Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “On your feet, my brave warriors,” the Knight said. “The torments will soon begin. The night is falling. The trap that the God of Chaos prepared for us has failed. He intended to destroy the defending army with that surprise attack.” He preferred not to mention the fact that Leandro had been replaced by an impostor. Explaining the details of this was not a priority. “Part of the trap,” he continued, “was to get us all gathered around the Portal in time for nightfall. If there’s one thing the God of Chaos will use to his advantage, it’s the shadows. Get ready for a ferocious attack. I don’t know where it’ll come from, but it will come with everything behind it.”

  “General!” came a cry. Commander Mondragon had been riding at full gallop from afar. When he reached the spot where the leaders were gathered to plan their strategy, he dismounted and stood before the general.

  “Sir!” he shouted.

  When Mondragon realized that all eyes were fixed upon a creature as magnificent as the dragon and a knight clad in shining armor, he fell to his knees, fearing for his life.

  “Commander,” Leandro said.

  Mondragon raised his eyes, stared at the dragon in terror, and looked at the Knight and Leandro as though asking permission to speak.

  “Speak up, man! What’s the matter?”

  “This, sir.” Mondragon spread his hands. Between them was a carrier pigeon that had been pierced by a black arrow.

  Leandro recognized the arrow at once. It was one made by the orcs, a loathsome species he had encountered many times. It reminded him of how Legionaer’s advance had begun when he had been living a peaceful life in San San-Tera when they had had to flee north.

  “A carrier pigeon pierced by an arrow? Where?”

  “The foreigners found a lot of carrier pigeons, all dead,” the commander said.

  “Many more?” Leandro asked. He retrieved the written message from the tiny compartment on the bird’s leg.

  The note read:

  Help! Help! Vásufeld has been invaded by a sea of orcs! We are trapped in the castle and they will soon kill us all. May this bird reach you before the orcs reach you, the army fighting at the Portal of the Worlds. We have received news that Bónufor, Aldebarán, and Narkalagh are suffering the same fate. General, the world is being destroyed by a sea of orcs that appears endless. Those who are not besieging cities and towns, which is to say the majority of their army, are heading towards you. May the Gods protect you!

  Gelandro, Priest of the Décamon of Vásufeld.

  Leandro’s glare left everyone in a cold sweat. The suspense was killing the leaders. Meanwhile, night went on falling like a shroud.

  “Mórgomiel has unleashed the second wave. This note says that a sea of orcs is advancing through the land and that they’re heading this way. They’re attacking the cities, everything. They’ll have us surrounded very soon.”

  The dragon’s gaze turned serious. The Metallic Knight leaped onto his back. Before anyone could do anything to protect themselves from the wind of Nordost’s great wings, the magical beast was already in the sky.

  “How can a sea of orcs be covering the horizon,” Othus asked. “Is it a metaphor?”

  “I don’t know. But if this bird, like others, has been brought down, it means they didn’t want us to find out they were coming. It means they must be—”

  Night fell suddenly. The scream of someone dying filled the atmosphere. The air seemed to freeze for a second. The earth began to tremble.

  They heard a cry in the distance.

  “Orcs!”

  Leandro’s gaze froze. For a moment, Mondragon looked like a corpse as the blood drained from his face.

  The night was particularly dark, much more so than might have been expected. There was no moon. In the sky, the beating of Nordost’s wings could be heard, then a roar echoed across the field. A stream of fire emerged from what appeared to be vacancy but was Nordost high in the sky. The distant plain was illuminated by a ball of fire, and for a single moment, Leandro saw a black sea moving toward them from all directions.

  His heart began to thump. He was breathing fast. The second column of fire lit up the sky, and once again, he glimpsed the sea of enemies surrounding them.

  The enemy had not allowed them to rest. When he had thought he was organizing the troops around where he felt the attack would come from, the enemy seemed to have guessed his thoughts and was attacking from all directions except the Portal.

