Battle Cry
When Lonewolf left the inn, the first thing she saw was Ishra, looking into the direction of the great plains. The young mage followed her gaze to see the vast armies gathered there and sighed. This would require far more drastic measures, than she had anticipated. She put a hand on the shoulder of Nirahr and moved uncomfortably close to him. "You will have to stay here with Ishra," she said softly into his ear. "I have to save us all. Try not to think... those thoughts of her. She is at least as strong as me, even though she does not look the part."
Nirahr looked after her with strange desire, as she ran towards the border of the village with strong movements. There was a strange scream, almost like that of a small dragon. A drake with pearly white scales materialised out of nowhere. It landed next to Lonewolf, who mounted it and flew out into the planes, making her lover wonder, what she had in mind. Ishra turned to the warrior, drawing her sword.
The young mage hoped her gamble would work, as the hazerider sped over the swarming plain. Arrows pearled off its skin. Lonewolf carefully calculated the distance from the village. The area of the magic she had to use was vast. Finally she was satisfied and commanded her mount to land, crushing a group of goblins under its weight. The barbarian reached for her swords, but the space around her was strangely clear of enemies. She did not question her luck, suspecting that the protective aura of the drake kept them away.
She had to use two spells in short order now. First she called upon the strength of mountains and an old vulcano, channelling the energy into a great firestorm, then she called upon the power of the sea and disappeared. Just when she was gone, the whole plane was lit with terrible flames of hottest elemental fire, destroying the armies in one terrible storm of magic, leaving only the drake alive, which was immune to fire.
A cheer went through the two units, into which Roland had organised the villagers, when the flames consumed the armies. Roland looked at the flames, wondering if they would reach the village. The magic died several hundred metres away from any of them, but they also kept all the creatures in the direct vicinity alive. There were still more than enough enemies to overwhelm them.
"Close ranks and prepare for attack," he shouted. The old officer had been able to organise the troops into a phalanx, with two reserve rows, who could take over when the first one was tired or broken. It was a thin line of defence against the forces arrayed against them, but it was the best he could do with the people available. There was also the problem of the third side of the village, which he could not cover. He had hoped Lonewolf would do so.
"One magician has sacrificed herself to give us a chance," he shouted to be heard by all. "Stand and fight until your last breath! Protect those who cannot wield arms!" The ranks closed and the villagers braced themselves for the attack, fear still in their hearts. Roland was the first to realise that their enemies were also afraid. He could not tell, if they feared the terrible magic, which had eradicated most of their army, or their implacable masters.
He braced himself with his men, when the attack came. They raised their spears, set into the ground to withstand the charge. The first rank of the goblins impaled itself, but those behind kept on pushing. Most of the second rank also died on the spears, but then the creatures realised they could fit between their tips. The villages drew their short swords and stabbed and hacked, while they were pushed back. Roland saw that the line held, but the first impact had pushed them back more than he had anticipated.
Carefully he left his position, making sure the gap in the line was closed quickly. Roland looked at the other unit and saw that they also held, but more desperately, for they were attacked by larger and stronger orcs. "Disperse," he commanded. The currently engaged rank quickly scattered to the side, allowing the attackers to seemingly overrun them and be stopped by the second rank. The surviors slowly made their way back to from the new third rank and rest as long, as they could.
When he saw, that most of the villagers had survived giving ground, he turned into the third direction, which his units could not cover. There were only two fighters in the way of an entire unit and neither of them had any magic.
"She is smarter than that," Ishra said. "She would not unleash that magic without some plan of escape." Nirahr agreed with this statement. Now that she could be gone, he realised for the first time, what the young mage meant to him. He looked at the small woman how was there, remembering the words of his girl-friend. Involuntarily he thought of her on his...
"You want me," she said. "I want every woman that is not too ugly, no matter if she is willing or not," he spoke. "I have... a fiendish side, that is hard to control at times. It was massively nurtured by my former master. Lonewolf on the other hand... is a quite different kind of person." Ishra looked at him, considering letting her armour become visible. She decided to stay as she was. The fighting would soon put other things on his mind.
Ishra turned to the attacking goblins coming from the direction only blocked by Nirahr and herself. "We should build a barricade," she said. "We do not have the magic of Lonewolf," spoke he. "Well," the woman said. "I guess it is time to say our last prayers and take as many of the bastards to the grave as we can." Nirahr looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes. He was no wild berserker like her.
