Chapter 26

Day 43:

John’s Sight could just barely pick out the first streaks of light in the sky above when he spotted a figure waving a torch as the person moved into their path.

“Slow down.” John called over his shoulder.

“I see him.” Layus muttered, pulling back on the control straps.

The sled coasted to a stop about thirty yards in front of the torch bearer. John counted ten spear-and-shield armed men advancing on them from each side.

“Hail there!” John called. “It’s Layus, Treb and John!”

“Lord Jyon?!” He’d recognize Sygraid’s voice anywhere.

Her large form loomed in the darkness as she approached.

“Hello Syg.” John put a smile into his words. “How do you fare?”

“Treb? Where are you?” She felt her way along the sled side.

“He’s asleep.” John told her.

“Lucky boy.” Layus muttered as he slipped along the other side to stake the team down.

“I’m awake!” Treb protested weakly as Sygraid’s hands found his arm.

“You are hale?” She fussed.

“Yes mother. That was fun!” The boy chirped.

“When the Wardens said you were trying to delay the orcs, we feared the worst!” Sygraid declared.

“What happened, my lord?” Heegan stepped up next to Sygraid, holding the torch so they could be seen.

“Just a little game of... ‘chicken’.” John joked. “But Treb did a great job protecting us and making the orcs chase us. Layus, you too did well. Thank you.”

“Uh, sure, uh, lord.” Layus stammered.

“Why did you use my son, and not ask me to protect you?” Sygraid demanded.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but Treb is much lighter than you are.” John quipped, to a round of laughter. “Given how close they got to us, I’m glad we weren’t any heavier. Speed was our friend.”

Sygraid grunted.

“How are things going, Heegan?” John turned to the Commander.

“About as well as could be expected.” The man reported. “The last of the women and children are going inside now. There was much fear of what going in would do, but Sygraid and Halphis convinced the most reluctant to brave the Door. We are here with a line of scouts. The bulk of the rear guard is back where the canyon narrows. We intend to wait until we spot the orcs, then move back but keep them in sight.”

“That’s excellent!” John complimented him. “Do we have anyone up on the top of the canyon walls?”

“We do, my lord.” Heegan confirmed.

“All right. Help me out, and you can take the sled and worgh, Layus.” John decided.

Heegan put a restraining hand on John’s shoulder. “My lord, you cannot stay here.”

“Heegan...” John growled.

“No, my lord.” Heegan argued. “We think nothing less of you, but you must enter before the rear guard. Someone will have to carry you through the Door, as we must disassemble the sled and worgh team. We will not have time to do that while fighting orcs too.”

“Mother. Fucker.” John muttered to himself in English. “You are right, Heegan. As much as I hate to admit it, you are right.”

“Sygraid will accompany you.” Heegan elaborated. “We need all three of the Ice Adepts to support the rear guard for the fighting.”

He turned to Sygraid. “And before you argue, yes you could run back, but it would be better if you were fresh. All respect you; keep the less experienced ones calm.”

She looked to John, but he just shook his head. “Heegan is what we call, on my world: ‘in command’. If he’s going to be responsible for keeping us all together and protected, then he’s in charge. Obey his orders like you would mine.”

“Yes, my lord!” She barked, saluting.

“Anything else I should know?” John asked Heegan.

“No, my lord. Once we are all inside, we will speak again.” The commander promised.

“Did you ever signal the Valkyrie?” John snapped his fingers.

“We have, several times during the day.” Heegan shook his head. “But have not seen or heard from them. I believe we are on our own.”

“Yeah.” John agreed with a frown.

“We’ll keep going, then.” He continued. “I don’t know how far back the orcs are. Last we saw of them was the pack of worghs that was chasing us. The beasts diverted into the open gate and then something caught fire.”

Heegan smiled grimly. “The trap worked then. Good. Still, I do not guess it will be much past true dawn before we spot them. Go. I will see you after this battle.”

They clasped forearms before the sled started off again. Layus kept the speed down, and Treb jumped out to walk, and talk with his mother.

