The dragon spewed forth a huge gust of hot steam just as the wizard lifted her ringed finger, calling upon its magic. Since the spells were already imbued in the ring, it only took a word to activate its power, allowing her to bring forth the magic before she was cooked alive. A bluish translucent shield had shot out from the ring, instantly creating a human sized barrier that wrapped protectively around her. As the hot steam roared past her she could feel the skin on her back begin to burn, but her pain was nothing compared to what the men around her were experiencing. And although she could not yet see anything she could hear their screams and smell their sizzling flesh.
Then the mist was gone and so was the dragon. There were easily twenty men around her when the dragon attacked and every one of them was now dead, their burnt bodies encased in seared and melted armor, and contorted into the unnatural positions characteristic of agonizing death. The stench of burnt hair and roasted flesh accompanied the terrible scene around her, and she felt the bile rise up in her throat.
That was when she noticed that the tower was no longer on fire. The steam, although it was searing, had managed to put out the flames. The roaring mist must have smothered it, which may have been the intent of the dragon’s attack to begin with.
More howling monsters arrived at the open door on top of the smoking tower, leaping down onto the wall as Lizarcus scurried backwards away from them. She was no warrior. She didn’t even carry a sword and she only had seconds before they would cut her down with their thick heavy blades. She heard soldiers behind her but they could not get to her in time. If she was going to live then it would be up to her.
She quickly recited a spell, bringing forth six magical bolts that instantly appeared beside her. As two big orcs came at her with their broad swords raised, she screamed in fright, simultaneously directing two of the bolts at them; the first magic missile struck one of the orcs in the throat while the second bolt slammed into the other creature's forehead, dropping it like a sack of bricks. Meanwhile, the other creature had stumbled to the side, gagging on its own blood. Before she could blink, two more orcs were upon her, and as she scuttled away from them her foot struck a body behind her, tripping her to the ground. Ironically that saved her life as she inadvertently fell beneath an orc’s blade that whistled by her head. Still screaming and on the ground she shot two more bolts into the beast, gouging bloody holes in its chest, and tossing it backwards into another orc.
Lizarcus scrambled to her feet, dismayed to see even more orcs pouring from the tower and onto the wall. She was relieved to hear the sound of booted feet close behind her and knew that armed soldiers would arrive within moments. But she still had two bolts left so she shot each one into another attacker. Two more orcs fell and in an instant she found herself surrounded by charging Finarthian warriors. She scrambled to the rear of the group as steel met steel and the defenders frantically worked to stem the tide of attackers entering through the tower. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. She could hardly believe she was alive. The burns on her back were a painful but welcome reminder that she was not yet dead.
Graggis, who had arrived with the other soldiers, swung his mighty axe in great arcs as he cut down the enemy while blocking any attacks that came his way. His thick muscular arms spun and flipped the axe with deadly speed and precision. The soldiers flanking him knew better than to get in his way. Together they powered past the wizard, pushing the orcs back towards the tower. They had made it to the wizard just in time. Graggis and the Finarthian soldiers fought furiously, effectively boxing the orcs in a deadly prison of stone walls and sharp steel. They soon made it to the mouth of the tower where the parapet was now littered with the bodies of orcs and goblins.
“Now!” Graggis yelled, as he kicked an orc in the chest, dislodging the dead beast from the blade of his axe. Several men behind him had prepared clay jugs of oil that they had set afire, then tossed into the opening of the tower. One shattered against an emerging orc, flaming liquid drenching it and splattering against the wooden structure. The orc immediately became a giant living torch, orange flames covering its body. The doomed creature howled in pain, falling backwards into more monsters. The second jug of oil hit something structural inside the tower, causing a fiery explosion which instantly engulfed the entire top of the tower in bright flames. Needless to say no more enemy warriors emerged from the tower opening. “Throw this scum off the wall,” Graggis ordered, turning to look for Lizarcus. He found her leaning against the wall vainly trying to gather her wits and calm her breathing. “Good work, Wizard. Thought we weren’t goin' to get to ya.”
