Banner Lord

by Jason L. McWhirter

  The walkway along the wall was five paces wide, large enough for two men to engage in battle. Glancing to the other side of the barbican Brant saw two Dygon Guards engaging the enemy, their Kul-brite blades flashing with incredible speed, quickly cutting the warriors down. Tanit was fighting beside him and the remaining guard was fighting behind him. More Saricons had rushed from further down the wall to help their comrades and the Dygon Guard behind them was keeping them at bay; five bodies had quickly piled up at his feet.

  But ten Saricons still faced them, charging them with sharp steel as they roared Heln’s name. Tanit ripped his blade from the chest of the man he had just dispatched and glanced at Brant, his free hand wiping a streak of blood from his face. They were both splattered in enemy blood, but it wasn’t the crimson streaks on their bodies that made them look fierce, it was their eyes, the eyes of a predator, the eyes of skilled and experienced killers. And the remaining Saricons were doomed.

  ***

  They didn’t have to wait long in the snow before they heard the commotion of battle coming from inside the city near the east gate. They waited a little while longer, listening intently to the screams and fighting, before there was a bright flash of light from the interior just on the far side of the wall. In the thick darkness the light from the explosion was easy to see.

  The Saricon guards standing by the metal gate that spanned the cart path to the wharf were looking around in confusion. They had not expected sounds of battle to come from inside the city. They were on alert and looking back and forth, unsure of where to direct their attention.

  “Take them out,” Lord Deltor whispered to Uln. Uln nodded and rose up to his knees. Putting his hands together he made a strange sound, the call echoing off the city wall.

  Within moments six shadows rose from the snowy ground near the gate blocking the cart path, their huge bows raised with arrows nocked. They wore furs from some sort of white animal and they were nearly invisible against the snowy backdrop. Arrows, each one the size of a spear, hammered into the Saricon guards so hard that the impact flipped their feet out from under them, slamming their bodies into the snowy ground, killing them instantly.

  Uln put his hands to his mouth again and made a different sound, this one longer and drawn out, like a bird screeching in the night. Silently, a thousand Varga rose from the snowy ground, running crouched over towards the path that would lead them to the gate. If things went well, the gate would soon be open.

  ***

  The fireballs had done their job, creating chaos and breaking up the Saricon formation. Even so, the Saricons were formidable fighters and they had reformed quickly. Several broke through and ran at Jarak and his companions. Orin and Ardra snapped their hands back sending arrows across the short distance, killing the Saricons quickly, but not before several Saricons killed more men in the wall, breaching the line and pouring through the gap.

  “We need more fire!” Jarak shouted over the noise, just as six Saricons broke through and came at them, their eyes wild as they howled their god’s name.

  “Do it!” Aldgar yelled as he stepped forward with Cat and the two Gyths. The Gyths let several more arrows fly and two more Saricons fell dead. They were then forced to drop their bows and draw their swords, and together they met the Saricons head on to give Jarak and Serix time to prepare another spell.

  Taking advantage of the reprieve, Jarak and Serix drew more power from Endler, who stood before them with his sword in case any Saricons made it past the others. Forming the spheres of fire again, they stood up tall and looked for their targets. Flames flicked across the fiery balls, the energy within eager to be released. The gate was still ablaze but very much intact.

  “Try to hit the gate directly!” Serix yelled.

  Jarak nodded and threw his fireball with all the strength he had. Serix followed and together their flaming spheres flew over the battleground for a second time. Serix’s ball fell short, exploding in the gap again, the power erupting outward with devastating destruction. But Jarak’s aim was true and his flaming missile struck the gate at its base. The gate was already black and burning, weakened from the magical fire. The second explosion cracked the weakened gate, causing the metal bands to bend as they began to melt under the intense temperature. Fire created from aura energy was much hotter and more intense, capable of far more destruction than its natural counterpart.

