Eryndor's heart pounded in his chest as the Shadowborn army stepped up on the town. The dark shadows advanced in an unnatural yet precise way, while the palm trees' flickering torches made shadows that went in zigzag's across the ground. The cold surrounding became more breath-taking, and even the distant sound from the many feet was like a crazed storm that for sure would sweep in all its majesty. 'We have to hurry up,' Eryndor said in a doe defensively. 'This is no ordinary army. Malakar's influence is quite a reach—these beings are children of his darkest magic. They will stand no chance of being overthrown without a fight. Seraphina's face, was cool as she looked in the direction of the rapidly approaching horde. 'We have done all within our means to get the townsmen ready for battle, but they are not armed forces. Once there is hope, then we will have to stop them from sending themselves forwards, until the help comes.' ' Vorgath placed himself next to them at the wearied shaft, calming the tension build up further deepened by his huge stature. The aisles of the stairs are as far downtrodden as they will ever be, he grunted. No further explanation required. It has to be the commanders directions. Traps are prepared, archers are ready at the shooting galleries, and the warriors are excited. But they are scared, Eryndor. This is the first time they have experienced something of that magnitude. 'We will have to fetch some from over there,' Eryndor replied in agreement. 'We have to have faith that we can defeat them. 'Let us use our inner strength," Eryndor said with a nod of approval. "If we could raise the morale and instill hope in them, perhaps there will be resolve in them to endure to the last shift than they expect. Malakar's strength therefore, is not in the darkness alone but also in the fear of it."
Seraphina directed her gaze to the Lightstone that was aglow beside Eryndor's waist. "The Lightstone will be our guide. We will have to ensure that we keep it in safety; it will be used to defend ourselves and the rest. But we should hang on to our horses—this is a very frightening tool of weaponry and it will be a beacon to the forces of Malakar."
Eryndor's stony gaze shifted and surveyed the town beyond him, into the heart of it. They are still in a hustle and bustle to their respective positions with what appears to be panic written on their faces but rather a spirit of resolve unlike before. They have exercised and practiced but so much they can and now the people were prepared to fight for their homeland 'by all means necessary'.
"Come on, that was nice, but enough dilly dallying," Eryndor said, already midway down the ladder. "It's time for us to be where they are. They have to be made to understand that we are not cowards and that we don't abandon our comrades in the fight, not even when it gets to the dying hour."
On landing, they were greeted by Eryndor's fellow townsmen — the mayor and a few other council members. The mayor looked sickly pale, but shone with dedication from his eyes. "We are all set for the fight, Eryndor. We do not intend to allow the enemy to take over the town without putting up a battle."
Eryndor reciprocated and walked to the Mayor's shoulder to pat him. "Very good however"we're not only fighting for this town—we're also fighting for every village, for every home that stands in his way tangle with the shadows of Malakar. If we fall here, there's nothing to prevent him from achieving his goals."
The mayor felt a lump in his throat, yet his determination remained intact. "We will make a defensive line. At least, we will do everything for you."
Eryndor put a hand on his shoulder before turning to face the people of the town. "I say to you, Listen to me!" he said, his voice above the din of bustle. "The Shadowborn are on the brink of us. They are the children of darkness who have been tainted by Malakar's treachery. It is possible to defeat them. They are strong, yes, but that does not mean they are all-powerful."
He took a moment to think about what he was about to say and stopped. "Well, you have combated very well and have reached this juncture. You must strive to remember all the drills that we handed over to you; you help one another, follow one another and have faith in your joins. We fight not for each of us only, but for each of you and your families, the houses and the brightness which Malakar would swallow in darkness. We are not separated and therefore, we cannot be defeated!"
The citizens echoed a low vibration of agreement and Eryndor noted that their gazes contained a flicker of positivity as well.
He understood that accomplishing it would not be easy, but with this hope of theirs, they might just make it through the forthcoming battle.
Seraphina stepped forward, her voice clear and calm. "Archers, to the walls. Let fly when they are in range, and let every shot count.".
Vorgath took her lead and led the warriors who had flocked into the square. "Warriors, you have strived hard, and you know your role. Bearers of shields, to the frontline, and lock your position. Swordsmen, stand close at their sides and strike when the time shall be upon us. In unity, we are an impenetrable wall of steel and courage. We will not break.