It was just light enough to dimly see with normal vision when they found the main defensive line. The Watchmen and Wardens had been busy during the night. They’d dug a wide trench, piling the spoil on the far side as a rough barricade. There was a single forearm-length ramp serving as a bridge over the shoulder-high gap. Several men were still in the bottom, digging even deeper while they still had time. A tired cheer rose up when John came into sight. Gaybe and another Captain John had seen but didn’t know well crossed the span to help Layus free the worgh and start disassembling the sled.

With Sygraid ahead and Treb behind, John hopped across, trailed by Scar, Mama and the sled pack. John stopped briefly to say a few encouraging words to the men lined up behind the dirt mound. It stretched from wall to wall, across the canyon floor. When he showed no sign of continuing inside, Sygraid stepped in front of him to address those nearby.

“Lord Jyon cannot fight today.” She informed them. Understanding nods met her statement. “But he has already struck a blow against our enemies, hoping to give us more time. Trebuchet, step up here and tell these men what you did last evening.”

While the boy told the tale, the Shield-Maiden dragged John into the cleft. By this point, all the non-fighting refugees were inside the mountain. Now the plan was to bloody the orcs enough to get them to leave, or at least hold them at the ‘S’ curved tunnel. The former was probably a vain hope, but they couldn’t bring themselves to just hole up in the rock without some kind of fight. Gaybe, Layus and a few others used the sled remnants to make him an only moderately uncomfortable camp chair to use. They stationed him in the blue-flame room, though the brazier was unlit. Scar and Mama flopped down beside the stool, asleep before John could take his seat.

“Stay here.” Sygraid scowled. “You know you cannot move quickly enough yet to join the fight. We will be back when they force us to.”

“Syg, here, take this.” John unbuckled the two chopping blades he’s looted from the orc Warmaster. “I don’t know what their enchantments do, but they’re definitely too big for me or anyone else here.”

The Shield-maiden accepted them, bowing gravely. “I’ll have to ask an enchanter, when I get a chance.”

“Put it on the list.” John quipped.

“Yes, right after we defeat these orcs.” She flashed him a smile in return. “Now, stay here. And don’t die!”

John nodded his acceptance, sinking into the chair he chuckled to himself. For the next several hours, his perspective consisted entirely of watching wounded men flow into the tunnel, and exhausted warriors rotating out to take a rest. He helped where he could with his knowledge of medicine, though without modern aids and drugs, there was only so much he could do. In between, he talked with those resting, attempting to raise their spirits, and get a sense of how things were progressing.

From talking with the Captains and his friends later, John pieced together an accurate picture of how the battle progressed.

Heegan and a moderate scout force camouflaged themselves and waited for the horde to advance up the canyon. They staged their shields and spears at the trench, and carried only a personal weapon. It was approaching midday before the first orcs came into sight. A more or less orderly line of skirmishers, each holding a leash with a couple of the monstrous worgh on the other end, advanced in front of a sizable cavalry force. A huge orc with braided, blue-dyed hair hanging down in a shaggy mane, rode the largest triceratops-bear in the lead. He wore a true metal cuirass, big enough to take a bath in and carried a three-headed, spiked cavalry flail.

When the first scouts broke cover to escape to the rear, the blue-haired orc gave a signal, and one of the skirmishers released their worgh. The beasts bounded after the fleeing Watchman. Cursing, Heegan and a Warden leaped to intercept the animals. They called for everyone to begin retreating, which only spurred the orcs to release all their pets at once. The scouts didn’t have the numbers, nor the proper weapons to stop so many animals. Where they could, they grouped up to give each other a better chance. Knives and axes flashed, the cries of the wounded, men and beast alike making the orcs laugh as they steadily advanced. Still, though they fought as fiercely as they could, the scouts died in droves. Those who did escape were aided by the worghs’ preference to stop and snack on the fallen instead of pursuing the rest. Less than half the scout force made it back to the defensive line. It was a major blow to the rear guard’s morale.

John was alerted to the disaster when the Warden who’d helped Heegan initially limped into the room at the tail of the fatigued and demoralized scouts. The Warden went to one knee, offering a small leather satchel and a sheathed short sword to the soldier.

“My lord, with his dying breath, Heegan bade me put these into your hands alone.”

John stared. “Heegan’s dead?”

“Yes my lord.” The Warden answered. “He saved me, and several others when the orcs sent worgh after us. I only escaped because the beasts were more interested in feeding than chasing.”

