Caleb's Journey

The Battle Rages On

Sir Samsuran surveyed the enemy position. Each night the ogres dug trenches that brought them and their allies closer and closer to his castle. Night

time digging afforded them more protection from missile fire even when the arrows were dipped in fire. Any timber constructs protecting the trenches that caught fire due to a flaming missile shot into it had the fire quickly doused. Sir Samsuran had ordered shifts of archers rotating around the clock so as to have arrows constantly raining down upon his foes. It depleted the availability of archers during the daytime, but he could not let the advance of the enemy continue unabated. This method of defense had gone on for several days. The commander of Attalis felt perplexed by whoever commanded the other side and knew that he was engaged in a battle of attrition as the enemy catapults lacked the power to knock down the walls of the mighty fortress, so expecting to breach those defenses was a folly.

“

Those skeletons seem innumerable. No matter how many of them we kill

, they keep charging. It’s only a matter of time before these constant troop surges overwhelm my men.” He told himself that they could resist the invaders for a lengthy period of time due to the fact that without breaching the castle walls only small numbers of the enemy could get onto the tops of the walls and that they would be greeted by an overwhelming number of soldiers. This idea contented him as he envisioned reinforcements arriving before too long. “This foe intends to break our spirits,” he thought. “Well, I’ve been through too many campaigns to let a larger army and its tactics affect my spirit. Erelong he’ll come to a reckoning and he’ll lament his choice to attack my stronghold.”

At this morning’s meeting with his captains, as Sir Samsuran sipped his grog he congratulated the commanders as excellent and possessed of enduring courage. He requested that they convey those same sentiments to the men that they lead. With confidence he told them of the strength of the walls and how he expected reinforcements to arrive before they too long. “I’m confident,” he said, “in the strength and valor of every man present. While I confess I’ve never seen a force of this nature amassed, it was precisely what the creators of this castle envisioned when they built this fortress and we shall win the day. Expect no quarter from the enemy and give none. Now, to your posts and may Uua watch over us.”

Everyone present uttered the same prayer. In their hearts some of the captains questioned if Sir Samsuran had correctly assessed the situation and whether they would be overrun in the days ahead before being reinforced. To a man they believed in his tactical acumen. Rather, they questioned his judgment against what they saw with their own eyes. Their losses had been minimal in comparison to that of their adversaries, but they saw the seemingly endless horde of skeletons that lingered in the trenches, waiting for the order to rush the walls again. Every one of them hated the horn that sounded the attack.

Still, they breakfasted as best as their nerves allowed. Some discussed tactics, others spoke of the bravery of a comrade, fallen or otherwise, and a few of them mentioned loved ones back home or any of the myriad musings of the mind. They needed to distract themselves, for however briefly, from that harsh reality that lingered, like a specter, outside the walls. It steeled the captains’ resolve and their roles as commanders required them to exude confidence. Breakfast being finished each man returned to his station armed with the strength of will to lead men and fight another day.

Meanwhile, at the invading commanders’ tent Eman-Sadal sat at the head of the table and was about to discuss plans that directly conflicted with those of Sir Samsuran. As he sat there he mused upon the best way to disseminate his strategy. With poise and firmness he spoke, “All is going according to my plan,” he said to his allies as they gorged themselves on roasted meat, bread, and cheese. “We have suffered casualties, but they are acceptable and thus far, with the bulk of the losses coming from the skeletons, I consider us to occupy an enviable position.”

“

Enviable to whom?” Segtui questioned as he slammed his leg of roast fowl in disgust. “The loss of ogre soldiers has come mostly from those accursed human archers. That is not a warrior’s death, especially for the ogres that die with a shovel in their hands instead of with a weapon, fighting the enemy. Digging and dying is not an honorable death.” He spat on the floor in contempt when he finished his rant.

Skarlarth nodded at Segtui in agreement. He had no love for his greatest rival, but in this instance, he respected his words, “It is a bad death,” he said, echoing the aforementioned ogre’s sentiments.

Eman-Sadal sat in his chair coolly and calmly, like he was wearing a coat that shielded him from the negative words of his naysayers. “It is by your kind’s sheer brute power with picks and shovels that bring us ever closer to the castle walls so rapidly. No other race could move matter that quickly. If I had opted to use skeletons, even though they require no sleep, I cannot see us being but half as far as we are at this juncture. Your ogres should be filled with pride, not disgust. We have split their archers into shifts thereby cutting their ranks during the day and reducing the number of arrows shot at us during our assaults by digging at night and sparing most of the ogre infantry from fighting during the day. Their archers must be vigilant against us constantly,

since we give them no rest. Let your ogres tell their children and grandchildren how they helped crush the humans and it will help you bear the losses we suffer.”

