The outermost gate was made of wood, with the inner side reinforced with iron. Lacking any sort of siege weaponry, Antonil wondered what lunacy made them think they could break through. Then from his perch he saw their sharp claws shred inches into the wood, showering the ground with splinters.
“Fire at will,” he ordered his archers. “Focus on the door!”
“Yes sir,” Mira said, a grin spreading across her face. Fire swirled around her hands, begging for release. She slammed them together, unleashing a giant funnel of flame. The fire struck just before the gate, incinerating tens of the grotesque creatures. Then the spell detonated. Dozens more flew back, leaving ugly, featherless corpses in the spell’s wake. The archers along the wall assaulted the scattered remnants who tried to mass at the gate.
“Well done,” Antonil whispered. “Better than hot oil.”
“Perhaps not,” Mira said. She pointed to the greater army waiting. “I think I made a friend.”
There,” Velixar said, his eyes locked on the fiery bomb igniting his forces on the western side. “Foolish to give away her position so early in the fight.”
Darkness clouded his fingers, but Tessanna halted his spell.
“No,” she said, glaring at the wall even as she laughed. “She’s mine. She is me, and mommy wants me dead.”
“The other daughter of balance?” the man in black wondered. He had figured the spell to be cast by Harruq’s wife. “So be it,” he said.
“Here kitty-kitty,” Tessanna said, twin red orbs of magic growing inside her palms. “Big dog’s coming and he’s coming for you!”
She threw them, the force of the spell knocking her to her knees. Mouth agape and eyes sparkling, she watched her spell.
“Get back!” Mira shouted, seeing the two orbs rotating around each other as they approached. She spread her hands wide, mentally pushing Antonil and the other archers to safety. She had but a second to cast a shielding spell before the orbs struck.
“Mira!” Lathaar shouted as half the western gate swarmed with yellow fire. The fire burned hot and died, drifting to the sky in a putrid smelling smoke. The paladin cheered as it dissipated, for hovering a foot above the wall was Mira, her hair swirling and her eyes black as night.
“Get off the wall,” she ordered the rest of the archers, who obeyed without hesitation. Antonil grabbed Lathaar’s shoulder and twisted him around to face him.
“How can she survive that?” he asked.
“Better question,” Lathaar said, pointing at the girl. “How can they survive that?”
A solid beam of magic over ten feet wide screamed straight for Tessanna, who waited with her right arm out and her palm open. When the blast hit, she opened her eyes, dark lust inside them. The white beam parted at her fingers and swirled around her body like water parting around a stone. Her arm shook. Her body wavered.
“Help her,” Qurrah shouted, but Velixar shook his head.
“She doesn’t need help,” the man in black said. “Are you so blind to your lover’s strength?”
The beam intensified in strength, and Tessanna’s fragile body seemed ready to break, weak and insignificant versus the sheer power unleashed against her. But then she pulled back her hand and spun, her arms high above her like a dancer. Qurrah cried out, thinking the magic would shred her to pieces, but instead it swirled around her body like a funnelstorm. The white faded to red, then to black.
From within, Qurrah heard laughter.
The tornado froze with a vicious tearing sound. All its magic pulled in on itself, folding and bending into a single black orb the size of a pebble. It hovered above Tessanna’s palm, which shook as she fought to control it. Shrieking, she hurled the volatile orb back at Mira.
Mira summoned her defenses, but when the pebble hit her translucent shield she knew her mistake. Pain sheared through her mind. A white flash marked the explosion, followed by a giant eruption of lightning and smoke and darkness. Her shield broke. Her tiny body flew off the wall. Haern was there in an instant, leaping through the air to grab her in his arms. With a thought, he teleported them to the ground and put her safely down.
“The gate,” Mira cried, struggling against the assassin’s arms which pinned her. “The gate, its vulnerable, the gate is…”
“The gate will break,” Haern whispered to her. “Whether you protect it or not. Will you break with it, or regain your strength to fight again?”
Before she could answer, the great roar of the lion filled the city. It felt as if it rose from the dirt beneath them, lifting the dust and blowing the hairs on their skin. In the sudden silence following, Mira accepted his wisdom.
