Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) (33 page)

“The armor is weak at the neck and waist!”
Josiah shouted. He plunged his sword into the neck of the next dwarf and
quickly jerked it free, while blocking a blow from another dwarf’s ax with his
shield. He swung his sword at the dwarf that was attacking him, but the brute
deflected the blade and landed another smashing blow, which Josiah again caught
on his shield. He swung with his sword again, this time at waist level, an
attack for which the dwarf was not prepared. The blade scraped across the
dwarf’s armor, but it jumped down into a seam at the last minute, laying open
the brute’s stomach and dropping him immediately. The minutes blurred together
as Josiah continued to receive and deliver blows. Sometimes he was fighting
dwarves he was able to easily dispatch, but just as often, his opponent was at
least his equal in strength and skill. He was steadily tiring, and there did
not appear to be an end to the attack in sight. He relinquished his position to
another soldier, an orc, and passed back through the ranks to relative safety.

Now that Josiah was able to take a look at
the bigger picture, he saw that his strategy of stopping the dwarves at the
narrow pass was working brilliantly. Hundreds of dwarves lay dead on the banks
of the river, whereas only a handful of his men had fallen. Even though they
continued to hold the line despite the perpetual pounding of the dwarves,
Josiah knew that his men required rest. He needed to figure out a way to force
the dwarves into a retreat, but he could not see how he was going to do it.
After all, even though his men had held the pass with a determination that
would put fear into the hearts of most people, the dwarves were a different
story. Infused with unshakable courage, they did not know fear on this
battlefield and refused to retreat. Josiah wondered what could be more
intimidating than men so determined to hold their ground that they killed the
dwarves by the dozens. As he glanced around at his army, his gaze locked on the
answer to his question. He motioned for Benjamin, who had fallen back with him.

“Tell the ogres that their turn is here,”
Josiah told his messenger. “I need them to move up to the front line and show
the dwarves what they can do. Tell them to be as intimidating as possible.”

Benjamin ran to Commander Looran and
conveyed the message. The ogre leader gave a deafening roar, and his soldiers,
eager to get into the action, bellowed in return. With massive strides they
cleared a path through the ranks of humans and broke into the front line with a
terrifying battle cry that shook the ground. They had a variety of weapons, from
clubs to massive axes and gigantic swords, and everywhere they struck, dwarves
were crushed and sent flying. The ogres’ legs became weapons as well when the
dwarves got too close, and many enemies found that a powerful kick could prove
just as fatal as a slash from a sword. The ogres killed scores of dwarves, but
even they were not able to inspire the fear that Josiah had so desperately
needed. Whenever a dwarf fell, another would step up to take its place, and now
a new weapon threatened the defenders. Dwarves carrying crossbows mingled with
the hand-to-hand units and advanced with them. They didn’t seem to care about
the safety of their own soldiers, and dozens of dwarves dropped from their own
arrows. Even so, the effect against the defending army was devastating. The
ogres were large and made prime targets for archers.

Ogres have tough skins and can absorb a
lot of abuse, but it is still possible to deal them a mortal blow. When this
wound is delivered to an ogre, they are far from out of the battle. Sensing
that they are about to die, they make the famous “ogre’s death charge,”
smashing through the enemy ranks and killing as many enemies as they are able
before they fall. As the dwarf archers began to fire, many ogres took the death
charge, killing hundreds of dwarves. But still, not even a dent had been made
in the massive numbers of the dwarf army. The remaining ogres were forced to
fall back and let the humans take the front line again. However, the dwarf
crossbows were just as deadly against humans and orcs as they were against the
ogres, and for the first time, Josiah truly realized that his army was going to
be totally annihilated.

“Archers, fall back to the hill,” Josiah
shouted, implementing his plan for the army’s last stand. The archers quickly retreated
to the hill that had previously been fortified, even as the dwarves chopped
their way through the defending swordsmen.

