General Argin was waiting on the outside of Solomon’s room and saluted when he came through the door. “My Priest, a scout arrived early in the morning. Our army is close.”
Solomon was still lost in the vision he had seen and did not seem to take this news as well as Argin had expected.
“Is something wrong?” asked Argin.
Solomon pulled out of his thoughts. “No, nothing is wrong. Send word to our men. Have them form up as we discussed, along the western flank. If we bring them into the city from the south, then they will be of no use in this battle.”
Argin looked worried. “But what good will they do against an army which is thrice our size. What would flanking them do but get all of our men killed?”
Solomon raised his eyebrows as he regarded his Commander. “Have you lost your faith in my judgment? We will not be the only ones to join the battle this day.”
Argin bowed, his face turning red. “Forgive me Solomon, for having let doubt into my heart.”
Solomon waved off his Commander’s embarrassment. “Get word to our army. I wish you to deliver the orders yourself.”
Argin looked worried again, “But what about you? Will you not be joining us?”
“No, you must lead the army into battle. I have my own place within this war. Our people need a leader and that man is you.”
Argin did not argue. He simply stood tall and saluted his beloved King. A title which all of Ortsk considered Solomon but never spoke it out loud. Solomon returned the salute and Argin was off to do his bidding.
Lucian found Solomon standing outside of the cathedral where he had slept, at least that is what Lucian had thought. Solomon had been in a meditative state all night, praying and listening.
“Will you join us at the gate, Solomon?” asked Lucian. “I am still amazed at the sight of you in battle last night. I remember reading tales of battle priests when I was young but never knew they really existed.
“All tales come from some past truth. But alas, my place is not with you this day, Lucian. I have another responsibility.”
Lucian looked into Solomon’s eyes and could see something that disturbed him but he didn’t know what it was. He meant to question him further but realized that Solomon was a man led by visions and if he had seen a different course for himself, then he must follow it and Lucian would not try and stop him. Instead he held out his wrist and Solomon clasped it.
“Then the Great Father be with you, Solomon of Ortsk.”
“Aye, and you as well, Lucian of Drahvanael.”
The two men parted and headed their separate ways, Lucian toward the northern gate and Solomon toward the southern. Lucian met up with Tarriel at the gate where she was boosting the morale of her warriors. Only three hundred out of the original compliment were left. Her face lit up when she saw Lucian approach.
“So do you wish to keep me from slaughtering the horde again today as you did last night, rushing out there like a fool so that I would have to escort you back to the city?”
Lucian gave her a broad smile. “I promise I will not keep you from slaughtering our enemies this day.”
Tarriel laughed, knowing the truth of the matter. Had Lucian not valiantly pushed a spearhead toward her during the night, she and all her warriors would have been killed. Her expression steeled over as she looked into his eyes. “I wish they would just attack so we might get on with this.”
“Why are you always so anxious to fight? Does the savagery of war not bother you?” asked Lucian. He cared deeply for Tarriel but he feared that her lust for battle might someday lead her down a dark path.
“You misunderstand my desire,” she said. “I do not wish to kill merely for the sake of it. Since I was a child, our people have been fighting amongst themselves, clan against clan. My mother helped bring the clans together but in doing so she also created many enemies and was killed for it. The murderer was caught and I was given the chance to take revenge on her. Such is the way of my people. I was only thirteen years old when I took her life. I have killed many since then, but to this day her face is the only one I see that haunts me. The others I have killed were in defense of myself and those I love, but I killed that women out of revenge and even though my people believed in this, in my heart I knew it was wrong. I do not kill because I enjoy it, Lucian. I kill to protect the lives of those who deserve to live it.”
Lucian listened to her story and saw through to the deeper issue. “There is nothing more honorable than defending those you love. But to sacrifice your life for others because you think that you are not worthy of living, is not honorable. Your life holds the same value as those around you. Do not throw it away because of a mistake you once made. All have wronged at one time or another, but all may be forgiven. You need only ask.”
A tear rolled down Tarriel’s cheek, contrasting her steel visage. Her voice wavered as she spoke softly to Lucian. “Would you forgive me of this?” Another tear rolled down her beautiful face.
“I already have and so has the Father, I’m sure of it. Your life is not forfeit and it would upset me greatly for you to think so.”
Tarriel’s steel look crumbled for only a moment before she took a deep breath. She did not want her warriors to see her in such a state prior to battle. “Never have I met such a man as you, Lucian of Drahvanael. I will think on your words, and on your God. Thank you.” She clasped wrists with Lucian, her strength always surprising him, and then she wiped the tears from her face and turned to her warriors.
Lucian found Kyrianna at the top of the city walls, speaking with all the Sergeants from the archery divisions, discussing the strategy. He hadn’t taken much notice of her armor the night before but looking at her now, she seemed positively stunning in her royal battle dress. Thick leather and chain mail pauldrons sloped off her shoulders in sleek layers and a long tunic, that looked as though it were made from scales of the ancient dragons, hung down to her knees then swept backwards. Her forearms and shins were protected by beautifully crafted gauntlets and shin guards. Two finely made sabers hung from her belt at the hips and she clutched the most exquisite looking bow that Lucian had ever seen.
