Blurb
There are stirrings in the Continent of Albradia. Three Kingdoms, each one with dreams of owning one anothers land, are driven to war. When a rebellion attempt is foiled, it is the excuse needed for all out war. The Three Kingdoms are tearing each other apart, while Outsiders watch, and wait until the time is right to move in and sweep up what is left. Can the Three Kingdoms reach a compromise? Or will they have desroyed each other before the year is out?
The Three Kingdoms
Book one
Prologue
The Coalition of Races
The town stunk. It was the first thing that came to Bello’s mind. The smell of rotting flesh. A smell he was familiar with, being an Orc meant you got a lot of that smell. Bello was a Sergeant in a 30 strong group. Their mission was to go for the rebellions leader. Griskath, a Goblin who had struck a rebellion by gathering a lot of his followers and paying a few regiments to split and join him. They had taken the town of Gutair on the edge of the Fermil forest and had put all the civilians to the sword, and most of them had been Fauns and Orcs. Something they couldn’t get away with. Bello signalled to Wrex, the group’s leader. He was a Lieutenant in the Kings army. Bello pointed at a Goblin sentry. Wielding a very large Halberd, the Goblin was staring off into space, a glazed look in its eyes. It had been drinking it seemed. Wrex quietly drew his sword and moved behind a nearby cottage. The group stayed watching the Goblin. From where they were, they saw the Goblin suddenly turn its head to the right, alert. Wrex must have made a sound. The Goblin cautiously moved to a nearby house. The attack came suddenly. Wrex burst from behind some barrels to the Goblins left. The Goblin had time to turn before Wrex’s sword had slit its throat. The body crumpled to the ground, spraying blood from the wound.
Wrex waved to the band and they all ran over to his position. He dragged the dead guard into a space in-between two houses and walked back over to them. “Okay, we got rid of that lucky ***, the rest of them are supposed to be having a little feast.”
“How do we know?” Bello inquired of his leader.
“Because, that one we killed looked pissed as a fart. He soon sobered up though.” Wrex gave a malicious grin. A sound came from behind them. The group turned and saw a trio of Goblins shambling towards them. One of them held a tankard, swaying it bemusedly in the dark evening, while his friends wore stupid smiles. They caught site of the group suddenly. The tankard dropped to the floor, spilling its amber coloured contents. The Goblins drew swords and charged the group with loud screams. One fell over and landed on his blade, spilling his own intestines on the cobbled street. The other two kept charging. Wrex ducked under a wildly swinging blade and rammed the tip of his sword into the chest of is attacker, while two Corporals brought down the other with a blow to the leg, and a decapitation. One of the Privates spoke. “That was more noise than we *** needed.” The sound of a door being barged open rang through the now silent town and many footsteps rapidly came their way.
At least a hundred Goblins had come to investigate. All of them armed and surveying the carnage. Suddenly, they all roared and charged at the Orcs. “SHIELDS UP!” Wrex yelled at the group. They all raised their shields and aimed them at the enemy. “Bello! Signal the army! NOW!” Bello pulled out a match. He struck it, and ignited it with a spark. He threw it onto the roof and grabbed his canteen. Pouring the contents onto the ember, he stepped back as it lit the whole roof with a loud WHUMPF! Then the sound of clashing steel met his ears. The roars of the combatants replaced the sound of the nocturnal animal’s song. The fire had caught the whole building and let off a mighty pillar of smoke. Bello hoped that the army outside the town would see the signal.
Wrex duelled with a Goblin Captain. The insignia on its shoulders showed him. It thrust forward. Wrex knocked the blow aside with his sword and shoved his shield in its face. The Goblin stumbled back, and this was the opportunity needed. He lunged forward and felt his sword enter through the armour of the Goblin, pierce its flesh and exit out of its back, severing its spine. He planted a foot on the Goblin and pulled out his sword, releasing an explosion of gore. A Corporal was fighting two Goblins at once. One swung at him. He ducked under it and raised his shield to deflect the blow o the second Goblin. He felt a weight hit him from behind, and he was on the ground. He looked up to see three Goblins. One raised its sword to finish him, when another Orc came behind it and grabbed hold of its head. It was Bello. He twisted the Goblins neck and pounced on another. That left the Corporal, Okin, to fight the remaining one. The Goblin was shocked at what just happened to its comrades. Okin took that precious moment to jam his blade into its kneecap. It gave an un-earthly shriek and collapsed, Okin’s sword jutting from its leg. Okin began punching it in the face, each blow a vicious one. He hit it until its face was nothing but a pulp, and his fists dripped with blood.
