Conquest Ch 04

I realized I never posted Chapter four of Conquest on here, so if you haven't seen it, here it is!

****

Six Months Later

The sun shone bright orange early in the morning, its rays beating down on the long Mead Hall which now dominated the center of the village.  The small encampment which had once been the home of the Lainaird Tribe had grown into a small town after he repopulated it with captives from neighboring tribes.  Once the wooden palisade surrounding it was completed Agmar finally decided it was worthy of a name and dubbed it Royalton.  A fitting name for a King’s City, he thought.

The town itself was a strange mixture of human and orc custom.  On the one hand it had the open, pastoral layout of an orc encampment, with small huts and gated fields for livestock, mixed with long halls for the orc retainers without property.  But on the other, it had walls, a centralized building for the King, as well as a Square and market stalls for commerce.  Eventually Agmar planned to grow the Mead Hall into a proper keep, but that would take years.

The town was a testament to Agmar’s vision for an orc Kingdom.  His uncle Bodak tried something similar in Braden, long ago, but had gone about it all wrong.  He simply forced the most aggressive of the orcs into human castles and let them loose.  But their querulous nature made it difficult to manage land and that first generation of orcs didn’t have the experience to manage humans in tilling it.

Agmar planned to let orcs be orcs.  Some would tend livestock, some would be merchants.  Most would be retainers, getting to share in their Lord’s women and food in return for combat. Subduing the Hills completely would take several more years at least.  Perhaps even a decade.  Then he would see about turning his attention to Thesta.  War was going to come, if not today as a result of his invasion, then in years to come.

The ivory throne creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight.  Not real ivory, though, not from the tusks of the sea bears who populated the northern coast of the Hills or from the elephants found in the Eastern Kingdoms.  Human ivory, culled from the ‘Abyss’ itself.  Femurs made up the seat and held up the chair itself.  Its back was made of ribs, and a row of thirteen skulls decorated the top.  Eventually he would have it replaced with real ivory from the north.  But for now, he decided that a certain terror was called for the intimidate these barbarians into staying in line.

Case in point was the matter brought before him today for judgment.  “Bring forth the prisoner.”

Cuthbert Korlick was dragged forward by two burly orcs.  Even with his bruised and puffy face the Tribesman managed to look defiant.  The leader of the Korlick Clan had recently been captured while trying to raid sheep from the holdfast.  The thought made Agmar grin with satisfaction; organize resistance in these parts of the Hills had degenerated into banditry.

Crouched at his feet beside the throne, Mel gave a little whimper.  Agmar reached down to stroke her head affectionately.  He had long since heard that his slave had once been betrothed to the man.  “Cuthbert Korlick, you’ve been caught stealing sheep and bearing arms against my guards.  Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I didn’t steal anything.  How could I steal what’s rightfully mine?  Those sheep had my mark on them, sure enough.  Seems to me I was taking back after your man stole them.”

Agmar scowled at the human.   The man’s fate was sealed before he ever entered the room, but he wanted to make a show of justice so people would at least hope that judgments would be fair.  But instead of giving Cuthbert rope to hang himself with he turned it around in a way that any human would think reasonable.  Which I should have seen coming, he thought, I’ve grown complacent in victory and success.

“Your lands and herds were stripped of you for your treason in swearing fealty and taking up arms against your King.”  That wasn’t true, strictly speaking, as Cuthbert had never been given the opportunity to swear fealty, but it sounded good.  Good enough at any rate.  “Throw him in the ‘Abyss’!”

The orcs cheered, but beside him Mel whimpered.  “Do you have something to say, pet?  Would you like to intercede on your former betrothed’s behalf?”

Cuthbert looked at Mel, seeing her there for the first time.  He hadn’t recognized her at first, not with her crouched and dirty, her hair tangled in front of her face.  Certainly not with the round belly either, swollen with Agmar’s spawn.  His face was torn between shock, disgust, and the faint hope that somehow Mel’s intercession could save him.

But Mel just shook her head and looked away.  Agmar rose off his throne and grabbed the leash attached to Mel’s neck and led her after Cuthbert and the guards as they dragged him out of the Mead Hall.  Agmar’s preferred form of punishment, at least his preferred form of lethal punishment, was to condemn prisoners to the ‘Abyss’.  An old Hell Glass pit mine, long since abandoned, had been deepened and widened into the side of a hill. 

The smooth, inky black stone sides seemed to absorb all light, so that looking down you couldn’t see how deep it was, or whether anything was alive down there.  Cuthbert was dragged to the edge of the earth’s gaping maw, but before they threw him in he was able to shout his final words.