The townsfolk nodded, their fear stayed by the determinations of their leaders. They went their separate ways, climbing to their posts, as the air thickened with tension and anticipation.
With one last glance at each other, Eryndor, Seraphina, and Vorgath fell into place. Eryndor climbed to the walls so he might give commands and provide support when needed with the Lightstone. Seraphina arrayed herself among the archers, bow clenched fast, eyes screwed down far out, into the horizon for the first sign of the enemy. Vorgath placed himself on the frontline, his claws and markings crackling with lightning
The minutes dragged along; in fact, each one of them seemed longer than an eternity.
The villagers stood ready, eyes scanning the horizon for the dithering lights of the Shadowborn army that were drawing ever closer. Tension hung heavy in the air, and it would have seemed even the wind held its breath in anticipation of the coming storm.
And finally, out of the darkness, came the first of the Shadowborn: their twisted shapes alight by the unsteady radiance of their torches. It was a terrifying sight: hulking, misshapen creatures whose eyes gleamed with malice. Their armor was blackened and jagged, and their weapons cruel and wickedly sharp.
The sight of them made Eryndor's heart skip a beat, but he clamped down hard on his rising panic. Closing his fingers reassuringly around the Lightstone, he felt the familiar warmth flow through him as he raised it high over his head. The golden light spilled from the crystal, engulfing the town and its defenders in its protective glow.
The Shadowborn wavered a moment, eyes slitting against the light of the Lightstone. Then, though, they surged again, as if some unseen will compelled them forward, their guttural growls mingling with the night air.
"Archers, ready!" Seraphina yelled out, her voice firm and clear.
The archers down the length of the wall drew back their bows, arrows pointed at the charging horde. Eryndor watched them, his breath caught in his throat, waiting for the right moment.
"Hold…" Seraphina's voice was tense, but controlled. "Hold…"
The Shadowborn drew closer, their pace quickening as they neared the town's walls. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet, and the air was thick with the scent of sulfur and decay.
"Fire!" Seraphina shouted.
A volley of arrows arced through the sky, their tips gleaming in the light of the torches. They struck the Shadowborn with deadly precision, piercing through armor and flesh. Several of the creatures fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground in lifeless heaps.
But the Shadowborn were relentless. For every one that fell, another took its place, their numbers seemingly endless. They swarmed toward the walls, their claws and weapons raised, ready to tear through anything in their path.
"Fire!" Seraphina ordered, and another volley of arrows flew, cutting down more of the enemy.
But it wasn't enough. The Shadowborn were too many, and they were closing in fast. Eryndor could see the fear in the eyes of the townspeople, but he also saw their determination. They weren't going to give up, not without a fight.
"Prepare to engage!" Vorgath's voice boomed from below, and the warriors on the ground tightened their grips on their weapons. The front line of shield-bearers formed a solid wall of protection, their shields locked together as they braced for the impact.
The first wave of Shadowborn reached the walls, their claws scrabbling at the stone as they tried to climb. The defenders met them with spears and swords, thrusting and slashing with all their might. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the night, mingling with the snarls and roars of the Shadowborn.
Eryndor focused the Lightstone's energy, directing its protective aura toward the defenders. The golden light seemed to bolster their strength, and they fought with renewed vigor, pushing back the Shadowborn with fierce determination.
But the battle was far from over. More and more of the creatures swarmed the walls, their numbers overwhelming the defenders. The archers continued to fire, but their arrows were running low, and the Shadowborn showed no signs of retreating.
"We need to hold them off until reinforcements arrive," Eryndor muttered to himself, his mind racing. "But how long can we last?"
Seraphina's voice cut through his thoughts. "Eryndor! We need more archers on the north wall—they're concentrating their attack there!"
Eryndor turned to see the north wall under heavy assault, the Shadowborn throwing themselves against it with reckless abandon. The defenders were struggling to hold the line, and the situation was growing dire.
He descended the stairs quickly, gathering a group of archers who had finished firing their last volley. "Follow me to the north wall! We need to reinforce our position there!"
The archers nodded and followed Eryndor