I am Legend (book 1 - The Four) Chp.2

Chapter 2: Hopeless resistance


         The guard strolled lazily down the battlements, putting one hand over his yawning mouth while he barely held on to the spear with the other. Night had thrown its dark pall across the land and the added darkness only made him sleepier. He called over to another guard across from him and asked her if she had seen anything. As he predicted she said no. The question had only come out of habit for every night for many months he had to ask the guards near him if they had seen any enemy activity. They had never seen anything. It had been nearly a year since a handful of demons had found a weak area in the barrier that surrounded their hellish land. They had been disposed of with a few arrows and the weak area had been covered up with boulders. After that nothing had happened and the guard wished more than ever if something, anything, would.
         Had he known that his wish would have come true he would have never wished it.
         The Wastelands of Talgar were a desolate land of barren and cracked earth of a reddish color, boulders, treeless mountains, lakes and rivers of lava, spires of rock—some of which that were holed at the top where smoke escaped from an underground depository of molten rock—and forests of dead trees. The denizens of such an evil land were as sinister as it was. Demons, half-demons, and creatures of nightmare roamed the land. For as long as anyone could remember, the demons had always been there—neighbors to the inhabitants of the fair land of Fortyl. Two brutal wars had been fought against them when they had tried to expand their territory. The wastelands were large but Fortyl was four times as large and so alluring that the demons could not hold themselves back. So instead, dozens of centuries ago, they had charged across the only passage across the Abyss, the wide unending chasm that circled the whole lot of Talgar. Once across the huge natural bridge of rock they had begun pillaging and destroying. The beings of Fortyl had fought back but those many centuries ago there had been no Alliance. Instead there had been separate settlements for each sentient race. The demons had first attacked the dwarves in the Freed Mountains just southeast of the Wastelands. Once they were fought back, they charged on to the Great Plains to the south and destroyed the halfling settlements. The short, though agile, farmers had fought back bravely but to no avail. Just like the dwarves, they raced south away from the demon army. The elves inhabited the Enchanted Forest to the southwest of Fortyl and the humans inhabited some of the Great Plains and the east of Fortyl. The demons split up to attack both races at once. The ensuing battle was huge and destructive. Nearing the end of it, the elves and humans decided to ally themselves and fight back together as one. The homeless dwarves and halflings soon joined them too and when the four races strapped on their armor and grabbed their weapons for the final fight, the demons were pushed back further and further. The years of war continued until finally the demons were pushed back into their Wastelands where they belonged. The four races then hurriedly built a large fortress atop the bridge to prevent the demons from ever escaping again. The destroyed settlements were rebuilt with the help of all four races. They got along fairly enough so there was no real squabble or second thoughts about forming a permanent alliance.
And so one was formed.
         But then, centuries later, the demons attacked again and destroyed the fortress. They ran to the northernmost settlements again, but the fight at the fortress had lasted long and it had given the Alliance enough time to assemble and when they came to the first one they were fought back. Their leader was killed by the present king of the elves, who had just been no more than a late teen during then, and in less than a month the demons were back on the other side of the Abyss. This time, instead of not only rebuilding the fortress, four spellcasters of different races stepped forward to help out. There was a human wizard, an elf high druid, a halfling mage, and a dwarf cleric and together they summoned a huge, invisible, and impenetrable dome barrier that encompassed the whole land of Talgar. No matter how hard one tried to get through it, they would fail. For many centuries the barrier had kept the lands of Fortyl safe from all demonic harm. The fortress was less needed but it was still manned incase something unpredictable happened for no one was sure what demons would do.
         The guard leaned his back against the merlon and exhaled. He rested his spear by his side and folded his arms. He looked around and saw the other guards doing pretty much the same thing. He hoped Great General Vockroth Ironshoulder didn’t come by or he would have their heads. That stern dwarf was as hard as rock and as evasive as the wind. He was a powerful warrior and was respected by all that knew him and all of Fortyl knew of him. He was as legendary as the four spellcasters that had created the barrier or the elven king, Yl’teir Erildysin, who had slain the demon king. His weapon was the Sharksword, a greatsword with a razor-sharp edge on one side and the other with curving spikes that protruded like teeth, and he used it well. He had saved many small towns and hamlets from orc or troll raids with that weapon and no one in their right mind would want to be on the receiving end. It was said that he forged it himself and that it was made of unbreakable metal. No one doubted that. He could make a good king but he didn’t want to be one. He was content to be the Great General. A king would have too much on his mind. A general had a lot too but it all had to do with war, and dwarves were a race that never turned away from a fight if they were challenged.
         The guard glanced about and when seeing no dwarf, he closed his eyes. He shifted his position to be more comfortable and when he took a deep breath to be ready to rest, he heard something. He opened his eyes and listened some more. His human ears were sharp but not nearly as sharp as that of an elf’s and when he gazed to his right to where an elf stood, he saw him staring west to the Wastelands. The guard turned around and did the same. At the sight his hand went for his spear but he knew that it would prove little help against such a foe. He gulped and tried to yell out warning but nothing came out. Luckily, the elf beside him managed to yell and in moments the whole fortress was awake.
Great General Vockroth heard the footsteps to his chambers and was up before the messenger was in. He was strapping on his armor when he did and he asked him to hand him his sword. The messenger nodded and dragged the Sharksword to his general. The dwarf grabbed it one hand and leaned it against a metal pauldron. He then nodded to the messenger and he ran down the stairs to the courtyard. Vockroth followed.
         When he came outside he found many soldiers on the battlements carrying torches. He called out for a mage and when one came up he told him to shine light. He nodded and ran up to a tower and lit up the sky. Vockroth climbed up the ladder to the battlements and when he looked to the Wastelands his eyes widened. “By the beard of my mother!”
         There were hundreds of them! Thousands of them! Hundreds of thousands! And they were all heading right at them.
         “Ready the catapults!” Vockroth’s voice boomed. “Load up the trebuchets! You know what to do; we’ve practiced it as many times as there are demons. Hurry!”
         The soldiers did as they were told and as fast as they could. Boulders were loaded into trebuchet slings and the trademark of the Alliance was placed in the catapults. They were known simply as spiked balls or Porcupine Bombs. They were boulders of metal dotted with huge spikes. When the boulder would hit the ground or anything solid, it would explode and send the spikes shooting outward in every direction, creating splash damage to all those in a hundred foot radius. They would be very useful in this certain predicament