“Just in time it would seem. Thanks for your aid, Captain,” she said, digging into a pouch on her side for a small brown bottle filled with healing elixir. Her back was in severe pain and she hoped the potion would be enough to alleviate the discomfort.
“The thanks belong to you. We appreciate your help. Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll be fine once I drink this,” she replied.
“Very well. Be safe,” Graggis said, departing to see to his men and make sure that the tower was fully destroyed. They also had to keep a constant eye out for that dragon, which appeared more rapidly than seemed possible for a creature of its size.
The walls continued to be bombarded by huge missiles that crashed against the outer wall, shaking its foundations. But still it held as each side traded projectile for projectile. Most of the enemy army was now close to the wall, and attempting to use the array of siege towers that now lined the defensive structure. Several had succumbed to the flames but six still remained. The enemy army continued to fling stone projectiles, but they soon began to switch to huge jugs of flaming oil, launching them over the walls toward the city buildings beyond. Crashing beyond the outer wall they splattered flames across men and catapults. For now the distance was too great for them to clear the inner fortification and land within the city, but they were slowly advancing, the great machines inching forward, and it would not be long before they would be in range to do just that.
“Fire the catapults again!” Kiln ordered, observing the enemy in the distance roll their great machines closer to the wall. The order was transmitted to the men below and soon they too were flinging great jugs of burning oil over the wall across the battlefield to land in the enemy ranks. Some missed, but several found monsters and machines alike, killing and destroying in great splashes of deadly flame.
“Kiln, below!” Jonas yelled, looking over the side of the inner wall. A magical door had opened on the ground near the gate and giant orcs were rushing from the opening like a swarm of angry hornets. It was the same dimension door that they had seen at Cuthaine when the orcs had attacked the gaming house. It seemed the Shan Cemar was being used again.
Most of the soldiers located along the killing ground between the inner and outer wall were working the catapults, but there were reserves armed and ready inside the main gate ready for just such a contingency. General Gandarin, who was in charge of the defenses of the inner wall and who stood above its gate, watched in horror as the creatures poured from the magical door. He quickly gave the order to open the inner gate and send in the mounted knights. The big gates opened and Captain Lathrin and five hundred Finarthian knights shot through the opening with lances angled down and shields held at the ready.
Jonas was already running down the stairs on the inner wall to the ground below. Allindrian was close on his heels, both leaping down six steps at a time. They looked like mountain goats easily navigating the most difficult terrain. Jonas’s magical boots allowed him to move much faster and with more agility than even the most skilled human thief.
Allindrian was something to behold, firing three arrows from her bow as she quickly descended the stairs. Three orcs were already dead by the time she landed on the ground, her sword seeming to magically appear in her other hand.
Jonas leaped the last ten feet off the wall landing with a practiced roll to cushion the hard landing. He was standing about twe
nty paces in front of the door that opened into the gatehouse mechanics room. About fifty Gould-Irin orcs had managed to enter through the magic door, and now they were nearly upon him. They could not allow the orcs to get into the gatehouse and breach the outer gate, opening it up to the full force of Malbeck's army. He could see the glitter of the Finarthian knight's lances and hear the thundering hooves of their horses as they raced toward the monsters. He surmised that the cavalry had been ordered to attack from the inner wall. He was confident that they would eventually crush the relatively small number of Gould-Irin that were pouring through the magical gate, but he was worried they would not arrive in time to prevent the creatures from opening the gate. Would he and Allindrian be able to keep them at bay until the cavalry arrived?
But he didn't have time to ponder the question as Allindrian jumped down beside him. They had only enough time to share a brief smile before the orcs were upon them. Jonas quickly concentrated on calling forth his cognivant abilities. Almost immediately he was able to draw in the energy around him, then hurl it forward like a battering ram. The invisible wall slammed into the mass of orcs, and they were thrown backwards, momentarily stunned. He then withdrew his cognivant power, saving energy he knew he might need later.