He drew his sword and sighed. Ishra drew her alien green steel blade and smiled fiercely. Before she was able to charge, a wall of wood sprang from the ground. It was rough and botchy, but it did its job of stopping the attackers, some of which impaled themselves in the sharp spikes and edges of the barrier. It was smooth enough from their side, even having rough steps, so that they could ascend and use their blades against the attackers.
Both did so and hacked at the goblins, who withdrew from the two grim warriors on their unbreachable barricade. Ishra kept her position on top of the rampart, wondering what the enemy was up to next.
The problem defending a village was, that there was no real bottleneck to stop the attackers, even with a few. All fortified places were built with that in mind, but the village was open into all directions. The banners Roland had raised to rally his own people had drawn the attackers to them so far, but the creatures or their commanders began to realise that. They began to swarm into the gaps between the defended areas and Lonewolf could not stop them easily without endangering the villagers.
The young mahe was riding on the back of the drake, surveying the scene below and lending her magic, were she could. Lonewolf saw another attack of a larger unit against an unguarded flank and summoned a wall of swords. The blades annihilated the attacking units and it blocked one of the approaches.
There were still too many openings and Roland seemed to have lost track of the flow of the battle. Maybe his vantage point was not as good, as the aerial one of the barbarian, or he was too worried about his soldiers to change his initially determined tactics. "You are getting old," Lonewolf muttered. She made her steed land between the two units of villagers, scattering another group of attackers. The young mage felt the desire of the drake to be released, but she would still need its help, until the battle was over.
The creature lifted into the air. Lonewolf took another look. What she saw was even more grim than the view from the air had suggested. She ran to one of the still rested groups and guided them to another gap in the defences. Roland, who was fighting himself did not notice at first. The young mage had the second rested line lock another approach, effectively blocking this area of the village to the enemy, as long as they could hold.
"What are you doing?" Roland asked angrily. "I need those reserves." The barbarian was disappointed by the commander's lack of tactical insight and said hotly: "They won't be reserves, if they are flanked or attacked from behind. They are all engaged. Whatever magic drew them to your banners has failed and I cannot renew it. Better keep those, who have already fought ready to fill the gaps and hold the lines longer. I am needed at another front." The old man calmed down, as he saw the wisdom of Lonewolf's actions. He wanted to thank her, but she was already running towards the other side of the village.
Ishra spotted the barbarian run towards her before Nirahr. She had suspected before, that the rampart had been summoned by Lonewolf. The small warrior looked at the orcs and goblins charging towards them meaningfully. A group of minotaurs materialised before them. They were large creatures, far taller than even Lonewolf. Four of them acted instantly, while a particularly well-shaped one with two blades seemed a bit disoriented.
The crashed into the green-skinned creatures with terrible force, but the one with the two blades turned towards Lonewolf. The young mage looked his gaze with her smouldering eyes, showing no fear. "Why call us to fight these lowly creatures? This is insulting," quoth the minotaur with a deep rumbling voice. "There are only five of you and hundreds of them," Lonewolf said. "I think you will not survive this fight without some additional strength.
Grunting the champion looked at the other minotaurs and saw that they were almost overwhelmed by the sheer mass of enemies. He grunted, which sounded strangely cow-like and charged in to help them. Ishra saw another minotaur appear, probably from another tribe. She turned towards the battle. The very presence of the new creature seemed to strengthen them, but she doubted it would be enough.
"Now is your time," Lonewolf said. "Flank the enemy, if you can and do as much damage, as you can without getting yourself killed. Those proud creatures will need the help, but will never admit it." Ishra saw the glow in the eyes of the barbarian, knowing she longed to throw herself into the melee. She wondered, how the young mage was able to keep her discipline. The small warrior turned to Nirahr and then to the battle. It seemed most of the enemies in their area were massing into a unit to drive the savage minotaurs back.
With a fierce smile Ishra moved towards the goblins, using several houses as cover. She looked from behind a corner and realised that there were too many of them, even for her in her unseen armour.
Lonewolf swore. Nirahr looked at her in wonder. She had made her first tactical mistake this day. The unseen enemy commander had realised that none of his own creatures were a match for the terrible minotaurs and gathered most of the remaining forces into a single coherent unit. The young mage had sent in Ishra too early.
