Inferno

by Paul J Bennett

  Gahruhl ignored the arrows that flew overhead, her attention firmly on those in the front. She waited until they were less than ten paces ahead, then began casting. Words of power began to issue from her lips, the air buzzing with the buildup of magical energy. Small wisps of grey flew from her fingers, sinking into the ground in front of the advancing enemy.

  She could almost feel the ground moving, and then small sprouts erupted from the dirt. They grew quickly, the branches intertwining as thorns sprouted, completing the effect. Gahruhl kept up her concentration until the wall of thorns was taller than an Orc.

  Rising, she listened for the enemy's response, for their army was now hidden from sight. Hearing arrows strike the hedge, she knew it was time to leave. She turned her back on the thorns and began moving south to rejoin the other members of her tribe.

  * * *

  Father General Hargild sat on his horse watching the Temple Knights ride by. They were a formidable force, the largest concentration of such troops in years, and he took pride in knowing they were the finest soldiers on the Continent. His moment of reflection was interrupted by the arrival of Captain Hadmar. The father general struggled to hide his irritation.

  "Yes, Captain?" he said.

  "We are under attack, Your Grace."

  Hargild looked east and west. The column spread in both directions, but where the road was curved, the trees hid much of his troops. "Where?" he demanded.

  "To the rear, Your Grace. It appears the enemy has employed mercenaries. Greenskins, to be exact."

  "Orcs? Here? Are you sure?"

  "There is no doubt, Lord. They struck at the wagons, then fled south, back into the woods."

  "Casualties?"

  "Light, Your Grace, but panic is spreading amongst the supply lines. I fear there are not enough troops to keep them secure."

  "Tell the Duke of Erlingen to send more troops to the rear. That ought to keep the Orcs at bay."

  "Do you think they mean to attack in force, Your Grace?"

  "I doubt it," said Hargild. "They are skirmishers. Orcs don't fight using traditional tactics; they mainly play at hit and run. They are a nuisance, to be sure, but pose little real threat to us if we keep our heads."

  Captain Hadmar turned his horse around, eager to ride off.

  "Captain?" called out the father general.

  Hadmar snapped his head around. "Yes, Your Grace?"

  "You are a Temple Knight of Saint Cunar. As such, I expect you to act the part. There will be no rushing this day. To do so gives the impression of fear. Is that clear?"

  Hadmar, duly chastised, nodded his head. "Yes, Your Grace." He rode off at a very slow trot.

  Hargild returned his attention to the Temple Knights. They were five hundred strong, the best of the Holy Army. A group of them turned their heads towards him, raising their swords in salute. He acknowledged their attention with a wave of his hand, pride swelling in his chest.

  A call from his left drew his attention, and he looked to see Brother Lungren, commander of the initiates, approaching on foot. The man wore the same light-grey tabard as his charges, but the edges of his were trimmed in white. Easy to spot amongst the darker grey of the full-fledged knights of the order.

  "Something troubling you, Brother?" asked the father general.

  "The front of the column is under attack, Your Grace."

  "Let me guess. Orcs?"

  The commander's startled look betrayed his surprise. "Yes, my lord, how did you know?"

  "They have also been harrying the rear of the column. Do not fear, they will do little damage."

  "Yes, sir." The commander stood, waiting.

  "Is there something else?"

  "Yes, Your Grace," admitted Lungren. "Allow me the honour of sending the initiates into battle. Let us drive the enemy from their place of concealment."

  Father General Hargild thought it over. They were all knights, trained before entering the order, but each must serve for one year as an initiate, little more than armoured footmen, before they were allowed to wear the full trappings of the order. As such, they were all eager to show their devotion.

  "Very well," he finally said. "You may take the initiates and push into the woods. Do not stray too far, however. We must not be distracted by these greenskins. It is the Human death worshippers we are after."

  "Yes, Your Grace." Brother Lungren turned, making his way back to his men.

  Hargild looked eastward once more. How much longer would it be until they found their objective?

  * * *

  Athgar glanced left and right, noting how straight the line of warriors was. He had taken a hundred of the youngest, fittest members of the Therengian fyrd and arrayed them across a small clearing as if they were intent on making a stand. They were positioned with spears and shields but little else in the way of protection, something that troubled him deeply. The enemy, he knew, had armour, even the newest recruits, and he wondered, not for the first time, if making this stand was sheer folly.

  The woods to his front erupted with activity as Orcs streamed back towards his lines. As they drew closer, they took up positions on either flank, swelling their numbers.

  Gahruhl was the last to emerge, sprinting across the field to halt before him, barely out of breath. "They are coming," she said, using the Orcish tongue. "My magic has slowed them, but there is no mistaking the noise of their approach."

  "Any idea of numbers?" Athgar asked.

  "The archers are in the hundreds, but I fear it is the footmen who are coming through the woods. I can not say for certain how many."

  "Then we shall just have to wait and see."

  "I will take up my position on the flank."

  "Very well," the Fire Mage said, "but remember, our only purpose here is to draw them south, not engage in a melee."

  "Understood," said Gahruhl. She ran off to Athgar's right, squeezing into the line beside Karag.

