Dragon Alliance Dark Storm : Dark Storm (49 page)

The fire giant’s swing was slower with only one arm, and Breigor parried the sword’s black blade off his claws and then struck low and bit into the giant’s partially armored leg. This forced the giant to fall face first on the ground, and as he looked up, he saw Ordin’s smiling face. “Death to you, foul beast,” he spoke in the giant’s own language and then with a deft stroke, brought his hammer squarely down on the brute’s dark crimson forehead, slaying the giant. Valkuran had just driven her talons into the barrel chest of the common giant she had knocked down, and then she finished off the behir that her mate had flamed with a blast of her own fiery breath. However, five more common giants were moving toward her, and another fire giant directed several common giants to move with the Morgathian infantry to help them break the weir’s battle line.

“All right, you dogs, ready yourselves. Lock shields, and ready spears. Take the first assault up the rampart with low spear thrusts, and be ready to rotate position to keep a fresh soldier at the edge of the line. There are giants and ogres bearing down on us; archers concentrate fire on them, and I and Dorin will face any that make it to your shields!” Pekram yelled out and also into his seeing crystal as he drew his heavy, two-handed mithril-alloy sword. The orcs and Morgathian infantry were almost at a dead run toward the line of weir infantry and dwarves, who were now throwing dragons’ fire canisters and hand axes at them. This and the fire from elf archers and weir crossbowmen were devastating the first several ranks of the enemy charge, almost stopping the advance. The orcs and Morgathians were climbing over their dead and wounded comrades while trying to avoid those burning from the flaming liquid of the thrown canisters. However, charging ogres and giants started to draw the arrow fires and allowed the Morgathian attack to resume, but at a much slower pace with several hundred killed in these first few waves.

The first Morgathian infantry and orcs to run into the trench and up the rampart had a difficult time getting up the other side and were met by deadly spear thrusts from the higher-strength mithril-steel-alloy spear points, which easily penetrated their armor. As the bodies of the Morgathian assault began to pile up in the trench, those who kept pressing the attack were using them as breaching material and stepping on them to get a better attack angle on the weir infantry. All the while, the crossbowmen and archers behind the heavy infantrymen were getting good shots at the Morgathian forces and were inflicting heavy casualties, and also keeping the ogres at bay.

The dwarves held fast and acted like an armored porcupine, bleeding anything that attempted to breach their staunchly defended battle line. Dorin’s mithril ax was cleaving anything that was foolish enough to challenge his position alongside his clan. The close fight was now a test of the weir’s training and fortitude. Their drill of turning the frontline soldiers to the rear of their battle line, which was three infantrymen deep, ensured that each man would only have to fight for ten to twelve minutes and then get a break to the rear of the line. The rotation was going well, and the Morgathian soldiers and orcs were feeling the brunt of it.

However, the giants were now making their way through the waiting rows of orcs and enemy infantry and in some cases, striking them out of their way in their zest to get to the weir soldiers. The elves and weir shooters turned the intensity of their fire to the charging giants. While both elf arrows and weir crossbow bolts were penetrating the thick leather or hide armor of the common giants, their determination to reach the weir battle line was readily apparent. Four of the seven that initially were directed to attack the weir’s forces were brought down.

Pekram saw the two common giants were going to make it to the battle line and likely break through, and he knew Mkel, Gallanth, and the rest of the council were busy with the chromatics and would not get there in time to slay these giants. He then yelled for the infantry to make a hole in the line for him to go through to face at least one of the giants, when he heard Lieutenant Ablich yell out to him.

“Pekram, I’ll call for the paladins!” Ablich shouted out.

“No, sir, we can handle this!” Pekram yelled back.

“Not without me and my raiders,” Lawrent moved down the hill with half of his men. Pekram and Ablich nodded in agreement and yelled to the senior platoon sergeant Macdolan to take charge of the garrison company, and then charged through the weir infantry line to intercept two of the four common giants that were lumbering toward them. Lawrent’s raiders did a good job at slicing an opening through the orcs and Morgathians as they moved toward the giants. This was the berserker fight that they loved and were very good at, with their Freilander broadswords and hand axes swinging wildly, their shields raised as they bellowed out bloodcurdling war cries. Lawrent’s bluish-bladed frost sword almost hummed through the air as it hacked and frost-burned or partially froze those orcs and Morgathians he struck. Pekram’s mighty rendering mithril sword was cutting through two to three of the enemy in a single wide stroke. The two fearsome fighters were the apex of the Freiland raider charge and were doing a very effective job at it.

