“The gate will break,” Haern whispered to her. “Whether you protect it or not. Will you break with it, or regain your strength to fight again?”
Before she could answer, the great roar of the lion filled the city. It felt as if it rose from the dirt beneath them, lifting the dust and blowing the hairs on their skin. In the sudden silence following, Mira accepted his wisdom.
“Get them away from the gate,” she said, pointing to the soldiers wedged in front of it. “Hurry.”
Haern helped her to her feet and then turned, seeking Antonil.
“Get them back!” he shouted, waving both his sabers above his head to gain the guard captain’s attention. “Antonil Copernus, I said get them back!”
Tarlak and Aurelia watched as the hyena-men charged with frightening speed. The first volley by the archers fell far behind the coming force. The archers compensated for the speed for their second volley, killing twenty. Twenty, out of nearly nine hundred.
“Get them arrows out there,” Sergan shouted as he paced before the locked and barred gate. “You want us to throw open the city so I can show you how to kill?”
“That can be arranged,” Tarlak mumbled as the hyena-men spread apart to lessen the damage of the third volley. The makings of a fire spell was on his lips when Aurelia grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“Velixar is out there,” she said. “If he knows where we are, he’ll counter. Wait for them to enter the city, where our magic will go unseen.”
“Spoilsport,” Tarlak said.
“Incompetent wizard,” she shot back.
“Orc lover.”
“Don’t make me polymorph you.”
The hyena-men slammed against the gate, their claws sharper and thicker than those of the bird-men. The soldiers inside the city shook from the combination of yipping, growling, and clawing on the other side.
“They’re just overgrown mutts, you pansies!” Sergan shouted to his ground troops. “And archers, I want empty quivers by the end of this battle. Now get to it!”
The arrows rained down on the hyena-men clawing at the gate, but when one fell, those behind it pulled it back and tossed it to the side. Using the bodies of their own dead, they built walls on either side of the gate. Then, to Tarlak’s shock, a squad of ten hyena-men came running forward with crudely cut planks of wood in their arms. They threw the planks atop the two walls of dead bodies. The hyena-men had to crawl underneath, but it worked. The archers could not reach the hyena-men that clawed against the gate, shredding the wood and twisting the iron behind it.
“That’s got to go,” Tarlak said. He glanced at Aurelia, who nodded in agreement.
“Make it fast,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t make it flashy.”
Below them a hairy arm burst through the wood in between the straps of iron. It flailed around wildly, as if hoping a victim was near.
“This is going to be fun,” Harruq said from the front line. He ran up, both his swords drawn. With a single blow, he chopped the arm off at the elbow and kicked it to the side. Two clawed hands replaced it, prying at the wood to make the hole bigger. Harruq thrust both swords into the hole. They came back soaked in blood.
“That all you got?” he screamed to the other side of the door.
“Get back here, soldier,” Sergan shouted at him. “You want trampled the second that door knocks open?”
“But we’ve got to…”
Harruq stopped as a loud explosion rocked the outside of the gate. Smoke poured through the tiny hole along with the scent of burnt fur.
“Gate’s clear again!” he heard Tarlak shout. The archers resumed their firing.
“You want to fight at the front you do as I say,” Sergan commanded, to which Harruq shrugged and obeyed.
“Wizards get all the fun,” he grumbled as Tarlak and Aurelia pondered their next choice of attack.
As the hyena-men clawed and tore at the door of the southern gate, the last remnants of the bird-men fled the battlefield. Most had been killed by arrows or Mira’s fire spell. Plenty crawled wounded along the ground, but none would come to aid them.
Velixar frowned in disgust.
“Such cowardly creatures,” he said. “But expected. Ashhur did create them.”
When the retreating bird-men reached the line of dark paladins and clerics they cried out for mercy. Instead the dark paladins butchered them with their weapons as did the clerics with their spells.
“Not a single kill to their name,” Qurrah said. “What a waste.”
