Invasion (2 page)

“So what’s our next move, Supreme Mistress?” The orc General stood tall with feet together.

“I want that battering ram and two of those ballistae sent to the Gate at once with crews to operate them continuously.” Sylestra pointed to where the siege engines were being assembled. “They are to smash the wall blocking it before the dwarves can strengthen it too much.” She had no doubt that the industrious dwarves would be even now strengthening that wall and human wizards would be working non-stop on closing the Gate for good.

“But Supreme Mistress, we will need that ram here. Gnash will not be as easily penetrated as Izlalek and Ken’thor.” The General looked at her with eyes wide open as he gestured to make his point.

“No — Gnash will be even easier to penetrate and to conquer. I will do that single-handedly.” Sylestra turned away from the General. He would do as instructed. With her head held high and a slight smirk, she walked toward the high western wall of Gnash.

As she neared, she cast a spell of protection upon herself. A translucent, dirty-grey outline formed from out of her skin and continued to expand until it was about arms-length away from her body. The shield appeared to be invisibly attached to her as it shifted to accommodate her every movement.

Since she didn’t carry a banner of truce, the Black Skull weren’t obliged to remain passive and yet they did. They allowed her to walk to within twenty paces of the gates.

“I would have a word with Gilkan the Fierce One of the Black Skull tribe,” she shouted to the top of the wall.

“The Fierce One is not present at the moment.”

Sylestra located the orc that had shouted the response. He looked to be solidly built from what she could see as half his body remained hidden behind the merlon of the battlement. She made out clear enough the intertwined purple, red and yellow ribbons attached to his leather breastplate identifying him as a general.

“Well go and fetch him then,” she allowed a bit of exasperation to creep into her voice. “I’ll wait right here.”

“And who are you to be giving such demands?” The General spat the question back at her.

Sylestra’s irritation grew and was tempted to kill the orc where he stood to make an example out of him. Instead she replied in an authoritative voice, “I am Supreme Mistress Sylestra, rightful ruler of the Ta’zu tribe.”

“You’re a mere human. More likely that you’re a slave of the Ta’zu sent here to request an audience with the Fierce One while others of the tribe plan some great treachery against him. Go back and tell your masters that the Fierce One will speak with the true leader of the Ta’zu.”

Sylestra took a deep breathe to calm her rising anger.

“I am the true leader of the Ta’zu,” she screamed. “Perhaps you have noticed me flying overhead on the black wyvern? Do you think a mere slave would be given such trust or have such power? Send for him now before I strike you down where you stand.”

“Brave words for one who flies no truce banner. I only need to say the word and a hundred arrows would pierce your weak flesh in an instant.”

Sylestra took a moment to strengthen her shielding, realising he could do just that; the orc did look a little unstable. The translucent shield darkened, making everything appear grey to her eyes.

“I will count to three. If you have not sent for Gilkan by then, I will kill you,” said Sylestra in her most threatening voice.

The General laughed which proved contagious among all upon the wall.

He held up his hand to quiet the laughter, “when you reach two I will have you killed.”

Sylestra strengthened her shielding once again restricting her sight to seeing silhouettes. She kept her eyes locked on the General though.

“One.” She held her arm in the air and raised her index finger.

The General made a gesture and orcs lifted their bows and nock arrows to the strings.

“Two.” She raised her middle finger.

The General dropped his arm and countless arrows streamed toward her.  As the projectiles hit her shield they turned to ash and were swept away by the gentle breeze. The hue of her shielding lightened but it held firm against the assault.

“Three.”

The smile on the General’s face soon turned to one of disbelief and then one of panic as a black tendril shot forth from her outstretched arm, wrapped around his neck and pulled him from the wall. His pitiful scream ended as he impacted with the solid ground. Sylestra strengthened her shielding once more in case the arrows kept coming, but the archers stood there dumbfounded.

“Who is the next in command?” she shouted. “Will you now send for Gilkan and prevent any further loss of life?” All eyes turned on an orc further along the wall — likely a senior captain. He turned to an orc and barked a command and the orc ran off.

“I have sent for the Fierce One,” yelled the orc. “Arrange for a banner of truce while you wait so we can guarantee no more loss of life.”

The Captain has more common sense than the General did. Sylestra nodded and walked off.

She returned moments later with General Jak’ho on her right and a banner bearer on her left. The banner displayed the raised king cobra of her tribe but had a red flag tied to the four corners requesting a time of truce. The symbolic request was answered by a banner bearer on top of the wall displaying a black skull and also having red flags tied to each corner. A tribe would refuse a truce request by displaying black flags.

