“Thousands will die within these walls if I don’t,” Lathaar said, quiet enough to ensure the dark paladin did not hear. “That is all that matters.”
He slammed his Elholads together, the bright light blinding the orcs that stampeded into the city. The human soldiers had spread out, their tight line bulging into a semicircle that threatened to break with every passing moment. Only Lathaar stood in its center, no orc foolish enough to attack. Lathaar, however, did not care about his duel. He didn’t care about Krieger. All around were bringers of death, and he would end them. He spun, his swords cutting and slicing. Tens of orcs died as they tried to rush around him for the easier targets behind. Krieger lunged, twirling his staff as if it weighed nothing.
Lathaar batted aside his opening thrust, stepped closer, and slammed an open palm against Krieger’s chest. Ashhur’s voice was all he could hear. He didn’t know what it was he did, but when his palm touched the black metal of Krieger’s breastplate his vision turned white. Just as Carden had struck Jerico, Lathaar struck Krieger. The power hurled the dark paladin backward, through his troops of orcs and out of the city. Smoke drifted from the hole in his chestpiece. But Lathaar was not done. He sheathed his short sword and held the longer Elholad with both hands. Its blade stretched out another foot. It should have been unwieldy, but it was pure light, weighing nothing, killing everything.
A swipe to the right, and five orcs fell dead. A swipe left, and six more died. He whipped the blade around, cutting off the legs of a charging orc, and then slammed his Elholad to the ground. A shockwave of holy power lanced into the gateway, slicing through flesh and armor like butter. The orcs engaged with the humans, having lost their reinforcements, collapsed and fled. Shields pressed into the entrance, the Veldaren soldiers creating tight formations. Lathaar spun and saw the other dark paladin towering over Jerico as if he were a conquered prize.
“Jerico!” he shouted as he charged after Carden. The dark paladin was surrounded by soldiers of Neldar. The long black sword swirled around, slicing through shields and armor, but Antonil and his men did not let him rest, nor to score a killing blow upon Jerico. Time and time again he would swing his sword in a full circle, knocking away all who neared, and then try to stab the blade into Jerico’s chest. Each time Jerico lifted his shield and blocked the blow. The shield’s glow had faded, and he looked beyond exhausted, but he was stubbornly alive.
“Cowards,” Carden shouted to the men who encircled him. “Will none of you stand to fight, or will you flee like diseased dogs?”
Antonil thrust at Carden’s back, but he had been baited. Carden was ready. The enormous length of his blade should have severed his head and sent it rolling through the street, but the Felhelad stopped. Lathaar protected him, sparks exploding between them as their blades collided.
“Your faith isn’t enough to challenge me, boy,” Carden said.
“Ashhur thinks otherwise.”
They pulled back and swung again. At the collision of their god-blessed blades, orcs and men alike shielded their eyes against the light. Lathaar and Carden pushed against each other with all their strength, locked in a stare of death. Whoever blinked, whoever faltered, would die.
“The city falls,” Carden said through clenched teeth. “No heroism will save it.”
“Shut up already,” Jerico said as he swung his mace from his prone position. Bonebreaker struck Carden’s ankle, bent in the metal, and then touched flesh. The magic within activated, and Carden screamed as the bones in his foot shattered. Antonil leapt in, thrusting his sword through the exposed gap in the armor underneath Carden’s arm. Blood soaked his sword, but before he could twist it the dark paladin spun. His giant blade batting them all away like insects. But as the blade spun around, Haern appeared directly before Carden, a wicked grin on his face. He sliced his sabers across the sides of Carden’s neck, severing an artery before somersaulting away.
Lathaar saw the blood, saw the pain, and knew his opponent beaten. In one single move, he spun a full circle and swung. The momentum and power pushed aside Carden’s last attempt to block. The Elholad melted his armor, cut through his arm, and cleaved his body in two. The black fire around the Felhelad vanished.
Outside the gate, Krieger shrieked in mindless fury.
What is the matter?” Qurrah asked. Velixar’s face had grown ashen in a rare expression of sorrow.