  They had devised two ways to try and open the gate. Either they killed the guards and gained access to the gate mechanism in the gate house, or they destroyed the gate with spells. They were close to gaining access to the gatehouse, but the Saricons, as was expected, were fighting valiantly. Once the Mergers cleared the wall, they would return to the courtyard and converge on the gatehouse. But until then they figured the best tactic would be to attempt to destroy the gate.

  Cat returned to Jarak’s side, her sword red from Saricon blood. She was sweating despite the chilly air and her eyes were wild with the intensity of battle. They had killed the Saricons that had broken through and had then returned to Jarak’s side. Jarak glanced up to the wall and saw that Brant and the Dygon Guard were still battling along the wall. Saricons from other positions along the wall had heard the fighting and had come running to join their comrades, keeping the Mergers occupied by the battle. They were on their own to get the gate open.

  ***

  Uln stood before the east gate with his thousand Varga fanned out behind him filling most of the available space on the wharf before the docks. There was still visible damage from when the Saricons had attacked the dock and east gate with their exploding shells nearly a year ago. But most of the damage had been repaired to the docks and buildings that made up the wharf.

  The gate continued to burn and the thick boards were cracked in several locations. But although the flames continued to devour the damaged boards and the steel bands had nearly melted, the gate still stood as a barrier. They could hear the screams and din of battle as they stood helplessly before the closed gate.

  “We need to get inside!” Vasheer, one of the Dygon Guards, yelled.

  Uln looked around frantically. Near one of the docks was a stack of lumber, the planking being used to repair a section damaged by the Saricon’s earlier attack. Lying next to the lumber was another pile of six long logs each one soaked in oil. They were to be the new pylons for the section of dock that was being repaired. Uln got an idea and quickly ordered four Varga to carry out his plan.

  After procuring several ropes the Varga went to the logs and hastily wrapped a section of rope around each end of a log, tying them in such a way that the rope made two handles on each end. With two Varga on either side of the heavy log, each holding a section of rope, they carried the makeshift battering ram to the burning door. They didn’t need any further orders, and standing before the weakening gate they swung the heavy log back and smashed it into the wood. There was a loud crack as the already damaged beams splintered. Fire and smoke poured through the opening and again they rammed the log into the gate. Four hits later and they had burst through the burning gate, creating a small opening through the splintered and cracked wood planks. Fire flicked across the damaged wood and billows of smoke rose high into the air. Using the heavy log they hit various sections a few more times, opening the hole further so the big warriors could duck through. Wood beams that had once made up the gate lay shattered and broken across the opening, blackened and burning they no longer blocked the entrance to the eastern wall. Bent and heated metal held a few still in place at the stone sides, but the burning wood lay askew and the entrance into the city was now unhampered. The way was clear and they could clearly see the fierce fighting beyond the smoke and fire.

  ***

  General Sigmar ran down the road, followed by several hundred Saricon warriors and led by two torgs and their riders. The great beasts growled as they surged forward, their powerful claws scraping long gouges in the stones that paved the road. They heard the battle before they saw it, but as they turned
the last corner onto the main street they could clearly see the fighting.

  He had no idea how they had gotten that many men inside the city walls, but it was not the Saricon way to contemplate such things while the enemy was before them. Raising his sword in the air and screaming Heln’s name he ran at full speed towards the fight, the cacophony of battle bringing his Fury to the surface.

  ***

  Once the Varga had barreled their way through the broken gate, they had to fight their way through twenty of the enemy warriors, which, with their superior size and strength, they were able to do rather quickly. And just in time. Brant and Tanit had finished off the last of the Saricons on the wall. The other Dygon Guard had fallen, taking a sword in the neck as he tried to fight off two others. Brant had just turned to run down the stairs when he heard, and saw, the Saricon horde running down the street directly at them. “Saricons!” he screamed.

