Chapter 38 - East Gate

"Think, too, of the great part that is played by the unpredictable in war: think of it now, before you are actually committed to war. The longer a war lasts, the more things tend to depend on accidents."

- Thucydides, Historian and General

--------

There was a light fog, barely more than a mist, that hung low to the ground on the third day. The temperatures had broken the night before, leaving the snow wet and heavy as it turned to slush under the boots of Taliesin’s varingjar, and the roads became a muddy mess. The fields outside the town would soon be nearly impassible, for the next time a freeze hit, all that slush would turn to ice and even the gnolls and their nigh immunity to the frigid winter weather wouldn’t be able to move with the ease they’d shown so far.

Taliesin stood on the wall between Runolf and Aina, who was uncharacteristically visible and not perched up on a building yet. His newly minted men-at-arms, and after two days of fighting - they were certainly blooded enough to call them that - stood uneasily for there was a heaviness to the air. It wasn’t anything you could lay a finger on; more of a creeping feeling on the back of the neck.

“Some’at’s changed,” rumbled Runolf.

Taliesin nodded. “We’re going to see new tactics. Not sure what, but let’s be ready to reinforce the Jarl’s position.”

“What about the Sheriff?”

Taliesin gave a sigh. “If we must. It just plays into his plans too well.”

“Reckon he’s gonna try fer the Jarl today, come what may,” said Runolf.

Aina nodded in agreement, then shrugged to show how little the Jarl’s fate meant to her. She’d made her choice.

“How’s the armor?” asked Taliesin, as he rapped his knuckles on the manasteel breastplate on Runolf’s chest.

“Fit’s good. Turns a blade. Good armor,” he replied gruffly.

Taliesin could tell that Runolf liked it, the taciturn bastard. He smiled and turned back to the field. The gnolls were moving around at the back of the clearing. They had regrouped in the night and were massing for their assault.

Horns began to blow, and right on cue, the gnoll slingers began to pelt the archers at the north gate with rocks. The archers held their fire, no longer eager to waste precious arrows at extreme ranges when they knew from hard experience that the gnolls would soon be close enough to shoot with ease. Instead they hunkered down behind the walls, only peering out enough to keep an eye on the approaching enemy until they were in range.

Then, after a sharp shout from someone at the gate, the archers stood as one and began to fire masses of arrows at the gnolls attacking the gate. The assault slowed as the gnolls tried to hide behind crude shields, each other, or simply shove each other aside to rush for the wall in a chaotic scramble that did more to hinder their charge than help it.

Taliesin stood, preparing to cast spells when suddenly he stopped. “There’re no shamans.”

“No yeti, either,” said Runolf.

Taliesin’s mind ran. Something was off. It didn’t make sense for the assault party to attack without the support of the shamans. Unless…

“We’re at the wrong gate! Leave a squad to garrison the walls, we’re needed at the East Gate!”

--------

Taliesin and his men raced across town, and were soon met by the sounds of fighting. The din of steel on steel. The pained cries of man and beast. The guttural yelps and roars of the gnolls–all of it formed the song of battle. One Taliesin had heard far too many times in his life, but where there were people, there was war. Jarl Gunther was up on the narrow walkway at the top of the wall, sword drawn, shouting as his men fired arrows. Intermixed with the archers were militia wielding spears stabbing downward. On the wall at the opposite side of the gate from the Jarl, the militia seemed to be struggling in their fight. Many were already dead, their bodies clogging up the walkways while others fought desperately to hold. Wounded struggled to stay on their feet. There was no retreat. Nowhere to run. They fought and won, or they died here, and everyone knew it.

“Runolf!” called Taliesin.

“I see,” said Runolf, before barking orders to the varingjar and men-at-arms. “Broddi, Sven, take men to reinforce the right side of the gate. I’ll stay here with Bjorn and a squad to support the Stormlord. Take all the recruits.”