Wrex raked his sword edge along a Goblins eye and cheek. Screaming, it rolled around on the floor in agony, until Wrex punctured its lung with a downward thrust. He dared a look around. The Orcs had abandoned the disciplined approach and were charging into the Goblins, preferring to fight alone. Wrex cursed loudly and killed a Goblin by decapitating it. Te head rolled over to Bello who was trading blows with a Goblin. It blocked his attack pretty well and retaliated with a swing of its own. Bello knocked it aside with his shield and lunged forward. His blade swept along the Goblins arm, splitting the flesh and revealing the bloody tissue beneath. The Goblin looked in great pain, but it struggled on. The wound proved to be a turning point in the fight. The Goblin tried to drag the blade along his stomach. Bello moved his shield to intercept the attack, and then tried to overwhelm the Goblin with sheer strength. He rained down blow upon blow across the Goblins sword. It dropped the blade after a few hits and Bello cut through its wrist and severed the hand. It dropped to its knees, pale from loss of blood, while Bello slit its throat. The Goblins kept coming. The Orcs had been doing well, but it couldn’t last. The Goblin numbers would destroy them. “But not without a fight.” He thought to himself, as he watched the life leave a Goblins eyes. He roared and plunged his blade into a Goblins spine as it fought one of his allies.
Okin wiped sweat from his brow as he ripped his sword through the soft innards of a stunned Goblin. It collapsed and he swung his sword viciously along its neck, the head was hanging on by a sinew of flesh. He was about to engage another foe, when a sound came from above him. It seemed, in that moment, all eyes looked upward. A great shadow passed over the fighters, and a fireball the size of a wagon engulfed the Goblins furthest back. That was at least 20 gone. Another shadow came over them, and this time it was a massive bout of flame that sprayed along the Goblin line. The Dragons began turning back, but not before several bursts of flame to do what damage they could. The Goblins began running away from the cheering Orcs. They left the wounded. The Goblins turned the corner, and turned back again. They stopped at the sight of the blood spattered Orcs and dropped their weapons. Confused, Okin took a step forward, but was barred by a Privates shield. Treth’s shield. “Sir, listen.” He said before turning his attention back to the pleading Goblins. Many of them were on their knees holding up their hands in an act of surrender. A few had kept hold of their weapons, but were visibly shaking as they stared at the unseen threat. Okin strained his ears until he heard it. A slight rumbling sound. It then became a trembling. And then a roar. And the Centaurs charged into the scramble of Goblins, cleaving their heads and cracking skulls as they went. They spared no lives. The fires and burning corpses left behind from the dragons ignited their eager faces. Tonight would be a glorious night.
The Goblin fell under the combined blades of the Orcs as they rampaged along the streets. And that’s when they reached the centre of the city. And the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest it could get, because piled high, were the bodies of the town people. A large pool of blood had collected underneath the mass and flies covered it. Wrex shook his head slowly. Okin and Treth were clamping each other’s shoulders in a show of support. Bello reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace that his wife had given him. He clutched it tight and whispered to himself “I won’t let this happen to you.” A commotion sounded in the night. The Orcs and Centaurs sprinted away from the depressing pile and as they turned a corner, they saw a battle taking place. All they could see was the Goblins, they had come behind them. But they all knew what the Goblins were fighting when they heard a battle cry taken up by them. “That’ll be the Dwarves then?” Wrex said to one of the Centaurs. The Centaur nodded and held his sword aloft. “CHARGE!” He yelled, as his brethren took up his cry and began a cavalry charge into the unprotected flank of the Goblins.
The Centaurs reached the scrap first. They hacked and slashed at the Goblins. The Orcs then reached the fight. Treth used his shield to knock a panicky Goblin to the ground. He slammed an iron shod boot down on its throat repeatedly until he heard a crack. The Goblin spluttered blood and died. Treth delivered an almighty punch to another Goblin, right on its jaw. The Goblin fell on hands and knees and shrieked as Treth’s sword cleaved its skull. He welcomed the spray of warm blood on his face. Bello was swapping blows with a Corporal Goblin. It fought well for such a low rank. They clashed swords and drew close to each other. Bello could smell the rank breath of his foe as it began speaking. “Nothing like killing an Orc child while it clings to its dead mothers clothes!” Bello roared and swept away the Goblins blade. He kicked the Goblin in the groin and as it keeled over, brought his knee up to its face. There was a crack and the Goblin fell to the ground, blood streaming from both nostrils. He jammed his sword in its guts, and twisted. The Goblin gasped and let loose a flow of blood from its mouth as it died. That’s when the Dwarves became visible in the fracas. One of them swung a butterfly axe shoved the edge in a Goblins stomach. He pulled it out, letting the intestines drop, before turning to another foe and decapitating it before it could even raise its shield. The fighting died down and the Dwarf’s face lit up when he saw Wrex. “WREX!” He bellowed. The Orc looked around and saw the Dwarf, beaming at him.
“Well *** me with a barbed pole! HASKAR!”
The Orc and Dwarf approached one another while the rest of the band looked confused. “Bloody hell Haskar, haven’t seen you since that skirmish in Grada!” Wrex exclaimed.
“*** hell, you were only a Corporal back then. And a leader of a War band! Well, you’ve rose up in the ranks. I won’t be surprised if you’re getting Captain by next year.” Haskar balanced his axe on his shoulder, blood dripping onto his armour. “So, you find out where that ***, Griskath yet?”
“No mate, he might be in the town hall. Looks like we cleared out most of the rebels. Shall we get moving then?” Wrex moved back to his band. “MOVE TO THE TOWN HALL! NOW!” They all obliged and turned back to the centre of town.
