by M. M. Whan
The man did have a point, Edward thought. He nodded his acquiescence, then turned to face Kelahi. “All right. Get the men up, we move out in five.”
Edward ordered his men into defensive posture, and as quickly as he dared, marched them into the mouth of the ravine. Despite the assurances of the scouts that there was nothing within miles, all of their eyes constantly moved all around them. The walls were more than thirty feet high but were not sloped, nor were there any hand holds for which to climb. No escape, Edward realized as his eyes scanned their surroundings. They were all on alert, ready for anything. The patrol reached a bend in the ravine which marked the half-way point. The fact that their view from behind was completely obstructed did nothing to calm Edward’s nerves.
Rocks came tumbling and skipping down the walls of the ravine as the continued deeper. Soon, more rocks joined them. Then more.
The entire patrol drew their weapons and held their shields tighter as more and more rocks skipped down to the ground. Edward knew that something was very wrong, and gave the order for them to go back. The men broke ranks, and took off at full bent, charging as fast as their legs would carry them. Just as they rounded the bend and the way out became visible the closest men discovered that the way was blocked by orcs, many of them! Heavily armed, and heavily armored they began to pour into the passageway.
Edward’s eyes widened in horror. The fact that his instincts had been right was little comfort to him. “How the hell did they get here?” He demanded. He didn’t receive an answer as everyone else scrambled around, tripping over each other.
Edward led his patrol into a pivot, then headed for the only other option available to them. It was impossible for him to get an accurate count of how many orcs there were, but the young man knew beyond a doubt that there were too many to fight. Worse yet, they were mountain orcs! He suddenly grew afraid, very afraid, it all seemed too well executed for what he knew of the dim-witted creatures.
Unfortunately, his fears were not lessened as they once again rounded the bend in the ravine to come face to face with another party of orcs.
Many of them.
“Ambush!” Edward shouted at the top of his lungs, then he began ordering his men to form up back to back and to lock shields. Their only hope was to repel the orcs long enough for an opportunity to escape to present itself.
The first three men around the bend had died almost instantly, too caught up in their surprise to defend themselves from attacks, He lost another two as the orcs attacked from behind. With soldiers left, Edward began to wonder if they would hold. Though the ravine made for an excellent ambush point, it also prevented the big brutes from getting overwhelming numbers into combat at once. And so, three of his soldiers met with a single orc, sometimes two in the cramped space. That was a stroke of luck on Edward’s part. Had they been attacked out in the open, his patrol group wouldn’t have survived the opening exchanges. Such as it was, Edward was confident they could hold.
They had to.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as battle intensified on all sides. Most of his remaining soldiers were fighting wounded and fought desperately to keep the powerful, savage beasts at bay. Whenever one of his men went down, he was quickly replaced but Edward was very quickly running out of replacements.
Stones falling from up high rained down upon his helm, and Edward’s eyes were drawn to the top of those walls. What he saw there made his heart sink.
Orc bowmen lined both sides of the passageway with arrows fitted, aiming down at him and his men.
Edward smiled.
* * * *
Corbin moved his patrol at a near frantic pace, regardless of the protests coming his way from his men. They were ragged, tired, and hungry, and the effects of the aiding spell seemed to have little effect anymore. Though his pace was recklessly fast, Corbin was convinced that there would be no danger, and no resistance. He was the future King of Escoran. Dorien would never let any harm come to him. With that in mind, his patrol continued on without forward or flank scouts, and no vanguard. Rather than using his instincts to lead his men, he trusted Dorien to his word, and was therefore caught completely unawares.
When he finally decided to halt for a break, which he only did so he could consult his map, they set up camp amidst the crumbling ruins of a very old, and large structure. His men were completely exhausted with not a one remaining standing when the order to halt was issued. One had even feinted a long while back, and was carried by his companions. Needless to say, there were many angry glances Corbin’s way, but he didn’t care. Being that he was a prince, Corbin was the only patrol leader that was given a horse, and he was not tired in the least. He ordered for his men to make camp, and to take rest that he considered to be unnecessary.
Naturally, the grumbling, and the bitching subsided soon after the men had their fill of food and drink, and rested their sore and weary bodies. The sun was still high in the sky, but the soldiers didn’t care, they laughed and talked as if they were back in their homes with a tankard of mead within arm’s reach. None of them expected to be in any danger at any time during the exercise, and it was their leader who told them so. Convinced that he and his troops were in no danger, Corbin decided against setting lookouts and even allowed some of his soldiers to remove some of their armor.
One soldier who was always a stickler for the rules and protocol was the first person to spot something going on. He was always teased about his attention to protocol, and military propriety, and he was not the most popular soldier in his patrol group. There was something unsettling about these ruins, and the daylight did nothing to dispel any illusions of danger.
“Sir,” the young man greeted, giving Corbin a rigid salute.
Corbin neither returned the salute, nor looked up at the man. “What do you want, Byrin?” Corbin asked heavily, not taking his eyes from his patrol orders.
