Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  Giants were with the army as well, mixing in like tall trees amongst brush. Two pairs of giants were spread to the far ends of the army like massive bookends. Six of the behemoths were in the center, prepared to burst into the city through the gateway and devastate the human force. The men had to hope and pray that their defenses against the two story high beasts would work.

  Two of the giants in the center of the army stepped forward. They removed thick ropes that were looped around their shoulders. On the end of the ropes were massive grappling hooks. The behemoths stepped a couple of yards closer, but were still out of the range of the archers. The soldiers on the wall, who had the large bows, notched arrows; however the giants did not yet come within range. They began to twirl the heavy grappling hooks, hundreds of pounds of steel, around and around, building their momentum. Then, at the same time, they launched them towards the city. They soared through the air and crashed down short of the wall but near the obstacles. Together the giants pulled the ropes. One hook locked into some debris of the obstruction but the other did not. The giant who did not secure his hook pulled it in and threw it again. This time it stuck. Together they pulled, each with the strength of two-dozen men. Parts of the barricade crumbed beneath the giants’ strength. Wood, stone and dirt scattered everywhere. The breach was not large, but could fit several orcs through at a time.

  A cheer rose among the orcs. The giants threw the large metal hooks a few more times, clearing more space each time they connected and pulled. All the humans could do was watch as their barricade broke away. Then, a tall thin but muscular orc, came forward on a horse. He pointed his sword towards the city that was once theirs and screamed a command in a deep voice. The army pushed forward, led by orcs pushing the battering ram. The giants remained behind the main force, holding off on their attack.

  Bayloff, who was leading the men on the wall, turned to the ground troops and called out “Archers!” The bow-wielding soldiers stepped out closer to the wall and took their positions. They could not see what was happening. The drums seemed to be closing in and the orcs could be heard marching. All of a sudden a collective scream went up from outside the city. The battle was beginning.

  “Readyyy!” Screamed another officer atop the wall. At his call the archers on the rampart pulled the bowstrings and aimed high. “Fire!”

  As the sound of the orcs' yells became louder, the reverberation of hundreds of arrows being released could be heard. The missiles soared through the air towards the army then descended on the enemy. Some arrows missed, others wounded or killed orcs, while others stuck into shields held protectively high. By the time the first orcs to die fell to the ground, another round of arrows was in the air, and the missiles would not stop. Thousands of arrows were made in the days leading to battle. Over and over again the archers would shoot, trying to thin the Faletonian ranks.

  “Fire!” Ordered Bayloff and the archers on the ground shot their arrows high into the air, arcing over the wall and turning down onto the enemy. They repeated continuously like the ominous drums.

  The humans were fortunate, however, as the wheels on the carriage holding the battering ram could not easily move over the scattered degree from the barricade. The ram had protective wood on the top and overhanging the sides. There was one lantern in the very front of the ram so that the pushers could see where they were headed. Arrows plunged into the wood and others got through. The orcs in the front of the ram noticed the problem with the wheel but did not think to immediately act. If a soldier was hit by an arrow and went down, another was quick to take his place. More and more arrows rained on the attackers. Finally, the orcs in the front began to chop away at the ground and the debris that prevented the wheels from continuing. This caused to them being more exposed and a few more were struck with arrows and fell away. But on they came and, eventually, the battering ram pushed forward again. It rolled over obstacles including the bodies of dead orcs. Another roar went up among the invaders as the ram approached the gate.

  Boom! Sounded the ram on impact. The orcs pulled the carriage back and pushed it forward again leading to another thump. The gate was holding for now, but would not for long.

  Elberon gripped his mace tighter as he heard the thuds against the gate; the smashing sound joined the percussion of the drums. He was quite far back since there were hundreds of cavalry in front of him. He could not see exactly what was happening in the darkness. Only a few torches were scattered about the wall. Victus could be seen on his horse in the vanguard. His glowing white cape faced Elberon and the others behind him like a beacon of hope.