The town hall was impressive. It towered over everything else and was crafted of the finest wood and marble. A large set of polished, wooden double doors was the only entrance in. Lights were on inside, as indicated by the glow in the windows. The Dwarves ran up to the doors tried to open them. One of the Dwarves shouted back “IT’S LOCKED!”
A Centaur yelled at them “WELL SMASH IT OPEN THEN!” The Dwarves began battering it with sword and shield. There was a crack as the wood splintered. Then, one of the doors gave, and Goblins poured out of the breach. A Dwarf took an axe to the side of the skull, while another was felled by a scimitar. The Dwarves shook off their surprise and engaged the Goblins viciously. The Centaurs couldn’t manoeuvre up the stairs to the building, so the Orcs sprinted up them. Okin leapt up after propelling himself off the edge of the step. He cried a battle cry and, sing his momentum, slammed his shield into the mid-riff of a Goblin. It flew backwards, its ribs broken. Okin landed awkwardly, and a Goblin seized his chance. Striking out, the Goblin missed Okin by an inch. Okin ducked under the Goblin and tackled him. He lifted him up and slammed him into the wall of the building. He began punching and kicking him, until he was dead. He let the body drop to the floor with a wet thud and turned to engage the others. Haskar swept a Goblins feet out from under him, and delivered a downwards stroke with his axe to the Goblins pelvis and let it to bleed to death. The remaining Goblin put up a tough fight, but they were quickly dealt with. The Dwarves suffered eighteen casualties, the Orcs had none. The two races spilled into the grand hall. There was an elegant staircase heading up to the second floor. There was no sign of any other Goblins. They went up the staircase, two at a time and reached the top in no time. There was a shuffling from behind a closed door. Wrex put a finger to his lips to signal silence. He put an ear to the door. He listened intently and turned back to the group. “They’re definitely in there. When we go in, be careful.” He turned, not waiting for a reply and kicked down the door. He raised his shield instinctively and saved his life. A scimitar jarred off his raised shield. He struck out with his sword and felt his sword bite deep into flesh. The other Orcs rushed in and the sounds of combat soon echoed throughout the grand building.
Bello feigned an attack at the Goblin. It raised its shield and let itself unprotected. Bello took the chance to run it through with his weapon. It died before it hit the ground. The Goblins were very few in number, and were dealt with. Up at the front of the room, was a desk. And behind the desk was stood a Goblin. It had no weapons and wore a robe. “FOOLS!” It shrieked at them. Wrex strode over to it. “Griskath, you slimy ***.” Wrex delivered an uppercut to the traitor. He fell to the ground, winded. Wrex placed the edge of his sword on Griskath’s neck. “And now you die.” He made to rake the blade across the Goblin’s throat, but he was startled when it began laughing.
“You don’t know what you’ve done!”
“I know exactly what I’ve done you worm.”
“No! I made an agreement with the two Empires.” A chill ran up Wrex’s spine.
“What do you mean?”
“They said that we were their vassals. If anyone attacks us, then they are enemies with the Empires.”
“WHAT!?”
“It’s true, and now they will destroy this pathetic Coalition. Don’t even fool yourself with thinking of victory.”
“Orcs know nothing but victory. I wish we could say the same about you and loyalty.”
“The Empires will kill all of you. I wish I would be there to see it!”
“Oh well, killing you might make me a little happier with the day.” The Goblins smile turned to a grimace.
“I am ready.” He closed his eyes and gave the slightest of groans as the blade cut across his throat.
Chapter One
Verudian Empire
The population of the Verudian Empire’s capital city mostly comprises of Humans and Elves, with a smattering of Gnome slaves. The Trolls are not permitted to see the grace of the city. For Lyle, that was a good thing. The Humans were fanatically religious and only the Elves and Humans were made for the Earth. Every other race was a complete abomination, a test of the Human and Elves worthiness to rule the continent. They had already reduced three races to servitude and the heathen Coalition were next in line, the time for war had come, especially with the news Lyle carried to the Verudian Council and the great King Tommo. Down the busy streets, Elves and Humans were doing their various tasks, selling fruits, silk, linens, furs and other exotic items from the more lavish parts of the Empire. The Citadel of Truth was the grandest building in the whole Empire. Standing hundreds of feet high, sculpted of the finest marble, with the statues of past kings guarding the gateway into the Citadel. He made his way to the marble stairs. The crowd had thinned around here as it took special kinds of people to be allowed entrance into the Citadel. Lyle climbed the stairs and pushed past the line of people waiting to get in.
He ignored the protests of the peasants as he climbed ever higher towards the gateway. He passed the statues of the kings Torenk and Uerace, as they leant on their swords in a casual manner, just as they had been for the past 300 years. A Human guard approached him. “Is there a reason for your ignorance of the line? Or do you wish for a night in the cells?”
“I come bearing news for the Council and the King.” Lyle reached into the deep pockets of his blue and red robe and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It bore the Imperial Seal. The guard made to grab it, but Lyle moved it out of reach. “For their eyes only.” The guard narrowed his eyes.
