Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos)

by Graham Carmichael

  Chapter 28

  The armies of chaos had no certainty of winning the battle. The odds were on their side but the will and determination of the humans, plus the extraordinary amount of planning they had done, could tip this battle in their favour. However, from the south, Bhryll led another two hundred thousand creatures to the battlefield. They would not arrive today but by the first light of the new day, they would march upon the forces of Thorntonvale. The humans knew nothing of this. Bhryll had recalled his pack of wolves after they had found the humans and changed his enchantment. Now, instead of scouting for a large army of humans, the wolves were to hunt down individuals. The wolves were tasked with finding any and all human scouts and killing them. Bhryll did not believe he needed the element of surprise but his sadistic mind wanted to see the reaction on the faces of the humans. He felt that it would be priceless and a lasting memory of the day he claimed the land he felt was rightfully his. There was nothing left to do now but wait. His loyal servant, The Watcher, had done his job and resurrected him. Bhryll’s devastating escape from the palace of the humans had instilled the fear of the gods into them. The sight of his armies and the ease at which they landed on the shore and took the capital city should have broken the will of the people of Thorntonvale. This Kingdom was merely a stepping stone to greater things; world domination. This was also going to be the only Kingdom where he would leave nobody alive. For all the other Kingdoms, Bhryll only intended to enslave them; have them bow down and call him master. Thorntonvale was another matter. He wanted revenge. He wanted the soil of this Kingdom to be tarnished with the blood of thousands. By the morrow, either The Watcher will have completed his task, or he would have to finish the job himself. Either option was acceptable. The huge army continued its advance. Bhryll continued to ponder the future.

  The drums began to beat. A howling roar boomed across the battlefield as the chaos army heard the thumping. The enemy began to look hazy from this distance as they started their advance, kicking up plumes of dust. The drums were not the only things beating. In the chest of each human who had graced the field of battle, hearts thumped furiously. The troops trembled in their armour from the sheer terror they felt and the amount of adrenaline that was pumping through their veins. This was it, the pinnacle moment in the course of the defence of the Kingdom of Thorntonvale. Each minute that passed, the advancing army drew slowly closer and the tempo of the drums increased. The Orcs were the first to enter the labyrinth of wooden stakes and sharp wire. As they moved they tried to knock the stakes down. Very few fell as they had been hammered deep into the ground. In the light of the day, the wire traps were clearly visible. They were still successful though. The Orcs did not have the heart for this battle. Being sent in first only added to their fear. They wanted to get into the fray quickly, so they could get it over with. In their haste, the Orcs would push each other forward so many injured themselves. By the time they were only a tenth of the way through the defences, nearly two hundred had been seriously wounded. Soon they would be faced with the manhole traps. The gap between stakes seemed to widen. The Orcs tried to adopt more organised lines to advance. This played right into the hands of the humans. The more Orcs that stood on a manhole at any one time, the more that would fall and die. The first group of Orcs arrived at one of the many traps. They walked across the camouflaged trap. It was rigged not to collapse until there was a lot of pressure in the middle. A lone figure would probably have made it across. However, there were twenty Orcs in the first party. The trap gave way and they all plummeted into a twenty foot pit. Most died as they hit the bottom but some landed on their comrades, breaking their fall. Some may have been alive but it did them little good; they were trapped. Many fell, the traps were highly effective. The casualty figures were rising but the two armies were yet to engage in battle. By the time the last manhole trap had been discovered, nearly five thousand Orcs had been slain or entrapped. The sight of this helped raise the moral of the human army.

  “I cannot believe how well our traps are working.” The King said to the other commanders. “What surprises do we have for our enemy next?” The King said turning to James, the organiser of the defence.

  “The next bit is my favourite.” James said with a wry smile on his face. “We managed to gather gallons of oil. We plan to set it alight when the bulk of the enemy are within range. This means that we may have to engage the Orcs but if my calculations are correct, the tougher creatures will burn making the fight much easier.” James replied.

  “For one so young, you have the mind of a master tactician.” The King complemented. “I assume we can still fire at our enemy?”

  “Of course we can. That was the plan anyway.” James said.

  “Good, let’s get the archers firing.” Henried ordered as he walked away to organise his archers.

  Horns and whistles sounded throughout the ranks of humans. A lot of hustle and bustle went on before nearly ten thousand archers stepped to the fore.

