The great seer, Vinchenza Aduramis, the original author of this work, passed to the heavens before completing his great masterpiece. Events henceforth were recorded as they happened.
THE UNTHINKABLE …
Drums of war beat across the interior of the volcano, sending a wave of panic to the civilians cowering in their homes outside of the temple grounds.
The temple bells rang in alarm. All able-bodied species capable of defending the temple had been mustered. Though the numbers were scant, the defenders, as they had during the last attack on sanctuary, set up a magical barrier. Battlemages were again heading the defence by casting a protection spell on the main wall. They were lined up and chanting a barrier charm in the hope this would prevent the orcs from entering.
Temporary curator, Menin, surveyed the scene below her. Lordich had learned since last he had ordered an attack on the temple. This time he did not rely on goblins and a handful of giants.
Packed into the arena before her were thousands of orcs, men, women and several dozen giants. The giants were busily erecting a catapult they had dragged up the sides of the volcano and the orcs at the front of the battle line had positioned large cannons ready to blast holes in the temple’s defences.
‘General Jonjo.’ Menin clicked her fingers.
Jonjo was immediately at her side.
‘What do you see, General?’
‘Annihilation if I were to be truthful,’ Jonjo replied honestly.
‘That is what I see also. Sound the general evacuation. Only battlemages and soldiers to remain.’
‘At once, milady.’ Jonjo bowed and hurried away.
‘Annihilation indeed,’ Menin despaired.
The warning bell changed its cry. Three successive rings rang out signalling the retreat of non-essential protectors.
Menin hoped that the evacuees would have time to escape unhindered. There would be a loss of life today, and innocent blood was a life lost she could not stomach.
She was brought her breastplate by a serjeant-at-arms, and she accepted assistance to don it. Afterwards, she placed a helmet of steel upon her head. She had learned since last time that it was best to cover one’s head. Lastly, she strapped her sword to her waist, fastening it tightly.
I guess it’s time to meet Lordich head on. Menin screwed up her eyes in an attempt to single him out from the crowd.
Fires were lit now, and the smell of burning bitumen filled the air, as did plumes of acrid smoke.
‘Hold steady. We have incoming,’ Jonjo, who had rejoined his men on the grounds below the temple, yelled.
Sure enough, the distinctive whistle of gigantic boulders thrust with force through the air, mixed with the roar of orcs below, eager to see the temple burn.
The first flaming rock missed the temple’s boundary wall by yards, though impressively sent a cascade of dirt and debris high into the air, which rained down on those nearby.
‘They’re getting their eye in, archers ready!’
A dozen archers at the back of the field slung a bow to string and raised aloft.
‘Loose!’ Jonjo bellowed.
The mob outside of the wall that was protected by the battlemage spells hissed angrily as the arrows whizzed over their heads and down onto unfortunates further afield. None hit the giants operating the catapults, though Jonjo was in no doubt that there would have been very little effect.
‘Aim for the cannoneers,’ he yelled, changing tactics.
The archers once again readied their bows and waited for the order. Once given, they raised high and let loose. A dozen arrows, barely enough to add any impact on this fight, found soft flesh and bone, and several orcs died where they stood.
Jonjo heard the Orc Commander yell to his troops to ready the cannon and relayed this to his own troops. ‘Standby for a breach of the wall.’
With no idea where a potential breach would occur, all The Brotherhood could do was wait and watch.
The cannons boomed, and the shot struck the wall with a deafening thud. On this occasion, only flaking whitewash flew from the stones below, and thankfully no breach occurred.
‘Incoming,’ Menin said, pointing, and Jonjo saw them. Two massive boulders headed his way fast. He and several others barely had a second to dive out of the way as the giant rocks impacted with the earth, ruining the pristine gardens. The archers bore the brunt of grass and dirt debris that followed. Shaking the same from their hair and bodies, they stood ready.
‘Give them three volleys, that’ll keep them on their toes. Loose,’ Jonjo cried.
