Chapter 144 Roar
Setting his crossbow down next to him, Lucien leaned slightly against the tower's railing as he looked out toward the northern treeline.
He couldn't help but be reminded of his first battle.
With little time to prepare, he had been forced to react to the beasts' movements while still adjusting to the realities of this world.
He had sworn then that the next time Ashridge was threatened, he would stack advantage upon advantage so the men he was responsible for would face as little risk as he could manage.
That Dalen's death would not be for nothing.
Lucien's hands tightened around the railing, causing Sera to turn slightly and glance at him.
"I am fine. Just a little high-strung from all this waiting," he assured her without looking away.
Her eyes lingered for a brief moment before she looked elsewhere, this time toward the only other volunteer in the tower holding a windlass crossbow.
Lucien shook his head when Sera seemed to focus more on the weapon than the woman, who had checked her crossbow for the fifth time since he arrived.
When she noticed their attention on her, the older woman froze with one hand still on the winding handle.
"Try to relax and save your strength for later. Remember, aim for the ones closer to the walls and leave the rest of the band for the main force."
"Y-yes, Milord."
Below the tower, the militia stationed along the wall shifted intermittently as they waited for the signal. They kept looking around, both at each other and at where Lucien stood above them.
Seeing that, Lucien deliberately loosened his posture, leaning a little more against the railing.
A young militiaman, barely old enough to grow a beard, gripped his spear tightly. He shifted his feet every few moments, trying and failing to look as though he was only easing the stiffness from his legs.
Gerald walked up to him and placed a large palm on his shoulder, causing the young man to stiffen.
The large guard muttered something to him, though Lucien couldn't hear it from up in the tower. Whatever it was, it must have worked, as the young militiaman visibly relaxed his grip on the spear.
Gerald looked across the wall, then spoke louder this time.
"Stretch if you must. We haven't heard Marcus's horn yet, and like Lord Lucien instructed, all of you will need your strength soon enough."
As he finished speaking, Gerald's gaze came to rest on Lucien, who met his eyes and inclined his head before projecting his voice to the men below.
"My order is simple. At Gerald's call, you will roar to ensure they know you stand tall here. Show these beasts that they will not take your new home without a fight."
Across the wall, the men looked more confused than inspired, exchanging subtle glances with one another.
He wasn't surprised by that reaction. After all, the men stationed on the wall were all drawn from the newer militia, most of them refugees who had only been in Ashridge for a little over a month.
After being fed from Ashridge's granaries and given homes built by its people, their first battle for the village had come with only a simple order.
Follow Gerald's lead, and make as much noise as they could when the time came.
Whatever semblance of calm remained broke when the low sound of a horn came from the forest.
Almost immediately, a few men below cursed out loud while others went rigid, gripping their spears tighter.
Leaving Gerald to keep them steady, Lucien turned his attention to the water gates.
Harlon's men were already lowering them. With the gates half-lowered from dawn, it didn't take long for them to finish their task.
As soon as the sluice gates were fully lowered, they began running toward the northern gate and back to the safety of the walls.
Not long after, Sera stilled in that familiar way of hers, listening to something no one else could hear. A brief moment later, she turned to him and pointed at the northern treeline, closer to the riverbank.
Lucien followed the direction she indicated and let out a small hum. "A little earlier than we expected. The orcs must have set up camp closer."
A few moments later, Marcus burst from the treeline at the head of his riders.
They continued a short distance farther before forming into a line, hands already reaching for the bolts in their saddlebags.
One by one, the men loaded black-feathered bolts into their crossbows. The last man was just pulling his lever fully back when heavier rustling came from the trees.
Lucien looked back to the treeline as the first orcs began to lumber forward, the vegetation around them shaking noisily as they moved.
He could hear the commotion along the wall, Gerald's low voice steadying the men as they waited.
All along the treeline, orcs began to appear in greater numbers. Most of them gathered in staggered groups, no doubt to avoid the riders' volley of bolts.
Once the orcs had spread far enough into the open, Marcus raised his hand high. As one, the riders along the line lifted their crossbows to take aim.
At his signal, thirteen bolts fired at once.
Despite most of them hitting their targets, not a single orc fell from the volley. Some flinched or stumbled from the impact, while others simply kept moving with bolts jutting from their shoulders.
The riders didn't wait to see whether any orcs fell, already wheeling their horses around to put more distance between themselves and the beasts.
They followed Marcus's lead, moving closer to the riverbank, where the fire signal had been built.
And the orcs chased them, emboldened by the poor results from the men who had been harrying them for days on end.
More and more orcs began pouring out of the woods until there were at least forty in sight.
Lucien dragged his gaze away from the skirmish, turning to the hunter beside him. "Is the variant here?"
She gave a firm nod before gesturing farther along the treeline. Her eyes had been fixed on a particular spot ever since the first orcs appeared.
Such was her focus that Sera didn't turn even when footsteps sounded from the tower stairs.
The older woman with them had just lifted her windlass crossbow into place along the railing when the sudden noise made her jerk slightly. She recovered quickly at Lucien's gesture.
