As if to answer him, Karak’s soldiers began descending the stairwell as ropes were thrown over the side of the wall. They must have used planks of their own to cross the gap, Ahaesarus thought. The defenders were too green, too inexperienced, to properly defend the walls. Ahaesarus grunted just as Ashhur hopped off the bunker, taking menacing steps toward the center of the field of corpses. Elves swung over the top of Celestia’s tree, flipping from branch to branch with ease as they descended. They were like an army of invading locusts, moving ever onward. Ahaesarus looked to the left and right, and saw that the very same scene was taking place all around him. His wards tensed, and his fellow Wardens began shuffling this way and that.
“When, Master Warden?” someone shouted.
“Soon,” said Ahaesarus. “Those with swords and spears, out of the bunker now. Form up behind me.”
The men did as they were told, passing the order down the line and gradually exiting the bunker to form a row of five hundred behind Ahaesarus. The Master Warden again looked to the field of corpses, this time seeing Ashhur stopped midway through, holding his divine sword out before him while he was peppered with arrows from both the enemy atop the wall and the elves near Celestia’s giant tree. The soldiers continued to descend the wall, forming ranks once their feet touched the snowy ground, waiting for the rest of their brothers to join them. Their numbers swelled. There looked to be more than a thousand there, awaiting the order to charge.
Any hope Ahaesarus had felt earlier threatened to leave him. The sight of all those pale faces, of those armored shoulders rising and falling, of their steel glinting in the morning light, told him this was the end. Just then something hard thwacked his shoulder, and when he turned, he saw Judarius there, leaning with one hand against the lip of the bunker, his massive bloody maul held tight in his hand. His face was spattered with red.
“Soldiers approach from behind,” Judarius said, breathing heavily. “There was little we could do to stop them.”
Ahaesarus nodded. “What of the others?”
“The teams of Wardens guarding the northern wall are broken. Many are dead, and the rest are fleeing this way. I do not know about the rest of the settlement, but I assume it’s the same.”
Ahaesarus nodded again. “I know. It does not matter. They are here now, and we must fight.”
Judarius lifted his head above the bunker, staring at both Ashhur, as he held his ground against the assault of arrows, and the massive throng of soldiers gathering at the base of the wall. The Warden shook his head, smoothed his long black hair with a bloody hand, and snarled.
“We charge now.”
“No,” Ahaesarus shot back. “You will do no such thing. You are to gather up all of Ashhur’s children that you can, all those who cannot defend themselves, and bring them to the hidden postern gate. Lead them to safety. Protect them.”
“No,” Judarius said.
“You will do as I say.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. You wish for a nanny, then find my brother. It’s what he’s suited for.” Judarius stood up straight, slapping his maul against his free hand. “I was built for better things than that.”
“I am your Master Warden!” Ahaesarus shouted, coating Judarius’s face with spittle. He cared not that an audience was gathering. “You will do as I say, and you will do it now, or else-”
He never had the chance to finish that statement, for one of the soldiers lifted a horn to his lips and blew. When that bellowing trumpeting ceased, the army of Karak charged.
Ashhur stepped forward to greet the soldiers, looping his massive glowing blade, cleaving through flesh and steel with ease. Yet he did not kill many, for the soldiers gave him a wide berth, passing right by him and rushing headlong for the bunker. It was the elves who kept Ashhur distracted, continuing to pelt him with their arrows while others rushed him from behind and the side, slashing and jabbing and leaping out of the way of his blows.
“Now or never!” Judarius screamed, and oddly enough he was grinning. “Any who aren’t cravens, come with me!”
“No!” Ahaesarus shouted back.
“We must fight, or are you a craven as well?” sneered Judarius.
Ahaesarus grabbed his fellow Warden by his collar, pulling him close. Judarius’s eyes widened in surprise. “The time to fight will come,” Ahaesarus said, seething. “For now, follow my orders.”
Ahaesarus released him. Judarius stepped back, gripping his maul with both hands.
“Archers up,” Ahaesarus ordered. His breath hitched as the soldiers drew closer. There was no time for second thoughts. He looked down the line and saw all of his archers were in place, arrows nocked. “Loose them.” No one did anything. “I said LOOSE THEM!”
Ashhur’s children heard Ahaesarus that time, launching volley after volley at the onrushing soldiers. Many were struck, some fell, and others used the bodies of their comrades as shields as they continued their stampede. Even the remaining spellcasters could do little to stop them with their fireballs and bolts of electricity. Ashhur turned his attention away from the elves and rushed the soldiers from behind, slaying many, filling the morning air with a bloody mist, but still they came.
The archers continued to fire, but they were hurrying their aim. Many of their arrows missed their marks, even though the soldiers were only twenty feet away and closing fast. The hands holding the bows shook, and tears streamed down the archers’ faces. Finally, Ahaesarus had had enough.
“All of you, get back!” he ordered. In an instant the archers hustled from their positions, running behind the wall of men holding swords, spears, and axes. Judarius stood by Ahaesarus’s side, huffing, his gaze intense.
The first wave of soldiers hit the curved barricade guarding the bunker. They were so close now that Ahaesarus could see every crease in their foreheads, every speck of mud on their cheeks, every starburst of color in their eyes. He offered no orders to his defenders this time. As the soldiers scaled the barricade, he simply screamed and pointed his sword at them. The men holding spears rushed forward. The soldiers who jumped first were impaled on the sharp points. Judarius and others bearing blunt weapons bashed in skulls. Blood spilled. The shrieks that filled the air were deafening.
Ahaesarus heard more screaming from behind him, and when he pivoted around, he saw the countryside awash with violence for as far as he could see. Soldiers of Karak and the children of Ashhur clashed, and blood soaked the snow red. Steel against steel, man against man, the trained against the untrained. For every one soldier the brave citizens of Mordeina felled, they lost five of their own. There was slaughter on all sides of him. Finally, he swung back around, narrowly avoided being impaled by a pike, and saw Ashhur still tramping through the soldiers, his movements sluggish as men hung off him. They were rushing the god now, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
And it was working.
Ashhur collapsed to one knee, tearing soldiers off him, crushing them in his fists and hurling them away, their bodies soaring through the air like so many shattered birds. Ahaesarus’s mind went blank. If his god couldn’t help them, no one could. The soldiers closed in on Ahaesarus and his men.
No. No, no, no!
“Attack!” he shouted as he hacked away with his sword, swinging with all his might, trying to press closer to the bunker and his distressed god. But there were just too many of them. Judarius fought at his side, swinging his maul with abandon, sending soldiers careening. Blood flew into Ahaesarus’s face. Together, he and Judarius cut a path through the throng until they reached the bunker. They both leapt atop it, fighting like old, experienced warriors, killing and maiming. Ahaesarus hopped down on the other side of the bunker, only to catch a sword in his left arm. He fell back against the barricade, screaming in pain. Judarius bolted out ahead of him, shoving through the mass of steel and flesh. His every move was determined, his every swing willed by rage. The black-haired Warden shattered a soldier’s jaw, caved in another’s helm, splintered yet another’s arm. Ahaesarus swallowed his pain and drove in after him, slicing throats and severing limbs. We will make it! Ashhur, we are coming!