Archers. I shouldn’t have sent them all to my house, Almecho thought. They could have stayed and help cull the enemy numbers at the gate now that they were in flames and helpless.
The furniture had caught on fire and now there was a gigantic bonfire on both sides of the gate. Wood burned on one side, flesh on the other.
“Chief! They’re charging on horses!” one of the Twelve, Enash, yelled from atop the pillar column.
Almost immediately, several horses with hesh riders emerged from the wall of fire. They jumped out of their burning horses and charged at Almecho’s group of soldiers who stood a few meters away.
Almecho and Xalo moved immediately to intercept the savage beasts who had managed to ride through the fire. The Twelve jumped down to the wall and onto the ground and ran to support their Chief and the knight in red.
“Stay back!” Almecho shouted at the normal foot soldiers, dodging a falchion. He swung his arm, stabbing the orc in its thigh. It howled in pain as Almecho twisted his blade inside the creature’s flesh and pulled the blade out in a sweeping arc, leaving a large cut open from its thigh to its abdomen. “We’ll handle these. You kill any human that manages to get through that fire!”
Xalo had told Almecho earlier that iteys were creatures from the mountains. Those in Rachhas’ army had been bred by Rachhas specifically to survive hotter temperature of the lowlands. Still, they could barely handle the heat of the desert. Fire they could not tolerate at all and as long as the flames burned before the gate, they would not come through.
The hesh could not touch Xalo at all. He was too quick for them to hit him, especially with him using his power to give himself short bursts of speed. He was zipping around them in red flashes of light, pausing to either stab them or hit them with a fire imbued strike.
Almecho was having a harder time with the hesh. After his success in fatally wounding one of them a while earlier, he found himself swarmed by them. He could only dodge and parry their attacks but not counterattack. The Twelve were not faring any better. Though they outnumbered the number of hesh attacking them, they were individually weaker and thus at least two were required to match the strength of one hesh.
Almecho heard shouts as the foot soldiers rushed towards the gate – a few humans had managed to run past the flames. No iteys. He cursed as his momentary distraction allowed a hesh to graze his arm with its falchion.
“Can you manage yourself?” Xalo shouted as he mounted a hesh’ back and brought his dagger down on its neck. He moved his hand, slicing through the orc’s arteries and spilling dark green blood everywhere. He had managed to kill all the hesh that had surrounded him. “I will try to bottleneck the gate!”
“You will what the gate?” Almecho shouted back.
But Xalo had already run off. He swiftly killed the humans that had managed to get through, freeing the foot soldiers.
“Stand back!” he said. Then, taking in a long breath, he shot a stream of fire towards the gate opening. It wasn’t as long or as large as the attack he had used against the wall climbers earlier so it did not exhaust him as much. Those who had been brave enough to try to enter through the gate found themselves in direct line of Xalo’s attack. They died instantly, crushed between the hot gate, the fire, and their own troops trying to push them inside.
A few orcs managed to jump through the fire. But they were wounded from the flames and an order from Xalo to the foot soldiers saw them all killed almost as soon as they had entered.
How long could he maintain this? Xalo wondered. Could he continue like this, allowing the army a small window of time in which to pass through before stopping them at the gate with his power? Those who entered would be dealt with by Almecho and the soldiers. Let them inside in a steady but small stream. But that would mean only ten or so of the enemies would die every minute or so and there were still a thousand and a few hundred of them right outside the gate, waiting to get in. He could never keep this up for that long a duration.
“They’re on the wall!” a soldier exclaimed.
Xalo looked up without interrupting the stream of fire he was directing towards the gate.
He cursed.
The iteys had managed to climb up the wall. How had they done that with their giant fingers? Xalo squinted. No, they had smaller fingers. Had Rachhas forced the iteys to breed with–
They started jumping down on to the ground below, their weight cracking the sandstones. Humans, who had been hidden behind their backs, jumped out. They charged towards the foot soldiers who stood petrified.
