History of the World of Lineage/Harbingers of War
Chronicle 1: Harbingers of War
Contents |
Battle for Giran
Thanks to the efforts of Cardinal Seresin, the seeds of trust had at last put down roots, still weak for now. Every people now felt an ominous foreboding of the coming catastrophe. The hellfire of a war that threatened to swallow the land flared up where no one expected — not in the border regions and not in the cold north full of roaming monsters, but deep in the realm of men.
History is a cruel teacher that stubbornly repeats life's lessons to us. People needed an enemy like the air they breathe. When they could not find a worthy opponent, they turned their gaze on those close by. Every time I heard of misfortunes at Giran Castle, I remembered the words of my teacher, striking in their wisdom: "Humans are woven from all the leftovers of the Gods, so their souls are unclean from the start..."
As the Elven envoy entered the open gates of Aden Castle, Duke Lewin Waldner, ruler of Gludio, was driven from his lands. Power was seized by a newcomer of unknown birth and tribe... In Dion, Duke Ashton was overthrown by a popular uprising and fled to Aden. Ol Mahum mercenaries kept King Amadeo's army from coming to the duke's aid. The reality of the siege was harsh — the leader of the rebels, taking the throne of Dion, became the full and absolute master of the surrounding lands. The King had no choice but to recognize the new ruler. People realized that if the uprisings spread to other lands, the kingdom would be wiped off the face of the earth. Fate was already marching toward chaos — the most important battle took place in the richest part of the country and became the crucial turning point of the events that unfolded.
Many strange events came before the battle for Giran Castle. When neighboring lords lost their domains so easily, how could Baron Carmon Ezus set out so carelessly with his army on a campaign against Antharas? Where are those who survived that campaign? Where is the Baron himself, and why did he entrust the castle to Leona Blackbird, whose origins are unknown to this day?
Why were those who stood on the battlefield not at all surprised that everything was going exactly this way? The answer came from Zeighard, a mercenary who had come from Elmore to take part in the battle, and also from the young princess fighting for the castle on the Baron's orders. For both of them, as for many others, there was one reason — the Harbinger of War.
Hindemith, author Dasparion (Hardin's student), Imperial Year 1640
Erica
Lake Innadril is the border between Giran and Innadril. A vast wasteland stretches north to the Death Pass. From the south the River of Tears flows into the lake. On a hill above the lake's northwestern shore stands a castle, from whose towers you can see every corner of the lake.
It was a hot summer day, with the sun burning the skin like an arrow. The marshes around the castle glittered brightly, though dark cumulus clouds in the north promised a downpour soon. Both armies, drawn out like the blade of a sword in battle, awaited the relentlessly approaching moment the battle would begin, as did the crows cawing all around.
Graham was an old man dressed in luxurious clothes, and looked more like a merchant who had decided to visit a palace than the Lord of a castle. Entering the tent, Sir Graham straightened his cloak and complained about the sharp west wind.
Erica Ken Weber, unlike Graham, let the wind blow through her hair. Her unease before the battle grew with Sir Graham's grumbling. Clan flags stood all over the camp, and the sound they made was like the roar of flames in a huge bonfire. Off to the side, mercenaries were taking arrows from the supply train:
- Thanks to God and the help of the church, we have no trouble with equipment. If only everyone else were armed as well as your mercenaries, and not like these second-rate soldiers.
Graham blew his nose loudly, showing his contempt for the camp where the clans had settled. Many clans were quietly preparing for the siege. A group of 30 dark elves, armed with thin swords and dressed in mithril armor, had gathered around a black flag bearing a red wolf crest. The group was commanded by a silver-haired woman.
- No need to worry, they're mercenaries from the Brotherhood of the Red Wolf. They say they recently crushed a group of high-ranking knights in a clan war.
- Oh… that's incredible, — Graham blew his nose again.
- They also say they're ruthless to other races, but their terrible reputation irritates and repels those who might hire them. Recently someone from the merchant guild wanted to hire them, but lost his tongue. He probably said the wrong thing.
The elf looked at Erica as if she had heard her words. Erica slowly and deliberately put her right hand on her left breast and bowed. Sir Graham quickly turned away. - Enough inspections – we must get back to Sir Zeighard. - As you wish, my lord.
Before she could finish her answer, Graham had already turned and headed for the main mercenary camp. Erica smiled.
Of the many dwarven guilds, the "Black Anvil" was known for making and using rather strange mechanical devices. It is said that the "Black Anvil" was involved in the great tragedy in Dion, when the Core of Cruma Tower came back to life.
- Well, what do you want? I have nothing to say on this matter anyway.
Zeighard raised both his hands, and the three dwarves also raised their palms. On the backs of their hands was a black tattoo in the shape of an anvil. They shuffled their short legs while they talked, and Zeighard shook his head from time to time as the dwarves explained something. Finally, the chief dwarf shook Zeighard's hand, and the dwarves noisily left. Erica held back a laugh and tried to speak carefully and clearly: - We're ahead of schedule, but Sir Graham believes the inspection is over, general.
Zeighard looked surprised, but Graham nodded to confirm Erica's words: - I've seen enough of Sir Zeighard's troops and I hope for a good outcome in the battle. But…
Graham stopped and looked at Erica. She nodded slightly. - I'll step out for a moment. - No, - Zeighard answered — It's all right. I trust her. - In that case…, - Graham began, but fell silent again — How can you trust dwarves?
