The orcs were almost upon him. They funneled through the shattered ashes of the doors and into the giant gateway. Their axes and swords were drawn. Their mouths were open in mindless cries of bloodthirst. Jerico heard none of it. He felt his shield become weightless on his arm. He felt his heart stop. The whole world was silent. He opened his eyes. He felt his faith like a knife in his chest, unbreakable, immovable. In one smooth motion, he stood and pushed his shield against the air. A white image rammed forth, similar to his shield but larger and made of purest light.
Sound returned. The world resumed. Jerico watched as the glowing shield slammed the nearest orcs. They howled with pain, and every one toppled as if a hammer had struck their chest. Those behind tripped over them and died, trampled by the next wave of their comrades.
“Charge!” Antonil screamed. The men rushed forward, Lathaar and Antonil leading the way. Lathaar’s swords sliced through gray flesh. Antonil’s shield bashed and pushed, his sword cutting into any weakness. The orcs had no footing, no momentum. Those who funneled into the gateway died, their bodies becoming a barrier the rest had to climb over. And then Jerico joined them, his mace Bonebreaker more than living up to its name. He shattered the jaw of one orc, kicked his body back, and then crushed the skull of his replacement. Over a thousand orcs pressed and fought to enter the city but were held back by the front seven of Neldar.
“Fall back,” Antonil shouted. The horde were pulling away, preparing for another rush. Many were dragging bodies and dumping them to the sides so they could have a clear battlefront. A few tried to give chase and deny the soldiers a chance to flee, but then Haern appeared in the gap between the two armies, a wicked gleam in his eye. He spun through the orcs, his curved sabers slashing out tendons and throats as he passed. The orcs tried to converge on him but he leapt further away from the city. He descended upon the orc army like a storm cloud.
Once outside the gateway he had even more room to maneuver. He double stabbed one’s throat, then leapt into the air and jumped off his chest. He sailed over the orcs, his entire body rotating. Sabers slashed and cut eyes and faces. Those near his landing tried to flee. They died. When several rushed, hoping to bury him with numbers, he turned toward the gate and activated the magic of his ring, vanishing and reappearing past their blockade. He ran through the gateway, which was a bloodied mess. The rest of the soldiers were inside and in formation, while Jerico knelt once more, his eyes closed and his shield ready.
“What in the abyss was that, that…shield?” Lathaar asked Jerico. While the others around them were gasping for air, both paladins appeared to be only winded from the fight.
“Like that?” Jerico asked, his eyes still closed. A slight smile broke the corners of his lips. “I’ve done it only once, when I was alone.”
“Can you do it again?”
He looked to the orcs, who were snarled and lining up for another charge.
“I don’t know,” Jerico said. “I’ll try.”
Antonil ran through his ranks, pulling fresh men to the front. When done he ran back with his sword high and gleaming.
“Charge at my command!” he screamed.
“Yes sir!” The soldiers’ shouts were louder, heartier. They had withstood the first assault without nary a life lost. No longer did they feel they fought a hopeless battle.
“Get ready,” Lathaar said as he stepped back to the line. “They won’t be surprised this time around.”
“We don’t need surprise,” Haern said, blood covering his golden hair. “We have strength they can’t dream of.”
The orcs entered the gateway with their arms crossed and their weapons held in defensive positions, but it did no good. Jerico waited even later, hurling the magical shield into the gateway even as the orcs swung at his body. They flew back, screaming in pain. The ground became a tangled mess of limbs as they fell atop one another. Instead of charging, the orcs behind them retreated, wanting no part of that chaos. Lathaar and Haern attacked, giving them no quarter. Antonil raised his hand and held his army back, in case the orcs tried to assault. They didn’t. Glowing swords and sharpened sabers slashed through those who tried to stand and fight. Even those who lay in pain found steel piercing through their throats and eyes.
Lathaar reached the end of the gateway and stared out at the giant mass sent to kill them. The orcs glared and howled, but dared not move. The paladin raised his swords high, and he laughed despite the blood that soaked his armor.
“Is this the great army of Karak?” he shouted. “Is this the legion that will wipe life from this world?”
His words carried, and one man amid the host of orcs heard and was made furious.
“That damn pally just won’t die,” Krieger spat on the ground and drew his scimitars. Beside him, Carden drew his giant sword and watched the black flame surround it.
“Leadership through action,” the old man said. “Let us show our brethren the strength of Karak.”
Side by side the two dark paladins pushed their way through the orcs, the flame of their weapons filling all who saw it with fear.
T his is it?” Harruq shouted as he slammed the body of a hyena-man against the wall. Condemnation hacked off his head. Meanwhile, Salvation buried deep into the gut of another. The creature yipped and clawed the air. A twist of the sword finished it. All around him, men with shields charged forward, slashing at their enemies before falling back. Only Harruq remained where he stood, a bloodied behemoth towering over them. Claw marks marred his face and covered his arms, but their pain was insignificant. Side to side his swords swept, his long arms covering every inch of the gateway’s width. His swords glowed brighter from the blood that stained them.
The orcs were the only thing keeping the hyena-men fighting. Many tried to turn and flee, but a wall of flesh and swords pushed them on. Many never even fought back as Harruq slaughtered them. He didn’t care. He felt no guilt. His home was under attack, and he would defend it. Two claws slashed across his cheek. He tasted blood. In return, he slashed out the creature’s throat and spilled its intestines along the gore-slick ground. Another leapt onto his swords just so he could bite his neck. The others charged, thinking him vulnerable. Harruq screamed, louder and crazier than the dying hyena-man. He flung him away, his vision red and his pain distant. Those that thought him vulnerable found their claws cut from their hands, their teeth smacked from their jaws, and their lives rent from their bodies.
“Pull back, brute!” Sergan yelled to him from behind the wall of shields. “Pull back before you get your sorry ass killed!”
The half-orc kicked a body off his sword, knocking down two more behind it. He roared out in mindless primal fury. Soldiers stormed past him, locking together their shields so Sergan could grab and pull him further into the city. Harruq pushed the general back and walked inside, wiping some gore away from his eyes with his thumb. When he neared Tarlak and Aurelia, he sheathed his swords.
“How many?” Tarlak asked.
“Lost count,” Harruq said. The ground suddenly shifted on him, as if it was rumbling and bumping, but he was the only one to drop to his knees while the others looked on. He heard the other two talking, but their voices were strangely distant.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” he heard his wife say.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Where’s Calan?” Tarlak asked.
“I said I’m fine!”
The half-orc staggered to his feet and drew his swords. He knew it was morning, but the sky was darker, the city dark as well.
“We need more time,” Aurelia said. She ran to the gate, lightning crackling on her fingertips. Tarlak pulled on the back of Harruq’s armor. He tried to resist, but the ground betrayed him again. Salvation and Condemnation fell from his hands. The wizard sat down on his knees in front of him and took off his hat.
“Drink this up like a good little boy and we’ll let you kill more baddies, alright?”
Tarlak pulled a vial out of his hat like a petty magic trick. He popped the cork off the top, pried open Harruq’s lips, and shoved the silvery liquid down. The taste reminded him of somewhere, but he couldn’t place it… couldn’t…
He slipped into unconsciousness, still trying to remember.
A urelia watched as the last of the hyena-men fell to the swords of the Neldar troops. Orcs tried to drag away the dead, but the archers above fired volley after volley. The piles of bodies grew larger. In the momentary reprieve, Aurelia stepped just inside the shield wall.
