[UT] [Unlikely Twins] 6 – Garan at the Battle of Longmarsh (6-1 Breaching the Battle Lines)
The Scythe
[Unlikely Twins] 6-1 Breaching the Battle Lines
Two weeks march to the northwest of the city of Bairvan lay Longmarsh,
a fetid expanse of low, moss covered mounds and twisted waterways.
Originally, the marsh was little more than an obstacle to travelers.
The lizard-like folk that inhabited it were clannish and violent, and
often fought each other or anyone who lived too close.
If that wasn’t bad enough, in the years when Finast and Garan were
young, a wizard named Voll took up residence. He allied with the
lizard folk of the swamp, and they captured slaves for him. Only the
nearby silver mines kept entire towns from fleeing the area
completely. But that was history.
Now there was a battle.
The tower of Voll rose from a hillock near the edge of the marsh. Its
dark granite form was covered up to the third story in green moss and
creeper vines. Surrounding it were the levied troops from Bairvan,
with officers and lords directing the battle. Defending it were
Voll’s slave-soldiers and his lizard clans.
The rumors were that the war had really been started to take back the
silver mines in the area from the wizard, but what with seeing the
slave soldiers whipped into battle, and after fighting some of the
brutal lizard warriors, Garan wasn’t worried about the politics of it
all. Voll was a blackheart as far as he was concerned.
So Garan was proud and excited when Jagar’s Free Company was chosen
for the tower assault. He’d seen plenty of fighting in his four years
since he’d joined them. His size, strength, and skill had been
noticed, and success had brought rewards. He was reviewing his troop
of fifty men when a runner interrupted him.
“Corporal Garan!” the man said called out. “Commander Jagar wants you
to report to him for the attack. Under-corporal Menek will lead your
troop.”
“What in the names of all the Gods is that dwarf thinking!” Garan
yelled. His gravelly voice drew the attention of everyone around.
“I don’t know, sir,” the runner said hurriedly. He was obviously
eager to be gone. “But he said to come at once.” The runner ran
off. Garan said a few choice words about the thickness of dwarven
skulls. Then he turned to Menek, next to him.
“Well, this will be your first time leading the troop. Are you
ready?” Menek looked excited and nervous at the same time, but
replied with a wink.
“What, and miss a chance to get your job?” Garan snorted. “I’m
ready,” Menek said with a nod.
“Good.” Garan grinned at his friend, and he turned to the troop.
“Men!” He called out. Commander Jagar is calling me, so I won’t be
leading you for this attack!” There was an audible murmur as the men
asked each other what it was about, and the whispered bad omens of
changing leaders right before a fight.
“Quiet down!” Garan ordered. “Menek is going to lead the troop. Any
objections?” No one spoke, partly because Menek had been Garan’s
second for a year now, and the men knew him, and partly because they
knew better than to complain.
“In that case, get ready to support him.” Garan raised his fist to
his shoulder. The men all followed suit, including Menek himself.
They knew what was coming next. As one they all pumped their fists
into the air three times, shouting, “Menek! Menek! Menek!”
“Very well!” proclaimed Garan. He turned and clapped his hand on
Menek’s shoulder and congratulated the new troop leader. “Gods
willing, I’ll see you soon.” He said, and he strode off towards the
commander’s battle standard. He could see the red cloth with crossed
axes at the center of the Free Company’s formation.
As he got closer, Garan could see their commander giving final orders
to runners who then ran off to the other troop leaders. Jagar was
tall for a dwarf, coming up to shoulder height on most normal human
men, but only up to the middle of Garan’s chest. The commander’s
brown hair, which reached his shoulders, and his beard, hanging in
twin braids past his belt, were shot with gray. He was dressed in a
chain coat that hung to his knees, and a red surcoat with the same
crossed black axes on his chest.
Although Garan was too busy being angry to notice, the two of them
looked very similar, except for size. Garan’s hair was black and his
beard only reached the middle of his chest. He wore a matching
surcoat, the same as all the leaders of the Free Company.
“Ah, Garan…” the commander started to say, but Garan cut him off
angrily.
“Why in the Names of all the Gods did you pull me from my men!?”
Jagar fired back.
“Lasand was hit by a lizard javelin when we scouted the approach! Now
shut yer mouth and listen, trollspawn!” he cursed.
Garan clamped his mouth shut, and Jagar, seeing compliance, went back
to briefing the small group around him on the attack and tower
assault. A tall, thin elf dressed in heavy leathers and the crossed-
axe surcoat spoke up.
“I still prefer simply shifting the earth below the edifice, and
bringing the whole mass down,” he said in a smooth voice.
