Crownless Consort-Chapter 43 - : The Shepherd that was Promised

Ashburn swung the greathammer, cleaving several Reapers in two as he shouted for the line of Priests to move forward.

They would not deviate!

Several Reapers ran at him at a time, and he could not swing his hammer fast enough to keep them back! He was swarmed, as if the red-cloaked figures were bugs. They clung to his legs, climbing up the set of armour intent on removing the helmet and dealing mortal damage to the beast-like man.

But suddenly, the Reapers on the armour began to scream. Their flesh became red and mottled, blistering and popping as blood ran down their skin. Their eyes burst from their heads, and unable to cling to Ashburn any longer, they fell to the ground in a pile of charred husks.

Ashburn had caught fire! The onyx armour roared, looking like a true Demon in the midst of battle. The Reapers instinctually avoided the flaming figure, but he did not do the same, putting his greathammer to work as he continued cleaving through the crowd of crimson.

And behind him, the flaxen-hair Priest grinned, embers coalescing in her palm.

Farsa had finally sprung into action!

At the same time, on the stone platform from which he had dueled the Lead Reaper, Eshent glanced up towards the approaching rotted worm. Eisel, who had been designated as a scout and message relayer, had finally returned from the back-line. He had been sent to give Farsa the signal to set the ravine alight!

Eisel slide down the side of the rotted worm, stabbing his blade into its side as he reached out his other hand towards Eshent.

He accepted Eisel's hand, being pulled up onto the back of the remaining rotted worm as it cascaded through the plains at high speeds, a rift within the open air.

"I've asked Farsa to set fire to the plains behind us! Those Reapers can't attack us from behind for a time! Let's focus on the plan!"

Eshent nodded his head. "Good work, Eisel!"

"Stop, don't compliment me, dearest Visionary... I'll lose myself in pleasure!" Eisel teased, winking.

"F-cking idiot. Steer the worm downwards!" Eshent snapped, early failing to withhold a smirk.

Eisel pulled down on the reins, causing the rotted worm to shriek as it barreled towards the blood-stained plains.

Just a bit more... he was almost there...

Now!

"Continue with the assault! Do NOT deviate from the plan!" Eshent shouted as he jumped from the rotted worm, landing in the center of the Reapers, wielding the black-steel jian as he cut into the flesh of many, sending them toppling to the mud below.

The Priests raged forward. For a moment, they forgot the army at their back. They only thought of the danger in front of them, the people they would kill, the Reapers that would burn.

Hundreds of motes of flame showered overhead like a rain of arrows, soaring over the battle as they cascaded down the depths of the ravine. And soon, the logs that had been poured like a sea into the ravine were lit with flame, the crackling embers roaring.

"Push them in! Do NOT fail!" Ashburn's roaring, beast-like voice tore through the air of war. It imbibed the Priests with fear, not of the Reapers, but of the consequence of failure at Ashburn's hands.

The shield-wall that had been formed by many Priests bashed into the dwindling crowd of Reapers. Swords, pikes, and spears jabbed through the slits in the wall, tearing the Reapers apart as they were pushed towards the ravine. They could not renew themselves fast enough to keep up!

Eshent quickly fell backwards, climbing back up towards the the dueling area.

He looked over at this scene from the stone platform where he had dueled the Master, his blood still fresh on its surface. His headless corpse remained, no longer writhing as if it were to be renewed.

One by one, the Reapers began to fall into the ravine, pushed back by the shield-wall. But no matter how intently he scanned the crowd, Eshent could not find the man who had taken away the Lead Reaper's remains. Was it possible for a Reaper to regenerate an entire body? It sent shivers down his spine, thinking about it.

One day, he might have to rematch that master! And he may not get so lucky at that time...

Screams echoed from the ravine. No matter how much pain these Reapers had experienced, being burnt alive was uncommon, it was horrifying. The only peace of mind one gained was that their flesh would burn away to the extent that they would feel no longer, or that they would die from smoke inhalation quite quickly.

But the Reapers could experience neither. They renewed themselves too frequently, they were imbibed with endless life.

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They were suffering, and the Priests were the victor.

He simply had to win. His people had to know who was leading them, and that man was not a loser. He was stained by his enemies, he had been bathed in the blood of war.

But there was still much to do.

And the Priests... they had suddenly become... afraid...

Why?

The flames summoned by Farsa had dissipated, the grass had been burnt away. There was nothing else that could catch, and so the Priests had become open to battle.

The Reapers on the horizon had begun to move.

Eshent grimaced as he turned towards them. "You motherf-ckers!" Many of them turned to him, their eyes widened with despair. "Do you remember who we are!?"

Why isn't the Lord pacifying them...? 

Is it possible... that he's run out of energy? Can he not act further? 

Or... 

Eshent stepped away from the stone platform, his crimson-stained cloak fluttering in the stormy breeze of the emerging day.

Is this a test on my competency? 

Tales often talked of the Reaper known as Death, Eshent knew them well. Masha had read such things to him and Corrin each night, and they had failed to catch sleep afterwards. He quickly stopped, switching to telling them happier stories, but it could have been said that they had all quickly learned to fear the Reaper known as Death.

But he had realised then that the storybooks were wrong.

It was not a scythe that they witnessed in Death's silhouette.

That curve at the end of her staff was never a blade, she was never a Reaper.

It was a crook, Death was the Shepherd of all.

And Eshent was the Shepherd that had been Promised.

If he couldn't lead them, what good was he!?

"You..." He paused for a moment, gazing at each individual at the front of the crowd. How many had died? Dozens? A hundred? They had certainly been whittled down, despite the Lord's interference... were the Reapers that strong? "You are fools... why are you trembling!? If our Lord does not ease your worries, do all of you amount to nothing more than simpering b-tches!?"

Saying such a thing made Eshent cringe a little, for he was the same. Humans were not meant to meddle in the affairs of Deities, these horrors enshrouded in mist were not meant to be confronted with a perfectly-calm heart. But he couldn't just say that they were acting normally. Their 'normal ' would ensure their death.

"I will guide you out of this darkness, we will crawl towards the light! Forget the number you face down, we are not mere people, we are soldiers of the Lord!" Eshent shouted out into the dawn.

In the distance, he saw the flash of blinding morning light on metal, onyx steel. In the distance, Ashburn had already started trudging towards the Reaper horde, his greathammer slung over his shoulder. Many of the other Priests had spotted him too, they were enamored by his might, by his sheer willpower.

"Do you see!? One man! He knows he is one man, but he is going to fight alone! Do you know why he's doing so!? It's because he's understood whose eyes are watching over him! He understands whose will is being carried out with each swing of his weapon!"

Eshent drew the black-steel jian, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Each and every one of you, remember whose colour you're wearing! Remember who stands behind us! When you draw that symbol on your chest, remember who's answering its prayer! I ask you now, are you meaning to forsake your Lord, or are you going to fight with me!?"

There was a closing element to his speech, one he had reserved to top it all off. Action was a better declaration than hollow words. And he had made sure that all of his soldiers had witnessed that action. He made sure the remnants of it were blood on the stone.

"Their master has been toppled! Their leader is without a head! What good are these underlings!? Let's go f-cking slaughter them!"

The Priests brandished their weapons, raising them high into the air. Each drew the familiar jagged-triskelion on their chest in unison, an aura of reverence basking on the field's floor.

He saw their eyes fill with a familiar sight, sharpness, calm.

The Lord had answered their obedience.

Roars echoed through the shroud of mist on the violent morning within Shadowhaunt.

Priests cried out for victory.