Chapter 71: Chp.25: Disastrous battle
The next day, about a third of the entire ogre army marched. The soldiers set out towards the thick of the forest, straight towards the border with the territory of the fairies. All of them wore a hateful expression, knowing that Volgor would lead them to ruin. The only one who wasn't worried, but on the contrary his face inspired only blind fury and at times madness, was Volgor himself.
The other soldiers who had been lucky enough to have non-crazy chieftains watched their comrades disappear one by one behind the trees. Sadly, there was nothing they could do to stop the madness. Under ogre law, the only way to stop a chieftain was to depose him in a duel. And sadly, no one in the Bolvek tribe was strong enough to defeat Volgor. The only ones in the whole army who could have done anything would have been Hoortar and Ostar, but neither of them would have risked a conflict with Volgor. From their point of view, it was more convenient to send him to his death and use the opportunity to integrate any survivors into their armies. In doing so, they would also wipe out a powerful rival tribe.
Sadly, that was what happened when several often hostile tribes banded together without a strong central figure: each would only do their own interest. Though the chieftains wore friendly smiles, in reality they were like hungry wolves ready to bite each other's throats. If someone had found an opportunity to ruin others, he would have seized it without a second thought.
And indeed, all Hoortar and Ostar did was come out to greet Volgor and the departing army, shouting: "We will be ready to welcome the survivors when you lose"
'They are really assholes' was Sarpa's only thought as they walked away. Very stealthily, he approached Dharon. "Did you do what I advised you?"
His chieftain nodded. "Don't worry, I've got everything ready. Even if you don't see them, many soldiers behind us have shovels in their dimensional bags. As soon as we get close enough, they'll detach from the group and do what we planned"
Sarpa was satisfied with the answer. Even though he knew that Haku wasn't going to let him die, and therefore even if the plan went wrong he would be saved from the dragon somehow, it was still a relief to know that his 'official escape route' was being prepared. It was reassuring, so to speak.
The march was very long and tiring. The forest floor was very rough and full of thorny plants or poisonous animals such as snakes. Many ogres fell victim to these dangers, especially those in the front ranks. Of course, Volgor didn't bother stopping to let them rest or be treated; fortunately other soldiers were kind enough to help their comrades. Being left behind injured was practically a death sentence: while no animal would dare approach such a large army of ogres, creatures such as gramr wolves or bersekir bears wouldn't disdain to feed on those who could not keep up. Indeed, most likely some of these creatures were already watching them, ready to pounce on the unfortunate at the first sign of weakness.
By noon, they had entered true fairy territory. From then on, they were in enemy zone. "Get ready" Dharon whispered.
"Have you seen the fairies?" Sarpa asked.
Dharon shook his head. "No, but it is practically certain that they have already spotted us. In ten minutes at the most, their army will be upon us"
Sarpa nodded, understanding Dharon's thoughts. His body tensed. Although now his strength was truly remarkable, both thanks to the dragon's blood and to the magical runes he had drawn on his body, he absolutely mustn't underestimate the enemy. He had to be ready for what was to come.
For a while there was silence, broken only by the constant rubbing of armor and shields and swords against each other; then, in the distance, there was a hum. It was soft at first, like that of the mosquitoes and flies flying around them, but then it got louder and louder. Very soon, it seemed that a huge swarm of cicadas was flying towards them. And then, a group of small, winged figures appeared through the treetops.
"Here they are!" Volgor roared in a voice full of fury. "Take your javelins and ropes!"
The ogres complied, shouldering long spears and holding a strange rope in their hands. Sarpa and Dharon looked at each other, and nodded to each other. They were ready.
"THROW!" Volgor shouted, and he hurled his javelin at the nearest fairy. He struck her full in the chest and killed her instantly. Other ogres threw their spears, but unfortunately few of them hit: Volgor hadn't bothered to choose a favorable hunting ground, and so the fairies had waited for them and attacked in a territory where visibility was very poor. Though the ogres could throw their javelins hard enough to hit a target deep in the treetops more than twenty meters high, their eyes weren't quite as accurate. For them, in that environment with so little light, it was difficult even to distinguish a fairy from a branch full of leaves.
The fairies kept coming, so the ogres also threw the ropes. They were special whips designed to whirl through the air and instantly bind anything they struck: the perfect means to deal with a flying enemy. This time the ogres were luckier: several shots were successful and many fairies fell from several meters high. However, their glory was short-lived: the fairies were ready to counterattack, and within seconds a shower of arrows fell on them.
"ROOF OF SHIELDS!" Volgor yelled, and all the ogres raised their shields above their heads to ward off the arrows. However, that didn't help much. The disorderly formation of the army, due to the fact that Volgor had wanted to march without evaluating any risk or thinking of a plan, created big problems: the elites were mixed with simple soldiers, and while the former had shields capable of withstanding strong blows, the latter didn't have them. As some enchanted arrows fell on them, their shields broke and created gaps that the fairies used to strike at the other ogres. And things got even more difficult when the fairies began to throw explosives, poisonous weapons and powerful magic at the ogres. Very soon, the ragtag army became unable to hold against their blows.
Sarpa and Dharon had prepared for this and unlike Volgor they had positioned their troops more efficiently; they had also not only created a roof of shield, but also a wall of shield to protect themselves from other desperate ogres running around in flames, engulfed in poison, or carrying other dangers that would quickly affect other ogres as well. Dharon had also warned some of the other chieftains of their plan, and they had imitated their technique. While the rest of the army was suffering heavy casualties, they in the rear were still relatively safe.
