The final battle began at dawn.
The horns of the orc army echoed across the mountains as thousands of warriors gathered before Castle Precipice. The great war machine stood at the front of the army, its massive wooden frame reinforced with iron plates and covered by layers of leather and thick hides. The stone ram beneath it was positioned toward the castle gate, ready to tear through the last barrier between the horde and the fortress.
Above it, the orc shaman raised her staff. Mana gathered around the siege machine. A translucent layer of dark green energy spread across its structure, covering the wood and iron in a shimmering protective barrier. The spell extended around the wheels and the enormous ram, shielding the machine from the defenders above.
Cullum stood upon the battlements with his wooden warbow in hand. He looked across the defenders. The castle had fewer men now than it had at the beginning of the siege. Many had fallen during the previous two days, and those who remained were exhausted. Their armor was damaged, their clothing stained with mud and blood, and their faces carried the weariness of men who had been fighting without proper rest.
Still, they stood.
The hundred men-at-arms had gathered along the walls and near the inner courtyard. The surviving archers remained above, but their arrows were almost gone. The two hundred civilians and mercenaries who had chosen to remain had been armed with whatever weapons the castle could provide.
There was no longer any illusion that they could defeat the horde; they were preparing to hold.
Cullum looked toward the castle gate. The ancient walls of Castle Precipice had endured for generations. The Macrae family had been entrusted with this fortress by the old king, and the command given to them had always been simple: hold the pass, protect the people, and never abandon the castle while there were still those who depended upon it.
The current king had no love for the Macrae family. He had denied their requests for reinforcements and allowed the castle to face an army alone. But Cullum would not abandon the duty entrusted to his bloodline by the king who had once given them this fortress.
He looked toward the men gathered below. "Today, we hold."
The defenders tightened their grips.
"We are Macrae." His voice carried across the courtyard. "This castle was entrusted to our family, and we will not surrender it while we still draw breath."
The men answered with a roar.
Outside the walls, the orc army began advancing as the war machine rolled forward. Thousands of orcs followed behind it.
Caius stood beside his father on the battlements, his warbow in hand. His eyes followed the approaching machine as the Eye of the Loom revealed the shaman's magic surrounding it. The protective barrier was thick, and he could see the flow of mana constantly feeding into it.
"Father, the shaman is protecting the machine."
"I know."
Caius raised his bow, and Cullum did the same. They fired together. Their arrows flew toward the siege machine, but the shaman's magic caught them. The shafts struck the shimmering barrier and fell harmlessly to the ground.
More arrows followed from the defenders, but the result was the same. The machine continued forward.
Then the defenders began pouring oil. Huge cauldrons had been prepared along the battlements. Men tipped them forward, sending boiling oil cascading down toward the approaching siege weapon. The oil struck the magical barrier and spread across it before sliding away, leaving the wooden machine untouched.
The orcs continued pushing. Fire arrows followed. Flaming pitch struck the protective spell and burned briefly before the magic dispersed the flames. The shaman stood behind the advancing army, maintaining the enchantment while the war machine moved steadily toward the gate.
Caius watched her. The Eye of the Loom revealed the enormous amount of mana being consumed. "She is using a lot of mana."
Cullum nodded. "That is the weakness."
Caius looked at him. "But she is still holding it."
"For now."
The siege machine reached the castle gate. The massive ram swung backward and then struck. The entire gate shook, and the sound rolled through the fortress.
The defenders braced themselves.
Again the ram struck. The ancient wooden gate groaned but remained intact.
Again.
Again.
The attack continued throughout the morning. The defenders poured oil, threw stones, fired their remaining arrows, and hurled spears and burning pitch. But the shaman's magic protected the siege machine from the worst of the attacks.
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Still, the gate held.
Hour after hour passed. The orcs repeatedly struck the entrance while the defenders fought from above. Every time the gate shook, the men inside reinforced it with additional beams and chains.
Caius fought beside his father throughout the day. His Far Sight allowed him to identify exposed orcs and shamanic constructs, and every arrow he fired was aimed carefully. Cullum fought with the same precision, protecting the defenders around him while conserving every remaining arrow.
By afternoon, Caius's arms were trembling. The castle's defenses were beginning to fail. The gate was cracked, the hinges had begun to bend, and the wooden beams supporting it groaned beneath the repeated impacts.
Cullum looked toward the courtyard. "Fall back."
The defenders withdrew from the outer walls and gathered behind the gate. The final defensive line had been prepared inside the castle yard.
The surviving men-at-arms formed a shield wall, their shields locking together across the courtyard to create a solid barrier of wood and steel. Swords were held behind the shields, ready to strike anything that came through the gate. Behind them stood the remaining civilians and mercenaries. They had no formation and no formal training, but they had weapons, and they were willing to fight.
Cullum stood behind the shield wall, Caius stood near him, and Sereth was nearby with his bow lowered.
The castle had become quiet as everyone knew what was coming.
The siege machine struck the gate one final time, and the wood cracked.
Cullum looked toward his men. "Hold."
