The battle raged above as Drevorin, Raelwald and several other guards made their way down the underground passage of the prison. Eventually they reached the guard room, stocked with a variety of serviceable weapons which would suit their needs.
“And armour?” asked Drevorin.
“None, we don’t keep it here. It would be in the armoury up on the surface.”
Drevorin turned away from Raelwald, a vacant expression upon his face as he perused the selection of swords upon the wall. He reached out and took a claymore. It was crude and poorly balanced, but it would serve.
“Raelwald, we must move quick!” said one of the guards, standing at the foot of the stairs wreathed in a nervous sweat. “We need to escape the village before it’s too late!”
“Escape?” asked Drevorin, burying the tip of his sword into the ground and leaning slightly upon the pommel. “You mean to flee rather than fight?”
“That is exactly what we mean to do!” said Raelwald. “Fight our way out before we too are overwhelmed!”
“Might I ask who is attacking us?” said Drevorin.
“Orcs!” replied Raelwald. “They broke our defences with a well-coordinated attack; they must have been planning this for-”
“Did you not prepare for the possibility of such an event?” asked Drevorin, cooly.
“Enough of this!” interrupted the guardsman at the foot of the stairs. “We need to move!”
“Agreed” said Drevorin, raising his weapon and resting the blade upon his shoulder. Freedom had not improved his situation. He was still weak from starvation and poor treatment, not to mention unarmoured against his opponents. He did note that the guards, including Raelwald, were armoured with chainmail and some small degree of plate. Were he half the man he used to be, he would take his blade to them all and steal their armour for his own. Unnecessary, he thought to himself.
The small group moved up along the stairs towards the surface. Drevorin could smell the fresh air mingled with smoke from a nearby fire. They paused for a moment, waiting for the appropriate time to move out into the open. There were corpses already littering the floor. A mixture of commonfolk and soldiers alike, laying within pools of blood. At that moment, one of the guardsmen ran out into the open, impatience and fear getting the better of him. It was too late; he was immediately struck in the temple by a crossbow bolt sending him collapsing into a heap upon the ground.
“No!” cried Raelwald.
“Move!” shouted Drevorin, seeing this fresh kill as a perfect opportunity not to be wasted. Crossbows by their very nature took time to reload, this soldier’s death would prove excellent cover. Drevorin and the two remaining guards sprinted out into the open field. They were surrounded by conflict, Rohirrim soldiers engaging monstrous Uruk-hai. Drevorin knew their kind well enough to know that they were not to be underestimated, especially in large numbers. These soldiers didn’t stand a chance. It was at this moment that he knew that Raelwald was wise to abandon his post. He initially considered him a coward, but perhaps he was a survivor too.
The group made their way towards the main gate. It had been utterly destroyed by the Uruk’s siegeworks. Splinters and battered posts lay strewn across the ground whilst more creatures of Isengard poured through the breach. There were not many, for the vast majority were already fighting within the village itself.
“We must fight our way out” said Drevorin.
“Y-Yes, we have no other choice!” said Raelwald, raising his shield and sword. “I’ll lead the charge, the pair of you follow up the rear.”
The three moved in a makeshift formation towards the gate. Luckily for them, there were no surviving archers on the walls who would have surely peppered them with arrows. Their presence however did not go unnoticed, for almost immediately an Uruk sighted them and let out a piercing roar to alert his allies. Five Uruks rounded upon them, mercilessly charging the field towards the three. Raelwald took the first blow on his shield, shunting the assailant back leaving an opening for Drevorin to strike. He weaved past Raelwald and lunged at the dazed Uruk, cutting across its chest with his claymore. It fell but was not quite dead. There was no time to deliver the killing stroke as the other three followed suit. Drevorin engaged one whilst Raelwald took the other. The third of their party stumbled backwards into Drevorin having received a large gash upon his shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, and he cried out in pain, feebly grasping Drevorin’s arm as if begging for aid. He would give none. Drevorin pushed the guard’s arm away and struck at the attacking Uruk. Steel sang as their swords kissed, the cry of another Uruk who fell to Raelwald’s blade. Perhaps he was not as green as Drevorin initially thought.
“Now is our chance!” cried Raelwald, sprinting towards his wounded comrade to help him up onto his feet. The Uruk engaged with Drevorin roared in pain as he plunged his blade into its chest. It fell beside the wounded guard.
“Leave him” said Drevorin.
“What? You can’t expect me to-”
“Leave him or die here, it makes no difference to me.” Drevorin began to move towards the breach without looking back, mercy was not a luxury bestowed upon them. The wounded guard grasped Raelwald’s wrist, fear and hopelessness etched upon his features.
“Raelwald” he spluttered, “Please…”
Meanwhile, Drevorin had made his way through the village gate and out into the dark fields of Rohan. He could still hear echo of war behind him, but he heeded it not. He summoned as much stealth as he could and made his way down the hill keeping as much as he could to the shadows. He heard footsteps behind him, causing him to raise his weapon and turn.
“You soulless bastard!” cried Raelwald, “You left him there to die! We could have saved him!”
“Yet here you stand” said Drevorin, lowering his sword. “Perhaps we are not so different.”
Raelwald was on the verge of tears. It became apparent to Drevorin that he had probably never seen war before. This could have very well been his first taste of it, the cold reality opposed to the songs and tales that were no doubt fed to him as a child. He was conflicted, in shock and devastated by the situation. Justifiably so.
“So… So what now?” asked Raelwald.
Drevorin considered for a moment, those cold, blue eyes fixed upon the Rohirrim. His initial plan was to murder Raelwald as soon as they were clear from the village. However, the soldier did prove quite useful in the battle against the Uruk-hai. Not to mention he had the sense to call upon his skill to survive. It was not that he owed the soldier a debt, but he did admire him somewhat. He was willing to do what must be done, that is a resource that might be beneficial.
“We get clear of this place and recover ourselves” said Drevorin. “Where is the nearest sanctuary?”
“The Sutcrofts” said Raelwald, his voice trembling. “But we won’t make it far on foot, the Uruks…”
“We have little choice” said Drevorin. “We move whilst we still have the cover of darkness.”
Raelwald dropped to his knees and began to sob. All that he knew had perished that night. Perhaps he had family and friends in the village. But Drevorin could not abide this moment of weakness. He seized Raelwald by the scruff of his neck and yanked him up onto his feet.
“Pull yourself together!” he hissed. “You will have time to mourn when we are safe.”
“What do you care!?” shouted Raelwald. “You’re a prisoner of Rohan; you have no allegiance here!”
“Survival is all that matters now” said Drevorin. “And I intend to do just that. Survive.”
