8 The First Clash

POV General Harold Winsten

It has been fourteen days since we laid siege to Venral. All paths have been blocked, waterways either filled with stone and sand or poisoned, and our men stood ready with high morale. Standing on a raised platform of guarded stone, I looked upon one of the mightiest defensive fortifications in the south-east of our mighty nation towards the sea; only comparable to the seven capitals of the Duchies and the Royal capital itself. Until the Dark orcs conquered it by sending waves after endless waves at it, it had been thought impenetrable. Yet, here I stand, on the cusp of victory!

This battle shall put me onto the annals of history as one of the greatest generals of the Seven Duchies; second only to the Great General Markus Mestral the Second! My name shall be chanted endlessly as my army, and I walk back to the royal capital victorious!

'And I will have that piece of damned land!'

As he general mused of victory and the thousands of people chanting his name, he noticed movement to his right. Turning he saw his best friend walking towards him with a giant smile.

"Dreaming of victory before the end, I see. Was it not you that kept quoting the Great General's book 'War: The Art.' I hope you have not forgotten them." Hearing this the general eyes widen at the accusation. To him, the Great General's book was a holy text. But, what he did miss was the widening of Roland's smile until it was enormous and unbearable.

"What! Never! I would never forget those teachings! You know how important they are to…" Finally taking in Roland's grin, he sighed then broke into a chuckle, then to full out laughter.

"You always know how to read me, Roland. It can be quite disconcerting knowing that you always know what I am thinking."

Roland suddenly turns towards the stairs situated towards the general's back, turning to look at what caught his friends interest, the general found a messenger that seems to have run days on end from the way he was panting.

"General! General! Dire news! It is most horrible news! Fifteen thousand Orcs are coming out of the Opening to the northwest of us!"

The general looked at him oddly,

'Dire news? It is just like I expected, fifteen with come through the opening and only five out of the pass...'

But, before the general could finish his thought, the messenger took a deep breath and told him what the bad news truly was,

"General, that is not the bad news. Thousands of Dark Orcs are coming out of the path, and we are still counting! Sixty Thousand was the last count!!!"

Eyes widening in surprise the general turned towards the pass in the east; he could barely see anything from this distance. Taking all possibilities in a matter of seconds, the general commands,

"Soldier! Send three messengers to all the main camps! Including the Raug. Let them know of the situation and tell them I am mobilizing a full retreat towards the hills south of our location. The mage corps are to make a cover for us to retreat and position ourselves in a defensive Phalanx with the mages in the back, cavalry split into two for flanking motions around the hill! Hurry! Hurry!"

Sixty thousand and still counting? They must have sent a thousand thousand soldiers into that most treacherous pass!

Turning back towards Roland, he exclaims,

"Old friend, your advice is as sound as ever. In my time of most need, you stand tall and mighty. Anything you need, or ever desire, let me know, and I will find it even if I must rummage through the Isles of Night themselves!" Extending his hand towards his friend in a sign of brotherhood, Roland graciously accepts and meets him halfway. Locking eyes, Roland retorts with his signature smile,

"If we survive this day, Harold. If we survive…"

It took about three hours to finally get over seventy thousand men who were in perfect formation, drilled into them by countless hours of the most spartan training possible, to move without panic and into the formation. Due to the constraint of time and Orcish pressure, much of the resources they had taken with them were left behind; the soldiers were only allowed to take what they could carry themselves. It would make the trip back towards the nearest city a logistical Nightmare!

If not for the skilled Mages covering their retreat, it would have been a bloody affair. They created three screens of scorching sand that incapacitated over six hundred of the eight hundred mages. One towards the Opening, the second towards the pass, and the third in front of Venral; just out of the cities magical defenses.

Other than over seventy thousand Orcs that were reported of that came as reinforcements, their numbers were not known, but we do know from previous reports that there was roughly fifty-seven thousand within the city itself. Without holding our last position, where we could use the gates as a killing zone if they tried to force their way out, the orcs in the city finally exited its defenses to meet us on the field. They not only have more significant numbers, but their greatest advantage was in size. Though not as large as their green or blue counterparts, compared to an average human they were still substantial. Their average stood around 6'6" while a human's average height was roughly 5'11". Without extreme measures, their first charge will break our lines and stampede over us.

Taking this into consideration, I had the soldiers position themselves on top of a large hill, with a cavalry group ready to ride right down the middle to break the charge and maybe give us a chance to survive. As the first cavalry escapes through the right, we will time a charge coming around the left to break their morale. Hopefully, we can get a third charge if the first cavalry can get around the hill without too many deaths.

"W.. We should Run from this death trap!" Malif suddenly exclaimed,

"Our lives are worth more than those soldiers! We are commanders and generals! Use them as a decoy as we make a break for it! Please General!" Malif looked terrified and with good reason, but the commanders and general all looked at him with disgust.

