Ashar stood on the stronghold's highest battlement, the wind whipping through his dark hair. Below him, the courtyard buzzed with activity as the people prepared for war. The looming threat of Gorrok's forces weighed heavily on everyone. Even the children, once filled with laughter as they played around the stone pathways, now moved with quiet unease, their young faces reflecting the tension of the adults around them.
He glanced at the distant horizon, his sharp gaze sweeping across the rolling hills and dense forests. Somewhere beyond those trees, Gorrok was gathering his army. The thought sent a shiver through him. He was no stranger to battle, but this was different. This wasn't a skirmish or a single ambush—it was a war of survival, and the stakes had never been higher.
Footsteps echoed behind him, drawing his attention. Rylah approached, her arms crossed against the cold morning air.
"You've been up here all night," she said, her voice tinged with concern.
"Couldn't sleep," Ashar replied. His tone was neutral, but his expression betrayed his inner turmoil. "I keep thinking about how unprepared we are. Gorrok's numbers dwarf ours. Even with the traps and defenses we've set, I'm not sure it'll be enough."
Rylah leaned against the stone parapet beside him, her eyes scanning the same horizon. "You're doing everything you can, Ashar. More than anyone else would. That's why we follow you."
Ashar allowed himself a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks, Rylah. I just hope it's enough."
Reports from the Scouts
A horn blast echoed from the gates, signaling the return of the scouts. Ashar and Rylah hurried down the stone steps to meet them. A trio of riders dismounted, their horses lathered with sweat from the hard ride. One of them, a young man named Kalen, strode forward and saluted.
"Report," Ashar said without preamble.
Kalen nodded, his face pale but resolute. "We've confirmed Gorrok's main force is on the move. They number around nine hundred, with another three hundred in smaller detachments patrolling the outskirts. Their main camp is a day's march from here, but they've begun sending scouts ahead."
Ashar's stomach tightened. "And their leadership?"
"Gorrok himself is with the main force," Kalen replied. "But his second-in-command, a brute named Durnak, is leading the vanguard. He's ruthless, but reckless. If we can isolate him, it might give us an advantage."
Sorin, who had joined them in the courtyard, frowned. "What about their supply lines? Are they vulnerable?"
Kalen nodded. "Yes. They've been relying on foraging parties to sustain themselves, but their supply wagons are heavily guarded. It won't be easy to disrupt them."
Ashar's mind raced as he processed the information. The odds were worse than he'd hoped, but there were opportunities to exploit.
"Good work," he said, clapping Kalen on the shoulder. "Get some rest. You've earned it."
The War Council
The strategy hall was filled with the low murmur of voices as Ashar's core group of commanders gathered around the central table. A crude map of the surrounding region lay spread before them, marked with the latest updates from the scouts.
"We need to act quickly," Sorin began, his voice steady but firm. "If we let Gorrok's forces reach the stronghold unchallenged, we'll be overwhelmed. Our only chance is to weaken them before they get here."
"Agreed," Ashar said, his gaze fixed on the map. "We'll target their foraging parties first. Without food, their morale will plummet. Then we'll move on their supply wagons. If we can force them to spread out, it'll be easier to pick them off."
Rylah tapped the map where the scouts had marked Durnak's position. "What about their vanguard? If we can take out Durnak, it'll throw their advance into chaos."
Sorin shook his head. "It's a risk. Durnak's vanguard is strong, and we'd be exposing ourselves to retaliation."
"But it's a calculated risk," Ashar interjected. "If we can draw them into a trap, we'll have the upper hand."
Leona, the trapmaster, spoke up. "We've set snares and pits in the forest leading to the stronghold. If we lure Durnak's forces into the woods, we can cripple them before they realize what's happening."
Ashar nodded. "Then it's decided. We'll strike their foraging parties first, disrupt their supplies, and prepare an ambush for the vanguard. Every move we make has to count."
A New Perspective
As the meeting broke up, Ashar found himself alone in the strategy hall, staring at the map. The weight of leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders. He was responsible for every soul in the stronghold—men, women, and children who looked to him for protection.
His thoughts drifted to his time as a slave, the chains that had once bound him, the scars that still marked his back. He had vowed to never let anyone suffer as he had, but that promise came with a price.
"Am I doing the right thing?" he murmured to himself.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Doubt is a luxury you can't afford, Ashar."
He turned to see Kael leaning against the doorway, his sharp green eyes studying him.
"You always seem to appear at the worst times," Ashar said dryly.
Kael smirked. "It's a gift. But seriously, you're doing fine. Better than most, actually. Gorrok's not an easy opponent, but you've got a good head on your shoulders."
Ashar sighed. "I just wish I could see the end of this. Every decision I make feels like a gamble."
"That's leadership," Kael said simply. "But here's the thing: you've got people who believe in you. Rylah, Sorin, even that kid Taryn—they'd follow you into the abyss. That's something Gorrok can't take away from you."
Ashar nodded, feeling a spark of determination reignite within him. "Thanks, Kael. I needed that."
"Anytime," Kael replied, pushing off the doorway. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got traps to set. Try not to overthink yourself into a corner, okay?"
The First Skirmish
The foraging party was larger than expected—about fifty Orcs armed with crude weapons and accompanied by a handful of wargs. Ashar and his team of twenty fighters lay hidden among the underbrush, their breaths quiet and measured.
Ashar raised his hand, signaling for silence. The Orcs were moving in a loose formation, their guards lax as they scoured the forest for food. It was the perfect opportunity to strike.
On his signal, arrows rained down from the trees, finding their marks with deadly precision. Several Orcs fell before they even knew they were under attack.
"Now!" Ashar shouted, leaping from his hiding place with his sword drawn. His fighters followed, charging into the confused ranks of Orcs.
The battle was swift and brutal. Ashar's team fought with precision, their training evident in every movement. By the time the last Orc fell, the forest was eerily silent once more.
Ashar wiped the blood from his blade, surveying the scene. They had taken out the foraging party with minimal losses—only two wounded on their side. It was a small victory, but an important one.
The Storm Gathers
Back at the stronghold, the mood was a mix of relief and anticipation. The successful skirmish had boosted morale, but everyone knew it was only the beginning. Gorrok's main force was still on the move, and the battle for the stronghold was drawing closer with every passing hour.
Ashar stood on the battlements once more, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The clouds were dark and heavy, a storm brewing both in the sky and on the ground.
Rylah joined him, her expression pensive. "Do you ever think about what comes after this? If we survive, I mean."
Ashar shook his head. "I can't afford to think that far ahead. Right now, all I can focus on is keeping us alive."
Rylah placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light but grounding. "We'll make it, Ashar. I don't know how, but we will."
Ashar nodded, the weight of her words settling in his chest. The storm was coming, and they would face it together.