                                                           ****

         Great General Grishnor led the force of five hundred thousand demons, half of the entire army, to the fortress. He had his best officers with him, along with some other demons of great power. One carried an enchanted greatsword and a thirty-foot cape containing magic-repelling properties. One was that one’s master who had poisonous claws that could inject incurable venom into his enemies and he could thus kill many by simply touching them. Another was a demon nearly as muscular as Grishnor himself who could ignite his fists into fire. Another was a slender demon with huge wings that was specialized with throwing-weapons of all types. Two were brother and sister and resembled humans with leathery wings. But they were as deadly as they were seductive.
         Grishnor nodded to each one of them before stepping to where the barrier was supposed to be. He closed his eyes and braced his huge and muscle-bound body for the impact. He was expecting to hit a solid invisible wall but instead he encountered what felt like a wall of paper. He stepped through it without slowing down and the ones around and behind him did the same. He scowled at the fortress and slapped his metal club into an open palm.
         “The blood smells delicious,” Noroul, the Dreadlord with the poisonous claws, said as he licked his lips. He was a demon that resembled a cross between an elf and a troll. He had long pointed ears but his body was not slender like an elf’s. It was muscular but not nearly as much as Grishnor’s. He had a tail and that and his wings were twitching eagerly and his clawed fingers tapped together impatiently.
         “I shall slay many for you, master,” the caped demon said from behind his white mask with black markings. His Angel Slayer sword was gripped tightly and was thirsty for slaughter.
         Grishnor looked over at the big demon and noticed that his right arm was completely unlike his left. His left was muscled and strong but his right seemed to him like as if it belonged to a completely different demon. It was twice the size of the one on the left, it was covered in huge spikes, and the clawed hand was big enough to completely encompass his head. ‘And most likely crush it,’ he thought.
         His eyes fell on the twin demons and his face contorted in an expression of deep disgust. They resembled mortal humans so much that he wondered why they had not been killed by other disgusted demons yet. Then he remembered. It was because they were very skillful at gathering valuable souls. They gathered them with their enchanted swords and they did it exceptionally well. And now that the barrier was down, they would be free to gather an innumerable amount of souls from the mortal lands of Fortyl. It would be a pity if they died for then many souls would not be harvested. But he doubted that would happen for not only were they great harvesters but they were very skilled with the sword they hung sheathed on their belts. If only they weren’t so damned ugly he might actually grow to like them.
         “I could get him from here if you’d let me,” Zaltor, the winged demon who specialized in throwing-weapons, said, speaking of Vockroth. He already knew the answer but he couldn’t resist asking. Grishnor was sometimes unpredictable and perhaps he might let Zaltor eliminate the enemy general.
         Grishnor shook his head and Zaltor did not show the slightest bit of disappointment. There were plenty more enemies to kill anyway. “He’s mine; even he knows that. Just by the way he stares at me I know that I and I alone will have to fight him.”
         “Well, can’t we get this fight started already!” Deereg, the master of the Fiery Outpost to the north, growled. His huge fists ignited into flaming fury and they shook from all the rage that was building for holding him back from fighting for so long.
         Grishnor frowned and held his huge metal club in both hands. He looked around him and saw the demons similarly ready to fight. He nodded to the officers and then yelled out in demonic fury. And then he charged.

