The setting sun in the forest valley would have been scenic had it not meant impending doom. Dark columns of the demonic army crawled closer. Colonel Howl of the Caldrayn Royal Rangers stood on the wall of Fort Anvil, overlooking the low valley of the Cracked Mountains. Even with his heavy overcoat, the mountain chill pierced through his worn green wool uniform. A tricornered cocked hat was stuffed on top of a scarf that wrapped around his pointed ears, his queued silver hair poking out behind. Gold eyes stared at the demons that neared the fort. I win a battle against the demons and the damned Council rewards me by shucking me out all the way over in the frontier. Undermanned, outgunned. Well, by the numbers at least. His fingers caressed at his flintlock rifle.
A tall orc with green skin and gray uniform appeared next to him. “Enjoying the view, sir?” asked Major Keg. The two had fought alongside each other since they were mere privates in the Caldrayn army. A network of scars covered one side of her face. Small tusks poked out of her lips, one slightly chipped. She held her furred grenadier cap under the crook of her arm. The star and grenade badge marked her as a war mage, a specialist in explosive magic. “Any word of our reinforcements?”
“They’re on the way,” said Howl. He had sent his fastest messenger, Longtoe, along with his white owl familiar, out to the nearest fort to alert them the enemy had come. “They’ll be here by nightfall, is what they said.” So I hope.
“They’re running rather late then, aren't they?” she grumbled. The sky shifted from the orange and purple to the black of the night as the sun descended beyond the mountainous horizon. “General Lock probably stopped for tea on the way.”
Howl let out a small chuckle. “We’ll have to hold the fort until then.”
“At what cost?”
Howl’s lips pressed into a thin line. “At any cost. We lose this fort, and we might as well bid this world farewell. The Black Scourge will cover the lands, enslavement of all our peoples to the Undead Lord.”
“The things we do for king and country,” Keg muttered. She glanced around the walls and the redoubt. “When was the last time this fort saw any kind of action? Do you know, Cord?” She turned to a burly dwarf nearby.
“A century ago, I think. I’m sure I still had a beard then,” said Serjeant Major Cord, a veteran of many wars and a trusted comrade of Howl’s. He wore the dark blue coat of Caldrayn. A scar ran along his forehead like a second set of brows and another on his clean-shaven chin. “Still, she’ll hold. She always has.”
Fort Anvil was ancient, stretching back hundreds of years. Over time much of the defenses had been updated once siege warfare changed from sword and spear to musket and cannon. Once tall and straight stone walls had been turned into sloping glacis and angled walls. Redoubts, angular earthwork defenses, made up most of the outerworks around the fort’s main bastion walls. Abatis, makeshift fences of sharpened sticks and branches, and bramble covered the great field out in front of the redoubts, hidden by magic camouflage.
Keg glanced up at the night sky and grunted. “The last of the sun until dawn,” she said. “Only a sliver of moon tonight.”
“It will be enough,” said Howl.
The enemy advanced in huge columns that resembled a mass of endless shadows. Howl could hear them growling and jeering. Their pallid faces reflected the little light, contrasting with their dark uniforms. Banners waved the vaunted demon’s crest, the Horned Eye. Howl spotted thousands of devilkin, demonic humanoids with red skin, along with bullmen, taller humanoids with large horns and bull-like heads. Small malblin, twisted demonic versions of goblinoids, skulked ahead of the massive army. Hulking demons, the Tauroks, loomed in the distance. He dreaded to think of what else they brought along with them.
“Easily over twenty thousand,” said Cord.
“And we’re expected to hold out for reinforcements?” Keg cocked her head and pointed. “Against all of that? With our measly two thousand?”
Yes. The King commands and we obey. Howl only shrugged. “We’ve prepared as much of the defenses as we can. Numbers won’t win this alone. We’ve faced worse odds.”
“But will the outcome be the same here?”
“This is supposed to be General Vakhrus’ main army coming,” said Howl. “The Undead Lord’s right hand.”
“That certainly inspires hope,” Cord frowned.
“Keep the faith, my friends,” said Howl. “This is not our peoples’ first time against them. Our kingdom has fought them before, and we will do so again.”
“Our ancestors were much better prepared then,” said Keg. “They had Crusaders and a lot more holy mages. We’ve got one cleric and he’s not really the holy warrior mage of old.”
“We’re in an Age of Reason and Science,” said Howl. “They were using swords and arrows the last time. We’ve got muskets and cannons.”
Keg scoffed. “I guess war does change.”
“He’s here,” Cord said, looking through his spyglass. “Vahkrus.”
Howl sipped a long-sight potion and peered out into the field, his vision seemed to just glide across hundreds of feet as if he were reading a page of a book in front of him.
