No ownage do I have. Enjoy.
Chasing Through Hell
First One Up
Maurus hefted the purse in his hand as the tent flap fell behind him. It weighed much less than it had earlier that morning. He looked at Mathias.
"I thought this would last longer," he grumbled as they turned north. Hundreds of faint smoke columns lined the sky, the sign of the camp waking in earnest and stoking the fires for cooking. The noise of the camp was growing, the low buzz of the night changing into the louder rumble of thousands of people talking and moving, mixed with the odd howl and roar of stirring animals and the ringing of hammers on anvils. It reminded Maurus of any city he'd ever been in and it was oddly comforting, despite his preference for the open steppes. But then again, the steppes here were as strange as the sky above and much more dangerous.
"War is expensive," Mathias said. He scratched his neck, the raw bone of his finger running along the edge of the wound there that never healed. "You could try to not get skewered."
"That is what some of it's supposed to help," Maurus answered, fastening the mostly empty purse on his belt. He kept a hand on it, not willing to risk losing it to one of the many people passing him on the road.
"And so it goes," Mathias said, nodding. "I'm a little impressed you didn't get fleeced to be honest."
Maurus snorted, eyeing a leather-clad orc that bumped into him before dismissing him. "You don't make much of a living as a hunter without knowing how to haggle."
"Blacksmiths can't be who you usually deal with," Mathias responded.
Maurus pointedly shook himself, a violent motion that made several passersby edge away a little as his mail and plates rattled noisily.
"With all this steel, I can't avoid it," Maurus said wryly. "I can only repair so much of it myself.
Mathias tilted his head in acknowledgement. He looked around at the smiths that lined the path ahead, working metal, haggling or calling out to the throngs of people seeking their services.
"Plenty of them here too," he noted. "Doesn't the noise scare the animals away?"
Maurus shrugged and this time, the armor made very little sound. "Most of the animals I hunt won't run. They fight."
He recalled some conversations he'd had in Ratchet and added: "Most animals in Kalimdor stand their ground. Stranglethorn seemed the same. Is it different in the north?"
"Prey runs, and most predators fear us too," Mathias answered. He smiled sardonically. "Of course, that's the few that aren't tainted. Those are rabid."
Maurus chuckled. He was used to Mathias' dark comments by now and from what he could see, there was little bitterness in his expression.
"Dangerous?" he asked. He didn't think he'd ever go to the dead kingdom, didn't think he could stomach it, but he couldn't deny the curiosity. Mathias' stories had rarely mentioned the wildlife.
"Somewhat," Mathias said, as they left the crowd behind and stepped out into the flat land that surround the goblin camp. "Wolves without fear are dangerous. Their rotted brains make them a little less so. Bears are worse."
"How big are your bears?"
Mathias looked at Maurus. "Around your size."
"So some things are the same on both sides of the ocean," Maurus said lightly. "Sometimes it sounds like you've gelded your lands."
Mathias grinned. "Maybe a little. I don't think they are any less dangerous though. It just isn't because of nature."
There was a hint of resigned bitterness in the last few words and Maurus only just kept a derisive snort from escaping. The so-called civilized peoples seemed to always bring doom on themselves and others, but Mathias couldn't be held responsible and wouldn't benefit from Maurus voicing the thought. Instead he shrugged and looked ahead as they reached the edge of the goblin camp.
Like yesterday, bruisers came out to block their path, nine heavily armored and armed goblins forming a line and staring them down, but they looked a little less suspicious than the ones they'd met then. The middle one, wearing goggles instead of a helmet and sporting a scarlet mohawk that would put a troll to shame, looked up at him. The nervous quiver in Maurus' stomach, which he had managed to ignore so far, grew as the goblin scrutinized him for what felt like a long time.
"You Maurus?" he asked.
Maurus simply nodded.
The goblin tilted his head and two of the other goblins, in full-face helmets, did likewise and Maurus tried to gauge their expressions, but he could only make out the glitter of their eyes through the slits in the helmets.
"Are you going to tell me why I was called here?" he asked brusquely. "Or maybe just get out of my way?"
The goblin revealed his teeth in the kind of grin bruisers were very adept at, but didn't speak. It had the opposite effect of what he probably intended and Maurus' unease was pushed aside by irritation.
"I am not here for your company," he said lowly. "Help, move or I assume the message was a mistake."
The goblin, apparently deciding he'd had his fun, jerked a hand over his shoulder. "Go right, the long tent at the end."
Maurus gave a grunt of acknowledgement and started forward. As expected the goblins allowed him through, though the two goblins that had studied him as intently as their leader kept their eyes on him as he and Mathias continued down the road. When they turned the corner, Mathias glanced at him.
"Some day, I have to know," he said. He was grinning lazily, though there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. And something else.
Maurus looked away, glancing at the tents as they passed. The goblins were in a frenzy of activity, and the clank of hammers and the whine of some of their more odd tools grated on his ears. There seemed to be even more explosives lying around, in neat stacks, as well as the myriad strange contraptions the goblins made when they weren't concentrated on making things explode.
"I am at fault," he admitted. The words came more easily than he'd expected, though it still pained him to say them and he said them so quietly that he wasn't sure Mathias could even hear them. He certainly didn't get a reply.
They walked through the goblin camp in silence and the unease crept back, worsened by Mathias' silence and the goblins that studied them as they passed, making Maurus' stomach squirm. No-one stopped them though and they soon caught sight of their destination.
The tent was impossible to miss. It looked much like the others, low enough that Maurus was going to have to crouch, and matte black, but it was at least thrice as long as most. Outside it stood a wagon, filled with thick rods, made from steel or a dark, greenish metal, still tied to a kodo that was snoring loudly. Its handler, a burly troll, sat leaned against the tauren, snoring as well.
A trio of bruisers, in armor slightly above usual bruiser standard, which was saying something, watched them as they approached and Maurus prepared himself for another pointless standoff.