“Enjoy it while you can, Agmar!  Amelie is coming, and Thesta rides with her!  She’ll sweep you and the rest of your trash from these hills!  You’ll die a failure!  A nothing, a no one, a bastard failure!” 

Agmar snarled and kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying into the pit.  His screams ehoed in the chamber, gradually fading into the faint shriek of the wind tearing through the hole.  No one was really sure if he would survive the fall or not; it was just known that no one came out again after being thrown inside.  Eventually his wounds, or hunger, or thirst would see to him.

Or perhaps, as some muttered, one of the previous prisoners condemned to the Abyss would murder and eat him.  Already legends were springing up about savage, cannibal prisoners in the depths.  The warriors who stood guard at the pit told stories of howling screams coming from within.  It’s just the wind, he thought, but still, the stories sent a shiver down the spine of even orcs.

Worse than the tales of the Abyss, to Agmar’s annoyance, were tales of the Princess-Knight, Amelie.  Cuthbert was right when he said Amelie was coming.  Spies in Thesta had reported her gathering troops, and he knew Jeanette, Belkor, and Trogar were gathering swords in their Kingdoms as well.  It still remained to be seen if the diplomats would calm things, but the fragile peace between the Kingdoms rested on a knife’s edge.

For weeks his men had been looking over their shoulders, to the rise of every hill, as if expecting that Amelie and her Falcon Guard would come sweeping down and take them unawares.  Although her service in the last war against Heste had earned her fearsome reputation, it was her actions against the orcs of the Angrian Marche that made his warriors shudder. 

Some orc tribes never did surrender to Turogg, and they had continued to raid Thesta and Sandora while the orcs moved into Zentara and then Heste.  After one particularly bad year of raids Amelie had decided to launch a reprisal against the orcs.  She formed her own caravan and set out into the Marche on the normal trade route.  But rather than carrying goods or treasures, she brought soldiers and steel.  When the local orc warlord demanded tribute to let the caravan pass, she refused.  And when his warriors descended on the caravan they met not scared merchants and green guards but her seasoned Falcon Guard, and were cut down. 

She didn’t end it there, though.  She followed them back to their camp and burned it, claiming the livestock and freeing all the women she found.  Then she marched on the nearest trading post, which did business with the tribe, and burned that as well and plundered its riches.  She extracted a map of all the nearby orc encampments from the prisoners, before returning home to Thesta.  From then on, anytime one of her towns was attacked her Falcon Guard rode in the March to burn one of the encampments.  It took a few years, but eventually she pushed the orcs back far enough that the raids came to a halt.

Orcs rightly looked down on humans as being weak warriors in their own right.  Oh they were brave enough to be sure, and clever, but small and weak.  Their women were even more so, and yet Amelie not only didn’t fear to meet them in combat but was known to have cut down many in fair combat.  It was whispered that she was surely channeling some dark power from the Abyss to give her such prowess.

The rumors were absurd, of course.  Steel could kill an orc, whether held by elf or man, man or woman.  Still, all through his town orcs muttered, Amelie is coming.  Amelie is coming.  Amelie is coming.  The Princess-Knight’s arrival was a talisman for the humans as well.  He could see in their faces that they still had hope that she would save them, as Thesta had so many times in the past.

The orcs need a distraction, and I have just the idea.  “If Amelie comes, I’ll show you what’s waiting for her.  Let’s take a walk over to the barn for some sport, eh?”  He chuckle and soon the others were joining in as they made their way to the barn.

Inside, Rosalind, Sarah, and several other pregnant women were penned inside stalls, bent over on all fours with their heavy stomachs and pendulous tits swinging beneath them.  Agmar led the party over to Sarah and Rosalind.  “These two.  Their udders are looking full, give them a good milking!”

Both women hid their glares as they were led out of the stall, their naked bodies on full display to them.  Two orcs quickly knelt beside them and groped for their breasts while saucepans were slid beneath the women.  Agmar watched in delight as the thick green fingers of his warriors pinched and pulled at the four nipples until milk began to dribble out into the pans.

“If Queen Amelie decides to show her face around here, this will be her fate.  I’ll turn her into one of my cows!  She may be too old now to bear our children, but it won’t be from lack of trying, I’ll guarantee you that!”  Agmar laughed and his men cheered.

On the floor, Rosalind and Sarah looked down blankly, though Sarah did steal a glance to make sure Melinda was all right; or at least, as well as could be expected.  Agmar walked between them, stroking and betting their flesh before looking down at their bellies.

Then he stood back, to take a moment to savor the image before his eyes.  Sarah and Rosalind, on all fours, stripped naked, their bellies swollen with children, as their breasts were rubbed and milked by his orcs.  Agmar’s cock began to stiffen in his pants, and he began to rub himself idly as he watched the women get milked.

