Chapter 29: The Battle for Borrander

Faltrar was sick of horses. He mentally cursed his lieutenants once again for not allowing him to ride in a litter. “Not a good look my ass,” he grumbled to himself as he rubbed at the sores and aches that had developed over the ten days of riding.

But they were close, and should reach their destination by noon. They were currently resting three miles from their target, recuperating for the final hour of marching. He wanted all of his troops to be well rested for the coming battle. It would be a glorious surprise attack, and he wanted everything in his favor, so a two-hour pause to eat, drink, and relax seemed like a good idea. The only excitement so far had occurred when they came across someone else on the road, and had to capture them to prevent the news of their approach from reaching Borrander.

He looked ahead, hoping to see the city, but nothing could be seen past the dense forest. He supposed it was good, since those same trees would cover their approach to the city. The city was reported to be on a large plateau, and the trees with a half mile had all been cleared away to build it. There were very few siege mages around, but the four he had under his command should be able to launch attacks from the tree line as the main force made their advance.

He walked through the camp, gauging the feelings of his mages. The mercenaries didn’t matter, they were just fodder and were used to combat. The mages, on the other hand, seemed nervous and excited. The majority had only fought monsters, but they seemed ready to fight the new war. The majority of mages who had killed before were his agents, and he could feel their excitement over the prospect of seeing all their hard and brutal work coming to a culmination. Today, the mages would place themselves on the map once more. Literally.

An hour later, and they were back on the march, closing in on their target. Faltrar could feel the tension in the air as the minutes passed and they inched ever closer to their target. Centuries of work would either pay off, or go to waste on this day, and even Faltrar, one of the greatest mages ever seen, was feeling the pressure on his shoulders. It was as if every mage before him was counting on him, and in a sense, so was every mage after. Even as nerves frayed, he kept a calm demeanor, showing none of his stress to his men. Soon, the world would know of their actions today, and he needed to keep the world afraid.

A man came running over to him, one of the forward scouts if his uniform, or lack on one in this case, was anything to go by. He shouted, still heaving from the sprint,“Almost there - city is in view of scouts. We’re three minutes out.”

Faltrar nodded, thanking the man before waving to his lieutenants. Immediately, a flurry of activity broke out. Horns sounded, signaling men to get into formation. The mercenaries were far quicker and more disciplined than the mages, getting settled into blocks of twenty men each, leading the way down the road. Mages followed them, preparing shield spells and drawing power from their nearby apprentices. The blocks of mercenary troops, along with their magical defenses, settled into a quick jog, heading for the break in the trees, and the battle that was sure to break out.

Within two minutes, the formations were pouring out of the the trees, sweeping out onto the man made plain in front of the city. The five hundred men, separated into twenty man blocks, quickly formed a perimeter around the road, guarding their magical backup. There was no fighting, but they saw the gates of the city close a half mile away. A steel portcullis was dropped down, barring entry to the army, at least it would have if this was a regular army.

The semi-circular array of men marched forward, advancing on the main gates of the city. When they were a quarter mile away, a massive surge of energy came from the back lines, and four large fireballs arced over the heads of the vanguard. They saw defenders duck behind crenelations on the wall, but they weren’t the target. The first fireball struck the steel bars, plowing through them as if they were made of straw. Fire exploded outwards from where the missile had detonated on the gate. Melted steel formed rivulets of glowing metal and even some of the nearby stone was temporarily melted, forming smooth glass-like walls covered in small hardened droplets.

The massive fireballs had been staggered, and the next three came in quick succession, blowing through the defenses. The heavy steel reinforced oak gate had survived two fireballs, but the third blew a hole through its charred surface. The fourth came to add insult to injury, and exploded in the middle of the gate, throwing the remains off their melted hinges into the people behind it. Flames licked out of the hole, catching more, cooking them nearly instantly. In a matter of moments, the once formidable front gate had been turned into a charred hole surrounded by glowing stone and bubbling metal. If any defenders had looked out, they may have been relieved to see the four siege mages collapse in exhaustion.

