New Dawn, Trials & Tribulations, Book III

By Christopher Lapides

In war, no one is safe.

War has come to Thornstone, Tarkin’s Point, and Thoriddon, throwing all three nations into chaos. Led by the demon lord Vagborar, the legions of orcs are bent on nothing less than the total annihilation of both human and dwarf. With their demonic allies, they just might succeed. But not without a fight.

As Serena tries to find answers and a path to victory, Orin and Brom fight with both sword and spell to turn back the tide of darkness. Beside them are a kingdom of dwarves and a city of humans, but even they may not be enough to beat back such a force. If they hope to survive, they need to come together, but with each nation under siege, uniting as one is easier said than done. When one of them is freed from battle, hope is rekindled, but prejudices rise to the surface, threatening everything.

If any of them hope to survive, past actions and old hatreds must be forgotten. Hard decisions and painful sacrifices must be made. And pride and egotism must be set aside for the greater good. If not, a new age of evil will dawn upon the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Lapides
• Release date: Sep 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005176068

Christopher Lapides

"Daddy, you're the coolest daddy in my life." Those are the words of my oldest daughter when she was only two years old. I would like to think that everyone has this view of me, except the daddy part, but reality is often very different from the mind of a child. I was born in Anaheim, California in 1979. I created my first design with the ever reliable pencil when I was five. I have been designing ever since, though the medium has changed throughout the years. Now the keyboard, mouse, and occasional drawing pad are my tools. In 1989, I moved to Georgia, where I continued to doodle, dream, and get in trouble for sketching while the teacher was talking. I attended Brookwood High School in Snellville. After graduating, I went on an exploratory quest, trying out Georgia State and Perimeter College before finally settling on UGA, where I graduated in 2001 with a degree in Journalism/Advertising. I was immediately hired by a bridal magazine as an Art Director. From there I went to a small catalog company based in Stone Mountain where I worked as a graphic designer. After that it was onto Progressive Lighting where I worked as a graphic designer for four years. Now, I am currently the Creative Services Production Manager for Acuity Brands Lighting, while also doing some freelance work when time allows. During those precious moments of free time, when my children allow it, I like to draw, sketch, and write. I currently live in Dacula with my family. We spend the days as all families should, playing and laughing as if nothing else in all the world matters.

Book preview

New Dawn

Trails & Tribulations

Book III

by Christopher Lapides

Smashwords Edition

Books by Christopher Lapides

www.cal-productions.com

The Slayer Series

Dragons Plight

Town Shadows

Kingdoms Peril

Heritage Lost

Identity

Lineage

Destiny

Dark Descent

Seeds of Virtue

Seeds of Doubt

Seeds of Malice

Trials & Tribulations

Dark Rising

Crucible

New Dawn

NEW DAWN

Copyright © 2020 Cal Productions

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Cal Productions.

All characters in the book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters, character names, and the distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks owned by Cal Productions.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To my children. May you always remember to leave your mark.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BOOKS BY CHRISTOPHER LAPIDES

* * * * *

CHAPTER 1

The large fiery bundles of wood and rock filled the night sky, bringing screams of terror from those within the city. Those voices of dread soon turned into cries of fear and pain as the boulders of death crashed into the streets, exploding in a deafening roar when they landed, spraying everything around them with flaming debris. Walls crashed to the ground, unable to withstand the impact while people fell to the streets, pummeled with deadly splinters and shards of stone. Those that were not killed or injured by the explosions ran for their lives, seeking cover and shelter from the rain of fire. Unfortunately, the shelter they sought seemed just as dangerous as the open streets they now ran through. If the boulders the orcish army was hurtling at the city of Thornstone did not crush them, they would surely be smashed flat by a collapsing building. Though many of the structures managed to withstand the first couple of strikes, they could not stand against the hundreds that fell from the sky.

Thankfully, the walls of Thornstone were much sturdier then the buildings within. They stood strong and tall against the constant attacks by the thousands of orcs, ogres, goblins, and other creatures of darkness that tried to knock them down. Boulders crashed and crumbled against the thick stone, arrows ricocheted off the impenetrable blocks, and swords dulled as they banged off the strong wall, a wall built by dwarves, masters of stonecraft who knew how to build barriers that could stand for centuries against just such an assault. Even the doors to the city, walls of magically reinforced wood and steel that were six feet thick and fortified with bands of metal, stood strong and tall, unfazed by the monsters that tried to knock them down. They may have rattled and vibrated under the powerful offensive of the horde that surrounded the city, but they remained as unmoving as a mountain. And on that mountain, helping to thin out the ranks of the nightmarish army, stood the Thorns, the guards and protectors of the city.

Hundreds of men and woman lined the walls of the city, most firing arrows or bolts into the mass of bodies below them. None of them really had to aim for the numbers before them were immense and every missile that left their weapons found purchase in flesh or armor. They simply fired as fast as they could, trying to shrink the enemy ranks. Every one of them knew that for every creature they dropped, five more took its place, but they did not focus on the numbers. They just concentrated on killing as many as they could, and avoiding the boulders and arrows coming at them. Many of their fellow soldiers had already fallen from the walls, filled with deadly missiles or blasted from their feet by flaming spheres of death, but they did not mourn the dead. They had no time. They just continued to shoot, hoping some of them would be alive to grieve for those they lost and were going to lose. There was no doubt that blood was going to run thick in the streets of the city and on the other side of the walls, but the Thorns vowed that the majority of that blood would be from the army before them and not from their brothers.

Of course, not everyone was equipped with a bow or crossbow. Those not shooting into the army were guarding the walls, throwing away the ladders and grappling hooks that managed to find purchase among the battlements. As soon as one landed, the Thorns would cut the ropes or hack the rails to pieces. Some of the creatures managed to reach the top walkway, but the Thorns were well trained, and they were able to stem the flow before it turned into a flood. Orcs fell from the wall bloody and goblins plummeted to the ground with their bodies cut to pieces. Unfortunately, a few Thorns fell victim to enemy blades, but the majority held back the tide and continued to do so as the war raged.