“Ashhur has always been bitter in defeat,” Velixar said. “Two of my dearest friends are dead. Still, we have not entered the city.”
“Are you sure we can’t play yet?” Tessanna asked, smiling and batting her eyes like a child. Meanwhile, a dark paladin rode up on horseback and saluted Velixar.
“A spellcaster has formed twin walls of fire at the southern gate,” he said. “Their forces are ready to break, but we have no means to combat the magic.”
“So damn stubborn,” Velixar said, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. Qurrah kissed Tessanna’s lips and then bade the dark paladin to give him a ride.
“You cannot go,” Velixar said. “You are too valuable. The portal must be opened, and if you are killed…”
“If I am killed,” Qurrah said, “then I never had the strength to aid you in the first place. Our armies are dying. There is no honor in this, not for either side. Let death come swift.”
The dark paladin waited for a sign from Karak’s greatest prophet. After a moment, Velixar nodded.
“So be it,” he said. “The south gate is yours. Return the moment our minions enter the city.”
Qurrah bowed. The horse turned and rode for the south entrance.
“So few,” Tessanna said, laughing at the man in black. “All our numbers, all our power, and we are held back by so very few.”
“Valiant efforts disgust me,” Velixar said. “The west gate is yours to destroy. Let in our troops however you see fit.”
Tessanna beamed and blew him a kiss. “I knew you’d let me have my fun,” she said.
She eyed the city as her breathing quickened and her pulse raced. Fire consumed many buildings. The smoke floated in a gentle breeze. Somewhere within was her reflection. Mother had told her to shatter her reflection, and she would obey. The pleasure in the imagining was overwhelming. But the men at the gate with their shields and swords were keeping her from her pleasure.
“Blood is a strange thing,” she said. Her fingers crossed. Magic leapt out of her like a river. A hundred orcs lined before the gate lurched and howled as their blood exploded out their bodies. The blood flowed through the air in rivers, pooling above the ground as Tessanna held it firm in her mind. “It is our life, and at its loss we die…but no other substance in our world holds so much magic and desire for death. Well, other than you, Velixar.”
The blood sank to the ground. It grew thicker, stronger, congealing and reshaping as necessary. From the great pool three forms stood, each with feminine features. They had no eyes, but they did not need them. They could sense the blood of their foes. Tessanna shook her fingers, and strange words poured faster and faster from her mouth. The beings grew larger, drawing in the blood from which they formed. Soon they were five times the size of a normal man. Around their heads blood congealed into long ropes of hair that flowed down to their ankles. Although they had no eyes, they did have mouths, and each one opened and let out a shriek that pierced the sounds of battle.
“You must teach me that spell,” Velixar said as he watched in awe.
“Blood elementals,” Tessanna said as she smiled. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
The elementals marched toward the gateway where Antonil’s men stood horrified. The two paladins rushed the front and stood side by side. Haern, however, had other plans. He weaved through the ranks of the soldiers to Mira, who sat resting against a wall.
“You’re needed,” Haern said to her.
“Haern,” she said. “Will you protect me?”
He took her hand. “Until death, my lady. Now come.”
The first of the blood el
ementals neared the entrance. It was taller than the walls, but rather than duck inside the gateway it struck with its fists. The stone cracked and crumbled. A second stepped beside it and rammed its shoulder against the wall. Soldiers dove back as the gateway collapsed in on itself. At first it appeared the rubble would still hold them at bay, but then the three grabbed chunks of stone and hurled them away.
Antonil stood at the front of his soldiers as the first elemental stepped through the wall and into the city.
“Can these things be killed?” he asked Haern.
“Everything can be killed,” the assassin replied. “Be brave. Your men need it.”
Mira raised her hand to the air, a tiny pebble of light swirling inside her palm.
“Demon elemental,” she shouted. “Be gone from my sight!”
