The first light of dawn barely kissed the horizon when Ashar stood at the front of his army, his armor still cold from the night. His breath came out in heavy, foggy bursts, the air sharp and biting as the small group of soldiers gathered before him. They had not slept, not properly. The tension was thick, palpable, and even the clanging of armor felt somehow muted in the face of what was to come.
Ashar's mind raced, shifting between fragments of strategies and the faces of those who relied on him. He caught Karis's gaze from across the field, her eyes steady but her lips pressed tight in determination. She nodded at him once, signaling that her group was ready. Behind her, the troops were lined up in formation, some of them trembling with nerves, but they were ready to fight. Ashar could see it in their stance, their clenched fists, their hard-set eyes.
"Are we really doing this?" Torin's voice broke through the silence. His tone wasn't one of fear, but of disbelief. He stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, his usually steady gaze now betraying a hint of uncertainty.
Ashar looked him in the eyes. "We have no choice."
"But we don't even know if this canyon will give us the advantage," Torin pointed out. "The Orcs are savages—they'll just come at us head-on, and with the numbers they're sending… we could be wiped out before we even get a chance to make a dent."
"Then we fight to make sure they don't get that chance," Ashar said. His voice was firm, his gaze unwavering. "We strike first. We hit them when they least expect it."
Torin studied him for a moment, then finally sighed. "If you say so. But don't expect me to go down without a fight."
Karis approached then, a slight smirk on her lips, as if the tension wasn't enough to break her. "We'll make sure you don't go down alone," she said. "You've got us. All of us."
Ashar met her gaze, a quiet strength passing between them. He had known Karis since the days of captivity, and their bond had grown stronger through the shared hardships. She was more than just a warrior—she was his anchor in the chaos of leadership.
A sudden shout broke the moment.
"Scout reports!" Rylah's voice rang out over the crowd. She was already at the front with her team, her eyes sharp as she scanned the horizon. "The Orcs are approaching faster than we thought. We've got less than an hour before they're within striking distance!"
Ashar's pulse quickened. "All right," he said, voice calm despite the growing pressure. "Prepare the troops. We'll move out in ten minutes. Karis, Torin, I need you to lead the charge in the canyon. We'll be the vanguard. The rest of you will hold the line behind us. Keep them off the flanks."
"What about you?" Torin asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I'll be right there with you," Ashar said. "But I'm not leading from behind."
His words were met with nods of agreement as the group moved to their positions. Ashar took a moment to survey the field, to look at the men and women who had come so far, who had trusted him with their lives. He wasn't just leading an army—he was leading a revolution. The weight of it hung heavy on him, but he couldn't let it falter. Not now.
***
The soldiers moved quickly, their feet kicking up dust as they made their way toward the canyon. Ashar walked at the head of the group, Karis and Torin flanking him as they made their way through the rocky terrain. The sound of their march was drowned out by the distant thunder of the Orc war drums, a deep, unsettling rhythm that sent a shiver down Ashar's spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that the drums were calling him to a fate he wasn't sure he was ready for.
But he wasn't alone. His people were with him, and that made all the difference.
As they neared the canyon, the first few signs of the enemy appeared—dark silhouettes in the distance, moving toward the narrow passage with the slow, methodical pace of an army preparing to march into battle. Ashar's heart pounded. This was it. The moment he had been dreading and anticipating all at once. The battle that would define them, one way or another.
"We're almost there," Karis said, her voice low, steady.
Ashar nodded, his fingers tightening around his sword hilt. "Stay focused. This won't be easy. We hit hard and fast. No hesitation."
The sound of Orc war cries reached them now, cutting through the air like a scream in the dark. Ashar could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he held it back, keeping himself in control. He couldn't afford to let emotions take over. Not now.
Rylah came running back to them, her face grim. "They're coming faster than expected. There's no time to prepare for a proper ambush. We'll have to engage them directly."
Ashar cursed under his breath, but he didn't hesitate. "We'll make it work," he said. "Everyone, move into position. Once they're in the canyon, we hit them from all sides."
***
The first Orcs rounded the corner of the canyon, a massive, lumbering group of over 800 Orcs, their weapons raised high as they let out a collective roar. Ashar's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he lifted his sword and nodded to his team.
"Now!" he shouted.
The soldiers erupted from the rocks around them, a flood of steel and fury. Ashar led the charge, his sword cleaving through the first Orc that came too close. The battle was chaos—shouts, clangs of steel, and the guttural growls of the Orcs filled the air.
Ashar's body moved on instinct, every swing of his sword a practiced motion. He could hear Karis fighting beside him, her blade flashing in the sunlight as she cut down one Orc after another. Torin, too, was a whirlwind of motion, his axe slicing through the ranks, the brutal force of his strikes knocking Orcs off their feet.
The narrow canyon was a perfect battlefield—at least, for a moment. But the Orcs quickly adapted. Ashar saw them pushing forward, their numbers overwhelming the space. They were relentless, roaring in fury, and Ashar's soldiers were starting to tire. The adrenaline that had carried them through the initial rush was beginning to fade.
Despite their fatigue, Ashar's army, barely numbering 350 soldiers, held the line. They were outnumbered nearly 2:1, and the weight of that reality hung heavily over Ashar's thoughts. His people weren't trained soldiers—not yet—but they had something the Orcs didn't. They had each other. They fought with a desperation that made up for their lack of experience.
"Fall back!" Ashar shouted. "Fall back to the second line!"
The retreat was swift, but the Orcs were closing in. Ashar felt a sharp pain in his side as an Orc spear grazed him, the cold steel scraping through his armor. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, refusing to give an inch.
"We need to get them into the pass!" Karis shouted as she sliced through another Orc. "Keep pushing!"
Ashar nodded, blood dripping from his side, but he wasn't about to let the battle slip away. They needed this. He needed this.
***
The Orcs pushed forward, but Ashar's forces weren't about to back down. In the distance, Rylah's team appeared, flanking the Orcs from behind. It was the advantage they needed. With a rallying cry, Ashar's forces overwhelmed the Orcs, driving them into a retreat. The battle didn't end in a decisive victory, but it was enough. They had turned the tide. The Orcs were on the run.
As the last of the Orcs disappeared into the canyon, Ashar stood, panting heavily, his blade dripping with blood. His side burned with the pain of the wound, but he didn't care. They had won.
"We did it," Torin said, his voice breathless with exhilaration.
Ashar wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded. "We did. But this is only the beginning."
The war was far from over.