The Storm Breaking (The War of the Veil Book 2) by John Donlan

Author:John Donlan [Donlan, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-16T08:00:00+00:00

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Rain was falling; harsh, heavy, thick drops that hit the ground with a sound like a stick hitting a drum. It spattered across the surface of the ford, though the ripples were quickly destroyed by the hundreds of feet moving through the water. The feet belonged to soldiers, locked in the heat and horror of battle.

Darius was at the front of his men, a heaving mass of bodies pressed close together and straining against the enemy line. That line still held, for the moment, though it was weakening, bending like a drawn bow. A third of Luscard’s soldiers had fallen, and those that remained were spread thinly across the far bank, protecting what they could of their end of the ford. They stood in the water up to their thighs and hacked at the Southmarsh and Arnsmoor forces weakly, tiredly, their faces twisted with pain. The battle was almost over; Darius could sense it. All he needed was one last push and the line would collapse completely. The enemy would be routed, and easily picked off.

Darius could see Luscard, standing in a huddle of his own men. He was spattered with blood and he had cuts on his face and hands. His hair was plastered to his head, and that, too, was coated with blood. He had a haggard look on his face, a tired, worried look. He knew he was losing, if Darius had to guess. And yet, he still fought on. Perhaps he had expected his forces to arrive sooner than this? Darius certainly had, and he was nervous as to why it had not happened yet.

Despite being close to a victory, Darius knew that his success here stood on a knife’s edge. Already it had been too long. He feared that at any moment, Luscard’s reinforcements would crash into them and crush them, destroying all hope. He could not let that happen.

“Push forward,” he cried out into the darkness, waving his sword forward. “Let us end this!”

His men called out in answer and the Southmarsh defenders surged ahead, driving into the enemy line. The line buckled, swayed backwards, but ultimately held. Darius clashed swords with an enemy soldier. For a moment they traded blows, and then the enemy slipped, stumbled to the side, and was run through with one swift stroke of Darius’ blade.

And then it happened, the thing he had feared since the battle had first been joined. A cry rang out from the trees along the banks of the river, then another. A moment later, one of his men crashed from the foliage, his face dripping with blood, his arm hanging limp at his side and his sword dangling from twitching fingers.

Darius gasped, his heart racing. This was it, the moment he had feared. He pulled back from the melee, disengaging and slogging back through the waters of the ford. He gained the bank quickly and grabbed the soldier by his shoulder.

“They are here?” he hissed. “How many? Speak, man!”

The soldier shook his head and almost collapsed.

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