"Get ready," Dearg said. "They are almost in sight. Blow the horn before they enter the narrow road. We don't want the rangers and the Alvar firing toward each other."
Baleron held up the horn, hovering it before his lips. Dearg felt tense as he waited for just the right moment. Once his men attacked, the battle was on, and there was no stopping it from here.
"Now!"
Baleron sounded two blasts, and the battle began.
Chapter Thirty One
Menelith heard the blasts just before the enemy troops entered the narrow pass. The Alvar immediately unleashed their barrage, and the forest became filled with hundreds of arrows that streaked from the tree line like a swarm of angry bees. Dozens of the poorly-organized soldiers fell immediately. Menelith moved up, seeking out the leader among the scattering enemies.
He ducked and dashed through the whizzing arrows, keeping his eyes on the men. He could see those on the opposite side falling to the arrows of the men that lined the tree line there, but no sight of anyone who appeared to be in charge. It was only when the troops were half gone that he felt the gathering of magic.
"Sorcerer!" he shouted.
An orb of red magic suddenly burst from the ranks of the soldiers, growing into a large bubble that engulfed in its safety. The sorcerer had cast a shield spell that burned the incoming arrows to ash before they could hit.
Menelith drew his blade, shouldering his bow as he rallied his troops.
"Get in there!" he shouted.
The Alvar charged from the tree line, their silvery armor glinting in the dimming sun. The soldiers lined up in defense, some of them drawing their bows as they huddled behind the row of shield bearers who crouched in front of them.
Menelith vaulted the shield wall, flipping forward into the middle of the line. He spun as he landed, taking out two enemies with a single strike. Spears were shoved at him from all sides, and he ducked and rolled, sweeping one soldier with his foot, and slashing at another's legs.
He rose spinning, drawing his second blade for defense. The spears came at him again. He slapped one aside, dashing toward its bearer and taking him out with a thrust of his short blade, and beheading the next one with a backspin slash of his sword. The spearmen fell inward toward each other, and he ducked through the chaotic mess toward the sorcerer's location.
He found a plainly-dressed man among the soldiers, staring at him wide-eyed as he backed away charging another spell. He raced toward the man, effortlessly killing those who stood in his way. He knew the sorcerer was casting a conjuring spell, and he was conjuring something specific.
Menelith leapt into the air, vaulting the sorcerer's bodyguards and landing behind them. The sorcerer tossed his ball of magic behind him just as Menelith spun toward him with his blades. The Alvar spun as he crouched, slicing the sorcerer's legs and jabbing his dagger into his side.
But the spell had been cast.
Four giants burst from the mud, howling into the sky as they held their clawed hands out. They drew their giant blades, and charged into the battle. Menelith ducked around behind them, signaling for the men to flee to the wall. He then charged, running and sliding underneath the legs of one attacking giant, slicing into the back of its knees as he passed.
He barely rolled to his feet as the giant's blade came crashing down, splattering mud everywhere. He jumped onto the embedded blade as the Fomorian struggled to get in unstuck, taking two steps upward as he spun. His blades slashed the giant's face, and it howled in agony as its hands went up to protect its ugly maw. The blade fell over, now useless in the mud without its bearer.
Menelith continued his attack, alternating downward strikes as he advanced. The giant began guarding with its gauntlets, each of them sparking and deteriorating as the Alvar assaulted them without end. Then, another Fomorian came from the side, and Menelith charged ahead, avoiding the blade. He let go of his blades, spinning in the air and unshouldering and drawing his bow at the same time. He fetched an arrow from behind him and fired, striking the Fomorian dead in the forehead.
He then dropped his bow, catching his blades in the air, and finished off the first giant with a beheading slash. He caught his bow as he landed, shouldering it again before going after the remaining two.
"The men are returning," Baleron said. "Have them line up on the ridge."
"Open the gates!" Dearg shouted down.
The rangers filed into the fortress quickly, and the gatekeepers closed the gates behind them. The battle was in full force in the distance, and Dearg watched with growing apprehensiveness.