                                                           ****

         “Fire!” Vockroth ordered. And so they did. The catapults and trebuchets discharged their loads on the approaching demons with a thunderous effect. Vockroth watched as the boulders and Porcupine Bombs decimated the closest ranks. He was pleased with the effect but knew that it was in vain. There were too many demons.
         The siege engines let loose a few more barrages before it was too late. The demons had reached the walls of the fortress. The archers and spearmen on the battlements released their arrows and spears into the nearest demons but they barely slowed. They set about leaning ladders against the walls but the defenders on the battlements kept pushing them down along with the demons climbing them. Grappling hooks were thrown but they were either cut down or archers stood and waited for demons to climb the ropes to fire down on their vulnerable bodies. There were several demons called Leapers that could leap dozens of feet in the air that managed to get past the defenses and reach the battlements. Archers whipped out swords and fought them in melee combat but that put less of them to manage the ones with ladders and ropes. They did their best to hold them back while killing off the Leapers but eventually the demons breached.
         “The wall’s breached!” a soldier shouted to his comrades. “The demons are through! The demons…” He was cut short as a hammer the size of an ox cart smashed the wall he stood on and flattened him like a foot did to a caterpillar.
         “Gigantirisk!” another soldier called out in recognition. He slew a warrior demon as it came on the wall but the huge seventy-foot demon he had warned about smashed the wall he stood on and he fell off and died. The huge demons were specifically ordered to destroy the walls when they got there and now that they were the fortress defenses weren’t going to stand much longer. They smashed away at the hard metal and stone with their gigantic hammers until it was all rubble. And then the other demons came in.
Vockroth swung his Sharksword horizontally and chopped up a vampire. The creature stayed alive even though the wound would have killed anything else. Vockroth then remembered what to do in case of vampires and cleaved off its head before it had a chance to block or parry. Sunlight would have done the trick but the demons had cleverly chosen the night to strike as to have every demon, or half-demon, able to fight. He spotted a werewolf chase down a fleeing soldier and turned away at the gruesome sight as its teeth found flesh. He looked around and saw the demons running all over the place with a few soldiers here and there, tiny thorns in a stampede. He looked up but did not see any flying denizens. He wondered for a second why they had not chosen to fight with their winged terrors. He stopped wondering when he noticed the officers and demons of power enter the overrun courtyard. His general must be nearby. He clenched his teeth in anger and went in search of him.
         Grishnor had just entered the courtyard and smiled at the sight of so much death and destruction. Everywhere he looked mortals were dying. He watched as the caped demon landed after a short flight in the middle of a gathering of human soldiers. He cut them down like as if he was carving his way through an overgrown trail in the woods. A mage showed up and cast a lightning spell. The demon grabbed his cape with his left arm and draped it over him and when the bolt of lightning hit him it bounced off and struck somewhere off in the distance. The mage set about casting another spell but she was dead before the chant could end. He saw the brother and sister demons land near more groups of mortals. They seemed to sparkle their eyes and the mortals were frozen in place like as if entranced—which in reality they were. They then easily ran their swords through them all. Deereg ran past him and smashed anything that moved with his fists of fire. When one of the things he hit happened to be a humanoid its clothes and even its armor would catch on fire and be too distracted to fight the rampaging demon. Noroul flew about and scratched the ones still on the few remaining pieces of wall that were firing down at the demons with the power of an annoying insect. He didn’t even have to hit them critically, as long as his claws got through flesh the victim would die. He looked up and saw Zaltor hovering and launching long-ranged assaults on the defenseless idiots on the ground. He barely saw his hands move but he did see the mortals beneath him fall with metallic objects sticking out of their chests, throats, or heads. He then looked straight ahead and saw Vockroth coming his way.
         “Die, you stinking carcass,” the angry dwarf shouted as he stopped ten feet from the much taller Grishnor. “You have no right here.”
         “By the word of the mighty Lord Dregar, I do.” And so he brought his club down and Vockroth brought up his sword to block.
         Vockroth already knew that he wasn’t going to live through this and he only wished that King Zayl Tallanor had a better chance at standing against the demons than he.