Sylestra reached the location and stopped. With still no sign of Gilkan she stood there in silence. General Jak’ho stared at the corpse of the fallen General and then turned to face her with one eyebrow raised. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him.

The awkward silence didn’t last long before Gilkan the Fierce One arrived. The leader of the Black Skull could not be mistaken as he towered above even the tallest of warriors. Sylestra had heard of his physique of course, but she had considered the reports exaggerated — this they were not.

“So the Ta’zu is led by a mere human woman?” asked Gilkan as he leaned over the merlon. “I had thought the weak human race eliminated centuries ago.”

“I assure you that they thrive among the Ta’zu and are not as weak as you would believe. Your dead general here is proof of that.”

Gilkan followed her gaze to the splattered corpse at the base of the wall and then looked back at her, narrowing his eyes.

“You take a life under the banner of truce? Do you have no honour?” he shouted angrily.

“I was under no such banner when I first approached the wall. Your general was not willing to fetch you and so he paid the price for his insolence. Before he died he ordered your archers to fire, but as you can see I remain unharmed,” explained Sylestra calmly. “That is the second of your generals I have killed today and a third has gone rogue I believe. You must be running short of leadership by now.”

“I am the leader here and I assure you that I will not be so easily killed.” Gilkan’s voice remained firm and threatening as she expected it would be.

“I hope not, mighty Gilkan, for I relish a challenge. In fact, I mean to fight you personally and that is why I summoned you. I request a Challenge Festival. The winner becomes the leader of both tribes.”

The shock of her request was voiced by all within earshot and spread along the wall. General Jak’ho even turned to her with his mouth wide open. A dismissive gesture silenced whatever complaint he meant to make. Gilkan stared at her until the noise quieted.

“You are not of the Black Skull tribe and therefore have no right of challenge,” shouted Gilkan over the remaining murmurs.

“I believe your laws make provisions for those not of the tribe if they make an offer of significant worth that the present leader is willing to accept.” She saw the disbelief in his eyes even from this distance that an outsider should know their laws so well — and a human nonetheless. “Think about it Gilkan. If you defeat me in fair combat you take control of the Ta’zu tribe — a tribe stronger than all others of this world combined.”

“And what makes you believe they will accept me as their leader? I have read all the reports of the despicable Ta’zu.” While he spoke with utter contempt, Sylestra could tell that he considered the proposal.

“The Ta’zu are honourable and will abide by an order signed by me. The question is, are you courageous enough to fight me one on one?” By questioning his courage he would have little choice but to agree to her challenge. If he didn’t agree he would be viewed as a coward and lose control of his tribe — if he wasn’t assassinated first.

“I’ve been told that you are a magic user. You do realise that no magic or enchanted weapons are allowed in a Challenge Festival?” Avoiding the comment of her questioning his courage stood out to Sylestra. Did he mean to refuse her challenge and explain it away by saying that she couldn’t be trusted not to use magic? The time had come to step it up a notch and put the pressure on him.

“Of course I’m aware of that rule. Are you aware that your city is surrounded by an army you can’t hope to defeat? If you refuse the challenge, your city will be overrun within days and I will see you killed in the most painful of ways with the use of my magic. Your options are limited Gilkan the Fierce One.” She made her voice as menacing as possible which was significant after many centuries of practice.

Gilkan’s glare intensified.

“Do you really think that you could penetrate these walls within days?” he scoffed. “Gnash is not like Izlalek or Ken’thor. It would not be as easy as you believe.”

“Nevertheless we would prevail and the Black Skull would be eliminated. It is in your power to prevent the deaths of thousands. If you truly believe humans to be weak, you should have no problem facing one in combat. I tire of this discussion. Will you accept the challenge?” She shouted the question as loudly as possible and made it carry with the help of a little magic so that all heard, not only on the wall, but her own army as well.

An eerie silence followed as Gilkan considered the question. She could tell that he remained a little sceptical of her and he no doubt considered many ways to refuse her request and control the aftermath of doing so. Eventually, though, he broke the silence. “I accept the challenge. The festival will be held tomorrow at noon.”

Sylestra scarcely controlled her smile as she walked away from the wall.

Chapter 2

Breaking Through

Master Pilk stared at the Gate which could be seen from behind as it remained pressed hard against the collapsed stone tower. The shallow cone-shape was all that the group of wizards had to target with their magic draining spells. One by one the wizards would deplete their mana and walk off to get rest. Only the strongest of them remained and there had not been any lessening of the purple hue to indicate the Gate’s diminishing magic. Was it already being strengthened from the other side or had even Great Shaman O’tukka underestimated its power?

