33 reinforcements 3

"What the hell happened here!"

The tribe's reinforcements finally arrived after 5 days of continuous marching to the outpost fortress.

But what they found, was beyond everyone's expectations.

"Cam, sound the horn, we need to know if those inside the fortress are our brothers or the fortress was occupied by members of the Ice-river clans!"

Blake was also shocked by the grotesque scene in front of his eyes, but he was the first to recover.

In the distance, they could see the outpost fortress, but surrounding the entire fortress, mountains of bodies could be seen scattered everywhere.

The bodies reached so high that they almost reached the top of the walls as if the attackers were using their men to scale the fortress.

Cam's hands trembled as they moved awkwardly to the horn at his waist. His son had come to protect the fortress, and he didn't think anyone could survive such a battle.

"!!!!!!!!"

The horn sounded from Cam's mouth for a long time, only to slowly fade away, as if he did not want to stop sounding it, lest he receives confirmation that his son was dead.

For several seconds they received no response, which seemed like hours in the minds of the reinforcement group, confirming that the fortress was either empty or had been taken over by the Ice-river clans.

"Wrem, Dean!"

Blake heard Wymond make a strangely muffled shout calling out the names of his sons in the fortress.

"This... It shouldn't have happened like this."

Blake walked several steps forward, he had better eyesight than any man in the group, so he estimated that there must have been at least 1000 dead men surrounding the fortress. And that estimate he made on the south and east walls, as the north wall could not be seen from his position.

"!!!"

Finally, when a couple of minutes had passed and the whole group was sure that all the men in the fortress had been killed, a horn was heard from the south wall. The sound had been loud and short, like the growl of a wild beast, wounded but still alive.

Blake focused his sight on the walls, a person was standing on one of the watchtowers, he couldn't make out his features, but he was wearing the standard armor of the tribe's warriors, so possibly, if there were any survivors left.

"There are still survivors in the fortress, let's advance slowly, in formation, and be alert in case it's a trap!"

Blake advanced with the group.

With every step they took, the traces of the bloody battle became clear.

The entire terrain surrounding the fortress for 50 meters was a sea of corpses that grew larger as they got closer.

When they got within 10 meters of the fortress, the group needed to stop to remove the bodies, as they were piled up to a man's waist.

"Open the gates!"

Cam shouted at the top of his lungs as the group made a path to enter the fortress.

After a couple of minutes, the doors slowly opened.

As they opened, Blake saw at least 8 people moving inside the fortress.

"Graham boy, you're still alive!"

Wymond stepped forward, touching Graham's shoulder hopefully.

"It wasn't easy, for anyone inside it wasn't."

Blake saw that Graham had multiple wounds all over his body. His clothes were stained with blood, and he was using a spear to stand because of a leg wound.

"How many brothers died? Where are Wren and Dean? Benton and Ham survived?"

Blake no longer lingered at the door and entered the fortress in a hurry.

He needed to quickly review the situation, it seemed that despite the savage attack, the fortress was not penetrated.

"Thirty-two tribal brothers died during the attack, all the others are wounded to a greater or lesser extent. Ham is treating them in the huts."

Graham walked beside Blake as he explained the current situation in the fortress.

"Wren received several injuries, he is recovering in his cabin, Benton is repairing the north watchtowers, but Dean..."

"Died...?"

Wymond paused, waiting for the boy's words.

"You can see for yourself."

Graham pointed to a cabin without confirming anything, and Wymond bit his lips, walking toward it.

Blake didn't follow him, but stayed in the center of the fortress, making the tribesmen tidy up the whole place, see the state of the walls, send warriors to guard the perimeters, and after he finished making the place safe from possible attack, he took some time to check the condition of his men.

He went first to Wren, who was being tended to by old Ham.

"Blake!"

Wren tried to get up as Blake entered the cabin, being stopped by Ham.

"Don't be stupid and stay in bed, do you want to die because your wounds will open up?"

Blake sat down in a chair next to the bed.

"How is he?"

Blake asked Ham, who was changing the bandages on Wren's body.

"He almost bled to death during the battle, but he'll be fine, he didn't receive any mortal wounds."

Old Ham finished treating Wren and left the cabin.

"I'll go check on the other boys, who were going to die from the wounds...they're already dead, the ones that are left will recover."

