Chapter 99: Ambush! - Part 2

Damian's mind raced, assessing the situation. The men following him were not mere brigands; they moved with too much coordination and purpose. This was a planned attack, and the time to spring their trap was near. Damian's eyes went white as he warged into Ace to see how many enemies were lying in ambush.

"One, two, three... twenty-three, twenty-four men hiding behind trees. No, there are six more hiding in the bushes and five archers on top of the trees. Hmm. Ten versus thirty-five men, that's a bit one-sided. Let me even the grounds for us," Damian murmured before looking around to see if there were any witnesses. Finding no one, Damian returned from the warging. From where they were standing, the attackers shouldn't be able to see him.

With a swish of his hand, he summoned thirty armoured men wielding bows, spears, swords, and shields. They materialized silently and that was not all; a big, ferocious-looking direwolf appeared in their midst, its black fur gleaming and red eyes glowing menacingly.

"My good Adolf," Damian said to his companion, the wolf nuzzling against his hand and wagging its tail. "As I promised, you will finally get the chance to see some action."

"Fan out," Damian ordered his guards, his voice calm and steady. "Surround the area and don't let anyone run away."

The guards nodded, spreading out to encircle the ambush site. The warriors moved with silence, taking positions to cover every escape route. Adolf, the wolf, padded silently alongside the warriors, his keen senses alert and ready.

The attackers, unaware of the reinforcements, prepared to spring their trap. Damian's guards blended into the underbrush, their weapons ready.

Damian and his eight guards walked the road, seemingly unaware of the ambush. Just as they reached the turn, a voice erupted from their left.

"Now! Attack!" the enemy leader shouted.

The forest erupted into chaos. The hidden assailants charged forward, expecting to catch Damian and his guards off guard. Arrows flew out from the trees, all aiming at the Lord of Iron Island. Damian, who was ready, brought his shield up in a swift, practiced motion.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The ambushers were surprised to see that Damian reacted so quickly and blocked the arrows.

"Kill him!! Don't let him run away!" one of the men shouted. Some of the assailants immediately went toward Damian while the rest moved to deal with the eight guards surrounding him.

Instead, they were met with a deadly wall of steel and arrows that came from their own left and behind. Armoured warriors emerged from the underbrush, cutting down the attackers without mercy.

A large bird, as big as a man, swooped down from the sky. Ace, Damian's loyal falcon, dove at the enemy archers, his talons ripping through flesh and sending them tumbling from their perches one by one.

The attackers, caught between Damian's guards and the unknown armored reinforcements, were thrown into disarray. The initial confidence they had quickly turned to panic as they realized they were outmatched. The forest, once a place of silent ambush, now echoed with the sounds of clashing steel, pained screams, and the guttural growls of a savage beast.

Damian moved quickly, unsheathing his sword. He parried an incoming blow and countered with a swift strike to the head, beheading his opponent in one clean motion. Blood sprayed across the leaves, the body crumpling to the ground with a dull thud. His guards fought with the ferocity and precision of seasoned warriors, their blades cutting through the enemy ranks. The clash of metal on metal rang out, punctuated by the grunts and cries of the dying.

Adolf, the ferocious black wolf with red eyes, tore through the attackers, his growls and bites adding to the chaos and terror. His jaws closed around a man's leg, the crunch of bone audible above the din of battle. He shook his head, ripping flesh and sinew, leaving the man screaming on the ground.

Suddenly, one of Damian's guards, locked in combat with an Ironborn who couldn't keep his guard up, was disarmed. The Ironborn grinned wickedly, raising his axe for the killing blow. Just as he was about to strike, Adolf leapt from behind the guard, crashing into the Ironborn and sending him sprawling. The wolf's teeth found the man's face, tearing through skin and muscle as the Ironborn struggled in vain to save himself. His screams were cut short by a final, brutal bite.

"Hold the line!" Damian commanded, his voice carrying above the din of battle. "Do not let any escape!"

His men obeyed, their formation tight and impenetrable. The soldiers continued their relentless assault, cutting down any who dared to approach. The attackers, realizing their dire situation, attempted to flee, but Ace swooped down to rake his talons across their faces, blinding them and sending them crashing into the ground. Adolf, a shadowy blur of death, blocked their escape routes, his growls a constant reminder of their impending doom.

The battle was over quickly. The ambushers, overwhelmed and outmatched, fell one by one. Blood pooled on the forest floor, mingling with the fallen leaves. The last few attackers, seeing no hope of victory, dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, pleading for mercy.

Damian's eyes were cold as he approached the surrendering men. "Who sent you?" he demanded, his voice a deadly whisper.

One of the men, shaking with fear, stammered, "We... we don't know, my lord. We were paid... just to kill you."

"Wrong answer," Damian said, his expression hardening. He nodded to Adolf, who lunged forward, biting at the man's arm and ripping it off with a savage jerk. The dire wolf didn't stop there. He targeted the other arm next, sinking his teeth into flesh and bone, tearing through the screaming, writhing body until the final bite to the neck ended the man's pain.

Damian turned his cold gaze to the remaining attackers. "Who sent you?" he asked once more, his voice low and deadly.

The last four men, having just witnessed the brutal fate of their companion, didn't waste time in revealing the truth.

"We—we are Captain Wittle's crew, lord," one of them stammered. "He owned one of the longships, but you had us hand it over to you. The captain was so angry, but he knew we could do nothing about it. But—but then a few men came to us and convinced Captain Wittle to kill you."

"And who were they?" Damian's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin.

"They were priests of the Drowned God," another man said, his voice trembling.

"Drowned God priests?" Damian mused, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. "And where is your captain?"

The men collectively looked over to a body lying nearby, its face too bloody to recognize, as if some beast had torn it apart. Damian followed their gaze, his eyes landing on the mangled corpse. He nodded slowly, understanding the situation more clearly now.

"If you can take me to these priests, I will allow you to take the black," Damian said, his voice cold and commanding. "Otherwise, you can choose your end like that companion of yours." He pointed at the armless body next to them, a grim reminder of their fate should they refuse.