by Nova Rose
* * *
King Shealayr stood underneath a burned skeleton of a tree. Ash rained down upon him as though the sky itself mourned dark tears of torment. He brushed the substance from his shoulders staring at his stained palm. The sweet midmorning air had been replaced by the smell of ashes and smoke. Gingerly, King Shealayr picked at the charred bark of a tree and watched as it crumbled between his fingers. A dismal end. Sadness enveloped the elf as he surveyed what was once his home.
For six days the elves had engaged the orcs. Six days the forests burned. What was once a place of song was now the dominion of death. Only a soft weeping filled the air as more trees were lit aflame. The king’s heart ached with the departure of their spirits. A single tear escaped his eye as he watched the smoke billowing in the distance. The reverberated cries of the orcs reached his ears. Death approached.
Elves darted from tree to tree in a desperate effort to escape the onslaught. They tripped over their fallen comrades too frightened to show even the slightest measure of respect. King Shealayr let them flee. He understood their fear. The king looked at the sky, now obscured by blackness. “We need help,” he whispered. The pit of doubt told him that his pleas would go unanswered.
“My king,” said an elf pulling King Shealayr from his reverie.
“Idæas,” said the king.
“My lord, the orcs are regrouping. We must fall back. We are vulnerable here.”
King Shealayr sighed. “They have broken our backs and now they wish to crush our spirits.” He kicked the ground. “Where have these beasts come from?”
“No one knows, my lord.”
Shealayr glanced at the burnt tree and scanned the surrounding hills. An idea hit him. “Are you familiar with the ridge of Ninspίrίl?”
“Ninspίrίl?”
“That place was once a fort was it not?”
“Yes, my lord, but as I recall we elves lost the last battle to take place there.”
“Barely. However, if we move there, the ridge would provide cover for our forces and it could buy us some time.”
“Time for what?” asked Idӕas.
“Time to mobilize our forces. We head for Ninspίrίl.”
“My lord, this is madness.”
“Perhaps, but so is staying.” King Shealayr glanced at the destruction around him. “You have your orders, Idӕas.”
Idæas saluted his king and left. The ridge of Ninspίrίl lay only two hours away. The elves packed all they could carry and hurried there in the hope of reaching the ridge before the orcs noticed they had left the edges of the forest.
The uphill trek slowed them, but King Shealayr pushed them onward with determination. They marched single file weaving their way among the trees. The elf king did not dare take a path. Such an act would make it all too easy for the orcs to follow.
Deep within Belarnia rested the ridge of Ninspίrίl. Its enormous structure circled around the forest. Overgrown vines infested the entire ridge giving it the look of abandonment, but also provided great camouflage. Small rectangular holes lined it. Each looked manmade as though the ridge itself had been turned into a kind of fort. A lone path led to the top. A hidden doorway stood at the end of that path with stairs leading down inside to the carved out windows.
King Shealayr studied the structure. Its dismal appearance did little to reassure him, but he had little choice. This was their last defense against the orcs to prevent them from reaching the city.
“Idӕas, take thirty elves to the top of the ridge. Sergeant, take your elves and conceal yourselves along the base of the ridge,” ordered King Shealayr.
He watched as more elves stationed themselves halfway up the ridge and along the path. “Chop the trees on both sides along the path up the ridge three-quarters of the way through and attach rope to the tops in such a way that when pulled the entire tree will fall.”
As much as it pained him to do it, the rigging of the trees was a necessity. Within the hour all preparations were made. Afterward, the elves hid and waited.
The heavy rumble of catapults being pushed across the ground grew closer. Their heavy wheels rumbled through the earth warning the elves of impending doom. The orcs marched confidently, trampling the vegetation of the forest. Espying the path of the fort, they rushed for it. King Shealayr watched breathlessly as the beasts raced up the path waiting for the precise moment. “Now,” he yelled.
Elves hacked the ropes. A grinding creak echoed as the tree tops detached from their base. Screams from the orcs filled the air as the trees crushed them while careening down the hill. King Shealayr watched in satisfaction as orcs unsuccessfully attempted to flee the falling logs.
“Fire!” Idæas yelled to the archers.
Arrows rained from the sky as the archers released their bows. They quickly reloaded and shot another set of arrows.
