One Week Later
William was dreaming he knew that, he had the same dream every night. The battle of Keepers Rock lay all around him, the rock itself towering over the corpses like a weeping mother, its shear sides hunched over as if in prayer. With a sigh he began searching through the dismembered corpses for the body he knew was not there, the body was never there. He sensed a presence behind him and paused while hunched over a body indistinguishable from all the others on the silent battleground. Turning William saw a wraith its features hidden under its ethereal hood,
"Hello again William." The figure spoke with a voice like crushing bones, William just stood there perplexed this was new, in all the times he'd dreamed the same dream no wraiths had appeared. He felt a chill run down his spine and shivered, despite the notion of temperature in this world being laughable. Then the creature pulled off its hood. Williams saw the face; it was so familiar he swore he'd seen it before, like an old friend returning after many years. William ran to embrace the wraith, but when he saw what the creature had in its hand, he paused, and then he screamed!
William woke, sweat pooled around him, his lank hair dripped with it. Running into his eyes and mouth like a waterfall, he felt like crying but pulled himself together. "Why" he whispered beneath his breath, he reached for the towel he kept by his bed for just this reason, intending to wipe his face before he drowned in his own sweat, but was interrupted by the cultured voice of his superior.
"Same dream again William." William looked up, it was Alfonso, resplendent in his battle robe supplemented by a breastplate of the finest steel, of dwarf make if William was not mistaken. Looking down the old soldier noted the twin pistols holstered on each of Alphonso's hips.
"How..." he began, the question had dual interpretations, how had Alphonso known about the dream and how had he entered his tent without waking him. The perhaps worried William the most but before he could continue he was interrupted once more by the boy's cultured tone
"Not now William, now we move." Then Alfonso was gone, leaving a confused William to wake and dress by himself.
Elsewhere on a dusty trail through a dense forest, a convoy of badly needed reinforcements consisting of the 2nd and 3rd companies of the 406th "Dancing Daemons" marches towards the front line, fresh out of basic training.
Trooper Olle Peterson re-joined the convoy of carts bound for the frontline, slipping into the ranks of his comrades, all itching in their new red coats. All cradling the unfamiliar shape of muskets "Hurry up maggots!" Bellowed Gerard the regiment's only summoner, the burly noble was riding a cart up ahead, trimming his neat goatee nonchalantly next to his cat-like beast.
"Alright for him in his cosy cart" mumbled Theodore as Olle slipped into ranks beside him. The lanky boy receiving a slap from Sergeant Houston in reply
"I'll have no dissent within the ranks young Theo." The grizzled sergeant reprimanded sternly before he could continue a cry echoed through the columns of marching men.
"Sir!" cried one of the outriders, the boy was riding hell for leather along the column, he was riding one of the regiments few horses and its flanks were drenched in sweat and foam. Before he could reach Gerard however, the nature of his report became evident as a demented roar resounded from the forest appearing to come from all around the marching columns of frightened soldiers.
"Shit!" Mumbled Theodore, gazing at the three metre tall green skinned Orc barring the way of the convoy. Its mouth forming a smile of pure pleasure, as it's beady eyes gazed at the convoy of terrified soldiers. It raised its head and roared its joyful hatred to the sky, being answered in kind by roars all through the surrounding forest. Suddenly orders were being shouted, flags were unfurled and ranks formed. Olle began fumbling with his shot bag and powder horn, trying to remember the instructions of the angry little dwarf that had taught them. Olle had ignored the diminutive figure throughout training, after all he was only a dwarf, they'd been beaten by the humans over and over again so what could he possibly learn. He cursed himself silently for a fool, as he rammed the powder down the barrel and fixed his long bayonet; he raised the weapon to his shoulder and joined the northern flank of the rapidly forming square around Gerard's wagon, the man himself calmly continuing his chore. For some reason this calmed Olle immensely.
Looking around Olle noticed how densely packed the 500 soldiers that made up the "Dancing daemons" 2nd and 3rd companies was. Although the dusty trail was more like a highway, being 50 odd meters across they were packed up to 5 ranks deep in certain places. His musings were interrupted however by the age old war cry of humanities most savage enemy, gritting his teeth with determination Olle said goodbye to his family and stood his ground.
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh" the orcs screamed as they rushed the cowering soldiers, "present," sergeants screamed in unison, "aim", they all paused and after a split second pause, together they roared "FIRE!" The crack of muskets filled the air and black smoke temporarily hid the orcs as men reached to reload or drew swords or knives. Half of the soldiers dropped their weapons in disgust as misfires made them useless. Olle dropped onto his knee behind the man in front of him as the third rank behind him aimed and fired their own weapons and the sergeants continued bellowing orders.
The orcs continued on unfazed, some fell, but most got straight back up after only a few seconds. Then they hit the defiant square of soldiers with the audible crunch of breaking bones and Olle knew it was over. But dammit if he wasn't going to make a fight of it, with a cry to match the most rage filled Orc he launched his bayonet in the gut of the creature ahead of him. The Orc glared at him with incomprehension until Theodore stabbed his dagger into the brute's eye. The beast screamed as it fell its arms still flailing to get to grips with its assailants. Olle nodded his thanks to Theo before they're triumphant mood was broken by the appearance of the deceased orcs comrades in front of them.
William overlooked the orcs ambush of the column from a nearby ridge with Alphonso, Captain Leonard, Captain Wulf and colour sergeant Meryn. He itched to charge in now and save more of the doomed souls below charging without a plan was suicide, and William had lived long enough in this army by resisting that impulse whenever possible.
"Kreezot here spotted the orcs last night and followed them to this point where they set up the ambush below; my plan was to attack before they caught anyone but..." Alfonso left the statement there as he patted the bug demon that had replaced his Hydra, while the regiment was on the march. William knew it was a mite, although he didn't know how, it kind of reminded him of... 'No' he thought mental walls re-establishing themselves that memory was too painful.