The barbarian growled and reached for her swords. She closed her eyes and forced her wild blood to calm a little, calling on magic instead of the wrath of the spirits, that lurked in her veins. There was the sound of gallop and a knight thundered through the village, crashing into the enemy unit with devastating effect. The lowered lance impaled at least three goblins, the hooves crushed the chests of several more and the unit itself seemed to loose some of its tightly packed coherency from the rider's terrible assault.
A terrible battle cry pierced the clamour of the battle. Lonewolf saw the flash of green steel, as Ishra used the confusion caused by the lancer to start her own assault, which was no less devastating. The sword of the small warrior whirled and moved so fast, it became a blur of green, trailing red. Near invulnerable in her unseen armour, she tore through the ranks and was amidst the goblins, before they had time to block her attack.
She would get stuck in the mass sooner or later, now matter how fast and fierce she was. The young mage concentrated on the wayward knight, commanding him to return and attack another time. Lonewolf looked at Nirahr. She put a hand on his shoulder and said: "Now it is your time to join the fight. You are good enough to fight with the minotaurs, but don't get in their way."
Nirahr drew his sword, having forgotten it was still in his hand from the previous fight. He looked at the blade with a bit of surprise and ran towards the battle. The fighter reached the fight at the same time as the knight, who attacked from the rear now. Again the effect was devastating and the disorder, he caused the unit, was even more thorough, giving Ishra the space she needed for her fighting style and survival.
The young mage extended her will once more to make the lancer help the minotaurs and her friends again. She looked around and saw another small group of orcs, which had probably been separated from the rest of its unit. Lonewolf cast one last spell on herself, giving her a dark aura of fear, drew her swords and charged.
Shaken by terror, the orcs were unable to face the barbarian, who was a terror to them. Unable to look at her fast and precise movements, they died quickly, most of them without a real chance to fight back. Only the leader was able to parry. Lonewolf killed him with the unerring instinct of the born killer, driven to greater precision by berserk rage. A spirit escaped from the body, much like the one, that she had confronted in the kitchen of the inn, before the battle had begun. Still driven by instinct, the barbarian tried to hack it to pieces.
There were no reserves left. All villagers still able to fight had engaged the enemy. Roland knew the lines would not hold much longer. He could only hope, that the enemy had suffered enough losses at that point, that his own people would survive the chaotic melee, that was sure to follow. The commander knew, his own people were superior to the goblins in a direct fight, but goblins were backstabbing mean little creatures. The orcs on the other hand were bigger and stronger, but even they had to be tired from the long battle. Perhaps they were even shaken by the powerful magic used against them.
On the other hand, there was a feeling that the enemy was also supported by an unseen magical force. There were not enough goblins in the whole world to form the army that had attacked them. Roland sighed and blocked another attack with his sword, which the man next to him missed. Another goblin was stabbed to death. The old man looked around. He and seven others were the last coherent phalanx as far as he could see.
Soon the lust for battle took them into the ranks of the enemy. "I am getting too old for this," Roland muttered, when the last two soldiers next to him also broke formation to fight on their own. The old commander was hale and strong enough to hold his own in a fight, but only superior discipline and co-ordination could defeat a superior force with good tactics.
He blocked and stabbed, using sword and shield with the precision and experience of the veteran soldier. Roland was to occupied worrying about the other villagers to realise that he was fighting his way through an greater amount of foes than any other soldier of the village.
One of the leaders or champions of the enemy did and confronted him. Roland blocked on reflex, but the attack sundered his shield. He was fortunate his arm had not been broken. The old man cast away the useless shards of his shield and took his sword in both hands. He barely parried the attack of the large and muscular orc. In spite of his weariness, he was able to put in a riposte or two, but then he felt the weapon of the enemy cleave his armour and penetrate into his body.
Ishra gripped her sword harder. The enemy was packed too tightly for her to properly fight them. Worse, they were beginning to react to her presence and raise their shields to stop her. The sword would cut even through normal steel, but she was surrounded and not even her strength and speed were great enough to protect herself from all sides. The fury of her first berserk rage was already spent, two dozen corpses a grim testament of her terrible prowess.
