Ruthalis nodded thoughtfully. “A sound idea,” he said, turning towards Graggis. “See to it.”
“Yes, sir,” Graggis said as he turned and left the room.
Day two started off the same, with thousands of orcs storming the wall. Horns blew and hundreds again fell to Finarthian arrows. They were able to retrieve several hundred arrows the night before, and they would continue their arrow retrieval tactic as needed.
But after an hour a new attacking group emerged within the mass of orcs. It was hard at first for the men at the garrison to see who they were since their vision was blocked by massive shields that many were carrying. But as they came closer it appeared to be seven or eight ogres, surrounded by hundreds of orcs, carrying a long battering ram constructed from a fallen tree. The orcs that surrounded them carried immense heavy shields to protect the ogre's legs from Finarthian arrows. Three other ogres, each carrying huge shields, marched in defensive formation around the heavily armored ogres that carried the ram, further blocking them from the flying missiles. The system worked, and it wasn’t long before the ram crashed into the thick timber gate.
Spears and arrows rained down upon them. Some hit their mark while others crashed into metal shields and bounced harmlessly aside. Several orcs fell, along with one of the ogres that had been carrying one of the giant shields. But as they fell more scurried in to take their place. The ram crashed into the gate three times, but still it held.
Sar-gathos was on the far side of the wall when the ram had arrived. The nimble elf ran with all haste as the heavy log crashed into the gate. “Look out!” he roared as he skidded to a halt above the gate. The ram hammered the gate again and everyone heard the timbers crack. Archers and spearman obeyed instantly and moved away from the wizard.
As the Ekahal whispered his words of power, blue flames leaped from his right hand, coalescing into a ball of fire. He then leaned over the battlement and hurled it at the enemy. The fiery missile crashed into the shield of one of the ogres, exploding on impact and sending a wave of fiery blue heat rushing upwards towards the defenders above. Everyone dove back away from the battlements as blue flames shot fifteen paces up into the air. The flames disappeared as quickly as they had come and everyone ran to the battlements to look below. The ram lay on the ground burning to a blackened husk. The blackened bodies of orcs and ogres lay scattered across the ground. The few unlucky enough to survive growled weak moans of pain as they attempted to crawl away, some with missing limbs, their burnt and smoking bodies encased in their armor, now a prison of glowing hot metal. The ground was blackened in a circle that was easily fifteen paces in diameter.
The men cheered and yelled, raising their spears and bows into the air. Several even had the courage to pat the Ekahal on the shoulder, congratulating him, but most stayed well clear of the elf, leery of the kind of magic they had just witnessed.
Yet their initial celebratory exclamations were cut short by the frantic shout of a man farther down the wall. “Here they come!” he yelled. Everyone looked along the line below and saw six massive ladders being carried towards various points along the wall. Orcs and scores of goblins were storming the wall again, shooting arrows up at the defenders, trying to distract the warriors as the heavy ladders struck the stone battlement. Orcs and goblins began ascending the ladders as their brethren fired missiles at any who tried to topple the ladder or attack those that manned it.
Graggis had seen them coming and ordered men to reinforce the locations where the ladders had been mounted. “Take out their archers!” he yelled. His job was to lead the men on the northern section of the wall while General Ruthalis was on the southern side. Lord Dynure was on the wall as well but his orders were to ready his men below in case the vermin broke through the gate. Durgen and most of the dwarves were steadily working on the bridge, hoping to have it down in three days.
Men rushed to the walls with bows and spears. Some were hit immediately and fell back as others took their spots. Healers ran back and forth along the wall seeing to the men that were wounded. Some were carried down to the medical rooms below and others, whose wounds weren’t too serious, were treated on the spot.
Graggis had not only seen the creatures coming with the giant ladders, he had also noticed several ogres moving through the mass of orcs and goblins, carrying enormous ceramic jugs with a flaming cloth stuck into the open necks.
“Get back!” he yelled. But it was too late. Thrown by the powerful ogres, the jugs soared through the air and crashed into the battlements on both sides of the ladder. Flames spread across the stones in great waves of orange heat. Some men, engulfed in flames, tumbled over the backside of the wall to the courtyard below. Warriors screamed as they leaped away from the scorching fire.
