Invasion

by B. N. Crandell

  “Work together,” shouted Gerard. “The numbers are in our favour.”

  His words spurred them on and the guard numbers soon thinned. Gerard fought his way towards the leader, figuring he’d be the most skilled fighter in the room. Orcs continued to die by his hand as he developed his rhythm. Either his practice sessions with Sylestra had greatly increased his swordsmanship or the guards weren’t as well trained as he imagined they would be, for he cut them down with relative ease. Perhaps it was a little of both. It stands to reason that the best fighters would have been in the army and not the compound guard. He hoped his deduction was accurate and that the army was far away.

  It wasn’t long until the guard leader stood in front of him — an orc a good many inches taller than Gerard’s massive six foot seven frame. His chest puffed out with his shoulders held back and his sword by his side. He scowled as Gerard closed in on him and readied his sword.

  “The Supreme Mistress will have you begging for mercy for years before she finally allows your sacrifice.” The orc guard feinted to his left, retreated and then jabbed to the right. Gerard did not fall for the feint and so pushed the orc’s sword out wide with ease.

  The orc rode the momentum, spun a full circle and brought his sword to bear on Gerard’s right. Gerard was too quick for that and took a step back out of range and stepped in again behind the swing with a jab of his own. It pierced the orc’s armour and drew blood but appeared to be only a superficial injury as the orc stood back and swatted Gerard’s sword away.

  “She’ll have to catch me first,” said Gerard with a smile.

  “Fool! Do you really think you can hide from her? She has eyes everywhere.” The orc went into a quick, but basic, high-low attack routine obviously hoping to catch Gerard off his guard.

  Gerard didn’t fall for that ploy and so parried each strike without a problem.

  “Good, she can watch you die then.” Gerard countered with his own routine which pushed the orc back a few steps and unbalanced him. The orc’s eyes opened wide moments before Gerard’s sword plunged into his neck. The gurgling noise as the orc choked on his own blood ceased a short time after he hit the floor. Gerard looked around the room in time to see the last few orc guards overwhelmed.

  The room fell silent as the men took stock of the situation.

  “Tend to our wounded as best you can.” Gerard turned to the men closest to him. “I want five men to come with me as we search these rooms for any bandages or potions we can use.”

  He led the five into the nearest room, a large kitchen that still had food spread out over the benches in various stages of preparation. A wood fired oven was lit against the far wall, a stove either side with unlit timber underneath them. In one corner sat a water pump with a pail positioned under it.

  Gerard turned to a slave. “Take water and food to the injured. See if you can find a cloth or something to help clean the wounds and any material that can be torn up and used as bandages.”

  The slave got to work straight away.

  “The rest of you with me.” He hurried off to the next room which turned out to be a storage room full of crates and barrels. He left another slave there to rummage around. Meanwhile he led the rest in the direction he figured the locked door to be.

  As he walked along the passageways he checked each room that he passed for any enemies, but none were present. It seemed as though the rest had all gathered in that one room. Many had likely fled or gone off to fetch help.

  Voices echoing along the stone halls told him the position of the slaves. The large double doors came into sight with the two locking timbers in place.

  “Quickly, help me with these timbers.” Gerard ran for the doors.

  A few paces away from them a stone door slid back on his right and a group of guards charged out. Gerard’s quick reflexes saved him as he dropped to his knees to dodge the swing aimed at his neck. He jarred his knee badly as a result but he figured that to be better than being dead — an unfortunate fate suffered by the slave behind him.

  Gerard jumped back to his feet, turned around and summed up the situation quickly. They were outnumbered a little over three-to-one as the ten guards materialised and he being the only trained fighter — they didn’t stand a chance against this ambush.

  Gerard jabbed his sword into the side of an orc guard that was busy fighting one of the two remaining slaves.

  “Get to that door and drop those timbers,” he shouted. “I’ll keep them off you.”

  He went into a flurry of motion, ducking and weaving, parrying and attacking with a view to keeping the orcs as distracted as possible. The other slave received a vicious blow to his arm but managed to hold onto his sword. With his weakened grip he wouldn’t last much longer and so Gerard fought his way over to the slave, killing another orc as he went. In so doing though he allowed an orc guard to pursue the slave he sent to the door.

  “Watch your back,” he shouted.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the slave had managed to drop a timber but he had to draw his weapon to contend with the incoming threat.

  Gerard used a sweeping kick to bring the orc down that was about to finish the other slave and retrieved a dagger from the orc he had just killed. He stood, turned on his heel, took aim and threw it with all his might. He made the mistake of watching the trajectory of the thrown weapon to ensure it hit its target and as a result proved too slow to deflect an incoming strike.

  The blade ripped his light clothing with ease and slashed painfully across his chest. Had he not rotated his body at the last minute it could well have been a killing blow. His only satisfaction with the manoeuvre was that his dagger had sunk deep into the shoulder of the orc by the door and the stifled roar soon after told him the slave had finished the job.

  Off balance and in pain as a result of his lapsed concentration, Gerard found himself on the back foot as two orcs pursued him aggressively. The other slave had managed to kill the orc he had tripped and he now stood toe to toe with another so six remained, but both him and the fighting slave were badly wounded.