"If you attempt such a thing I WILL SLAY YOU WERE YOU STAND COWARD!" Screamed Aden with absolute fury

Malif could not stand the insanity that surrounded him. Who is crazy enough to not only fight an army almost double their numbers but one of Dark Orcs!

"Hold your silence forever, Malif. You have shamed Orbes and me greatly today." Turning away from him, the General looked towards the sand screens as he thought about what happened to the 5th prince and his Raug. When the news broke of the endless numbers of Orcs spewing from the pass, it was reported to him that the camp south of him holding the Raug had suddenly moved towards the pass. Since then, he did not hear a word from the 5th prince.

'At least he didn't run away like a coward. Even if he got himself killed by his delusions.'

After half an hour, the sands started to disperse. Letting all those present see what awaited them on the other side.

A sudden murmur of prayers started within the lines of the soldiers of all camps until it reached the general himself.

"I pray to all gods listening, Give us strength! Give us courage! Erase the fear of death from our souls for this day! And let the soldiers 'preserver'! For what stands before us now is death."

Standing in front of them was not something they could have conceived. There they stood, an ocean of dark brown and green…

Endless…

The general knew there was no hope of surviving this. And so did all the soldiers. The time to run away had passed them.

Looking towards his soldiers, their fear-stricken faces were unbearable to him. He chose to speak with strength. Hoping his words gives them courage on this most horrible day,

"Soldiers! We stand here together! Brothers, Fathers, and friends! We will stand here strong and persevere! We will make them BLEED! For every inch they take, we will kill thousands! For every life they kill, we will take thousands more! For every widow and orphan they make WE. WILL. KILL. THOUSANDS!"

This speech will be carried on by the survivors to all major cities in the Seven Duchies. Dubbing it as 'The Thousand,' it was made into plays for all to see the courage and valor of General Harold Winsten in this most trying time.

Not knowing the significance of his words other than raising morale, he turned towards his commanders,

"Send a messenger to the second cavalry. There will be no second charge. No, only one major charge through the center to break them against our lines. Commanders pull your soldiers into a circle to defend against their overwhelming numbers. We cannot allow them to enter our ranks! The only space is for the cavalry to gain momentum from the back line to hit the front line. Once they pass, close the lines while they circle around and support the formation. Go to your camps and lead your men. They will need you there more."

All the commanders nod at the general's words and left towards their camps to prepare for the Orcs. They each held the same expression; Determination.

"Harold" Roland called out after they left, "May we meet in our future lives. For we are connected as soul brothers."

Looking at his friend, the general's façade broke away. In its place stood an old man tired instead of the General worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as the Great General Himself.

"I am afraid for my daughters, Roland. What will they do without me? Th… They don't even know where I stashed all the gold I saved up to retire in the countryside inside the royal borders." Putting his head in his hands, the general shakes his head in sorrow.

Roland put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him roughly,

"Where is the man I respect, Harold! Where is the man that looked a Dragon in the eye and laughed! Get yourself together; we have a battle to win. Gather the broken remains of your confidence and stitch them back together. Those men out there need you, General! We can deal with everything else later."

As Roland and the general stare at each other for a few seconds, a horn blared in the far distance. Drums began beating, and the pounding feet of the Orcish Hordes rumbled as they finally charged at the human lines.

The general grabbed his helm and put it on. Running out of his tent, he prepared with his guards as they put all their hopes of survival, no matter how slim, on the front lines holding for the first charge. Unsheathing his sword and picking up his tower shield, he heard the deafening rumble of the cavalry as they sped through the back lines and into the space allotted for them; hitting the Orcish charge head-on. As they crashed on to the Orcs, the cavalry quickly split in two and made their way towards the left and right. In that one clash, thousands of Orcs where crushed either by the full weight of a barded horse, the weapons carried by their riders, or their own troops as they pushed on, stomping them to death. After what felt like ages, but was not even a full five minutes, the cavalry finally got away. Leaving the hordes open to finish their charge. Straining, the frontline pushed their shields together and picked up their swords while the line behind them prepared their swords and spears to support the soldiers in front of them at a range.

Suddenly, the remaining two hundred mage corps and archers released a volley that decimated the hordes slowed down the charge. Only able to release two volleys, the mages and archers start targeting farther into the throng of orcs to thin out their numbers before they reach.

Finally, the horde reached the front lines. Using all they had the orcs attempted to break through and separate their enemy. As the general watched, the line buckled and was starting to get pushed back. The strain on the soldiers was evident as you heard their shouts of full effort. But …

They Held! The lines did not break!

The general was ecstatic with the result and started laughing at the hope that was dangled in front of them like a prized boar.

Yet, now the hard and gritty part truly began. The monotonous and rhythmic dance of death has just truly started.

Still, after all that has happened, the general kept on wondering where the 5th prince and his Raug were.

It would have been wonderful to have them on the front line with their massive size. They could have made amazing tanks.