Kingdom of Bones

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The cheers of a hundred men quickly turned into the cheers of seven hundred. General Thedomir gave the northman a nod, encouraging him on.

  “These pale beasts have come a long way to taste northern steel!” he continued. “What say we give them a welcome they’ll never forget!”

  The cheers turned into roars as Ilargo and Athis swooped overhead, adding their rallying cries to the makeshift army. The dragons arced into the air and took up positions patrolling to the east and west of the battlefield. The mobile ballistas were already altering their courses and adjusting their giant crossbows to attack the Dragorn.

  Vighon drew his sword and poured a small water skin, filled with oil, over the length of steel. Holding his blade out, he watched as Garrett put a torch to the steel, setting the oil alight. The fiery sword was the fastest way, if not the only way, to get a signal to the engineers manning the catapults.

  Galanör appeared by his side, scimitars in both hands. “To the end,” he said determinedly.

  Vighon faced the orcs, all three thousand of them, and thrust his sword into the air, the signal given. Set alight, Namdhor’s twelve working catapults launched their flaming missiles into the sky. Before they could wreak devastation upon the orcish hordes, however, the nearest orc ballista fired on Vighon’s front line; its target easy to spot with the flaming sword…

  The northman didn’t have enough time to react, his shield still on his back; not that it would have done much against a spear tip doused in wrath powder. Vighon only became aware that that was his last thought when the bolt failed to kill him.

  His life, and many others, were saved when Gideon Thorn dropped out of the sky, as if hurled from the heavens, having leaped from Ilargo’s back. The Master Dragorn held up a single hand and cast a shielding spell before the snow from his impact had even rained down. The explosive bolt struck his shield and split the air with an almighty boom. The blue flare from Gideon’s spell was blinding, but it was far better than the alternative.

  Without wasting another second, Vighon turned to his men and bellowed, “Archers!”

  Adding to the burning missiles, four hundred arrows whistled through the air. Underestimating the men of Namdhor, the orcs had failed to take up position outside of the archers’ range. Their howls and screams erupted across The White Vale as burning thunder rained over their forces. Their dying roars were met by cheers from the Namdhorians.

  The cheering came to a sudden halt when the orcs charged.

  “Fall back to the first tier!” Vighon commanded, an order that was echoed through the ranks.

  The dragons continued to fly in dizzying patterns, occupying the mobile ballistas and diverting their deadly bolts. It gave the soldiers enough time to organise themselves behind the first row of spikes without disturbing the archers, all of whom fired at will.

  “Spears!” General Thedomir shouted over the archers.

  The spearmen in question were Namdhorian soldiers all, attired in their golden cloaks and accompanied by shoulder-to-foot shields and spears. They were Captain Gallow’s men, fierce to the bone, bred in the snows of the north, and all itching to be the first to draw orc blood. They planted their heavy shields into the mud and rested their spears on top, in the semi-circular gap in the middle. With the sharpened logs either side, the orcs would have no option but to face their steel.

  “Gideon!” Vighon called the Master Dragorn to their ranks, behind the spearmen. “Where’s Inara?”

  “Don’t worry about Inara,” Gideon reassured, his eyes on the red dragon above. “She has a habit of being exactly where she needs to be.”

  Vighon let it go, his mind too focused to begin worrying about the Dragorn’s placement: he was just glad they were both in the fight. Keeping his flaming sword away from his fellow soldiers, the northman checked the line behind the spearmen and the team of archers, who continued to notch and let loose their arrows. Captain Larnce’s company made up the next line of defence, fated to confront the enemy before any of General Thedomir’s men.

  Vighon swore. “Captain Flint! Get your men in line with Captain Larnce’s!”

  The arrogant captain was positioning his soldiers around the side streets and alley ways. “We are equal in rank, little lord!” he spat, perhaps oblivious to the orcs charging towards them.