“Yes sir, I just want to suggest that we should set watchmen out into a perimeter just to be safe.” Byrin suggested quietly, looking around to make sure none of his companions would over hear him. No one ever wanted to do the watch. Standing completely still in one place while everyone else relaxed was never an attractive concept.
A split second later, Byrin was lying flat on his back, leveled by a stiff backhand from Corbin. Those that were close enough to see what happened rushed over to find out what was going on. Byrin was not a large fellow by the standards of men, and he was smaller than Corbin, younger too. Even if Corbin weren’t a prince, Byrin figured he would have little chance to retaliate and succeed. He brought his hand up to the corner of his mouth, and dabbed the blood trickling from his cut lip. He scrambled to his feet, then took a step back from the prince.
“Are you questioning my competence for command?” Corbin accused hotly as his gauntleted hands closed into fists.
“No sir, I-” Byrin’s reply was cut short, as sentences tended to get cut short by an arrow in the throat.
Everyone stood in stunned silence as Byrin struggled for breath that would not come. They watched as he clutched at the arrow protruding for his throat, his accusing eyes boring holes into Corbin’s. But as he slumped to the ground, a contented smile crossed his face, then he died.
Suddenly, the entire patrol was drawing weapons, scrambling to and fro as arrows rained down upon them. Screams of fear turned into the screams of the dying as nearly a third of Corbin’s patrol died before they even knew what was going on.
Orcs were upon them.
Corbin could only look on as a host of huge mountain orcs surged over the ruined stone walls from all directions, surrounding him and his men.
* * * *
Mountain orcs crashed hard into the shields of Edward’s men and were halted. Blades flashed and armour dented as coordinated battle turned into all-out savagery. Edward noticed his men were fighting defensively, concerning themselves more for deflecting strikes, rather than landing them. His eyes kept looking up at the orcs holding their arrows
poised for the kill. Edward couldn’t understand why the bow wielding orcs hadn’t loosed their arrows to make the fight end with minimal losses. He dismissed the grim thought immediately, needing to concentrate his energy on getting his men out alive.
Edward shield-slammed the first orc in line, then cleaved the brute’s head off with a swift swipe of his sword. He brought his sword back around to stab the next creature in line, impaling it through its heart. He kicked his foot out hard to connect solidly with the orc’s stomach, effectively extricating his sword before dropping his third. He took a moment to look around, and he was surprised to see the amount of orc bodies lying all around. He was very proud, but he knew that his remaining seven men would not be able to hold their luck for long.
Edward retreated back to the centre of his patrol to speak directly with his wizard. The young man was pale and trembled from head to toe in fright. He stood completely immobile, rather than sending his spells to harm the enemy.
“Snap out of it, man!” Edward shouted in his face, then he grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake. Finally, the spell-chucker’s eyes settled on his and Edward was relieved. “Is there anything you can do to get rid of those damned archers above our heads?” He shouted, he had to just to be heard over the din of battle. Before his wizard could answer, Edward watched as one of his men was ushered into the abyss by powerful axe blow to the chest. The force of the blow snapped the poor man’s spine and crumpled his legs.
“I think I have something,” the apprentice wizard shouted. “Just be prepared to throw your shields above your heads when I say so!” Edward held his shield above the man’s head as the spell caster began his chant. A spell caster was easily spotted regardless of the race, and if the archers noticed him casting, he would be filled with arrows before he could blink. As soon as he was finished, the Edward took his shield down as the apprentice no longer needed the protection.
The wizard no longer ducked reflexively whenever he heard the clash of metal on metal. He launched himself into another cast, eyes closed as he detached himself from his surroundings to complete his spell weaving. He was not worried of physical injury; the wards he cast about himself would keep him safe. True to Edward’s prediction, the orc archers let fly but the arrows were stopped mere inches from the apprentice’s face and body. As soon as he was finished, he raised his hands above his head, then clapped them together.
“Now!” He screamed, and Edward’s well-trained soldiers responded by lifting their shields flat above their heads. With skill that did their academy proud, the men continued to fight off the orcs even with their shields held above their heads.
The apprentice clapped his hands together one more time, and a bright, concentrated ball of metal shot up high into the air at eye level with the bow wielding orcs. With a smile, the wizard snapped his fingers, and a deafening bang! split the air as the ball of metal exploded into thousands of pieces. Screams of the dying filled the air as the burning hot shards of metal shredded the orc archers apart.
The spell did more than just hit the archers above, it also rained death down upon the orcs attacking Edward’s patrol. Edward used the confusion to order his men to charge. Their attack was devastating, killing nearly a score of the savage brutes before their momentum began to ebb. As soon as the orcs regained their composure, Edward and his men were quickly pushed back. Only five of his original fifteen remained fighting, and everyone, including him, were injured.
“Nice one,” Edward congratulated the apprentice, then proceeded to belt an ugly brute in the side of the head with the pommel of his sword. The orc’s eyes crossed and it sunk to the ground where Edward obligingly plunged his blade into its back. “I don’t suppose you have another of those in you?” He asked, but when he received no immediate response, he chanced a look over his shoulder.