It raised its foot to crush her. The light shot from her palm, leaving a trail of red in its wake. When it hit the skin of the elemental it pierced through, traveling up its leg to its waist before exploding. The thing shrieked as it was severed in two, its upper body collapsing in a shower of blood. The legs toppled in the gateway. The magic holding the elemental together was broken. Streams of red poured across the feet of the soldiers. The second elemental stepped inside, bellowing in rage. Mira raised her hand, and another white pebble formed across her palm. The elemental, however, grabbed an enormous chunk of stone and hurled it at her. Mira released the light, shattering the stone into a giant rain of pebbles. Clanks and pings filled the air as the stone fell upon armor and shields.
Before Mira could prepare, a piece of the wall hurled through the air toward her.
“Get back!” Haern shouted. He took Mira in his arms and leapt aside. The rock smashed where she had been then continued, crushing several soldiers in its path. The elemental passed through the wall and into the city. At Antonil’s command, his soldiers charged, hacking at the elemental’s legs and feet. The swords cut through the thick dried layer that made up its skin and released the blood swirling inside. It poured over them all in sheets, coating their armor and weapons.
The thing let out a shriek, a strange sound akin to a wounded bird of prey. Furious, it slammed its fists to the ground, crushing men in their armor, then kicked a soldier so hard he flew through the air and landed atop a house. Two more it hurled back to the orc army. Still the cuts grew in number, biting into its skin and keeping it at bay.
Haern put Mira down far to the side of the entrance. The blood elemental was still visible, fighting against soldiers that came up only to its knees.
“It’s just blood,” the girl said as she watched the fight. “Just blood.”
Fire enveloped her hands. She unleashed her power in a stream of flame, its width greater than the length of her own body. The stream arced as if shot from a cannon, striking the elemental in the chest at the height of its ascent. The elemental shrieked, its skin hardening into long black strips that fell from its body. Jerico slammed his shield against its leg, and then it went down. Antonil led the rest, hacking and cutting its body as it lay vulnerable.
The last elemental picked up giant rocks in each hand and hurled them at the soldiers slaughtering its sister. Both pieces shattered in the air, broken by unseen magic. Lathaar glanced down the street, and his heart lifted at the sight.
Marching in rows of five were the priests of Ashhur, their hands to the air and holy power crackling around them. Swords made of light sliced across the elemental’s chest, face, and arms. It took a step forward, but Mira blasted it with a ball of fire. Antonil called back his men, knowing their part was over. More holy power washed over the creature, sundering Tessanna’s hold upon it. With one last shriek, it crumbled. Blood showered down upon the gore-covered dirt.
“No celebrating yet!” Antonil shouted, running through his troops and forcing them to line up. “Form ranks, form ranks, the city is vulnerable!”
What had once been a chokehold was now a giant opening in the wall. Rows of orcs were raised their banners to Karak and cheered.
“Antonil Copernus!” one of the priests shouted from the formation. Calan stepped out and beckoned the guard captain to him.
“My gratitude for your aid,” Antonil told the old priest, “but the orcs are about to charge and…”
“I know,” Calan said, interrupting him. “Listen to me. Our wall has been breached. The city is lost. Take the king and flee. There are ways out to the King’s Forest from the castle. The soldiers, peasants, the children…take them with you.”
“Who will hold the wall?”
Calan gestured to his priests. “We can hold them for a time. Take your men and do what must be done to preserve the lives of our people.”
Antonil glanced to the orc horde. He was terribly outnumbered, with a paltry force left to hold the opening. And once they fell, the city was doomed. Everything inside him hated the thought of fleeing, but he knew more was at stake than his pride.
“I will take my soldiers to the king,” he told the priest. “Hold as long as you can.”
Calan nodded, and he put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“You are a good man, a good leader,” he said. “The people will need you in the coming months. Be strong for them.” He turned back to the priests and raised his hands high above his head. “Let our voices be heard by Ashhur, and let our faith be a shield against the coming darkness,” he prayed.
Calan turned back to the broken wall, braced his legs, and held out his left hand. Behind him the rest of the priests did the same. They closed their eyes, bowed their heads, and gave themselves to Ashhur. A white beam flew from each of their palms, collecting together into a massive stream. It bubbled outward, through the gap in the wall, and out into the field. There it turned back in on itself, sealing the shattered gateway away from Velixar and his horde.
