Time in the heat of battle was a strange thing. Adrian dodged, slashed, and grunted, delivering a powerful kick that sent an islander tumbling into the water with a heavy splash.
"Take him down!" someone on the ship hollered. Beside Adrian, Dexton and the four remaining soldiers held their ground, still resisting despite the overwhelming odds.
Arrows from their main ship whistled overhead, providing what support they could, but every passing second saw the longship drifting further into the open sea.
Still, with each death from the enemy, the less rowers they had, now it was mostly the waves that pushed the longship away.
An enemy lunged with a spear. Adrian's axe was nearly sheared in half, he made a split-second decision, casting the ruined weapon aside to sidestep the thrust and catch the spear's shaft. With a roar of effort, he poured all his strength into an upward shove, wrenching the weapon from the enemy's grip.
He then swung the butt of the spear down, cracking it against the man's skull, then spun the weapon vertically to drive the tip through the next attacker that appeared.
That was when he saw a slinger behind the new attacker. With a cruel grin, the man released a stone.
"Argh!"
Blinding pain exploded in Adrian's right eye as his head snapped back. Through his remaining eye, he saw a spray of his own blood paint the air.
Dazed and reeling, he instinctively tapped into his gift. He felt the flesh mend instantly.
Pretending to stumble, he lowered his spear and lunged forward, catching the overconfident enemy, that thought they had him off-guard. The spear tip punched through thin armor and deep into the man's chest.
Half of Adrian's face was masked in blood, his own, but he could see clearly with both eyes again. He used the spear to ward off the next wave while his men handled those who got too close.
"Uhgn!"
To his side, one of Lord Sanford's men took a blade to the throat and slumped overboard. Adrian registered the loss in a heartbeat, the situation was growing grimmer by the second.
The thought of jumping into the water flashed his mind.
Yet, they had already cut through half of the enemies, aided by the constant rain of arrows from the main ship.
They just need to keep fighting, and Adrian showed to them how tenacious he truly was.
---
Sir Cordell fended off a skilled foe, his eyes snapping toward the retreating longship before refocusing on the fight at hand. He deflected a shield bash and twisted his body to deliver a lashing kick, catching his opponent by surprise.
He followed with a swift strike, blood splattered, but the enemy managed to retreat before the blow turned lethal.
Cordell seized the moment to bark orders at the nearby archers. "You! Focus your fire on that longship! And you, form a circle and protect them!"
He turned toward the helm, where soldiers were huddled around the captain, protecting him. "Captain, steer the ship toward that longship!"
"I'm trying!" Holden yelled back, fighting the wheel.
At that moment, a group of Lord Sanford's men charged across the deck with torches. They began hurling fire onto the other enemy longship still lashed to their side. More soldiers emerged from the lower decks, joining the final, bloody push.
Bodies and gore drenched the wood, but Cordell's focus remained on the ship carrying his lord away.
"Kill the knight!" three islanders roared, charging him. Cordell took a steadying breath and steeled himself. The sooner he finished here, the sooner he could reach his lord.
---
Adrian saw Dexton, dazed from a blow to the head, that caused him to pull off his battered helm.
An enemy raised an axe, aiming for Dexton's exposed neck. Adrian lunged, thrusting his hauberk-covered arm into the path of the blade.
"Argh!" The axe bit an inch deep into his forearm. Growling through the pain, Adrian swung a mace he grabbed from the floor at the attacker. The man dodged, but the distraction gave Dexton enough time to recover. Dexton grabbed a fallen spear and drove it through the enemy's gut.
"Milord!" Dexton called out, shoving the dying man overboard and looking at Adrian with wide, concerned eyes.
Adrian wrenched the axe free from his forearm with a grunt. His gift worked quickly, sealing the wound until it was nearly closed.
Despite it all, he made sure to stop the healing just short of completion, he couldn't explain a total disappearance of the injury if he survived this.
And he will survive this.
He looked at the remaining enemies. Only eight were left standing, and more than half of them were wounded. Two others lay pale and gasping on the deck. The cruel, triumphant smiles were gone, replaced by the anger and grim faces of defeat. The ship had no rowers left even, every man able to stand was now facing Adrian.
On his side, only he and Dexton remained upright, though Dexton was unsteady. There was another soldier from Lord Hardinge's company sat nearby, clutching a deep wound in his side.