"Maurus?" one of them called, fingering the pickaxe he carried in place of the usual mace. Like the two beside him, his face was completely covered by his helmet, concealing his expression.
Maurus nodded and to his surprise the speaker stepped back, inside the tent, holding the tent flap open for them. He had to crouch to fit in the low opening.
The inside of the tent was brightly lit and even warmer than outside. Goblins and tools were everywhere, and Maurus realized they were working on several long, long ladders, made of the metal from the wagons. What drew his attention was the blocky patchworks of pistons, gears and solid plates of steel that was being attached at one end of the ladders. If Maurus sat down and curled his arms around himself, he would be about the size of the block, though much less irregular in shape.
"Oi, foreman. White tauren for you!" the bruiser shouted. Maurus barely restrained a cringe as a third of the tent looked at him. Thankfully, most of them went back to work almost immediately, though one of them sprang up from her seat at a wide table, covered with ceramic balls.
"Is that a ballista?" Mathias asked, a note of surprise in his voice as the goblin passed a large contraption of wood and steel. Maurus realized he was right but his attention drifted to the approaching goblin as she almost tripped over what looked like an odd, very solid-looking, very thick length of chain that was on the floor, but recovered her balance, dodged a crouching goblin and came to a stop in front of Maurus and Mathias. She looked up at him with eyes that looked massive through her goggles. Beneath a nose that you could stab someone with was a wide, wild grin, which seemed odd, considering both her face and her unruly hair was black like something had gone wrong in the way goblin creations usually did. Only a few spots of her face showed her green skin and the very tips of her hair were still red.
"Hi, Boss," she chirped, wiping her black fingers on her leather smock before giving up. A reasonable decision, considering the smock was as sooty black as the rest of her. She glanced at Mathias and added cheerfully: "Dead guy."
Maurus felt the tension seep out of his shoulders and his stomach settled. He smiled down at the small goblin.
"Morning, Widget," he said, grasping her outstretched hand. Most of her arm vanished between Maurus' fingers as he shook it. "I'm hardly your boss anymore."
"Only if you and your unit commander agrees. And the-" She trailed off, frowned and leaned to look around Maurus. "Where's the elf?"
Mathias snorted.
"Hopefully asleep," Maurus answered. "It's too early. I think. What were you saying?"
Widget spun and half-ran back to the ballista, waving at them to follow.
"I have a new job and you can get one too. Your bulk and voice are perfect. You can make people move."
"I thought you were still in Azeroth," Mathias said, leaning on the low table.
"Clean-up was quick. So were the zeppelins."
"Of course you would get one," Mathias grumbled. Maurus shared some of Mathias' irritation. After the trip through Duskwood and the Blasted Lands, he didn't think he would pass up a zeppelin ride to avoid the dreadful areas, if at all possible, despite his aversion to flying by way of volatile balloon.
"What's your new job?" Maurus asked.
"Front line zapper," she said gleefully. "Should be more exciting than working on that water machine or being foreman for this crew," she added, sweeping a hand out in the direction of the other goblins. "They don't need me anymore anyway."
Maurus gave the bombs on the table another look and felt an urge to step backwards. Mathias was studying one lying just beside his right hand with careful eyes. Widget gave a little snicker.
"Don't worry, those are as stable as they come."
Maurus glanced at her, both eyebrows raised, not very reassured. Her smile widened.
"The others laughed at them, called them useless." Her voice turned smug. "They need a lot of heat to go off, but then they really go off. And it's called the Burning Legion for a reason."
Maurus made a thoughtful sound.
"They don't even need a fuse. Everyone can use one. Just lob it at, say, a big, burning pile of rocks?" Widget said, nudging one of the bombs and sending it rolling over to Maurus. He picked it up carefully. It was a goblin explosive after all.
A violent motion out the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head to see Mathias shaking on the bombs. He felt an instant of panic, but the lack of explosions and Widget's confident smile made him relax.
"This could be useful," Mathias said carefully. "What are you asking?"
"You going over the wall with me," Widget answered. She pointed at Maurus. "You in particular. Then I'll keep you supplied."
"That is front line," Maurus said slowly. "Very dangerous front line."
Widget snorted. "Don't try to pretend you're not interested. It'll be just like last time."
"I doubt that," Maurus said flatly.
"Glory, honor, first on the battlements, all that stuff," Widget wheedled. She looked at Mathias, eyes gleaming shrewdly. "Good position to look around too. And I get to blow up stuff."
"You've talked to Zolan, haven't you?" Mathias asked, looking up from the bomb in his hand.
"Yup. I'm guessing your little commotion by the filtration unit yesterday is a sign that you are still giving it your all. You didn't hesitate then, why now?"
"Climbing ladders is a good way to get shot. And going over the wall is hardly easy either, from what I hear," Maurus said, his voice neutral.
"The Canyon was a crapshoot too," Widget replied, her excitement unwavering. "This time, there won't be anything coming down on our heads. At least, not after we're in position."
Maurus gave her a skeptic glance. He could think of plenty of things. He doubted the orcs lacked archers or worse. Widget's eyes twinkled.
"You'll come around. Come with me, we need to get you measured."
"You are an idiot."
Maurus stopped fiddling with the straps crossing his chest and looked up to see Arianna giving him a critical look. Ash paced around her feet, the spines on his back raised in his equivalent of raised hackles.
Maurus tilted his head, smiled wryly and studied her in turn. She was wearing a heavier robe than usual, dark red and trimmed with gold, with long sleeves and a collar. Dark gloves covered her fingers, and Maurus found it a little odd to see her so covered up. She'd preferred her sleeveless, lighter gown till now and judging by the sweat beading her brow, she still did. Her hair was different, loose and clinging tightly to her head, so she could wear her new helmet. The simple, unadorned helmet lay at her feet, similar, but much sleeker and thinner than a footman helmet. It would do little to stop a determined blow, but it would protect from burns and magic, making her less likely to be incapacitated like before.
