Tales of Dungheap Fortress
an excerpt

General Adama Hergenreder watched as his carefully choreographed battle plan went awry. Knowing their value lay chiefly in the shock effect of a mounted charge, his knights were hidden in a small copse beside the main road leading to Dunmore Watchtower. The beastmen traveling along the road, heading for the watchtower, would be turned by the power of the magicians into the copse where they could not avoid the knights by melting into the forest.
During the planning, the master of the magicians boasted that a mere handful could turn the throng of beastmen away from their powerful fireball spells. Adama had doubted their abilities and positioned the entire squad of magicians along the road.
Now he watched as the ineffectual fireballs burst against the tough hides of the beastmen. Instead of turning away and being driven toward the waiting knights, the beastmen became enraged and charged the magicians. Blinded by their assurances, Adama realized belatedly that he should have provided a cover force in the event of disaster.
“Signal the charge, before we lose them all,” he told his flagman as the beastmen reached the ranks of magicians. The huge axes wielded by the bearlike creatures made short work of the magicians in their robes of violet. Some turned to flee and were cut down before they could take a step. Adama watched as the master of the magicians shot a fireball from his palm, its flame singeing the hide of a large beastman who staggered back under the assault. The magician smiled just as an axe beheaded him from behind. The flagman was still waving the red and yellow flag signaling the charge when the last of the magicians fell and were trampled as the beastmen advanced.
Dunmore watchtower was a small nondescript watchtower along the border regions separating the civilized realms from the northern wastes. Its function was to protect the valuable farming lands to the south. The beastmen spent most of their time fighting amongst themselves, with only an occasional raiding expedition southward for precious metals and women.
Recently, Dunmore had been the site of a large raid, resulting in it being overrun and partially destroyed. The watchtower was being hastily reinforced and Adama was placed in charge of the defensive force, tasked with protecting the area from subsequent raids, such as this one.
Armor glinting in the sunlight, the knights roared forth from their concealed trap, their charge faltering as they were forced to make the sharp turn onto the road. The nearest beastmen turned to attack the disorganized horsemen while the main force continued on to the watchtower, their heavy axes hewing at the hastily erected braces.
Adama sneaked a quick peek at the observer by his side. The impassive witness, instantly recognizable by his red and white checkerboard clothing was trained by the military to provide factual reports of all conflicts. Now he watched the battle unfold, taking occasional notes in the cryptic language only understood by observers.
Down below, the beastmen had splintered the doors of the watchtower and were streaming inside. The cries of the men inside could be heard though the din of battle. Along the road, the mounted knights were faring only slightly better. Although they greatly outnumbered the beastmen, being on horseback was proving to be a disadvantage. The beastmen had no qualms about killing horses and dozens of knights were thrown as their mounts died, only to be quickly dispatched.
Adama watched as one knight, his armor adorned with crimson, rallied the men around him. Lashing out with his sword, he cleared a temporary space and maneuvered his horse through the group, heading for the watchtower. Others followed and soon the remnants of the knights. Adama understood the crimson knights plan, to clear enough space to turn and charge, using the advantage speed gave them but the beastmen followed at a run, cutting down the knights in the rear and soon the horsemen were brought to a halt by the walls of the watchtower.
“Come on,” Adama shouted to his small reserve force as he mounted his charger, “if we strike quickly, we can still save the knights.”
The reserve force swept down the hill and thundered out onto the plain. Adama watched as the knights milled about in front of the watchtower walls. Beastmen began emerging from the watchtower, their axes red with blood, to attack the knights. Pressed from two directions the knights were pushed closer together as their numbers dwindled.
Adama and his force crashed into the beastmen like a thunderbolt. The force of the galloping horses disorganizing the beastmen and making them easy prey for the longswords of the knights. Clearing a path, Adama dismounted and shouted to the force to do likewise.
“We will make a stand inside the watchtower,” he shouted, while dragging the knight in crimson toward the shattered door. The fresh troops surrounded the handful left from the initial force, and fought a rearguard to the watchtower.
