Tender Mercies

Of the special unit Kelnozz had authorized to build the catapult, he had lost contact with them shortly after the first of the orcs and light elves crashed into the earthen fortifications of the defenders. Unable to tell them when to spring their surprise, he had ground his teeth in frustration. Now, four days later, he still saw no sign of them, and at least half of the evil army had crossed the bridge. If something did not happen soon, then no matter how many of their foe they slew, they would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the enemy. Kelnozz's estimation of the size of the evil armies had proven to be greatly underestimated. Looking over the battle field from his command position, he could see that roughly three times as many of them came against his army.

Kelnozz glanced about him quickly. Of his friends, there was no sign. Martin had joined the archers, doubling by leading a group of elves and woodsman to make certain that none of the humanoids managed to find any passes through the mountains and flank them. Nordan was with his tribesmen, waiting in the hills to the west for the signal that they should join the battle. Kayala was aiding the dwarves that had designed the catapult. Vallanius alone was at hand, as well as several messengers.

"Well old friend, things do not bode well," Kelnozz said, shading his eyes to stare across the floor of the valley on which thousands upon thousands of beings milled and fought.

"We slay five times our number!" Vallanius said, surprised at the grim tone of Kelnozz's voice. "What more could you ask for?"

"I could ask for 20 times our number, then perhaps we could withstand them," Kelnozz muttered. "Look behind or dwarven friends, what do you see?"

Vallanius studied the battlefield carefully. "Open ground, easily defended because it slopes upwards steadily towards us. Not to mention the ten companies of reinforcements, 200 a piece."

Kelnozz nodded. "Now look to the others, what do you see behind those at the front?"

Vallanius instantly understood what Kelnozz meant. While they had only 2,000 to bolster their lines, Alesha's army was far greater, possessing even more in reserve then they had at the front. "What of the elves in the hills? We can signal them to sweep down at any time."

While many of the elves were already pressed into service harassing the enemy, the majority of their numbers were hidden in the hills, ready to spring a trap and rush down into the attackers, striking them in the side. "Aye, they are, and they'd do it gladly," Kelnozz said. "But it would be for naught, even should they fell as many as the dwarves seem to be, they would be overwhelmed in moments."

Vallanius was about to open his mouth to retort again, but Kelnozz stalled him. "Aye, the barbarians as well. If that catapult has not been overrun yet, then it must be used quickly, or we will be lost."

Vallanius looked around again, trying to find some sign of hope. Trying to think of something they had missed. He gritted his teeth in frustration as his sharp elven eyes showed a section of the dwarven defenders give way for a moment, pouring attackers in until the hole was plugged. It was only the first such breach, and the attackers dealt with harshly, but it was the first of what would be many.

"I will join the elves then," Vallanius said bitterly. "It is as you say, and if we cannot hold them, then we must hurt them as much as we can."

Kelnozz favored Vallanius a tired smile. He shook the older elf's hand, and wordlessly, they parted ways. Kelnozz studied the scene for a few moments longer before calling to the pages.

"Tell the dragons we need them now. We must gain as much advantage by surprise as we can before the chromatic dragons take flight to counter our move. I will lead them on Luingirth's back. Have them stand ready."

To another messenger he said, "Tell Nordan to charge as soon as he sees the dragons. And you," he pointed to a different messenger, "Tell Vallanius the same."

"Of those held in reserve, they must rush forward after the barbarians and elves strike and the enemy is distracted. The dwarves will join them in the counter attack." Kelnozz looked at the two remaining messengers and smiled sadly. "For you, I have the most difficult task. Both of you try and reach that catapult and have them fire on that bridge. If we do not sunder it, then we are have lost not only the day, but the battle and the war."

Both their faces turned white at this news. That meant they would have to slip around and perhaps even through the enemy lines in order to reach their objective. They looked to one another, seeing the same fear mirrored in each others eyes. Looking back to Kelnozz, they could see the task he had given them was just as hard for him to give as it was for them to receive. One nodded, then the other, and they set off, running to the west and heading for the hills.

Kelnozz watched them go, admiring their bravery. Little more then children themselves, he knew they would probably die. All of them would, he suspected, but victory was still possible, if only remotely.

