Chapter 1 – Councilman Ames Talco

 

At the sound of a battle horn, thousands of creatures broke from their ranks and ran screaming toward the iron and stone fortifications the Easterners had set up in twelve concentric rings in defense of the Gate. Swarming over the land like ants, the multicolored three-foot-tall pyarks quickly moved across the ground, their shark-like heads full of pointed teeth bobbing back and forth as they ran, their small spears and flint blades shining in the morning sun. Shrieks, clicks, and pops carried over the open ground toward their enemies on the wall.

The defenders stood atop their platform of stone and spikes, waiting for the incoming army. The great gray Wall loomed behind them like a giant guardian, a firm foothold and a fortress to fall back upon. Stone faced, they watched from the twelfth defensive ring — the furthest from the Wall and the edge of their defenses. The Senturians of the East Side could have relied solely on the strength of their huge battlement, but the leaders had chosen erected the temporary rings to take the fight to the enemy while still allowing them a means of retreat. Each ring expanded from the Wall Gate in a larger arc than the last, the gate the lone way through the Wall.

When the pyarks were halfway through the thousand-yard distance between the two armies, Ames Talco, from his perch behind the front lines on the eleventh ring, gave the order.

“Engage traps!”

Through small interconnected earpieces, his order was relayed to various commanders along the twelfth ring in front of him.

All along the fortified wall, various Senturians engaged their powers—blue, red, brown, and green energies glowing quickly, then being sent to their destinations. With springs and mechanical whirls, hundreds of traps sprung on the incoming horde. Pits opened with spikes at the bottom, impaling any creatures that fell into them. Flames burst from triggered traps. Energy filled stones exploded, sending shrapnel into other pyarks. Small tornadoes burst from nowhere, flinging and carrying off several of the screaming invaders. Spears of solid ice erupted from soggy ground, piercing the pyarks clean through. Hundreds died in the initial attack.

Despite the drastic loss of life, the little demons advanced, hardly slowing at all, their bloodlust and the will of their master an insatiable driver. They closed the distance, now within two hundred and fifty yards.

Ames Talco gave the next order. “Fire siege weapons.”

Catapults, ballista, trebuchets, water cannons, and mortars simultaneously fired, sending thousands of projectiles toward the pyarks. Boulders crushed, bolts skewered, ice struck, fireballs burned, and explosions rocked the earth, killing thousands more of the pyarks. Blood and body parts littered the field, but the swarming mass hardly seemed to notice. Whenever one went down, it seemed three more took its place, often stopping to take a bite from their fallen comrade on the way to attack the wall.

To the Senturian forces, the ground looked like a solid sheet of brown and black bodies. The pyarks avoided the already sprung traps, only to trigger others or be killed by the fire from the siege weapons. The pyarks showed no fear or concern, beady eyes almost lifeless as they scrambled across the earth and shook their weapons.

When they were one hundred yards away, Ames Talco said, “Archers. Fire.”

Thousands of shafts filled the sky, most finding their mark, bringing down the demons in a hail of wood and iron. The little land sharks quickly raised small wooden shields, protecting themselves as best they could, so the next volleys weren’t as effective as the first. Arrows continued to rain down, but the horde charged on, shrieking and clacking their teeth together while banging on their tough skin with their rudimentary weapons, sharp slapping sounds that carried over the battlefield.

At fifty yards, Ames Talco said, “Senturians. Fire at will!”

All the elements appeared at once. Red skinned and armored Phoenix sent fire at the pyarks, burning them as they tried to close the gap. Helion, averaging eight feet tall with icy blue skin hurled ice spears, skewering two or three at a time. Reka, light blue river Senturians and Tempus, dark blue ocean Senturians shot blasts of high-pressure water, cleaving the pyarks in two. Five-and-a-half-foot tall brown Dwarfs launched hundreds of boulders toward the incoming line of creatures. Aeren sent blasts of sharpened air from their green hands, cutting down the pygmy sharks as they continued to advance. Manu, yellow skinned with billowing robes, shot bolts of pure energy, incinerating the creatures. Human Senturians mimicked the same attacks, based on their abilities. The final fifty yards of ground between the twelfth ring of defenders and the pyarks became a mass of elemental chaos and dying demons.

Completely disregarding their fallen comrades, the invaders pressed the attack, swarming over their dead and dying warriors in their haste, quickly closing in on the twelfth ring. Senturians continued to fire as the pyarks closed in, but it was clear the invaders would not be held back. Ames Talco gave one more command.

“Brace for impact!”

With their combined mass much greater than a single individual, the pyarks crashed into the wall like a wave. Many died on the spiked fortification, but their bodies only served as scaffolding for those behind as they scaled the fifteen-foot wall as easily as if they were running on flat ground. The Senturians met them with cold steel – swords, axes, spears, and other close quarter combat weapons. Battle cries from the different Races erupted from the throats of the army. Blows and strikes cut down hundreds more of the small creatures, the battlements quickly becoming slick with ichor. Each Senturian was a match for dozens of the pyarks but, by sheer numbers, they were overwhelming the defenders. Stone blades snuck under armor while piercing teeth clamped down on exposed limbs.

