melting the iron. A cloud of heat blew down the street, killing fifty of his soldiers that could not escape in time. Antonil slammed his sword against his shield, even as his men scattered and broke ranks.
“To me!” he shouted. “Form up! To me!”
With pure will, Antonil gathered his army and reformed their ranks before the shattered remnants of the gate. They saw the ring of servants of Karak, and behind, the horde of orcs with their banners waving in the morning sun.
“As long we hold breath our city will not fall,” Antonil shouted, ignoring the quaking fear in his heart. “As long as we hold firm, our enemy will break. Stand, men, stand!”
Lathaar held his sword high, as did Jerico with his shield. Their light shone across the soldiers, and as the two paladins prayed the soldier’s fear melted like snow within a fire.
“If your heart is with Ashhur, then death holds no sway against you!” Jerico shouted. “Accept the light and fight the darkness!”
Their fear was great, but the light was greater. Their ranks tightened. Their swords stopped their shaking. Ready to fight, ready to die, the men at the western gate waited.
A urelia prevented the attack from being the disaster it should have been. As the comet of fire burned through the hyena-men and slammed against the gate, she leapt from the wall. She had no time to levitate, no time to think. She collapsed from the impact, and her teeth bit down hard on her tongue. Head bent, blood in her mouth, she raised her hands and summoned a shield of magic. She prayed it would be enough.
The fire burst through, shards of wood and iron exploding inward. Aurelia screamed, unable to hold the shield. But then Tarlak summoned an enormous blast of air from the ground before her, pushing the fire and shrapnel to the sky. Harruq ran to her side, ignoring Sergan’s cries for order. As he sheathed his swords and took her into his arms, he saw hundreds of hyena-men yipping at him with hungry eyes. The gate was down, and their way was clear. Harruq ran to the side while the soldiers of Neldar collided with the claws and teeth of their attackers.
“I’ll protect her until she’s ready,” Tarlak said as he hovered down beside them with a levitation spell. “Get yourself into the fight.”
Harruq turned to the chaos of steel, fur, and muscle.
“With pleasure,” he growled.
He let out a roar, his adrenaline taking over. He charged the gate. Soldiers had surrounded the entrance so that any hyena-men who entered found a circle of steel waiting. The hyena-men were dying far more than the humans, but sheer numbers pushed them back. Then Harruq joined. He slammed his way past the Veldaren soldiers, having no fear for the claws of his enemy. Salvation and Condemnation drank freely as he sliced and chopped. He did not retreat as the other soldiers did. Instead he waded forward, slaughtering any who met his charge.
“Hot damn,” Sergan shouted, witnessing Harruq in action. “Now that’s fighting!”
Not willing to let the half-orc have all the fun, Sergan took his axe and rushed to his side. Together they hacked and chopped until they were at the rubble of the gate. The entrance was narrow, and only three could come at once. The room to maneuver diminished, it favored the two even more. The claws of the hyena-men were no match for the weapons that tore through them. Their thick hide was no match for the enchanted steel and well- sharpened edges that cut them.
“Get ready to fall back,” Harruq said through grit teeth as he disemboweled one hyena-man while stabbing the throat of another.
“Lead on,” Sergan told him.
The initial rush of hyena-men had been scattered and uneven due to the destruction of the fiery comet that had broken the gate. The archers had done their best to thin their attack, but now the hyena-men pressed forward as a single unit.
“Back,” Harruq yelled, turning and running into the city.
“Shields, now!” Sergan ordered, hot on Harruq’s heels. The two split once they were past the gateway. Rows of soldiers took their place, their shields locked together into a single wall. The hyena-men hurled themselves with wild abandon. The men screamed, their shoulders throbbing and their wrists aching. But they did not move. Men behind them pushed forward, aiding those who were weak or wounded. The hyena-men howled and tried, but their momentum was broken.
Atop the wall, the archers emptied their quivers, for with their enemy packed and unable to move, they couldn’t miss. The soldiers on the front started stabbing in between the shields, filling the street with blood. Harruq rejoined the two casters, knowing there was no place for him without a shield.
“You alright?” he asked his wife.
“Head hurts,” she said. She leaned against the wall. Tarlak was beside her, staring at the intense combat.
“Any spell we cast will hit our own,” he said. “Either that, or make our position known.”
“They’ll hold,” Harruq said.
“Good,” Tarlak said. “Because it’s going to get harder.”
As if on cue, the city shook from the roar of the lion, except this time the shaking did not stop. Harruq looked about, confused and worried.
“What the abyss?” he asked.
“No point staying hidden now,” Aurelia said, gingerly rising to her feet. “The orcs are coming.”
Harruq looked back at the row of soldiers guarding the door. About thirty had fallen, leaving less than two hundred to hold the gate. Several hundred hyena-men remained still, fighting and clawing with every ounce of their strength to enter. Of the thousands of orcs, if even half marched to their gate…
The half-orc charged the front line. Shield or no shield, he was going to fight, and he was going to kill, because the numbers they faced were about to get a whole lot bigger.
15
S tand firm!” Antonil shouted as the lion’s roar filled their ears. It’s effect was pitiful compared to the light of the paladin’s swords and shield. As it died, they felt the ground beneath their feet shake. The orc forces were charging. The guard captain positioned himself in the center of the first line. To his right was Jerico, his left, Lathaar.
“Antonil,” Jerico said. “Listen to me. When the orcs are a hair’s width from sword reach, we need to charge.”
“If we brace our shields then…”
“Guard captain,” Jerico said, pulling on Antonil’s shoulder to force him to meet his gaze. “Order your men to charge just before the strike. Trust me. Trust Ashhur.”
The coming horde roared and bellowed. Half broke south, a giant river of gray flesh and armor. Antonil whispered a prayer for Sergan and his men.
“I’ll trust you,” he said aloud when finished. “We’re all dead men anyway.”
“Not yet,” Lathaar said, overhearing the comment. “Not by a long shot.”
He held both his swords high and shouted out the word ‘Elholad.’ His swords flared brighter than any torch, sun, or star. Those who saw it knew no fear. They felt the sun on their skin for the first time, knew comfort in the weight of their armor and the strength in the grip they held on their swords. The orcs passed through the ring of priests and dark paladins, not daring to touch any even in their frenzy. Archers released their arrows, but it was like spitting on a bonfire.
“At my command,” Antonil shouted over the commotion, “I want you to charge as one. Do you understand?”
The soldiers shouted in unison.
The army closed the distance. Jerico stepped out from the front row and knelt to one knee. His shield leaned before him. Its light shimmered and swirled, as if a rainbow were trapped within the metal. The paladin closed his eyes and prayed.