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because the news this contains,” He shook the parchment to exonerate his point “Is of such importance, you will be hearing of it by Noon. Is the Imperial Seal not evidence enough of its authenticity?” The guard gave a defeated look and angrily jerked a thumb towards the gate. Lyle smiled in reply and made his way to the gate. Upon reaching it, the other two guards halted him. But turned their attention to the other guard as he shouted to them “LET HIM PASS!” He yelled, more than a little annoyed. The guards ushered him in and he was in the courtyard. People in fancier clothing than the peasants outside were walking in the spacious yard. A string of market stalls lined one side of the court, with an assortment of meats and vegetables on display. The tantalising smell of roasted Gryphon hung in the air. On the other side of the court, was a blacksmith’s, an inn and a large estate house. The banners of the Lord Bethyr waved lazily in the morning breeze, hanging from the top windows of the house. The sound of clanging metal cut across the noise of the court, as the Blacksmith’s went to work. In the centre of the court, was the most striking feature. An execution block. Three Gnomes hung from the top of it, swinging and swaying, the ropes creaking slightly under their weight. Curious, Lyle approached one of the signposts around the execution block. It read: “Under decree of King Tommo, the three Gnomes known as Gris, Wreef and Qwuerit have been sentenced to death by hanging, following them being linked to recent terrorist activities in the South regions of the Empire. Let it be a lesson to anyone else wanting to aid the GFA. Contact any local Officer of the Guard if you wish to give us information on whereabouts of any suspected resistance members. You will be richly rewarded.”
Lyle finished reading and felt a surge of hatred. How dare the Gnomes be this ungrateful. They would be savages if it weren’t for the Empire. They would be in poverty and squalor. He controlled his anger and briskly walked towards another set of steps heading into the keep of the Citadel. The guards didn’t stop him as he entered into the cool insides of the Citadel. The walls were made of stone, the same stone used in the building of the Citadel, back when it was merely a Castle. He saw light spilling in from around a corner. He turned the corner and found himself facing a small bridge connecting the tower he was standing in, with the grand hall, and where the King resided. He crossed the bridge, passing two chatting Elf guards. They were discussing the hangings and how one of the Gnomes tried to bite the executioner. A joke about this made the Elves chuckle with mirth. Lyle entered the grand hall. Torches were displayed all over the walls; huge tables were laid out, adorned with golden and silver plates. Candles littered the table, waiting to be lit at the nights feast, and at the end of the hall, was the King, sat behind a small table, with a huge throne, draped by a canopy bearing the Kings coat of arms. An Elf holding aloft a glowing ball. Above the throne, the standards of the Empire jutted out. Imperial guards wearing royal green uniforms, were idly talking to each other, and checking the tables. Lyle walked down the middle of the hall, his feet echoing around the hall. The King looked up, and his brow creased when he saw the parchment in Lyle’s hands. He gave a slight lick of his lips and spoke. “What do you have there boy?” The King was only very young, but his voice was deep and demanded respect. A good sign of a leader. Lyle stopped and held up the parchment, being careful to make sure the Imperial Seal was shown towards the King.
“I come bearing news from our friends. The rebels in the Coalition.” The King brightened.
“Did the plan work? Did the Coalition attack them?”
“Well Sir, maybe you should read the letter first.” Lyle approached the King’s throne and passed the parchment over the table to the King. He unrolled it and his lips moved silently as he read. His mouth twisted into a smile and he rolled the parchment back up. He clicked his fingers eagerly. A guard ran over to the King. “Guard, I required something of you. Commander Ruku is down in the Barracks, drilling fresh troops. Tell him I want him here, immediately.” The guard saluted and sprinted out of the hall, his scabbard bouncing wildly.
Ruku ducked under the swing of his opponent. He swiftly turned and punched out at his foe. His fist connected with his jaw, and the man stumbled. Ruku put his sword to the recruit’s throat. “And that is how you fight a man! I want you all, to practice the moves I have shown you! When you can do one of them correctly before the day is out, a couple of gold coins are in it for you!” He shouted at the recruits in the drill yard. The promise of the gold was enough to motivate them. They set about each other with the plastic swords. Practicing the moves the Commander taught them. The gravel crunched as an Imperial Guard sprinted over to Ruku. He turned just as the Imperial Guard reached him. The Guard gave off a crisp salute, panting slightly.
“Sir, his Highness requests your presence in the great hall immediately.” Ruku gave an exasperated sigh.
“Can it not wait? I have to train these men, and they need a lot of it. They can barely wipe their own ass!”
“I’m sorry Sir, King Tommo made it very clear he wants you now.” Ruku sighed again.
“Okay, tell him I’m on my way. Dismissed soldier.” The Guard gave another salute and sprinted out of the Barracks. The men were still fighting, and some of them were doing the moves rather well. Ruku bellowed at them and they all stopped. “I have an audience with the King, you can have a break. But when I get back, I will work you until your backs break! IS THAT CLEAR!?” The recruits shouted back at him.
“SIR, YES SIR!” Ruku nodded and turned his back to them, his crimson cloak billowing.
King Tommo impatiently tapped his fingers on the arm of the throne. The Guard had returned a few minutes ago and was now sat at one of the tables, drinking a mug of ale. A half-eaten piece of meat on a plate in front of him. The King was about to call for him to see what the Commander was doing, when he strode into the hall. He stood in the middle o the hall and knelt to the King. “My liege. You requested to see me.”
