Heroes of Magic and Might
Chapter 40 – The final stroke
…
A red sun dawned through the haze of rancid smoke. The battlefield sat, quiet as the grave, as it had been for nearly two hours. Bodies lay in heaps or strewn about as they'd died, blood turning the ground to stinking muck.
At the gates of the tower a lone figure sat on his knees, body propped against his sword to keep his face from falling into the mud. Within, two minotaur slept, and one naga lay stretched out across the floor. This was as far as any of them had gotten when the last retreat was called.
The death of the hydra, and the arrival of the water sprites had been a major turning point. It was all or nothing, wave after wave came and came seemingly without end.
The sprites proved their worth, holding the line better than the four of them could ever have hoped, that is until the last of the Ashe spellcasters started chucking fireballs. The blazing spells turned water to vapor, killed sprites and reduced their lake to a tiny pond before Harry could call them back and get his shield between them.
They were reduced to six when Cherry and Heddy flew down with the other bottle. The Ashe spellcaster was killed shortly after they were safely ensconced and taken away by the fairy and the owl. The witches with their smaller cauldron were still more powerful than the lone spellcaster and he wasn't prepared for the bolt of lightning that struck out of a clear blue sky.
That made the witches the only spellcasters on the field. Harry was too weak for magic, staying to his sword which he was not all that skilled with but, as he discovered, this was of little consequence. Skill and finesse were fine for a duel, a little one on one or even three on one.
In the crush, there was no skill, no finesse, only hack, slash, and stab. He did all three, egregiously.
The orc's attacked with frenzied fury and Harry, Boren, and Charlie returned it in kind. Kali alone seemed to maintain some semblance of decorum in her attack, though that didn't stop her from cursing profusely on numerous occasions when they piled onto her tail.
The battle had spanned the entire day, continued past sunset and into the night when fires were lit all around to see by. Most of the things on the field set alight were dead bodies, which filled the air with the reek of meat, pork unsurprisingly.
Two hours before dawn, they had called for retreat, and that was it. There'd been little sound from the invading camp since and the frontline fighters had retreated to the gate itself where they'd all collapsed under the watchful eye of the invisible Bill Baggs.
Now, as a blood red morning dawned, weary and haggard, the wizard stirred.
"Just five more minutes."
Not because he wanted to, but a blood red sun was no less demanding or intrusive than those found on clear mornings with no murder in their dark past.
Words were all he managed at first. The tank was empty, past empty. He'd been running for hours on nothing but adrenaline and the overwhelming desire to stay alive. Now the sword was the only thing keeping him semi-erect. Even the sound of voices behind him couldn't elicit a reaction.
"How are they?"
"Still breathing. Beyond that though…"
"Nanny's got food. We need to wake them."
A pair of hands gripped his shoulders, and the barely conscious wizard was tilted back against a small body.
"Who is it?" he asked, the world a blur, even up close.
"It's Gabby. Did I wake you?"
"Not sure," about much. "How is—everyone?" he asked with a wheezing sigh.
"Our green boys are all still here. Little battered, little bruised, dead tired, but alive. The kobolds didn't fare so well."
"How many?"
"We're down to ten. That gives us twenty on the wall plus the witches and me."
"Mm, more than enough."
He felt her chuckle against his back, the swift exhale against his ear, "I appreciate the vote of confidence," she said.
Harry just smiled; it took fewer muscles.
"Any sign of—of the lizardmen? Rosebud?"
Her lack of response was response enough, even for his addled brain. No sign of backup. No one coming to save them. Strangely, he didn't feel upset about it. Feeling would have required energy that he did not have.
"Did I hear something about food?"
… The last breakfast
It had been a long time since Harry could remember being hungry enough to eat like Ron. The broth was thin, and the meat was barely cooked, and it was all the most delicious thing he'd ever put in his mouth.
Around the table the others were going at it in similar fashion. Boren and Charlie had forgone any semblance of humanity and were eating straight out of their own cauldron while Kali simply poured bowl after bowl down her throat.
Only Bill was using his utensils, and this was only in an effort to shovel the food into his mouth faster.