“Commence an orderly retreat,” Josiah
ordered. “All but the first three lines will fall back to the hill. The rest
will hold the dwarves.”

The infantry immediately ran to the hill,
which was a little too quickly for Josiah’s taste. It seemed almost as if they
were running away. Josiah turned to where the final section of his army was
holding the dwarves in a standstill. He drew his sword, raised his shield, and
ran toward the action.

“Fall back toward the hill, but maintain a
tight group,” Josiah shouted. The soldiers formed a tight ring, with men facing
out on all sides, and slowly pulled out of their position. The dwarves immediately
pushed around the outer edges of the band and quickly surrounded the little
party. Josiah was still in the middle of the group, so he took a position
facing the hill that they were trying to reach. This was where the most
fighting would take place, and he wanted to be there to lead his men. The
dwarves pitted the full weight of their army against the small group of
soldiers, trying to make a hole in their line, but Josiah’s men stubbornly held
their ground. Then the crossbow darts came. The dwarves fired a barrage of the
deadly projectiles into the group, cutting down more than half of the soldiers
and wounding the rest.

Instinctively the soldiers pulled into a
small knot and crouched down so that they would be harder for the crossbows to
hit. Josiah ducked behind his shield just as a dwarf swung an ax at him. He
peeked out and swung his sword low, cutting the dwarf’s feet off at the ankles.
The dwarf fell outside of his range and another moved to take its place. As
this enemy brought his ax down, Josiah raised his shield and caught the blow.
Then he rammed the bottom of the shield into the dwarf’s midriff. The dwarf
fell away, clutching his stomach. Josiah planted his shield back in front of
himself and stabbed and slashed with his sword, taking down anyone who came
within reach of his arm.

Another barrage of arrows hit the
soldiers, killing two more. Josiah caught a bolt on his shield, but the
razor-sharp tip pierced through the metal and dug into his breastplate. Josiah
glanced back and saw that only five more soldiers remained. They pulled into a
tighter knot and fought for all they were worth, but they knew that it was only
a matter of time before they would be slaughtered just like the rest of their
comrades. Time seemed to shift into slow motion for Josiah as he watched a
nearby dwarf sight in on him with a crossbow. The dwarf’s finger applied
pressure to the trigger of the weapon, releasing the string, which flung the
bolt out of the weapon. Sound faded as the bolt slowly cut through the air,
over the shoulder of a dwarf, and straight at Josiah’s head.

“Courage, Josiah.” The voice was soft yet
powerful, and it gave Josiah a new strength. He jerked his shield up in front
of his face and the bolt smashed into it, punching through the metal, but
coming to a stop before it reached his helmet. Josiah gave a guttural roar and
rose to his full height. He swung his sword furiously, clearing an arc around
himself and leading his small band toward the hill where the rest of his army
waited. The dwarves in front of him fell as they came into his range, their
helmets and shields cloven in two by his brutal slashes. He used his shield for
a weapon as much as he used it for defense, and many dwarves were hurled back
into their comrades by blows from it. Slowly Josiah led his soldiers toward the
hill, cutting the distance in half and then in half again. With only a few
dozen yards left to go, two dwarves attacked him simultaneously. He hit one
with his shield and slashed the other in the stomach, but in doing so, he left
himself unprotected. The flailing weapon of the second dwarf slashed the bicep
of his left arm, rendering his shield useless.

A shout from behind distracted Josiah;
therefore, he was unprepared when the next dwarf attacked. He was forced to
stumble backward to avoid the swipe of the dwarf’s weapon, and though he
attempted to maintain his balance, he was unable to do so and fell to the
ground. His left arm and shield flopped onto his chest, and moments later, the
ax of the attacking dwarf slammed into it, driving the breath out of Josiah.
The inevitable was only prolonged, however, and Josiah watched as the dwarf
raised his weapon for the final blow. Just as the ax reached the apex of its
swing, an unknown form leaped over Josiah’s head and landed between him and the
dwarf. The sword of Josiah’s rescuer flashed, and the arm of the dwarf flew
off. Again the sword flashed and this time the dwarf’s head was separated from
his body. A shower of red speckles painted Josiah’s shield, and the dwarf
toppled backward onto the bloodstained ground.

