Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos)

by Graham Carmichael

  Chapter 23

  The King, personally, hurried the fleeing survivors of the botched coastal defence, through the gates to Thorvale. Each man wore a pale, white expression on their face as if they had witnessed some unimaginable horror. They had seen their friends slaughtered; most were people they had been comrades with for many years. Almost one hundred broken and winded soldiers passed through the gate. The King noticed the commander of the defence force stagger through the gate. Henried gently pulled the commander to one side, mindful to keep their conversation away from the prying ears of the other soldiers.

  “Commander, what news?” He asked.

  “My lord, the enemy has landed with a force far greater than what we expected. Nearly two hundred galleons crossed the water and each carried more creatures than we could count.” The commander responded.

  “How many galleons did you manage to sink?”

  There was a brief pause; the commander wore a look of shame on his visage. “None” he said at last.

  The King’s face changed from one of concern to one of anger.

  “None,” he began in a raised voice, “with all the firepower along the shore, how dare you tell me that not one single ship was sunk.”

  The commander slumped on his feet. His shoulders drooped and his head bowed down to look at the floor.

  “My lord, the ships were ghost ships. I do not know how they floated or how the enemy were able to stand on the deck but our arrows and cannon balls just passed through causing no damage. We managed to hit some of the creatures that stood on deck but the ships were immune to our attacks.”

  The King pondered the news for a few minutes. He began pacing up and down in front of the Commander. Finally he spoke.

  “Go and get some food and water. I want you to take charge of all the men who come through the gate. Get them onto the wall with their bows, ready to fire at the enemy. Soon, the city will be attacked. Make haste, Commander.”

  The Commander bowed down before departing. King Henried was worried. He had believed that lining the shores with archers and artillery was a sound strategy. It was believed by all in the meeting of the war council that the ghost ships would not be used for transport. It seemed physically impossible. The failure of this first part of the plan made Henried question the rest of it. Most of the inhabitants of Thorvale were still in the city. They had been moved to the town hall, the churches and any other large building in the centre of the city. The King now felt it would be prudent to evacuate them. He had little time.

  He called over a handful of guards.

  “I want to evacuate the Women and Children. Gather a group of your finest and most trusted men and move them to Beskholme as quickly as possible. The city is likely to be under attack within the hour. If you are not clear of the city walls and out of sight, it will be too late.”

  The guards bowed and raced off in the direction of the city centre. The King continued to organise the growing number of soldiers entering the city. He first directed them to what remained of the palace courtyard. There the soldiers could take in refreshments provided by the catering staff of the palace. The blacksmiths had set up stalls to rearm the soldiers. Army Commanders then directed the men to new posts on the city walls. It was a well organised operation.

  Half an hour later, the Women and Children were just leaving the city. Many were crying. Some wept at the thought of leaving their husbands or fathers; others, at the thought of the journey and leaving their homes. They were escorted by only a handful of men. If they were attacked, there would be little chance of survival. King Henried bid them all farewell. He hoped that by being there to see his loyal people depart, they would take heart and comfort in the fact that he cared for them. The gesture was well received but there was still an overwhelming feeling of loss. The Women and Children were leaving husbands and fathers in the city, probably to die. Each man had been called upon to serve the Kingdom. They had been enlisted into the army. For many, this was the last time they would ever see their family again. Shortly after the refugees had departed, the last of the fleeing soldiers entered the city. The guards kept the gates open as long as possible. From the wall, a horn bellowed across the city. Henried raced onto the parapets looking west. The sight before him made his heart sink. From this distance, the advancing enemy looked like ants; hundreds and thousands of them. From here, the only creatures to stand out clearly were the huge spiders. The rest looked like a black haze. As the enemy drew ever closer, vibrations could be felt in the castle walls as the stomping of over one hundred thousand creatures caused tremors in the ground.

  “Even the walls tremble with fear.” The King said aloud. Those in earshot looked at each other and then back to the King for a comforting word that never came. A silence crossed the city of Thorvale. The archers and infantry standing on the ramparts could only watch in horror as the enemy approached. For the warriors who were waiting in the streets, unable to see the approaching horde, it was the tremors and the consistent thud, thud of the marching feet that kept them silent. The King finally plucked up the courage to speak. He turned to face his troops in the street.

  “All hear me.” He shouted. “Our enemy is vast in number but they lack heart. If you all could see the enemy, your courage may fail. However, I want you all to take a look at each other. Each person here has something to live for. It may be a wife, a child, a business or a house. It may be the anticipation of what the next day will bring. Whatever you hold dear, keep it close to your heart now and your courage will not fail. For if you can stand in the face of such hopeless odds, you may yet see the dawn of a new day.” The crowd cheered. “Now take up your weapons and fight with courage and honour.” The sound of five thousand swords being drawn filled the city with noise.

  At the front of the attacking horde, The Watcher led the way. The walls of Thorvale were close now. The army of chaos was just out of range of the human archers when The Watcher gave the command to halt. He beckoned his generals to gather round.

