"You are wrong," said Kargen. "It is quite within a hunter's right to question authority, but in this case, I shall not answer. Laruhk, Durgash, and the others are trying something new, something no Orc has ever before attempted, at least as far as we know."
"Now you have me intrigued. How am I to concentrate on the task at hand?"
Kargen laughed. "I tell you this only to give you hope, my friend, not to distract you."
"Where is Shaluhk?"
"Behind us," said Kargen, "with the other hunters. As our hunters are wounded, they shall fall back to her position, allowing her to heal them. They, in turn, will take the place of the injured, ensuring our strength is maintained."
"It would be easier if we had more bows," suggested Kragor.
"So it would," agreed Kargen, "but we had scant time to prepare for battle, and our warbows are difficult to make. In time, the entire tribe will be so equipped, but for now, we must make do with what few we have. Now remember, do not use them until the enemy is close. We must make every arrow count."
To the west, Mortag shifted his feet trying to ease the strain on his back. He moved his left arm, the withered appendage in a sling, a constant reminder of his difficult birthing. He was old by Orc standards, and yet his mastery of fire was well developed. He cast his eyes to the trees above, noting their condition. It had been a dry summer, and the winter snow had yet to arrive. The trees in this part of the woods were pine, littering the ground with their needles, leaving the forest floor bare of undergrowth. It meant the Orcs could use their bows with ease, but the same could be said of the enemy.
He glanced to his rear, where Laghul was waiting with a small group of attendants. The shamaness would heal the wounded, as was the custom, while beside her stood Kirak, perched at the edge of the woods, his eyes focused on the enemy.
The Humans had begun their advance, a long line of footmen interspersed with archers. Behind them came the foot troops of the Church, easy to spot in their light-grey tabards. The edge of the woods was a slightly higher elevation, giving Mortag a good view of the enemy as they approached. He marvelled at the Human fascination for forming their men into tight groups. This was certainly not the Orcish way, and yet who was he to complain when it gave his hunters such easy targets?
Mortag waited until the rear rank of Humans entered the stream, then gave the command to attack.
Natalia watched as a cloud of arrows appeared to the west, marking the start of hostilities. She thought back to her training at the Volstrum. Strategy and tactics had always been of interest to her. But now, at this moment, she wished she'd paid even more attention to the little details.
To her front came the enemy foot soldiers, their metal armour gleaming under the banner of the duke. They carried a variety of weapons, ranging from hammers to axes and even swords as they advanced against the unarmoured Therengians, confident in their victory and spoiling for a fight.
The footmen were flanked by crossbowmen, an excellent choice when confronting armoured opponents, but their slow rate of fire would prove advantageous to her side, of that she was sure. So far, the enemy had done precisely what she had expected, but she wasn't fooling herself; she knew plans seldom survived initial contact. As they began crossing the stream, she could finally make out the duke's knights.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered where Sir Raynald was but quickly put such thoughts from her mind. There was a battle to be won, and he was an enemy combatant after all.
In front of her, the Therengians stirred, checking shields and weapons as they finally prepared for the impending assault. She saw Athgar look her way and smile, bringing a warmth to her heart. The thought of losing him closed in on her mind, and she struggled to fight down the panic.
A hand rested on her shoulder. "He will survive," said Voruhn. "Of that, you must have no doubt."
"How can you be so sure?" Natalia asked.
"I can not believe fate has brought him here to die. Think of all you have been through already."
She looked at the Orc, seeing the determination in her eyes. "I suppose you're right."
"Now," continued Voruhn, "you must put such thoughts from your mind. You have a battle to manage."
Shouting echoed across the field, drawing Natalia's gaze westward. The Orcs of the Black Axe had begun their skirmishing, catching their foes by surprise. The Humans, after their initial shock, soon recovered, and their archers began sending volley after volley into the woods while their footmen drew closer. Soon they were well into the trees themselves, making it impossible for their own archers to assist.