  The captain had already voiced his alarm when Vighon had informed him that they wouldn’t be defending the lower town, a small collection of buildings that was dwarfed by the city towering over it. The fact that Captain Flint couldn’t get his mind around the fact that a hill was better to defend than a tiny village only lowered him in the northman’s estimations…

  The sound of the charging orcs became all-consuming. Their feral roars and pure bloodlust filled the air as the horde blasted through the lower town.

  General Thedomir’s commanding voice shouted, “Brace!”

  Galanör stood shoulder to shoulder with Gideon. “We fight together again, it seems.”

  Gideon smirked. “I’ve learned a thing or two since those days, old friend…”

  Not a veteran of war, Vighon kept his comments to himself and held his flaming sword in one hand and his shield in the other. His mind was sharp, his worries gone. There was only him and the enemy.

  The orcs screeched and howled, so close now that Vighon could see their eyes. Then, under a canopy of arrows and burning missiles, the orcs slammed into the front line.

  Chaos was upon them in a second, the roars and growls of the orcs combined with the resounding yells of the men. The orcs crashed into the spearmen and the pointed logs, desperate to find a way through. Their immediate bulk pushed the Namdhorians back, but the row of sharpened logs staunched the flow.

  Blood quickly stained the ground and the spearmen were forced back.

  Captain Gallow barked, “Drop!”

  The spearmen took a knee and the waiting line of archers fired their arrows into the advancing orcs.

  “Push!” the captain ordered, and the spearmen jumped up and renewed their efforts.

  Even before real battle could commence, the gap between the logs was piling up with orc bodies, making it all the harder for the orcs rushing into the city. It was also making it harder for the spearmen to hold their position. Combined with the orcs now climbing over the sharpened logs, they would soon be overrun.

  “Fall back!” Vighon commanded.

  Captain Gallow’s men parted and retreated, allowing the archers to fire one last salvo into the rushing orcs clambering over their dead. Captain Larnce’s men raised their shields beside the Skids and gave the orcs a thunderous yell from deep in their chests.

  In front of them all, with an elf on one side and a Dragorn on the other, Vighon raised his flaming sword and met his enemy.

  Inara watched her master drop into the snow and repel the explosive bolt with ease. Had he been anyone else, she would have suspected him of showing off. As it was, Gideon Thorn was just being Gideon Thorn.

  Clear your mind, wingless one. Your concern for others is beginning to cloud my own focus.

  The importance of Athis’s warning was made all the clearer when a pair of wrath bolts whistled over her shoulder, narrowly missing them both. They were soon accompanied by more, all of which found their end in the ground, adding an undertone of explosions to the charging orcs.

  Put aside the concerns of Inara Galfrey and embrace the warrior. Today, we are Dragorn!

  The half-elf hugged her companion’s body and focused her mind. She reached out and connected with Athis on a deeper level, allowing his predatory mind to influence her own. Thoughts of her mother faded away and any concern she had for her father and brother were replaced with a desire to hunt some orc.

  Ilargo cut across them, drawing the ballista fire away. The green dragon weaved between the wrath bolts with grace, pausing only to unleash a fireball upon the swell of orcs below. Athis added his own breath of flames to Ilargo’s, their targets impossible to miss when crowded so closely together.

&nb
sp; Aim for the wings, Inara advised. Make them huddle together.

  The orcs’ almost suffocating proximity made it all the easier for the catapults to claim their numbers. They were also another thing for Athis and Ilargo to evade…

  Athis banked hard as one flaming missile arced over his back. It came so close that Inara felt the heat of the fire on her face. Avoiding the catapult’s shot, however, put the red dragon in the path of what had been a poorly aimed wrath bolt. The haft of the projectile careered off the bony ridge of Athis’s right wing and spun away before dropping away and exploding far below.

  Ilargo glided around the advancing orcs and swooped low in a flanking position. A jet of blindingly orange fire washed over the orcs, scorching a line up the middle of the horde. Spears and arrows were quickly launched at the green dragon, forcing him to find safety above the battle.

  Below, the orcs had thrown themselves at Namdhor’s defences, as if their sheer mass would be enough to break through. They were, however, relentless. Inara watched as they clambered over the impaled dead and swarmed the first tier, filling it with bloodshed.

