The Clan Wars Pt. 18

Author's note: Well, here's the next chapter - we're almost done! A little bit of a content warning: there's some violence ahead, so if you're not up for reading some medieval combat, then I'd avoid this part. I appreciate the nice feedback and constructive criticism I get. Thanks for reading!

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Chapter 18 - Mila

Mila gripped the haft of her poleaxe in her right hand and unslung the broad kite shield she had on her back with her left. Beside her, Pointer was scratching out the details of the ambush that lay ahead of them on his slate; five trolls were lying in wait around the next bend, three were armed with the massive, ironbound clubs their race favored while two sported sheaves of heavy javelins. They were deployed in standard ambush formation, all on the left side of the road, concealed on the high ground among the pine trees that dotted the mountainous landscape the party was travelling through. Mila had fought a troll only once before, years ago, but the memory of the huge, rock-like creature and its immense strength was not easily forgotten. She was glad she had brought her poleaxe; the heavy hammer on the opposite side of its axe blade would be one of the few useful weapons the group carried against the tough hide of a troll. The polearm required two hands for effective use, but she readied her shield nonetheless, planning to use it for protection against the javelins until she was close enough to the trolls to discard the protective item and start swinging her primary weapon.

Pointer was dressed in a stout but elegant black leather jack, purchased in Top Town the morning of their departure. The armoured garment had a thick leather hood, robust enough to protect against all but a direct strike from an arrow. His estoc remained in its sheath at his belt, but the elf had unwrapped a strange looking bow from an oilskin that he had across his back. The orc had long wondered what had been contained within the strangely shaped package the elf had been carrying since they met and she now took a closer look at the curious projectile weapon. Made out of various metals and with odd wheels at the end of each arm, the bow had a double string and an ergonomic grip. It looked almost dwarven in style, but the orc knew dwarves preferred crossbows to hand drawn weapons. She doubted what use an arrow from a bow, especially one that wasn't a crossbow, would be against troll hide, but the elf seemed confident in his weapon. Still, thought the orc, at least Pointer had his estoc. The stiff bladed thrusting weapon was ideal for exploiting the weak points of an armoured foe and may even be able to penetrate a troll's armoured skin.

She had less confidence, however, in the weaponry the remaining members of her party had to hand. Bann's sword would be about as useful as an iron bar, and the orc had given the young barbarian her heavy crossbow, hoping he would be able to put the weapon to good use. Dayna's weapon of choice, her staff, was even less apt for the impending brawl, and the warg-rider wondered if the elf knew any magic that would be effective against the behemoths they were about to battle. The elven mage also had a dagger, not that the small blade would be of much use, and, for some bizarre reason, was currently using the tiny weapon to etch a patterned ring around the trunk of a large nearby pine tree. That just left her warg, Alagar; Mila knew her old friend's bite could crush steel, but she worried about the damage he could potentially receive attempting to close with the trolls.

She tried to hide her worry as she formulated a plan. "Alright guys," she hissed, "here's how we're going to do this..."

A short while later, Mila walked around the bend in the road, shield on her arm and polearm held resting on her shoulder. The way ahead seemed clear, but, from behind the eye slits of her sallet, the orc scanned the treeline on the left side of the road warily. Just as she began to make out the monolithic form of a troll in the shadowed gloom of a pine tree's foliage, the hidden figure moved suddenly. Battle tested reflexes kicked into gear faster than thought and the orc raised her shield, crouching and taking a knee as she did so.

There was a loud metallic thump and her arm jolted as a weighty javelin smashed into her shield. Guard still up, the orc scurried forward a few steps before taking a knee once again, just in time to receive the impact of another thrown spear. A ferocious bellow echoed out from the grey pines, and three lumbering, granite-hued gargants piled out of their concealment, advancing toward the orc like an avalanche. Just as their roaring charge reached the road, an arrow sang over her left pauldron to smash into the leading troll's chest. Mila grinned behind her high gorget as she saw Pointer's projectile sink into her attacker's flesh - it wasn't a killing wound, but the elf's bow certainly had power enough to hurt the charging brutes.

