IXQUITO | The Rise Of The Dark Lord

Three day had passed, marking the third day since Aerion and Aerendil had pleaded for aid from King Thalvion.

In Blackmoor Fortress, the soldiers of Veynor had been working tirelessly, reinforcing the damaged walls and preparing for the inevitable assault. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of impending battle, but the men did not falter. They had made their choice—to stand and fight.

Malveis, approached with a firm stride and saluted. "Commander," he reported, "we have 458 troops ready for battle. That number includes every able-bodied citizen willing to take up arms."

Veynor absorbed the information with a nod, his gaze unreadable. "And how many of those are volunteers?"

"Nearly a hundred," Malveis answered. "They are determined to fight for their home, despite their lack of training."

Veynor exhaled slowly. It was far from an ideal force. Against the might of an orc horde, they were outnumbered and outmatched. But they had no choice.

"Continue monitoring movement beyond the walls," Veynor ordered. "If reinforcements from Dornhaven arrive, sound the war horn immediately."

"Understood," Malveis replied before swiftly departing.

With that, Veynor turned and strode toward the war tent, where his lieutenants, Eldrin and Rhunar, were already waiting. Both men saluted as he entered.

Eldrin wasted no time in speaking. "Commander, we must consider the possibility that reinforcements will not arrive in time," he said gravely. "If that happens, we need an alternate strategy."

Veynor walked to the large wooden table at the center of the tent. Laid out before him was a detailed map of Blackmoor and its surrounding areas. He studied it carefully before speaking.

"If help does not come," he began, "we will enact a full evacuation. Rhunar and Eldrin, you will lead the non-combatants northward. We will take the long route to avoid the main battlefront and ensure their safety."

Rhunar frowned. "And what of you, Commander?"

Veynor's expression remained hard as stone. "I will stay behind with the remaining troops. We will hold the fortress as long as we can, buying you time to escape."

There was a heavy silence.

Eldrin clenched his fists. "You cannot mean to—"

Veynor cut him off. "This is the only way," he said firmly. "The lives of our people are more important than mine."

Eldrin looked away, his jaw tight with frustration. Rhunar merely nodded, though his face was grim.

"I know this is not what you want to hear," Veynor continued. "But we must prepare for the worst."

A long pause followed, then Eldrin exhaled sharply. "I refuse to believe this is the end. I still have faith in Aerion and Aerendil. They will not fail us."

Veynor allowed a faint smile. "I hope you are right."

Suddenly, the deep, resonant blast of a war horn shattered the tense air.

Veynor, Rhunar, and Eldrin rushed out of the tent, their hearts pounding.

Beyond the fortress walls, a cloud of dust rose on the horizon. Then, emerging from the swirling haze, an army of Dornhaven soldiers marched forward in perfect formation.

A cry of relief swept through the fortress.

Malveis stood near the main gates, his face alight with triumph. "Reinforcements have arrived!" he bellowed.

The heavy wooden gates were thrown open, and the defenders watched in awe as rows of armored soldiers poured into the fortress. At the forefront rode a familiar figure—General Theron of Dornhaven, his gleaming white warhorse cutting an imposing figure against the evening sky.

Veynor stepped forward to greet him.

Theron raised a hand, signaling his troops to halt. Then, dismounting gracefully, he removed his helmet, revealing the sharp, weathered features of a seasoned warrior. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Veynor," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You still look as stubborn as ever."

Veynor chuckled, clasping his old friend's arm in greeting. "And you still think you're better than me, I see."

The people of Blackmoor erupted into cheers, their earlier despair vanishing in an instant. Even the most skeptical among them now held onto hope.

One citizen, his voice trembling, whispered, "Is this real?" Then, louder, he cried out, "We are saved!"

Theron watched the outpouring of emotion with quiet satisfaction. Then, turning back to Veynor, he grew serious.

"You must have been in dire straits to welcome us this warmly," he remarked.

Veynor sighed. "Dire straits doesn't begin to cover it. The orcs are closing in, and we would not have lasted another night without you."

Theron nodded solemnly. "Then we have no time to waste."

Before they could proceed, Veynor hesitated. There was one thing left unsaid.