“Get them away from the gate,” she said, pointing to the soldiers wedged in front of it. “Hurry.”
Haern helped her to her feet and then turned, seeking Antonil.
“Get them back!” he shouted, waving both his sabers above his head to gain the guard captain’s attention. “Antonil Copernus, I said get them back!”
Tarlak and Aurelia watched as the hyena-men charged with frightening speed. The first volley by the archers fell far behind the coming force. The archers compensated for the speed for their second volley, killing twenty. Twenty, out of nearly nine hundred.
“Get them arrows out there,” Sergan shouted as he paced before the locked and barred gate. “You want us to throw open the city so I can show you how to kill?”
“That can be arranged,” Tarlak mumbled as the hyena-men spread apart to lessen the damage of the third volley. The makings of a fire spell was on his lips when Aurelia grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“Velixar is out there,” she said. “If he knows where we are, he’ll counter. Wait for them to enter the city, where our magic will go unseen.”
“Spoilsport,” Tarlak said.
“Incompetent wizard,” she shot back.
“Orc lover.”
“Don’t make me polymorph you.”
The hyena-men slammed against the gate, their claws sharper and thicker than those of the bird-men. The soldiers inside the city shook from the combination of yipping, growling, and clawing on the other side.
“They’re just overgrown mutts, you pansies!” Sergan shouted to his ground troops. “And archers, I want empty quivers by the end of this battle. Now get to it!”
The arrows rained down on the hyena-men clawing at the gate, but when one fell, those behind it pulled it back and tossed it to the side. Using the bodies of their own dead, they built walls on either side of the gate. Then, to Tarlak’s shock, a squad of ten hyena-men came running forward with crudely cut planks of wood in their arms. They threw the planks atop the two walls of dead bodies. The hyena-men had to crawl underneath, but it worked. The archers could not reach the hyena-men that clawed against the gate, shredding the wood and twisting the iron behind it.
“That’s got to go,” Tarlak said. He glanced at Aurelia, who nodded in agreement.
“Make it fast,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t make it flashy.”
Below them a hairy arm burst through the wood in between the straps of iron. It flailed around wildly, as if hoping a victim was near.
“This is going to be fun,” Harruq said from the front line. He ran up, both his swords drawn. With a single blow, he chopped the arm off at the elbow and kicked it to the side. Two clawed hands replaced it, prying at the wood to make the hole bigger. Harruq thrust both swords into the hole. They came back soaked in blood.
“That all you got?” he screamed to the other side of the door.
“Get back here, soldier,” Sergan shouted at him. “You want trampled the second that door knocks open?”
“But we’ve got to…”
Harruq stopped as a loud explosion rocked the outside of the gate. Smoke poured through the tiny hole along with the scent of burnt fur.
“Gate’s clear again!” he heard Tarlak shout. The archers resumed their firing.
“You want to fight at the front you do as I say,” Sergan commanded, t
o which Harruq shrugged and obeyed.
“Wizards get all the fun,” he grumbled as Tarlak and Aurelia pondered their next choice of attack.
As the hyena-men clawed and tore at the door of the southern gate, the last remnants of the bird-men fled the battlefield. Most had been killed by arrows or Mira’s fire spell. Plenty crawled wounded along the ground, but none would come to aid them.
Velixar frowned in disgust.
“Such cowardly creatures,” he said. “But expected. Ashhur did create them.”
When the retreating bird-men reached the line of dark paladins and clerics they cried out for mercy. Instead the dark paladins butchered them with their weapons as did the clerics with their spells.
“Not a single kill to their name,” Qurrah said. “What a waste.”
“They will serve their purpose soon,” Velixar said. “But for now…”
The man in black closed his eyes and began casting. Qurrah had taken the fire of torches the hyena-men and bird-men carried and the display had been incredible. Velixar took the fire from his thousands of orcs under his command. The fire swirled into the air, forming a giant streaking comet. Velixar forked his hands as he concentrated, breaking the ball of flame in two. Each one curled around, smoke and fire trailing after as they careened for the barred gates of the city.
