The dawn light barely pierced through the thick clouds, casting an eerie grayness over the battlefield. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, blood, and the distant echoes of the Orc war drums. Ashar stood at the top of the stronghold's outer wall, staring out over the valley. The calm before the storm had settled, but it wouldn't last long.
Drogath's forces were closing in, their battle formations growing larger and more aggressive with every passing hour. The catapults were in place now, their massive stones aimed at the heart of the stronghold. Ashar could see the Orcs, heavyset and clad in crude armor, their eyes glinting with bloodlust as they advanced.
"We need to stop them before they can reach the walls," Rylah said, her voice steady as she stood beside him, her gaze fixed on the advancing horde. "Once they breach, it'll be impossible to hold them back."
Ashar clenched his jaw, his mind whirling with strategies and possibilities. The first wave had already weakened the Orc forces, but they were still many, and they knew how to fight. If they could launch another surprise attack, they might be able to disrupt Drogath's siege plans.
"We can't let them gain a foothold. Get the archers in position, and rally the fighters," Ashar ordered, his tone commanding. "We strike first. Hit them while they're still gathering. Move quickly, hit hard, and then fall back to the walls."
Rylah nodded, her eyes sharp. "I'll get the teams together."
As she turned to leave, Ashar's mind raced. The pressure of leadership weighed heavily on his shoulders. This was it—the moment they either turned the tide or watched everything they had worked for crumble to dust. The people he had rescued, the stronghold they had built together, all of it would be lost if they didn't succeed today.
The clang of weapons and shouts filled the air as the soldiers prepared. Ashar could feel the tension in the air, the fear that was slowly creeping into the hearts of his warriors. They had seen the devastation the Orcs were capable of, and now, it was their turn to face the oncoming storm.
But Ashar wouldn't let fear win. Not today. He had to be the beacon of hope his people needed.
***
Ashar led the first wave himself, his sword in hand, the metal gleaming in the gray light. The archers took their positions along the cliffs, hidden from the view of Drogath's advancing army. The fighters were ready, waiting for Ashar's signal.
He could see the Orcs' catapults now, the monstrous war machines slowly being wheeled forward. Drogath's forces were organized—far more so than Ashar had expected. It seemed that the Orc warlord had come prepared for a long siege. But Ashar wasn't about to give him the luxury of settling in.
He raised his hand, and the signal was given. A volley of arrows soared through the air, cutting through the fog of war and striking down a handful of Orc commanders. The first wave of the attack had begun.
"Now!" Ashar shouted, his voice a rallying cry.
His warriors charged forward, running with all their might toward the Orc forces, their weapons raised high. The chaos of battle erupted instantly. Ashar slashed through the first Orc he came across, the blade cutting deep into its chest. The Orc collapsed, but the battle continued to rage on around him.
The ground trembled as the catapults began firing, their stones crashing into the stronghold's walls. The impact was deafening, but Ashar's forces were too focused on the fight to let it distract them. They needed to hold the line—just long enough to break the Orcs' momentum.
Rylah led her own group of fighters along the eastern flank, setting traps and ambushing the Orcs from behind. Ashar had planned for this. He knew the Orcs would eventually regroup and try to push forward. They had to be ready to strike when that happened.
As the battle unfolded, Ashar felt his muscles aching, sweat beading down his brow. But there was no time to rest. He couldn't afford to falter—not now. Every decision, every command, every strike mattered.
Hours passed, but the Orcs just kept coming. The initial ambush had given his forces a fighting chance, but it wasn't enough to stop the Orcs' advance. Ashar could see their siege weapons slowly closing in on the stronghold, their massive stone projectiles crashing into the walls with increasing frequency. Soon, they would be able to break through.
"We're holding them off, but just barely!" Rylah shouted as she joined him once more, a bloodied knife in hand. "We need to retreat to the walls, Ashar. We can't keep this up for much longer."
Ashar's mind raced. They were almost at the gates. He could see the enemy reinforcements arriving, swelling the ranks of Drogath's forces. The battle was turning in their favor, and if they didn't retreat soon, they would be overwhelmed.
"Fall back!" Ashar ordered, his voice firm. "We make our stand at the gates. The rest of you, get inside and reinforce the walls!"
The retreat was swift, but as they pulled back, the Orcs pushed forward with relentless force. The war drums beat louder, and the Orcs roared in unison, their fury growing with every step. Ashar's heart pounded as they made their way back to the stronghold's main gates. They had only one chance to survive—hold the gates, and buy enough time for the second wave of defenders to regroup.
***
Inside the stronghold, the atmosphere was tense. Ashar's warriors were positioned at every available opening, ready to face the Orcs head-on. The gates were sturdy, but Ashar knew that once Drogath's siege weapons began battering them, it wouldn't be long before they broke.
Rylah was already organizing the remaining forces, her voice calm despite the chaos unfolding around them. "Keep your heads in the fight! Focus on the enemy at the gates—don't let them break through."
Ashar stood at the front, his eyes fixed on the gates. He could hear the crashing of the catapults, the heavy thud of rocks slamming into the stronghold's defenses. The gates shook violently with each strike, but they held—for now.
He glanced back at the warriors gathered around him. They were ready. Their faces were grim, their weapons sharp. They had fought too hard to lose now. The Orcs might have the numbers, but Ashar had something they didn't: the will to win.
The first breach came as the massive battering ram slammed into the gates with a deafening crash. The gate groaned under the pressure, but it didn't give way. Not yet.
Ashar's grip tightened on his sword. He could feel the tension building, like a storm about to break. The battle was far from over, but Ashar refused to let his people fall.
He wasn't going to let them die today. Not on his watch.