<h2>CHAPTER 82 - BREACH</h2>


    The Emissary left east on a secret mission. Malinor stayed back with his vanguard while his council went to work. They both needed time to recharge after their most recent feats. Summoning the dark magic took a tremendous physical toll on the human body unless you incorporated reservoirs or triage counterspells. The Emissary’s acolytes infiltrated the city through the shadows, slowly working their way to the citadel.


    Admiral Zorrowfold and Warlord Cassius led the forward infantry against the northern walls, while the Mad Genius Spangalore did a poor job of wrangling his monsters, loving every second of it. Warlord Cass still commanded the siege equipment, now taking special interest in the battering ram breaking the gates to the wall. Admiral Zorrowfold kept the Pride forces busy with continued attack on the walls. The dragon kingdom army was overwhelming. Resistance would soon be unattainable.


    The gates shook as splinters rained down, increasing in size until the doors were compromised. Warlord Cassius maneuvered a surprise in place for whatever was waiting for them on the other side, in the city. Over everything else Warlord Cassius had to fulfill his debt to the Dark Lord Malinor if he is to survive all of this. Certain steps would have to be taken to ensure his involvement in the victory, including a flawless siege of the city.


    Finally, the hinges on the massive northern gate doors gave in, allowing what remained of the doors to crumble into ruin. Dark riders streamed in nearly running down the standing forces of Zepathorum as the gates crumbled to the floor. If it was not for Mortikahn and his cavalry squadron arriving just in time the enemy front would never have been stopped. Mortikahn rode into the fight with the roars and screams of his comrade. He rallied their spirits and turned the momentum in their favor. Behind the riders were endless lines of darksiders slowly marching in. It would not last long, but it would be long enough for reinforcements to arrive.


    Jericho and Paxikahn arrived with most of the archers from the Gatehouse. Paxikahn called out to load their arrows. When Paxikahn ordered them to fire, it blew back the first wave of soldiers. The formations quickly split into two factions after that. The men in back, including Paxikahn and Mortikahn, remained archers and sent arrows deep into the air over the breaking gates. The men in front, led by Jericho, switched to swords and charged. Jericho led the remaining horsemen into three equal groups, one on each end, and the other in the middle of the charge with him.


    They connected with the enemy lines and the collision was blisteringly violent. Neither side budged back, they dug in against each other. Jericho, Mortikahn, and Paxikahn stopped the initial siege of Zepathorum.


    But it would not last. No one knew this more than Jericho, who was in the pit of it all. He had dismounted his horse and sent her off before it got too tight. The fighting was overcrowded. In this confined area, he had to keep his flexibility. He also kept his sword close by him. The most effective way to kill a foe in this type of battle was to lung yourself at them with the tip of your sword aimed for their throat. After being frustrated to the point of motivation, Jericho put his sword away, pulled out two arrows, one in each hand, and in a triumphant rage, he jumped from enemy to enemy and made a valiant push for his family.


    Until there was room enough to breathe he used the arrows as darts pinning opponent after opponent with fatal strikes, mostly to the nape of the necks. Then, when the time came Jericho called for his steed. Once again on horseback he returned to firing the arrows from his bow and joined by Paxikahn and Mortikahn.


    “How goes it in the thick?”


    “The front holds for now. Anymore reinforcements?” answered and asked Jericho as he looked at Mortikahn.


    “Just some thirty or forty cavalry,” informed Mortikahn, “It’s all that’s left.”


    “Do we hold or retreat?”


    Jericho wanted to say retreat.


    “Jericho, keep pushing forward!” yelled Paxikahn, “We will split the cavalry up and cycle through the gate bottleneck in waves.”


    They departed once again. Each new situation presented a shift in their strategy. Thankfully, they continued to adapt to the ever-evolving terrain of the battlefield. Just then six loud cracks sounded off one after another behind them. It was the Gatehouse, six thick cables demolished the small tower of the Gatehouse. With the northern wall now practically evacuated, there was little they could do to prevent that breach. Paxikahn could not spare any of his men. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    That’s when Paxikahn saw Axion, and a small contingent enter the smoking Gatehouse. Then a red flare was shot into the rainy sky above. Anilithyìstad would be updated on the status of the fight if the loud cracks were not enough of a sign already. It mattered not. This meant one very important thing. Paxikahn could once again concentrate on the breach at the northern gate.


