Reborn: Book 2 (Chronicles of Ghost Company)

by Shawn Muller

  Either side of the trolls and orcs, stood the heavy infantry of the king, carrying heavy round shields and long swords while the medium infantry covered the flanks, more mobile with their smaller, wooden banded shields and spears.

  The centaurs stood poised as the reserve force, ready to fill a breach should it occur while the heavy and light cavalry stood waiting at the rear to exploit any gaps which may open or to meet the enemy cavalry should they move to flank the armies.

  Platoons of elven archers were dispersed throughout the forces, bows at the ready to whittle down the marching cyclops, and to duel with the enemy archers once they make themselves known.

  The gathering of wizards, sorcerers, witches and shaman positively charged the air, threatening to explode with pure energy as the various cabals formed and moved off, linking their powers together as they readied spells for the battles ahead.

  Siege engines, the catapults, and ballistae typically used to smash massive impregnable walls down were ready, loaded with their grisly gifts of death, awaiting the word to let loose the rain of hell.

  King Marcus stood on a raised platform overlooking the defending army, surrounded by his bodyguards and countless messengers as all awaited the sun to burn away the persistent fog.

  All were waiting anxiously now for the fog to disappear and for the hated enemy to be seen, amassed on the opposite end of the battlefield. Fear and anxiety slowly gave way to boredom and complacency as time dragged on.

  A dull, yellow orb could be seen sitting high above the battlefield, this presumably the sun slowly shining through. Wet bow strings were quickly discarded and replaced with fresh ones, weapons held in sweat and fog moistened hands were hastily dried on leggings.

  The yellow orb began to pulsate, growing brighter and brighter as it grew. Soon the heat began to become unbearable and looking at the orb began to burn the eyes. Hands tried to shield eyes as the intensity of the light grew too painful.

  Before the startled eyes of the defenders, the fog vanished without so much as a wisp, revealing the cyclops army standing not more than twenty metres away from the earth wall. Shouts of shock and dismay rippled through the defenders as the enemy showed itself. They were cyclops carrying massive tower shields and short stabbing spears, their ranks standing deep as they prepared their final charge. The pits in the killing field were failing to break up the enemy ranks as they marched under the cover of a magical fog right up against the defenders.

  Orders were shouted out and the catapults, loaded with rounded rocks and covered in pitch, were lit before being thrown high in a deadly arc over the heads of the defenders. The first flaming rocks crashed down among the last rows of the attackers, failing to do much damage.

  The tree-sized arrows fired from the ballistae tore through the air as they flew just over the heads of the trolls, where the arrows which had been designed to sink massive warships dipped and plummeted into the thickly ranked cyclops, cutting down rows of soldiers as a farmer would cut down rows of corn with a scythe.

  More rocks from the catapults followed, falling this time well amongst the cyclops, breaking apart some of the formations. Clay jars filled with sand which had been heated a glowing red hot over open flames followed closely behind. The clay pots broke open on impact and showered all those surrounding the impact site with red hot sand which slipped between armour and padding and melted into the flesh of the attackers.

  Still the cyclops ranks held, closing the gaps as they opened up. Flights of arrows flew now from the cyclops ranks into the defenders as the human archers fired their volleys, hoping to open gaps on the walls, answering fire from the elves as arrows fell thick and fast from both sides. Shields were raised high above heads as both sides sought to protect themselves.

  Deep horns sounded from behind the cyclops, and as one, they began marching in step into the shallow ditch. The lead cyclops tore out the stakes which lined the ditch and the walls, before starting the deadly climb up the wall. Halberd heads flashed down, killing and wounding scores of the cyclops who had dropped their shields, only to be replaced by more cyclops who kept their shields raised, fending off the trolls attacks.

  Soon the battle was joined along the entire length of the wall as the trolls and orcs defended the wall against the heavy cyclops advance. More, deeper sounding blares from horns sounded once again from the cyclops rear. At first, nothing seemingly different happened as King Marcus and the commanders of the defenders looked over the battlefield to see what would happen. But they failed to look skywards until it was almost too late.

  Dark shadows covered the battlefield as over a hundred dragons swooped down from the mountains. The size and mass of the dragons virtually blotted out the sun, causing the combatants to stop their slaughter of each other briefly and look up in awe and horror as the first dragons began to dive down on the defenders.

  Solid streams of flames roared over the siege engines as the dragons attacked the devastating equipment first. All were instantly incinerated in balls of fire before the dragons began swooping down on the ranks of the defenders. Screams of pain and terror began to drift over the king as his men were grabbed from the battle and torn or bitten to shreds or incinerated themselves in bursts of sun hot flames.

  The ranks began to waver, but before they broke the cabals of magic wielders unleashed their long held spells, tearing the very fabric of the air in an earsplitting noise. Both armies dropped weapons and shields as they clamped hands over ears to block out the terrible noise.

  The very fabric of reality was torn apart, a huge gaping wound in the sky opening up, within that wound, fire and chaos followed as winged demons spilled out from the hells from which they were summoned. Massive, as big as the dragons themselves, some had two arms, others had more but all had at least four wings. Most were horned and some had multiple heads.

