Invasion Page 10

  He hurried back through that gap to locate the shaman responsible.

  Too late.

  The shaman darted through the still burning debris and disappeared. Soon after, the sound of battle ceased as the last of the enemy had been slain.

  The silence proved short-lived as a group of shamans exited and cast their spells. One formed a rain cloud over the Gate which promptly put out the fire while another blasted the fragile debris with lightning bolts. The others sent off offensive spells in all directions which had the defenders running for cover.

  Archers shot at them and wizards hurled their spells but their magical shields held firm until they vanished back through the Gate. Within moments the carts came on again.

  Pilk’s wizards were becoming more organised in selecting their attacks and so the first four carts were blown apart by various spells. Orcs inside survived so the fighting erupted once again.

  Shamans came next and started hurling spells at the wizards, forcing them off the wall and behind any available cover.

  Carts continued unhindered and soon the defenders were being pushed back.

  Master Pilk picked out his targets but with so many defenders in the mix he could no longer use any area-of-effect spells. The other problem he had was that he now stood very much by himself, separated from the bulk of the army by a vicious melee.

  It didn’t take long for a group of orcs to realise this and charge his position. Being a veteran wizard, Pilk did not panic but rather stood his ground, pulled out one of his many wands from his belt, pointed it at the centre of the group and released the energy it held.

  A small pea of fire shot from the end of the wand and struck the leading orc where it exploded in a massive fireball and incinerated the lot of them.

  “Well they made that easy for me,” he said to himself with a chuckle. His mirth soon ceased as the smoke cleared, revealing another group of orcs closing in fast and one raised his crossbow.

  Master Pilk threw the expended wand and ran while he reached for another. He heard the crossbow fire and sensed the impact against his shielding. A look over his shoulder revealed that the orcs were gaining fast.

  The time had come to make his stand.

  He stopped and turned, levelling the wand at the attackers. With looks of utter fear plastered on their faces they scattered and started running. Not wanting to waste his wand on the segmented group he placed it back in his belt with a satisfied harrumph. Then he heard the noise behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw a mass of charging orcs.

  His knees went weak.

  The words of a magical gate spell were on his lips until he recognised the orc leading the charge — General Krak’too. These orcs were on his side.

  “Looks like we arrived just in time, Master Pilk.” General Krak’too ran right by him with his magical falchions at the ready.

  “I had matters well in hand,” shouted Pilk after him. He let the leading orcs run right by him and then he turned and followed their charge. The sound of battle amplified as General Krak’too’s orcs met the invaders.

  Master Pilk ducked off to the side as he re-entered the fort through the shattered wall and behind a burning building. He found a few of his wizards there and rallied them to him.

  “Don’t you think it’s time for us to leave, Master Pilk?” said one of them as he drew near.

  “Certainly not. The situation has just swung back in our favour.” Master Pilk smiled as the wizard looked around him and then back at Pilk with a raised eyebrow.

  “There’ll be nothing left of the fort in short order,” said the wizard.

  “A necessary outcome for us in any event,” replied Pilk. “Our new orc friends have arrived. Pick your targets carefully.”

  “And how are we to tell them apart? They all look the same to me,” replied one of the other wizards.

  “You can see their armour is different. The leather cuirass of the Ta’zu covers the groin with those leather straps and the sleeves aren’t as long.” Master Pilk pointed to the closest Ta’zu orc who got cut down by General Krak’too as he spoke which brightened the glow of his falchions. Pilk knew what would follow next for he had seen the mighty General fight before. Sure enough Krak’too slapped his blades together and a stream of blue rings emanated from the tips of the weapons.

  The rings struck the lead orc with a crack and threw him back into the pack knocking three of them down. Krak’too charged at them and started cutting them apart in the confusion.

  “Thank goodness that one is on our side,” said the wizard next to him.

  Master Pilk agreed.

  “However, our main concern is those shamans.” Pilk nodded in the direction of the Gate where a cluster of shamans had gathered, hurling their spells with wild abandon. “Are you ready for a spell-battle, gents?” After a few reluctant nods he led them around the perimeter of the fighting until they had a clear shot at the group while maintaining a degree of cover themselves behind a shattered building.

  “On my count unleash your most powerful targeted spells on that shaman closest to us,” said Pilk as he ducked behind the broken timber again. “Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Now!” All five wizards rose in unison and sent spells of all kinds hurtling toward the nearest shaman. His shield held against the first three but the other two penetrated and blasted the shaman into others interrupting their spells. The smouldering corpse of the shaman would never rise again.

  One shaman not knocked to the ground replied soon after with a fireball in their direction but the wizards dived to the side and the fireball hit nothing but the remnants of the building they were hiding behind.

  “Again!” shouted Pilk as the wizards regained their feet. Another round of spells shot forth from the wizards’ fingers and pounded into a shaman picking himself up off the ground. The rest of them ran for the Gate but were bombarded with spells from another group of wizards led by Master Tayer. Any that weren’t killed by spells were finished off by arrows.

  Before long the attackers were in a full retreat but with the help of General Krak’too’s orcs few escaped.