"I have the feeling T'kar will not advance," he said. "This pass is too narrow for battle."
Baleron nodded. "We may have to charge, then," he said. "Meaning Igrid will simply have to meet us and charge ahead instead of from behind."
"When the Alvar are clear, signal them," Dearg said. Then, to the rangers below. "Line up along the ridge around the village. Help the archers protect it."
The rangers poured into the village, climbing up the ridge alongside the archers placed there. Those with shields took their places among them, ready to defend against the archers who approached from the rocks to the south.
At the pass, Dearg could see the giants arise from the magic that flared into life. Two of them were taken down quickly, but the other two, having failed to do any damage in the chaos, began heading toward the wall. Though muddy and slippery, the ground had no effect on their charge. They came at an alarming pace, ready to smash the heavy wooden structure with their fists and massive blades.
"Ivar, Fleek," Dearg said. "It's our turn."
Baleron drew his bow. "I'll take any stragglers."
T'kar chuckled as he watched the chaos ahead. Everything was going exactly as he had planned it. The rebels were dividing their forces, defending a structure that would soon have to be abandoned if they really wanted to fight. There was simply no room for T'kar's army to lay siege to the wall, and they would have to advance, leaving it unguarded.
T'kar could wait as long as it took.
"See how they panic?" T'kar said. "They know my archers are approaching the village, so have sent archers of their own to guard it. They won't be joining the bulk of the enemy forces and we'll be safe from their arrows."
"Who is fighting the fodder?" Malthor asked.
"The mysterious warriors we were looking for," T'kar said, grinning. "And now that they are distracted… Lilit, my dear." He turned toward the witch, who was awaiting his command. "It's your move."
Lilit grinned, raising her hands into the air to command the Wyverns who had been circling above. They swooped down screeching as she summoned them, their terrible voices piercing the howling wind with all the fury of Hell.
"Go, my pets," she called to them. "Attack the wall. Leave none alive."
The wyverns shot north, soaring high into the sky to prepare for their assault. The enemy wouldn't know what hit them.
"You see?" T'kar said to Malthor. "Things are not always what they seem."
"I am impressed," Malthor said. "You are a master at this."
"All thanks to the combined knowledge of myself and my man Randar."
Randar smiled at him. "He's been doing this for a very, very long time."
"Randar," T'kar said. "Go ahead and advance. The rest of us will wait just north of the burning village. Malthor, go with him. Randar will speak for us. Lilit will prepare the next surprise."
Randar rode up next to Malthor, his handsome grin beaming and confident.
"Shall we?" he said.
"Taelius!" Menelith shouted to his lieutenant. "Head to the Northmen. Tell Queen Igrid to ride further south and await Baleron's horn."
The young Alvar nodded, and disappeared into the fray. Menelith continued his charge, going after the Fomorians who had broken away from the fight. He had confidence that his warriors could finish the battle without him.
He ran at full speed, lithely racing over the mud with all of the skill of an insect. The giants h
ad almost reached the wall, and he saw that the gates were opening. Hoping to slay at least one Fomorian before they engaged the other, Menelith leapt forward with all of his strength, sliding underneath the nearest giant and slashing at its legs.
It roared as he passed, and stopped to engage him. The other continued on toward the wall. Menelith charged again, striking with alternating attacks and spins that took him out of the reach of the massive blade. This Fomorian, he noticed, was larger than the others, and armored more heavily. It would take far more effort to slay it.
It roared into the air as it prepared for its charge, and Menelith took his battle stance, a confident smile spreading across his face.
"Surround it," Dearg said.
Fleek and Ivar spread out as Dearg stood in front of the advancing creature. Alric appeared beside him, and he glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to the enemy.
"You should have stayed inside," Dearg said. "I promised your fath—"
"Quiet now," Alric said. "We have a giant to kill."
The young man drew his blades and gave Dearg a grin. Dearg shook his head.
"Fine then," he said. "Let's have at it."