A runner soon appeared at the stairs, slightly out of breath. Ignoring the sweat running down his face, the boy dipped his head.
"Captain Dorian sent me, Milord. He says they're in position and will begin firing once the orcs have committed."
Slowly, Lucien inclined his head. "Good. You can rest now. I have already told him that I will leave the timing to him."
At his words, the boy bowed once more before turning to leave.
The sound of crossbows firing from the field caused Lucien to turn back.
Marcus's riders had fired again, their bolts landing among another group of orcs along the beasts' line.
More orcs had left the cover of the trees, spilling out into the open as they let the shorter ones take the lead. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the orcs behind were forcing those in front within range of Marcus's riders.
Only then did the corner of Lucien's mouth lift faintly.
Dorian's words echoed back to him, of how the orcs were prone to infighting. As soon as their leader fell, they would fight among themselves for dominance until a new leader emerged.
Too bad he didn't intend to let a single orc escape.
"Sera. Can you hear anything other than orcs near where the variant is?"
Sera's brow creased before she closed her eyes, her body going still. When she finally opened them, she inclined her head slowly.
Reaching down into her satchel, she took out the parchment and wrote in quick strokes.
Ten. Not orcs.
Once again, Lucien couldn't help but wonder just how accurate Sera's hearing was and, more importantly, whether her blessing was as simple as it first looked.
Setting his thoughts aside, he met Sera's eyes. "I assume the variant and a few orcs are with them?"
When she gave a nod in affirmation, Lucien turned back to the treeline, his eyes narrowing.
"Let me know if it begins moving. It will likely leave some behind as a guard."
The skirmish below had begun to draw to a close when Marcus and his riders reached the riverbank. They turned to fire a third volley at the nearest orcs, then immediately pivoted toward Ashridge's walls.
A few orcs at the back of the band roared as they tried to swing around and cut off the riders' escape.
Their lack of speed and mobility was an orc's greatest weakness, and Lucien had based his plan on that irrefutable fact.
Even so, he found himself relaxing only when Marcus and his riders slipped past the closing gap.
Some of the more eager orcs began to give chase, and finally, Lucien took the windlass crossbow that had been leaning next to him.
The weapon had been spanned beforehand. He set the bolt into the groove, then placed the crossbow on top of the railing.
Beside him, Sera and the older woman had already taken aim.
"Remember the range we practiced and fire at will," he ordered.
A sharp crack sounded from beside him, Sera's bolt flying toward the closest orc charging after the riders.
The bolt pierced its chest, the shaft burrowing deep until only the feathers could be seen.
It fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Lucien inhaled deliberately, his eyes focusing on the iron sight as he picked out another orc before pressing the trigger.
In a heartbeat, his own bolt flew toward another orc, striking its shoulder.
His breath caught for the briefest moment before he forced himself to exhale.
The beast tumbled to the ground before trying to stand again, its head spinning around until its eyes found Lucien on the tower.
It roared, a low guttural sound that made him feel the same strange dissonance he always did at the sight of pig-like creatures giving voice to such a fearsome cry.
That ended when another bolt pierced its chest, cutting it off abruptly as the orc collapsed to the ground.
At the soft gasp beside him, Lucien turned to see the woman staring at the orc she had killed. Then her gaze shifted to her weapon as though seeing it for the first time.
"Good shot."
She jumped at his voice, turning to face him with a flush on her face. "T-thank you, Milord."
When she saw him beginning to reload his weapon, she hurriedly began to do the same. By the time they were done, Marcus's riders were already within the shade of Ashridge's walls.
And the orcs, having seen two of their own fall to the bolts from the tower, began to bunch up, holding what looked like makeshift shields as cover.
There was a group of orcs farther back, bigger and stronger-looking than the rest. They seemed to grunt at each other briefly before turning toward the wall, their eyes settling on the tower.
Along the wall, the militia's panic had calmed at the sight of the two dead orcs, as well as the riders who had led the beasts around with impunity.
Lucien glanced down at Gerald, who had been waiting.
At his gesture, the large guard immediately inhaled deeply before he bellowed.
"Men! These are the beasts that have driven you from your homes!"
The men along the walls stilled at those words, their eyes moving to the large guard among them.
Gerald straightened, his own gaze sweeping along the wall before he waved at the orcs getting into formation.
"Let them know that you still stand, here and now! That they will never take it away again!"
After speaking those words, the large guard drew his head back and roared, his low voice sounding from the walls.
A heartbeat later, the militia along the walls followed suit, their own roars filled with grievance and rage as Gerald's words struck home.
Lucien had feared that the newer militia stationed along the walls would be more frightened. That their cries would not have the effect he was hoping for.
It seemed he had been mistaken.
The orcs' attention soon honed in on Gerald, and for a brief moment, the band looked ready to forgo all caution to charge the walls.
Sera stiffened before nudging him.
A long moment later, the treeline began to rustle as something large pushed its way through.
His prey had arrived.