New chapter out :)
Chapter Five
The Scourge
The creature, wearing red robes, tattered at the edges and giving off a reek of rotting flesh; held a steel gauntleted hand over the blue orb. In it, visions of blood and death appeared. The images became clearer, clearly showing a battle. The screams were blood chilling and satisfying to the creature. It stared until it saw what it wanted. The orcs. They were cutting and slashing their way through everything. It came to an image where two of them killed twenty opponents together. He hissed with pleasure at the spatter of the blood. It clenched its fist tight, and made the image freeze. It exerted its magic, but this was worth the exertion. He examined the way they fought. They were messy, brutal and loud. But they were incredibly efficient. Over the thousands of years it had been staring into the orb, it had seen many warrior races, but none such as these. It remembered the past races it had seen. Many of them, many had now fallen. But the orcs… The orcs would be brought back under the control of the dark king. They should never have left His service. He, most mighty of sovereigns. It unclenched its fist and gave a casual wave over the orb. The images disappeared to be replaced by a thick haze, swirling until its master would require it to see again. It drew in a rattling breath, and turned to the hooded guards behind it. It was stood in a large circular room, built from stone, surrounded by a green mist that gave it an evil hue, the room was green tinted and light came from an unseen source, but in these dark and evil places, light itself couldn’t stay pure, this light being twisted and somehow dark in itself. The creature drew in a great, rattling breath and spoke. Its words were chilling, as though it brought the coldness of winter whenever sound emitted from it.
“You saw what I saw… I require of you a service. There is a great battle to happen. See to it that you are there when it starts. Report back to me everything that happened as you saw it. Go now…” At the last word, it emitted a breath, which sounded like howling wind. It turned again to the orb, staring into the swirling mist and contemplating the invasion. It would serve His evil purposes, without fail. When he turned again, the guards had gone. No trace of them ever having stood there remained. They were the perfect spies for the mission.
The high general Furiath, who was a Dwarf of great fame; was leading the biggest and most important army that had ever been mustered, it was small considering its great importance. With a force only 30,000 strong, it wouldn’t hold out too well in a prolonged fight with the Verudian Empires 70,000 strong force. The Coalition had speed on their side, as they would arrive first, and the Verudian Empire would arrive a week after them. This gave the Coalition time to build a small defense for the battle, but the Elder Council had forbidden it, claiming that to be sacrilege against the King of the gods. So, a frustrated Furiath rode on a pony at the head of his army. Frantically planning how he could use the time to his advantage… He could try building defenses anyway? He dismissed this idea straight away. Someone in the army would say something and land him in hot water. His thoughts strayed to setting an ambush. This idea was dismissed also. The landscape was completely flat. No way could he hide a force sizeable enough for his needs. “Curse the landscape!” He shouted out loud. His second in command, Commander Ulunt rode up next to him.
Ulunt was a Goblin. He had a large build unusual in his race, and his skin gave off a healthy green glow. “Sir, something wrong? I will help you in any way I can.”
“It’s this fuc*ing terrain Ulunt. I have no idea how we can win. There is no strategic value anywhere in this place. That means it comes down to a battle of numbers, and we are fuc*ed for that. There’s absolutely no way we can last in a prolonged brawl. The absolute only hope we have! Is a swift, deciding movement. We have to do something, involving as little numbers as possible that swings the battle in our favour.” Furiath finished the rant he needed to get off his chest.
“Sir, if I may suggest. The king Tommo himself is presiding over this battle. He is with that important Commander Ruku. If we killed one or both of them, the whole army would be in disarray. Then it’s just a simple matter of slaughtering as many as possible.”
“That’s a lot harder than it sounds Ulunt. I hope we can pull a victory out… Or else, cause them a lot of casualties. We have over 10,000 Orcs. The fiercest fighters in Albradia. Couple that with Dwarf and Goblin auxiliary support, Centaur cavalry and those magnificent Brownies and their pets. We have a pretty powerful bunch of fighters.” Ulunt just nodded in reply.
“I bloody hope we do Sir, I bloody hope so.”
“Right, enough chatter. Fall back in line. It’ll be night soon; we should call a break and set a camp with what little light we have.”
“Right you are Sir.” Ulunt pulled back on the reins and the horse, bearing its rider, disappeared from Furiath’s periphery. He sighed and waved a lazy hand to the men behind him. There was an incredibly loud horn blast that was repeated down the line and the whole army stopped its march.
Wrex had never learnt how to put up a tent. He felt proud of today’s attempt however. It was still stood upright after five minutes at least. He strolled inside and put his green bed cover down. He smiled at his handiwork. He lay down on his bed and drew the sheet around him. Just has he closed his eyes, a shout disturbed him. “Lieutenant Wrex! Lieutenant Wrex Sir!” He sat bolt upright and rested a hand on his scabbard.
“In here!” He shouted outside. One of the privates in his warband appeared outside the flap. “What do you want then?”
“Sir, it’s Treth’s replacement! He arrived just now, and he’s a higher rank than you. That means the warband’s in his control now Wrex.”
