Dragon Alliance Dark Storm : Dark Storm (70 page)

As the elves passed through the now-formed weir’s infantry and dwarf line, Eldir stopped to give Pekram and Dorin the report of what had happened and to inform them happily that they had one less battalion to worry about. Both Weirleaders briefly smiled at that knowledge, but this was interrupted by a giant-thrown boulder that crashed fifty yards in front of them. Dorin looked at Pekram and acknowledged that it would be up to them to take care of those giants who got past the archers and land dragons and without the weir council, Mkel, and Gallanth; this might be a tough fight. The screams and war cries of the Morgathians, orcs, and grummish then echoed from around the bend in the road.

“Hold steady, boys! It’s just them spouting off. Shooters, get ready. Gemorg, Hartsean, the first fight goes to you. Even the odds for us!” Pekram shouted out to the sharpshooter section’s two leaders, who gave sectors of fire and target priorities to their marksmen. Those specialized sharpshooters were firing from three wagons, so they could shoot from a raised prone position. The crossbowmen of the weir’s infantry company would fire into the charging enemy formation for simplicity, but with their new, more powerful repeating crossbows, they would be able to pour a murderous fire into the Morgathians. As the enemy rounded the bend in the road approximately two hundred yards away, the sharpshooter section and the ballistae started to fire into their ranks. Over a dozen immediately fell as the small, fast bolts sank through the Morgathian and orc chain mail and lighter armor. The ballista gunners sought out the giants and ogres to hit or fired explosive-tipped spears into the enemy ranks. The infantry’s crossbows then started to fire rapidly at the Morgathians and were able to keep up a steady volume of bolts, almost equal to the elves’ rate of fire. Most were penetrating even through the Morgathian shields, especially as they drew closer. This advantage impressed even Pekram, who was always skeptical of such new devices. If they would have had the elf archers behind the dwarves, they could have likely stopped the rushing enemy column. However, he was satisfied with the fact that they had reduced the numbers of the enemy regiment by almost half as the Morgathians had to climb over piles of their own dead and wounded.

One common giant broke through the Morgathian line and charged the weir’s troops at a full run. All the sharpshooters keyed in on him, and soon, he was riddled with bolts that were sinking in past the fletching. Being hit with dozens of bolts finally took its toll, and he was brought to his knees with a final shot from Hartsean through his right eye, which killed the brute. This distraction allowed the Morgathians and orcs to sprint the final fifty yards with either raised swords and weapons or spears poised for the rush.

The Morgathian commander was amazed at the intensity of the barrage of bolts and arrows his men and orcs were receiving. They were firing as fast as elves, and for a moment, they had even stopped his regiment’s charge with the sheer firepower. They had a hard time climbing over the bodies and wounded that were piling up at the front of the assault, and these were men, not elves, firing at them. Nonetheless, he had his death knights and giants push the column forward for the only way to silence those crossbowmen was to put a spear in them. He then ordered two companies to backtrack and come around to the rear of this stubborn Alliance makeshift battalion, for even though he hated to admit it, he knew that the Alliance Army and especially the dwarf shield formation was very difficult to break.

Pekram shouted for the infantry and the dwarves to hold their shields locked and brace for the impact with spears ready. As the enemy soldiers and orcs reached their line, Pekram shouted, and they all thrust their spears at once, which skewered the majority of those at the front of the charge. They then quickly withdrew their spears and took the impact of the rushing army on their shields. The weir’s line was barely nudged backward due to the Morgathians losing their momentum from the crossbow fires over the shoulders of the line infantry. As the orcs tried to break a hole in the row of Alliance shields, they were cut down. The Morgathians and even the grummish had similar luck, and the grinding fight was on.

Pekram walked back and forth just behind his soldiers, giving them encouragement and sundering an orc or Morgathian soldier that had managed to gain even a notion of an upper hand against one of the weir infantrymen. The dwarves needed no such reinforcement, for this was the fight they were made for. Just as the senior Draden Weir sergeant thought that they could withstand the odds set against them, he heard the shouts of the two companies of orcs and Morgathians moving in behind them. He looked back to see the black-armored Morgathian soldiers and hideous insect like orcs running to the rear of his line, weapons raised as they sprinted.