A smile slowly spread across Zeighard's face: - I didn't trust dwarves before either, but it would be a mistake not to accept them, given the learning they always show me.
Satisfied, Graham left the general's tent without a word, leaving Zeighard and Erica to themselves. - I didn't mean to leave, general. But I'm grateful that you trust me. - We have to discuss a lot of things during the battle, but it's much harder to explain it all afterwards.
Zeighard suddenly added: - What's been done is ahead of the preparation plan. I think you've done everything and even counted every potato in the supply train.
Erica modestly touched her hair.
She wanted to ask about the dwarves, but decided that Zeighard would soon tell her everything anyway.
He always worked out his strategy alone, giving his subordinates instructions that contained only what had to be done. She used to be surprised a lot, but now she was used to the unexpected nature of the general's orders.
The dark elf commanding the Red Wolves had been waiting for the day they left the camp. She came up to Zeighard and blew him a kiss. Zeighard greeted her. The words of greeting were spoken in the language of the dark elves, a language Erica didn't know. The woman, smiling an artificial smile and saying nothing, went back to the camp where all the tribes had already gathered. She seemed to like Zeighard.
The mercenaries took up positions facing the castle walls. Shielding her eyes from the blinding sun with her hand, Erica tried to make out the warriors on the walls. She saw many fair-haired elves; their movements were light and smooth, and their skin had a pearly sheen. Next to them stood mages in white robes holding staves. - About 20 or more archers against us. We must be ready for heavy losses when we attack the castle gates. - Don't worry, Erica, — Graham said in a low voice. — These are the remnants of their troops. You can be sure they're armed with something more than farm tools, as before. But their bows can't hide the fact that there are so few of them.
Zeighard silently gazed at the troops lined up on the castle walls, and a smile appeared on his face: - Leona… Is she any good?
Erica had heard that name once. When she heard that the lord of Giran had put a girl under 20 in charge of Giran's lands, she laughed at the lord's shortsightedness.
Still, Leona Blackbird had successfully commanded troops in many skirmishes, but Zeighard and Erica had defeated opponents more powerful than her. However, they were worried by rumors that Leona had received the holy protection of the fire dragon – Valakas.
Erica tried not to take such rumors seriously. Perhaps because she knew such stories very well. The ungrateful one, her general who stood before her, could kill an opponent with a smile on his lips. She didn't know what he was thinking; that was the only way he could win. She had to entrust the battle to him and focus on the duties that had been given to her.
Suddenly the sentries made a commotion; some whose posts faced the castle wore looks of surprise and disbelief. With a loud creak the castle gates opened. In the opening appeared an elf wearing chain mail over his porcelain skin. His boots were the color of platinum, and at his waist was a belt from which hung a long sword. The elf raised his free right hand as a sign of peaceful intent. - Looks like he's decided to surrender…
The elf crossed the bridge over the moat and headed to where Zeighard and Erica stood, approaching cautiously with small steps. He bowed to Zeighard, as he was the commander of the besiegers. Zeighard nodded, and the elf straightened up and spoke in an elegant voice: - This is a message from Leona Blackbird, who represents the lord of Giran Castle in his absence.
The elf took a scroll from his sleeve and unrolled it with both hands. - Brave officers and soldiers. I wish with all my heart that you be worthy and noble. As defender of Giran Castle, I ask you, please, sheathe your swords and go back where you came from. Who holds the castle was decided long ago, and there is no reason to dispute that decision. What you desire cannot be won by military force. This message is also a warning: if you dare to attack the castle, know that you will meet a cruel fate. Signed: Leona Blackbird, commander of the defense of Giran Castle. - That is all!
Graham's indignant face contrasted with Zeighard's loud laughter.
The face of the elf who had finished reading the message showed no emotion. Like all the other forest tribes Erica knew, this elf had a face that made it hard to tell what was on his mind. Waiting for Zeighard's answer, he didn't even blink. Zeighard, having calmed down, shouted loudly: - Go and tell that girl you call your commander that I'll cause her less trouble if she just surrenders the castle! That is all! - I will tell her that you rejected Lady Leona's offer. I will go now.
The elf quickly went back to the castle gates, turning his back on the besieging army.
Erica came up to Zeighard: - If you're trying to make them angry, wouldn't it have been better to cut his throat before sending him back? - What anger? It's just a formality before the assault. - Is it? Should we follow these principles toward that girl Leona?
Zeighard nodded in reply: - It's the rule. Everything must be by the rules. They defend the castle, we attack. We state our intentions and set the day and the hour. Those who break the rules will never be recognized by the castle.
Erica hesitated, and Zeighard laughed his familiar laugh. No matter how she saw the outcome of today's battle, she couldn't see a single reason they could lose. Erica stretched her shoulders.
Suddenly a gust of wind blew down from the northern mountains.
Leona
Standing on the high wall of Giran Castle, Leona watched Wellion return from the besiegers' camp.
The elven knight soon stood before her: The enemy has rejected your offer - he said.
She half-closed her eyes, confirming what she already knew. Wellion's face looked slightly wild, and Leona tried to understand what words he had heard in the enemy camp that had offended him so.
She gazed at the besiegers' camp spread out before the castle.
"So, we will fight. Thank you for your work, Wellion."
The elf bowed politely in reply.