Allindrian and Jonas then tore into the stunned creatures, creating a tornado of spinning razor sharp steel. Even the mighty Gould-Irin could not withstand the quick and deadly precise movements of their expert swordplay. The orc bodies began to pile up around them, but it wasn’t long before their sheer numbers began to push the two warriors back…and they didn’t have far to go before they would be pushed up against the door leading to the gate mechanisms. It mattered not how skilled they were when faced by such large numbers in a confined space.
Back on the wall Lor-telliam was scanning the enemy near the outer gate, dismayed by his sudden realization. Using his power to raise his voice, he yelled above the deafening sounds of battle, “There is a wizard nearby, and a powerful one at that! No mere conjurer could create and sustain such a dimension door! We must find him and kill him to close that opening!”
Prince Riker was looking over the outer edge when he saw a cloaked form surrounded by several giant ogres. “There!” he said, pointing to the right.
Lor-telliam ran to the prince, his eyes quickly following the direction of the prince's finger. The elf swore under his breath, “Ethereen,” he whispered, already preparing a powerful spell. Ethereen was the elven name given to Gullanin, the most powerful evil wizard known on Kraawn and Malbeck’s faithful servant. According to Kromm the wizard was supposed to be dead, but it looked as if that information was not accurate. It was too far away for anyone to see into the blackness of the cloaked hood but the Ekahal had a feeling that it was he, and the one who had found the Shan Cemar. But what he didn't know was that Gullanin the wizard was now a Lich, an undead wizard, even more powerful than he was before.
The Ekahal had begun chanting and everyone backed away to give him room. He slowly raised both hands, one gripping his staff, up towards the sky. The sky darkened as blue energy crackled above them. Then, without warning, a bolt of white lightning shot from the cloaked wizard below coming straight towards Lor-telliam. Everything happened so fast. Blue energy crackled from the sky, hitting Lor-telliam’s staff. The energy was channeled from the staff and it instantly shot from his raised hand towards Gullanin just as the dark wizard’s bolt streaked towards him.
Riker, without thinking, jumped in front of the wizard.
Screaming, Kromm reached out for his son as the bolt struck Riker in the chest. Lor-telliam’s bolt struck true and crackling fingers of intense energy hit Gullanin and any creature that stood near him. There was a violent explosion and everyone within a ten pace perimeter of the blast was blown from their feet, fried to a blackened mass of melted armor and skin.
Riker was blasted into the Ekahal, throwing both of them backwards onto the stone path that lined the top of the wall.
Kromm raced to his son who was sprawled out near the back wall. “Riker!” he yelled, as he kneeled beside him. Lor-telliam was slowly getting to his feet. Everyone else ran over to the prince, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
To everyone's amazement, the prince showed no signs of the attack. His white armor was perfect, shining with the same brilliance. Nothing was burning or smoking. In fact his eyes were wide and bright and a smile graced his face.
“Father, I feel so alive,” he said.
“Thank Ulren, but how can this be?” Kromm whispered, helping his son to his feet.
“He is Ishmian,” Lor-telliam said. “What he feels now is an awakening of his power. He absorbed the power of that spell, and that energy is racing through him, giving him new strength.”
“I can’t explain it. I feel as if I could fight anything,” Riker said.
“You mean that any magical attacks will actually give him more power?” King Baylin asked.
“Yes. I suspected that may be the case. Now I am sure. And Prince, that was a foolish thing to do, but I thank you nonetheless,” Lor-telliam said as he gripped Riker’s shoulder. “Your courage honors us all.”
No one was looking, however, as Gullanin the Lich lifted his skeletal body off the ground and walked away, the burnt edges of his cloak fluttering behind him, apparently unharmed by the Ekahal's powerful spell.
