Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  ***

  The feelings of anxiety and fear were just as prevalent this day as they were for the first day of battle for Elberon. There was perhaps something that felt slightly more comfortable. It could be that it was solely the thought that this was not his first time in large-scale war. The sounds of battle filled the air some time before he could even see an enemy. He heard the cavalry charge and some of the cheers from the men who could see the horsemen’s impact. The priest kissed the sun medallion on his necklace and then spit into his hands and gripped his mace tight.

  The attackers had penetrated the gate and were advancing. Elberon heard someone from atop the wall holler down, “There are so many, there’s still thousands outside of the city”. He knew soon the human defense would get spread and orcs, goblins or worse would find their way to him soon. He looked around at the foot soldiers near him. His plan was to cast an enchantment spell on those near him once they were about to enter battle. That time came quickly.

  A group of men ahead of Elberon formed a shield wall and the cleric could see them from behind. Orcs were caught in the shields trying to break through; however they were unable to and just met their demise. More orcs continued to try. Elberon raised his hands and recited a prayer. Each man in the shield wall began to emanate a yellowish hue. Strength. The men embraced it and advanced forward in their shield wall with their newfound power, slaughtering orcs while protecting one another.

  The man beside Elberon to his left was caught off guard by an orc that had snuck through. The creature lunged but the man stepped aside and quickly slashed across with his sword. The blow struck true to the enemies ribs and he landed in pain to the ground near Elberon’s feet. The priest smashed his head in with his mace and quickly recovered position.

  To his right, several men were in a disorganized melee with a group of orcs. Each of the Faletonian’s was taller than the men. Axes and swords hacked with abandon. As Elberon approached one of the men took an axe to the forearm and let out a scream but then managed to stick his sword into his attackers belly. As Elberon arrived to the wounded soldier, he began to say the words to a healing spell to heal the man’s arm. As he began to put his hand up, an orc stepped to the man and kicked him in the stomach. When the man bent forward from the blow, the orc chopped his head clean from his neck. The beast’s jaundice eyes found the priest and he quickly wanted to serve him the same fate.

  The bald headed orcish soldier, over six feet high, swung his sword down at Elberon who dodged by stepping back. The orc swung again, this time sideways, but Elberon avoided the blow. The next swing was a diagonal swing that the priest barely avoided. Not having time to make a full swing with his mace, Elberon poked it forward. The top of the weapon, although not sharp, was a dull rounded point and struck the orc in the mouth. The blow broke one of his tusks and startled him. The creature made the mistake of standing straight up in pain and taking a couple of steps back. Since he was a couple of feet away, Elberon swung down with force and his heavy mace head landed on the orc’s foot, breaking the bones in the arc. This hunched the beast over as he reached for his broken foot. Elberon’s mace then came up from the ground with speed and again found the face of his enemy. This time it shattered his nose into his skull, finishing the orc.

  The priest steadied himself again and as he did so, a man moved to next to him. Out of the corner of his eye Elberon could see the man favoring a leg that had a large gash wound across it. Quickly he called to Phelios and reached toward the laceration while staying aware of his surroundings. A blue light swirled around the gash and the man no longer favored that leg. Quickly, the healed soldier charged back into battle and stabbed his sword through the back of an orc who was engaged with another man.

  “Still so many coming in!” Another call from atop the wall could be heard. Elberon was concerned, but had no time to panic. Then another shout found his ears. “Ogres!” It was hard to refrain from panicking now; the anxiety grew but so did the adrenaline.

  ***

  Mikael Witten and Ostinus Deenor lay on their stomachs watching the battle unfold from the top of a nearby hill. Their fellow humans defending the city seemed to get off to a good start, but the Faletonian force was absolutely massive. Over a thousand had already entered the city and there were still thousands waiting to enter from the outside.

  Mikael crawled back to the other side of the hill where his men were hiding. “They seem in dire straights, but we can not enter the battle now,” he said.

  Ostinus crawled back as well. “Agreed. We need an advantage. They do not know we’re here and cannot therefore expect the attack. That is one advantage we already have. We have seen their magic users…their shamans. They’re positioned in the rear, yet to enter the battle. We all know that shamans are quite powerful. We’ve spotted ten of them. If we can take them out, it would be a huge help for our cause.” The shamans were easily recognizable. Most other orcs were clad in armor of some sort and others were simply topless; however the shamans adorned long tunics and colorful feathered headgear. Necklaces with bones hung from their necks. Two of the orcish shamans had small skulls dangling from their necklaces.

  Mikael looked at Ostinus with a pitiful expression; he sounded desperate now. “Yes, but we will not do so if it is a mission with no chance of survival. You said yourself we need the right time and situation to attack and so it must be,” Mikael said as got to his feet. “The giants entered the city moments ago, we can only hope the men were prepared.” From their vantage point, Mikael and his men saw two giants who had attacked the city walls. One had been killed by arrows and the other a magnificent bolt of lethal lightning. The humans at least seemed somewhat prepared. Two other giants went around the other side of the city and out of their view. Six more behemoths entered through the breeched gate.

