Chapter 37: Chapter 37- Cut Them Down

Hooves thundered on the dusty road as Friedrich's squad charged at Ignar's men. All the horses had been released from their carriage harnesses. There were already just as many horses as men with for the journey, so all thirty of the attacking party were mounted.

Atop the horses, the guard quickly knocked arrows into their bows.

Alarmed by the charge, the soldiers who had been expecting to be the ones on the offensive scrambled to gather their weapons.

50 meters.

40 meters.

30.

Their enemies were still scattered.

The panicked eyes of conscripted soldiers darted around as they fumbled their weapons.

25 meters.

"Fire! Aim for the leaders!"

At Friedrich's cry, a hail of arrows rocketed towards the center of the enemy camp. Many of the arrows went wide, falling uselessly into the soil.

A few horrifying screens rang out as blood stained the dull brown roads, and a few unlucky horses bucked as arrows pierced into their pelts.

Chaos broke out in the Ignar camp, but Friedrich didn't bother with slowing down.

With trained motions, the old guard anchored his bow to a holder on his back, then withdrew a short sword from a scabbard at his waist.

"Cut them down!"

Seconds after the arrows rained on the camp, all thirty of the charging horses crashed into the enemy ranks.

All of the Graves guard's horses were fell fed, well bred, and well raised beasts. Terrified by both the screams of their brethren felled by the previous arrows and the incoming charge, most of Ignar's horses pulled away from their handlers, sprinting in an attempt to escape their impending doom.

Sickening crunches echoed through the air as the wall of muscle bulldozed through the soldiers. The short swords weren't even nessecary.

Back at the caravan.

^Here they come.^

The mercenaries noticed the caravan's move and created a plan of their own. Ignar's soldiers should be able to hold off long enough to capture the caravan. Surely old Mr. Graves would be hiding somewhere within the carriages, and with him as a hostage, the fight would already be won.

Leaving behind only a few defenders was an act of suicide. Heck, the biggest challenge for the mercenaries now was who could find the old merchant first. Ignar had opened their purse and managed to pull in six separate mercenary teams. Two large teams with recognizable names flew their flags the highest, while the other four teams were smaller and lesser known.

Of the big two, one of them was quite familiar to Ash.

Ethan's Mercenary Company- 15 men. They likely moved just for the money, and weren't too eager to risk their lives. Despite having the most men, they trailed at the back of the pack.

Red Falcons- 12 men, led by Jorg. Their former leader, Karl, was gone, along with many of his closer aids. Now the previous second-in-command was leading the charge towards the caravan.

Raising a sword, the bulky mercenary bellowed out a battle cry, spittle spraying from his mouth and further dirtying his filthy orange beard.

"Cut their necks! Five Sil to whoever captures the old Graves bastard!"

A cheer echoed from the following mercenaries. Ahead of them, the defenders had hurriedly pulled two of the front carriages into a makeshift roadblock. Crouching behind the cover, Alex and the guard drew back their bow strings, steadying their aim on the mercenaries.

Alex's eyes fixed on the front runner. The disgrace of a human had laughed. Laughed in Alice's face and bragged about slaughtering Ash's pack.

The incoming attackers were roughly forty meters away.

"Fire."

The arrow lept from Alex's bow, soaring straight at Jorg's face. Arrows jumped from the other defenders' bows as well, similarly targeting Red Falcon's men.

Woosh!

Right before Alex's arrow could claim the head of Jorg, the burly mercenary leaned to the side, narrowly dodging the projectile. Alex grit his teeth, hurriedly knocking a second arrow.

"HA! You bastard, you nearly shot me! I'll skin you alive!"

20 meters. Alex hardly even had time to aim. From knocking the arrow to drawing the string and releasing the second shot, not even a second passed.

"You shitty archer, you can't hit m-'

Crash!

Without time to aim, Alex's arrow didn't hit the intended target. Rather than claiming the head of the dirty mercenary, it was his horse that was suffering instead.

The burly mercenary was launched from his mount's back as the horse's right leg gave out, having taken an arrow to the knee.

Now that the enemies were close, most of the defending guards drew their short swords, preparing for melee combat. Alex, Earl, and one other guard kept their bows, quickly drawing arrows to confront the other mercenaries.

The iron laden carriages weren't something the mercenaries could bulldoze through, and they lost most of their momentum as they arrived at the caravan.

Still, the defenders were still outnumbered, and the horseback mercenaries held a considerable advantage over the guards.

"Ash, go!"

Now was the time for the guards' secret weapon.

Just as the first of the mercenaries rounded the carriage roadblock and turned to face the defenders, Ash lunged from within the carriage, launching himself straight at the horse's throat.

The horse bucked, trying to avoid the giant wolf's gaping jaws.

"Ah! Damn horse!"

The mercenary- one of Jorg's men- was thrown from his mount's back. He wasn't even able to identify the grey blur before falling, but now that he was splayed out on the ground, he got a good look at what caused his ride's panic.

Bloodthirsty eyes glared down at the mercenary, eyes that he could feel fixing on his throat.

Kill.

Rip his throat out.

Something whistled through the air, the mercenary stopped trying to crawl away.

Kill him.

He killed them.

Fern, Willow, Mom…

"Ash! Ash, the other side!"

Kill.

Saliva dripped from Ash's mouth as he stepped toward the fallen mercenary.

^Ash! Wake up! He's already dead!^

Ash's vision shook as Roth tried to take over control of their body.

^Snap out of it! There's more coming!^

Ash's vision cleared, and he saw that there was already an arrow embedded in the fallen mercenary's throat.

Ash whirled around, turning back to face the guards. Two of the defenders were down, one with an arrow embedded in her shoulder. More of the mercenaries were charging around the carriages. A few of them were still on horseback, but now a number of mercenaries were on their feet, just like the defenders.

Ash leapt back into the fight, growling and barking viciously as he charged toward the horses. The large animals quickly backed away, ignoring their riders commands. Alex, who previously had his bow turned towards the enemies on horseback turned his attention back to sniping out the enemies' archers.

"Bastards! Which one of you shot my horse! It's skinning time!"

Leaping over the top of a carriage, Jorg chucked a throwing knife into the cluster of defenders. The filthy mercenary grinned as he heard a groan confirming his accuracy, then jumped down and charged toward the group.

Alex quickly surveyed the enemies, then shouted out new orders.

"Ash! Rip the orange-bearded bastard to shreds!"