“WHAT!?” No sooner had the words left his mouth, than there was a strange whirring and the walls of the tent collapsed. In a mere second, he was completely covered by the white sheet of the tent.
From outside, Atton couldn’t help but give off a chuckle at the sight. Wrex was thrashing around underneath the sheet in his rage. The thrashing stopped, and then there came a ripping sound. Wrex had simply sliced the sheet in two. He managed to stand, sheathing his weapon as he did so. The smile instantly disappeared from Atton’s face. “The replacement? A higher fu*king rank? Are you fu*king with me Atton?” Wrex exclaimed more than a little angrily.
“Yes Sir. He requested to see you. I’ll show you his tent. But if you want my opinion on the matter Sir, I couldn’t give two sh*ts about the Captain. He hasn’t led us through piss poor odds like you have. I’ll follow all of your orders, even if they contradict his.” Wrex smiled at the show of loyalty and placed a hand on the private’s shoulder.
“You’re a good Orc Atton. One of the finest I’ve ever had the pleasure of leading. So, why don’t you lead me for a change?” Wrex signalled forwards and Atton walked ahead.
The Captain had a lavish tent, which was incredibly unnecessary for a nights sleep. Wrex had a feeling of dislike towards him already. As he walked in through the flap, there were two Goblin guards on the inside, who both saluted to Wrex as he marched in. He saw the Captain staring at him from behind an intricately carved desk. “So, Captain. I am to expect you’ve replaced me…?” He spoke the last two words menacingly. The Captain looked down at Wrex and signalled for the guards and Atton to leave. Wrex called Atton back. “Atton stays Captain, or I go with him.”
“Fine, be that way if you must. But the terms of yours and private Treth’s replacements aren’t to be discussed here. I have called you here about you Lieutenant Wrex.” Wrex stiffened.
“Something wrong… Sir?” He said Sir with obvious distaste.
“No, nothing at all. It’s just about your record. You have a very good one, medals from the winter campaign five years ago, you were given the best medal for a trooper in active service three years ago. I believe you received the Coalition Seal after successful night raids against Verudian prison camps?” Wrex nodded stiffly.
“Sir, if all you’ve done is summon me here to talk about my supposed success, then I think I should respectfully leave.”
“You will do nothing until I have said you can leave. Is that understood? Lieutenant?”
“Perfectly Sir.” Wrex’s jaw clenched. Atton shifted his feet from side to side.
“Good. Well, back to the matter at hand. I have summoned you to say that I will be having no reckless command. You are still technically the leader of the warband and have the power to override my orders concerning the warband. But the way you have of slaughtering everything in your path is of no use to us. I have to suggest to you, that during my brief stay with this warband, you listen to what I have to say, so I do not make things hard for you when I get back out of your little group? Are we clear?”
“With all due respect Sir. You can fu*k off back to your warband. I’m putting in for a new replacement, with the General himself. You fuc*ing uptight little monkey faced ba*tard.” Wrex turned and walked straight out of the flap, a grimace painted on his face. Atton followed, but before walking out of the tent, he turned to the Captain.
“Oi! You ***!” The Captain frowned hideously as Atton stuck his middle finger up at him, before disappearing out of the tent with a cackle.
Wrex went over to his ripped, dirty and tangled sheet that was once a tent, and lay on top of it, dragging his cover on, he closed his eyes to a fitful and uncomfortable sleep.
The morning brought with it an incredible and unnatural ice cold. Wrex woke shivering, even under the warm blankets. The earth was hard, rock solid and the air was bitingly cold. Wrex hurriedly wrapped a shawl around himself and inspected the morning. Mist clung heavily to the air, distorting the figures of orcs, dwarves, goblins, centaurs and fauns. Wrex rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear them properly. He didn’t know what kind of sorcery was going on, but he didn’t like it. It was summer for Christ sake. Elves and humans were capable of magic. But he doubted they would use their powers to create a slight chill over the Coalition forces. He saw something in his peripheral. He spun and unsheathed his sword, ready to combat whatever was behind him. He saw nothing. He stared dumbstruck into the mist for a few seconds, before relaxing his stance and sheathing the weapon back. As he turned to walk away, he looked back and for a brief second, could swear he saw something duck behind a tree, a cloak billowing behind it as it moved. But then the image was gone, and he kept on walking, convinced he was just tired.
The creature hissed to itself. It had almost been seen. Anything that compromised them would put them in great trouble with their Captain. Stealth was their priority. Being immortal and irreplaceable creatures, they had gotten in a lot of practice. The second of the creatures silenced him and continued to watch. Not moving, breathing, making any noise at all. Completely still, as if it were a statue. The first creature did the same and they watched as the traitor orcs milled around the edges of the camp.
Furiath gazed out. The cold was incredibly moral draining. He almost gave the order to wait out the cold, however long that would take, but he had to reach the plain first, so he spoke quiet words to Ulunt, and roughly a minute later, a horn was blasted and repeated throughout the ranks. The army was packing up, and would move out again within two hours.
