The Lion and the Serpent - Chapter Fourteen: March

The sun may have risen, but its illuminating rays had not yet passed over the dagger hills, leaving Westfall in a shroud of dim shadows. Sentinel Hill was close now, the lone tower stood silent and untouched by the sun. Its white stone’s standing up above a sea of frozen gold grass while the blue sky of the early morning hovered above, a limitless expanse with only the occasional dark cloud to mar it.

The column of mounted soldiers rode at a steady pace, the full might of the order of the disciples of light and the Remnant of Stromgarde moved quickly. They had taken a detour off the road and moved over open ground, southward toward what would be the west side of the tower.

Please light let them be there... I don’t ask for much, but just this once, give me something...

The thought rang through Seiken’s head over and over, in circles repeatedly as the column of soldiers rode across the frozen ground. Flanking him at his sides were Aarian on his left, Arador on his right, and everyone else riding behind. Nobody spoke; instead they patiently rode forward until they could see what waited for them at Sentinel hill. Only the sound of hooves’ striking the frozen ground broke the eerie silence, though in Exaythe’s case it was the Thudding of her Elekk’s huge feet.

Arador kept his gaze fixed completely on their goal, no doubt his own thoughts were similar to Seiken’s, his eyes almost seeming to zoom in and out like a hawks. Aarian however was less fixated, instead he kept his head bowed and muttered prayers under his voice, to what end Seiken couldn’t know.

Turning his head around to eye what was behind him, Seiken’s Lion Helmet moved with his head as he glanced. Everyone was silent, not a word spoken or muttered. Was it fear? Impossible to tell, perhaps they knew they were too few, or perhaps anxious to get on with it.

The tower slowly grew closer and closer, until it was only some hundred metres away and the column began riding up the hill on the north-west side. Seiken’s thoughts returned to their desperate pleas, perhaps better described as prayers as they came closer and closer to the top of the hill.

Please light, give us this once chance for revenge... please.

As his plain of view became parallel with the summit, his eyes and ears were both simultaneously bombarded from all directions. Seiken, Arador and Aarian all covered their faces with their arms while their steeds neighed uncomfortably but still shuffled forward. The sun had passed over the dagger hills, blurring their vision with its piercing rays. While the thunderous sound of talking, thundering metal and the booming echo of war horns greeted them.

“By the light...” murmured Aarian as he lowered his arm, the view coming into focus, his eyes adjusted.

Seiken lowered his arm, the light was now bearable and the sound tolerable. What lay out before them, none could of dreamed for. An ocean, a titanic moving wave of men and steel covering the entirety of the small valley, from the giant hills in the west, to the buildings in the south and curling away westward and out of view behind the tower. Small empty paths lay between the vast array of groups, formations and regiments of soldiers, walkways of frozen earth which officers and messengers ran along between.

Thank you...

Perched atop the hill, the new arrivals took in the scene with relief and amazement at the sheer numbers of attendants.

Banners of all colours, nations and races stood upright flying in the wind; everyone had headed the call, and more. The orders of Stormwind had come, The Lightbringers, the Shining Strand and various other small orders related to the church and army. Ranks of knights, paladins and warriors armed with sword and shield, wearing thick steel armour. Maelmoor stood surrounded by them as he seemed to be giving a speech and reading prayers, while Fortesgue stood nearby blessing a line of the more faithful.

The Dwarven rifle squad had come, complete with a pair of mortars and what looked like a howitzer on a cart. Dorik was quite visible, sat in atop the large artillery pieces barrel pointing and yelling something about it being his, all his. Dwarves with all manner of weapons and equipment, rifles, axes and maces rushed around the wagons preparing while Burgen strode around giving orders from papers he read.

Shifting his gaze more to the east, a regiment of eleven huntresses and druids were sat ready and able atop their nightsabers, the night elves of natures grasp had remembered their debt of gratitude for Arathors aid in Ashenvale.