Natalia smiled. This was an unexpected twist, for it appeared the duke had not foreseen this complication. From her angle, she could see little, save for the enemy pushing farther into the treeline, but the sounds of battle certainly told the story of an intense struggle. The enemy archers soon disappeared into the trees, following their compatriots, while the temple footmen brought up the rear.
She forced herself to look eastward to where a similar force was advancing. The commander on that side, however, had wisely kept his archers in the open, where they might best use the power of their volleys. The footmen were in amongst the trees, but Kargen and the Orcs of the Red Hand were farther south, waiting for the best moment to strike.
To her front, the duke's men pushed closer, picking up their pace now that the enemy was almost within their grasp.
"Archers may begin," she called out. Her orders were echoed down the line, and then the onslaught of arrows began. The first volley fell short, but it didn't take long to find the range. Soon the Stone Crusher Orcs were joining in, sending a hail of projectiles towards the enemy.
Arrows clattered on armour, causing the advancing enemy to waver under the ferocity of the attack. They soon regained their momentum as sergeants and officers urged them on. Closer they drew until even spears were within range.
Gahruhl moved up, beginning her first spell. Shards of stone erupted from the ground, penetrating boots and throwing the enemy into disarray. The master of earth held back her power, knowing she must conserve her strength, but even so, the result was impressive. Amplified by the magic of the stone gate, the shards grew larger, forming into great spears that interfered with the enemy formation, forcing them to bunch up to thread their way through the new obstacles.
The archers redoubled their efforts, concentrating on the points of convergence. Once more, Gahruhl called forth the power of the earth, and a tiny spark sailed forth, striking the ground before the enemy's advance. The ground rumbled, and then the earth split, causing a small fissure to appear, no deeper than a man's shin. She kept concentrating as it elongated, spreading across the front of the enemy, causing further mayhem.
Athgar stood his ground. The enemy was merely a spear's throw away, their attack slowed by the obstacles, but it was still only a matter of time until they broke through. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man go down, a crossbow through his neck. Another bolt whistled overhead, but he ignored it. "Shields up!" he ordered.
The fyrd raised shields, overlapping their edges, their spears prepared to strike. It would be one initial thrust, then the enemy would be upon them, and it would become the work of axes and long knives to deal out the damage.
He briefly worried for Natalia's safety and then shook his head. He must concentrate on his own battle this day. She was more than capable of looking after herself.
A roar of defiance arose from the enemy troops, and then they launched themselves forward, covering the last few yards at a run. The Therengian spears came down, thrust into the first wave of warriors. A clash of arms soon followed as swords beat on shields, and axes rang out against armour.
The Therengian in front of Athgar fell, a vicious cut to the face. Thinking quickly, the Fire Mage cast, thrusting out his hands and sending a stream of fire through the gap. The enemy warriors paused for a moment, steeling themselves to face the wielder of fire, allowing Athgar to grasp the injured man's arm and pull him
back to safety. He stepped into the gap, raising his shield just in time to deflect a blow.
A titanic struggle now erupted as the duke's footmen attempted to smash through the shield wall of the fyrd. A few enterprising individuals tried slashing low at the Therengians' legs, but this was soon countered by the quick thinking of those in the second row, who stabbed out with knives and short spears.
Athgar, feeling the press of the enemy on his shield, planted his legs to give him more stability. Pulling forth his axe, he called on his inner spark, and the head ignited, green flames licking along its edge. He struck out, feeling his weapon cut into metal. As he wrenched his weapon free, his opponent fell, lost to sight amongst the press of men.
Suddenly the man beside Athgar went down, a sword to the chest, and the enemy, sensing their moment was upon them, redoubled their efforts.
Battle of the Standing Stones
Autumn 1104 SR
* * *
The line began to break. Natalia gave the order, and the reserve moved up, experienced Therengian warriors ready to push back the enemy. They rushed down the hill straight into the melee with a mighty clash of arms. So ferocious was their advance that she watched as the enemy was driven back, rushing downhill to escape the slaughter.