  Leandro could see Mórgomiel’s strategy. With the impostor, he had gathered all the armies around the Portal. Setting the trap had only been one part of his wider plan. Now they were boxed in and completely surrounded. To make things worse, they were utterly disorganized and ill-prepared for a rear-guard offensive. Surrounded as they were, the pressure of an advancing army would crush them. Panic would soon spread, and with it, the ranks would break. Unlike with a defensive army, there would be a mass of soldiers clustered together, easy prey for anybody.

  There was only one option. He had to get all the armies into formation quickly, aiming their shields and spears away from the Portal of the Worlds. He needed to organize the defense around the Portal. But how on earth would he move something over five hundred thousand panicking soldiers? He would have to trust the leaders of each species.

  “General!” someone shouted again. In the darkening night, torches had been lit, but there were not many of them. It was Valímidos the he-goat who had spoken.

  “Your orders! Your empire’s soldiers and those of others are falling by the second! Come on, pull yourself together!”

  Leandro came back to his senses. There was nothing but try to reestablish order and reform the ranks.

  “Leaders! The order is to create a ring around our armed forces!”

  He realized that his order had not been understood. He took a dagger from his belt and knelt on the ground. Mondragon brought a torch to bear so that everybody could see the plan. The leaders gathered closer to look at his drawing.

  Leandro seized a small rock. “We’re here. If the rock is the Portal, we’re surrounding it, right? The strategy is to surround the portal in concentric rings.” He drew a ring around the rock, then another ring around the first until he had drawn several circles. “The outer ring, the battlefront, is the one that has to form first to allow the rest of the soldiers to organize. I’m counting on you, Catalgar, Dakatak, elves, and crystals who are the fastest, to manage this! We, Mandrake, together with the others, will form behind you and create more rings of defense! Is that clear?”

  “For our Iptaan Ulrica!” Valímidos shouted. “May the Fire of Yoshto burn and ArD’Buror ever be with us! Follow me to battle!” As he galloped toward the battlefront, a river of fifty thousand he-goats followed him with perfect discipline. Orders were given, and in seconds the phalanxes began to divide.

  “For Nimyaya!” Lohrén cried. “For the light of Lumibel and Alambam! With me, elves! Form the ring of defense!” After him, nearly ten thousand elves ran to the battlefront.

  The monoliths said nothing, but a hundred thousand of those giant crystals were seen moving rapidly toward the battlefront.

  Gelkak shot off toward the front and after him, the hundred thousand insects that had come to join the defense of the world swarmed.

  “Othus! Düll! Dukes of the cities! Ahmad of Grizna! Start forming a ring of soldiers around the Portal!”

  “Yes, General!” shouted the leaders of Doolm-Ondor and Moragald’Burg. The dukes nodded, though they were not pleased with not being regarded as commanders of their forces. But though they were uneasy, the dukes did not complain further. Mounting their horses, they made their way to their armies to begin the formation.

  “Commander Garza! The Imperial Army of Mandrake is the largest with nearly four hundred thousand armed souls. You are to organize the soldiers behind the first ring of defense. You are to assemble the archers and lancers closest to the portal. I want them firing as soon as possible. Get on with it!”

  The commander bow
ed and began to bark orders at the captains of each division, who in turn barked orders to the lieutenants of each group. Without the destructive breath of Nordost, who was keeping the orcs busy from the sky, Leandro would have never had those valuable minutes to plan his strategy.

  He felt proud at the sight of the soldiers acting straight away with enviable diligence. Then he turned around and walked toward the Mage of Maggrath.

  “Sendar! Lombardo! Good to see you here! I need your mages to do whatever’s possible to generate light. We can’t fight blind! By the Gods, get them to eliminate the sáffurtan if they appear because the worst that could happen to us is for them to start bringing the dead back to life.”

  Sendar called the most advanced mages, “Uroquiel, Ítalshin, you’re the most proficient of the mages. Today, you’re going to show your skill. You’ll stay at the back and your job will be to eliminate dark sorcerers and counteract sáffurtans if they appear. All mages: stay at the back and always keep close to Lombardo!” Uroquiel and Ítalshin nodded and took their places around the Portal.