No defenders could get to the ladder now, and orcs ran up it quickly, jumping over the wall with roars of rage. The flames impeded the defenders, but it also kept the creatures bottled up until it died down, which it did quickly as the oil burned out. Once the flames dissipated to a flicker, orcs and goblins jumped over them and attacked the defenders.
The walls were only three paces wide and that meant that only two men could fight side by side. Graggis pushed through several men to get to the attackers first. “Stay behind me!” he roared. He wore his Finarthian plate armor and carried his famous axe. He sometimes fought with a shield in formation as his prodigal strength allowed him to wield the massive axe with one hand if need be. But that was not his favorite style. He preferred fighting with only his axe, two handed style, and that was how he faced the orcs now.
One orc jumped over the flames and smoke, his howl cut short by Graggis’s axe meeting it directly in the face, cutting the creature's head in two. No sooner had he flung the dead orc over the battlements than an orc and a goblin rushed at him, roaring in defiance. The goblin thrust a spear towards his belly while the orc swung a serrated sword down toward his left arm. Graggis pivoted slightly and caught the spear with his right hand while he flicked his axe blade to the left, blocking the strike of the orc. The orc had swung so hard that it stumbled forward to its knee. Graggis yanked the spear from the goblin and jabbed the blunt end into its face, forcing it backwards. Then he brought the blunt end of his axe down on the back of the orc’s head slamming the beast to the stone pavers. Several axe swings later both of the creatures lay in heaps near the battle crazed warrior, blood spilling from their bodies.
Graggis felt intensely alive, his massive muscles energized by fury and the adrenaline of battle. He roared with defiance as orcs and goblins fell to his silver axe. None could get through him, and after a few short minutes he had worked his way to the ladder. Several men on the other side had cut their way through as well. “Push that ladder off!” he yelled over the din of battle as more monsters scrambled up the ladder.
Two men reached down to heave the ladder off the battlements, but they couldn’t budge it. The weight of the orcs pressed the ladder firmly to the wall. “Sir!” one man yelled. “There is too much weight, we cannot move it!”
“Take that rung!” Graggis yelled indicating the one on the left. Both man grabbed it while Graggis put his hands on the right side of the rung. “Now!” he yelled. His muscles tensed and bulged as he strained, the veins on his arms resembling ropes, and slowly they lifted the ladder off the stones. The orcs howled and climbed faster. They were almost upon them. “Throw it to the right!” Graggis yelled just as an orc jabbed a short sword at his face.
The jerk of the ladder caused the orc’s blow to miss and the creature stumbled and fell backwards, taking several goblins with it. The bottom end of the ladder teetered on the ground, and then slowly slid sideways off the battlements, crashing onto the ground below.
As Graggis looked left and right along the wall he noticed the attackers had tried similar tactics in several other locations along the wall where flames and black smoke filled the air. He could see fighting all along the walls as defenders fought desperately to keep the creatures from breaching the wa
ll. He was about to jump into the fray again when he saw a great jet of blue flame again flash from the battlements, showering the orcs below. Graggis’s eyes pinpointed Sar-gathos, the elven mage, standing on the edge of the wall, the tip of his staff lit as he shot flames at an incoming ladder, completely engulfing it and its carriers with fire. “Glad he’s on our side,” Graggis muttered.
The day went on as more ladders were repeatedly carried to the wall. And though the orcs and goblins nearly overran the defenders with sheer numbers, Graggis and Ruthalis were able to rally their men and fight off the enemy, eventually killing their attackers on the wall. They were not able to breach the wall and open the gate. By the time the sun had set, the battlements were slick with blood and bodies littered the stones. Healers moved with practiced speed attending the wounded and tossing the dead beasts over the wall. Their own dead were carried down and over the bridge to be cremated later, with honor, in a great fiery pyre. Graggis, splattered with blood and drenched in sweat, had several minor cuts and scrapes, but most of the blood he wore came from his enemies
Chunks of bread, cheese, and dried meat were carried up to the hungry and exhausted defenders. They sat along the torch lit battlements eating their food and thinking about the many friends and comrades they had lost. Their victory had come at a cost. Graggis knew that General Ruthalis would want body counts, so he spent the majority of an hour inspecting his men and counting the dead. A messenger soon came, as expected, to inform Graggis that a war council was meeting and his presence was required.