  “Fire at will but do not light your arrows until ordered to do so.” The King shouted. The individual army commanders repeated the command so that everyone could hear. The twanging sound of the bows was followed by the snake-like hissing sound of the arrows racing into the air. Folly after folly crashed into the approaching Orcs who were now three quarters of the way through the defences. Bodies fell to the ground, seemingly at random from the perspective of the humans, as the arrows struck. After only a couple of minutes, large gaps could be seen forming in the Orc ranks. The advance was slowing as the already limited courage of the Orcs faltered. As the first wave of enemy neared the end of the static defence, the archers were ordered back and the infantry formed up ready to hack down anything that emerged from between the stakes. As the first line of Orcs charged through, they were cut down with ease. They had no will to fight but there was no turning back. They knew that the humans would kill them quickly. If they turned to flee, Bhryll would torture them for eternity.

  Despite the damage done to their ranks, the Orc hordes were now attacking in their numbers. General Targe and his troops were the first to engage and up until this point, were holding their ground. However, the numbers were starting to overwhelm them.

  The King looked across at John and sounded the horn he was carrying. John looked across and could see the King gesturing for his men to join the battle. John turned to his troops.

  “We shall attack from the side. Remember; go in hard to disrupt their attack.”

  With that, the commanders John had appointed barked orders at their troops. Almost five thousand men began to move very swiftly. They moved to the left of where the attack was taking place and circled around. They charged as soon as the last line of men had rotated. Several rows of Orcs were cut down instantly. The addition of John’s army to this fight significantly evened up the odds of successfully fending off the initial attack. Ten Thousand humans engaged twenty thousand Orcs. The odds may still have been two to one against the humans winning but the Orcs were now fighting on two fronts; the humans adopting a pincer attack.

  All the Orcs had now entered the field of battle and were engaged in combat. The other creatures were now nearing the end of the defences and would soon enter the clearing where the battle was raging.

  “It is time for the flaming arrows.” James shouted at the King over the din of the battle. Henried nodded his approval before moving to the head of his army. It was nearly time for all remaining forces to join the battle. The Orcs were merely cannon fodder; their sole purpose was to weaken and tire the humans. The more powerful creatures were soon to enter the fray. Following his orders, Rhyll had not engaged the Orcs. It had been agreed that he would save his men for when the Skeletons and Trolls appeared. The sheer power and physical presence of the barbarian horde would have more success against them than the human soldiers would have. Using their large weapons, Bastard Swords and War hammers, the skeletons especially would be susceptible. The Trolls would be a different matter. They were strong and feroci
ous, just like the barbarians. It would be a test for both parties.

  John swung his sword wildly. He had a bloodlust brought on by the need to avenge his father’s death. He was going to cut down anything that moved until either the entire enemy had fallen or his own life was taken. Conrad, not always eager to get involved in open combat, acted as John’s personal bodyguard. He had followed closely behind John as he entered the battle. He still engaged those that had pushed passed the raging bull that was John, but he did not openly jump onto the front line. A couple of times already, John had left his back exposed to an attack. Conrad was not engaged in battle when the first Orc attacked John from behind. Conrad had swiftly lunged at the Orc with his sword. The enemy creature was impaled through its right rib, sending it falling to the ground. A swift blow to the head finished that creature. The next time Conrad saved John’s life was a close affair. The thief had engaged two Orcs and was rapidly dispatching them. Unfortunately, at the same time he engaged the enemy, another Orc approached John. As the two Orcs lunged at him, Conrad jumped backwards dropping his sword. He pulled out two daggers from his belt and launched them. Both hit their targets square in the chest. With blinding speed, Conrad gathered up his sword and launched it towards the Orc attacking John. The sword only impaled the Orc’s leg but it distracted it for a split second. The gasp of pain alerted John to the danger and with a swift turn, he decapitated the Orc.

  A whistling noise shot over their heads. There was no time to look up but judging by the way the battleground lit up, they guessed that the flaming arrows had been loosed. Sure enough, within seconds the telltale crackle of fire could be heard along with the crashing of steel. Terrifying screams shot across the plains from those that had been engulfed by the flames. James had not been able to get enough oil to cover the entire defensive plain but he had identified sections that the most susceptible creatures would be. Sure enough, many creatures burned to their deaths. It was a horrific sight. Creatures were wriggling and running to put out the flames. The flesh of the creatures that had any could be seen blistering and bubbling. A rotten, fetid smell filled the air causing many of the humans to feel quite nauseous. It was impossible to tell how many fell to the fires but another large dint had been made in the enemy ranks.