"Always nice to know when people like my cookin," said Nanny as she carried another cauldron up to the walls for the last of the defenders.
"Don't eat so fast, you'll throw up," Marigold chided, a chide that fell on deaf ears.
The next to speak did not, "Wizard! A word."
Harry eyed the old witch giving him a very McGonagall look, then considered his stew. His stomach informed him it was more than full enough for now; he should go and see what she wanted.
Rarely one to argue with his stomach, out loud, he left the table and followed Granny into the hall, just inside the gate. "Well?"
"Don't you well me," she retorted instantly. "After all the death you've caused, don't you dare 'well' me."
"I've caused? I thought you didn't like the Ashe."
"I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about ours. Do you know how many of our kobolds have died fighting your little war?"
"Yes," he said. "Gabby told me," at a time when he was too tired to really think or feel anything about it.
"Oh, did she?" the old woman snapped. "And did she also tell you we are completely out of ammunition? Every arrow, rock, pebble, all gone. We've nothing left to throw at them!"
"So it's down to melee," said Harry, not really seeing the problem. He'd been fighting pure melee all night long.
It was clear by the way her face contorted this was not what she wanted to hear. "YOU!... you just…"
"Look," he cut her off before she could dig through her fury and find her words. "I didn't ask for this. But I chose to fight, and I'm not about to try and run now."
"And what about the rest of us!" she demanded. "We did not choose to fight this fight and it is we who have paid most dearly for your fight!"
He was shocked at the accusation, but he didn't let it show. He'd understood from the outset he couldn't fight alone. Some part of him accepted there would be death, whether he liked it or not. The best he could do was make sure most of it was on the other side.
"What do you expect me to do?" he asked.
"Seal the gate. Abandon the walls. There's nothing here worth dying over."
"And you think that would work?" he said. "Just run and hope they don't catch us."
"Some of us might make it," she said. "As it stands, there's nothing left in them to give. It won't be a fight; it'll be a slaughter. Would you really do that to them?"
He snorted derisively at her tactic. He was beyond shaming at this point. It might have worked at the beginning, but not now.
"If they want to go, they can go," he said, "I'll not ask anyone to do anything I'm not willing to do myself."
She took a reflexive step back, the cold evenness of his tone startling her, but she rallied quickly, "You tell them then. You tell them!"
Marching up the stairs he turned to the right and stepped onto the walls. The sight that greeted him nearly broke his heart. The twenty remaining defenders sat together, heads hung, weary and drawn. He was amazed at how small they all looked, how frail.
Was this his doing? Was he responsible for this?
He nearly flinched when the first one saw him. It was good that he didn't, he would have missed a truly magnificent transformation.
The goblin seemed to swell, eyes going wide, lips curling up. The others seemed to sense the change, then all eyes were on him and the change swept over them.
Like children meeting their first Santa Claus they swarmed, faces full of joy turned up at the wizard who stood stone still in shock.
"Boss!"
"You're here!"
"You see that lot!"
"We really gave it to'em didn't we!"
On and on they went like chattering children. All the exhaustion that had hung on them like old drapes was gone, vanished like magic. They cheered, they beamed, they exuded such life Harry himself began to feel it seeping into him.
"Alright boys, easy," he said, chuckling at their antics. "I'm glad to see you all too."
That simple remark set off a whole new round of beaming and he noted every tail that had a tail was wagging up a storm.
The excitement was palpable, it ran through them like lightning. The kobolds were so ecstatic they began barking like puppies which made the goblins laugh which made the kobolds laugh.
The sight of it made his heart swell. These were his men, his men. An odd thought perhaps, not one he'd ever had before, but in that moment, it felt perfectly natural to say. These were his men, he was their leader, and that meant something.
"Fight's not over yet," said Harry. "You boys ready?"
"We're ready to fight boss."
"Yeah, we got this."
"Let'em come!"
Harry smiled, "You keep'em off my wall."
All nodded and shouted their ascent.
"We won't let you down."
"We're gonna win, right boss?"
"Of course we're gonna win," said Harry, "what else would we do?"
"Lose."
