24 - The Battle Raged On

Reed found the way out easily, stopping only long enough to breathe in the considerably fresher air; war, after all, did taint even the sweetest scents.

He checked if any guards were nearby. The last thing he needed was for them to think he was up to no good and detain him – or worse. The area was clear.

Thankfully, the landscaping of the gardens meant the wall which the rogues had crossed wasn't as high from the Keep's side. He ran up the incline to the wall and propelled himself forward, zig-zagging his way at the corner until he could reach up and grab the railings. Testing their makeshift rope was still secure, he lowered himself down - back onto the subjects' side of the royal residence.

Pressed against the stone, he could hear the distant boom of catapults' ammunition hitting the defence wall. The confusing din of defenders shouting and screaming also carried on the air as once again they worked hard keeping their city secure. Inwardly, he sighed, disappointed their night's work had not managed to disarm all of the Horde's engines of war. The only appeasement being it did not seem to be quite as constant as it had the day before.

He raced through the otherwise deserted streets; those citizens not able to fight had again, no doubt, been ordered to stay indoors, if possible retreat to cellars for safety. A shiver ran up Reed's spine. Somehow, the ominous stillness of the inner city had a prophetic feel about it. It seemed the scars of war did not pertain to merely the physical consequences, but also to an underlying sense of doom, dread. He cursed under his breath. This was no time to conjure up fanciful horrors, the real ones were bad enough.

The sounds of battle intensified as he drew nearer the gate tower. The downpour did nothing to abate the Horde's incessant assault with fire-riddled ammunition crossing the wall. Only those slamming onto the cobbles were eventually doused by natural means, others required the intervention of the defenders. Flames licked their way around buildings again, their burning fingers laying claim to contents and structures alike – no mercy. Giant rocks rained down on the burning buildings taking advantage of their weakened state and causing them to crumble, become ruins.

Reed continued to run, dodging burning bodies and crossing over piles of rubble. The rain was now persistent and he had to shield his eyes against it to try to find Sa'themar and the rogues amid the soldiers. He scanned the plaza, ducking as some fiery missiles hurtled through the air and impacted on already burning structures. He noted some of the springalds had taken damage. His heart lurched as he saw the gate move inwards. It held, but it wouldn't be long before it was breached.

Still he searched for his Crimson Blade comrades and finally, he found them. He ran over to Brett who was aiding in dousing fires. "Where is Sa'themar?" he gasped.

Brett jutted his chin to the battlements. "Up there beside the king."

Reed turned but Brett shouted him back. "I take you found a way in?"

"Yes. But, the orcs are about to make their own way in. I need to get to Sa'themar."

"Go on then, boy. He will let us know what he wants us to do."

The young rogue reached the stairs and bounded up, slipping on a few but regaining his footing. The thud and thwack of the ballistae sounded from atop the battlements, weapons-masters working tirelessly to keep the giant crossbows armed. Others were emptying barrels of oil into the huge cauldrons to cast over the orcs below. The open braziers were being doused by the rain though and panic was setting in at the lack of fire available to set the oil alight.

Roars heard from over the wall now depicted the orcs were directly outside the city wall. The clash of steel sang as they now seemed to be using their weapons to attack the gates as well as a battering ram.

Reed reached Sa'themar who was in urgent discussions with Belo'vir. The magister swiftly moved aside gathering his mages and instructing some to use magic to set the oil alight. Others were positioned along the parapet and ramparts, ordered to cast their sorcery over the wall at the encroaching orcs. The air soon hissed with the sounds of fire and arcane magic.

Sa'themar, oblivious of Reed's presence, accompanied the king to the edge of the parapet. The boy followed close behind and dared to glance over as well. They assessed the effectiveness of the mages attacks - it was at least putting a dent in the enemy's assault. But, the siege towers had started to move forward as the excavating of paths to the wall was made easier by the heavy rain.

The guild master shouted on Belo'vir and pointed out the approaching towers. The mage smirked and rallied more of his sorcerers. En masse their incantations produced frost and ice which they cast at the sodden earth. The orcs progress to the wall was hindered once more by the newly frozen ground. It would be an ongoing enchantment, however, nature itself was against them making the ice melt.

The guild master turned and at that point noticed Reed standing beside him. His face instantly paled on seeing the young rogue. "Tell me!" he demanded.

"We found a way in but the orcs are almost through, in fact, they may have already succeeded. Sauren and Don are still inside. "

The guild leader's eyes flashed and Reed saw fear pass over his face. He turned to the king. "Your Majesty," Sa'themar said drawing the monarch's attention from the battle below.

