The orcish war drums started at first light. The steady thumping beat grew louder and louder as the army approached.

The orc warriors marched in loose formation with what passed for strict discipline among their kind, filth stained and jagged weapons at the ready.

The different tribes could be identified by the elaborate tribal iconography on their wooden shields. This one was a feathered toad, the next a bloody severed head, the next a crudely drawn penis. There were dozens tribes represented, perhaps a hundred.

As the orcs grew closer they began to howl and chant with unearthly menace.

Even from her high vantage point up on the wall Aubrey couldn't hope to count them but she estimated there were approximately 5,000 infantry... orcs. So the claim that the orcs outnumbered the dwarves 20 to 1 would have been accurate back before the craftsdwarves got involved. That brought things down closer to a nice even 10 to 1.

There were also gargantuan humanoid figures bringing up the rear of the army. Giants, she guessed.

None of that was what really worried her. What really worried her were the large black shadows circling up above. Those could be trouble.

One of the shadows, far far smaller than the others, swooped down from the sky. The little raven came flapping down to the parapets and landed on one. One of the guardsdwarves aimed his rifle to shoot it but Foignar pushed the dwarf's barrel down when it started to speak in Dwarvish.

"His name was Ptolnak Gruntfallow. He was a talented hoarder of gold, a jokester, and above all he was beloved by his family. Let it be known to the one called Gus the Tall Dwarf that when I find him I will feed him his own entrails while he still lives and that will only be the start of his long death. If he kills himself to avoid capture I will inflict his fate on what survivors are left after I grind every stone in this hall into dust! His name was Ptolnak Gruntfallow and he will be avenged!"

The raven suddenly ballooned up and exploded into viscera, more than would seem to have possibly been contained in the tiny bird. Everyone nearby was splashed with blood and tiny pieces of raven guts.

"Ugh," said Aubrey, wiping her face.

"Ogres seem to have their own form of honor," observed Foignar, "but I will never understand it."

"What was that about?" asked Gus. "I thought I heard my name in there."

Does his breath smell like whisky? wondered Aubrey. No. No that's impossible.

"I guess the new ogre mage is calling you out personally. Says you're to be tortured to death," replied Aubrey.

"What did I ever do to him?"

"You drove the bus that killed his relative."

"That was an act of God!" insisted Gus.

"Tell him that," said Aubrey.

"Hey asshole! That was an act of God, you can't blame me for that!" Gus helpfully shouted down, in English naturally, "You think you scared me with this bird bomb? It didn't even hurt. Is that the best you've got?"

"What is he saying?" asked Foignar.

"A bunch of taunts mostly," replied Aubrey.

"Atta dwarf," said Foignar, smiling.

The three watched, along with all the other guardsdwarves and craftsdwarves waiting atop the wall with their rifles, as the army continued a slow, plodding march forward.

"They'll be in range any minute," said Aubrey. "Go check that the cannon crews are ready. Make sure you point out the presence of those big boys in the back."

"Right," said Hak-Kun, who ran off to the other side of the wall where the western cannon was situated.

Aubrey was starting to shake badly. The more she tried to focus on stopping it the worse it seemed to get. She couldn't afford wasting any mental energy on it. She decided she'd just have to shake for the time being.

"Is something wrong?" asked Skongroli.

"I'm just... excited," replied Aubrey.

"As am I. Today is a good day to die."

"Sure," said Aubrey, "but it's an even better day to live."

The dwarf smiled at her.

* * *

The last piece of the dwarf king's ceremonial gold armor, the long horned helmet, was gingerly placed on his head by a servant. He was now ready for battle.

The king sat on his siltstone throne and fondled the helm's beardguard. Naturally he wouldn't go out into the battlefield personally, to step outside the hall was beneath his dignity, but being fully armored as he was made him part of the battle just as much as any warrior out there fighting. Just because they had the good fortune to be born lower class didn't mean they had a monopoly on participation.

The gold armor was heavy and uncomfortable, it was literally impossible to move in it, but sacrifices were necessary in war.

Before long the King had nodded off.

