“Understood, thank you, Captain.” said General Ryan, dismissing the soldier to return to his post.
He looked out from the barricades, careful to not let too much of his body be exposed to the incoming arrows. The captain was right, it was near impossible to see anything further than the light from the torches.
Every now and then they could catch a few glimpses of the enemy here and there when the cloud cover would open up enough of the sky to let the starlight reveal more of the landscape. That is how they were able to spot the ladders and the men climbing up the mountain side in the first place. But those breaks in coverage were far and in between.
As he peered through the darkness, a loud horn blew somewhere far off down the mountain followed by the unmistakable roar of thousands upon thousands of demons and men still loyal to General Krauss. Slowly a line of torchlight began marching up the mountain pass.
It had finally begun.
Fortunately, the losses from the surprise attack had been minimal, and had done no real damage to their fortifications or preparedness.
The General ran up and down the walls, yelling to his men to make sure they were ready for the coming battle.
The hours passed by as if they were minutes and soon the main force could be seen coming up the final bend of the switchback pass. Torches stretched as far as the eye could see down the mountain road, revealing the true size of the army to all who watched from the ramparts of the fortifications.
Since the initial firing had stopped from the enemy’s surprise ambush the spectators watched in awe, fighting back their internal urges to run. The men had to suppress their fear and remind themselves of what they were fighting for. It was either kill or be killed. Victory or absolute annihilation.
General Ryan stood at the front of the wall by his men, looking out across the expanse of empty road between his position and the coming army. They were roughly a few hundred yards out when they suddenly stopped.
The night was still and silent. It was the calm before the storm.
The General looked down his line of defenses one more time. He could see the rows of archers standing at the ready, arrows notched and prepared to fire at his command.
The soldiers behind them stood prepared to take out any siege ladders that landed on their walls – instructed to knock them back and push them away as quickly as they could and to fight back anything that crawled over.
He could see Orin in the distance on one of the towers on the second wall, prepared to send flaming balls of fire towards any flying beast that got through the archers’ volleys, and Rex was standing at the opposite end from General Ryan, giving a final inspirational speech to his men before the battle began in full force.
He could hear him through the chilling silence, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“This is it men! Tonight, the battle for Ravenfell begins. These demons and traitors come to our lands with the intention of taking it for themselves! They come here looking for a fight, I say, LETS GIVE IT TO THEM!” he screamed.
Behind him, the deafening roar of thousands of men rang through the air, the strength of it vibrating the air like a great wave shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
Immediately, as if in response to his invitation, the demon army began their charge. The earth shook under the hammering of their feet and the sound of their roar.
The mass of blackness swept across the distance between them and the fortifications at incredible speeds. The front lines were filled with thousands of undead soldiers mixed with demons of various shapes and sizes. Some were carrying large ladders for scaling the walls, others were carrying long throwing spears and were launching them with inhuman strength across impossible distances. One such spear flew over the ramparts and struck a soldier standing near General Ryan, flinging him backwards and over the other side of the wall. He fell with a scream before landing below with a sickening thud.
“Fire!” screamed General Ryan, and volley after volley of arrows flew from the walls around him and behind him into the dark massive army charging towards them.
When the demons were struck, they stumbled, some falling and getting trampled by the horde behind them. But the undead continued on, unphased by the impact of the arrows, many sticking out from various places as the army continued moving forward.
They reached the walls and started slinging up ladders, some already starting to climb them with unnatural speed, but the defenders were prepared for this and quickly dispatched the ladders, only for more to replace them. Some of the demons were able to climb the walls independently, using their powerful claws to cling onto the imperfections in the stone and scale it at incredible speeds. These seemed to be the most problematic, as there were hundreds of them climbing at once.
The defenders on the wall were slashing them down as soon as they would crest the top of the walls, but just as one fell, another would take its place. The fighting became intense and bloody, every man for himself as they fought back the demon horde.
Through the fighting, Rex saw in the distance one of the larger demons making his way through the crowd, stomping on anything that got in his way so he could reach the wall. Several dozen demons fell under his powerful feet before they got the hint and moved out of his way, leaving a great divide between him and the defenses.
Rex, seeing the threat he posed to their defenses, immediately ordered the archers and ballistae to begin firing everything they had at the great brute. Volley after volley of arrows flew towards the target, striking him all over his body to no avail. Enraged, he began charging full speed at the gate with his tree-sized club preparing to crash into the barrier.
One, then two, then three large projectiles fired from the ballistae, striking him in his chest mere feet before he reached the gate. He stumbled from the impact and fell to the ground lifeless, crushing several demons under the weight of his giant body.
“That was too close!” yelled Rex, to which the others agreed vehemently. “We have to watch out for those big ones, or our defenses are going to get smashed to pieces!” he yelled over the roar of the battle.
The archers and men manning the ballistae seemed to understand, because the next ones didn’t get nearly as close as the first – but instead were taken out at the legs before they could reach within fifty yards of the gate.