“

Our united forces are wearing them down for when, in the matter of a few days, we make our final push. Now is as good a time as any to share the final piece of the puzzle that is crushing Attalis. I’ve kept it in hiding, away from the eyes of everyone, thus far, but in two days I shall unleash my own mount. It is the likes of which you’ve never seen it’s a dragon!”

All at the table either dropped or spat out their food. All sat and stared and him enrapt, in a type of silent awe, waiting for his next words. “That’s right my friends, Xerax has given me a dragon to use in our conquest. Like the skeletons he is not indestructible, but he has a very strong life force tying him to this realm. I had to take steps to weaken our opposition before letting my pet loose upon them. Lord Storm is his name. He will shatter their walls with his lightning breath and then you will be free to run amok in the castle and engage the enemy in his own lair. Our victory is assured by our strength in numbers and the great fighting prowess of your two races.”

“

I intend for him to strike the eastern wall. Some of the humans will be frozen with fear when they see the dreaded beast. As his lightning blasts hit the walls our remaining catapults will support his fire, cracking those vaunted walls wide open. Then, with our troops stationed so closely thanks to the industrious efforts of the ogres, all of our troops can spill out, like water breaking through a dam.” Now he placed his skeletal hand on Skarlarth’s thick forearm, “Then, your great warriors can slake their thirst for blood.”

“

A dragon,” remarked the simpering Lortaag. “I never would have guessed such a gift from mighty Xerax. Truly his power is great. I apologize for doubting you. When we leave this tent, I intend to urge my men to fight with greater ferocity.”

“

As do I,” said Skarlarth. “Knowing that in two days I get to spill much ’uman blood and smash many of their skulls makes me happy.”

“

I agree with my brother ogre,” Segtui added.

“

Wulu’s mighty warriors will be ready,” that chieftain commented.

Not wanting to be left out another of the lesser chieftains spoke, “Manaan’s warriors will be behind nobody.”

Eman-Sadal knew he had their trust and their loyalty now that he had shared his complete plans with them. Well, not his complete plans, but something close enough to their purpose. He wanted them in a position where they accepted the loss of their troops willingly in exchange for victory. The cagey lichmaster knew better than to trust his allies, given their greedy natures. He felt certain that the awe inspiring mention of a dragon would cow them into submission and it had worked.

After they vanquished the humans, Eman-Sadal expected a betrayal by his allies and intended to eradicate them as well by having his skeletons turn on them near the completion of the battle, per Xerax’s instructions delivered in the dark of night by a werewolf. “Now that all of you have finished eating, please go and ready your troops for today’s assault,” he said. “Once again, my skeletons will emerge first from the trenches as infantry and to scale the eastern walls. Gnoll slingers are now in range to attack from the entrenchment. Let them enjoy attacking from cover. This will surprise the humans, momentarily. Gnolls and ogres attack the south wall, which forces the enemy to spread their forces even thinner and makes these troops less susceptible to archer fire. Tell the soldiers that I offer a bounty of twenty-five gold coins to the first soldier who brings me the head of a human taken in combat from the top of the walls. Mark my words, today is the day where we begin to fight the enemy on our terms!”

Each of the five non-human commanders departed from the tent with a renewed sense of pride and purpose. They went to their subordinates and issued the instructions for the day. Eman-Sadal followed them and took his place on the battlefield, in the background, far out of harm’s way. He required no time to discuss strategy with his mindless minions they bent to his will thanks to the magic wand he possessed.

Sonorous deep based sounds issued forth from the ogre’s curved bone horn. Eman-Sadal pointed his wand forward and the skeletons poured out of the trenches and began their charge. As soon as their dull gray bones showed themselves the archers on the wall began showering them with arrows. When a skeleton falls his bones crumble to the ground and many a skeleton fell as arrows found their mark and removed the animating life force from said creature. Archers fired with ferocity and precision hoping to make up for their diminished numbers

, due to having to fight in shifts.

For a second time the horn sounded and the gnoll slingers stood up behind the pushed up earth and began winding up their slings in a circular fashion, then flung their smoothed stones upwards at the archers. Some of the missiles found their mark against the surprised and lightly armored archers, felling those struck in the face and head, and inflicting wounds, and more importantly, stopping the firing of arrows from others that were hit in various body parts. The defenders of Attalis had not expected this dual pronged attack.

Then, the horn blatted for the third and final time, ordering the ogres and gnolls to charge the south wall. Gnolls emerged from the trenches and organized into marching in lockstep fashion, then accelerating to a trot, banging their flails against their shields as they howled and then began uttering a cadence in their native tongue, the substance of which had to do with gnolls knowing no fear and standing boldly as they faced the enemy. After the initial beating of the shields with weapons they raised the shields as a means of protection against arrows fired in their direction.

