Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  The emergence of the ogres drained moral from nearly all the men who saw them and at the same time rallied the defenders with renewed enthusiasm. The situation would only get worse for the advancing humans. From behind the buildings came a site that froze many invading men in their tracks. Some even becoming so awe struck that they became quick and easy prey to an orcish blade. Time seemed to slow down as five colossal giants stepped out to the battle. Their size was incredible, their presence unworldly. Even the ogres looked small compared to the behemoths. Light leather armor adorned their bodies; incredibly long strides carried them close to the fray. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their steps. They carried colossal sized weapons, some bigger than two men.

  There was no doubt that it was part of the Faletonian’s plan to wait to release the beasts. Giants and ogres were parts of stories and legends for most of the men present that day. Now they waited for them, promising death and destruction. As if just seeing giants wasn’t inconceivable enough, one of the monsters seemed as though he could only be a character in a story told by the most talented bards in the realm. He was about eighteen feet tall and had skin as blue as the open sky. His eyes were large and silver and his hair pure white. He almost appeared divine in his own right and was clearly the leader of the pack. The other giants turned to him and he ordered two to go to the main gate and one towards where each of the towers was dropping off men. The sky blue behemoth himself slowly walked towards the gate, which was nearly breached. He kept his distance, remaining behind the large mass of orcs who were waiting anxiously to assault the attackers. This was Bix Olan Fod, a cloud giant estranged from his far away home. The astonishing creature that was only ever a part of fables for the men of Rogsnelk and Abellard, stood before them now as a living nightmare.

  ***

  Ostinus Deenor circled slowly to his left never removing his stare from his foe. The man across from him moved in the same direction as well, sword readied, shield up. In a quick motion the man chopped down with his sword, which was blocked by Ostinus’s shield. The man then feigned a lunge in, but Ostinus did not bite, but rather reversed his direction quickly and stepped to his right. The man followed by stepping to his left. As he did so, he used the momentum to chop down again. Ostinus absorbed the blow on his kite shaped shield and then spun a three sixty swiftly to the right side. As he returned to facing his off balanced opponent’s flank, he whipped his sword around and struck the man in the center of the back. A large slap was heard as the wooden sword hit the man’s rugged padded armor.

  “Kill, next…step forward, don’t get too ambitious and keep your footwork,” remarked the trainer who watched from the side. Another man approached in leather padded armor and a helmet with a shield and wooden sword. Ostinus kept his shield up and this time went on the offensive. A series of vicious hacks were parried by the man’s shield. Ostinus was relentless and the man put all he had behind his shield in defense. While all the slashes were defended, the man put too much weight into holding his blocks and was unable to react as Ostinus dropped to a knee and came across with a great swipe to the man’s knee, buckling him over to the side. As his opponent went down Ostinus exploited a whole in his defense and poked his side with the tip of his wooden training sword.

  “Dead.” The training commander said again, shaking his head. The army of Lunemire had been assembled for training since war was upon the southern lands. Formations, strategies, conditioning, all were to be done daily now by the soldiers. No one knew what the result of Victus Antonel’s campaign would be. Thirty four men from Lunemire had come on their own will to fight along with the mixed armies of Abellard and Rogsnelk, but that was all that would join from Lunemire. The leading council of the city had decided to not send the army to join the fight. The impact of this decision on the relationship of the cities was still to be determined.

  Ostinus had been asked to return to the army and he honored the vow he had taken a couple of years back. “He’s making you all look foolish, get it together!” The trainer screamed at the crowd of men before him. He was putting on a clinic against the lesser soldiers. Two higher-ranking officers watched from near the doorway and were impressed by the warrior’s uncanny skills.

  “Why did we agree to let this one go?” One officer said to the other who just shook his head and shrugged as they eagerly watched the spectacle.

