Chapter 35 Calypso
Chapter thirty-five
Calypso
Reality shattered the illusions of their planning and preparation. An alarm bell rang through the estate, warning them of the oncoming army.
Accustomed to warfare, Vidorak sprung into action, commanding his orcs with practiced ease.
He wore metal plates on his shoulders and leather wraps on his hands and wrists.
His axe was strapped to his back and his daggers secured at his hip.
He remained bare-chested rather than get bogged down by additional heavy armor.
His appearance was a weapon in itself. With his looming height, muscular strength, and hard expression on his face, he was every bit a vicious orc that sparked nightmares.
She worried about the repercussions of his help, but was also incredibly grateful for his presence.
Even while shouting commands, Vidorak did not forget to pull her into a crushing kiss. “Stay safe, my love.”
“You too,” she answered, gripping the dagger that he’d pushed into her hand.
Without further delay, she rushed to the open balcony off the highest floor.
Here, the air witches could manipulate their magic with line of sight of the approaching troops.
With her bow at her back, Nyx directed the women.
Above them, the moon was in full glow, as if it had come out to witness this event.
Having readied the witches, Nyx came to stand by Calypso, their shoulders just grazing a touch. Familiar with her sister, that touch was not an accident but a gesture of comfort.
“Any regrets?” Calypso asked her silver-eyed sister. She knew Nyx burned with a need to kill Ker Beck, and by confronting Davinger now, there was a risk that she would never get that chance.
That thought suffocated Calypso, and she couldn’t fully form her question.
But Nyx knew what she referred to. “I would never regret the chance of ending an evil man.” Her eyes softened a fraction when she turned toward Calypso. “I meant what I said. Ker Beck will die by my hand. This changes nothing, it’s simply an unexpected delay.”
So strange, seeing her stoic and pragmatic sister be the overconfident one.
Instead of certainty, Calypso sensed impending doom.
Not for her, she’d made peace with her death long ago, but for all the others that had gathered to fight this war.
Part of her considered ripping out the amulet and completing the second part of the spell, unleashing the dragon at Davinger’s army.
But she had promised to trust in their plan, so instead she asked, “Is everything in place?”
“Somehow, yes. The orcs are safely veiled in the woods. Astra is on the grounds with the earthen witches.”
“Now we wait.”
Like a rising wave, the royal soldiers appeared in the distance, marching ever closer. It took her breath to see exactly how much space such an army took. Even if they didn’t attack the town, the destruction caused by their presence alone would demolish it.
Once in view, Nyx quietly commanded, “Release the first wave of arrows.”
Without any hesitation, the witches released a string of arrows, guided by air magic into the first line of soldiers. Most hit, but it was a drop in the bucket of how many were here.
The soldiers released their own barrage of arrows, but they all fell uselessly once they hit the dome of magical protection around the manor.
Calypso sighed with relief, seeing that the barrier was working.
“Again,” Nyx commanded.
Another set of arrows flew, but this time the soldiers were prepared and blocked with metal shields. Less died.
The soldiers moved as one, shields high, closer toward the dome, only to find it physically prevented them from entering.
There was a brief pause as they awaited their next set of orders. Nyx held off on shooting more arrows, not wanting to waste what they had.
A dark caravan pushed its way toward the front of the line, and a hooded figure emerged. The face remained hidden, but Calypso sensed it was Davinger. The irrational, bloodthirsty part of her wanted to rush at him, bypassing all the other pesky parts of the battle.
Davinger stepped up to the magic dome and put out a hand to caress it. The protective barrier shattered in an instant, crumbling away into the night faster than they’d ever anticipated.
Blocked no longer, the royal archers raised their bows and let loose a string of arrows. Some aimed for the balcony, intending to take lives. Others were lit with fire and aimed at the fields, intending to cause destruction.
One of the air witches chanted an incantation, which summoned a slicing gale to deflect the arrows as they fell.
Calypso opened her palms, feeling the tug of each resurrected bird vibrate upon her skin. Gaze fixed on the royal army, she commanded, “Take their eyes.”
Flocks of undead birds rose behind her and ascended upon the army like daggers. Confusion rippled through the army, and then cries pierced the air as beaks and claws tore at the soldiers.
The army’s arrows changed course, and instead of aiming for the manor, they aimed for the birds.
One by one, her winged troops dropped to the ground.
Each sacrifice from her undead army caused a slicing pain through her body.
Calypso had reanimated each of the creatures and felt every connection as it severed.
The advantage they had given them was brief, but enough to allow time for the orcs to descend upon the army from the woods.
Like dark beasts emerging from the depths of hell, they came at the soldiers in a rage. From the balcony, she could see the size difference, and even their royal training would not be enough to ease the fear of that sight.
The water witches called upon their magic to quell the fire spreading toward the manor. Astra and her earthen witches charged from the front. Grasping roots sprang from the ground, tripping and shackling the soldiers.
For a moment, it seemed things were in their favor.
But that hope was incredibly short-lived.
Even with their magic and strength, the overwhelming force of their numbers was drowning them.
For every kill, multiple soldiers took their place.
One orc would fight three or four soldiers at a time.
There was never a breath of reprieve. Only attack after attack.
Seeing the scene from above, Calypso realized a hard truth.
