by Joel Babbitt
Beckoning to both Shagra and Ahn-Ki to come to him, the orc leader raised his axe for all to see. He was met by a resounding cheer.
“Yes, lord,” Ahn-Ki replied as he and Shagra arrived at the field of battle.
“We make shapes, like you teach me,” Drakebane said. “Today, we do ‘Horns of Minotaur’ for capture kobolds on top of long hill.”
Ahn-Ki nodded in subtle surprise and acceptance. He had not known that Drakebane had actually understood anything he’d taught him. He really didn’t expect the oaf to be able to pick the right formation for the moment either.
“You!” Drakebane said, pointing at Shagra. “You take orcs from there to there,” he said, dividing off about half of the orcs that had formed on the road. “And ogres they have. You be horn of minotaur. You go up that side,” he said, motioning for Shagra’s group to go left, “on road and in trees behind kobolds.”
“You!” he thumped Ahn-Ki in the chest. “You hobgoblins take kobolds with spears and be head of minotaur. I give you some orcs, and you have kobolds with wolves too for in case battle go bad.”
Ahn-Ki nodded his acceptance. “Lord, may I have the orcs with bows?”
Drakebane thought for a moment then nodded. “I take all these orcs,” he continued, motioning to the rest of the line. “And I take ogre chieftain and go up this side,” he said, pointing up to the right. “We be other horn of minotaur.”
Drakebane then looked at both of them. “When horns go, head of minotaur go forward, but not fast like horns. When horns go past kobolds, we come together, then kobolds be trapped!”
Ahn-Ki nodded as did Shagra, the twinkle in his one good eye made only the more evil by the scars that lined his face, and the patch over his other eye.
“Go now!” Drakebane said. “Today we fight!”
Jominai spat in the dirt. He didn’t like what was happening. He had secretly hoped that the Kales would have smashed the orc somehow, so they could go home without a fight. He didn’t like the thought of fighting the shield wall he saw at the top of the long slope, especially with these exhausted, inferior troops. But as his second Marbo had reminded him, duty was duty.
“By gens! Form—Up!” Marbo called to the still panting, miserable levies from the degenerate gens. They had been made to run behind the orcs and ogres, and had been constantly prodded along by their hobgoblin overseers. Now that they had arrived on the field of battle, they were just about spent.
Out in front of the miserable group of sweat-soaked, panting levies, their hobgoblin overseer looked across the group fiercely. Jominai knew they weren’t moving fast enough for his liking, but they weren’t much over half the height of the orcs, and such a long run with such short legs and carrying equipment had been too much for many of them. They had left stragglers who couldn’t keep up the pace all along the route. The rest who had made it were trying desperately to catch their breath.
“You move quickly or I will take off heads!” Ahn-Ki’s gravelly voice cut through the multitude of grumbling and panting. Suddenly, there was only silence and movement as the levies did their best to get in formation without sticking each other with their spears.
Soon, four blocks of some eighty or so levies were formed up, with more stragglers arriving as Ahn-Ki told them to begin the march forward. Moving out in front of the entire formation on his riding wolf, Jominai called out “Forward March.” This time his voice did not crack.
Behind them, on the road still, Krulak and the hundred wolf riders he led from his mother Kobold Gen stood and watched, waiting for the hobgoblin that was with them to command them to move forward. Behind him rode his second, as well as the blessed Oracle Demo and the covenant mage Gaenthik. Looking off to one side, the leader of the fifty or so orcs with bows sneered back at Krulak and pointed at him. The orc clearly wanted to make sure Krulak knew he was being watched.
Well, he had something for that orc, if the situation ever permitted. For now, however, he would have to wait and see if the opportunity ever arose.
Lord Karthan marched out of the tree line behind the first ten companies of warriors. Giving the command to the warriors who were around him, they blew the command to form a single-depth shield wall. Instantly, just liked they’d practiced last night, three hundred and almost fifty warriors moved as one. Within moments the companies were spreading out and extending the line until, within a short time, they all stood in one long line, anchored on the left by the tall stone hill.