  The last remaining Orcs were hacked down mercilessly only to be replaced by the charging, rage fuelled remnants of the Goblins. The small, wiry creatures used their swords with far more grace and skill than the Orcs had displayed. The two front lines were now very evenly matched but numbers were on the side of the humans in this instance. The more ferocious creatures were still either caught up in the labyrinth of stakes or were trying to circumnavigate the fires. Rhyll was tempted to charge his troops into the fray seeing that the humans were now finding the going a little more difficult. He somehow managed to curb his natural instinct. He felt like he could have raced in and demolished the goblins, just like his tribe did every year on their annual hunting weeks on Cursed Isle. The barbarians knew the weaknesses of the Goblins only too well. Rhyll had a more important job to do though. He had to remain disciplined, despite his instincts. He owed the humans and his own people that much.

  Someone else was thinking similar thoughts as Rhyll. King Henried felt the time had come for an all out attack. He blew his horn several times to get the attention of the remaining generals. He indicated with his hand the signal for all out attack. Twenty five thousand more humans joined the fray. They temporarily had the advantage over the Goblins but this was soon to change. As more and more creatures engaged, the push of the advancing army was moving the humans away from their defences. All the traps had been used, the battle was now gathering pace. The traps had been successful; the humans now had the greater numbers.

  The goblin lines were strong and holding. This had given the other creatures time to enter the battle. After nearly a couple of hours of intense fighting, the Skeletons entered the fray. They had only one thousand capable fighting units but they would still pose a massive threat to the swordsmen. Now it was Rhyll’s turn to enter the battle.

  “Let us do what we do best.” He shouted at his tribe. “Leave none alive.” A mighty roar erupted as the barbarian warriors charged the skeletons. The inertia of the charge and the rapid, controlled way in which the barbarians swung their war hammers allowed them to cut through the skeletons with ease. Bones snapped and bodies shattered as the Skeletons were systematically destroyed in the barbarian frenzy. They were fighting behind the goblin lines and were driving the skeletons back towards the defences. The next race, the Trolls, were struggling to get their huge frames through the narrow gaps. Many had fallen and speared themselves. As such, there would be no immediate backup for the outclassed skeletons. The five hundred barbarians achieved victory within minutes. However, they now found themselves in a precarious position. If they engaged the Tolls from their current position, they would have their backs to the attacking goblins. The Goblins may have been engaged with the human infantry but some would turn to harass the barbarians. Manoeuvrability would be paramount if they were to defeat the Trolls. The Barbarians picked objects from the ground and launched them at the approaching trolls. They needed to divert them away from the main attack. As they backed away, they were careful not to get to close to the ever advancing goblin backline. The ploy seemed to work. Angered at being taunted, the Trolls moved in the direction of the Barbarians.

  The humans were still fighting bravely. John and Conrad had formed a very effective team. As John shrugged off attacks, he pulled goblins behind him. Conrad then struck with deadly accuracy. It was a tactic that nearby troops employed to differing degrees of success. Nobody had realised quite how far they had been pushed back. Losses were now difficult to determine. The chaos and the noise made issuing simple orders a difficult task. John and Conrad had adopted an ‘every man for himself’ approach to the battle. It only worked because his men were very experienced and very well drilled. The King commanded troops of massively varying experience. Despite the chaos, Henried remained determined to stay close to the novice warriors. He would often issue simple commands to keep the defensive lines tight or shout out words of praise and encouragement when he saw that courage was failing. He was doing the job of a good commander. He was doing his job as King.

  The Trolls finally broke though the defensive barriers. A line of lone barbarian warriors acted as bait to ensure that the Trolls would not go near the main attack force. As the Trolls approached, they would turn and run, forcing the Trolls to chase them. Lacking in strategic awareness, the Trolls were gullible prey. This tactic worked better than Rhyll could possibly have hoped. He addressed his men, shouting at the top of his lungs just to be heard over the din.

  “Divide and conquer is the tactic here. As they charge, separate and give yourselves plenty of room to move. If we get boxed in, we will die. Remember what you learned from our encounter in the forest.” There were no roars of fury this time. All who had fought in the Coastal Forest when the army of chaos landed knew that this would be no simple victory. They would have to fight like they had never fought before. Only a small group of Trolls attacked them in the woods. Here, Two thousand or more were approaching. The initial charge sent most of the barbarians running to gain space. The Trolls were a fiercely strong race. Their only desire was the total destruction of almost all other races. They enjoyed fighting barbarians as they were one of the only races who could oppose them. Even the smallest Troll was at least a foot taller than the tallest barbarian. This gave them a massive physical advantage as well as a numerical one. Rhyll engaged a huge Troll. He swung his war hammer high to try and crash it into the chest of his foe. The Troll was surprisingly agile for such a large creature. It retaliated with a sideward swing with its spiked club. Rhyll dropped to the ground to avoid the blow. As he did so, he noticed that his enemy’s knee caps were exposed. He saw an opportunity. Jumping back to his feet, he raised his war hammer as if he was going to attack high again. He swung but at the last second d
ropped to his knees bringing the trajectory of the hammer on a collision course with the Troll’s knee cap. A loud cracking noise erupted as the hammer connected. The Troll howled in pain and dropped to the floor. Rhyll then jumped onto its chest and, with one mighty blow, caved in its skull.