Keg leaned over to him. “So, what do your elf eyes-”
“Don’t.” Howl frowned.
Howl could see out in the distance a cadre of figures, the general and his retinue of officers. Vahkrus stood out among them, his swooping horns making him seem taller than the others. The Horned Eye banner fluttered behind him. It seemed like with a swing of his arm and the massive columns just moved. Vahkrus had been responsible for the defeats of two Caldrayn armies, the best of the demonic armies, and now he was heading for Howl’s front door. The dark columns massed in the field below, lines upon lines of devilkin soldiers, artillery pieces wheeling up.
Keg gave a sly smile. “Do you think he’ll give terms?”
Howl scoffed. “Doubtful.” Just one shot, and this war could end. Howl felt at his rifle, eyeing at the enemy general. “But I’ll give him my regards in any case.” He smirked and aimed his rifle towards them, sighting the barrel towards the general. Powder sparked in the pan next to his face as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet zipped out of the muzzle and soared over the waves of soldiers towards the general.
And hit the officer next to him.
Howl gritted his teeth and frowned.
“Nice shot,” said Keg.
Howl winced. “I was aiming for the general.”
“Oh.”
“Wind kicked up.” Howl scratched at his chin.
“Right,” Keg scoffed.
Cannon fire erupted like thunder from the distance, Howl saw the puffs of smoke a fraction before the report echoed in the air. Roundshot slammed into earth, spraying plumes of dirt, others bounced off of the sloping walls of the defenses. Howitzer shot arced high above and exploded, raining shrapnel over the defenders.
Cord began to hum a tune, an old soldier’s melody. A few others started to hum along with him. It was something to keep the nerves down.
Howl steeled himself inside, he hated the first few moments of a battle. Timing was everything. He held a hand up. “Steady.”
“Orders, sir?” Keg asked.
“Wait,” said Howl. “We planned for this. The sappers set up wards. Just wait for them to get a bit closer. Have the soldiers prime and load.”
The demons stumbled through the abatis, their lines broken as they hopped and moved over the fallen timber and branches, making their movement slow to a crawl. A few took out their swords and axes in attempts to chop and hack their way through.
The abatis rumbled as Howl and a few other rangers shaped spells with their fingers. As devilkin started to cross through the abatis, the branches started to twist and turn. Vines sprouted from the ground and lashed at the devilkin, holding them in place.
Howl turned to the sapper serjeant. “Now.”
The sappers touched their wards, and the next instant the ground beneath the abatis exploded, hurling earth and demon bits into the air. Another set of explosions followed. Howl tasted copper in the air from the magic. The dust cloud settled, showing scattered bodies littered all over the abatis, a few still upright and stumbling. Enemy officers bellowed orders in their harsh tongue. The demons continued to press on.
Howl waited a few seconds and then swung his hand forward. “By volley...Fire!”
Volleys of musket fire from blue and red coated soldiers cut down chunks of the advancing army. They reloaded and fired like clockwork, unleashing hails of bullets. Clouds of black puffed out in the field like dark fog.
The demons seemed unfazed by their massive losses and pressed on, climbing over the corpses of the fallen. Devilkin stopped and fired at the defenders with ripping volleys. A few shots hit unlucky Caldrayn soldiers, who fell into the trench of the redoubt. Skulkers fired their carbines from their hiding place in the brush.
“Keep it pouring on!” bellowed Howl. Officers echoed orders throughout the redoubt.
The musket volleys and cannons fired until there were clouds upon clouds of smoke in the air, creating a dense haze. The cannons thundered their round shot, cutting through yet more columns of soldiers. The heavy balls bounced on the ground and carved through lines of demons, leaving bloody smears.
Keg squinted through the clouds. “I’d say we’re making good progress, but I’m not even sure if they’re really trying.” Then her face paled.
Large figures emerged from the forest behind the columns, several dozen tauroks, the hulking bullish demons. Howl felt his stomach churn, he had seen what just one of those could do to a company of men, and dreaded to think of what a dozen of them could do. He muttered some choice words and turned again to the sappers.
Another set of explosions tore through the ground beneath the tauroks’ feet, launching a few into the air, their bodies crumpling as they crunched back down to the ground. Howl hoped it would be enough. “Do not let them gain ground!” He turned to a messenger. “Have the guns behind us send roundshot. I want those bastards destroyed. Have our cannons here switch to canister shot.” He fired a shot from his rifle, the bullet clipping a taurok.
Within a minute, thundering booms blasted from behind. Round shot soared overhead and bounced on the ground in front. A few plunged to the ground harmlessly, spraying up dirt. Other shots plowed into the columns, cutting through lines of devilkin. The gun captains corrected and marked their aim again. The canister shot, tin cylinders full of lead balls, tore through the ranks of men, letting the cannon effectively fire a large spread of buckshot like a shotgun.
