“They’re likely to assume an army will be near,” Aurelia said as the hills steadily smoothed out toward the Bone Ditch. “Though if we’re lucky, they’ll think we were alone, as the Scoutmasters of the Quellan elves often are.”
“I don’t think we’re often the lucky sort,” Haern said. “They’ll be ready, and from what I saw, our numbers advantage is slight.”
“Yes, but we have horsemen,” Aurelia insisted, gesturing to the two hundred knights riding with Lord Sully’s group. “We’ll trample the orcs against the cliff.”
At last the hills smoothed out completely, and waiting for them in battle formations were the orcs. They formed circles around the remnants of the bridge, a thin line of spearman before a great many with axes. They howled and cheered at the sight of their enemy. Lord Sully and Sir Kull joined the Eschaton at the front.
“They’re packed tight,” Lord Sully said as he rode up on his horse.
“Too tight,” Sir Kull said. “If we surround them, they’ll have no way to maneuver. One steady push with your horsemen and we’ll knock them right off the cliff.”
“I’m sure you’d love my knights to drive headlong into their spears,” Lord Sully said. “What’s your plan, to push us off after we finish with the orcs?”
“If I wanted your men to die, I’d simply give the word,” Sir Kull said, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
Aurelia saw this and felt her temper flare.
“Auchby burns,” she said, recalling the words each of their own men had shouted. “Or have we forgotten?”
Both men glanced away, as if embarrassed. In the distance, the orcs shouted and clanged their weapons together, working themselves into a frenzy.
“My men will engage their left flank,” Lord Sully said. “Have yours engage the right. When we see a gap or weakness, I’ll lead the charge with my knights.”
“Good enough,” said Sir Kull, saluting. The two noblemen returned to their armies, shouting orders and encouragement.
“Once these orcs are dead, we might have a tough battle still waiting,” Harruq said as they left.
“We’ll have to remind them that these orcs are just the tip of the arrow,” Aurelia said.
“So you heard their plan,” Haern said. “Where do we fit in it?”
“Well, since each army is taking either left or right, how about… middle?” said the elf.
Haern grinned.
“Perfect.”
With a call of trumpets and a communal shout, the human army approached. The orcs howled, sounding almost impatient. As Lord Sully swung his men left, Sir Kull broke them right. They swarmed about the orcs, giving them no path to retreat, only the long fall in the Bone Ditch. If they were worried, the orcs didn’t show it. With unusual control for their race, they didn’t even charge when the humans neared. Instead they waited, letting the fight come to them. That alone worried Harruq as he dismounted from Seleven.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Orcs aren’t that disciplined. Think they trapped the lines?”
“They can’t have had time, and the ground is bare,” Haern said as he leaped off and drew his sabers. “Whatever trap they have, it isn’t in the dirt.”
“Hope you’re right,” the half-orc said.
“Actually, I hope he’s not,” Aurelia said. “I prefer the trap we suspect to the one we know nothing about.”
Another trumpet blew, and then the humans charged. Harruq drew Salvation and Condemnation and clanged the sister swords together. As a red glow surrounded their steel, he bellowed a war cry and charged. Haern ran alongside, his cloaks billowing behind him. In a terrible cacophony of pain, steel, and blood, the armies collided. The humans, smaller in stature and weaker in strength, relied on their numbers and training to endure the sudden, brutal fury of the orcs.
When Harruq reached the fight, he dashed between two sorely pressed soldiers and swung his blades, cutting off the arm of an orc and disemboweling a second. Haern slashed and spun, blood splattering as his enemies fell. Several more orcs lined up, trying to form a defensive front against them.
“Harruq!” he heard Aurelia shout, her voice magnified by magic. When Harruq glanced back, he saw Aurelia in the midst of casting a spell, her eyes locked skyward. He turned, and then dropped to his knees out of reflex and horror.
Four boulders hurled through the air over the Bone Ditch. Aurelia hit one with a wall of magical force, cracking it in half and killing its momentum so that it fell into the chasm. The three others struck the ground outside the orcs’ formation, crushing the human soldiers.
“Aw, come on!” Harruq shouted. On the other side of the Bone Ditch he saw four enormous catapults. About fifty orcs scrambled about them, pulling levers and lifting boulders. Aurelia rushed closer, watching the far side as the orc forces howled with glee.
“We can’t withstand that assault,” Haern said as the elf neared. Aurelia nodded, her gaze still distant.
“You trust me, Harruq?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Roll when you land,” she said, pushing her palms against his chest. Before he could respond, he felt something sharp ram into his stomach, and then he was flying. He spun about, his arms and legs flailing wildly. Only sheer panic kept his swords clutched tight in his fists. A powerful force of wind continued blowing against his back after he turned, and feeling a strong sense of vertigo, he watched the other side of the chasm approach.
“Roll, just roll,” he muttered, his heart pounding and his legs feeling like water. He glanced back once to see Haern flying after him, a grin on his face. The four catapults fired again, the boulders passing far too close for comfort.
“Woooohooooo!” the assassin shouted at the top of his lungs.
Harruq vowed to kill him if they actually survived the landing.
At least the orcs were as surprised as he was when he tucked his shoulder and barreled through their ranks. He went head over heels three times, rolled along his side twice more, and then jumped up to his feet. Dirt covered his armor, and bits of grass stuck to his hair. The first orc unlucky enough to attack Harruq died in three pieces, completely unprepared for the vicious wrath unleashed upon him. Three more closed in, surrounding the raging half-orc.
Harruq grinned darkly at them.
“I’m not the scary one,” he said.
And then Haern came whirling in, his feet hardly touching the ground before he changed course. His sabers cut around their axes, giving them no time to block or strike. As they fell, Harruq and Haern linked up, standing side by side as the rest of the orcs not manning the catapults turned to fight.
“No reprieve,” Haern said as the orcs charged. “Scare the shit out of them.”
“Will do.”
The two Eschaton met the rush head on, Harruq leading the way. With his magical blades and greater reach, he cut down the first two, then flung his weight into his run. He slammed through them, lacking Haern’s skillful weavings and parries. Instead he flung his opponents aside, tore through their defenses with incredible strength, and emerged coated in blood. Haern followed, his sabers deftly cutting ankles, wrists, and necks. He left a wounded, immobilized force in his wake, his cloaks also soaked. Together they spun, raised their weapons and attacked.
The orcs broke, having already lost half their numbers while hardly incurring a scratch. They were the weak, the ones left behind to build and construct while the warriors traveled with Velixar into Veldaren. Against such skill, they had no chance. Harruq cut down a few before turning back to the catapults. He watched as they unleashed a barrage of four boulders. Two of them halted in midair and fell into the chasm, while the others crashed and rolled through a distant mass of warriors.
“Take the left,” Haern said, sheathing his sabers before breaking out in a sprint. Harruq chased after, veering off as his mentor asked. A couple noticed their approach and shouted, as if in disbelief that they were still alive. Harruq let out a bellow from the pit of his stomach. The orcs had only hammers and ropes for weapons. It was no contest. Harruq gutted one, cut down another, and then slammed his shoulder into a third. The orc flew off the cliff,