"As we decided earlier this morning, Wellion, I want you to lead the infantry. If the enemy breaks through the gates, you must not let them reach the inner citadel. Baron Estus entrusted the defense of the castle to me, and I would like the enemy never to get inside the castle."
"I will do everything I can; the rest is in the hands of the gods."
"May the blessing of the stars be with you."
The elf gracefully went down the stairs and disappeared from sight. Leona stared intently at the besiegers' camp.
Less than half the garrison was left in the castle. Even Kardi de Hestu and the others Leona could always rely on were far away. Trouble had struck when she least expected it. Could a spy have slipped inside the castle walls? Could she trust anyone in that case?
For a moment suspicion overwhelmed her, and all sorts of doubts began to seep into her mind. This girl, who by the will of fate found herself in the place of the castle's lord, tried to rid herself of the thoughts tormenting her.
Malice surrounded her soul like fog covers a lake. She gripped the edge of the stone wall so hard that her knuckles turned white.
"I am ready to give every help in defending the castle, Lady Leona."
The words spoken behind her came from an Elf whose voice she hadn't heard in many years. Turning around, she saw that he wore the green ceremonial robes that only the high priests of Eva could wear.
"Ah, Ellik! You came after all!"
"I'm very sorry, but we were badly delayed in Dion."
"Don't apologize. Do you know about.. the situation we're in?"
Ellik nodded. "Before coming, I met with Dubian."
They walked slowly through the castle.
"As you know, this castle is very much like Gludio Castle. The fiercest fighting broke out at the gates of the inner citadel. That place turned out to be the weak link in the castle's defense."
"I'm sorry that Duke Waldner has disappeared. He was a good man. Is there still no news of him?"
The Elven priest's silence explained everything better than any words.
Her voice trembled. "We can't defend the castle gates." Leona tried with all her might to hold back the rush of tears. "What can we do at all?"
"It would be good to win a little time at the gates; that will let our warriors on the walls thin their ranks. As soon as the enemy breaks through the gates, we must be ready to fall back to the gates of the inner citadel."
"Those are my thoughts. In truth, we simply have no other choice."
Ellik nodded in agreement. Leona returned to the wall. Looking at the future battlefield, her gaze froze on a black flag bearing a golden ram's head. Her thoughts weighed on her like heavy shackles. "That's where the enemy leader is."
"I believe our enemies are thinking the same thing."
"Their leader's actions are risky and unusual; they differ from what a typical adviser might suggest. This groundless war is gaining strength before our eyes. We must find a way to win it."
At some point Ellik came to respect Leona – a human girl whose age was not even a tenth of his own.
"Give your orders, Leona."
At last she went back to the ranks of soldiers and assigned battle positions to the archers and mages. Later, as she was giving final instructions to the foot soldiers in the castle courtyard, Ellik brought an Elven woman to her. As they were introduced, Leona noticed that the Elf had long golden hair and was very lovely indeed. Around her neck hung an amulet of Eva – the goddess of the lake.
Many young foot soldiers caught themselves unable to take their eyes off the Elf, since it was the first time they had ever seen a living elven woman. "That is not part of your instructions!" Leona said jokingly. The soldiers lowered their eyes, suddenly blushing. Leona smiled and suggested the Elves go elsewhere to get acquainted.
"This is Luellin, the oracle of my group."
Leona understood that the elf held a very high position in Elven society. She bowed in greeting to the Oracle, hoping to hide her nervousness this way.
"She will support you with her protective and healing magic during the battle."
Leona held out her hand. "With our meager supplies, the archers and foot soldiers will need such protection more. Please send her to the castle gates. Making such an unjustified decision seems wrong to me."
Ellik answered with restraint but firmly. "You are our leader. We are taking every necessary measure to protect you from injury. If we don't – we will all be in danger."
Realizing he was speaking too loudly, he glanced at a guard, who was too busy to notice. He spoke again, his voice quieter.
"When the assault begins, there will be incredible chaos here. Frankly, I despise battles like this. Young or old, those who have seen much and those who have barely seen life, it makes no difference, they will be killed in an instant. Despite this, one thing remains absolute: you have no right to die."
Leona nodded without a word. In the distance a horn sounded. Its low, resonant sound warned everyone in the castle – get ready for battle or run before chaos breaks loose. A shiver of anticipation ran through the troops of both sides.
Many of them were fated to join the ranks of forgotten gravestones in some nameless cemetery.
The archers nocked their arrows, took aim and drew their bowstrings with all their might. The blue energy of soulshots was released along with the spells cast by the mystics, while golden energy flowed through the archers' bodies.
The besieging troops split into units of 30 men and waited for the signal to attack. At last the unit commanders raised their swords, and the troops moved to the assault to the arrhythmic accompaniment of footsteps, broken now and then by battle cries.
Hundreds of arrows cut through the sky in a deadly rainbow.
The battle had begun.
Erica (part 2)
As expected, the "Brotherhood of the Red Wolf" reached the castle gates first. Their goal was to break down the castle gates quickly. But as soon as they crossed the bridge, elven warriors came out of hidden passages and cut off their retreat.