Fleek raised his hammer and charged, spinning the huge weapon over his head and delivering a crushing blow to the giant's knee as it neared. Ivar followed through from behind, hacking at the back of the other knee with his axes. Though armored, the giant felt the brunt of the blows and howled in agony and rage, bring its giant blade down in a sweeping arc.
Dearg and Alric charged. The younger man ducked and rolled ahead, striking out at the giant's lower leg. Dearg chopped at the giant's sword arm, his blade deflecting off of the heavy gauntlet that guarded it, but causing the giant to turn his attention to him.
Fleek's hammer slammed into the mud as he missed the giant's foot. He recovered, laughing, and raised the hammer again, shouting at the top of his lungs as he charged. Dearg shot forward, ducking underneath the giant's blade as it swept over him, and thrust his blade upward at the same sword arm. He connected just above the gauntlet, tearing flesh and drawing strange, green blood that splashed into the mud.
Fleek's hammer connected just then, smashing the bones of the giant's left leg and bringing it to a crouching position. Ivar hacked at it from behind, embedding his axes in the giant's shoulders. Dearg charged, hacking at the creature's right arm, severing it at the elbow. Its arm fell to the ground, still holding the massive blade. Dearg spun his blade over his head, stepping forward to chop downward. His blade bashed against the creature's helmet, cracking it and splitting the skin.
Alric came in from the side, spinning and stabbing backward his right blade. The short blade was jabbed into the giant's eye socket, and its remaining hand went up to protect it as the young warrior withdrew his blade. Fleek's hammer came crashing down on top of the creature's head, breaking off the crooked horns that protruded from its skull.
As the creature's howls became whimpers, Dearg kicked its right shoulder, knocking it to the ground to writhe in pain. Ivar turned his axes around to drive the back spikes into its neck on either side. He pulled them out, ripping the flesh out and severing the blood vessels. The giant's blood spurted in fountains of green goo, and then Fleek's massive hammer came down in one last crushing blow.
Ivar spat and dropped his axes as he was splashed with blood and brains.
"Yuck!" he shouted. "Watch that hammer, Fleek."
Fleek laughed as he dragged his hammer away. The giant was still twitching as it slowly died, and Dearg gave it one final thrust through the heart, silencing it for good. Behind them, Menelith approached, breathless and zealous.
"Good work," he said. "You fought well together."
"Menelith," Dearg said. "I have the feeling we have a problem. There has to be a reason T'kar is dividing his forces."
"He is planning distractions," Menelith said. "It's the only thing it could be. I've told my lieutenant to have your shieldmaiden take her forces farther south. T'kar will not come this far. There is no room for a battle here."
"He is trying to draw us out and leave the fortress defenseless," Alric said.
"Precisely," Menelith replied.
"Then we must set a trap of our own," Dearg said. "One that he will not suspect."
"I'm listening."
Suddenly, the air was filled with the screeching of dozens of wyverns. Even in the darkening sky, Dearg could see their dark shapes descending toward them.
"Damn," Dearg said. "Get your warriors back to the fortress. We need to be rid of these things before the sun goes down."
Though Freyja and Odhran heard the screeching of the wyverns, the approaching archers were their first priority. She spotted them among the rocks in the distance, sneaking slowly and methodically toward them in an attempt to ambush the village.
The rest of the archers, rangers, and shield bearers awaited just behind the ridge, keeping out of sight until Freyja gave them the signal to rush to the peak. Freyja's eyes were well adjusted to the shadows, as well were Odhran's, and they lay prone, their bows just a slight ways away and ready.
"How many can you see?" she asked. She counted at least two dozen.
"Thirty, probably," he replied. "No shield bearers, though."
"I don't see any, either."
"We should wait until they are close enough for the villagers to hit them," Odhran said. "Not all of them are skilled enough to hit them from here."
Freyja nodded, gritting her teeth in anticipation. The closer the archers came, the faster her heart raced. It was a good feeling, though, she realized. It was what made battle worth fighting. She had grown to not only accept, but love, the pounding of her heart. It was what made her feel alive.