Howl could still hear the tromping boots of the enemy marching forward. There seemed to be no end. His heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest.
The tauroks charged, their sheer mass combined with armored legs shrugged off the brush and abatis. They leapt clean over into the redoubt and started to cleave through the line of exhausted soldiers. The beasts roared in their bloodlust. The tauroks swatted away the defenders with ease. Howl could hear the screams and cries from the hapless defenders in their wake. A large fist rushed past his head as he ducked out of the way. Dark uniforms started to outnumber the grey and green uniforms in the redoubt.
The earthenworks of the redoubt exploded in a rain of dirt and gore. A few timbers of the trenches cracked and flew about, knocking over some of the defenders. A blast shredded a couple of the tauroks. Howl shielded his face with an arm as dirt sprayed from a nearby explosion.
Devilkin hacked through the bramble, managing to climb up the wall as the ditch started to pile with corpses. A few started to reach up the top and jump over. Howl found himself facing a pair of infantry climbing over into his own section. He drew his sword and cut one down before they finished landing. The other proved to be more resourceful and used the body of his fallen comrade as a shield. Howl rammed his blade through both, skewering them. As he started to pull at the sword a third enemy’s silhouette came over, a bulky looking devilkin that towered over him. Howl yanked at the blade but it did not budge. His heart started to quicken as he saw the devilkin raise his musket.
A large fist crashed into the side of the enemy’s head and the body crumpled to the ground. Keg wiped away at bloody knuckles. “Damn elves and your slender swords. Good speed but damn they get stuck in everything.” A company of orc grenadiers came from behind her, helping to push back the wave of tauroks and devilkin.
Howl put his boot down and pulled the blade free, flicking the blood. “Some of us don’t have orcish strength.”
“We’re not all perfect,” Keg said with a grin.
“I fear we may need some of that orcish perfection then.”
Howl then caught the sound of a fast buzz in the air above. Small dark shapes appeared in the air from the forest, dozens of malblins riding atop flying demonic wasps, armed with carbines and lances.
Howl gritted his teeth and aimed his own rifle. His shot clipped one beast’s wing, sending it and its rider to the ground below. “Rifles, target the Buzzers!”
A handful of buzzers dove into the trenches of the redoubts, slashing at the defenders in their pass. Small explosions rippled through the trenches as some of the buzzer riders tossed grenades, killing and wounding groups of musketmen and riflemen alike, and then zipped away for another pass.
Howl ducked as a severed hand flew by his head. The body of a fallen Caldrayn soldier lay at his feet. His heart sank, the soldier was only a young man, never to age and experience the rest of his life. A cold sweat ran down his neck. Will their sacrifice be enough to stop this army? Will their deaths be enough for their loved ones beyond the mountains? He let out a slow breath and glanced down the trench. A private screamed as a lance skewered his sternum and plucked him into the air. One of the grenadiers, in a battle frenzy, wrenched at the beast’s stinger and slammed it down to the ground for his comrades to pounce on it.
Howl looked down lines that were buckling, soldiers firing sporadic and staggered pops. One flank of the redoubt had been swarmed with devilkin and malblins, cutting down the outnumbered defenders.
Weariness started to wash over his body. He took a big sip from his canteen, swishing the water around in his mouth as he stared at the oncoming waves. It had a bitter taste of powder from biting open the paper cartridges a little too close.
A deep rumble emanated from far in the battlefield. Vahkrus stood with his arms stretched out, a green glow wisping from his hands.
Howl frowned.
A bright flash cracked through the darkening sky, outlining a large shadowy form of a dragon. Its leather wings were tattered looking, its skull horns protruded in grotesque fashion. Rotten gray skin was splotched with black spots that webbed throughout its body. A sharp horn protruded from the end of its long tail.
Keg checked the flint on her blunderbuss. “I really wish you hadn’t missed.”
The dragon swooped down to the fort. Green fiery breath disintegrated the soldiers into ash. Large fangs snatched at screaming soldiers, snapping them in half with bloody crunches.
Howl’s chest tightened. Someone fired a shot, but the bullet only smacked into the dragon’s thick hide and bounced away.
“It’s going to take more than a few potshots,” said Keg.
“No shit, target the wings and then we’ll kill it.”
Keg and the war mages blasted shots at the dragon. Explosive bursts of magic and shrapnel knocked at the dragon, a few of the hits burning up a part of the creature’s wing. Leathery skin started to shrivel, the wing looking more skeletal, and the creature toppled down onto the ground with a thud. It stirred and thrashed on the ground, one wing furiously flapped to attempt to gain air again, but in vain. Jaws snapped at any approaching attackers, claws and talons slashing wildly. War mages continued to try to break through its tough hide.
