“I did not know you existed ten minutes ago.” Max croaked, spitting out some remaining bile. “But yes, I will defeat you! Boom!” Max cast the spell, then jerked his head backwards, throwing his frozen body off balance enough to begin to fall.
But he wasn’t fast enough. The spell had struck the staff, which the Lich had been holding in front of himself like a shield. The staff exploded, sharp bits of wood and dark crystal embedding themselves in Max’s face and front even as they knocked the necromancer backward, shredding his robes. Max noted that there was no blood pumping from the dwarf’s wounds as his own blood flowed freely, and he finally hit the ground.
“You will pay for that!” The dwarf screamed at him, getting back to his feet and beginning another chant. Max, still frozen by the necromancer’s spell, could only watch from on his back as it stalked toward him. One of Smitty’s flaming arrows punched into the back of the necromancer’s head, interrupting the spell. Both the dwarf and Max looked toward Smitty, who was standing behind the two Darkholm dwarves and firing arrows as quickly as possible. Nearly all of the undead minions were now aflame, and the dwarves were stepping backward while slamming their shields into their kinfolk, trying to hold them back. Occasionally Dalia or Battleaxe would strike out with their weapon, removing a rotted hand or arm, severing a leg.
The necromancer shouted something, and Smitty froze, just as Max had. At the same time, the retreating dwarves reached him, Dalia’s back bumping Smitty and nearly knocking him over. When Battleaxe looked up and saw the orc frozen, his face became grim. The burning undead dwarves were only three steps away, and the Dahlia and Battleaxe couldn’t retreat any further without leaving Smitty to a horrible death.
Making a decision, Battleaxe shouted, “Heal him! Drag him back if ye need to!” Raising his shield high, he activated his Shield Rush ability and shot forward, knocking down three of the shambling undead dwarves. He shouted something at the others, and every single one of them turned toward him, ignoring Dalia and Smitty.
Max, afraid for his friends’ lives, looked up from the ground at the necromancer’s back. Focusing on what he hoped would be the dwarf’s spine, he shouted “Boom!” again, closing his eyes and resigning himself to his fate.
There was a tinkling sound of breaking glass, and a scream from the dwarf. Max felt several impacts on his face, but not much pain. Opening his eyes, he saw that the dwarf was lying on the ground several feet away, a massive hole blown in its chest. It was struggling weakly to rise, even as Max began to feel his body loosening up.
A quick glance showed Dalia dragging a frozen Smitty by one foot back toward their tunnel, while Battleaxe was holding off the five undead dwarves still on their feet. All of them were burning, and Max saw one drop to the ground and lay still before he returned his focus to the necromancer. His eyes widened as he noticed that there was now a visible health status.
Zrebnightlingrir the Necromancer
Dwarf Lich
Level 35
Health: 2,800/7,000
Max cast a heal on himself, which seemed to increase the return of his muscle control. Still unable to rise, he cast a heal on Battleaxe, then on Smitty. He tried Rot again on the dwarf, and this time he saw the flesh began to peel back on its half-ruined face.
Slowly, too slowly, Max forced his elbows and knees to bend. He managed with an extreme effort of will to roll onto his side, watching in horror as the dwarf rose to its feet just two steps away.
“You can not kill me, mutt!” the lich growled at him. If you defeat me here, I will simply return in a new body and claim your soul!”
Max’s arms loosened up, and he consider trying to chop the legs out from under the dwarf. Instead, he held very still, pretending to struggle as if he were still frozen.
Laughing, the dwarf stepped closer. “You destroyed my crystals. Wasted the life force of a dozen arena fighters! I shall harvest yours, and that of your friends, as replacements!” The dwarf leaned down to place a hand on Max’s head, and Max sprang into action.
His hand shot forward, grabbing hold of its forearm, and cast Jump on the dwarf. The lich disappeared, reappearing high in the air, just as one of the grey dwarves had done in the morning’s battle. It fell toward its remaining minions, but Max’s perspective from down on the ground had been off, and it crashed to ground behind them. The lich’s health bar dropped to a sliver, but rose again a split second later as one of the undead minions went still and fell on its face, its remaining life force drained by the lich.