  But the warning was unnecessary. The men and Varga below, having already seen them, reassembled the line. Fifty Varga with their longbows ran forward forty paces while the rest formed up behind them. Strong arms nocked arrows and drew the large bows back. The weapons were so big that no man could draw them. And the arrows were as large as the Saricon javelins. The first volley shot forward with such force that it looked as if the front of the Saricon line had hit an invisible wall. The great arrows punched through armor and flesh and catapulted the invaders backwards with such force that the men behind them were also knocked to the ground. Several of the massive arrows struck one of the torgs in the chest, killing the beast and knocking the rider from its back. Quickly, and with great accuracy, the archers launched another volley with the same devastating result. Nearly fifty Saricons died within a few heartbeats. Several hundred more Saricons had joined Sigmar’s group. But it mattered little. The devastating barrage from the Varga archers was deadly and relentless.

  The Saricons who had managed to survive the onslaught continued to run, screaming their god’s name as their comrades were launched in all directions by the Varga arrows. As they neared the archers, forty of the giants moved quickly, opening to either side like a budding flower. As they parted to the side of the street, Uln and thirty more Varga thrust forward with great bounding strides, their large swords and axes coming down with powerful strikes into Saricon flesh. The hundreds of Varga behind them pushed forward, like the shaft of a spear, Uln and his thirty the point.

  Brant, still watching from the wall, was shocked at the initial devastation the Varga had unleashed. He was equally impressed with their precision as they methodically cut into the oncoming Saricons, the archers now using swords and axes as melee weapons as they held their great bows in their other hand. It was going to be a bloodbath.

  Sigmar had released his Fury, unleashing it like a flood from a broken dam. Surrounded by the green giants, he saw his men being slaughtered all around him. There was nothing left to do but fight. A big Varga came at him, his face and arms painted red. Sigmar’s eyes glowed blue and he howled with rage as he met the Varga head on with his axe. His eyes left tracers of blue behind him as he moved with incredible speed, fueled by the Fury which pumped massive amounts of energy into his limbs.

  Uln fought with a sword as long as a man, the silver blade flashing back and forth as it parried and attacked, looking for an opening. Sigmar’s enhanced speed and agility kept Uln on his toes, and several times the Saricon’s huge axe just barely missed him, the razor sharp edge a hair’s length from cutting his flesh. But Uln was Ull Therm and after several brutal exchanges, his longer reach won the advantage. Sigmar stepped forward as Uln’s sword swung by him, narrowly missing. Thinking he had the advantage, he attempted to ram the spike at the end of his axe into Uln’s stomach. But Uln, faster than Sigmar thought possible, jabbed his right fist forward, his huge knuckles striking the crazed warrior in the face. Sigmar’s nose crumpled in a shower of blood as he was thrown back on his heels. In a frantic attempt to defend himself, he swung his axe wildly before him, his vision blurred. Uln kicked out with his foot, striking the axe handle away, and followed through with a two handed downward chop, his long sword slicing through Sigmar’s head all the way through to his abdomen. Kicking out again, he launched the dead Saricon away and continued his onslaught.

  Within moments the Saricons were all dead. Jarak and the others joined Uln in the middle of the street, his Varga warriors behind them, their weapons red with Saricon blood. Brant and Tanit had run from the wall and joined them.

  Tanit looked exhausted, the continuous use of his Merging abilities sapping his energy. He would have to rest soon. Brant felt it too, the long fight on the wall taking its toll. He concentrated and tried to pull more energy from the earth. He was getting better at it, and he now felt the connection almost immediately. He could now actually feel the energy beneath his feet, swirling currents of power welling up from the earth's core. The more he focused on it, the more it took shape in his mind’s eye. He opened himself up to it, his weary body welcoming it like the embrace of a lover. Within only a few moments he opened his eyes, feeling refreshed and replenished.

  “Let’s get to the gate,” Jarak suggested to them all. “Everyone ready?”

  They took a moment to take a quick drink from their water skins, nodding in agreement, then took off running, with nearly a thousand Varga behind them along with their remaining men, numbering close to forty. Over a hundred of the original warriors had perished taking the east gate.

