Annia nodded as she stared past the group at the far corner. The magma wyrm's head was weaving back and forth as if it was searching for its prey. It had no eyes, just a gaping mouth lined with row upon row of hooked teeth that gleamed like metal.
“Yes, I know, Guildmaster,” she replied. “That is just what I was telling the others. And it looks like the old stories were also correct about one other thing; those creatures are blind.”
All of the rogues, including Hallic, turned to look at the wyrm.
“Ah yes,” he said. “It's trying to sense us. So who among you has a crossbow?”
Three of the rogues pulled out the small steel crossbows favored by their guild. Hallic motioned for Annia to continue organizing her team and she smiled in appreciation at his gesture of trust in her leadership.
“You three move to the right side of the troops and take your shots when you can,” she said quickly. “Aim down its throat. You'll be wasting your ammo if you hit its hide. The rest of us will have to stay back. Watch the king. If he is in danger then we will have to act, regardless of the danger.”
Shandon was conferring with Larin and Odella while Jergen and Pieter got ready for battle, watching the wyrm and waiting for it to act.
“Are you sure you remember how to use that thing?” Jergen asked his old friend with a grin as he settled his shield onto his forearm and drew his sword. “I think I see some rust on it.”
Pieter had drawn his bastard sword awkwardly and now rested its tip on the ground.
“Bah,” Pieter replied with a chuckle. “Fighting's in the blood, don't you know. Once a warrior, always a warrior; that's what I say. And it's not rust. That's just a trick of the light.”
Jergen looked at the long sword skeptically.
“If you say so. Just try not to cut your own leg off when you start swinging it, would you? Or anyone else's for that matter, including mine.”
“If you're that worried, then maybe you should stay back and let me do all the fighting,” Pieter suggested with a teasing grin.
“And miss out on the glory?” Jergen replied with a disgusted snort. “Not a chance.”
The king was speaking seriously with the mages, but he had to work to hold back his laughter at the familiar banter between his two friends.
Just like old times, he thought fondly. But we've never faced something like this.
“Do either of you have a counter to a monster like that wyrm?” he asked Larin. “It will pick up our scent in a moment, so we don't have much time.”
Larin glanced at Odella, who nodded.
“You fight heat with cold and fire with water,” she replied to Shandon. “And a magma wyrm contains both dangers. So ice spells should at least slow it down, don't you think, Elder?”
“I do. My lord, we have never faced something like this. No one has, not for centuries. But I have read stories about them. Odella and I will attack it with ice. According to the old tales, if we can harden its skin, your warriors can attack its gullet. The tongue and throat are where it is most vulnerable. Its maw is its weakest point, if we can reach it.”
Shandon looked at the distant serpent with a frown.
“That's not much of a target, but if it is all we have, then we'll have to make do,” he said heavily. “Thank you both. Try not to die, would you? I value your company.”
Larin smiled at the king's dark humor.
“We'll do our best, my lord. Please take care of yourself as well.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Shandon stated as he reached over his shoulder and drew his massive hammer. “If you're a warrior and focused on self-preservation, then it may be time to find a new line of work.”
He moved off to join Jergen and Pieter, and Odella watched him with concern.
“Is he actually going to attack that thing himself?” she asked Larin in disbelief.
Larin cupped his hands together and began moving them around each other as if shaping a lump of clay.
“Of course he is,” he replied absently. “Don't you know him well enough by now? That is Shandon Ironhand, son of kings and defender of the empire. And in him, his lineage and his duty have combined to give him a grand purpose. If I know one thing about him, it's that either that wyrm dies down here or he does. There is no other possible outcome.”
He muttered a word under his breath and a ball of white light appeared in his hand, tiny crystals of ice cascading from it like sparks.
“So let's make sure that it is the wyrm that falls, shall we?” he added.
Odella nodded and quickly began preparing her own spell. They were running out of time.
No more than a couple of minutes had passed since the magma wyrm had appeared, but everyone was able to ready themselves in that short span of time. Which was fortunate because the monster suddenly burst completely out of the ground with a roar and charged straight toward the waiting defenders.
“I think it found us,” Pieter observed.
“You don't say?” Jergen replied sarcastically. “How can you tell?”
Shandon chuckled and tightened his grip on his hammer. The weapon had belonged to his father, and to many others of his line down through the centuries. It was inlaid with golden runes that pulsated as he held it and was said to be powerfully enchanted. The king wasn't exactly certain what the enchantments did, if anything, but it was a good weapon regardless.
“Get ready!” Commander Brokk bellowed.
The troops raised their shields as one and held their positions, watching as the wyrm raced toward them.
