The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) (3 page)

Another volley of huge boulders slammed into the walls. Archers along the ramparts fired down furiously at their enemy. Pikemen ran along the top, destroying any ladder they could before orcs could scale the walls.

He drew in a long breath and then turned back to Mercer.

Mercer drew his lips together, puckering them in a scowl and wiping his salt and pepper hair from his face so his good eye could see clearly. “Lepkin,” Mercer began as he spat on the ground. “Outside this gate, just on the other side of the forest from us, are five trebuchets. They will continue to fire, even while their own soldiers fight to climb our walls. They have no fear of death, and they are more calculating than any human enemy.”

Lepkin nodded. “I have dealt with their kind before.”

Mercer shrugged and leaned forward, crossing his wrists over the saddle horn. “There are four hundred warriors behind you. It is not enough to route the enemy, but it is all I can spare without weakening the walls. We need every other man along the ramparts to fend the demons off.” Mercer shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this, if I thought there was any other way.”

Lepkin drew his sword. “If we do not destroy the trebuchets, the walls will fall. There is no other way. We will destroy the siege engines.”

“See that you return to the gates the moment the last trebuchet is destroyed,” Mercer said.

At that moment, Lepkin caught sight of Dimwater climbing up the steps to join the archers on the ramparts. Amidst the shouting and the continuous boulders battering the walls, she was calm, poised, and determined. Mercer followed Lepkin’s gaze and then nodded.

“Actually, I am not half as afraid of the orcs as I fear her anger should you not return,” Mercer said as he cut a thin grin over his face.

Lepkin smiled to himself. He didn’t have the flaming sword anymore, but he had her. She would watch over him from the walls. He pointed his sword at the gate. “Forward!” he shouted. He started jogging toward the gate. Thundering boots followed him. A dozen soldiers stood near the portcullis and the gates, waiting until the last possible second before opening them.

Chains and gears clanked and popped.

Lepkin’s hot breath bounced back upon his face as it got trapped inside the visor. The gates opened to reveal a scene that would have even the most seasoned veteran leaking courage in a yellow stream down his leg. Not Lepkin. He was dragonborn. The road was covered in orcs. Pickets and spikes barred the way to the forest. Squads of orcs stood nearby with bows and let their arrows fly the moment the gates opened. Lepkin didn’t mind the arrows. They glanced off the Telarian steel harmlessly.

From behind the orc archers came a unit of spearmen. Lepkin slid his longsword away and readied his own spear. He lifted it up to his shoulder and threw it with impeccable aim. The gleaming weapon tore through an orc’s exposed neck and then pierced the chest of an orc behind the first. A moment later eight more spears flew through the air, each finding their target and dropping an orc.

Lepkin pulled his greatsword, the sound of the massive weapon sliding out from the harness along his back sent shivers down his spine, and put a smile on his face. The first orc moved in, stabbing out with his spear. Lepkin ran straight, allowing the spear to crash against his armor. The spear stopped without even creating a dent. The wooden shaft snapped as Lepkin charged in. He brought his greatsword down in a mighty chop, taking three orcs down to the ground. Around him, the other eight dragon slayers pushed through with similar success.

The orc archers broke their line, moving out to flank Lepkin and his men. They fired their arrows, but this time they aimed at the warriors behind the dragon slayers. A second wave of orcs came down through the middle. Before Lepkin ran three more paces an orc was upon him, swinging a mighty hammer. Lepkin ducked under the swing and then charged, running his greatsword into the orc up to the hilt. He let the weapon fall with the orc. He reached for his longsword and ran on.

A heavy strike glanced off his shield. A pair of orcs moved in from his right, hacking and chopping. He tried to push on, but now there were too many orcs. Lepkin and the dragon slayers stood their ground, hacking through the enemy more slowly now, fighting for every step. The warriors at their back spread out along the side, the whole force forming a glimmering wedge of steel and blood, pushing through the black and green mass.

No sooner had Lepkin and his men stopped, than a trio of tornadoes appeared in the midst of the orcs. Archers and swordsmen lifted into the air, flailing about and screaming for help. A second later the tornadoes erupted into great columns of fire, growing and spreading as they pushed back through the army.