The battle was just as intense for those that did not fight with sword or arrow. Wizards stood on the wall, protected by wards, throwing magic at the enemy legion. Spells of fire, ice, lightning, and force fell upon the orcish horde as fast as the magic users could cast them. Monsters composed of earth, wind, and water were called forth from their home planes to crush those attacking the city. Boulders and arrows were plucked from the air and thrown back into the mass of bodies, smashing them flat or turning them into pincushions. When any wizard ran out of spells, they withdrew wands, rings, and other items of power, using whatever they could to stay in the fight. The priests did the same thing, although they spent most of their time tending to the wounded. Some of them were on the wall, using their magic to help the guards better find their mark or offer them magical protection. The others remained in the city, putting out fires, healing the injured, and trying to keep those who were fighting alive. They were indeed saving lives, but for every one person they brought back from the brink, three more arrived on the border of death. Their magic could only be spread so thin. Soon, their spells would be gone and they would have to rely on bandages and wraps to keep the blood from flowing. And flow it would for the enemy at their gates had magic users of their own.

Wizards, sorcerers, shamans, witches, and other creatures that used the mystical arts lent their dark magic to the hundreds of missiles flying into Thornstone. Crackling bolts of black energy, roaring balls of fire, ghostly beams of purple light, and other streams of dark magic flew at the Thorns. Most of them exploded or dissipated against the wards or shields of protection the wizards of the city had placed in front of the guards, but a few found their mark, turning men into piles of gore or dropping them dead where they stood, stealing their life force within seconds. Some that came through made those guarding the city run away screaming in terror while others covered the air in poisonous gasses or debilitating mist. Thornstone’s wizards did their best to turn the spells back or counter them completely, but they could not catch them all. They also had to decide whether to attack or defend. They could not do both and the wards would only last for so long. Thankfully, they did not have to worry about the wall surrounding the city. The horde’s spells bounced off the magically warded stone as if it were made of pure energy, hardly leaving a blemish on the light gray surface. Many in the monstrous horde had not yet realized that their attacks on the wall were useless, which sat just fine with the magic users of Thornstone. Those attacking the walls were not attacking them, which meant there were fewer opponents sending spells in their direction.

The lack of intellect of their opponents was just one of the few positives for the defenders of Thornstone, but the sheer number of bodies in the horde was more than enough to make up for the reduced intelligence. Thousands of orcs and goblins continued to fill the air with arrows and attempt to climb the wall. Hundreds of trolls pounded on the doors and clawed at the stone. And the leaders of the dark army, the ogres that also numbered well into the hundreds, lent their weapons and magic to the assault as well and though their siege was being kept at bay, they knew, as did those inside the city, that they would eventually breach the walls. With the size of their army, they could lose hundreds and still outnumber their opponents. The ogres seemed more than content to sacrifice a portion of their army for any amount of gain. As they slowly inched forward, goblins died by the handfuls, orcs were cut down as fast as they climbed the ladders and even a few trolls were killed by a well-placed fireball. Still, the army pushed on, gaining ground, little by little, and as each Thorn died, the army roared with glee and anticipation.

There’s no end to them! a young Thorn on the wall shouted as he ducked behind the parapet, just barely avoiding an arrow. The missile fell into the city and disappeared from sight. Where it fell, the young man did not know. He just frantically attempted to nock another arrow, his hands shaking in fear.

Just keep firing! someone to his left shouted. Bowstrings snapped, monsters roared, and men screamed, in both pain and anger. The young guard tried to concentrate on his arrow and his bow, but the noise overloaded his senses and the arrow slipped from his fingers. He cursed and picked it up, trying to get it ready to fire.

Ever since he was six years of age, he had wanted to be a Thorn, one of the proud men and women that guarded the city. He used to run through the streets with a small wooden sword his mother had given him pretending to be a guard, fighting against the evil monsters that lived in the mountains and the Whispering Woods. The young man always envisioned himself fighting with his fellow Thorns, saving the city from some deadly threat, but now that his fantasy had turned into reality, he found himself shaken to his core. He was no coward and had risen to Third Point in less than two years because of his strong work ethic, but the closest thing he had seen to a battle was a small skirmish between two merchants. The situation he found himself in now was like nothing he could ever imagine. It was just too horrific. It was too real.

Too many, he cried. His hands shook. There’s just too–

A gentle hand came down on his own, settling his trembling fingers and holding the arrow steady. The young Thorn looked up, his eyes filled with uncertainty and doubt.

Just one, the man kneeling before him said. Only one.

Sir? the young Thorn said with a mixture of confusion and dread.

What is your name?

Third Point Leevos, sir, he replied.

Just focus on one, the man, obviously a higher ranking officer by the way he looked, said. Leevos was too focused on his face to look for a rank insignia. Just concentrate on one. Don’t worry about the hundreds around it. Find just one and put an arrow through it. Then, when it’s dead, find another. Focus on just that one and put an arrow through it. Then find another. Understand?

Leevos stared into the man’s eyes, eyes filled with the same worry, doubt, and fear as his own, which helped to calm him. The difference, though, was that the man also looked calm and confident, that no amount of orcs, goblins, or other dark creatures would stop him from doing his duties. This was someone that would stand in front of a charging army of millions and never blink, never waver even if death was certain. That look, that aura of strength and courage, helped to settle Leevos’s nerves and his hands stopping shaking.

Yes sir, he said, his voice much stronger than it had been.

Good, the tall, mustached man said. Now, ready your arrow and put down one of those creatures. Then move on to another.

