Chapter 111: The Awakening of Pride
While the eleven hunters were finishing securing the heavy crossbows behind the deer hides on the high ground of the old settlement, a rustle of hurried footsteps interrupted the preparations.
Mark, flanked by the fourteen men who previously formed the noble faction, stepped forward toward the position where Kellar and Krag were supervising the deployment of the war carts. Without anyone ordering them to do so, Mark and his men dropped to one knee in unison before the shaman, pressing their clenched fists against the frozen snow.
Krag tightened his grip on the handle of his great war mallet, frowning in distrust, while the veteran hunters lowered their bolts toward them by instinct.
"What is the meaning of this?" said Krag, taking a step forward. "If you intend to prove yourselves cowards now that the dogs of the north are near, I will sever your heads myself."
Mark did not cower. He looked up at Kellar, his eyes burning not with fear, but with a mixture of shame and genuine resolve.
"We have not come to flee, Great Shaman!" said Mark, his voice resonating with a firmness that would shock anyone who had known him weeks ago. "We have witnessed the power of the Bear God and the fire you command. We understand that our former pride was nothing more than foolishness."
The group of nobles behind him bowed their heads even lower, gritting their teeth in silence.
"You gave us a chance to work, but today we do not wish to merely be the beasts pulling your carts," said Mark, striking his chest with his fist. "This is our tribe as well. Our families are in the houses below. Give us spears, shields, or whatever remains in the storehouses! We want to fight on the front line and prove through blood that we are worthy of your trust!"
Krag stared at the group in awe, slightly loosening his grip on his mallet. Kellar observed the fifteen men in silence for a few seconds, gauging the sincerity in their gazes with cold precision. A faint, calculating smile formed on the shaman’s lips.
"If you die today, you will die as men of the Overlord Tribe, and your names will be remembered with honor," said Kellar, pointing toward the weapon racks prepared by Mentz. "Wield the reinforced-tip spears and the wooden shields. Your duty will be to protect the rear of the carts and finish off any bastard attempting to climb up to the upper huts. Do not fail me."
"For the Overlord Tribe! For the Great Shaman!" said Mark and his men in unison, springing to their feet to take their positions with renewed ferocity.
A few minutes later, from the depths of the Red Forest, the sound of the Black Skull Tribe’s war horns began to echo against the valley’s stone walls. The horde of one hundred and sixty barbarians had just entered the perimeter.
The bloody rumble of the Black Skull Tribe’s horns made the treetops vibrate. The column of one hundred and sixty barbarians burst into the grove like a tide of dull iron and dark hides. At the front marched the shaman, floating a few inches off the ground pushed by a mass of greenish vapor, while the blue-eyed skull pointed out the route toward the huts of the old settlement.
"Run, dogs! Leave no one alive!" roared the shaman, his voice distorted by his magical poison. "Devour their flesh and bring me the head of their demon!"
Taut strings and sepulchral silence reigned inside the upper huts. Lying flat on their stomachs on the wood, the hunters held their breath, praying to the Bear God’s will that the stench of animal fat and dampness would not betray their positions.
The tide of barbarians smashed through the outer palisades and penetrated into the heart of the old settlement. Believing the village to be helpless, the mob surged forward, crowding and jostling together until slamming directly into the walls of deer hide. Hundreds of heavy boots trampled over the very center of the yard.
The three hunters in charge of the detonators, breaking into a cold sweat but holding iron-steady nerves, brought the embers to the hemp channels hidden beneath the boards and bolted out through the rear exits at full speed.
Crimson sparks raced under the earth. A second later, the yard floor turned into an inferno.
BOOOOOOM!
The first line of buried charges at the yard entrance exploded with a deafening roar. A wall of fire, rocks, and dirt launched a dozen men into the air, sealing off the exit perimeter with a smoking crater. The barbarians were trapped inside the ring, screaming in panic as they collided with one another.
BOOOOOOM!
Moments later, the second line of charges—located right at the exact center where the main mass was crammed together—detonated dead-center. The shockwave shattered armor, shields, and bodies in an instant, kicking up a thick mushroom of black smoke saturated with blood and sulfur.
BOOOOOOM! BOOOOOOM!
Without giving them breath, the two flank charges exploded consecutively. The rock walls projected the shrapnel inward, unleashing absolute chaos among the survivors running blindly with no idea where to flee.
Amid the thick smoke and shrieks of agony, Kellar gave the final signal from the rock ledge.
The layers of deer hide covering the front of the huts dropped all at once. Behind the leather appeared the heavy mounted crossbows installed by Lennis.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The thick iron bolts shot out at point-blank range. The force of the impact was so massive that the projectiles pierced the warriors through and through, pinning them directly against the ground and the wooden logs of the houses. As if that weren’t enough, the small impact bombs strapped to the tips exploded half a second after embedding into the flesh, shattering the torsos of any who attempted to stand up.
At the same time, the veteran hunters equipped with hand crossbows opened continuous fire from the upper windows, raining bolt after bolt onto the officers trying to reorganize the troop. The plaza of the old settlement had turned into a perfect slaughterhouse where the Black Skull Tribe had no way to respond.