[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
Drums began again beyond the walls. The sound sent shivers skittering up and down Thom’s spine, set the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. He sucked in a deep breath and met Thordin’s haunted gaze.
“Time’s up,” the other man murmured. Thom nodded slowly.
Time’s up.
He turned to climb the wall for a better vantage on what was going on for himself even as he called up toward Paul in the watchtower. “What do you see out there, Paul?”
Their resident sniper leaned against the rail, his eyes narrowing as his gaze scythed over the field. “They’re forming ranks. Don’t see a cavalry but there’s plenty of foot.”
This is going to be ugly. Thom took a quick breath as he hauled himself up to his normal perch. J.T. handed a rifle up to him and Thom gave him a quizzical look.
“Now’s the time to use some heavy firepower if we can,” the paramedic said, his face pale and drawn. “If we don’t use it when we’re threatened at this level, when the hell else should we use it?”
He’s right. Thom swallowed hard and nodded, then cleared his throat. “If something happens to me—”
“Then we’re all dead anyway,” J.T. said, his voice grim. “Don’t start that bullshit now. It’s too late for that.”
A broken laugh escaped Thom and he shook his head. “Then you know where you need to be.”
His friend gave him a grim nod. Thordin joined Thom up at the top of the wall with climbing to a perch on the other side of the gate, near Sif, who held her bow relaxed, though an arrow was in hand, ready to draw and fire. Her cold gaze was trained at the field beyond. Thom slowly turned his gaze to that field and the enemy massing more than a hundred yards away.
His guts churned even as his stomach sank.
There’s too damned many. There’s just too many. How do we stand against this?
Thom grit his teeth. We do it because we have to.
I’ve faced longer odds in lives long gone, he thought. This is just one more battle where I’ll have to do that and win in the end. There’s not another choice.
You do what you have to do.
Thordin’s hand fell on his shoulder, his friend’s fingers flexing for a moment before releasing him. Thom glanced toward him and shot him a grim smile.
“It’s been an honor,” Thordin said softly. “And it will be an honor.”
Thom nodded, once, then looked back to the field. The cadence of the drums changed. The army ahead began to move. Thom lifted an arm.
“Archers ready!”
The response echoed from the far end of the wall, where one of the Wild Hunt’s officers echoed his cry, confirming readiness. Thom took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, watching the slow approach.
Just a little closer.
He held his breath for a moment, heart pounding and the blood roaring in his ears, the drums barely audible over the sound.
Almost there.
Thunder growled in the distance and lightning flashed, closer than the distant thunder. A few cold drops hit Thom’s face and hair.
Dropping his arm, he shouted, “Loose!”
A flurry of arrows launched from the walls to fall like the rain on the enemy.
It had begun.
