Defenders of the Realm

by Dave Willmarth

  Then the shaman completed some ritual he’d been performing in the midst of his ranks. A cloud of darkness stretched almost from one end of the bridge to the other. The archers were forced to quit firing for fear of hitting their own. The tanks in both lines could no longer see the enemy approaching, but the orcs seemed to have no such problem. They rushed the shield walls and leapt over top to crash into the second and third rows of Elysian. The screams of the wounded began to come from dwarves and humans instead of only orcs.

  Misty cast a blast of arctic air at the spot where the shaman had been, but the air didn’t move the dark cloud. Alexander activated his Mage Sight, and was instantly able to identify all the bodies of all the combatants on the bridge. To his horror, he saw his people not only being struck down by the orcs, but doing damage to each other as they fought blind and began to panic.

  He shouted into battle chat “STAY CALM! LISTEN FOR YOUR ENEMY! SMELL THEM! DON’T STRIKE UNLESS YOU ARE SURE!”

  The message helped some, but there were those in his ranks that were still panicking. There was only one thing he could do. Closing his eyes, he drew his sword and pictured the clear spot where he’d seen the shaman chanting. Taking a deep breath, he teleported himself to that spot.

  The pain in his gut seared at him, and he screamed as he materialized in front of the shaman. His legs went weak and he had to use his sword to steady himself and keep from falling. The shaman stared in shock for a moment at the elf that just appeared before him. The surprise interrupted his ritual, and whatever gift of sight the orcs received from it disappeared. Now all the combatants fought blind as the darkness slowly dissipated. The orcs went berserk, bashing and slashing and biting at anything and everything, friend or foe.

  Alexander recovered his balance and managed to straighten up just as a blow from the shaman’s staff struck his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he swung his sword at the old orc’s face, the tip cutting a slash that took one eye and part of the nose. The shaman bellowed in pain and covered his face with both hands, dropping his staff. Alexander pulled his sword back and rammed it into the orc’s chest. Just to be sure, he withdrew it again and decapitated the shaman. As he did so, he felt an impact in his back, and an orcish sword point emerged from his left shoulder. He screamed again, nearly passing out from the combined pain of the wound, the blow from the shaman, and the damage he’d done to himself. As he fell forward, his health bar dropped quickly to sixty percent, then to forty as the orc stomped on Alexander’s back and yanked his blade free. Leaving him for dead, the orc turned to look for another opponent.

  Alexander fumbled for a health potion as the battle raged above him. He was stepped on more than once as orcs moved to and fro either attacking or retreating. He heard his people screaming in pain, some screams cut short - a sound that likely meant a death. Finally managing to gulp down the potion, his health returned to 80%. He forced himself to his feet and stabbed the nearest orc in the back of the throat. Backing up to the railing, he pulled the dying orc with him to use as a shield. Few could see him, hidden as he was behind the larger enemy.

  “Advance!” He yelled in battle chat. “Archers, pick your targets! The shaman is dead! The smoke is clearing! I’m somewhere near the center, I’m going to try and find Borag. Let’s finish them off!”

  An arrow thumped into the corpse he was holding upright in front of him. He peered around its shoulder and saw Borag and Drog facing off. Drog’s shield was bent and cracked, but still holding. Borag looked to have a broken arm, and was bleeding in several places, but still wielded his dangerous club with strength and skill.

  War Master Borag

  Level 70

  Health: 34,000/45,000

  Alexander nearly had a clear path to the orc leader. Only half a dozen living orcs stood between them, and they were either engaged with Elysians, or watching the fight between the two behemoths. Deciding to take his shot, he pushed his orc shield into the nearest orc warrior and shoved his sword into the back of the next. The magically sharpened blade sheared thru the orc’s torso and disemboweled it on the way out. Dashing forward, Alexander severed the arm of another orc. He saw Drog grin as the rock troll noticed him approaching. He roared and bashed at Borag with his shield to draw attention. Alexander leapt between two watching orcs before they could recognize him and react. He found himself standing within two feet of the orc leader, staring at his back. The honorable thing to do would be to shout Borag’s name and wait for him to turn, thus beginning an epic duel between commanders.