The old witch stood glaring from the doorway, her presence as much as her words bringing the mood crashing down. Harry was having none of that.
"Lose? Loooooooose? Sorry, don't think I'm familiar with that one, but maybe if you hum a few bars."
And just like a rock that was turned into a balloon, the mood shot back up under a raucous laughter. Harry left them, approaching the old witch and her ferocious scowl.
"Not the reaction you were hoping for?"
Clearly not. "You think this changes anything?" she whispering growled. "There's twenty of them, and hundreds still out there. You can't change that. This only ends one way."
"Maybe it does," said Harry, brushing past the angry old woman. "And if that's the case, I'll see it to that end."
"You'll die!"
"It's possible," he acknowledged. "Perhaps it's been a long time coming."
Death had haunted his steps as far back as he could remember. Since before he could remember.
"Well you may have a death wish but some of us would like to live."
"Then go. I won't stop you."
Nor would he look back as he trotted down the stairs, leaving the old witch to her own devices.
Gabby was sitting by the gate latch when he returned to ground floor. She looked at him expectantly, "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Are we fighting?"
"Of course we're fighting," said Harry. "How else are we going to win."
She shook her head, smiling gently at his bravado. "You really think we can?"
"I have to. The moment I start thinking we can't, I'm dead. I can't think it, I won't. We'll win. We will win."
"You—you sound so sure," she mumbled, staring at the floor, her cheeks slowly filling with color.
"I'm the leader," he said. "I'm not aloud to doubt. Right or wrong, I have to stand by my decisions, and I've decided to fight."
"Then—then, I'll fight with you," she said. "I've decided I'll fight with you!"
Her declaration was so earnest he couldn't help but smile. She wasn't done though, gesturing him down to her level, and when he acquiesced, grabbing his head, and pressing her lips against his.
He hadn't been expecting that.
"What—what was that for?"
"Just in case I don't get a chance to do it later," she said, cheeks glowing bashfully.
"You choose now of all times to do this to me!" he shouted, failing to see the humor which made her laugh. "Well, just for that, you're not allowed to die. So there."
Leaving the giggling goblin girl, he stomped over to the other side of the hall. Squatting down, he opened his pack and began rummaging through it. He couldn't actually think of anything inside that might change the situation, but it was something to do. And he was surprised by what he found, not because he thought it would change much, simply that he'd forgotten it was in there.
The wooden serpent stared spitefully, just as it had since he'd first seen it. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago, thinking back. When they'd first arrived, the Slytherins, the giant serpent. It wasn't even half a year, but it felt like a decade.
How much had he changed in so little a time? Enough to look at the snotty serpent and see potential, but potential that would need to be courted carefully.
Gripping the wooden serpent just below the head, he drew his wand and turned his hand to stone, then, just for good measure, his forearm. With his grip established, he waved his wand, and the serpent came to life; hissing, spitting life.
The creature was incoherent with fury, writhing like a bull whip gone mad, yet within Harry's stone grip, completely unable to escape.
"Be still!" Harry commanded. "You are a long way from your swamp and if you ever want to see water again you will be still and listen. There is not much time."
… A fine day to die
The army was fully arrayed when they strode onto the field. The gate clanging closed behind them had a ring of finality. No surrender, no going back.
"It's a nice day to die," Boren mused as they strode between the crude walls, his goedendag slung over his shoulder swaying with every step.
"Most people saying that would sound more severe," Kali remarked as she slithered along.
"I ain't most people," said the minotaur. "I ain't afraid to die."
"You cast away your life, so cavalier," the serpent girl accused.
"Don't know what that means," the minotaur admitted unabashedly. "We all gotta die. I can think of worse ways to go than this. What about you Charlie?"
The other minotaur shrugged. It was silly to expect more, they all knew it, so they didn't.
"If it's all the same," said Harry, "I think I'll save my dying for some other day."
"I second that," said Gabby, marching on his left.
"All in favor," said Bill, raising his hand.
"You really sure you want to be out here Bill?" the goblin girl asked.
"Of course," the Elwin replied. "I've been sitting back there watching all this time. This is my last chance to participate."
