Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

Jod had learned the new discipline and methods well from Golgren, and he had passed on his knowledge to his subcommanders. Thus, the officer in charge not only prepared a force to go out to meet the intruders, but also set the city’s defenses into motion.

When the enemy did show itself, it was not one that any of the defenders expected. The ogres were clad just as they were, and many recognized the hand to which the attackers belonged. But if there had been any question as to whether their fellows were a threat or not, that was answered by the Uruv Suurt marching among their ranks. Ogres and minotaurs did not march together unless one was the slave of the other, or both served the same taskmaster. The only time they had ever joined forces before had been due to Golgren himself, and that alliance was long dead.

But someone else had evidently forged a new one. The ogres did not march as servants of the horned ones, nor did the legionaries look at all ill at ease in the company of their former masters.

“Pikes!” growled the officer in charge, sending up ranks of warriors to the forefront. Like Jod, he had fought against and alongside the Uruv Suurt in the past. But his ogre fighters would form ranks as neat as any human knight or Uruv Suurt legionary. Behind the pike wielders formed ranks bearing swords, axes, and clubs; and behind them, archers-more archers than had ever been counted among an organized force of ogres. Jod had absorbed Golgren’s teachings as if they came from the gods. Archers had slain more ogres than any other enemy tactic. Ogres, therefore, needed to train at archery. They were not as skilled as Uruv Suurt, but they were competent.

There were not only a surprising number of archers among those massing to meet the enemy, but they dotted the walls of Sadurak too. There were also catapults-a device “borrowed” from the Uruv Suurt-lined up at the walls above. Jod had spent many hours training their users until he felt they were able to fire with the utmost accuracy.

Huge forms suddenly strode over the horizon. That the enemy had brought mastarks was no surprise. The defenders had mastarks, too, at least as many, and they were as well trained as mastarks could be.

The warriors were ready. The enemy was nearly in position. But Jod’s officer had no intention of leading his fighters out to confront them. Golgren had taught his followers to bide their time and let the prey come to them, just as a good predator did. The easiest victim was the one who believed there was nothing to fear. They were the ones who stepped into the jaws of the meredrake.

And the newcomers appeared to be over eager. The blood of the traitors and their Uruv Suurt allies would soon drench the parched soil.

Surprisingly, the enemy began spreading out, creating a great wide arc that thinned their ranks in such a manner that the archers’ volleys would surely be less effective. However, the defenders were not yet concerned. Many would still perish, and those on the ground would deal with the rest as they battered themselves against the defenses of the city.

Among the enemy, a horn suddenly blared. The first lines started forward.

They were close enough. The senior officer raised his fist. Atop the walls, one of the trumpeters sounded the signal.

The archers aimed. A breath later, a second, longer blast sounded.

The ogre archers fired. The air filled with a shrill whistling sound as hundreds of arrows rose up and descended toward the oncoming traitors and invaders.

Suddenly there arose a burst of wind so wild and furious that it raised a dust storm blinding the defenders. The ogres on the walls coughed harshly as their lungs filled with dust.

And the coughs suddenly turned into pained cries as arrows pierced many throats, many chests. Warriors on the walls fell dead, and several in other areas perished.

They had been slain by their own arrows. The wind had been no sudden fluke. Several of the defenders growled anxiously. They knew magic and its insidious potential. The surviving officers immediately roared orders to the milling ranks, seeking to herd them together into an organized body. They beat the warriors on the heads in order to make certain that their fear of disobeying orders outweighed their fear of anything else.

Even as the defenders reorganized, a great roar was heard from the enemy, one that those protecting Sadurak readily recognized. The attackers had signaled their charge.

The officer in command gestured for another volley of arrows. He had no choice under the circumstances.

A less cohesive flight of arrows shot out among the oncoming fighters. Several of the defenders bared their teeth as the bolts neared the enemy. No wind arose. Not that time.

But with fine precision, both the ogres and Uruv Suurt raised their shields toward the flight. Arrows bounced off the rounded shields, raising a great clatter but creating little damage. A few fell earthward, but hardly any made a difference.

The enemy fired. Their arrows all but blackened the sky. The senior officer stared at his fighters, who were still trying to reorganize. “Shields!” he roared. “Shields!”

Some belatedly raised their shields, but most did not notice the danger soon enough.

The bolts decimated the front lines. There had been no need for magic; the Uruv Suurt archers were exceptional.

It was too late to order the force back into Sadurak, for the enemy was close. Worse, the defenses on the walls were disorganized and in no shape to come to their comrades’ aid.

At that moment, a sound like thunder erupted from just within the city. Two of the catapults had fired, their commander evidently having managed to whip his crews into swift action.

The minotaurs were said to have a variety of missiles to cram into their catapults, but ogres used only the most basic loads. The huge boulders went soaring overhead and dropped on the enemy.

They struck the traitors and the legionaries hard, crushing several and sending many other fighters flying in the air. The massive rocks struck the ground and rolled. A third fired, and with the catapults the defenders hopes rose again.

“Ranks!” Jod’s second growled. “Ranks!” The single word commands were best for his warriors, many of whom were not as well versed in Common as their leader. They understood him well enough, though, and did their best to regain some semblance of order.

And just in time.

Blades clashed against blades, and new screams arose as the attackers struck his lines hard. The lead ogre signaled the mastarks forward, deciding he had no chance to keep them in reserve. The gargantuan beasts eagerly lumbered into the struggle. They immediately lowered their helmeted heads and thrust their great, curled tusks into the advancing enemy. With but a shake of their huge heads, they each bowled over several warriors at a time.

But almost immediately, two of the mastarks were surrounded by fighters with spears who seemed as though they had been waiting for just that opportunity. One mastark was speared several times in the space of a few moments; even such a powerful beast could not suffer so many wounds without failing. The mastark stumbled and dropped to one knee, as its assailants continued to pierce it. The animal managed to knock away a few opponents with its long, serpentine trunk, but even that was speared over and over until soaked with blood.

The handler and guard atop the creature tried to keep the enemy at bay, but an arrow slew the former, leaving the guard to try to control the mastark himself. Because he was not as familiar with the animal as the chief handler, the guard’s efforts only provoked further confusion in the mastark. Bleeding, uncertain as to what the one controlling it wished for it to do, the huge creature stumbled around on three legs. As it turned, it collided with the mastarks on its own side.