With regard to the ogres, they left the trenches and gave a collective shout and screamed for blood from their foes, charging headlong towards the walls. So strong was their lust for blood that they overtook the gnolls. From the vantage point of Skarlarth and Segtui, they beamed with pride at the notion of their soldiers’ desire for combat. The lesser chieftains hoped for an even more impressive accounting by their soldiers.

Through the moat the ogres swam, arrows whizzing past them, weapons clenched in their teeth, and when an ogre reached the shoreline the other ogre heaved him a siege ladder so that it could be placed against the wall. As soon as the human pikemen saw the top of a ladder, two of them, one for each handle, dug in their heels and endeavored to push the ladder back to the ground. Alas, their efforts were in vain, for one ogre was far stronger than two humans, so the ladder remained in place and ready for use. Invariably the pikemen had to run to the front of the wall and wait for ogres to get close enough to jab at them and hopefully puncture his flesh thereby dislodging him from his position and slowing the progress of the assault.

On this day the ogres and gnolls were not to be denied. Weary and depleted, but spirited, the men at the south wall could not stop every ascent. Finally, a band of ogres, from two separate ladders, overcame the soldiers, and reached their goal, the top of the wall. Instantly they began to engage the pikemen, who had formed into columns and advanced, thrusting their weapons forward with every step. Hungry to spill human blood the ogres surged forward, some of them even were so eager to spill blood that they seized the barbed spike of the weapon and yanked it from its wielder, leaving him armed only with his sword in the scabbard at his side.

A captain shouted, “Ogres on the south wall!”

Sir Samsuran responded with his command, “Archer corps number eleven assist the men in defending the south wall.” The cautious and crafty leader had held some of his troops, archer corps eleven, in reserve in case of such an emergency.

Archers funneled out of two of the barracks and began firing at the ogres on the wall who were not yet engaged in combat, inflicting heavy losses on the gray behemoths. With regard to the ogres locked in the skirmish they had knocked away some of the pikes and began to melee with the pikemen at the front of the line who had to drop their lengthy weapon on the ground and now relied upon their swords. While the two sides were locked in combat, the rear guard tried to support their brothers in arms by thrusting at the ogres with the tips of their weapons over the shoulders of the first column or leaving the weapon outstretched to help deflect a blow.

Despite the humans’ best efforts they lacked the martial prowess to keep the ogres at bay. As the ogres reached the frontline troops and attacked with great ferocity, their large, curved blades cut down several humans. One ogre even performed the very deed that would force Eman-Sadal to pay the bounty of gold coins he had offered in the morning. That ogre quickly scooped up his trophy and ran hastily towards the ladders, doing his best to dodge arrows coming from down below and to reach the ladder and live long enough to collect his due.

Inside the walls the humans had great strength in numbers and with great tenacity they began to impose their will on the ogres with whom they were locked in combat. Pikemen legions tightened their formations and began moving in unison with their customary striking thrust, coupled with the arrows from the internal archer corps, the ogres had to retreat over the walls as quickly, some even jumping into the moat, as a group they were overwhelmed. Order was restored, so to speak, as the ogre ladders were flung back

wards to the ground. The reserve archers took up positions on the parapets on the south wall, reinforcing their comrades, and began firing arrows with great alacrity. It was beginning to turn into a rout, in favor of the humans. As for the gnolls, without the support of missile fire, they enjoyed no success in reaching the peak of the walls and without the brute force of the ogres to support them they opted to not hazard the treacherous climb.

Turning now to the battle at the eastern wall, skeletons moved slowly, and though they kept coming at the pikemen, those same soldiers, combined with the support of archers, managed to keep them off of the walls with relative ease. Gnoll slingers inflicted some losses on human archers, but slinging a rock upwards, from behind cover, at someone shielded by a structure proved to be a losing proposition, especially for any gnoll foolhardy enough to emerge from cover and try and get a better shot at his query.

After several hours of pitched battles the ogre horn sounded for retreat. When they heard what to them was a melodious, welcome tone the humans cheered. Their archers fired until no targets remained visible. Sir Samsuran shouted, “Good job, men.” Eman-Sadal had been thwarted. Or had he? All of his troops retreated to their trenches, with plans to resume digging ever closer under cover of night. The ogres and gnolls had seen their stores of soldiers depleted, but enjoyed a small taste of success and hungered for more. The lichmaster’s grand plan was now only one day away. With as much confidence as anyone, he left the battlefield.