Elves burst from the trees among the orcs surprising their enemy. They jumped upon them knocking them to the ground. Metal against metal rang throughout the forest as the elves and the orcs battled for victory. The orcs roared in frustration at the surprise attack. They fought with only one sword hacking and clawing their way through their enemy. The elves, however, attacked with a double edged weapon in each hand allowing them to block and strike simultaneously.
Explosions surrounded them as boulders crashed into the ridge flinging bits of rock and dirt everywhere. Another set of giant rocks rammed into the ridge taking out an entire section. Steel-tipped arrows whooshed past as they sped from the holes within the ridge.
“Stay your positions,” commanded King Shealayr to his elves, “We will fight to the last elf!” He pushed his way through a group of orcs slashing as he went.
A commotion arose on the other side of the battlefield as a battalion of orcs pulled up. “About time you scum arrived,” growled the orc commander.
The one at the head of the group leapt off his horse and walked up to the orc commander.
“Get back in line and take your unit to the top of the ridge,” ordered the beast. The orc watched in confusion and anger as the one before him pulled out his sword and plunged it into him.
Suddenly, the mysterious orc ripped off his helmet and tore off the orc armor to reveal his own. “Now,” Tesnayr yelled.
The newly arrived orcs tore off their armor as well to reveal that of Tesnayr’s army. The surrounding orcs watched in disbelief. Kicking their horses, Tesnayr’s men plunged into action.
Arnin lead a group of men to the catapults. “Turn these machines around and fire upon the orcs,” he ordered.
Straining from the effort, his men shifted the heavy catapults turning them around and aiming them at their enemy. They loaded them up and fired flaming rocks at the horde of beasts.
Arnin whirled around as an orc charged at him with flailing arms. He side-stepped as he raised his sword up and sliced open the beast’s stomach. He renewed his focus on the catapults.
While Arnin took care of the catapults, Nedis and his brothers worked their way up the ridge. With the path up the ridge washed out, the three brothers were forced to climb the steep hill. Halfway up, a hailstorm of axes crashed around them. Orcs stood below throwing their hatchets at their new target. The three brothers dove behind some brush and weighed their options.
“I’ll sneak up behind them,” said Nylin to the other two as another hatchet hit the dirt beside him.
The other two agreed. While Nylin made his way toward the orc ax throwers, Nular and Nedis crawled around the ridge as a distraction. They darted about keeping their movements sudden and unpredictable. Unseen, Nylin reached the orcs. He pulled out his bow and fired a slew of arrows at them.
“Well, done,” said Nedis from above.
Nylin smiled in triumph as he and his brothers continued their trek up the ridge.
“Kill the commander,” Tesnayr ordered Nigilin.
Nigilin sped off.
Tesnayr spotted one attempting to organize those that had dispersed. He raced toward the beast. His h
orse’s hooves pounded the earth. Tesnayr breathed in tune with the animal, focused on his target.
Something crashed into Tesnayr and knocked him off his horse. Stunned, he lay motionless on the ground. Orcs approached him. Tesnayr reached for his weapon. Nothing. He searched around him for anything he could use. Sensing victory, the orcs smirked as they drew near.
A soldier bearing Tesnayr’s insignia stormed through the melee until reaching his side. The unidentified soldier cut the legs off of one orc and the lopped off the head of another in one smooth stroke. The soldier whirled around and clipped another orc in the back. Quickly, he repositioned himself and stabbed the orc in the stomach.
A loud crack sounded above Tesnayr as a boulder split a tree in half. He looked up in time to see half of the tree falling right for him. There was nowhere for him to move. Tesnayr braced himself for the inevitable crushing blow that never came.
Caw!
A giant bird swooped through the air darting and weaving between the branches of the trees. It seized the tree half with its powerful claws and hauled it away. Tesnayr and several others watched awestruck at the spectacle. Their moment of awe was short lived as Tesnayr quickly returned his attention to the battle. “Direct them toward the ridge,” he yelled.
King Shealayr watched from his vantage point understanding Tesnayr’s maneuver. “Idæas,” said King Shealayr, “I don’t believe those orcs are orcs. It appears King Slyamal’s troops came through after all.” King Shealayr looked about him. “Take your elves and move along the left flank down the ridge. I will take the right. Concentrate your arrows on the beasts.”
Idæas saluted.
