The large orc dismounted from his warhorse and rose to his full height. The beast looked to be over eight feet tall, his body wide, and his arms thick. Still holding his helm, the orc looked up at him and bellowed “There no need all die miserably. If open up gates, War order quick deaths of men. Women and children live, slaves, but on War’s honor, they survive.”
“You call those terms?” he shot back, shaking his head. “Our lives are not yours to barter with.”
“Don’t be fool!” the orc raged. “What War offer chance women and children survive. If turn War away, War order black flag raised, and slaughter every creature in pathetic walls. Castle be razed and War stamp memory existence into nothing! Foolish attempt resist go unnoticed; courage forgotten. Think before speak, Human, it is War Human speak to! War personally rip spine from corpse and parade skull on standard rest of days!”
Did this asshole really think I’d just open the gates? He could tell from the look on the creature’s face that he was thinking exactly that.
“I’ve heard your terms, here are mine! Ride back to your army and strike up your tents; turn tail and go back to the wastelands where you belong. You will be given safe passage to leave; no one under my command will do you harm. But if you want to stay, quit your petty posturing. You want our lives? Come and get them you piece of shit!” he hollered back.
His men along the battlements roared in agreement; their defiance unmasked.
He looked up and saw smoke in the distance; forcing a smile. Things were going just as he planned. A rider was approaching from the enemy army and he knew he had only a few minutes before their “visitors” were informed of their attack.
“You made a mistake coming here; one that I’ll make sure you’re reminded of right before I separate that pig head from your rotting carcass. In case you don’t know, we dine on swine; it’s a delicacy! I say, bring on the bacon!” he finished, and his men were exuberant with their support. Snorting noises erupted from those closest to him and he began to smile wider.
The rider had reached their guests, but he couldn’t make out their words. He grinned when he saw the gargoyles’ reactions as they glared up at him, flashed their teeth, spread their wings, and took flight. They launched themselves south, wings propelling them in jagged thrusts.
The red armored warrior stared at him with hate and he smiled back.
Come get it, you bastard!
Slowly the orc donned his helm and got back on his horse. Then he turned with deliberate ease and began a measured ride back towards the enemy horde. He displayed no concern over the attacks being waged upon them and he felt shaken by the enemy commander’s confidence.
He looked to Bendor and saw a grim look on his general’s face. “We jist poked a tiger laddie, an’ Aam nae sure we’ve got a pit dug deep enaw tae trap heem in.”
“Well, best get the shovels and get to it, because I fear that orc won’t ever stop coming,” he commented sourly, watching the creature ride away.
His eyes picked up a stream of cavalry heading towards the western side of the castle. A horn blew in the distance as their enemy gave chase. He backed away from the wall and eyed his short comrade. “Bendor, they’ll be attacking soon, better prepare the men. I’m going to go see how our cavalry fared.”
“Hopefully they got them aw, ur it’ll be rainin’ suin, an’ Ah fur a body dornt want tae gie dreich!” the dwarf called after him as he descended the stairs.
Thinking of the red armored orc, he analyzed his thinking and realized nothing had really changed. So, they had a monstrous hulk for a commander; that just meant he had to go find a larger sword to hit him with.
Or maybe a dragonlance.
He chuckled his nerves away, kicked his horse’s flanks, and rode north to find Roland. Maybe he’d find a larger shield as well; he was definitely going to need it.
III
Tristan knelt next to the broken body of their Guardian, and despite the man’s supposed transgressions, felt remorse for what had become of the elven bodyguard. His body had been mutilated beyond recognition, with only the purple cloth of his uniform giving the impression of who he’d been. Limbs ripped off, torso excavated, and what looked like defecation within his stomach cavity, made bile rise within his throat and he was forced to turn away.
“Are you sure that Preik was working for the Phoenix?” he asked Kylee, who eyed the corpse coldly and without remorse.
