Rise of the Horde-Chapter 514

Night fell like a blade.

It was the kind of darkness that swallowed torches and turned shadows into shapes. The smoke from the battlefield still clung to the ground, and the low winds that usually blew in from the Lag'ranna foothills had died completely. The eastern trenches of the Threian line, though reinforced in recent days, were the weakest by virtue of terrain…flat plains, no natural barriers, and easy to charge to.

Captain Braedon paced along the wall's crest, lantern in hand, scanning the dark.

No horns had sounded.

No drums had beat.

But every man could feel it…something was coming.

At the command post near the eastern side, Lieutenant Marcus wiped grime from his exhausted face for the sixth time in an hour. "Nothing. Just fog."

Braedon didn't answer. He stared into the dark, nostrils flaring. With fog present, it was hard to spot anything further than fie meters.

Behind them, soldiers sat at the ready. Boomstick gunners cleaned their barrels for the third time. Archers counted their arrows. Spearmen held their weapons with white knuckles.

Then, a sound.

Fast. Low. Not hoofbeats, not footsteps. A whispering rush, like the wind through dry grass…but rising.

A guard at the forward tower turned toward it…and vanished.

One moment he was standing atop the palisade.

The next, he was gone, his scream cut off mid-breath.

The alarm went up instantly.

"To arms! We're hit on the east!"

And then they came.

Out of the fog and shadow, the Warg Cavalry struck.

They didn't roar. They didn't charge in a mob. They moved like arrows…swift, purposeful, and terrifying.

The wargs, massive and wolf-like with shining eyes and sharp fangs, bounded over trenches with impossible speed. Their riders, skilled orcs clad in tight armor and using deadly crossbows and lethal blades, guided them like extensions of their own limbs.

The first wave hit the outer posts before anyone could fire.

Threian soldiers were thrown down, throats opened in flashes of iron or skewered by iron bolts from the orcish crossbows. The Warg Riders leapt over fallen barricades, shooting, hacking and slashing with brutal precision. By the time the boomsticks and crossbows fired, half the outer guards were already dead.

Braedon bellowed, "Form the line! Drive them back with spears!"

But the wargs didn't charge head-on. They weaved, ducked, feinted, and vanished into fog…then circled back and struck from the flanks.

It was a slaughter.

Lieutenant Marcus barely dodged a swipe from a passing warg before he jammed his sidearm into its ribs and fired point-blank. The beast howled and fell, crashing into a supply crate, but another rider leapt off and tackled Marcus to the ground.

Braedon swung his sword down just in time, severing the orc's head.

They barely had time to recover before the next strike came.

Agis and Odric, redeployed east after the last breach, were already in motion.

"Pull back from the edge!" Odric shouted. "They're using the fog as their cover to strike…pull them into the trenches where we can see them!"

Agis tossed a torch into a nearby oil pit. Fire erupted, lighting the ground and driving two wargs into retreat. Another torch landed in a water ditch, flaring and revealing the glint of eyes along the edge.

"There!" Agis called. "They're regrouping!"

Braedon grabbed a nearby banner. "Forward! We push them out! If they get to regroup together, we're done!"

A dozen Threians followed him through the mud and mist. They met the riders halfway…clashing in a whirling blur of teeth, iron, and blood.

Wargs slashed at legs and tore at shields. Riders struck from above. One rider leapt from his mount entirely, landing on a Threian archer and impaling him through the throat.

Braedon ducked a horizontal slash, drove his shoulder into a rider, then stabbed upward. The orc screamed and went limp. Another lunged at him, but was intercepted by Odric, who slammed his boomstick into its knee and fired.

The blast echoed through the battlefield.

Bit by bit, the Threians fought their way till the edge of their defense line on the eastern side, torchlight illuminating the chaos. The Warg Cavalry began to pull back, their mobility losing effectiveness in tight, burning terrain.

But the damage was done.

Half the eastern pickets were gone. Two towers destroyed. Dozens of soldiers dead or crippled.

And still no sign of retreat horns.

Braedon looked toward the black horizon and whispered, "That wasn't the attack."

Agis nodded grimly. "That was but just a test."

*****

By dawn, the eastern trenches were reinforced again…but morale had faltered already due to the previous assault.

Braedon oversaw a fresh line of pikes being planted while medics cleared the dead.

Odric leaned on his weapon near the edge, clothes soaked in blood, but not his own.

"They moved like phantoms," he said. "They weren't trying to overrun us. Just to test our reflexes. And find weaknesses."

Gresham arrived on horseback, visibly fatigued.

He listened without speaking, then stared out toward the south where the orcs had camped.

"They're not testing us," he said finally. "They're hunting."

He returned to his command tent and wrote.

" Blue Countess,

Your silence remains louder than any answer you could give. Perhaps you've taken a vow of silence to match your inaction.

Tonight, they sent a part of their riders…wargs ridden by orcs in armor. We have no idea how long we could hold them off. They strike like blades in the dark. And you have left us without lanterns.

Our men are dying in silence while your army drinks and dines. Are you waiting for a sign from the heavens? A star to fall and tell you when to come?

Here's your sign: we cannot hold out long without help. Your delay will cost you more than anything".

He folded the parchment. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Another rider was waiting for him and upon receiving it, he was quick to mount his steed and headed north.

Another letter in a growing pile.

Outside, the fog thickened again.

And far to the east, the howl of wargs returned.