    Axion drew his sword and combated the enemies climbing the cables. He chopped down foe and after foe while he made his way outside to the engraved cable hooks. Together with the troops he rounded up on the streets, they successfully pushed them back outside, where Axion caught an overwhelming glimpse. Even if he destroyed these cables, the ladders against the northern wall were all up and running evil darksiders into the city. It was inevitable. He had already shot the red flare into the air to warn Anilithyìstad that the wall was breaking. Axion wrapped a chain around the cable and zip-lined down to the wall. He immediately kicked one ladder down while plunging his sword into the stomach of a dark soldier.


    Cut. Chop. Punch. Cut. Kill. Kill. Parry. Kill.


    When he got to the next ladder and kicked it off the side of the wall Axion peered out into the mass, they were mostly directed towards the front gates now, but still, the amount of monsters that were left to deal with, after they had already killed so many, was demoralizing. Axion was clearing out the wall and getting a fair amount of ladders down when he confronted an unsuspected face.


    It was his cousin, Jericho.


    “I was covering a flank which led me up here, but it appears that you cleaned everything up.”


    “Shall we return to the fight?” asked Axion rhetorically as they abandoned the battlements once and for all and headed back into the downtown fight. Axion and Jericho charged through the enemy ranks cleanly. It was the first time Jericho felt excited for the battle. Running with his oldest cousin and future king gave him the strength he needed to endure the night.


    They rallied the troops around them and created a convoy back to the center of the fight. Together, the two princes ran into battle with the spirit of the fight around them. Their comrades’ hearts burst with pride upon seeing their champion, Axion return. They raised their swords up high and followed behind, pushing the battlefront back over to the northern gate. Axion cut into the ranks in heavy doses, swinging his sword in a wild melee, peeling off the arms and heads of the frontline foe, and passing them back for his troops to finish.


    Jericho fought with ease, now allowed to breathe amongst Axion’s rampage. They always worked well together, and Jericho shadowed his brute older cousin with his bow and arrow, along with precision accuracy. Axion ran the center of his line through the gates, getting as far as the fields on the other side. While Jericho shot down enemy archers and sharpshooters attempting to assassinate Axion. But soon the momentum died, and the soldiers were getting tired. They had gone too far. Now they were risking vulnerability, being outside the walls.


    “Call for retreat,” he ordered.


    Axion looked out. Thinking that this would be the last time he could get an accurate gauge on how many battalions they were dealing with. Axion scanned the fields, too many, over twenty thousand. Axion followed his retreat back into the gates and covered the rear of their mobilization, keeping the causalities low. They slowly fought at the gates once again. Axion cut down pawn after pawn, trying to keep the flow funneled. The infiltrators from the north wall and Gatehouse got their ladders back up and flanked the battle into the downtown area. Axion had to drop back to absorb the blow. The frontlines were spreading; soon they would spread out of control.


    Axion looked at Paxikahn, Jericho, and Mortikahn each on a flank in front of him, getting scattered back amongst the wreckage.


    Axion called his troops to fall back, “REFORM THE LINES!”


    Paxikahn had them pulled back upon hearing Axion’s call. He sent messengers to bring them back along with Mortikahn. So, they gathered together, and Paxikahn asked Axion what the next step was.


    “We have to spread out the forces we have left. But we can’t do it all at once. Jericho and Mortikahn come with me. We will take all the cavalry and station them around the city to catch the retreat.”


    “I shall hold them as long as I can here.”


    “Uncle…you will die if you stay here!” interrupted Mortikahn.


    “Do not worry about me. You three stick together! I’ll see you back at the courtyard. Now get going!”


    Paxikahn bid farewell to his nephews and returned to his post at the front. Axion and Jericho road off, but Mortikahn lingered, staring at his uncle Paxikahn. Paxikahn nodded back at Mortikahn reassuringly. He smiled. Mortikahn smiled back, worried it would be the last time he would ever see his uncle.


    Without warning a messenger came bearing ever worse news. Boats had been spotted on the other side of Lake Niobi and were now on their way over to the beach of the Citadel. Soon the only side of the city without a wall to crumble would be infiltrated all the same.