Nick of Time

Rushing to the precious center of a section of the wall, Tarian grabbed one of the rifles of the dead still lining the failing wall. He bent down, and a tear threatened to escape, but he forced the emotions down. He could grieve for the dead later. Tarian wished that the dead could have been given the respect they deserved, but they couldn’t spare the manpower. As a result, bodies and their rifles littered the walls.

With burning, hatred, Tarian popped up and fired upon the advancing horde. After getting a couple of shots off, he spun back under the meager protection the wall presented him. After a couple of moments, he turned toward a hole in the wall, and he could see the undulating mass below. Tarian brought his weapon to bear upon the swirling mass of body and sinew. As he studied the things through the scope, he could make out individual creatures.

Tarian rushed to the center of the crumbling defenses and seized a rifle from one of the fallen. A tear welled, but he blinked it away. The dead deserved better, but mourning would have to wait. Among the fallen, he recognized Soren, one of the youngest members of this expedition. He had hoped to start a family here. Tarian’s chest tightened as he kneeled beside him, fingers brushing the man’s cooling skin.

A crude charm, likely made by a sister, dangled from Soren’s wrist. Tarian slipped it off and tucked it into his pouch without a word. He would remember. Around him, the stench of blood and ash clung to the air, thick as fog. The moans of the wounded rose between the cracks of crumbling stone, and somewhere behind him, sobs echoed, carrying names. The wall was breaking, inside and out. He gripped his rifle tight as he scanned the rampart.

Bodies and rifles lay scattered, nothing more than silent witnesses to the carnage of the horde’s siege. Fueled by burning hatred, he rose and opened fire into the enemy ranks. He fired twice before ducking behind the broken wall. Moments later, he peered through a nearby gap, and he could see the undulating mass below. He adjusted the scope and picked out distinct shapes in the writhing swarm, each more monstrous than the last.

He steadied his breath and squeezed the trigger. All shots aimed at a snarling beast, clawing its way up the wall. Each lance of light took one of the swirling bodies in the chest, but before the corpse could fall from view, more jumped in to fill the momentary void. He shifted, adjusting for his next shot, when a voice cut through the chaos.