A blood red sun set on the battlefield. The castle of Southcross, surrounded by the city of the same name, was hidden by a great white wall of thick stone that encompassed it. But the giant wall was broken, battlements fallen from the highest point where they once stood to shatter on the ground. Deep cracks ran along the length of the wall, some of them almost man sized, where war machines had punished them with devastating blows before the defenders could repel them. The siege was taking its toll. All around the castle there were camp fires and tents; it seemed they stretched for as far as the eye could see. The relief supplies that the castle had been getting from allying cities in the west and north had been cut off: confiscated for the enemy army. Battered bodies dotted the hills all around the castle where defender and attacker alike met their fate. So savage had the siege been thus far that it seemed even the sun had begun to bleed for them. Past the hills and the bodies of those that had fallen in battle, past the rows of tents and camp fires lining in circles all around the hilly region Southcross was a single wooden structure. It had been thrown together quickly, with the sole purpose of allowing the leaders of the army to speak their strategies away from the throng of men that were under their banner.
Inside the makeshift cabin stood a circle of six men, five of them were Honor Guard, men that had become so skilled in matters of battle that they had been elevated to the status of the king's personal defenders. The Honor Guard ensured that the king's word was made law and those that defied the will of the king were punished as the villains they were. Even if those that defied the king were royalty themselves.
The sixth of the men was older than any in the Honor Guard. A man of sixty some years with thinning white hair and heavy brown robes to cover his frail body. He was Urien Boska, chief advisor to the king of Dagoth. It disturbed Urien that he would be sent so far into foreign land acting under the orders of his liege when it was his solemn duty to direct his majesty as best as he could. The fate of the last man to act so still haunted him. Raza had been chief advisor under Darius Steelbreeze until the king found out that his trusted advisor had sent scouts to fetch information without the king's knowledge or approval. Raza had been sentenced to the dungeons of Dagoth, a dank and dark place that no one ever came back out of. That had been Raza's reward for aiding the king. Old Urien vowed that he would act wisely. He had no intention of treading the same path Raza had.
But the man that was in charge of the war campaign was Emeron Jaist, commander of both the Honor Guard and general of the Dagothian armies that filled the plains all around Southcross. Emeron was dressed in silver chainmail, common to Honor Guard that were ready for battle at any time. He had a bright red cloak that was pushed back from his broad shoulders, nearly sweeping the floor. His helm sat on the table that his knuckles rested on. Emeron cast his stern, scrutinizing eyes to every man that filled the cabin. He imagined that they looked much like him at that point; stubble thick on their faces and hair looking more than a little unkempt from all the days that they had spent in the wild. The siege on the castle had been going on for a fortnight now, and with the way that Carridon Stonethrow positioned men on the walls and on the field Emeron guessed that another fortnight could pass and they would find themselves in the same position. Carridon was as wise a tactician as he was king to his people. It made Emeron grieve that he had to make this man his enemy.
"At the rate we are going, I would say that we haven't enough manpower to storm the city walls without losing many lives. The walls are too fortified," Emeron stepped back from the table and paced to the door, feeling their eyes on his back. He knew that all the men were looking to him for answers, for some way to triumph over Carridon Stonethrow. But triumph over him for what reason? So that Darius could take the High Throne? Why were they making war over this? If the king was ready to assume the High Throne the other kingdoms should bow to him. Darius was taking the throne by force; his only reasoning was that a dream he had over and over told him that it was his time. Emeron shook his head and thought about the coming morning. He knew that there must be some way to get a foothold into the castle, a way that he hadn't thought of yet.
"It may come down to waiting them out. We will secure supply trails back from Dagoth and from Casteel while we tighten our grip around the castle to ensure that they have no way of receiving fresh supplies. Sooner or later they will run out, and they will have to open their gates to us or they will starve."