“Who should I have a go with?  Who’s turn is it for her King’s royal shaft?  Decisions, decisions…”

Rosalind sighed softly as her head hung in defeat.  “Mine, Your Highness!  Please fuck me, it’s my turn, I need it!”  She tried to force enthusiasm into her voice.  She didn’t know if it was her turn or not, but being able to spare the others from Agmar’s attention was one of the few choices she had left.

Agmar grinned and stepped behind Ros.  “Well, isn’t that sweet.  I suppose I can’t deny a request asked so nicely.”  The big orc pulled his cock out and stroked it to complete hardness as he rubbed Ros’ bottom.  He cupped her cheek in his thick green fingers and spread them apart to reveal her anus.  His thumb pushed against it as he slapped his cock against the soft flesh.  “The rest of you can dig in, have fun, show them what happens to human bitches when they take on orcs!”

Gripping his cock firmly he pushed the slanted tip against Rosalind’s little star.  He urged it forward, pushing it deep into the woman.  This wasn’t the first time she’d been fucked in the ass since being captured, and her anal ring spread easily for the invader.  The muscles of her sphincter had long since been stretched out, and very little resistance was offered to him as he thrust inside.

“Nnng!”  Rosalind winced as she felt Agmar push into her ass.  She lowered her head again with a sigh.  While she’d drawn Agmar’s attention to herself, she hadn’t spared the others.  If anything, it might be even worse for them.  Now she watched as Mel and Sarah were surrounded by orcs.  Instead of just fucking Agmar like she was, they looked like they were about to be gangbanged.

Cocks slid into Mel and Sarah’s asses, and then into their mouths.  The orcs instantly began to thrust their hips, sliding their shafts in and out.  Sarah and Mel had been well trained to obedience, and met the thrusts with their own movements, working their hips back into the cocks while they voraciously sucked on those twisted dicks.

Sarah’s lips glided along the length, coursing over every ridge as she devoured the length, taking it all the way into her throat.  As it pushed to its deepest point, the young mother jerks her hips back into the orc behind her, so that both their cocks filled her at once.

Mel behaved likewise.  Despite her tender age, she had learned much about pleasing dicks in the last six months.  She expertly bobbed her head up and down, taking the cock all the way into her throat with each movement.  The faster and more skillfully the pleasured the orcs the quicker they would get off and leave her alone.

Ros did her best to mirror her relatives, but Agmar wasn’t in any hurry to cum today.  He kept her hips firmly in control, not allowing her to buck and ride him.  She was limited to contracting and relaxing her ass around his dick as it punched in and out, but even then he didn’t give in to the pleasure quickly.

He was still fucking her steadily when the other orcs began to cum.  First flooding Mel’s tight ass with cum, and then Sarah’s belly.  As each one pulled out, they were quickly replaced by more cocks.  All the while, Agmar continued to hammer inside Rosalind.  He released one side of her hip to reach beneath the red head and began to stroke her slit while he fucked her. 

His thick green fingers stroked up and down over her pussy, before finally pushing aside her folds to finger her clit directly.  He added more pressure, as if pulling her back into his cock as he began to increase his pace.  “I want you to cum for me, pet.  Come for my big green cock plundering your ass!  You’re going to learn to love this dick one way or another!”

Beside them, another pair of orcs replaced the ones who had just cum for Mel and Sarah.  There would be more still behind them, today.  The mother and daughter had their work cut out for them.  Cum was already dribbling out of their asses and mouths, leaving slick trails down their flesh.  As another pair of orcs came the puddle of cum only grew wider.

To her shame, Rosalind began to feel a climax building inside her.  The manual stimulation to her clit was too much for her body to resist.  She began to pant heavily and mewl softly as she squeezed and released the dick inside her.

Agmar began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, keeping it in time with the motion of his fingers on Ros’ clit.  “That’s it, slave.  Take it, take my cock.  Your sweet little ass has been nicely trained for me.  I’ll make a fuck slave out of you yet!”

He began to laugh as he felt Rosalind spasm beneath his fingers.  When her ass squeezed firmly on his cock he finally let himself go and shot his thick, heavy goo deep into her bowels.  He continued to thrust his hips for several more moments before looking over at Mel and Sarah.

The other orcs had begun pulling out while cumming, and so Mel and Sarah’s faces were dripping with cum, while ropes of seed cooled in lone stripes on their backs.  He watched their bodies sway beneath the fucking as he gradually slowed his thrusts while the last of his cum drained from his balls.

Just as he was pulling out, a young, energetic orc named Triggitt burst into the barn.  ““Your Highness, Your Highness!  We’ve received word from the border: a large Thestan army approaches!  They spotted 100,000 foot!”

