The fog that had blanketed the front of the breach was slowly thinning.
The mist that had pooled ankle-deep drew back, laying bare the rubble and bloodstains scattered across the ground. Beyond the fog, the outlines of the black shapes massed together sharpened one by one.
There were so many that the end of them could not be seen.
Behind the orcs with their shields thrust forward, still more orcs were crammed in tight. Up the rubble slope of the ruined wall, all the way out onto the bridge across the moat, black helms and spearheads crowded shoulder to shoulder.
The ballista atop the stone watchtower released its string once more. A heavy bolt flew toward the orcs outside the breach. Three orcs were skewered side by side on a single shaft. The massive bolt sank into the earth, and the three orcs hung there, impaled.
The Dawi soldiers working the winch immediately seated the next bolt in its groove and began cranking the string back.
From beyond the breach, the orcs' war cry rose again.
"Grum-ka! Grum-ka dum!"
Low, heavy voices layered over one another and rolled out. The orcs' advance on the breach quickened to match the chant. The clash of metal and the bellowing blended together and kept surging in, all the way up to the inside of the wall. The smell of blood and the smell of dust hung thick in the thinning mist.
In the air, Muwa Winged soldiers, short spears gripped in their manifested hands, circled low over the breach.
Just before a Winged soldier dived, the manifested hand lost its shape and vanished. The soldier turned the tips of its wings edge-on and swept in, slicing through the nape of an orc clambering up the wall. With a whisper of feather-blades slicing past, the orc tumbled down onto the rubble. The Winged soldier soared back up and turned toward its next target.
Meanwhile, down below the breach, Nisharin's Mooloomook charged at an orc that had shown itself. His spearpoint pierced the orc's throat. The orc dropped its axe and sank to its knees. Nisharin swept past without slowing.
Orcs and Dawi were hacking at one another.
"Warchief Orden!!"
Nisharin turned his head and shouted.
"Over there! A few more orcs are heading that way!!"
Orden, blocking an axe with his shield, looked up.
"What did you say?!"
The clash of steel and the roars of the orcs swallowed his voice. Nisharin's mouth moved again, but the sound never reached Orden.
Nisharin clicked his tongue lightly. A nudge of his toe against its flank turned the Mooloomook. He drove it toward Orden, raking his spear across the throats and shoulders of the two orcs who blocked the way.
"Warchief Orden! Over there!!"
Nisharin pointed his spearpoint to the right.
"I said a few more orcs are heading that way!!"
Only then did Orden turn and look to the right. Three shield-bearing orcs were digging into the flank of the formation.
"We have to hold the palisade, Dabuda! Take twenty soldiers to the right!!"
Orden shouted.
A hulking Dawi soldier covered in brown fur met Orden's eyes and gave a short nod. Dabuda turned at once and swung his arm wide at the soldiers around him. Then he thrust his fist toward the right flank.
The soldiers who noticed the gesture turned one after another. The spears and axes in their hands rose.
Soldiers scattered here and there rushed toward Dabuda, and a dense body of troops formed behind him.
Dabuda was the first to charge. The Dawi soldiers, shields held out front, followed. The clash of armor and the pounding of feet tangled together, shaking the ground. The soldiers jostled shoulders as they surged toward the palisade, and even the ones coming up behind to fill the gaps joined in, one after another.
Nisharin raised his spear and let out a laugh.
"Wahaha! Maybe I should've gone myself!"
"Your voice didn't reach me, Nisharin."
"Next time, I'll kill a few more orcs first and tell you after!"
Nisharin's Mooloomook wheeled around again and charged at the orcs bearing down on them.
Orden regripped the sword in his hand.
"Don't fall back! We stop the orcs right here!"
His voice came out cracked. But the strength in it had not faded.
"Lower your spears! Not one step back!!"
Hearing Orden, the Dawi soldiers' spearpoints dropped as one.
Behind the soldiers, several carpenters had taken position, holding a sharpened piece of timber in both hands. They were crude wooden spears, the bark still on. Beside them, a mason with both hands full of fist-sized stones hurled one with all his strength at an approaching orc.
The stone struck the orc's helm, and its body wobbled for a moment.
A Dawi soldier was struck by an arrow and fell to one knee. Another soldier beside him quickly grabbed his arm and hauled him back. A roughly shaved wooden arrow shaft was buried deep in his thigh. Knife marks still showed all along the shaft, and the blackened, rusted iron tip was buried deep in his flesh. The face of the soldier being dragged away was twisted in pain.
A few of Damu's fishermen were mixed in among them. What they held were fishing harpoons. The barbed tip of the shaft glinted briefly in the dim sunlight. One fisherman swung his arm wide and hurled his harpoon.
It sank deep into an orc's shoulder.
The soldiers' feet were being pushed back, little by little. The orcs surging in showed no sign of thinning.
"There are too many, Nisharin!!"
Orden shouted.
"They're only orcs!!"
Nisharin answered, slamming his spear downward.
"All numbers and nothing in their heads, those orc bastards! Nothing to be afraid of!"
The soldiers fell back behind the palisade, one step at a time. Through the gaps, arrows began to fly. From the openings between the palisade and the stone wall, Dawi archers drew their bows. Arrows passed over the soldiers' heads and poured down on the orcs.
Orden shouted without looking back.
"Fire! They're still at a distance!"