The counterattack had done its job, halting the enemy's advance. But now the Therengians, flush with victory, ran past their initial position, and the enemy responded with a fury, sending in fresh troops to trap them.
She watched in fear as Athgar struggled to bring order to chaos as the duke's men renewed their attack. He was in the thick of it now, hacking away with his axe, a line no longer even a possibility. The battle had degenerated into one big mass of warriors, each fighting for their lives.
The Orcs of the Black Axe fell back as the enemy warriors streamed through the forest. The western flank was collapsing quickly, and Mortag, master of flame, knew it was up to him to put an end to it. Hearing the call from his chieftain, he began casting. All around the woods, they had prepared bundles of sticks at the base of many trees. Mortag closed his eyes, digging deep to conjure forth his spark.
Smoke began billowing from three of the pyres, then they burst into flames. He cast again, igniting two more stacks of wood. The dry trees of the forest crackled and popped as bark caught fire, then flames began climbing up the heights.
The fire spread quickly, soon covering the ground in dense grey smoke. Mortag slowed his breathing as he prayed to the Ancestors, but as fate would have it, it was unnecessary, for the prevailing wind blew the smoke northeastward, directly into the enemy's faces.
The master of flame waited just long enough to see the enemy begin to panic, then turned and sprinted to rejoin his companions.
"They will be hard-pressed to stand," noted Kirak, "but how will we extinguish the flame once the battle is over?"
"It will be difficult," noted Mortag, "but worth the sacrifice to defeat the enemy."
Kirak smiled as Laghul appeared beside her bondmate. "How are the casualties?"
"Light," she replied. "It seems the Humans are not used to our style of fighting. It is but a simple matter to duck behind the trees when they use their volleys."
"Volleys?" said Kirak. "They use such tactics even in the woods?"
"I doubt they know any different," observed Mortag. "They are warriors, not hunters. Such ideas have likely never crossed their minds."
"It is to our advantage," said Laghul. "Let us not complain. What is our next step?"
"We shall give them a chance to burn for a little longer," noted Kirak. "Mortag, can you extinguish a corridor of fire?"
"I can," the old Orc replied, "but it will not last long. You mean to counterattack?"
Kirak nodded. "I do. If we strike at the right time, I think they will break."
The smoke began to thicken as the flames reached the upper boughs. There was a crack as a large branch fell, sending sparks high into the air where they swirled around, caught up the strange wind that swept through the woods.
Kirak called his hunters forward, each of them with an eager look upon their faces. "Prepare yourselves," he began, "for when Mortag casts his spell, I shall lead you through the fire."
He recognized the look of fear on their faces but also the look of determination. They would follow him into the spirit realm if he asked them, of that he was sure, but at what cost?
Laghul touched his shoulder. "I pray the Ancestors will look over you."
Kirak took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "And you," he replied. The fire was spreading quickly now, and he knew the moment was at hand. Nodding at his master of flame, he gripped his axe, steeling himself for what was to come.
Mortag held his arms out to the side as words of power flowed from his lips. Smoke swirled around almost blinding everyone's view of him, and then he thrust his hands forward, sending a vortex of smoke northward. Along the indicated path, flames became more subdued, soon little more than small sporadic wisps of soot and smoke.
Kirak gave a yell and launched himself down the corridor, the brave hunters of the Black Axe following.
In the east, Kargen watched the fierce melee going on at the centre of the line, but his task was here, on the flank. He waited as the enemy footmen emerged from a thicket of trees. Here, the forest was more sparse than to the west, with many small clearings to break up the woods. He had picked his place of concealment carefully and was now rewarded by the sight before him.
"Now," he roared.
Kragor was the first to let loose his arrow. It struck a footman, a sergeant by the look of him, just as he was trying to issue an order. Others soon followed, the mighty warbows of the Red Hand making short work of the light armour of their enemy.