"Sir?" a younger man began. His name was Jael Foxlund, a member of the Honor Guard for only a matter of months. He had lived his life in the village of Nemway, one hundred twenty miles south of Dagoth along the coast line. Jael had joined the army at sixteen and impressed his commander seven then with his mastery over the blade. At twenty four he was a member, dubbed so by the king in an early autumn ceremony. Emeron turned to look at Jael, the youth's eyes lowering respectfully.
"What is it, Foxlund?"
"If we intend to wait out the enemy, then wouldn't that mean we could be positioned here for weeks?"
"Months if the king had presence of mind to foresee something like this and fill his storage rooms. That isn't the point, however. The point is that there have been too many casualties and I see no other recourse save to wait these men out, lest we try our war machines on their eastern wall one last time, pray that we can break it down in the length of the daylight. There seems nothing else that we can do."
"Need I remind you that his majesty wants Southcross taken within the month, commander? He fears that should the siege take too long there will be sympathizers, those that would flock to the down trodden Blazing Sword banner. His majesty also fears that the Eagle would forsake his long lasted battle against the ageless to aid Southcross, seeing as how Avalon stated that they stood with the Blazing Sword in the fact they would oppose his majesty taking the throne."
"Thank you, Urien; I know very well what his majesties words were. But even he couldn't foresee how capable the united armies would be. Have the scouts that were sent to Cromley Tower returned yet?"
"There has been no contact, sir," Jael Foxlund replied, "It seems that Baron Cromley has decided to abstain from taking sides in the conflict. There are reports, however, that a small convergence of men are forming along the Crossing, just to the east of Bordertown." Emeron stopped cold and fixed Jael with that steely stare.
"How many men is 'a small convergence'?"
"Scouts estimate that two hundred men fly the Blazing Sword banner and they march for the south. They will be at our northern flank in five days. Seven at the most."
"When did this information come in? Why the hell wasn't I told that there were two hundred men marching in from the north? If they catch us between either side of the armies they could route us!"
"Scouts just came back this afternoon, sir. Urien said there was no need to inform you until night, when we shared council. You were so busy out on the field that I had to agree with Urien that the message could wait until now. I am sorry if that was the wrong thing to do."
Emeron glared at Urien. The old man shrugged, "There was no need to add further burdens on you at the time, commander. Tell me, would it have made a difference if you had known now or then? Was there something you could have done about it? I thought not. That was why we waited."
Emeron dismissed the other three men that were in the cabin, telling them to double the scouts and half the rations until the supply wagons came in two days. The food was running thin and Emeron wanted to be sure that there would be enough to last them. He watched the three armored men exit, closing the door behind them, and he turned to face Urien again.
"Next time you will not hold back anything that could affect my judgment later on! I'm sure that their intent is to drive a wedge into my men and clear a path long enough for supplies to be pushed through. Jael, "the young man started when Emeron called for him, "I want you to travel to the marker in the north east, where our retainers are waiting. Take them north to meet the small army that closes in on us. Lay in wait for them. I'm counting on you to ensure that they never make it to Southcross, Jael."
"Yes sir!" Jael nodded emphatically, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out. He followed Emeron to the back of the crude cabin where the commander kept a large wooden trunk of his belongings. He dug out a rolled up scroll and handed it over to the younger man.
"This will ensure that you have command over them when you reach there. Now go to your tent and sleep. You ride at first light," Jael was just stepping out of the cabin when Emeron called after him again, "If they have wagons or supplies of any kind, confiscate them and bring them along the same path that you took to reach the retainers. Is this understood?"
"Yes sir," Jael told him, meeting his gaze with a serious face. Emeron nodded his dismissal and Jael stepped out, leaving him there with Urien, who was intent to stand on the side of the table and listen to their conversation.
"Do you think that it is wise to divide your forces so? I thought you were keeping the retainers where they were in case you were forced to retreat? You wanted them to close in on the backs of the enemies so you could divide and conquer. That is what you said to the council last time you spoke of the retainers, wasn't it?"
"Two hundred men change a lot, Urien. I must defend all my fronts. If that means sending my retainers into battle north of here, then so be it."
