The Last Pantheon: of hammers and storms

by Jason Jones

  “Arah!” Yelled the elves, and the forces charged into one another.

  Blades clashed into shields, halberds were cut, and men fell from both sides of the bridge into the trench thirty feet below. Saberrak swung his axes wildly, cleaving through weapons and men, tossing their soldiers off the bridge. James blocked speartips with his shield and slashed men down from left to right. Shinayne danced with her two elven longblades, right next to Lavress, the two of them laying waste to dozens with lightning cuts. Azenairk smashed heads in silent rage, his armor protecting him from many a blow as he pummeled the knees and faces of Armondi men. Arylius Diravas and his priests dove in, their two handed blades cutting away with divine precision. Golden minotaurs cleaved and threw soldiers to their deaths, while hiroon wolf lords and Ihros the kithian tripped and slashed with their scimitars. The north bridge was a blood covered blockade where just a few, held an entire two legions, dead in their march.

  Moments after the battle had begun, the second legion took to the trench, and Cristoff saw it.

  “North bridge forces, to the trenches, stop their advance!” His voice commanded over the chaos of steel on steel and inspired attention and awe with his words.

  He pointed to Sir Leonard, Liogan Andellis and Kaya to go right with half their forces. Then to Sir Karai, for him to follow as he took the rest to the left side of the bridge. Armies clashed again, both on downhill runs, right below the bridge. Skulls and bones that no longer moved, nor sought to, crushed underfoot as the armies met in the trench.

  Cristoff slashed with his longblade through an enemy soldier, then another, Karai on his right doing the same with his rapier. They spread out wide, meeting the forces of thrice their number head on. Soon, the trench was filled with battle and bloodshed.

  Bodies fell from above, screaming until they hit bottom, and Kaya kept her momentum. She lunged ahead, blocking a halberd with her shield and then gutting the soldier holding it. Liogan was to her left, blocking swords and spears with his shield, then cutting men down like any knight twice his age. Sir Leonard waded into the thick of battle, killing quick with his rapier, bringing the fight closer and backing the Armondi against the trench wall.

  The elves were targeted by a charge of infantry, Arylius saw the surround coming toward his queen and her beloved.

  “Make it dance my queen, say its name and let it go!” Arylius saw Shinayne falling back, too many men pushed in on her side of the bridge.

  Shinayne ducked a scimitar, parried two more, then slashed her blades across and away, dropping two soldiers screaming. She held the blade out, and spoke, ten more soldiers charging her.

  “Loestiri!”

  Before her very eyes, the blade hovered out of her hand, then spun, and then it began to fight. She drew Elicras in her off hand.

  “Now that is an elven sword fit for a queen!”

  Loestiri flashed a crosscut and then parried a scimitar. Shinayne stepped over the falling soldier and finished the one that was held by her dancing blade with a stab from Elicras, cut down another with Carice, and parried fast with both as more men charged her. The dancing blade cut across three men in one sweeping slash, then Shinayne plunged her longblade to the right, a downward slice with the left, and another horizontal attack with both on the men in the middle. She looked up to the blade, then to the ground, over ten dead soldiers in mere seconds. Shinayne smiled, and she and her dancing sword waded into the neverending Armondi forces, all elves behind her.

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  Tannek was in the thick of it, on the bridge, deflecting scimitars and cleaving his battle axe into chainmailed soldiers. His crossbowmen were picking off the stragglers, his men held the trench, and his brother was right behind him. Dalliunn leapt from the bridge into a mass of halberdiers, knocking them senseless with his Thalanaxe warhammer. The Armondi were organized here, lead by a man that looked like a priest of Alden, and they had been pushing the dwarves on the bridge back with timed attacks.

  “Drodunn, take em’ around, down the trench, surround!” Tannek bellowed as three soldiers tried to overpower him and get past.

  “Aye brother!” Drodunn withdrew his few hundred dwarves and they followed him in a downhill charge to get around the legion of human men.