  “Aim for the knees.” He shouted over the din. All but the closest barbarians did not hear him. However, the same tactic was soon adopted as they all followed each others’ success. Soon the barbarians were gaining the upper hand. The size and temperament of the Trolls made them an easy target for dirty tactics. They could not formulate a plan to respond or adapt. Soon, the Trolls were falling as easily as the skeletons had before them. Whilst the barbarians were engaged, the Wraiths and the spiders had entered the melee. The Wraiths saw that the goblins were still engaged and doing fairly well so they advanced on the barbarians. The spiders began firing large webs into the human crowds thus rendering them unable to move. The humans still had the advantage but things were getting more and more difficult as tiredness set in. John had received a number of nasty cuts. He had started the battle with too much ferocity that he had burned himself out. He was faltering on a regular basis now. Conrad was still fresh but he had done only a fraction of the work that John had. One of the smaller goblins confronted John. It did not look like it had the physical prowess to defeat him but it had amazing speed and agility. It quickly tied the weary figure of John in knots with its quick thrusts and rapid slashes. John was disarmed by a dazzling display of swordsmanship but just at the moment the goblin was about to end the life of its foe, John was violently pulled away by Conrad. They disappeared through the crowd.

  “I thought I was going to die back there.” John said when they reached a safe distance. “Thanks for saving me.”

  “Hey, think nothing of it. You are hurt pretty bad though. You need to get seen to and stitched up. Come, I will escort you into Bowton where you can get medical aid.”

  John put his arm around Conrad for support; he suddenly felt very weak. They made their way inside the town walls that were now only a couple of hundred metres away from the main battle. Inside the town, the only remaining structure was the medical centre; hastily reconstructed after the original one was pulled down a little too hastily. They entered a rickety old hut that looked like a witches abode. Inside, the place was heaving with activity. Human healers worked in conjunction with a wide range of other people. A beautiful woman wearing a blood stained cloak attended to John.

  “This should only take a minute and you will be as good as to new.” The Woman said in a cheery voice. She then began an incantation.

  “A priestess.” John said to Conrad “What is she doing here?”

  “I have no idea. I thought that they were all staying at the temple.”

  “We were going to.” The woman said instantly replying. “We knew that our powers of healing may come in useful so a small group of us were sent to help.”

  “Your powers will come in most useful.” John began. “My arm feels so much better.”

  “The rest of your wounds will feel better soon.” The woman said beginning another spell. Soon all the injuries John had suffered were gone.

  “Many thanks, good lady. Now I must go back to the battle.”

  “You are very welcome.” The woman replied.

  As John and Conrad left the rickety medical hut, they ran out of the gates to see a sight that filled them with dread. The goblins had pushed even further forward. The humans were tiring and falling rapidly. To the left of the main attack, the barbarians were being overwhelmed. The Wraiths had entered the battle and had been too fast and cunning for the barbarians. Rhyll had managed to destroy a few of them but he was quickly becoming surrounded. The spacing tactic that had worked so effectively against the Trolls had the opposite effect against the Wraiths. John and Conrad ran up to a large battalion of men, left leaderless when their general had fallen, and ordered them to follow. They obeyed instantly glad for the guidance. The newly formed group, led by John and Conrad, charged at the Wraiths. The charge forced the Wraiths away from the barbarians and condensed them into a single line. Now the humans and barbarians would have a better chance against these evil creatures.

  “You are a lifesaver, John.” Rhyll shouted.

  “Thank me later or better yet, save my life if I should need it saving.” John Replied.

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  They continued the fight. The wraiths continued to make some ground but they were now outnumbered. Guided by the experience of Conrad, John, and Rhyll, the soldiers and barbarians started to gain the advantage over a powerful enemy.

  The King continued fought valiantly despite his problematic leg. Adrenaline had taken over and he barely felt the pain. The novice troops he had been commanding were all dead. They had fought with bravery and courage but they never had a hope of surviving this battle. They had the fitness and the discipline but they lacked the skill and tactical awareness of a more experienced soldier. The goblin pack seemed to be breaking up where the King was fighting.