Once inside, Adama quickly organized the men. “Two stand abreast,” he shouted, pushing the knights into position, “they can only come through the door one at a time.”
He grabbed several more men and shoved them forward, “you men, stand behind these. If one falls you will step forward and take his place. At five minute intervals, the men in front will back away and be replaced. This will give each man a chance to rest.”
He raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time and came out on the parapet, slick with blood. From his vantage he could see the observer on the distant hilltop and the beastmen arranged below. He watched them carefully, looking for any sign of a change in plan, but they seemed content to climb over their fallen and continue attacking the defended doorway.
The twin moons were well above the horizon before a lull in the sound of combat made him look down. The beastmen were stepping away from the door. His hopes for an end to the battle were short-lived however, as a gigantic beastman approached. This one seemed different than his brethren, he was more than a foot taller and heavy muscles were evident under the thick coat of wiry fur. The axe he carried was fully five feet long with a blade nearly three feet across.
Adama whirled away from the parapet and raced down the narrow stairs, drawing his sword. Before he reached the bottom he could hear the sounds of renewed fighting. The sharp clang as metal met metal, the screams of the dying men. Racing down the steps he came into view just as the colossal beastman forced his way through the door. Two knights were already down, their mail sliced through as if it was so much paper. The remaining knights dropped their swords and turned to flee, pushing past Adama as he fought his way forward.
Adama stepped over the knight with the crimson decorations on his armor. He oozed blood from a hastily wrapped stump and his eyes were full of pain but his good hand held a knife and he nodded in approval as his general stepped over to meet the beastman in the narrow confines of the corridor. Adama squared his feet and pointed his sword at the beastman.
“You will go no farther,” he roared.
The giant bellowed in rage and swung his axe but the walls preventing the beastman from swinging in a full arc. Adama easily ducked under the blade as it struck the rock wall, throwing sparks. His counter thrust bit into the tough hide of the beastman but the dense wiry fur prevented it from penetrating deeply. The beastman flicked the axe back toward Adama, grunting as it bounced harmlessly off the wall. Adama jabbed with the sword, feeling it penetrate the fur and into the flesh underneath.
The beastman roared and abandoning his attempts at swinging, shoved the spiked end of the axe at Adama. The point struck the center of his armor, denting it and sending him staggering backward. Adama tripped over a body and fell sprawling, his sword flying from his hand. On hands and knees he scrabbled for his sword, feeling the hot breath of the beastman on his head. He spun around, holding the sword in both hands in a futile hope of fending off the killing blow.
The beastman stepped forward and raised his axe for the killing blow. Unnoticed by the monster, the body he stepped over was not dead. The knight with crimson accents, struck from where he lay, the sharp knife slicing through the hamstring of the beastman. The monster roared in pain and staggered sideways. Adama saw his chance and thrust his sword forward with all of his might. The blade penetrated to the hilt and stuck in the beastmans stomach.
The beastman turned his attention back to Adama and swung his axe, but the sureness that marked its swing before was gone. The blade wobbled in its flight and stuck in a timber above the corridor. Adama spied another sword lying next to a body and grabbed it. The beastman wrenched at the axe, exposing his torso and Adama plunged another sword into it.
This time the roar was weaker and the beastman stopped trying to free his axe, instead he leaned up against the wall of the corridor and pulled the swords out of his body. He threw the swords away and staggered forward. Adama grabbed another sword and stabbed the giant full in the neck. With blood gushing from the wounds, the beastman fell to his knees and finally pitched forward.
Summoning his last reserves of energy, Adama staggered forward and chopped at the neck, finally severing the head after three cuts. He grabbed the head by its hair and walked out of the watchtower to face the beastmen waiting silently outside. Throwing down the head, he kicked it out into the night.
“Anyone else want to share the same fate?” He roared at them.
The beastmen stood motionless for a moment, then faded silently into the deepening shadows. Adama staggered back inside and sank to the ground.