  Sylestra looked at the encampment from Zaydok’s back and knew at once that things weren’t going well. With a thought she commanded the mighty black wyvern to land and soon found General Jak’ho.

  “Why are we still on this side of the Gate?” she screamed at him.

  General Jak’ho took a step back. “The humans and dwarves are resourceful and now General Krak’too has joined the fray. The advantage is all theirs as we have one way to attack them.”

  “Excuses! Nothing but excuses. We outnumber them many times over. Keep sending warriors, give them no time to rest and they will tire and fall or be forced to retreat.” Sylestra gestured forcefully as she spoke and the General took another step back.

  “Th . . . They have powerful magic,” stammered General Jak’ho.

  “So do we! And their wizards will also eventually tire.”

  “But we need to keep adding power to the Gate or risk it collapsing on us and our necromancers have no power on the other side.”

  “Our necromancers have wands aplenty and they retain their power on Ka’ton. Send shamans to shield them and give them a chance to wreak havoc. Must I think of everything?” Sylestra stormed off.

  “As you wish, Supreme Mistress,” she heard him say as she hurried off in search of her highest ranking necromancer.

  She found her in short order looking bored around a camp fire. Urzal was a half-orc with the human genes being most dominant. Her face looked almost entirely human with the exception of her larger than normal ears and greenish tinged skin. Her black hair looked wiry like an orc’s but she kept it neat and well oiled. She wore the standard black robes of a necromancer with her blood diamond brooch pinned to her breast and the blood diamond ring most prominent on the middle finger of her right hand. She rose and bowed her head as Sylestra approached.

  “I need you to gather ten of our most capable necromancers and be sure they are w
ell equipped with sleeping-cloud wands. Have them report to General Jak’ho at once.”

  “They are going through, Supreme Mistress?” asked Urzal with a twinkle in her eye.

  “They are. It’s time we take ownership of what is ours.”

  “May I be one of the ones to go?” Urzal asked humbly.

  “It will be very dangerous, but that choice I will leave to you.” Sylestra knew what that choice would be. Urzal loved to be in the thick of battle. It is perhaps her most predominant orcish quality.

  “I’ll see to it at once, Supreme Mistress.” Urzal scurried off.

  Chapter 10

  Organised Retreat

  O’tukka looked around at Fort Dega. They had put so much work into this fort over the past weeks, preparing it for an outside attack. Now it had been attacked from the inside. Had they anticipated this eventuality weeks ago they could have been far better prepared.

  The humans and dwarves had done a marvellous job in the short time they had but it would not last. The size of their opposition and the power they controlled was too much. Most of the buildings near the Gate had been destroyed and fires still burnt on others.

  Tired looking faces confronted him wherever he looked and the injured were once again piling up and being prepared for the journey back to Arthea. The dead, too many of them, would not return.

  He had not wasted many spells so far, knowing that his power would soon be needed. The last two assaults had been nothing but testing the water. The major assault would come soon and then the defenders would be most reliant on his spells as all the other magic users would be all but exhausted.

  A warning shout alerted him that time may be upon him. Looking toward the Gate he saw ten necromancers step out accompanied by a shaman.

  “Get back!” he shouted. “Ranged attacks only.”

  His words were heeded too late.

  The necromancers pointed their wands and let loose the power within. The Gate became hidden behind a cloud of blackness and a cacophony of coughing came from within.

  When the cloud had cleared it revealed the ground carpeted with collapsed men and dwarves and by the Gate, nothing. The necromancers and shamans had vanished.

  Shortly after, worg carts sped through and drove over the top of the sleeping army. The carts were accompanied by a mix of worg riders, necromancers, shamans, crossbow orcs and warriors.

  This would be it. This would be the major assault and the defenders could not hope to stem the flow. O’tukka’s arms went into motion, stirring up the magical power within and calling upon the blessing of Gr’guck. Palm out and fingers heavenward he extended his arm and let loose the sonic rings he conjured. Gradually growing in circumference, they were half the size of the cart when they collided into its side and blew it off its wheels, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces while the occupants were thrown through the air as the rings continued on.

  The exploding cart attracted the attention of a group of shamans and O’tukka had to take evasive action as a flurry of magical attacks came his way. He recognised every one of them and it appeared obvious they recognised him as they scattered like ants when he released his counter attack. Even still his fireball weakened their shielding and when he followed it by a colour spray, hundreds of small coloured energy balls found their mark and burnt into flesh.

  Three shamans collapsed and rolled around in agony and were soon finished off by soldiers. Those men were then enveloped with a black cloud.

  “Don’t breathe it in!” shouted O’tukka. “And get out of it as soon as you can.”

  Some soldiers at least must have heeded his advice as they came running out the back of the fog. A couple of them looked a little groggy and were soon helped away by others.

  The necromancers would be limited to the wands they carried with them, but that would still be devastating enough. One good thing about the sleeping clouds was that the attackers couldn’t run through them either without being affected in some way so it forced them into a bottleneck again where a barrage of arrows and spells rained down upon them.

