DOOOOONG! DOOOOONG!   

Darrick looked up from the maps he was pouring over as the toll shattered the morning. The bell warned of approaching enemy raiders. He sprinted from the castle keep to the castle barracks, which was buzzing with soldiers readying for battle. He ran through the barracks and to the West lookout tower. He raced up the stairs to the top. His cousin stood talking with the watchman.  

“What do you see, Dalton?” Darrick asked.  

“Orcs, a large raiding party,” Dalton replied.  

Darrick ran to the side of the tower. Sure enough, no more than two hundred Orcs approached rapidly on their large wolf-like creatures called wargs. Darrick looked over his shoulder at the assembling Angor Rangers. 

 “Assemble another unit of archers, Dalton,” Darrick ordered. 

Dalton nodded and barked orders to the men below.  Darrick charged down the stairs with Dalton not far behind him. He burst out of the tower’s door, barking orders as he mounted his coal-black war-charger, Valiant. The Rangers worked like a well-oiled war-machine. Lancemen up front, swordsmen next, supported by archers.   

Darrick felt at home in the saddle, with his battle-brothers surrounding him. They were the only brothers he had since his father and true brothers had died fighting Orcs.   

Darrick looked over his right shoulder where Dalton sat on his charger, twirling a sword in each hand with restlessness. Darrick raised his sword and swept it forward, signaling his troops forward at a fast trot. They swept through the village surrounding the castle. They rode through a thin stand of trees and into an open field, where many battles had been fought.   

Darrick sent several archers ahead to scout out the Orc forces. A few minutes later, the archers came back and reported that the Orcs were less than a mile off and approaching fast. Darrick pushed forward to where the field dropped off, where erosion hundreds of years ago had caused a ten-foot cliff.  

“Dalton, take the horsemen around the cliff and position at the bottom,” Darrick said, he turned to the commander of the archers, “Bentley, dismount your men and position them on the cliff.” 

Both men turned and shouted orders. As the horsemen reached the bottom of the cliff, the Orcs came over a rise three hundred yards away. Darrick galloped to the front of the horsemen, raised his sword, and bellowed, “For Angor!” His men echoed his cry with weapons raised. Make Father proud, thought Darrick.  

“Charge!” he shouted.  

With a mighty war-cry, his men kicked their steeds into a gallop. As the distance closed rapidly, Darrick stood up in his saddle, raised his sword, and swept it down. A moment later, a hail of arrows came down on the front row of the raiders, dropping both rider and warg. At twenty yards, his men lowered their lances, and Darrick lowered his sword, and with a roar, slammed it into the Orc in front of him, ripping it from its warg. A split-second later the Angor lances sliced through their targets, collapsing the Orc raiders’ front line.   

Darrick’s men discarded their lances and drew their swords, slicing right and left. Out of his peripheral, Darrick watched Dalton use a scissor-like sweep of his blades to behead an Orc. Darrick leaned over and thrust his blade into an Orc’s chest, withdrew it and thrust it again, all in one motion. Darrick’s sword flashed left and right, ending the lives of any Orc too close to him. A sharp snarl ripped through the air. Darrick jerked his head to his left. A riderless warg leaped at one of his aides. The aide lifted his sword and thrust it through the warg’s underside, but it didn’t deter the creature. The warg caught the aide full in the chest and with a snap of its jaws, nearly severed his head. They both tumbled from his horse, never the rise again.  

A horn sounded and the Orcs disengaged and retreated. Darrick signaled and another volley of arrows filled the sky, dropping many retreating Orcs. Darrick’s heart pounded and his lungs hauled in air with short, sharp breaths, but he was unhurt. He furrowed his brow in thought. Orc raids were becoming more common and he didn’t like it at all. Who could be sending these? he thought. He turned his charger and called to his cousin,  

“Dalton, oversee the physician detail, I’ll take the others back to the castle.”  His cousin nodded and rode over to the physicians, while Darrick led the weary procession back to the castle.