A hundred thousand?  Not likely, not in so short a time, he thought.  “More likely 50,000; those fools need to learn how to count.  Bring me Bogor!”

Within 15 minutes Bogor and their principal lieutenants were gathered in Agmar’s hall surrounding a map of the region provided by the northern Hesten Lords.  They had been fighting the Catabrians for generations and knew the land well.

“Call the banners and have them rally at Kingsfort.  We all knew this day might come, and we’re ready for them.”  Agmar pointed at the Motte-and-Bailey he established on a tall hill in the eastern region of his new lands.    “We have a strong defensive position here; it commands the only valley a large army can march through from Thesta.  We will be able to hold them there while we wait for reinforcements from Heste.  I know Belkor will ride to our aid, and Grotok as well.”

“Besides, they’re only humans!  We made short work of these barbarians, how much stronger could the Thestans be?” asked Triggitt, one of the junior officers.

Agmar scowled at the young orc.  He wasn’t old enough to have served in the Third Thestan War, so he didn’t get to see firsthand the valor of the Thestan infantry or the prowess of their Princess-Knight.  Well, Queen now, he thought.  No matter, he and his mother and discussed this possibility and there was a plan in place.  He just had to hold the Thestan Army in place until Belkor’s reinforcements and Grotok invaded Thesta from the south.

“What shall we do with the captives?”

“Leave them with the young and the old.  They need to keep us supplied.  Besides, most are too pregnant now to travel!”

That was met with a chorus of laughter.  The first generation of green skinned orcs were already well on their way towards repopulating the Tribes.

“And I promise you this, a hilltop fort and a score of thralls to the warrior who brings me Queen Amelie, alive!”

****

Agmar surveyed the valley below Kingsfort with satisfaction.  It was well defended with stakes and obstacles to hinder an opposing army’s advance.  The Thestans would have a difficult time assaulting the hill, especially under a hail of arrows.  His army was well provisioned with enough food to last them several months and enough arrows to blacken the sun.  They were a little short on horses, but the hilly terrain prevented maneuver warfare anyway.

Agmar was a little less satisfied with the state of the Kingsfort.  Though the walls were sturdy enough, they had been built without the assistance of an engineer.  It should be able to stand for this campaign, but in the future it would need to be reinforced and enhanced.

“When do you think they’ll attack?”  Asked Bogor.

Agmar shifted his gaze to the hilltop directly across from them.  It was shorter than theirs, giving them an excellent vantage point to see down into their camp.  Lightly armed peasant levies were training just out of range, while workers hastily erected simple fortifications.  “They don’t seem to be in any hurry.”

“We should launch a spoiler attack then, and burn their camp!” Triggitt interjected.

“The terrain isn’t good for it.”  Bogor corrected the younger orc.  “Plus, I haven’t seen any sign of their Falcon Guard.  We need to know where their horse are before committing our own troops to a raid.”

That was the one thing that worried Agmar.  Neither Queen Amelie nor her elite Falcon Guard had been spotted in the camp.  The wily Queen doubtless had a trick up her sleeve, but he couldn’t see it.

 “Double the number of scouts, and send them further out.  Tell them to take captives from any settlements they find and ‘inquire’ whether there are any goat trails through these hills that aren’t on the map.  I do not want to wake up and found they severed our supply lines.

“Yes Your Highness.”  Bogor turned toward Triggitt, and the younger orc ran off to relay the orders.

Over the next several days the scouts ventured further out and the Thestan camp neared completion.  While not as strong as the Kingsfort, it had a strong screen of abattises and cheval de frises blocking the ascent up their hill.  They were by no means impassable, but it would definitely slow his forces down if they attacked; not that he intended to.

None of his scouts had reported any sign of the Falcon Guard, though he was expecting the latest patrol later today.  Sudden movement brought his attention back to the Thestan camp.  What appeared to be a dozen logs on wheels were being brought forth towards the front of their camp.

“Springalds.  Kovos!  Sound general orders.  All archers are to loose on the Thestans!”  A great cheer went up from his assembled army at the prospect of battle.  His orcs were able to line up faster than the Thestan springalds.  Springalds were a type of siege artillery which shot large bolts across long distances.  It would take them a few minutes to get in place, anchored down, and calibrated to throw.

Most of his orcs were armed with bows, which allowed for a devastating rain of missiles down on the Thestans.  King Turrogg had once boasted that his horde would blacken the sun when they loosed in unison.  Agmar decided to put that to the test and loose mass volleys across the valley.