"But your choice in leaders for the mission? I understand that you sent Drawn on a secret quest for the king, but to send this youth into battle at the head of such a large battle? Surely you should consider another. Anifall, perhaps?"
"I need Anifall here should Carridon attempt something. He's one of the best tacticians that I have. Jael knows what he's doing; else he never would have made the title of Honor Guard. All he need do is ambush them. I have faith that he's more than capable."
"I still think that you should consider another. The war will not be lost due to the fact that you sent Anifall or another of the Honor Guard in Jael's place."
"Enough!" Emeron cut a hand through the air, indicating silence, "Your grievance is noted, Urien. But it hasn't changed my mind. Jael will go. If you fear so much that he will fail, why don’t you travel with him?" Urien sighed at the comment and Emeron smiled a bit his shoulders shaking with a touch of laughter.
"Very well commander, we will do this your way, but know that the king will hear of this."
"Urien, you do what you must. As shall I."
With that the old man left him alone in the cabin, staring at the blank wall for minutes in silence. The fact that there were men coming from the north didn't bother him. In fact, he was guessing that the king had retainers of his own, waiting to strike when Emeron's defenses were down. Jael would take soldiers there and the matter would be ended.
It was the entire affair of the war that played on his nerves. At first he played the fact that he was defender to the honor of Dagoth. Any that offended the king had offended him as well. But now it wasn't that easy. Carridon Stonethrow didn't deserve to meet his defeat this way, not when the two kingdoms had long been allies when Mikal had been on the throne. Cursing himself for the first of many times that night, he swore that he would see it through to the end, because that was who he was, if nothing else.
There was sudden commotion outside the cabin. Emeron took up his helm without thinking about it and stepped outside. There were men running all about from tent to tent and wild light danced as bon fires that had been lit were knocked astray and blazed in the high grass. They were under attack! Emeron donned his helmet and fastened the leather strap under his chin before catching hold of a man under his command as he ran past.
"What in the name of the One is going on?"
"Carridon's men! They came from behind us! Attacked while we were patrolling!" The man's words were cut off by an arrow that streaked in, embedding deep into his chest, pitching him over. The man was dead before he even struck the ground. Emeron spun and drew his sword in one fluid motion, readying himself for battle. Two men, wearing the blue and white standard of their kingdom, charged him, screaming battle cries at the top of their lungs. One of the men never finished that cry, finding to his surprise that a dagger slammed nearly hilt deep in his chest, knocking him a step back. He dropped the blade he carried from numb fingers and tried to pull the dagger free but failed, falling to the ground and getting trampled by a horse back rider that stormed by.
The second warrior came within striking distance, weary of any more daggers that Emeron might have had on his person, and lunged in, swinging his sword for his stomach. Emeron leapt back and parried at the same time, stepping in with his right leg and sliding his sword up to his opponent's hilt. The man tried to yank away but Emeron held him there, tilting the sword to throw him off balance. The soldier dropped on one knee and wrenched the sword out, using both hands to drive it forward. Emeron, still on his feet, sidestepped the thrust and made a thrust of his own, putting the sword he carried deep into the man's chest. Without bothering to see if the wound was fatal or not, Emeron pulled the steel free and made haste to a patch of open ground where he saw a half dozen of his lancers trying to fend off soldiers wielding long swords. The lancers were less then effective, their long spears doing little more than fend off the frantic blows of the attackers.
Emeron waded into the fight, taking the broad sword he carried two handed and swinging back and forth in an arc, felling two of the men before they even knew that he was there. A third spun and slashed at him, bringing his sword up in a diagonal slice. Emeron blocked and slashed again but the man proved skilled enough to deflect, sending the blade stray. Emeron took a step back, allowing the soldier to strike again. The man swiped straight down, screaming as he swung for Emeron's head. The guard commander glanced the attack off his sword and stepped past, laying his foe open all along his back. Chain links from the armor that the soldier wore spilled onto the ground followed by trails of his blood. Emeron slashed again, one handed for the man's throat. This time the soldier failed to match Emeron's speed and a second later his head came toppling down to his feet before his body decided to join it.