  Athis unleashed fireball after fireball, reducing the orcs’ numbers with every hit. I cannot get any closer. Just one of those explosive bolts will be the end of us!

  Inara watched the six-legged creatures zig-zag across The White Vale with no coordination. The wrath bolts cut through the air at varying angles, often over the horde of orcs, preventing the dragons from getting much closer.

  Drop me down there! Inara showed Athis the exact place in her mind, towards the edge of the horde, where the mobile ballistas were charging about.

  I’m not putting you down there! Athis rebuked. If you’re going down it will be on the other side of the defences, with Master Thorn.

  Drop me on top of the closest ballista, Athis! Without those bolts, you and Ilargo could burn these orcs before they raze half the city!

  Athis huffed, dodged an incoming wrath bolt, and glanced back at Inara. I would say don’t do anything foolish, but I can read your mind…

  Inara beamed and patted his scales. Let’s go!

  Athis brought in his wings and corkscrewed through the air, shifting his weight to plummet towards the orcs. The speed with which he dropped made it all the harder for the ballistas to target him and his sudden expansion of wings scared the six-legged creatures, knocking the orcs off balance and their aim with it.

  Embrace your instincts!

  Athis’s departing words echoed inside Inara’s mind as she dropped down between the gap in his wing and neck. Using a combination of elven grace and Dragorn training, Inara timed her fall perfectly. This was unfortunate for the orcs manning the mobile ballista.

  The half-elf landed in a crouch atop the giant crossbow, her sudden arrival so surprising that one of the orcs jumped back and fell out of the chariot. Before the horned beast had finished rolling through the snow, Inara had swiped her Vi’tari blade across the neck of the remaining orc, separating it from its head.

  With the army of orcs to her left, Inara hopped into the chariot and took control of the reins. She directed the six-legged creatures around the circumference, steering clear of the main bulk of orcs. She had a specific prey in mind.

  Charging towards her, oblivious to Inara’s control of the ballista, the orcs were aiming their next wrath bolt into the sky. The Dragorn guided her chariot to run parallel, taking her past them in a blur. One swing of her enchanted scimitar killed the nearest six-legged mount, bringing a swift end to its momentum. The beast instantly collapsed under itself and dragged the second monster down with it. True success was found when the chariot flipped forwards and the wrath bolt fired into the ground, blowing them all to whatever hell the orcs believed in.

  That was two mobile ballistas off the field, yet the sky was still streaked with the black darts. Ilargo dared to swoop in here and there, but he was quickly turned back. Athis deliberately stuck close to the eastern wing of the horde, keeping his shadow over Inara.

  There are more to the west, the red dragon informed her.

  Inara turned the beasts towards the front of the army, where they were currently being funnelled into the lower town.

  Inara, where are you going? It would be safer to travel around the back of the horde!

  The Dragorn examined the giant crossbow mounted in front of her. I’ve got one wrath bolt loaded and ready. I can’t load another one, so this needs to count.

  Inara… Athis’s tone was thick with caution, aware of her plan.

  The half-elf gave herself a wide arc, bringing the chariot in line to sweep across the head of the horde, where their numbers met the first tier. They were bottle-necked, but there was just enough space for the chariot to pass through. There were, however, a lot of orcs in that bottle-neck.

  Inara grinned with wicked glee, most unbefitting of a Dragorn. Still, she grinned.

  Inara charged her six-legged beasts between two of the lower town’s buildings and took aim. The mounted ballista sounded a satisfying thud as it launched the wrath bolt into the bottle-neck of orcs. The explosion and spray of bodies was even more satisfying.

  The Dragorn charged her mounts through the chaos of smoke, ash, and body parts, and continued on through the lower town until she was on the western side of their fiendish army. Her attack had been so swift and so devastating that the orcs hadn’t the time to realise that the chariot racing past possessed not a single orc, let alone process the fact that it had been that same chariot that had just killed so many.