“Concentrate fire!” Howl bellowed. “Put some extra powder in there!” He ran to the trench of the redoubt, shoulder to shoulder with a rank and file.
Howl reached into his shot pouch for some of the enchanted bullets. His thumb brushed on the etchings made on the ball. Resting the rifle on the edge of the trench, he gently placed his finger on the trigger, slowing his breath. His eyes concentrated on the dragon’s maw, its head centered within the sights.
The rifle cracked fire and smoke, kicking into Howl’s shoulder as he squeezed the trigger.
At the last moment, the dragon moved. It shrieked and jerked as a small fiery cloud erupted from the side of its head. Smoke cleared showing a pit of gore and cracked bone where one of its eyes used to be. The dragon snarled and turned towards Howl.
He felt his heart drop into his stomach. His hand fumbled to his pouch for another round. The ground quaked all around him as the dragon charged towards the trench. Muskets fired, the rounds popping in vain. It reared its head back with a roar, breath sucking inward. Howl shut his eyes and ducked down. Flames licked overhead but felt no pain. He opened his eyes to see Keg and a few other war mages standing over in the trench, holding out their arms. Magic crackled in the air as the flames deflected away with a barrier.
“Reload, dammit, sir,” Keg groaned, straining with her magic.
Howl rammed the bullet down and poured powder. “I only need a few seconds.”
“You’re only going to have a few seconds,” Keg said with gritted teeth.
A long arm of fire erupted from the rifle barrel, thrusting through the dragon’s own cone of flame. The round exploded as it impacted the dragon’s maw. Flames dissipated, the dragon roared and contorted in pain. It slumped to the ground, breathing one last gasp, and all was still for a moment. Howl’s heart beat fast, his rifle still pressed on his shoulder as he stared.
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Then its nostrils flared as it roared. Howl flinched back. Its one good eye glared straight at him. It lashed out wildly, slashing both devilkin and human in its frenzy.
“Hells, what will kill that damned thing?” Howl asked aloud.
Keg rubbed at her head, the magic was taking its toll on her already. “It’s a demonic dragon, something of that power… Sir, I’ll be right back.” She darted off.
“Keep bloody firing!” He set his rifle down and picked up a fallen musket and cartridge box, the rifle would be too slow for the volume of fire needed.
The dragon staggered as more shots peppered at its ragged body. One of its forearms was in tatters, most of its head was nothing but shards of bone and undead flesh. With one of its remaining claws it swiped at the defenders, still having strength to tear away at the living. Howl rolled out of the way as a great talon cut deep into the earth. He hefted the musket in his hands and thrust the bayonet point into its forearm. The blade snapped off, stuck inside like a thorn in its flesh. It roared in pain as he darted away.
Keg came back holding a box of blessed grenades. “Take the grenade!” She flung one towards him.
He caught the grenade. “I haven’t a light!”
“Use your damn head, sir!”
The dragon roared once again, clawing away at more soldiers. Shots pecked away at its flesh but it continued to stand. It reared its head back, sucking back air. Howl sprinted toward its maw, his hand gripping the grenade tight. As it started to lower its head down, Howl said a prayer to the Huntress and hurled the grenade. It arced into the dragon’s mouth just as flames started to spew.
The air cracked with a high pitched explosion and a blinding light. Explosive force threw Howl back and he tumbled to the ground. Streams of demons darted away from the sprawling brightness.
The dragon stood, headless. One of its arms flailed at nothing. A gun from behind in the redoubt fired and the round slammed into the body. The corpse landed, a small cloud of dust puffed from the heavy mass. It started to smoke from the embers of the holy fire, leaving behind a charred skeleton.
A grateful cheer broke out in the redoubt. Howl let out a heavy sigh of relief as he still lay on the ground. There was a strong urge to just close his eyes and sleep. A strong hand pulled him up.
“Not bad, sir,” said Keg, dusting him off.
Howl made a weary smile. “Couldn’t do it without you though.”
Cord came stumbling over. His uniform was a mess, he had a bandage over his head, a dark red spot bleeding through. “Sir, the left wing is breaking! We just don’t have the men anymore! They’re coming through the lines.”
Howl gritted his teeth. He had no more good reserves at the moment that he could spare. Sending them out would just create a thin, fragile line. If that collapsed, it was all in. “Keg, I hate to say this, but we need to fall back.”
Keg’s face paled. “Yes, sir.”
-----
The garrison made a hasty retreat to the inner bastion walls of the fort. It had a sloping wall to help defend against cannon shot and bastions, but much of the inner structure was still almost medieval. Soldiers braced the main gate with timber and carts. Howl ordered anyone that could still load and fire to man the walls. Others could help load muskets for the designated shooters to keep the pace of fire. Howl joined his sharpshooters at the wall in taking out enemy gun crews and officers.