"Try not to get stepped on little man," Boren joked.
"If I do it'll be my sword going through their foot," the Elwin said cheerfully, drawing a great guffaw from the minotaur.
At the head of the opposing force two Ashe sat upon their horses. Lyraka at the lead, and the other female behind her.
"Give us the wizard!" Lyraka shouted in a magnified voice. "Give us the wizard, and the rest of you may live."
Numerous snorts of disbelief sounded around Harry, but the real disdain came from the wall.
"PULL THE OTHER ONE!"
Those on the walls broke into laughter, but Harry was too shocked to laugh. "Was that who I think it was?"
"Wasn't expecting that," Boren agreed.
"Good grief," Charlie opined.
"She's really not so bad," said Gabby. "She comes off harsh, but she really does care."
He considered the goblin, gave a glance to the wall where the angry old witch stood glaring at the opposing army like that alone would be enough to send them running. Wishful thinking, though it might work better if they could see her.
Lyraka fumed atop her horse; drawing her sword she signaled the attack.
All together ranks of orcs charged. Perhaps two hundred of them thundered over the corpses of their fallen brethren, some making for the walls, two full units heading for the ground defenders.
"One more time," said Harry, drawing his sword and giving it a quick scrape across his stone hand.
"You gonna be alright there?" asked Boren as the orcs bore down on them.
"Sure, why do you ask?"
"Well, it's not supposed to be that color is it?" he said, gesturing to his eyes, ringed in ominous orange. "That and, the belt."
Harry grinned, "Don't worry about 'the belt'," he said. "As for the eyes," no, they weren't supposed to be that color, "My magic is just low. Nothing fancy today."
"Hmm, well, if you're sure."
Hefting his weapon, the minotaur began a slow trot that turned into a rushing charge. Charlie followed in similar fashion and together the minotaur hit the oncoming force, smashing through them with horn and hammer, sending them into disarray for the others.
"Let's go!"
Kali whipped forward ahead of the other three and put her blades to work. Harry was close behind, making a leaping lunge, sinking his sword into a stumbling orc followed by his feet, riding him to the ground.
Bill and Gabby arrived as a unit and went to work at the lower levels. Gabby was carrying a pair of war hammers with curved spikes and she tore through the enemy, smashing feet, legs, kneecapping anything that got too close before finishing them off with the spike.
Bill took a similar tact, easily ducking under his enemies and stabbing up, not the traditional attack vector and one the orcs were not well suited to defend against.
Things were going surprisingly well for them, till they appeared. The boar-men vaulted over the failing orcs, going for the minotaur. There was at least a dozen, which was worth more than both the units they'd just been slaughtering.
Harry shoved aside another corpse and was just about to jump to his friends aid when something caught him around the neck and pulled.
He hadn't even seen the rope, or the rider as she galloped past and yanked him off his feet. His sword was lost as he tried to pull himself up the rope, or at least gain enough slack to breath.
His trip was short, and he was roughly deposited a few feet from Lyraka and her steed. The rope was released, and the other Ashe cantered around behind her as she stared down at him with vindictive glee.
"At last, where you belong, at my feet," she crowed.
"Do all you Ashe women have such weird fetishes?" said Harry, tossing the rope aside and rolling to his feet.
"Still you jest. You are defeated wizard. Even now my men swarm over your walls and slaughter the worthless filth that followed you."
He dared to look and his heart nearly broke, finding her words to be true. Orcs and boar-men swarmed up ladders and over the walls. Their numbers were so great he couldn't even see the top of the walls.
"Serves them right, for following a fool to battle."
Her words cut deep, not the calling him a fool, he'd heard that too much for it to hurt anymore. But they had followed him, they were his men, and now they were dead, and it was his fault.
The rings around his eyes flared from light orange to dark red when he raised his hand and summoned his lost sword to it. The weapon flew to the waiting hand and he pointed his weapon at the smirking woman.
"You would challenge me, with a sword?"
Her tone suggested she found the entire idea laughable, but she was not the sort to laugh at such things.
