"Volleys?" said Kirak. "They use such tactics even in the woods?"
"I doubt they know any different," observed Mortag. "They are warriors, not hunters. Such ideas have likely never crossed their minds."
"It is to our advantage," said Laghul. "Let us not complain. What is our next step?"
"We shall give them a chance to burn for a little longer," noted Kirak. "Mortag, can you extinguish a corridor of fire?"
"I can," the old Orc replied, "but it will not last long. You mean to counterattack?"
Kirak nodded. "I do. If we strike at the right time, I think they will break."
The smoke began to thicken as the flames reached the upper boughs. There was a crack as a large branch fell, sending sparks high into the air where they swirled around, caught up the strange wind that swept through the woods.
Kirak called his hunters forward, each of them with an eager look upon their faces. "Prepare yourselves," he began, "for when Mortag casts his spell, I shall lead you through the fire."
He recognized the look of fear on their faces but also the look of determination. They would follow him into the spirit realm if he asked them, of that he was sure, but at what cost?
Laghul touched his shoulder. "I pray the Ancestors will look over you."
Kirak took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "And you," he replied. The fire was spreading quickly now, and he knew the moment was at hand. Nodding at his master of flame, he gripped his axe, steeling himself for what was to come.
Mortag held his arms out to the side as words of power flowed from his lips. Smoke swirled around almost blinding everyone's view of him, and then he thrust his hands forward, sending a vortex of smoke northward. Along the indicated path, flames became more subdued, soon little more than small sporadic wisps of soot and smoke.
Kirak gave a yell and launched himself down the corridor, the brave hunters of the Black Axe following.
In the east, Kargen watched the fierce melee going on at the centre of the line, but his task was here, on the flank. He waited as the enemy footmen emerged from a thicket of trees. Here, the forest was more sparse than to the west, with many small clearings to break up the woods. He had picked his place of concealment carefully and was now rewarded by the sight before him.
"Now," he roared.
Kragor was the first to let loose his arrow. It struck a footman, a sergeant by the look of him, just as he was trying to issue an order. Others soon followed, the mighty warbows of the Red Hand making short work of the light armour of their enemy.
Three more volleys sailed forth, sending the enemy into chaos, and then Kargen rose, calling out a challenge that echoed off the trees. Kragor's warbows shifted targets to the archers along their flank as the hunters rushed past in a blur, axes seeking blood.
Kargen hit the line in a fury, striking out with his axe, taking an arm clean off at the elbow. He kicked his opponent aside, striking out again, using his massive strength to move the blade with lightning speed. It scraped across a warrior's chest, cutting leather but doing little else. A spear came towards his face, and he ducked, the point going just over his head. Grasping the offending weapon in his left hand, he pulled, watching in satisfaction as his foe was pulled off balance. The great Orc followed up with an overhead blow that split the man's skull open, but when he yanked back on the weapon, he discovered the blade had become caught in his opponent's helmet, leaving him vulnerable. A sword jabbed out, catching him in the forearm, and black blood trickled down his arm as he gave a massive tug on his axe, freeing it from the grip of the metal.
All around him, Orcs pressed forward, the enemy stunned by the suddenness of the attack. Beside him, a fellow hunter struck out, slicing into the leg of a Human. Then a spear came out of nowhere, digging into the hunter's stomach and driving him to the ground. A Human stepped up, driving his sword into the hunter's brain with a clean, swift motion.
Kargen bellowed in rage and struck out, but the man shifted his stance, avoiding the blow. The warrior's blade sliced forward yet again, stabbing into the chieftain's thigh, penetrating the leg muscle. Kargen gave a thunderous roar of pain as the blade came out the other side, tearing through flesh.
Pivoting on his uninjured leg, he ripped the sword from the man's grip. The warrior tried to back up, but Kargen was soon upon him, driving him to the ground. Moments later, his axe dug into the Human's chest, sending a crimson spray into the air.
Athgar walked forward, slipping as he stepped over bodies. All around him was death and destruction. The moaning of the wounded was overshadowed only by the sounds of the living, struggling as they were to destroy their enemies.
A sword glanced off the Fire Mage's helmet, and he staggered back from the force of the blow. Thrusting his hands out, he sent forth a streak of flames but missed his target in the confusion of battle. When an axe dug into his shield, he felt the wood give way, splintering as it fell apart. He struck back with his own axe, feeling it bite into metal, and then pulled back, grunting with the effort.
He caught a glimpse of Harwath, his arm covered in blood, though whether it was his own or someone else's, Athgar had no idea. The fighting seemed to go on until he felt as though he had no strength left.
The duke's men were pushing hard despite their losses, desperate to gain the heights. Athgar lashed out at a foe, driving the axe blade into a leg, but before he