  Knowing that beyond the black fog would be crowded with the enemy and any friendly soldier still within the cloud would be fast asleep, O’tukka hurled one of his powerful fireballs into it. The effort was rewarded by many screams and shouts. He moved to a new location in case any spells were sent back toward him, but none came.

  The black fog dissipated revealing a quick moving shield wall. Often a brief hole would be opened up and a crossbow bolt fired out. O’tukka retreated to a better vantage point. He picked a spot on the wall near the main fort entrance and used a magical gate.

  “Hurry. Everyone through,” he said to a group of nearby wizards. Once they were all through he closed the gate behind him, picked out two wizards and took them up the closest tower to get a better look at what transpired.

  It did not look good.

  Their front line had been breached in a few locations and skirmishes were breaking out all over the fort.

  Chaos now reigned.

  Worgs were running free with or without their riders and devouring all in their path.

  Even more troublesome were the necromancers. They were releasing all manner of spells from their wands. Men rotted away to bone where they stood or broke out in painful blisters. Acid spewed forth from wands burning into the tender flesh of all unfortunate enough to be in the way.

  “Target the necromancers!” shouted O’tukka at the wizards below. “Coordinate your attacks to breach their shields.”

  Heeding his own advice, he picked out a target and pointed the black cloaked figure out to the wizards by his side. On the count of three they all unleashed lightning bolts and were rewarded with a minor penetration of the Necromancer’s shielding. It had been enough to knock the orc over but not kill him. An archer finished the job.

  Despite their best efforts the attackers kept coming in great numbers and the defenders were tiring quickly. So Duke Angus’s call for the first stage retreat did not surprise O’tukka.

  He was impressed as he observed the defenders give ground in an organised retreat to Fort Dega’s entrance and all breaches in the wall. Archers and wizards focused their attacks on the pursuing army to give them the time they needed. Men with tall shields and long pikes closed in behind the last of them and stood their ground against the attackers.

  “Fire archers ready!” yelled Duke Angus. On the walls surrounding the fort, archers set fire to their arrows. “Loose!”

  The air filled with burning arrows.

  The first explosion almost knocked him off the tower.

  He hadn’t even noticed the barrels earlier but he did now, moments before they were struck with fire arrows and exploded with a bang.

  The heat became too intense and men, dwarves and orcs jumped from the wall to escape it. O’tukka formed a gate and hurried through it with the two wizards.

  Fort Dega became a massive inferno and the screams of the dying within soon faded. Wounded defenders were carried off by any means possible, while archers moved as close to the towering flames as possible with soldiers close behind them.

  The defenders were preparing for the next round.

  O’tukka watched with interest at the discipline and organisation of the humans and dwarves. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it, but he now saw it from their perspective.

  He remembered when the dwarves risked their lives in retrieving and helping their injured kin after his earthquake spell opened the ground beneath them.

  He observed how the humans were willing to defend Fort Lowmount to the last man and how costly their defence had been on the little orcs of Ka’ton. He didn’t doubt that without the aid of General Krak’too, the humans would have successfully repelled the attack on that fort as they did with Arthea.

  He also witnessed how human and dwarf worked together as a unit to fight their way to freedom against the army of the Red Axe. Their selflessness in battle made them strong. Like General Krak’too, O’tukka had a
lways considered that a weakness but he now knew better.

  Knowing that it’d be some time until the flames died down enough for the next assault, O’tukka went off to find a place to rest.

  “You’ve been given visiting rights I see,” said Jeff as Gerard approached his cell.

  “Yes I have, but I doubt for long so I’d better get to the point.” Gerard moved up close to the bars and beckoned Jeff to do likewise. “We have until tomorrow night to swear fealty to Sylestra or you’ll be sacrificed.”

  “Well that is to the point. You couldn’t have broken it to me a little gentler?” Jeff smiled a crooked smile.

  “Is there a gentler way?” asked Gerard.

  Jeff chuckled. “I forgot who I was talking to. So I guess I’d better make peace with all my demons then?”

  “I won’t let you be sacrificed to a wicked goddess,” replied Gerard a little louder than he intended.

  “So you’ll submit to that wicked goddess’s rule instead?”

  “I’ll do neither. We just have to move our escape plans ahead a little and change a few details.”

  “A little?” asked Jeff incredulously. “We were perhaps weeks away from any semblance of a plan. An escape attempt now will be expected, which will make it harder to pull off. You know this, Gerry. It’s suicide for all of us.”

  “You leave the details to me and be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  “It’s not as if I have anything to pack,” replied Jeff with a chuckle. Typical Jeff humour when in trying situations.

  “I need to know if you discovered a way out in that tunnel you found.”

  “Perhaps, but you’re going to need a hammer and chisel and a good length of rope. A couple of dwarves for working the rock wouldn’t go astray either.”

  “Can you tell me how to get there?” asked Gerard.

  “How good’s your memory, old fella?”

  “Good enough.”

  “The fort is burning. The flames are too hot for us to make it through and would group us together to be slaughtered anyhow.” General Jak’ho grimaced as he spoke.