  Crossbow fire covered their movements, axes and hammers from red bearded warriors clashed and thundered on the west bridge, and Tannek stood his ground. His axe swept low, taking an ankle, then he slammed his shield into a young soldier’s face, and then slashed up with his edge and split a man wide open. He looked up, still too many to count, and he had only a hundred or so here. He looked down, his men holding the trench some thirty feet below with Dalliunn. The former marshall saw his brother reach the open ground beside the main force of the third Armondi legion, and he hoped they would fight hard.

  “Push em into the trenches men! Let’s make it nice and messy then!” He roared as he leaned on his shield and forced two soldiers off the bridge.

  “Aye!” One hundred dwarves shouted in unison, and began a shield march, forcing the Armondi into a disorganized rabble into the trench.

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  Jardayne had fallen back after the initial charge, his cavalry had met twice their number, head on. While stronger men and larger steeds were on his side, his men were swarmed in melee against fast swords now. The trench filled with horsemen riding into the city, and the Knight General of Evermont circled around to meet them once more.

  “Codaius, take the bridge!” He yelled his orders, rallied his men, and dove into a gallop with Symond’s greatsword brandished high.

  “I have it, general!” The Bear of Evermont was on foot now, his horse had been killed with a lance. Codaius of Norninne stood, cleaving left and right, his men holding fast beside him as charging cavalry flodded in every direction.

  Jardayne swung high, then cut down fast through the lance and the man holding it, spraying blood all over the ground as the horse pulled down. A lance went into his thigh, yet he countered and took the soldier’s head as he passed. He looked onto the field, seeing Prince Rohne safely behind the cavalry next to the reserve infantry legion. Suddenly, as the forces were now mixed in close, he saw the Prince of Armondeen ride east, the reserves following fast.

  “Codaius, the caravan, he heads---“

  “Then go! I have the field, take the first and second brigades, go!” Sir Codaius knew that Julia and her two hundred mercenaries would not be able to defend against an entire Armondi legion. The refugees would be slaughtered.

  Jardayne knew it as well, he raised his blade in anger, despising the cheap attack on commoners that Prince Rohne was threatenting. His leg was bleeding heavy, yet two brigades followed as he gave chase to the fifth legion of Armondeen, headed for the caravan of defensless people.

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  Lord Amirak Harron plunged his scimitar deep into a Harlian man’s chest, blocked an arrow from an elven archer with his shield, and cut across the neck of a two legged wolf man from behind, severing it clean off. He was in the trenches, his main force pushed to breach the city and encircle the allied forces, and they were nearing the other side of the dirt wall. He knew that his two thousand here would easily take the north bridge and then the city. He had the cavalry outmatched, and the dwarves outnumbered. Should anything look as a possible concern, he had another thousand in reserve with his son, the Prince.

  The smiling knight, Sir Yaelsh, was covered in blood, yet again he slashed his curved steel across a soldier from Harlaheim. The scream invigorated him, the crimson in the air quickened his steps, and he parried a rapier with his small shield. Two more enemy soldiers dove for him in the trench, he backed up, then lunged and spun, one cut taking half the face off his foe, and the other slicing through the eyes and skull of another. His soldiers advanced, cutting away and driving the foreigners back.

  Prince Rohne Viorius of Armondeen charged half a mile toward the caravan, he l
ooked, and saw Jardayne in pursuit to head him off. He smiled, and turned around with half the reserve legion, as he had planned. Though his mother would disapprove, and his father had planned the attack as Lord Amirak, Rohne was the prince, and therefore he had rights and command despite his sixteen years of age. Rohne knew enough of war to take the reserves and lead an attack, whether his father agreed or no.

  He drew his blade of curved golden steel, and headed back to the bridge toward Codaius as five hundred rested infantry continued toward the ordered attack on the refugees. He would make Evermont pay for their disrespects, make them choose between their men and the caravan, and divide them. Then, he would show his parents his right to rule.

  On the western front, his men fell to the trench, screaming as they landed ontop of one another, yet Bishop Thohne fought on. He pushed, knowing that his superior numbers would avail regardless. His longblade dove into the chest of a dwarven soldier, then cleaved off a beard of another. He felt a shield hit him in the legs from behind, and spun fast with a slashing counter. The head, one of his own men, fell to the ground in surprise. Thohne realized they were too close, his men were compacted tight, and the dwarves had the advantage.