The warriors defending the castle wore light armor that let them make the most of elven agility. Their commander was the elven knight who had delivered Leona's message to Zeighard's camp. Rather than fight the dark elves hand to hand, the castle's defenders chose to cut them off from their only escape route. A rain of arrows poured from the castle wall onto the trapped "Red Wolves", and their lifeless bodies fell one on top of another. Had Zeighard sent reinforcements even a minute later, the "Red Wolves" would have been killed to the last. Seeing the terrible fate of the first wave of attackers, the morale of the other warriors fell. The weather seemed to change along with what was happening on the ground. A north wind blew, and the clouds it drove covered the sun, turning the sky the color of ash.
While these events were unfolding, Erica watched Zeighard's reaction. His face looked as if he had been cruelly beaten.
She couldn't hold back her sudden disappointment: "This is not at all what I expected!"
Zeighard was silent; it looked as if he was trying to decipher some code in his head. Erica decided to watch what happened next in silence.
Graham, standing nearby, looked disappointed. He muttered something unintelligible and finally exclaimed:
- Those mercenaries were expensive! Use them, let them join the battle!
Zeighard ignored Graham's words and gave orders to the messenger:
- The "Red Wolf" Brotherhood – fall back. Move the archers to the front line. Aim at the enemy's legs and fire 3 volleys. Then shoot at the archers on the castle walls. The "Crooked Claws" warriors – get ready to attack.
The herald repeated Zeighard's orders to the troops. Soon the combined archer units moved forward. At the command of Hawkeye and the Phantom Ranger they nocked their arrows and, drawing their bowstrings, loosed a sea of arrows. The single stream scattered in the wind into thousands of pieces, lighting many fires at the elves' feet. Fortunately, the remnants of the "Red Wolf Brotherhood" and the warriors who had come to help them fell back without heavy losses.
Graham shifted from foot to foot, upset that Zeighard had ignored him. Finally, losing patience, he put his hand on Zeighard's back. The ears of the panther sleeping next to Zeighard pricked up. The beast stretched and stepped between Graham and its master. As it passed, the panther shoved Graham so hard that he staggered. Stretching its neck, the beast stood before its master, yawned and looked Graham over with contempt. Graham pulled himself together and stepped back; all his belligerence quickly faded. Zeighard had summoned this panther from the world of darkness a little earlier.
Erica felt a certain sympathy for Graham; she enjoyed his cold and unexpected silence.
Zeighard stroked the thick fur of the huge cat, which answered with a loud purr
Brought by these therapeutic actions into a state close to a trance, the leader turned to Graham, and his voice sounded otherworldly:
- Don't worry, Graham. They are expendable, and we'll use these mercenaries as we see fit.
Zeighard signaled a servant to bring him a chair, and his voice became more commanding:
- The battle hasn't reached its decisive stage yet. So, for your own safety, sit down and watch from a safe distance.
The discouraged Graham had no choice but to sit down in silence.
A drop. Another drop. The rain was gathering strength. Soon a heavy downpour began, heavy drops falling on tired faces. The battlefield turned into a sea of mud. Heedless of the fickle winds and weather, the clash of swords and the cries of the dying grew louder with every moment.
The orc Shakdun, whom his people had named the Crusher, sat in the rain some distance from the cries of the dying, deep in meditation. In contrast to his outward calm, seething malice filled him from within. When his turn came to join the battle, he would show his enemies the true meaning of his name. Erica wondered what thoughts were visiting him at that moment. Perhaps he was thinking of his brothers who had been accused of treason? Of the shame he had felt when he was exiled as a prince of fire? Perhaps he was thinking of the bride he had left at home?
Blood flowed from his shoulder, glistening on his muscular, broad back. Shakdun was now ready for battle.
His best troops, barely more than 20 men, wrapped in cloaks, patiently awaited their leader's command. One of them threw off his cloak, but the commander, without turning around, raised his left hand, holding back his subordinates' impulses. Watching this, Erica decided she would rather go into battle with Zeighard than with an orc like that.
- If you don't hurry and send him into battle, Shakdun might start swinging his club right here, - Graham said, as if he'd been waiting for the right moment. He was shielding himself from the rain with a piece of oiled paper, sitting in the chair Zeighard had ordered brought. - This orc is the Crusher, he destroyed the Taik orc tribe's village in the Forest of Mirrors!
- No one uses a spear to kill flies. It's not yet time for Shakdun to join the battle.
Graham jumped up sharply:
- And when will "that" time come?
Zeighard stood motionless, without blinking. It seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Graham pulled in his elbows and, grumbling, plopped back into the chair:
- As usual, our steadfast leader knows everything and says nothing. But if he loses….
- We will win, - Erica cut him off.
Disappointed and gloomy, Graham disappeared behind the camp. Erica was glad he had left; otherwise reprisal for his panicky mood would have been unavoidable.
The rain was pouring down in buckets. When lightning split the sky in the northeast, the whole land turned white. The peals of thunder were like the beat of drums.
- Frequent lightning and rain remind me of the bards' heroic songs, - Erica said to herself.
A messenger came up, greeted Zeighard and reported loudly:
- Osori's squad has been destroyed! The leader of the "Witch's Sigh" is dead!
- We can see that anyway, idiot! - before Zeighard could say anything, Erica came up to the messenger hissing, having lost control of her emotions
- We can see that, idiot! - Erica hissed at the messenger, having lost control of her emotions, before Zeighard could say anything. The squad commanders waiting for orders turned toward the unexpected quarrel. Zeighard's black panther silenced Erica with a deep growl.
At last Zeighard said:
- And what about the elves?