  All were focusing their hatred at being held under the spells of summoned captivity on the dragons which flew below them. Two demons attacked a dragon each as the aerial combat stunned everybody from fighting.

  Demons hung onto the backs of dragons, ripping and biting at the wings, and exposed necks while the gnome riders were eaten or thrown off their dragon steeds. The dragons retaliated, fighting back with terrible fires, so hot that the soldiers on the ground shied away from the furious battle which took place overhead.

  Astounding magic was unleashed from the cyclops rear echelons as the undead warlocks unleashed counter spells at the demons. Most were sent back to their hellish realm in squeals of pain and anguish. Some were killed by the retaliating dragons while the bigger demons fought on, impervious to the magic being wielded against them.

  Magic was thrown back at the undead, vast balls of fire, clouds of poison and sheets of deadly ice and hail, punctuated by bolts of lightning. Counter spells were cast at the cabal who threw up defensive spells. And so the magics were counterbalances, neither side able to thrown spells at each other without much effect.

  The last of the demons finally succumbed to the dragons counter attacks, but not before ravaging the dragons, in turn, those who were not littering the surrounding mountains with their crushed and torn carcases fled back north from where they had come. Once again, the battle would be fought through the strength of arms and brute determination.

  A flanking move to the left of the battlefield brought the centaurs to a gallop. The giant packs of werewolves were trying to outflank the defensive lines which still held. Swift Running Sands led the galloping charge into the running beasts, flaying about with his giant two handed sword. A vicious skirmish broke out between the centaurs and the werewolves, one where no quarter was given.

  The werewolves hunted like ordinary wolves, bringing down the centaurs by attacking them from behind and hamstringing them while the centaurs rode them down and impaled them with their swords and spears. The centaurs were hopelessly outnumbered, yet they were a match for the werewolves, managing to keep them at bay through a running battle.

  King Marcus dispatc
hed his full complement of light horse warriors to aid the centaurs. The charging horsemen lowered their spears and smashed into the beasts, spitting them onto the long shafts of their lances. It broke the werewolves who turned tail and fled back to the safety of their lines.

  The centaurs, led by a gravely wounded Swift Running Sands, slowly made their way back to the rear of the defenders where they were attended to by the healers.

  Slowly, inch by inch, the cyclops forced their way over the wall, taking heavy losses in the process. More cyclops filled the gaps left by their fallen comrades as they sought to push the trolls and orcs back. The ground became slick as the pools of blood and bile turned the grass and sand into thick, sticky mud underfoot. King Marcus sent a series of messengers off to his signalmen who in turn blew their horns in response. A very particular series of notes sounded, resounding off the mountains as the notes echoed back.

  A roar of a charge and the dwarves joined the battle as they steamed out of hidden holes and caves which surrounded the battlefield. The dwarves attacked the assembled humans from behind, locking them out of the advance as they turned to defend the rear. The cyclops were committed to the forward advance, and could not turn to defend themselves against the dwarves.

  The dwarves made progress at first, pushing the humans back into the cyclops, fouling them all, but a countercharge by the surviving werewolves and the human horsemen began to turn the tide against the dwarves. Soon they were streaming back into the hills, as they fought off the werewolves and horsemen from the advantage of the rocky terrain.

  The king’s heavy horse took advantage of this and began to manoeuvre around the right of the struggling armies. A well-timed charge by the heavy horse, long lances down, smashed into the cyclops and human archers, and as one, the entire archer formation crumpled inward, slain dead to the last man. The heavy horse wielded right once more and made for their dwarven allies who were hard pressed by the enemy horse and werewolves.

  Hitting them hard from behind and the last of the werewolves were crushed and trampled beneath the avenging king’s men. The cyclops horse warriors fought to the death, not one man or horse surrendering as they were hacked down by the heavy horse and dwarven axemen.

  A stalemate seemed to be ensuing. The cyclops were not able to break the lines of the trolls who in turn were unable to push the cyclops back. The day was slowly coming to an end, yet the fighting was not. A commotion from the cyclops rear where the horse warriors and dwarves were causing havoc and all too soon the heavy horse and dwarves were seen fleeing back towards the king’s lines; terror etched on the faces of the surviving soldiers. Cries of skeleton warriors reached the king who began to pale.

  It was the news he was dreading. The Skeletal Horde would be unstoppable. These undead warriors would stop at nothing. And where the hell were the Ghosts? Did they abandon the king and his all his men to a cruel fate? Did they cower in fear as so many of his men began doing?

  Shadows flitted over King Marcus’ head. He looked up and spied the low flying, darting figures of the griffins as they flew low and fast over the battlefield straight for the approaching skeletons. A relieved cheer went up as the fearful men realised that it was the Ghosts who flew to their aid, who flew to put themselves between the skeletons and the ailing armies, who would sacrifice so much for the freedom of the people of Curixeus.

  ***

  But not this time, this time, we were prepared. We had faced the Skeletal Horde before and paid the price the hard way. This time, it was personal for us all. This time was payback. I motioned for us to circle the enemy forces, gaining height over them as we readied ourselves.