Leevos took a deep breath and nodded. Some of the fear he had been feeling drained away, replaced with courage and anger. Then he nocked an arrow and shakily got to his feet. He turned toward the army, found just one, and let fly. Then he nocked another.

Captain Aston Silverbrand watched as Leevos’s first arrow took an orc through the throat. He nodded with approval then turned from the young Thorn just as he readied his second. Uncertain of the young man’s fate in this battle but confidant he would now fight until his last breath, he looked out over the massive army lined up against the city.

The horde outside the walls of Thornstone was massive, composed of thousands of creatures. It was easily twice the size of the population of the city, maybe even triple what lay inside and not everyone Aston was responsible for protecting was a solider. Most of the citizens were commoners, women and children that had never even picked up a weapon. They were scared and frightened and hid from the battle, as they should, but should the time come, they would be wielding swords, fighting for their lives. If they could not hold the doors or the city, they would be slaughtered no matter what they did or who they were. Aston hoped it would not come to that, but in war, everyone breathing, no matter their gender or age, was a potential solider. The men, on the other hand, were being recruited for battle. Most had already joined in the fighting and Aston had Thorns grabbing those that had not and putting them to work defending the walls. He was not so heartless as to put inexperienced men on the walls, but those that had little fighting ability could still help in such a fight. They aided the wounded, carried arrows, readied weapons, and patched armor. They ran orders, brought food, and gave encouragement when needed. Many of them may not stand a chance against a well-armed orc, but they helped where they could. Aston prayed it was enough. He knew that even the most unskilled citizen could contribute in a beneficial way.

Besides creatures of evil, the lands surrounding the city were filled with deadly weapons of war. Catapults slung boulders, vats filled with burning oil, and other projectiles over the walls while ballistae shot barbed arrows and sharpened logs at the guards. Other contraptions threw needle-like spikes at the towers and barbed metal nets inside, hoping to catch some unsuspecting guardian of the city. One siege engine Aston saw even flung goblins through the air. Most of the vicious little creatures died as soon as they landed, but a few managed to crash into Thorns or survive just long enough to cause problems among the guard. Other engines were like nothing the Captain had ever seen before. Whatever their function, it was sure to cause havoc and pain, so he made sure the wizards concentrated on destroying those first. The creatures themselves were a very real threat, but the large machines were much deadlier, able to kill dozens of people in a single blow. The faster they destroyed those, the easier it would be to defend the walls.

As Aston shouted orders and did his best to keep the morale of his men high, he watched the army and tried to figure out their strategy. Their approach, unfortunately, didn’t seem to have a pattern. It was just simple brute force. They were trying to overpower their adversaries and smash their way through. Aston had dealt with that kind of thinking before and knew he could defend against it for some time, but he knew they could not hold out forever.

So far, they seemed to be concentrating in one area, but as the battle progressed, they spread out, slowly surrounding the city. That was turning out to be problematic for it was thinning out his defenses and since they vastly outnumbered his men, they could afford to spread out. At this point, the horde had over half the walls, as well as the doors to the city, covered, but as every second passed, they encompassed more of Thornstone. If not for the mountains at their back, they probably would have already had the entire city.

Thankfully, they seemed to have slowed their advance once they made it to the doors, which told Aston they knew that if they wanted to get inside, it would be through the doors. Because they had already failed on one side of the city, they most likely knew it would be futile on the other, so they worked the bulk of their forces to the front of Thornstone.

If only Kyron were here, Aston thought to himself. If the powerful wizard were here, this fight would be much more balanced. Though stubborn and a very often pain in the ass, Aston knew his friend was powerful and could unleash destruction upon the army like no other magic user in the city. He also had the power to unlock the magic woven into Thornstone. Unfortunately, because Kyron did not trust anyone but himself, he made it so only he could activate the power. Even though he was most likely the only one powerful enough to use such magic, that knowledge did little to ease Aston’s frustrations about not being able to use such a weapon.

Thinking of his friend now made Aston look to the north, toward Tarkin’s Point. What was happening at the dwarven stronghold? he thought to himself. Were they under attack? Could this army just the beginning of the something larger? Based on what he had heard from Orin when he contacted him earlier, it was only going to get worse, for everyone.

He had tried to contact Stone and Kyron when the fighting first started, but none of his wizards could get a message through. Not only had the horde cut off any means of escape, they had somehow placed wards that blocked any magical communication outside of the city. Aston could not understand how that was possible, but it told him that not only was his enemy larger than he imagined, but they were also smarter and had powerful magic at their disposal. He had wanted to break through the restrictive spells covering Thornstone, but after seeing the size of the army, he needed every available magic user on the walls, beating back the army. He had to concentrate on defending the city. For now, Stone and Kyron were on their own.

Captain Silverbrand!

Aston turned to see Minor General Kalerad running up the stairs to the walls. A contingent of soldiers came right behind him, but they broke off and took their places on the wall while the general approached Aston.

Are they in ready? Aston asked.

Most are in place, the general said, motioning to the inside of the city, just below the wall. They will be ready in moments.

Aston walked to the edge and looked down toward the streets. There he saw hundreds of soldiers, readying arrows, moving equipment, running to the wall, and issuing orders. He also saw everyday citizens doing the same. Though they were not nearly as organized, nor did they have the same training, they helped any way they could. Those that were not fighting cared for the wounded while those old enough to wield a sword or bow did so, hoping to add to safety and security of the city. But Aston was not concerned with the Thorns or the people of the city at the moment. Right now, he was thinking about the dozens of catapults and other machines of war that were moving into position at the edge of his army.

Fire when ready, Aston said, turning from the gathering and looking out back to the monstrous army. Concentrate fire to the right side.