  “Screw that noise!” Alexander shouted to himself as he drove his sword through Borag’s back where he thought the orc’s heart should be. He didn’t wait to see if he’d struck true. He withdrew the sword quickly and chopped at Borag’s leg, severing it cleanly below the knee before a heavy blunt object struck him from behind. He felt at least two heals fill him as he fell forward onto Borag’s prone body. He heard Drog roar, and then something blocked out the sun. An iron-shod boot struck his head, and Alexander knew nothing but darkness.

  *****

  The hundred or so remaining orcs, upon seeing their War Master and shaman dead, began to throw down their arms. Not all of them. Some went into a frenzy and were put down. But most gave up the fight. Few were without injuries of some kind from the brutal blind fighting in the darkness and the constant rain of arrows and bolts. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the Elysians. Several collapsed as the fighting stopped, and the healers scrambled to get to the worst injured first. Friends fed each other health potions or bandaged wounds, while others rounded up the prisoners. Lugs shouted for the orcs to be herded into the structure at the north end. A few of the orcs tried to flee, and were chased down by Bacon, Tigger, and the other mounts. A few more jumped into the water only to meet with Rocky and a horrible death. Those who cooperated stepped into the main room of the structure and pointed to the trap door in the floor. Lugs and the others had hidden in the room below, undetected when the orcs searched the place thanks to Norval and his crew.

  Alexander opened his eyes as the sunlight struck his face again. He waved away the notifications that crowded his UI, and saw Drog looking down at him, an orc corpse in each hand. He’d apparently gotten himself buried while he was unconscious.

  The rock troll grinned at him, saying, “Alexander fight good!”

  Alexander nodded his head, trying to rise as he said. “Drog fight good too!” with as much gusto as he could manage.

  Drog dropped the dead orcs and helped Alexander to his feet. When his troops saw him standing amidst the pile of corpses, a ragged cheer went up. Drog lifted him with both hands and set him upon one shoulder, waving at his allies and beaming.

  “Alexander give us much black stone for this. Much marble!” He said.

  Alexander smiled for a moment, until he saw the number of non-orc bodies laid about the bridge. He opened battle chat and asked. “How many have we lost?”

  Brick’s voice was solemn. “We still be checkin’. Some that are down can be saved. Fer sure we lost twelve fer good. Maybe as many as twenty.”

  Alexander was crushed. He’d planned this battle meticulously and specifically so that as few of his NPCs would be in danger as possible. This shouldn’t have happened. He asked Drog to put him down, and he immediately removed his light wand and moved to the nearest body. It was one of the dwarven guards. He couldn’t remember the dwarf’s name, but he’d just had breakfast with him the day before. He’d teased Alexander about his swordsmanship.

  The man’s health bar was at zero.

  There was nothing Alexander could do.

  He bowed his head for a moment and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  There was one of Taylor’s men close by. He was still alive, but bleeding badly. Alexander hit him twice with his healing wand and stopped the bleeding. He handed the soldier a health potion and moved on. He continued this way for another five minutes until the only citizens remaining on the ground were the dead. The healers continued to move
through the battleground, healing Elysians and orcs alike. The healed orcs were herded into the tower with the others, with Lugs and a rock troll guarding the door.

  Watching this, Alexander noted that one of the rock trolls were among the dead.

  Drog saw the direction of his gaze and said “Big orc boss. Lucky shot in the dark. Crushed skull.” He seemed almost pleased by his tribemate’s death. “Good fight. Much honor.”

  Alexander nodded. “We will bring you much marble and black stone to honor him.”

  Max stepped past him, glancing down as he looted Borag’s body. “You okay?”