They all met the lumbering common giant head-on and delivered decisive blows to both sides of the monster. The fourteen-foot-tall beast doubled over, a gaping wound on his left side and a frozen chunk of his body missing on the right. He did manage to crush one of Freilanders with his club, however, as he tried to get back on his feet. This attempt was short-lived as Pekram delivered a deep blow to the creature’s hide-covered back that caused him to arch in agony and roar. He was soon silenced by Lawrent’s icy blade being thrust into his side. He fell forward, his large club almost hitting one of the raiders. The weir and raider leaders briefly looked at each other and smiled, a rare moment for them, but this was interrupted by the rush of orcs that charged them with another giant right behind.

The third common giant headed directly toward the dwarf battle line, with a keen motivation to crush his ancestral enemy. Dorin called out for his clansmen to ready to receive the giant and raised his mithril axe. They tightened their shields to ready for the impact but also readied their ax/spear weapons that they used so effectively. The giant was knocking all in front of him down and stepping on the orcs and Morgathian soldiers that were in his way to get to the dwarves. As he moved into the sloped trench in front of the dwarves, he kicked the dead and wounded Morgathians out of his way and raised his club to strike the dwarf defenders. Dorin slipped down the earthen slope beside him. As the red-headed dwarf slid down the trench, he swung his mithril double-bladed ax and sliced deeply into the giant’s right leg just above the knee. This caused the giant to buckle and weakened his strike on the awaiting dwarf shields, of which his club cracked and crumpled three, sending those hit tumbling back with broken arms or other injuries. This would normally have crushed those dwarves, but the swing was weakened by Dorin’s strike, and his clansmen knew how to give with a giant’s blows.

The giant received several spear thrusts and ax blows to his arms and upper torso from the dwarf fighters, which distracted him enough to allow Dorin to move up on the giant’s left side and slice his ax deep into the brute’s calf. The giant angrily responded by swinging his left arm down and striking Dorin’s awaiting shield, throwing him to the opposite side of the trench. The impact was soft because of the freshly disturbed soil and Dorin’s mithril shield and dragon hide armor took much of the blow. This allowed him to get up quickly and move to attack the giant again, the gold dragon embossment on his shield barely dented by the giant’s the powerful blow.

Dorin’s axe wounds had basically demobilized the brute, and he swung his club again at the line of dwarf defenders. The large wooden weapon glanced on the double raised shields and only wounded four of the Draden Weir clan, as the locked shields basically acted like dragon hide and spread the power of the impact among the group. He moved quickly at the kneeling giant and drove his axe blade deep into his lower back. The giant’s protruding brow crumpled with pain as he arched his brutish head up. This then allowed five dwarves to thrust spears into his chest and neck, which finished him off. The hulking body slumped and slid to the bottom of the shallow trench. Dorin quickly scrambled over the large carcass and rejoined his fellow dwarves just in time to face an orc charge.

The Morgathian commander had sent a rider back to Molotoc and Restregem to let them know that he was facing an Alliance Dragon fortress garrison, and they bore the gold dragon standard on the red keystone. He also requested reinforcements, for the fight was now in the balance and he had already lost half of his reinforced regiment and many of his giants and behirs. The rider returned, his horse almost dead from the exertion of the prolonged sprint, with four death knights accompanying him. The messenger explained that the lieutenant would be marked with a yellow scarf and would make a single attack on this group of death knights that bore a red slash on their shields. They would capture him and bring him to Marlok and Ashram.

The Morgathian regiment commander did not know why this was so necessary but would not challenge his superiors on it either, for he knew of the consequences. “All right, take these men to the front of our battle line and have a group of ogres from my reserve escort them so as not to give away their intent. Once you have the Alliance officer, you may take him to your master,” the commander spoke.