  The men on the wall near the gate did their best to focus on their orders. There was not a man, veteran or first time soldier, that did not look out on the army before them with some level of trepidation. The sheer amount of Faletonian soldiers was overwhelming. Some had to fight to suppress the thoughts that there could be no victory that night. They had to trust in their fortifications; they had to believe in their commanders. They had little choice.

  Bayloff looked down at the ram. It wasn’t directly under him, but close enough to be seen clearly. BOOM! It sounded against the gate. The Faletonians had archers and they began to fire arrows back up over the wall. Fortunately for the men, few found a target. The orcs were pushing on through and over remaining parts of the barricade. It seemed as they were mad with rage and did care for their own life. Arrows ended many but others stepped right up. They were rushing forward chaotically and began to lose organization. The attacking army began to bottleneck in the area near the gate. Bayloff saw the opportunity before him. He glanced to the nearest tarp on the wall, which was covering the oil and torches. It was time.

  With a hand signal, Bayloff called over a soldier. He then motioned over to the small area covered by the tarp. The soldier went under the tarp and gathered the flint and lit a torch on fire. He then dropped the torch into a bucket that had a small amount of oil in it. After the initial flame burst resided, the soldier quickly brought the lit bucket to Bayloff.

  “Archer,” snapped Bayloff and an archer nearby let loose an arrow down into the orc horde and then rushed to his commander. The archer reached into his quiver and pulled out a few arrows that were wrapped together at the points. He removed the wrapping and the arrow tips were each further individually wrapped in cloth and drenched in oil. As the oil soaked arrow hovered above the flaming bucket, the archer looked at Bayloff. His face was calm and his expression determined.

  “Do it.”

  The man dipped the arrow into the bucket and it ignited. He then notched it onto his bow. Ducking below the top of the wall, the archer crept to a spot where he would have a quick shot. With a deep breath the archer popped to his feet, shot the arrow and then ducked back down. He had aimed slightly away from the mass of orcs but still within the area where the ground was soaked with oil. His aim was true and the flaming arrow struck the land. If Victus or anyone else was concerned that the oil on the ground would not light, their doubts burned up in the flames of hope.

  A huge fire ignited quickly near the city gate. It started at the feet of a few orcs but quickly spread and engulfed the surrounding orcish soldiers as well as the battering ram. A loud cheer went up among the men. Orcs scampered in every direction screaming in pain as they met their fiery death. The flames roared on, consuming anything in the oil. The rain had no affect. After a short period, there were no orcs near the city’s entrance and arrows from atop the wall continued to fly towards orcs at the flames perimeter.

  The Faletonians were quick to react though. Their leaders had ordered the orcs back. Although they retreated hastily, many orcs fell to arrows before they could withdraw far enough away. The army reassembled out of the range of the missiles and waited.

  The men on the city walls looked deep into the night, their faces illuminated by the fire below. Both the torches of the Faletonian army and the fire that raged at the gate enabled them to see the scene before them. It seemed as if nothing happened to the army. Well o
ver a hundred orcs must have died and yet there still seemed to be endless numbers outside the city, spanning back forever into the darkness. The fire below the wall eventually began to subside and eventually burned out. Orcs and goblins wasted no time advancing again.

  Quickly orcs were pushing the battering ram, which remained in surprisingly good shape after being burned. They rolled it over the bodies of their burnt kin and forced themselves to ignore the stench of burnt flesh. BOOM! The ram hit the city gate again as arrows rained down. BOOM!

  Bayloff watched over the side of the wall. He then turned back to look down at Victus. The Captain sat on his horse in the middle of the cavalry; his eyes glaring back though his helmet at his commander and friend. The slamming sound at the gate had all the soldiers on the ground waiting anxiously. Victus was the most anxious of them all. He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to know what the scene looked like outside of the city.

  BOOM!

  The wood began to crack on the backside of the gate. The enemy would be in soon. Arrows continued to fly over the wall and down onto the orcs but not enough to stop them. Hundreds of horses were behind the archers on the ground carrying their armored riders. The Captain could feel the tension of his men around him and was thankful the horses somehow remained calm.

