Meanwhile, the village descended into a fierce skirmish; the ur'gluns breached the gate, and the streets were filled with terror. The wooden barricades on the streets were manned by the common men, wielding long spears from the barracks and whatever else they could find, from hatchets to pitchforks, and even the women joined the fight, in desperate need of reinforcements. But the sieging clan, led by Nal'zuk, was more numerous; Morkaag's followers fought fiercely, without any regard for their lives, for death in battle was what they were looking for.

  The streets were filled with corpses of both men and the beasts, and the houses were lit aflame. Henry and Alwin fought in a line of militiamen together with Sir Victor, as the common folk stood behind them with the long spears to reinforce the line.

  They blocked a street, and the beasts were pouring in like a tide, dashing against the spears and the formations, as more armored ur'gluns from the Nal'zuk's clan managed to break through the shield wall. The formation broke, and the men unsheated their swords, ferociously fighting against the beasts. Alwin's skill in sword fighting was outstanding, and Henry's will to prove himself did not fall much behind, but regardless, the beasts prevailed.

  "Retreat!“ Sir Victor yelled,

  "Regroup with the rest of the force; the town is lost; evacuate the citizens!“ And the whole group started retreating, riddled by crude black arrows that pierced through the chainmail. And suddenly, the entirety of the garrison grouped in the main street of the village, leading towards the gate, and the gates were open, making a path for the civilians to run.

  "Henry, Alwin, you are still young and the life is ahead of you; go with the civilians, cover their retreat, and live to see another day." Without a spoken word, both of the men saluted the aging Sir Victor and followed the river of civilians together with some of the other troops, protecting them with their shields as the arrows rained on the retreating folk.

  Of course, not everyone was saved; many were taken down by the hail of arrows right in front of their families, just before their escape. But those that escaped lived to see another day, and those that staid behind to cover their retreat braced their spears tight, mostly the aging men that lived in the Lindenrow for most of their lives, led by Sir Victor; they manned the barricades, and behind them, the armed civilians, those without families, willing to sacrifice themselves to save the others, or those whose families were just slaughtered at the hands of the beasts led by Nal'zuk.

  The old village drunk stood there, chugging down his last beer, as the priest ran together with the women and the children.

  "Stand strong, brothers! It's our time to show our true worth!“ Sir Victor yelled as some of the men pushed more barrels, wooden wagons, and wooden debris on the barricade in the middle of the street, and the river of the monsters descended upon them, rushing through the spears.

  Victor managed to cut one of the beasts with a single cut from a shoulder to a hip and impale the other one on his loyal sword, while the drunk man protected him from the advancing monsters with his long spear, scoring his first kill. A rain of arrows fell on the formation, and the unarmored man received a deep wound to his shoulder, but he kept fighting, and in the distance, they could see Nal'zuk and Morkaag advancing behind their troops, surrounded by a small group of armored ur'gluns.

  The formation was quickly overran, and the spear-wielding civilians took out their hatchets, hunting knives, pickaxes, and hammers to fight in close combat as the knight charged first in the group of the enemies.

  Their sword blows barely pierced his armor, and he decimated them one by one as the bodies of five ur'gluns were piled around him. Witnessing that, Nal'zuk rushed into the combat with his wolf and readied his monstrous crossbow, charging at the knight and shooting one decisive shot straight through his chest. The man fell on his knees, and Nal'zuk dismounted his giant wolf and slowly approached the dying knight as the battle raged around them.

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  "Humanity shall fall before my hand!“ He yelled through his crooked teeth and unsheathed his blade. The aging knight leaned against his sword, and the blood poured out of his mouth as he stood up and swung at Nal'zuk in one last act of service for mankind, but the monster just parried his heavy blow, and the man quickly grew weaker and weaker, falling on his knees and clenching his sword in his hand before being decapitated in a single swing to his exposed neck, and not long after, the entire barricade was overran, and none of those that took the final stand survived.

  Meanwhile, Nogryl, laying in the now-burning inn, could hear the sound of a sword fight in the tavern below, the sound of steel clashing against steel, and a sudden flash of light followed by the familiar-sounding scream.

  He heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking upstairs, together with the rattle of the armor, and the steps came closer to him as the wooden boards creaked. He barely opened his eyes, and he saw a very large armored man standing above him; he was about as tall as Nogryl, and his armor was thick and gilded, his shoulderguards were large, and his frame was wide, covered with a cape and a tabard.

  The man was reading from a large book that was chained to his belt, and a glow could be seen coming from the eye slits of his glittering armor. He spoke some strange words with a serious tone, and as if by a magic spell, Nogry's wounds started glowing, and not much later, they were sealed shut, but the dark scar still remained.

  The man grabbed his hand and lifted him on his shoulders before leaving the burning building and placing him on top of a large white horse covered in heavy gilded armor.

  The horse galloped through the burning village as the rain poured all around, and Nogryl turned back to see Lindenrow for one last time before it disappeared in a distance behind a hill, yet the image of his burning hometown still lingered in his mind.

  The rest of the refugees from the village made their way towards the city capital, down the old road, between the wast golden fields of Yellowshire, and across the old stone bridge, a large convoy of people surrounded by the army walked for days on end, with limited resources carried by the horses and pack donkeys.

  "It's a second day of our journey." Stated Henry as they entered the town of Yellowshire, and they saw the knight order that awaited at the gates, and Sir Collin and Daymon among the knights.

  After realizing that Sir Victor is not among the survivors, they looked into the distance and saluted.They knew that someone had to cover the retreat for the civilians to escape, and knowing well their leader and a friend, it was quite obvious that he died in battle.

  Henry and Alwin emerged from the crowd and climbed on top of the gatehouse and saluted the knights.

  "Sir Victor gave his final sacrifice so others may live." Alwin said and saluted, and Henry just nodded his head.

  "Is Nogryl alive?“ Sir Collin asked, and Henry replied:

  "Last time we saw him, he was going to get his armor and prepare for battle; he wasn't seen since.“

  Both of the militiamen thought that he led Nuula to safety, unaware of what happened in the "Sleeping Boar" Inn before it was set aflame.

  Moments after the battle, Nuula left the village into the forest as the ur'gluns plundered what was left by the humans: silver, tools, and gold.

  "Take everything useful!“ Nal'zuk yelled from the top of a large wine barrel.

  "And what we cannot find use for, we will smelt into steel and forge swords, spears, and arrows!, This is just the beginning of our victory!“ And after he spoke, he spiked the barrel with his sword, and the wine started pouring like a red tide on the mud, as his army drank in excess and celebrated while plundering the town.The surviving men and women were taken as slaves, and the dead were fed to the vile ur'glun army and their vicious beasts, large mountain wolves, and other kinds of wild canines that were often used in skirmishes.