"Why, specifically?" he asked.
"Those leading the charge rarely lives. Especially in sieges."
"I've survived so far," he said. He was careful to keep his voice light and avoid glancing to the side, where the dark walls of Hellfire Citadel loomed in the distance, jagged and foreboding. Even from here, he could see the line of red faces peering over the walls.
"You've never done this before," Arianna said, a dark undertone in her voice.
"Maybe it's about time," Maurus replied. His jaw clenched as he heard the slight timbre of nervousness in his voice. He looked around at the soldiers preparing around the camp and his eyes fell on Mathias, who was sitting in front of his tent, looking utterly calm as he sharpened his sword. He touched a hand to his left horn, adding: "Will make me feel less like a greenhorn, compared to all the veterans."
Arianna scoffed. She opened her mouth, but seemed to catch herself and instead closed her eyes before taking a deep breath. She seemed to breathe with her entire body, lifting her head and spreading her arms slightly and by now he recognized the way she drew in the ambient magic that was everywhere in Outland. The movement never failed to draw his gaze to her slim form, to her hips and her rising chest, nor to spark a flicker of heat deep within him.
He blinked as he realized he'd felt only a hint of that heat yesterday, when Payta had sauntered through the camp, tail swishing and hips rolling suggestively, before dragging one of the tauren Maurus didn't know towards her tent. He blinked again and looked back to Arianna's face when she gave a little pleased hum, her fine features relaxing. When she opened her eyes and caught his wide eyes, hers burned a little brighter. She stepped forward, and Maurus was torn between leaning toward or away from her when she reached a hand. He ended up not moving and her fingers curled around one of the straps on his chest, giving it a sharp little tug. Her lips were pursed, but with little genuine irritation.
"You're trusting goblin work. I thought you were smarter than that," she chided as she let go, her familiar tone easing his bewilderment somewhat.
"So are you," he managed after a moment's hesitation, looking away from Arianna and back, across the sea of people behind him, past the siege engines, to the brown and purple hulls of the fifteen zeppelins that rested at the rear end of the army. She followed his gaze.
"Tried and tested goblin inventions. From before the Second War," she answered, but there was a little bit of teasing in her voice, conceding that they were still goblin inventions. But he couldn't deny that the zeppelins were as safe as goblin inventions went. There hadn't been an accident in years.
'Though plenty have been destroyed deliberately,' he couldn't help but think and his thoughts strayed to the windriders' reports of ballistae and catapults. The latter were even visible to Maurus, jutting over the walls of the Citadel. But he had as much chance of talking her out of boarding the zeppelins as she had of talking him out of his own assignment and his was in part to protect the zeppelins from the ballistae anyway.
"Which won't reach the walls if nobody leads the charge," he said, unwilling to put words to his pessimistic thoughts. Instead, he grinned crookedly and added: "Think of it as me doing my duty as meatshield."
She rolled her eyes. Then she brought her hands together, and the rolling syllables of a spell spilled from her lips. Green mist appeared between her fingers, coalescing into a familiar dark stone.
"You have to be properly supplied then," she said, placing the health stone in his mail-covered palm, letting both her hands rest on top of it. It felt weird how her gloves masked the heat of her skin, but Maurus' grin softened at the touch. "That should take care of the first few arrows," she added.
Maurus closed his fingers around her hands, easily covering both. His ear flicked as he picked up what he thought was a quiet snort, but he ignored it.
"I'd prefer not to use it. I don't like pain," he said, scrunching up his nose, feeling the scar tissue between his nostrils stretch.
"That is good to know," Arianna said, withdrawing her hands and smirking a little. "Sometimes I wonder."
"You're not alone in that."
Maurus and Arianna glanced at Mathias. It was the first time he'd spoken that morning. He'd simply risen and donned his armor and silently waited since then, clad head to toe in dark plate and mail. Even his usually bare left hand was clad in mail and strips of armor. Over the armor, he wore a harness similar to Maurus'. He showed his teeth.
"I'll watch his back. Hard not to."
Arianna snorted and stepped over to him. "Before I forget," she said and dropped another health stone in Mathias' lap. "Stay animate."
"This is serious," Mathias said with mock soberness. Arianna gave him a flat look and after a moment, he rolled his eyes and nodded, putting the stone away.
The bright trumpets sounding from the Alliance camp to the south made Maurus start. For a moment the camp quieted slightly, waiting, and then, not to be outdone, the deep, booming of the Horde war horns rolled through the camp. The sound reminded him of the bellow of mourning beasts and his heartbeat sped up as nervous nausea crept into his gut. The camp had been preparing for a week and the air had been heavy with a tension like he remembered from before earlier battles, only, a thousand times stronger. But now the camp truly came alive. A wave of noise rolled through the camp as everyone turned toward the Citadel and the dull drone of the thousands in the camp grew to a steady roar of metal, shouts, heavy footfalls and more horns.
Maurus bent down and picked up his helmet. It was a two-part piece, with a hinge, so he could close it around his horns, encasing his entire head in steel. The only openings were the eyeholes and the slits in its front. Two deadly spikes jutted from his forehead. As he placed the heavy metal on his head, the weight of it still felt odd but he fastened it with deft motions.
"We should go meet the others," he said, picking up his massive black axe, as meticulously sharpened as Mathias' sword. He reached out a hand and laid it on Arianna's shoulder. After a moment he said: "Good thing Wiven's staying. Improves your zeppelin's chances."
Arianna padded his hand once and met his gaze. Judging from her expression, she still found it odd to see the helmet. "Don't get too far ahead. I'll be on the first one up. You're going to need me. Or at least Ash," she said.
Maurus nodded, chuckling a little. They'd confirmed earlier that Ven'Zarul was in the Citadel or somewhere around it and hopefully the siege would allow them to get to him. Though whether they would be able to defeat him when they found him was a question he tried to keep out of his mind.