When she saw him approach, she offered him a smile that was different from the one she normally showed, it was warm and it made her eyes glimmer. It was a most beautiful smile, thought Lucian.
“You take care up here. They will be targeting the archers since you and the war machines will be the only obstacle until they breach the gate.”
Kyrianna nodded. “If they breach the gates,” she said with a grin.
Lucian doubted they could hold the northern army back for long. His only hope was that reinforcements arrived before that happened. But he remained positive.
“There is always hope,” he replied.
Kyrianna pulled at some of the straps on his armor, making sure it was snug. “You look like a King.”
“And you look like an Empress,” he said with a wink. “Thank you for cleaning my armor, and lulling me to sleep.” He gave her a smile before turning to head down to the gate but Kyrianna stopped him.
“Tell me, what is it that you thought I was bringing you to the palace for last night if not to clean your armor?”
The sly smile on her face told Lucian that she knew what he had been thinking. It made him blush all the more out of embarrassment. He decided not to answer and just get down to the gate and away from her mocking grin as quickly as possible.
The northern wall stretched out nearly a quarter of a mile before turning south. Its western approach was blocked off by mountains and the eastern by a deep gorge which stretched on for miles. A single bridge used by merchants held the only passage over the gorge and was easily defendable. So it was the Northern wall where the Vorean army was concentrated and as Lucian walked through the masses, some soldiers saluted him, others bowed low. Stories crept around the city speaking of him as that of a guardian ancestor. To them Lucian was more than a hero, he was a savior. A warrior unlike any they had ever seen
. They all knew that if not for Lucian, Vorea would have fallen the night before.
In his brilliantly shining armor, standing taller than the Voreans, Lucian’s presence was quickly known. All eyes watched him as he made his way to the front lines. Tarriel and Eliath were there, the Culdorans making up the first ranks of the front lines, wanting to be the first ones to greet the enemy if they broke through the gate, which Tarriel was almost positive that they would.
“The defenses are set,” said Nenghao. And no sooner did he utter those words, than the sound of drums began to echo off the city walls from the north. The horde was coming.
Lucian pulled Drovenalor free and its crystalline blade rang out. He turned to face the army behind him, and then thrust the magnificent sword into the air.
“For Vorea, and all those who oppose evil this day!” he screamed, and a great cheer rose up, drowning out the drums of the northern army.
Lucian brought the perfect blade to rest against his forehead and said a prayer to the Father, asking for strength and endurance. He heard the thundering steps of the charging northern tribe and his eyes ignited in a white flame as the sword started to glow.
The command was given and the Batoshi let loose their projectiles, hurling fiery clay pots and giant boulders into the oncoming enemy. But they were charging much faster than on the first night, knowing that they had to get beneath the range of the deadly war machines. Kyrianna shouted out orders and the Nebura let loose their giant bolts. Soon it was the archers who were sending wave after wave of arrows into the horde.
After the first group of archers were struck by the enemies own bolts, they started staying down behind the safety of the battlements and shooting only through the arrow loops. Ladders came up all along the wall. The defenders poured boiling tar and dropped rocks atop the heads of those trying to scale them. But they could not stop them all and the enemy started spilling over the parapet and onto the allure of the wall. Archers abandoned their bows and produced finely crafted blades to fight alongside the swordsmen that stood with them. The Vorean archers were not without skill with a sword and were able to help dispatch many of those who came atop the walls. But the enemy was great and soon the wall defenders were outnumbers and sorely pressed.
Lucian looked up to the combat that was breaking out all along the fortification and saw Kyrianna engaged in battle with two men, and more were bearing down on her. A glance to Eliath was all that was needed and the two rushed to the top of the rampart, bringing a handful of soldiers with them. By the time Lucian reached Kyrianna’s side, she had already run the first two attackers through and was battling a third, her dual blades dancing beautiful circles all around her.
Lucian rushed past her along the allure, slicing through the enemy as he went. He was able to free up the archers so they could use their forked poles to push the enemy ladders away from the wall. Eliath worked his way to the opposite side of Kyrianna, clearing the enemy almost as effectively as Lucian. The other soldiers moved into positions along the battlement where they were being pressed hard and fought off the enemy, giving Kyrianna and her archers the opportunity to take up their bows again and rain havoc down on the vulnerable horde beneath them.
Lucian glanced to the army below and noticed three large groups heading for the wall. They were spaced apart by several hundred yards and carried thick armor over their heads. It looked to be the armor of the Boroons that had died the night before. He looked back to Kyrianna and she had already seen the groups and was signaling for her archers to target them but the arrows did little against the armored patches of men that were coming steadily closer to the walls.
Suddenly Lucian realized that they were battering rams, and not just one, but three, heading for the gate. The defenses had been set up to defend only the main gate. To defend three separate areas along the wall would spread their lines thin. And these rams were massive. The enemy couldn’t have built them so quickly. Lucian realized that they must have kept these rams back during the first attack, which meant that Thaluzont never fully expected to break into the city on the first night.