“Sire, my horse is almost dead from exhaustion, and I am not sufficiently armored to wade into the heat of this battle,” the rider stated with fear in his voice.

“You will do as you’re told or you will be eviscerated!” the warlord shouted back. He acknowledged the order and started to ride toward the heavily engaged Morgathian regiment, the group of death knights right behind him. As they approached the actual fight, they had to skirt around the regiment and between the giants and the Alliance land dragons, while also avoiding getting shot by an arrow or crossbow. Their ogre escort did not. They moved to the right side of the Alliance line to attempt to identify the officer they were to capture.

Howrek noticed the tightly packed group of death knights with the three red slashes on their shields standing about thirty yards behind the main section of Morgathians and orcs fighting his soldiers. He looked back at Sergeant Gustoug, nodded, and then charged past his men with his sword in hand and clumsily fought his way to the Morgathian messenger in front of the death knights.

“Fight him to make this look good, soldier,” the senior death knight ordered the Morgathian messenger. “He will not harm you too much,” the black-iron-clad knight added.

The messenger did not reply, and with an angry stare at the death knight, he drew his sword and met Howrek in a duel.

Howrek swung hard and wildly at the Morgathian messenger trying to overwhelm him quickly.

“What are you doing?” he yelled at Howrek who was about to best him.

“Death to all Morgathians!” he screamed as he parried and thrust his sword into the messenger’s chest, his opponent’s eyes showing that he did not understand why he had to be sacrificed as he fell to the ground. Howrek then moved toward the death knights, who quickly surrounded him and began to fight. This time, Howrek looked on in disbelief as the black-armored men, with their skull-shaped helmets, took turns swinging at him.

“What is going on? I am not to be harmed!” he nervously yelled at his would-be captors.

“We are just making your capture look good,” one of them said as his black-iron sword cut into Howrek’s left shoulder. If he hadn’t been wearing the dragon-hide armor that Mkel had arranged for him, that stroke could easily have severed his arm. He was then hit on the back by the other death knight and knocked to his knees. At this point, they all kicked and beat him with their sword pommels and shields until he was almost unconscious. They then grabbed four nearby Morgathian soldiers and ordered them to pick the lieutenant up. They started to carry him to the rear of their lines, carefully avoiding the giants in the melee with the land dragons.

Macdolan quickly called Pekram and apprised him of the capture of the lieutenant. “Damn that fool! Who or what was he trying to do against four death knights? Lawrent, can you spare any men to go with me to rescue this fool of an officer?” he asked.

“You have the full strength of my raiders,” the berserker answered as he called his first officer to bring the rest of his men down the mountainside to join those with him. Within seconds, the howling war cries of the other sixty of his Freiland raiders were heard charging down the sloped hill and furiously hacking their way through the orcs and Morgathian columns to get to their leader. “We’re ready, old man,” Lawrent said with his wide, toothy smile below his red-blond mustache.

“Old man, huh? We’ll see about that,” Pekram replied as he turned and nearly split an orc in two with a powerful cleaving stroke of his two-handed mithril sword. Lawrent joined him in the fray with his raiders right behind and around them hacking their way through the orc and Morgathian reserves to get to the group of death knights, who were moving fast to get away from them.

As the death knights emerged from the rear of their attacking army, they signaled the regimental commander over to them. He also brought their horses. “Warlord, you have a company of Freiland berserkers quickly heading this way led by two fighters with magic weapons; send your reserves to slow them down so we can get this pup of a man to the Talon sorcerers,” the senior death knight ordered the Morgathian commander.

“I have a small surprise for these berserkers; Temesh, let loose the blood-seekers, and we’ll see how the Alliance’s sea mongrel allies stand up to our latest addition,” he ordered of his assistant, who immediately rode away toward the group of orcs that were holding the hybrid four-armed creatures by multiple chains. The six- to seven-foot-tall reddish-black orc hybrids seemed similar to the balor demons that the drow and Morgathian Talon sorcerers created from orc and chromatic dragon blood. While these creatures did not possess magic and were without wings, they had the reputation of being vicious, bloodthirsty and absolutely tenacious in battle.