Oliver checked his mana and figured he could cast three more times. The thickness of the bridge would be a challenging target, but he readied a Star Beam.
Everyone behind him fled, leaving the gatehouse that jolted under the bombardment of giants hurling stones.
A chip whistled through the air and sliced his cheek. Of course, it was his luck that it hit the wrong side, not the side with a plastic mask.
The enemy rushed forward, no longer under threat of the archers. They piled over each other in a lusty hunt for blood.
The liquid light of the Star Beam cut through their meat to hit the stone and melt it. But it petered out before cutting through the bridge, stopping with about three feet to go.
Oliver felt ill and staggered back.
The footsoldiers retreated but were stopped by their own numbers behind them. A few fell the forty feet to dash themselves on the rocks.
The bridge cracked, and chucks fell away, but it held.
A giant stepped onto it, rock in his fist, ready to smash the gate open, but the stone under his feet gave way. The giant landed on his feet, standing two-thirds as high as the ditch. Men rained down around him, some surviving after a cushion of their comrades built up.
A female giant reached down and pulled the other up. “Don’t let them hut you. Look what happened to Zigant. Smash that little man.”
The boulder came hurtling toward Oliver, and right before it turned him into a pancake, he threw himself. The floor slammed into his shoulder, and he rolled to his feet and sprinted down stairs and toward Red Gate.
A tower behind him toppled, imploding at the halfway point and sending the top half into the ground.
He fell to the cobbles and scrambled up.
A wooden beam stamped the ground beside him.
When he reached the Red Gate, every face was on him, smiling or in awe. “You’re our hope,” one said. “Who cares where the King’s wizard is if we have him,” said another. A cheer rose from the defenders along the wall.
Halfdan, standing near Oliver, gave a grim nod. “Well done.”
The morale seemed high even though they’d lost the first gate. How the citadel was designed meant they’d have multiple defensive points until they defended from the old castle. The mood changed abruptly, however.
A swirl of dark clouds drifted overhead. A cloud giant rode a carpet of mist over the collapsed span. Worse, it began to rain, and the giant waved her arms like a conductor, moving droplets like a magnet moved iron shavings.
Rain beaded together and sloshed into the ditch. Eventually, it would fill if it continued.
Sir Gillian pointed by a row of torches on the enemy line. “There, a Witchfriend and a Dark Captain. Why would they work together?”
Oliver didn’t answer, but he knew Lord Emrich was a Player, and who knew what kind of scheming happened between the caged god and the rank twenty.
The enemy began to build. The felling of trees at the hands of unhuman axes gathered stockpiles of lumber. The efficiency was something to behold.
Through the night, the Red Gate was quiet. At dawn and in the distance, Archer’s Perch loosed arrows at the enemy, but the latter came in with covers over the freshly constructed floating bridge.
Smoke curled over the fields beyond the broken outer gate. A graveyard of decomposed undead harrassed the encampment, but the Dark Captain seemed to take control of them. They crossed the bridge with the rest in a single file line, hallow eyesockets staring forward.
Suddenly, a procession appeared on the wall.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The King of Halshan wore a red cap on his comically pear-shaped suit of armor. A gold crown adorned his head in place of a helmet. Beside him was a girl who appeared far more regal than he did by a mile.
Elstina showed no sign of recognition when her eyes fell on Oliver. However, her hand vaguely pointed him out as she spoke to the king. “This is the one whom I mentioned to you over spiced wine and custard pie. He would be useful during the battle and beyond. And I would be pleased to see him under your guidance.” She flashed a look over that was gone as if it had never been.
At the King’s side, a tall, thin man walked up and was called chancellor. He wore robes and a deep, permanent frown.
On the other side, a guard captain bore a polished halberd.
Finally, a grizzled general waved everyone away from the outward parapet. “Please, Sire, having you so close to the enemy is not strategic. They have magic and creatures. Nothing would bring more harm to the realm than to lose you.”
“Nonsense. We have a wizard here in this young fellow. Or do you doubt the elf? Anyway, I want to see a calvary charge.”
The general mopped is face with his hand. “A cavalry charge? But we have the upper hand defending from the walls.”
The king narrowed his eyes. “Do you doubt our knights?”
“Of course not. I’ll ready a charge.”
Sir Gillian bowed deeply. “Your Majesty. The Red Gate stands, thanks in large part to Oliver here.” The defenders echoed him.
The king’s gaze passed over Oliver. “I can’t wait to see your tricks.” He turned. “Elstina has made great strides in healing the rift between my people and the elves. The fact that Lord Emrich has allied with those who hate the elves the most gives me hope for a bright future.”
The guard captain studied Oliver with a neutral expression. The chancellor took notes on a parchment.
The general cleared his throat. “What should be our target, Sire? With the charge.”
The king waved him away as if bored with the man. “You’re the one who takes care of the details.”
Sir Gillian and Sir Edmund exchanged uneasy glances. They backed away and disappeared from the wall, darting away as if disbanding. But they didn’t go awol. They reappeared on the wall of the inner circle and headed to the second main gate.
Before long, the clearing behind Red Gate bustled with men in plate armor, mounting armored horses and raising banners.
Oliver moved forward to stare between merlons at the urging of those around him. Was he there to watch over the knights’ charge?
Halfdan, Sigrid, Saj, and Charity joined him. The first said, “What do they want from you? Do you know what you’re doing?”
“No, and no.”
Saj stroked his chin in thought. “The general seems not to think the king's decision reasonable. I think you must save their asses.”
Owen walked over. The man had stayed with them rather than slip away to the Dark Captain. Perhaps he was just an innocent imprisoned for a few hundred years. “Hast thou perceived the likeness?”
Saj nodded. “Immediately. You are very much his line.”
Oliver turned to look back at them. “What are you talking about.”
“The king and Owen,” Saj said. “Take two hundred pounds off the king and their identical.”
The Red Gate opened, and the cavalry thundered forth, lowering lances.
Instantly, arrow volleys rained down, accompanied by the roar of trolls and giants.
The knights vanished into dust and smoke. Oliver strained to see.
When the dust settled, horns signaled a retreat.
The king slapped the stone of his castle. “No. No, no, no. Don’t retreat. It can’t be over.”
The knights stumbled back, carrying wounded or dragging the remains of companions. May were now on foot.
Oliver shot an Astral Lance past them and into the enemy. It may give them some time.
Few riders returned unscathed. Many lay gasping while healers tried their best to help.
The general, stoic and grim, helped some knights dismount, their horses half-lamed. “We lost many,” he said tersely.
The king turned his attention to Oliver. He was shaking with grief or anger. “She told me you had power enough to tear down armies,” he spat. “Why?”
Oliver pressed his lips together, uncertain how to respond. “I bought time at the bridge. I was able to use it to our advantage.”
The king’s eyes darted about in a growing panic. “We could all die. All of us. Who guards my daughter?” He seized Oliver’s sleeve, trembling. “Swear to me you’ll keep her safe.”
Oliver stepped back, startled. “Who?”
“The princess. They can’t touch her. Perhaps you’re better as a guard than a weapon.” The king wandered away, talking to himself.
Owen watched him go. “Nay, no kinship hath been discerned.”
The guard captain seized Oliver’s arm. “You heard him.”
Oliver looked around for help, but no one came to his rescue.
Elstina walked away from talking to the chancellor and disappeared.
Halfdan put his hand to his axe. “We won’t let the citadel fall.”
Saj nodded. “Yes, it sounds like you’ll be getting some rest.”
Charity seemed worried, but she gave words of encouragement. “How hard could it be to guard a princess's door?”