“They will serve their purpose soon,” Velixar said. “But for now…”
The man in black closed his eyes and began casting. Qurrah had taken the fire of torches the hyena-men and bird-men carried and the display had been incredible. Velixar took the fire from his thousands of orcs under his command. The fire swirled into the air, forming a giant streaking comet. Velixar forked his hands as he concentrated, breaking the ball of flame in two. Each one curled around, smoke and fire trailing after as they careened for the barred gates of the city.
Antonil was still ordering his men back when the ball slammed into his gate, blasting apart the wood and melting the iron. A cloud of heat blew down the street, killing fifty of his soldiers that could not escape in time. Antonil slammed his sword against his shield, even as his men scattered and broke ranks.
“To me!” he shouted. “Form up! To me!”
With pure will, Antonil gathered his army and reformed their ranks before the shattered remnants of the gate. They saw the ring of servants of Karak, and behind, the horde of orcs with their banners waving in the morning sun.
“As long we hold breath our city will not fall,” Antonil shouted, ignoring the quaking fear in his heart. “As long as we hold firm, our enemy will break. Stand, men, stand!”
Lathaar held his sword high, as did Jerico with his shield. Their light shone across the soldiers, and as the two paladins prayed the soldier’s fear melted like snow within a fire.
“If your heart is with Ashhur, then death holds no sway against you!” Jerico shouted. “Accept the light and fight the darkness!”
Their fear was great, but the light was greater. Their ranks tightened. Their swords stopped their shaking. Ready to fight, ready to die, the men at the western gate waited.
Aurelia prevented the attack from being the disaster it should have been. As the comet of fire burned through the hyena-men and slammed against the gate, she leapt from the wall. She had no time to levitate, no time to think. She collapsed from the impact, and her teeth bit down hard on her tongue. Head bent, blood in her mouth, she raised her hands and summoned a shield of magic. She prayed it would be enough.
The fire burst through, shards of wood and iron exploding inward. Aurelia screamed, unable to hold the shield. But then Tarlak summoned an enormous blast of air from the ground before her, pushing the fire and shrapnel to the sky. Harruq ran to her side, ignoring Sergan’s cries for order. As he sheathed his swords and took her into his arms, he saw hundreds of hyena-men yipping at him with hungry eyes. The gate was down, and their way was clear. Harruq ran to the side while the soldiers of Neldar collided with the claws and teeth of their attackers.
“I’ll protect her until she’s ready,” Tarlak said as he hovered down beside them with a levitation spell. “Get yourself into the fight.”
Harruq turned to the chaos of steel, fur, and muscle.
“With pleasure,” he growled.
He let out a roar, his adrenaline taking over. He charged the gate. Soldiers had surrounded the entrance so that any hyena-men who entered found a circle of steel waiting. The hyena-men were dying far more than the humans, but sheer numbers pushed them back. Then Harruq joined. He slammed his way past the Veldaren soldiers, having no fear for the claws of his enemy. Salvation and Condemnation drank freely as he sliced and chopped. He did not retreat as the other soldiers did. Instead he waded forward, slaughtering any who met his charge.
“Hot damn,” Sergan shouted, witnessi
ng Harruq in action. “Now that’s fighting!”
Not willing to let the half-orc have all the fun, Sergan took his axe and rushed to his side. Together they hacked and chopped until they were at the rubble of the gate. The entrance was narrow, and only three could come at once. The room to maneuver diminished, it favored the two even more. The claws of the hyena-men were no match for the weapons that tore through them. Their thick hide was no match for the enchanted steel and well-sharpened edges that cut them.
“Get ready to fall back,” Harruq said through grit teeth as he disemboweled one hyena-man while stabbing the throat of another.
“Lead on,” Sergan told him.
The initial rush of hyena-men had been scattered and uneven due to the destruction of the fiery comet that had broken the gate. The archers had done their best to thin their attack, but now the hyena-men pressed forward as a single unit.
“Back,” Harruq yelled, turning and running into the city.
“Shields, now!” Sergan ordered, hot on Harruq’s heels. The two split once they were past the gateway. Rows of soldiers took their place, their shields locked together into a single wall. The hyena-men hurled themselves with wild abandon. The men screamed, their shoulders throbbing and their wrists aching. But they did not move. Men behind them pushed forward, aiding those who were weak or wounded. The hyena-men howled and tried, but their momentum was broken.