Almecho saw the oncoming charge of iteys and humans towards his soldiers. Spears in hands, they seemed to have frozen in terror at the charging beasts. Behind the enemies, more iteys with humans on their backs and orcs started jumping down the wall. With the gate not a viable option, they had opted to climb the wall, however difficult it may be, to get inside Raganad.
“Run to the house!” Almecho ordered.
The foot soldiers turned and ran, followed closely by Almecho and the Twelve. Xalo, who had stopped his assault on the gate, joined them moments later, having ploughed through the enemies that hounded to get ahead and reach the retreating group.
“We need to gather as many of them in the house as possible!” Xalo said, out of breath.
Almecho nodded. This meant they would have to fight the army in his house until most of them had gathered there to execute Xalo’s plan. How many of the enemies were still left? A thousand? A thousand and a half?
Almecho glanced behind his back. Now that Xalo was no longer holding the gate, the enemy had swarmed in unhindered. He could see a large swarm rushing after them, shouting and roaring. They had been able to avoid serious casualties when the army had been outside. But they were inside now and that meant a lot of deaths perhaps including his own.
“Nimos! Shioul!” Almecho shouted.
The two of the Twelve nodded and broke off quietly from the group. With only an hour to prepare, Xalo had laid some basic traps along the path they ran on.
“Miall! Renor!”
Two more of the Twelve.
The group continued running.
Xalo and Almecho increased their pace, reaching the foot soldiers.
“Continue on ahead to the house. You know what to do,” Almecho said to the group. With a nod, he and Xalo broke off from the group as well, each ducking silently to an alley on either side of the path. The army would hopefully continue running after the group of men and not follow the six people who had broken off from the group.
The path they were on was straight and long. Xalo had had the Twelve lay three thick ropes perpendicularly across the paths at three different points. Each pair, Nimos and Shioul, Miall and Renor, and Xalo and Almecho would use the ropes to trip the army.
Almecho waited in the dark shadows of the alley, the thick rope in his hands. A few moments later, the street thundered and shook hundreds of feet ran on it.
Any second now.
A fireball shot up to the sky. Xalo’s signal.
Almecho gritted his teeth and pulled the rope taut. Across the street, in the alley directly opposite Almecho, Xalo did the same.
Almecho was lurched forward; he was incredibly strong but the force of hundreds pushing against the rope he held was not something he could overcome. The rope pulled free from his hands, leaving it red and sore. But it had done its job.
Rachhas’ troops tripped on the rope and fell forward with shouts and yells. Those who had been running close behind tripped on their comrades. More and more fell to the ground, the heavy hesh with the horses they were riding on and the iteys crushing the humans. The same action occurred at two other points on the path, the two pairs of the Twelve having done the same thing as Almecho and Xalo.
The proceeding army had effectively come to a halt.
Another fireball shot up to the sky. A signal for those who had executed the Xalo’s plan to retreat and a signal for the archers, sent ahead to their positions by Almecho, to release their arrows.
Almecho scrambled to his feet and started climbing to the roof of the house next to him amidst screams of the army as a volley of poisoned and blazing arrows fell on them. As he pulled himself up to the roof, he saw Xalo on a roof across the street, throwing fireballs at the army below.
Another volley of arrow fell. More screams.
A scraping sound came from below. Almecho looked over the edge of the roof and saw orcs and humans attempting to climb the house and reach him. A fireball hit them, causing them to crash to the ground below. Almecho looked across the street. Xalo was signalling for him to start running for the house.
Running across the roofs brought memories of the day before back to Almecho. He had run across these very roofs in his attempt to reach his father before the assassin struck. He had managed to do so yet the assassin had succeeded in her attempt to kill his father. This time, he ran to save his own life and, failing that, at least ensure the safety of the villagers who had vacated their homes and were on a journey to Goldwall.
That trap with the rope had done a marvellous job. The humans had been severely injured or killed by the weight of their larger comrades. Waves after waves of arrows had killed more of them. In less than five minutes, they had managed to more or less halve the population of Rachhas’ army that had survived their initial efforts.