Antonil was still ordering his men back when the ball slammed into his gate, blasting apart the wood and melting the iron. A cloud of heat blew down the street, killing fifty of his soldiers that could not escape in time. Antonil slammed his sword against his shield, even as his men scattered and broke ranks.
“To me!” he shouted. “Form up! To me!”
With pure will, Antonil gathered his army and reformed their ranks before the shattered remnants of the gate. They saw the ring of servants of Karak, and behind, the horde of orcs with their banners waving in the morning sun.
“As long we hold breath our city will not fall,” Antonil shouted, ignoring the quaking fear in his heart. “As long as we hold firm, our enemy will break. Stand, men, stand!”
Lathaar held his sword high, as did Jerico with his shield. Their light shone across the soldiers, and as the two paladins prayed the soldier’s fear melted like snow within a fire.
“If your heart is with Ashhur, then death holds no sway against you!” Jerico shouted. “Accept the light and fight the darkness!”
Their fear was great, but the light was greater. Their ranks tightened. Their swords stopped their shaking. Ready to fight, ready to die, the men at the western gate waited.
Aurelia prevented the attack from being the disaster it should have been. As the comet of fire burned through the hyena-men and slammed against the gate, she leapt from the wall. She had no time to levitate, no time to think. She collapsed from the impact, and her teeth bit down hard on her tongue. Head bent, blood in her mouth, she raised her hands and summoned a shield of magic. She prayed it would be enough.
The fire burst through, shards of wood and iron exploding inward. Aurelia screamed, unable to hold the shield. But then Tarlak summoned an enormous blast of air from the ground before her, pushing the fire and shrapnel to the sky. Harruq ran to her side, ignoring Sergan’s cries for order. As he sheathed his swords and took her into his arms, he saw hundreds of hyena-men yipping at him with hungry eyes. The gate was down, and their way was clear. Harruq ran to the side while the soldiers of Neldar collided with the claws and teeth of their attackers.
“I’ll protect her until she’s ready,” Tarlak said as he hovered down beside them with a levitation spell. “Get yourself into the fight.”
Harruq turned to the chaos of steel, fur, and muscle.
“With pleasure,” he growled.
He let out a roar, his adrenaline taking over. He charged the gate. Soldiers had surrounded the entrance so that any hyena-men who entered found a circle of steel waiting. The hyena-men were dying far more than the humans, but sheer numbers pushed them back. Then Harruq joined. He slammed his way past the Veldaren soldiers, having no fear for the claws of his enemy. Salvation and Condemnation drank freely as he sliced and chopped. He did not retreat as the other soldiers did. Instead he waded forward, slaughtering any who met his charge.
“Hot damn,” Sergan shouted, witnessing Harruq in action. “Now that’s fighting!”
Not willing to let the half-orc have all the fun, Sergan took his axe and rushed to his side. Together they hacked and chopped until they were at the rubble of the gate. The entrance was narrow, and only three could come at once. The room to maneuver diminished, it favored the two even more. The claws of the hyena-men were no match for the weapons that tore through them. Their thick hide was no match for the enchanted steel and well-sharpened edges that cut them.
“Get ready to fall back,” Harruq said through grit teeth as he disemboweled one hyena-man while stabbing the throat of another.
“Lead on,” Sergan told him.
The initial rush of hyena-men had been scattered and uneven due to the destruction of the fiery comet that had broken the gate. The archers had done their best to thin their attack, but now the hyena-men pressed forward as a single unit.
“Back,” Harruq yelled, turning and running into the city.
“Shields, now!” Sergan ordered, hot on Harruq’s heels. The two split once they were past the gateway. Rows of soldiers took their place, their shields locked together into a single wall. The hyena-men hurled themselves with wild abandon. The men screamed, their shoulders throbbing and their wrists aching. But they did not move. Men behind them pushed forward, aiding those who were weak or wounded. The hyena-men howled and tried, but their momentum was broken.
Atop the wall, the archers emptied their quivers, for with their enemy packed and unable to move, they couldn’t miss. The soldiers on the front started stabbing in between the shields, filling the street with blood. Harruq rejoined the two casters, knowing there was no place for him without a shield.