The constant assault continued on for some time until at last the wall was breached. Too many demons had crested the walls for the men to push them back any longer and the fighting that ensued was ferocious.
Men and demons alike screamed with rage and pain, falling left and right under the flurry of attacks. The enemy came over the wall wave after wave, breaking on the defenses like an endless surge of ocean tides falling on the face of the wall, only to regroup and come back again in full force.
As the men started to show signs of fatigue, more fresh soldiers were brought in to replace them while the wounded were carried off to be tended to.
The sun began to break in the East over the Draconian Mountains, and Captain Ryan said a silent prayer to the Creator God for the much-needed light.
Their archers were now able to spot the demons better and started shooting with more accuracy and precision, taking down more and more demons with each shot fired and now avoiding the undead all together. The winged creatures were trying their best to pick off the archers from the wall. Some were successful, but most were being shot out of the sky before they could reach the defenders on the wall and towers. The barriers Orin had placed were proving to be extremely effective in keeping the winged beasts from flying over the fortifications and getting behind their forces.
Captain Ryan could see balls of fire, flying past his head and arching over the walls, catching beasts and undead afire after exploding on the ground. Each great blast would send flaming rocks and debris in all directions, catching everything in its path on fire and sending demons flailing violently through the masses. It was causing chaos in their ranks, but because of their incredible numbers, i
t didn’t seem to slow them down one bit.
Orin continued casting left and right relentlessly at incredible speeds, sending flaming spheres into the air at the flying beasts and into the rushing enemy lines, causing huge explosions that would send enemies flying into the air and off the cliffside.
Large catapults were also sending an endless rain of combustible pots filled with ignited oil, each exploding upon impact and creating large swaths of flame that would send the enemy screaming and flailing off the cliffs. But no matter how much destruction and carnage they inflicted on the enemy forces, they seemed to just keep coming. More and more demon soldiers would take their place, filling the voids like water fills an area scooped away by a bucket.
Meanwhile, Rex was busy swinging his double-sided battle axe with terrifying effectiveness. Anything that met his blade fell under its deadly strike. He roared with rage as he kicked another ladder from the walls, sending its occupants scrambling before falling backward into the mass of bodies below.
Seeing an undead soldier climbing over the wall in the distance, he quickly ran to confront him and fill the gap where the previous soldier had been wounded and was being taken away. He swung his axe and lopped off the head of the incoming soldier, his body falling to the side in a lifeless heap, only to have another take his place. The bodies were beginning to stack up into enormous piles of stinking flesh leaning against the walls. The enemy began using these mounds as ramps, climbing up the dead to get to the top of the walls much quicker and in greater numbers.
Rex saw General Owen in the distance making his way to him, blood streaked across his face. It wasn’t human blood – but the black sticky ichor that spilled from the demons and undead. Rex could barely make him out from behind the mask.
“My King! They are breaking over the West wall!” he screamed, kicking over another ladder as soon as it landed on the walls.
Rex looked around, his men were being overwhelmed, but they were doing their best to hold the line. Despite their valor, he knew it was only a matter of time before their line would break and they would have to retreat to the inner walls.
“Lead the way!” screamed Rex, and they quickly ran off down the wall towards the area getting overrun. Rex wasn’t about to let those demons through just yet, not on his watch.
Chapter XXII
How much longer until we get to the surface?” asked King Tybrin Hammerclaw.
The dwarven army was making its way up the foot paths towards the opening at Draco’s Pass. There weren’t enough carts to efficiently transport the entire Dwarven army to the surface, so instead they had to take the route less traveled by foot, and Tybrin, or any dwarf for that matter, was not very patient.
They had been walking for several hours and he was eager to get to the surface for a good fight. He hadn’t been in one since the last great battles of the Mystic Wars where he had fought alongside his grandfather and father, both of which had perished in the conflict, leaving him king of the Dwarven Empire.
He remembered his oath that day. He had promised to avenge their deaths by destroying any demon to ever set foot on the surface again – and he held true to that promise. He had been responsible for sending thousands of demons back to the depths from whence they came by the time the war had ended. And he was eager to do it once again.
At last, the bright light began to shine through the darkness of the tunnel system, revealing they had finally reached the last stretch before the end.
Tybrin could feel the rush of air from the mountains blowing through the tunnel. It felt good on his skin and even better in his lungs as he filled them with the cool, fresh air.
When they reached the secondary opening, they came out a couple hundred feet above Draco’s Pass and their eyes opened wide at the sight beneath them.
Thousands of demons were marching through the snow littered pass, led by a company of few hundred Wolf Guard. They were winding up the mountain road through Draco’s Pass and headed towards the Land of the Immortals.
To the East in the distance down the mountain they could see a huge mass of figures in shining armor headed their way – it was the elves, and they were clad for battle, headed to the pass to meet the enemy head on!