“How much more time do you need?” Ruthalis asked Durgen. The rest of the men, including Lord Dynure, General Ruthalis, Captain Graggis, Sar-gathos, and Captain Hadrick, sat at the table eating quick rations and drinking cold water. Hadrick was asked, out of respect, to join the meeting even though he had yet to have an opportunity to join the fighting.
“We have cut through two of the foundations and unwound the magic holdin' 'em,” Master Trader Durgen replied, “and we will be positioning the pins tomorrow and workin' on the last foundation. We still need a day and a half I reckon,” he ended somberly, knowing full well the loss of life their army had suffered, and would continue to suffer while they finished the bridge preparations. He had watched the bodies being carried over the bridge and added to the huge pyre that had been lit.
“Master Durgen, I am not familiar with stonework. When you say ‘pins’ and ‘unwound’ can you explain that?” Hadrick asked.
“Aye, I will try. We dwarves can speak to the stone; it is an ability we call Daz-rothos. We do not need magic to nullify the magic that was embedded in the stone. We simply ask the stone to cast off the magical weaves that were placed in the rock. But the degree to which the process must be applied to this bridge takes time, and it is a difficult thing to do. Only a few Daz-athros, or stone speakers, have the skill to do it. To speed up the process a handful of dwarves can link their minds and the Daz-athros will guide the chant into the rock.”
“Is it magic?” Hadrick asked.
“Not exactly, it is hard to explain. We are on a level with the stone, we understand it,” Durgen said, knowing his response was inadequate.
Sar-gathos then tried to explain, “Imagine energy vibrating in everything around you. It begins to take on certain characteristics, but yet it is all the same. Elves have the same affinity as dwarves, but with elements closely linked to us. We understand the forests and creatures that inhabit them just as dwarves understand stone and the minerals that lie deep within it.”
“Aye, better words then me own,” Durgen added. “As far as the pins go, the plan is to embed them in such a way that all we need to do to drop the support is to knock the pins out. It is a difficult task and requires precise skill.”
“I see,” Hadrick said, even though he really didn’t.
“Graggis, how many men did you lose today?” Ruthalis asked.
“Two hundred and seventy five men, Sir.”
Ruthalis let out a weary sigh. “We counted near that number on our side. That leaves us with five hundred men, while the enemy still numbers several thousand.”
“Don’t forget the fifty Free Legion soldiers that are at your disposal,” Hadrick added quickly.
“Most of the physical labor on the bridge is done. I can free up fifty of me dwarves as well,” Durgen said.
General Ruthalis stroked his stubbly chin as he thought for a moment. Then he looked at Graggis seriously. “I think it’s time for your plan. Can it be done tonight? We need to lessen their numbers and put some doubt in their stupid orc brains.”
“I can be done tonight. I’ve been preparing since yesterday,” Graggis said.
“See to it,” General Ruthalis ordered.
Graggis turned to Captain Hadrick. “You ready to stain your blades?” he asked. “I could use your help.”
“When and where?” Hadrick replied.
Hadrick liked the plan. It was simple and held the element of surprise. But they only had the night to prepare and get into position and that meant no sleep and hard fighting at the end. There were six long boats that the garrison warriors used on occasion. Each boat could hold ten men. The boats, using several trips, would be used to carry a hundred men around the garrison wall to the far bank in the middle of the night. Sar-gathos would then use his magic to transport another hundred men, a combined force of Durgen’s dwarves and Hadrick’s warriors, around the other wall to the northern bank. Then, just before sunrise, the men would flank the army as they slept and attack. They would use hit and run tactics and then slip away and enter through the gate before the enemy could prepare a defense. If everything went well they would kill hundreds and lose very few.