"Awfully patient for orcs aren't they" Wulf wondered out loud, he was a large man, a transfer from a line regiment like the one engaged below. He'd held the rank of corporal before his rapid ascension through the ranks.
"You shouldn't underestimate orcs captain," William admonished "the beasties love to fight, but even more than that they love to win."
"Of course sir, I spoke out of turn." Wulf didn't bow or scrape out his apologies; he merely exposed his throat, a strange holdover from his northern homeland.
The briefing concluded as Alfonso summed up the plan and outlined each company's roles thoroughly, Williams experience proved immensely valuable as he played devil's advocate, picking holes in Alphonso's plan until none were left and he was satisfied.
"Are you ready" finished Alfonso. "Then you know what to do" he looked each of them in the eye one last time, then left.
Olle was fighting for his life, his left arm was almost certainly broken from a deadly brush with an Orc club, and he was almost blinded by Sergeant Houston's life blood. Released by a savage slice to the jugular from a cowardly Orc that had snuck up behind the roaring sergeant. Olle had lost sight of Theodore but armed with only a dagger he figured Theo was either long dead, or one of the screaming wounded laying on the hard dirt of the path being trampled by the very comrades trying desperately to protect them. Olle's musket had broken long ago but the sword given to him by his father, which he had fought so hard to keep during the modernisation was serving him well. Olle turned just in time to face the latest Orc wave charging towards Olle and his bloodied comrades. When the charging orcs halted as one and began to paw the ground nervously with feet clad in rough leather.
The screaming from both sides abruptly ceased, leaving only the whimpering of the wounded. As a monstrous creature stepped from the shadows cast by the trees lining the path, it took one thundering step forward and the nearby orcs fled to apparent safety on either side of the path. Behind this Orc like monstrosity arose a bat like monstrosity of scale and fire, Olle involuntarily took a step back realising with sickening despair that this must be the orcs summoner. While his soldiers were cowering in fear, Lieutenant Gerard Von Kriegsspeil jumped down from the carriage where he had been calmly dressing himself in ornate plate armour throughout the fierce melee. His daemon roared as loud as any Orc Olle had heard and bared its razor sharp fangs, "shhhhh" mumbled Gerard running a gauntleted hand through the Canids mane as he marched forward. When Gerard was a mere twenty paces from the Orc and its bat like daemon he reached for the silver great sword scabbarded over his right shoulder and began to roar a challenge in a language Olle didn't recognise.
The orcs daemon responded in kind to Gerard's challenge, as its master began raising its axe above its head and voicing its own challenge in the crude Orcish tongue. Then without further posturing Gerard pulled his sword free and charged voicing a further challenge, the Orc laughed and stood its ground as if this was all just some demented game. When the warriors finally clashed it was brutal, the daemons smashed together with and audible thud! There claws outstretched and ready to rip and tear. There masters battled no less fiercely with the human Gerard's first strike almost hacking of his adversary's arm. The Orc responded with a backhand that sent Gerard flying.
Before Olle could observe the fight further the sound of trumpets resounded through the trees in front of him and a volley of arrows took the orcs in the rear. Soldiers on horses burst through the woods on either side of the orcs and began viscously lopping off heads and arms. Their leader a summoner in regal battle attire fired dual pistols with uncanny accuracy, while he unleashed daemons through the Orc ranks. One such daemon, a dragon with many heads, ran towards Olle. Shocking him out of his trance and made him remember his place in the conflict, the remaining soldiers smelled victory was at hand and redoubled their efforts. Olle charged the nearest green monster and stabbed it through the small of its back gutting it with a noticeable grunt.
Olle paused to see where he was needed but the human reinforcements had the orcs surrounded and fought with the skill of seasoned warriors. He noted that they were till armed with swords and spears, not a surprise really, muskets were only issued to elite units and new recruits. Olle then noticed and older man amongst them, his comrades deferred to him like an officer, and followed his orders to the letter. Yet he had no daemons and wore plain segmented plate over chain mail like all the others. He fought with hidden fury, his every strike a debilitated blow to his opponents; he then rode on allowing his comrades and the vengeful remnants of the 406th to finish the helpless orcs he left in his wake. Olle admired the daemonless summoner until a larger than normal Orc announced its presence behind him with a roar and William lost himself in the fight once more.
The orcs did not go down easy and fought until only the summoner was left, the Orc summoner was on its knees. It's daemon lay dead curled up as if trying to protect its master from further harm. It had been taken down by the combined might of two of its human opposites and their own daemons. It roared its rage and... Sorrow? Into the sky before getting up and limping feebly towards its human tormentors. William couldn't help but admire the beast as it finally fell dead, only a pace or two from its victorious foes.
"Thank you" spoke the summoner, turning to face Alphonso before falling on his face beside his vanquished foe. Blood pouring from numerous deep cuts in his battle plate, the Orc had fought hard before dying from its wounds. Alphonso turned the fallen summoner over before answering.
"You're welcome; tell me before you die what is your name? So that I may write to your family and tell them of your death."
"Lieutenant Gerard Von Kriegsspeil, first son of General Wolfgang Von Kriegsspeil" the man smiled a fierce pride filling his eyes. And with those words the mortally wounded summoner let out one more wracking breath and fell still.
William looked up to see the battered survivors of the 406th gathering around there rescuers, gazing with expressionless eyes at their dead commander. William sighed inwardly as he walked towards Alphonso who remained kneeling over his short lived comrade in arms. Now for the hardest part of any battle . . . the clean-up.
My second attempt at consolidating and revising Iron Forged once more any feedback would be extremely welcome. Don't forget to vote or comment if you enjoyed ; D