*****

Kayala groaned in frustration as she felt her grip on the magic that sustained the illusion concealing them slipping away. A crew of 50 dwarves, plus herself, and the catapult had been built on the rocky plateau just west of the bridge. Her constant concentration and supervision had been required once their foes had begun scouting. Now, five days without sleep or rest had taken its toll on her. Trained young in the arts of wizardry, Kayala had a mind that was as sharp and focused as the best of her peers. Had she the ability remaining to do so, she would have scoffed at the idea of any of her so called peers being able to maintain so large and taxing an illusion for so long.

"Lass, it's to late, they be coming fer us," the leader of the dwarfs said, putting his hand on her arm lightly to help break her meditative trance.

Kayala gasped, realizing she'd nearly drifted to sleep. She struggled to gather the wisps of magic that were tearing apart and realized it was to late. She jumped to her feet unsteadily and saw the large force of orcs coming at them. "I'm sorry, Kurn, I failed," she said sadly.

"Nay lass, tis as good a time as any for us to test this here catapult out!" Kurn said, signaling for the other dwarves to load and ready the catapult.

"Do we have time?" She asked, a fresh wave of adrenaline rushing into her.

"Aye lass, time enough for two shots, if ye can help us keep them stinking orcs out of our hair," Kurn smiled ferociously then ran to help with the catapult.

Kayala smiled. She knew that what Kelnozz had asked of her was a suicide mission. She knew it, and she accepted it. Nordan had taken Kelnozz aside later for a few strong words, and she smiled at the sweetness of the gesture. A powerful man, Nordan was nevertheless showing signs of being human as well. A pity they had not the time to further investigate that rare vulnerability he had displayed. In the end, they all knew that what they did was done out of necessity.

With that in mind, she summoned an incantation to mind and cast her first spell against the orcs, turning the ground under many of them into mud. It did little but gain them time, but time was all they needed. She prepared her second spell and was nearly distracted when the wooden beam of the catapult smacked loudly into the padded cross brace, the first missile on its way.

If dwarven engineers are said to be the finest in the land, the strike of that first rock against the side of the bridge is proof of it. The wood and metal comprising it twisted and splintered, sending several of those crossing it to a painful death in the chasm it spanned. The bridge remained, however, though it was weakened.

"Let's go, lads!" Kurn said, pulling 30 of the dwarves away from the catapult to charge the orcs. Kayala's second spell sailed over their heads and manifested in great sticky strands of gossamer silk that reminded them of an enormous spider web. It landed on a group of orcs and bound them fast to each other and whatever else it came into contact with. The remaining dwarves had the arm cranked back already and were struggling to set the second boulder in the basket.

Shaking off a wave of weariness, Kayala summoned up the power for another spell. She knew she was pouring to much of herself into the magic, but at the same time, it made her feel more alive and in touch with it then she ever had before. A dangerous thing that others and even herself had warned against. Reaching deep into herself, she summoned forth a magical ball of electricity and sent it towards the orcs that were clearing the strip of mud she had created.

Kurn and his warriors crashed into a group of orcs that were nearly twice their number. The fighting was fierce and savage. After several minutes had passed, the dwarves found themselves standing triumphant, though eight would never rise to fight again. Gathering their breath, they prepared to meet the next group of orcs emerging from the mud when the ball of electricity flew into their midst and exploded, sending out bolts of lightning into orc after orc, sometimes arcing from one to the next as well.

Kurn grinned and let loose a war cry, calling out to Garrick to aid the dwarves. On schedule, another rock sailed overheard, hurled from the catapult with a deadly accuracy. Losing herself further, Kayala began another spell, reaching out and gather the mystical energies around her.

The bridge buckled under the second boulder, nearly ready to give way. A few more brave figures fell to their deaths, yet more crowded forward, anxious to cross over. Word of the attack had spread quickly though, and already more were rushing to reinforce the company of orcs.

Kurn looked about him quickly, only a handful of his dwarves remained, but the catapult was about to fire for the third time. Third and final, he was certain. An explosion of magic heralded Kayala's next spell, sending orcs screaming to their fiery graves.