“About time Ruku, I was getting impatient.”
“I apologise.”
“Yes, it is no matter. But I have interesting news for you, Commander.”
“Sir?”
“Indeed, very interesting. Can I be sure that you can have all Regiments of the Army briefed and ready for tomorrow?”
“Of course, but what am I to brief them on?”
“You are to tell them that we have entered a war against the Coalition, along with our allies, the Empire of Ice.” A slight change came over the Commanders features.
“I will get them prepped at once Sire.”
“Good, you may go now.” Ruku bowed and hurriedly left the hall. He welcomed the thought of a war. A chance to prove the Humans and Elves the superior peoples in the continent. Even the Empire of Ice would fall soon enough. Ruku would be fighting in glorious combat soon enough.
Chapter Two
Coalition of Races
The Goblins were subject to heavy distrust following the events of Griskath and his followers. And now that an army had been spotted marching towards the Great Plain, things were definitely heating up. Wrex walked with his two Sergeants, Bello and Treg, along the empty streets of Gutair. It had been a full day since the end of the battle and the dead were still being carted away. Many of the soldiers celebrated by getting drunk in the tavern, only a few wounded Goblins had been found, and they revealed the same tale Griskath had. They were indeed at war. Wrex spoke suddenly. “I don’t think even the Orcs can win against this you know?” Bello laid a hand on his superiors shoulder.
“Hey, we’ve faced worse odds than this Sir. And besides, we’re Orcs. The best fighters this side of the world. What’s to worry about?” Wrex brightened a little.
“I guess you’re right. The taverns coming up. Fancy a drink?” Treg burped loudly and nodded his head in approval. “Alright then, let’s get going.” The trio rounded a corner and the tavern was in sight. Light spilt from inside and the sounds of laughter could be heard. As they approached, the laughter stopped. It was suddenly replaced by a splintering crash, and a yelp. And then the sounds of chaos replaced that. Wrex sprinted up to the door and kicked it open.
Okin had Treth in a headlock, and refused to let go. Treth was grunting as he tried to break the tight grip of the Orc. Okin replied by kneeing Treth in the gut. He slumped down and brought Okin with him. Okin relaxed his grip a fraction, but it was enough. Treth ripped free of the headlock and a scrap followed. Treth, fists flailing, caught Okin in the temple. Okin stumbled back and replied with a haymaker and a kick to the crotch. All around the two Orcs, the rest of the Orcs, including many Dwarves, were beating each other senseless. A voice bellowed over the madness. “WHAT THE *** DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?” The fights ended as abruptly as they had begun. All eyes turned on the Lieutenant. He was grinding his teeth, fists clenched. He was furious. “OKIN! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING THIS LOT!” Okin let go of Treth, and the dazed Private fell to the ground with a loud thump. “But Sir. He said I was fat!” Wrex closed the distance to Okin surprisingly fast. He grabbed hold of Okin and head butted him. The Corporal rolled around on the floor in agony. “CLEAN THIS *** UP! AND IF YOU MUST DRINK! DO IT WITHOUT KILLING EACH OTHER?! UNDERSTOOD!?!” There were grunted replies from the drunken Orcs and Dwarves. Wrex turned and strode back out of the tavern. Treg and Bello were waiting for him.
“Sir, maybe we should head back? You know, to Theros? They might need us there.”
“Yeah, you’re right Treg. You and Bello can round up the idiots. I’m heading for the camp outside.” The two Sergeants saluted and entered into the tavern. There was the muffled sound of conversation and then a few seconds later, the sound of more fighting. A window smashed as a Privates body flew out of it. Wrex looked down at the Private. “How you doing Seeth?”
“Can’t complain Sir. You haven’t seen a tooth around here have you Sir?”
“No I have not Seeth.” Wrex left him alone, and went out to the camp. It would be a short march back, enough time to get mobilised and meet the Verudian threat at the Great Plain. Regret filled his heart at having to spill blood on that sacred place, but there was no other choice.
Wrex, Haskar and the Centaur Captain, Marrock were marching at the head of the 900 strong army. The town had long vanished from view, and the Spire that adorned the top of the Theros Castle loomed over them. Soon, they would be home. The soldiers were quiet; the only sound was that of their feet and armour as they moved at a steady pace. Haskar spoke suddenly. “Wrex, what do you reckon will happen when we reach Theros?”
“They’ll stick my war band in with a large force of Orcs; you’ll be placed in a Dwarf war band. We’ll be force marched to the Great Plains, and then...” Marrock finished his sentence for him.
“We kill.” Haskar looked at Marrock as though noticing him for the first time.
“So Marrock, I can trust your Centaurs will continue to give excellent cavalry support?”
“Have we ever let you down Dwarf? In fact, I recall I saved your life back in Gutair.” Haskar blushed.
“No... You didn’t. I can handle myself.”
“Hmm, it didn’t seem that way when that Goblin almost severed your head.” Haskar stuttered. “I know a Dwarves pride is colossal but I didn’t think you would be this protective of it.” Wrex wore a large grin he couldn’t hide. When Haskar saw it, he went a deep red.