Grimly the small warrior changed the grip on her weapon. She could only stab and use the pommel in such tight quarters. Ishra dodged a spear and stabbed another goblin. She used the pommel of the weapon to break the nose of one behind her. Once more she barely avoided a spear. This was getting too close. The small warrior looked at the enemy with blazing eyes. There was only one thing left to do. Throw herself against them in berserk rage and perish in a blaze of glory.
Suddenly there was an impact. Ishra could feel something hitting the unit from behind. Whatever had happened, the pressure on the small warrior decreased. Many of the creatures turned into another direction. Something had attacked them from behind. Ishra smiled grimly. Lonewolf still knew what she was doing. This could not be said of the small warrior, who flew into berserk rage.
The sword whirled around her body in great arcs, hard to predict, cutting anyone near her to pieces. It was a wild and reckless style of fighting, but Ishra was so fast, that it was neigh impossible for the goblins to find an opening. They could have stopped her, if someone had been able to organise a small wall of shields, but the enemy unit had lost all coherency with the last attack of the lancer. There was not a single sergeant left to give the command.
Ishra burst out of the enemy unit and turned back, but her ever unpredictable blood already calmed her once more. She had effectively cut the unit in two parts, one third to the back, two thirds facing the minotaurs. Even the larger part was beginning to be less tightly packed. The first minotaur burst into their midst. The small warrior saw Nirahr on the other side of the line.
He was fighting methodically and steadily, weaving in and out of the protection of the creature next to him. There was something strangely vicious about the way he clove the goblins with his sword. While Ishra was trying to understand, what he was doing, she heard the thunder of hooves once more. The rider galloped through the rear part of the former unit, simply riding over most of the goblins. He dropped the lance, which kept stuck in three goblins and drew a sword.
Ishra decided to help the rider and leapt into the fray once again. All around her faded away into a red haze, as her wild blood fired her into another berserk rage.
"Good thing, she is on our side," Dak'Yzal had said, when Lonewolf had fried most of the army. "In my experience mages are usually a side all of their own," Braktus had said gloomily. Both had been watching the battle unfold from the branches of a high tree near the village, for there was little they could do to change its flow. The young mage had stayed true to the village and its people.
Even the mightiest mage had to run out of power and spells sooner or later, but Lonewolf used her powers judiciously and did not seem to tire. Slowly the battle became smaller and finally it began to degenerate into a wild melee. "Now is our time," Braktus said and climbed down the tree. Dak'Yzal followed him in the same mundane way, saving the rest of her powers for the fight ahead.
Dak'Yzal watched a bit longer and finally decided for an area of the fight that would carry her to Roland. She wanted to say something to Braktus, but he was already gone without a sound. The woman wondered, if he could actually turn into a shadow himself, and was not far from the truth. She changed her staff from wandering stick to its battle position and advanced cautiously.
She killed a few lonely goblins first, but more of the creatures quickly noticed her and moved towards the woman. Soon she was in the middle of her own fight, but there was something different about these creatures. The ones she had fought in the beginning of the battle were backed by the arrogance of a vast army and superior numbers. These creatures, however, were battered and beaten. There was no-one to replace them and they had not been able to take a village defended only by a seeming handful and a bit of magic.
They were goblins too, who were weaker than orcs. Dak'Yzal thought that some of them fell almost of their own, when she wanted to turn to one, who she thought might backstab her. Once or twice she thought she saw the face of Braktus.
The woman was alone for a space. All the other fights had moved away from her position. She turned and saw a big orc move towards Roland. Dak'Yzal ran, fearing for his live. The staff in her hands began to glisten with acid. Before she reached the first goblin, the commander was hit. The woman groaned, as though someone had stabbed her heart. Why did she realise only now, hoe much she loved the man?
Eyes blurred with tears, she fought on instinct, vengeance on her mind. The acidic weapon burning through the bodies of her enemies. Finally she as within range and took a deep breath. She exhaled a stream of acid, as though she was dragon. The heads of several more orcs were burned away and the stream reached the big one.
At first the blades only slashed through empty air. The eyes of the ghost tried to pierce those of the barbarian, as they had done before, but Lonewolf was protected by the terrible rage that burned in her veins and clouded her mind. Suddenly she felt her swords connect and pressed the assault, freezing parts of the spirit into solid reality and shattering the ice, until the ghost dissipated with a terrible shriek. The young mage did not realise that the piercing scream shattered the morale of the attackers.