Yes, my lord. Kalerad saluted and ran back down to the catapults, yelling orders as he went. Those around the massive machines rushed to position them to fire where Aston had ordered. They moved quickly and without question, knowing that even a second delay could mean tens of lives. When they were in position, they nodded to the general.

Fire! Kalerad bellowed.

Levers were pulled and the arms raced skyward, flinging dozens of boulders over the wall at the horde beyond. Almost all smashed down on the mass of creatures covering the plains outside of Thornstone. One collided with a boulder coming from one of the enemy’s catapults. Luckily, it was well away from the city. The two exploded in midair, showering the field with fiery rock and bringing screams of pain from the goblins and orcs below. After a few moments, the second round of catapults launched, bringing more death and destruction.

Reload! Kalerad yelled. Fire at will!

Concentrate on the ogres! Aston shouted, seeing hundreds of ogres repositioning their siege engines. He knew it wouldn’t take long for them to guess where the defender’s catapults were located. Just like the Thorns, they would concentrate on those weapons that did the most damage. Aston held the advantage, though, for he could actually see where the hordes’ engines were. Their enemies had to guess.

Half the archers turned their arrows toward the ogres, firing as fast as they could reload. Wizards launched bolts of lightning and balls of fire in the same direction. Many of the missiles found their mark, shredding wood and flesh alike, but many of those large weapons were guarded with strong magic and some of the arrows bounced away while the spells just fizzled away into nothingness. A few were deflected, slamming into any who stood nearby, which was a small victory for Aston. Though the engine’s may still stand, every enemy killed only benefitted Thornstone.

Thirty yards out, hard engines right! one of the Thorns sighting for the catapults yelled. Those below acknowledged his words by adjusting the resistance on the arms. Cluster of six, grid of–

His words were cut off as an arrow took him in the throat. He let out a bloody cough and fell to the ground, clutching his throat.

Get him off the walls! Aston shouted. A pair of guards ran up and dragged the struggling man away. Get him to a healer!

Grid of two by six, a Thorn said, continuing his fallen companion’s words as he was taken out of sight.

Aston turned back and gave the man an approving nod. He knew that none of them had time to worry about their companions, no matter their condition. The fallen Thorn would most likely die before reaching a healer, if there was even one available to help him, but they had to push on. This was war and any delay could have devastating consequences. Though he felt remorse for the injured man, he felt a bit of pride for the other Thorn that had taken up his duties. They all knew that if one man fell, the job still had to get done, no matter the danger. They had indeed been trained well.

Boulders, arrows, spells, and other projectiles, including a handful of screaming goblins, filled the air as the battle continued. Aston shouted orders as he watched the walls for any breaches or rifts. He even managed to fire a few arrows into the horde, but his skill with a bow was nowhere near as good as the archers around him. Thankfully, he really didn’t have to aim. There was simply no clear ground for the arrow fall upon, only flesh and bone.

More oil! someone shouted from down the wall. Burning oil!

Aston turned to see a handful of Thorns lowering a large cauldron to the ground. It had been filled with hot oil, which they dumped over the wall on unsuspecting orcs. Now is sat empty and needed to be refilled, refilled with oil that could be set aflame. The previous contents had been a mixture of oil and grease, which was used to coat the walls and the ground in a slippery substance that prevented the mass at the base from climbing or gaining steady footing. It was specifically made for lubricating bolts and joints and did not really burn. Now they needed the stuff that burned.

Aston made his way over to defend the area as Thorns rushed to gather the burning oil. Only a few feet away, a handful of ladders thudded into the stone with angry orcs and goblins quickly climbing up. Arrows followed them, fired from their companions down below, in an attempt to clear a path. Guards dropped back from the barrage, allowing the creatures to reach the top.

The first few over the wall met a swift demise, dying on the ends of the swords of Thorns. Their companions, however, used the momentary delay to clear the ladder and they launched themselves at the guards.

Orcs and goblins tore into the Thorns, cutting into them with steel and claw. The guards did their best to defend the wall, but the sheer number of creatures was slowly overwhelming them, pushing them back, away from the cauldron. As one goblin or orc was cut down, two more took its place. As each Thorn was killed, another was able to rush to help, but that took them away from another area of the wall, weakening it further. If they could not stem this flow, the wall would slowly be overwhelmed, like a dam slowly breaking apart. Aston rushed in, sword whirling, vowing not to let that happen.

Two orcs fell before the other ones knew what happened. A third went down, his throat slashed as soon as he turned to face Aston. Three others managed to get their weapons up as the Captain turned on them. They let loose an angry roar as they ran to engage this new combatant.

There was no strategy to their attacks. No skill or intelligence when they swung. It was pure savagery and hatred. And it was exactly what Aston had been expecting, so when they orcs came against him, he was ready.

He parried the first few attacks with ease and spun around those few that managed to get close. The orcs growled in frustration and pressed him, but he easily knocked away their swords and return the attacks with his own, scoring a handful of wounds within the first seconds of battle. Blood quickly painted the arms, chest, and legs of the orcs as his sword shot in and out as quick as a viper, but Aston could not keep the quick pace for long. He was not as young as he used to be and he felt his body start to fight back against his quick, short jabs. His hip, which had been bothering him as of late, especially started to ache, but he pushed the pain away, knowing he could not slow down or delay. He had to be quick if they were to secure the wall again. The orcs, on the other hand, did not have to rush. They could take their time. The longer they stood against the Thorns, the more of them that made it to the top of the wall. Luckily, they were not slow and had no desire to use such a strategy. They were filled with bloodlust and wanted to kill, as fast and as quickly as possible. Ultimately, that desire is what got them killed.