  “Fall back, spread out, take them on the open field!”

  He ordered them out of the trenches, yet more battle sounded behind him. He looked up and saw another mass of red beards in black armor, holding them inside the ditch from his side of the field. Thohne was trapped in low ground, fighting a force that knew no fear.

  “To the south, pull south and around!” He changed his orders, his men getting desperate as they fell like trees in a lumber grove.

  As they charged back into the trench, and turned south, crossbow fire rained on them from dwarven sharpshooters. A lewirja roared and dove into their front lines with fifty bearded warriors beside it. The battle had nowhere to run, and the third Armondi legion began to panic on the west side of Mooncrest.

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  Kaya sliced another soldier down with a quick cut to the exposed neck, then another, she was now back to back with Liogan Andellis. She did not know how he was here from Southwind, and she had not the time to ask. They were surrounded by soldiers of Armondeen, fighting hard as their forces fell in the trench.

  Liogan slashed with his broadsword, then parried a blow meant for Kaya’s head. He knew her reputation, knew who she was, yet he fought hard beside her against innumerable foes. She was wanted, by her own twin brother and his kingdom, but that mattered not here and now. His blade was red from battle, he was cut twice and bleeding, and it looked like defeat all over again. Still, not one enemy had reached the other side into the city. Not yet.

  Leonard parried with his rapier, crosscut at the man with the painted eyes, then their blades locked. He knew this man was the general of the Armondi forces, and he had shown him Harlian style swordsmanship for many an exchange. He pushed back, feinted to lunge low, slashed high, and it was parried by Harron’s halfshield.

  Harron’s hand grabbed his wrist, held his arm high, and stepped fast. Then Sir Leonard felt the cold of steel through his chest, his air gave out, and he fell to the mud and blood soaked ground. His eyes dimmed as his enemy withdrew the blade, and continued ahead into the battle.

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  “Roaaarrrhhh!” Saberrak leapt from the bridge.

  His body crushed three Armondi men in the trenches, right next to Kaya. He had seen them fall back, maybe fifty left against five hundred now, and he jumped.

  His left hand cleaved up, sending a soldier into two pieces through the air. His right hand swung low, taking three legs off from enemy forces. Saberrak Agrannar lunged forward, his horns slamming deep into an armored chest, then the hurling body scattered ten more men as it flew from the mortal impact. The gray gladiator slashed left, swung his greataxe behind him, killing everything within reach. Arms flew off, heads shot into the air, and blood splattered the ground and his steel scale armor. His eyes flashed blue flames, scaring many Armondi men to withdraw.

  “Ra ruh!”

  Two golden minotaurs huffed at him, having just landed to his right and left, and their curved two handed blades clashed into the soldiers with their larger gray cousin.

  Saberrak hacked into the charging soldiers, getting cuts and lacerations galore in his march, but he did not care. His greataxe chopped into the back of a standard bearer, his enchanted axe took a man in two down the middle, and then he was next to Kaya and the young knight of Southwind. She nodded to Saberrak, as did Liogan and the golden skinned horned warriors, and they stood in a line in front of the advancing forces of Harron.

  Suddenly a wave of arrows descended into the Armondi forces, then another, as Aariss Diravas stood on the edge of the trench above with his archers. Their last flights were now gone, they drew their curved elven blades, and charged the trench. It gave Saberrak and the remaining Harlians just enough time to form up and charge with them.

  James Andellis would not slow, his griffon blade was glowing with blue flames from his hand as it dove and cut, and he had killed over twenty soldiers on the bridge next to Azenairk. Their forces on the bridge were few against so many, yet he had heard the pounding of Zen’s hammeraxe to the stone, had seen the glowing golden light, and felt the power of the dwarven God healing many around them. It was not enough to hold the bridge though, and he quickly found himself fighting a losing battle.