Atop the wall, the archers emptied their quivers, for with their enemy packed and unable to move, they couldn’t miss. The soldiers on the front started stabbing in between the shields, filling the street with blood. Harruq rejoined the two casters, knowing there was no place for him without a shield.
“You alright?” he asked his wife.
“Head hurts,” she said. She leaned against the wall. Tarlak was beside her, staring at the intense combat.
“Any spell we cast will hit our own,” he said. “Either that, or make our position known.”
“They’ll hold,” Harruq said.
“Good,” Tarlak said. “Because it’s going to get harder.”
As if on cue, the city shook from the roar of the lion, except this time the shaking did not stop. Harruq looked about, confused and worried.
“What the abyss?” he asked.
“No point staying hidden now,” Aurelia said, gingerly rising to her feet. “The orcs are coming.”
Harruq looked back at the row of soldiers guarding the door. About thirty had fallen, leaving less than two hundred to hold the gate. Several hundred hyena-men remained still, fighting and clawing with every ounce of their strength to enter. Of the thousands of orcs, if even half marched to their gate…
The half-orc charged the front line. Shield or no shield, he was going to fight, and he was going to kill, because the numbers they faced were about to get a whole lot bigger.
15
Stand firm!” Antonil shouted as the lion’s roar filled their ears. It’s effect was pitiful compared to the light of the paladin’s swords and shield. As it died, they felt the ground beneath their feet shake. The orc forces were charging. The guard captain positioned himself in the center of the first line. To his right was Jerico, his left, Lathaar.
“Antonil,” Jerico said. “Listen to me. When the orcs are a hair’s width from sword reach, we need to charge.”
“If we brace our shields then…”
“Guard captain,” Jerico said, pulling on Antonil’s shoulder to force him to meet his gaze. “Order your men to charge just before the strike. Trust me. Trust Ashhur.”
The coming horde roared and bellowed. Half broke south, a giant river of gray flesh and armor. Antonil whispered a prayer for Sergan and his men.
“I’ll trust you,” he said aloud when finished. “We’re all dead men anyway.”
“Not yet,” Lathaar said, overhearing the comment. “Not by a long shot.”
He held both his swords high and shouted out the word ‘Elholad.’ His swords flared brighter than any torch, sun, or star. Those who saw it knew no fear. They felt the sun on their skin for the first time, knew comfort in the weight of their armor and the strength in the grip they held on their swords. The orcs passed through the ring of priests and dark paladins, not daring to touch any even in their frenzy. Archers released their arrows, but it was like spitting on a bonfire.
“At my command,” Antonil shouted over the commotion, “I want you to charge as one. Do you understand?”
The soldiers shouted in unison.
The army closed the distance. Jerico stepped out from the front row and knelt to one knee. His shield leaned before him. Its light shimmered and swirled, as if a rainbow were trapped within the metal. The paladin closed his eyes and prayed.
The orcs were almost upon him. They funneled through the shattered ashes of the doors and into the giant gateway. Their axes and swords were drawn. Their mouths were open in mindless cries of bloodthirst. Jerico heard none of it. He felt his shield become weightless on his arm. He felt his heart stop. The whole world was silent. He opened his eyes. He felt his faith like a knife in his chest, unbreakable, immovable. In one smooth motion, he stood and pushed his shield against the air. A white image rammed forth, similar to his shield but larger and made of purest light.
Sound returned. The world resumed. Jerico watched as the glowing shield slammed the nearest orcs. They howled with pain, and every one toppled as if a hammer had struck their chest. Those behind tripped over them and died, trampled by the next wave of their comrades.
“Charge!” Antonil screamed. The men rushed forward, Lathaar and Antonil leading the way. Lathaar’s swords sliced through gray flesh. Antonil’s shield bashed and pushed, his sword cutting into any weakness. The orcs had no footing, no momentum. Those who funneled into the gateway died, their bodies becoming a barrier the rest had to climb over. And then Jerico joined them, his mace Bonebreaker more than living up to its name. He shattered the jaw of one orc, kicked his body back, and then crushed the skull of his replacement. Over a thousand orcs pressed and fought to enter the city but were held back by the front seven of Neldar.