  “You two, at once…now!” screamed the annoyed trainer. Two men, one quite large, stepped forward. Ostinus shot the trainer a glance as if to say I accept your challenge and then tightened his grip on the shield. The smaller of the two men immediately advanced with a lunge, but it was harmless. They then spread towards Ostinus’s sides slowly, as if to surround him; the larger man went to his left. The warrior kept his balance in the middle of the two. On they came hacking and slashing in unison. Ostinus was nimble on his feet, first blocking the large man’s blow with his shield, and then putting his balance behind his sword to parry the other man’s swing. The dance went on for ten seconds with no sword getting through the dexterous defense.

  Then Ostinus saw his chance. The shorter man chopped down and Ostinus parried the blow to the floor while raising his shield to block the other man’s hack. With the sword pinned under his against the ground, Ostinus snuck in a hard straight kick, staggering the man back. He quickly ducked another ferocious horizontal hack from the large man. If the attacks had connected, it would have hurt even through the padding. He gave the man a look that could have cut stone.

  But the blow did not connect, none would connect. Ostinus then went hard forward at the smaller man and had his first lunge parried to the side. He continued his momentum, spun, and left the ground while quickly rolling over the man’s raised shield. The surprised soldier slashed across but only hit air as Ostinus landed near his flank and than struck him square.

  “Dead.”

  The big man then charged with a growl and Ostinus steadied himself, letting out a deep breath. The first chop from his attacker was hard and clashed against his shield. The second swing was not as forceful and Ostinus launched his left arm out, his shield meeting the man’s sword. He then immediately came back across to the right with his shield, hitting the man on the side of his padded head. The startled man swung blindly and missed. Ostinus growled and pushed straight up with his shield, bashing the man directly in his exposed face. The bones in his nose were crushed upon impact and blood spilled forth like a fountain.

  The man stumbled back in a daze and enraged Ostinus slapped him hard in the shoulder with his sword then kicked him right in his blood soaked chest. The large man flew back hit the wall with a thud; Ostinus continued at him.

  “Enough! Enough!” Yelled the trainer and men began to get between the warrior and the bloodied man who was just coming to his senses. The first man who approached Ostinus took a sword hilt to the side of the head and fell to the side.

  “Enough!”

  The whole room exploded into noisy and chaotic frenzy. People were flying onto and then off of the raging warrior. Eventually, after a few more people were struck and cast aside, he was restrained by several men and pulled to the floor. He was grunting and growling like a caged animal.

  One commander by the door said to the other, “This is why we did not keep him around.”

  The other man nodded in agreement and amazement.

  Chapter 14

  The orc peered across the market, scanning from right to left. The sun had just about set and the shops were closing. Quite a crowd had formed to his left near a goblin fish merchant. Minsheen walked slowly towards the scene. He was larger than most orcs and his attire was remarkable. A large metal plate with small spikes protruding from it covered his left shoulder and his forearms were encased in steel bracers with orcish inscriptions from elbow to wrist. His exposed skin was a maroon color. Most extraordinary though was the gold chain he wore, which had a sparkling red gem in a circular gold set hanging to the bottom of chest. Minsheen represented the Council of Leaders in governi
ng the young city of Westland.

  Only a few citizens noticed him due to the loud bidding at the fish vender, but those that did would straighten up and acknowledge him. He watched as the orcs and goblins shouted orders to the merchants. The catch was abnormally large from a lake to the north; the goblin merchants would make good money this evening.

  Minsheen appreciated the excitement, but truly enjoyed the maintained order that he saw from those before him. Orcs and goblins bidding on fish in a fair and open market…this was the spirit of Faletonia. He noticed an orc was outbid by a goblin, who then took the large fish, paid his price, and left with a grin. Minsheen watched the orc that was outbid. He knew what he was thinking. He knew that the orc wanted to smash the goblin in his ugly face with the small club Minsheen noticed the orc wearing. But he did not...he could not. There was to be order in Faletonia, and the law in Westland started with Minsheen himself.