"Don't crash," he said lightly.
"That's up to the goblins," she replied blithely. "Don't fall off."
Maurus snorted, but before he could replay, Mathias cut in: "Didn't you say we should go? Because I agree. Things to kill."
Maurus glanced at him and lifted his hand from Arianna's shoulder. She bent down and picked up her staff and helmet, and put the helmet on, concealing everything but her glowing eyes.
"Light be with you," she said, more somberly than he'd expected, nodding at both of them and lifting a fist to her chest in salute. Mathias snorted, but inclined his head the slightest bit.
"Spirits watch over you," Maurus murmured seriously, mirroring Arianna's salute. She turned and walked away.
He felt worry and an odd sense of loneliness as he fell into step along Mathias and the other warriors, though he wasn't as confused by that sense as he would have been a few days ago. He tightened his grip on his axe and shook himself, feeling reassured by the weight of his shield on his back.
"A piece of advice, Maurus," Mathias said. Maurus grunted in response and turned his head to Mathias, a little curious. He usually didn't use his name like that. "Don't hesitate."
Maurus found himself swallowing, yet he gave Mathias a scowl too, not quite able to hold back his irritation, both at himself and at the meddling, and it mixed with his fear and worry. He exhaled violently through his nose.
"Let's go kill something," he grumbled. A sliver of Mathias' best death's head grin showed through the slit in his helmet, and Maurus had the sudden suspicion that Mathias had wanted to get that rise out of him.
"That's the spirit," Mathias said.
The army marched on Hellfire Citadel in a cacophony of metal, kodoskin drums and heavy footfalls, kicking up a cloud of dust that partly obscured the camp vanishing behind them. Guarding their flanks were lighter soldiers, druids, shamans and both normal and kodo cavalry. High above the vibrant banners carried by the army, a dozen windriders circled carefully, watching for enemy movements, but staying some way behind the front line, unwilling to brave the ballistae on the citadel walls. They were approaching from the northeast, avoiding the Path of Glory and the wide gorge that it led into, because that area, right in front of the huge, heavy gates, was designed as a killing field.
Further south, on the other side of the Path, the Alliance was making their way toward their end of the Citadel. Gyrocopters puttered along over the rear guard, while griffons and hippogryphs circled over the sea of silver making up the center of the force.
There was simply no comparing the scale of this to the battles in Ashenvale, and nervous trembles darted through Maurus now and then. His grip on his axe was white-knuckled and he kept switching his attention between the jagged walls and everything around him, unable to decide which made him more uneasy. And once again, he was in responsible for more than just himself, something that both humbled and frightened him in a way unrelated to the more immediate fear of the battle.
He was beginning to think Arianna might have been right.
He was walking along the rear end of one of the heavy, thick ladders in the center of the front block. Twenty five had been made, each long enough to reach the top of the walls ahead. There were wheels on the ladders and odd-looking chains ran between several points on the ladder and the blocks of machinery Maurus had seen in the tent. Those blocks had been hitched to the armored kodos dragging the ladders along, two kodos to each ladder.
Behind him, the ballista from the tent rolled to a rumbling stop and the goblins and orcs around it began securing it.
All around him, orcs, trolls and tauren marched forward. The vast majority were warriors in heavy plate and the rest consisted almost entirely of shamans and druids. Other than Mathias, who was in front of him, attention fixed on the top of the walls, there were a few undead here and there. There were only two blood elves within view, both in red plate edged with gold, the closest of which was walking on the opposite side of the ladder from Maurus. That one, Calen, was going to be first over the top, along with Maurus. Looking at the willowy elf, the idea seemed ridiculous but he had heard the stories of paladins' unnatural resilience.
Five goblins were walking down by the kodos. Widget was hurrying along beside him, her blunderbuss over her shoulder. She wore the same mishmatch of leather and mail that she'd worn in Ashenvale, with a harness over that and a bowl-looking helmet made her head look very round. On her back was a new backpack and Maurus tried not to worry too much about the contents straining the fabric of the pack.
Glancing ahead, he noticed that the goblins were climbing onto the kodos.
"You should get up before the run," he said to Widget and without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her with his free hand, fingers tightening around on of the straps of her harness. She gave a little yelp as he lifted her and put her down on his shoulder, but almost immediately she scrambled over his pauldron, sliding down into the stirrups attached to the harness along his back. There were two sharp clicks and then he felt her relax, securely fastened so she could look and aim over his shoulder.
He feared he was going to need a healer for his ears after the battle.
"A little more warning would be nice," she squeaked, but there was little real heat in it. He had after all picked her up like that a few times in the last few days. He shrugged.
"Beats being trampled when we start running," he said remorselessly. He raised his voice so it wasn't just Widget that could hear it over the noise of the army when he asked: "You done this before?"
"Nope," Widget said brightly. "Can't be that hard though. Climb, kill, explode. Simple."
Maurus made a half-hearted chuckle.
"Not in this life," Mathias said, never turning his gaze from the walls, which were steadily growing closer, looking stronger and more foreboding the closer they got. At the bottom of the walls there were makeshift barricades and ditches, in several, irregular rows, something he guessed was to break the formation to make more time for shooting.
"Duck your head on the way. Make an impression when you meet the enemy," Calen said grimly. Maurus was a little surprised at the advice. Calen seemed as standoffish as the blood elves was reputed to be and Maurus had expected that having to take orders from a tauren would have ruffled him. Then again, maybe he'd just been glad that the brute was the one who was going to do the shouting. The thought cheered him a little, in spite of himself. The sight of ballistae bolts speeding over his head toward the walls did too.
"I'm good at making myself heard," he said and Mathias and Widget both agreed with exaggerated nods.