Almecho looked to his side and saw Xalo throwing fireballs. Looking behind, he saw Miall, Nimos, Renor, and Shioul jumping across the rooftops while the orcs who pursued them tried to avoid fireballs Xalo threw at them. Had it not been for this man, the army would have caught up to them at the swamp and killed them all.
Xalo was getting tired. He had fought lengthy battles before but never against a large army. And certainly not like this, jumping across rooftops, fighting a dozen orcs at once, and pushing his powers to his limits. Still, he could not stop. One more trap lay at Almecho’s house. It was his big gamble – if that failed to work then they would have lost.
He continued tossing fireballs at any orc or itey he could see, ignoring the humans who could be dealt with by the others. Up ahead, he could see archers at their posts.
“To the house!” he shouted. Across the street, Almecho did the same to the archers on the other side.
Everyone was running in the same direction now.
At the very head of the race were the group of foot soldiers and the rest of the Twelve, followed by the archers who had descended down to the streets and ran close behind them. Up on the rooftops were Almecho, Xalo, and four of the Twelve, followed by angry orcs with burn wounds in pursuit. Even further behind, on the streets were the seven hundred or so of Rachhas’ army who had recovered from Xalo’s trap and were rushing forward in a maddened frenzy, looking forward to murdering the ones who had set them back so.
Gauld could not believe it.
Sixty horses carrying two people each rushed towards Raganad. Seventy soldiers and fifty other youths who had been adamant in returning to their home to help defend it.
Gauld had wanted to initially take only forty-nine men and now he was riding with a hundred and nineteen.
They were still a quarter of an hour away. Gauld could see that the army had breached the village but for some reason the dark mass looked smaller now than it did before. Could Almecho and the fighters he had with him been able to cull such a large population of the army?
Gauld kicked his horse, urging the beast to run faster.
Xalo landed at Almecho’s side, having jumped from across the street using his powers to launch himself high into the air.
“We’re almost at your house,” he said. He ducked underneath a rope that had clothes hung on it to dry as he ran past.
“Is your trap ready?” Almecho asked.
The two jumped across a small gap between the roofs, both landing with soft grunts.
“Yes. Now, we need to make sure most of them are inside for maximum devastation to their numbers.”
The pair jumped down to the street below. Nimous, Shioul, Renor, Miall joined them.
“I’ve instructed Nayez to organize everything inside. It might take a while. Until then, we keep these bastards busy,” Xalo said.
About fifty men joined them, with the same number of archers waiting on the roofs for support.
“Archers! Focus on the hesh!” Almecho exclaimed. He then turned to the foot soldiers. “You try to avoid the hesh and the itey. Xalo, I, and the Twelve will handle them,” he said, pointing to the four of the Twelve that stood beside him. “Focus on the humans. Clear?”
“Yes Chief!”
“Sir,” Renor spoke. Of the Twelve, he was the most learned in combat. Being of a mixed Second and First Order, he was also the strongest among the Twelve. “In case some of us do not survive,” he put his fist to his chest, “it has been an honour serving under you, even if for a very short time.”
Everyone else performed the same salute. Almecho returned the respect while Xalo merely watched in amusement.
“Seven hundred against a hundred and a dozen,” he muttered. Maybe the narrow street would mean they would have to fight only a small number at a time.
Rachhas’s army drew nearer.
Amelia could hear hoofbeats from drawing nearer.
She was at the north-gate, waiting with the archers that had been injured on the wall in the initial assault.
Her heart stopped at the sound of horses. Some of Rachhas’ army had found out about this other gate and had come here to enter. What should she do? What could she do against hesh as strong as Almecho? There were only five guards with her, not counting the injured archers.
“Is anybody at the gate?” came a shout from the other side.
The voice – it was human!
“It’s Gauld!” exclaimed one of the guards who was peering through the crack in the gate. The four other guards rushed to the gate and started pulling it open. Amelia joined their efforts to get the gate as wide open as possible.
