SoO3 - War of Talons - Chapter 7

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde
Chapter 7 - A Line Must Be Drawn

Hedstrum Balan looked down on the open field before him from atop the grassy hill where he and a multitude of battle-ready Anarchs had gathered to prepare for a charge into Hedgenbury. Between themselves and the the high-walled town in the distance, stood the Imperial army, which comprised mostly of loyalist troops. The shadowfowl were present, various abominations skulking among the ranks or flying overhead. The twin suns blazed in the sky, making this the weakest moment for the wicked creatures, but they were poised to defend the Demonlord's domain, nonetheless. The Orcish general raised his sword high, calling to his soldiers. The Anarchs chanted and hollered, many of them eager to engage. Hedstrum paused as a streak of flame came into view in the air. The phoenix flew over the field with something clenched in its talons. The great bird turned toward the Anarch army, which grew even louder as the sight of the phoenix was seen as a blessing upon the imminent battle. The phoenix swooped by and alighted, climbing into the sky again. Hedstrum quickly lowered his sword and raised his other arm to catch the object of which the phoenix seemed to have let go. The general caught the object and inspected it. It was a staff, a simple gnarled thing hewn from an oak branch. He quickly determined it to be the Staff of the Hermit which Ariadnesse agreed to steal. Hedstrum also realized a moment later, that the elf would have delivered this prize herself. Hedstrum passed the staff to another soldier and instructed him to carry it back to Bedldem on the fastest horse he could find. The noise of the Anarch soldiers dulled as they watched the general lower his head and shut his eyes, his face twitching as his teeth clenched. Breath puffed through his nostrils like an angry bull as his mind ventured a brief moment into what could have been. For a moment there was a grim, awkward silence... then the orc's sword bolted into the air as his hand again held it aloft. The general's eyes opened as did his mouth, and a guttural cry lept from him, an atavistic noise known by many to be the furious Orcish call for the blood of enemies. The throng of frenzied humans and wylderfolk spilled down the hill toward the line of Imperial troops. The orc led his loyal soldiers in the charge, roaring again with fury. A vile sound came from the shadowfowl, and the loyalists marched forth, some bearing a look of reluctance as they prepared to face their fellow Orlandians in battle.

The initial clash was brutal. Metal gnashed against metal, flesh rended and bones shattered. Neighbors and once-friends met eyes and weapons with conviction and determination. Hedstrum engaged one of the awful creatures at the center of the fray, literally pulling it from its low place in the air and driving his steel deep into the thing, which emitted a deafening call of anguish. The orc planted a foot upon the dying shadowfowl, freeing his blade and spinging himself upward, over his men, to deliver another deadly blow to an advancing creature as he landed. Elven arrows launched into a focused volley from the back ranks, felling another dark bird. It contorted and careened above the battle before crashing through a group of fighting soldiers, both Imperial and Anarch. More of the vile things came, swooping down to catch random Anarchs and throw or drop them. A druid among the Anarch army uttered an incantation, and the ground split open. Combatants stepped backward as the earth itself rose and took shape, resembling vaguely human forms. The newly summoned golems towered over the soldiers, at least twice their height. The Loyalist troops closest to them were swatted or crushed as the lumbering monsters of dirt and grass began swinging their huge arms. Gamelon, the Emperor's most powerful necromancer, watched from a distance on a shadowcrafted steed. He waited to join the battle, watching the soldiers on either side fight and fall. Once he was satisfied at the amount of death on the field, he kicked his spurs into the dark horse upon which he sat, and the necromancer charged. He raised an ornate golden scepter as he approached the violence before him, and the jewels on the artifact burned with an eerie light as dark energies swirled around it. The fallen among the combatants began to stir, crawling and pushing themselves up. The dead stood up and armed themselves, the Anarchs watching in horror as the corpses that surrounded them started to advance.

Hedstrum eyed Gamelon as he rode along the outskirts of the battle. With a grunt, the orc, ran across the field to intercept his new target, dismissing the enemies that obstructed him with simple yet devastating strikes. The necromancer noticed the Orcish General coming for him and pointed his scepter. Several of the undead soldiers seemed to respond to the gesture, and turned to meet Hedstrum, standing between the orc and their new master. The orc lept at his mindless foes, and cut down one of the undead, then turned and lashed into another. They clawed and bit at him, swinging weapons clumsily as they shambled toward him. One by one, the zombies fell, only to be replaced by another. The walking dead surrounded Hedstrum, but he kept swinging, still looking at Gamelon, regarding the creatures that blocked him more of an annoyance than a threat. An elven priest approached, flanked by fighters who slashed their way through to escort the elf closer. Gamelon scowled as the elf began her prayer and gestured again commanding more undead to move in and interrupt her. The ground around her became illuminated, and the nearby revenants collapsed. The radius of her spell spread outward across the field, and the undead that did not fall under its power backed away, writhing and screaming. Gamelon cursed to himself and pulled on the reins of his horse, backing away as the light magick drew closer. His steed reared, emitting an unnerving bray while shadow grew from its sides and took shape as immense black wings. Gamelon and his horse took flight, eager to escape the range of the priest's prayer.

The very fever of the battle had broken as the undead fell in great numbers. The remaining shadowfowl took to the air, following Gamelon as he fled. The loyalist soldiers turned and ran back toward the city as their trumpets called the retreat. As they approached the gates of Hedgenbury, they found themselves trapped. Anarch spies had made their move within the walls. The townsfolk supported the resistance movement well before the anticipated clash, and revolted as the battle began. The gates of the fortified town did not open as the loyalist troops approached it in hopes of shelter. Finding themselves between their own townsfolk and the advancing Anarchs, they quickly began to drop their weapons. The last remaining standard bearer let his banner fall as the enemy came closer. Hedstrum led the Anarchs toward the gate, calling them to halt before the broken ranks. One of the loyalists, Commander Danik, stepped forward to face the Orcish general. He held up his sword, humbly offering it to Hedstrum as a gesture of surrender. The orc looked at him, then beyond him to the enemy troops. He silently looked at their faces which bore the shame of defeat, and the pain of a war they did not want. Hedstrum grinned and looked again at Commander Danik, then spoke in a volume for all to hear, "Keep your sword, brave warrior. You will need it when you march to the city proper of Orlandia...". He raised a hand and gestured toward the Anarch army. "... alongside your brothers and sisters!". Commander Danik lowered his sword as the Anarchs began to cheer, and extended his arm in friendship. The orc clasped Danik's arm gruffly with his own, and both sides erupted in celebration.

The liberation of Hedgenbury was more than a mere victory for the Anarchs... it was a triumph for all Orlandians who still held out hope of being free from the tyranny of the Emperor. Word quickly spread to the other towns, and support for the Anarchs grew. Many towns began to revolt, or did what they could to help by moving supplies or hiding Anarchs that were being chased by the shadowfowl. Emperor Corvidious raged from within Castle Orlandia, and he sent Validus out with his minions across the kingdom with new orders. Branding and casting out those who supported the Anarchs was no longer enough. An example had to be made. The Demonlord decided that those he could not control must be destroyed. The shadowfowl moved over the land, and blanketed the kingdom with suffering and fear. Many Orlandians witnessed Prince Validus as he rode into various towns, the terrible sword that was once Van and Nifl raised high, unleashing its power upon his own people. The people of this realm came to know true evil as the kingdom's young ruler, under the emperor's influence, destroyed that which he loved so dearly. The jubilation of the victorious army at Hedgenbury wilted as word arrived from other regions. The Anarchs still needed to find the Sacred Ten, and Khaz'Radan, or all their efforts would soon be for naught.