- You mean the enemy? - the shaken messenger asked barely audibly. - They're retreating, but it seems some of them are still fighting outside the castle.
Zeighard barely smiled:
- Of course. Those are the rules of the game.
Zeighard ordered a sentry to bring a lantern, took it and went straight to the shore of the fog-covered lake. A fire that appeared in the middle of the lake was the answer to his signal.
Suddenly the lake threw up a huge column of water, hurling stones to the foot of the mountain opposite the besiegers' camp. Something thrashed in the water. A new sound joined the sounds of rain and waves, like the chirping of birds. Soon it changed to a creaking noise, as if a hundred wooden doors were being slammed and opened at once. Again there was a splash of water, and the ground shook. An incredible body rose above the fog like a huge column.
Erica tried to make out the top of the column, but realized it was part of something big. Erica had to turn all the way around to see the thing completely.
It looked like a man, but its arms were unusually long. Its whole body was covered in mud and seaweed, as if an ancient giant had risen from the bottom of the lake. The rain washed the mud off the giant. In the flashes of lightning Erica could finally understand what was before her:
- A golem?
The colossus passed right over their heads, heading toward the castle walls with heavy, wide strides.
Leona (part 2)
All words were forgotten, drowned in battle. The sounds of rain and weapons seemed distant and unreal. When Leona saw the golem, it felt as if a heavy anvil had struck her on the head. An incredible iron giant, taller than the castle walls, was slowly approaching them. The warriors defending the castle were seized with horror and, abandoning their posts, stared at the golem.
- Shoot! Shoot! There's no point aiming at a thing that big! - someone was shouting commands to the archers. Shocked by what was happening, Leona instinctively gripped the shaft of her spear. - Follow orders! - she shouted with all her might. - Remember our comrades who fought and fell in battle against Antharas! Fight so that their sacrifice is not in vain! - she shouted, standing with one foot on the parapet and pointing her spear at the giant.
The officers were the first to respond to her order and commanded the warriors and mages to fire at the golem. But the arrows bounced off the giant's iron armor like flies, and the fireballs sent by the wizards left only black circles on its body.
Ignoring the defenders' resistance, the grey bulk of the golem went on toward the castle walls. The bridge over the moat creaked under the giant's weight. Trying to shout over the roar of battle, Leona ordered her troops to keep resisting.
The golem's mechanical arm suddenly struck the gates with such force that Leona, who was nearby, almost fell off the wall, but landed in someone's arms, which stopped her fall.
A few moments later she realized it was Dubian, a sorcerer from the Ivory Tower. His clothes were soaked through, and his wet hair stuck to his face.
Leona jumped up and returned to the parapet of the castle wall without even thanking her rescuer. The huge machine was slowly raising its enormous arm for the next blow at the gates. The arrows and spells the castle's defenders sent left only faint sparks on it, which soon went out.
Lost, watching from afar and seeing no way to resist the iron monster, Leona felt emptiness filling her body and soul.
Dubian said: - The golem was made by the armorers of the "Black Anvil" guild. See the anvil-shaped mark on its shoulder? Moving such a heavy machine takes an incredible source of energy.
Cutting off further explanations, Leona answered sharply:
- What does that matter? That thing will smash the castle gates. We MUST find a way to stop it!
At that moment the castle was shaken by a new blow, more powerful than the last. Warriors and mages fell off the castle wall like dominoes. Leona grabbed a stone column with both hands so as not to fall. With every blow of the golem, the thick planks of the gates cracked more and more.
Dubian, pressed against the wall of the watchtower, shouted: - This monster is controlled by a dwarf from the "Black Anvil". We have to find him! If we stop him, the golem will turn into a useless heap of metal!
Ignoring the besiegers' arrows, Leona leaned over the castle wall and peered into the distance. All she could see beyond the lake shore was a thick milky haze.
Another blow of the machine left huge cracks in the castle gates. Suddenly, for a moment, Leona was blinded by a light coming from the lake. Wanting to know what it was, she ran along the wall.
Dubian followed her closely, creating a spell in the form of a column of light. A meter from him ran a creature with huge eyes that looked like a cat. At the wizard's command the cat jumped onto the wall and, putting its paw to its forehead, began peering into the mist covering the lake. Soon the cat came back and telepathically reported the results of its scouting to its master: "A dwarf on the lake"
- My horse! - Leona cried, receiving this message. She hurried to the stairs. - Fighting the enemy, you can't see the whole picture from afar. You have to be in the thick of things!
- No, you can't do that! It's too dangerous! - said the elven oracle Luellin, blocking her way; she had kept silent until then.
Leona shoved her roughly, shouting: - Get out of my way!
Luellin staggered slightly but kept blocking Leona's path. Looking her straight in the eye, the oracle said: - My life and the lives of everyone defending the castle depend on you!
The warriors on the walls looked at Leona, and their looks confirmed the elf's words.
Cold raindrops fell on her neck, shoulders and chest. Leona, remembering that she was a decent shot, ordered: - A bow!
An archer handed her his weapon. Leona quickly walked to the northern end of the wall: - Dubian, pen and paper.
The Mage and the Oracle followed behind. - Speak, I'll write down your words.
Reaching the northern wall of the castle, Leona tied the letter to an arrow. She pictured the place the arrow had to land, drew the bowstring and released. The arrow soared up and, describing an arc, vanished into the fog.
Watching the arrow go, Leona headed for the western wall of the castle. She still had a lot to do.