“Spoken like a true battlemage, Aelis.” Jagar said. “But the Lords
want the tower as spoils, and you said yourself it’s so well enchanted
as to take weeks.” Aelis shrugged, and the commander went on with the
final plan. Garan was to be in the small group with Jagar. They
would go straight to the top of the tower to find Wizard Voll. It
wasn’t as good as if his men were with him, but at least it was a
challenge. Garan also knew that if anyone could break through, it was
Jagar. The two had sparred many times, and Garan had also seen the
dwarf in battle. The wizard was in for a bad day.
With all the preparations made, Jagar called to the signalers.
“Move out! At the quick march!” The signalers flag’s whipped as the
order was passed down and called out by the troop leaders. Jagar,
Garan, and the rest of the team put on their helmets, and the column
began to march.
They took a circuitous route around the battle to get into position,
so Garan was able to see a good portion of the battle. The lizardfolk
were arranged in tight groups in front of the main gate of the tower
making almost a half circle, with the slave soldiers flanking them on
either side and completing a ring around the tower. With Jagar’s
company on the move to the assault, the entire army of Bairvan, from
the Prince’s bodyguard, to the Levy, as well as the other mercenary
units began the final attack. They charged in, collapsing their outer
ring into the inner ring of defenders.
The yelling and clash of arms was a tremendous, overwhelming clamor,
felt as much as heard. Garan’s heart started to race. After all
those years, the gut-wrenching feeling of battle was like an old,
familiar glove.
Between the crenels atop the tower, the lizards threw javelins. Some
surely hit their marks among the attackers, but Garan couldn’t hear
the screams over the general din. From the arrow slits on the top
floor of the tower, occasional tongues of fire or bolts of lightning
would lance out, killing or wounding scores of men and dwarves at a
time.
“That’s the wizard, boys! Get ready!” Jagar yelled.
Their column had reached the point of attack. From the main entrance,
they were just over a quarter of the way around the tower, behind the
attacking troops. It was here that among the defenders the lizard’s
masses ended and the lines of slave troops began. That was where they
would break through.
Jagar passed the commander of this quarter of the battle. Garan saw
him next to his standard with his own command group. He and Jagar
raised their hands to acknowledge each other, and the other commander
turned away to issue orders. More signal flags flew, and the final
thrust was set in motion.
The company ahead of Jagar’s column started to move and seperate,
obeying the signal flags and the orders from their officers. The
troop on the left focused on the lizards, and the troop on the right
focused on the slave soldiers. Pressing forward and turning slightly,
the two troops opened like double doors on hinges.
Jagar’s column came up between them. As they reached the front line,
they squeezed through, shoulder to shoulder, and began to force open a
gap.
Garan’s grip tightened on his sword and shield. Every step took him
closer to the fighting. Now he could hear individual voices out of
the cacophony, shouts and screams and lizard hisses. They’d reached
the front. The column ahead of them split, with the men on the left
turning that way to face the lizards, and the men on the right turning
to face the slaves.
And then it was Garan’s turn! Right ahead of him a lizard swung a
wicked, jagged scimitar at his head. Garan’s shield went up, and the
blade rang on it with a crash that drowned out the rest of the
battle. Stabbing with his sword arm, Garan took the creature just
under the jaw. It went down in a spurt of blood, toothy jaws working
noiselessly.
Then the next troop came up and passed them, and the command group was
able to pause and find each other.
“Murren!” yelled Jagar. “Someone find him! We need his spells up
right now!” Garan knew that any moment now, their breakthrough would
draw Voll’s attention and his fire and lightning.
There he was. Garan saw the battlemage in his leather filling a hole
between lines of the chain-clad warriors. As he got closer, he saw
that Murren was holding his own against one of the slave soldiers.
Both were bleeding. The mage’s wounds were to his left arm and
shoulder where his opponent’s blade had slashed through his leathers.
Coming up beside the mage, Garan joined the fight just after Murren
blocked another swing. The opening was perfect, and Garan skewered
the man through the hollow under his right arm. As he collapsed,
Garan’s sword came back bright red once again.
“Close the gap! Close the gap!” Garan yelled to either side, and as
the men there acknowledged and stepped closer together, he pulled
Murren back from the line. As they came back to the commander, Jagar
had to yell to Murren to be heard.
“We need your spells up quickly!” Murren nodded, sheathed his sword,
and started the incantation. But it was too late.
A tongue of fire lanced down from the highest arrow slits – the wizard
had noticed them. The flames washed over the men ahead and to the
right of Garan, both Free Company and slave soldiers alike.
First the roar of the flames, and then the screams of the dieing
drowned out the rest of the battle.
[Admin] To be continued.