  Memories of Arouland flashed through his mind as he cut down another enemy. Visions of Arlinne T’Vellon dying in his arms sparked into his eyes as James plunged and withdrew his sword again. He backed up, and looked down to his right, he saw Harron ordering soldiers into the city. The north of the ruins was flooding with enemy troops, the battle looked desperate, and they had no more men to call upon. The knight of Chazzrynn looked to Zen, and his dwarven friend nodded. They agreed, without a word, that James should charge the Armondi general.

  “Alden have mercy.” He whispered to Zen, and then he turned.

  James fought past three soldiers, slicing and defending with his shield as he marched. Then, he leapt off the bridge of stone, and floated with his enchanted shield, landing behind Lord Amirak Harron.

  Azenairk ran back, hundreds of soldiers in chase behind him, and he was suddenly surrounded by robed elven men. He looked to his right, Shinayne and Lavress were unleashing fury and steel, side by side on the bridge. He saw the hundreds closing in, but he had a rising hope, enough to stand and try something.

  “Arah!”

  The forty remaining elven priests with Arylius slashed ahead, filling in where the minotaurs and James Andellis had been standing off. They cut down quick, with timed simultaneous strikes and shouts, and held the north bridge with their queen and her hunter.

  Azenairk waved them back, prayed in whisper, and slammed his hammeraxe to the bridge he had created. He looked up in time to see the golden glow flash, the spikes of stone erupted, and the northern half of the bridge fell to dust, two hundred Armondi soldiers screaming as they fell to the trench below with it.

  Shinayne had no enemies before her, and no bridge to march across, so she looked left to the trench. She saw the battle raging, Cristoff withdrawing as he fought with Sir Karai who was slashing wildly, only a handful of Harlians remaining below. Over three hundred Armondi began their pursuit up into the city.

  “To Lord Cristoff the Third, charge!” She yelled it and lead the forty elves with her to the edge, hoping to hold seven times their number. She glanced, Lavress was right there, as was Zen.

  Lavress slashed with his falcata, parried with the kukri, and dove both into the chest of an Armondi soldier. He ducked, a halberd, parried a scimitar with his curved blade, then two fast cuts to human throats with his dagger opened up room for him to reach the trench with his Shinayne.

  Loestiri cut down three soldiers cleanly, then parried two halberds, flipping their axeheads up and back. Shinayne ran in, cut with Carice across their expose
d chests, plunged Elicras into a flagbearing sergeant’s neck, and then spun low. She rose, as her dancing blade mimicked her actions, and slashed wide into the advancing Armondi men. Ten wicked cuts of enchanted steel from three flashing blades, and the Queen of Tintasarn stood over her dead enemies.

  She pointed to Sir Yaelsh, the smiling knight with the scar, and sheathed Elicras. In a flash, Loestiri was in her left hand, and Shinayne began her approach.

  “Let us see how brave you are now that I am unchained, shall we!?”

  “I accept, I could always use another set of ears in my collection!” Sir Yaelsh accepted her challenge as his forces tried to reach the summit and make way into the ruins.

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  Jardayne finished his pass as three more Armondi soldiers met their ends from his greatsword. He turned his tired stallion around, seeing his fifty remaining men line up beside him. Julia’s forces were half, less than one hundred, yet the Armondi soldiers were in retreat. Not one soldier reached the vulnerable caravan of refugees, and they had turned and run after their forces were cut to less than a third.

  He looked to the eastern battle in the distance, seeing few of their men remaining, and Sir Codaius standing alone on the east bridge. He was cutting down soldiers from their horses, slamming his weight into steeds, sending them tumbling into the trench below. Jardayne saw three lances through the Bear of Evermont, and saw Prince Rohne charging him with a massive force. Rohne had double backed, increasing his forces to one and a half legions, against Codaius and three hundred cavalry. He treid not to think, just act, and he yelled as loud as he could.

  “Cavarly, charge!”

  Not only the cavalry, but the mercenaries of Julia Whiteblade as well charged to the desperate battle. Behind them, farmers with rural tools, old men with canes, young men with sticks, all inspired from the caravan and most without a real weapon to wield, charged behind them, by the thousands. In their passing, they took weapons from the dead soldiers, and charged behind Jardayne.