Lyle marched in the middle column of men. The Elf next to him was holding the flag of the Empire, and was waving it to coordinate the movements. Lyle’s armour jingled as he moved. Chain mail underneath a metal cuirass, on his head was a footman helmet, made of simple tin and sporting a wide, circular design with no facial protection. His left arm bore a very large shield, the patterns of his family crest painted on. His right arm held a finely crafted short sword. Courtesy of his uncle, who was a Sergeant of the Guard in the army. The huge army marched, Lyle beaming with pride and excitement. He had promised his uncle he would slay an Orc this day. The army marched on for another six miles, until they entered the very edges of the Sacred Plain. Lyle felt he could smell the stench of the ignorant baby killers even though they were a good seven miles further march from their current position. At the front of the army, over 17,000 trolls were tethered and bound, to be cut from their bonds at the time of battle. “Encouraging” shouts from their handlers and the occasional whipping drove them onward, the miserable monsters. At the back of the army, there were around 100 Ogres in cages. They were being dragged on ropes by Gnome slaves and they were eager to be let out to eat and kill.
At the battle site, Furiath had ordered some kind of defensive wall built across the length of the area. He had it curve to the sides, to protect the flanks. He ordered his best soldiers to the back of the square to ward off any enemies trying to flank them. He would defeat his opponents by going on the defensive. He could do it; he had Orcs after all…
Wrex was tasked with holding the front of the wall with his warband, where they would be hit heaviest. The centaurs would be ready to provide support if signalled, and dragons were awaiting their own signals to come down and rain hell on the enemy. He had the advantage, and he was sure he would either win at a heavy cost, or lose with a massive blow to the enemy. The army had just finished getting into positions, when the bugle sounded to draw arms. There was a great clamour, as every combatant withdrew shields, swords, axes, halberds, spears and other assorted tools of destruction. Wrex’s band raised their shields and held their swords ready to thrust should their shield be knocked aside. Wrex was in the fourth row of defenders, and was directly in front of the stakes, which were made to stop the inevitable cavalry charge. They had no pikes to effectively combat them, so they would halt their charge another way. When the cavalry came too close to turn away, the first four lines of defenders would run back and let the horses charge into the huge pieces of wood. Then the defenders would pour forth and slaughter them.
Lyle heard jeers and roars coming down from the front of the army. He reckoned the enemy must be in sight. He felt a fresh wave of excitement and mouthed a silent prayer to his God. “Smite my enemies Lord.” At the front of the army, was Jillup. The elf commanded a section of the right wing, and had the enemy in plain sight. They hid behind a hastily erected mud wall, hundreds of archers stood ready to shoot as soon as the Verudian’s began charging. Jillup examined the meager defense, and summoned his second in command. “Sergeant at Arms Sir!” The human saluted stiffly.
“Reginald, listen. I want you to run to Bethyr and ask him to send us orders now. We can begin a premature charge, hopefully break their front line and have reinforcements available to carry on the fight when it gets too tough for us. That should draw the guardians of the flanks into fighting, leaving them wide open. A victory for us. Tell him this, he should see sense. Bethyr is the commander of the infantry section after all.” Reginald nodded and ran through the thick crowd of soldiers.
Wrex could just barely see through the first rows of Orcs, he could make out that the Verudian’s had arrived and that they were possibly preparing a charge. He heard more horns and instruments blaring, and the order came to prepare for assault. It had begun.
Bethyr stared from atop his hilly vantage point. He saw a sweaty soldier clambering his way towards his position. When the man reached him, he was out of breath and was taking deep gulps of air. It was an impatient while before he spoke. “Lord Bethyr… Sir! Sergeant at Arms Jillup, who controls right wing elements, has asked that you order a premature charge to break the defenses while the main force prepares to move around and encircle.” Bethyr thought for a quick moment.
“This is impractical. We can just barely manage to charge 10,000. What use would they be against the Orcs at the front?”
“Sir, we can quickly draw up some reserves to come in if the fight looks awry. Please Sir; Jillup knows what he is doing.”
“I am afraid not. The best you can do is wait for the cavalry charge to begin. When the cavalry reaches halfway to the Coalition wall, the infantry sections move up to support. That is Ruku’s plan, and as he is a higher rank than me, I must obey.” Reginald opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling for words, before admitting defeat.
“Yes Sir, you are right as always Sir.” He turned with an air of disappointment and jogged back into the neat rows of soldiers.
Wrex turned to Bello. “If anything happens to me, you’re in command. I trust you more than anyone.” Bello replied.
“If anything happens to me, feel free to marry my widow.” They cracked gleeful, half maniacal grins, with Wrex emitting a short laugh.
“Of course mate. Oh sh*t, the cavalry is coming out.” It was true, the Verudian heavy and light horse had arranged into two wedge formations. Many horse riders were armed with lances, some with short spears, others with swords and axes, and a few with maces. Across the distance, a shrill horn blast reached their ears, and the ground shook beneath them.
SPQR! An ambitious historical project, coming soon. Check the Library for early version test writes. Recommended for anyone with a love of history.