One of their supposedly untouchable commanders had perished. The barbarian's mind slowly took over again. She looked at her boy-friend and Ishra. The lancer and the shriek had finally shattered the unit into individual fighters. They could not withstand the superior size and strength of the minotaurs any longer. Lonewolf saw the flash of a green blade and the fight of Nirahr.
She sighed with relief. The battle had been won and all her friends were still alive. Lonewolf turned towards the side of the village protected by Roland. The formations had disintegrated there too and the melee seemed to go against the villagers. The old commander was fighting a particularly evil looking orc and suffered an ugly wound. The young mage shook her head, while calling on more magic. A bolt of energy leapt from her hand and Roland was miraculously healed of his injury.
The old man felt strength return to him, where it should bleed out of his body quickly. He saw the orc stumble, hit by an unseen attack. With a move of his tiring arm and wrist, the sword slit the throat of the creature. Black blood came from the cut and a ghost left the dead body. It seemed to ascend to the sky, then it was dragged into the earth by an unseen hand. The orc finally collapsed. The commander did not have time to wonder about his survival, for he had to fight to ensure he stayed alive.
A short time later all enemies were dead. Lonewolf asked the drake, which was still circling the village to take a good look at the corpses. There was something odd about the defeated army.
The minotaur champion reached her before Nirahr. He was tired and wounded after the long and hard battle. "Still think this was an easy task?" Lonewolf asked. "No," the creature said wearily. "There was something odd about their commander." The young mage spoke: "It seems the officers were possessed by spirits driving them with a terrible will, replacing their souls. You may return home, but I may need you again soon."
All the creatures summoned by Lonewolf faded away, except the drake, which landed close to the young mage. "The corpses are strangely similar. It seems they are slightly older and younger versions of only a few original creatures," it said. "I feared as much," quoth the woman. "Someone reached through time to massively multiply a small army. This does not bode well." She dismissed the creature, which leapt into the air and vanished.
Nirahr had finally reached his lover. He seemed strangely reluctant to face the barbarian. Lonewolf looked at him, seeing the desire in his eyes. "Wait in the house," she said softly. "I have to organise a couple of things first." He opened his mouth and said: "Strange of you to care for privacy." She suspected it was supposed to sound angry, but there was only surprise in his voice. "You know I don't need clothes. I can sleep nude in the snow without suffering ill effects, but there are others here. Some of them may have lost brothers, lovers and friends. We do not want them to see us," she spoke softly.
He was to winded himself to contradict. At another time, Nirahr might have tired to test the resolve of his girl-friend, but today he shrugged and walked away. Once again he wondered what effect Lonewolf had on him.
Roland surveyed the battlefield. More of the villagers had survived, than he had hoped. Dak'Yzal was standing amidst slain foes, her face turned away from him. Braktus rose from the ground like a shadow taking substance. The survivors slowly limped towards their homes. The old man was filled with a strange feeling of futility and urgency. He looked at his bloodstained sword, wondering when he had last been so tired.
Lonewolf was walking into his direction, her scanty robe revealing her shapely body. Neither seemed stained with blood, as everyone else was. The commander smiled at the young woman. She was a strangely pleasant sight after the violence of the battle. Roland did not see Dak'Yzal looking at the barbarian with jealous eyes, their tears dried.
"This is not over," the young mage said. "This was only the beginning. I can feel the foreshadow of more terrible things with my arcane senses. A terrible force of magic is gathering here. Whatever it will do will not be healthy for mortal people. We have to evacuate the village. You will have to organise everything. I hope we have enough carts and beasts of burden for the wounded."
Roland looked at the floor, then up into the smouldering eyes of Lonewolf. She was right. "Thank you," was all he could say. Lonewolf pointed at Dak'Yzal and said: "You should thank her as much as me. She saved you in your duel with the orc as much as I did. Take a short time to rest and then gather the village."
The young mage walked to the other woman and put a hand on her shoulder. Softly she said: "There is no need for your jealousy. It was just a commander thanking his general. The burden of responsibility weighs heavy on him. He will understand what you did for him and why, when he has time to rest and recover." Dak'Yzal looked at the tall woman doubtfully.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. Lonewolf smiled and said: "I am going to bone my man." She walked away with a steady and strong gait. Dak'Yzal shook her head. She who had done most this day seemed least exhausted.