Enraged and annoyed, one of the orcs rushed forward, axe swinging wildly. Aston ducked and flung his sword out. His blade smashed into the crude weapon and threw it out wide. Before the orc could recover, he reversed his swing and opened the creature’s chest. The beast let out a confused gasp, swayed for a second, and dropped to the ground. The other two roared in defiance and came in, but Aston was ready for them. He moved toward the one on the right, positioning it in front of its companion. When the second orc went to move around, Aston cut back, taking it by surprise. Before it knew what had happened, Aston’s sword took it in the stomach, spilling its insides to the stone. As it dropped, trying to hold itself together, the other orc spun around, swinging down. The monster actually managed to catch Aston on the shoulder, but the Captain’s thick armor deflected the blow, causing the orc’s sword to bounced back in its face. As it stumbled backward, Aston spun and swung, keeping his blade parallel to the ground. The sword passed through the orc’s neck, as it went to reengage. It took a single step forward and then its head fell off.

Push them back! Aston yelled, turning away as the orc’s body collapsed. Secure the wall! Throw them–

A huge clawed hand suddenly came over the wall and slammed down on the stone just in front of Aston, who skidded to a stop. A low growl made him turn and he saw a large green face rise up over the wall. The troll looked right at Aston as it climbed up on the wall. When it was completely over, it bared its teeth and hissed.

Aston took a step back and readied himself for a hard fight. Even if he were in his prime, fighting a troll would have been difficult. The eight-foot-tall creatures were strong and powerful. Add to that their ability to regenerate almost any wound, they were almost impossible to kill. The only thing that really hurt them was fire and the nearest flame was a simple torch, which wouldn’t do much against a creature of such size, but Aston didn’t have to kill the thing. He just had to get it off the wall.

Troll! he yelled as he rushed the creature, trying to take it off guard. It did seem a bit surprised at the sudden maneuver, but it quickly recovered and swung its massive claw down at the human running towards it. Aston managed to move aside at the last moment and score a good seven-inch gash on its under arm, splashing the ground with dark green blood, but the troll seemed completely unfazed and slashed its other claw at him. It hit Aston in the side and threw him back. Somehow, its claws didn’t penetrate his armor, but the impact took his breath away. The captain of the Thorns shook off the hit and went back in, noticing that the wound he had inflicted was already starting to close.

The troll swung again as Aston came close. Its claws went right by his breastplate and slammed into the ground, sending chips of stone flying. Because of its size, it was much slower than the more agile captain, which allowed Aston to get in close and swipe his sword against its chest, drawing more blood. That must have hurt the creature for it let loose a deep grunt of pain, but the pain was not enough to incapacitate the troll. It simply shrugged off whatever agony it was in and lunged forward, both claws poised to rip its attacker to shreds.

Aton quickly backed away, all the while swinging his sword to ward off the powerful attack. His blade bit into the troll’s hands, filling the air with blood, but the troll was determined and continued to push forward. Determined not to be overpowered, Aston went on the offensive, but his larger opponent was simply too strong and drove him backward. It didn’t even stop when one of its finger’s was served. It only growled and pushed harder.

Quickly running out of room and time, Aston twisted to the side, trying to get around the creature and push it toward the edge of the wall, but it sensed what he was trying to do and moved to cut him off. The movement actually made Aston jump back, which positioned him closer to the back of the wall. In another few feet, he would fall off, back into the city.

The troll suddenly roared in pain and stumbled to the side. As it turned, Aston saw a flaming arrow sticking out of its back. Behind the troll, a few yards away, were a handful of Thorns holding bows. They had successfully cleared the wall of orcs and goblins and were now aiding their captain. All except one held arrows that had been lit on fire. As the troll looked back to see what had struck it, the rest of the Thorns fired. Two of the four arrows slammed home, bringing another shout of pain from the large creature.

As soon as it turned, Aston rushed forward, swinging at the beast. He hit the troll three times, cutting into its back and shoulder. It turned to face him but screamed again as another arrow slammed into its shoulder. The impact threw its arm out and back, causing it to stumble. Aston pressed his attacked and continued to push it toward the edge. It tried to fight back, all the while attempting to pull the painful arrows from its back, but the Thorns kept it off balance and as soon as it reached the edge, Aston gave one final attack and pushed it over the wall. The troll tried to stay balanced, but it lost its footing and fell over, roaring in defiance the entire way.

Oil! Aston yelled before the troll hit the ground.

The Thorns nearby grabbed what containers were available and ran to their captain. When they reached the wall, they dumped the burning oil on the struggling troll below. The hot liquid splashed over its green skin and it roared in pain. Then the oil hit the flame on the arrows and the entire creature suddenly went up like a pile of kindling. Those creatures around the troll also caught some of the oil and suddenly found themselves on fire. Orcs and goblins screamed and ran from the wall, trying to put out the flames. The troll did the same, frantically pushing anyone out of its way as it desperately searched for some way to douse the flames. As it ran, it spread the fire, igniting ladders, siege engines, orcs, goblins, and anything else that sat in its way. Back on the wall, the Thorns raised their fists, enjoying the small victory. Some of them even laughed as they watched the troll spread chaos among its allies.

Good job, men, Aston said, congratulating them as he watched the carnage. He quickly turned back to the battle at hand. But we have a long way to go. Back to the fight. All the men nodded and once again turned their arrows and swords to the monstrous army at the walls.

Aston straightened his armor and walked over to the severed finger of the troll. He quickly picked it up and tossed it over the wall, into the small patch of fire that sat where the troll had fallen. There were rumors that brand new trolls would grow from a severed appendage of another of its kind. Aston had never seen it happen, but he wasn’t about to take the chance.

Captain! came a shout a moment later. Aston turned to a guard running toward him, a concerned look on his face.

What is it?

They are massing at the entrance, the man said. They have brought battering rams and many of those gathering are ogres. General Rymic requested your presence at the doors. He says you need to see this.

Aston knew that General Rymic, one of his more respected and experienced generals, would not ask for him unless it was important. The man never did anything without good reason, so if he wanted his Captain to be at the doors, Aston knew it was serious.