"I'm excited," she said, grinning.
Odhran retuned her grin, grabbing his bow. "Me too. Ready?"
Freyja reached for her bow and plucked an arrow from her quiver. The archers began mounting the slope below, and nocking their arrows in anticipation of their attack.
"Now," Odhran shouted.
The two of them stood, firing an arrow downward as the shield bearers moved up. They backed behind them as the enemies fired in surprise. Arrows struck the shields, and all of the archers nocked arrows as they waited for the enemies to scatter.
Freyja stood again and fired an arrow. She heard a groan and a thud. Odhran stood, fired, and quickly ducked again. There was shouting below, and a chaotic scrambling as the remaining archers scattered. She heard the ring of steel as swords were drawn.
"Rangers," Odhran said. "With me. Archers, fire one more volley."
Everyone stood and fired once more, then ducked behind the shield bearers. Odhran burst through and Freyja followed him through. The slope was littered with the bodies of T'kar's archers, and the remaining soldiers were drawing their blades and rushing upward.
Freyja jumped forward and slid down past a charging soldier, jabbing her daggers into him as she shifted her weight. He swiped at her with his sword in his dying breath, and she withdrew her daggers and rolled away, pouncing to her feet again. She drew her bow, quickly dropping the enemies around her until her quiver was empty.
Odhran ran by her, gutting an attacker that was coming in from her side, and spun away. Freyja shouldered her bow again, climbing back up the ridge to fetch more arrows. She saw a fallen ranger near the peak, face down and struggling to crawl to safety. She grabbed onto his collar and began dragging him up.
"Hold on," she said. "I'll get you out of here."
An enemy suddenly charged toward her from below, sword drawn and eyeing the fallen ranger. With no arrows to fire, she leaped over the man's body to protect him, drawing her blades. The enemy came at her with a downward chop. She dodged to the side and countered with her right blade, missing wildly and falling off balance.
The attacker came at her again to finish her off, but froze and fell face down in Freyja's lap, an arrow embedded in his back. Odhran came in and pulled him off of her, and they both dragged th
e fallen ranger the rest of the way up the slope.
"Thanks," she said. "I thought he had me for sure."
They fetched more arrows and stood on the ridge, seeking out targets in the shadows below. The chaos had died down, and the rangers and villagers were beginning to climb back up the slope.
"That was quick," Freyja said.
"It looks like we wiped them out," Odhran replied. "Let's get to the wall and help with those wyverns. Rangers, move out!"
The Alvar filtered in through the gate, some of them pausing to fire arrows up at the attacking wyverns. Visibility for the humans was getting low with the sunset, and the Alvar were the only ones who could see them. The only chance the humans had to take them down was when they swooped in for an attack.
And then it was usually too late.
Soldiers were plucked from their stations in the blink of an eye, screaming as they were flown away. Some of them were dropped from the heights, and others disappeared for good; probably ripped apart and devoured.
Dearg ran amongst the warriors, keeping his eyes trained above. The wyverns dipped and swooped just out of reach, avoiding those who were paying attention. Some of them fell from the sky as they were skewered with arrows, and Fleek ran to them as they crashed into the ground, smashing them with his hammer.
Menelith patiently drew and released his bow, never missing his targets. The Alvar were skilled archers, and with their ability to see the wyverns in the dark, Dearg was glad they were with him.
Ivar moved closer to him, his axes held out at his sides as he waited for a target. A wyvern swooped in to snatch him away, and he spun out of the way and double-slashed the creature, throwing it Dearg's way. Dearg chopped it in half as it passed, growling in triumph. Ivar howled with laughter, clapping his axe blades together.
"If T'kar thinks he'll defeat us this way, he's mad!" Ivar shouted.
Another wyvern swooped in, and Ivar grazed it with his left axe. It crashed into the ground and rolled to its feet, crawling toward him bat-like. An arrow to the head took it down in a heap, and Dearg looked up to see Odhran and Freyja returning with the rangers.
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