That had been amply demonstrated in the drills they'd run in the last few days. Widget had joked he'd been put in charge of the volunteers solely on the basis of his ability to roar and Mathias had quietly suggested that Zolan had given him some kind of recommendation. He himself thought Arianna's associates might have something to do with it, along with the fact that many more able leaders might be leery of braving the wall with new goblin inventions. But whatever had put him in the position, those under his command reacted promptly to his orders, even those that were older than him.
They were a little less than half a mile from the citadel when the war drums picked up the pace and horns blared a series of harsh, ominous notes. The block's pace quickened and the thousands of running feet beat out a loud rumble against the red dirt.
"Look out for the artillery," Calen added dryly.
Maurus eyes flicked to him, then back to the walls, feeling the small bit of nervousness he had managed to drive away came back in full force as he saw the bows of the ballistae jerk. A moment later, the massive bolts came down. A little ahead and to the left, one of the ballistae bolts crashed into ground, exploding in a shower of wood, metal and red dirt. It was the only one that fell short. Less than twenty feet to Maurus' left, one of the bolts rent through a tauren and the orcs behind him, coming apart as it did, sending wooden splinters and blood flying through the air. Cries of shock and pain erupted around Maurus as the other bolts tore into the ranks.
A flicker of hesitation swept through the block and the advance stumbled, though only for a moment.
"Forward!" Maurus roared, the frustrated anger that welled up in his chest giving his voice strength and weight. Those around him that had slowed regained their momentum and spurred on by the shouts of the other leaders around them, the entire block surged forward with urgency born of both fear and determination, as the ballistae loosed again.
Maurus clenched his teeth as the catapults on the walls began hurling rocks into the air and the red orcs loosed a cloud of arrows. More shouts sounded as the projectiles came down on the army, but they were almost swallowed up by the thunder of feet and hooves, the clank of armor and the blood pounding in his ears. The sound of the catapults' projectiles weren't though and Maurus realized that it wasn't just rocks they were throwing when he heard the first deep boom and felt the wave of displaced air.
Compared to the bombs and the ballistae bolts, the arrows did little damage. They clattered off armor and shields and Maurus was thankful for his helmet and the interlocking plates that covered his normally exposed neck. Many of the arrows were aimed at those less heavily armored, but the majority missed and the shamans and druids were ready to deal with what did hit them. Only the odd lucky arrow was a threat.
Furious shouts mingled with the crash of artillery and the screams as the army kept running. Maurus' heart raced in his chest and fear had a deadly grip on his insides. There was nothing he could do but keep everyone running and hoping they wouldn't be the ones hit and the helplessness made the fear even worse. On the right, two kodos bellowed in pain when one of the bombs hit right between them, the explosion tearing great bloody chunks from the beasts' sides and crippling their legs. They both stumbled and slid to a halt, kicking up dirt as they did so. Maurus spotted the surviving goblins hurry to the machinery behind them and begin detaching the ladder. Then they fell behind and out of sight. Another ballista bolt soared over his head and impacted less than fifty yards behind him. The only small solace was the bolts flying back the other way and Maurus barked a harsh, satisfied grunt when he saw one of the ballistae on the wall explode as it was hit by one of the Horde's bolts.
They reached the temporary fortifications after what felt like an hour of running. "Soldiers! Lift!" Maurus roared, the effort of making himself heard over the din tearing at his throat. He shifted his axe to his left hand and grabbed the ladder and along with the other volunteers, lifted it and moments later, they were fighting to keep up the speed as they navigated the ditches. Luckily, they didn't have to avoid the barricades. It seemed the fel orcs still hadn't realized the force that was behind a kodo charge and he snorted in grim satisfaction as the kodos lowered their heads and smashed through one barricade after another, hardly slowing. The spikes dented their armor and cut bloody gashes in the kodos' exposed skin, but Maurus knew how hardy the beasts were. He wished Arianna had seen that.
They came to a stop in the shadow of the wall. They were too close for the larger weapons but the arrows rained down on them and he carefully didn't look up at the battlements, not willing to risk getting an arrow in his eye for it.
"Attach," Maurus shouted and briefly shifted the weight of the ladder onto his left shoulder, freeing a hand so he could fasten the two heavy clasps of his harness to the ladder. Beside him, Calen did the same and when they were done, the ones in front of them did the same in turn. As that happened, the goblins fiddled with the wheels on their contraption and with a heavy thump, the main body fell from its raised position to sit heavily on the ground. A series of heavy impacts sounded next, as the cylinders on the side of the block pierced deep into the ground.
On either side, the ladder teams that had made it did the same.
"Shamans," Maurus roared impatiently, expecting rocks or boiling oil or any of the other horrors he'd heard about to fall on the front at any moment.
The shamans and druids came in close and a wash of magic swept over the soldiers by the ladder. What little fatigue he felt evaporated, along with his trepidation. Strength flowed into his limbs and his blood boiled. His mouth watered and he tasted copper and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a savage grimace.
A horn blew from high above and he glanced up at the windrider who'd sounded the signal.
"Ready!" he roared, as the goblin contraptions hissed steam and the kodos began pulling. The chains on the ladder went taut and the weight of the ladder lifted from his shoulder. He and the others snaked arms around the rungs and then they were lifted along with the ladder. For the first few moments, it went slowly, but the ladder rose faster and faster and when it reached the height of its arc, allowing his hooves to find the rungs, the air was whistling past him. The ramparts were a mass of red skin, dark metal and hundreds of green eyes, broken by the catapults and those ballistae that weren't wall-mounted, which stood in a line in the middle of the curved battlement. To the south, on Maurus' left, the main buildings of the Citadel rose to twice the height of the battlements and behind the ramparts was a wide courtyard, hectic with activity. The archers on the wall, with their long, black bows had stepped to the side, away from where the ladders would fall, allowing fel orcs in heavier armor to come forward, heavy blades ready.