"Aerion and Aerendil," he said carefully. "Where are they?"

Theron's face darkened slightly. "They remain in Dornhaven. King Thalvion required them to stay as part of our agreement for sending reinforcements. He needs warriors of their caliber now that I am here."

Veynor absorbed the words in silence. After a moment, he nodded. "A wise decision," he admitted.

Theron chuckled. "That, and the fact that those two are utterly fearless. They impressed the king, you know."

Veynor smirked. "That doesn't surprise me."

The moment of levity passed quickly, however. Eldrin stepped forward, his expression urgent. "We should not waste time celebrating. The orcs will be here soon."

Veynor nodded. "Agreed. Theron, join me in the war tent. We must finalize our strategy."

Theron inclined his head. "Lead the way."

As the two men entered the tent, the celebrations outside continued. But within the war tent, the true battle had just begun.

———-

Theron, Veynor, Eldrin, and Rhunar entered the main war tent, their expressions grim. The weight of the coming battle pressed heavily upon them.

Veynor was the first to speak. "If this battle does not go as planned, the soldiers and commanders will remain in the fortress to fight to the last man. The worst-case scenario is that the orcs breach our defenses with an unexpected assault."

Theron crossed his arms. "And if we fail? What is your plan then?"

Veynor met his gaze, unflinching. "Then we all die here," he stated flatly. "And not long after, the rest of the human kingdoms will fall. The old alliances have abandoned us. No one is coming to help."

Theron's expression darkened. He knew Veynor was right.

"What about the civilians?" Theron asked.

Eldrin spoke up. "Rhunar and I will lead them north, away from the battlefield. We will navigate the cliffs and make our way toward the mountains. It is the only way to avoid the fight and ensure their survival."

Theron frowned. "That path is treacherous. The northern route passes through the Ice Peaks, and the journey alone could kill them."

Veynor leaned forward, his fingers tracing the map spread before them. "It's still a better option than the west," he said. "If they try to escape through the forbidden forest, they will be slaughtered. That route is too dangerous, filled with creatures even worse than orcs."

Theron's eyes moved across the map, searching for alternatives. He pointed to a path leading through the mountains. "What about here?"

Eldrin's face hardened. "That route cuts through the Valley of the Black Dragon," he said. "The beast has been asleep for two hundred years. If we pass through its territory, we risk awakening it."

Silence filled the tent. Even the thought of disturbing such a creature was enough to make the most hardened warriors uneasy.

Theron sighed, rubbing his forehead. "So our options are death by orcs, death by cold, or death by dragon. Wonderful."

Eldrin exhaled. "We must choose the path that gives us the best chance of survival."

A long silence followed before Eldrin spoke again, this time addressing Theron directly. "We need your cavalry. Send a thousand riders to attack from the cliffs above. Meanwhile, station five hundred archers along the eastern ridge."

Theron raised an eyebrow. "A surprise assault from above?"

Eldrin nodded. "If our forces can hold the fortress walls, the orcs will be trapped. The archers will rain down arrows, while the cavalry cuts off their retreat. They will have nowhere to run."

Eldrin moved his hand over the map, forming a triangle. "We also need to position two thousand five hundred spearmen at the main gate. If they hold the front line long enough, the fortress gate will open, allowing our remaining cavalry and swordsmen to launch a final charge, wiping out the orcs."

Theron studied the map carefully before nodding. "It's a brilliant strategy," he admitted. "Using our strengths to our advantage while minimizing casualties."

He turned to Veynor. "You have good men under your command."

Veynor gave a small, humorless smile. "I know."

Theron straightened. "We have no time to waste. We move now." Without another word, he left the tent, Rhunar following close behind.

Inside, Veynor remained at the table, staring at the map. His mind was racing, calculating every possibility.

Eldrin placed a hand on his shoulder. "The battle is at our doorstep, Commander. We must be ready."

Veynor let out a slow breath. "This war… it will end in blood."

Eldrin nodded solemnly. "That is war, but we must ensure it ends in our victory."

Veynor said nothing more. He simply turned and stepped out of the tent, ready to face the coming storm.