Willow had remained near Melissa and was busy stroking Trek’s ears. She refused to come any closer and he could tell by the expression on her face that it sickened her to see her kinsman murdered in such fashion.
“What is the purpose behind the Guardians?” Kylee asked him, kneeling at his side and foraging through the dead man’s pouches. “To guard; it’s right there in their name. What was he doing when Willow got bit by that wretched snake? He was nowhere to be found. That’s an awful lapse in his duties, for which he was the remaining member.”
He had to look away with disgust and swatted at the flies that had begun to accumulate. “He could have been covering our back trail, making sure we weren’t followed.”
“Those goblins gave a rather quick chase and when we first saw them, they were on the passes further below. They hadn’t reached this point. Kore went looking for him after the attack and never saw any sign of him. Five hours lapsed between your leaving and her waking. That’s a long time to be checking our rear,” she said after removing the elf’s canteen and rising to her feet. “You’re just going to have to accept it; he was a traitor.”
“Then why kill him?” he asked as he rose to her side, turning his back on the fallen elf.
“Goblins are bloodthirsty swine and he made for an easy kill. They probably eat their own if they get hungry enough. Don’t try to put reason behind those vermin’s actions,” she told him and began her way down the mountainside once more.
He went to Willow’s side and together they followed after the ranger. Melissa held back to glare at the corpse, but then turned to take up the rear. Bleak was sitting on her shoulder and looked to be bored with the grisly find.
“Just doesn’t make any sense,” he continued; not letting go. Preik had come to Willow’s side during their battle in the forest, protecting her from goblins; why not just let them kill her? What purpose did pretending serve, when he could have attacked them unawares and finished the job right there? Why keep going?
Willow gripped his hand and gave him a hard smile. “We may never know, let’s just try and put it behind us and move on.”
Before he could say anything else he felt a tug on his mind, a probe trying to interfere with his thoughts. He tried to resist but it pushed harder, shoving his defenses aside.
You’re alive!
He recognized the youthful exuberant voice and relented in his mental struggle, letting their minds touch unhindered. He continued walking by Willow’s side as he felt the alien presence access his vision and move his eyes.
Who’s the chick, what the hell is on her shoulder, and where is Merlin? I can’t seem to reach him, Jared asked him with a flurry.
Mentally, he focused on what had transpired since they’d parted ways and let the events unfold in his mind. He couldn’t relate what had happened on Willow’s end, but his memories were sufficient enough to give a general overview.
Another presence flitted on the edge of their consciousness and he knew that Jared had interwoven his sister into their discussion.
After he finished with the discovery of Preik’s body, Reyna spoke up, you’re following some witch now? Who the hell put her in charge?
A hand gripped his arm and whipped him about. Facing Melissa, he flinched at the look on her face. “Merlin did by getting me involved and leaving this whelp on my doorstep,” she snarled, gazing through his eyes and communicating to those watching.
“What’s going on?” Willow asked, eyes flashing between the two. Jared automatically reached out and touched her mind, and her face changed when understandin
g dawned. “Oh.”
Well, you can tell the witch that she can turn around and go right back to where she came from, Reyna ordered through the link.
Melissa eyed him coldly and wondered who she was truly glaring at. He shrugged and tried to smile, as if apologizing for his black armored comrade.
“I wish. But now the Phoenix knows where I am, thanks to you lot. And since I can no longer stay in the shadows, I might as well take you where you need to go. Unless, of course, you know where to find Camelot, and where within lies the key that we seek?” Melissa asked, eyes twinkling with spite.
“Yeah!” Bleak chimed in, not having a clue to what was going on.
“Shut up,” Willow and Melissa said at the same time and the brownie bowed his head at their rebuke.
The horses are fine. We are fine. We’ll be waiting for you to get here, Jared informed him, then broke away before Reyna could argue any further.
Thank God for small favors.