Are the other engines in place at the doors? Aston asked as he started toward the stairs.

Yes, my lord, the Thorn answered.

And the reserves?

Yes, my lord.

Aston was confident that no army could breach the doors of Thornstone, but no army this large had ever come up against the city. Because of that, he had a backup plan in place, one that was sure to surprise the horde at their doors if they managed to make it through. Maybe Rymic, fearing the doors may actually be broken, wanted him there to see the plan in action. Whatever the reason, he knew he had to go. With the young guard in tow, he ran toward the entrance.

* * * * *

When the massive horde first emerged from the tunnels under the mountain, they expected the assault on Thornstone to be swift and bloody. The pitiful humans could not stand up against such a force of powerful creatures. They would run in horror, shiver in fear, and cower before the great strength of the army that came to destroy them. At least, that was the assumption. That was the thought in every mind that assaulted the walls of the human city. Now, after hours of battle and nothing to show for it, those expectations had been crushed. Not only had the humans and their city stood in defiance of the horde, they were actually making progress in repelling their attackers. Hundreds of orcs, ogres, goblins and even trolls were dead, and more were dropping every minute that passed. They were thrown from the walls, smashed flat under boulders, or burnt to a crisp from the spells of magic wielders. They still vastly outnumbered their enemies in the city and had already killed a fair amount of the annoying guards that protected the city, but the humans were dying at a far slower rate than those in the horde. To Ragrock Slamclub, the ogre leader of the assault on Thornstone, that was completely unacceptable.

The large ogre seethed with rage and anger as he watched his minions being thrown from the wall. As the boulders crashed down on his army and spells turned his siege engines into useless piles of sticks, he growled and yelled at those around him to kill everything. They repeated his orders and some even joined the battle themselves, charging the wall with visions of glory, but they were still held at bay by the troops of the city. Arrows, spells, rocks, oil, and other deadly missiles screamed at them, finding a victim almost every time. In an army comprised of so many, even a blind man could not miss.

The start of the battle had been so promising, Ragrock thought in annoyance. When they had first emerged from the tunnels, in the dead of night, cloaked in powerful magic that muted their march and concealed their presence, they were able to come within range of Thornstone without raising any alarms. There wasn’t any suspicion even when they fired the first volley. Only after the first attack landed did the humans know they were there. Even then, the horde had managed to fire off two more volleys before the city knew what was happening. When Ragrock ordered the fourth round, humans were still falling from the walls, filled full of arrows. It was then that the ogre and his army thought they had already won, that they would quickly take the walls and smash down the doors. The city was already in their grasp and they had hardly lifted a finger, but then the Thorns woke up.

Amazingly, even after losing almost half the men on the walls and having many of their buildings destroying within the first few moments of the battle, the Thorns found some way to form ranks and organize. They shook off the devastation and grief that had surely fallen over them and started to return fire, filling the air with arrows and spells. With impressive speed and skill, they tore into the enemy ranks, cutting down orcs, goblins, and other creatures of the horde with ease. They concentrated fire on the most fearsome looking enemies and the siege engines that were laying waste to the city. Within moments, they had begun a strong counteroffensive that was causing parts of the horde to scatter and search for cover. Upon the plains just outside the city, there was no cover, except for larger companions or the catapults, but any attempt to use either of those as protection was met with swift anger. Anyone that turned and ran or stopped shooting was greeted with a sword, axe, or spell from their own companions. Ragrock had made it perfectly clear before the beginning of the attack that cowardice would be tolerated. You either fought or died and there would be no retreat. The city would fall or they would all die. Then there was the wall.

Built by dwarves and enchanted by wizards, it was an immovable, unscalable barrier that proved to be much more of a problem than anyone of the horde anticipated. The protections laid over the stone made it impregnable and almost completely impervious to harm and any ladder that fell against it slid back and forth, as if the surface of the wall were covered in grease. The only way their ladders were staying in place was to place them between the merlons of the wall. Even then, the guards were able to sometimes shift the ladder to the side, where it would slide and crash to the ground. Only a few had managed to reach the top and even then, the guards were more than ready to turn back any assault and defend the battlements.

Damn humans! he cursed as he watched his forces continue to struggle against their intended prey. Damn Krum! he then added, clearly annoyed.

If he had more information about the city, Ragrock would have been able to better prepare for the fight. Since he has never moved against the city, he had no idea what to expect. In his ignorance, he thought it was just a normal city, with normal walls and average humans living within. He never thought to question Krum about the humans. It was only after his initial assault that he realized there was nothing normal about Thornstone. If only Krum had told him, none of this would have happened.

Perhaps he should have sent the new arrivals against the city? he thought as he turned an eye to the tunnels behind his horde. Maybe he should have swallowed his pride and let them take the city? Ragrock shook the thought away as soon as it had come. If he let those…things do his job, the glory would not belong to him and his ogres. It would belong to Krum and the nightmarish creatures the orc had sent to aid them. It would belong to the demons that waited in the darkness of the tunnels. That was not something the egotistical, prideful ogre could accept. This victory would be his and his alone, regardless of the anger and annoyance it had caused the leader of the demons.

When the otherworldly creatures first appeared during the first siege of the city, Ragrock was surprised to see that Krum had sent such hellish beasts to assist in the battle. He quickly overcame his shock as hundreds of demons appeared in the tunnels they had first taken to get here. A huge demon that looked like a cross between a boar, a minotaur, and an eagle came forward as Ragrock walked to look over the new arrivals.

We have come to fight the humans, the creature said, its voice deep and foreboding. Ragrock looked behind him to see other creatures that resembled mixes between animals. He also saw other things that looked like nothing he had ever seen, in all shapes and sizes. Whatever they were, they howled and snarled in anticipation, eager for blood and death.