Maurus roared in challenge, fear and exhilaration, in unison with the others below him and the excited shrieking of Widget. He detached himself as the ladder came down on the wall and leaped forward almost at the same time the top three feet of the latter fell forward, hooking onto the wall. The crack of Widget's gun half-deafened Maurus just as a flash of golden light made the fel orcs reel back and he barreled into one of the fel orcs, pushing it back into the ones behind. He swung his axe, making several jump back before catching the slowest in the throat, being rewarded with an almost intoxicating spray of blood as the fel orc went down with a gurgle. He heard a bell-like sound and more golden light lit up the ramparts, before the clash of metal sounded as Calen engaged the orcs.
He turned, catching the hard swing of a fel orc on the plates covering his thigh. Unlike his first skirmish with the fel orcs, he was prepared for their speed and strength now and thanks to the shamans' magic, he barely registered the pain. He swung his axe back, letting the spike on the back of the head punch through the chest plate of another orc. She gasped for breath and Maurus kicked her back into the orcs behind her.
Further to the left, warriors leapt off the ladders there, their furious attacks meeting heavy resistance. By the sound of it, the same thing was happening along the wall in the other direction.
Something moved to his right, but the glimpse of dark metal and the hunched posture was enough for him not to worry and Mathias' shield shot into the face of a fel orc that would have slipped his blade under Maurus' arm otherwise. Though unable to see much of Mathias face, Maurus was sure his teeth were bared as his own were. There were thumps behind them as more Horde warriors came onto the battlements, but the fel orcs had recovered.
"Drive them back, you dogs!" a fel orc roared from half-way across the battlement. He was a hulking brute, even by orc standards, a head taller than the ones around him and completely covered in dark armor. Behind him was a ballista, on a slightly raised platform. Instead of metal heads, the ends of the ballista's bolts were thick and black with tar, like enormous fire arrows. That ballista needed to go, but Widget probably couldn't throw that far, not without the fuse possibly going out.
Further to the right, a different group had already fought their way to one of ballistae on the wall itself and the fel orcs lay strewn around it. The effort had left the group isolated though and they were being overwhelmed by the fel orcs. One of the troll screamed as one of the larger fel orcs rushed forward, lifting him and sending him tumbling over the parapet.
Dull pain bloomed in Maurus side as several blows dented his plate. He drove the knob of his axe into the attacker and gestured toward the ballista and the big orc pushing his way through the melee.
"Forward! Give me his head!" he bellowed, feeling a bit of spittle fly from his lips along with his words.
There was another slap of sound against his head as Widget fired again. The hulking fel orc staggered back, metal and blood flying from his chest and Maurus barked something between a shout and a laugh. Behind him he felt the presence of more soldiers, but the press of the fel orcs was hard to fight against. He took off the hand of a fel orc, though the maimed enemy didn't hesitate and he had no room to swing again. Instead he stabbed the axe forward, pushing the orc back into his fellows.
He glanced back. Past the battlements the army was marching steadily toward the wall, though there were battles along the northern flank. Far out in the distance, the zeppelins were rising into the air, a sign that they had to hurry in order to keep the ballistae too busy to shoot. Then his eyes widened when several huge, horned birds came over the parapet to his right. In an instant, their shape flowed and shifted, their feathers melting into coarse fur, beaks changing into muzzles and limbs and body gaining muscle and size. Two massive bears and three large lions, all still sporting horns, landed in the midst of the fel orcs between Maurus and the nearest other ladder, roaring as they threw them into total disarray. He'd seen druids before, but this was the most adept shapeshifting he'd ever seen.
That lifted a little of the pressure and Maurus' group pressed forward over the fallen, flanked by the snarling druids, hacking and pushing, each glimpse of blood thrilling and heartening to Maurus. A heavy blow to the inside of his thigh made him stumble, but he caught himself on his axe and lashed out with his armored fist, making the offending fel orc's head snap back. As he brought his axe around, up into the stomach of the orc, he saw a hissing stick of dynamite flying through the air toward the ballista. The fel orcs leapt away, but too slowly and vanished in the burst of light and sound and force that destroyed the ballista.
Though the orcs near the explosion were thrown off balance, the rest increased the pressure, even as more explosions began sound along the wall. Maurus barely angled his head so a stab impacted the side of his head instead of the weaker chain mail along his neck. Head ringing and with little room to move, he brought his head down sharply and the orc stumbled back, though his helmet saved him from the spikes on Maurus' own helmet.
"One," Maurus growled. In a shout he added, turning to the left: "Hurry! Next one!"
Widget had eschewed her gun for her explosives. Another boom sounded and the ballista to the right of the one Widget had just blown up came apart in a shower of metal and wooden splinters. Shortly afterward she threw another stick of dynamite, this time to the left, where fel orc archers stood, with fel orc warriors on either side defending them against Maurus' group. Maurus felt a surge of panic as he saw one of them pick up the explosive, but it exploded before he could throw it.
"Kill the goblins!"
The ragged shout was as loud as it was surprising, coming from the hulking fel orc who had somehow gotten up and made his way to the archers to the left. Maurus barely had time to see the orc was pointing straight at him before the enemy archers, just twenty feet away, shot through the gap Widget's explosive had created. He managed to angle himself and turn his head before the arrows hit. That allowed him to see a shaft bury itself in the crook of Mathias' sword arm, even as he felt maybe a dozen impacts. Two almost stunned him as they rang against his helmet and the rest felt like heavy punches, even through his armor.
"Calen! Fix Mathias!" he shouted, stepping in front of the man and shoving a fel orc back with the length of his axe. "You're attracting too much attention, Widget," he added over his shoulder. The slight shift in weight could have been a shrug or a nod.
The fel orcs weren't filling hole in the melee, pressing on the sides of Maurus' group but allowing the archers line of sight over the mutilated corpses along the wall. He was about to lunge forward to punish the archers, but three distinct figures among the archers made his blood ran cold. For the first time since the magical blood lust had been cast on him, he remembered just how dangerous this was and fear gripped him as the three fel orcs, backs bent and almost completely hidden by black cloaks, summoned sickly green fire.
