Jence jumped through a hole in the floor and into the old pipe underneath, sliding through the darkness and dropping out several levels down from where he'd started. Continuing his run, Jence had to pace himself. He wanted to get home as soon as possible, but he needed to conserve his energy as a battle would be coming. He could ill afford to exhaust himself before the fight.

When he entered the main chamber of the stronghold, he saw preparations were already underway for the coming siege. The stronghold was normally lit by electric lamps, but they had been deactivated so as to better conceal the fortifications when the invaders arrived. Power for the lighting came from a number of water wheel turbines being turned by an underground spring. Numerous fires still burned for warmth, lighting the stronghold in flickering red, but they would by covered instantly by lids when the fighting began.

Warriors were positioned on the outer walls of the stronghold with bows and arrows, but they also carried swords for when the enemy got closer.  More archers waited in the courtyard behind the wall because they were less experienced with a blade and needed greater protection.  Other warriors were hidden in the various pipes and the support structure of the chamber itself, waiting to ambush the enemy when possible. Those positioned outside the wall were in the most danger as they would be in the middle of the enemy forces without any means of withdrawal should the battle go against the warriors. For them, this would be a succeed or die situation.

Jence waved a greeting with his sword to let the guards on watch know he was a friend. Hurrying to the gate, he didn't bother waiting for the heavy partition of metal to be raised, but had the guard on the wall throw him a rope. He sheathed his sword and quickly scaled the wall.

"What's happening?" was the single most asked question of the guards crowding around him.

"An enemy scout evaded me in the tunnels," Jence explained, holding nothing back. "We can expect an attack very soon."

Some of the warriors had never faced a full on assault before and looked nervously at each other. Jence decided to refocus their resolve.

"We are warriors!" Jence shouted, making sure his voice was heard by all. Conversations in the vicinity quieted as the men and women of the stronghold turned to listen. "We have trained to fight all our lives. We are ready to face the enemy in battle. If they want to take our lives, we'll make them wade through an ocean of their own blood to do it!"

Warriors shouted their approval while lifting their gleaming swords overhead.

Jence noticed his son in the crowd and made his way to him.

"Tyros, your position for this fight is the second line of the wall defense," Jence explained when he reached his son.

"The second line?" Tyros protested.

"There will be fighting enough for everyone today," Jence promised.

"Yes, Father," Tyros agreed.

Despite the disappointed tone his son used, Jence was proud of how well Tyros obeyed, even when he didn't agree with Jence's orders.

Having faced an enemy attack on the surface twice before, Jence had a familiarity with their weapons and tactics, so he knew better than most what to expect. Tyros was not up to facing them in the open, and Jence knew it. If his son were fighting beside him, it would distract Jence's focus and could prove deadly. With his son protected somewhat, he could focus all his efforts on keeping the enemy from reaching the second line.

***

Waiting. Jence hated the waiting before a battle, the anticipation of the violence to come. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, leaving a prickly feeling itching its way across his skin.

So far, there had been no sighting of the enemy anywhere. The waiting was starting to grate on his nerves. Looking around, he gauged the expressions of those closest to him, and it seemed the wait was getting to them as well.

"Are you sure they're coming?" asked a man next to him on the wall. Like Jence, a horizontal scar marked the man's temple, identifying him as someone rescued from the robot city above. Additional scars peaked out from around the metal plated leathers he wore across his broad chest, letting Jence know this man was no stranger to combat.

"What's your name?" Jence asked.

"Haskell," the man answered, wiping away some nervous sweat from his shaved scalp.

"They're out there, Haskell," Jence confirmed, using the warrior's name in order to remember it better. "After killing two of their scouts and putting the third to flight, they know we're ready for them. In fact, they're probably waiting on purpose."

"What do you mean?" Haskell questioned.

"If you were facing an armed stronghold," Jence suggested, "would you attack them when they were at full readiness or wait until they let down their guard?"

"Oh," Haskell said as the realization came to him.

"Yeah," Jence confirmed. "They know we can only remain vigilant so long before we tire of the constant alert with no enemies in sight. We'll go back to our daily lives, and then the attack will come."

"The attacker always has the advantage of choosing where and when to strike," Haskell grumbled in complaint.

"Not if we invite them into attacking on our terms," Jence suggested as an idea came to him. "Give the orders quietly. Have the warriors on the outer wall leave, only to return unseen. Of those who remain, we'll have some drop their guard, perhaps even turning their backs while having conversations with each other. Also, keep the fires uncovered, so the enemy can see our apparent vulnerability."

"I gotcha," Haskell agreed with a sly grin. He departed to quietly hand out the orders.

Jence hoped the enemy would see what appeared to be a weakened defense and launch their attack sooner rather than later.

***

"Everything is done," Haskell reported when he rejoined Jence on the wall of the stronghold.

Guards on the wall had departed only to sneak back into position. For every warrior standing a post openly, two more crouched on either side of them, waiting in ambush.

"Just in time," Jence said. "Keep your focus on me, but there is movement on the perimeter. They're coming."

"The bait worked," Haskell said. "It's unfortunate we can't find a peace with those on the surface."