  A loud thud on the stone floor behind him gave him relief as he realised the other slave must have dropped the second locking timber. The doors swung wide and moments later the hallway became crowded with the freed slaves. The remaining orcs were soon overwhelmed with no further loss of slaves. Gerard examined his wound and realised if he did not treat it soon he would pass out from loss of blood. The slave’s wounded arm would also require immediate attention, so he led them all back to the room where he had left the others.

  Seeing him so wounded, a slave rushed over to him with a fresh damp rag and cleaned his wound.

  “It’ll be easier if we remove your shirt,” said the slave.

  Gerard unbuttoned his shirt and the slave helped him slide it back over his arms.

  “Take a seat.” The slave slid out a wooden chair for him.

  Gerard sat and allowed the slave to wash his wound, grimacing with the pain. Once the wound had been cleaned, the slave got Gerard to hold the damp rag firmly against it while he retrieved cloth to bandage it up.

  “We found a whole crate of new clothing in that storage room.” The slave ripped up shirts, tied them together and wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around Gerard’s chest. “That should slow the bleeding for now. I must stitch that wound though. We are still searching for a needle and thread but have come up empty so far.”

  “Thank you. It’ll do for now,” said Gerard.

  “So now what?” asked a slave coming over to him. “We still can’t get out of this building, let alone the compound and then we have the city to deal with — and what then? Have you thought about where we can go that the Supreme Mistress will not find us?”

  “We have started working on a way out. Others will be here soon to speed it along. Then yes we will have the city to deal with but I believe it is sparsely protected at the moment. Once out of the city I know where we must go to be safe, you’ll just have to tr
ust me on that.”

  “And if you die? What then? This secret place dies with you?” The slave raised his voice and gestured wildly attracting the attention of all the others in the room.

  “Many others know where we must go and they will lead you there if I should fall.” Gerard spoke softly to try and calm the agitated slave and any who may agree with him.

  “You are going to get us all killed. We would have been better off to stay here and keep working.”

  “If you truly believe that then maybe you should go back to your station and keep working. They would have no proof that you were involved and so may not even punish you.” Gerard noticed the slave’s face relax. “That goes for any of you. If you wish no further part in this escape, by all means go back to work and remain a slave til the day you are sacrificed. I know what I’d prefer — a chance at freedom.”

  A hush came over the large group as they considered his words.

  “I’m with Gerard,” shouted the slave that had tended to his wound. “A life of freedom is worth the risk of a premature death. If we all stick together we can break free. Look at what we have already achieved.”

  A cheer went up from those that supported the slave’s words. That cheer proved infectious as more and more joined in.

  When the noise died down, Gerard rose and allowed his booming voice to carry around the room and along the hall where the slaves were still crowded. “I need a group to go back to the main door of this building. Try to find a way to break it down but at the very least, be there to welcome the others and to show them where we are. The rest of us who are able will break off into groups and search the rest of this building for enemies, a way out, or anything we can use now or on our coming journey.” Gerard set about segregating them and giving them assignments. He needed to keep them occupied. He hoped the dwarves weren’t too far away.

  Thirak approached the doors and listened. He heard scuffling on the other side and muffled voices. They sounded human but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Givvus a hand ta be lowerin’ these timbers.” He grabbed one end while Jerzy grabbed the other. Together they lifted the solid timber and threw it down. The higher one they couldn’t reach so Thirak asked for a couple of humans to step forward and assist.

  “I can be helping with that” Major Isak stepped out of the throng.

  “Well it be about time, Major,” replied Thirak. “I thought ya must’ve bin lost.”

  “Just took a little longer to fight our way out than anticipated.” Major Isak walked up the few stairs with a soldier by his side and together they lifted the higher timber out of its brackets and tossed it to the side.

  Thirak pulled open the doors but had to jump to the side fast as the slaves within came running past carrying a stone statue. They tumbled down the steps, dropping and smashing the statue.

  “Guess I shooda knocked first.” Thirak let out a bellowing laugh. The slaves picked themselves up sheepishly.

  “We’re to show you to Gerard.” The slave dusted himself off.

  “Well, lead on,” said Major Isak, “we’re on a tight schedule here.” He held his arm outstretched toward the open door and the slave led the way.

  “What about the rest of the compound?” screamed Sarai. “Are we to leave them all behind to die?”

  “Jerzy, take half our warriors ‘n’ three comp’nies o’ armed slaves ‘n’ go rescue who ya can be rescuin’. Be as quick as ya can and meet us at th’ access gate aside this buildin’ ready to be leavin’ this infernal place,” commanded Thirak.

  “O’course Ca’tain,” said Jerzy

  “I ain’t no ca’tain, I be a mere squad leader,” barked Thirak.

  “I say gi’en the circumstances ya been field promoted.” Jerzy turned and got to work on separating the group.

  “Bah!” Thirak waved a dismissive hand at the retreating dwarve’s back.

  “Captain Riyad, you do the same. The rest of you stay here and guard this door. Shardae’s luck, we’ll be storming out of this compound in no time.” Major Isak turned and beckoned the slave to continue guiding them.

