Kalmar Islands/The Fall

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Lalakis was watching the horde of Perdan and Itornut marching against the high walls of Chaos Temple. The defenders had no other shelter and no advantage. They had a small force and the enemy a great one. The Democrats of Kalmar were being forced backwards the last month, by sheer pressure of numbers. Today, it was a battle for life or death.

And the battle begun…

The walls of Chaos were high but some of the attackers were carrying siege engines and ladders. Under a heavy rain of arrows the Perdanites set the ladders. They had enormous casualties but for every man that was falling, two were taking his place.

Soon, the enemy climbed the walls and get a foothold. Shields crashed on shields, swords hammered on helmets, spears came under the shields to tear through men’s boots, Kolya flailed an axe beating down two Perdanites. But the enemy still had the advantage.

A man-at-arms screamed as axes hacked through the leather mail covering his thighs, then another slash took off his helmet together with his head…and he was silent. A Perdanese in shiny plate armour stepped from behind the ruins of the wall and cut at a man with a sword, folding him at the belly. Fionn didn’t think but put an arrow on the cord, drew and loosed. The arrow went through the enemies visor and blood oozed from the slit as the big man fell backwards.

Kocur ran on, charging to the enemy, stepping over bodies, edging past wounded soldiers. He ducked into a house, stepped over a fallen bench, heard a scream and twisted, sword raised, to see a woman on the ground, half hidden and trembling. The body of a Perdanese was lying above her, his throat slit. He left her there, she was able to protect herself, and went out to see a crossbowman from Itornut aiming at the defenders. He took a step and stabbed. His victim arched his wounded spine, twisted and shook.

Some soldiers of Perdan and Itornut crossed the walls. But there they were stopped by few hundred men. Most were not trained soldiers but townsmen who had been enraged by the enemies’ brutality. Their women and children had been raped, maimed and killed. They had lost brothers, sisters, and parents during the last month. They had relatives missing at the occupied southern island, or killed by the religious order of Perdan. And so, when they faced the enemy, they cheered and swarmed into the enemies’ ranks.

The Perdanese commander of the vast army had retreated from the walls, reckoning his position on the heart of the battle made him conspicuous. He had already seen many of the high ranking nobility of Perdan captured, and Sir Garrick of Itornut had been slain. He tried to rally some of his Knights but an overwhelming swarm of townsmen had swept those Knights underfoot and the General of Perdan watched, appalled, as butchers, coopers, wheelwrights and thatchers massacred their betters with axes, cleavers and reaping hooks.

“Trumpteer!” he demanded.
“I am here your grace!” the man replied
“Sound retreat!” The Perdanese shouted. He knew that reinforcements were coming. He knew that the defenders were doomed and wisely ordered a retreat until the reest of his army disembarked on Chaos Island

The first battle was turning to a great victory. But for how long could the tiny realm hold against the strongest military realm in the continent and its allies?

Few hours later the invaders return to the scattered walls of the City. They had already replenished the vast casualties they had suffered, while the defenders had lost most of their soldiers.

Chaos was happening in Chaos Temple. This fight, Lalakis reckoned, was the desperate defence of a wounded and cornered fox that protects her cubs from the attack of a hungry bear. Unplanned, disordered and utterly brutal. The Kalmarians had been keyed up, nervous, expecting defeat, while the Perdanese and their allies had been expecting victory. The nervousness had been turned briefly to maddened vicious and bloody assault and the invaders were being harried into terror. But now they were back, certain for the victory, which simply their sheer numbers could guarantee.

And the second battle begun…

The attackers this time breached the damaged walls easily and they found themselves at the heart of the city.

It was a Chaos…

A woman with are dress half torn away, screamed and run across the path of Loquan and Iridian that were escorting a family away from the burning city. A man mounting a war horse that scattered fire with its hoofs, pursued her into a turf-roofed hut, missing two walls. Loquuan drew his sling, let the spike-bullet fly and show it bury itself in the horse breasts. The beast reared up and the pursuer fell backwards. It was a matter of seconds for Sir Iridian to lunge his sword at the Perdanese’s belly.

Sir Lalakis and his men were defending the Library of the City when a woman screamed. There had been many women screaming that night, but something about this sound cut through Lalakis’s awarness and he turned alrmed. The scream sounded again and Lalakis begun to run…

“Geoff, Jaroslaw” he shouted
“To me!”

The small party ran across the remnants of what was once a thriving city. They swerved round a smoking brazier, almost tripped on a wounded man who was vomiting his intestines out. The three Kalmarians run, slashing Perdanese soldiers that were trying to block their way…

“Donna Ragna!”Lalakis called
“Donna Ragna!”

But Donna Ragna was a prisoner. She was held by a group of Peranese Knights that were mocking here. They heard Lalakis’s shouting and looked round grinning.

“Hold her tight” The huge man that looked as the commander of the group ordered

“This pretty ain’t going anywhere” The Perdanese captor replied
“You are going nowhere darling” He shouted in her ear, his bad smelling breath unbearable. Donna Ragna was frantically resting but with no hope

“She is MY prisoner” The Perdanese commander spit to Lalakis

Without saying a word Lalakis charged, his left hand raising a long sword, her right hand crippled by the unnamed tortured he had suffered in the past. Geoff and Jaroslaw drew their swords and joined the Duke in this desperate attempt to free Donna Ragna.

“You are nothing!” Lalakis shouted as he crossed his sword with the Perdanese commander

“You are a coward and I thank destiny for not having allied with you or your brutal masters.” He was shouting enraged, fighting alongside with his comrades like devils.

But the three brave Kalmarians had been too little opposition for the Perdanese squad. And thus Lalakis soon suffered a sever blow that knocked him out. Soon more Perdanese arrived and pushed the two remaining Kalmarians away. But Jarolaw and Geoff hadn’t left Lalakis wounded body behind…

Sir Sven, Lord Asmodeus, Laurence and Lady Capritsioza were commanding a small group of men at arms, setting up a last stand near the city centre. Laurence was shooting arrows at an incredible pace, sending many invaders to hell. Sir Sven skewed one man with his sword, while Asmodeus stunned the other with a massive blow on his helmet. Capritsioza slashed and hacked frantically.

Every single noble fought like he had never fought before. But the Perdanese invaders and their allies had been simply too many. The battle continued all night long but eventually the attackers prevailed.

Soon the defenders were scattered. The invaders were still hunting down the remnants of the second attack and those who had tried to resist were either dead or fleeing into the shadows to fight another day. Perdanese warriors now struck the heart of the City with the savagery of a tempest. The townsmen were filled with rage as they were watching helplessly the looting that was taking place.

The Perdanese had no idea who the victims of their vicious attack were, only that they were the enemy and that was enough. So they chopped down and looted, killed and destroyed. The Bartender of the Chaos Inn, tried to protect his 8 years old son, but they died together under a frenzy of blows and meanwhile the Itornutians and Perdanese were streaming past.

A man screamed somewhere in the city, the sound faltering and fading, ending in a sob. A child wept inconsolably, her breath coming in great gasps and a dog barked frantically. The light of the burning city was lurid on the night sky.

Flames and smoke spewed all around the City and the last defenders were running from the fires onto the blades and arrows of the invaders.

That was the last page of the short history of the independent Islands. A history written by blood, lies, treachery but also great courage and defiance to the inevitable. The end of a tiny realm that held for so long, preferring to live briefly but freely than to survive enslaved.