  “Damn!” Ostinus hissed as he peered over the hill. He new Mikael was right. He also knew that the men inside the city were doomed. They had to do something. The fall of the defending army would mean thousands of men dead and could lead to a terrible fate for Lunemire, Abellard, and Rogsnelk. The repetitive sound of enemy drums tantalized the warrior. He looked back to Mikael and inadvertently lowered his head in sadness and defeat.

  “Shall we ride back and inform the council that the city is lost and the army…destroyed?” Mikael asked.

  Ostinus looked back to the city. He thought quickly of all the men inside the walls and of all the families that would not have their fathers, husbands, brothers, uncles or sons returning to them. The closest thing he had to family, Elberon Per Finn, was condemned within the city walls. But he knew he could not ask that the thirty-five other men with him ride to their demise. He turned back to Mikael, his expression making his emotions evident. He couldn’t respond to Mikael, he didn’t have it in him to verbally agree that they should return to Lunemire to confirm the defeat of Victus’s army.

  No one spoke for a moment. The distant sound of battle hummed over the unnerving sound of drums. He lifted his head and had to accept the fact. His eyes met Mikael’s but, before he could agree that they should let the city know of the loss, something happened. The most astonishing sound preceded the most improbable of sites. A deep powerful horn had been blown near the battlefield. It seemed to overpower the beating of the vile drums. Those who were outside of the city and those on top of its walls turned their eyes in the direction of the sound. Ostinus, Mikael and all of their men looked beyond the Faletonian army that had amassed in the small valley outside of the city. Many figures began to appear on the top of the hill opposite the one that the thirty six soldiers were on. The horn sounded again, a blast so loud it was as if the gods themselves blew it.

  Confusion was felt by most, but all who looked towards the sound soon understood. The crest of the hill quickly filled with soldiers. It was one of the most peculiar armies that could possibly assemble in the rolling hills, grassland and valleys in this part of the land…but also one of the fiercest. Over one thousand armed and armored dwarven w
arriors assembled and were ready for war…and revenge.

  Ostinus and Mikael exchanged excited hopeful glances. The Faletonian army was attempting to organize to prepare for the inevitable. The horn blew two short notes and then one last long blow that filled the sky like impending doom…or saving grace. A hearty cry went up amongst the sturdy bearded folk and they banged their weapons against their shields or breastplates and charged down the hillside directly at the disorganized Faletonian army.

  “Men, prepare for battle!” Cried Mikael and quickly his men followed his order. He looked to Ostinus and said, “We must still enter the fight at the right moment.” Ostinus nodded in agreement.

  The sturdy dwarves hit the shambolic front line of the orcs like a rockslide of death. In seconds they were into the ranks of the surprised enemy army chopping and bludgeoning them down. While they were not experienced with battle outside of their mountain, the bearded folk were disciplined warriors from years of training. This was contrary to the Faletonians, none of whom could have ever prepared or been in a large-scale battle situation. They were disorganized and vulnerable. Each dwarf had a circular shield and a weapon. Once they hit the Faletonian ranks and decimated the first defenders, they formed a large shield wall in tight formation. They then began to slowly move forward as an impregnable unit, defending each other with their shields and attacking when the opportunity presented itself. They cut through the enemy like a farmer’s scythe trims the stalks.

  Faletonian soldiers were ordered to stop entering the city and take up the battle against the attacking dwarves. In doing so, the Faletonian troops inside the city were left unsupported. This included the giants, who became the focus of the rallying humans within the city.

  Ostinus waited for the chance to enter the battle with his men and it finally appeared. A black mist seemed to mix itself into the battle. Ostinus quickly realized that the orcish priests, the shamans, were enchanting orcish soldiers nearby, likely with strength, endurance, and/or speed. Shortly after, they launched spells into the ranks of the dwarves. A dark cloud rose into the air slowly and then released what looked like a black liquid onto the sturdy dwarven warriors. The cries and groan of the stout bearded folk mixed into the battle. A slight simmer could be heard from the battle. The black substance must have been some form of acid conjured by the shamans. Dwarves were burning as the liquid sprayed slowly from the dark cloud; however many of the sturdy soldiers continued to battle on even through the horrific pain. The shamans took to the sanctity of the back of the Faletonian force so that they could continue to remain out of direct battle while enchanting others and casting vile magic. The Faletonian’s thought they were keeping their vulnerable divine magic users out of harm’s way. They could not anticipate that they had inadvertently positioned the shamans directly in front of Ostinus, Mikael and their hidden soldiers.

  Ostinus knew it was time. He adjusted his forearm bracers and didn’t take his eyes from the orcish priests. “We hit the Shamans now, and we hit them hard.” Ostinus said as he put his helmet over his long brown hair. He then mounted his steed with the other men and they turned their horses towards the battle. Before cresting the hill, they looked to Mikael.

