The Forever Man - Book 1: Pulse

Commander Ammon had left the thinnest line of defense that he dared. A mere seven hundred battle Orcs, fifty trolls, five hundred goblin archers and around five hundred constructs to supply arrows, water and replace broken weapons. He had also placed four much smaller groups of warriors on the passes through the mountains that the Elven tribes had used to get through into the realm.

  There was little, if no chance at all, that any of these defenders would make it through the gateway to the new world. But they all knew that. He had not asked for volunteers. He had simply instructed and they had obeyed. This was not bravery nor was it patriotism, it was merely inbred discipline. The Orcs, trolls, goblins and constructs had been selectively bred for many, many generations so as to be refined into the perfect tools for their particular job.

  Orcs stood around five feet ten inches high, weighed three hundred plus pounds. Massively thick bones and two-inch thick gray hide. Eyes deep set to avoid injury, no discernable ears to get ripped off, no hair to hold on to and their noses little more than two holes in their face covered by skin flaps. Their large jaws were lined with rows of sharp canines and their three fingered hands sported long black talons, razor sharp talons. In short, they were perfect killing machines.

  Goblins, however, were much sorter. Five feet tall, short bowlegs that caused them to waddle when they walked. Large eyes capable of seeing almost as well in the dark as in daylight. Long arms that reached almost to the floor and hugely overdeveloped chest and back muscles. Thus a five foot tall Goblin was capable of firing a six foot long recurved bow.

  The trolls were little more than massive, twelve-foot tall, mountains of muscle. Slow witted and just capable of following commands, they were an unstoppable force when used correctly. Their ten-foot shields and twenty-foot pikes capable not only of forming a defensive wall but also of delivering a crushing advance.

  Seth and the rest of the twelve mages that formed the magik-high-commission had formed a magik circle on a huge plain behind the city. There they had fasted for three days and they traveled collectively to the planet Earth and the destination, the stone circle in Cornwall. And now they were creating the gateway to their new world.

  The physical size of the gateway would be in the region of six yards across by two yards high. Thus the population would have to file through the opening, marching five abreast. The column of refugees together with the orc-drawn wagons and the piles of supplies would be over twenty leagues long and would take around five days and nights to get through completely.

  This meant that Ammon and his troops had to keep the Elven hordes off their backs for another few days.

  Ammon heard Seth’s voice in his head as the mage far-spoke him.

  ‘Not long, commander. I think that you should begin to ready the populace. In a couple more hours we will have coalesced enough energy to open the portal.’

  Ammon pulsed a thought of thanks back and strode off to ready the first wave of Orcs and goblins that would go through the gateway in force, in order to secure the area for the rest.

  Chapter 33