Yet more arrows flew overhead, then the horde of orcs parted, and two giants, pale skinned, and wearing only sackcloth over their genitals emerged from the haze of fires. They were complete with a tree trunk held over their shoulders and headed directly for the temple gates. Lumbering as they were, they did manage to reach the gate in a surprisingly short amount of time.
Forewarned not to touch the gates for fear of a magic placed upon it that would see anyone dead instantly, the giants steered clear and grunted angrily as arrows like annoying insects bit at their tough skin through the iron bars of the gates.
Together they tucked the tree trunk under their strong, muscular arms and with a single movement rammed the gates with the makeshift ram. The gates rattled and protested but held firm. Again, they rammed and again the gates held, thanks in part to the construction but also to the magic binding the two halves together.
That did not stop the two giants, however, until a misguided boulder catapulted through the air and took the lead giant’s head clean from his shoulders in a mess of blood and brains. It also had the bonus of rendering the gates useless.
This spurred on the orcs, and they cheered. The giant remaining was left confused by the site of his decapitated comrade and wandered into the grounds.
From the left and right, battlemages cast spell after spell to bring him down, but he picked up the closest robed individual by the leg and with her dangling in the air, swung her at those attempting to attack him. He had a high degree of success, and the sickening crunch of bones and impact of body parts or armour proved this.
He guffawed as he stomped about the field, swiping at all he could see.
‘Aim for the eyes,’ Jonjo yelled.
Arrows littered the giant’s face, and being his only weak spot, he roared in pain and stumbled as an arrow pierced his left eyeball.
‘Hit him again.’
Another volley and finally the beast collapsed in a massive agonised pile that straddled across the primary pathway. He kicked and yelled in pain.
Now only six battlemages were left to hold off an army. They quickly regrouped and together formed a shield of energy across the gap that once was the temple gates.
Several orcs were successful in squeezing through the opening before the shield reformed and shimmered blue. They immediately raced towards the spellcasters, curved swords raised in their grey, brown clawed hands. This time, however, they were unlucky. Half a dozen mounted soldiers charged at them, bows ready. Horses hooves pounded on the soft grass, kicking up clumps of grass and just as the orcs were within killing range, the riders let loose. Arrows hit home, mostly through the neck and abdomen. It was enough to slow or kill six of the advancing threat. One remained, and General Jonjo himself had the task of taking on this creature almost double his size and strength.
Jonjo ducked and swerved as a great curved sword swung across his path. He, in turn, whipped his own sword with a backhanded swing and the pair contacted with a clang. He winced at the pain of the strike, but held firm to his training and blotted out the hurt, feeling his adrenaline building.
‘Not today,’ Jonjo exclaimed. ‘You shall not harm one hair on –’
‘Quiet human. Die,’ the dark-eyed orc spat.
Jonjo anticipated just in time a kick from the orc that would surely have brought him down. He retaliated with a sword hilt to the face of his opponent.
The orc wiped the blood from his mouth with his
spare hand and snarled. ‘Fight well for a human.’
‘Not too bad for an old man,’ Jonjo replied, sucking in deep breaths in anticipation of moving quickly.
The orc lunged, and Jonjo had just a moment to dodge the blade as it passed across his ear, slicing a chunk from it. He yelled curses and backed away, holding his bleeding ear.
Jonjo had had enough of playing by the rules. He knew he would tire before the orc and that meant he was a dead man. He raised his sword arm. ‘Surround him.’
As one, the mounted troops surrounded the orc who snarled and lunged at any that came too close.
‘Do you surrender, orc?’ Jonjo asked, knowing full well the answer.
‘Never.’ The orc’s accented growl sealed his fate.
Jonjo, never one to resort to such methods unless absolutely necessary, dropped his arm. As one, arrows penetrated the flesh of the orc who cried in pain and fell to the ground dead.