Human screams now joined those of the attackers as the fortification soon became of mass of swirling pyarks. Ames watched as they attacked one soldier. He took out three of the creatures before a dozen piled on top of him, spraying blood in all directions. In a matter of seconds, the creatures moved on, leaving nothing but a pile of bones and armor behind.

Ames Talco grimaced as he looked over the top of the battle in front of him and saw the flow of new pyarks had stopped at least. Thank God for that. Maybe there’s an end in sight. But that still left too many to deal with, his soldiers were dying faster than they could be replaced, and he realized it might be too late already.

One of his commanders stepped up beside him. “Sir, we’re being overrun. There aren’t enough soldiers to hold the twelfth ring. There are just too many of them blasted fiends. Do we deploy the reinforcements?”

Ames hesitated only a second. “Negative, Commander. Give the order: all soldiers fall back behind the eleventh ring. Everyone else, let’s give them some cover fire! Don’t let the little devils get our men and women as they retreat.”

His subordinates relayed the orders, and the warriors left along the twelfth ring slowly gave ground as their fellow soldiers rained down powers and arrows upon the pyarks — who still climbed over the top of the wall — keeping them back off the retreating line. Dozens more died during the retreat, but most made it to the eleventh wall through tunnels and over ladders designed for just such an inevitability. Once the last skirted through to safety, the tunnels were sealed and the ladders pulled up.

“Now light ‘em up!”

Red-hot beams of fire from Phoenix and fire Senturians blasted down into the two dozen yards of ground between the two defensive walls, lighting the fuel concealed just beneath the grass. A raging inferno burst up, completely engulfing the pyarks, their foul stench filling the nostrils of the defenders.

Despite the boiling mass of fire, hundreds more still scaled the wall of the eleventh ring, only to be cut down or blasted off by the waiting Senturians before they got over the edge. Without the aid of numbers behind them, the defenders easily dispatched the remaining pyarks. As the flames died down and the smoke cleared, the Senturians looked to the west to see that the rest of the enemy army had not moved.

Ames pulled out his binoculars, searching down the line. Quickly he spotted Malstrak, the enemy leader’s black robes billowing in the wind, a smirk upon his face as he stared right back at Ames. He held up one finger, and mouthed, “One down.” Ames couldn’t hear him across the battlefield, but the intent was clear — Malstrak easily took down the first ring of defense, and he probably had a plan to take down the rest just as quickly. With a mocking two-finger salute, Malstrak turned and disappeared back through the middle of his army, the various creatures that made up the rest of his vile force snorting and shrieking at their success. To Malstrak, the pyarks were an expendable legion, and they performed their function well.

Ames wiped his face with his shirt as the battlefield grew quiet once again. Lots of people died today. People who will never make it home. One of his least favorite jobs was telling devastated families they had lost someone. But it was a necessary evil, and the sacrifice that these brave soldiers had made wouldn’t go unnoticed. Either way, it didn’t make it any easier to lose men and women in battle.

Thankful that Malstrak seemed to have stopped the siege for the time being, Ames gave orders to regroup the troops. “Get the wounded to the Elves’ healing tents and send as many Elves and healing Senturians as you can back to the front line. I want everybody as healthy as possible for the next round of attacks. We don’t know when they’re going to come again, but it’ll probably be sooner rather than later.”

Commanding Senturians barked out orders to secure the eleventh ring, solidifying their defense, at least for the moment.

Turning back to the east, Ames looked at the enormous Wall Gate, then to the north and south along the smooth surface of the wall that stood outside the Breaks. The immense structure gave the Easterners their main level of defense against the monsters from the West before you got to the Break Pass and the gate that defended it. Thankfully, the ancients who made the Wall not only made it massive and tall, they’d also infused it with power so that the only way of egress was through the gate in the center. The gate now stood open slightly to allow the flow of troops and supplies to the defensive rings outside it, but not open wide enough it couldn’t be shut quickly in case the invaders broke through.

Ames sighed. This was the first of many battles to be fought here, and already the loss of his men and women weighed heavy on his heart. There would be much more of that, too much for his liking, in the coming days. Weeks. Months. Since General Sterling’s betrayal and attempted murder, Ames had been selected to lead the combined armies of the East Side.

As he watched the preparations being made to once again repel the enemy, Ames couldn’t help think of the squad of warriors and the champion chosen for the East Side, thousands of miles away, as he prepared to fight to the death for them. He wondered how Jayton Baird was doing, and if he was faring any better than they were at the Wall — having lost the twelfth defensive ring so quickly.