  “The other mages, with me,” Sendar added. Ninety-eight lower-level mages came to stand around their leader. “I need you to cast spells of light. Light up the battlefield to help our soldiers!”

  “Yes, sir!” they replied. The mages formed a circle around the Portal of the Worlds and in a matter of seconds, they were casting spells of light.

  “Lombardo! Good to see you!” the general said. At last, he could greet his old friend.

  Lombardo had his double sword in his hands, ready for battle. “Our wives and your children are safe in Maggrath,” he said.

  “Thank you and good luck, my friend,” Leandro said. The glance he gave Lombardo meant, I don’t think there’s any way out of this one for us. There was no time to say anything else. The general stepped forward to scan the battlefield and change his strategy to adapt to the dynamics of the war.

  From the hands of every mage burst a flame that might have been that of a candle. It was yellow and very bright, and it seemed to burn while floating without support. The flames, ninety-eight of them, began to rise into the sky until they were twenty strides above the level of the defenders, spreading widely enough to provide light for the outer ring. This light was so intense and warm that it motivated the soldiers. Yet, when it intensified and illuminated further into the distance, the horizon became visible not many leagues away. They could now see the blackness that surrounded them. The blackness of armed bodies. The blackness of orcs. The blackness of hatred and destruction.

  In several sectors of the tide advancing toward them, great flames poured out to reveal the destruction caused by Nordost. He was keeping the orcs busy and the creatures were not safe against the dragon’s attacks from the air. But there were so many thousands upon thousands of orcs that Nordost could only attack one sector at a time, and any sector missed was somewhere where the orcs could multiply. Luckily, they had not come armed with war machines.

  Lombardo was like a watchdog. His hands itched to use his sword, to feel the link with the mages once again. But he knew that he needed to be patient. He knew he would soon be releasing all his fury.

  The general rode to the battlefront, passing through the defense rings in process of formation. Fifty thousand lives were needed to form the outer ring, and it was thanks to the speed and courage of the Catalgar that it was possible. But many he-goats fell during the effort so that though they had previously totaled around fifty thousand, there were now fewer than forty thousand. Valímidos, the centurion in command of the forces of Hoomasaas, was wounded but the wound was not deadly. The support given by the arrows helped to slow down the relentless enemy.

  Lohrén and his archers, lancers, and swordsmen had helped form the outer ring. More than a thousand elves had fallen in the effort. Lohrén was attacking madly. The orcs, loathsome beasts of evil, had caused the death of his friends during the first Times of Chaos thousands of years ago. He knew the creatures were not the best of soldiers, but their vast numbers and their ability to eat almost everything were wreaking havoc. His gaze scanned the horizon, and in the light created by the mages, he could see that the sea of orcs was endless. They were surrounded. This was madness. Perhaps for the moment, they were repelling them, but sooner or later, the defending army would be obliterated.

  Gelkak ordered the Dakatak to fight face to face against thousands of orcs who were trying to break the outer ring of the defense. The insects, with their powerful jaws, sliced and severed the orcs’ limbs. With six arms, two of them bearing weapons, the insects were better warriors than the orcs and it was not hard for them to maintain the formation of the ring. Gelkak had lost more than ten thousand insects in the effort of forming it, but it had been worth it since the strategy was working.

  The monoliths proved themselves the finest soldiers of the defending army. Attacking them with a saber was useless, as the crystal structure was impenetrable. Although it could be destroyed, it took more than a sword to do so. The monoliths attacking with their numerous filaments were vital for the defense and formation of the outer ring. With only a few losses, they began to spread among the Catalgar, Dakatak, and elves, strengthening the outer ring of defense wherever it was needed.

  The inner rings had already been formed, and now they were waiting for the outer one to break. The he-goats, elves, and Dakatak who were putting all their effort into keeping the outer ring together were growing weary. The effort was taking its toll, and Leandro realized this when the outer ring began to be infiltrated by dozens of orcs.