As the arrows rained down, the Thestans ran forward with prefabricated wooden planks and beams and hastily erected a ceiling over the artillery equipment.  The arrows slammed into the shielded wood but didn’t manage to penetrate.  “Keep those arrows coming!  We’ll make those damn things so heavy with our arrows they collapse!  Loose!  Loose!”

More volleys sped through the air and slammed into the wooden structures, sending splinters flying through the air.  The Thestans continued their work unimpeded though, and soon the first bolts were hurling back towards the orcs.

The first one smashed through the wall of the Kingsfort and smashed through a rank of his archers.  As more bolts came flying through wooden splinters from the sundered walls of the fort began tearing through his troops as well.  Agmar snarled in frustration.  “Open ranks!  Spread out!  But keep firing!”

The Thestan artillery was creating large gaps in his defensive fortifications, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the walls collapsed entirely.  “We’re going to have to bring the fight to them.”  He told Bogor.

“We still don’t know where Amelie is, if we commit to an attack we risk being cut off and flanked.”  Bogor ducked his head as a large splinter flew past him.

“If we don’t attack, we have to retreat; and this is our only defensive spot.  We’d have to run all the way back to Heste!”  Agmar grimaced.  “But we can’t stay here.”

To underscore his point, the Thestans began firing pots of burning pitch that exploded upon impact.  The walls of the Kingsfot went up in flames, and more ports began to fall inside the walls threatening to send the whole fort up.  “You’re right, but we can’t over commit our forces.”

Agmar ground his teeth together.  “Take some men and get our stores out of the fort and as far away from here as possible.  I’ll take the rest and attack the Thestans and to cover our retreat.  Go, now, quickly!”  A wall of fire shot up as a mound of horse feed burst into flames.

Bogor ran and began gathering troops to evacuate their food and arrows while Agmar ran to down the motte and began calling his soldiers to follow.  “Alright orcs!  These weak little humans have burned our home out because they’re afraid to attack!  But we’re not afraid, are we?”

“No!”

“We’re worth ten of them, a fact that our great King proved time and again on the battlefield.  This is what we’re born for; to attack!  Not to defend, or hide behind walls.  But to attack!  Attack!  Attack! Aaaaaah!”  Agmar raised his hammer and shield and then began charging down the hill into the valley. 

The Thestan archers began answering the orc volleys with their own.  The missiles fell down like sheet rain into the enclosed space.  The orcs raised their shields for cover, but their formation soon began to thin out as the deadly storm took down his warriors.

One arrow narrowly missed Agmar, nicking his chain shirt before flying off behind him.  He grabbed Kovos roughly by the armor and pulled him close.  “Signal the arrows to target their archers!”  His squire blasted out the command on a trumpet, and a moment later the troops still in the Kingsfort loosed their arrows in return.  This time they aimed higher and farther, creating a steeper angle of descent that rained down on the Thestan archers.

The Thestans responded with a volley of their own, and for the moment at least the archers were keeping each other occupied instead of killing his infantry.  He resumed sprinting up the opposing hill.  The first line of his troops ran straight into the abattis.  The long tree branches poked and prodded them, but were by themselves harmless.  Unfortunately, the weight of the mass of troops behind them was pushing relentlessly forward.

“Agh!”  To his right, one of his green skinned soldiers fell forward and the thick branch pressed through his leather cuirass.  As the soldiers kept charging he was slowly pushed forward, impaling him down the length. Blood splattered across Agmar’s face, but he ignored it and chopped his way through the obstacle.

The first rank of Thestan foot were waiting for them on the other side.  He grinned savagely at the look of terror on their faces.  Finally here was an enemy he could strike!  The untrained troops already looked ready to run.  Releasing a mighty roar, Agmar charged forward.  He used his shield to bash away the first peasant’s shield, and then swung his hammer down into his front and caved in his chest.

The peasant fell to the ground and Agmar looked for his next target.  His shield caught the spear of some brave fool, and swinging his hammer around he snapped the tip of the spear from the heft, and then swung backhand to pulverize half the soldier’s face.  More blood splattered over him, but again he ignored it.  The mass of Thestans tried to charge forward and press them back into the abbitis, but they lacked the power.

His own ranks held firm and cut through the lightly armored Thestans like a scythe through wheat.  As more of his orcs made it through the thicket they began to push the Thestan levy back.  Agmar grinned as the man before him fell back and quickly crushed him beneath his hammer.  When his comrade tried to capitalize on his momentary distraction he bashed in the human’s head with his shield.

The Thestans then decided they had had enough and began to turn and run towards the cheval de frises.  The long, spike covered logs created an impromptu fence between them and the next rank of Thestan soldiers.  “Come on!  We’ve got them now!  No stopping!” 