John accepted the gifts, steeling himself. “Thank you, what is your name?”

“I am Warden Nyal, my lord.” The man replied.

“Thank you Nyal. Do you know why he wanted me to have these?”

“I do, my lord.” Rorik cut in.

The former innkeeper was organizing those trickling in from the battle. Those who merely needed rest were given spots around the room, so they could return quickly to fight. The wounded were sent up the tunnel to an aid station at the first flat ‘landing’.

He pointed at the sword. “That is the Commander’s Blade. One of the Captains should know its name. I’ve never seen it used, but Heegan told me once that it carries several enchantments. The pack you hold goes with it. Heegan was never without it, so I believe it carries things he needed as Commander.”

Nyal stood, saluting. “Ranveng is still fighting, but know that until this battle is over, the Wardens will fight under your direction.”

“Thank you, Nyal.” John nodded. “Get some rest. This won’t be over anytime soon.”

The Warden moved away to a spot Rorik indicated.

“Is there anything I need to know about this right now?” John asked Rorik.

“I don’t believe so, my lord. But I will ask one of the Captains when I get a chance.”

“Thanks.” John strapped them on and limped toward the battle.

“My lord, where are you going?” One of the Watchmen stationed just inside the ‘S’ curve asked when John hobbled past him.

“To take a look.”

A fierce melee swirled at the trench. Initially, the worgh and skirmishers were unable to cross. The three Adepts had coated the sides and bottom in a layer of ice, making even standing upright a difficult task. The first line died in droves attempting to breach. Animal and orc corpses began to pile up in the ditch. Those who followed found it much easier to stand on the dead. They chopped at and pulled on spears, smashed shields and did everything they could to crack the line.

John got his first glimpse of the orc leader. The blue-haired war chief was the only orc still mounted. The rest of the triceratops-bears were held in a group behind him by several non-fighting orcs, all eyeing the fight enviously. The chief watched the battle calmly, and directed reinforcements toward different parts of the line when bands would approach from down the valley. When the second reinforcing group arrived, John saw the chief swing his flail and crack an orc’s head like an egg when the orc refused to follow the chief’s orders. The sight of the still-cooling corpse lying in the snow ensured all the others obeyed when they arrived.

On his own side, John saw Sygraid anchoring the center. Her Warden shield in one hand, and spear in the other she yelled out instructions and encouragements in equal measure, all while stabbing any enemies climbing up, throwing ice spells into the mix and blocking blows to protect those near her. He’d been worried no one would take charge now that Heegan was gone, but the Commander’s wisdom continued to pay dividends even after death. She was a one-woman army, and her prowess was drawing orcs towards her like a magnet.

Halphis worked on the left flank. He was bundled up so well, John only recognized him from his saber. The Cambion moved back and forth behind the main line. His blade would flash out, lengthening to strike vulnerable foes or launching ice spells at the orcs. After recalling Treb’s spell casting from the previous evening, and comparing Hal to Syg, it seemed to John that using one of the dragon-rewarded weapons greatly improved their spell power.

Am I right? He asked the Tooth.

Yes. The power of dragons receives a boost when channeled through a dragon-gifted weapon.

Good to know. Thanks.

Treb was doing much the same thing on the right flank. John guessed (and later confirmed) that the youth was relying heavily on advice from his shield for where to position himself, and what spells to cast. Whenever an orc would get close to the crest, ice would encase his feet and/or hands, giving the defenders an opening to cut them down. If a defender was being particularly hard-pressed, Treb was there, blasting ice into their foe’s face, so the man could recover. John was impressed with how well the boy was doing, given his age.

For all their efforts though, the continuous line of orc reinforcements meant they couldn’t hold the position for much longer. The sheer weight of bodies, and unrelenting pressure was taking its toll on the defenders.

“Fall back!” John growled, taking an involuntary step out of the tunnel.

As though she’d heard him, Sygraid turned to Hal, then Treb.

“Take fallback positions!” She ordered each.

The two Adepts ran back to small mounds piled up just outside where the cut narrowed. Hal tossed John a smirking salute, when he noticed the man. Treb just beelined and spun to face back towards the battle line.

“Push!” Sygraid called, then: “Step!”