Just as Jonas and Allindrian were about to be pushed into the wall housing the gate mechanisms, they were relieved to hear the cavalry crash into the orcs. Then Jonas heard another sound that cheered him even more, a great roar that came from his left, and quickly followed by the massive form of Tulari leaping from the stairs and crashing into the orcs below. He had left her below the wall, along with Hagar, Tuvallis, and Seli, who were helping the men at the catapults. The ogrillion’s great strength was invaluable when loading the heavy projectiles onto the throwing arms of the large weapons.
Jonas was amazed at her agility. To get to the stairs she would have had to leap over the mass of orcs surrounding him, both dead and alive, land on the stairs above, then pivot and launch herself back towards him. Each leap must have been at least fifteen paces.
He had no time to marvel at her skills, however, as the Gould-Irin continued their onslaught. Jonas and Allindrian had managed to slow the orcs' advance, but they were steadily losing ground, even with Tulari’s presence. They had managed to hold their own so far, but they were severely outnumbered and were beginning to tire. Jonas struggled to react in time as two pitted and bloody swords came at him simultaneously. It was all he could do to block the powerful strikes. At the same time, the heavy boot of one of the creatures shot forward and struck him in the hip, pushing him backwards even further. Stumbling, he spun in a circle leading with a blade, and took the charging orc in the throat. Tulari, rushing to his defense, wrapped her huge jaws around its torso, and flung the massive creature into its comrades as if it were no more than a mouse she was playing with. It was a testament to her incredible strength that she was able to toss around a creature as large as a Gould-Irin orc, who easily weighed twice as much as a man.
Jonas had a brief reprieve as its body crashed into the front line of the advancing monsters. He glanced back and saw they were only five paces from the gatehouse door. When he turned back to face the orcs they were already charging. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something strange, several orcs flying into the air, hurled from their feet like rocks from a catapult. Landing amongst their comrades they caused momentary confusion.
“Hagar!” Allindrian yelled with new vigor.
And she was right. Jonas saw the beast’s upper torso pushing through the crowd of orcs, carving a bloody path with great swings of his huge mace. Crumpled enemy forms flew left and right as he smashed his way toward them, the rays of the morning sun sparkling off his mirror-like armor. Nothing could stand in the ogrillion’s way. And though several orc blades had struck his legs, his skin was as tough as leather armor, and the blades' strikes were merely
glancing blows, creating only minor wounds that did not slow him in the least. One orc hurled a giant spear at him, as thick as a man’s wrist, striking the ogrillion in the chest. But it was deflected by his armor and dropped harmlessly to the ground, leaving not a single mark.
Within moments the eleven foot creature was standing next to Jonas and they were fighting side by side. Jonas risked a glance Hagar’s way and was relieved to see that Tuvallis and Seli had joined the fight. The mountain man must have followed in Hagar’s wake, and where Tuvallis went, Seli would not be far away. The trio seldom left each other’s side. Tuvallis was one of the few humans that the ogrillion trusted and he had taken it upon himself to protect the beast from the fear and prejudice that were often directed toward the soft hearted monster. Most of the soldiers tolerated the beast, some even respected him, but many still looked upon the ogrillion with fear and disdain. It was hard for them to see past the reputation of his ancestors, and his giant form, fierce eyes, and the yellow fangs that were made for tearing flesh did little to alleviate their fears.
The magical dimension door had disappeared when Lor-telliam had attacked and injured Gullanin, the wizard who had conjured it, shutting off the steady flow of orcs. It wasn’t long before the mounted knights had cut their way through the beasts to meet up with the defenders at the gatehouse door. The ground was littered everywhere with orc bodies, but they had piled up in greater numbers near the five warriors.
Lathrin dismounted, stepping over enemy corpses as Jonas wiped the blood from his blades on the dirty tunic of a fallen orc. “Well met. Impressive,” was all he said as he looked around at the bodies. “If not for you they may have opened that gate.” Lathrin looked up at the ogrillion with a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and uncertainty. “I have never seen a creature fight like that. He is…amazing, and…puzzling at the same time.”
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 34