A devilman stood in front of Howl on the wall, his sharp teeth bared and pale eyes wide with fury. Howl slashed with his sword but the devilman parried with his bayonet and lunged as a counterattack. It just barely missed Howl’s stomach as he twisted out of the way, the edge of the bayonet just cutting at the cloth of his coat.
Howl grimaced and snatched at the barrel, pulling it towards him, causing the devilkin to stumble. With the other hand, he plunged the sword into the devilman’s gut, and yanked it out with a twist of his hips. The devilman toppled and Howl set to work to fend off more attackers. He saw Keg brawling, large arms shoving and throwing devilkin off of the walls. Her uniform was cut, showing blood beneath, but her face showed an uncaring ferocity, fully immersed in her bloodlust. In a way, it scared Howl just watching, no matter how many times he had seen it before over the years.
We need time for a reprieve. Even just a few minutes. Howl let out ragged breaths. All he wanted was to lie next to a babbling brook, letting the songbirds serenade him to sleep.
Instead he was here with the din of death and battle among the throes of a world-ending war. He pulled away from the wall and rushed over to the artillery major, Yedin, a stout dwarf. “Do we have any artillery here other than the main guns?”
Yedin tilted his head. “Some howitzers, though no rounds left. We do have one of those damn finaggly rockets though. It’s not quite out of testing.”
“A Rocket?” A light sparked within. “Fetch it. And Harthen.”
“Right away, sir.” Yedin sped away as fast as his stocky legs let him. They gathered the rocket and its stand, the cleric following Yedin.
Howl took out his canteen, staring at it for a moment and then taking a swig. “Harthen, you studied enchantment and transmutation, correct?”
Harthen scratched his head.“Well, yes, I did. Not too bad with it, though maybe not exactly wizardly.”
“That’s fine,” Howl nodded. “I need something more priestly at the moment.”
Howl pointed at the rocket. “I need you to bless it.” He held a finger up at the sky. “I need to drop the blasted sun on them for a few moments at least. They don’t like holy light very much, most of them. It should buy us some time.”
“Oh,” his eyes widened in realization. “I can do that. Can you buy me a few minutes? This might take up quite a bit of my magic though.” He took out a small flask and a leather pouch of spell materials. The gun carriage was wheeled out with the blessed rocket.
“This is the only one, sir,” said Yedin.
“I realize that,” said Howl.
Howl snipped the fuse and then grabbed the lit linstock, gingerly holding it to the fuse. As soon as he saw the fizzing sparks he hopped up and backed away several good paces. The fuse hissed and the rocket screamed into the sky like banshee, causing a few soldiers to stop and turn their necks at the noise.
At the zenith of its arc, the rocket burst leading to a sudden brightness in the sky. Howl covered his eyes for a moment as his eyes adjusted. It seemed like daylight now.
The devilkins shrieked almost as loud as the rocket. Those atop the walls wailed, covering their eyes. A few of the wicked demons sizzled from the holy light in the air. The attackers scrambled back in a retreat back to the darkness of the forest, their boots a cacophonic thunder.
A thunderous cheer came from the fort.
Keg clapped Howl on the back. It stung. “Still see you have enough elvish tricks.”
Howl winced. “I’m hoping I’m not all tapped out.”
“How long will this last?”
“A few minutes perhaps,” Howl shrugged. “Enough to give us a bit to catch our breath.” But not long enough for reinforcements from Lock to show up.
Keg rubbed at her eyes. “I could go for a bit of ale and a piss, by Grakh. It’s been all night.”
A minute later a blast of magic energy zipped to the flare. A small wave of light burst from the flare, followed by a puff and fizzle as the light burned away. The white light turned to a dull gray once more and the remains dropped down back to the ground. Howl tasted the copper in the air as magic started to filter through the sky. Thick shadowy darkness that slowly crawled all over the sky, blanketing the remaining stars.
Howl’s heart sank. “Shit.”
A horn blared a deep crescendo and the war drums started to beat again. The world seemed to rumble as the thunderous march outside the fort started anew.
“The Scourge will come upon us,” a soldier muttered. “The darkness will take us all.”
“I’m low on ammo. I thought we were going to have reinforcements?” a private asked aloud.
A general groan of dismay started to murmur among the defenders. Even Howl felt his shoulders sag. He rubbed at his eyes. “By the goddess…” Resting by the water only seemed to be a dream now.
“Howl, what’s your order?” Keg looked at him with concern. There was a sort of soft look to her even with the tusks from her mouth and the scars across her face. Howl would almost think she was nervous. The same grenadier who stared down entire legions without flinching.
