Free The Blade Heir (Book 1) by Daniel Adorno Page B

scabbard and joined his fellow Drachengarde. At his command, the men formed a defensive line to meet the first wave of Draknoir invading the camp.
    "At the ready," he yelled. The Slayers took their battle stances and held up their shields. They were all superior swordsmen, more strenuously trained than any Aldronian soldier. But the upper hand belonged to the Draknoir, whose numbers were staggering.
    The first wave hit them hard. Silas and his second-in-command, Asher, fought beside each other, fatally slashing many of the ungodly beasts. Asher, an older man with a graying beard and steel blue eyes, wielded his sword with ferocious vigor. Two Draknoir warriors attacked him simultaneously from his right and left. He blocked the right one's sword and stabbed the left one in the neck before the Draknoir warrior could strike. Silas then beheaded the creature on his left with a swift swing of his sword. More Draknoir approached them, but they quickly disposed of them in minutes. The Drachengarde survived the first wave without any casualties But as Silas looked toward the forest, he saw dozens of Draknoir assembling and preparing to attack them. He looked all around, desperately searching for the blue and white colors of the Aldronian army's uniforms. But he only saw the scruffy, worn tunics and breastplates of the fourteen Drachengarde around him. He feared the worst, either the Aldronian soldiers had not heard the sound of their horns or they had been wiped out by a Draknoir ambush. The bloodstained swords of the evil minions of Nasgothar a few yards away confirmed the latter.
    The Draknoir charged toward them, and in seconds an eruption of clashing steel was heard throughout Ithileo. Silas and his men were surrounded by the cruel beasts. Asher stood behind him, flailing his sword in every direction and avoiding every Draknoir attack. Gradually, their defensive line was divided, and Silas could not see any of the Slayers, except for Asher. He fought harder, slicing and tearing each Draknoir fiend close enough to touch. Asher did the same. Their combined ruthlessness held the ground, and the few Draknoir left retreated to the forest. Blood and carcasses lay all around; he felt nauseated at the growing stench. The victory seemed theirs for a moment, until Silas realized he and Asher were the only two Slayers still standing. The other thirteen men had fallen and laid among the dark corpses of their enemies.
    Before Silas and Asher could grieve for their fallen friends, a horn was sounded from the edge of the forest. His heart sank at the sight of two ranks of Draknoir archers lined up behind the warriors who had retreated. They had not retreated, as he thought, but had reassembled their line and now had the advantage of long bows.
    "My lord, we must flee," Asher wheezed as his chest heaved from exhaustion.
    "There is nowhere to run, my friend. This is our last stand," he gripped his broadsword tight and held it up in view of the Draknoir. The sword shone in the moonlight and many of the dark fiends growled at the sight.
    The archers fixed their bows on the two warriors and fired. The arrows whizzed in the night toward their targets but did not find their mark as the two veteran warriors dodged and parried them with their swords. Draknoir warriors charged once more toward them and were accompanied by a second volley of arrows. Silas moved quickly to avoid the sting of the enemy's shots. But he was not fast enough, and an arrow struck him in his right shoulder. He cried in pain and fell to his knees. To his right, he saw Asher stumble to the ground and fall on his back with a solitary arrow standing erect from his chest. Tears welled in his eyes as he crawled to his friend's side.
    The Draknoir warriors slowed their pace towards them, knowing his plight was grave and there would be no escaping the impending doom. Silas held up Asher's head and looked into the old man's eyes. The once vibrant blue he had remembered was quickly fading