"Widget, off!" he barked quickly and almost immediately felt her weight vanish from his back, even as the fireballs came flying at him. He thanked the spirits that the warlocks hadn't been used immediately and that he had spotted them in time. Going against every instinct he felt, he whirled around, presenting his back to the fire.
"Fireshields, front!" he barked, just before the flames impacted the shield on his back. There was a hiss and he could feel the fierce heat, spilling over the edges of his shield and paining him even through the shield and armor. He took stock of his own group in the short moment before he turned back to the warlocks and archers. Most still stood, feet planted on the blood-slick stones, lashing out against the throng of red and black but his heart sank when he couldn't see Tayo and Lakjin. Two orcs and a troll, Karzur, Dogul and Ayagi, stepped forward, forming a ring around Widget and raising their wide shields, looking bruised and weary but determined. There were also soldiers he didn't recognize and more were coming over the wall by the ladder he'd ridden to the walls, a sign that they'd just about secured their little foothold on the wall.
"Kill the warlocks!" he roared. Another barrage of arrows stopped him from simply charging ahead, and the cry from behind him told him the arrows had taken down someone, but he had not time to turn to check who. The warlocks gathered their power again, but this time, it came out in a red mist that flowed into the fel orcs that came out in front of them. The ululating cry he'd heard in the first skirmish and once more in one of the smaller skirmishes during the last week, went up from the fel orcs.
"For the Horde!" Maurus shouted, feeling his throat ache with it the power he put into it. He hurried forward, unwilling to give the frothing fel orcs any time to gather momentum. To his relief, his soldiers followed along with him, taking up the battle cry. The red mist still tinged the air and it stung his nose and ached in his mouth, but it also sent a faint flame through his body as he met the first frenzied fel orc. Red froth stained her mouth, which wasn't covered by her black, iron helmet and her eyes were wide and rabid. Her two axes whirled, aimed at his armpit and his neck and even with the half-dodge he managed, the blows rang against his shoulder and he was sure the mail would have torn had the axe hit. She reversed the swing, but Maurus' axe was already moving, with the strength of his arms and much of his momentum.
Her helmet clattered against the stone, two feet from where her head fell, coming to rest against the wall.
There was not time to feel satisfaction though, or even to breathe. The orcs threw themselves at Maurus and the others with wild abandon, even more reckless than before. Maurus hacked and dodged and blocked, his attempted charge reduced to a crawl, not aided by the treacherous footing, which only got worse with each death.
Another cloud of arrows hit the swirling melee, loosed with no regard for friend or foe and Maurus ground his teeth, half in pain and half in disgust at the cowardly tactic. He took a hit that numbed his left hip in order to push his enemy in front of a ball of fel fire that would have seared him even through his armor and took a step forward as the scorched orc crumbled, seeing the archers turn their bows to the sky at their leader's command. Their targets were the wyverns falling silently from the sky, but they never reached the archers or the ballista behind them. Maurus' eyes widened as otherworldly roars sounded from the other side of the wall and five huge, ghostly drakes soared up to meet the wyverns in a whirl of hazy purple and blue.
Pain exploded in Maurus' elbow as another enemy took advantage of his distraction, though at least the axe had hit the plate on the outside and not the mail on the inside of his arm. For a moment unable to lift his axe properly, he instead lashed out with his half-numb left arm, catching the offending orc across his face with the back of his plated fist, with enough force to stun. Falling back on instinct, he lowered his head and charged, bowling over the frenzied orc at the same time that he managed to fumble his hand back on the length of his axe.
Mathias appeared again at his right, illuminated by a burst of golden light that pained him if Maurus judged his eyes correctly, but Calen's spell seemed to have even more effect on the orcs. In spite of their suicidal ferocity, they reeled again at the spell and Maurus took the opportunity to move forward, flanked by the blood elf and the forsaken. Another stick of dynamite, trailing sparks, sailed over Maurus' head and eased their advance as well and they regained their momentum, struggling through the fel orcs, their flanks guarded by the orcs and trolls.
The enemy archers were drawing back, but unbeknownst to them, more Horde was pressing in from the other side, nearing the ballista from the south and Maurus smiled a cruel smile behind his helmet. The warlocks seemed less worried, remaining where they were and keeping up a steady stream of flame and dark magic, seemingly unconcerned that much of it missed, hit their own or was somehow intercepted by Calen.
"Useless maggots," the fel orc leader growled. "I'll show you how it's done!"
Maurus grinned as he saw the leader approach through the spraying blood of another dead fel orc.
"I'll hold him. Go around," he said, just loud enough that the ones closest to him could hear. He raised his voice and addressed the leader: "Found your guts, coward?"
The large fel orc's eyes glinted with hate and he shifted his grip on his axe, which was almost the same size as Maurus' own. He didn't recklessly charge though. Instead he rolled his shoulders and nodded at Maurus before stomping forward, flanked by more fel orcs, ones that hadn't been magically frenzied.
Maurus' first swing met the fel orc leader's weapon with a loud clang, pushed of course by the angle of the weapon. He had to step back and lift his head to avoid the quick return swing of the axe and he felt the displaced air as it passed under his throat. As the opening blows were exchanged, the rest of Maurus' comrades flowed around him. Mathias darted forward, his sword flashing toward the fel orc on the right, the motion worryingly stiff and Calen led with a burst of light that for an instant looked like shining hammer, sending his enemy reeling back. Another crack of Widget's rifle announced she'd either used up her explosives or, more likely, decided to save some for later.