  “This is the plan.” The Watcher began. “We shall use the spiders to gain entry to the city. They shall fire their webs up onto the walls then we shall charge. I want to surround the city first. The Trolls should attack from the rear. The Orcs shall attack the South wall. Goblins will attack the Northern wall and try to penetrate the gate. Each group will take four spiders. This should be more than enough to allow a full attack. I will lead the rest from here. We shall use the skeletons to nullify the effect of their archers. The spiders should be protected at all costs. Rig up shields on their bodies.”

  The generals departed shouting orders in the various different languages. The Watcher looked at the walls of Thorvale.

  “Those walls will not protect you.” He said aloud.

  The King watched on as the horde in front of him began to split up. Four individual armies were created; each one far larger than the amount of men he had in the city.

  “They are going to encircle the city.” The King shouted to the nearby commanders. “Move your men around the wall to defend all sides.”

  Whistles were blown as the commanders barked orders to move the troops. When the movement had finished the King looked along the Western Wall. It looked barely defended. Thorvale was a large city, each wall spanning a mile in length. He ordered some more infantry up onto the wall to fill in the gaps. This left the streets with little defence. Suddenly, all noise ceased. The movement, both inside and outside the wall, had been completed and all that could be heard was the sound of the wind whistling across the plains. As the King looked out at the army that faced the Western Wall he could just make out a figure. It was a large cloaked figure. In its hand, a white horn was being clutched. For a moment, the King felt as though both he and the figure were looking each other directly in the eye. Then the horn was raised and a deep bellow echoed across the land. The skeletons started forward. They were being followed by four huge spiders.

  “Archers! Prepare to fire.” The King commanded.

 
The call was echoed and repeated all along the wall. The archers lit their arrows ready to send them crashing into the oil filled mud of the field. The skeletons came closer. Henried had never seen a sight like it. He never wanted to see one again.

  “Fire” He commanded.

  The arrows lit up the sky. As they did, Henried thought about the refugees. He prayed they had escaped to safety. The thought was soon taken from his mind as the ground in front of the city walls burst into flame. The front rows of skeletons seemed to disappear; engulfed by the fire. It was at least a minute before they could be seen again. This single minute felt like an eternity. Then, blackened and burning, the skeletons emerged. The King and his soldiers looked on anxiously. Some of the skeletons continued to burn, fragments of rotting flesh catching on fire. The rest were seemingly unharmed.

  “The fire, it does nothing.” One of the archers cried out.

  “It has halted the progress of those spiders.” Another said. The King listened to this conversation. He realised that the battle was hopeless. Soon the flames would die and the spiders would come. Suddenly, he noticed the enemy had no siege platforms.

  The King addressed the archers, “Silence men, they cannot penetrate the walls as they have not siege towers or catapults.” This calmed the men temporarily. The flames in the field finally died away. The spiders began their approach, their long legs moving jerkily towards the city. The skeletons had taken a battering but very few had fallen. Arrows had been raining down on them for some time. The arrows could not kill them but many of the skeletons had broken bones making them less effective for the battle. The spiders stopped about twenty metres from the wall. They rose up onto their rear four legs. They fired huge webs up onto the castle wall. Henried suddenly realised what they were doing.

  “Take out the spiders, cut their webs.” He bellowed to archers and infantrymen alike.

  Archers rained down arrow after arrow onto the spiders. The enemy had done a good job in shielding them. Very few arrows hit anything other than wood and metal. Infantrymen hacked at the webs with their swords. They could hit only the part of the web that was attached to the top of the ramparts. As their swords connected, they seemed to spring off causing no damage at all. The skeletons had started their ascent. They were using the webs as a ramp to scale the walls of the castle. The angle of the incline was fairly gentle. This meant that the creatures could run up the web rather than climb; allowing them to be ready to attack as soon as they reached the top.

  “The ultimate ladder.” Henried said to himself, amazed at how organised the enemy seemed to be. The ringing of steel on steel sounded. The first skeletons had reached the top of the wall. Soon the sounds of fighting could be heard from all directions. From the south, north and east, the enemy had also scaled the walls. Over the noise of the clashing steel, screams echoed across the city and soldiers fell. The King watched events unfold around him. He looked out across the plane to see the rest of the enemy forces advancing. Henried tried to spot the black figure he had seen earlier. There was no sign of it. Henried wondered what or who the black figure was. He didn’t really wish to find out. The fighting was drawing close to where he was standing. The King unsheathed his sword and cut his royal cloak from his shoulders. With a deep breath, he charged an advancing skeleton. The first swing saw the skeleton’s head fly over the wall. It did not slow the skeleton at all. Although the skeleton could not see, it continued to swing wildly at the air. Henried jumped out of the way to avoid a huge swing of the blade before jumping in and hacking off the sword arm of the skeleton. He then continued to chop the rest of the body up into little pieces. His first opponent had been easy. However, soon enough they were attacking in numbers. The army of Thorvale were beginning to bunch up on the walls. The sheer number of enemy attacking overwhelmed them. Soon the King was forced down into the streets. He took a moment to look up at the walls. All he could see was skeletons. These were now starting to be joined by other creatures. His attention was brought back to the street as the huge wooden gate to the city, splintered and crashed open. The Watcher rushed through, his wraiths followed. They chopped through the infantrymen as if they were made of air. Limbs flew into the air. Blood was now running down the street, filling the cobbles. The fighting had been going for no more than ten minutes but the King realised that it was too late; the city of Thorvale had fallen. The wraiths were then in front of him, attacking his troops. As one of the men standing in front of him fell, the King lunged forward, stabbing his sword into the torso of the wraith. He had caught it unaware. The Wraith disappeared in a puff of black smoke. A penetrating screech came from the other Wraiths, symbolising the death of one of their own kind. The screech deafened some of the men and affected the balance of others. Many more men fell quickly. The King felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned to see the huge black figure he had seen on the plain. Henried froze, the creature before him was hideous.