With the orcs slain or incapacitated, Kurn had a moment to relax and breathe. The reinforcements were coming though, and an ogre in particular was bearing down on him. The third boulder sailed overhead, striking the bridge true and rending it asunder. Kurn felt a moment of elation then, and he knew that no matter what became of him, his son would live on and they would win the day.

*****

Dragons filled the skies. Flying on wings of gleaming gold, silver, copper, brass, and bronze, they came over the hills to the south and passed high above the defenders. At their head could be seen a dragon that did not seem to fit in with the others. Scales of blue, it bore a rider upon its back.

Nordan grinned and bellowed loudly. No known word, but instead a primal urge, his tribe took it up behind him and as one, they charged from concealment and onto the battlefield. Catching a group of light elves unprepared, the brute strength of the barbarians quickly hacked their way through them, though the skill and magic of the light elves left them wounded more then they would have cared to admit. Still, with the presence of caution one would expect from a horde of barbarians, they plunged onward.

On the eastern edge of the valley, thousands of elves poured down the trails and out from behind rocks, cutting deeply into the ranks of the enemy. Elven wizards and sorceresses hurled flaming bolts and balls of exploding frost into the dark army, striking ruthlessly. Dark and light cousin came face to face, the only acceptable outcome of such a meeting being death.

The metallic dragons overhead swooped down, causing great damage to the evil beings with magic, breath, talon, and tooth. Stricken with uncertainty at last, they began to falter. Orcs, elves, ogres, giants, and others turned from the front and began to try and retreat, striking out at their own allies that still pushed to the front. It was at this time that the reinforcements charged forward, leaping over the fortifications and striking into the disorganized front ranks. The dwarves, refreshed by the change of momentum, also leapt to the attack.

The rout was short lived, for as soon as news of the metallic dragons joining the fray arrive, the chromatic dragons flocked to the battle. Battle was joined both above and below. Kelnozz and Luingirth flew up and away from the battle, for fear that Luingirth might be mistaken as on of her evil kin, and attacked accidentally.

*****

Borrik cursed loudly as an slain orc fell against his leg, distracting him from the light elf he fought. Kicking the corpse away, he accepted the shallow wound on his arm the light elf delivered and returned a powerful two handed stroke with his great axe, blasting through the parry and cleaving deeply into the pale skinned elf's chest.

Yanking his axe free, Borrik stepped over the fallen elf and severed an ogres leg from its body, making it tumble to the ground and allowing another fatal swing from his axe to fall. Wiping some blood off of his face, the dwarf looked about and realized he had outdistanced his brethren. Muttering curses at the evil forces in disarray before him, he returned to laying about with his axe, rending flesh and bone without pause of mercy.

*****

Wulf, second son of Vorm, followed his leader willfully onto the battlefield. Nordan was a hero in his eyes. In the eyes of all the barbarians. Wulf tried to stay close to his leader, but found it difficult to do in the press of the foul beasts they fought. He had never realized how loud battle could be. The sounds of metal on metal and men shouting was deafening. Focusing on his other senses, Wulf used his two handed sword to great effect, he struck again and again.

To Wulf's right, his clansmen fell, stricken by a giant. Wulf clove at the giant to avenge him, landing a telling wound on its thigh. The giant was hard pressed from its other flank as well, but it turned it's attention to Wulf for a moment and prepared to smash him to the ground with its club. A thundering boom stunned Wulf for a moment, and the giant fell back, crushing an orc beneath it. Nordan leapt atop its chest, mighty warhammer reappearing in his hand magically, and bellowed out a challenge to any that could hear him.

Wulf watched in amazement as both orcish and light elven archers took aim and fired, but Nordan was already moving. The arrows sliced through the air around him, seeking his flesh, but none could find them. It was as though Nordan could not be touched. Wulf looked down and saw a stray arrow had struck him in the forearm. Frowning, he reached down and broke it off, then turned back and barely blocked a rushing orc from running him through with a spear.

Slashing out, the orc went down in a fountain of blood. Wulf had no time to rest, for a giant wolf with hate filled eyes and a spiked black collar lunged at him. Backpedaling quickly, Wulf stumbled over the fallen body of another barbarian. He grunted as he hit, and tried to scramble away. The dire wolf lunged forward, jaws clamping down on his leg. Before it could tear his calf apart, Wulf kicked with his other leg, crushing the dire wolf's snout and sending it yelping away from him. He regained his feet with a quick glance at his leg, it bled freely, but only from some puncture wounds in his calf, there were no tears.

