Authors: Greg Curtis
“Archers, Flame arrows at the ready!”
Even as Yorik and no doubt many others were thinking the same thing, Ascollia came riding out of nowhere from what had been the front of the train, bellowing orders. And his orders were obeyed without question. Almost as one, the elves drew their long bows and Yorik watched as a thousand arrows caught the same fire as his sword. They weren't alone however, and another thousand crossbows were raised, their bolts also flaming with the glorious light of the Lady.
Meanwhile other commanders from what had been the head of the train, came charging back towards the middle, bringing their soldiers with them, quickly forming them into more lines behind them. They too raised their bows with fire, and Yorik knew the enemy was in trouble.
Then the first of the burrowers finally breached the ground, and Yorik knew little more. It was the snouts with their wart hog like fangs for digging that told him everything he hadn't quite admitted to himself until then, and a chill ran up and down his spine.
Tunnel vipers! The creatures hadn't been seen in the lands for more than a century, and even then they were only found in the deepest swamps, which was a blessed relief for the rest of the lands. The creatures were both poisonous and fast, as well as having the frightening ability to strike at their prey from beneath their feet. Against them, few people would survive. Even soldiers would be in trouble having no chance to strike before the vipers attacked.
Except that in this case they would. These vipers had risen early out of the soil. They had been slowed by the dry hard packed soil and their prey's unexpected flight had forced them to strike before they got away. But they were still too slow even above ground and so after breaking through the ground they then had to try and slither their way across the open ground to the Order. That would be a difficult journey – and their last with luck.
“Best shots.” The call came echoing back from Ascollia who was already well past them as he galloped madly down the line. On cue at least fifteen hundred flaming arrows were launched into the air, with an accuracy that could only come from the grace of the Lady, to land on the vipers' snouts. Each hit resulted in a small explosion of fire and lightning, as the vipers promptly burst into flame, and Yorik realised like the others, that these vipers were also undead. Fire was their true enemy.
But even a fire arrow wasn't enough. The arrow alone would have killed a live viper, but these vipers were already dead, and thus beyond the ability to be killed. Instead, they pulled their long sinuous bodies out of the ground, covered from head to tail in flames, and began slithering their way to the Order. All thoughts of pain or death were obviously unimportant. Fortunately, they apparently couldn't see well, covered as they were in flames, and many began heading off at strange angles, while behind them, more and more kept emerging from the ground.
A second and then a third volley of arrows was launched, hitting those who followed the front vipers, and not one viper escaped the flames of the Lady. Yorik and the paladins however still looked on nervously as they saw the nearest of the tunnel vipers getting closer and closer, poison covered fangs at the ready. It was a terrible thing to realise that not only was your enemy deadly beyond all others, but that no matter how well armed you were, you still couldn't kill it. They could only wait for it to burn to ashes.
“Fall back.”
The order came from the back of a rider as he raced past them, just as the first of the tunnel vipers closed to within fifty paces of the front line, and they didn't need to be told twice. As a unit at least five thousand paladins, knights and rangers immediately wheeled around and retreated another five hundred paces, putting more distance between themselves and the vipers, and letting the flames take greater hold of them.
They reformed their lines a good five hundred paces from the closest of the flaming vipers, and this time they finally managed to do it as a single minded military unit. As they had done a thousand times before on the training grounds. Gone was the long strung out column of soldiers bending like a rope in the rain as their middle was attacked, and instead they formed a five hundred yard wide, ten man deep block. Paladins held the front armour with swords glowing brightly; archers stood at their backs providing covering fire, and the knights held the sides. At the very rear the clerics and wizards were busy casting their spells of protection and blessings, and finally they seemed to be working as the attacking tunnel vipers, seemed to be slowing in their advance. Moreover, instead of attacking directly, they were starting to lose their sense of direction with many more now heading off in all directions. For a few glorious moments Yorik like the rest dared to hope that this impossible enemy was being defeated. Then came the call.
“South and north, look to your defences!”
Sure enough as he turned to look, Yorik could see the dwarven armies descending on them on mass. At least three thousand undead soldiers had formed in each arm of a gigantic pincer movement, running at them with all their might, and he knew they were attempting to trap them. The vipers had herded them into a new trap and kept them distracted while the pincers closed around them. But then the enemy himself had been fooled, expecting to face only humans, and those surely up to their neck in vipers. Six thousand undead dwarves would not be enough to stop them.
No sooner had the new enemies been sighted then thousands more of the flaming arrows began flying, and the dwarves also burst into flame. Naturally it didn't stop them, but it did slow them down as they too lost their sense of cohesion and direction amid the flames, which gave the army just enough time to form into two defensive lines.
Yorik took the north face, purely because he was closer, and braced himself with his comrades, for the first assault.
“Chop their heads off.”
His voice was only one of hundreds that cried out, surely guided by the Lady, but he felt the rightness of them. Without their heads, the dwarves like the wolves before them and even the undead bandits, would be defenceless. Already dead, they would simply stand there like statues and with luck burn to ashes. Unless their mages could resurrect them again first.
“Armour of light! Lady guide me!”
Yorik cried out the ancient spell and prayer just as the enemy closed within fifty yards of them, and felt the strength and grace of the Lady filling him. He wasn't alone, and all around him he could see the armour of all the paladins glowing golden in the sunlight as the Lady aided them. Even the knights who had not yet taken the vows to become a paladin were uttering the same spells, and their steel armour too was glowing like the sun.