King Terenas stepped closer and glanced at Reed then fixed Sa'themar with a tenacious and noble countenance. "What is it, Sa'themar?"

"I make no apologies but I sent my son to locate a way under the city. He and two young rogues have found the way in. Reed, here, has reported back the orcs are on the brink of getting through."

The king's eyes narrowed. "No apologies needed, Sa'themar, I would have expected nothing less under the circumstances. I did take on board what your son said and have deployed soldiers in the catacombs. Gather your resources and head down, we will ..." The sound of a horn coming from the north-east stopped Terenas in mid-sentence. The king smiled broadly. "Our reinforcements have arrived!"

As all eyes turned in the direction of the horn, the king removed his ring and covertly handed it to Sa'themar. "This will grant you unhindered entry, the boy there will no doubt lead you down into the bowels of the Keep." He stepped back. "Go! We will continue to defend from here."

Word of the timely arrival of the alliance armies soon spread among the defenders and a remarkable shift in mood resulted. Sa'themar quickly spoke with Belo'vir again, explaining what he needed to do. The magister instantly called forth a few of his mages. They were to accompany the guild leader, the others including himself would remain on the battlements. Sa'themar nodded his appreciation and descended the stairs.

He found Brett, Alaen and Lina and ordered the young mage to fetch the rogues from the complex. They were to meet him outside the Keep. Reinforcements or not, he needed everyone back ready to fight. Alaen teleported immediately.

The gate creaked and groaned as the enemy tried to forge forward again. It was only a matter of time, their desperation would have peaked now with the announcement of Turalyon and his army approaching. Brett and Lina nodded in agreement saying they would keep a squad at the gates ready for the fight.

Sa'themar was more than pleased when he arrived in front of the Keep to find a portal forming. Yathas stepped out of its centre, followed by the rogues who had been rallied by the young mage. The guild leader could not contain his pride as he looked upon his colleagues. For all they were still tired and recovering from injury, there was a spark in everyone's eyes – they were ready and would fight to the death to prevent the city from falling.

Reed made to climb the rope, but Sa'themar detained him by placing a hand on his shoulder. He held up the ring to the boy's questioning eyes. "This will allow us through the main gate. I take it you will know your way from there?"

Reed grinned. "Yes, Sir."

The guards at the entrance stood aside as the guild leader explained the group's task and showed them the royal signet. Reed then led the way, rogues and mages following closely behind.

They poured out into the under city, momentarily in awe of the vastness of the place, but their attention was soon grabbed by the sound of roars further into the tessellation of tunnels, chambers and bridges. The young rogue started off in the direction he had left his friends, Sa'themar and the others in quick pursuit.

Sauren and Don remained where Reed had left them and they materialised in front of the approaching squad. Relief swam across both the young rogue's and Sa'themar's faces.

The half-elf looked at his father, an unspoken need evident in his eyes.

"You have done well. Your tactical thinking is indeed commendable." Sa'themar said maintaining steady eye-contact with his son. A flicker of a smile played on Sauren's lips. Sa'themar moved closer, whispering, "And you have no idea how relieved I am to see you are unharmed."

Sauren nodded acknowledgement and quietly added, "I hope I am still intact once this fight is over."

The guild leader fought an urge to bite at such a comment for he knew it stemmed from his fear of losing his son - very much a prominent concern now that he was no longer safe within protective walls. Instead, he simply forced a smile and signalled for the troupe to move forward.

A little closer to the fray he told the mages and priests to remain where they were; the opposite side of the river to the where the skirmish ahead sounded. He would need their skills when the pending battle spilt out into the nexus of the metropolis. Their magic and healing would be best applied from a distance, hopefully reducing the risk to their own safety. The rogues then pressed on, across a bridge.

No sooner had they reached the other side but alliance soldiers spilt out from one of the tunnels, their armour bloodied, one or two with armguards, breastplates and helms battered or even just hanging by their fastenings.

The rogues, all synchronised, instantly melded into the shadows and took up positions at the entrance of the tunnel and further back, fanning out to capture the advantage over the enemy.

Within moments, the enormous, fierce warriors from Draenor charged out, growling and roaring, swords and axes swinging.

The orcs were so huge and powerful, even a highly skilled rogue in this environment would be sore pressed to take one alone. The enemy was in full battle-mode and their weapons were wielded with alarming ferocity. Even though they did not wear much in the way of armour as did the alliance soldiers or even the rogues, to land an effective blade in such bulk would require precision and a degree of strength. That exercise had also proved tiring, as many of the rogues experienced from the previous night.