"You men!" Emeron shouted over the chaos, "Go to the eastern side of the camp and give the archers protection! This time why don't you try forming ranks when you fight instead of looking like a bunch of children that were fighting with sticks?"
The lancers nodded grimly, taking their rebuke in silence, and waded through the field to the eastern side of the camp where the archers had claimed their perch. They liked the land from the east of the castle, saying that the ground was more elevated, giving them an advantage in battle. All the high ground in the world wasn't going to help them all now if Carridon's swordsmen got to them first.
"Commander! Emeron!" a voice caught his attention, and he spun to his left. Two of his subordinates, members of the Honor Guard, came running over, pausing only once to duck the fire of several arrows.
"How did this begin? Where are all of these men coming from that we wouldn't have noticed them?" Emeron questioned, shaking his blade at them. Both the men lowered their blades and one of them came closer to be heard easier.
"There are caverns, sir. Tunnels that run under the length of the plains that we pitched our tents on. My guess is that Carridon was waiting to use these tunnels as a last resort if it seemed that there was no other recourse. I believe that they are directly connected to the castle, the dungeons perhaps."
"Have you determined how many there are?" Emeron asked, keeping a wary eye at the men that were around him. For the time being none attacked, but he could see the colors of the enemy mingled with his own. The thought of being taken like this, so unaware, made him furious.
"Seven tunnels that range from the edge of the forest on the eastern side of the plains to one located beside a pond north west of here. Should I give the order to storm the tunnels?"
"No! I will lead a faction of men in there, while you make ready the battering ram! This may be the best chance for us to take the castle! I want the front gates battered down within the hour! Is that clear?"
Clear, commander," the soldier replied without hesitation. Both of the men turned and made haste along the path they took to get there, cutting down several enemy troops along the way. Emeron ducked low and ran closer to the castle walls, where he saw the dark lines of archers up there on the battlements, giving their men cover fire. He was pleased to see that Anifall had gathered a goodly portion of his foot soldiers, holding them near two turned over wagons and breaking cover only to fend off enemy attacks. Emeron rushed for the overturned wagons, half aflame from burning arrows. He ran by one of his men fending off the frantic attack of a youth wearing the Blazing Sword emblem. Emeron leapt in and with a single stroke the youth dropped at the guard commander's feet. Emeron stepped over the dead youth and dove for cover as another rain of arrows lit the sky with streaks of yellow and orange. A distant explosion made the ground tremble a touch, then it was gone, leaving acrid smoke in its wake.
"Anifall!" Emeron bellowed, addressing the older man that led the foot soldiers. Anifall fixed Emeron with his steely grey eyes but said nothing, only nodded to show that he had heard.
"I need you to gather the rest of the foot soldiers! Tell them that they must bring hand axes or blades suitable for close combat, for we are going into the tunnels! Meet with me at the pond's edge in the northwest as soon as you are able! Understood?"
"Aye, Emeron. At the northwest pond. Gotcha."
Anifall broke from the cover and weaved his way around a wall of flickering fire, heading south. Emeron screamed at the forty men that were converged at the wagons to follow him, telling them that if the night went well then this would all be over. Southcross would be theirs. The men gave a rallying cheer and charged after him as he broke for the northwest forest, knowing that he had at least seventy yards to cover before the trees would shelter him.
The group was closing in when there was the loud roar of voices screaming in unison. Men, gleaming in their chain armor, came from the shadows of the forest and charged forward, the banner of Southcross waving on a pole from the lead man. Blades were unsheathed as better than sixty men came for Emeron and the foot soldiers. A wall of shields linked when there was no more than twenty yards distance spanning them. The shields glowed dull silver in the fire light. Emeron held out his sword, shouted for his men to form rank behind him.
