by Shawn Muller
“Steady men! Raise shields! Archers fire when in range!” the commands sounded from Max and me.
Cries of surprise and pain reached our ears as the lead orcs began to fall foul of our traps. Those charging behind their trapped brethren simply ran over them, crushing the severely wounded orcs to death. The traps were simple in design, a pit ranging in depth from about knee to ankle deep, but filled with wooden spikes. The deeper holes had spikes in the walls as well, pointing downwards. This would prevent the orc from pulling his foot out without doing even more damage. Soon, even the crazed, berserk orcs realised the dangers of running without looking. Some started to prod ahead with their axes, discovering the traps before they could step in them. But by then they were within bow range. The small archer force on the rocks began to take their toll on the orcs. Those making slow progress by prodding ahead were shot down by arrows, while those running ahead of the pack were left to fall into the traps. Soon though, the lead orcs reached the sand walls and were slowly making their way up the wall. The spikes on the walls hampered their movement, while we stood on the wall and waited for them to get a bit closer.
“Company! Present spears!” my order rang out, confirmed up and down the line by Max and Titanius.
Well drilled, the men lining the walls bent down and lifted up a short spear each, holding it upright in their right hands behind their shields, which were in front of them held up by their left arms.
“Lower spears!” Automatically the men lowered their spears, almost in unison, aiming the razor-sharp tips at the closing orcs’ chests.
“Lock shields! And thrust!”
The front-ranked men shuffled closer to each other so that their shields were just about touching each other, with the spear jutting out towards the orcs.
As the first orc was within range, my order went out and the first rank of men began to stab down at the orcs, skewering them before they could react. The dead and wounded orcs fell back and rolled down the small sand wall, before disappearing as they were transported by the spells back to the staging areas.
“Second line! Lower spears and thrust!”
The second line of defenders copied the process of the first, locking their shields and thrusting forward with their spears.
By now most of the orcs had made it through the traps and were either at the base of the wall, or climbing the wall. Fremod stood in the middle of the gate, swinging his huge maul left and right, knocking orcs over like wheat under a farmer’s scythe. Max was to his left, Titanius his right. I was moving up and down the lines, lending support where needed. The archers continued to rain down arrows into the mass of orcs, while the wall held fast. The orcs could not gain proper footing with which to fight, and after an hour of fighting, a call for a withdrawal was sounded. Slowly, and reluctantly at first, they left the walls, but steadily more and more left until all were withdrawing out of bow range. By now, all of the traps were empty from dead and wounded Orcs as they too, had been transported or teleported back to the camps. Most of the spikes on the walls were pulled down, leaving only a mass of uprooted poles and churned up soil on the walls and at the base.
The reserves I left at the bottom on our side brought up water for us to drink, while those who were not seriously wounded were taken down to be treated. Some men would not need that treatment and were already resting at Port Eire, their battle over for now. I led my commanders to my tent for a quick meeting.
“How do we stand?” I asked them.
“We are down twenty percent of our men already,” Max replied.
“Otherwise, the morale is up, seeing as we beat them back. Supplies are good so far.”
“Estimates on them?”
“Well, it’s hard to say, but I would estimate close to a third, maybe more are out of action. They are tough bastards to fight,” Titanius answered.
“Mmm, not as good as what I had hoped. Our defences are pretty much not going to hold forever, our only advantage was the traps, but now that they are gone, we must resort to the wall. Suggestions?” I asked.
“We have already covered our main objective of keeping the orcs out of the fight. Killing more is just a bonus. But we should not sacrifice ourselves for that,” Fremod answered.
“I agree with Fremod. We hold for one more assault then pull back when they do. If they break through, we hurry the process and hold them off at the pass to let the wounded leave,” Pebbles added.
“Right, we hold the line for one more assault. Then we pull back and head for the escape rally point. For now, all the wounded must be evacuated. Pebbles, you lead the Dwarves with the wounded back to rally point. Kimba, I want you to lead the rear guard. For now, hold the walls. Pivara will lead the archers on the rocks. Time to throw down the thorns. You will help cover the retreat, but you must also be the first on horseback. The rest of us will carry on as previous, for now until I sound the withdrawal. Any questions?” I asked as I looked around.
None came, leaving me to dismiss them to their duties. Mia, who was in the tent as well, stopped me before I could leave. “And what are your plans for me?” she asked.
“I don’t suppose I can ask you to leave with the Dwarves?”
“No, I cannot.”
“Fair enough, be safe,” she said softly.
I looked deep into her eyes, seeing something there but too afraid to hope it was. A horn sounded before anything else could be said. I hurried to the walls to see the orcs begin the next assault.