Josiah’s rescuer, who Josiah could now
identify as an elf, turned and helped him to his feet. Hidden by the massive
dwarf army, the elves had arrived from the west and joined the fight. Their
arrival was a complete surprise to both armies, and they held the upper hand,
though only for a brief amount of time. Josiah allowed himself to be led to the
hill, to which the elves had cleared a path. The elves quickly followed him to
the high, fortified position.

“Josiah, are you okay?” Josiah turned to
see Cirro jogging toward him.

“I just got slashed on the arm,” Josiah
answered, “which is a lot better than most of the soldiers out there got.”

“True,” Cirro said as he tore a piece of
cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around Josiah’s arm. He knotted the cloth
and tucked the stray edges of the makeshift bandage under it.

“Do you want some water?” he asked as he
handed a canteen to Josiah. Josiah was silent for several long moments as he
downed a long draught of water. Finally he handed the canteen back to Cirro and
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” he told Cirro. “You don’t know
how much I needed that.”

The two friends walked across the hill
together and approached a large group of elves. Josiah recognized Wellter, so
he forced his way through the elves to him. He saluted and waited for Wellter
to return the salute.

“Hello, Josiah,” Wellter said after Josiah
stood at ease. “I sense that you have a reason for being here.”

“Yes, sir,” Josiah responded. “As admiral
of the combined human and ogre army, I feel that it is my duty to confer with
you on what we are to do about our current position.”

“Admiral?” Wellter asked with a twinkle in
his eye. “I don’t recall you having that rank when we set out from the city.”

“Things change quickly on the battlefield,
sir,” Josiah answered.

“Indeed they do,” Wellter said in a more
serious tone. “I also recall that you had many more soldiers when you set out
than you do now. Exactly how many men are under your command?”

“I don’t know exactly, sir, but I think
there are around five hundred humans and five hundred ogres. I haven't seen any
orcs, but that's not surprising considering how few of them there were when we
left Saddun.”

“I don’t see how you survived at all,”
Wellter said, shaking his head.

“Only by the bravery of my men and the
help of Elohim,” Josiah answered.

“Indeed…” Wellter began, but was cut off
by a cry of warning. Seconds later, a boulder flew over the makeshift
battlements and hit a massive rock, turning it into fragments and flinging
these into the army of Magessa.

“Get under cover!” Josiah shouted
uselessly. Already the soldiers were scrambling for the nearest and safest
places they could find. Josiah followed Wellter and his entourage to a position
behind two massive boulders.

"Where the hell did the siege
machines come from?" Josiah yelled.

"They took it with them when they
left Saddun," Wellter yelled back. "We didn't think anything of it
because we assumed they were going to siege Belmoth with it."

“We have to attack the dwarves and take
out that siege equipment or they will pelt us to death with it!” an elf
shouted.

“We can't," Josiah countered.
"They have it set up on the far side of the river. Besides that, we’d
never get past the dwarf crossbowmen. My guess is that they already have them
in position and ready to take out any living thing in this area that provides a
target. You're more than welcome to take a peek if you want to test the
theory.”

“We’ll just have to weather the attack
then,” Wellter commanded. “If we stay behind cover, we might be able to survive
until they cease their fire. They have to run out of ammunition
eventually."

“That’s true, but we’d better bunker down
good,” Josiah said. “Those boulders they are flinging at us are no joke.”

“Of course,” Wellter agreed. “That’s why
I’m staying with you. Because you think of important things like that.”

Josiah didn’t acknowledge the humor in the
statement and the look of concentration never left his face.

“So, how did you end up in this mess?”
Wellter tried again. “At the academy, I mean.”