  Heading into the vista of trampled snow and falling ash, Inara sighted a dozen more of the terrible ballistas that hunted her companion. With no one to load another bolt for her, the Dragorn raised her Vi’tari blade with a dangerous glint in her eye.

  “Fall back to the second tier!” Vighon growled, struggling to find the air in his chest for anything more.

  The command was echoed across the space between the two rows of entrenched logs that formed the first tier. The soldiers of Namdhor retreated slowly, never daring to turn their backs on the pressing orcs. Vighon had already stepped over three of his own men and countless men under Captain Gallow’s command.

  The battle became a routine of rhythmic actions. Shield up, shield down, swing sword, shield up. Every now and then, the northman chanced a kick to push his enemy back, but the worry of losing the limb saw him rarely break from his routine.

  This wasn’t the kind of fighting Vighon enjoyed, and he did enjoy a good fight. There was no opportunity to employ any real skill beyond the ability to defend and lash out. His flaming sword had been an enjoyable advantage, blinding as it was to the light-sensitive orcs, but it was inevitably extinguished by combat.

  For a short while though, every orc that fell upon him had faced the light of his sword before its final bite. The fire made the pale beasts clumsy in their attacks, blinding them to Vighon’s swinging blade or that of another.

  Along with the others, the northman slowly backed his way towards the gap between the sharpened logs, beyond which sat the plain of the second tier. His sword no longer the deterrent it had been, Vighon discovered he was relying more and more on Galanör’s blades to keep the swarming orcs at bay.

  Once inside the second tier, higher up, the northman had his first look at the state of their siege. The first tier was piled with dead from both sides. The lower town was gone, drowning in orcs, and there were a couple of thousand behind them from across The White Vale. They had only five more tiers with which to fall back before they were in the upper city, where they had failed to finish building their defences.

  Vighon’s despair was lifted when he caught sight of Gideon and Galanör, both of whom were still inside the first tier. The two warriors were holding back the flow and giving the stragglers more time to retreat. It also gave Vighon more time to coordinate his men.

  “Spears!” he ordered, pointing to the gap between the logs.

  There were few spearmen still left and even fewer willing to pick up
a spear and join them at the front. Captain Gallow proved that Namdhorian knights lead from the front and fell in beside his men, spear ready.

  A distracting sight for all, Gideon and Galanör dominated the back half of the first tier. The Master Dragorn was a slave to the will of his legendary Vi’tari blade. He danced around his enemies, evading and parrying before his blade ended them altogether. A burst of magic worked even better, an outstretched hand killing the orcs in droves.

  Galanör had the uncanny ability to face more than one opponent at a time, his dual scimitars slicing through the air in every direction. Stormweaver would parry an orc while Guardian cut through the neck of another, though one had to have sharp eyes to observe the elf, who was never in one place for more than a second.

  For all their skill and endurance, they were being swarmed. There seemed no end to the orcs as they charged through the gap, their jagged swords raised and a terrible cry on their lips.

  Vighon bellowed, “Gideon! Galanör! Retreat!”

  The northman, along with everyone else, flinched and covered his eyes when a sudden explosion rocked the entrance of the first tier. Orcs were scattered into the air, their bodies violently bursting apart, and three of the sharpened logs were sent spinning into splinters. A ballista-mounted chariot rocketed past the entrance in a blur, but Vighon noted the red cloak flying out behind the driver.

  The shocking explosion granted Gideon and Galanör the time they needed to rush back and take cover in the second tier, behind the spearmen.

  Thedomir began resupplying their front line with his men, replacing the fallen Namdhorian knights. “Leave some for us, eh?” he called.

  Vighon might have responded had the orcs not recovered from the explosion and renewed their charge. Under Captain Gallow’s orders, the spearmen braced again as the horned beasts rammed their shields.

  Vighon advanced on the orcs trying to climb over and between the sharpened logs. His sword made short work of them and his rounded shield came down on their heads time and time again. With Gideon and Galanör beside him, they kept the entire left side of the tier free of orcs. For just a moment, Vighon envisioned a victory…