  ***

  What was happening? thought Kahn Taruk. It was still dark and they had at least an hour before sunrise. So far there was no sign of Jarak preparing to attack from the hill. But then again it was so dark that they would barely be able to see them if they were fifty paces from the wall. Not only that, but the clusters of homes that lined the river that flowed by the northern wall would block their view. But it mattered little, he convinced himself, his army was camped beyond those homes, waiting to fight. And what of Sigmar? Where was he? He had heard fighting from within the city but now it was silent. Had Sigmar taken care of whatever uprising had occurred?

  “Tongra Taruk!” a warrior shouted as he ran up the stairs to join him at the wall. He had clearly run hard to deliver whatever news he had. “Sigmar and his men are dead! And King Daricon and Lady Mylena have been poisoned in their sleep! Nearly a thousand Varga are inside the city and heading our way!”

  “What!?” Kahn Taruk exclaimed. “How did they get in?”

  “The east gate is destroyed. Almost two hundred men attacked the guards from the inside while the Varga broke in from the other side. What should we do?”

  Before Kahn Taruk could reply a fireball appeared above them, the flaming sphere leaving a bright trail of orange light. It came from the far end of the massive inner courtyard, and as the Tongra looked on, he could see a small army of Varga approaching from the main street. Within moments the ball of fire had descended, exploding amid a group of Saricons that were hastily forming to defend the gate. It didn’t land where they were most concentrated, and caused minimal damage. Whatever mage had thrown it was too far away. Then the Tongra had a thought. It was a signal.

  There were over a thousand Saricons stationed in the courtyard and nearly two hundred manning the walls and protecting the barbican. But the warriors they faced were Varga, giants that were more than a head taller than even the largest of Saricons. They would need more men.

  “Open the gate! We need more men!”

  “Look!” a guard on the wall yelled.

  Kahn Taruk turned and saw huge flaming balls flying through the air. He had no idea what they were but they were big, the size of a large boulder. The fireballs were landing outside the city all across the battlefield and amongst his own men, rolling across the snow in a shower of sparks and flames. They continued to bombard them, a barrage of incendiary destruction, scattering men and setting fire to tents. It wasn’t long before the men on the wall could see what was happening, the light from the fiery spheres lighting up the
battlefield.

  “What are those things!?” one of the guards asked, looking on with terrified curiosity.

  They are not exploding, the Tongra realized. They are lighting the way! It came to him quickly. “Sound the horn!”

  A nearby guard put his horn to his mouth and blew three short blasts. It was then that they heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats, thousands of them. They looked up the hill and saw a wave of cavalry galloping through the foot deep snow, the big flaming spheres lighting their way. For weeks Jarak and his army had been preparing these giant spheres of pitch soaked branches, woven tightly together to form a heavy sphere as big as a boulder. Once lit, they had launched them from their catapults, the fiery spheres scattering the Saricon army and providing light for their own men.

  The gate was slowly opening as the Tongra ran to the warrior who had brought him the news. “I want five hundred more men in here now! Then shut the gate!”

  “Yes, sir!” Then he ran off.

  Tongra Taruk ran to the other side of the wall to look down into the courtyard. His army inside had lit braziers and torches so he could easily see hundreds of Varga spread out on the far side of the courtyard. His own men had formed up, their shield bearers, along with their javelin throwers in the front. “Archers, prepare to fire!”

  A hundred men along the ramparts ran to the other side of the battlements and nocked their arrows, looking down as the Varga prepared to attack.

  Uln stood next to Jarak and his companions as his warriors funneled into the far end of the courtyard. Before them, no more than a hundred paces away, were over a thousand enemy warriors. They had formed a strong shield wall of several hundred, the rest behind them as reserve lines.

  “They are sure to have javelin throwers behind the shield wall,” Serix said. They all knew it was their strategy.