This time, there was no mad dash to the walls. Babar led them in an orderly fashion. It seemed that their berserk rage had ended, and they marched determinedly now.
“Steady, Ghosts! We got a real fight on our hands now!” Fremod shouted.
“No we don’t! Look at them! They fear us! Why are they not rushing us?” I taunted.
“What’s the matter? Scared of some humans?” The men around me began to laugh and join in on the taunts.
“Good idea, Bob, getting them angry will affect their thinking,” Fremod said.
Kimba and Mycotaur joined in on the taunting, which was too much for some of the orcs. Those orcs broke rank and charged headlong at our line. Babar tried to maintain order, but he was drowned out by his men’s angry shouts. More and more orcs broke rank and charged us. The front-runners were quickly brought down by arrow fire. When the ones behind them made it to the wall they were killed by our spears. Soon the entire orc mass was beating down on us again. The killing on both sides continued for a long time, no side willing to concede defeat. The orcs on Babar’s side became more and more enraged, my orcs more focused, my men more resolute in their defence. I received word from Pivara that the archers were beginning to run low on arrows. I sent word back with the messenger to carry out their surprise then and fall back to the horses.
“Hang in their boys! We got them now!” I shouted above the noise of the battle.
Of course, the enemy orcs never liked that and they began to throw themselves at us. Many landed on spears, dragging the spears out of the defenders’ hands as they slid back down the wall which was now very slippery and muddy from all the spilt blood. The first line of defenders were now using their swords and axes to fight the orcs, while most of the second was committed into the first because of the gaps left by the dead and wounded.
Without warning, large bales of dried thorn bushes were thrown off the rocks onto the orcs below. While the weight of the bales did knock a few to the floor, most just ignored them. Soon a large amount of dead wood lay among the orcs, who ignored the thorns in their blind fury. Minutes later, lanterns filled with oil followed the bales, crashing on and among the orcs, drenching both them and the wood in the oil. The archers appeared on the edge of the rocks, looking over the roiling mass of fighters. Each archer had a flaming arrow nocked in their bow, or a flaming torch in their hand. Babar looked up to see where the oil was coming from, and very quickly realised what was about to happen. Being right in the front of the fight, he grabbed an orc next to him and used it
as a shield, bashing his way through our lines, crashing onto the floor below him as the first arrow hit the oil and wood. A loud whoosh! followed as more arrows and torches ignited the oil and wood. Desperate cries of pain were heard immediately as the orcs were caught in a deadly inferno.
Fremod was on top of Babar before he could regain his feet, knocking him out cold with a gentle tap to the head with his blood-drenched maul. Tying him up, Fremod hauled him off to one side as a few desperate orcs crashed over the wall, only to be killed on the spot by my men.
“Bob! Behind you!” Carl shouted.
I glanced around, in time to see a knife plunge down towards my exposed neck. I threw up my arm, catching the knife on my vembrace. The blade glanced off and bit deep into my left bicep. Instinctively I stabbed the assailant with my sword, the blade sinking to the hilt in the belly of my attacker. I looked into the eyes of Vintant, one of the first Ghost Company recruits. Hatred flashed through his eyes before he vanished back to the Port Eire grounds.
I fumbled for my horn before sounded it. My men withdrew as the raging inferno began to burn the wall now. I led the men through our escape passage to the awaiting horses, try to stop the flow of blood which began to pool in my glove. Max rushed over and tied a make shift bandage over it as we followed the men through the narrow rock passage.
Fremod carried the unconscious orc leader over his shoulder before dumping him onto the ground. A litter was quickly made and fastened behind a horse, onto which we tied the orc leader before escaping.
My orcs held off a small force of orcs who had followed us, before rejoining us as we made our way through the hills, heading south before making for the prince and his army. Hopefully, the false information about our escape rally point to the north would reach Prince Owyne.
It was late that night when I called a halt. We were well away from the hills, heading due west into the plains. Babar had been awake for a good while, and was still cursing when Fremod took him off the litter and put him down near the camp fire.
“I will kill you, Bob, slowly, stripping your flesh off with a blunt spoon, making you beg for death which I won’t give you!” he shouted in my direction.
“Okay, Babar. Enough is enough,” I told him. “Let me explain something to you.”
“Explain! Let me loose and I will explain in detail how I plan on killing you!”
“Fremod, gag him until he can keep his mouth shut.”
Babar cursed the whole time, and even after he was muzzled did he mumble threats and curses.
