracks. The whole Isle was coloured by mist, but Doran had lived in the Isles for seven years. He knew what was what, and where was where. He unlocked the door to the barracks, it was a dusty open room filled with used up iron. They were unprepared for a siege, Doran knew that. He walked to his chest and grabbed his gear. As he equipped his steel gauntlets an echoing sound went through his ears. DONG…DONG…DONG. “Sound of war” He quickly equipped the rest of his gear and headed out the barracks door. As he walked out, complete chaos roamed the Isle. Drunk kinsmen’s cursing, mothers sheltering their children, but out of the chaos, there was some order. Doran was that order. “GEAR UP!!! Every man who can wield a blade head to the barracks!” Doran commanded respect. Men were rallying inside the barracks, some were frightened to the bone, some were filled with passion for blood. Doran poked his head through the barracks door. “Once you’re done, rally the Western Gate for my command” Doran walked from the barracks to the inner stairs of the Western Wall. Walking heavy with steel, he reached the top of the walls and leaned over the crumbled stone defence. The mist was too thick to see any sign of warships. To make it worse a tip of water feel from the sky and dripped down his nose. “May the God of water give me courage, hope, and life” Doran reached out with his right hand and felt the Gods blessing upon the Isle. The clatter of rain on his steel became louder and louder. The Isle coloured by mist and darkened by the storm. It seemed a balance of fear and passion weighed in the Isle. Doran turned to the sound of heavy iron footsteps approaching the inner Gate. He could see over a hundred men in iron. “Right. Listen up! It seems the ‘Rebel King’ is coming to take the Isle.”  Doran spat on the stone wall. “Who f**k, does he think he’s fighting?” Laughter came from the men. “We have held the Isle for over three hundred bloody years!” Roaring cheers grew from them. “The king s***s better warriors than the f*****g rebel!” The cheering grew louder. “Some of you here today will be written in history for this siege. The man who kills that f*****g rebel, I have no doubt will be named a Lord. You have my word. Now. Who wants a Lordship?” They battered their swords against their shields in rhythm. “ARM THE WALLS, ARM THE TOWERS! KILL THOSE B******S!!!” The fire in their hearts, and the rain pouring on their land, fuelled by fear, revenge, blood. The enemy is coming to take their land, their home, their life. Many feelings were saddled in their minds, but which one will lose control, take over them?

 

The black sky fallen to dawn, the mist departed to the East. Silence covered the Isle, only sound was the movement of iron and steel against the degrading stone wall. Rushing footsteps came behind him. “My lord, as you asked your nephew is in the keep, the doors are barred shut.”

Doran turned his head to the left to respond. “Send ten of our men to guard the door”. The lad rushed off in a hurry, but as that command went for what Doran was about to see another command would come. From the misty sea, in a form of an arrow twenty warships came out. “There’s too many” Quickly said by a boy near him. Doran ignored that, he didn’t want fear to circle the wall.“Notch your arrows.” The sound was so familiar it was like his heartbeat. Doran drew his blade and made the point behind him, but he was still facing the fleet. They were very close, so close you could see what the men looked like. It appeared that twenty ships faced them at the Western Gate. Doran hadn’t heard if the Northern Isle was taken or not. He thought the rebels would hit with their full force to secure a victory… Doran looked up the Western Tower which held two archers and a drummer at the top. “Marlad. Sound the drums” A slow beat came through his right ear and out the other. Soon enough a beat growing louder and more fierce circled the Isle. DOOM. DOOM. BOOM. DOOM. BOOM. BOOM. DOOM…  Their fleet was almost in a perfect line. Doran experienced fear looking at that fleet. He knew that staring at the ships won’t be the hardest part.  “Just wait till they get here…”

“Pick your targets” An arc of bows facing the west appeared by command. The tightening sound of string held back to tightest it could be. “Ready…FIRE!!!” The arrows were let loose, wild and untamed. They hungered for blood. They came down on the warships in a fierce strike. Pain was heard. From the Mortans the sound was glorious. “Pick your targets…Ready…FIRE!!!” A repeated motion of wild death caught the lives of the rebels. The arrows were not enough to stop an entire fleet. Doran aggressively paced left and right on the wall, just planning. A quick, perhaps suicidal idea came to him. With his blade he pointed towards different men. “You, you, you, you and you, meet our enemies at the landing, bring fifty men with you on your way down.”

“But, sir… It’s suci-“

“That’s an order, GO!” The men rushed down the cobble stairs, nervous as they knew they were heading to their grave. Doran looked past the wall again and saw the ships were closing in on the beach. He turned an officer on the wall and gripped his left shoulder. “Take charge of the wall, I’ll lead the beach defence”

“Yes my lord”. Down the steps of the eroding wall at the Western gate were around fifty men, some were praying, saying their goodbyes, others had lost hope. He saw the fisherman, the one who fought in the inn. He looked like he lost all hope in the world. “Form up behind me!” So they did, but as they were forming up, he grabbed Darien and pulled him to the front with him. “No please…I…I don’t want to die…”

“That’s good then, coz you won’t. You fight and you win, you kill and they die” The boy nodded in some agreement and fear. “Open the gate!” Slowly, painfully the wooden gate came open and they formed three rows of fifty men. “Draw your blades!” Steel sharpening from the leather holsters. The ships landed on the beach, Doran couldn’t count how many men jumped off their ships onto the beach, perhaps because it was the rain and the thunder, the darkness and the fear, but surely enough they were outnumbered. Another volley of arrows came through and struck the landers. “Cut the hearts of these Usurpers, CHARGE!!!” fifty against a number too huge, and then the unbearable sound came though that charge. The sound of iron and steel, gushing through organs and the cracking of skulls into fragments. A blade came for Doran’s face. He darted to the left and saw an opening. He drove his sword through the rebels chest . He gasped his last breath as his lungs were butchered. Doran kicked the body from his sword and then in quick reaction bashed and dismantled a man’s face next to him with his steel gauntlet. He gripped his neck and like a hammer on a nail, his blade went through the rebels eye through the back of his skull. Pulling his blade out, bits of brain, staining blood were left on. “DINNNNNNNNG!” A ringing sound went through his head as his feel to the ground, On the sand Doran was on his back, something pounded the back of his head and he fell to the ground he was on, his visor was blurred, movement was sloppy. He could see something moving towards him, a hooded person in the distance, he pulled two, swords or axes it was hard to tell. He came running towards Doran. He looked to the ground next to him and found a shield. He managed to find the grip and pulled it up in defence. A thundering sound came and then the shield shattered into pieces. A fragment went into Doran’s left arm. A lightening shot of pain came through his arm, he looked up to see what death faced him and the hooded man was gone, Doran was thankful for that. Looking down at his arm, blood was flowing down his wrist past his hand, dripping through his fingers. He took the leather off his arm and the saw the fresh wound. He took hold of the fragment and pulled it in fierce action. “AHH, YOU BLOODLY B*****D!” He wrapped the torn leather around his wound, grabbed the nearest blade from the sand and stood up with terrible balance. He fell to his left, but caught himself on a spear lodged through man’s chest who was sitting up. He tried to hold himself on the spear, but it snapped in his fierce action of trying to contain some balance. He fell to on the dead mans body, he looked up to the Western Gate, it was being bashed by a battering ram. Too many were surrounding the gate, but there were ladders sieging the wall, from what he could see on the wall was the fall of the Isle. “I’ve failed you… brother”  He passed out.