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his musings and he turned to see Duke Angus looking at him with tired eyes. His thick black hair, which he normally kept neat, looked dishevelled and he appeared older than his forty-one years would indicate.

“You should be resting, Master Pilk,” said Duke Angus in a quiet, raspy voice. “You’ll do no good just staring at it. We need your magic above all others.”

“I understand, my lord duke, but I wanted to get an idea of how fast we are weakening it,” replied Master Pilk a little dejectedly.

“And do you have an idea yet?” asked Duke Angus with a raised eyebrow.

“Very little. We don’t seem to be weakening it at all. We could be here for a week or more and I doubt Sylestra will give us that long.” As if in answer a loud thud came from the Gate and the ground shuddered as the wall shook and small pieces crumbled from it. Master Pilk looked at the wall and back at Duke Angus. “What was that?”

“A catapult or a ballista or some other such siege engine would be my guess.” Duke Angus’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned downwards. “Could they be shooting rocks or ballista bolts at the Gate?”

“Matter cannot share the same space so indeed it would work. Magic gates transfer all matter through folded space so that an object will exit at the same speed as it entered — except in this case it is exiting right into a stone wall.” Master Pilk removed his pointy hat and scratched his head.

“Go and get some sleep Master Pilk. We may be in need of your magic very soon. Let the dwarves keep reinforcing the wall.” The stern look on the Duke’s face left no room for arguing and so Master Pilk went off to find a place to sleep.

Before he had found a suitable location in a crowded corner of what he assumed to be the place the orcs once kept their prisoners, the wall had been hit another three times. He still heard the raised voices of the dwarves as they desperately tried to strengthen the assaulted wall while he attempted to get comfortable. He lay there wondering how he would ever get any sleep amidst this racket, but eventually fatigue won out and he slept.

He awoke to a loud crash and many alarmed voices. The morning sun filtered through the many cracks in the log-formed structure which indicated that he had a good long sleep. He was stiff and sore from lying on the hard ground but otherwise well rested. The room appeared less crowded and the sleeping forms were mostly dwarves who had no doubt worked well into the night. Some of them had been startled awake as Master Pilk had, but many remained in a deep slumber.

Carefully stepping over those still sleeping, Master Pilk made his way to the door. Outside the fort was astir and he expected the worst when he caught sight of the Gate. However, no enemy had arrived. The stone wall looked to be heavily cracked with large crumbling sections hanging precariously but it still blocked the way. How many hits before that changed could likely be counted on one hand.

When he caught up with his group of wizards who were working hard at closing the Gate, he was surprised to find Great Shaman O’tukka there. The visiting wizards kept their distance from him but otherwise they seemed to be accepting his help without argument.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Master Pilk,” said Great Shaman O’tukka in his usual shrill voice.

“I could say the same of you,” replied Master Pilk. “We could have really used your help yesterday.”

“I was busy getting the refugees out of your way and ensuring they did not return here to hinder your efforts.” Great Shaman O’tukka cast another spell and hurled it at the Gate. Was it his imagination or did the Gate appear more blue than purple today? Was it possible that he hadn’t noticed the changing colour in the evening light? Or was it Great Shaman O’tukka’s substantial power that made all the difference? Either way it gave Master Pilk hope.

“How long have you been here?” he asked the Great Shaman.

“A little over an hour. Your wizard’s were already here when I arrived,” replied Great Shaman O’tukka obviously sensing what he really wanted to know.

Another loud crash sounded and a huge chunk of the wall fell away revealing the top of the Gate. Master Pilk was divided. Should he stay here to help the others drain magic or should he seek out Duke Angus and discuss counter measures? After hurling one spell he decided on the latter.

One more hit on the wall dislodged another section before Master Pilk found the Duke. As expected King Buster, General Ludko and Major Hillsworth surrounded him. They debated over whether to send a force beyond the Gate to take out the siege engines, to stay and defend this side as the enemy charges or to abandon the fort altogether before they got stuck in a battle they couldn’t win. So engrossed in conversation were they that it took them a while to even notice Master Pilk standing there trying to get a word in.

“Ah, you’re awake, Master Pilk. Any advice on what we should do?” asked Duke Angus who looked as though he had not slept at all.

Master Pilk thought for a moment, “If we abandon the fort we may not get another chance to close the Gate and we let into our world a formidable enemy —”

“Exactly what I b’en sayin’,” interrupted King Buster.

“If we stay here and try to defend while all the wizards continue to drain the magic, we may not hold out long enough to fully close it and we would be defending without magic.” Another loud crash forced Master Pilk to pause. This time a ballista bolt shot out and skipped off the debris of the wall and skewered an unfortunate dwarf who had been working on reinforcing it.