  BOOM! More cracking, splinters and chips of stone fell to the floor. The drums beat on.

  Bayloff could be seen staring out into the distance. He no longer was focused on the battering ram that threatened to enter the city at any moment. His attention went out towards the back of the enemy army. Turning from the wall, he faced Victus and the human army inside the city. Victus didn’t remove his site from his most trusted officer. Bayloff was his eyes on the wall and was an integral part of the communication of the army. The Captain thought he made out an uncharacteristic expression on Bayloff’s face just before he screamed down to him. Panic. Bayloff’s voice carried loud, his message daunting.

  “The giants are moving! The giants are moving!”

  ***

  Thirty-eight soldiers on horseback awaited the arrival of two riders that sped towards them from a distance. The scouts had returned and their news was eagerly anticipated. They rode their horses right to Mikael Whitten.

  “We found the tracks and followed them further. They are moving north east and quickly.”

  “Towards the city that Victus conquered?”

  “It appears so or perhaps they are headed back to the other Faletonian city from which they came,” said the scout.

  Mikael immediately moved his horse forward and without turning back said, “We have no time to lose. Let’s go. We will find them before they get back to their city.” He began riding north and his men followed. The pace began as a slow trot and then led to a mad sprint on the horses. Forty riders went north, the sound of the pounding hooves rumbled in the country sky. Heavy rain had moved in but they kept at the grueling speed for over an hour. They covered a lot of ground in pursuit. The tracks of their prey were easy to follow due to the rain soaked terrain; all thirty of the savage orcs rode together, leaving a marred trail a blind man could detect.

  As darkness began to settle the rain continued and the ride went on. A few hours into the night the warriors from Lunemire set up camp. Their mission was to bring the marauders to justice. Their swords would carry out the sentences. Mikael immediately sent out two more scouts to further follow the trail. They had to be close to the orcs now; the weather may have slowed them down and the orcs couldn’t have known they were being closely trailed.

  Several hours went by and Ostinus sat on the muddy ground while snacking on some bread and dried cured meat. He thought to himself about the battle that would ensue. Savage Faletonian riders had quickly and cowardly attacked the farms of each of the three cities of the South Sea several days prior. The monsters had brutally killed peasants and destroyed farmland. The thirty-nine soldiers with Ostinus were all experienced warriors and many had fought together before. They should be able to slaughter the orcs with hopefully few losses.

  “We shouldn’t be far from the city that Victus Antonel marched on,” said one soldier who also was eating near Ostinus. Water dripped from his helmet and armor “I wonder if they’re still in the city, or if they’ve marched on to take another.”

  Ostinus thought of his friend Elberon. He hadn’t checked a map but he could figure that the man was right. The city could not be far. It had been several days since the reports of Victus’s victory though. Chances are they moved on. Could the forty warriors join the campaign after dealing with the marauding orcs? He didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought. The sound of hooves was heard in the distance.

  “A rider!” Screamed one soldier and all men turned to see.

  The scouts were arriving back sooner than expected. They must have spotted the orcs and returned to share their whereabouts. Everyman was now on his feet and either gathering his belongings or preparing to mount his steed. Ostinus walked his horse closer to Mikael, which is where the scouts were headed. He wanted to be close enough to hear the details.

  “Sir,” one scout began.

  “What report do you bring?” asked Mikael.

  “The tracks continued north east for some time. We didn’t know if we were further north then the city our army…”

  “Victus’s army.” Mikael quickly interjected, whether to praise the bold captain’s cause or to show his desire to remain separate from him was indiscernible.

  “Yes…We couldn’t be sure if we were further north than the city Victus had taken. We knew it was likely close…Then the tracks turned east…” He paused.

  “Continue.”

  The man looked to the other scout who had went on the mission with him. “We found the city.” The tone of his voice was somber.

  “What did it look like? Were there signs of Victus and his army?”