  Alexander shook his head. “No. We lost too many. I promised to protect them…”

  Max didn’t even try to argue. He knew nothing he could say would help. Alexander needed time. So he changed the subject. “Helga died. She took about thirty orcs with her, though. That woman is something else. Benny died too. Got his head knocked clean off by that big guy. I think he was trying to get to you to heal you. Lugs took a nasty shot to his chalupa.” Max paused to grin at that. “We really need to find him some kind of protection for that thing. First the bunnies…” his voice trailed off as he realized Alexander wasn’t in the mood. “Pollock and his guys went all berserker again. Got themselves killed. I think there’s something wrong with those dudes.”

  Alexander shook his head. Max was trying hard to support him. He asked in guild chat “How many citizens have we lost?”

  Silverbeard answered “There be eighteen killed. O’ those, we can resurrect two with Brick’s paladin ability and me own. Kai be in Antalia roundin’ up healers and paladins who can do the same. Fitz will bring Benny when he returns at the chapel. In all, we might save seven or eight. Ye need to choose.”

  Sasha spoke up. “Jenkins is among the dead. So is Grimble. Most of those killed are dwarves. They stepped up and protected their human comrades. It was… I can’t.”

  “Rez, Grimble and Jenkins now. They can help us choose. We’ll go with those who have children first. Then wives. After that, I don’t know.”

  Brick and Silverbeard sought out and resurrected Grimble and Jenkins. The two were confused for a few minutes, then got down to business. Jenkins and his whole squad had been wiped out. The rest of the dead were dwarves. Some guards, a couple miners. Jenkins insisted that none of his men had any families, and that as many dwarves should be saved as possible. When Alexander asked why, he pointed to one of his men.

  “Daniel there, he was the youngest of us. If he went to live on a farm tomorrow, he might live fifty more years.” He turned to point to one of the dwarven guards. “Those dwarves, they died trying to keep the orcs off of us. And any one of ’em could live two or three hundred more years. Bring ’em back.” He dropped his hand and sat down on the ground then. He hung his head and covered it with his arms. Alexander left him to his grief.

  Fitz showed up with Benny and the other players. Benny resurrected one of the dwarven miners that Grimble said had children. A minute later Kai appeared with six healers. Each of them was directed by Grimble or Silverbeard to resurrect one of the dwarves. When they were through, the silence was heavy. Nine of their own still lay lifeless on the bridge. Five of Jenkins squad, two dwarven guards, a rock troll, and a miner.

  Silverbeard sent some dwarves into the woods with axes. They brought back lumber to build a pyre large enough for all nine Elysians. The pyre was constructed within minutes and the dead laid to rest atop it. The bodies of the orcs were piled around them. When it was complete, Alexander climbed atop the sidewall of the bridge to speak to his people.

  “We lost nine of our own today. Nine Elysians. Brothers. Friends. They gave their lives to protect ours. To protect Elysia!” He paused as his people cheered for the fallen. “We won a great victory today! Defeated an invading army larger than our entire population. But it doesn’t feel like a victory. The price is too high. I promised each of you I would give my all to protect you.

  “Today I failed these nine.”

  He waited, raising his hands in the air to stop the shouted arguments. “What is worse, we have more battles to fight. And I don’t know that I can protect the rest of you any better than I have here today. So I offer you the chance to return to your homes in Stormforge or Broken Mountain. To be released from your oath and live long lives. I am… sorry.”

  “Never!” Came a voice from Alexander’s left. He turned to see Jenkins getting to his feet. “Never!” he shouted again. “My men died for a reason! For Elysia! I will continue their fight!” he sobbed.

  “Never!” another voice cried out.

  “Elysia!” came from another corner. More and more shouts accompanied by raised fists. The chorus grew until every living body was chanting “Elysia! Elysia!”

  Alexander couldn’t bring himself to speak. He sat for a moment, patting his hands in the air for the crowd to quiet. Then he motioned for them all to sit. He said quietly. “I never asked to be your king. Most of you know that. But I accepted the responsibility. If all of you are determined to fight on, then so am I. We have no shortage of enemies out there. The drow have surfaced, and an army of undead struggle to break free of the caverns just a few miles from our keep. Somewhere there is a group of angry Chaos Nation adventurers who don’t like us very much.” He paused for a few chuckles. “I am tempted to make an oath. To swear to you that we will hunt them down, defeat them all. That I will protect you. But those are oaths I could not keep. I know that now. So I will just say this.”

