The sun had barely risen when the enemy appeared. Their silhouettes emerged from the treeline, dark and menacing, their weapons glinting in the pale light.
Arteja stood at the front line, her spear resting against her shoulder. Behind her, the villagers and guardians waited, their faces a mix of fear and determination.
"Remember your training," Arteja called out. "Hold the line, and we'll push them back!"
The attackers charged, their war cries echoing through the valley. Arteja's heart quickened, but she didn't let it show. She stepped forward to meet them, her spear flashing as she thrust it into the first enemy to reach her.
The man stumbled, clutching his chest as he fell. Arteja spun, her spear sweeping low to take out another attacker's legs. She moved with deadly precision, her strikes calculated and efficient.
"Focus on their weapons, not their faces!" she shouted to the villagers as they clashed with the enemy.
A burly axeman swung at Arteja, his blade whistling through the air. She ducked, the axe missing her by inches, and drove her spear upward into his chest. The man gasped, blood spilling from his mouth as he collapsed.
Behind her, Lirael was a whirlwind of steel, her sword flashing as she parried and struck down her foes. Corliss, though injured, fought with grim determination, her blade cutting through the chaos.
The villagers, too, held their ground. A young woman drove her pitchfork into an attacker's side, her face pale but resolute. An older man swung his club wildly, managing to fend off two enemies at once.
"Fall back to the trenches!" Arteja ordered as the enemy began to overwhelm their front line.
The defenders retreated in an organized manner, luring the attackers into the traps they had set. As the first wave of enemies stumbled into the trenches, Arteja and Lirael struck, finishing them off with swift, brutal efficiency.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, the first attack had been repelled.