“*** the both of you.” Marrock and Wrex burst into laughter. “Anyway, you should be controlling yourselves. You failed to notice something, we have company.” Haskar drew his axe without a thought. Marrock unsheathed his claymore sword and Wrex held up a hand to stop the march. In the distance, a large force of creatures was coming their way. Haskar strained to see what they were. There were a lot of them, at least a few hundred. “Marrock, round up your Centaurs, be ready. And Wrex, what do you think?” Marrock galloped off.
“I don’t know Haskar. Could be Minotaur’s. They inhabit this place.”
“No, Minotaur’s don’t come out like this. Some of them are mounted.” Wrex could see clearly now. A few were indeed on mounts. And they were heading their way fast. “Wrex, get the men in battle order now. It looks bad.” Wrex turned to a banner carrier. He was a Dwarf. He had already seen the threat and overheard the conversation. He knew what he had to do. He pulled out a horn and blew a loud blast from it. The result was instant. The Dwarf Captains organised their men into formation and Wrex’s war band made their way to the front. Treg was the first to reach him.
“Hello Sir. Lovely day for a fight eh?”
“Indeed it is Sergeant. Where’s Bello?”
“He’s organising the left. What’s the trouble?”
“Looks like we have hostiles coming from over there.” Wrex pointed out towards the approaching creatures. Treg took a long look and stared back at his Lieutenant.
“SIR! They’re Kobolds!” Wrex shook his head in disbelief.
“Kobolds? This close? I hardly think so Sergeant.”
“No Sir, look what they’re riding.” Wrex saw a flash of orange on one of the mounts, and a burst of flame went into the air above the rider.
“Salamanders. Oh ***, Sergeant, get ready. It’s going to be tough.” By the time the enemy was in plain sight, the Orcs and Dwarves had got into formation. While the Centaurs had crept out and hidden from sight. They would flank the Kobolds when they were given a signal. One Centaur was dispatched to head to Theros, galloping at full speed. He would try and bring back reinforcements. Wrex bellowed as he raised his sword. “SHIELDS DOWN!” The clatter of metal met his ears as the Orcs lowered their shields. “SWORDS UP!” The sound of many weapons being unsheathed carried down the line. “HOLD!” The Orcs hunched down behind their shields. Wrex then got into formation with his fellow soldiers. He heard Bello yell.
“STOP *** AROUND SERJ!” And then, the roars of the Kobolds became audible. The Salamanders were speeding towards the battle line. Their forked tongues flicking in and out as they charged. A Kobold came Wrex’s way; it held a Scimitar and a wooden shield. The sound of clashing steel filled the air as the first Kobolds reached the Orcs. Wrex held his shield tight as the weight of a Salamander crashed into it. He heard the Kobold snarl as it raised a Scimitar, and swing it down. The sword bounced off Wrex’s shield. Wrex suddenly bashed his shield into the face of the Salamander is it tried to turn away from him. The impact was so hard; the Salamander bucked and ran away. The buck had knocked the Kobold from the seat of its mount. It hit the ground and tried to roll up. Wrex stopped him by jamming his blade between the Kobolds ribs. Blood spurted from its mouth, and then the Kobold infantry came in.
Bello fought side by side with Serj. Bello kicked a Kobold in the shin. It fell on one knee, and Serj finished it with a vicious slash to its throat. Another came their way. Bello blocked its incoming swing and plunged his sword into its chest. He raked it upwards, puncturing its heart as he went. It fell back, his sword pulling free as it fell. Serj swapped blows with a tenacious Kobold. It wore a lot of armour, and bore a metal shield, intricately patterned with the Empires national colours. But he ignored that and stayed focused on its wickedly sharp sabre. It side swiped Serj. Serj reacted just in time, raising his shield and blocking the attack. The Kobold pulled back quickly and made a lunge. Serj knocked the attack aside and brought his shield down on the Kobolds outstretched arm. There was a brittle snap, and the Kobold dropped its weapon. Serj wasted no time. He made to run through the Kobold, but it raised its shield, blocking his blow and then it turned to run. Serj let it go, focusing on his next target instead. This one was too eager, wanting to kill Serj so badly; it ended up missing him completely. Serj raked his blade along its abdomen and shattered its skull with his boot as it dropped.
Haskar and his Dwarves were holding their own rather well. They weren’t Orcs, but they were good enough. Haskar severed the arm of a Kobold while his comrade finished it off, he then swept his axe low, severing a Kobolds foot and then brought his axe down on its head as it fell. Another took its place, and suffered a similar fate. He saw a Kobold skewer a Dwarf with a spear and then another Dwarf pounced on by three Kobolds, each one of them stabbing wildly at his thrashing body. Rage overtook Haskar. He detached himself from his group, and charged into the Kobold army. He got hold of one in a headlock; he twisted its neck and swung his axe out at a passing enemy, cutting through its exposed ear. It shrieked and stumbled off, holding the side of its head, blood flowing freely. Haskar dropped the body of the Kobold he had just killed, and tackled another to the ground. The sheer weight of the Dwarf was enough to break its ribs. A rib had punctured through the flesh of the Kobold. It yelled in pain as Haskar ripped out the rib and stabbed it through the Kobolds eye, and into its brain. The Dwarves finally slaughtered their way to him. “What took you so long!?” He shouted with a smile.
