Chapter 100: Mansa’s Final Stand: Part 1

"LOOSE!" The Grand Prince’s voice shouted and a barrage of artillery fire shot towards the large fort. Mansa held onto the wall watching as the flaming balls flew over him, explosions going off as they crashed. The screams of men went off but Mansa had no time to pay attention to it. He watched as the Grand Prince’s army waited for the barrage to end.

Another volley came and Mansa ducked seeing it come lower than the last round. The heat radiated off his back as sweat fell from his head. He looked behind seeing the fireball creating a dent in the ground and an explosion of fire spreading. The next volley would hit both the walls and backlines. "HOLD FIRM! WE CAN NOT LEAVE THESE WALLS!" Mansa’s voice boomed, as he held tightly on the stone wall, his armour creaking as he did.

The archers the Grand Prince brought moved forward as another volley went off. The wall was hit and Mansa lost his balance slightly but didn’t allow himself to stumble, grasping the wall. He couldn’t fall, his men needed to see him alive. Within range, the Archers shot volley after volley. Mansa didn’t know how many arrows fired in his direction but he believed it must have been a thousand. "SHEILDS!" Mansa called to those below as he lifted his own shield and ducked behind the wall.

The arrows fell, and those unlucky enough to be caught in it were impaled into the ground by tens of arrows. Their blood poured from each hole, and their faces had confused expressions not realising how they died.

Mansa raised his head once more. The distant artillery now joined the arrow volley and Mansa looked on in disbelief at the sight before him. Ten fireballs and a thousand arrows came for him. He saw the distant army watching the fort like hawks. It was as if hell’s forces had clawed their way to the land of the living.

"SHIELDS!" Mansa broke out of it and ducked once more raising his shield over himself. He felt the weight of the arrow fire hit his defence and the impact the wall took. He raised his head over and watched. The main army began to move. The archer and artillery fire still shot towards them, but the main forces began to move.

Five siege towers and a ram followed by over ten thousand men. It was a terrifying sight that they couldn’t take their eyes off but had to if they wished to not die to the incoming volley. "MEN TAKE POSITIONS! THE PRINCIPLAITY IS MARCHING!" It was a risk but Mansa had to take it. If a segment of the wall collapsed from the artillery fire then he would lose many good men, but if they managed to get on the walls unopposed then he would lose all his men.

They scaled the walls quickly, many pulling back their bowstrings and firing a pitiful amount in hopes of halting the attacking force even if it was for half a second. Mansa watched as they closed in. He looked down at the gate and made sure there was enough on it before refocusing back on the threat in front. They inched closer and closer. The distant artillery fire carried out a few more volleys before halting. It made him breathe a sigh of relief. The wall held.

Despite this, it wasn’t over. He watched as the siege towers stopped in front of him. Drawing his sword and shield the men all along the walls did the same. Many knew they were going to die here but they had no other choice than to take as many of them down with them. It was their job to defend their lands from the Principality’s invasions.

The sound of the gate being rammed spread across the walls as an eerie silence went off. They had dropped tar on it but it seemed it had no effect in stopping it. Mansa gulped. It was like standing in the eye of a storm. Mansa could hear the breathing of those next to him only broken by the sound of the gate being attacked. His grip tightened around his hit and he took a deep breath.

Watching he saw the gate that was containing the attacking army fall and the war cry of hundreds of men that signalled the start of the melee. Mansa held the line with those next to him. His sword moved quickly and with grace, chopping down those in front of him with ease. Those facing him had no way of defending him, his skill with the blade overpowering anyone who came close. The Principality threw man after man at the wall, and Mansa could feel the overwhelming difference in number quickly show. They fell back inch by inch, but Mansa couldn’t allow it.

"HOLD THE LINE! DON’T GIVE AN INCH!" His voice boomed and he swung down killing another. He had to hold for longer. They did. The wall couldn’t fall so quickly. He must have had barely two thousand men on the wall to defend, it was always going to be a struggle, but the difference was immense. He smirked to himself knowing that the Grand Prince saw him as such a threat to send so much after him.

He moved to the side unable to raise his shield in time to block an attack, and swiftly counter-attacked killing the man. He couldn’t get lost in his own thoughts, it nearly cost him. "CLIMBERS!" A voice shouted and Mansa took a quick glance. A series of ladders sprung up all around. His men tried to deal with them, but the sheer number of attackers from the towers and the chaos that was going on made it so many were missed.

New fronts opened everywhere. Men claimed the walls and threw themselves into a frenzy, forcing the defenders to refocus away from the main threat. With a swing, he killed another. A ladder popped up next to him and he gave it a couple of seconds before pushing it. The distant screams of men came along it. He could see that they started to see him as the main threat. More and more charged at him at once, threatening to overwhelm him.

Mansa didn’t budge, however. His face was stern and he blocked one attack, stabbing his sword through the stomach of another. Seeing a third man coming in to attack, Mansa pulled his shield away, before throwing an attack out with it, slamming the man into the third attacker. Thrown against the wall, he swiped their feet, and gave a push, throwing them over. Their scream was drowned out by the sound of metal colliding. An attack came swiftly after making the move, and he barely had time to block it with his sword.

Punching his shield into the man’s stomach his blade pierced through his throat. He pushed the body back at the newly approaching gang of soldiers who caught it being thrown off balance. Mansa didn’t hesitate. He ran forward, Slicing his from left to right. He cut through one and was stopped in the second killing the two.

His display of effortlessly killing so many men was a sight of worship for his men who became fuelled to not be left behind. They felt their blood boil and wished to emulate their General. The attacks became faster and heavier, and despite the disadvantage in numbers, they made up for it with a newfound ferocity.

Mansa had a couple of seconds to breathe and looked at his men’s newfound spirit. He smiled but wondered how long it could last. He didn’t get long to dwell on the thought. A third wave was coming for him and he could only sigh as he raised his sword once more.

Alexei watched as the gate took hit after hit. It was a strong one. Despite this, he knew it would fall. He felt his feet stick to the ground with each step. The tar had been a final struggle to stop his ram, but all it had done was make their steps heavier. Once more the ram hit the gate and the creaking of wood echoed for him. A smile spread on his face and he knew that battle was coming.

He waited in anticipation watching as three final hits go off. On the third, the gate flew open and let his men charge in. A great wall stood ready to meet him, but it was severely outnumbered. Alexei ran forward his strange smile growing. Stabbing his pear forward, he pierced through the eye of one of the defenders. He pulled it out, the blood running down it, hitting his hands.

He had been training ever since the war restarted and now he was back to his old self. A sword came down, and Alexei blocked it with the staff of his spear. He twisted around, putting the blade below his spear and pushed it to the ground. The defender not expecting it, fell with his blade and a soldier didn’t miss the opportunity, striking a killing blow.

How he had missed the thrill of battle. He prided himself as someone who had good control of his emotions, but when it came to battle he couldn’t. He loved it. He was good at it. He took a step back, stabbing his spear forward, it piercing the weak spot of a man’s armour. He didn’t die, but blood poured from the wound. His scream joined the many others. He wondered where Mansa was but was sure he must be on the wall if he wasn’t at the gate. He felt sorry for any of his men who had to face him in battle. That being said he couldn’t dwell on it. He stabbed forward once again, killing the same man he had attacked previously.