This caught the two platoons of elves that were making their way back to the fight, and they began firing at one of the companies that split to pursue them. They were raking the two hundred enemy soldiers and orcs that were advancing toward them back to the support corps assembly area, but they seemed determined to fight to the finish. The other two-hundred-man strong company blindly rushed to the rear of the Draden Weir line. The crossbowmen shifted and started to fire as fast as they could into the charge and did inflict dozens of casualties. This slowed them down enough for Pekram and Dorin to split the line and initiate the turnstile defense with the employment of second platoon and the elf infantry platoon, which were now committed. They were fighting literally in two opposite directions with the line only two men deep now, front and back. Pekram knew his men would tire quickly this way, but he had no choice. The land dragons and their crews were barely able to incinerate and fire enough ballista spears to keep the ogres and common giants at bay, so they could not break the infantry’s line with their strength and size.

Beckann hurled a fireball, and Watterseth cast a searing light spell at the attacking enemy company, just over the heads of the elves, who were managing an organized retrograde. This blew two holes in the attacking enemy’s charge but didn’t seem to deter them. By the time the elf archers rejoined the support corps assembly area, Captain Vicasek and Lieutenants Willaward and Clydown had formed a wall with their floating wagons and catapult sections and were ready to defend it. The crossbowmen of those sections were adding to the elf archers’ fire to devastating results. When the fight went hand-to-hand, the Morgathians and orcs had been reduced to less than half, which made the odds just about even. From atop the wagons, they had the advantage of the high ground and used their long spears to good effect, as well as the continued fire from the crossbowmen led by Milljim and the elf archers.

An ogre managed to knock a sapper and a support corps soldier off of one of the wagons with a lucky swipe and jumped up on top. When he leaped down to the other side looking for someone to fight, he was met by Watterseth, who struck him in the side with his powerful mace. With a clap of thunder, the nine-foot-tall creature was sent sprawling to the ground. The impact against its dirty brownish hide armor by the powerful dragonstone holy mace sealed its fate.

Beckann then reared her unicorn up and jumped over the lower part of one of the catapults. The large, white-horned horse knocked over several orcs in the process. She raised her staff, its dragonstone glowing in an intense, scintillating blue. With her bright violet eyes focused, she cast an ice storm spell that covered a forty-by-forty-yard area in a barrage of ice crystals and frost rays. This effectively wiped out two-thirds of the remaining enemy. Willaward and Clydown then led a countercharge against the thirty-six Morgathians and orcs that were left and quickly killed or captured all of them.

Pekram and Lieutenant Ablich were barely able to keep the two-front fight going, even as the odds were starting to even. The crossbowmen and sharpshooter sections were delivering a steady, accurate, and deadly fire on the Morgathian regiment, but they were slowly taking a few casualties themselves and were running low on bolts. Each man out of the fight was felt. Pekram thought to himself that if they could just hold on a little while longer, the elves would be back or Mkel and Gallanth could break from the fight above to hit the Morgathians one good time and allow the weir to gain the upper hand.

He then saw an orc in the company to their rear take an arrow in the back, and then another orc was hit. A magic missile hit a Morgathian in the head, knocking him over. Beckann, the elves, and the sappers had arrived. Lenor’s knights then charged in from the flank of the Morgathians to the weir’s front and began to whittle them down. “Yes!” Pekram spoke out loud as he turned and thrust his large, two-handed sword into the chest of an orc that was about to hit one of his men on the shoulder. “This fight is ours now!” he shouted out for his men to hear him.

“By Tiamat, how did their support soldiers defeat a whole company of my men and orcs,” the Morgathian commander cursed.

“Sergeant, send in the blood-seekers, and, Togart, unchain your giants. We must break them now or the momentum is lost!” the death knight shouted out his orders, and the four-armed hybrid demonic orc creatures let off their chains charged toward the Alliance line. The eighteen-foot-tall mountain giant Togart lifted his eight-foot-long gargantuan spiked mace and shouted to the common giants in his command to attack, and all ten remaining roared and charged the Alliance line.

Pekram looked at the force that was charging at his men and turned his head to see Dorin doing the same. The red-haired dwarf clan leader nodded; they were both thinking the same thing. Pekram shouted up to Lieutenant Wheelor, “Lieutenant, we must face this head-on. We can’t let them hit the garrison directly. Not that many!”