  “Retreat!” he shouted. The order spread from leader to leader, and in a few minutes Catalgar, elves, Dakatak, and monoliths withdrew at top speed to rest behind the second ring of defense, which then became the outer ring.

  The sea of orcs flowed forward like water around a boulder in the middle of a strongly-flowing river. The defensive ring of human soldiers from a mixture of cities and empires, reinforced by the monoliths, bore the impact of the aggressors. The clangor of metal on metal, death, and screams once again filled the atmosphere. The battle was renewed vigorously.

  Elves, Dakatak, and Catalgar withdrew behind several defensive rings, panting.

  “Without food or water,” Valímidos said, “this will be over in a matter of hours.” The supplies had been destroyed and what little food remained was out of their reach.

  Cail, Lenga, and the other assassins had assembled in the third ring of the defense. Their function, according to Lenga, was to kill the orcs who managed to slip, quickly and stealthily, through the lines of the ring.

  Leandro could see that the ring was being beaten down by the orcs. “Retreat!” he yelled. Nordost was still hurling fire here and there, but he did not seem to be so much as tickling the tidal wave that was drowning them.

  The third ring of defense now became the outermost. On this occasion, the soldiers retreating were not so lucky as they were caught by the orcs which went on moving forward, preventing them from withdrawing. The orcs seemed to have learned and a hundred monoliths now lay in fragments on the field. The orcs were armed not only with sabers but maces, and with these, they managed to batter the crystals until they broke.

  Again, the clangor of metal on metal echoed throughout the field. The defensive ring was reinforced with several Catalgar and when they had recovered their strength, they returned to the attack. The elven lancers and archers did the same, but with only a few thousand missiles, they were not able to reduce the number of attackers by much. The insects strengthened the ring as well, but it was clear that exhaustion was widespread and that the defenders were weakening.

  Leandro counted no more than twenty defensive rings before they reached the Portal where the mages had taken up their positions behind the archers and lancers.

  The pattern of the battle was now established. Every half hour or so Leandro sounded the call to retreat. The rings of defense were losing the reinforcement provided by insects, Catalgar, monoliths, and elves. At every turn, t
here were fewer foreign species left in the line of defense and more humans. They were fighting like brave warriors, and it was thanks to the armies of Doolm-Ondor and Moragald’Burg that the defense was able to benefit from seasoned soldiers able to hold the brute force of the orc attack. The dwarves were strong and their double-edged axes proved particularly useful when it came to chopping off the orcs’ legs. The large swords of the soldiers from Moragald’Burg sliced efficiently, but it was the shields of Mandrake and its cities that helped to keep the orcs in line.

  Leandro sounded the call to retreat once again. Three thousand Torok surged forward to the line of defense. The reptiles wreaked havoc with their deadly bites. Despite this, they were overcome easily, and the three thousand fell in a few minutes. In the absence of arms and weapons apart from their mouths, they were overcome by more than one orc attacking together and they were torn to pieces. The Torok fell straight away, and the next ring of defense bore the brunt of an avalanche of orcs. Unfortunately, the ring broke and the formation was lost. Leandro sounded the order to retreat. The avalanche of orcs made its way through the broken ring of defense and collided with the one behind.

  Retreat. Push. Attack. Retreat. The dance of war was causing massive losses to both sides, and although both were losing soldiers at the same rate, the already-limited number of the defenders was now down to half their original total while the orcs still had around two thousand million soldiers hungry for destruction.

  Half the Catalgar were dead. More than half the elves were victims of the war. Fewer than a quarter of the insects were still alive. The Torok had been decimated and with them, the soldiers of Grizna. Fewer than twenty thousand monoliths were left to keep up the effort. The humans were still the most numerous but were falling by the hundred every minute. The dwarves of Doolm-Ondor had been reduced from a hundred thousand soldiers to only thirty thousand. The men of the land of iron and rock had once numbered ninety thousand, and now there were fewer than forty thousand of them.