With a discipline John wouldn’t have expected from such a ragtag force, the defenders thrust out with their shields, then stepped back one large pace. They did it in close to unison, throwing the orcs’ momentum off.

“Step! Step! Step!” Sygraid called, every few seconds.

Each time, the defenders retreated, keeping better order. At first they were too close to the bulwark for the orcs to effectively charge. With distance, that began to change. Gaybe and another Captain organized those who had to peel off as the walls got narrower. They formed flying squads to reinforce the line wherever it looked like the orcs would break through.

“Brace!” Sygraid yelled, as a sizable group of orcs slammed into the line.

“Hold! Hold!” She chanted. “Step!”

The line held the first time, but barely. Men slipped in the slushy mud, grunting with the effort. The orcs smelled blood though, and their ferocity increased in response. More and more poured over the now-abandoned bulwark and sprinted into combat.

The second time Sygraid called “Hold!” it didn’t work. Several men broke ranks, racing for the opening. They brushed right by John, knocking him to the ground. The line crumbled, and the death toll increased.

“Dammit!” John cursed, struggling back to his feet.

Gaybe was there, suddenly and gave him a hand.

“What are you doing out here?” He demanded.

“Whatever I can!” John shouted back, over the din.

The Captain spun him around. “We’re retreating. Get inside!”

With a gentle shove, Gaybe and the other Captain turned to begin organizing those streaming back. John later learned that only Halphis’s and Treb’s actions prevented a slaughter. The two Adepts kept up a continuous ice spray over the retreating defenders’ heads. Once the mass of bodies plugged the narrowing canyon, it became easier to keep people facing the enemy.

John limped back to his chair. The sight of so many bodies littering the bulwark and valley floor gave him a heavy heart. Trying to get his mind off the bloody fighting outside, and his inability to help in any effective way, he decided to take inventory of the satchel. Inside he found a rough triangular block of stone and a small leather-handled scraper. The rock was marbled with veins of what his Sight said were three different types of metal ore. It was divided into three sections, each corner of the triangle corresponded with a different element. The scraper looked to be decent, if scrap steel, with leather wound around one end for a handle. There was what he figured was a key: a small steel ring with a cylinder sticking out. It had many tiny, regular, cube-shaped pieces sticking out all randomly along its length. The final item was a rune-carved bone whistle on a leather cord. Additionally, both of the braided-haired scalps from his two significant orc kills were inside.

The sword was as long as from his elbow to fingertips. It was double-edged, and bore a strong resemblance to a Roman gladius. The cross-guard was a curved bar, only a finger’s width wider than the blade itself. The fuller on both sides bore a column of runes, with another string along the cross-guard too. The grip was a tacky, soft leather, with a single rune-carved metal disc in the center of both sides. The pommel was another small cylinder with a raised rune on the end, like a signet ring or chop. The blade was unmarred, though the grip showed signs of wear. John returned the well-crafted weapon to its sheath.

Well, that occupied five minutes. He dumped the items back into their pouch and stood back up. At least he could help Rorik with the wounded.

The fight outside lasted most of the day. By nightfall, the humans were pushed entirely inside the ‘S’ curve of the tunnel. Sygraid was the last one to retreat, giving those behind her time to set their defense around the corner. She blasted the three orcs surrounding her, then hurdled the defenders behind. The leaders set up a rotation, each Adept would take a third of the day, providing support for those holding the tunnel. Watchmen and Wardens alike also took shifts. They fought until exhausted, then swapped with those behind to rest. A group of ten could hold for over an hour before needing relief. The rest were directed to find spots in the two rooms, or on the first set of stairs leading into the mountain itself.

They were trapped, and John’s hope for finding a way out of their predicament died with the sunlight. Syg and Treb found spots to lay down near John’s chair while Hal volunteered to keep supporting the fighting during the night. The ‘S’ curve was well designed, with niches for torches that only reflected light in one direction. Orcs don’t see in the dark any better than humans, so they had to try fighting at a disadvantage, vision-wise. Hal took advantage of this, changing his appearance and slipping out when the last orc retreated to wait for morning, sometime after midnight.

John and Rorik were up late, tending to whoever needed help. They both collapsed, falling asleep instantly a few hours before morning.