“Just having a pleasant stroll is all!” A Sergeant called out, as he severed the head of a charging Kobold. Haskar laughed and turned back to the slaughter.
Treth was panting; sweat clung to him all over. He had held of a Kobold. Its face was bloodied from the beating Treth had been laying on it. It was choking on its own blood, making gargling noises. “Oh shut the *** up will you?” Treth said exasperatedly. He picked up a large rock and made to bring it down on the head of the creature. It feebly pawed at his blood stained uniform, trying to pull him down. The rock fell on the creatures face with a meaty thump. The Kobold stopped struggling and lay still. Treth gave a small laugh of victory and picked up his sword. He started duelling with another Kobold. He was so tired; he barely understood what was happening around him. It was as though his sword arm was being controlled by someone else, as that was the only part of his body he could move without pain. He speared the Kobolds lung and fell back as he dragged the sword from its limp body. He was suddenly on the ground, he must have tripped. A Kobold fell on top of him, a sword jutting out of its chest. Its dead eyes stared straight down at his. An Orc hand grabbed hold of the sword and ripped it out, dropping blood on Treth. The same hand knocked the body aside and grabbed hold of Treth’s bloodstained shirt. “Treth!” Treth muttered something in reply. He felt a sting as a hand slapped across his face. He shook his head. “TRETH!”
“What!?” He yelled back, barely standing. He heard a sigh of relief and the voice spoke again.
“At least we know you haven’t lost too much blood. You need a healer, now.” Treth couldn’t understand. He wasn’t wounded... Was he? He recognised the voice. It was Treg.
“Sir, what’s wrong with me?”
“I can’t understand what you’re saying. It’s gibberish mate.” Treth could hear what Treg was saying, but it seemed he was speaking from far away. It was loud as a whisper with a slight echo. Treth was confused. He was just really tired, that was all. He wasn’t hurt; at least, he couldn’t feel any severe pains besides his muscles aching. He had the sensation of being dragged. The din of battle was replaced with a white noise. The figures around him became blurs; the only things still real were him and Treg.
Treg grunted with every movement. An Orc in full battle gear wasn’t exactly the lightest of things to drag around. He managed to drag Treth past the mad entanglement of bodies and dropped him on a hillock a few metres away from the nearest combat. Treg winced as he saw Treth’s wound. A huge chunk had been carved out of his thigh, and blood trickled from a cut to his ribs. He was in deep shock, it was a wonder he was still conscious. “Listen Treth, I’m getting Wrex here, he knows some knowledge of healing. Just, wait here.” Treg turned and sprinted into the mess. He finally found Wrex, snapping the neck of a Kobold. “Sir, it’s Treth, he’s in a bad way, and he needs you seeing to him.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s up at the edge of that hill. He really needs attention.”
“Right, keep the fight going, and call for the Centaurs. I can’t find the Dwarf with the signal.” Wrex jogged towards where Treth was, while Treg ran to Haskar, who was taking a break while his men kept him covered.
“HASKAR!” Haskar turned his head towards the Orc, giving the slightest of nods as he wiped sweat from his eyes. “Haskar, where’s your man with the signal?”
“I don’t know. I lost sight of him. Last I saw, he was in a fight over there.” Haskar waved his hand towards a cluster of dead Kobolds with a smattering of Dwarves. Treg ran over to them, a Kobold falling to the ground in front of him had an axe sticking from its neck. Treg jumped quickly over it, and landed next to the bodies. He looked at all the Dwarf bodies. One of them had the horn. The Dwarf was coated with blood; it was hard to tell what had been his end. Treg pulled the horn free and was about to blow into it, when a sword cleaved it in half. Treg leapt back, and avoided his nose being cut off. A Kobold stumbled towards him, it looked hurt. It roared and swung its sword at him again. Treg easily side stepped it and delivered his own sword in a downward stroke, piercing its skull. It collapsed into his arms, a dead weight. He ripped the sword free and let him drop. He remembered the horn. He dropped to the ground and pawed at the remains. He crushed the halves he held with his clenching fists. He let out an almighty roar “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
Chapter Three
Coalition of Races
Marrock could see the battle perfectly from his vantage point. The fight looked absolutely chaotic. At the start of the fighting, there had been some kind of order, but then the Dwarves broke ranks, and then the Orcs were forced to. Combatants were scattered everywhere. Marrock even swore he saw an Orc being dragged away from the battle, he looked dead. That was a bad sign. When the Orcs are dying, you know there is a problem. All the other Centaurs were anxious. Being in the edge of a forest and watching a good scrap was taunting to them. A Sergeant approached Marrock. “Sir, the battle looks bad. Maybe the signal carrier was killed, or they lost it. Either way, they would have signalled us by now.” Marrock took in his words.
“Your words speak wisdom Caryth. Okay, we charge. Get the troops in line. We flank them as fast as we can, and save our forces. QUICKLY!” The Sergeant bowed his head and turned to round up the soldiers. His voice boomed behind Marrock, but he was more focused on a small fight between two Orcs and around ten Kobolds.