Lepkin smiled. He knew this was Dimwater’s work. He would have turned to offer his thanks, but he didn’t want to risk giving away her position and letting the orcs focus their arrows on her. Instead, he pushed through the confused ranks, hacking wildly and bashing others with his shield. One crazed orc lunged at him. Lepkin turned and barreled into the orc with his right shoulder, letting the blades and spikes on his armor finish the foolish warrior.

The men behind him shouted triumphantly as they pushed on. Orcs scrambled about, running from Dimwater’s spells and trying to regroup in the forests. Lepkin and the others cleared the pickets and spikes and pressed farther down the road. Arrows streamed out from the trees. Screams and shouts behind Lepkin confirmed that at least a few of the arrows had found their marks, despite the armor everyone wore. A quick glance confirmed that all of the dragon slayers still lived, and that was enough. The others would have to do what they could, but Lepkin and the eight who wore the black armor had a mission that they would see through, even if it cost them their lives.

The fiery tornadoes then pushed into the trees. The magical fires tore through the forest, consuming the trees and growing exponentially. Arrows no longer flew out from the forest. Now there was only the sound of screaming and squealing coming from the trees.

Lepkin looked to the road, noting that the flames rose high on both sides. The trebuchets lay several hundred yards away. They would have to hurry if they wanted to make it through the road without being scorched by Dimwater’s spells. “It’s about to get very hot out here!” Lepkin shouted to the others. “Move forward, everyone run now!”

A chorus of boots stamping the road answered him. Lepkin sheathed his weapon and led the way with the other eight dragon slayers flanking him. The flames around them roared up into the sky, issuing forth a thick, black smoke that dimmed the sun. All around them was bathed in a deathlike, orange glow.

Lepkin sprinted faster as a tree near the road exploded. Flaming shards of wood sprayed out onto the road, but the top half of the tree fell into the forest, spewing flames out to the side as it crashed onto the ground. Lepkin’s black armor moved smoothly, as if it had been created for him only the day before. It even did a decent job reflecting the heat, as Telarian steel was renowned for doing. He knew, however, that the men behind them would not fare as comfortably in the growing heat with their regular armor.

“Sir, up ahead!” one of the dragon slayers shouted.

Lepkin focused his gaze down the road and saw a group of orcs. They were mounted on some kind of large animal. It was stockier than a horse, and shorter too, yet each animal had a massive rack of horns that curled out from the skull. The black fur shone against the roaring flames, and the hooves below glimmered as if made of black granite.

“Goargs!” Lepkin shouted. No sooner had he shouted the warning than the group of five riders charged forward. Each orc was dressed in thick, green armor, and held either an axe or a great war hammer. The weapons were almost superfluous, Lepkin knew. It was the goarg that would be the largest threat. The beasts galloped forward with tremendous speed, lowering their heads as they neared.

Lepkin tried to judge when the first would collide with the group, but it was nearly impossible. Each animal was lightning-fast, and rather than galloping into Lepkin’s group, they leapt from several yards away. Lepkin ducked under one goarg, catching a hoof on his back as the animal flew over him to crash into several men behind. The force of the kick was enough to flatten Lepkin to the ground. Luckily his armor protected him and he was able to jump back to his feet only a moment later. He turned to help fight off the goargs.

Men screamed and hollered as entire suits of armor were dashed apart upon impact. Each goarg had a rack of horns wide enough to slam into four men. Any unlucky enough to take the brunt of the impact died instantly. Their armor either flew apart, or collapsed inward only to have blood ooze out around the edges.

The men were quick to react, swords and spears struck in for the goargs. Lepkin charged one and managed to slice through its hind leg. The animal bleated and fell to the ground, throwing its rider before Lepkin. The Keeper of Secrets expertly slipped his sword through the space between the orc’s helmet and hauberk, piercing the orc’s neck and ending his life.

“More!” someone shouted. Lepkin wheeled around to see another wave of goargs charging them. Before he could react, a great flame swirled out from the left of the road and spread across the road like a wall. It grew tall, and a pair of arm-like appendages sprouted out from the sides. It was Dimwater’s doing, Lepkin knew.