The group split, with the men shoring up the faltering militia on the wall even as Taliesin climbed the ladder to join the Jarl. The smell of blood grew heavy as he reached the walls. Enemy arrows thudded against the battlements. The grunts and snarls carried over the walls from below, urging the fodder onward.

“Lord Taliesin! I’m glad to see you,” called Jarl Gunther, before turning back to shout at his men, pointing with his sword. “Watch that ladder! Don’t knock it down until they’re climbing! Make sure they go down hard!”

Taliesin looked over the wall to a different view than he was used to. The eastern wall overlooked a much smaller field, with woodland cover far closer to the walls than on the north. However, a frozen stream at the tree line kept the gnolls from taking too much advantage, narrowing their approach to the wide stone bridge that crossed the creek at the road, and several spots where the banks of waterway were shallow enough to allow the frozen bed to be piled with brush and logs by the gnolls.

The shamans that had been at the far end of the field on the north battlefield were now in the trees, their protective totems already in place to block Taliesin’s long-ranged [Lightning Strikes]. They were chanting some sort of spell that seemed to be targeting the wards, for a dim, purplish glow covered the gates, shimmering like a soap bubble.

“Where are their yeti at?” shouted Taliesin as he rained down [Ice Darts] into the gnolls assaulting the walls. This time he didn’t seem to be a priority target, as if they hadn’t anticipated that he’d move to this wall, or maybe they’d thrown caution to the wind.

“They’re still at the back. Their numbers appear reduced, they seem reluctant to commit them within range of our archers.”

The assault continued steadily as the morning drew on, and the assault on the wards seemed to grow stronger. Taliesin doubted they could destroy the wards completely, but no set of wards, even backed up by a recently resurrected minor deity, could be impregnable. He could see the magic happening, but like most shamanistic magic, it was difficult to understand what it was actually doing in order to come up with a proper counter.

For a while, the stalemate held. The gnolls seemed set on breaching the wall with ladders, but Taliesin did not see a way for them to find success. He watched the trees, waiting for the true assault that would follow. All the while using Ice Dart conservatively, cautious not to exhaust himself mentally before the gnolls were committed. Already his own archers were losing their effectiveness as the gnolls lay wooden barriers in place, providing cover for when the full force approached.

Then the yeti made their appearance. There were a scant two dozen of them, carrying a heavy log that glowed with arcane energies in Taliesin’s sight. It was carved deeply with dark, bloody sigils and sharpened to a dull point. Crude leather slings had been twisted around it to give the yeti handles, but they waddled forward under its unwieldy weight.

“There! Focus the archers on the yeti!” shouted Taliesin. “[Lightning Strike]!”

A burst of lightning arced out from his hands in an impotent display as the electrical energy immediately veered away from the yeti and into the totems around the shamans. And indeed, several shamans carrying totems were lining up behind the yeti.

“Archers!” called Jarl Gunther, but the militia had already heeded the Stormlord’s call and arrows were peppering the yeti position. Gnolls with shields advanced before them, providing some protection but the yeti’s were too large a target. Bellows of outrage came from the yeti as the bestial creatures began to take minor wounds from the arrows. It would take more than a few distant arrows to take them down, and with their focus on the distant threat, the immediate danger of gnolls climbing the walls grew more dire.

Taliesin turned his own attention back to the walls and began to chain cast [Ice Darts] one after the next, in effect becoming a half-dozen archers in one person. His breath misted before him as the air turned cold. His mana surged as he poured more and more effort into his spells. For each of the ladder bearers he felled, another gnoll would take their place. There were simply too many for him to kill alone. He couldn’t replace all the men who were now focused on the yeti. The first gnoll ladder landed against the wall. Fighters tried to push it back but the beasts pressed up against its base, roaring as others launched themselves off their back, climbing quickly. As they reached the top of the ladders, Taliesin went back to a different spell.