“Amelia? Is that you? Are you okay?” Gauld asked. The horse he was on trotted nearer. The village doctor could see someone sitting behind the late Chief’s most trusted person. In fact, all the horses that had just arrived were carrying two people.
“I’m fine.” She paused, taking in a long breath. “Almecho he’s … he’s fighting them.”
“Where child?”
“Near his house.”
Gauld’s horse immediately took off, followed closely by fifty-nine other horses.
Amelia watched the sudden reinforcements rush in the direction of Almecho’s home.
Perhaps, they had a chance after all.
With the exception of Nayez, all of the Twelve had joined the battle. They and Almecho tried their best to keep the hesh and the iteys focused on themselves while the foot soldiers fought with the enemy human troops. Xalo was the only one who was managing to score kills among the two stronger species. The archers attempted their best to keep their aim focused on the large hesh, avoiding wounding or killing their own kin by accident.
The first death had occurred within a minute of their clash. A foot soldier had died after being cleaved in half by a hesh with a large falchion. Xalo had immediately set the hesh’ head on fire and it had been killed by an arrow to the head.
Within five minutes, twenty foot soldiers had died. Some of the enemy troops had begun climbing the buildings to attack the archers hiding on them.
For every orc Xalo killed, they killed two of the foot soldiers.
The army’s shouts grew louder. For all the humiliation they had suffered at the gate and a while ago while chasing their prey, they were going to inflict equal – no, double the amount of pain.
Forty foot soldiers were dead.
Twenty archers’ dead body lay crumpled on the ground where they’d been thrown off the buildings after being beaten to a bloody pulp.
Almecho was bruised and battered, bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth. The Twelve weren’t faring any better either. One of them, Mullakh, was fighting with a knife sticking out of shoulder. An enemy human, who now lay dead with a broken neck, had snuck up to him and stabbed him when he been busy fighting an itey. Xalo had a long bleeding gash across his chest from an orc’s falchion. The orc’s scorched body now lay on the ground.
Only ten minutes had passed since the fighting had begun.
Rachhas’ troops could see clearly that the defenders of this village were losing. If not for the confined area they fought in, the narrow street restricting them from attacking Almecho and his soldiers all at once, the fight would have been over in minutes.
Only a few more of the Raganad defenders were left. Others had fled, like the cowards they were.
“Retreat!” screamed Almecho.
On hearing the word, the enemy troops pressed forward even harder than before. Their humiliators were now on the receiving end, after all.
Xalo created a wall of flame to allow Almecho and the others to retreat before running behind after them. They had suffered heavy casualties. Of the hundred and thirteen who had faced Rachhas’ troops, only thirty eight now remained, fleeing to Almecho’s home where the final trap had been set.
The army ran after them hungrily, in a hurry to kill everyone they could see. To them, despite a minor setback in the beginning, the day had now been won.
Xalo and Almecho fell back intentionally, within hearing range of the army chasing them.
“Everyone flee!” Almecho shouted. “Save yourselves! We will hold off the enemy!”
The army had taken the bait. They ran faster, hooting and howling at their fleeing victims.
Xalo and Almecho slowed down and turned to face the army. All they needed was a few seconds so that the wounded archers and soldiers could get to safety.
Xalo fired a fireball, intentionally making it small to make it appear as if he had grown a lot weaker than he really was. Almecho stood a few paces behind, knowing that if he got surrounded he would most definitely die. The first to arrive at the duo were humans whom Almecho fought. Xalo ran past them, throwing weaker fireballs to the orcs and iteys.
They roared, the fire now annoying rather than hurting them.
Xalo slammed his hands down on the ground, palm outwards. A wall of flame erupted. But it was weaker, as he had intended, serving to only momentarily slow down the army.
He threw the enemy troops a scared glance, turned around and started running.
To Rachhas’ troops, he had finally given up and was retreating. They saw the other fighter watch the red haired knight run. He too had a scared expression on his face when he started running after his friend.