  “Are we winning?” He shouted to anyone who could hear.

  “You are losing.” A deep, gruff voice said.

  The King turned to see the imposing, black figure of The Watcher. This time he felt no fear. Henried was willing to lay his life down for the good of the Kingdom. Here was his chance to slay his would be oppressor. He did not know that the army of chaos intended to kill every last man, woman and child of Thorntonvale. He figured that those that would not fight would be enslaved.

  “You will never take me alive.” The King said boldly.

  “That is the intention.” The Watcher replied coldly. “We will destroy all the people of this puny little kingdom.”

  “You would even destroy the women and children?” The King asked to clarify his enemy’s response.

  “All shall perish.”

  “If that is to be the case, start with me.” The King raised his sword and rushed The Watcher. Despite his years, the King fought with the speed, agility and intensity of a man half his age. He did not try to block the blows of his enemy as he knew that he could not. Instead, he looked like he was performing some strange dance. Each blow The Watcher aimed at him was met with nothing but air. The King thrust his sword into the chest of his enemy time and time again. However, little effect was it having. The demoralising factor was that it did not seem to slow The Watcher at all. The goblins were thinning out now. The archers had launched their nets over the spiders with surprising success. The spiders had gone berserk and had effectively ended their own lives as they struggled to get out of the nets. Rhyll, John and Conrad had finally managed to overwhelm the Wraiths. They were about to charge at the remaining goblins when they noticed the King’s battle with The Watcher. The three of them looked at one another.

  “Let’s go.” Rhyll said with an evil gleam in his eye. The others followed his charge. They waded through any goblins that stood in their way. They reached The Watcher just as he landed a sideward blow on the King. Henried was knocked to the ground. The Watcher was just about to kill his opponent when the adventurers began their assault. The Watcher defended himself well, parrying blow after blow and counterattacking when the opportunity arose. The three adventurers attacked savagely and relentlessly. The Watcher began to flounder, taking a number of blows to the arms and torso. The final blow came from Rhyll as he smashed his hammer down on the head of The Watcher, felling him where he stood. The evil creature managed to speak,

  “You may think that you have won but you are wrong. Soon you all will be dead.” An evil laugh bellowed out from the mouth of the now helpless creature.

  “Shut your mouth.” Rhyll ordered as he brought down the finishing blow.

  They looked around. The battlefield was growing quiet. Only a few isolated noises could be heard as steel connected with steel. The sound of battle was replaced with the sound of the injured moaning.

  “We have done it.” Conrad said in an excited ton
e. “We have won the battle.”

  “Calm yourself, Conrad.” The King began. “We may have won this battle but I fear the war is not over yet. We have seen no sign of our true enemy.”

  “That is true. Bhryll has yet to show his face.” John said

  “Surely he cannot have many more creatures left to send against us. I can’t imagine that Cursed Isle will have held many more creatures than what turned out today.” Rhyll quizzed.

  The King responded coldly, “I doubt that Bhryll needs an army to take us down. He could probably resurrect every man who has died on this field and use them against us. If this is the case, we are doomed.”

  “Well, for now at least, we have won.” Conrad said trying to keep the mood optimistic. “I say we get some well earned rest and worry about the God of Chaos tomorrow.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.” The King agreed.

  As they all walked back towards Bowton, they stumbled across a body that they all recognised. James was lying, face down in the grass. Rhyll bent down to turn him over. James let out a moan.

  “He is still alive, but only just.” Rhyll said.

  “We need to get him to the priestesses; they will know what to do.” John said.

  “There are no priestesses for a hundred miles.” The King replied.

  “That is not true. There are a couple in Bowton.” Conrad stated.

  They moved quickly. Rhyll carried the injured and limp body of James to the medical hut. The woman whom helped John came to their assistance.

  “I can only prolong his life a little.” She said looking at his wounds. “You will need to take him to the temple to be healed fully.”

  “Ok, do what you can.” The King ordered.

  The procedure seemed to take a long time. Nerves were frayed from the battle but this was the worst part of all; the waiting to see if James would live. The woman finally finished.

  “You need to send him off now. Others need to be transported as well.”

  “We will organise an escort.” The King replied. “We shall send all those that bare injury. The ones who are not too badly injured can escort those that are. We cannot spare any who are fit. Organise this for me, John.”

  John did so immediately. Before the last rays of the sun had dipped below the western horizon, the wounded were on their way.

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