Hopping off her horse, she drew two long, thin, curved blades. The way she held them spoke of endless practice, ease and comfort, not mere weapons but extensions of her arms, extensions with sharp edges and stabby points.
"Lyraka! She want's him alive," the other Ashe warned.
"Alive doesn't mean he has to be whole," she said dismissively. "I'll leave the parts she wants."
"I think your mother needs to get out more," said Harry. "Maybe take up a hobby, I hear knitting is very relaxing."
"More jokes," she said, shaking her head. "Let's see you joke without your tongue."
Shooting forward she swung both swords simultaneously. The movement came so natural, so quick, he was hardly able to block. Steel slid across steel as his sword parried one, leaving him open to the second. Steel ground against stone as his petrified arm, acting as a shield, knocked away the other.
She may not have been expecting his second parry, but it failed to slow her. A spike heeled boot slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. A quick roll and he was back on his feet, charging forward before she could strike again.
What followed could hardly be called a fight. The difference in their skill level was clear to both but Harry never relented and kept pressing the attack. This proved little more than an amusement for Lyraka.
"Come on. That's it. Keep going. Oh, almost. Better luck next time. Oop, watch out for that rock."
Her taunting was childish and not terribly original. Snape had been better. He easily blocked her out, but it did little good. She was still dancing around him like he was wearing cement shoes, humoring him only because it entertained her, till it didn't.
"Is this really all you can do? Pitiful."
In a series of movements too fast for him to see his sword was wrenched from his hand and his feet sent up over his head. He crashed to the ground hard, slamming down on his knees which screamed in protest so loud it shot up his body and out his mouth.
Lyraka laughed at his suffering, "Wonderful landing. Wonderful. Aw, does it hurt. Don't worry, you won't have to feel them for much longer."
She sauntered toward him, swords hanging loosely at her sides, and Harry waited to spring his last surprise with the other Ashe called out, "Lyraka! The walls!"
"What!"
Fighting through the pain, he tilted to his side so he could see, and he had to look again just to believe it. Atop the walls orcs were being hurled over the sides in huge numbers. Those not yet atop the wall were turning around with all due haste.
A slow grin spread across Harry's face when the light caught and glinted off a scaly hide, quickly joined by others as the lizardmen lined his walls and began firing arrows into the retreating orcs.
"They came," I can't believe it.
Neither could Lyraka, "No. No, NO, NO!" she screamed, returning her attention to him, "I don't know how you did it, but they won't be able to save you!"
"Maybe not," he said as she drew within striking distance, "but maybe they don't need to."
Hissing his command, his 'belt' leapt from his waist, striking with true serpent speed and clamping its jaws on his attacker's throat. Like any living thing that suddenly found a serpent attached to their neck, Lyraka panicked.
Her swords fell to the ground and she grappled the serpent, pulling and prying at its mouth.
The other Ashe appeared conflicted but made some attempt to help by going after Harry. On pained and wobbly knees, the wizard grabbed a fallen sword and used it to ward off the half-hearted attempt. The Ashe was unimpressed by his attacks, but her horse was taking him seriously, shying away from his flailing against the riders wishes.
In the end it was for naught; with an agonized scream, Lyraka wrenched the serpent free and threw it away before it could get ahold of anything else. The bite marks bled freely, but this did not appear to do anything more than anger her.
"YOU! You rotten, sneaky little bastard!" she screamed. "I don't care what she wants. I'm going to take you apart and feed you to the orcs!"
"Not today I think."
The voice came out of nowhere and the hand followed just as quickly. Lyraka had barely turned when she found her armor, and the chest beneath it, pierced by a dainty hand attached to an equally dainty looking little girl hiding under a crude parasol.
The two locked eyes, Lyraka disbelieving what she was seeing, the vampire grinning wickedly.
"I remember you," she said. "I should have done this the last time I saw you."
She pulled her hand free, made a delicate jump and a decapitating kick that sent the Ashe's head spinning into the underbrush.
"Rosebud."
"Hello Harry," the vampire grinned. "Sorry we're a little late. I had to politic."
Harry smiled, then began to laugh, "That's why I sent you," he said.
Then the rings turned red, and consciousness fled.