Wellion had no more than 20 humans and elves under his command. His unit was positioned on a small patch of land between the castle and the lake. The besiegers did not expect the small garrison to be able to spare part of its force for action outside the castle. Wellion's unit consisted of foot soldiers who had left the castle through a secret gate in the north, and was awaiting further orders.
As soon as Wellion read the letter sent to him by arrow, he immediately led his unit to the lake. They avoided the troops besieging the castle, which were mostly concentrated in front of the gates. They passed the eastern walls and moved along the lake shore according to Leona's plan. Thick fog hid their movement from the enemy's eyes.
Reaching their destination, they came face to face with the enemy.
The dwarf held a book sheltered from the rain in one hand, and in the other a strange mechanical device, which he waved in the direction of the golem.
The eyes of the dwarf and the elf met. Glancing behind the elf, the dwarf opened his eyes wide in surprise and suddenly burst out laughing.
A huge orc with terrible steel claws appeared from behind the dwarf, who hastily hid behind him. The unit's commander also stepped forward. He wore heavy armor decorated with a golden cross.
Wellion looked at the lake stretching behind the orc and spat. His sword slowly rose.
Erica (part 3)
The elf was merciless. The blood of fallen enemies streamed down the blade of his sword. Erica watched in surprise as he cut down 6 of her soldiers. A cautious rogue (rogue) was sneaking up on him from behind, moving silently in the fog. In his hand he gripped the hilt of a long serrated dagger.
Erica saw the Rogue raise his dagger for the killing blow, but suddenly blood poured from his slit throat, and the dagger fell helplessly to the ground. A glowing orb the size of a fist returned to the elf, acting of its own will. The elf stood motionless like a statue, only his eyes roaming in search of a new victim. His emotionless gaze fell on Erica, who was almost completely hidden in the fog.
- Come here.
A barely visible aura burst from the elf's body. The warriors, raising their swords, moved toward him. The mercenaries, recently possessed by bloodlust, suddenly stopped. The sight of their fallen comrades told them one thing – they were walking toward their fate.
- Careful!
The moment these words left Erica's lips, she was suddenly filled with unease that the fog no longer hid her. She too stepped toward the elf; her only weapon was a small dagger.
One after another the mercenaries met death by the elf's sword. Erica tried to gather all her will and stop herself from moving toward the elf. All she could do was stand aside while the elf attacked the dwarf. And just as the killing blow was about to fall on the dwarf, she saw the Crusher. Shakdun appeared from the fog. Throwing a hammer at the dwarf, he knocked him into the lake and out of the path of the deadly blade.
Shakdun took out a pair of Jamadhrs. A strange battle cry burst from the orc's chest – half shout, half song. The sword struck at the orc's neck, but instead of flesh it met the cold steel of the knuckles. A small glow hovering above the elf shot a beam of light into the orc's chest. Stepping back, the orc blocked the attack. The six blades of the Jamadhr flashed twice. The elf dodged one attack and parried the second.
The elf's face seemed made of clay, and the orc's arms looked like a dragon's tail. Each was fitted with countless spikes, and every blow sprinkled the ground with fresh blood. "This won't do," Erica thought.
She picked up the bow of one of the dead soldiers and found an arrow in the mud. Drawing the bowstring, Erica tried to shoot the elf, but he moved so fast she couldn't take reliable aim. Knowing she couldn't badly wound the orc anyway, she loosed the arrow.
The arrow whistled between the fighters, interrupting Shakdun's furious attack. The elf paid it no attention; he attacked the orc with his one-handed sword. Shakdun defended himself, wildly swinging his Jamadhrs. Where they clashed, the blades glowed with incredible flame. Steel grated on steel, the warriors' weapons locked together. With a deft twist of the hilt the elf freed his sword and with a backstroke slashed open the orc's leather glove and the flesh it covered.
Blood flowed between the blades of Shakdun's weapon. The Jamadhr slipped off the orc's hand and fell to the ground, heavy and useless.
Erica screamed and ran at the elf. The blade of the sword swept in an arc toward her. Erica felt the edge of the sword cut off a few strands of her hair as she fell to the ground. Shakdun attacked, thrusting forward his second jamadhr; the Elf parried the attack with one sword and struck the orc in the side with the second. The orc howled terribly. Erica jumped up onto one knee and shouted: - Die!
Putting all her weight into the dagger thrust, she pierced the mithril armor, flesh, bone and finally the elf's heart.
The elf slowly sank down. As he fell to his knees, a strange mark of sorrow lay on his face. His eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground.
Looking at Shakdun, she saw that he was gazing down at the body of his fallen enemy in complete silence. Blood was still flowing from the wound the elf had dealt him, but it wasn't fatal. The orc took off his remaining Jamadhr and threw it into the lake. Erica suspected the orc was angry with her because she had killed his opponent. She hesitated for a moment and went up to him. Touching his shoulder, she said:
- He couldn't have beaten you.
Shakdun cut her off with a look that held some kind of uncertainty. Erica turned away.
- I'm sorry.
Shakdun went to the lake shore, where the dwarf he had saved from death was bandaging his wounds. He held a huge weapon, at least twice his own height. Shakdun took the weapon, spun it in the air and glanced at Erica.
- The Hero's Escape.
He said it as if reading an inscription on a stone, and then laughed. Erica forced a smile, after which her head was again filled with thoughts of the battle.
