Chapter 136: A Normal Day At The Wall
The horn’s cry was long and deep, cutting through the smoky afternoon air.
It wasn’t the call for drills. It wasn’t a test. It was the sound that made every soldier in Tallowshade’s garrison drop what they were doing and run. Boots pounded the mud. Officers outside barked orders. Shields slammed against wooden racks. Arrows spilled out of barrels as kobold quartermasters shoved them into the hands of lupen archers sprinting up the stairs.
Inside the command tent, the generals froze for only a heartbeat before they moved as one. A ramari captain cinched his breastplate tighter. "Meeting’s over," he snapped. "If you want to understand this wall, Baron, then come see it. We live on the brink of death every hour of every day. You’ll see how close we are to losing it."
Helmets were lifted, straps buckled, swords slung over shoulders. Even the old veterans moved quickly, their hands steady from a routine burned into their very bones. Baron Silverfury and Yulena exchanged a glance and followed.
Outside, the chaos was organized. Soldiers rushed toward the massive wall, each one knowing their part. Kobolds doubled up to carry heavy ballista bolts. A squad of goatfolk struggled with ropes, grunting as they hauled up pallets of jagged stone for the catapults. Lupen archers leapt up staircases three steps at a time, nocking arrows even as they moved. Ramari officers shouted themselves hoarse directing the flow of men and supplies. Ruhk, still new to Tallowshade, stood among the organized flood, wide-eyed at the sheer discipline in the frenzy. These weren’t pampered city guards. These were soldiers who lived and died by the wall.
The generals led the Baron and Yulena up the broad stone steps, the air smelling of sweat, smoke, and iron. From above, the garrison was a hive. The curtain wall itself stretched endlessly, a fortress of stone and iron holding back the creeping fog of the Spinebride Forest beyond.
Soldiers on the battlements paused in their work, their eyes falling on the white bearfolk noble and his towering lion-maned wife. Whispers rippled. Nobles never came here. Never. To see one standing shoulder to shoulder with them made more than a few men falter in disbelief.
An ursarok general, his helm under one arm, muttered as he buckled his gauntlet. "Nobles don’t risk their skins here. They prefer marble halls and full cups."
Yulena’s mane bristled faintly, sparks flickered blue at the tips of her hair. She scoffed, her deep voice rolling like distant thunder. "Then let them rot in their halls. Cowards, waiting for the wall to fall so they can bow to whoever survives. We are not like them."
The general blinked at her, then allowed himself a thin grin. "Then watch. You’ll see soon enough why the wall is infamous for taking the lives of thousands of soldiers every month."
A sharp voice cut across the battlements. A kobold officer on the tower pointed a claw toward the horizon, screaming, "They’re here!"
Every soldier turned as the fog parted just enough to reveal movement. A tide of three thousand orcs emerged, crude armor clanking, shields cobbled together from wood and bone, massive axes and rusted swords glinting in the dim light. From their side, guttural voices barked commands.
"Push, ya maggot-hands! Push da tower!" one overseer roared, his tusks dripping spittle.
Another orc, leaner, missing half his jaw, bellowed at the trebuchet crew, "Load it tight! Stone an’ spike! Make da wall burn!"
A massive orc with a bone crown strapped to his brow swung a whip at chained mutants straining against the siege ropes. "Faster! Da wall waits! We crush ’em today!"
The trebuchet crew chanted as they heaved, broken Common spilling from their throats. "Burn ’em! Burn ’em! Burn da fur an’ da bone!"
One smaller orc shoved a spike-ball into place, laughing with black gums. "Dis one’s fer da dog-things! Watch ’em squeal!"
The lever slammed down. With a groaning creak, the first flaming spiked ball launched skyward. Then another. Dozens followed, the sky filling with balls of fire.
"Incoming!"
Heads snapped toward the fog. Dozens of spiked flaming balls arced into the air, fiery meteors screaming toward the wall.
"Cover! Shields!" Officers roared. Soldiers scrambled for the reinforced battlements, crouching behind raised shields.
The first wave hit. The impacts thundered through the wall, shaking stone beneath their feet. Flaming spiked balls slammed into the curtain wall, some embedding deep, others smashing through parapets, splintering wood and flesh alike. A soldier’s scream cut short as a projectile crushed him where he stood. Another tore through a stairwell, sending kobolds tumbling down in a tangle of broken bodies.
From below, the orcs roared in approval. "Hur hur hur! Lookit da wall cry! Lookit da weaklings scatter!"
A scarred orc slammed his chest with a fist the size of a shield. "More stone! More fire! Tear it down!"
Baron Silverfury stood calm, his golden eyes reflecting the rain of fire. Beside him, Yulena didn’t flinch.
Her mane flared with light, arcs of blue lightning dancing across her body. Her claws extended, sharp and glowing faintly at the tips. Her aura pressed outward, heavy and suffocating, felt even by the hardened generals beside her.
A flaming ball roared directly toward their section of the wall. Soldiers screamed at her to duck, to move. Yulena leapt. Her body sailed high, unnaturally high. Her fist slammed into the incoming projectile midair. The sound cracked like thunder, and the flaming mass tumbled off its path, crashing harmlessly outside the wall.