The Scythe
Any readers, feel free to "reply to author" with comments, even just
to mention that you've read it. I'm curious about who's reading and
what you guys think about [Unlikely Twins] so far.
Robert
AKA The Scythe
The Scythe
[Unlikely Twins] 6 Garan at the Battle of Longmarsh
[Unlikely Twins] 6-2 Into The Tower of Wizard Voll
Jagar yelled, shaking Murren and Garan out of the shock of death
before their eyes.
“Murren, spell!!” Turning to the rear he yelled, “Next troop, move
up!!”
The press of the troops from behind pushed up and past the command
group. The slave masters tried the same, but the attackers were
better armored and better trained. Stepping over the blackened dead
and wounded, they pressed the fight, meeting and shoving back the
defenders with the crash of shields on shields. The gap in the
defenders grew wider.
By now Murren was prepared – his spell complete but held from
release. When the next lance of fire came down, he screamed a word
that Garan didn’t understand and thrust his arm skyward. A blast of
winter air filled with frost jetted up. Garan could feel the cold
from several feet away.
The fire and ice met and flashed into steam just over the heads of the
fighters. The new wave of heat and noise made them all pause, and
again the training of Jagar’s company showed its worth. They
recovered more quickly and forced the defenders back yet again. The
way was clear almost to the wall of the tower.
“Aelis, now!!” Jagar yelled. The elven battlemage had been standing
back, calmly holding his spell prepared through the tumult. Now he
released it. Instead of fire or ice, a stream of earth shot forth
from the elf’s hands. Holding them out, palms together, Aelis walked
forward. He stepped onto the dirt mound that piled up in front of
him, his face rigid with concentration. Each step he took grew slower
and slower – his earthen mound could only grow so high, so fast.
Jagar and Garan stayed close, watching for any attack on the mage.
Javelins started to fall around them. The lizards on the battlements
had noticed them.. Several fell nearby, driving deep into the
ground. Garan knocked one out of the air with his shield arm.
The commander back at the main lines had been waiting for this
moment. His crossbowmen unleashed a heavy volley against the top of
the tower. It put a stop to the javelins, at least for the moment.
Finally, Aelis reached the wall. As planned, they stood on the top of
his hill of earth outside an arrow slit at the second story. They
would avoid the surely trapped and well-defended main entrance. The
mage was close enough to see in. His elven eyes met the reptilian
stare of a lizard inside, and before the creature could stab him,
Aelis directed his flow of earth through the slit, knocking his enemy
back. Aelis closed his hands, stopping the flow, and took a knee with
a sigh of effort.
“Sledge team!” yelled Jagar. Four dwarves who had been trailing them
ran up the dirt ramp to the wall. The first two carried splitting
wedges as long as their forearms over their shoulders. The next two
carried massive hammers. Both the wedges and hammers were engraved
with dwarven sigils.
They set to work. The wedge bearers set their tips at the joints
between stones around the arrow slit and the hammer bearers started a
steady rhythm of concussions. Ringing of steel on steel became the
loudest sound.
Garan knew that these tools were normally used to mine the hardest,
most difficult ores from deep in the earth. But this was the first
time they’d been used to breach an enchanted stone wall. He watched
apprehensively, keeping an eye on the tower above. Now it was a race
between the sledge team and the defenders, with Jagar’s team horribly
exposed. Fortunately, the Bairvan crossbowmen kept up a steady rain
on the top of the tower. The lizard javelins that came down were few
and scattered, although a few did hit men or dwarves among the
attackers.
Clang, clang, went the hammers.
Finally Garan’s fear came true, and fire lanced down yet again from
the uppermost arrowslits. But Murren was again ready, and another
gout of flame and ice flashed into steam.
Clang, clang, went the hammers. The edges of the slit began to
crumble, and the wedge bearers smoothly shifted their points along the
edge to start work on the next strong section.
Above, the steam cloud obscured them from the tower’s heights, and
Garan was grateful for it. Aelis, who’d been watching inside the slit
closely, jumped back as javelins stabbed out. The noise had brought
defenders.
The mage cast a quick spell, blew into his cupped hands, and threw a
fistful of sparks into the arrow slit. Garan knew from painful
experience that they burned almost uncontrollably and set fire to
almost anything. He grinned at the hisses and shrieks of the lizard
defenders inside.
Clan, clang, went the hammers. Crumble, went the stone. Parts of the
edges of the arrowslit, where the stone was thinnest, broke off.
There was just enough room.
Jagar hefted his axe, and with a fell look on his face, leapt inside
the tower. The commander’s brother, Junnek followed with his matching
axe. And Garan heard the work of death commence.
Every hack and chop brought shrieks and hisses to compete with the
sound of the hammers and the din of the battle.