- The resistance is stronger than expected. Many enemies are still alive.
A dwarf sat in a tree near the camp, holding a pipe in his teeth. He was studying the lake through a cylindrical object.
- Looks like the operator is still alive, - said a voice somewhere below, near the base of the tree. The dwarf put the object aside and looked down at the one who had made him stop. A human stood by the roots of the tree. - What did you say? - the dwarf asked.
- Looks like the golem's driver survived. The dwarf laughed hoarsely and packed his pipe with fresh tobacco. His fingers, used to a blacksmith's work, didn't feel the heat of the burning ash.
- That's nonsense
- What? Why? - asked the human standing under the tree.
- What use could there be in swinging a lantern while controlling a golem?
The dwarf took a deep drag and said slowly and clearly: - Why did the orc take that thing from the Dwarf? Because it was too heavy?
The human stared at the lake in disbelief.
- Then… why did Zeighard use the lantern? - Because he's a fox. He lured the enemy's best warriors into a deadly trap using just a bit of fire. - But risking the golem driver's life…
The dwarf sighed. - Zeighard foresaw that the enemy would think the lantern light came from the golem's operator. They paid the price for their foolishness.
The dwarf jumped down from the tree. The human rushed to him, but he pushed him away as if to say he didn't need help. - A damn successful test under combat conditions. The human nodded in reply.
- I trust you'll report everything properly to our sponsors, - the blacksmith of the "Black Anvil" guild smiled with satisfaction.
Leona (Part 3)
The defenders' resistance was broken. Only ten people, including Leona, were preparing to block the attackers' path in the narrow corridor behind the throne room. She wondered how many of the surviving warriors would be able to raise their swords when the time came. The destruction was enormous and the situation desperate, but one last hope remained. If they could keep the leader of the attackers from gaining control of the heart of the castle - the holy artifact - then they would win. But Zeighard's troops were too strong; they broke through the castle courtyard and destroyed the inner door. Now they were heading straight for the artifact, and the only way to it was blocked by the unit led by Leona.
Leona saw the state her warriors were in but could do nothing to help them. She feared that wounds and exhaustion might take her fighters out of the game before the enemy appeared before them. Some had run here from the battlefield, others had ended up here by the will of the battle. Behind Leona stood the oracle, Luellin; Dubian had been lost in the chaos, and the news of Wellion's death struck the troops like a thunderclap.
Thinking about her situation, Leona noticed she was wounded. Luellin raised her hands to cast a healing spell, but Leona stopped her: - Save your strength for the others.
The warriors standing nearby were more seriously wounded, and Luellin healed their wounds as best she could.
The clash of swords gave way to the echo of quick footsteps. The enemies had finished off the last defenders in the courtyard. Leona raised her sword, and the warriors lined up around her. The enemy appeared from around the corner, and Leona, gathering her strength, shouted: - Glory to Giran! Attack!
The first wave of enemy soldiers was stopped by a wall of spears. A gigantic orc armed with a huge halberd was making his way through the ranks of soldiers. Leona assumed he wouldn't be able to use his weapon in the cramped castle corridor. But her horror knew no bounds when the orc broke through the defenders' line. - You're in danger, get back!
Leona pushed through the soldiers and ran to meet the orc, leaving Luellin's magic shield.
The orc's halberd, passing easily through flesh, shattered the granite of the walls. The smell of blood and dust filled the air. Half of her unit fell in the clash. A new wave of enemy forces moved in behind the orc.
Leona ordered what was left of her unit to fall back into the hall with the artifact. They formed a tight circle around the artifact, and the enemies surrounded them. Leona realized the time had come to admit defeat. She looked around. Even the second-floor balcony running around the hall was fully occupied by enemy archers. The arrows aimed at them gleamed with a cold light. - Hold your fire.
The enemy warriors blocking the exit stepped aside, and Zeighard Ein entered the hall, accompanied by the black panther. He looked at the orc and said: - Shakdun. There's still resistance in the eastern part.
The orc didn't move. - There's no point in you being here. She can no longer fight.
The orc didn't take his eyes off Leona. - Shakdun!
The orc turned and left the hall. Zeighard looked at the girl standing among the corpses, gripping a sword in her hand. He smiled at her slightly.
- It's been a long time, Lady Leona. Or in this case should I call you "Sir"? - Zeighard. - A pity we met as enemies this time. - I see nothing worth regretting.
Zeighard furrowed his brow and once again looked over the girl in front of him. Her hair was disheveled, and her face was covered in bloodstains.
- Even disfigured by battle, you are no less beautiful than on the night we spent together in the ruins of the fortress. Leona threw herself at him. He gracefully stepped aside, dodging the blow. Drawing his sword, he deflected her second attack too. Between Leona's attacks the whole hall plunged into chaos.
Luellin, glancing at Zeighard, began to cast a spell, but the black panther leapt at her. The tired oracle couldn't dodge in time. The panther knocked her to the floor and pinned her down with its huge paws. The oracle tried to reach her staff, but the panther knocked it aside. Then it sank its fangs into the oracle's throat. Luellin went limp, and her blue robe was soaked with blood.
Leona heard Luellin's dying scream, but she had no time to feel anything about it. She was left alone, surrounded by enemies, but Leona focused her attention only on Zeighard. For some reason his parry came half a second late. The tip of her sword slipped under his armor. A drop of blood ran down Zeighard's cheek.