A goarg leapt over the fire, eager to carry its rider to Lepkin, but the magical fire being snatched the beast with one of its arms and pulled it into itself. The orc and goarg howled crazily as the fire consumed them. The fire creature then grew even larger and moved forward, devouring the goargs in its path and sending others scurrying back down the road.

Lepkin waved and started to follow the fire being up the road. The army charged up, all too eager to get away from the roaring fires around them. They ran for a couple hundred yards before the forest gave way to a large clearing. Orcs were busy dousing the grass fires and heaping great mounds of earth into barriers to protect the trebuchets. There were not five engines, as Lepkin had been told, but seven of the large machines in the clearing. Lepkin took off to the left, the dragon slayers went with him. The rest of the warriors split into smaller groups.

Lepkin reached the first trebuchet in a matter of seconds. A crew of seven worked the machine, but none of them were heavily armored. A couple produced spears, others pulled short swords. They were no match for Lepkin and the other dragon slayers. The orcs fell in the blink of an eye and the group went to work destroying the trebuchet. They cut the ropes that bound the machine, and then shattered the gears and levers. The trebuchet creaked and groaned before finally splitting apart in several pieces and collapsing around them.

Lepkin then surveyed the scene around him. Dimwater’s fire creature had landed upon one of the trebuchets, and was using the wood to fuel itself as it battled a group of orcs. The magic fire-being moved slower now, obviously too far out of Dimwater’s reach to be controlled as well as before. Two other trebuchets had been destroyed, but the farthest warriors had been swallowed by waves of orc warriors. Pockets of bright, silvery steel armor glinted in the light amidst a mass of black and green armor. Thunder shook the ground behind him. Lepkin turned about to see a group of goargs charging his location.

One of the beasts leapt into the air and slammed into a dragon slayer. A sick, cracking sound filled the air as the spikes and blades on the armor broke through the goarg’s horns and pierced its skull. The beast died upon impact, but its momentum drove the dragon slayer into the ground, twisting and snapping the man’s leg as the orcish rider was flung from his saddle.

The other goargs learned from the first. None of them charged directly at any of the dragon slayers. Instead, they galloped near enough for the riders to attack. Lepkin side-stepped away from a war hammer and struck out with his longsword, scoring a stab in the soft tissue just in front of the goarg’s right hind leg. The beast nearly fell, but managed to keep its balance as it stumbled around for another pass.

Lepkin slid his longsword away and reached for one of the spears left behind by a slain orc. The weapon was well balanced, but the shaft was made of wood and was not strong enough to drive through the animal’s hide if Lepkin threw it. So, he held it and waited for the goarg to charge again. He held calm and still as the goarg neared, leveling the spear so that the point was aimed at the goarg’s throat. The black hooves tore up the turf below and it lowered its head to strike. The orc on top raised his warhammer to prepare to strike.

Lepkin darted forward and lunged for the ground before the beast, spinning over to land on his back. He jammed the butt of the spear into the ground and the point thrust through the goarg’s chest with ease. The beast hardly made a sound as it collapsed only a yard beyond Lepkin’s feet. Lepkin jumped up and ran around the goarg. The orc managed to scramble to his feet after being thrown. He turned with his hammer and delivered a solid blow to Lepkin’s chest, knocking the man back a step, but not causing any permanent damage.

Lepkin drew his longsword and closed in. He ducked under another swing of the war hammer and lashed out with a straight thrust. The orc turned just enough to prevent the sword from slipping into the gap between the plates of armor. The Telarian steel glanced off the green armor harmlessly. The orc switched directions with his swing effortlessly, bringing the spiked rear of the hammer’s head toward Lepkin. Lepkin dropped to a knee and bent forward. The war hammer sailed by. At that moment Lepkin jumped up and lunged forward, slamming into the orc and pinning his arms to his chest as he tackled the foe to the ground. Lepkin momentarily released his sword, letting it rest on the ground nearby, and reached up to tear the orc’s helmet off.