Tybrin Hammerclaw looked at his brethren, lifted up his battle hammer and screamed at the top of his lungs, “CHARGE!” before running full speed down the side of the mountain and clashing into the flank of the completely surprised demons, breaking the enemy forces in two.
He swung his massive battle hammer around his head like a twirling baton, knocking enemies to the ground and smashing their skulls under the weight of his mighty blows. The rest of the dwarves began picking off the demons, one by one, scattering them into a frenzied mass, completely unprepared for the ferocity of the unsuspected attack.
The enemy finally gathered their composure and attacked with renewed ferocity, tearing into the flesh of the Dwarves with their sharp teeth and claws and swinging wildly at them with their jagged weapons. The Dwarves fell by the hundreds, but not without taking out ten times as many demons.
Darryn Faircloth was one of the dwarves who had volunteered to join the army on their march to the surface. He wasn’t skilled in battle, but like all Dwarves, it was in his blood to fight such vile creatures.
When he reached the opening and saw the demon army marching below, something within his blood boiled and a righteous rage flowed through his veins.
He watched as his mighty King plowed into the flank of the enemy roaring like a lion, and he rushed after his King and brethren, eager to join the fight.
When he got to the level ground of Draco’s Pass and joined into the fray, he was confronted with a group of snarling demons with great fangs and piercing claws. For a moment, his heart dropped as he second guessed his decision to join in the battle, but then he remembered his friends and what he was fighting for, and his confidence returned full force.
“Bring it on ye stinky bastards!” he yelled, much to his own surprise – he was always such a gentle Dwarf!
He rushed towards the enemy with the strength and vigor of a lifelong warrior, plowing into the enemy while swinging his battle hammer wildly. It crashed into the sides of the demons with incredible speed and efficiency, sending them flying like rag dolls.
“This is easier than I thought!” he said, laughing hysterically as he proceeded to pummel a nearby demon that had tried to flee from the raging dwarf.
The Dwarves were mighty folk, and they were not to be easily dismissed!
Meanwhile, King Tybrin was surrounded by a group of large demons with great, spiked clubs. They were slowly closing in on him, placing him in a dire situation. He tried to swing at one, but their clubs were too long, and he was easily pushed back.
Seeing their King’s desperate situation, Darryn and a few others quickly rallied and rushed to his aid in a ferocious charge while screaming at the top of their lungs.
The brutes, surprised by the sudden attack at their flanks, turned their attention to the incoming dwarves. King Tybrin used their distraction to his advantage and rushed towards the nearest brute, his back now to the King. He swung his mighty battle hammer with all his strength, crashing it into the back of the demon’s knee and knocking its feet right out from under him. When the beast fell backwards and to the ground, King Tybrin smashed his hammer into its head, squashing it like a bug.
He quickly joined in the fray with his defenders, helping them take on the remaining demons. They had recovered from their sudden confusion and had now cornered the rest of the dwarves with their backs against the far wall of the mountain pass.
The King rushed towards the nearest demon, diverting its attention long enough to give the others a chance to make their desperate break through its legs. The brutes were large and strong, but they were slow to react to the smaller and faster moving dwarves.
Once they regrouped, they charged the demons together in a ferocious attack, catching them off guard and swiftly taking them out one at a time.
The ebb and flow of the battle continued on for hours as more and more demons flowed in from the Great Plains below and into the narrow mountain pass. The losses were staggering on both sides, but at last, as the sun started to sink lower in the Western sky, the giant battle hammer of King Tybrin Hammerclaw struck down the final demon in the pass. Its devilish howls echoed through the cool mountain air, ending in a dramatic gurgling before it fell motionless to the ground.
He lifted his great hammer into the air and let out a hearty cry, “FOR THE CREATOR!” he said, shouting their customary victory cheer.
An enormous cheer erupted from the Dwarves as they watched the final enemy fall, echoing their leader and King’s triumphant call, each raising their weapons to the air as they chanted.
***
Reingard and Holzer, watching as the enemy marched towards them down the Eastern slope of Draco’s Pass, suddenly saw a flash of metal rushing down the slopes just above the demon army. They could barely hear the roar and clashing of battle in the distance at the top of the mountain pass.
He pointed to the commotion and Gilric Ellisar only smiled. His elf eyes and ears better than theirs, he could see and hear what it truly was – the Dwarves had come out of their holes.
“Charge!” he screamed, and they all drew their swords and broke out into a full sprint towards the advancing enemy lines.
The Wolves, seeing them coming and hearing the commotion in the flanks behind them, broke out into a run on all fours, bounding down the road and across the foothills at incredible speed, with the bulk of the demon army following closely behind.
The two armies clashed with great force, sending demons, wolves, and elves flying backwards with the impact. The two sides quickly melted into each other, breaking the once distinguishable forces into a huge mass of brutal combat. Swords and shields were crashing against flesh and teeth and the long scythe-like weapons of the Wolf Guard.
David Bishop and the Mystic of Creation Page 16