They would die. They would all die.
Vidorak
The army was so great that the outer flanks were in the fields and the back lines weren’t even on the estate property.
Dread sank deep within him, knowing this night would end in a slaughter.
Ironically enough, his uncle would’ve loved such an event, though he never would’ve agreed to fight alongside others during it.
Vidorak saw a robed figure step out of the caravan at the front and walk up to the magical barrier Astra had placed.
With a brief touch, the entire magical dome shattered into nothing.
Although Vidorak didn’t expect this would be easy, witnessing the mage’s power highlighted the gravity of their situation.
Unhindered, the hooded figure barked out a command and disappeared into his caravan. The archers drew back their bows and let loose a spray of arrows. Chaos spread as magical winds pushed the arrows aside and resurrected birds descended in attack.
His body was primed, ready to rush the grounds, but Vidorak controlled himself and let the smoke from the grass fires build. Their orc eyesight could overcome it, and it would only serve as an advantage.
The air became hazy with smoke, shrouding the estate in a thick cloud. Most of the troops were now on the grounds, approaching the manor.
“Now!” Vidorak bellowed and rampaged forward, his warriors close behind.
The second unit would follow from across the way, and the third would go around back, picking off the soldiers from behind. That group faced the greatest risk of becoming isolated from help, but it was necessary to overcome the significant numbers advantage the Crown held.
He swung his axe brutally at the soldiers in front, taking two down with just a single swing. He fought like a beast unleashed, roaring through the spray of blood. If it weren’t for the bond keeping him somewhat sane, he would’ve sworn this was berserker frenzy.
Even on the goriest of days, he’d never caused bloodshed such as this. He fought as if their very existence depended on it, because it did.
From a distance, he saw the earthen witches on the grounds getting overwhelmed and pushed through the soldiers, chopping limbs and spines as he went. Before he could reach them, a group of five soldiers surrounded him.
The initial confusion was over, and the soldiers now realized orcs were in their midst. They changed strategy, attacking in groups.
“Don’t be intimidated by his size! He can’t do anything if we all attack at once,” one soldier yelled.
The royal army didn’t hold back regarding the quality of its armor.
The soldiers wore chain-mail protecting their chests and vital organs, sturdy iron helmets, and their metal gauntlets gripped undamaged swords.
The northern guard had worn less armor, but they were more practiced from Captain Von Ahlen’s training and the repeated battles with Urim throughout the years.
Although the royal army had received expert training, most of the soldiers had yet to see deployment.
For all their sturdy armor, there was no accounting for experience and knowledge of exactly where the weak points of these protections lay.
Before they could decide what sort of attack to conduct, Vidorak sprang forward, grabbing the heads of two soldiers with his large hands and slamming them together. They crumbled to the ground before even realizing what had happened.
He kicked at the chest of a soldier coming at him, sending him flying back. The remaining two charged with their swords forward. One sword bounced off his metal shoulder plate while the other managed to slice his forearm.
The soldier who had struck had been the largest of the group and quickly maneuvered to face him again. The man was unwavering and charged without fear.
Vidorak grabbed the other soldier and spun him to his front, using him like a shield. The other soldier was forced to adjust his attack, looking for another openings to strike at Vidorak.
In the distance, he could see Astra struggling to hold her own. She struck with spiked branches from the ground but was shaky on her feet as blood dripped from the side of her head.
Not wasting any time, Vidorak grabbed his dagger and plunged it into the exposed area of the soldier’s neck, then shoved him toward the other soldier.
As they crashed onto the ground, Vidorak headed toward the blonde witch. He got only several steps ahead when another group of fighters surrounded him.
“Got you now!” The shout came from the soldier who was fighting Astra, his hands around her neck.
Vidorak growled at the delay, sensing the noose closing around them. Did he use his axe to smash through the enemies in front, or did he hurl it toward the man choking Astra?
Just as he reached for his axe to send it flying, Nazghor barreled into the soldier holding the witch. He beat the soldier’s face with his bare fists. The soldier’s helmet bent from the impact, and Nazghor didn’t stop even as his fists bled.
With that, Vidorak was able to handle the group in front of him easily. Momentarily, he felt things might swing in their favor.
But then the ground shook, and he heard the familiar growl of demon hounds. They sprang from the earth like the undead creatures they were and charged into the fray, their red eyes glowing ominously.
The salt traps that the witches had placed captured a few, but Davinger had released so many that it didn’t make a difference.
“Decapitate them!” Vidorak bellowed in reminder as his warriors brutally slashed at the demons, only to find them still attacking.
A sick realization set in as the tide turned. As strong as his horde was, this was a massive disadvantage, one that they wouldn’t overcome even with magic.
This was a scenario that he knew was possible and had planned for. May his mate forgive him, but he could not stay and watch her burn with them all. He had spoken with Grushag privately and told him that if they were losing, Grushag was to knock Calypso out and flee with her in tow.
Vidorak planned to stay and die with the rest of his horde and the witches. As deceitful and selfish as it was, his bond would not permit him to so easily accept her death.
In a sudden explosion of fire, his mate hurled from the air onto the grounds. She landed several paces away with a sickening thud, and he feared she had become injured. But she stood without difficulty, her eyes completely flooded in that golden glow when she was at her maddest.