The Battle for Jordborg

by Logan Petty

  “Don't worry, Banth, We're attacking as one team now. Everyone, get those gates open! Use your drakes’ fire breath to help weaken it!”

  Jatharr looked astonished. “They can do that? Good to know!”

  Naralei rode up to the gate and looked up at the menacing portal. “Alright, Authitmál, let's see what you can do.”

  The slender drake took a deep breath and sprayed a jet of liquid at the metal hinges of one of the doors. The hinges began to smoke and corrode. Naralei looked at her drake in surprise.

  “That didn't look like fire to me. Looks like my drake can spit acid! Can you do that again on the other hinges, Authitmál?”

  The drake hesitated, then drew in another breath and opened its maw. A few drops squirted from its mouth, but did not go far. Naralei frowned, but stroked her drake's head.

  “I guess they only have limited fuel, since they're still young. Better use them wisely.”

  Sawain nodded as he swatted at an approaching zombie. “Noted. Can we knock down the door that has bad hinges?”

  More arrows pelted the ground around the Outriders from above. Banthan snarled, “I thought we took care of those guys! Archers, take the reinforcements out!”

  One of the thralls called back as he loosed an arrow on one of the enemy archers. “We're trying, but no matter how many arrows we put in those fiends, they won't go down!”

  Sawain's stomach lurched. “They're undead! Try igniting your arrows! Ghosts, be on your guard. There must be a Grey Priest around that is reviving the fallen. Stay out of its aura if at all possible!”

  Jatharr passed his torch through the ranks of archers. They tied scraps of cloth around the arrowheads as quickly as possible, then lit them and returned fire. The undead ignited where the arrows hit. Sawain did not expect the freshly fallen to catch fire so easily.

  A loud metallic groan rumbled from the gates. The weakened hinges warped dramatically. Sawain could tell it was ready to come down. He rushed for the gate, but stopped short when a wave of darkness erupted from it. The darkness washed over him. He grit his teeth as old and new wounds split his flesh apart. His fears were confirmed. There was a Grey Priest just beyond those doors. He forced himself forward as the searing pain grew. The fallen soldiers rose up all around the Outriders and their army. He could hear his friends’ cries of anguish. He had to do something or their first raid would be utter failure. He closed his eyes and gripped his blade.

  “Fire of Turin, Purge this evil!”

  He raised his sword aloft as a crackling bolt of lightning tore from the cloudless heavens, striking the sword and surging into his body. Turin’s wrath boiled Sawain’s insides as it rippled through every part of his being. The bone lion totem that hung around his neck glowed brightly as it redirected the holy surge, preventing it from hitting his heart. The divine energy erupted out of his body and into the air as a dome of white fire. It bloomed outward and incinerated every corpse in its wake. The holy blaze also burned away the Grey Priest’s aura and splashed against the enemy gate. The flames made quick work of the dry wood. Within seconds, the gate crumbled to the ground. Sawain smiled.

  Every muscle in his body tensed violently, sending shockwaves of pain throughout. He gasped and dropped to his knees as his vision darkened. Naralei rushed to his side.

  “Are you alright?”

  Sawain nodded and used his sword to pull himself back to his feet. “Yeah. Maybe that was a bit much. I need to be careful when I call on Turin's power.”

  Nara did not respond. Sawain looked at her and noticed her gaze was on the gate. She looked scared. Sawain followed her line of sight and understood. Just beyond the burning timbers where the gate once stood were at least a hundred of the masked berserkers, some dead, some alive, all with weapons drawn. Sawain quickly spotted the Grey Priest, who was on the front line, right in the middle of the gate. Darkness seems to drip off of its tattered gray robes that fluttered, though no wind blew. Its solid bone mask, carved to look like a smooth stone with no details whatsoever, trained its sightless visage on him. Its dry, rattling voice called out loudly.

  “Enemies of the Grey King, lay down your weapons now and your deaths will be quick. Refuse, and my children will tear you apart, limb by limb. It will be neither quick nor painless. The choice is yours.”

  Sawain quickly spoke before his thrall army could lose heart. “We will not lay down our weapons. Your deaths are the only ones we will see on this field today. I will purge you all myself, with holy fire.”