“You’re right, Senior Sergeant; Mateolex, have Strongst and Shantor stay on line with Breigor and Valkuran. We’ll bowl through these four-armed insects and head off those giants. Watch out for that mountain giant, they are very nimble for their size and are very strong. Dragons forward!” he shouted to ready his four-land-dragon platoon for the attack and to signal the infantry to make breaks in their line to let them through. Pekram and Dorin stepped out and started to move toward the rushing blood-seekers as the four land dragons trotted through the line and began their charge toward the giants.

They fired all four ballistae, which exploded in the midsections of four of the giants. This was immediately followed up with blasts of fire from all four land dragons, which hit those same brutes, slaying all four. Pekram and Dorin moved together and hacked through the rushing blood-seekers on their way to the giants. All the land dragons grabbed a common giant in their jaws as they met. The crews were frantically trying to reload their ballistae, but one giant managed to hit the armored carrier on top of Valkuran, which crushed the side and knocked Bleilou and Knisfran down in the process.

Pekram and Dorin attacked the giant beside Valkuran, and with two well-placed strikes on the giant’s legs, brought him to his knees. The angry common giant made a clumsy swing at Dorin, who just managed to dodge the oversized club. It hit the concrete of the street instead and cracked it. Pekram stepped in and with a powerful downward swing severed the giant’s right arm at the elbow. As the brute reared back, roaring in pain, Dorin threw his mithril ax, which deeply embedded itself in the giant’s protruding forehead killing him instantly. He fell forward at their feet. They looked at each other and smiled for a second but were interrupted by the mountain giant’s huge spiked mace, which hit Pekram full in the chest, sending him flying against the front of the nearest building. The mountain giant’s backswing hit Dorin’s raised shield, but the agile dwarf maneuvered just enough to take only part of the impact on his mithril shield as he rolled away.

The gray-colored giant shoulder-blocked Valkuran, making her stagger to the right to avoid falling over. Just as he raised his mace to strike the land dragon in the head, a sunburst beam hit him in the side, knocking him over. He rose to see Beckann, mounted on Desiran, facing him, her staff glowing with power. His side was smoking and charred from the deadly beam of light, but he raised his hand and cast a lightning bolt at her. He was a rare mountain giant sorcerer but of only moderate magical power. The bolt was absorbed by her shield, as she prepared to cast her next spell.

Pekram got up and shook himself off. His mithril breastplate armor had saved his life, but it was cracked, attesting to the sheer physical strength of the mountain giant. This would not go unanswered, he thought, and ran back toward the large giant now fighting with Beckann. The elf wizard cast a lightning bolt that the giant partially blocked with his mace, but the weapon was severed in the process and the remaining energy hit him in the chest. He fell to his knees, as he was injured, and did not see Pekram come up from his side. Pekram thrust his forty-plus-inch blade into his ribcage and give it a twist that likely severed his heart; the giant finally collapsed. Pekram put his foot on the giant’s side and pulled his sword out, the dark-green blood dripping from the large blade. Just as he made sure the giant was slain, a magic missile hit him in the chest, partially penetrating the cracked armor.

The pain burned deep into his abdomen as he looked to see a Morgathian sorcerer staring at him. He fired another missile, and this one hit him in almost the same place, burning deeper into his diaphragm. Pekram, in a rage, charged the sorcerer, who was about thirty yards away. Beckann could not get a clean shot at the Morgathian, for the company senior weir sergeant was directly between them. Knowing that another magic missile would likely not stop the Alliance fighter, the sorcerer prepared his most deadly spell and cast the dark beam of the death ray at Pekram. If his mithril armor had been intact, the beam would have been deflected, but it found its mark.

Pekram fell at the sorcerer’s feet, which brought a smile to his tanned face; his thin mustache curled with his evil smile at his victory. Pekram stirred and tried to get up, which amazed the Talon apprentice, who prepared a final magic missile to finish his opponent off. A spear then came streaking from overhead and just cut into his right arm, which was holding his staff. This gave Pekram the distraction he needed, and he thrust his sword up into the sorcerer’s stomach. The silvery mithril blade came out his upper back. Gimbelon knew that the sorcerer’s shield would be down when he was casting a new spell and took advantage of it. His aim was off, but it was a seventy-yard throw.