Day 44:

The next day, the four remaining Captains, Ranveng, Sygraid and John conducted a council of war. There wasn’t any really private places they could use, so the group just clustered around John’s chair with Treb and a couple Wardens keeping everyone else back. The sounds of renewed fighting echoed in from the tunnel. Gaybe from Watchtower had survived, along with three others: Baddeen from Rimward Forrest, Khapu from Frozen Falls and Tabbirt from Ahern’s Crest. All bore at least one visible cut or bruise, and their expressions were grim. John hadn’t talked to any before, but he’d seen each of them fighting and leading during the battle the previous day.

“What’s the final tally?” John asked.

“One hundred and twenty three fully capable Watchmen, another eighteen walking wounded.” Gaybe recounted.

“Plus forty-two more seriously wounded, some of whom may perish, and another eleven who refuse to obey anymore. They just stare at the wall.” Baddeen reported.

“I have seven full Wardens with us, though two have minor wounds.” Ranveng added.

“And what about the non-fighters?” John inquired.

Tabbirt glanced over at Rorik, who was helping get the next shift ready to rotate into the tunnel.

“Rorik told me we have one thousand, one hundred and fifteen other men, women and children in here with us. He says one of the End councilors named Cacy has taken charge of the supplies. We have less than a month before the food is gone.”

“I see that you have Heegan’s sword and pouch, my lord.” Khapu spoke up. “Are you intending to act as Commander now?”

Something about the man’s oily tone set John’s teeth on edge, but he refused to show it. He took both off and tossed them into the center.

“Nope.” He replied cheerfully. “How do you select a new one?”

Khapu’s mutters were inaudible, so Gaybe answered for him.

“We vote. Each Captain gets one, plus the Valkyries get three, no matter how many they send.”

Baddeen pointed at Ranveng. “I propose we give the Warden a vote, too. They fought with us, and are stuck here with us.”

“Agreed.” Gaybe said.

“Yes.” Tabbirt added.

“Khapu?” Baddeen asked after a long moment.

The man looked around the group before nodding.

“Aye.”

“So, we are five?” Baddeen summarized.

“If the Valkyrie had three, then so should the Overlord.” Gaybe pointed at John.

“How about two, so there are seven total votes possible?” John suggested. “That way there can’t be a tie.”

“Good point.” Tabbirt seconded.

“I’ll support that.” Baddeen put in.

The other two both affirmed as well.

“Uh, so how do we do this?” John asked. “Everyone just says who they vote for?”

“No, my lord.” Gaybe shook his head. “First we must have a candidate. No man may nominate himself, and the nomination must be seconded by another as well.”

“Do the people have to be here in this council, to be nominated?” Ranveng asked.

Gaybe blinked.

“No.” Khapu said. “Remember Warlyr?”

“Ugh.” Tabbirt grunted. “True, but it must be someone in here with us. We need a Commander now, not once we escape.”

Everyone nodded at that.

“Then I nominate Rorik.” Ranveng stated.

“No!” The man in question roared from across the room.

He stomped over to glare at them all.

“I’ve not stood Watch since I was a boy.” Rorik spat. “I’m no warrior, you all know that.”

Gaybe, John, Syg, and Ranveng all laughed.

“I second.” John replied. “And Rorik, I’ve been watching you keep everyone organized all day. The warriors all respond well to you, as do any wounded. Why, you were just getting the next rotation ready for the tunnel, weren’t you?”

“That’s just because you’re all over here yammering.” He retorted.

“Maybe, but it’s not the first time.” Tabbirt spoke up. “Several of my ... men have said you kept them going.” The man’s voice broke, but his face stayed hard.

“What if I say no?” Rorik crossed his arms.

Sygraid snorted. “Husband, stop being silly.”

With a sigh, he threw up his hands and stalked back across the room.

“Well, that’s an ... interesting choice.” Khapu snarked.

“I don’t know him well, but I too have heard good things.” Baddeen stated. “And I much prefer a capable Commander over one who is too aggressive, if we’re to be stuck in here. We lost ... too many already.”

A general murmur of agreement rose.

“Well, that knocks out who I was going to suggest.” John shrugged.

“Who?” Gaybe asked.

“Yes, who?” Khapu snarked again.

“Sygraid, of course.” John pointed.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me?”