"We must cut through them to reach the pond! For the honor of Dagoth, attack!" The two groups of men clashed in a ring of steel as blade met blade. Emeron could see men everywhere, swords slicing air so close that he was almost felled twice by his own men. One of the soldiers singled him out, raising his shield and charging with sword out. Emeron blocked the blow and brought his broad sword down two handed on the man's shield, making him stumble from the force of the impact. Emeron pressed the attack, striking twice more, making the man back into one of his own. They tumbled into the grass, the soldier that Emeron was fighting falling on the other man as his armor over balanced him. Emeron brought the blade down and stabbed into him, pulling out just in time to cross the edge in front of him and parry two swords at once. He stepped far to the right and ducked low as a back stroke from one of the soldiers nearly took his head off. He retaliated with a slash of his own across the man's stomach. The chain links that formed his armor blocked the lethal cut but the soldier staggered back, dropping to one knee.
The second man swung in, bringing the sword down hard with both hands. Emeron let the blade hit his and run along the edge of it until the man's sword slid into earth. The soldier pivoted, swinging in a back arc and blocking Emeron's next assault by mere chance. The soldier pressed a second time, this time more carefully, thrusting forward with one hand and keeping his shield before him. Emeron knocked the blade up and swung around with the stroke fast, hitting him squarely on the side where the shield failed to cover. The soldier screamed in pain, his armor damaged from the blow, and lunged at Emeron, trying to impale him on the tip of his sword. The guard commander deflected the attack and brought his own sword in, splitting the man's face cleanly in two. The body pitched backward and slumped to the ground, leaving Emeron trying to wrench his blade free from the skull where he had embedded it.
He heard the battle cry of the other soldier a second before his eyes actually found him. The soldier stepped into the swing, bringing his long sword in a diagonal swipe for Emeron's back. He managed to side step the swing mostly, but the blade snagged his shoulder, cleaving right through the chain links and drawing a stinging line of blood to the surface. Emeron hissed in pain but didn't let it deter him. He thrust his sword forward, expecting the soldier to bring his down to block the attack. He wasn't disappointed. The man knocked Emeron's sword further down and the guard commander lunged in, bringing a mailed fist right into the man's head. Dropping his blade and clutching his mashed nose as best he could, the man tried to step away, avoid the lethal caress of Emeron's blade. Emeron swung in a cross arc, first cutting the man from his right hip to his left collar bone and then taking him from the left side of his abdomen to the right. Gasping with shock, the soldier tumbled to the high grass, dampening it with his own warm blood.
Seeing that most of his men that had survived the battle broke past the onslaught of the enemy, Emeron rushed to join them. He paused only long enough to aid one of the swordsmen under his command in dispatching one of the enemy, then he joined the rest of his men at a ridge of rocks that seemed to separate the forest from the milder plains. The cover of the trees and the distance from the castle ensure him that they were safe from the archers along the castle walls. He turned to his men, pausing before he spoke to wipe sweat from his brow.
"We go to a tunnel by the pond. Intelligence places this tunnel as a path into the castle. But I will be honest with all of you here and now. I believe that Carridon Stonethrow will have this tunnel far too well guarded for us to take. We are only a decoy. It is out mission to create enough of a diversion for the battering ram to be brought into place and bring the castle walls down. Any of those that would object to this plan, they should speak now and I will hear them."
"We're with you sir!" one of the men shouted from somewhere in the back and the cry was taken up by the rest of the men who thrust their swords into the air as a show of respect for their commander. Emeron felt a swell of pride build in him and smiled; the first genuine smile that he could remember in weeks. Nodding his head at them, he prodded them onward.
