The smell of damp earth and blood lingered in the air as the army of men emerged from the dense forest, battle-weary but resolute. Gabriel stood at the front, his armour stained with the blood of countless foes, his eyes hard as they fixed on the horizon. The Iron Brotherhood, those who had survived the brutal skirmishes with the orc hordes, flanked him, and behind them, the remnants of Vallendale's forces marched in disciplined silence.
The forest cleared, and what lay before them sent a ripple of shock through their ranks. Rising from the jagged cliffs ahead was a massive city, far larger than anyone could have imagined. Enormous black stone walls loomed over the valley, crowned with iron spikes and banners marked with orcish sigils. Towers bristling with archers and catapults stood like silent sentinels, and inside the walls, Gabriel could see the shadows of thousands upon thousands of orcs preparing for war.
Gabriel's breath caught in his throat. This was no mere fortress—it was an orc capital, hidden deep within the wilderness, unknown to the realms of men.
"No one knew this existed," Jareth muttered beside him, his face pale with disbelief. "This changes everything."
Gabriel clenched his fists, the weight of their discovery settling over him like a shroud. If they didn't act now, if this city was allowed to remain, it would spell the end for every human settlement in the North.
"We must attack," Gabriel said, his voice low and fierce. "We can't let this place stand."
Jareth's eyes flicked to the massive walls, concern etched across his face. "We're outnumbered, Gabriel. That city holds more than we can face with what remains of our forces. If we attack blindly—"
"We don't have time to hesitate!" Gabriel snapped, turning to face the army. "They're massing for something bigger. If we don't strike now, they'll come for Vallendale, for every city and village in the North. We take the fight to them, or we die trying."
The men behind him exchanged nervous glances, their exhaustion palpable, but Gabriel's fire was contagious. He had led them to victory before, even when the odds had seemed impossible. Now, as they stood before the heart of the orc empire, many of them felt they had no choice but to follow him.
With grim determination, the army advanced toward the city. War drums sounded from within the walls, and the orc army began to muster, pouring out from the massive gates in a flood of green and black. Gabriel's heart pounded in his chest as he led the charge, his sword raised high.
The two armies clashed with a deafening roar. Swords met axes, shields shattered, and the ground ran red with blood. Gabriel fought with all the fury he could muster, his sword cleaving through orc after orc, but the enemy's numbers seemed endless. Every time one orc fell, two more appeared to take its place.
The Iron Brotherhood fought valiantly, their years of experience in battle shining through as they cut down the enemy. Jareth's arrows flew with deadly precision, and Silas, the Brotherhood's wizard, unleashed torrents of fire and lightning, scorching the orcs where they stood. But even their strength was beginning to wane.
Gabriel spotted something through the chaos that made his blood run cold. Emerging from the gates of the orc city were not just foot soldiers, but a host of massive orc generals, each adorned in jagged armour and wielding weapons as large as a man. Behind them, hulking beasts—giant ogres and troll-like creatures—joined the fray, their roars shaking the very earth.
"We're losing ground!" Jareth yelled as he fired an arrow that barely slowed one of the massive ogres. "There's too many!"
Gabriel gritted his teeth, his arm burning from the weight of his sword. He knew Jareth was right. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and the orc city was only just beginning to unleash its full might. This wasn't just a battle; it was a massacre.
Suddenly, a deafening horn blast echoed across the battlefield. Gabriel looked up, his heart sinking as he saw the second wave of orc reinforcements flooding out from the city. It was a fresh army—far larger than the one they were currently fighting—and they were descending upon the human forces like a tidal wave.
"Fall back!" Gabriel shouted, his voice hoarse. "Retreat to the forest!"
But it was too late. The human army was already being overwhelmed, crushed under the weight of the orc forces. Gabriel fought his way toward Jareth and the other members of the Brotherhood, desperately trying to regroup, but the press of bodies was too great. All around them, men were falling, their cries of pain swallowed by the roar of the orc horde.
Jareth fired another arrow before his bowstring snapped, and he drew his sword, cutting down an orc that lunged at Gabriel. "We can't hold them, Gabriel!" he shouted. "We need to get out of here!"
Gabriel's heart pounded in his chest. He knew Jareth was right. If they stayed, they would all die. But the thought of retreating, of abandoning the fight, was like a knife to his gut.
"Retreat!" he shouted again, this time louder. "Fall back to the forest!"
The remnants of the army began to pull back, but the retreat was chaotic. The orcs pressed their advantage, cutting down the fleeing men with ruthless efficiency. Gabriel slashed through an orc's throat, then turned to find Jareth, who was already fighting his way toward the trees.
"Go!" Gabriel shouted, motioning for the others to follow Jareth.
Silas, the wizard, unleashed a wall of fire to hold back the orcs, buying them precious seconds as they fled into the woods. Gabriel's heart twisted as he saw many of his comrades fall, unable to make it through the onslaught.
As they ran, the sound of the orc army's war drums echoed through the trees, a relentless reminder that this defeat was only the beginning.
---
By the time they reached the mountains, only a handful of the Iron Brotherhood remained. Gabriel, Jareth, Silas, and a few others had managed to escape the slaughter, but they had lost far too many.
They huddled together in a narrow cave, their bodies bruised and bloodied, their faces pale with exhaustion. Gabriel sat against the cold stone wall, his head in his hands.
"We failed," he muttered, his voice hollow. "We failed, and now Vallendale will fall."
Jareth sat beside him, his face grim. "We couldn't have known about the city. No one did. We were walking into a death trap."
Gabriel clenched his fists. "It doesn't matter. We still failed."
Silas, his robes singed from the battle, looked over at Gabriel. "There's still time to warn Vallendale. We need to move fast, gather what forces we can, and prepare for the orcs' next move."
Gabriel nodded, though his heart was heavy. The weight of their defeat pressed down on him like a stone. He had led them into this disaster, and now the entire North was at risk because of it.
"Then we move at first light," Gabriel said, his voice hoarse but determined. "We'll head south through the mountains, avoid the main roads. The orcs won't stop until they've destroyed everything."
Jareth nodded in agreement, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "We'll live to fight another day, Gabriel. We'll regroup, rebuild, and strike back."
But even as the words left Jareth's mouth, Gabriel couldn't shake the feeling that they had already lost. The hidden orc city had revealed a terrible truth—there was a much larger threat lurking in the North, one they had only just begun to understand. And with the orc horde gathering strength, Gabriel knew the worst was yet to come.
As the fire in the cave flickered weakly, Gabriel looked out toward the mountains, the weight of his failure heavy on his shoulders. His mind turned to Vallendale, to the people he had sworn to protect, and the promise he had made so many years ago.
Revenge was still within his grasp, but now, it seemed more distant than ever.