Various groups of mercenaries, regular troops and stood in their squads, in-between and around the various other more notorious orders, guilds and army regiments. To the rear, and not so visible, sat Bloodwind. Aegnian had come too, his private army of lethal gladiatorial mercenaries too. They came in all sorts of shapes and sizes; the most obvious though was Rayul and Mikasa, who need no further mention for their notoriety. Aegnian had been the first to spit the arrival of the disciples and Arathorian’s, though his calls couldn’t be heard in the distance, he could be visibly seen pointing the new arrivals out.

Within seconds, Horns began sounding like thunder on the wind, while the whole army leapt to its feet, moved into organised formations and came to attention.

“We have good friends, never forget that lion-boy...” spoke Arador has he spurred his horse forward, the columns of soldiers behind them following hastily, Trohad, Antirius and Exaythe included. The disciples and Arathorian’s quickly took up their positions in the ocean of soldiers, dismounting and coming to attention.

Aarian smiled and patted Seiken on the shoulder without word, as they slowly rode forward side by side. As they approached the front ranks of the army, Maelmoor pushed his way out of the mass of soldiers, walking toward them he kept looking behind himself at what had gathered. The look on his face said it all, surprise and the aged eyes of someone impressed.

“Not since the third war have i seen such a force...” spoke Maelmoor with assertion as he came to stand by Seiken’s side, looking up at him upon his horse. “Use the power you have now wisely... that is all i will say” Maelmoor finished, turning to look to the army.

“I think this would be a good time to say something friend” Aarian spoke up, looking to Seiken with a smile as he dismounted his charger. Seiken nodded once slowly, his lion helmet looking as if the creature it once was nodded with him.

A little inspiration goes a long way...

Seiken spurred his horse forward, trotting up to only a few metres away from the front rank... it began to patrol back and forth as he looked over their thousands of faces, all looking back at him.

Speak up... loud and with truth, for all of them are your friends, loyal, kind friends.

“It warms my heart, on even as cold a day as this... to see so many of my faithful loyal friends brave the chill winds, so that they could help us on this day” he paused, taking a deep breath while his horse changed direction and trotted along the front rank the other way.

“But kindness isn’t why we are here; we are to see that a great evil is put down, crushed and destroyed!” Seiken roared, raising his fist. The army cheered once with the brief thundering of weapons upon shields. The ground shaking with the sound of their support.

“Today the Empire will know what it feels like to be put to the blade, to be hunted and maimed, afraid and burned by a righteous fire! Never again will they strike at us, hiding behind their jungle, without first remembering today... fearful of what may happen!” he finished with a roar once more. The ocean of soldiers smashing their shields and weapons together in a ruinous chorus of war. Slowly, one more, they fell silent.

“A sea of steel and soldiers, banners, weapons and horses! An ocean of war and wrath! This wave will crash upon our enemies, cutting them down like a tidal wave would the footprints on the shore! For the fallen!” he finished, roaring loud and menacingly like the beast he once hunted. The army cheered, raising their weapons in the air, stamping the ground so it shook and thundered under foot.

And so it begins... the day i have waited so long for...

They day we have all waited for...

Seiken drew his sword, silver-strand lighting up with silvery fire as the sun’s rays bounced off its pristine clean surface. Pointing his weapon to the south east, pointing out the direction they would take. His horse spurred into action, the veteran white stallion almost pouncing forward as it raced across the winter grass of Westfall to the head of the army.

The horse thundered around the army as it shifted and moved, every man and woman, el, dwarf and human getting into position. At last slowing to walking pace at the cross-roads that headed south, again sat side by side with Arador, then Aarian as he rode up. The army shifted around and formed a massive column following the Arathorian prince southward along the road, 20 men wide and thousands long.

“Arador, take the rangers to the vale pass as quickly as possible, no doubt our enemies already know we are coming as usual. Attack any scouts, let them not spot the army and make them think we come through the pass...” Seiken spoke loudly and with commanding authority.

Arador nodded without hesitation, raising his arm he spurred off on his horse ahead of them, some ten Arathorian soldiers in leather armour with bows and hooded cloaks following on their own steeds. Before long they disappeared out of view behind a bend in the road, heading south to the bridge into Duskwood.