Max tried his best to get up, but his muscles still weren’t fully freed. He cast another heal on himself, and did his best to push against the sand with his working arm. As he concentrated, he heard Dalia scream. Max looked up, and began to roar in frustration.
The lich had cast its paralysis spell on Battleaxe, freezing the dwarf in place. The remaining undead dwarves tackled the scout, who was unable to even scream. Dalia abandoned Smitty and dashed toward him, frantically casting a heal, but she was too far away to help. The undead ripped and scratched at Battleaxe, tearing his shield from his frozen hands and covering his body. Max cast a heal as well, and the dwarf’s health rose for a second, but then plummeted to zero.
Screaming, Dalia finally arrived and hacked at the undead who were still lying atop her companion’s corpse. One lost its head with the first stroke, and another lost an arm. She kicked that one off of Battleaxe’s chest, its mouth coming away with a large chunk of the flesh from his face.
Max pushed himself to his knees, then used the last of his own mana to cast Jump once more. His body slammed into the back of the necromancer as it finished a sinister-sounding chant. To Max’s horror, Battleaxe began to rise, his eyes blank.
“No!” Max screamed, grabbing hold of the lich’s head from atop its back and ripping the head from the spine with brute strength fueled by rage. Instantly, Battleaxe and the last of the undead dwarves collapsed, and those still struggling on the ground went still.
The orcs in the stands roared their approval, beginning their chant again. Max didn’t care, in fact it barely registered as he stumbled toward his friend’s body. Dalia was already there, hugging the old dwarf to her and sobbing.
Orcs began leaping from the stands down into the sand, first a few, then dozens, then hundreds of them making their way over to encircle the fallen dwarf. Several of them helped Smitty to his feet, the spell broken with the lich’s demise. He too fell to his knees next to Battleaxe, placing a hand on Dalia’s back to comfort her.
The orcs gathered round the party had all gone silent, except for a few hushed grumblings. The arena master, a large orc with a scarred face and two missing fingers on his left hand pushed his way through and began shouting orders.
“Remove the prisoners! Take them to their cage until the next trial!” He looked down at Battleaxe’s corpse. “Remove that filth! Throw him in the refuse pile with the other undead!”
Max leapt to his feet, rage dulling his vision to a hazy red as he roared into the face of the arena master. “Touch him and I will eat your heart!” He swung his right fist, connecting with the orc’s jaw. One tusk shattered as Max’s stonelike knuckle bones connected with enough force to knock the orc down. Several other orcs grabbed the arena master and lifted him back up as the crowd shouted in anger. He disappeared under a flurry of punches from every direction.
The arena master might have died on the spot if Lo’tang and his twenty orcs had not interfered. They seized the now unconscious orc from the crowd, binding him hand and foot. Lo’tang then turned and bowed his head to an enraged and panting Max.
“Our apologies, Chimera King. He will be dealt with. Tried for his crimes in the eyes of the gods, and punished.” He looked around as the crowd grumbled. They quieted down, and he motioned for them to back up. “Please, Chimera King. Retrieve your loot, and any trophy you desire. We will care for your fallen companion as the warrior hero he was. All here witnessed his courage and sacrifice. All here know that it should not have
been necessary.” At this last statement, the grumbling of the crowd grew louder.
Max nodded, walking over to lift the head of the lich, disregarding the loot notifications as he raised it high into the air. “Your war chief is without honor! He demanded this trial, though I am a visiting diplomat, not one of your people. He rigged the trials so that we would fail!” He paused as the orcs surrounding him began to shout, raising fists and weapons into the air.
“And for what reason?” Max began to shout as loudly as he could. “Why would the most powerful among you feel the need to go against your traditions, against your gods?!”
The crowd was becoming enraged, and Max shook the lich’s head at them. “I say we go ask your war leader to explain himself!”