Ignoring his growing injuries, Wulf returned to the battle, slashing out at the next creature he came to face.

*****

Jyslen was no ordinary warrior, she was a bladesinger. To her, battle was an art form, and she an artist. Not merely an artist, but a perfectionist. Each slice of her blades seemed graceful, each parry was flawless, each evasion a dance. In other circumstances, the dance she performed would have been beautiful. But there, amidst an army of 20,000 orcs, trolls, ogres, giants, lizardmen, wolves, and dragons, it was fatal.

Part of a unit in which less then one in twenty elven warriors were qualified to enter, the bladesingers were devastating on the battlefield. Nothing stood in their way, even the powerful giants were too slow and clumsy to halt their advance. This was what they were trained for, and to many of them, it seemed to be the very reason they were born.

But even with hundreds of years of training, even with the skill and coordination to slice an arrow out of the sky, even with the ability to turn aside the most harmful of blows, nothing can truly make one immune to the many forms death can take.

This time death took the form of a light elven wizard. Slicing through his bodyguards as though they were wheat before a scythe, the bladesingers were to slow to stop him from casting his spell. Flames burst out from his fingers, rolling over many of them in an arc to great to be dodged. Jyslen herself felt her arm and leg on fire, caught on the edge of it in her desperate lunge to safety. Her training allowed her to ignore the pain and block it out, but it would not make either her arm or leg move as she wanted it to, for the magical flames had burned deeply.

Another light elf charged in at her from the side, hitting her squarely in the face with its shield and knocking her to the ground. Jyslen stared at her arm, wondering why it had not done as she ordered and sliced through her racial enemies throat. She never looked back in time to see the longsword slicing down towards her.

*****

Grishnak, orc warrior and member of Karav's company, hacked at another elf with his hand axe. The axe was parried, but his shield was left ignored, allowing him to bash it into the face of the elf. His axe rose and fell again, cutting the elf apart.

He turned next to a human that had come at him, wielding a long sword and shield. Grishnak took the sword on his shield and hacked out with his axe, crippling the human. Another swing defeated him, and Grishnak snarled out an orcish oath at the dying human.

Seeing no opponents, Grishnak turned and fled after his company, trying to get back to the bridge and away from the thousands of remaining dwarves, elves, and humans that had suddenly turned the tide of the battle. Dragons swept bye overhead, striking with near impunity at his companions. He waved his axe at them angrily, thinking it unfair that they could cause such death without any threat to themselves. Seeing the chromatic dragons approaching, he stopped and cheered at the site.

His cheering was the last sound he made, for an arrow suddenly found his chest. Silenced, Grishnak stared at the wooden shaft protruding from his leather brigandine. Suddenly at a loss for breath, he stumbled to his knees and grabbed onto the shaft. A great numbness began to spread then, and within moments the light faded from his eyes and he collapsed to the ground, just another corpse on the valley floor.

*****

Martin had left his pathfinders on animal runways and at good hiding spots in two and threes. They were there to defend and turn back the enemy in case they tried to flank. Now he moved alone towards the chasm at the end of the valley. He swore softly when he heard some rocks shift above him. He was in a cleft in the rock, moving from one ledge to another.

Martin cleared the miniature ravine and saw that a group of light elves were attacking two of his pathfinders. He readied his bow quickly and put an arrow to it. Firing as rapidly as he dared, for fear of hitting his men, he took two of the light elves down from behind before they realized he was back there.

Finding themselves attacked from both sides, three of the light elves broke away from the group of eight and came running back towards Martin. He wounded one of them on the way by hitting him in the thigh with an arrow. The other two reached him quickly though, forcing him to discard his bow and drawn his sword.

Light elves were known for their skill in battle, a fact Martin had hoped not to prove true. He gave up ground rapidly to them, retreating as he defended from their attacks. The two were obviously not used to fighting alongside each other, however, and in that, Martin saw his only chance of survival.