Agmar took a moment to look up and saw that the battle of arrows had stopped.  Only his own side was continuing to send arrows over the battlefield.  “Signal to the archers to shift to the artillery again!”  He didn’t expect it to have much effect, but enough arrows would miss and fall on the soldiers guarding the obstacles while still being far enough away to avoid hitting his own troops.

He charged ahead of Kovos again and ran to join up with the front ranks of the battle.  The second line of defense was held by the more professional men-at-arms, who were thrusting their spears through the fortifications to stab at his orcs as they approached.

“Shield wall!”  He called out and the troops nearest him began to form up.  They created a wall with their shields to block the spears while the orcs inside lifted the spokes of the cheval de frises up. 

“Heave!  Heave!  Heave!” With each command they rolled it back towards the humans.  The men-at-arms lined up to push it back, but they couldn’t match the strength of his people.  One unfortunate soldier tripped backwards and ended up impaled on his own obstacle as it rolled over his body.  “Hah hah hah!  We have them now!  Push!  Push!”  With the line of obstacles coming disjointed, gaps formed for his men to push through and engage the Thestans directly.  “Signal the archers to cease fire!”  Kovos gave the signal and his army’s arrows stopped firing.

“Plug the hole men!  Attack!”  Screamed a Thestan sergeant as he tried to rally his troops. 

The humans charged into the gap, and Agmar had to admit they fought with discipline and courage.  They even managed to begin pushing the orcs back, which prompted Agmar to step forward and rally his men.  He pushed through and swung his hammer at the sergeant, who ducked the blow and countered with his own thrust.

Agmar parried it with his shield, and then chopped his hammer down.  The sergeant stepped to the side, dodging the attack and then bashed his shield into Agmar’s, but couldn’t force the orc back.  Agmar countered by smashing his shield right back into the sergeants, throwing him backward.  The human was quick to his feet however, and met Agmar head on when the orc pressed the advantage.

“You fight well human, but you’re not good enough.”  Agmar feinted with his hammer and then kicked out the sergeant’s knee, sending him to the ground with a grunt.  “You’re not strong enough.”  Another blow from the shield made the human drop his own.  “And you’re not mean enough.” 

The sergeant suddenly hooked his sword inward towards Agmar.  The tip of the blade scratched over the surface of Agmar’s greave, but didn’t break through the leather.  The orc quickly stomped on the sergeant’s elbow, breaking his arm.  “Heh, nice try, I’ll give you that.”

The brave sergeant was groaning in pain, so Agmar quickly dispatched him.  With their leader dead, the men-at-arms began to waver until finally they too broke ranks and began to run.  If only we had our horse; we could roll up their whole army right here!  “Find those damn firepots, set these damn springalds alight!” 

His men swept through the defensive fortifications protecting the siege equipment and grabbed all the burning pitch pots they could find.  They then smashed them onto the springalds, setting them alight.  Soon the protective coverings went up as well, creating a dozen bonfires for his celebrating troops.

“Good work!  But it’s not over yet, we sent them running home but they aren’t beaten, not yet.  Get the wounded and-” before he could finish the sentence the fire spread to the grass in front of them, which exploded into an improbably large wall of flame.  Fire arrows began to rain down around them, setting the cheval de frises on fire.  Soon the whole Thestan encampment was burning, and the screams of his men filled the air.  “Go!  Go now!  Run!  Back to the Kingsfort!”

Agmar pushed through his forces and began running back towards the valley.  Flames licked at his armor, singing the leather as he fled the encampment.  His mind raced back to the history lessons of his childhood.  This is just what King Connor did in the Second War he thought.  That damn bitch-knight Amelie pulled the same trick and I blundered right into it!

He instinctively knew the danger lying ahead of him.  The abattis was going to burn worse than the cheval de frises did.  He sprinted even harder as his lungs burned.  He forced his way through the obstacles well ahead of his men.  Just as we cleared them he felt a blast of heat behind him which burned the back of his head.

More fire arrows fell into the branches, setting them all ablaze.  He looked behind him and saw Kovos screaming in agony as the inferno consumed his body.  His son’s flesh was bubbling off his body as the smell of roasted flesh filled the air.  Rage swelled inside him as he watched his legacy literally going up in smoke.

Agmar looked into his son’s eyes until he at last perished, and then turned away.  He continued running down into the valley, finally collapsing at the bottom to catch his breath.  He pulled out his wineskin and took a long drink of water, before turning to look up towards the burning Thestan encampment.

Thick black smoke filled the sky and began to float across the valley, obscuring everything.  The screams of his burning orcs filled the sky as they continued to rush as a mass through the fire.  At last it seemed the abattis had either burned out or been snuffed out under the weight of his retreating orcs.  As more of his soldiers filtered down the valley, he saw Triggitt helping a wounded orc.