Just as Max was stepping back toward his fallen friend and companions, a loud roar from the back of the crowd silenced them. There was a rustling as the crowd parted, and An’zalor strode through them, the dwarven sword in his hand, blade bared.
“That will not be necessary, toy king. I am right here!” He growled, brandishing the sword in a threatening manner without actually raising it. “You are nothing to me, and have no right to question me in my lands!”
Gr’tok emerged from the crowd behind Max, stepping up to stand beside him. “I have the right, cousin! I stand here before our people and accuse you of violating the long-standing rules of the trials, set down by the gods themselves.” He looked around at the scores of nodding heads surrounding them. “If you will not be questioned, I’m sure the arena master can be brought here and questioned in your stead. What will he tell us, cousin?”
The war leader’s eyes shifted left and right as he took a good long look at his people. He was outnumbered, surrounded, and very clearly in the wrong. He’d expected to be able to bully the new king into silence, send him away with a spanking, and keep the legendary weapon in the bargain. Only now did he realize he’d taken things too far.
Max didn’t wait for him to finish thinking things through. “Answer me, war leader! Why did you force this? Why did my good friend have to die?”
An’zalor’s temper flared. He was the war leader, and was not used to being called out for any reason. “Silence, toy king! Hold your tongue and I will do you the favor of allowing you to leave in peace!”
The moment he spoke, every orc within hearing distance drew a weapon. Several advanced a step toward the war leader before Max raised his hands. “Stop!”
The crowd obeyed, and the war leader bared his fangs at Max. Max bared his own, and spoke in a loud, gravelly voice. “Honorless War Chief, it is clear to all present here today that you have broken your own laws. You have refused to justify your actions, and at the same time failed to deny your guilt! Now, I will do you a favor and allow you to apologize to me, my companions, your people, and your gods. Right here and now. I will do you that favor because, as part of that apology, you will graciously accept the gift from Darkholm that you hold in your hand, and agree to a peace accord between your people and the dwarves.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I will lead your own people, these people, against you.” Max spread his hands to indicate the crowd, who were still snarling and holding their weapons at the ready. “I will kill you myself. Or, if I fall, he will take my place!” Max nodded toward Gr’tok, who smiled.
“And if Gr’tok falls, I will take his place!” Lo’tang shouted. One after another, the orcs standing on the sand happily volunteered to murder their war chief, or die trying.
Max leaned in so that his face was inches from An’zalor’s. “What will it be, coward? Will you fight and die, or will you apologize and accept peace?”
The war chief raised the sword in the air and shouted, “Silence!” When the crowd calmed, he faced Max and bowed his head. “I apologize for my actions, and for the death of your companion. I accept this gift, and the offer of peace from Ironhand of Darkholm.” He slid the sword into the scabbard on his back, then crossed his arms and glared daggers at Max and Gr’tok. “Satisfied?”
Gr’tok shook his head. “We will ask the judgement of the gods later, cousin. For now, there is the question of the trials. These warriors completed the trials, despite your cowardly interference. It is now time for them to demand their prize!”
The mood of the crowd changed instantly. There was much cheering, and more chanting of “Chimera King”, which visibly enraged An’zalor again. Max smiled at him, watching as he took deep breaths, his chest heaving as he strove to restrain himself.
Finally, he spoke. “Name your prize.”
Dalia got to her feet after setting the old scout’s head gently in the sand. “I want the lich’s crystal! I know you have it, or you could not have imprisoned him here to serve in your trials!”
Caring little for the lich, especially after he failed to eliminate four lower-level fighters, the war leader snorted. “Done! He is useless to me anyway.” Looking at his people, he decided to be beneficent. “In addition, I will ensure that his minions receive an honorable burial. They died as warriors not once, but twice.” There were some grunts of agreement from the crowd, and the war chief nodded, proud of himself. “Now that the prize is settled, I have business to attend to.”
“No, cousin. Each of these three passed the trials, each of them is deserving of a prize.” Gr’tok turned toward Smitty and raised an eyebrow. The orc hunter grinned. “I want gear! A full set of epic gear, including a bow!”