Your help is not needed, Ragrock growled, annoyed that Krum would send such things to help him.

When Krum said he had a surprise for the humans, Ragrock was expecting better weapons, perhaps some type of magical contraptions. At the least, he figured his half-orc leader had found some powerful artifact to aid in their attack. He did not think there would be a new demonic force that would take over the fight. This new knowledge infuriated him and filled him with anger.

We will take the city! Ragrock declared.

The giant demon stared at the leader of the horde with glowing red eyes. It snarled and stomped its hoof in apparent annoyance. Then it turned its head and surveyed the battlefield, looking over the army and the city beyond. After a few moments, it turned back and looked at Ragrock. Just as the ogre chieftain thought the creature would lunge at him, it took a step back.

We wait, it growled. The creatures behind it gave a screech of frustration. The great boar thing turned and barked something in some infernal language. After that, the demonic gathering slowly went silent and moved back into the tunnels, disappearing in the darkness.

You wait and watch, Ragrock snapped, irritated at the demon’s response. He expected anger or rage, not calm acceptance.

The creature snarled. We watch, it said, then slowly backed away.

After that confrontation, filled with anger and resentment, Ragrock ordered his entire force to take the city. That was when everyone in his army surged forward and attacked. And that was also when they had first been repelled. Now, hours later, just a few away from sunrise, they still had made very little progress. The wall still stood, the Thorns still sent death into the army, and the orcish forces were still being thrown from the walls. Even the doors, massive blocks of wood and steel, resisted everything they threw at them. Also coated in magic and enchantments, the wooden barricades withstood every attack hurled against them. There was actually some damage done to the surfaces, unlike the walls, but they had not budged an inch since they had first tried to break them open. Ragrock vowed to change that before the sun appeared. If they had not yet broken into the city before the sun rose into the sky, he knew they would be at a disadvantage. His forces were born in the darkness and fought much better when it was night. Bright light would only impede their efforts, so with those thoughts in his mind, he ordered a large portion of his army to the entrance. And he would personally lead them inside.

Ragrock shouted orders to his ogres to make for the doors and to bring the battering rams with them. They in turn, repeated those orders down the line, to others of their kind and to the orcs surrounding them. Soon, the entire army was shifting toward the front of the city. As expected, the guards on the wall followed their movement, adjusting their attacks. Ragrock watched as the humans shouted to those behind the walls, pointing toward the doors and shouting for reinforcements. The irritated ogre cared little for what they did. Whether it was one hundred or one thousand men that met him at the entrance, he would get through and kill every last human.

Forward! Ragrock shouted, his deep voice breaking through the clamor of battle. All around him, his army growled and howled in response, slamming their swords and axes on their shields or stomping on the ground with anticipation. Goblins hopped across the ground with impatience while orcs drooled and snarled in hunger.

As the entrance came into view, Ragrock saw a large force was already trying to break through, attacking them with magic, steel, and smaller siege engines. The dark wood was painted with hundreds of scraps and gouges, but they had not yet been breached. Of course, the guards above the wall were making it as difficult as possible to spend more than few seconds working on getting the doors open. They kept up a constant barrage of arrows, bolts, rocks, and oil raining down on the attackers while wizards and priests followed with spells. The area just outside the entrance was piled high with corpses and the ground was stained red with blood and black with the residue of explosive magic. As Ragrock approached with his new force, a large group of goblins and a handful of orcs were flung into the air as a fireball spell went off right in the middle of their group. The creatures were thrown back into the horde, showering their companions with blood and body parts. None of them moved after falling to the ground.

Take the top! Ragrock shouted, pointing to the orcs behind him, orcs that were equipped with bows and crossbows. Among them were also a handful of shamans, who immediately started to cast. Bring up the rams! he then commanded, looking to a large group of ogres, who rushed to obey his orders. They ran back into the mass of bodies while he moved closer to the city. Arrows and spells fell toward him as he neared, but they bounced away as the handful of wards he had his shamans cast did their work and kept him protected.

My chieftain, an orc called as Ragrock looked over the walls. He was wearing decent looking chainmail and sported a shiny sword, which told Ragrock that he was in command of the small contingent that was attempting to break into the city. They hardly move, he said as he walked closed to his commander. They impossible to break.

Ragrock looked down at him, his eyes wide and filled with anger. The orc cowered under that gaze, almost wetting himself under the intense scrutiny.

Nothing is impossible to break, Ragrock responded with a deep growl. You’re just not trying hard enough. Wisely, the orc said nothing, which probably saved his life. He simply backed away as Ragrock stepped forward and looked over the doors, eyeing every surface of the imposing barricade.

As his army forced the guards on the wall to duck for cover, he motioned for those pulling the pair of large battering rams forward to the entrance. Each one was almost fifteen feet tall, constructed of dark wood and steel. Their thick wheels rolled over the rough ground as they were moved into position by a handful of ogres, crushing the bones of any corpses that lay in their way. Four tall poles, braced with enchanted steel, stood on each corner of each ram. In the center, connected by thick chains, was a trunk of a large oak tree, carved to resemble the face of a twisted demon. Thick metal, molded to cover the horrifying face and hammered over the first five feet of the twenty-foot ram, reinforced the massive trunk, making even the most confident man on the wall doubt the doors could hold against the might of those two machines.

Knock it down! Ragrock roared as his ogres pushed the ram closer. As they did, arrows fell upon them, followed by every type of weapon and scorching fluid the humans could muster. Half of their attacks bounced off the thick planks of wood that covered the battering rams, but many found their marks and a handful of ogres fell. The oil poured over the side and turned the orcs helping into screaming piles of burning mush, but for every one body that fell, three more ran in to take their place.