The elves charged down the ridge of Ninspίrίl, while archers remained on the top. Their unexpected move caused the orcs to stop the attack. They panicked. Realizing that they were trapped, the orcs broke ranks and fled.
“Do not let them get away,” yelled Tesnayr as the orcs ran. “Kill every last one of them!”
“Captain,” said a nearby soldier, “We have won the battle.”
“We cannot let them escape and give them a chance to regroup,” countered Tesnayr as he led the charge after the fleeing orcs.
His army chased after him. King Shealayr followed suit and ordered his elves to follow after the orcs and to not return until all were dead. He glanced at Idæas and smiled. Belarnia had been saved by the help of a stranger.
Once the orcs had been destroyed, the forest slowly regained its peacefulness, but scars remained. Burnt and misshapen trees remained a testament of the battle. Tesnayr pulled his army away from the center of Belarnia and pitched camp well away from King Shealayr’s elves. He had no desire to talk with the king, nor did he wish to become involved in the politics of Belarnia. He had achieved what he set out to do: ensured the survival of Belarnia and dealt a crippling blow to the orcs.
Nigilin and Arnin brought a soldier up to Tesnayr as he sat secluded from the others.
“Here is the man you asked to see,” said Nigilin.
“Soldier,” Tesnayr said, “I want to thank you for saving my life. You have demonstrated a courage that few men possess. I wish more were like you.”
“Thank you, Captain,” replied the soldier in a feminine voice.
Tesnayr cocked his head. He knew that voice. He reached out and slowly lifted the helmet off of the soldier before him to reveal Nelyn. “You,” he said, “How did you get here?”
Nelyn looked defiantly into Tesnayr’s eyes. “Easily,” she replied, “I followed you since that night you told me to go home.”
“War is no place for a woman,” said Tesnayr.
“Who are you to decide that? I will continue to follow you and fight the orcs with or without your consent. You said yourself that I showed courage that few men possess. Do you deny that now because you discovered that I am a woman?”
“I deny nothing,” said Tesnayr fuming over her using his words against him. “But know this. We travel hard and fast. We sleep little and eat little. You will not receive any special treatment because you are a woman.”
Nelyn answered softly, but firmly. “I have not asked for any.”
Arnin opened his mouth and spoke his thoughts before he could contain them. “Captain, you cannot allow her to stay. She will slow us down. She could be killed.”
“No more than you and I,” said Tesnayr.
“Tesnayr—”
“I dare any here to challenge me,” yelled Nelyn losing her temper. She unsheathed her sword.
Arnin pulled out his as well accepting her challenge. They glanced at Tesnayr who nodded in approval. This seemed the only way to solve the matter.
The triplets walked in on the display. “Are we interrupting?” they asked.
“No,” said Tesnayr, “What is it you want?”
“It can wait,” replied the brothers in unison.
“Very well,” said Tesnayr. “Begin,” he told Arnin and Nelyn.
“Bets?” asked Nular of his brothers.
“One silver coin on the woman,” said Nedis.
“Agreed,” said Nylin.
Arnin brought his sword down upon Nelyn. She ducked, twisted around and smacked him in the back. She swiped her sword low knocking Arnin’s feet out from under him. He landed hard on his back to find her blade at his throat.
“Any others,” yelled Nelyn. No one moved.
“You have proven yourself,” said Tesnayr to Nelyn. “I will give you the rank of Lieutenant. After successfully following us, and overcoming today’s events you earned it.”
“Pay up,” said Nedis to Nylin. Nylin dug in his pocket and pulled out a small coin. He tossed it to his smirking brother.
Nelyn sheathed her sword and stalked off, proud of herself.
“That didn’t take long,” whispered Nigilin to Arnin.
“I let her win,” Arnin growled back.
A messenger from the elf king ran up to Tesnayr. “Tesnayr,” he said as he approached the firelight, “My name is Idæas. I come with a message from King Shealayr. He requests your presence immediately.”
“And if I deny his request,” replied Tesnayr.
Idæas stepped closer and grasped the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it. “Then I have orders to bring you by force.”
Arnin and Nigilin quickly drew their weapons and placed themselves between the elf and Tesnayr. Tesnayr held out his hand to them. “Stop,” he said to them. “There will be no bloodshed here. I will go with you to your king. Nigilin, you are in command until I return.”
Tesnayr threw on his cloak and followed Idæas out of the camp and into the night.