Clang, clang went the hammers. Now the hole was big enough for Aelis,
and he climbed through, his wooden shield unslung from his back and
held with both hands for the entry. Another human soldier, Daregon,
who Garan knew was an excellent swordsman, went through.
Clang, clang, went the hammers. With another crumble, the hole was
large enough for Garan’s great mailed bulk, and he plunged through
into the mayhem.
The lizards fought furiously, but they were no match for the grim
dwarven brothers they now faced. Every swing, every blow had been
repeated countless times over centuries in the tunnel wars of their
underground homeland. They were in their element.
The group forced their way into the center of the tower, to the spiral
stairs. Behind them their troops flooded the tower, clearing every
room. At the stairs, Garan and the first group went up the spiral.
The next group went down to take the gate’s defenders from behind.
Jagar, Garan, and the others had one goal – to find the wizard Voll
and quickly as possible to end the battle. Others following them
stopped at landings to clear the floors, but their group went straight
to the top floor.
Hurrying up the stone stairs was an effort that left them all gasping,
weighed down as they were. All save Aelis, with his elven feet and
his lighter leather. When they reached the highest floor, the
stairwell opened out into a wide, round room. Garan realized that
it’s curving walls were also the outer walls of the tower. The
arrowslits ran all around the walls, and between each one was a
painting. Small metal brackets above each painting held glowing
crystals, which brightly lit the chamber. Several plush seats and
couches were spread throughout, and in the center were several thick
tables covered with mystic carvings. The table in the center held the
entire tower in miniature, surrounded by both armies just as existed
outside.
Near the far wall stood the wizard. Peering out through an arrowslit
he held a rod aimed down at the ground outside. With a loud crack, a
blue bolt of lightning leapt from the end of it at the unseen troops
below.
Also standing nearby the wizard were two of the Lizards, one small one
without any armor, only a sword, and an extremely large male with huge
eyebrow ridges on its leathery head. Its head was painted in bright
reds and yellows. Garan guessed him to be some kind of chief. The
lizard chief was looking out the next slit over from the wizard, but
the smaller one turned towards the invaders.
“Hassek-hesss!” was how its exclamation sounded to Garan. The wizard
and the chieftain turned in surprise. Wizard Voll wore a gray silk
tunic with ebony runes on all the edges and borders and matching loose
pantaloons. His long, black hair was slicked back and reached his
collar.
“Curse you and your promises!” He snarled at the chieftain. “They’re
inside after all!” The lizard chief snapped something back and gave a
hissing scream. Behind Jagar and Garan the stairs continued to a trap
door in the ceiling, and at the lizard’s call it opened. One of the
javelineers from the roof stepped down through. Seeing the invaders,
it drew a scimitar and attacked. It met more of Jagar’s men coming up
the stairs.
Voll raised his rod. It had glowing orbs at either end, one red as
fire and one blue as lightning. He pointed the blue orb at them.
“All of you, die,” he said impatiently, and spoke a word of Power.
The blue lighting forked across the room, but Aelis was prepared. In
both hands he held a large purple crystal, faceted and peaked at both
ends. He released his counterspell and the blue bolt was drawn into
the crystal. It shook in his hands, but it contained the energy. A
faint glow came from deep inside as it stopped vibrating.
Voll’s eyes narrowed.
“Vex, Vain!” he called. “Kill them!”
Against the wall were two suits of full plate armor. Garan had taken
them for museum pieces, since no one anywhere near Bairvan used armor
like that. They were not.
With clanking and creaking they hefted kite shields, drew long swords,
and advanced. The two lizards also drew their wicked scimitars and
came forward behind the automatons.
So the battle was joined. On the stairs lizard javelineers fought
Free Company troopers. The automatons met the dwarven brothers in a
clash of sparks. Voll set loose a gout of fire this time, but it too
was absorbed into Aelis’ crystal. It glowed brighter. Garan sized up
the lizards and stepped forward to meet them.
Just then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He
turned to his right, and there between two of the arrowslits was the
most amazingly beautiful woman! Her hair flowed to her shoulders like
molten copper. Her skin was lightly tanned from time spent out of
doors. Somehow he knew she love rides in the countryside. Her gown
was a forest green silk with trim that matched her hair perfectly.
And her eyes! They were like the sky, clear blue and endless. The
Beauty reached out to him. She smiled, a beatific wonder of a smile.
It lit his soul like the windows of Godsrealm.
Behind her Garan could see rolling meadows and cool streams. Their
hands met, and he returned her heavenly smile. Then she turned to
lead him into that land of peace and tranquility.
Garan was oblivious to lizard footsteps coming up behind him.