“Oh shut up now. I did what I did to draw you away from the battle so that Prince Marcus can win. It started the night I met you, baiting you to dislike me then already so that when we met on the battlefield it would be easier to draw you away from Prince Owyne. You’re a nice guy. I like you, but my allegiance lies with Prince Marcus. That means I will do what I can to help him in any way,” I explained to him.
He seemed to calm down a bit after that.
“Fremod. Remove his gag please?” I asked.
Gingerly, the troll undid the gag before he stepped back and sat again beside me.
“So, do you understand why I did what I did? I don’t expect us to be friends, Babar, but I don’t want unnecessary enemies.”
Babar looked at me through cold eyes, before lunging in my direction. Fremod held him down, pushing Babar’s face into the dirt.
“I do realise that maybe, I have dishonoured you, by suggesting certain things towards your family. And, under normal circumstances that would not have happened. Once this battle is passed, I will personally apologise to you and your wife in front of everybody for what I have done.”
“I accept what you have done, and said leading up to today. I don’t like it now, but given time, we may be friends. Given your position, I would probably have done the same,” Babar conceded with a slight nod. “But I want more than just an apology.”
“Fair enough. What is it you want?” I asked.
“You owe me a wrestling match and I demand we have it, in front of everybody after you have apologised to my wife. There I shall humiliate you as you have humiliated me.”
“Okay. I will wrestle you to appease your honour.”
“Very well, Bob. May I sit up now?”
I nodded at Fremod climbed off the orc and helped him to sit up.
“Good. Now we can eat a bit more relaxed. Max, how are we standing?” I asked him.
“Well, I don’t know if it was a success or not, but we are down to less than half our fighting force. Everybody is wounded in some way. Others, well, they may not make it to the prince,” he said with a sombre voice.
“So we’re down to what, twenty men?” I asked.
“If we count in Tachojay and his men, then we make up eighteen men, ready to fight another day,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Damn it. We came outta there quite bad then,” I said in shock.
“Not to mention the assassination attempt on your life,” Fremod pointed out.
“Yeah, and the arm is hurting like a bitch too.”
“That’s because Vintant used a knife that was not present during the ritual,” Mia said.
“So, who ever wanted me dead, was pretty serious about it.”
“Yes. Come, let me heal it,” Mia offered.
She placed her hands over the oozing wound, closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. I felt her hands grow hotter against my skin as a yellow, white light began to glow between her fingers. I felt a slight sting around the wound before the light receded and Mia moved her hands away. Under the now dried blood was a nasty scar, but the wound and the muscles cut by the knife had been healed.
“I apologise as to the crudeness of the healing. This is not one of my strengths,” she said.
“No, no. This is awesome. Thank you very much Mia,” I said.
“Thackeray! Why can’t you do healing spells?”
“As Mia said, it’s not her strengths, and definitely not mine either. You need years of training to be able to do any healing. I never showed the aptitude for it.”
“Right. Max make a note. The next mage we get must be trained in healing,” I said.
“Excuse me Bob, you had how many men?” Babar asked me, seemingly staring at nothing.
“All together we had about fifty-three,” I replied.
“Fifty-three. You expect me to believe you only had fifty-three men manning the walls.”
“Actually, less. I had about five men still trailing Prince Owyne, waiting for a chance to assassinate him, which they did, by the way. And I had about ten archers on the rocks covering us.”
“I don’t believe you! You led thirty-five men against almost two hundred orcs! Bah! You’re a liar!” Babar said.
“It is true, Babar. We are very limited in terms of manpower in the company. But, we held you,” Fremod said.
Babar sat quietly after that, deep in thought. Later, Fremod fed him a quick supper while we ate, before we all bedded down early for the night. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be even longer.
“So how did you do it?” Babar asked me the next morning as we made our way towards Prince Marcus.
“Well, I have been planning this for a good couple of months now. What to do and how to do it. And we have been training very hard since day one. Plus, small things like the traps help even things out.”
“Yes, Fremod told me how he joined your company.”
He walked in silence once more next to my horse as we made for some distant dust clouds. Babar seemed to wake with a kind of purpose today. He was quiet and respectful towards us. I left his hands tied in front of him, but did not ask Fremod to watch him. I was sure that it would be unnecessary. Thackeray approached us not long after we had left with a message.
“Sir, Tachojay reports that they have arrived at the prince. They will stay with him until we arrive there too.”
“Great, thanks. Tell him to take a good break. We may need them again soon.”
/> “How did you find that out?” Babar asked with a new found curiosity in his eyes.
“I can’t tell you everything now, can I?” I said with a smile.
Babar once again walked in silence as we drew closer to the dust clouds. By midday, we were much closer to the dust raised by the prince’s army when one of the scouts returned from the east.