“Soldiers of Neldar,” Antonil shouted. “To the castle!”
The Eschaton there gathered together, watching the remaining troops march east.
“He doesn’t believe we can hold now the gateway is destroyed,” Lathaar said.
“He is right,” Haern said. “The priests will hold them at bay until their strength fades. They are buying us time.”
“What do we do?” Jerico asked.
“Follow him,” Lathaar said. “Until we know more, we follow.”
They did, even as the orcs hacked at the white shield with their weapons, ignoring the pain it gave them, for they too knew the shield could not last forever.
Once it fell, the city was theirs.
16
Qurrah eyed the fire with mild amusement. It was a simple barrier of flame that would burn for hours in a thick line, but inside the cramped gateway it was lethal. The orcs parted for him, recognizing his power and station. Only one did not move, and it was Gumgog, waiting for him with his real arm and his giant club arm crossed across his chest.
“I tried smothering the fire with orcs,” Gumgog said. “But they just burned. Waste of orcs. You gonna put it out?”
Qurrah chuckled at the Warmaster.
“Yes. I will put it out. Keep back your horde until I say it is safe, understood?”
“Alright,” Gumgog said. “You got some orc blood, so you be trustworthy, eh?”
Qurrah said nothing as he approached the fire. To his right he saw an orc crawling toward his army. His legs had been crushed by an ice boulder from Aurelia. He was in pain, but he was alive.
“Kerlem frau spevorr!” Qurrah shouted, stretching out five fingers. The orc shrieked as horrendous pain spiked up his back. Qurrah’s hand shook, magic pouring out his fingers. Blood spurted out the orc’s lower back. His tailbone tore through the flesh. The orc’s shrieks grew louder as his ribs cracked and his muscles tore. With a cry of victory, Qurrah lifted his hand high. The spinal cord ripped out the orc’s body, dripping blood and gore. The shrieks ended. With a word of magic, Qurrah lit the spine and skull aflame, burning it clean.
“To me,” Qurrah said, beckoning with his fingers. The spine fl
oated to his hand. He held it like a staff. Those who had watched the spectacle cheered and howled, not caring for the loss of one of their own, only thrilled by the awesome display of power. Both hands clutching the staff, Qurrah approached the fire. It burned strong, and it was so thick he could not see through it. He had an idea what awaited him on the other side. Aurelia or Tarlak protected the gate, perhaps even both. If he banished the fire, they would just recast the spell. He would have to defeat them, despite what Velixar might say.
Fifty feet from the fire, he slammed the bottom of the staff against the ground. A wave of counter-magic streaked toward the gate, invisible to the naked eye. The two walls of fire sputtered and died. The orcs cheered, but Qurrah did not move, nor did he give signal to attack.
Aurelia stepped into the gateway, her staff in her left hand. She glared at Qurrah but said nothing. Qurrah felt a chill at the sight of her, but he also felt excitement lifting the hairs on his neck. He could kill her. He would kill her. No guilt would claw at his throat. He let no worry eat his insides. Aurelia would die.
The elf hurled a lance of ice from her right hand. Qurrah struck it with the skull of his staff. The lance shattered into harmless frost and snow. He threw a bolt of shadow into the entrance. Aurelia summoned a magical shield, and his attack splashed and dissipated against it. Lightning sparkled on her fingers. With both hands, she clutched her staff and lunged the bottom half at him. From the wood, a giant beam of yellow streaked straight for Qurrah. He clutched his bone staff and slammed the ground. Another wave of counter-magic flowed, defeating the beam.
His pale fingers caressed the skull of his staff, coercing the magic out. The jaw clattered, and a haunting laughter came from within. Twenty orange and red balls shot from the eyes, dancing and twirling in the air before shooting straight for Aurelia. The elf leaned against her staff and summoned her shield. The orange balls exploded into fire and ash, each one sapping a bit more of her strength. When the last exploded, they stared at one another, neither saying a word.
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 84