Faltrar was pleased by the effects of the opening salvo, and he hoped that the gate would cool by the time the army made it there, but that much stone should soak up heat quickly. He was a little disturbed by the sight of defenders on the wall, the attack was supposed to be a surprise but instead of men rushing to fill the defenses, they were already in place. He put it in the back of his mind for the time, there were other things to focus on, and there was no way even a prepared defense could stand up to the might of all the mages in the kingdom.

When the army was within three hundred yards of the wall, a barrage of arrows was launched at them by the defenders. While not accurate, they were easily able to land the majority of arrows on the advancing formations, causing a few men to stumble in surprise when an arrow bounced off an invisible shield directly in front of their faces. The next volley came three seconds later, but this time each arrow had the telltale glow of magical imbuement. Archers had a variety of skills to draw on to penetrate shields, and the basic ones were for penetrating armor, magical or physical.

This barrage caused the shields to flicker blue, becoming visible as the magic interacted. This time, a few arrows penetrated the barriers as they were temporarily overwhelmed, striking a few mercenaries. Faltrar sighed, casualties were inevitable, but as long as it was limited to the mundane portion of the army, he didn’t care. This continued for awhile as they advanced, slowed by the need to remain by the mages as they focused on defending them from the deadly barrage of arrows. Even if a few men died after each volley, they were still faring far better than they would have without the mages.

The closer they got to the walls, the more accurate the defenders were, and by the time they crossed one hundred yards, the archers were able to strike with pinpoint accuracy. It seemed that some nonverbal command had gone out at that point, as immediately the volley fire stopped, and they switched to picking targets, still firing in waves to overwhelm the shields. Within seconds, over twenty mages fell to the accurate fire of the defenders, luckily most were apprentices, and only six groups lost their defensive shields. Dozens of undefended men fell as the archers quickly targeted the defenseless men, but the majority managed to hide behind their shield long enough to reach another group's defensive shield.

The defender's momentary success didn’t go unpunished, however, and the main force of mages, whose advance have been covered by the mercenaries unleashed a barrage of their own. The attack came a little early, and they were two hundred yards away, slightly out of range for most, but seeing their comrades die sparked anger in them. The massive blast of arcane energy crashed against the defenders, tearing them from the walls. Fire exploded out from impacts, cascading over the crenelations, burning the men hiding behind them. Archers were caught by more accurate ice darts or magic missiles, throwing them from the battlements, most dead before they hit the ground.

Seeing the approaching magical forces, a horn blast sounded a retreat from the walls, and the archers fired a final volley covering their scrambling retreat. A wave of magical attacks peppered the walls, but caught few of the defenders as the majority had already fallen back. With the archers gone, the mercenaries were free to charge the gaping hole in the defenses. With a roar, they ran for the open gate, hoping to secure a solid foothold in the city to bring the magical forces to bear. Once in place, they would be free to plunder while the mages went about their business.

The mages who had been defending them were swept up in the rush, and their shields dropped as their focus was broken. The mana they were channeling dissipated, and a few of the less experienced mages faced a backlash as the energies were cut free without control. They pushed forward with the men, ready to recast the shield spell once inside the enemy's defenses.

The first of the mercenaries poured through the open gates, but were quickly cut down by a storm of arrows. The wave didn’t stop, and wave upon wave of arrows hurtled into the narrow gates, cutting down men in droves. It wasn’t until the mages managed to get afthe shield up that the killing stopped, but even then the concentrated fire was able to break through, killing a man here or there. The men, now on the back foot, grouped around the mages, defending them from any arrow with their lives. With the casualties stemmed, they slowly pushed through the gates, advancing onto the main road just beyond the gate. There, they prepared to fan out and set up a perimeter in the plaza.

Before they got into the city, the last of the defenses came into play, and a tide of boiling oil poured from murder holes in the ceiling of the gateway. The defenders had timed it perfectly, and the oil came just as the mages were passing through, having their magical defenses weakened by a surge of arrows. The mages, along with their bodyguards screamed as the superheated liquid poured over them, blistering skin and cooking them inside their armor. Their screams didn’t last long as the tide of arrows surged once more, clearing the gateway of living souls.