Three more volleys sailed forth, sending the enemy into chaos, and then Kargen rose, calling out a challenge that echoed off the trees. Kragor's warbows shifted targets to the archers along their flank as the hunters rushed past in a blur, axes seeking blood.
Kargen hit the line in a fury, striking out with his axe, taking an arm clean off at the elbow. He kicked his opponent aside, striking out again, using his massive strength to move the blade with lightning speed. It scraped across a warrior's chest, cutting leather but doing little else. A spear came towards his face, and he ducked, the point going just over his head. Grasping the offending weapon in his left hand, he pulled, watching in satisfaction as his foe was pulled off balance. The great Orc followed up with an overhead blow that split the man's skull open, but when he yanked back on the weapon, he discovered the blade had become caught in his opponent's helmet, leaving him vulnerable. A sword jabbed out, catching him in the forearm, and black blood trickled down his arm as he gave a massive tug on his axe, freeing it from the grip of the metal.
All around him, Orcs pressed forward, the enemy stunned by the suddenness of the attack. Beside him, a fellow hunter struck out, slicing into the leg of a Human. Then a spear came out of nowhere, digging into the hunter's stomach and driving him to the ground. A Human stepped up, driving his sword into the hunter's brain with a clean, swift motion.
Kargen bellowed in rage and struck out, but the man shifted his stance, avoiding the blow. The warrior's blade sliced forward yet again, stabbing into the chieftain's thigh, penetrating the leg muscle. Kargen gave a thunderous roar of pain as the blade came out the other side, tearing through flesh.
Pivoting on his uninjured leg, he ripped the sword from the man's grip. The warrior tried to back up, but Kargen was soon upon him, driving him to the ground. Moments later, his axe dug into the Human's chest, sending a crimson spray into the air.
Athgar walked forward, slipping as he stepped over bodies. All around him was death and destruction. The moaning of the wounded was overshadowed only by the sounds of the living, struggling as they were to destroy their enemies.
A sword glanced off the Fire Mage's helmet, and he staggered back from the force of the blow. Thrusting his hands out, he sent forth a streak of flames but missed his targe
t in the confusion of battle. When an axe dug into his shield, he felt the wood give way, splintering as it fell apart. He struck back with his own axe, feeling it bite into metal, and then pulled back, grunting with the effort.
He caught a glimpse of Harwath, his arm covered in blood, though whether it was his own or someone else's, Athgar had no idea. The fighting seemed to go on until he felt as though he had no strength left.
The duke's men were pushing hard despite their losses, desperate to gain the heights. Athgar lashed out at a foe, driving the axe blade into a leg, but before he could withdraw it, a horse slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. The mount rode past, stirrups rattling as the duke's knights pushed up the hill.
Natalia saw Athgar go down, disappearing beneath the hooves of the enemy as the knights surged up the hill, with little left to stop them. She ordered the Orcs forward, and the Stone Crushers rushed ahead, heedless of the danger that awaited them.
Without warning, a horse reared up in front of her, and she dove out of the way. Moments later, a shard of stone shattered against the rider, knocking him from the saddle. Orcs swarmed him, hacking away with their axes.
She felt anger building as she thought of Athgar lying dead on the battlefield. Focusing on the closest group of riders, she began concentrating on drawing out her power despite the pain. Her stomach went cold. A tight knot made breathing difficult, but she held on, gritting her teeth even as the words of power spilled from her lips. Streaks of ice flew from her hands, a massive volley that turned the air cold. They clattered against armour and stabbed into horses, cutting them down as they struggled against the hill.
Still, she kept up the spell, with more and more ice flying through the air, the impact rattling as it struck helmets, shields, and breastplates. Her vision began to blur, and she collapsed, gasping for air, her stomach no longer cold, but burning with a fierce, fiery agony.
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