The fighting paused. Adrian allowed himself a bloody grin, chuckling, "Well, it seems your plan failed. Want to give up? I won't kill you, we'll need prisoners to help rebuild the city, after all."
Dexton chuckled darkly. The enemy leader, a man with a jagged scar across his face, spat on the deck.
"You'll wish you were dead! Kill them!"
Adrian exhaled and plunged back into the carnage. He felt detached, his body moving on instinct as the world blurred into a motion of steel and screams.
He had just rammed an enemy overboard before he heard the swishing of the wind.
He dodged a slinger's stone and retaliated by hurling a discarded axe, it struck the weakened slinger in the chest, sent him sprawling.
The scar-faced man dodged a swipe from Dexton and managed to grab Adrian's shoulders. He raised his sword to plunge it into Adrian's neck, but Dexton's spear tip flicked out, knocking the blade aside.
The man smiled sinisterly. His hand dipped behind his back and reappeared lightning quick now with a hidden dagger, which he drove deep into Adrian's stomach.
"Milord!" Dexton's voice was hoarse and weak as he stumbled, tried to stop this but couldn't, already weak and dazed from his injuries.
Adrian, held in place and feeling the sharp, cold bite of the steel in his gut, didn't pull away. Instead, he grabbed the man's head with shaking hands. To the enemy's shock, Adrian slammed his forehead into the man's face, shattering his nose.
"Ughn!"
The man tried to back away while twisting the dagger deeper, but Adrian slammed his head forward again and again.
Kruck!
With a sick, bloody smile, Adrian let go as the man wobbled back. He wrenched the dagger from his own stomach and, in one fluid motion, drove it through the man's eye socket. It buried itself deep, killing him instantly.
The body crashed to the side, near falling overboard.
Adrian held the bloody dagger out, chest heaving, ready for the next attacker, but it took him a moment of clarity to realize there was no one left.
He willed the stomach wound to partially close, just enough to stop the life-threatening bleed.
He stood alone amidst a deck of bodies.
--
"I saw Lord Harrow carve his way through the enemy longship, facing more than thrice their numbers as we fought off the vessel that boarded us."
Sir Cordell reiterated the events to the lords and ladies gathered before him. He was the last to report, following Sir Rory and Sir Chadley, the latter of whom was still cradling a heavily bandaged arm.
A faint breeze stirred the banners in the council tent, carrying the scent of salt of the ocean.
They listened as he continued his report. And he did not end it when the enemy retreated, unable to seize the main ship, the islanders had scrambled back to their own vessels and rowed away in haste.
Cordell concluded his account with the image of his lord, the only man left fully standing on the enemy longship as it drifted far from their own.
An impressed hum emerged from Lord Bronsone. "I knew my good brother was tough, but I didn't expect him to be this tough. It is a pity he isn't here to tell us of the ordeal himself."
The Prince, seated at the center of the table, nodded. "Indeed. But his injuries are not lethal, I trust?"
"The physicians have seen to him, Your Grace," Sir Cordell replied with a nod. "Nothing major, though they say the Lord needs to rest and heal for at least month before he recovers."
"He has earned his due rest through his actions." The Prince said with a small smile. He then turned his gaze toward the other lords, specifically Lord Hardinge and Lord Sean.
"I express my deepest sympathies for the soldiers you lost. I assure you, their sacrifice will not be forgotten."
The two lords nodded, smiles touching their lips. To them, the favor of a prince was worth more than the lives of a common soldiers.
"The enemy has lost a limb with this failed attack, and they have lost an entire longship thanks to Lord Harrow's efforts. They won't strike so boldly again for a while." The Prince stated. "But we must still prepare. Most importantly, we must uproot this problem at its source."
Lord Wyatt, with his niece Lady Serella beside him, leaned forward. "Your Grace, allow me and my soldiers to take charge of this matter while Lord Harrow recovers."
"Then you have my thanks, Lord Wyatt."
"It is only right, Your Grace."
"Speaking of Lord Harrow's matters," Prince Cale said, turning his attention back to Sir Cordell. "As a reward for his bravery, I gift the captured longship, the very one he carved through, to his personal service."
One of the younger knights in the back whispered in awe at the generosity of the gift.
Sir Cordell promptly knelt. "I thank you on his behalf, Your Grace."
"Go, and tell Lord Harrow he may rest as long as he needs. But do tell him this.. we will have need of his tenacity and fearlessness again in the future."
"Of course, your grace."