  Minsheen moved on and left the market along with his two orc companions. They reached a pub called “The Sniffling Wyrm” and opened its huge eighteen foot door. Many of the common areas were built to accommodate the size of giants and ogres, as a sign of the diversity of the nation.

  The pub was busy. The smell of roasting meat and herbal leaf smoke instantly hit the orcs’ noses. Mostly orcs frequented this bar, but there were some scattered goblins and a couple of humans playing cards at a table of orcs. Minsheen walked to a table in the back where there sat two other orcs and two empty seats. As Minsheen arrived at the table both orcs stood and greeted their three kin.

  “Leave us,” one of the two orcs at the table said in the orcish tongue and the other snout faced creature quickly turned and walked towards the back of the bar where he stood attentive, watching his commander. Minsheen looked to his men and noted one of them with a stern expression staring across the bar. The orcish leader followed his gaze and saw two orcs at the bar looking their way, snarls crossing their face. He recognized them. They were members of the tribe Stone Tusk, a tribe that was sworn enemies to Minsheen’s own. He knew they had a burning desire to stick a dagger right into his heart, but he was confident they wouldn’t. Suppressing tribal warfare was one of the biggest challenges the leaders of Faletonia faced, but they did a decent job so far. He looked back at his two men and simply said, “it’s ok”. They both spread out and walked away, but not too far from their leader.

  The other orc was called Stath, a highly regarded orc in Faletonia. He was not a member of the Council, but still held great power. His prowess in battle earned him his respect. He wore a light cotton tank top and his muscles poured out from it. Stath was not tall for an orc, but was freakishly muscular and much of his greenish brown skin was covered in black tattoos.

  The two began to speak in the orcish language. Although their dialects were noticeably different, they were able to understand each other well. “Good to see you,” Minsheen said.

  “Same with you, I see things are well in Westland, the city has a fine ruler.” Stath followed the complement with a grin and light bow of his wide head.

  “And how is Northland? I’m happy you were able to make it here among all the duties of building the city,” said Minsheen, referring to the new city that was being erected north of Midland. Stath was among those chosen to lead the endeavor.

  “The feuds have begun to slow. As you know, the workers and residents are mostly orcs from small tribes from all over the land. They have come from north of the plains, east of the great forest, near the western beaches and mountains. All have come to our call. They do not coexist well when they arrive, but they are learning.”

  “Learning?” Minsheen smiled with the question.

  “Learning,” he repeated, smiling back. “We have enforced our discipline brutally. I hate to say it, but we have often taken the sword and ax to those who dare to jeopardize the cities stability.” Stath said very seriously.

  “It is the only way, it is no easy task.” Minsheen did not even notice, but as he said this he subconsciously glanced back to the two members of tribe Stone Tusk, but they were chatting amongst themselves, enjoying their evening.

  “You sure we shouldn’t go somewhere more private, like your quarters?” asked Stath.

  “No we are fine here. I enjoy being around the people of this city. They know their leader is amongst them, they know that I care. They know that I stay involved…know that I am watching.”

  Stath just nodded for a few seconds then changed the subject, “I have had the chance to speak to Neemno.”

  “And?” Asked Minsheen as he leaned forward, eagerly awaiting the response.

  “Although he is very cautious, he agrees with our cause.”

  “As he should,” Minsheen said and relaxed, having received the response he wanted. Neemno was one of the other three orcish members of the Council of Leaders. “But the challenge is Ayliki. Any developments with him?” Ayliki was the third orc on the council; all would need to be on board with the plan.

  Before Stath could answer, a waitress, also an orc, approached the table. “Food or drink?” she said in the common tongue. Stath declined and Minsheen ordered a whiskey on the rocks. She then departed.

  “Ayliki is very content with his role. Showing him the upside to our plan will prove difficult. I have not found the right opportunity to approach him for a definitive answer.” Stath said with slight frustration in his voice. “Since Ayliki is a member of the Council like yourself, his agreement is critical for all to go well.”