The rogue's arrow was followed half a moment later by the heavy thunk of a crossbow firing and Mila saw one of Bann's heavy quarrels thump into the wounded troll's shoulder. The behemoth staggered and dropped to his knees, his two comrades passing him as his stride faltered. As she observed the two charging beasts slow just enough to scan the geography behind her for the hidden archers, Mila threw down her shield and stood, gripping her polearm grimly. Another arrow flew over her head, scoring deep into the opposite, unharmed shoulder of the wounded troll as he struggled to rise, roaring furiously, from his kneeling position - Pointer stood up from the behind the rock at the bend in the road where he had been hiding, stepping out into the open and knocking another arrow in a fluid motion as he did so.

Of the two opponents still on their feet and facing the orc, one snarled ferociously, spittle flying from his maw, and resumed his charge. The other, a female pillar of muscle and growling menace, sidestepped with astonishing agility to move past Mila in an attempt to close the distance between herself and the arrow spitting elf. Pointer fired again, placing a staggeringly precise shot into the wounded troll's eye. He had loosed three arrows in the time it had taken the trolls to cover thirty yards - a feat that would have had Mila in awe, were she not bracing to receive the charge of a furious tower of rage.

Mila danced nimbly to the left as her opponent's club smashed downwards with force enough to leave a head-sized divot in the hard-packed dirt of the road. With skill born of years as a mercenary, she punched her right hand up and forwards, driving the steel spike capped base of her polearm into her enemy's face. While only a bruising hit, the quarterstaff-style attack set her up perfectly for a downwards hammer swing with the business end of her weapon and her opponent bellowed in pain as the blunt tines of the hammer head crunched into his shoulder.

The troll she was fighting was no whelp, however. Although his left arm now hung uselessly, he lashed out with the club in his right hand at Mila's right leg, low and with lightning speed, looking to sweep the armoured orc's legs from under her with his heavy club. The blow caught Mila on her right greave. The troll hadn't been in a position to put his full strength behind the strike, but, even so, the quick attack would have easily bent the steel plate with its force had the orc not moved with the impact, letting it carry her to the side. Still, she grit her teeth as pain throbbed up her leg and she scrambled to regain her footing.

Behind her, Pointer discarded his bow, drawing his estoc as the female troll bore down upon him. He was fast, but the troll had the impetus of a landslide and he would not have been ready to meet her charge had not another of Bann's heavy quarrels sliced through the air beside him to smash into the roaring woman's thigh. The elven rogue skipped backwards just in time to avoid the rib shattering lateral swing of the troll's oversized bludgeon. Ten paces behind the elf, Bann dropped the crossbow, drew his own sword and readied his shield, wondering whether the wooden disc would survive even one hit from the troll's devastating weapon.

Snarling through the pain, Mila kept moving left around her towering foe, seeking to keep him shifting his line of attack as she recovered from the vicious blow she had taken. She swung her poleaxe in a sweeping left to right arc. The orc knew her attack was not a real threat, but it let her keep the initiative by forcing the the troll to back up, buying her time to gain her footing. The greenskin warrior followed up her swing with a quick forwards thrust, seeking to drive the spike on the head of her weapon into the grey beast's chest. The troll was prepared for the attack, however, and swung his club across his body, right to left in a low guard that parried the orc's jab. Using the momentum of his blocking maneuver, the big fighter swept his arm over his head and around behind his back before following through with a brutal swipe that was aimed at Mila's head, or, rather, where Mila's head used to be. The experienced mercenary had let the troll's parry carry her weapon wide to her right by releasing her left hand's grip on the haft, hunching low as she did so such that the brutish swing that followed the troll's parry passed, roaring, over her head.

Seeing her opponent momentarily off-balance after his heavy attack, the orc twisted her hips and rotated her torso counter-clockwise, exploiting the opportunity presented with a devastating swing of her poleaxe. It was an all-or-nothing attack. With only her right hand guiding the heavy weapon, her left arm outstretched in counterbalance, adding momentum to the attack, if she missed, she would be caught hopelessly out of position.

She did not miss. The heavy head of the hammer caught the troll on the side of the knee, pounding into the vulnerable joint with terrible force. The sickening crunch of crumbling cartilage and bone was drowned out by the troll's bellow of pain and the gargantuan warrior dropped his weapon as his hand went to his disintegrating knee. Mila stepped back, bringing her weapon up to finish the fight with a downwards blow to the wounded creature's head. It was only then, arms above her head, chest exposed, that she saw the two javelin armed trolls standing in the road beyond her collapsed opponent, weapons in hand and aiming at her.