Despite the massive casualties inflicted, over two hundred men, including thirty mages incurred by this stage, it was too little too late, and the fodder had served its purpose. The mages had made it to the gates, and with their support, the defenses were blasted away. The men behind the murder holes were blasted away in a raging inferno of magical missiles, clearing the gates for good. The bodies in the corridor were reduced to ashes, and the stone cracked as the stress caused grew too strong. A blast of ice came next, cooling the structure enough to allow for passage, further shattering the stone. Only earth magic kept the gate from collapsing on the army.

With the path forward clear, the rest of the mercenaries charged through, defended by bolstered magical defenses. The tide of men wasn’t even slowed by the arrows, and seeing how ineffective their defense was in the face of the powerful arcane offense, the defenders fell back once more, retreating to another series of prepared defenses. From then on, the mages held the upper hand completely, inflicting heavy casualties on the defenders as they fell back. To be sure, the urban environment took it’s toll on their forces as well, but the majority of losses were of the expendable variety.

With their position secure, Faltrar had moved his command into the guard barracks inside the gate. They had secured half the city, but the series of prepared defensive locations told him that his attack hadn’t come as a surprise, a worrying proposition. It had been anticipated, and well in advance as shown by the extensive preparations. He was still winning handily, but at a much higher cost than had been expected. The mercenaries had been hit hard, and their commander was livid after realizing nearly half of his men had been lost. Faltrar reminded him of the more than generous pay, shutting him up quickly.

The advance was pushing ever closer to the fortress guarding the plateau, the strongest point in the enemy's defenses. Luckily, the siege mages were recovered enough for another barrage, but hadn't launched one yet because their lines were too far away. It was aggravatingly slow, and any squad that pushed forward too hard was quickly swallowed up by the enemy’s slow methodical retreat, exacting a toll for every inch. Angered by the slow advance, he ordered the mages to cast a volley at the fortress, since it was likely they would be ready for another by the time their lines reached the stone monolith.

The massive fireballs arced over the city, slowing the fighting as both sides craned their necks to follow the impressive display of arcane might. They crashed against the defenses, softening them up for the planned assault. Like the first, this barrage targeted the main gates, blowing them wide open. This time there were two, one lower wall outside the plateau, and a second at the mouth of the fortress at the top. The attack blew each wide open, killing dozens of men mustered behind them. The corridor was wide open for further advance, but they wouldn’t reach the fort for another half an hour at the current rate.

But to Faltrar, that didn’t matter. Taking fewer casualties was important, and he could slow the advance to preserve the lives of his mages. Besides, the longer it took, the more magical attacks he could launch, further softening the fortress. As the battle continued, the pace of advancement sped up. The defenders were being thinned out at a prodigious rate, and the holes in their lines were allowing pockets to be surrounded, forced to surrender or fight to the last man. With a final push, the lines were broken, a horn sounding in three long deep blasts, ordering a full retreat by the defenders.

They ran back to the fortress, the retreat operating in stages. Each group would run one hundred yards, turn, fire, and repeat, covering each other in such a manner. Faltrar had to admire the well planned and disciplined retreat, even if it was all for naught. The siege mages had recovered, and the retreating men made an excellent target. As they reached the fortress walls, and presumed safety, packing together in an effort to push through the ruined gate, the attack came.

Four more balls of flame arced out, heading for the crush of nearly three hundred defenders. Seeing their doom coming, some ran back to the city, the lucky ones able to run into the fortress. Still, the majority never made it, and nearly two hundred men died in a fiery armageddon as their bodies were torn asunder in the massive conflagration. Tens of others were injured and maimed as the flames tore limbs away and disfigured them with terrible burns. They didn’t suffer long as the charging horde killed the survivors in their push for the plateau. The few who ran back to the city were hunted down, forced to fight like caged animals before being put to the sword.

