Arrows clattered on armour, causing the advancing enemy to waver under the ferocity of the attack. They soon regained their momentum as sergeants and officers urged them on. Closer they drew until even spears were within range.
Gahruhl moved up, beginning her first spell. Shards of stone erupted from the ground, penetrating boots and throwing the enemy into disarray. The master of earth held back her power, knowing she must conserve her strength, but even so, the result was impressive. Amplified by the magic of the stone gate, the shards grew larger, forming into great spears that interfered with the enemy formation, forcing them to bunch up to thread their way through the new obstacles.
The archers redoubled their efforts, concentrating on the points of convergence. Once more, Gahruhl called forth the power of the earth, and a tiny spark sailed forth, striking the ground before the enemy's advance. The ground rumbled, and then the earth split, causing a small fissure to appear, no deeper than a man's shin. She kept concentrating as it elongated, spreading across the front of the enemy, causing further mayhem.
Athgar stood his ground. The enemy was merely a spear's throw away, their attack slowed by the obstacles, but it was still only a matter of time until they broke through. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man go down, a crossbow through his neck. Another bolt whistled overhead, but he ignored it. "Shields up!" he ordered.
The fyrd raised shields, overlapping their edges, their spears prepared to strike. It would be one initial thrust, then the enemy would be upon them, and it would become the work of axes and long knives to deal out the damage.
He briefly worried for Natalia's safety and then shook his head. He must concentrate on his own battle this day. She was more than capable of looking after herself.
A roar of defiance arose from the enemy troops, and then they launched themselves forward, covering the last few yards at a run. The Therengian spears came down, thrust into the first wave of warriors. A clash of arms soon followed as swords beat on shields, and axes rang out against armour.
The Therengian in front of Athgar fell, a vicious cut to the face. Thinking quickly, the Fire Mage cast, thrusting out his hands and sending a stream of fire through the gap. The enemy warriors paused for a moment, steeling themselves to face the wielder of fire, allowing Athgar to grasp the injured man's arm and pull him back to safety. He stepped into the gap, raising his shield just in time to deflect a blow.
A titanic struggle now erupted as the duke's footmen attempted to smash through the shield wall of the fyrd. A few enterprising individuals tried slashing low at the Therengians' legs, but this was soon countered by the quick thinking of those in the second row, who stabbed out with knives and short spears.
Athgar, feeling the press of the enemy on his shield, planted his legs to give him more stability. Pulling forth his axe, he called on his inner spark, and the head ignited, green flames licking along its edge. He struck out, feeling his weapon cut into metal. As he wrenched his weapon free, his opponent fell, lost to sight amongst the press of men.
Suddenly the man beside Athgar went down, a sword to the chest, and the enemy, sensing their moment was upon them, redoubled their efforts.
Battle of the Standing Stones
Autumn 1104 SR
The line began to break. Natalia gave the order, and the reserve moved up, experienced Therengian warriors ready to push back the enemy. They rushed down the hill straight into the melee with a mighty clash of arms. So ferocious was their advance that she watched as the enemy was driven back, rushing downhill to escape the slaughter.
The counterattack had done its job, halting the enemy's advance. But now the Therengians, flush with victory, ran past their initial position, and the enemy responded with a fury, sending in fresh troops to trap them.
She watched in fear as Athgar struggled to bring order to chaos as the duke's men renewed their attack. He was in the thick of it now, hacking away with his axe, a line no longer even a possibility. The battle had degenerated into one big mass of warriors, each fighting for their lives.
The Orcs of the Black Axe fell back as the enemy warriors streamed through the forest. The western flank was collapsing quickly, and Mortag, master of flame, knew it was up to him to put an end to it. Hearing the call from his chieftain, he began casting. All around the woods, they had prepared bundles of sticks at the base of many trees. Mortag closed his eyes, digging deep to conjure forth his spark.
Smoke began billowing from three of the pyres, then they burst into flames. He cast again, igniting two more stacks of wood. The dry trees of the forest crackled and popped as bark caught fire, then flames began climbing up the heights.
The fire spread quickly, soon covering the ground in dense grey smoke. Mortag slowed his breathing as he prayed to the Ancestors, but as fate would have it, it was unnecessary, for the prevailing wind blew the smoke northeastward, directly into the enemy's faces.
The master of flame waited just long enough to see the enemy begin to panic, then turned and sprinted to rejoin his companions.
"They will be hard-pressed to stand," noted Kirak, "but how will we extinguish the flame once the battle is over?"
"It will be difficult," noted Mortag, "but worth the sacrifice to defeat the enemy."
Kirak smiled as Laghul appeared beside her bondmate. "How are the casualties?"
"Light," she replied. "It seems the Humans are not used to our style of fighting. It is but a