Pointer lunged two steps forward, sliding his boots over the dirt of the road and ducking low under his opponent's massive elbow, seeking to get behind the towering woman. With the elven rogue out of the way, nothing remained between Bann and the immense warrior. Steeling himself as best he could, the barbarian held his shield before him and advanced on the behemoth. The troll did not hesitate, quickly switching targets from the elf to the barbarian, and swung a cruel backhand swipe at the young fighter. Bann swivelled his hips to the right, bracing his shield against his side as the terrible blow made contact with the oaken surface. His world went blinding white with pain and the youth felt his feet lift off the ground as the troll's club picked him up and flung him through the air like wet rag. A childhood spent scrambling and tumbling up and down the mountain slopes that surrounded his home was all that saved him from shattering bones as he slammed into a nearby patch of scree - instinctively, the boy tucked his head and rolled with the crunching impact, his sword and splintered shield flying from his grasp, his helmet bouncing off the rocks.

Stunned senseless, Bann lay still where he had been thrown, but the troll had no time to finish him off. Now that he was behind the hulking woman, Pointer plunged his estoc out and down from an inside right hand guard, sinking the stiff, pointed blade into the rock-like skin of her lower back. It was a good hit, and would have incapacitated almost any other opponent, but the troll was not just any other foe. With an inarticulate roar, the behemoth rounded on the elf, sweeping her club in a deadly arc as she spun. The monumental force of the troll's movement yanked the elf's sword from his hand. He had never fought something so massive and with a hide so tough before, but Pointer's reflexes were all but supernatural. The elf let the hilt of his weapon go instead of uselessly trying to fumble after it and leapt toward the troll's incoming blow, stepping inside the reach of the dreadful club and wrapping himself over the woman's broad forearm. The troll took her left hand off her weapon even as she continued rotating, seeking to grab the elf as he clung to her right arm, but Pointer pushed down with his arms, adding his strength to the momentum of his initial lunge and utilising the inertia of the huge beast's spinning turn to carry him up and around the statuesque soldier he was fighting. With an outstretched arm, he caught the gargant's neck and swung himself over her shoulder.

Bellowing with frustration, the troll grabbed Pointer's arm just below the elbow, crushing with terrifying strength as she tried to pry it from her throat. With pain lancing up his limb, the elf kicked down with his heel, striking the blade of his sword where it protruded from the big warrior's lower back and eliciting a distressed snarl from the troll's maw. At the same time, he brought his left leg up, fumbling for the poignard he kept in a boot sheath. Sensing the danger she was in, the troll dropped her club and reached behind her head with both hands, enfolding the thief's skull in her massive palms, crushing and pulling, the muscles on her immense arms bulging with titanic strength. Pointer's hand pawed helplessly at the hilt of his dagger as his vision faded.

Mila knew she was about to die as she watched the two javelin-wielding trolls tense their muscles for the throw. Her brigandine, chainmail and padded gambeson were enough to stop a sword blow or an arrow, but, with their corded muscles and terrifying size, a hit from a troll's javelin had a good chance of slicing through the layers of metal she wore like a bolt from a ballista. Just as the moment reckoning approached, however, a flicker of black flashed through the trees by the side of the road.

Alagar came flying out of the woods, his jaws open in a dreadful roar. The trolls twisted their heads to look at the new threat as the massive warg crashed into them. The snarling beast's teeth clamped around the nearest behemoth's throwing arm while his bulk plowed the two stoneskins into one another, sending them staggering backwards. As the troll in danger of losing her arm to the hulking mass of fur, muscle and fury cried out in pain and tried to yank the warg off her mauled limb, her comrade quickly scrambled to his feet and stepped around the grappling troll and warg, seeking an opening to make a thrust with the javelin he held. His efforts went unrewarded. A large pine tree suddenly materialised ten feet above him to plummet with a heavy, solid and final crunch onto the crown of his head.