And what was with his head being used as a conversational piece? He really needed to work on shutting these people out. Was nothing sacred to them? How did he know that he wasn’t being coerced, rather than making decisions on his own? He growled and looked away from the angry magician, catching sight of Kylee in the distance; not paying attention to the fact that they had stopped.
A cat growled at his feet then spoke up at them “In case you forgot, there’s an army not too far off that would love to finish the job of killing us. I’m sure another goblin party is on their way here now.”
He hadn’t thought of that, hoping that the battle that morning had been a victory that would give them some space and time to collect themselves. The thought that another might be on the way—
“Let’s keep moving,” Willow told him softly, freeing his arm from Melissa’s grasp, and pulling him along.
Melissa followed after and he couldn’t help but stare over his shoulder at her occasionally; sure that at any second she’d just disappear. How could he trust someone that truly did not want to be there? So many damn questions and he was with someone less forthcoming than Merlin; if that were possible.
The magician had stopped in place and was looking across the horizon at the fortress beyond.
“What is it now?” he asked, yanking his arm free and turning to face her.
Her eyes seemed distant, as if following something that none of them could see and when she turned to look at him, he felt a cold shiver snake over his nerves.
“War,” Melissa whispered softly in return.
IV
“Thirteen survived from the attack on the encampment,” Roland reported, and John sympathized with his general’s pain. Forty had gone out, thirteen had returned. He prayed that the twenty-seven others had been killed outright, for he feared what that orc commander would do to them if they still drew breath.
They were walking towards the tower they had met in earlier and felt the weight of his men’s deaths with every step taken. “And their targets?”
“They set fire to as many as they could. Whether it burned them beyond being serviceable? They didn’t stick around to find out. It’s varying with their reports, but yes, I think they got them all,” Roland replied.
He felt a grim satisfaction rush through him; maybe those men’s deaths hadn’t been in vain. Their sacrifice would buy them time for reinforcements to arrive.
He didn’t dare hope that Forlorn or Grendweir would march to their aid, but the bond with Griedlok ensured that their army should already be on the move. He hadn’t heard from them since sending a messenger pigeon the day before and didn’t dare to do so now. Enemy archers had been placed around their walls and were picking off any attempts with communication with the outside. A force of men might be able to break away, but he could not spare the man power for such a futile act. Either Griedlok was coming or not, there was nothing he could do but wait and hope.
Horns blew from the direction of the enemy horde and he felt his heart leap in his chest. As if to confirm his thoughts, a runner came flying down the steps in their direction and yelled that the enemy was advancing.
He flexed in his armor and drew his sword. The enemy was reacting to their raid and he knew they were about to receive their vengeance.
Roland ran at his side as he mounted the steps to the outer wall and the heights above. His dwarven commander was where he’d left him, eyes watching the battlefield, orders being barked without looking to see if they were carried out.
Bendor noticed their presence and eyed them warily. “Well laddie, hiner it was worth it.”
“None of their siege engines are intact, if the reports are right,” he told the dwarf, as he looked out upon the charred city before them.
“Guid,” Bendor nodded, then turned to one of his runners. “Oors, however, ur. Order th’ trebuchets an’ ballistae tae begin ance th’ enemy is within range. Teel General McKnight tae concentrate oan th’ center, try tae drife them back.”
The runner nodded and went to relay his orders.
“Nae ‘at it’ll make much ay a dent,” his general muttered.
Roland had taken a spot adjacent to theirs and was watching as well; his mind trying to work out if the cavalry would be needed or if they’d have to remain useless within the inner ward.
The horizon was shimmering with movement and the beating of drums increased slowly as the enemy army approached. He could hear their roars as like thunder in the distance and briefly wondered how long they’d be able to hold such a force at bay.
“Archers at th’ ready!” Bendor hollered. “An' teel th' gutties tae keep them weel stocked, cannae hae them runnin' it ay ammo! Ah want soldiers ready tae converge oan enemy ladders, order th' first legion stationed alang th' dyke, th' third held in reserve tae fill in whaur needed! Let’s drife them back lads, an' teach them th' errur ay their ways!”