  Minsheen adjusted one of his bracers and said, “Ayliki does not share our passion because he has benefited greatly so far from the edicts of the giants. Not that we have not, but he has not noticed that he is a puppet on strings, which are attached to very large fingers. Perhaps we should wait till the battle at Southland is done to put further plans into place. I hear the human force arrived at Southland. Unless they put the city under a prolonged siege and do not attack, the outcome of the battle will be known soon.” He lowered his deep voice. “If the humans lose the battle, or barely win, they will stop attacking; however if they win decisively...who knows, Westland may be next,” he said as he looked around at the patrons of the bar.

  Minsheen could see Stath’s corded arm muscles tighten up. “We must not wait. Eighty percent of this nation is orcs. It is mostly the blood, sweat and tears of our kin that have built Faletonia. Our kind are dying at the Southland siege. Our kind were killed to secure the mines at the Singrin Peaks. We must assert our control soon over Faletonia. We must immediately come up with a plan for this problem of giants.”

  “And what are your-.” Minsheen began but then paused, behind Stath several orcs were beginning to argue loudly amongst themselves. They were separated by other orcs and when the distraction subsided he continued. “What are your plans for the giants then?”

  “The foundation of what Faletonia stands for over powers them. The power should be proportionate and our kin are the strongest. If we try to tell them that we are taking greater power, they will sternly decline. You know this; however if -” The argument behind Stath began again, and escalated to pushing and shoving. Stath looked at the concerned expression on Minsheen’s face and then slammed his hands on the table, pushing himself to his feet. His exposed massive muscles were as tense as can be and his fists were clenched as he spun to see the problem.

  “This will stop now!” Stath screamed at the top of his lungs. “Go on, continue and I will tear your arms from your still breathing bodies. Go on!” He took a step forward and his companion approached to join him. Each of the five orcs involved in the fray quieted and looked at the angry orc before them. They may have known of Stath’s notoriety because they all became quiet and calm, or maybe it was the sheer size of the muscular specimen that stood before them with a glow of fury in his eyes. The whole bar had gotten quiet. The arguing orcs then separated and everyone went about their business. Stath returned to his seat and his soldier to his position near the wall.

  Stath leaned in close to Mi
nsheen and continued quietly, “We must rid ourselves of the giants while maintaining control of Faletonia. This is a nation of orcs. We build it, we fight for it, and we command it. Those who do not accept this…those who oppose this shall die for doing so. Soon the strangle hold the giants have on our kind will come to end and all of our kin will love and honor us for it… but it must be soon. The giant problem must be dealt with by orcs…and like orcs.”

  The waitress arrived with the whiskey as Minsheen nodded in agreement.

  ***

  BOOM! CRACK! The battering ram burst the city gates inward a cheer ensued from the humans. They pulled the whole contraption back and everyone near the ram pushed it one last time. The gates splintered and opened completely. The entrance to the city was breached.

  “Storm the city!” Screamed Captain Victus Antonel from a distance. He was on his white steed and held his sword up pointing towards the smashed entrance while remaining out of range of the enemy archers on the wall. With a collective scream all the human foot soldiers obeyed their commander and advanced. Arrows rained down on the invaders as they began to enter the city, but still they advanced. They were then immediately met by armored orcs who were thirsty for battle. The first wave of melee combat was intense and chaotic.

  Elberon was in the middle of the ranks pushing to enter. As he got closer to the gate, the ram was pushed all the way into the city so that the area at the entrance was now a wide gaping space. The soldiers poured in quickly and in disorganized fashion. Elberon pushed on, gripping his mace tightly. He kept his mind open to Phelios; he knew he would need to call to him soon. Anxiety and nervousness caused unease in his stomach. Taking a quick glance over his soldier, Elberon noticed heavily armored men towards the rear of the advancing human force. They were covering and escorting the three mages into the city carefully. As the priest returned his eyes back towards the scene in front of him, the man beside him took an arrow directly into the face and fell dead to the ground. He knew he could not lose his focus again.