Weekly Drabble #80: The Wall (Patreon)

This week's prompts are "implacable" from Thiemo Guenther and "no shield" from WindFox. Hope you enjoy!

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The Wall:

With the light of the rising sun behind the army, Sword-Captain Lominicus Leo looked out upon the soft, rolling plains before him. Grasses of middling lengths glinted with morning dew and flowers started to unfurl to drink in the light, unaware of the violence that would soon ravage this picturesque vista. Here upon Heltha’s Skirt was where the barbarian horde’s rampage would be ended. Legion Master Urgrnhu Thrallbane had predicted they would come through this region, and two days ago, Legion outriders had confirmed the presence of the horde, marching along the very roads that the Twin Empires had built, so the 17th Division – the ‘Eagle Claws’ – had come here to oppose them. To the sword-captain fell the honour of holding the legion’s right flank and he was determined not to fail. He had under his command twenty-four hundred soldiers, three spears’ worth, with a mixture of pikes and shields and swords, one-quarter of the total strength marshalled here. Heavy repeater bows sat behind the ranks of men, cavalry stood at ease for the order to charge, spearmen and soldiers waiting in serried ranks.

Coming even now was the barbarian’s vanguard – if it could be stopped here, their entire advance would falter, allowing the Imperial forces to seize the initiative and drive the rebels and barbarians back into their festering hovels where they belonged. You knelt before the Twin Empires, or you were ground beneath their boots. Anything else was delusion and it offended Lominicus’s senses to think of his own people betraying their nation. It was the influence of the others, he knew. The disgusting, malformed abominations that the Empires had driven from their lands had corrupted the hearts and minds of men and women too far from the Empires, using them as pawns in their obscene ambitions.

They would fail, and Leo would make sure that every innocent soul turned by the lies and falsehoods of these filth would be answered for in blood. Such creatures had no place in the world and it was long past time that they were exterminated utterly.

He raised his head as the Legion Master approached, riding his massive war beast. Steam pulsed from the horned creature’s large nostrils, its heavy clawed feet pressing into the soft plains soil. More impressive than the steed itself was the Eagle Claws’ commander. At seventy, Thrallbane was well past middle age, even for an orc, but he still bulged with muscle earned during decades of service in the Twin Empires’ Legions, his winter-grey beard bound with jeweled beads that marked each campaign he had fought in. For generations, Man and Orc had stood side by side together as brothers. Now, all that they had accomplished was being threatened by rabble and beasts. It would not, could not be allowed to stand.

“They are coming,” The Legion Master said, addressing Leo and his troops, as he had done for the rest of the army, inspecting each element personally before the battle. “Men and orcs,” his heavy jaws worked as he choked back disgust, “who have thrown in with abominations. Traitors, savages and barbarians who would see all that we have built cast down and the time before the Twinning restored. When isolated nations shivered in fear of the darkness. When bloodshed and brutality was the law, and not the Empire. When our peoples fought each other, both man against orc and in fraternal war. They would see this time brought about again.” He barely raised his voice, but his words were clear and even and carried far over the assembled spears. “They will have not it. They will break upon us this day as water against the cliffs, as wood against the anvil. We are the Legion, the iron of the Empire. We are the Eagle’s Claws, striking swiftly and ruthlessly. We will not merely hold today, no. We will shatter this vanguard and put traitor and beast alike to flight, mewling in terror. We are the Legion and we will have this day!”

The men roared back at him, Lominicus’s voice among them and he raised his sword in salute to Thrallbane. Blades rapped against heavy shields and spears were lifted to the sky. Thrallbane offered a salute back to the men before turning his war beast back to the center of their lines, giving Leo a confident nod as he departed.

It wasn’t long before they heard the drums.

Just as the Legion’s outriders and scouts had located and tracked the barbarian horde, so too had their skirmishers and flying columns harried the Imperial forces. Both sides knew the other was here, both sides knew the stakes. The first signs of the enemy were their banners cresting the hill, rebellious symbols that made Lominicus’s teeth grind. His aide passed him a spyglass and he raised it up, watching as the barbarians came into view. Men. Orcs. Savages outside the Twin Empires’ dominion and rebels who’d turned against the thrones. Among them were the others. Centaurs, girtablilu and naga were the easiest to spot, but there were even more of the half-man creatures within the barbarian ranks. Harpies, minotaurs, and more. The sword-captain’s lips twisted in disgust. He hadn’t thought so many sickening aberrations still existed, let alone had gathered in one place. By the day’s end, though there would be far fewer.

Their presence here was a testament to their willingness to destroy the Twin Empires. All their words otherwise were merely deception to that end. The mewling dribbles of independence were lies that had poisoned the minds of men and orcs, and their right to survive was one the Twin Empires did not recognize. They were vermin to be crushed. They, and anyone stupid or evil enough to follow them.

There didn’t even seem to be as many as Leon had first feared; the reports of the size of the barbarian horde appeared to be exaggerations. He watched as the enemy force spread out across on the distant hill, putting the final adjustments into its formations. It looked like there were only five, perhaps six thousand soldiers arrayed against the twelve thousand men of the Eagle’s Claws. True, the ferocity and size of many of the aberrant half-man beasts would make up that difference, but there had been reports – from Legion scouts, not just cowed provincial militias and panicked civilians – that the enemy vanguard numbered at least ten thousand. Had they underestimated the numbers by that much?

It took long minutes for the barbarians to array their army across the plains. Lominicus stared at them through the spyglass. There was no siege train, no cannon, ballistae, repeater bows or other weapon emplacements. Those had been directly observed by scouting parties. Had they left them behind to force march to meet the 17th?

His jaw clenched as his sight swept across a unit of naga. The serpent-men had their longbows. Weapons larger than a man was tall, the arrows they loosed them could penetrate mail and plate with sickening ease, and they almost had the reach to hit his men even from the barbarian lines. They’d have to move very little to begin showering the Imperial Legionnaires with arrows. The Legion Master’s intended stand on the defensive was going to turn into a bloody scrum. Fortunately, Legion shields were thick and heavy and would be proof against most of those arrows. Casualties were going to be heavier than expected, though.

“They have naga longbowers,” Leo told his aides. “Inform the spears to be prepared to tortoise.” Messengers were quickly dispatched to his divisions. The other parts of the army would be getting similar orders. As Lominicus continued to survey the barbarians, his stomach felt heavy in his guts. A smaller army than expected, no siege train, a glut of archers…

This wasn’t the vanguard, he realized. It was a large flying column, sent here to delay and distract the 17th while the lion’s share of the army pressed deeper into Imperial lands. They’d been baited here. If they turned now, the enemy would be on them. They had to stand and destroy this column before they could withdraw.

“Clever,” the sword captain said to himself, “aren’t you?” The barbarians may have gambled correctly today, but they had done so by sending six thousand of their number into the Eagle’s Claws. If nothing else, Leo and his men would give them what they expected in doing so.

The cadence of the drums altered. The enemy army began to move, the archers slithering behind the shields and blades of their cohorts, ready to take position and begin their bombardment.

From the head of the 17th came the squeal of bagpipes, piercing and loud. The signal was unmistakable. Thrallbane had seen what Leo had and had given the order to advance. Lominicus drew his gladius and held it aloft. “Men of the Twin Empires!” he shouted. “Forward to glory!”