As the mist began to thin, dark shapes appeared on the shoreline standing in disciplined formations. Sarah searched the shoreline but could see no sign of Voritor. A shiver went down her spine. What if he was in the city? With the mist gone, could they tell if he had teleported inside again?
“Is it me, or does it look like there are more of those buggers than before?” Stanley remarked sourly. The elves had returned his bow which he now held tightly in his hand.
Sarah looked over her shoulder at Gareth, who was dozing in a corner. It was clear to her that he was the cornerstone of their defence here and recalled how powerful the Drow had been back in Corrington, going toe to toe with Agni. Could the halfling fight him off if he were to suddenly appear? For what it was worth, the Drow did seem keen to avoid a confrontation with him during his daring raid.
Gareth’s eyes fluttered open. “Man your positions,” he barked to the elves, surprising Sarah with the harshness in his voice, “We are coming under attack!”
Blue robed Water Priests chanted. Water erupted from the lake, forming a clear barrier around the watchtower just in time to block the black missiles that had been launched from the shore. Sarah jumped as the trunk of an entire tree crashed into the watchtower.
“It looks like they’re not just relying on their magical prowess,” Gareth observed. His mouth was pressed into a grim line.
“Water Speaker, we need you to coordinate the defences!” Avariel warned.
As Gareth hurried down the stairs to the lower level, Sarah watched as the orcs began to advance across the bridge. The bridge was wide enough for them to advance ten abreast. Once they were halfway across, archers began raining arrows down on them. Curiously, they raised their shields to ward them off, instead of relying on their wizards and suffered a few losses. The orcs showed little compassion for their stricken brethren, opting to roll them into the lake so they would not impede those who were able to walk.
As the orcs were about to reach the main gate, huge boulders crashed into the bridge, flattening great numbers of orcs. Sarah looked down the wall and saw the trebuchets that the elves had kept hidden inside wooden structures up until now. Sarah looked back to the bridge and bit her lip. The orcs were being pummelled by the boulders until they got to the gate, where the trebuchets could not be brought to bear on them. However, there, they were at the mercy of archers and soldiers dropping rocks on their heads. Ladders were of no use to the orcs. There was no way for them to get to the walls that were built right up to the water, and they had no battering rams.
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“They’ve been sent to die,” Stanley muttered. Elves around them were raining arrows through the narrow slit windows, but none had asked Stanley or Sarah to move from theirs.
“No, that isn’t it,” Sarah breathed, remembering the Siege of Corrington, “I’ve seen this before.”
Before she could shout a warning, there was a sudden crash that was so violent, that the floor of the watchtower shuddered. The elves stopped what they were doing and looked at one another in alarm and confusion. Then came another crash. And then another. Avariel barked an order, and the elves quickly resumed firing.
“What in Treto’s name was that?” Stanley gasped as another crash nearly knocked them off their feet.
“Look,” Sarah gasped, pointing.
Out on the lake, the water began to swirl before coalescing into a massive, stationary wave. The shoreline of the lake receded as the wave grew until it was almost as tall as the highest spire in the city, before surging towards the bridge. As the wave was about to strike, the black barriers finally shimmered into existence. The wave grew more violent as it struck the barrier, as though it was trying to move it with sheer power. Eventually, the wave crashed over the top of the barrier. The water grew violent and frothy from the initial impact, but to the dismay of the defenders, the orcs within appeared to be completely unharmed. The defenders on the wall continued their barrage, but the dark barrier remained strong, repelling their arrows and missiles.
A missile crashed into the wall close to the watchtower, and Sarah whirled around to see that most of the water priests were now lying exhausted in the pool. Even Gareth was on his knees, leaning on the Spear of Varuna for support. Dark magic began to rain on the wall, but eventually, the water priests stationed there managed to put their barriers back up.
“I do believe they’ve blown their load,” Stanley remarked grimly.
“Their leader and his crony haven’t shown themselves yet, either,” Sarah observed and bit her lip as she looked at the shimmering black barrier. She’d destroyed those before. If only she had her power…
“Water Speaker!” Sarah turned to see Gareth staggering towards the door.
“The gate… it will soon fall,” the halfling gasped, “We haven’t much time.”
“Wait!” Sarah cried.
Gareth looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Ratri’s Chosen has not revealed himself yet, and look at the state of you,” she said, “Are you a match for him?”
“I just overplayed my hand,” Gareth replied, “I didn’t think they would be able to repel the wrath of Varuna.”
“Are you saying that we would be better off if we started this battle over?” Sarah ventured.
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m all ears if you know of a way we could do that.”
“We could withdraw,” Sarah suggested, “You’ve underestimated our enemy, that much is clear.”
The halfling frowned. “No, the enemy is here, and we are fighting under favourable conditions…”
“Are you?” Sarah demanded, “You can barely stand.”
“If Varuna takes over, things change, just like that,” Gareth snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“If you think that’s true, then, by all means, call Him out,” a high pitched voice said.
Sarah and Gareth whirled around to the watchtower’s entrance. There, standing over the broken bodies of a dozen elf soldiers were Voritor and Steven.