It was insanity. Thaluzont had thrown so many lives away only to test the defenses and whittle down the Vorean numbers. Lucian fumed at the wickedness. He rushed back to Kyrianna and saw that she had also recognized the devastating reality of the three rams. Eliath came up to meet them and his expression showed the same. They signaled for Nenghao and when the man arrived atop the ramparts, it took him only a moment to see why the others looked so concerned.
“We must divide our forces. It will spread us too thin to try and defend all three points. Our only option is to leave the strongest section of the wall with moderate defense and concentrate the rest of our force at the other two areas,” said Kyrianna.
“The gate is the strongest area, those doors are layered with thick wood and steel,” said Nenghao and he looked over the wall to see where the other two battering rams were headed. “The weakest point would be the area to the west.”
Kyrianna nodded in agreement. The section to the east had been damaged once before and because of that, it had been rebuilt even thicker and sturdier. “Split the soldiers up to defend those two points. Have them move all the rock and tar to compliment the defenses there. I will keep the entire regiment of archers between the gate and the point to the west to help keep them slowed. Have the men shore up the gate as best they can but once that is done, spare none to defend it. Be watching for my signal in case the enemy punches through there first.” She realized that all three points would most likely fall but she did not voice that.
Nenghao nodded and rushed off to maneuver the soldiers.
Lucian was unsure of the gates strength. He gave a questioned look to Kyrianna but she said nothing. “I will remain at the gate and watch for your signals. Eliath will be at the western section. If one of those points seems ready to fall-“
He left the sentence hanging and Kyrianna nodded.
“I will signal you,” she said.
Eliath gave Lucian a parting look and rushed off to the western point. The sound of the rams hitting the walls for the first time startled Lucian. It was a tremendous crash and he feared the entire wall might collapse from the initial hit, but it held. He watched as Kyrianna led her regiment of archers in a barrage directed towards the battering ram team at the gate. Lucian stood by himself at the bottom of the wall facing the gate, watching it swell inward with every strike from the ram.
From high atop the rampart, Kyrianna sent wave after wave of arrows into the battering ram group, striking at every opening the enemy offered, which were very few. Each time her archers stood to take aim they were being targeted from below and many were falling. She scanned the battlefield quickly and saw that the enemy was setting up several of their own version of Batoshi. She could tell from the distance that they were too far out. Her own Batoshi sat higher and thus had further range, so why would Thaluzont have them set up there? Maybe he was unsure of their range. She hoped he would try and hit their walls from there. The boulders would fall short, right on top of his army.
But still something nagged at her, a feeling that she might be wrong, that something was out of place. Thaluzont had been very cunning in his strategy thus far. Why would he now do something so obviously reckless? She dismissed the thought, thinking that she was over reacting, and concentrated on the attack below her. The western wall seemed to be holding but the gate, to her surprise, looked as though it were buckling all ready.
Lucian saw the look Kyrianna gave him from above and it confirmed his fears that the gate was not going to hold. He rushed off to the eastern point along the wall and gathered some men. As they started back toward the gate, the giant reinforced wooden doors let off a deafening snap and partially opened. The horde started to flood in through the small gap.
Leading the charge with nearly a thousand men at his back, Lucian slammed into the oncoming horde like a sledge hammer. The angelic runes etched into his armor were aglow with a golden, fiery
light. Drovenalor was shining brightly but Lucian noticed that the enemy did not shield their eyes from it as before. He did not know the reason and it did not matter. Still he cut into them like a scythe through wheat. Engrossed in his power, he heard nothing, not the screams of men nor the sound of steel against steel ringing out. Within his holy rage was an inner calm that kept him from being rash. His every move was precise and fluid, his every strike was exact. He moved through the enemy like an ethereal blade, cutting down everyone in his path. No sword or spear touched him.
The men behind him pressed in from the sides, cutting down the adversaries who escaped Lucian’s deadly march. But Despite the devastation he was causing, the enemy still poured in through the gate. He and his men quickly became pressed on all sides. Lucian had fought through the enemy, away from the Vorean soldiers and was being engaged from all around. He was trying to move closer to the gate to stem the flow of northern tribesman but now he found himself unable to progress. Circling and shifting all about, he cut down every man who neared him. Drovenalor sliced cleanly through blade and armor but there were so many that he could not block every strike. He soon began taking hits but his fury was so great that he didn’t feel them.
He concentrated harder, moving faster to avoid strikes and parrying, cutting down several attackers with one powerful sweep. He was covered in blood and had killed over fifty men already but he was beginning to tire. Despite the strength and endurance that surged through him from the divine power within, he was weakening. Even in the first attack he had not fought so ferociously. His arms were growing heavy and he could feel them slowing. The enemy’s blades were getting dangerously closer. Men were falling in droves around him, but still they pressed on and his breathing became heavy.
Revelations of Doom Page 48