  “Aye”. Replied Mikael and he spurred his horse to the top of the hill. He drew his sword and pointed it towards the backs of the unsuspecting shamans. “Let’s go men!” He screamed and thirty-six soldiers charged down the hill on their steeds. The Faletonian army hardly had a chance to react. They could not muster a defense in front of the shamans. Ostinus met the first shaman by lobbing his head clean off his neck. He swung for another but the slithering creature avoided his blade only to be trampled to death by another human rider’s horse. The trained riders all turned their horses after bursting through the first level of orcs and goblins in order to not find themselves too far into the horde. When Ostinus circled back he saw that two shamans had survived the first charge. He and several other riders quickly rode towards them.

  One of the shamans put his staff in the air and Ostinus saw something begin to appear over the orc’s head. Quickly what looked like smoke turned into a dozen small thin blades that shot into the group of riders. One blade grazed Ostinus’s shoulder, cutting through his armor but barely his flesh. Two riders to his right took the full fury of the magical blades and fell lifeless from their horses as the missiles pummeled their chests. The warrior rode on and roared as he neared the shamans who were trying to flee. Ostinus swung his blade at one orc and sliced through its back and spine. The other shaman seemed to disappear from site. Ostinus looked around for a second and could not locate the creature.

  The battle had taken a fortuitous turn for the army from the cities by the South Sea. Ostinus Deenor found himself in the center of a ferocious battle. He sliced on the right side of his horse, then left, then back to the right over and over again, each swing connecting with a foe or a foe’s parry. As his horse lost its momentum within the crowded battlefield, Ostinus made a quick decision: he would fight better off his mount rather than be constrained in the crowded battle. He leapt from his saddle and landed effortlessly on the ground. The warrior pulled his kite shaped shield in close to protect his body while pointing his sword forward over its top. One after another orcs charged the warrior. He felt his fellow human soldiers nearby, most still atop their horses. The warrior decided that he would stay defensive and let the Faletonians chaotically come at him while using his mounted colleagues to cover his flank.

  After impaling the first orc, he smashed the second with his shield. The next attacker was stopped by a crossed body slash that disemboweled the creature. As the orc collapsed, Ostinus returned to crouching behind his shield. Next two orcs attacked at the same time. The axe of one collided with Ostinus’s shield while his sword parried the sword thrust of the other. A hard kick knocked one Faletonian to the ground and a quick thrust killed the other. He felt a bump against his backside that was too low to be a horse. The warrior turned with his sword raised and pointed toward his next victim, but fortunately he was able to stop himself. Turning to him was an armored dwarven warrior with an axe in each hand, both black as death. The dwarf halted his strike as well and the two looked forward again for another enemy to slay.

  Without knowing it at first Ostinus and the dwarf had begun to fight back to back. They did not have a rhythm to their battle, but as they killed more and more enemies, they found themselves working together. From the few times that Ostinus caught a glimpse of the dwarf, he was amazed by the devastation he inflicted on the enemy. The stout warrior swung his axes with grace, power, and precision. He knew exactly how to use his shorter stature to his advantage by slashing knees and hamstrings then finishing with deathblows. At other times double axe chops buried the black axes into an orcish chest. Ostinus had no time to marvel at the dwarven warrior, but he had seen enough to know he was one of the finest fighters he had ever seen.

  After several more minutes of battle the Faletonian army began to chaotically scatter in retreat. The dwarves tried to kill as many of the fleeing enemy as possible, but would not follow them. The defeated enemy scrambled away in each direction. Somehow two giants, made it out of the city while the rest of their kin perished. They were both very wounded, although one was far worse than the other. Within the city confused but rallying human soldiers continued to slaughter the last of the remaining enemy who could not escape. Soon the only Faletonians that could be seen were in the far distance, fleeing… cowering back to wherever the other Faletonian cities were.

  Chapter 24

  When Ardius returned to his home from his surprising meeting with The Grand, he discovered that volumes of books and several scrolls were left for him inside of his house. There was no sign of how anyone had gotten in and all the doors remained locked. A letter was left on his kitchen table and listed the recommended order in which he should read the works. In addition the letter read:

  Ardius,

  I trust you understand why this process must be approached in a slow
and patient manner. Or perhaps you do not yet comprehend, which would be reasonable. It is of the utmost importance that you continue to learn all that you must learn in a disciplined and structured way. This literature is your first lesson and a valuable resource. I look forward to working with you. You will learn that magic, and our role in using it for the benefit of the Crimson Fox as well as our fine cities, is a beautiful and powerful advantage.

  Yours Truly,

  Rez Mostin

  Ardius had never actually met Rez Mostin, but he was familiar with him and was looking forward to meeting the current Magi Warden. At first he was not sure how he felt about the responsibilities that were bestowed upon him, but the more he thought of it the more comfortable he became. The readings would help affirm his feelings. He learned of the history of the realms of Herridon, which was intertwined with the origins of magic. His intrigue grew stronger and stronger and he felt himself becoming eager to learn more about both the mystical ways of the magic itself, and how he would oversee it. Although Ardius knew it was human nature to feel that way, he constantly reminded himself to proceed slowly and patiently, as was asked of him by Rez Mostin and The Grand.