"Agreed," Jence concurred. "Unfortunately, you can't reason with unreasonable people, and if someone is unshakably determined to kill you and those you care about, there is only one solution possible."

Haskell's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword for he knew the solution as well as Jence did.

"Shall we turn on the main lights, give them no place to hide?" Haskell questioned.

"Not yet," Jence denied. "I don't want them to see our arrows coming. Tell the archers to get ready."

Haskell nodded and climbed back down the wall to give the orders personally.

Jence knew Haskell understood the reasoning behind his wish to tell the archers directly rather than using hand signals. If the archers could see Haskell giving silent commands from the wall, so could the enemy. Any military movements could tip off the invaders that the stronghold had a coordinated defense and was not as helpless as it appeared. Keeping a casual eye on the perimeter, Jence saw the enemy advancing. The waiting was over.

Clothed in tattered pieces of black leathers and covered by soot, grease, and mud for better camouflage in dark places, the murderous hordes advanced. They came slowly at first, trying to stay quiet and unnoticed as they closed the distance between themselves and the stronghold.

Jence watched them while trying to maintain a casual demeanor and not give away his awareness of the enemy presence. The black clad fighters flowed like oil from several pipes, clustering together in a single mass as they drifted closer to the warriors.

The weapons carried by the attackers were improvised and nasty, everything from clubs with nails sticking out of the top end to sharpened garden tools. Anything with a pointed end or jagged edge was a weapon to the mindless horde closing in on the stronghold.

"Now!" Jence shouted.

The warriors still standing atop the wall ducked down as the archers in the courtyard fired a volley. The arrows sailed over the warriors crouched on the wall and decimated the incoming forces. Jence waited for a second volley to be fired before standing up and shouting the next order.

"Warriors of the field!" Jence yelled as loudly as he could manage.

From concealed locations and trap doors across the open space between the far wall where the enemy had entered and the stronghold they were attacking, warriors emerged to engage the rear elements of the invaders' ranks.

Because of the arrows, many near the front of the horde were attempting to retreat, but they ran into those fleeing from the warriors attacking them from behind. The entire enemy force was thrown into confusion over which way to run to escape the warriors.

"Charge!" Jence shouted.

The front gate was opened, and the warriors surged out of the stronghold with a ground shaking battle cry. Jence took the stairs down the back of the wall two at a time in order to join his people in the fight.

***

Jence straightened up, his back muscles complaining strenuously. The battleground in front of the stronghold was littered with the vanquished invaders. Sweat covered him, and Jence had trouble catching his breath. He felt like he could sleep for several days straight, but he had a more urgent need.

"Put a sword to every fallen enemy," Jence ordered. "Make certain they're dead. Those warriors not in need of medical aid should assist with the removal of the slain. Remember, those on the surface are usually infected with disease, so avoid any blood to blood contact. Cover all wounds, and carefully change bandages afterwards. We don't want the infection spreading here."

Medics hurried out of the main gate, their white leathers easily noticeable. Although they were trained in combat, the same as all the inhabitants of the stronghold, their skills in healing made them an invaluable resource the warriors vigorously protected.

Jence had a slice near the shoulder of his right arm. A circular saw blade had been thrown at him during the battle. Despite his dodging the attack, it still managed to cut him when the serrated disc bounced off the stronghold. A medic hurried over and wrapped the cut to stop the flow of blood.

As the healers bound up the injured, Jence took an estimate of the number of troops he still had in fighting shape and a guess as to the total number of enemies eliminated. An idea came to mind, but it would push the warriors to their very limits, perhaps beyond them.

"All able-bodies warriors," Jence called out. "Prepare for counter-attack."

"What do you mean?" asked Haskell. Like Jence, he was breathing hard, but Haskell was also limping slightly from a gash on his leg. "We just fought a huge battle. Many of our people can barely stand."

"Those unable to continue will remain here," Jence replied. "However, all the rest must come with me for an immediate attack upon the enemy base."

Tyros emerged from the stronghold, his armor sporting fresh scars, but the youth himself showed no sign of injury.

"We inflicted tremendous damage on them," Tyros commented. "Isn't it enough?"

"Son, do you remember what you were taught about how the fiends on the surface handle security?" Jence questioned.

"They don't trust each other, so they leave their base in the hands of their weakest forces," Tyros answered. "They'd be sufficient to hold out until their main force returned, but the individuals wouldn't be strong enough to challenge those of the main army. This strategy keeps the supplies they've looted from tempting those still at home because they know they'd suffer retribution if the main force came back and found something missing."

"Exactly," Jence confirmed. "It also means their base is weaker now more than it's ever been. If we strike hard, we'll be able to break them and plunder their base for much needed supplies. This is a rare opportunity we dare not let slip away."

"He's right," Haskell agreed. "With their weakened position, they'll be overrun by one of the other bands of marauders. If we want the supplies, we've got to hit them first."

Jence found a messenger and gave him instructions. "Run to the Elders and request their permission to launch a counter offensive to plunder the enemy base for supplies."

The young boy nodded his understanding and sprinted away. Jence turned his attention to the warriors. Confident in the answer the Elders would give, Jence gave the troops his orders.

"Sharpen swords and refill on arrows," Jence told them. "It's time to take the fight to the enemy!"