Menin, on the balcony leading from the curator’s offices, signed with relief. However, that was one giant and several orc. Already six of her very strained troops were dead. There was no way they could defend the temple from the thousands waiting outside for very long. She needed a plan, but none came. It was a simple fight to the death, the last man standing, she believed the saying went. Though she preferred to replace the word man with believer.
If this is Rindor’s will, we will fight on. She closed her eyes and offered up a quick prayer. ‘Blessed Rindor, watch and guide over the souls that protect your name and sanctuary. Give us the strength to carry forth your word and commandments and deliver justice wherever it may be needed. Bless this house and all that serve you faithfully, until our day’s end. So be it.’
Cannons boomed, and the wall was breached. ‘Retreat,’ Menin bellowed. Jonjo turned and nodded. He and the other Brotherhood soldiers raced back to the temple and, once there, closed the massive doors and prepared to barricade themselves inside.
More cannon blasts further opened the wall, and a cry of jubilation rang through the invading army’s ranks.
Jonjo arrived on the balcony in double quick time, breathless and panting. ‘It’s hopeless. Once inside, they’ll tear us apart. There’s just too many.’
Menin hung her head in agreement. ‘I always knew this day would come. That is why you must use the escape tunnels and flee. Seek out our troops from afar and wait for the right moment to take the fight to his door.’
Jonjo looked shocked. ‘Is that an order?’
‘It is, old friend. No more must die for this mortal creation. Now go.’ Menin placed a hand on the general’s shoulder. ‘Be safe, my friend.’
Jonjo nodded and turned to leave. He stopped and faced Menin. ‘You are not coming?’
Laliala shook her head. ‘What is it they say? A captain goes down with her ship.’
‘You mustn’t. You are more valuable as archmage.’
‘I am not archmage, remember? I am curator once more. My duty is to the temple and its library. Now, go!’ she finished, and turned away tearfully.
Jonjo looked pained. ‘I wish to stay.’
Menin rounded on him. ‘You will do no such thing. I need an experienced general to lead the fight and take on Lordich. Do as I ask.’
Jonjo bowed his head in supplication. ‘It has been an honour, Curator.’ He turned and left the balcony.
‘Zaruun?’
The ever-faithful protector hurried to her side and saluted. ‘Archmage.’
‘You have always been my most faithful ally and friend. Should things … let me just say it’s been a privilege. Please take Nethlith and guard the door to the curator’s office. I would rather not have an enemy at my back.’
Zaruun dipped his head. ‘The privilege was all mine.’ He turned away and whistled to Nethlith standing nearby. ‘With me, Nethlith.’
Menin watched them enter the office and disappear. She wiped her eyes and looked out over the battlefield. A great crowd of orcs were assembling below, and there he was, the man who had instigated all this, right before her. Lordich Secracar. He had aged since she last saw him and his grey beard was an addition she had not come to expect. Though even through the scars, she recognised him immediately and a sorrow pulsed through her heart. She felt no hatred, nor fear, but sorrow for the man that had stooped to this level of loathing for The Brotherhood that he would try to rid the world of its very name.
She felt sorrow that he had suffered a loss so profound as his child and wife, and heartbreaking as it was, could not see how anyone could use that loss to do the terrible things he had. Now, he was just adding one further despicable act to the many others he had performed.
Lordich looked smug and content. Soon, he would wipe The Brotherhood of The Wulf from the face of Er’ath, and to him, there was no finer quest than to replace it with his own brand of beliefs provided by The Brotherhood of The Dragon, a system of control and obedience. He looked about him, along the line of statues lining the main pathway and smiled. His own had been removed and destroyed long ago.
He looked up and shielded his eyes against the early morning sun glinting off the golden temple and spotted a lone figure atop a balcony above the main entrance. Menin. He scowled. I shall have the pleasure of killing you myself.
‘Listen to me. No-one is to harm a hair on the archmage’s head. Her life is mine and for me alone to take,’ he roared.
His lieutenants around him repeated the order, and so it carried forward until Menin caught what had been said.