He took up the roar of his countrymen, taking the shield fastened to his back off and slinging it on his arm. His blood was pumping, the armor heavy, but not as much as the responsibility he felt for all those that served him. He must not fail; they must push them back.
“Whit ur ye daein’, laddie?” Bendor asked from his stool, giving him a determined look. “Yoo’re nae stayin' haur. Gie up in 'at tower an' watch fur weaknesses, order reserves tae reinforce whaur needed.”
“I’m not leaving,” he told his general firmly. “I will not run and hide while people under my command fight in my name. My place is here.”
Bendor growled and stepped forward, the stool making it almost so they’d see eye to eye. “Ye ur th' kin', yer place is in th' rear, leadin' yer fowk. Yer life is worth mair than onie ay oors. We’ve tint a body kin' thes week, Ah don’t intend tae lose anither.”
“You’ll have to have me removed yourself. I’m not leaving,” he stated flatly, despite the valid argument being pushed upon him. He was not going to run and hide. His men needed to see him, fighting by their side. It would boost the morale and give them an edge otherwise denied by his absence.
Windel appeared next to him, dressed in platemail, and a pair of short swords in his hands. “I’ll watch his back,” the aide told the dwarven general, who refused to acknowledge his presence. “That’s what I was trained for.”
Bendor growled again, then grabbed a flask from a pouch on his waist and took a long drink. His eyes were intense; his lips pursed. He looked like he was going to argue further, but then tilted the flask his way in an offering to join in.
He snatched it and helped himself to another swig before the dwarf could reconsider. “Ugh, why the hell do you dwarves enjoy this Grog so much? Tastes like horse’s ass.”
“Been eatin’ a lot ay ‘at, hae ye?” the dwarf laughed, taking the flask back. Then the short man had another long drink before pocketing it away. “Ne'er said ye humans hud onie taste.”
“Well, if we make it through this, I’ll share a barrel with you back in the castle,” he told his commander with a smile, then winced as the first of the arrows b
egan to fly around him.
The sounds of the artillery firing thundered nearby and he watched as the horde marched into view. They trampled the remains of the burnt city, unhindered by the smoking ruins. Whips could be heard in the distance, their taskmasters forcing the creatures forward. Overhead flew one or two gargoyles, inspecting their troops and whipping any that were not keeping up with their comrades. The red orc was not to be seen and was probably doing what he had been bid; commanding from the rear.
Projectiles hit the goblin columns in the forefront of the advancing horde and he could see entire swatches of the enemy being crushed. But those gaps were only momentarily visible as the dead were quickly marched over and replaced. Such disregard for their fallen comrades showed the nature of the enemy they were fighting, and it gave him pause.
Once again arrows flew, but the targets they rained down upon were quickly masked by those around them, and the endless ocean refused to ripple in response. There were just too many to be effective; yet they had no choice, lest they give into the death promised them.
That he would not allow.
He reached behind his right shoulder and drew his bow from its quiver. Unwrapping the cord, he pulled it tight and put it into place. Then he drew an arrow and stepped between the merlons, sighting in on the advancing enemy. Letting loose, he watched his arrow sore overhead, then falling to pierce a goblin near the front of the advance. He smiled with satisfaction as the creature fell dead, but it was wiped away when the goblin behind stepped over the corpse and took the creature’s place.
He kept firing with his fellow archers, praying to make some impact on the enemy forces, but felt little hope it was making a difference.
“Roland, Ah want cavalry tae exit th' eastern gate an' sweep athwart their flanks. Try tae lure some ay them aff,” Bendor commanded the tall veteran.
Eager to get into the fight, Roland bowed and sprinted down the steps.
“Why don’t they attack all four gates, make us defend in multiple places at once?” he asked, though he feared the answer.
The New Age Saga Box Set Page 37