  “I’m coming with you.” Sarai stepped out from amongst the throng of slaves.

  “Who are you?” Major Isak halted and scrutinised the haggard but attractive woman.

  “This be Gerard’s squeeze, Sarai.” Thirak gave a hearty laugh.

  Major Isak looked at him with a wrinkled brow. “Don’t let Gerard hear you say anything like that. The last man to do so wound up flat on the floor if you remember, and that was his best friend.” He turned back to Sarai. “C’mon then. Be sure to keep up.”

  The slave guided them around the building where corpses of both men and orc told the story of the recent fighting here. They found Gerard in a large storage room searching through crates. As he stood up and faced them, Thirak’s eyes dropped to his torn and bloodied shirt.

  “Ye’ve bin struck.”

  “It’s been tended to,” replied Gerard.

  “Not all that expertly if that seeping is anything to go by,” added Major Isak.

  “Oh, let me take a look.” Sarai rushed over to him and at once lifted the bandage to see the wound. “It needs to be treated and stitched up.”

  “We don’t have time for that. Any moment now a large group of orcs are going to storm into this compound. We must be gone before then.” Gerard gently pushed Sarai away from him.

  “More fighting is unavoidable which means we need one of our mightiest warriors unhindered. It won’t take me long — let others worry about opening the gates.”

  “She does have a point, Gerry,” interjected Major Isak. “We need you to be as fit as possible and we sure don’t need you collapsing anywhere as it’d take ten men to carry your heavy arse.”

  “Fine, but I need to show Thirak where the grate is first so the dwarves can set to breaking out.”

  “Then let’s quit yappin’ ‘n’ get to it,” said Thirak.

  Chapter 16

  Sacrifice

  Gerard patiently allowed Sarai to stitch his wound. They had located the infirmary and were treating the worst injured there. Some would need to be carried out of here. Hopefully once they were into the city they wouldn’t come across too much resistance.

  He watched Sarai as she diligently went about her work and was amazed by her skill with needle and thread. She had been right, at this rate it wouldn’t take her too long to patch him up.

  “Skin is a little different to the fabric you’re used to, I’d imagine.”

  She gave him a sideways glance.

  “I have needed to sew many wounds. The orc guards do enjoy dishing out their punishment and we often stitch up each other’s wounds when the guards are out of sight.” Sarai lowered her eyes and continued her work.

  “You seem sad,” said Gerard after a brief silence.

  “I witnessed many deaths today, some I would call friends, others I am responsible for.”

  “You are responsible for no deaths here.” Gerard’s raised voice caused her to slip a little with the needle and he grimaced in pain as it went deeper into his wound than intended. She looked up at him with fire in her eyes and a set face. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to cause you to slip. What I mean is that it is the orcs and the wicked rule they follow that has caused all of this.” Gerard gestured with his hands encircling the entire room.

  “I led those women out of the building and onto the street where they were slaughtered. If we had have stayed put, perhaps they’d still be alive and the men and dwarves would have released us.” Tears formed in her eyes and she sniffled.

  Gerard was impressed to hear that she had the courage to lead a group in such a situation. Many trained soldiers fell apart in similar scenarios.

  “Just as easily you could have saved other lives by doing what you did. Battle is unforgiving and dwelling on all the ‘could haves’ and ‘should haves’ can be your undoing. A good leader needs to act quickly and decisively and it sounds as though that is what you did.”
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  “I am no leader. I’m merely a slave.” She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke.

  “A title we are about to change.” Gerard spoke with all the confidence he could muster.

  “Perhaps. At the least we’ll give it our best effort.” She tied off the thread and cut it. “All done.”

  “Thank you. Now we have to move.” Gerard sat up and inspected his wound. She had done a magnificent job.

  He instructed all the others in the infirmary to finish up and then he led Sarai to the front of the building where all the other slaves were.

  “Move to the access gate at once. The dwarves will have it open in no time,” he shouted. The crowd moved off and he and Sarai followed them.

  “What about the rest of the compound? Can we go and rescue a few more? They’ll only need to be released from each building as all the orc guards are either dead or have run away, but many won’t realise that.” Sarai’s still red eyes pleaded with Gerard. He was divided. They’d already wasted too much time and they needed to be ready to storm out the gates when they were opened.

  Thankfully Jerzy came into sight ahead of a throng of slaves around the corner. Within moments Captain Riyad showed up with even more rescued slaves.

  “It looks like that’s already been taken care of.” Gerard placed his arm across her shoulders and gently turned her around and guided her to the front of the crowd near the access gate.

  They weren’t there long until Gerard heard fighting on the other side. Thirak’s shouted orders could be heard with ease over the ruckus. Gerard felt helpless. He would have loved to be on the other side of that gate helping the dwarves fight, but Major Isak had been right — it was better to spend the time treating his wound and Thirak had further pointed out the advantage of being able to fit more dwarves into the cramped space.

  The noise soon died down and Gerard heard the locking bar being lifted out of place and then the gates swung wide. There to greet him stood Thirak, front and centre of the group of dwarves. Dead orcs littered the ground around them and not one of the dwarves had been lost. A loud cheer went up and Gerard led the slaves out of the gates.