  The scout frowned and wiped rain from his face and hair.

  “Tell me Luther.”

  “The city was surrounded. There were thousands and thousands of orcs. They were just outside the walls.. Atop the city walls flew flags from Abellard and Rogsnelk.” Murmuring went up amongst some of the men. Each of them knew that this meant Victus and his soldiers were under siege. “And…” The guard began to continue and all eyes returned to him. “There were giants too. Massive beasts…more than half a dozen.”

  “Shit!” Ostinus barked angrily. “We must help them,” he pleaded loudly as he hopped up into his saddle.

  “Tell us more of this force.” Mikael said to Luther in a calm voice.

  “There were thousands of orcs. Several thousands. Goblins were scattered about as well. A massive army.” Luther looked to the other scout who nodded in agreement.

  “Then there is nothing we can do to help. We must return to Lunemire and inform the council at once.” Mikael was already turning his horse as he made the statement.

  “No!” Ostinus shouted. Many of the soldiers looked at him in shock. “We cannot just head back as the Faletonian’s attack those men.”

  Mikael turned his horse again and rode a couple of steps towards Ostinus. “And what would we do? Ride our forty men into the rear of thousands of orcs and hope for the best? Hope that somehow we can miraculously win? That we can be the factor that turns the tide? We can do nothing. Our orders were to bring justice to the orcs who killed our citizens. Now they have linked back up with thousands of other orcs…and giants to make it worse. There is nothing we can do Ostinus Deenor.”

  “That is not true.” The tone with which Ostinus made the comment was aggressive and defiant, but he was not done. “So what are we to do then? Go back to Lunemire? Turn our backs on Victus, better yet on humanity? Who says we can’t make a difference. I see forty warriors, warriors of a class that no orc has ever seen. There is not a man here who, upon his mount, could not take down five orcs with ease and be ready for more.”

  “There are not a few hundred orcs. There are thousands!” Mikael raised his v
oice in clear displeasure, but Ostinus would not back down.

  “So you say go back? Head home and tell the council that thousands of men are being attacked and are likely to be killed? Inform them that we may be one step closer to the fall of two of the three cities by the South Sea. They’d likely be pleased to here it, the selfish sons of bitches.” Most of the soldiers looked at him in shock as he made the statement. “We have to find away to help these men. That is our real duty.” Ostinus riled up his horse and the animal snorted and pranced. The tension could be felt in the air.

  “Our orders from the council are-”

  Ostinus forcefully interrupted. “Fuck the council. Our orders are to protect our fellow men. And they need our help.” Mikael Whitten edged his steed slowly over towards the angry warrior. Ostinus’s face was stern amid his lengthy brown hair and thick goatee. Silence filled the camp and no one knew what to expect. Mikael stopped his horse just in front of the insubordinate warrior. He was a man that led soldiers of Lunemire for several years, a respected officer and a fierce warrior. His hands released the reigns. Ostinus continued to look sternly into Mikael’s eyes but remained aware of the man’s hands as well. The two stared at each other for a few moments.

  Mikael brushed his left hand up to the hilt of his sword, which was sheathed on his left hip. It sat there for a second and then he settled back in his saddle. His eyes never came off of Ostinus. His stare was as if he was looking deep into his thoughts and soul. Then, much to Ostinus’s surprise, Mikael said, “Those who wish to return to Lunemire may do so. Those who remain here will ride to an unknown fate…with Ostinus,” his eyes narrowed slightly. “And myself.” No one reacted at all. No one knew how to react, so silence remained for several seconds. The stare between Ostinus and Mikael was unbreakable and profound.

  “I’m with you!” said Mikael sternly.

  “As am I!” Another said.

  One after the other the men joined the cause. In the end, thirty-six warriors would stay to figure out a way to help Victus’s army. The four who would not rode off to inform the council of Lunemire of the decision of the others and fate of Victus’s army. The council would undoubtedly be shocked by the decisions of the soldiers that stayed, particularly Mikael Whitten.