* * *

The enthusiasm of the orcs grew and grew as they came closer to Nalk Baland. Sacking the dwarf city would be the greatest plunder even the oldest of them had ever seen. They would eat their fill of dwarf flesh and carry off as many riches as they could fit in their arms. They would all return to their home pits as great names and live in comfort long into the uselessness of old age.

Rarnak marched at the head of his own army. His rough wooden war staff sported a dead dwarven scout impaled through the belly. The death mask on his face implied he wasn't dead when the process began. Rarnak raised the staff and summoned his emotions. His hate, his grief, these powerful emotions would fuel the spell.

With a wave of his staff a kinetic wave, almost visible as it rippled through the air, crashed into the stone gate of the courtyard wall. It hit with the force of an explosion, spraying chunks of debris in every direction.

Rarnak held himself up with the help of his staff, breathing hard. He had expended a great deal of magical energy lately. Even with the fuel of his emotions he had to be careful. It wouldn't do to exhaust himself so close to the moment of his revenge.

Rarnak nodded and the orcs charged for the opening.

* * *

The wall shook as the force of the spell blew the gate to pieces. The dwarves shouted curses and oaths.

"Open fire!" shouted Aubrey.

"Don't waste ammunition," countered Foignar. "Wait until they're in range."

"They're in range!" insisted Aubrey. "These aren't crossbows! Don't wait! Fire!"

The rifledwarves atop the wall let loose their fire round of shots. Smoke filled the air. Several of the orcs in the front of the mob fell in sprays of blood. The other orcs simply trampled over the bodies and continued the charge.

The rifledwarves passed their weapons to the youngsters, cooks, farmers, and other random dwarves recruited to be 'squires'. In turn they were handed a fresh weapon, and the squires went to work reloading the originals.

There was a great sky cracking boom as both cannons fired one after the other. The grapeshot spread out in a cone like a shotgun shell and each attack blew half a dozen orcs to pieces.

The cannon fire made the smoke grow far thicker, and it was becoming difficult to see.

The dwarven warriors, at least those who hadn't been crushed under debris, came charging out of the gate, axes swinging, to meet their orcish counterparts. Just as they did so the second round of rifle fire was loosed. Then the dwarves made contact with the enemy and aiming became more complicated.

At first the dwarven warriors met the ferocity of the orcs with a tremendous energy of their own, hacking off heads and limbs with wild abandon. The orc army crashed against them like a wave against the beach. As skilled as the dwarves were they were utterly outnumbered. One by one they started to fall, and the wave of orcs pushed closer to the wall. As their numbers dwindled the dwarves had a harder and harder time keeping the orcs at bay.

The squires passed the rifledwarves another fresh rifle. The rifledwarves held their fire, waiting to pick off the stragglers who pulled away from the main host and made for the open gate. They were just barely able to keep up a high enough rate of fire to keep them at bay.

Then the shadows descended.

Shrieking with a primordial fury that struck at instincts Aubrey didn't know she had the bat-like monsters fell upon the rifledwarves from the sky. Snarling orcs, riding them as though they were merely horses, thrust spears at the dwarves while the flying monsters clawed and bit.

Several of the rifledwarves, and several more of the squires, began to flee. More than one jumped over the side of the wall.

Those that didn't fired back at the monsters, but they seemed to shrug off the bullets like they were nothing at all. The flying monsters circled around and swooped down for another attack. Dwarves were torn limb from limb by the demonic talons and run through with spears.

The rifledwarves whose squires hadn't fled grabbed new weapons, while the others frantically tried to reload. Several more shots were fired at the flying monstrosities. Again the demons were unaffected.

But one of the orcs was struck, and fell to the ground. His mount flew off.

That's it!

"Aim for the riders!" shouted Aubrey.

Meanwhile on the ground the dwarves were being pushed further and further back, losing many of their numbers as they did so. They were only just barely able to defend the ruins of the gate. Several orcs had already burst through into the courtyard, and a number of warriors were forced to peel off to pursue them.

The rifledwarves fired again, this time aiming for the riders. These proved to be a much harder target to hit, but they did manage to knock another from his mount and badly injure a third. Both bat monsters flew off into the sky.

Through the smoke Aubrey could see two the remaining bat demons harassing the east cannon. Hak-Kun and Ollie were desperately firing their rifles while the dwarves struggled to reload the cannon.