They were only just in time, as the first of the dwarves hit their lines with staggering strength. It was like a physical explosion as first hundreds and then surely thousands of flaming undead dwarves crashed into their lines, battle axes at the ready. But from the start the Order had the advantage. Their horses were dressed for battle with thick leathers that would turn an axe and they'd formed a solid skirmish line. Meanwhile the dwarves were blind and disorganised, a rabble rather than an army, and too few in number. They were three thousand not the thirty thousand they'd expected to face. The golden army quickly began teaching them the true meaning of death.
Three dwarves came directly at Yorik and without even thinking about it, he beheaded them all with a single flick of the great sword. The Lady had guided his arms, and once more he knew no fear. Behind them another twenty undead dwarves were chasing hard, and like his comrades he kicked Crysal's flanks and charged them. In another place, another time it might have been foolish, but with the Lady guiding him it was the right thing to do.
Crysal simply smashed into them, knocked them over and then trampled them, while he began slashing left and right with the great sword, beheading the dwarves as fast as his blessed arms could manage. Meanwhile all around him more of the dwarves dropped their weapons as arrows cut into their arms. They might not be able to kill the undead, but the archers could surely cripple them, leaving the paladins that much more time to behead them and the horses time to trample them.
In mere minutes the entire northern dwarven assault was shattered and broken, and everywhere around them they could see headless dwarves, standing there on fire, while their heads rolled around like balls on the ground. Best of all, through the flames the heads and bodies of the undead couldn't see their way clear to find each other and reattach themselves. Instead they just shambled about, burning. But where were their mages? Of them – and they were surely the greatest danger – Yorik could see no sign.
Looking back, Yorik saw that the southern front had been just as successful, perhaps even sooner than they, and their paladins and rangers were simply standing there, wondering what to do next. Of course there was no such thing as a perfect victory. Here and there he could see paladins and knights clutching at blood covered armour, and a few were on the ground, fallen. The toll was even greater on the horses, as the dwarves, unable to reach them or even see them, had struck horse flesh instead, and many were either dead or showing terrible injuries. When horses were dressed for battle they only wore leather across their fronts. So any dwarves that had got through their lines had quickly found unprotected flesh.
“Look sharp to the East!”
Where the cry came from Yorik didn't know, but the call was right. His first instinct had been to go to his fallen comrades, and see if there was anything he could do, but they were still in the midst of a battle. Turning quickly back to the east he saw the reason for the cry. Another army of dwarves, this time surely at least ten or fifteen thousand strong were organised into a wedge formation and were charging at them through the lines of the still burning tunnel vipers as fast as their legs could carry them.
“Reform!”
The cry came from every quarter, and as of one mind they quickly began reforming their defensive lines to brace for the attack. Meanwhile the archers were once more taking a devastating toll on the attackers, and they watched as the entire front line of the attacking army suddenly went up in glorious flames. Being dead for so long the mummified corpses were obviously tinder dry.
This time though, the army didn't quite have the time they'd needed to reform their lines, and the dwarves broke through in several places with a tremendous crash. One of those breeches was immediately beside Yorik and he suddenly found himself surrounded by undead dwarves, this time all with their battle axes swinging wildly. The archers hadn't had time to cripple them, and worse, he could see reinforcements chasing the dwarves. It was a well planned assault. However, Yorik had no time to curse the enemy's planning, as he had to defend himself with all the speed and might the Lady could grant him.
Moving faster than he would ever have thought possible, he gave up on his plan of beheading the enemy, and simply tried to cut their arms off as they swung at him and Crysal, and to his relief it was a strategy that seemed to work. The great sword had a far greater reach than the axes wielded by such short arms, and he watched with infinite gratitude as half a dozen axes and arms fell to the ground in divine flames. Their other arms and heads followed soon after, leaving only torso's wandering around, unable to see or strike at the knights. But that was only until the next three or four got close enough to attack again, and he had to strike once more.
So the battle continued for ten or twenty or more long minutes as the dwarves seemed to keep growing in numbers as reinforcements kept arriving continued attacking, and Yorik continued to hold his position against what seemed to be insurmountable odds. Not once did he consider retreating though. Not that anyone had given the order, assuming he could have heard it over the din of terrified horses snorting and neighing and the clash of metal on metal in his ears. But the Lady guided him and he had no doubt of his duty in this battle. Besides, there was a confidence growing in him, as dwarf after dwarf fell to his sword, while none managed more than a scratch against him and his horse.
Then without warning his complacency was shredded as Yorik felt a sudden pain in his shoulder. He looked down to see an arrow sticking out of it, having lodged itself perfectly between his breast plate and shoulder guard. His first surprised thought was that one of the elves had shot him by accident, except that they were behind him and the arrow had come from the front.
Like a novice he looked up to see that the dwarves ranks had been boosted by some undead dwarven archers, which was completely wrong. Dwarves didn't have long bows. They, like the humans, used shorter range crossbows. But it had been a mistake to turn his eyes away from his closer attackers, and suddenly he felt a tearing pain in his thigh as a battle axe broke through his thigh plate and sank deep into the meat of his leg. The dwarves, dead or undead, retained all of the incredible strength they had known in life, and even blessed armour wasn't strong enough against a properly wielded battle axe.