Orc eyes widened below. "Wot... she punch da fireball?!" one bellowed in disbelief.
"Dat ain’t right... dat’s sorcery!" another snarled, shoving another spike-ball into the trebuchet with shaking hands.
She landed beside it, dust pluming at her feet. The spiked ball, still glowing hot, lay half-buried in the dirt. Everyone watched. Yulena bent, gripped the ball with both hands. Her chest expanded. Then she roared. The roar rattled every bone on the wall. Soldiers clutched their ears, stunned. The flames clinging to the projectile sputtered and died under the sheer force of her voice.
Without hesitation, she lifted it and hurled it back. The spiked ball shrieked across the sky, returning to the orcs with terrifying speed. The front ranks barely reacted before it smashed into them, impaling and crushing dozens in a spray of gore and iron.
The wall went silent. Soldiers stared, bows half drawn, mouths hanging open. A ramari whispered hoarsely, "She... she threw it back..." Another kobold muttered, "No noble... no ursarok... has ever done that."
Generals, veterans of decades, said nothing. They could only watch Yulena as she straightened, brushing ash from her fur, her mane still sparking faintly with blue light.
She growled, her voice carrying over the stunned battlements. "Send them more. I’ll return every one."
The trebuchets kept firing, their groaning mechanisms a dark song under the thunder of the orc war drums. The sky was a constant mess of fire and smoke, but the orc lines did not wait. Their siege towers, crude and monstrous, creaked forward on rattling wheels, chains snapping as hulking mutants strained to push them into place.
"Shields up! Hold the wall!" a lupen captain barked, his voice raw but cutting through the chaos.
The first ladders slammed against the stone with a sickening thud. Orcs scrambled upward with terrifying speed, axes clenched in their teeth, crude hooks biting into the battlements. Soldiers braced themselves, ramming spears down between the rungs, trying to dislodge the climbing horde.
A young kobold recruit squeaked as an axe cleaved through his shield. The impact sent him flying backward, the wood splintering. A frogkin, stout and quick, leapt into his place, his spear stabbing into the orc’s throat. The wall shook as the siege towers drew closer, their iron rams lowering into place with a grinding noise.
From the far flank, a general bellowed, "Archers! Volley—now!"
Dozens of arrows arced, cutting down orcs in rows. Yet more surged forward, stepping over their dead without hesitation. The battle at the wall was brutal and uneven. Orcs were monstrous up close, each one stronger and more ferocious than most of the soldiers defending. A lupen knight met one in single combat, claws flashing, his speed his only edge. He ducked a swing that would have split him in half, then ripped the orc’s belly open. Still, for every one that fell, three more climbed. The defense was slipping.
Then Baron Silverfury stepped forward.
He flexed his gauntlet, and the blades along the knuckles snapped out with a metallic whisper. His golden eyes gleamed, the chaos of the battlefield reflected in them. As the first orc vaulted onto the parapet, roaring, Baron met it head-on. With one strike, three blades punched through its chest, blood spraying across the stone. Baron shoved the corpse aside and moved on, his movements efficient and merciless. Another orc raised its axe, but Baron ducked low, slashing its hamstring before driving the gauntlet through its throat.
"Stay tight!" he barked, his voice calm and commanding. "Use their weight against them! Trip them—gut them while they’re down!"
The soldiers obeyed. A new fire ignited in their eyes. Inspired by the sight of a noble fighting with them, they held their ground with renewed purpose.
And then there was Yulena.
Where Baron fought with cold, precise efficiency, Yulena was a storm of raw power. She leapt from the battlements into the thick of the orc vanguard below, her roar rattling the air. Her claws tore through armor like paper, each swing sending bodies flying. An orc twice her size swung a hammer—she caught it, ripped it from his hands, and caved his skull in with his own weapon. The orcs recoiled in shock.
"She’s a demon!" one shrieked, dropping his blade in terror.
Another snarled, "No demon—just meat! Kill da beast!"
They rushed her, half a dozen at once. She tore through them with a fury that was beautiful and terrifying to behold, her mane blazing with blue sparks, blood spraying in arcs. Her sheer presence shifted the tide. Orcs hesitated, the rhythm of their assault faltering for the first time.
Above, the generals seized the moment.
"Push them off the ladders!" a ramari officer barked.
"Ballista crews, fire!" shouted a frogkin general.
Great bolts slammed into the siege towers, their frames splintering with a sound like splintering bone. Boulders launched from the defenders’ catapults, smashing into orc ranks. For the first time in hours, the wall held steady.
Still, the orcs rallied.
On the far flank, a massive horned mutant, chained and bleeding from whip marks, rammed its head into the wall. The stone cracked, dust raining down in a thick cloud. Soldiers scrambled away in a panic.
Baron’s golden eyes narrowed. He pointed his gauntlet toward it. "That one’s mine."
He vaulted down the stairs, heading for the breach. Yulena, blood dripping from her claws, raised her head to the orc horde and roared again. Her voice rolled across the battlefield like thunder, and the orcs faltered, eyes wide. Their bravado had finally cracked.
On the wall, the soldiers cheered, their voices raw and desperate. For the first time in years, they weren’t just surviving the orc onslaught.
They were pushing back.