“Anything i can do?” spoke up Aarian, sensing there was much to be done. Seiken turned to look at him, his helmet mostly masking his face, unless perhaps you looked through the lion’s mouth.

“Go and tell all the officers and other commanders to keep their men silent, not a peep or noise as we enter Duskwood. And to dismount if they can once we cross the bridge...” Seiken answered, nodding with an assuring smile. Aarian smiled and returned the nod, turning his horse and spurring it off northward to inform the other commanders.

Before long the cheering and singing that had once been noisy and thunderous, the army’s joy obvious, had died down as the orders were passed around. Aarian eventually returned to the head of the army, Maelmoor following him. The three rode side by side as the army now approached the bridge into Duskwood, its wooden framework shadowed by the looming trees on the eastern side. The army passed over, falling silent. The only noise to be heard was the hushed creeks of the wooden planks under hoof and foot.

Upon reaching the other side, Seiken, Aarian, Maelmoor and every other soldier still mounted, dismounted their steeds. The mountain pass and the jungle was no place for horses. Still not a word or noise broke the eerie silence, the army marching quietly and unnoticed under the branches of the lifeless trees. Following the river separating Duskwood from Westfall southward, they made good time despite their numbers.

It wasn’t long before the southern rocky hills loomed into view, not so distant but obvious. A hushed voice among the moving crowd, unknown but heard spoke to itself, a dead end, it said. A dead end. Fortunately, some knew better now.

The clambering of running feet came through the bush and tree’s to the east. Seiken turned his head, only to see Arador and his men run up, their quivers a few arrows less.

“Killed two scouts, spotted a fair few trolls but they pulled back into the vale side. One of me lads said he spotted a member of the horde watch!” exclaimed the ranger as he came to walk along by Seiken’s side. The prince grinned; all was going beautifully to plan.

“Excellent, they may know we are coming but they’ll be in just the right position. We may even cut down a few extra’s...” Seiken chuckled lightly, Arador nodded silently with a smile while he caught his breath. Aarian seemed to smile at the prospect too; however Maelmoor simply arched a brow with curiosity.

Time flew like a golden hawk on the wind, which it did. Arador’s hawk could be seen circling far off in the distance, far over the plateau. By now the bushes that had once blocked the hidden route from view came into sight, cut down and pushed aside. Maelmoor’s jaw dropped as he spotted it, the narrow inclining walkway leading through the rocky gap in the hills.

Now silence gripped the whole army unwittingly as they passed through the entrance, working their way through the rocky pass. It was narrow and slowed their progress a little, but not enough to cause a problem. Each and every person looked around in wonder while the tops of the rocky cliff sides loomed overhead, a secret gateway into the heart of their enemy’s lands. The same silent looks of amazement that Seiken and Arador had on their faces only a week before.

The minutes zoomed past as they moved through the steadily rising path, at last reaching its summit and the top of the plateau. Gasps of amazement escaped the lips of everyone as the bright jungle sun near blinded them, the distant but so close view of jungle canopies to the south brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Maelmoor most of all seemed amazed, looking around in near awe, mumbling to himself. No doubt a prayer of thanks for some deliverance.

Be on your guard now...

As always...

The army marched silently, like a shadow creeping along the ground. Moving south east over the plateau toward the southern slope, where they would descend into the jungle, and start what they had come to do.

The slope was tricky, its steep incline a problem for a man on foot, let alone the two carts that the dwarves had brought. But with some ropes and a bit of patience the artillery and stores everyone had brought was carefully lowered down onto the path bellow. It was time consuming though, but a necessary evil, an army can’t fight without supplies after all.

Before long the vast bulk of the main force had huddled together at the tightly packed bottom end of the slope. With silent gestures Seiken and Maelmoor began moving them eastward, following the river bank east. By no means was it easy, keeping such a large gathering quiet and unnoticed takes a lot of patience and daring.

Its time...