Aubrey ran half the length of the wall to get close, braced herself against a parapet, and fired at the rider. She missed badly. Ollie fired at the same orc and his bullet struck home, causing the orc to collapse in his saddle. His uncontrolled mount fled the battle.

Meanwhile the sister cannon to the west fired another grapeshot load straight into the massed orcs. They were in such great concentration that this proved far more effective than the first shot, tearing apart more than twenty orcs. The impact was enough to shock the orcs and break the morale of many.

The dwarven warriors, screaming battle cries, were able to press the advantage and force the orcs back further from the wall. They drew courage from their enemy's fear and their strength redoubled.

One of the flying demons swooped down and it's rider speared a rifledwarf. The dwarf was knocked from the wall, taking the weapon with him. A quick shot from one of his fellows took out the rider, and with it the threat.

There weren't many of the flying cavalry left, and they were growing more cautious with their attacks.

"Orimnaek!" shouted Foignar. "You and your dwarves keep firing at the riders of these flying beasts! Everyone else concentrate your fire on the orcs. We must hold the wall!"

The giants in the rear of the army came lumbering forward with glacial slowness, carrying large boulders. One hurled his rock and it struck the top of the wall, taking off a chunk and with it eight rifledwarves.

"Switch to the round shot! We need to take out those giants!" Aubrey yelled at Ollie, then to Hak-Kun she added, "go tell Victor!"

Hak-Kun began running for the other side of the wall, ducking and weaving around riflemen, squires, and their corpses.

* * *

Rarnak had not expected Gus's magic to be this powerful. The rate at which he was losing orcs would not be sustainable for long.

It looked like whatever spell was being cast was anchored to the two enchanted metal tubes at either end of the wall. It would take a lot out of him but Rarnak decided to conjure two antimagic fields around the tubes to suppress their enchantment and end their threat.

Rarnak raised his staff meaningfully into the air.

"Acetabularii legerdemain!" he intoned.

Two transparent bubbles rippled into existence around the tubes. They would trouble him no longer.

Rarnak's nose began to bleed, and he chuckled to himself.

* * *

Another giant slowly raised a massive stone over his head, ready to throw.

The cannons fired again, belching more smoke into the already hazy air. Two cannonballs struck the giant, first in the belly, then in the head. He fell to the ground like an earthquake, crushing numerous orcs beneath him. Blood flooded the ground.

A third giant threw his stone, and it smashed into the wall, badly cracking it.

The loss of the giant spooked the orcs, who were already unnerved by all these thunder and fire belching weapons. Individuals began peeling off, then the larger formation broke and orcs began to flee en mass.

The ogre mage, using his staff as a walking stick, came hustling just short of a run into the fray. His presence rallied many of the orcs who fell in behind him. When they saw their fellows regroup even more joined him.

Before long the orcs, their morale renewed, pushed the dwarves all the way back to the broken gate. Rarnak fought in the front lines, personally tearing dwarves apart with his bare hands.

The rifledwarves, meanwhile, were firing down into the orcs as quickly as they could reload. Many more orcs died to the gunfire.

The loss of life on both sides was staggering. Bodies, both dwarf and orcs, were lay in heaps everywhere. The orcs had taken far heavier losses, but they were also in a better position to absorb them. The dwarves were now hanging on by a thread, their ability to hold the gate crumbling.

Again the cannons fired, and two more giants went down. The ogre mage howled with rage.

* * *

What kind of sorcerer was this Gus? How could his enchantments stand up against Rarnak's antimagic spell? The dwarves were almost broken. He could not lose now. He had to live long enough to kill Gus. If he could just kill Gus he could die happy.

Rarnak summoned on the deep reservoirs of seething hatred within him, unleashing all the turbulent emotions he had been trying to suppress for the sake of mental clarity. He lashed out with the magic energy, which spilled from his body without being given form by a spell. The soldiers all around him, orcs and dwarves alike, burst into flame. They scattered in every direction, screaming, some clever enough to roll on the ground in a futile attempt to put out the rage flames. They were quickly burnt to piles of cinder and ash.

Rarnak hustled across the charred bodies of the dwarves, through the gate, and into the courtyard. His exhaustion was forgotten.