Trying to catch her breath, Leona saw that Zeighard's men were paying no attention to her. They suddenly began stumbling and falling one after another. Only now did she notice a faint violet beam of light stretching across the room and latching onto the soldiers. At the same time, the archers on the second floor were attacked by a strange creature that looked like a cat. - Leona! Over here!
The ones who had entered the hall were Dubian of the Ivory Tower and the Elven Elder. A spinning ball of fire appeared at the tips of Dubian's fingers and flew toward Zeighard. The "Dark Avenger's" whole body was covered in dark red flame. Zeighard, crossing his arms over his head, rolled on the floor. At that moment his panther was rushing toward the elven wizard. Dubian cried out and fell. Leona rushed to him. Zeighard, who had already put out the flames, blocked her way. Leona's sword was filled with the power of spirits. Her attack was aimed at the Dark Avenger's head. And again he deflected it.
Suddenly a red flickering fire flared up under his feet. Ghostly red roots wrapped around his legs, keeping him from moving.
The Elder finished his spell and called to Leona, but she was running to help Dubian. He had jammed the tip of his staff between the panther's sharp teeth and was pushing with both hands. The panther fell to the floor, the staff still in its mouth. Dubian went up to it. White flame appeared beside the panther's body, after which a bright flash struck it hard. Black smoke swallowed the panther and vanished - carrying the beast back to the reality it had been summoned from.
As Leona was helping Dubian, she noticed that one of Zeighard's sleeping soldiers was starting to show signs of life. It was clear they would soon come to their senses completely.
Before leaving the hall, Leona turned to look at Zeighard. His dark eyes shone as he smiled. - Farewell, Leona Blackbird.
Leona knew he was waiting for an answer, but she wasn't going to give him that pleasure. She turned away without saying anything.
Leona, Dubian and the Elder left the hall through a corridor piled with bodies.
Epilogue
The dark clouds over Giran cleared, and the rain stopped. Zeighard, the leader of the mercenaries, gathered his men in front of the castle's holy artifact. When Sir Graham entered the hall to hear Zeighard's report, he was met by the suspicious looks of the mercenaries.
"All the defenders' commanders are either dead or have fled. Some are still resisting in various parts of the fortress, but not for long."
Graham clapped his hands and came closer to Zeighard. He put his hand on the "Dark Avenger's" shoulder.
"You're incredible! Truly incredible! It's a complete victory, Sir Zeighard!"
Zeighard smiled slightly, looking at Graham. Graham approached the artifact and said in a now calm voice:
"The Lord will be very pleased. We had some misunderstandings at the start, but now, after such a great victory, they don't matter. I'll be sure to tell the Lord about your hard work."
"Do you really have to trouble him with that?"
Zeighard stood next to Graham and looked over the artifact. The artifact was a figure of a woman standing on a pedestal inlaid with precious stones. This statue was no ordinary decoration. It gave the castle's owner absolute power over the rich lands of Giran.
"Funny."
Graham opened his eyes wide as if asking "what did he mean"? "Though on the other hand..." the dark avenger took the glove off his left hand and stepped forward, approaching the artifact.
Graham threw up his hands. "What, what?" He giggled nervously as he spoke. "Sir Zeighard, your work ends here."
Zeighard smiled.
"Stop playing the fool. Rest assured, the payment won't disappoint you. I'll pay you as much as you want. Wait until the Lord gets the power of the artifact, as was agreed"
Zeighard's right hand dropped to his hip, then moved forward. The movement was smooth and natural, as if he had taken out a brush to clean the dust off his clothes. When Graham's head fell to the floor, Zeighard's face wore the same smile. Zeighard sheathed his sword; there wasn't a drop of blood on it.
"I'd gotten used to his constant grumbling. It's almost a pity we won't hear his voice anymore." The mercenaries laughed loudly.
Zeighard gently touched the statue with his left hand. The statue and the stones began to glow with a faint red light. The light touched Zeighard's hand and vanished inside him. And everyone who lived in the lands around Giran understood - the castle had a new master.
Zeighard and his mercenaries left the hall with the artifact. A golden carpet lay on the floor of the imperial hall. At the end opposite the entrance stood a table heaped with gold. Across from the table hung a dark green coat of arms. Below it stood a red dais and a footstool shaped like a wolf's head. Next to the throne stood the servants and the treasurer, who served the castle's owner.
"Do you have something to say?"
The treasurer smiled slightly and nodded.
Zeighard slowly rose and sat on the throne, resting his head on his left hand and crossing his legs. Satisfied, he smiled. Led by the treasurer, the other servants swore allegiance to the new lord of the castle.
20 or so wooden chests were scattered in disorder on the castle's second floor. Erica Ken Weber, brushing the dust off the last chest, opened the lid to see what was inside. There were old gardener's tools.
Erica swore and kicked the chest with all her might. She looked into the chest again and left the room disappointed.
The tools she had seen at first had disappeared.
The whole hall was piled with corpses, of both the besiegers and the defenders. She walked past the corpses in the hall and stopped at a window. Outside, the warriors were wildly celebrating their victory. The noise of the celebration in honor of the new lord was very loud.
If the thing she couldn't find in the castle was still in enemy hands, she would have to leave the castle before the end of the year. And so would her allies, for that matter.
Erica shook her head and went back to her comrades.