  The Grey Priest laughed its dark, dusty laugh, “You must be the sword wielding warrior-priest that embarrassed Thykriz the other day. I did get a good laugh out of that. Well, boy, your days of terrorizing the Grey Priests end here. Go, my Rune-blessed, rip these fools apart!”

  The army of berserkers roared in unison. It shook the air and earth alike. Even Sawain was slightly intimidated as their runes lit up through their leather masks that covered their faces like muzzles. He had to keep his courage up as well as his army’s morale.

  “Ghosts! Show them no mercy! For Tobi! For Alfhaven!”

  His Outriders shouted loudly at this war-call. Eldingbál sidled up to him and Sawain climbed onto his back. The other Ghosts lined up beside him. He glanced to his left and right. He could hear the thrall army shifting nervously behind him. He signed to his Outriders.

 

  Everyone nodded. The attack did not wait for long. The enemy rushed them before Sawain could finish his directions to the rest of his army. The Outriders pushed forward. A jet of icy clouds shot from Mari's drake, which froze six attackers on the spot. They were trampled by their brethren and shattered to pieces. Jatharr's drake let loose a jet of boiling hot oil that covered several of the attackers that were jumping over the smoldering wreckage of the gate. They roared in pain and staggered backward into the flames. They ignited instantly and thrashed around in agony.

  Their thrashing caused several more to catch fire. Sawain used this chaos to his advantage.

  “Outriders - spread out! Archers - fire at will!”

  The Ghosts did as they were told and got out of the way of a volley of arrows that were launched by the thralls behind them. Several of the arrows made contact with the enemies and dropped them quickly. The Ghosts charged the remaining forces. Sawain saw one of the fast berserkers come for him. He planted his feet and gripped his blade.

  Though it swung its sword with lightning speed, Sawain could predict its movements. His god-touched sword cut through the enemy’s blade and flesh as he nimbly dodged the smoldering remains of the berserker’s sword. Its arm fell to the ground, the smell of burnt flesh coming from it. The fiend turned on Sawain, roaring in rage. It jumped at him, but Sawain caught it on his sword. He turned in time to see two more charge him. Their muscles pulsed and bulged, as if they threatened to tear apart. A storm of blows rained down on Sawain, pushing him back as he tried to hold the monsters off. Suddenly, dozens of the berserkers rushed past him, tearing through his makeshift army. The screams of broken thralls rose up in a tumult behind him.

  A loud, dissonant chord reverberated across the battlefield from Mari and Timbrell’s voices. The two abominations charging Sawain stopped and covered their ears as the painful notes played havoc on their minds. Sawain charged them and quickly cut them down. He glanced around the battlefield.

  That chord gave his forces the upper hand. Though many of the thralls lay dead from the initial charge, the remnants of his army pushed back. Jatharr left a wake of corpses behind him as he hacked and slashed at anything that got near him. Naralei and Banthan did the same. The number of berserkers quickly dwindled as the pair of bards sustained their serenade of pain, but an aura of darkness washed over the fallen, which caused them to rise for more combat. Sawain knew he had to kill the Grey P
riest. He urged his drake forward while he cut down anything that did not breathe.

  Eldingbál quickly cleared the charred gates. They were soon surrounded by the remainder of the living berserkers as well as the risen dead. Sawain could see the Grey Priest, just beyond the cluster of enemies. It laughed.

  “You were so close, young one, but you've come to the end of your journey. Die.”

  The mob of enemies fell on them. Eldingbál let forth what few flames he could, which stopped only some. Sawain swung in a wide arc and cut down several. Dozens of swords clashed against his armor and beat him bloody. A loud crackling erupted from behind him. Screams of pain melded with the buzz of electricity. The mob broke away from Sawain and Eldingbál. Banthan and Naralei rode into the courtyard and engaged the gang of rune-blessed. Sawain jumped off of his drake and patted him.

  “You go help the others. I'll take care of the Grey Priest.”

  Eldingbál ran his snake-like tongue over Sawain's face. His breath smelled like fire and blood. He pounced a nearby enemy and clamped down on its face with his fangs. It screamed as he jerked his prey back and forth. Sawain did not take the time to watch. He ran at the Grey Priest, sword raised.