Blake nodded to the old healer, had he been in the tribe he would surely be cursing him for putting him in this hellish place, but Ham looked tired, with no energy to even yell.

"What exactly happened during the battle?"

Wren, lying down, looked up at Blake for a few seconds before answering.

"Death and blood."

The battle had begun at noon.

The hunters keeping watch in the vicinity of the Ice-river clans failed to escape in time, so they learned of the attack only an hour before it happened.

They attacked like wild bears, they did not stop, they did not make shelters, they did not build ladders, and they did not build fires.

For 3 days and 2 nights, the battle raged. To them, that time seemed like an eternity.

Everyone in the fortress fought, the cooks, the carpenters, and even old Ham would have joined the battle had he not had to tend to the wounded.

The last thing Wren remembered was watching the remnants of the Ice-river clans escape into the forest before passing out.

He woke up after 2 days and hasn't been able to leave his cabin since.

Blake listened to him with his hands clasped under his chin at all times.

"My mistake, I'm sorry!"

Blake apologized earnestly, it had been a big mistake.

He made his plans according to what he had learned in his last life, but these things did not apply to the savages. They kept attacking like a pack of wild dogs no matter how many died.

He had never experienced a real battle, he shouldn't have made assumptions risking the lives of his tribesmen.

"I cursed you throughout the battle, but after waking up and thinking about it a lot, I realized you didn't lie."

Blake had told him that with 50 archers that fortress would withstand the siege of up to 1000 men with ease. The problem was that it wasn't just 1000 that attacked.

The fortress was too small to support more than 50 men for long periods, so the garrison they had were also the maximum they could support.

Wren now knew how strong the fortress was, but he never expected the Ice-river clans to have so many men. Had it happened in the tribe, whose walls were smaller... Wren didn't want to know what would have happened.

"Make sure something like this never happens again!"

Wren grabbed Blake's arm, looking him in the eye, demanding his confirmation.

"I swear to you, I will make sure our brothers' sacrifices are not in vain."

Blake looked him in the eye, nodding at his words.

As Blake walked out of the hut, Wren shouted at him in a voice full of resentment and anger.

"The Ice-river clans must have lost all their men, go in there and make them pay for my men and my brother!"

"I'll go see Dean, get some rest first."

Blake walked a few steps, remaining standing. He did not regret his decision to create the fortress, but he should have made it bigger and not underestimated the savages, causing the death of so many warriors. He vowed never to make the same mistake again, never to underestimate them, no matter who their enemies were.

Blake resumed his walk to Dean's cabin.

When he walked in, he saw the boy lying on the bed, just like Wren, but with one big difference, Wren had all his limbs.

"Blake you came!"

Dean shouted cheerfully from the bed, unlike Wren, this one didn't try to get up.

"Yeah, he's just really late, we almost died waiting for him."

Beside Dean's bed was a very angry Meha.

Blake noticed that like Graham, Meha had wounds all over her body.

"Since we sent the message 9 days ago I figured it would take another couple of days for them to get here, they must have been running here without a break."

Blake nodded, sitting in a chair across from Dean's bed.

"Amazingly, you're still alive after receiving this injury, how did it happen?"

Dean's right leg had been amputated, for him, it would be impossible to fight again.

"I thought you would be able to heal me with your magic, just like you did Father and the others."

Blake shook his head, he didn't know how to use his magic he avoided it, and as far as he remembered there was never any way to regenerate someone's leg, that seemed like a childish dream.

"When we get back to the tribe I'll design a saddle so you can ride a horse... as for walking, I can make you a wooden leg and adjust it so you can walk again, but it'll be hard to get used to and you'll have to work hard at it."

"I told you idiot, not even the children of the forest could grow you a new leg!"

Meha shouted again from the side, Dean seemed to be convinced that Blake could grow his leg back with magic.

"It's a shame... But at least the idea of walking again doesn't sound so bad."

Dean explained what had happened to him, on the second day of battle, he had fallen from the east wall, breaking his leg to the point where the bones were protruding from his flesh. Ham had amputated the leg when the battle was over so that it would not rot, as it was a wound he could not handle.

"What shall we do now, go back to the tribe?"

Blake shook his head.

"No, the Ice-river clans must have lost all their men, we will go to their settlement and take everything they have."