Howl looked at the darkening sky and the marching enemy looming towards them. I have failed. The black sky would blanket the world, the Undead Lord along with it. Dammit Lock, where are you? Did we really have a chance? “We’ve lost,” he lowered his head. “It’s too late.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I didn’t think I would hear this from you.”
He shook his head and spread his hands. “What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do.”
Keg said nothing for a moment. The marching was getting louder. She bit her lip and put a hand on his shoulder. “Remember the Battle of Tentakh?”
His mind searched through his peoples’ history. “From the First Orc War? The one where a small elven army stood against a larger orc horde?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “They were very brave.”
“They were slaughtered to the last.”
The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. “But they were remembered. As I recall from my grandfathers, they were avenged at the Battle of the Two Rivers.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“There is hope,” Keg said. “Maybe not for us, but… for the war.”
Howl grimaced and reached up at her hand on his shoulder, returning the squeeze. He took a step atop near the wall, overlooking his soldiers. Keg inhaled a breath to call for attention but he held up a hand. The chatter quieted, all eyes and ears turned to him. The only sound was the marching feet outside.
Howl remained silent, removing his hat, his gaze scanning across his soldiers. He saw the fear, the worry. Their faces were sallow and tired, their bodies sagging from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. Fighting had taken its toll and he was about to ask the world from them. But he saw the embers of determination within them that only needed to be stoked.
“My soldiers, my countrymen, my friends. A hard fight it has been and a hard fight it shall be. A relentless enemy is outside our walls and at our gates. I know we are tired, we are scared, but we shall not be broken. We’ve seen horrors of war, all of us. Lost our family, our homes to this Scourge. They have laid waste to everything, and we cannot let it happen any further, can we?”
There was a small murmur among the soldiers, their eyes still fixed on him. Not one foot shifted. A deep thump hit the main gate as a heavy battering ram started to pound on the thick timber.
“We are all that stands in the way of the dark tyranny and the destruction of life and freedom. Just beyond this pass is home! Our home! We shall not let one foul foot step onto that precious soil! Not one step! They want to take a stroll like they own the land. Will we let them?”
Grumbles of no’s and hell no’s came from the crowd.
“They lack something that we have: spirit, heart! They fight for nothing other than their very nature, for the sake of destruction. But we fight for duty, honor, compassion. We know what we shall sacrifice tonight. The fate of our world is upon us! They will sing songs of this, our children and grandchildren.”
The murmur came to a boil.
“If this is to be our last night, then I gladly fight at your side. We will show them our mettle. We will fight for the free kingdoms, to every man! We will fight to the moon’s last light!” He pulled his sword from his scabbard and held it high, the steel glinting from the sliver of moonlight.
A roaring chorus of cheers broke out. Boot and buttstock thumped on the ground, and orcs let out their war cries.
“Not one step for them! To the walls! Not one step!” Howl bellowed. Soldiers surged to the walls, counter attacking the enemy that dared to scramble up their walls. The attackers were becoming a steady trickle. Howl stood atop the wall, slashing and stabbing. Keg hurled devilkin and malblins back down.
Wood thumped with each heave of the battering ram against the gate. The gate’s timbers started to crack, the crossbar gave way with a deep groan. Cries and roars from the other side grew louder.
Howl slashed and kicked a devilman down, only to see more take his place. His arm was starting to tire but duty dictated he continue. He swapped the sword to his other hand and resumed.
The pounding at the gates grew. Wood cracked, splinters popping off the timbers. With another heave the gate burst open. Howl’s face paled as devilkin flooded the gateway.
Howl heard a shout from the wall. “Back! Back ye bastards!” He watched in surprise as Cord leapt in the gateway, swinging his musket like a club, which stock snapped after a few furious swings. Without missing a beat, he snatched an axe and carved a circle around him, cutting down those that tried to get past him. Others jumped to join in, fighting back the intruders.
“Sir, I’ll hold them off!” Cord hacked and slashed away, enemy blades and bayonets sliced back at him. His comrades next to him were cut down. He heaved the axe into the chest of a downed devilman, roaring a battle chant. A burly devilman officer leapt in with a sword. Cord dodged and countered, swinging the axe back at the officer. The devilman went to parry but Cord’s axe broke the blade in two. The officer stared in disbelief just as Cord’s axe swung into his midsection.
“Fall back from the walls! Form ranks!” Howl bellowed. The remaining defenders scurried from the walls, back down to the parade grounds in the center, forming three ragged ranks. The war mages and skirmishers stood either behind or around the flanks. It was a good position, the enemy would only be able to come towards them… for the moment.