  “Who are you?” He asked shaken by the awesome creature in front of him. “Are you Bhryll?” The King may have seen Bhryll before but this creature bore a likeness.

  The Watcher laughed aloud; a laugh of pure evil.

  “I am but a shadow of Bhryll.” The Watcher began. “He created me. I am his child.”

  The King looked around to see if he could gain an advantage over his opponent but no opportunities presented themselves. Henried would just have to fight.

  “Your city belongs to me now, human.” The Watcher said raising his sword. The blade came crashing down from over the head of The Watcher. Henried jumped aside and the sword crashed into the cobbled stone sending shards of stone scattering into the air. The sword became lodged in the ground for a moment. Henried seized the opportunity and drove his blade into the chest of The Watcher. He howled and swung his arm. It struck Henried in the stomach sending him flying through the window of a nearby building. He landed on a soft bed. Winded, Henried picked himself up and headed out of the rear of the building. The street was empty; the fighting had not gotten to this part yet. The King knew that his city had fallen. There was nothing he could do now except escape and warn the others. He made his way to the palace. Hidden in his chamber was a secret passage that led out beneath the city walls and down to the shore. It looked like a sewage pipe and indeed was so nobody would suspect it was a secret way in or out. He just hoped that the damage the fire had done to the palace had not affected his escape route. Henried reached the palace in a few minutes. As he entered the courtyard, the servants and blacksmiths were doing their best to set up a defence. The King knew this would be futile.

  “If you want to live, follow me.” The King shouted. Then he added, “Make sure the palace gates are locked.”

  Two serving girls ran to the gates and pushed them closed. They locked them and followed the crowd. The palace was badly damaged. In places the ceiling had fallen in making progress towards the King’s bedchamber difficult and slow. They passed through the great hall and into the royal wing. They moved through the corridors as quickly as they could. As they neared the King’s chamber, their path was obstructed by a cave-in.

  “We cannot get passed.” The King shouted as he tried to move some of the rubble.

  One of the blacksmiths came forward.

  “We may be able to go round it.” He said.

  “These corridors are very linear. There is only one way in and out. It was designed like this to make it easy to defend.” The King retorted.

  “If we go into the room that we have just passed, I should be able to blow through the wall with these explosives.” The Blacksmith said holding up some dynamite. The expression on the face of the King lightened.

  “Feel free to try.”

  The blacksmith was the only one to enter the room. He positioned the dynamite at the foot of the wall and then lit the fuse. He burst out of there like a cat that had burnt its tail.

  There was a huge explosion followed by the sound of rocks falling. They opened the door. The room was full of dust.


  “I cannot see a thing.” The King said. They waited a few seconds more. A sound came from down the corridor.

  “The enemy has entered the palace.” The King whispered. “We go through blind.” He took the hand of one of the serving girls and commanded everyone to join hands. They formed a line through the thick dust. Henried tripped over many times as he tried to get through the room. He was blind and disorientated. Suddenly, a light emerged. He could see a fire in the next room caused by the explosion. Using this as a guiding beacon, they passed through the hole in the wall. They were not yet in the Kings room but they had negated the obstacle. They headed into the corridor again, this time on the other side of the blocked passage. A large thudding sound came from the other side of the rubble.

  “They are close.” The King shouted. There was a screech from the other side of the rubble. The enemy had heard them.

  “Run” The King commanded. The group bolted into the King’s room. He ran to the fireplace and pulled a lever hidden by the side of it. The entire fireplace shifted to one side leaving a small gap that only one person at a time could pass through. The King ushered everyone through into the small, tight passageway. Footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside the room. The King dived through into the passage and pulled a lever from within the passageway. The fireplace slammed back into position. The group had to walk, crouching down, for nearly two hours. They were safe now so they stopped for an occasional rest when it was needed. Finally they emerged onto the shore.

  “Head for the Sacred Hills, it is the only place you will be safe.” The King commanded.

  “But what about you, what will you do?” One of the serving girls asked.

  “I am going to correct a mistake. I have sent our people into great danger. There should be another branch of our army setting traps in the second city. I will go to Beskholme and lead our people to the Sacred Hills.”

  “That is folly. You will never make it.” A Blacksmith said.

  “I am the King of this land. It is my job to make sure that my people are safe; or die trying.”

  The blacksmith nodded.

  “Good luck and may the gods smile down on you. I think you will need their help.”

  This time the King nodded. They went their separate ways.

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