The apprentice wizard stood perfectly still, unnaturally still before he sank to the floor. A crossbow bolt protruded from his forehead.
* * * *
Corbin shouted orders to his men as they ran around blindly fighting a fierce and prepared opponent. The young prince ran to the aid of one of his men who was losing badly against a mountain orc when he was broadsided by another brute as it came barreling in from the side. Corbin fought desperately while lying on his back as the creature tried to clamp onto his throat with its mouth. He punched, kicked, slapped, scratched, and even head-butted the stubborn orc, but he was sorely outmatched in strength. The orc’s weight was crushing, and Corbin was gasping for breath as his free hand swept the dirt beside him for something, anything he could use as a weapon.
Flashing colours began dancing before his eyes for lack of air and he was about to give up hope when his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword. A sickening grunt from the foul-smelling creature followed as Corbin sank his blade hilt-deep into its side. He shoved with all the strength he had left in his tingling limbs and pushed the dead orc off of him. He hurried to his feet, gulping down lung full’s of air, only to find his men dying all around him. There were just too many. Too many! His mind screamed at him as he charged forward and cut down the nearest savage creature in his path.
Corbin spotted six of his men fighting desperately to fend off the horde of persistent creatures. The prince picked up a dented and notched sword from the ground, then threw the blade end over end on a short flight before it embedded itself deep into one orc’s back. Corbin was right behind it, slashing and hacking with abandon, dropping three orcs in three quick strokes. He rejoined what was left of his men and they fought with every ounce of skill and strength they could muster.
The prince heard the sound of bone crunching and he turned to see one of his men fall to the ground with an axe buried deep in his side. He turned his head just in time to spot an incoming horizontal sword slash that would have taken his head from his shoulders if he hadn’t ducked. Though he was lucky, the soldier standing directly behind him wasn’t. The tip of the orc’s sword was just long enough to sever the man’s spine at neck level. When Corbin was finished ducking, he drove his sword through the attacking creature’s gut, shoving forward with all his strength to push the brute away.
When he stood up, he realized he was all alone; all of his surviving soldiers were either dead or dying. He also realized that he was surrounded on all sides by orcs. Some were laughing, others were cheering, and more than a few were licking their lips in what Corbin understood to be their intentions for him.
Up until this moment, Corbin had it all. He was next in line for the throne; he had riches other kingdoms would envy; and the city would bend to his every whim. But what he realized at that moment, was that out of everything he had, he did not have any friends. His repugnant attitude, and condescending treatment toward anyone and everyone around him only served to alienate him. Somehow, Corbin decided, if he were to survive this, he would do things differently. He knew that wouldn’t happen, though, and as he looked down at the bodies of his men he found himself.
He had failed his men. These people had trusted him, and had followed him on this mission. They trusted him to keep them safe.
And he failed them.
Corbin knew that he could lay down his sword. He would likely be captured, and would most likely be held for ransom, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Corbin wanted to die with his men in the hope that his sacrifice would help him find redemption when he met his men on the other side.
Corbin brought his sword up and charged the nearest orc, cutting it down with a savage blow before moving on to another. One stepped forward and Corbin dropped him too. Suddenly, it felt as though he were punched hard in the chest. He looked down to see a still quivering arrow shaft buried deep in the middle of his chest. Corbin felt a gurgling sensation in his chest with every breath and his mouth filled with blood. He could feel the weakness creeping into his limbs and the unmistakable pull of the earth, beckoning him to just lie down.
Another orc ran in at him, and Corbin mustered his r
emaining strength to cut the beast down. Another arrow slammed hard into his back mere inches from his spine. Corbin coughed up blood, but he fought on, laying low yet another mountain orc as it lumbered in with its heavy club. Two more arrows hit home, one in his lower back, and the other into his lower abdomen. Darkness began to close around his eyes, and blood poured from his open mouth with every breath.
Corbin was unable to deny the call of the earth and he willingly fell into its embrace as he sank to his knees. His chin slowly lowered to his chest, and the last thing he saw was the blood pooling in front of him.
* * * *
Edward and his men fought hard for what seemed like forever, slaughtering orcs one after another, but still more came. Weariness was taking its toll on his men, and only, himself included, remained in the fight. Edward was just about to give up hope when suddenly the mountain orcs disengaged, retreating back several feet.
Normally, Edward was glad for the reprieve, but he held no illusions that the orcs were taking a break for their benefit. As that thought passed through his mind, Edward’s eyes steadied on one particular orc as it pushed its way through its comrades. This orc was unlike any Edward had ever seen. It wore a gaudy headdress adorned with skulls of several different creatures, and jewelry made of bones.
A profound chill coursed his spine as if Death’s fingers caressed him.
“Shaman!” Another soldier screamed, and Edward turned to look at him as the orc began waving its hands.
Edward looked back just in time to see a flicker of flame swirl into existence directly in front of it. He watched as the ball of fire arced through the air on a direct and unerring trajectory toward them. There would be no escaping it, they were trapped.