The fortress, the strongest point in their defense, was about to fall without a fight. Faltar smiled, tasting victory, but the joy fell from his face as the resistance picked up. The men who had charged into the empty fort found themselves ambushed when they charged through the gates at the top of the hill. Winded from the sprint up the incline, they were quickly cut down when defenders charged from hidden positions in the keep. Faltrar only saw the attacking force repulsed, thrown back out of the gate they had just charged into, cut down by nearly a third.

The resistance was short lived, as the coming mages cleared the entry with a devastating storm of magical energy. With the path cleared, they repeated the tactic from the main gates, advancing under the protection of magical shields. The fortress fell quickly after that, with brutal struggle taking place in the tight corridors and rooms of the main structure. They pushed out the far side, securing a foothold in the inner city, preparing for the final purging of defenders. There was a lull in the fighting, as the mage army stopped its advance to regroup and recover in the new fortress, consolidating their forces for the final push.

In the inner city, men waited nervously, afraid to breathe. The coming onslaught was determined to wipe them from the earth, casting them into the cold embrace of death. Half an hour later, as the setting sun dyed the sky red and orange, the attack came. In the blood red light of the sunset, the defenders made their final stand, slowing the advance in the same manner as earlier. The retreats grew slower as fatigue took over, and the calls to fall back grew more rapid, the defenders nearly in a full rout.

Faltrar was relieved. The fight, though much fiercer than expected, was won. The toll was high, three hundred mercenaries and one hundred mages dead. Most of the dead mages were apprentices, but that didn’t make the number any easier to swallow. Amazingly, the defenders had managed to kill seven of the fifty battle mages, seven more than ever expected. But worse, something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

“Sir, it appears that the majority of the forces were able to retreat into the dungeon,” came the ominous report from Victor.

“How many escaped?”

“Well sir, we estimate that of the fifteen hundred man who joined in the defense, about one thousand died or were captured. Five hundred had retreated into the dungeon, along with around four thousand residents. It seems that the rest fled. They knew we were coming at least a week ago, perhaps more. That also explains the deaths of the mages we had stationed in the city.”

Faltrar sighed. The cornered defenders had chosen to retreat in a way he had never even suspected. They had inflicted heavy casualties on the attackers, but the number killed was the total expected defenders. What’s worse, they had lost far more than projected, leading them to the current stalemate. They had taken the city, but their main target, the dungeon was well defended. That many men could clear the dungeon easy, and use it as a powerful base to make a final stand. It would take a supreme effort, by the mages, not to mention lots of lives, to root that infestation out of the dungeon.

For now, they would focus on securing their position, and clear the city of any survivors. The prisoners were secured and a guard rotation was set up around the dungeon to prevent any nighttime attacks. As the sun set, the mages settled in for the night, prepared to secure their hold on the city the following morning. Faltrar sighed, he had done all he could for the day. Tomorrow, he would have to decide on what to do. For now, he would rest, his mind fatigued from the action of the day. Sighing, he waved for Victor to leave, and headed for his bed.

The next morning, he sent his men to rebuild the defenses of the city. The contingent of earth mages could make quick work of any repairs. It would be needed. Once word of his coup spread, every kingdom in the area would look to stamp out the upstart mages. He knew this was coming, and so he had prepared for it. The mages here would establish a new city, the capital of their new kingdom. They could worry later about the dungeon at its center, and the infestation it housed. In a war of attrition, the losers would be the group hiding out in a dungeon. He laughed at the thought of trying to survive in such a hostile place. Besides, as word spread, mages across the kingdoms would rally to their cause, bolstering their numbers. He had been planning for this all along. Soon, people would come, looking to make a profit in a city of mages.

The only problem was the dungeon. Who knows, he just might keep it around, if it could be properly leashed. A dungeon would make his new kingdom rich, the economy boosted by the valuable resources extracted from it. He absentmindedly swatted at a fly buzzing around his face as he planned for the future, a future based on what would become the greatest city in the known world. Yes, the Kingdom of Faltran rose today, out of the ashes of Borrander. The phoenix on their flag would be a beacon for generations, as the magically inclined flocked to the capital, a new center of magical learning and advancement.

Faltrar looked out at his new city, the fantasies floating through his head tantalizing him with dreams of a better future for his kind. All he needed to do was hold on.