What Sauren had deduced from witnessing the fights against them out in the battlefield, was simply trying to slice the muscle-bound beasts was folly. With an insane amount of endurance, they took many bladed attacks before their strength waned. His method, on the other hand, had been swift and most effective. Whether he had been merely fortunate at employing such a tactic or possessed a particular skill in its application, was not exactly a proven science. Plus there was the small fact the orc had been defecating at the time. Still, it was a move he was willing to try again.

"Jab it behind its jaw and below the ear," he said to his father.

"Is that what you did out there?" Sa'themar asked with a look of amazement that his son's education had covered such tactics already.

"Yes, and also just under the cheekbone. To be sure it wasn't just blind luck I will go for the hamstrings at the same time. When it falls, slit its throat."

Sa'themar's tapered eyebrows flexed. He was impressed his son was thinking about the attack instead of just plundering in as often was the case with novices.

Remaining in the shadows and singling out one of the orcs, Sa'themar gave the nod. He went high, aiming for the mastoid using the pommel of his dagger. As the orc roared he brought the dagger head round and jabbed the zygomatic nerve. At the same time, Sauren had somersaulted behind the giant and thrust his daggers into its thighs. Throwing his weight into the attack he yanked the blades down. The blood spatter coated his face and hair. With a smug smirk, he noted the orc folding. His father grabbed one of the beast's tusks and yanking its massive head up drew his blade across its throat. He too was now covered in blood. Quickly, Sauren moved to his father's side and they attacked the next one in a similar fashion.

Two of the elites had teamed up with Don and Reed and they gave all they had in the fight. Don excelled at running circles around the brutes, jabbing and slicing their backs and bellies, the guts revealed. Reed's blades also exacted a heavy toll on the advancing orcs, shearing off ears, cutting into faces, piercing eyes, exposing jawbones and teeth. Still, the foe could not be toppled until they noted Sauren's technique of slicing the hamstrings and calcaneal tendons. After this, a respectable number of orcs fell foul to the rogues.

Soldiers continued battling on, they too managing to halt some of the beasts in their tracks, but a heavy price was paid. It seemed for every one orc killed two more came in its stead. Valiantly they tried to deflect their strikes but casualties were inevitable. The enormous and weighty cleavers and swords of the Horde were wielded with devastating accuracy. The body count grew, more on the defenders' side than that of the enemy.

Yathas noticed a soldier stumbling back as one beast charged him, swinging an axe above its head. Before the rogue could reach the young man the heavy weapon had been buried into his chest, the breastplate having offered no protection against the power of the orc. Placing an enormous foot on the soldier's arm the tusked warrior yanked out the axe, innards trailing through the air from it along with shredded bits of armour and bone. It grunted, apparently pleased it had gutted the human.

Leaping onto its back, Yathas buried his blades in between its shoulders and twisted them at an angle tearing open the thick flesh. The orc roared in pain staggering back. The high elf wasn't quick enough to jump away and he was smashed against the rock wall. Winded, he slid to the ground but managed to shield himself again in a cloak of shadow as the brute turned to face his assailant. The look of puzzlement on the orc's face almost made Yathas laugh – it could not see him. Another rogue came to Yathas' aid and with both hands, he dragged his dagger across the giant's stomach. As the contents slopped out on the ground in a steaming pile the rogue helped Yathas to his feet and moved him away from the conflict. The orc was still trying to gather his intestines as they slithered out between his enormous fingers, but his battle was over. He fell forward over the sickening pile of innards.

"Thank you, Luther," Yathas said to his colleague.

"Anytime. Will you be alright?" the human replied.

"Yes, I just need a moment. Go! Help the others."

Luther nodded and swept back into the fight, melding with the shadows once more, leaving Yathas to recover.

The clatter of armour, weapons, roars and screams of the defenders resounded through the underground city.

A whole row of Lordaeron's brave warriors was thrust into the air as yet an even more monstrous orc who had joined the battle swung a heavy mallet which was almost the size of a man. Some of the armoured soldiers were smashed against walls and bridges, their broken or bruised bodies slumping to the ground. Others landed in the malodorous river pulled under by the weight of their armour and drowned or left bleeding, struggling to reach the edges.

Sauren witnessed the assault. The sheer mass of the orc was impressive at best, but he had to be brought down; he was ploughing through the soldiers as though they were the year's harvest. Dismembered limbs and heads slid across the blood and guts covered ground adding to the mephitic stench and disturbing, grisly scene of battle.