Most of the orcs laughed at the simple request, several thumping Smitty on the back. An’zalor grunted his agreement. Again, this was a simple thing, easily accomplished and costing him little.
All eyes turned to Max. Max leaned down and whispered something to Dalia, who nodded, her eyes tearing up again. She bent down and pulled off Battleaxe’s inventory ring, then produced something from it. Max took it, then removed the largest of the dragon vertebrae from his own storage. There was a round of muttering from the crowd as Max took one of the maps and spread it out across the top of the vertebra, using it as a makeshift table. Placing a dagger on either side of the parchment to weight it down, he pointed at the map.
“Do the orcs claim the Brightwood battle site as your own?”
“The cursed zone? Of course not.” The war leader scoffed. “It is of no value, any useful items picked clean long ago, or rusted beyond use.”
Max patted at his chest, unthinkingly searching for a pen before realizing they weren’t a thing in this new world. Instead, he bit his fingertip, drawing blood and quickly using it to make a line across the map that curved up and around until it became an oval that encircled a section of the map. “This. This is my prize, The cursed battleground, and some of the land to the south.”
The war leader leaned down and looked closely at the map. The land the foolish chimera wanted was mostly empty forest and open fields in the northernmost sector of his territory. He saw a way station marked, and then a silver mine not far away. He recognized the northern silver mine, and recalled that actual silver production had been low for as long as he could remember. Thinking that Max was figuring to get rich off the barely profitable mine, An’zalor grinned. “Done! All the land within the circle of your blood shall be yours.”
Max smiled back, and the orcs cheered as he rolled up the map. A silver glow surrounded the war leader and the three companions, a clear indicator that the gods had heard and confirmed the bargains.
Chapter 24
Once Battleaxe’s body was carted away to be prepared for his funeral, Gr’tok, Lo’tang and his twenty guards escorted Max, Smitty, and Dalia to the best inn in the city. As they walked, the orc commander handed over several bags of coins. Speaking quietly he reported, “This morning I was able to wager seven thousand gold, at six to one. Minus my share, all told your original one thousand gold, and the heart of a true warrior, have earned you fifty eight thousand, three hundred gold.”
Max should have been thrilled at the windfall, but all he could think of was whether it was worth
Battleaxe’s life. Still, he tried to be polite. “Thank you, commander. The cost was high, but we can do much good with these funds. As ruler of Stormhaven, I pronounce you Honored among our citizens.” He mentally pictured the look on Red’s face as Gr’tok’s eyes unfocused briefly.
“After confronting my cousin, I will no longer be welcome here. Does your offer still stand? May I bring my wife and children to your city?”
Max nodded, clapping the commander on the back. “You, Lo’tang, all of these honorable orcs in this escort. You and your families are welcome to join us. It is late, and my companions and I need a little time. We will leave tomorrow. Can you arrange transportation for everyone? And can you get back the mounts we had with us when you captured us?”
“Of course, Chimera King. That has already been arranged. Also, if you’re willing, there are many more families who will wish to join you after today.”
Max shook his head. “I don’t want to start a new war a day after ending the old one. And there is a limit to how many citizens we can support within the city at the moment.” He paused to consider. He could purchase a significant amount of food with the gold he’d won. “Let us say, in addition to yourself and these orcs, another thirty warriors with their families. Immediate families. Wives, children. Not third cousins twice removed.”
Gr’tok chuckled. “It will be as you say, Chimera King.”
“Enough with that, Gr’tok. You may call me Max. Or sire if you must be formal. Chimera King makes it sound like I’m king of all chimeras, and I’ve not met any others. For all I know, I’m the only one.”
They arrived at the inn, where they were quickly shuffled upstairs to the third floor. Each of the companions received a suite with its own bath, and they were left alone to clean up and relax. The innkeeper, who had escorted them upstairs, bowed deeply. “Simply pull the cord near the bed if you need anything at all, honored king. Our kitchen staff and chambermaids will be available day or night to provide for your needs.”
Battleborne Page 38