“Your Highness, did we do it?  Did we save the camp?”  The young orc asked.  Blood was streaming down his green-skinned face from a gash above his eye.

“We did.  Bogor has saved our supplies, and we destroyed the Thestan artillery.  This is a great day for-”

Agmar was interrupted by a javelin slamming through the top of Triggitt’s head and sinking into the ground behind him.  He spun around to look up towards the Kingsfort and saw a wave of javelins descending into the valley.  He dove to the ground and pull Triggitt’s body over himself while covering his head with his shield.  More screams erupted from the shattered ranks of his army as they suffered the taunting cheers of the Thestans holding the heights.

Well, at least I know where the Abyss damned Falcon Guard is.  “Come on boys, our work isn’t done yet.  That’s the Princess-Knight up there!  Now remember what I said, a lordship for whomever brings her to me!  Come on, let’s go get her.  Let’s get them all!”  Summoning all his strength he leapt up from the ground and began charging up the hill.  The cheer his army was weaker than before, both from loss of manpower and depleted strength.  But it would be enough.

At least the arrows and javelins have stopped.  Agmar’s thighs burned as he hauled himself up the hill.  At the top, the Thestans were already waiting for him in a tight, disciplined line.  As the remnants of his army formed around him he raised his shield above his head and pushed the last of the way up the slope. 

The orcs crashed into the humans, but the line held firm.  Agmar’s shield rattled as it absorbed the blows of the Thestan warriors.  His shoulder ached from holding up the shield, and he quickly took an opportunity to lash out at the soldier in front of him.  He stabbed forward with the hammer, punching it into the knee of the Thestan and taking him to the ground.  As the warrior screamed in pain he grabbed him by the front of his armor and pulled him down further, tossing him into the ranks of the orcs coming up behind him. 

A low, guttural groan rang out beside him as a Thestan sword cut deeply into an orc.  Blood sprayed across the side of Agmar’s face as his warrior fell.  Another orc stepped up in his place, bellowing fiercely.  But all along the line more orcs were falling beneath the Falcon Guard’s blades.  We have to get off this slope, he thought.  “Forward!  Keep going!  To me!  We have to punch through their lines!”  As a Thestan to his left cut down an orc Agmar brought his hammer down atop the man’s head, collapsing his skull.  He pulled the hammer back quickly and swung it in the other direction to shatter the arm of a human on the other side.

“To me! To me!  Forward!  Forward!”  The orcs around him cheered and surged forward, pushing into the small gap created by the dead Thestans.  “Aaaaah!”  Agmar screamed out a ferocious war cry as he hacked his way through the Thestan soldiers.  Even as the orcs started to push them back the humans continued to fight valiantly.  Agmar ignored the pain of a half a dozen cuts around his body as the Thestans slashed and stabbed at him, trying to prevent their breakthrough.

Their efforts were to no avail.  Despite his weariness, he still had strength enough to overcome the humans.  Finally the last rank gave way and he crashed through into their rear.  Agmar could feel the blood pooling in his armor, but it didn’t matter now.  He was free!  He looked down the line and saw that only a small section of the Thestan line was broken, but it would have to be enough.

A savage grin crossed his face as he spotted the Amelie sitting atop her horse with a small personal guard.  “There she is, men!  The Princess-Knight herself!  Take her!  Take her and they’ll break!”  He roared out again and began charging towards his nemesis.  Battle lust consumed him, invigorating his muscles and making him forget his injuries.  He just had to make it a little further!

To Agmar’s delight, Amelie turned towards him and began riding out in front of her guard.  The bitch was coming to directly!  Time to see how good she really is.  Ahead of him, Amelie readied a javelin and launched it forward.  Agmar quickly raised his shield to deflect the blow, but in doing so he didn’t see the second javelin she threw.  He blocked the first, but the next one slammed into his foot and buried deep in the ground. 

“Agh!  Bitch!”  He grunted in pain and tried to raise his foot, but it was stuck.  He could probably yank out the javelin, but then he’d bleed uncontrollably.  Instead, he braced himself into a defensive stance to let Amelie come to him.

As his orcs charged past him, Amelie’s guard moved to intercept.  They sweapt them out of the way, leaving Agmar open for Amelie herself.  So, that’s how she wants it?  Well that suits me just fine.  All the more glory to me for ending the whore!

His heart began beating faster as Amelie charged forward.  She’s not going to stop he realized.  She’s going to run me down!  It was too late to move out of the way, not with his foot stuck.  He threw down his shield and clasped his hammer with both hands.  As the horse neared he pulled back and then swung it towards the horse with everything he had.