“[Gale Wind],” cast the Stormlord as he drew heavily on the aether in his Torque of Dawn. The air howled as a powerful, sustained blast of wind slammed down the length of the wall. The sudden sideways pressure against the already precariously overloaded ladders sent the gnolls tumbling over into screaming piles of creature and poorly crafted wood.

Down below, the gnoll advance slowed as the creatures raged at each other in a tangled mess below. Gnolls were not patient creatures. Many turned on each other, snapping and swiping at those beside them, or tearing at their own ladders, as they desperately disentangled themselves. Many of the ladders were ruined in the process.

It was a small win, but the yeti were quickly lumbering closer to the gate. The constant fire had felled two of the giant creatures, but the shamans had managed to put up some sort of magic shield to the front, so any arrows fired directly at the first two yeti were diverted to the sides.

“Aim at the sides and the rear!” came a call from someone on the right side of the gate, that Taliesin was pretty sure was Jarl Gunther, but it was hard to tell over the din. “Their magic is at the front!”

With the yeti in range, his lightning magic would have decimated them. But the totems were too effective. Lacking alternatives, he went back to firing [Ice Darts] again, unfortunately, the yeti’s own resilience against cold was working against this spell, easily halving its effectiveness. He was wasting effort. It was infuriating–his more destructive magic was too likely to harm friendlies on a battlefield such as this. Back in his world, other wizards in a wizard corp could have made up for such weaknesses. Where one wizard was countered, another would flourish. But here, he was alone and without all of his tools.

It was then that Taliesin saw an opportunity. He raced along the wall–once more appreciating the energy of a youthful body–away from his allies toward a section of the wall where the militia had already fallen. From there, he had a clear line of sight on the yeti formation and no friendly troops or defensive structures to get in the way. Taliesin grasped his Empyreal Staff in both hands and poured aether into his first magic circle he’d engraved into it.

The buildup of this spell was not fast; it took nearly a minute to fully empower the magic circle properly, but then the Stormlord was ready. Taliesin stepped forward and raised his staff, then gestured with his other hand.

“[Celestial Annihilation].”

A column of plasma shot forward from his hand, blistering hot and crackling with lightning. This spell was technically lightning at its very hottest, melting the very air around it into a core of the most intense heat imaginable. The bolt struck true, right into the center of the torso of a yeti in the middle of the column, and through that yeti into the shoulder of another diagonally across from it on the other side of the log they carried.

The shaman’s totems made an attempt to divert the epically powerful spell, but at the last second only managed to bend the bolt as it burned through the yeti. This had the effect of cutting the first yeti almost in half as the bolt that would have cut through it cleanly now swiped through the monster, and then caused the bolt on the other side of the log to cut off the arm of the second yeti and melt off the head of a third.

The air trembled with the incredibly low, rumbling ‘bamf’ sound of the spell reverberating across the battlefield, immediately followed by a high-pitched whine. Behind the yetis two of the shamans’ totems exploded from the overload, sending aether charges shrapnel into the two shamans carrying them, sending them collapsing to the ground along with the two dead yetis.

Only one yeti struck by the spell remained standing, though he was no one arm short, seared off at the shoulder. The creature dropped the log and stumbled back, flailing as it bellowed in agony.

Taliesin lowered his staff, the magic circle inscribed on it glowing hot as it slowly released the residual heat from the spell casting. It would be at least a quarter hour before he could cast such a spell with the staff again, but it had done its job. He hadn’t injured himself with backlash, nor had he thrown himself from the sky as he had the last time he’d cast the spell.

For a moment, it seemed like the yeti formation would stop. The yeti stumbled under the increased weight of the log now that their numbers had been so suddenly cut by a third. It got worse as the weight of arrows overwhelmed a fourth at the rear with an arrow through its eye.

But the creatures were strong and had thick hides covered in even thicker fur. The yeti re-adjusted and began to move forward again.