Bann screwed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to blink away the staggering pain. As his vision swam into focus, he saw Pointer clinging grimly to the troll's back as her huge hands strained to rip his head from his shoulders. Tasting blood in his mouth, his chest burning with pain with every breath, the barbarian seized his sword and willed himself to his feet. The elf's hand was jerking spasmodically beside his thrashing legs as the huge warrior he was struggling with crushed his neck in her attempt to tear apart her assailant through brute strength. A surging rage swelled inside the youthful northman - not hot or wild, but ice cold like a glacial lake. The young man saw the troll's exposed armpit. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. He spat the blood from his mouth and began to run.

Teeth bared in grimace of anger, Bann raced across the ground and threw himself upwards, twisting his waist in the air as he jumped and thrusting his sword up and into the troll's side. A simple arming sword with a somewhat broad tip, designed for both cut and thrust and specialized for neither, it was far from the ideal weapon for stabbing through a troll's thick hide. With the strength of Bann's rage behind it, however, the blade sunk deep into the troll like a winter wind bites to the bone. Grey blood gurgled from the hulking warrior's mouth as cold steel slid into her lung. Her hands fell away from Pointer's head. As the elf slid from her back to slump gasping on the ground, the stoneskin collapsed slowly to her knees before falling face down against the earth.

Mila looked at the troll before her. The massive warrior was prone at her feet, writhing in pain and clutching his destroyed leg with one hand while his other arm twitched spasmodically, thanks to the crushing blow the orc had delivered to his shoulder. Beyond the incapacitated beast lay the still forms of two of his comrades; one with an arrow sticking out of his eye, the other's skull crushed by a tree. Alagar stood over the fourth troll, growling menacingly. Her arm from the elbow down was a mangled mess of flesh, all but torn from her body. The orc glanced over her shoulder to see Dayna crouched beside Bann and Pointer, their dispatched opponent sprawled face down and leaking blood beside them. The elven thief was sitting against a rock beside the barbarian, nursing his neck and head, clearly in some discomfort, while Bann had unbuckled his leather jerkin and pulled up his shirt to examine a mean bruise that was slowly coalescing across his well muscled chest.

"Are you guys ok?" the orc asked, one hand gripping Alagar's saddle for support as she limped over to Bann, Dayna and Pointer.

The elven mage looked up at her, her expression ragged and exhausted. Using magic to transport something as huge as the pine tree she had used as a bludgeon had left her feeling completely worn out. "I'm fine, but Bann and Pointer need healing," said Dayna. "What about you?"

"Took a hard hit to the leg, but I should be ok to ride," said Mila. "Drasich's only two days away. We should get moving before more of the advance guard show up."

Gomp came around the bend in the road, leading the two horses. "Help me get Pointer onto Bann's horse," said Dayna. "He shouldn't be walking. I'll ride with Bann. I'm not sure he can keep himself in the saddle."

The elven thief pushed himself up off the ground and, grimacing with discomfort, climbed wearily into the saddle, aided by the two women. Bann was much worse off and, once Dayna had mounted her horse, the orc hefted the young man upwards, grunting with effort as she tried to get him seated in front of the elven mage. The youth gave Mila a wan smile, blood staining his teeth. "Those bastards hit like an avalanche."

"Nice work, bringing one down like that," said the orc, giving the barbarian a nod.

Bann winced and spat blood. "I had help," said the boy, waving weakly at the nearby elf. He looked around at the other party members and continued with awe in his voice. "You all felled one on your own, though. I've never seen anything like that."

Pointer was massaging his neck where it had been so recently and cruelly mauled. He smiled and dipped his head modestly at boy's words.

"Magic can be pretty useful," said Dayna by way of an explanation, wearily rubbing her eyes before climbing up behind the young warrior.

"Luck," said Mila. "Mine almost had me. How are you holding up?"

"I'll be fine," slurred the barbarian before spitting another gob of blood. "Must've bit my cheek when I got hit."

The orc didn't believe Bann's words in the least, understanding the bravado of young fighters as she did, but she let it slide. More outriders of the warhost could show up at any moment and she had to get the group moving. She mounted up quickly and the weary party resumed their westward progress. Gomp flitted along beside them, Mila in the lead, followed by Dayna, holding Bann upright before her, while Pointer rode along at their side. The young man kept slumping forward in the saddle in front of Dayna, occasionally spitting blood and groaning whenever the horse jolted over a rough part of the track.