A few more defenders pressed in at the gate hoping to hold the enemy back. Encouraged by Cord’s battle chant, they pushed towards the gates, firing and bayonetting into the mass of devilkin.
“Battalion…fix bayonets!” Howl roared, the chorus of metallic clinking answering him a moment later. Rows and rows of footlong steel gleamed for a moment as the darkness overhead consumed the last of the moonlight. Howl felt a knot in his stomach start to grow. He gripped at his sword and started to move forward to the gate.
A hand grabbed him from behind. “Sir, if we break formation, we won’t be able to hold them back,” said Keg. Her jaw was clenched as if she had trouble saying the words. “We’ll be too exposed. This is our best tactical position.”
“But Cord-” His voice nearly cracked.
“Is giving us time,” she said, the edge of her mouth quivering.
Cord chopped and carved, his uniform soaked in sweat and blood. The blade bit into the back of a wretched demon and stuck. Cord yanked it out and started to swing again as a bayonet pierced his side. He turned and slashed at the demon holding the bayonet. Blood gushed out of the wound, but Cord continued his fight. His moves became slower, his legs started to stumble like a punch drunk fighter. Another bayonet pierced him, and then another. He roared and slashed as he toppled into a pool of blood and bodies.
Howl’s heart wrenched, a cry building in his throat. He wanted to leap in and save his old friend, to bring him to a cleric to heal him. But the walls were falling, the gate was gone.
A flutter of wings caught his ear. He turned and saw a small bird, perched on the corner of the wall above him. It bobbed its head and fluffed its wings. A grim smile came to Howl’s face, melting away just as fast as the bird flew away from the noisy din.
His face hardened to a frown and he faced the enemy ahead. “Fire by rank! Make ready!” Officers and serjeants echoed his orders all down the lines. Thumbs pulled hammers back with rows of clicking noises.
Within moments devilkin rushed forward with shrill cries and screams, bayonets and swords at the ready.
Howl waved his arm down. “Front rank, fire!” A wall of bullets cut down dozens of intruders. The front rank started to reload as the second rank levelled their muskets.
“Second rank, fire!” Another volley slammed into the wave of devilkin. Heaps of corpses littered the gateway.
“Third rank, fire!” The enemy wave started to buckle.
The front rank frantically reloaded, scrounging for ammunition from their cartridge boxes, and then brought their muskets to bear. The continual volleys cut the devilkin to pieces. A shrill cry came from outside, a chorus of ululations answering it. A war horn blared once again.
Enemy bullmen grenadiers marched in a shield wall of thick iron and enchanted hide. The volley of musket balls panged harmlessly against the shields. A mass of devilkin crowded behind them. Howl looked at Keg. “Please tell me you have some grenades.”
“A handful.” She held up a single grenade.
“And the rest of you?” Most of the grenadiers shrugged, holding empty hands. Only a couple others held up grenades. “Damn.”
“War mages are about tapped out too, sir,” said Keg. “I’d say hold them off until we think we really need them.”
That might be sooner than you think. He waved his arm forward. “Break that shield wall before they get too close. Short fuses.”
The grenadiers grunted as they hucked the small round explosives into the air. Small trails of fizzling sparkes as grenades arced above the ranks of soldiers. Metal shards splintered into the bullmen. One or two grenades missed and bounced off the shields, shrapnel flying and pinging off of the metal. The bullmen hardly lost any momentum.
Howl frowned. His stomach felt like a tempest.
“Sir, do you have a Heat Round?” asked Keg.
Howl raised a brow and nodded. “Yes, but wouldn’t do more than maybe heat their shields up, and I don’t think they’d really care.”
She hefted a small powder keg. “I had something different in mind.”
“Eh?” He blinked and then grinned. He reached into his shot pouch and pulled out a red bullet. With a quick motion, he rammed the ball down and aimed the rifle up.
“This might be close.” She rocked back, holding it up with two arms and then hurled it at the enemy. The barrel soared over to the shield wall, just above their heads.
Howl squeezed the trigger and a small fire ball burst from his muzzle, streaking towards the keg. An orange, fiery ball burst and several of the bullmen reeling away from the fiery explosion above their heads.
Caldrayn soldiers fired a quick, ragged volley, creating a gap in the shield wall, but by then the enemy were within charging distance. The devilkin surged forward. A second volley crashed into the charging devilkin but the third had no time to fire, as the front rank clashed with the attackers. Soldiers from the second rank stabbed over the shoulders of their comrades. Howl grabbed his sword and jumped into the fray.
Devilmen started to burst through the front rank, pushing through with bayonet and fists. Soldiers fell in the trampling push. The air reeked of acrid gunpowder and gore. War mages blasted explosive spells behind the enemy.
“They’re trying to flank us!” yelled Keg.