Taliesin, for his part, fired off a [Lightning Strike]. The lightning arced out, before curving away from the yeti and back towards the remaining two totems.

“Now that’s interesting,” said Taliesin as he observed how the lightning had curved. On impulse, he fired another [Lightning Strike] away from the yeti, back towards the shamans at the tree line, with their own totems protecting them. The lightning was grabbed and arced toward the totems behind the yeti instead.

The Stormlord laughed. “I can work with that.”

After leaning over the walls, Taliesin selected a gnoll as a target on the far side of the assault, on the opposite side of the gate and the approaching yeti. “[Lightning Strike].”

The bolt of lightning arced almost parallel to the walls towards the targeted gnoll, a common warrior was impotently trying to repair a broken ladder and yipping at another gnoll next to him. As Taliesin expected, the totems at the back of the yeti formation grabbed the spell effect and tried to draw it in, a magical lightning rod. The deadly electricity curved immediately, and in the process, struck a gnoll in the back of the pack, about midway between the original target and the totems.

“Ah, so the totems are truly meant to be a close-range protection,” said Taliesin with a smile. “Because, now, it’s just a matter of geometry.”

With that, Taliesin began to charge and cast [Lightning Strikes] as quickly as he could. The bolts curved around and through gnolls as the Stormlord experimented with the totems, until the bolts began to rain down on the far flank of the yeti formation. Then one yeti fell, followed by another. Panic spread through their ranks. Two stepped out from behind the magic shield, trying to get away, only to be felled by arrows, then a third fell to another lightning bolt, its body collapsing in a spasming heap. Several more were looking burned or bloody between Taliesin and the archers. This lasted until the two shamans carrying the totems ran up to either side of the formation to protect the flanks of the yetis, leaving only a rough dozen or so of the giant creatures to carry the log.

Gnolls began to climb the walls once more, as ladders were righted and repaired, but their assault wasn’t coordinated or overwhelming as it had been, and the militia on the walls were able to keep the gnolls on the back foot. Then the yetis reached the warded gate, and the deep enchantments thrummed.

The archers poured fired down onto the creatures, and they faltered even as they swung the log. The wards whined as the shamans’ magic assault paired with the enchanted log, and the protections parted long enough for the heavy log to thump against the gate.

Here the simple physics of giant creatures carrying a large log met the reality of a wooden gate. The thick locking bar cracked ominously.

Two more yeti dropped, and the wards snapped back into place. The enchantments on the log dimmed noticeably from the first blow. Taliesin began to furiously cast [Ice Darts] and aim them exclusively at the closest shaman, to bring down that totem. The shaman’s own protective talismans protected it, but only for a moment.

The log swung forward as the enchantment on it forced its way through the ward once more. The shaman Taliesin had been targeting ran out of talismans and took three ice darts to the head and fell in a bloody heap. Another three yeti faltered under the rain of arrows as their battering ram smashed into the gate. The locking bar cracked and splintered, and the gates bowed inward under the pressure. The Jarl was already on the ground, dozens of men running with him to brace the gates by hand.

Taliesin looked at his staff. The magic circle wasn’t ready yet. If he cast [Celestial Annihilation] again so soon, the artifact might explode from the backlash. Instead, he cast [Lightning Strike] again. This time, without a totem in the way, it struck true. Another yeti went down. Only seven remained, and the magic in the log was nearly gone.

But the log was already swinging forward when the Stormlord cast another [Lightning Strike]. He could already tell it was too late. The battering ram did its job, and the gate’s locking bar snapped even as Taliesin killed another yeti, and the archers brought down one as well. The rest of the yeti, all of the injured at this point, charged at the gate.

The heavy monsters smashed into the damaged portal even as they were taking fatal wounds. The gnolls abandoned their ladders to surge towards the entry. Taliesin jumped off the platform with a rapid-cast of [Elevate] to get to the ground faster, with Runolf and his squad right behind him on the ladder.

“BREACH!”