  “This is your end, fiend!”

  The priest snorted and raised its bladed scepter. The blue orb on the end emanated a cold darkness. Black chains shot from it and quickly wrapped around Sawain before he could change course. They ensnared him and tightened quickly around him. The sudden icy pain forced him to drop his sword. The chains bolted him to the ground. He could not move. The priest strode up to him and chuckled in his face.

  “You were saying, boy? I tire of your theatrics. I'll kill you myself.”

  It raised the bladed end of its scepter. Sawain heard a voice in his head.

  These chains are merely made of shadows. Will it to be and you can shatter them.

  Sawain held his breath. He imagined that the chains were nothing more than darkness that could be driven away by light. He imagined he was light. He concentrated hard on the light. It shone in his mind and drove away the shadows. The chains shattered as the priest thrust his blade at its foe. Sawain quickly knocked it away with his ironbark gauntlet and, in the same movement, punched hard with his other fist.

  His knuckles hit the creature's mask. It screamed and recoiled as his glowing fist left several cracks in the bone-mold covering. It grasped at the spreading cracks.

  “What did you do?! How could you possibly break my mask? It cannot be so easily shattered!”

  Sawain grinned, “You are a being of pure darkness. I am light. Light always has the power to banish the dark.”

  Sawain reared back with all of his might and struck the stunned priest in the mask again. His fist went through it and broke it to pieces. The priest screamed as its corpse fell limp. Shadows drifted up from the shards of the mask like smoke and dissipated in the air.

  The dead around them resumed their original inanimate state. The living were quickly put to the sword. Cheers arose from the victorious thrall army. The Ghosts surrounded Sawain and clapped him on the shoulders and back, which were all very sore. He winced at each congratulatory blow, but said nothing.

  Jatharr took a deep breath and roared at the top of his lungs, “SWERDBREKKER!”

  His shout quickly rippled through the army and echoed back in a symphony of shouts, “SWERDBREKKER! SWERDBREKKER! SWERDBREKERRRRRR!”

  Sawain felt his chest swell as his name reverberated through the fells. He walked over to the smoldering remains of his foe and picked up the scepter. It was roughly three feet in length, made of a solid bone. The shaft was covered in elven runes that he recognized, but of a language he did not. The blade shone with a translucent aura. The blue gem in the hilt was held in place by a clawed hand that resembled that of a dragon. He did not know much about this weapon, but felt as if it could be put to use against his enemy. Jatharr was by his side before he could look up from the scepter.

  “Careful with that, lad. It could be cursed.”

  Sawain shook his head. “No, I don't think this is an artifact of the Grey King. This scepter belongs to a much older craftsman.” He handed it to Jatharr, who gave it another examination.

  “Yer right. This is dragon bone. And this language... Could be dark elf, or maybe from the Hravelith. Hard to tell honestly. Magic artifacts aren't my area of expertise. I can hold onto it for ye, until we find someone who can identify it.”

  Sawain nodded as his mind switched from the scepter to his surroundings. He looked around at the inside of the fortress. There was only one building inside the earthen walls. It was mostly a timber skeleton of rafters and scaffolding. A stone foundation was laid and the first foot of the outer building was in place. It was made of the gray stones common to Sawain's home region. Dozens of carts lined the walls, laden with the stone bricks. A makeshift mason's workshop was built into the wall, as well. Sawain was not sure what this structure was going to be, but he did not like it.

  “It conversion temple.”

  Sawain turned to the one speaking to him. A large male orc with gray skin and long, matted black hair limped up to him. He was dressed in a chainmail shirt that was taken from one of the fallen Jordborg soldiers. He also grasped a spear in his right hand.

  “They use us to build thing so they could zombify all faster. Priests use towers to make big powers and control their armies for miles. This one was going to take Alfhaven.”

  Sawain felt sick. “You were helping them do this?”

  The orc shrugged, “We prisoners of war. We have no choice. They going to kill us if we say no. We agreed do it, and find escape. Looks like it worked. Oh, my name Vrendr. Thank you for rescuing us.”

