Invasion (10 page)

“A leader has to be consistent or risk an uprising for being unjust. I can make an exception but I would have to justify it.” She retrieved her dagger and broken sword. “Perhaps I could spare his life if you and all your friends swear allegiance to me.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Gerard gritted his teeth.

“Think about it, Gerry.” She took delight as he cringed at her using his nickname. “Even you said that escaping is impossible. So surely you would find it more comfortable living in the Palace than the slave compounds. I’ll give you until tomorrow night to think about it.”

“I wanna talk to Jeff,” he replied after a pause.

“I’ll have you escorted to him, but tomorrow night he will be sacrificed if you have not agreed. Talk it over with your friends.” Sylestra placed the snapped training sword in a barrel meant for broken weapons and selected another. “Now, let us train.”

Chapter 9

Battle

Master Pilk hesitated when he saw what came from the Gate and it almost cost him his life as a crossbow bolt missed his head by a hair’s breadth.

Two worgs were pulling a heavily armoured wooden cart and orcs were firing crossbows from narrow slits. Archers fired from the walls of the fort and the worgs went down with a howl but they still managed to pull the cart well clear of the Gate and trampled a good few soldiers in the process.

The back of the cart burst open and orc warriors charged out to be met by their own soldiers. The sound of battle erupted as sword and axe clashed and screams emerged from the dying.

Master Pilk fired a chain lightning spell at the group of orcs and those not killed by it were sufficiently wounded or distracted to be finished off by the defenders. But more carts were coming and the archers weren’t able to take all the beasts down.

Pilk stood a long way from the section of wall set aside for his wizards and the space between became full of combatants. Not thrilled with the idea of wasting his mana in such a way but he had little choice. Picking out a vacant spot on the wall, he summoned a magic Gate and entered.

“Direct all fireballs at those carts,” he shouted as he collapsed the Gate behind him. Almost immediately his wizards let loose with fireball spells and obliterated the closest cart.

Pilk shook his head.

“Talk to each other and pick out different targets so we don’t waste spells.” Another round of fireballs went off and this time three carts were incinerated but many more followed. The scattered debris hindered their progress. An idea came to Pilk.

“On my count, hurl a fireball at the Gate,” he said to the wizard standing next to him. Pilk watched the Gate and counted the spacing between the carts in his head. When satisfied that they were consistently spaced he counted down from three out loud and on his word the wizard next to him unleashed a fireball at the same time as Pilk.

The fireball peas singed the hair of the worgs and struck the driver’s cabin simultaneously and erupted. The explosion freed the worgs from the cart and sent them into a wild frenzy while the cart continued to burn by the Gate.

A few seconds later Pilk’s efforts were rewarded as the next cart came and crashed into the burning debris. The flaming worgs howled and sought out enemies but collapsed before doing so.

His celebration didn’t last long as a fireball hurtled toward him. His shout of warning couldn’t be heard over the noise of the explosion beneath their feet and Pilk found himself flying through the air.

He landed with a thud not far from another wizard. His dome of protection saved him from any severe damage but the wizard near him had not enacted his shielding as he lay broken and smouldering on the ground. A quick check confirmed that he was dead.

“Make sure you have your shielding in place,” shouted Pilk in an attempt to avoid more such occurrences. It was a common mistake for wizards not accustomed to battle situations but he thought he had repeated the warning enough times earlier.

Obviously not.

The shaman that hurled the fireball had been a powerful one as a huge section of wall where Pilk had been lay shattered on the ground and flame had caught hold on either side of the gap.

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 well 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.