The guild leader realised the odds were not going in their favour. Enemies were still flooding through the breach and growing wise to the rogues' strategy as well as that of the soldiers. Many alliance were being swatted like flies, sent skittering across the ground or through the air. Some never got up again.

Sa'themar turned as he heard his son's warning shout. His eyes rose to the powerful bulk of an orc which was thundering through the troops. The beast seemed unstoppable, relentless, battering its way through the lines. Whoever it missed with the mallet it reached out and grabbed them by the throat, squeezing or shaking them until their necks snapped then discarded the corpses as if they were mere bones from a rack of ribs picked clean.

Stealthed or not, when that mallet swung, Sa'themar would be in its path. He found himself at a distinct disadvantage and there was only one place he could escape; the river. He was not quick enough, however, and the orc just clipped him as he dove towards the stagnant water. His body plummeted into the now blood-steeped sewage and Sauren watched in horror as his father's body sank.

He skirted around the piles of massacred soldiers and without a second thought dove into the river. He swam through the filth and murk to where he saw his father last. The sludge, silt, faeces, new and old body-parts plus the sparse light in the caverns as a whole made it impossible to see underwater. He surfaced, fighting the overwhelming need to vomit as the rancid content coated his hair, skin and armour. He treaded the gloop, blinking rapidly to clear the filth from his eyes as he searched frantically for his father. He called his name but to no avail. Down he dove once more searching blindly, combing the sewage hoping to grab onto Sa'themar while above the battle raged on. More limbs sank within reach as defenders were hacked apart by the invading orcs.

One almighty swell announced that one of the beasts had become the latest member of the rotting populace in the river. The water displacement also gave Sauren a glimpse of his father. He fought his way through the contamination and reached out to him. Grabbing his pauldrons, he heaved him to the surface. The effort to pull him through the congested river was taking everything Sauren had left. He felt himself sliding back under, his grip on his father tightening as he struggled to keep him above the surface.

Suddenly, four hands grabbed both him and Sa'themar yanking them onto the steps carved out at the river's edge. Sauren lay on his back, exhausted, gasping. He looked up into the faces of Reed and Don, both bloodied, filthy and obviously tiring too.

He rolled onto his side spitting out putrid matter and he caught sight of his father lying next to him. A priest was aiding him, applying some healing spell. The guild leader heaved, a rush of dark fluid spilling from his mouth. The priest rolled him onto his side, the motion helping Sa'themar to disgorge more of the revolting content from his stomach and lungs. Sauren, relieved his father was going to be alright, managed a grateful smile at the priest.

Flashes of silver, amethyst and azure illuminated the labyrinth. The sudden outpouring of sorcery was greatly amplified within the boundaries of the underground city. Magi rained their magic upon the orcs now out in the open and just across from where the spell-weavers stood. They were as merciless as the enemy had been to the defenders. The furious hiss and sharp crackle of the blinding sortilege rendered the orcs stunned, slowed, some burned and others frozen.

It was much to the soldiers' and rogues' relief that the orcs had not seen fit to have their warlocks accompany them through the excavated tunnel. As it was, the sheer volume of magic being conducted was starting to shake the very foundations and overhead structure.

The spells kept firing regardless, the magi working as one indestructible weapon. Even priests called upon their discipline and shadow teachings and together they helped push the enemy back. The practitioners of the Light levitated and pressed forward, their exorcism of the labyrinth almost complete. The magi followed, crossing the bridges and when the last of the fleeing orcs disappeared the way they had entered, the tunnel was sealed using a mixture of surrounding rubble and magical wards to prevent a future break-through.

With the sounds of battle depleted, the defenders took stock of their fallen comrades. Amid the orc corpses, blood, innards and sewage, soldiers and a few of the Crimson Blades lay battered, crushed and hacked; their lives bravely offered defending Lordaeron.

Sa'themar rose, a little unsteadily at first but with Sauren's aid, he regained his balance. He smiled gratefully at his son. His eyes then surveyed the dead, his heart heavy. Quietly, he asked if Alaen would kindly teleport the fallen Blades to headquarters. The young man nodded and along with another mage dutifully tended to the fallen. One of the priests was teleported back to the surface to enquire about arrangements for the soldiers who had died in the conflict.

Sa'themar, along with Yathas, Sauren, the two young rogues and the surviving Blades were all portalled back to the Keep above. The battle in the under city at least was over.