“Seal th’ breach. Keep alert and get a cleric here.” King Buster ran over to the fallen dwarf.

Duke Angus watched the dwarven king drop to his knees and tend to his fallen kin before turning his attention back to Pilk, “so you think we should send a force and try to deal with the siege engines?”

“I think it’s our only hope” — Master Pilk dragged his eyes away from the sad scene by the Gate and looked at the Duke — “as slim as it is.”

“Send a scout first so we know what we’re up against.” Major Hillsworth stepped put his hand on the Duke’s shoulder.

After a solemn nod from the Duke, the Major sprang into action.  The selected soldier waited until the next bolt hit before proceeding. That bolt hit lower and all but shattered the rest of the wall. The dwarves scattered and retrieved their weapons. Reinforcing the wall was no longer an option.

The scout returned in an instant and announced that there were a few small siege crews on the other side. He couldn’t say for sure whether there were more amongst the fort or further back as he had been spotted right away and returned in haste.

“Well, they be knowin’ the Gate’s open again now, so we best be actin’ quick,” said King Buster loudly. With no forthcoming argument he set about organising a strike force. Master Pilk went to join the gathering force until a hand grabbed him and turned him around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Duke Angus.

“They may need magic or at least protection from magic,” replied Master Pilk.

“They’re dwarves. They have a natural resistance to magic and they are going ahead to buy you time to close that thing.” The Duke pointed at the Gate. “So make their effort count for something.”

Master Pilk wasn’t accustomed to seeing Duke Angus so agitated, but realised his lack of sleep and the extreme stress of the situation had him on edge so he obeyed without complaint. He joined the other wizards around behind the Gate so that he wouldn’t get in the way or be suddenly confronted with a charging enemy. Master Tayer had arrived and he knew what that must mean.

“Did you bring back Cressida?”

“She is here and tending to Decker as we speak.” Master Tayer turned back toward the Gate, extended his arm and released a burst of bright green energy.

Master Pilk breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone could heal the critically injured ranger it was his sister. How his good friend had managed to survive the attack from the undead masses was beyond him.

General Ludko led the company of dwarves. His two battle axes in his hands in the blink of eye and he charged with a primal roar. The sun was just rising on this world and so it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the change in light. When they did he noticed a ballista aimed at him, loaded and ready to fire. He dived and rolled just in time but some of his kin were not so lucky.

He jumped to his feet again in one fluid motion and ran on. The ballista crew had no chance to reload and so they abandoned their siege weapon and armed themselves with great axes. General Ludko ducked under the wild swing aimed to decapitate him and imbedded one of his own axes in the orc’s loins. The impact jarred his arm and stopped his momentum but had the orc collapsing in an instant.

The other dwarves had caught up to him by then and shielded him from an attack made by the following orc. Unable to retract his swing in time to deflect the follow-up attack by a third dwarf, the orc died with an axe in his chest. By the time General Ludko had recovered from his minor skirmish the orcs were in full retreat with dwarves hot on their heels.

“Burn th’ siege engines,” he shouted to the torch bearers who were bringing up the rear. Seeing them react to his order he sped off in pursuit of the fleeing orcs.

By the time he had reached the other side of the camp, all but two orcs had been slain. The other two were well away — they must have started running before the fight even started.

“Don’t be persuin’,” he shouted at his kin speeding off after them. “You’ll ne’er catch’em ‘n’ likely run into trouble.”

“Would’ve bin nice ta ‘ave Decker with’s right now,” said a dwarf coming up to stand beside him. Indeed it would have. His mighty bow would have had the two orcs dead in no time. He nodded to the dwarf and then ordered them all back to the Gate.

“Get this hole bricked up,” he shouted when he had exited the Gate. Dwarves jumped at his command and started running about collecting all the material they could find.

“Are there any enemy left on the other side, General?” asked Duke Angus.

“No’ as far as th’ eye can see,” he replied.

“Then maybe we’d be better served by sending a company through and back again continually to help drain the magic. Anything we try to build now won’t be strong enough to last very long if they return with more ballistae.” The Duke paced back and forth with his hand on his chin.

“P’hap’s we can be doin’ both,” replied General Ludko. “We can be buildin’ a mobil’ plug like we did in Arthea. As soon as they be showin’ their ugly noggin’s again, we can withdraw an’ push th’ plug in place.”

“Do it,” replied the Duke.

General Ludko immediately sought out Nardo, his chief engineer, and explained what he wanted while the Duke arranged a company of soldiers to march through the Gate.

Decker slowly opened his eyes and a blurry image of fluffy white clouds in a rich blue sky came into view along with a very bright sun which had him closing his eyes once more.