Volgor didn't seem to care what was happening behind him: he just charged, and by now he seemed to have even forgotten to give the orders. He would strike with spears and ropes any fairy he found in his path and then cut them to pieces with his sword. His face was contracted in a grimace of pure anger and he hardly seemed to realize what was happening around him.
At least, he didn't realize how far he was from the rest of the army. His charge was so fast that he very quickly distanced himself several meters from his soldiers; someone tried to call him back, but he seemed to have gone deaf. Very soon, he was completely alone.
This was an opportunity the faeries wouldn't lose: several of them bent their bows and a shower of arrows fell on the ogre. Many of them ricocheted off his armor, but it wasn't strong enough to stop the enchanted ones. The darts stuck everywhere: in the shoulders, in the thighs, in the arms. The only part that was spared was the head thanks to the enchanted shield that Volgor continued to keep over his top.
That many arrows would have stopped an ordinary ogre, but Volgor was no ordinary ogre. With a roar, his immense diamond-level strength emerged from his body, with such power that nearby grass and plants were blown away. But the fairies didn't stop: several explosive magical objects were thrown at him. The forest glowed with numerous explosions as the ogre's hide ignited as if it were dry straw. But Volgor didn't even seem to notice this: he kept charging, reaping everything in his path, though he hadn't even put out the fire on his body.
The fairies understood that they weren't facing a simple enemy. However, even the strongest enemy, if he didn't think, became easy to manage. The fairies shot several arrows imbued with earth magic at the ground, which split causing it to fall into a hole; after which they threw numerous explosive objects inside it. The force of the explosion, contained and amplified internally by the confined space, was so powerful that the ground shook within several meters.
But Volgor leapt out of the hole. His skin was completely charred, yet he wasn't stopping. But the fairies weren't done yet: one of them, clad in gleaming armor, took up a finely decorated bow and with it shot an arrow faster than any other. The strength of the arrow was such that it pierced Volgor's chest from side to side, opening a hole near his left lung.
Volgor stopped this time. For an instant his face lost its expression of blind fury in favor of one of complete dismay. He staggered to his feet and seemed about to fall, but with superhuman strength he held himself up and quickly began using his mana to heal himself.
But the fairy shot another arrow. This time it hit the heart. Volgor fell to his knees in agony as he felt his vital organ being torn apart. He tried to use some of his mana to rebuild it, but the fairies didn't give him time and bombarded that opening with more arrows to prevent him from healing. After a minute, Volgor was already too debilitated from the absence of his heart to continue trying to restore it. With the last of his strength he tried to get to his feet, but his legs gave out completely and he fell facedown on the ground. For a brief moment he was still conscious, and he prayed to the god Baat to give him the strength to get up and continue fighting, but his requests remained unheard: his consciousness sank into oblivion and his body became cold.
As soon as he saw Volgor fall, Sarpa looked at Dharon: "It's time! Let's go!"
Dharon nodded. He had sworn to Volgor and promised to follow him into battle; since it had been an oath sworn before many witnesses, if he withdrew before Volgor's death he would have made a fool of himself and everyone would have spoken of him as a liar. But now that Volgor was dead the oath had no more reason to exist, since Dharon had only promised to follow Volgor, not to fight with the faeries to the death. Consequently, the retreat was now more than legal. Just like dragons, ogres knew how to use loopholes in their promises. "You're right. Let's retreat!" Dharon exclaimed.
Sarpa nodded and said, "Give the order as hard as you can! That way, even the soldiers of the other tribes will hear you and follow us!"
Dharon didn't really care much about the other tribes, but after all it was better to have many soldiers behind them covering their retreat; so he stood up as high as he could and yelled: "WE RETREAT! ALL OF YOU, FALL BACK TO THE MILITARY CAMP! FOLLOW..."
He didn't have time to say anything else: an arrow hit him in the face and then exploded, blowing his head off. Dharon's lifeless body fell motionless to the ground. "Dharon!" Sarpa exclaimed completely taken by surprise. Then he noticed a detail: the arrow hadn't come from above... it had come horizontally, as if someone had thrown it from the bushes.
Suddenly it was all clear to him. It had been Haku, or one of the other dragons. It wasn't hard for Sarpa to understand why: Haku had mentioned that he hoped that Dharon would die in battle, so as to avoid Sarpa having to face and kill him to take the place of chieftain. Evidently, Haku had finally decided to personally ensure that the old leader died.
Sarpa was a little shocked: although he knew that sooner or later Dharon would have had to die anyway to make him chieftain, he still felt a certain pain in seeing him die like this. It really was an unjust death.
But he recovered quickly. If Dharon was dead, now the safety of the army depended on him. Just as he had with the Bolvek tribe, he couldn't be distracted by those who died: he had to think about those who were still alive. So he slammed his axe hard against his shield and yelled: "FOLLOW ME! EVERYONE! WE MAY STILL SURVIVE BUT ONLY IF YOU STAND! FOLLOW ME IN ORDER AND DON'T AMASS ON EACH OTHER! REMEMBER, DON'T GIVE IN TO FEAR!"
His words were heard across the battlefield, and the ogres regained some courage. Instinctively, they relied on this new ogre who seemed to know what to do and followed his commands. Very quickly the ogres poured after Sarpa, retreating quickly from that battlefield while the faeries rushed towards them like a raging river.
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