Chapter 9: The Swarm

I stood atop the wooden wall, eyes fixed on the horizon. The wind whipped at my face, carrying with it the scent of metal and earth, but I hardly felt it. Below me, men readied themselves for the battle we all knew was inevitable. The preparations had been painstaking, every hand worked to perfection, and now we stood on the precipice of fate. The silence before the storm felt as heavy as lead, oppressive, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, a faint tremor beneath my boots. I barely noticed it at first, but the earth began to shake, gradually gaining intensity.

"An earthquake?" I muttered, a cold chill creeping down my spine. Not now. Not when we were on the verge of annihilation.

Before I could dwell further on it, I saw them, the riders. Four of them, their horses galloping at full speed. Behind them, a dark mass churned and spread across the horizon, growing ever closer.

I grabbed the spyglass and trained it on the riders, watching them closely. They were terrified, their faces ashen, their expressions those of men who had seen the end.

Then, as I focused the lens, the true horror became clear. The "dark mass" was no cloud, no illusion, it was an army. No, it was worse. A swarm. An endless sea of insectoid creatures, stretching beyond sight. Their bodies writhed together like a living tide, their chitinous armor reflecting the dim light, a grotesque, pulsating mass that seemed to choke the air itself. Their eyes; dark, soulless, gleaming, held a terrifying intelligence that sent a chill down my spine.

I dropped the spyglass in shock, its lens shattering against the wooden floor of the wall. My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing. That wasn't just an army, it was the swarm, the Zarathids.

These abominations, I had only heard whispers of in the dark corners of taverns and seen through the hazy vision of my fractured mind. But nothing could have prepared me for the nightmare unfolding before me. They were not just soldiers, they were monsters, each one a grotesque mockery of life itself. Their bodies were chitinous, their limbs long and spindly, and their eyes gleamed with a terrifying intelligence. Some were humanoid in form, others bore more monstrous features, with claws long enough to slice through steel and jaws that could snap a man in two with a single bite.

I looked down at the riders again. The horses were no match for the speed and savagery of the Zarathids. The riders were torn apart, their bodies flung aside as the swarm overtook them in seconds.

Panic surged through me. We had severely underestimated their numbers and their terrifying efficiency. The shaking of the ground intensified as the swarm approached, and it became harder to stay steady on the wall. My heart pounded in my chest. The battle had already begun, and we were far from ready.

"Archers, ready!" The commander's voice broke through my thoughts, his tone sharp and commanding.

I snapped back to reality, eyes scanning the horizon. There was no time for doubt now.

He raised his hand, a signal to prepare. The ground trembled underfoot, and the first wave of Zarathids came into view, thousands, no, tens of thousands, rushing forward with terrifying speed.

"Fire!" The commander shouted, his voice booming.

Arrows filled the sky, a deadly rain that blocked out the sun. The sheer force of the assault was enough to take down many of the Zarathids, their chitinous bodies pierced by the sharpened tips. The ballistae fired with a deafening thud, sending massive bolts through dozens of the insectoids at once. Trebuchets launched huge boulders, which crashed down with explosive force, crushing anything in their path.

For a moment, it seemed as though we might have a chance. The sheer destruction we wrought upon their ranks was staggering. But then I saw it, their numbers were uncountable. No matter how many we killed, more took their place, pressing forward in perfect, horrific unity. The swarm was relentless.

"Fire! Fire at will!" The commander yelled, his voice cracking from the strain.

The barrage continued, arrows and boulders striking the swarm with horrifying force, but the Zarathids didn't falter. They surged forward, undeterred by the dead piling up at their feet. They didn't just march, they flowed, a living tide that seemed to have no end.

We had set up defenses: a pit twenty feet deep, lined with spikes, and walls twenty feet high. But the Zarathids cared nothing for these obstacles. They plunged into the pits without hesitation, their bodies impaling on the sharp wooden stakes. But that only made them climb over the bodies of their fallen comrades, creating an unholy bridge that allowed more of them to scale the walls.

And then they were upon us.

"Swordsmen! Charge!" The commander screamed, his voice drowned out by the chaos.

With a roar, the men surged forward. Steel clashed with chitin as we met the enemy in a brutal, violent storm. I hacked through the bodies of the Zarathids, my sword biting deep into their armored flesh, but it felt hollow. There was no joy in the battle, no exhilaration of battle. Only terror. The weight of inevitability pressed down on us. For each Zarathid I felled, ten more took its place. My arms grew heavy, my vision blurry. We were fighting against a force we couldn't comprehend. There was no victory here. Only survival.

The Zarathids fought with terrifying ferocity. Some were humanlike, standing tall with long claws and mandibles, while others were monstrous giants, their massive forms towering over us. They were strong, stronger than any foe we had ever faced, and their bites were merciless, ripping through armor and flesh alike.

I fought through the swarm, my blade flashing in the air, cutting down dozens of the beasts, but for every one I felled, ten more took its place. Their blood, thick and green, sprayed into the air, forming rivers on the battlefield. The stench of death and decay filled my nostrils, but there was no time to pause, no time to think. Only fight, fight, fight.

But even my resolve began to crack as the battle wore on. There was no way we could win. The Zarathids were too numerous, too strong. The men around me were falling in droves, their bodies torn apart by the swarm. I saw fear in their eyes, and then the panic set in. More and more soldiers turned to flee, abandoning their posts, leaving the walls to crumble under the weight of the enemy.

I glanced to my left, and saw the commander fall. His body was ripped apart, swallowed by the horde, and his cry was drowned by the screeching roar of the Zarathids.

At that moment, I knew: it was over.

I turned, the reality of our defeat crashing down on me.

"What was I thinking? How could I save humanity? Why was I even chosen?" I wondered, my thoughts a blur.

As I sprinted toward the stables, I spotted a single horse. It was my only chance for survival, but another soldier reached it before me. A flash of cold resolve surged within me. I couldn't afford hesitation, not now. Not when the stakes were so high.

Without a second thought, I closed the distance and cut him down. It was a necessary sacrifice. Morality didn't matter. The odds of me making it out alive were slim, and any delay could cost me everything. Without hesitation, I mounted the horse, the reins in my hands as I spurred it forward. The chaos of the battlefield faded behind me, but my heart hammered in my chest as I headed for the gate, the only escape.

And then I heard a shout.

"Cassian! Wait for me!"

It was Buck, struggling to keep up. For a moment, a bitter thought flashed through my mind, he was just another liability, someone who would only slow me down. But the cold truth settled in. I needed him. One more person meant more strength, more chances of survival. Two riders, two chances to outpace the Zarathids. And maybe, just maybe, if we made it through, we could use the extra hands to survive the journey ahead.

I turned the horse, reaching out a hand to him. In that instant, I saw it. Buck was the one person still clinging to life, still trying to hold on. He was a reminder of everything I'd lost, everything I still had to fight for.

He grabbed my arm, and I pulled him up onto the horse. We didn't say anything. There was no need.

Together, we fled, leaving behind the chaos that consumed the walls. But the Zarathids were relentless, and they were fast. Three of them followed us, gaining quickly. Buck fired his arrows, one after the other, and each one found its mark. They dropped like flies, but we didn't slow.

We rode into the dense forest beyond the wall, the trees looming like silent sentinels, their branches reaching out like the fingers of an ancient predator. I knew where we were; the land of the orcs. Uncharted, hostile. But perhaps it was where we could survive. It was dangerous, yes, but no more dangerous than facing the swarm. If we could avoid the Zarathids and find a way to navigate this land, maybe we could make it through. 

Maybe we had a chance after all.