At the last moment, Amelie leaped off the horse and rolled on the ground.  His hammer crashed into the side of the horse’s face, but it wasn’t enough to stop the beast’s momentum.  The heavy war horse crashed into him, violently ripping his foot from the ground and shattering Agmar’s body. 

The orc flew backwards and collapsed in a heap on the ground.  As the world began to grow dark he saw Amelie standing above him.  He tried to reach for his hammer, but his mangled body didn’t listen.  He couldn’t even scream in rage as he saw the Princess-Knight’s blade descending towards him.

****

“So ends the reign of King Agmar the First.”

Amelie looked at her lieutenant, Sir Phillipe Renard.  “You shouldn’t make light of it.  He did a lot of damage here, and for what?”  She shook her head sadly and looked out over the battlefield.  Despite the last minute charge of Agmar’s forces, the battle was well in hand.  The main force of her infantry was already reforming on either side of the valley to box the remaining orcs valley.  Her reserves had closed the gap Agmar created and were pushing them back down the hill.

The plan had worked almost flawlessly, though she had taken more casualties to her peasant levies than she would have liked.  Thesta had long hewn secret paths into the Hills to deliver their armies against Heste.  Fortunately, her outriders were waiting for the orc scouts when they came to interrogate the local villagers.  Of course, it helps when your men are sheltered and hidden until the perfect moment to strike by grateful Tribesmen, she mused.

“What do you think Queen Jeanette will do?”  Phillipe asked.

“War.  Vengence.  She’ll want blood.”

“So you really think he was her son?”

Amelie nodded.  “Yes, in this case the stories are likely true.  She never would have let a mere knight invade the Catabrians, especially not if it risked a war with Thesta.”

“Was it worth it, then?  War with Heste and Zentara and the Elfs just to save the barbarians?”

“Yes, definitely.  Even if not to relieve the horrors we’ve heard about, then because after the Catabrians we’d be next.  Jeanette won’t rest until her brood control all the Western Kingdoms.”

“Your Highness!  Your Highness!”  A scout cried out to her as he came galloping towards them, trailed by a string of refugees.  “News from Heste!”

“What is it?  Is their army marching already?”  She hadn’t expected them to be this quick.  She assessed they were still months from being ready.

“No Your Highness, it’s a letter, signed by all the Northern Lords, pledging fealty to King Henry Ousten, calling for Belkor to be deposed, and offering to join the Thestan-Sandoran alliance in defeating the orcs once and for all!”

Phillipe grinned at that.  “Well that’s a stroke of good luck!  Do you think the rebellion will spread to the rest of Heste?  Or even into Zentara?”

“We’ll have to see.  We can hope so.  But one thing is for certain: this war is just getting started.”  Amelie looked out to the column of refugees.  “Go and see if there are any leaders among them, particularly Rosalind from the Lainaird Tribe.  Hers was the first messenger summoning us to the fight.”

A short time later, Phillipe returned with an older man and two heavily pregnant women.  The elder one’s red tresses spilled messily in front of her face, tangled and knotted with dirt and sweat.  The deadness in her eyes made Amelie flinch, since in it she saw the look of powerless you can feel only if you once had power.

“Your Highness, this is Rosalind of the Lainaird Tribe, and her niece, Melanie.  They lead the tribe.  And this is Black Pete.  He has been leading the free fighters remaining and managed to liberate some of these prisoners after the main army left their town.”

“Greetings, Rosalind.  I’m Queen Amelie of Thesta.  I regret not being able to get here sooner, but it took time to gather a force capable of defeating the orcs.”

For a long moment Rosalind said nothing, and just looked down at the bloody earth.  Finally she dragged her eyes up to Amelie.  “I’m sure you did the best you could.  Is Agmar dead?  Did you find his body?”

“Yes, it’s not far from here actually.”  She didn’t tell her that she was the one who killed him.  She had long since outgrown celebrating in death, or in being applauded for killing.

“Good.   Good.”  Rosalind wrapped her arm around Mel and held the girl tight.  With the news of his death a fire began to smolder inside her.  “I want the body; it’s going to be the kindling for a holocaust which will consume every half-breed bastard in the Hills.  No one tainted with orc blood will live in these Hills, I swear it by the Abyss.  I don’t know how many of our men have survived, Your Highness, but I pledge them all to your army, to slaughtering the orcs and delivering to them the carnage they’ve inflicted on us.  Tell me there will be no mercy, Amelie, tell me won’t stop until their backs are broken, their horses lamed, until all the Lands and People are safe!”

A long war indeed, she thought.  What will become of us by the end of it?