  Once high enough, another signal, and we dropped a small surprise for those below us. More naphtha bombs with shrapnel-wrapped around the fragile jars. It should wreck a few of the skeletons, giving us a gap to land to finish the job. The resulting fireball was far bigger than I had expected. The rising flames reached out to burn us as we tried to climb higher out the path of the fire wraith.

  A few griffins were singed, their feathers crisping and curling under the intense heat. The luckless riders fell from the beasts, rider, and griffin tumbling back down into the retreating flames. Below us, as the air cleared, massive gaps were blasted open in the ranks of the skeletons and some of the cyclops.

  The second wave of griffins carrying the heavy cages with the trolls and orcs winged their way over the battlefield, their bodies silhouetted in the setting sun as they headed for these gaps. I made ready to leap of Rammstein, intending to land before the cages.

  Around me, as the griffins settled lower over the battlefield, my men followed suit, weapons, and shields out. Down we fell, the last thirty metres to the uneven ground as we landed crouched in mini dust clouds, kicking up ash and dust around us. A few cried of pain as some men twisted ankles in the holes created from the blasts, or on exposed rocks and the odd body. These men would be loaded into empty cages and taken to be force healed before insisting on rejoining the fray.

  I looked up from my kneeling position, allowing myself a few moments as I re-gathered my thoughts after the bone-jarring landing in full battle armour. I had a big, solid round shield strapped to my left arm and a simple long sword held tightly in my right. I felt exposed, not armed with my magical weapons which I had lost a few days earlier to the dragons, but my men around me had theirs out and were already using them.

  “Defensive formation!” I shouted, my orders being passed on by my sub-commanders.

  Immediately we formed a double lined circle formation, shields and weapons facing outwards. We stood there awaiting the onslaught that was to follow. The Skeleton Horde would descend on us like an avalanche. I sure as hell hoped that this so-called unveiling of power by the ogres was going to happen soon and that it would be enough to turn the avalanche aside, where we could become the avalanche of destruction upon the cyclops themselves.

  “Commander Bob sir, a word if I may,” a concerned Veggie shouted above the din of the battle from the middle of the circle.

  We had not engaged the enemy yet and stood waiting. I growled under my breath before nodding to the soldier behind me to take my spot. I stepped back, and he quickly slid into my place while I went to have a word with the ogre.

  “What is it Veggie? We are kinda busy at the moment,” I chided him.

  “I fully understand sir. It’s just, we are in a conundrum at the moment,” Veggie said with Jiw nodding his head vigorously behind him.

  “And why is that?” I asked.

  “Well, you see, the last time we unveiled our full power was during the final days of our hunting of the Younger Races, and during the subsequent wars which followed. Since then we have not done it again. To do so is to invite a bloodlust, a feeding frenzy, and we may not be able to stop this frenzy if we come into contact with our own side,” he explained with obvious discomfort.

  “You waited until now to tell me this. We have been waiting for you to do your thing all this time.”

  “Well, some of the ogres are afraid that they won’t stop the hunt, and may revert to the old way that is why I raised it now, as a potential threat we may be facing.”

  I stood looking at the assembled ogres as they crowded the middle of the defensive circle, my mind racing ahead as to what Veggie told me.

  “Right, those who don’t want to unveil fully don’t let them. They can join the lines in human shapes or as the ogre form I know. Those that want to unveil, thank you. It must be hard, but it won’t go unnoticed. The Ghosts take care of their own,” I told him while maintaining eye contact.

  “Thanking you kindly Sir Bob. We will not let you down,” a very relieved Veggie said with his father, Jiw, looking just as relieved.

  “One more request, please. We need more space to transform.”

  “That we can do. Give the word when you ready we will expand our circle for you.”

  I turned away from the ogres as they quickly conferred. The skeletons had recovered and had begun to turn and
lurch towards us by this time.

  “Sir Bob. We are ready,” was all that Veggie said.

  I turned back to him and nodded before bellowing out the order to expand the circle. Everybody took one step forward, and then another until the second row had merged with the front row. I looked back at Veggie and nodded to him again to show we were ready.

  By now the lead skeletons had begun to bang on the locked shields with their weapons, not cause much other than making a noise. I watched as the ogres spread out in the circle of soldiers, each ogre making sure that they had enough space to transform.

  Watching the ogres shift into the four armed beasts was scary enough, sufficient to make my skin crawl and to conjure up the nightmares one has as a child about the boogeyman which hides under the bed. To watch six transform wanted to make me run and hide somewhere safe. But when the last four, Veggie, his dad Jiw and two others unveiled themselves fully, well, I dropped my weapons and almost ran away with fouled pants. The skin of the human shape they had assumed bulged and tore as if a demon was trying to escape. Talons pierced through the arms, ripping the flesh apart as multiple arms tore through. The skin peeled off the head, sloughing off as a hideously scaled head pushed through the skull. More arms ripped open the chest. Legs burst out of the human skin, and a wicked tail flicked itself free. Before me stood a monster truly out of my nightmares.