  "Are you sure you're ready for this?" asked Raleth.

  "It's a bit late asking now, isn't it?" Athgar replied. "In any event, we have little choice. Here they come."

  Athgar was expecting the enemy to charge forward, but instead, they showed remarkable discipline, halting at the edge of the forest to form up into a solid line, their light-grey tunics making them look like ghosts.

  He waited, watching them as they finally began their advance. They wore heavy armour, much like full Temple Knights, but the uneven ground kept them at a slow pace. They struggled to keep their lines straight.

  Athgar drew his axe and raised it high, a signal that things were about to begin. All along the line, men tightened the grip on their shields. On the flanks, the Orcs readied axes.

  The enemy drew closer until Athgar could make out the differences in each one's armour. It was a frightening sight as the knight's metal armour made them look as if they were some strange conjuration from the Underworld. He had fought Temple Knights before but that had been from behind the palisaded walls of Ord-Kurgad. Here, the stakes were much higher, for there were no walls to seek refuge behind.

  He glanced at the ground seeking his markers. Before forming the line, he had paced off the range of his magic. Now the enemy was passing his carefully placed stones, marking the point of no return.

  Athgar brought the axe down, signalling the battle to commence. On the flank, Gahruhl began casting, and then a small sliver of grey raced across to sink into the dirt. The ground rumbled as small spikes of rock burst upward, each no more than the length of a forearm. The effect on the enemy was immediate, causing them to falter.

  As orders were called out trying to straighten their line, Athgar sent forth a streak of fire, striking the centre of the enemy formation. The plate armour of the knights protected them, but their grey tabards, in which they took so much pride, burst into flames. The initiates, not as hardened to magic as they were to regular combat, began to waver.

  Another spell flew from Gahruhl's hands, and then the ground opened up, revealing a small trench b
efore the enemy. The front rank panicked, halting far too quickly for those behind to understand what was happening. Men fell forward, mostly uninjured, but exposing the second rank rather unexpectedly.

  On Athgar's left, Urughar's archers let loose with their volley. The arrows did little actual damage, but the effect on their morale was marked. Athgar called on his inner spark once more, and a wall of fire leaped up before the enemy. They backed up in fear as officers struggled to regain control over their charges.

  "Now!" ordered Athgar. His men about-faced, placing their backs to the enemy, and started running. This was the most dangerous part of the battle, for their withdrawal could quickly turn into a rout.

  They raced back across the field to the safety of the trees. The Orcs, who were fleeter of foot, had already formed back up at the treeline and were standing ready, covering the Therengians as they made their withdrawal. Athgar halted by Gahruhl, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  "It has worked," said the Orc. "The enemy has stalled for now. No doubt they will send for help, then the entire army will pursue. I hope Nat-Alia knows what she is doing."

  "So do I," said Athgar. "So do I."

  Opening Moves

  Autumn 1104 SR

  * * *

  Athgar looked north, watching for the approach of the enemy. The Therengian line stretched to his left and right, a solid mass of men and women willing to sacrifice their lives to protect their families. The hill they stood on overlooked a flat plain, flanked on either side by dense woods. Three hundred and fifty of his spearmen formed the front rank while his archers, meagre as they were, were farther up the hill. They would use their advantage to loose volleys over their comrades' heads as the enemy approached. Most of his warriors had little in the way of protection, save for their shields. A small group was blessed with chain shirts, and these he kept as a reserve, able to reinforce the line when needed.

  He glanced farther up the hill to where Natalia stood surveying the area. She would be commanding the battle, standing beneath the stone gate the Orcs had spoken of. Around her were Zahruhl and the Stone Crushers, ready to wield the magic of the earth, taking full advantage of the powers of the strange stones. Of the other tribes, he saw no sign but knew they were waiting on either side of the field, their hunters ready to harass the enemy as they approached.

  The early morning mist was just burning off, revealing the small stream that meandered across the plain. The sight somehow reminded him of home, and he was suddenly struck by the memory of his father teaching him how to fish. His recollections were soon cut short by the sight of a lone rider appearing out of the mist. The horseman halted just shy of the water and stood in his saddle straining to make out the Therengian line. Whoever it was didn't wait long before turning around and riding north. It appeared the enemy had finally arrived.

  Father General Hargild watched Duke Heinrich's approach with a smile. "We have them," he called out.

  "At last," called back the duke. "Are they close?"

  "Just to the south, in fact. They've finally decided to make a stand."

  "Any idea of numbers?"

  "About five hundred," replied the father general. "I'm surprised they chose to fight."

  "Perhaps they have no choice. Their village may be nearby."

  "If it is, we shall find it soon enough. In the meantime, we shall destroy this ragtag army of theirs once and for all."

  "What is our plan?" asked the duke. "Shall we rush them in one large mass?"

  "Tempting though it is, I'm inclined to be more cautious. They may have more warriors in the woods. We'll split your forces up. I want your lighter troops on either side, and we'll use them to flush out the woods. Concurrent with that, your more experienced men will conduct a frontal assault."

  "And your Temple Knights?"