The ram pulled backward, then struck again.
The gate exploded inward. Wooden beams shattered across the courtyard as the first wave of orcs surged through the opening.
The shield wall slammed into them, and steel met steel. The defenders pushed forward. The first orcs fell beneath the swords of the men-at-arms, but more poured through the broken gate.
Caius watched the battle unfold before him. The defenders were fighting well, and the shield wall held. For a few moments, the orcs could not break through.
Then their numbers began to matter. One defender fell, and another stepped into his place. Then another fell. The orcs continued coming. The shields began breaking, a sword shattered against an orc's armor, and another defender was dragged down beneath several enemies. The formation began to bend.
Cullum fought at the center of the line, his sword moving constantly as he struck the orcs pressing against the shields. "Caius!"
Caius looked toward him.
"Stay behind the line!"
Caius raised Nightdancer. "I can fight!"
"I know." Cullum struck down another orc. "But you are not staying here."
Caius looked at him in confusion.
Cullum turned toward Sereth, and their eyes met. Sereth understood. Cullum gave him a single nod, then shouted, "Sereth!"
The dark elf stepped closer as Cullum looked toward the shattered gate. "Now."
Sereth's expression hardened. "Understood." He moved toward Caius.
Caius realized what was happening. "No."
Sereth grabbed his arm. "Come."
Caius pulled away. "No! I'm staying with my father!"
Cullum looked toward his son. "Caius, go."
"No!"
The shield wall collapsed, and orcs poured into the courtyard. The defenders were swallowed by the horde.
Caius struggled against Sereth's grip. "I won't leave him!"
Sereth tightened his hold. "Your father ordered you to go."
Caius turned toward Cullum. His father stood alone in the center of the broken formation.
The battlefield seemed to slow. Cullum looked at his son, and for the first time, Caius saw something in his father's expression that he had never seen before: not fear, but acceptance.
Then the orc warlord entered the courtyard. Krag'gath pushed through the horde, his enormous body towering above the surrounding warriors, his massive war axe already in his hands.
Cullum turned toward him.
Caius felt his heart stop. "Father!"
Cullum raised his sword, and Krag'gath charged.
The war axe came down with tremendous force, and Cullum met the blow. The impact drove him backward. His mana was already nearly exhausted after two days of fighting and an entire day defending the castle, and he struggled to hold the warlord's strength, his boots sliding across the stone.
For a moment, he held. Then his strength failed.
Krag'gath forced the sword aside, and the massive axe swung again.
Caius screamed, "FATHER!"
The blade struck, and Cullum's head was severed from his body.
Caius froze. Everything disappeared as the sounds of the battle faded. The soldiers, the orcs, the screaming, all of it vanished beneath the rage consuming him. He saw only his father's body.
Something inside Caius broke. His hand reached for his bow.
Sereth tried to pull him away. "Caius!"
Caius tore himself free as his mana surged through his body. The black core awakened, and dark energy gathered around the arrow. The bowstring pulled tight as Caius raised the weapon.
His vision changed as the Eye of the Loom locked onto Krag'gath. The warlord's massive body became a network of mana. Caius saw the flow, found the opening, and released the arrow.
The projectile crossed the courtyard like a streak of darkness.
Krag'gath turned. The black arrow struck him directly in the eye.
The warlord roared, a sound that shook the courtyard. He staggered backward, one hand clutching his face as dark energy spread through his eye socket.
The surrounding orcs stopped.
Caius stood trembling, his bow still raised.
Krag'gath ripped the arrow from his eye and stared toward him through his remaining eye, his face twisted with fury. "That boy!" The warlord pointed toward Caius. "Do not kill him!"
The orcs turned toward the fourteen-year-old.
"Bring him to me alive!"
Caius reached for another arrow, but before he could fire, Sereth appeared behind him. The dark elf grabbed him around the chest and pulled him backward. "Enough!"
"Let me go!"
"Your father is dead!"
Caius struggled violently. "I'll kill him!"
"You will die before you reach him."
Sereth dragged Caius toward the interior of the castle. Caius continued fighting against him, but Sereth was stronger and far more experienced.
The orcs began pursuing them. Sereth moved quickly through the courtyard, avoiding the advancing warriors and cutting toward a narrow passage near the inner keep.
Caius continued looking back. He saw the battlefield disappearing behind them, saw his father's body, and saw Krag'gath standing among the dead with blood running from his wounded eye. Caius's rage burned hotter, but Sereth did not stop. He dragged Caius through the passage and into the lower levels of Castle Precipice.
They descended into the underground chambers where the sounds of battle became distant. Sereth finally reached an old stone doorway hidden behind a collapsed section of masonry and pushed it open.
Beyond it was darkness, a tunnel leading into the deep stone.
Sereth pulled Caius inside. The ancient passage descended beneath the castle and disappeared into the mountains.
Caius looked back one final time. Castle Precipice was falling, his father was dead, his home had been overrun, and the orc warlord wanted him alive.
Sereth closed the hidden entrance behind them. Then the two disappeared into the darkness of the underground tunnels.