For several heart beats Lord Karthan and those around him watched the orcs piling out of the tree line and the ogres chasing Durik’s Wolf Riders up the long slope. Eventually the ogres broke off the pursuit and retreated back down the slope, and Lord Karthan sent Khazak Mail Fist to direct Durik and his wolf riders to take up a position on the right flank of the shield wall line.
As they watched the orcs gathering at the bottom of the slope, Lord Karthan stared off farther into the valley, where the flames were burning far into the sky. The dragon had stopped dipping down and stoking the already considerable flames, and instead had contented himself with circling the middle of the valley in one large, irregular circle that seemed to be getting incrementally closer to them.
“Karthan,” Lord Krall, who sat on a rather muscular riding dog next to him broke his concentration. “What do you make of that?”
Lord Karthan looked down toward the bottom of the slope where the kobold levies had finally started arriving; most of them in one long line followed by scores of stragglers trying to catch up. The Kobold Gen cavalry had already arrived and were standing in one block off to the side. What Lord Krall was referring to, however, was the fact that the orc line was beginning to split in two, with each side moving in the opposite direction of the other.
“I don’t know yet,” Lord Karthan replied.
For several minutes the leaders watched the orcs moving. Eventually, the orcs on their left side began to move off in groups toward the hill that bordered the long slope on the left. Almost simultaneously, the orcs on the right moved off down the road, which came around alongside the crest of the hill on the south. While both groups had ogres with them, the group on the left clearly had the majority of the ogres with them.
At almost the same time as the two long lines of orcs, a third element formed, this one made up of the kobold levies from the northern gens, with what appeared to be a band of orc archers and the Kobold cavalry formed up behind them. This last group moved out much more slowly than the other two.
“Well, that’s surprising!” the younger Krall finally said. “It would appear that they’re going to try to surround us.”
Lord Krall spat on the ground. “Karthan, you know what this means, don’t you?”
“It appears they intend to capture us,” Lord Karthan replied.
Lord Krall just shook his head in disgust. “Yes, and I think our plan just changed. If it’s all the same to you, I think its time I took my warriors and set up a defensive perimeter on our right flank, probably near the crest of the hill.”
“I’ll lead the house guard on their dogs, father,” the younger Krall spoke. “We’ll shadow the orcs as they approach.”
Suddenly, the dragon, which had been making lazy circles through the huge cloud of ash and smoke that was beginning to cover the entire valley, dipped down and landed off in the forest ahead of the flames, but still about an hour’s walk for a kobold away. All of the kobolds sighed in relief at his, likely temporary, disappearance.
“Very well Krall, and Krall,” Lord Karthan said. “I think it’s clear that the real battles will be on our flanks for now. This little force from the Kobold Gen in the middle is likely just a distraction. As such, I will leave this force here under Khazak Mail Fist to serve as a reserve, and I will take our other twenty companies down the left side to help the Deep Gen and outcasts fight that thrust.
“Lord Krall,” Lord Karthan continued. “Do you need my wolf riders, or shall I use them on my flank?”
Lord Krall shook hi
s head. “They’d just get in the way, Karthan,” the grumpy old kobold said.
“Very well, then,” Lord Karthan nodded. “Khazak, send Durik and his riders to help the Deep Gen once they’ve had a moment or two to catch their breath.”
“So be it, then!” Lord Krall said as he turned his riding dog to the right. “May the Fates smile upon us all!”
Kale stood at the edge of the tree line looking out into the large, grassy plain as Durik and his wolf riders passed from left to right up the slope in front of his little contingent of skirmishers. His younger brother stood at his left shoulder looking down the slope at the retreating ogres, and at the gathering orc horde beyond.
“Kale, I do not think that they are coming straight up the slope at us. Look,” his brother said. “See, the orcs and ogres are dividing into two large groups.”