  Sawain nodded, “You're welcome, Vrendr. You can help us now by tearing this place down with us.”

  Vrendr smiled, “Gladly. No one here miss it.”

  Banthan took Sawain by the arm and pulled him aside. “What are you doing?”

  Sawain raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Banth sighed, glancing at the orc, “Your farmboy thickness is going to get you killed! That is an orc! His people serve the Grey King and are notorious for being raiders and murderers.”

  Vrendr lowered his head and raised his palms skyward, “It true what elf boy say. Orcs do many bad things in name of Grey King. But we had to. Chief Grymhook change, make coward choices. Many did not agree with him. Many left, joined resistance. My clan one of those. We fight against bad orcs, try to save our brothers, but we get caught. Now we thralls. But you saved us, now we can repay debt. We help you take back lands, save our brothers and sisters, save Grymhook. We too love our homeland, but we not let evil rule it.”

  Banth shook his head. “Don't tell me you buy that ox manure, Sawain. They'll turn on us the second the price is right.”

  Sawain turned on Banthan, anger flaring in his chest. “What makes you say that, Banth? Because he's gray of skin and long of tooth? Might as well lump him in with the likes of the Grey King since he's from the same homeland. Might as well throw him to the wolves because he doesn't look like us. You know, if I judged you based on my first experience with elves, I would have left you in that forest. If he says he wants to fight, then who are we to turn him down? After all, I don't see Alfhaven's army behind us. Do you?”

  Banth gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He shouted at Sawain, pointing a finger at his chest.

  “It's your fault it isn't! Aren't you supposed to be the great hero? Everyone's supposed to just line up behind you and do exactly what you say, right?”

  Mari stepped up, putting a hand on Banth's shoulder. “Hey now, that's not fair. Sawain tried to talk sense into the council. It's not his fault they wouldn't listen.”

  Banth brushed Mari's hand off roughly, shooting a glare at her. “Stay out of this, bard. You are just living in a happy little lie. How many more of our friends and family have to die because this man-elf thinks he's the savior of Hammerhold? What if Timbrell's ne
xt?”

  Timbrell ducked fearfully behind Mari's feet. “Wait a minute, don't bring me into this, lad. I'm not here to hurt anyone.”

  Banth snorted as he turned his glare back on Sawain. “You think Tobi was planning on hurting anyone? Did my sister deserve to be left to die? Were they murderous fiends who had their fate sealed? And now you forget their sacrifice and bolster your ranks with any rabble who can wield a pitchfork. It's disgusting. This is no army, it's a joke.”

  Sawain clenched his jaw as the heat in his chest overflowed into his face. “You think I forgot them? They haunt my dreams every night, Banthan! I see their faces every time I close my eyes. I watch Tobi die anew every evening! You are not the only one hurting! And this war won't stop because we're sad! The killing won't end just on our ideals alone. There is a monster out there who wants nothing more than for us to look at the allies we've been given and say, 'No, this isn't good enough. Let's just go home.' He wants us to look out over the devastation he has caused and think there is no hope. You are playing right into his hands.”

  Banth edged up into Sawain's face and shouted, “You think I'm a coward? Is that it? Show me your bravery then, 'Swerdbrekker'. Show me the fearlessness it took to watch our friends die! Show me the courage it took to tell my sister she was to be left behind! Come on, leader! Show me your fearlessness!”

  Banth shoved Sawain hard, causing him to stumble back. Sawain's rage broke loose as he caught his footing and charged Banth. The elf was fast, but Sawain tracked him as he dodged the charge and caught him by the throat with an outstretched arm. The momentum of Sawain's attack and the lack of balance Banth maintained caused him to turn a flip and land on his back with a resounding thud. Before Banth could regain his senses, Sawain was on top of him, driving his fists into his face, rage dripping from his jaws as he screamed and punched. Banth managed to get one hand up to deflect a few blows, but as each fist fell like a hammer ringing off of his skull, Banth began to move slower. Soon, three pairs of arms wrapped around Sawain and pulled him off of his target. Sawain ranted and screamed as Jatharr, Binze, and Nara pinned him to the ground.