“Fall back,” Antonil shouted. The horde were pulling away, preparing for another rush. Many were dragging bodies and dumping them to the sides so they could have a clear battlefront. A few tried to give chase and deny the soldiers a chance to flee, but then Haern appeared in the gap between the two armies, a wicked gleam in his eye. He spun through the orcs, his curved sabers slashing out tendons and throats as he passed. The orcs tried to converge on him but he leapt further away from the city. He descended upon the orc army like a storm cloud.
Once outside the gateway he had even more room to maneuver. He double stabbed one’s throat, then leapt into the air and jumped off his chest. He sailed over the orcs, his entire body rotating. Sabers slashed and cut eyes and faces. Those near his landing tried to flee. They died. When several rushed, hoping to bury him with numbers, he turned toward the gate and activated the magic of his ring, vanishing and reappearing past their blockade. He ran through the gateway, which was a bloodied mess. The rest of the soldiers were inside and in formation, while Jerico knelt once more, his eyes closed and his shield ready.
“What in the abyss was that, that…shield?” Lathaar asked Jerico. While the others around them were gasping for air, both paladins appeared to be only winded from the fight.
“Like that?” Jerico asked, his eyes still closed. A slight smile broke the corners of his lips. “I’ve done it only once, when I was alone.”
“Can you do it again?”
He looked to the orcs, who were snarled and lining up for another charge.
“I don’t know,” Jerico said. “I’ll try.”
Antonil ran through his ranks, pulling fresh men to the front. When done he ran back with his sword high and gleaming.
“Charge at my command!” he screamed.
“Yes sir!” The soldiers’ shouts were louder, heartier. They had withstood the first assault without nary a life lost. No longer did th
ey feel they fought a hopeless battle.
“Get ready,” Lathaar said as he stepped back to the line. “They won’t be surprised this time around.”
“We don’t need surprise,” Haern said, blood covering his golden hair. “We have strength they can’t dream of.”
The orcs entered the gateway with their arms crossed and their weapons held in defensive positions, but it did no good. Jerico waited even later, hurling the magical shield into the gateway even as the orcs swung at his body. They flew back, screaming in pain. The ground became a tangled mess of limbs as they fell atop one another. Instead of charging, the orcs behind them retreated, wanting no part of that chaos. Lathaar and Haern attacked, giving them no quarter. Antonil raised his hand and held his army back, in case the orcs tried to assault. They didn’t. Glowing swords and sharpened sabers slashed through those who tried to stand and fight. Even those who lay in pain found steel piercing through their throats and eyes.
Lathaar reached the end of the gateway and stared out at the giant mass sent to kill them. The orcs glared and howled, but dared not move. The paladin raised his swords high, and he laughed despite the blood that soaked his armor.
“Is this the great army of Karak?” he shouted. “Is this the legion that will wipe life from this world?”
His words carried, and one man amid the host of orcs heard and was made furious.
“That damn pally just won’t die,” Krieger spat on the ground and drew his scimitars. Beside him, Carden drew his giant sword and watched the black flame surround it.
“Leadership through action,” the old man said. “Let us show our brethren the strength of Karak.”
Side by side the two dark paladins pushed their way through the orcs, the flame of their weapons filling all who saw it with fear.
This is it?” Harruq shouted as he slammed the body of a hyena-man against the wall. Condemnation hacked off his head. Meanwhile, Salvation buried deep into the gut of another. The creature yipped and clawed the air. A twist of the sword finished it. All around him, men with shields charged forward, slashing at their enemies before falling back. Only Harruq remained where he stood, a bloodied behemoth towering over them. Claw marks marred his face and covered his arms, but their pain was insignificant. Side to side his swords swept, his long arms covering every inch of the gateway’s width. His swords glowed brighter from the blood that stained them.
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 82