His gaze flicked briefly behind him. Earth sacks were filling the gaps in the stone wall one after another. The palisade was nearly taking shape. At this rate, it would be finished before long. The thought flashed through his mind. Orden turned to face front again.
"Hold a little longer! Just a little more!!"
Strength returned to the arm gripping his sword.
"Javelins, ready!"
Orden raised his voice once more.
Across from them, the orcs, tangled together and shoving with their shields, bit one step deeper. Spearpoints came over the tops of the shields and hammered against the Dawi soldiers' shields. The clang of iron on iron rang on and on.
*****
BOOM!
A heavy sound rang out.
The upper part of the stone wall caved inward. A few of the stacked stones and sacks of earth crumbled down.
A Minotaur, having shoved the Dawi soldiers aside to reach the wall, raised its iron hammer once more. The hammerhead was already caked white with stone dust.
Bouma stepped in front of it.
He pulled his axe from the iron ring at his waist. The feel of it, worn in from felling and trimming rough timber, still lingered in his hand. Dodging the Minotaur's movement, Bouma slipped to its side, and raised the axe above his shoulder.
"UAAAAAAgh!"
The axe blade bit deep into the Minotaur's shoulder. Flesh split open, spraying dark red blood, and the Minotaur twisted around with a short roar.
"I'll help, Bouma!"
Dallen's voice came down from above. Dallen spread both wings wide and dropped low in the air. The spear gripped in the manifested hand plunged down toward the Minotaur's shoulder.
The thrown spearpoint punched through a seam in the leather armor. The Minotaur writhed and swung an arm wide. Dallen beat both wings hard, dodged the arm, and shot upward.
The Minotaur turned on Bouma and lifted its iron hammer again.
At that moment, something came whirling through the air at speed. Three barbs glinted. A fishing harpoon.
The tip of the harpoon pierced the Minotaur's throat cleanly. The iron hammer slid from its hand. Its knees buckled, and its body tipped forward.
Bazz stood frozen in the pose of his throw. His fingertips trembled.
"...I hit it."
Bazz muttered. Then he shouted.
"I hit it!! I got that bastard right in the neck!!"
Daoba ran over and slapped Bazz on the shoulder.
"Not bad, harpooner!"
"Just luck! Eheh!"
"Luck's a skill too! You saw that, right?"
Dallen came down from the air and landed beside Bazz.
"Bazz, with aim like that, you could guard our wagon."
"Ha! I'll hold you to that!"
Bazz answered, picking up another harpoon he'd propped up nearby with hands still shaking.
A few of the volunteers around them raised short cheers. But the orcs' bellowing soon drowned the cheers out.
A Winged soldier skimmed past low overhead. Spreading its wings straight and fast, the feather-blade of its wing sliced through the back of an orc heading toward the palisade. The orc pitched forward onto the rubble. The Winged soldier beat its wings hard and rose again.
One Minotaur had fallen, but a number of orcs were closing in on the spot where Bouma, Bazz, and Daoba stood. Shield-bearing orcs swarmed toward the stone wall once more. Bouma regripped his axe and planted himself in the gap.
"The orcs keep coming! Don't leave your posts!"
Beyond the breach, orcs flooded in without end. Among the black helms, the great bulk of Minotaurs loomed here and there.
A Dawi soldier knelt over a fallen fellow soldier. The closed eyes would never open again. He shook his shoulders roughly. Only the armor rattled; the body gave no response at all. The soldier lifted his head. Bloodshot eyes turned on the orcs.
"You orc bastards!!"
He seized his spear and rose to his feet. Then he charged straight ahead, his spearpoint driving at the nearest orc.
Two Dawi soldiers who'd been following fell in beside him. Three spears thrust at the orc at the same moment.
A little way off, a Winged soldier landed beside a fallen soldier. Pressing a manifested hand to the wound to stanch the blood, the Winged soldier shouted urgently.
"Over here! Help me, quick!"
Hearing the cry, two Winged soldiers wheeled around and dropped down at once. Manifested hands emerged one after another from the backs of the three. They slid under the fallen soldier's back, waist, and legs in turn.
"Lift slowly!"
The hands overlapped and raised the body bit by bit. A limp arm swung downward, and blood from the armor dripped onto the ground.
Seeing this, Dallen beat both wings at once. Cutting down through the air, Dallen's manifested hand came in to support the soldier's shoulder and back together.
"Support the back! Lift him like this and go!"
Six hands adjusted their heights bit by bit so the soldier's body wouldn't sway, and the Winged soldiers took off together toward the rear of the stone wall.
Bouma turned away from the fallen Minotaur. Just as he went to regrip his axe, an orc came charging in from the side, axe raised.
"Eeh!? Uh?"
Bouma's body locked up as if frozen. The orc's swinging axe was already too close to dodge.
"KWAAAAk."
An arrow flew in first and pierced the orc's forearm. The arm bringing the axe down was wrenched aside in the direction of the shaft. A second arrow followed and punched through the orc's eye.
The orc clutched its face, howling, and staggered backward.
Bouma forced his frozen body to move and turned toward where the arrows had come from.
On top of the stone wall, an elf stood, bow in hand. A third arrow was already nocked to the string.
"Mehelein, Dawi?"
the elf asked.
Bouma did not understand the words. But he could guess the meaning in the voice.
"Ah... uh... thank you."
Bouma answered, dazed.
The elf was already drawing on the next target.