The tunnel was easy to find. It seemed that in their haste to leave the tunnel, Carridon's men forgot to close it after them. It was manmade, dug eight or ten feet under the ground and lit with torches that hung from either wall, bronze sconces keeping them in place. The tunnel was wide and open, cutting a straight path for the wall of the castle. The dust and dirt that lines the floor and marred the walls told Emeron that it wasn't used very often, only in emergencies. I suppose that this would constitute some kind of emergency, Emeron mused as he lingered at the entrance of the tunnel. He looked out from the opening but all he could see was the shining surface of the pond just ahead of him and the shadows of the trees that lined the edge of it beyond.
"Commander!" one of the soldiers hissed quietly, pointing twice up the small hill before the tunnel. Emeron knew immediately what the soldier was trying to tell him. There were men coming closer, he could hear the sound of many boot falls on the ground, crunching the leaves that scattered there. He was ready to give the order to fall back into the trees and find better fighting ground when the call of the bird made the call catch in his throat. It was the sound of the breckler, a speckled bird that was very rare in Umbriel. Said to have come from the Isles of Mist originally on merchant ships, the breckler was a rare and beautiful sight with its speckled wings and blue beak. Emeron knew that it wasn't any bird making that sound, however. Anifall Darinshire was a man that knew much woodlore and excelled at bird calls, even exotic ones.
He stayed his hand, betting that when soldiers appeared along the hill top above their heads that it would be Anifall. Again, he wasn't disappointed. Anifall Darinshire, along with one hundred more men, axes slung at their wastes and small shields on their arms.
"Anifall, you are to take all but twenty more of the men you have with and storm the tunnel that is next eastern of here. By no means are you to endanger the troupe any more than you have to. Engage the enemy in a token offense and fall back when you hear the signal to."
"Signal?" Anifall questioned, looking dubious about the orders he was just handed, "How am I to know what this signal is, commander?"
"Trust me, Anifall. When the signal is given there will be no way to mistake it. At that time you will bring the troupe to the front gates and aid them in keeping them open."
"You found a way ta open the gates?" Anifall looked stunned.
"Just go, soldier, and be ready for the signal. It will sound a lot like the sound of large gates being broken down." Anifall saluted and took all but twenty random men with him, making haste for the next tunnel. Emeron took in a deep breath and looked down the brightly lit tunnel one last time before he raised his hand, the silent order for them to march in. Emeron took the lead, eyes roaming all around the hall, scrutinizing all the detail that it had to offer.
"Keep your eyes open for arrow slots on the walls. There could be hidden rooms on the other side of these walls."
He found that the hall broadened further in, getting wider than ten feet across from wall to wall. The lights were placed farther apart as well, the shadows that grew between them getting greater and greater. Emeron ordered them to slow their pace to a crawl as they made their way down the passage. Emeron froze when he felt a slight draft tickle his face. The wind was almost imperceptible but it was there, he knew it. There were holes in the walls somewhere. Ahead, better than fifty feet, he could see breaks in the walls where halls branched off, going in either direction. Tensing, taking his shield off of his back, Emeron stepped closer, ordering his men to wait there for him.
He hadn't made it ten feet when the first of the arrows flew at him. He ducked it, raising his shield over his head and rolling forward. Three more fired at him in rapid succession, and then there were too many to count. Emeron thought of screaming something to his troops but there was too much chaos to say anything. Instead he dove forward and crept closer to the break in the hall, keeping his shield over his head to deflect the bombardment of arrows that filled the hall. One of the shots struck stone right in front of his face, blinding him as sparks sprayed all over him. Kneeling low to the ground, he ran for the divergence, hoping that he could make it before any of the archers behind the walls could get a bead on him. His hopes were dashed when he felt the agonizing pain of an arrow shaft bury deep in his upper back, pinning his shoulder guard to flesh.