“You alright?” he asked his wife.
“Head hurts,” she said. She leaned against the wall. Tarlak was beside her, staring at the intense combat.
“Any spell we cast will hit our own,” he said. “Either that, or make our position known.”
“They’ll hold,” Harruq said.
“Good,” Tarlak said. “Because it’s going to get harder.”
As if on cue, the city shook from the roar of the lion, except this time the shaking did not stop. Harruq looked about, confused and worried.
“What the abyss?” he asked.
“No point staying hidden now,” Aurelia said, gingerly rising to her feet. “The orcs are coming.”
Harruq looked back at the row of soldiers guarding the door. About thirty had fallen, leaving less than two hundred to hold the gate. Several hundred hyena-men remained still, fighting and clawing with every ounce of their strength to enter. Of the thousands of orcs, if even half marched to their gate…
The half-orc charged the front line. Shield or no shield, he was going to fight, and he was going to kill, because the numbers they faced were about to get a whole lot bigger.
15
Stand firm!” Antonil shouted as the lion’s roar filled their ears. It’s effect was pitiful compared to the light of the paladin’s swords and shield. As it died, they felt the ground beneath their feet shake. The orc forces were charging. The guard captain positioned himself in the center of the first line. To his right was Jerico, his left, Lathaar.
“Antonil,” Jerico said. “Listen to me. When the orcs are a hair’s width from sword reach, we need to charge.”
“If we brace our shields then…”
“Guard captain,” Jerico said, pulling on Antonil’s shoulder to force him to meet his gaze. “Order your men to charge just before the strike. Trust me. Trust Ashhur.”
The coming horde roared and bellowed. Half broke south, a giant river of gray flesh and armor. Antonil whispered a prayer for Sergan and his men.
“I’ll trust you,” he said alo
ud when finished. “We’re all dead men anyway.”
“Not yet,” Lathaar said, overhearing the comment. “Not by a long shot.”
He held both his swords high and shouted out the word ‘Elholad.’ His swords flared brighter than any torch, sun, or star. Those who saw it knew no fear. They felt the sun on their skin for the first time, knew comfort in the weight of their armor and the strength in the grip they held on their swords. The orcs passed through the ring of priests and dark paladins, not daring to touch any even in their frenzy. Archers released their arrows, but it was like spitting on a bonfire.
“At my command,” Antonil shouted over the commotion, “I want you to charge as one. Do you understand?”
The soldiers shouted in unison.
The army closed the distance. Jerico stepped out from the front row and knelt to one knee. His shield leaned before him. Its light shimmered and swirled, as if a rainbow were trapped within the metal. The paladin closed his eyes and prayed.
The orcs were almost upon him. They funneled through the shattered ashes of the doors and into the giant gateway. Their axes and swords were drawn. Their mouths were open in mindless cries of bloodthirst. Jerico heard none of it. He felt his shield become weightless on his arm. He felt his heart stop. The whole world was silent. He opened his eyes. He felt his faith like a knife in his chest, unbreakable, immovable. In one smooth motion, he stood and pushed his shield against the air. A white image rammed forth, similar to his shield but larger and made of purest light.
Sound returned. The world resumed. Jerico watched as the glowing shield slammed the nearest orcs. They howled with pain, and every one toppled as if a hammer had struck their chest. Those behind tripped over them and died, trampled by the next wave of their comrades.
“Charge!” Antonil screamed. The men rushed forward, Lathaar and Antonil leading the way. Lathaar’s swords sliced through gray flesh. Antonil’s shield bashed and pushed, his sword cutting into any weakness. The orcs had no footing, no momentum. Those who funneled into the gateway died, their bodies becoming a barrier the rest had to climb over. And then Jerico joined them, his mace Bonebreaker more than living up to its name. He shattered the jaw of one orc, kicked his body back, and then crushed the skull of his replacement. Over a thousand orcs pressed and fought to enter the city but were held back by the front seven of Neldar.
The Death of Promises (Half-Orcs Book 3) Page 24