“Why not one of us?” Khapu demanded. “Do you not trust any of us?”

“I trust all of you a great deal.” John explained. “But you’ve all been equals for many years. Making one of you the Commander now, here when we’re packed together, won’t work. It has to be—you all work very well together, we all saw that yesterday. If one becomes the Commander, the others will still treat him the same, even without meaning to. Everyone else in here will follow suit. We don’t want that. Well, I would prefer we don’t have that. If you all disagree though, I can be convinced. I’m not trying to dictate this to you, but I believe appointing one of you would be a mistake, even if every one of you would do a good job. Plus, how would the men from that Captain’s town act after having their own Captain elevated?”

Tabbirt stroked his chin. “You may be right. Even if we all agree on the same person, if it were Gaybe or Khapu, I might still act like I always have. And there are many Watchmen who might lord it over the others.”

“Sygraid was a great leader on the battlefield yesterday, but she is too harsh on those who don’t fight.” Gaybe argued. He shot an apologetic look at her. “I do not mean to offend, but you are often difficult for others to deal with.”

Sygraid just smiled. “I spend too much time alone. I am not a good choice for us. Besides, I am sworn to protect Lord Jyon. Accepting the sword would conflict with my duty.”

“I’d release you from your vow.” John offered.

“You might, but I’ve not released myself.” She motioned negatively.

“We really do need another candidate, to be fair.” John suggested, when no one else spoke up.

“I was giving whoever wanted to a chance to address Sygraid’s nomination first.” Baddeen said. “But if no one else has an idea, I suggest we might consider Ranveng, or Lord Jyon. I can think of nobody else who could do as good a job, in here.”

“I’m sorry, old friend.” Ranveng apologized. “But I believe my position as Senior Warden makes that a bad idea. I cannot give it up without consulting the Marshals, and were I to be appointed your Commander, that would make the Watch subordinate to the Wardens. We’ve always made sure to keep the two separate, as they have different purposes.”

“I will willingly second Lord Jyon for the position.” Gaybe put in. “I have seen him fight, but more importantly I have seen him help those who need it. All here know why we made him Overlord. That has not changed, though he is injured.”

They tried in vain to come up with a third option, but most reluctantly agreed with John’s point that it shouldn’t be one of the already existing Captains. And there just wasn’t anyone else who could do the job. After a fair bit of hemming and hawing, they agreed to vote on the two proposed. John managed to catch Gaybe and Ranveng’s eye when the time came, so only Khapu and Baddeen voted for John. Those two were clearly unhappy with the turn of events, but agreed to abide by the group’s decision.

“You’re all crazy.” Rorik told them, after they called him back over. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

Tabbirt stood up, holding the sword. “Take its blade in your hands, and place the cross-guard to your forehead. Repeat after me.”

Rorik obeyed, both hands wrapped around the sharp steel. As he spoke, a thin rivulet of blood dripped down the blade from his palms. The other Captains stood too, and pulled out a small metal disc on a cord around each of their necks. They grasped the amulets with a thumb and forefinger as Tabbirt spoke and Rorik echoed.

“I Rorik...”

“I Rorik...”

“Accept the position of Watch Commander. I shall lead justly, be first in battle and last in retreat. I shall guard the towns of the North, and our Door with my life. I will show no favorites, treating all men with the same care I would of my own children. I shall retain this office until my death, or proper removal by the Captains’ Council. May this sword strike me down if I speak untruthfully.”

The sword vibrated in his hands for a moment before Rorik lowered it to stare in amazement.

“I’m bonded to it now?” He wondered. “That wasn’t like the normal way to do so.”

They resumed their seats, making room for the man. Baddeen pointed at the weapon.

“It is called ‘Impyruum’. Our history says it was once the personal blade of a great general whose spirit now resides in the Halls of Valor. Uh, somewhere here, I guess. The man who first carried her spent a fortune to make her, using only the most skilled Dwimar enchanters. She has three main powers, beyond the bonding you’ve just completed. First: it creates a bond between the Commander and each Captain by empowering our rank Markers. Tap the end onto a metal disc right after a man takes his oath, and it will be marked, and forever bonded to him. Through that, you will always be able to find one of us, and we you.” He held up his amulet.