It was half way through the night and Sar-gathos was becoming visibly tired. His skin was pale and his eyes were dark and sunken. He still had a quarter of the men to transport across the water and around the stone tower that emerged from the slow moving river.
“Are you okay?” Hadrick asked the Ekahal.
“Just tired. Holding this spell for this duration is taxing. I will need to rest a few hours after,” he whispered wearily. Seli stood next to Hadrick and where she went, Tuvallis went. His massive form followed her like a shadow. Hadrick tried to get her to stay, worried that her wounds were not yet healed, but after Sar-gathos had healed her she felt perfectly fit.
Hagar was nearby, hiding in the shadows by the water’s edge. Sar-gathos shared their plan with the ogrillion and using mental images with the wizard had requested to accompany them. Word had spread of the ogrillion and he had become sort of a celebrity. Most of the men stayed clear of the beast, but their eyes watched him with curiosity, fascination, and often fear. But word had come down from the top that Hagar was welcome and not dangerous. Those who had vouched for the beast were well respected among the men. If they said the beast was not dangerous, then the beast must be safe. These warriors spent their entire lives trusting in their comrades and commanders and their lives often depended on that trust. So when they saw Graggis standing next to the beast unafraid, they reasoned the ogrillion was not a threat. When the order came directly from General Ruthalis that the ogrillion be treated like any other soldier, they followed that order like any other. When they saw the Free Legion warriors casually interacting with the giant beast, they were again reassured that there was nothing to fear from the creature.
Finally, an hour later, Sar-gathos had transported everyone to the opposite shore. When Graggis was in place on the other side they would shoot a flaming arrow into the sky and that would be the signal to attack. It wouldn’t matter at that point if the enemy were alerted as the attack would come moments after the signal. A horn would signal the retreat, and if the plan worked they would disappear into the darkness, reaching the gate before the enemy could organize a counter.
Everyone had stripped themselves of heavy armor and wore only dark clothes or light protection like leather armor if they had it. The mission required stealth and speed, which would be hindered
by heavy plate armor and bulky weapons. Durgen and Hadrick led their men silently through the grass towards the enemy army. Bright fires roared in the distance and the orange glow could easily be seen in the darkness. But they all knew that orcs and goblins could see in the dark and they would probably have perimeter guards. That is where Tuvallis came in.
When the mission was explained to Hadrick, Graggis asked if he had someone in mind that could infiltrate the perimeter and take out their guards. The first person that came to mind was Tuvallis, who he actually knew very little about. There was something about the man though, and from what Stephy and Bositch had told him he would be just the man for the job. They had praised him incessantly during their retelling of the events that night several days ago and had referred to him as a ghost several times. And a ghost is just what they needed. When Hadrick had asked Tuvallis if wanted the task, he didn’t hesitate.
As they neared the fires Hadrick motioned for everyone to stop and hunker down in the grass. The order was passed silently down the line and in moments everyone lay still hiding in the shadows of the night. Luckily the clouds were thick, creating shadows everywhere. Hadrick glanced at Tuvallis giving him the signal to go. Tuvallis turned to Seli who silently gripped his hand. Then he rose to a crouch and vanished into the night.
It didn’t take him long to find the first guards. The enemy army was asleep, and based on their lack of defensive preparations it was obvious that they did not expect a night attack from a garrison with inferior numbers. Two orcs sat together in a grass clearing playing bones. They were talking loudly in orcish and it was easy for Tuvallis to hone in on them even in the darkness. He crept slowly towards them making sure to hide his bulk in the tall grass. The orcs had trampled a clearing so they could play and they were so focused on their game that they had no clue that he was near. He needed to take them out without raising an alarm and he had come prepared to do so. Instead of his long bow, which would be hard to conceal and use in these conditions, he brought a crossbow. It was already loaded and his plan was to take out one quickly with that weapon and use his knife on the second. He crept closer and made it to the edge of the small clearing. He was only five paces away and he could actually smell them. He had made sure he was upwind of them and luckily for him that put him facing their backs.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 25