Lordich walked steadily along the pathway towards the main entrance. At each statue, he examined it thoroughly and with a raging cry unleashed a bolt of red energy from his hands. The statues, one by one, exploded into millions of shards of marble that flew in all directions, littering the grass and his troops.
‘See what I can do, Menin? See what powers I possess? No silly wand waving. I am your better. Kneel before me and pledge your allegiance and I will save your temple,’ he bellowed, his arms held wide as he basked in his own glory.
Menin shook her head sadly. ‘You will always remain the scrappy young carnival owner’s son, frightened of his own shadow. I will never bow to you,’ she returned.
Lordich’s eye twitched and his lip curled in anger. ‘Then, Menin, you shall face me!’ His eyes were filled with hatred as he thundered.
‘I think that was always inevitable,’ Menin replied calmly.
‘But first, I will have pleasure seeing your temple fall.’ Lordich raised his hand and dropped it.
Seconds later, a rush of wind accompanied several flaming boulders as they flew through the air, this time on course and trajectory, to the dead centre of the temple.
The building shook as impact after impact demolished significant sections of it. Tower one was blasted into pieces, stone, wood and glass exploded as the gold curved around the boulder and crashed into the building further down, sending red clay tiles flying in all directions.
Menin covered her helmeted head as debris flew and covered her.
She looked daggers at Lordich. ‘Is that the best you can do, Lordich?’ Inside she was praying she was giving the escapees more time to get as far away as possible.
Lordich cursed her. ‘This woman is infuriating. Bring in the cannons and tear this temple down,’ he ordered.
Another volley of boulders whipped overhead and crumpled further sections of the temple. The noise was deafening, and Menin knew at some point she would have to join Lordich alone on the ground below. She would hold out as long as possible before facing him.
Cannons were wheeled forth, positioned at the base of the temple steps and aimed upwards towards the balcony.
Still, more boulders destroyed sections of the temple, this time bringing down the front fascia, which left a gaping hole of twisted metal, marble and stone.
‘Archmage Menin. Your temple has fallen. My army of orcs is ready to march inside and drag you from this place if necessary. Join me here, now, and save yourself that unpleasantness.’
/>
In the blink of an eye, Menin vanished from her place on the balcony and reappeared behind Lordich. She wrapped strong arms around him and disappeared, taking him with her.
Both reappeared on the balcony where before Menin had stood alone. She pushed him away and backed off, her bare feet pattering on the cold stone.
Lordich turned to greet Menin and shook a finger at her. ‘Ingenious indeed. But now we are alone, and with you vulnerable, I shall dispense of you quickly.’
‘You are very confident of your abilities for one of my worst students.’
Lordich snarled. ‘I was only a weak learner due to your terrible teaching. You had favourites, always pandering to them and ignoring me.’
Menin and Lordich began to move in a circle, sizing each other up.
‘If you think that, Lordich, then you are as delusional as I expected. I gave you every opportunity to grasp my teachings. Something always held you back. I don’t know what and I don’t care. You always were a petulant child. Yes, you eventually passed out and became a trusted Brotherhood soldier, but to blame us for your daughter and you wife –’
Lordich screamed and cast a blast of energy towards Menin, who ducked just in time as a pillar behind her exploded. She stood defensively, ready to cast a shield charm.
‘Never talk about my family! Your Brotherhood betrayed me when I needed you most. Their lives are in your hands.’
‘No-one aside from you mourned their loss more than Archmage Orodor. He did all he could to send aid,’ Menin added cautiously.
‘Lies, all lies!’ Lordich raged.
Menin began to fear increasingly for her safety. She was more than a match for the man, but he seemed to be losing control. He launched several more energy blasts at her, which she was able to block, though she felt the balcony tremble and expected at any moment that it would collapse. Shelling of the temple had resumed and a second tower collapsed into a fiery heap. A fire was surging through the remains of the building, so hot the gold began to melt and buckle.
‘Lordich, stop this now. You don’t need to take this path. It’s not too late.’ Menin swiped away another blast from Lordich.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 118