He sprawled into the divergence, gritting his teeth to keep in the scream of pain that begged to be let out. His shield flew from his hand, his left arm numb from the shaft that struck from behind it. Three men appeared from the side halls, which were only large enough to form a turn, bringing them into the rooms where the archers stood, pelting his troops with their arrows. Emeron rolled up, breaking the arrow low in the process, and slapped one of the enemy’s blades aside. Another soldier, this one older with graying hair and a thick mustache, pressed past his companion and brought his sword across in a dazzling arc. Emeron parried the blade and sparks flew when the wrenched them apart. Emeron took to the attack, slashing once and then stabbing, putting his foot forward for added force. The older warrior knocked the sword aside and stepped past him, booting him in the leg. Emeron rolled to get distance and keep his balance, pressing himself up to the wall, ducking a heartbeat later as another soldier's sword found its mark on the wall, making a high pitched ringing noise as it struck. Emeron swiped the man's shoulder and brought the broad sword along the man's belly, the edge running the length of Emeron's fore arm. The soldier turned on his heel only to gasp in astonishment as he watched his entrails spilling all over his feet. With a grunt he slid from the wall and lay still on the floor.
Emeron and the old soldier locked blades again, the guard commander using his weight to make the older man fall away from him. The old soldier pulled back and dropped to one knee, slashing for Emeron's thighs. His blade was denied when it rang loudly against the broad sword that was waiting for it. Emeron chopped down at him but the old soldier was fast, bringing his sword up to defend and putting his other hand on the end of the blade to support the force of the hit. Emeron didn't pause, dropping down just as low as the old soldier and sliding his sword off his opponents, ramming it with all his strength into the ma's chest. It went cleanly through the old soldier's chest plate and the tip, reddened with blood, tore out the back. The soldier's sword clattered to the floor and his body was quick to join it, pooling blood even as it fell.
The enemy troops seemed to panic when they saw the old soldier fall, Emeron guessing that he just slew their commander. With the bulk of his own troops making their way through the hail of arrows the battle was brutal and short lived. Axes in hand, his men made short work of the archers that were holed up behind the walls. Within minutes Emeron had the tunnel secure.
Scooping up his shield, he ordered ten of his men to scout ahead and find out where the tunnel ended. While he waited he had one of the soldiers pull the stub of the arrow from his back, making only a hissing noise when it was free of his flesh. Booted feet came closer from the hall ahead of them. He saw his men return, grins on their faces.
"There is one hundred more feet, sir, with no more of those hollow walls blocking the way. It seems that there is a door barring our path up a small flight of stairs. It is heavy wood and would be difficult to break down, but I think that we could do it. Shall we delve deeper, sir?"
Emeron pondered the question. He honestly hadn't expected to get deep into the tunnel, but here he was. This may be the opportunity he was searching for. While the main offense took the gates he could open one of the doors and pour men through it, defeating the Blazing Sword from the inside and out.
"This hall is large. I want twelve volunteers to head back into the forest and cut a small tree that can be used as a battering ram on that door. The rest of us will secure the position until we can take the door down." Twelve men stepped forward, each telling him that they would go, and he dismissed them, ordering the rest of his men to the end of the hall.
Moments later they returned, carrying with them the burden of a lengthy oak that they had felled. Emeron ordered as many men as he could to take hold of either side of the tree, giving the order to break the door in. The tree collided with resounding thuds against the heavy door as the men pushed its weight forward and pulled back again, only to repeat the whole thing a second later. Cracks appeared along the frame of the door, and the bolts that held it in place began to break loose, wiggling free of stone that had held them for decades. Wood splinters rained down on the floor, trampled under booted feet as Emeron urged his men on, seeing that the door was nearly down, his goal within sight.
High above the stones of the tunnel there was a deafening crack followed by a low rumbling. The ground trembled for several seconds before silence claimed the tunnel again.
"The gates fall!" Emeron exclaimed to his men, "King Stonethrow's bold maneuver has turned against him! Into the castle, men! So that we may finish this and claim another victory in the name of Dagoth!"
With the cheers of his troops resounding in his ears, Emeron led them into the door of the dungeon, and before the morning sun rose along the horizon the shining banner of Dagoth flew in the city proper, and on the highest spire of the castle. The siege was ended; the trails of black smoke a testament to the trials of the night previous. The sun bled for them no more.
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