  "I shall use the initiates to reinforce the flanks. The rest I will hold in reserve until you've weakened the enemy line."

  "You surprise me," said the duke.

  "Oh? How so?"

  "Your initiates are all trained knights. Why do you have them serve on foot?"

  The father general smiled. "Unlike the other orders, warriors come to our order already trained in the art of combat, but they often lack the experience of our seasoned knights. As such, we have them serve on foot for the first year of their service. It teaches them humility."

  "Seems like a waste to me," said Heinrich. "The very idea of knights fighting on foot is counterproductive."

  "I might remind you the Temple Knights of Saint Cunar are the premiere fighting force on the Continent," said the father general. "Our methods have been developed over centuries."

  "I trust you won't be insulted if I lead my own knights into the fray?"

  Hargild smiled. "Of course not. Our objective here is to defeat the enemy. Whether that's done by your forces or mine is of little consequence." He looked at the sun briefly before returning his gaze to the duke. "How long to get into position, do you think?"

  "In a hurry, are we?"

  "It would be convenient if we could wrap this up before noon," said the father general. "We still have a village to find after all."

  "I should have the men in position by mid-morning. Will that be sufficient?"

  "It would indeed."

  "Then I shall be off," said Duke Heinrich. "There is more work yet to be done."

  "The Saints be with you," said the father general.

  Natalia stifled a yawn. She had not slept well last night, the burden of command weighing heavily upon her shoulders. In her heart, she knew making a stand was the best option, but looking around at the men and women gathered here, she began to have doubts. How many would die this day?

  Off in the distance, she could make out individuals riding back and forth, cajoling the enemy warriors into position. Natalia knew this was typical for an army, her training had included such knowledge, but to actually see it was still intriguing. Looking at her own troops positioned before her, she saw a solid line of Therengians under Athgar's command. They were relaxed at the moment, the enemy still distant, but she sensed their unease as the full strength of the Holy Army unfolded before them.

  Feeling the presence of an Orc at her side, she turned, expecting to see Shaluhk. Instead, she looked into the stern countenance of Voruhn. Kargen had told Natalia of their experiences in Khasrahk, leading them all to wonder about Voruhn's loyalty.

  "Fear not," said Voruhn as if sensing the unease. "I shall do all I can today to ease the misgivings you have about me."

  "You speak the common tongue?" said Natalia.

  "I suppose I do," replied the shamaness, "though it is a surprise to me."

  "You were unaware you spoke another language?"

  "My mind is full of strange memories of late. I wonder if the Ancestors are speaking to me?"

  "And what of Zahruhl?" asked Natalia.

  "He, too, is eager to make amends. We shall both do our best this day. I promise you."

  They stood in silence, mesmerized by the sight of their enemy.

  "Such large numbers," said Voruhn. "How shall we defeat them?"

  Natalia set her mind to work, burying her doubts. "They mean to push up to either flank. You can see by the way they're deploying their troops."

  "Surely the centre is the most dangerous?"

  "True, but their commander is cautious. He won't move up until either side is secure. He's worried about being attacked from the sides."

  "And are we doing so?"

  "No," said Natalia. "We have hunters on both sides, but their job is only to skirmish."

  "To what end?"

  "Fighting a battle is about stamina and courage. Break either, and we shall have a victory, but if we fail, we'll have no second chance."

  "And so you mean to wear them down?"

  "If we can."

  "How do we do that against so many warriors?" asked Voruhn.

  "By using the one advantage we have—magic."

  "Magic is powerful against an
individual, I will grant you that, but against an army?"

  "Battle magic is not always about killing," said Natalia. "It is about destroying the enemy's will to fight. Mages are not common amongst Humans, and we know the enemy we face today has none. That also means they likely lack experience facing such foes. We can use that to our advantage."

  "But surely they have mages in the Human kingdoms?"

  "They do," agreed Natalia, "but seldom are they trained in the battlefield employment of magic. There is much more to becoming a battle mage than learning spells."

  "So you are saying not all Human casters are battle mages?"

  "Very few, if the truth be known. Only the family is said to provide such training."

  "Then it is good you are on our side. We shall attempt to live up to your training."

  Kargen stared out from amongst the trees at the distant warriors. Even as he watched, enemy archers were advancing towards the forest to his north.

  "They mean to flush us out," he remarked. "I think it is time you strung your bows."

  Kragor laughed. "We have plenty of time for that. At this speed, it will take them half the morning to get to us."

  "Very well, but keep your eyes on them. We do not want to be taken by surprise."

  "Do not worry, we will not fail you."

  Kargen looked at the archer. "I have complete trust in you, my friend."

  "And I, you," Kragor replied, "but I wish Laruhk were here."

  "As do I, but it could not be helped. He and the others were needed elsewhere."

  "Where are they?"

  Kargen grinned. "You shall see, in time. It is best you do not know just yet. It might unsettle you."

  "I am afraid of nothing," protested Kragor.

  "So I see, and yet you should be. A little fear keeps an Orc alive."

  "You are hiding something," his companion accused, "but I shall pry no further. It is not a hunter's place to question the acts of his chieftain."