“Brother, go to Lord Sennak,” Kale said. “Tell him we should reform the line to face downhill, rather than face the meadow.”
Kale’s brother nodded and immediately headed off into the woods to find Lord Sennak.
Not long after, the orcs had completed the split and each of the two broad arms headed off in opposite directions. Kale called out to his outcasts to begin gathering up, which they did with unaccustomed speed.
Not long after they had gathered, Kale’s brother returned with word that Lord Sennak was not going to change his position, but rather thought that the orcs were going to come around behind them to the hill, not up the berm-like hill they were on.
Kale just shook his head in disbelief. Finally, he called out to his warriors, and the entire group of outcasts moved down the hill to the end of the Deep Gen’s line and prepared to skirmish with the orcs when they came up the hill through the woods.
Lord Karthan was in a particularly somber mood at the moment. For all the glory that those who had not seen it thought war was, he had found that, in fact, there was nothing glorious about war. When he was but a whelp, his father had said the same thing to him. But being young, and full of the juices of life, he had not believed his father. But that was before he had been wounded the first time, before he had gone on any quests or seen death come so swiftly to so many who had been so vibrant just moments before. That was before he knew the pain of loss, and the meaning of true brothers; ones who would give their lives for you, like Khazak Mail Fist… ones who already had, like the chief of his personal guard. What was his name again?
He shook his head and tried to clear it, though the deep sense of guilt for not remembering that warrior’s name lingered, yet at times it was too much to carry the weight of the dead. Death was all around him, and had been for too long. His life so far could be characterized as a long, sometimes difficult, but generally boring story, punctuated by random moments of sheer terror. At times he wondered if it would ever be any other way.
He shook his head again and breathed deeply in the hot air to try and clear his thoughts so he could focus on the task at hand. Here he was, marching through the woods at the head of about seven hundred of his warriors, in twenty companies, and he was reminiscing about his loss of innocence. The thought of it almost made him laugh… or cry.
“Sire,” the scout which had just approached through the woods called to him. Lord Karthan looked at the scout strangely, was it… yes, it was Trallik, the traitor he had recently pardoned. “There is a path down off the berm-hill. Come,” Trallik motioned, “I will lead you to it.”
Lord Karthan nodded. He very much hoped that Trallik’s word was good. If this gamble worked out correctly, and if Lord Sennak held the line like he’d sent a messenger to tell him to do, he and his warriors would catch the orcs in a nice trap. Then it would be a matter of ensuring the trap sprung hard enough to break the orc column. Looking back at his column of warriors, however, he could see the determination and fire in their eyes. Yes, they were up to the task.
Lord Sennak of the Deep Gen stood looking out over the open battlefield, in wonder at the particles of ash that had begun to fall from the sky, from the dragon’s conflagration in the middle of the valley. This entire environment was alien to him. Yes, he’d been above ground before, and yes, he had been above ground for the entire day so far, but for one who had lived underground all of his life, it was so full of change and chaos.
It had been a while since the orcs had disappeared into the woods, but they were no concern of his. He was sure they would go around behind them and strike the Krall Gen warriors in the clearing on the hill. He, on the other hand, was waiting for those traitorous kobolds from the northern gens to come up the hill so he could spring his part of the trap.
Hammer and anvil Lord Karthan had called it. Though he liked the name, he hadn’t said anything at the time. After all, he wasn’t Karthan’s lackey.
The arrival of a messenger from Kale had been annoying. He had sent Kale’s brother back with the firm word that they weren’t moving. After all, the kobolds from the northern gens were marching straight up the hill, just like he had thought they would.
Then a messenger arrived from Lord Karthan, telling him to move to hold the hill against the orcs. Confused, he sent the messenger back to Lord Karthan to tell him that they would hold it. Instead of moving his formations to face down the hill, however, he sent scouts out to watch the orcs as they passed by on the other side of the hill.