  He got back to his feet and looked out over the crowd. “Those who come to our door seeking to harm us will find no mercy! Those who seek to destroy our world will find no mercy!” He turned and cast wizard’s fire upon the pyre, screaming as the fire burned through him just as it did the wood. He threw a fist into the air as his people shouted. “No mercy!”

  They stood and watched the fire burn. Most with tears in their eyes. Jules came to stand with her arm around Alexander. The dwarves began to sing the same funeral song they’d sung at Whitehall. Soon everyone joined in. Even the rock trolls hummed along. The bridge vibrated with the sound, and Rocky stuck his head of out of the water. Sensing the sorrow, he let out a long, mournful bellow of his own.

  When the pyre had burned down, Fitz teleported Rocky back to the moat. Drog hefted Borag’s body, which he had claimed as a trophy, and they all began to walk back to the garrison tower. The prisoners were marched along with them. Alexander had been tempted to burn them alive inside the tower, but he’d resisted. These were just soldiers. Enthusiastic as they may have been, they were not responsible for the choices of their commander. Silverbeard suggested they be sent to Broken Mountain to be put to work in the mines and quarries. It wasn’t the horrible sentence it sounded like. Dwarves were not slavers. Their workers were well fed and treated with honor. The orcs would likely live better than they had under Borag. After ten years, they would be set free to return to their homes.

  Before he left, he said. “Jeeves, please finish the construction of both towers, as designed. Kitchen, bathroom, sleeping quarters.”

  “Of course, Alexander. Both will be completed in approximately two days.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves. Also do you have anything in your plans library that can be used as a monument?”

  “I do. Would you prefer an obelisk? Or a plaque on a wall? I also have a few statues.”

  “An obelisk would do nicely, I think. Maybe ten feet tall? With the names of the fallen inscribed on it?”

  Sasha, who had been standing nearby, said “Place it in front of the druid’s grove, Jeeves. It’s the closest thing we have to a park, and it’s quiet.”

  Brick added “Leave the inscribing ta me.”

  “It shall be as you say” Jeeves replied.

  They followed the marching crowd of Elysians and orcs back toward the tower. As they reached a bend in the path, Alexander turned to look again at the site of the battle. His mistakes had cost good people their lives. Of course, he knew they were just minor AI
’s created by Odin for a game. But to him they seemed much more real than that. The ache in his heart was certainly real.

  As he turned away to follow the others, he had tears in his eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Honor the Fallen

  Alexander spent the afternoon walking about the keep, visiting with his people. As hard as it was to believe, the entire battle had ended before noon. The citizens were torn between celebrating the victory and mourning the loss of their friends and comrades. Alexander announced that there would be a ceremony at sunset. Food and drink would be served after.

  He sent Grimble to the mine to invite the rock trolls to join them, but the dwarf reported that they were having their own celebration. Which included mounting Borag’s head on a spike in honor of their lost brother. And eating the rest of him. They had quickly learned how to start fires and roast their own meat, and Grimble reported that roast Borag did not smell the least bit enticing. Alexander agreed it was best they be left to celebrate as they saw fit.

  He had Silverbeard open portals and send word to both kings about the battle, and the names of the fallen. Captain Redmond returned with the messenger to Stormforge, along with Lydia. The captain spoke quietly to Jenkins for a good long time, and afterward the man seemed a little less haunted. Lydia went to the kitchen and called in Sasha. The two alchemists began adding ingredients to the food that Lydia said would be helpful.

  The messenger sent to Broken Mountain brought back a message from Thalgrin congratulating him on the victory, along with a double wagonload of dwarven spirits and ale. One was Brick’s regular payment, the other a celebratory gift. His message also offered a dozen more volunteers to act as guards. He would be bringing the dwarves with him just before sunset, and they would stay if Alexander accepted them. Thalgrin would take the orc prisoners back with him afterwards.