Forward! Ragrock roared as his ogres pushed forward. The surrounding orcs fired arrows at the top of the wall, trying to lessen the attacks from the guards. Shamans cast destructive magic, sending spells of energy and death upwards as well, giving the ogres time they needed to move into position. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the rams were in place.

Strike! the leader of the horde ordered.

The ogres took up the thick ropes connected to each ram and pulled. The great demonic trunks slowly creaked backward, groaning in protest. The goblins around the ram jumped up and down in excitement and the orcs screamed and yelled in glee as they anticipated running into the city and slaughtering its inhabitants. The ogres grunted in exertion as they pulled, moving the rams as far back as possible. When they went as far as they could go, they released.

The great rams swung forward, the wood and metal screaming through the air as if they too were hungry for blood. Then they hit the doors of Thornstone, filling the area with a mighty boom that shook the ground and all those within two hundred feet. Even the guards on the wall were visible shaken, some of them even losing their balance from the impact. Those on the ground stumbled and fell as well as the rams bounced back, gently swinging backwards from the doors. As they did, Ragrock, stepped forward, expecting to see a hole. Unfortunately, all he saw was solid wood. The great entrance of the human city was hardly damaged and looked as though they hadn’t even moved.

Again! he roared in rage, his eyes wide and his hands balled up into fists. His ogres obeyed and grabbed the ropes.

They hit the doors two more times. After the third, there was some visible damage on the wood, but they still had not budged and three more ogres and a handful of orcs had been killed by the humans on the wall. At this rate, Ragrock would lose over a hundred warriors trying to get through the entrance. Though the rams were enchanted with magic, he needed more.

Fire at the doors, Ragrock yelled, his words aimed at the gathering of shamans sending spells at the guards on the walls. Help the rams.

But the guards on the wall, one shaman said. He opened his mouth to explain that their spells were keeping most of the guards at bay, but he never got close. As soon as even a hint of protest showed on his face, Ragrock grabbed the orc by the throat, lifted him from his feet, and slammed him into the ground. The bloodied and bruised orc tried to get up, but Ragrock brought his arms down, crushed the orc flat with the steel plates that were grafted onto his forearms. When he lifted his arms, all that was left of the orc was a red splotch and bits of broken bone.

Fire at the doors! Ragrock roared. The other shamans jumped to do his bidding, turning their spells against the doors.

Spells of energy, sound, lightning, fire, and acid assaulted the doors, followed by the rams. Each impact shook the ground and after a time, started to shake the walls of Thornstone. Explosions, blasts, and great roaring sounds echoed throughout the battlefield as smoke, sparks, and electricity crackled through the air. The mighty barricade stood strong for a while, but inevitably, cracks started to appear in the wood and the doors started to bow inwards. The horde’s effort was starting to show, but it was not without cost. As soon as the shamans turned their spells at the doors, the guards doubled their attacks, killing hundreds of the attacking force. More Thorns showed up every second, dropping more orcs, goblins, and ogres to the ground. Wizards even appeared, sending spells against the army and the battering rams themselves. Their magic splintered wood and melted metal, but as fast as they torn down the rams, the horde’s magic users and orcs repaired the damage or deflected the attacks with their own bodies. For over ten minutes, one ram was crippled and could no longer be used, but the horde quickly converged and got it working again, all the while listening to Ragrock’s screams of frustration and shouts of rage.

After over two dozen hits from each ram and countless spells, the left door of the entrance finally splintered and cracked open, but not enough for a large force to get through. It was barely wide enough for an ogre, but the small victory drove the attacking force into a frenzy and they threw themselves at the doors with renewed ferocity.

Turn the ram, Ragrock shouted, motioning for the ram operators to concentrate on the small opening. Open it up!

The ogres pulled and let loose, sending the rams forward. Just as they crashed into the breach, a massive blast of energy, coming from a group of wizards on the wall, slammed into one of the rams, blasting it to pieces. One of the posts exploded, showering the horde in deadly shards of metal and wood, and two more toppled over, crushing a handful of ogres and orcs. The large trunk in the middle fell to the ground with a tremendous boom, bowling over anything in its way. The roof toppled and the bottom came apart. Unfortunately, the damage had been done and the entrance of Thornstone shook violently. The crack opened wider and the wood splintered. Parts of the door crumbled. The shamans, many of them using their final spells, sent more destructive magic into that rift, opening it wider.

Again! Ragrock yelled.

The ogres grabbed the ropes of the remaining ram and pulled with all their might. Those that had been manning the now destroyed one rushed over and joined in. When it was at its peak, they let go and it swung into the doors. As soon as it hit, the left door swung open with a loud bang. At the same time, the ground underneath the right wheels suddenly sunk and turned to thick mud. The entire contraption listed to the side and tipped. As the huge ram swung back, it tilted to the right and the momentum lifted the left side off the ground and the entire ram flipped over, crushing dozens of troops. When it slammed down, the roof fell apart and the tall polls snapped. The demonic trunk fell to the ground, shaking the earth, then it rolled away, crushing dozens of orcs and goblins as it went. Three ogres got caught underneath it as well, but Ragrock cared little about what happened to them. The way was open. Their path was clear.

Kill them all! he bellowed.

The leader of the horde pointed at the new opening. The entire army paused for only a second. Then they surged toward the entrance, yelling and shouting in bloodlust. Ragrock went with them, running toward the city, eager to take out his frustrations and anger on the irritating humans.

Get the other one open, he shouted as he pushed his way forward. There were easily over five hundred bodies in his way, all pushing to get through an opening only ten feet wide. If they could get the other door opened, he could get inside that much sooner, but his army was no longer interested in opening doors. One was already open. Now, all they wanted was blood. Ragrock watched in frustration as they fought to get inside and kill. What he saw made his blood boil and he soon started swatting orcs and goblins out of his way. When he finally got close to the doors he looked