Howl yanked the bayonet out of a devilman. “Take Second and Third Company and create wings. Rank fire and cut them down! The center has to hold!”
Enemy soldiers started to mass within the fort walls. Howl saw a sea of hide helmets and mottled uniforms just beyond the ranks of his own men. Waves of devilkin pressed against his ranks. Howl’s heart fell as he looked around the chaotic melee, hearing the screams of soldiers being cut down. His foot brushed against the dead body of one of his rangers, the green coat darkened with patches of wet blood, unseeing eyes staring up at him in anguish.
Howl’s side started to burn. He whipped his head around, seeing a devilman’s bayonet had sliced through his coat and through his side. The devilman showed his sharp teeth in a wicked grin. Howl bared his own and clubbed the devilman in the chin with the butt of his gun. The devilman reeled back, wiping blood from his mouth, and then pounced back. Howl shoved at him, trying to land a kick but the squirrely devilman dodged out of the way and headbutted him. He reeled back, his foot tripping over a fallen body, sending him down. A fallen body cushioned his head, though he felt it hit bone.
The devilman cackled and held up his musket, bayonet pointed down. He gloated in his hellish tongue and then gurgled blood as a sword point pierced from his back. Keg appeared over Howl, flicking the bloody blade.
“If I keep having to rescue you, they may not think much of you as a leader,” she grinned. Half of her face was covered in blood but Howl had no idea whose. She grasped his arm and pulled him up.
“May not be much of one here soon,” he said with a grimace. “Not much of the garrison left.” He looked around as more soldiers fell. They were getting cut to pieces.
He looked up, seeing a singular figure standing above the gate. A tall man dressed in a dark uniform. The general, Vakhrus, had come to see the final moments of his victory. He raised a hand and without a word, the army slowed to a stop, crowding around in a ring around the last of the garrison. A smirk crept on the general’s face. Boots clacked on the ground as the demons presented their guns in one synchronous move.
“Showy bastard,” said Howl.
“That’s one way to command, I suppose,” said Keg. “Do you think the reinforcements will still come?”
Howl caught a glimpse in the sky of a white owl hovering in the air. It circled around a few times before heading back northward. He smiled. “I’d reckon so.” Just not in time for our sakes.
A chorus of horns blared in the distance, but not the deep reverberating note of the demon army. It was bright, cascading into a harmony of higher notes. A bright light flashed in the sky and the darkness started to ebb away, peeling back corners of black to show small rays of the new dawn. The enemy army began to grumble and murmur. Vakhrus cocked his head up at the sky but did not seem to give any inclination of anxiety. He clenched a fist and the army fell into silence.
The light started to grow brighter in the sky, but the army remained.
The garrison fell back into ranks, making two thin ragged lines of the remaining motley of soldiers. Howl felt his cartridge pouch. He was down to one last round. One of his special rounds: a Blessed round. It was hard to resist a chuckle at the fortune.
Hundreds of blackened steel muzzles faced him and his garrison. He grunted with a cynical smile and started to load his last shot. He bit off the cartridge and hurriedly poured powder into the pan.
“You may want to hurry,” said Keg.
He frantically dumped powder down the muzzle, fumbling to ram the ball down. The devilkin pulled back the hammers into full cock.
The garrison did the same.
Howl cursed as he hammered the ball down the barrel. He wasn’t going to make it in time.
The world seemed to thunder with hundreds of volleys going off all at once. The garrison all around him were cut down, bullets zipping through wool and bone. Howl stood, shocked. He looked at his hands and his body, no bullets had pierced him. A faint glow wavered in front of him like heat, a moment later it vanished. A heavy thud fell by Howl’s feet. There was a heavy silence amid the large cloud of black smoke and the stench of powder. A hand tugged on his leg and he glanced down in front of him.
The last wisps of arcane energy trailed from her hands. The front of her uniform was dark with blood. “Better make it count,” said Keg. She closed her eyes and slumped down, a soft smile on her face.
Howl stifled a sob. He steeled himself, gritted his teeth, and levelled his rifle, aiming up at the general. The wind was still; he didn’t need the flip up sights. He slowed his breath. Time seemed to slow as well. The only sound he heard was the distant warbling of a songbird.
Darkness started to peel back in the sky. A slaughter was starting in the distance, triumphant horns were blaring. The devilkin were already presenting their muskets. Hundreds of hammers clicked back once more.
He exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet cracked out of the barrel, his eyes peered through the small cloud of smoke wisping from his barrel. The enemy general jerked, a spray of dark crimson from the side of his head. His body toppled and slumped. Howl made a grim smile, his task complete.
The sound of a babbling brook echoed in his head.
A moment later the air in front of him cracked with musket fire and everything burst into white light.