Xalo and Almecho ran as fast as they could.
The army had taken the bait.
Nayez and a few guards waited inside the house, at the far end. They could hear the army running, perhaps chasing their Chief and whoever had survived the fight, to the house as planned.
“Many of you will die,” Almecho had said. “Perhaps I will too. Those of you who do not wish to stay and endanger your life, go and wait at the north-gate. I will send Amelia to you; meet with her and go join the villagers. You have every right to save yourselves. However, if you stay, I need you to promise me – promise us – that you won’t turn on your heel and run off in the middle of a fight.”
Five of the guards had decided to leave. Almecho had personally bade them farewell, asking them to protect the villagers once they had met with the group in the swamp.
And many had died. The number of wounded and bleeding humans who had barged in were less than half the number who had been fighting alongside their Chief.
“They’re right behind us!” exclaimed Iyam, the youngest of the Twelve.
“Help carry the wounded outside!” barked Nayez as he rushed forward to carry Mullakh. His face had gone completely pale thanks to the stab wound on his side that was bleeding profusely. “Yalhim! Take Mullakh with you,” Nayez said, handing his severely wounded comrade to a stocky man. He watched the guards leave the house hurriedly with the wounded.
He then turned to the other ten of his friends. “Can you still fight?”
“We won’t win against them but we can surely stall them here for a while,” Nakhil answered. “Until the knight activates his final trap.”
Everyone nodded.
Behind them, Almecho and Xalo burst through the door.
Gauld and his reinforcements raced like the wind through the vacant streets. His old friend’s son was fighting with his life on the line to save the village. He would not allow Almecho to die.
He had failed in his duty to protect Ilalka.
He would not fail Almecho.
“Amelia, we must go,” the guard said.
Amelia looked longingly in the direction Gauld had rode off to. She wanted to join them but knew what Almecho had told her was true. The villagers would need her more.
But just in case they managed to survive …
Eleven strong soldiers, Xalo, and Almecho fought the enemy troops inside late Ilalka’s house.
“How much longer?” Almecho hissed.
Xalo jumped over the head of an orc to take a look outside the window. Yes, all the enemy troops had surrounded the home. More than half had even entered inside.
“Run! Run! Run!” he shouted.
Rachhas’ troops had been too preoccupied with their almost ensured victory to notice that Xalo was not using his powers inside the house. He was fighting using his dagger only, never going on the offensive and just defending himself.
And then, they howled when they heard Xalo shouting for his friends to run.
They did not notice Xalo throw an aimed fireball at a small bundle of clothes nearby.
Ilalka liked to celebrate his son’s birthday lavishly. For Almecho’s eightieth birthday, he had brought a massive amount of fireworks from Sherman for the party. It was a party gift to his son; he had planned to illuminate the entirety of Raganad with it to try and cheer his son up who seemed to be disturbed lately.
But now he was dead and all his fireworks had been stored away in a cold room in the basement.
Until, under Almecho’s orders, the Twelve had retrieved it to lay down Xalo’s final trap.
Under the bundle of clothes lay some of the biggest fireworks Sherman had ever produced. The gunpowder immediately ignited when Xalo’s fireball struck it. The sparks spread, spreading deep within the explosives. The heat increased until the fireworks couldn’t contain it anymore.
Everything exploded in a bright shower of sparks.
Shrapnel hidden with the fireworks spread in all directions, piercing the flesh of Rachhas’ troops. Fire engulfed the entire room, flooding out the window and igniting more hidden fireworks in the corridor.
A chain reaction spread through Ilalka’s house. Fire spread like water from a broken dam. Shrapnel dug through any obstacle in their path, be it flesh, wood, or sandstone. The fire and heat seared the skin off of the exposed humans and orcs, and set alight the fur of the iteys. Those closest to the fireworks had their insides turn to mush by the force of the explosion.
A second later a huge explosion shook Raganad.
ns 15.158.61.40da2