Maurus' axe scraped across the flagstones before he swung it up at his enemy, missing widely but easily reversing the swing. This time, it clanged off the thick, heavy shoulderplates that the fel orc angled toward the swing and the blade passed above the orc's head. The orc thrust his axe straight ahead and the wicked spike on top of the weapon struck Maurus' upper leg, though he managed to angle his leg so it hit the plates and not the mail on the inner thigh. It still went instantly numb except for the throbbing and the fel orc wasn't done. As Maurus' axe came down, this time with the spike aimed at the orc's head, the orc drove his axe up into the mail covering Maurus' throat, too slowly to pierce it but with enough force that Maurus coughed in startled pain, stumbling back, the swing of his axe missing the orc by inches.
Seeing the orc begin his follow-up swing, Maurus took another step back, hoof crunching through the hand of a corpse and for a moment he thanked the Earth Mother that his folk were so massive, because he might have slipped had he been any smaller. He raised his axe diagonally in front of him, waiting for the orc and catching his breath. Around them the rest of Maurus' group was struggling ahead over the corpse strewn stone, having more trouble with the fel orcs than Maurus had hoped, the frenzied ones hurling themselves recklessly at Maurus' soldiers while the rest seemed to be trying to simply keep them trapped. It didn't help that the warlocks had shifted tactics. Karsi staggered and was overcome by a flurry of axeblows from the frenzied orcs to the right and many of the warriors were faltering, looking even more tired than before. Widget, Dogul and Thathi were shivering, looking unnaturally terrified but unable to find any escape, taking valuable fighters out of the battle for the time being.
Maurus took another step back. The fel orc leader hesitated, and Maurus realized he wasn't going to be so easily drawn away. His gaze flicked from his struggling comrades to the warlocks and the archers, who were still shooting into the melee, to orcs winding the ballista, and back to the orc leader. He snarled.
"Cowards and tricksters, the lot of you," he roared. "There isn't a drop of honor in you!"
That got him some attention.
"Stupid, doomed pup," the leader growled, stomping forward at the same time that Maurus was proven correct by the number of archers taking aim at him. Before any of them managed to do anything though, he saw a flash of shadow fly from one of the warlocks and found himself unable to dodge. Where the darkness touched, it seeped straight through his armor and he felt fatigue flow into his muscles, turning them cold and leaden. He sagged under the weight of his armor and his axe and the volley of arrows made him take another step back, teeth grinding in pain and fury.
Stubbornly holding on to his weapon, he moved forward, meeting the fel orc leader again. He was better prepared for the skill of the orc this time, trading several blows with him, but he realized with shock that the weakening curse had evened out his and the fel orc's strength and that might have given the orc the edge he needed. He kept his posture low and hunched, shielding the places where he was only protected by mail, but even his plate bent under the orc's strength and though he got hits in, the orc seemed to shrug them off more easily than he did himself.
Miraculously, he got in a blow, denting the side of the fel orc's helmet and sending him staggering back. He pressed the attack, getting in two blows to the orc's right leg before raising his axe over his head to slam it down on the staggering orc. He missed, the orc stepping aside and swinging his axe in a wild, overhead blow. Maurus caught the axe head above the shaft of his own axe and pushed back, but the orc recovered too quickly, dodging one swing and catching the return on his shoulderplate, the spike on the back of Maurus' axe sinking into the plate but apparently doing no damage.
'Those are stupidly thick,' Maurus thought desperately, ripping his axe free before the orc could pull him off balance. It turned out to be a useless gesture. The orc struck, putting all his weight behind a stab of his axe. On top of the weight of the axe Maurus had so desperately tugged away from the orc, it was enough to overbalance him and he felt his weight shift, his left hoof lifting in an instinctual attempt to regain his balance.
The orc lifted his axe over his head, cruel triumph glowing in his eyes, rising to his full height. The moment seemed to last forever. The only consolation was that Maurus could see his surviving comrades, about three fourths of their original number, were gaining the upper hand. Calen's hammer crushed the skull of one warlock and Widget were taking aim at another as Mathias sliced through the longbow and the throat of one of the archers.
Maurus noted the scarlet bit of ruined armor on the orc's chest, just before the axe began to fall and remembered Widget's shot. His left hand lifted from the handle of his axe and somehow, his fingers closed on the handle just below the head of the orc's axe. He pulled sideways on the weapon and kicked out with his left hoof, already in the air and felt incredible satisfaction as his pull and his kick resulted in denting chest plate and cracking bones.
The orc coughed and let go of his axe, stumbling backwards from the force of the kick and tripping over the outstretched leg of a green orc so mutilated that Maurus didn't recognize him. Maurus himself was falling too, but he managed at the last moment to catch himself on the haft of the axes he held, pushing himself back up like they were simple walking sticks.
The fel orc leader was getting up, despite his obvious agony and Maurus tossed him his axe before gripping his own with both hands. The fel orc's eyes followed the tossed axe as it came at him lengthwise, making it easy to catch, radiating stunned surprise as he raised his hands to catch the weapon. Fixated on his own weapon, he failed to react when Maurus brought down his axe in an overhead blow that cleaved through the thin plates and mail covering his throat at an angle and opened both windpipe and jugular in a spray of dark blood.
Maurus bared his teeth in vicious satisfaction, ripped out his axe and stomped his wide hoof down on the orc's already dented helmet with all his weight behind it, halving its volume with a wet crunch.
"Good fight," he growled, feeling an odd mix of disgust, respect and accomplishment.
There was a loud, metallic twanging sound and Maurus' head snapped up, eyes darting out west, somehow finding the flaming ballista bolt just before it plunged into the closest zeppelin like a spear of flame.
The first one.
Well, that took a while. I'm sorry. There isn't much excuse, despite my exams, because I've been neglecting those a little too. But here you have an almost double length chapter, with a cliffhanger. Aren't I great? Note the sarcasm.
I got really into the action here and think I've done better at showing the action around Maurus too, but let me know what you think. Did I do good? Or was it bad or confusing?
As always, all comments are welcome, even minor nitpicks. I am here to humbly learn and entertain.