Now, as he looked out into the long, flat slope again, he smiled within himself. Today would be a day to remember. Today would be a day of victory.
The outcasts spread through the trees on the berm-like hill began to look at each other nervously. Not far below them the sound of hard boots coming through rocks and trees could just barely be heard. Those who had sat down now stood, and those who had been talking now watched in silence down the hill. All of them had picked up their shields and the two javelins they had brought down the hill with them.
Standing in the front of them, Kale immediately sent his brother to find Lord Sennak. The fool had not turned his formations to face the orcs, so the Deep Gen warrior groups were about to get hit in the flank.
“Tell the warrior group leaders along the way!” he said as his brother nodded then ran off up the hill. “Steady, warriors of the underdeep!” he called. “Remember; careful aim, strong throws! Make each javelin count! Throw number one, then run back. Throw number two, then run to the base of Great Bow Hill!”
All about him, the outcasts were bracing themselves to stand in the face of whatever was coming up that hill. Some, however, couldn’t take the stress of it. Here and there among the ranks of the outcasts a warrior fled.
“Stand your ground!” Kale called.
At that moment, the first of the orcs came into view. They were large, muscular warriors with dreadlocks and matted hair swinging wildly about them. Down the slope from the kobolds they didn’t look too much taller than them, but their wicked looking axes and curved swords were adorned with spikes and barbs to rend any flesh they met. The wild fangs of the orcs only enhanced their fearsome look as they roared out a battle cry upon spotting the outcast skirmish line. Suddenly, all around Kale, many of the outcasts threw their javelins and began to run back, even though the orcs weren’t even close to being in range. More than half of them stayed, however, and those who did stay looked to Kale to give the command to throw.
“Ready!” Kale called. All around him warriors raised javelins. Measuring from a javelin that had been thrown early, Kale waited until the lead orc was in line with it.
“Throw!” he yelled, and as one nearly seventy javelins scythed through the air, striking many orcs and driving many to the ground.
“Fall back!” Kale yelled, then turned and ran up the hill while behind them the survivors of the lead wave of orcs were stalled by all the casualties in their ranks. Having run back to the deer trail that he had designated as the next throwing position, Kale joined the rest of the warriors who had fallen back to this position.
Panting, Kale looked up and down the line. All around him the bright eyes of h
is many fellow outcasts looked down the slope in excitement. Some who had thrown early had felt bad and had stopped here, and even a couple who had run before the orcs came in sight had stopped here. Overall, almost ninety of his hundred skirmishers now stood on the deer trail with him.
Below them, through the trees, the orcs came into view again.
“Ready!” Kale called. This time the entire group raised their javelins in unison. Not one of them ran. Again, Kale waited until he thought the lead orc was in range.
“Throw!” he yelled, and as one almost ninety javelins scythed through the air, cutting swaths through the lead ranks of the orc horde.
“Fall back to Great Bow Hill!” Kale called, and all about him the outcast warriors began to climb the hill, many of them slinging their shields over their backs as they scrambled on hands and feet up the rough terrain.
Not fifty steps up the hill the outcasts met the first of the Deep Gen warrior groups repositioning to meet the orcs head on. Like a flock of birds, the entire warrior group flowed around them on either side.
“Mirrik! We’ve downed probably forty of them for you!” Kale called.
“Good!” the warrior group leader called back. “We’ll get the other five hundred then!”
Focusing on the terrain that was around them, Mirrik commanded the nearly one hundred and sixty warriors of his warrior group to move to the left until they came up against a very thick stand of trees and underbrush.
Looking up the slope, he saw Hemmet coming at the head of his warrior group. Satisfied that he had left enough room on the slope for Hemmet to move his warrior group in next to his, Mirrik turned about to look down the slope and was surprised to see the orcs already a javelin’s throw away through the trees. Quickly, he stepped backward into the front line of his warriors.