“*** YOU!” Wrex yelled as his sword slashed down into a Kobold, severing its neck. Bello, was fighting next to him, protecting his flank. Bello kicked out at an unprotected part of a Kobold; it fell to one knee and was quickly finished. Wrex battled four at once. He swept away the sword of one; it went flying into the face of one of his comrades, hitting him on the flat side. The Kobold grunted angrily and charged at Bello, disorientated. Wrex raised his shield and deflected a blow from the second enemy. He did a roll to the left to avoid a slash from his third foe, and he landed next to the fourth. It was shocked at Wrex’s sudden movement; Wrex plunged his sword into it and pulled himself up on it. He lifted his shield and knocked back two successive blows from the other two Kobolds. He wrenched his sword from the bowels of his second kill and swung it quickly to deal with his third kill. The sword cleaved its skull and it dropped quickly to the ground. The Kobold he had disarmed leapt onto him. He rolled across the ground, its fists pounding at his face. He rolled on top of it and began dealing heavy blows on it. He sensed the other Kobold behind him. He quickly rolled the Kobold on top of himself, and a spear jammed into its back, a spear that was made for him. Wrex tossed the Kobold aside, and jerked the last Kobold back a metre, by the time it could right itself, Wrex had snapped its neck. He sighed loudly. “Thank *** for that!” He exclaimed before hearing the thud of a body falling to the ground. He turned to face Bello, who was finishing off the last Kobold. Sweat, blood and dirt covered the two of them. Wrex made for Bello and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Now then Bello, have we faced worse odds than that, because if we have, we must be *** gods.” Bello gave a weak laugh.
“I’m going to say, yes, we have faced worse than that Sir.”
“They picked the wrong Orcs to gang up on.” The ground began shaking suddenly. “What the fu-“
“SIR, look! It’s the Centaurs!” The two hundred Centaurs were charging towards the clump of combatants, each one roaring a battle cry and wielding a two handed sword one handed. Bello whooped and cheered, holding his sword aloft. The sun shining on it made the blood look strangely alluring.
Treth was in a dream. The world was full of calm, there was no noise. He was strangely at peace. The tiredness had gone, now he just felt happy. He was cold near his thigh but everywhere else was tingly warmth. The battle was forgotten and now the quiet and him was all there was. There was an otherworldly sound, like footsteps moving down an empty hallway, but they were distant, ethereal and echoing. He could feel something suddenly. Like someone was touching him on his side. He then felt pain. A roaring pain. On his leg and side. The fatigue of battle hit him like a wave, and he was suddenly back in the real world. The first thing he did was scream.
Wrex was working fast. The wound to the leg was bad and bleeding heavily, but he would focus on the wound to his ribs, and hopefully have it stop bleeding so he could work on the leg without any sudden interruptions. Treth was screaming bloody murder. “Treth! Shut the *** up!” He didn’t seem to hear, he must be in a lot of pain. Wrex saw a dead Dwarf lying near them. He clambered over to the corpse and ripped a length of cloth from his uniform. He lifted Treth up slightly; making the pitch of the yelling go higher, if that was even possible. He wrapped the cloth around the wound and set him back down gently. Blood had darkened the cloth already. Wrex looked at the leg. That would take a really good healer to set right. Where was a Faun when you needed one? Treth stopped screaming and went into a frenzied mumbling. “At last.” Wrex remarked as he began trying to apply pressure to the wound.
Bello slashed down into a Kobolds heart as it pleaded for its life. Another was charging at him, before a claymore sword swiped it clean in half, a Centaur galloping past, whooping. Bello looked towards the Spire that showed him where the glorious city was, and saw a three Dragons beating their wings as they flew towards the battle, the Brownies barely visible on their backs. Underneath the Dragons, horses galloped towards the battle. Bello felt hope ignite in his heart as he cut down another Kobold, the blood spray was glorious.
Wrex could feel Treth’s heartbeat fading. He was deathly pale, and he had broke out in a cold sweat, and his mumbling had changed to an occasional murmur. He heard his name being called out. “WREX! WREEEEEEX!” He turned his head to see Bello running up to him. Behind Bello, Dragons circled and sprayed fire down on the Kobolds, and also, he noticed Goblins and new Orcs in the fight. Reinforcements. The Kobolds were beat. Bello came to a halt in front of Wrex. “Sir, Fauns are here! One’s on his way to heal Treth! He’s going to be okay Sir!” Wrex breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to lose a friend today.
“Bello, we won!”
“I know Sir, I know. Listen, you need to go and talk to the General. He came out to speak to us personally. As an Officer, you might be needed. I’ll stay with Treth.” At that moment, the Faun healer came to the hillock, wearing robes of emerald and pearl, he crouched next to Treth. The Faun began talking to Bello as Wrex left. Wrex sprinted to where he saw a gathering of Centaurs and Dwarves. He saw Haskar and Marrock talking to someone; Haskar gave a deep rumbling laugh at an unheard joke. Wrex finally reached the small crowd. He could see the general at last. He stood, imposing and tall. A fine example of an Orc.
“Ah! Hello Wrex, long time no see old friend.”
“Good evening Sir.”
Please read and comment my novel in the Liberry.
Wuv u Chuckles :D
Run for your life if you wanna get out alive. Or is it the other way around?