Seiken’s thoughts became more reflexive now, drawing his sword slowly as the hunters camp came into view, as well as the graveyard by the road. Bending his knees and back he kept a low profile, sneaking along the ground, the army mimicking him as he did so, without command. The dwarves stopped their wagons, unpacking their mortars and getting the howitzer into position; Burgen paid special attention to the situation and kept Dorik gagged for the whole ordeal.

Seiken slowly crept forward, climbing up the west side of a hill that would overlook the road leading north into the vale pass. Before he knew it, sounds grew and became clearer. The yelling of trolls and the marching of feet, orders being yelled and harsh words being thrown at soldiers unknown.
Seiken poked his head over the hill, Aarian, Maelmoor and Arador crawling up right behind him, all with weapons drawn and ready.

Don’t crawl, stand... you have nothing to be afraid of, stand...

Seiken didn’t give it a second thought, pushing himself upward onto his feet, stood up atop the hill, looking down on what was before him. three hundred metres below them, they were all there. His enemy’s gathered in their entirety. The empire’s slave army facing northward, unaware he was looking down upon them. Blood-drinkers ran back and forth screaming at the slaves to get into position, the poorly armed trolls covering their ears and obeying out of fear.

Further south were more regular troops, mercenaries of various races and backgrounds, paid for with the Emperors gold. Beyond that, and across the first bridge passing over the great river, they sat atop their raptors.

He is here... at last

Our revenge...

The mainstay of the Gurubashi army looked northward at their slaves, shielding them across the bridge. The emperor himself sat atop his own raptor, his menacing visage surrounded by kneeling servants and officers, following his orders. How he knew we were coming was unfathomable, at the least he didn’t know how and from where. Tziak’s figure was distant and difficult to make out, but always obvious. His large ornate face mask, his golden tipped tusks, Crimson robes and private following of servants made him easily spotted. On the sides of his retinue stood his would be allies, Mistrunner's and the horde watch. The Tauren tribe and Lorath’s watchers come to fight an enemy unwittingly no doubt.

A small smirk played on Seiken’s face under his Lion-helmet, it was that tantalising moment he enjoyed so much, just before the strike. His opponent unaware, unprepared, vulnerable, with him waiting. He couldn’t resist it despite it’s almost vein thrill, such a power of position over his foe. But after all he was Arathorian; it was in his blood to enjoy such things. Only one thing was better than this, the part that came after. The joy of battle, the adrenaline rush was second to none, the beating of an anxious heart. He couldn’t help himself, it happened without reflex, but not without intent.

Boom, his lungs exploded with rage, a ferocious roar thundering through the jungle. A Lions roar, a predator’s cry, the Warriors defiant yell. It said it all without words. ‘Here i am, ready for whatever you can throw at me’.

The troll heads turned sharp and with shock, looking up at the figure alone on the hill. Tziak tilted his head to one side with intrigue, knowing his enemy was up to his old tricks. The rest, lorath and the Tauren included, Shrogan at his emperor’s side, all grinned at the lone warrior. An easy kill.

Flags rose up; soldiers standing on their two feet, Maelmoor, Aarian and Arador came to stand at Seiken’s side. The banners of the alliance now visible, a clear indication of their numbers, though not completely visible. The trolls could see the hills to the north-west had masked the approach of countless enemies. Their faces changed to horror, gasps and cries of panic as they began running around in chaos. They’d been caught like mice in a trap. Tziak though, grinned, simply changing the side his head tilted to.

Seiken aimed his sword forward, held out. Locking eye’s with the serpent emperor, even over the great distance, a gesture. At this moment he remembered the message Shrogan had left on the tree in Arathi, a mocking tarnish on their honour.

He roared, the sound of his voice echoing from tree to tree for all to hear. A chorus cry of irony for Shrogan to forever remember as he recalled those bitter word's etched upon the tree.

“The Warriors of Arathor are Here!”

"...kept Dorik gagged for the whole ordeal." - <3 it *chuckle*

Fantastic! Damn you though for leaving it there!

As per-usual I cannot suggest anything at all for improvement as there is no need.

Many thanks for posting your works!