The creature was at least thirty feet long and five feet across. It glowed with a pulsing red light, as if it had been formed out of molten rock, and it left a trail of melted stone behind it as it undulated toward them. A fog of thick smoke rose up from the ground as it burned its way over it, and the sound of its passage was almost deafening.
Larin hurriedly moved to stand to the left side of the troops, so that he had a clear line of sight of the wyrm. Odella followed him and then they both waited. The monster had to get closer before their spells could be effective.
At the opposite end of the line, the three rogues readied their crossbows. The troops gripped their weapons tightly and prepared to defend the king. Then everyone waited for the wyrm to attack.
“Get ready,” Shandon said tersely.
The monster was barreling straight at them, but just as it was about to get into range of the crossbows of the rogues, the wyrm stopped abruptly. It reared up, its glowing belly dripping molten stone, and then it shot straight down into the ground, disappearing from sight as if it the floor was made of liquid. All that remained was a perfectly round hole radiating heat that burned brightly in the eyes of the dwarves.
“Stay alert!” Brokk shouted to his warriors. “It could come from anywhere!”
“Damn it all!” Shandon exclaimed as he looked around the cellar. “We're too vulnerable here! That bloody wyrm has us at a complete disadvantage.”
“I have a suggestion,” Hallic told him. “Let's get everyone up the stairs. Then the wyrm will have to come to us on the floor above via the staircase and we'll know exactly where it will appear.”
The king stared at him for a brief moment and then made a sound of disgust.
“Gods, I am an idiot,” he said. “You're right, Hallic. Why are we standing here lined up to be that creature's next meal? Brokk, get your troops up those stairs! We'll regroup above.”
The commander looked surprised at the order, but he obviously saw the wisdom in it and ordered his people to retreat.
The soldiers turned at once and trotted toward the stairwell.
An explosion of molten rock and burning hot air threw back the first group of soldiers just as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Thick choking smoke filled the air followed by cries of pain as the dwarves who had fallen tried to retreat from the stairwell back into the cellar.
“Help them!” Shandon shouted as he rushed forward, with Jergen and Pieter right behind him.
/> The three of them, along with Hallic and Mel, grabbed the warriors who had fallen and dragged them out of the heavy smoke.
All of the rogues had sprung forward to lend their aid and the other troops positioned themselves between their fallen comrades and the stairs.
“Damn it all, I can't see a thing!” Jergen exclaimed as he helped a young soldier to her feet. “The smoke is too thick!”
“Regroup in the center of the room,” Shandon ordered loudly. “We're fighting blind here.”
Everyone hurried toward the middle of the cellar, several of the warriors limping or being helped along by others. Once there, the troops formed a circle with the king and his party in the center. The rogues spread out behind the warriors and then everyone waited for the wyrm to attack.
“How are your troops, Commander?” the king asked Brokk.
“Shaken but unhurt, my lord,” Brokk assured him. “A few bumps and bruises, nothing more”
“Glad to hear it.”
“The wyrm's gone underground again,” Hallic said as the smoke dissipated and they could all see the glowing hole left by the wyrm at the bottom of the stairwell. “That was fairly clever for an overgrown slug, don't you think? To cut off our one avenue of retreat?”
Shandon had slung his hammer over his shoulder again and he fiddled with the beads in his beard as he turned in a slow circle, looking around the edges of the cellar.
“Perhaps it is being guided by magical powers,” he speculated. “Larin? Any sense that the monster is more than it seems to be?”
The mage looked doubtful.
“Anything is possible, my lord,” he acknowledged. “But I have never heard of a creature like that being controlled by magic. It is more likely that it is just a predator doing what predators do; blocking their prey's escape before taking us down.”
“Predator, eh?” Jergen growled as he squeezed the grip of his sword. “Well, good luck eating me! I'll cut its throat from the inside as it tries to swallow me.”
“You're too old and tough for it anyway,” Pieter told him with a grin. “It would probably just spit you out again once it got a taste.”
Jergen chuckled reluctantly at the jibe but, like the king, he did not stop searching for signs of the wyrm.
Both of the mages still had their spells prepared, but Odella looked unsure as she spoke quietly to Larin.
“If that wyrm attacks from beneath us, we won't be able to cast our spells at it without injuring the others,” she told him. “We need another option.”
Larin stared at her for a moment and then he closed his hand, canceling his spell. Flecks of ice fell to the ground with a delicate tinkle of sound.
“You're right,” Larin told her heavily. “This is absurd. The king's life is too important to risk it on something this trivial. There are far more dangerous foes ahead for him. Take my hand and lend me your strength. This foolishness stops now!”
Odella looked confused as she joined hands with Larin.
“What are you...?”
Larin closed his eyes and spoke softly, words of power that made the air around him tremble. Odella shuddered as she felt the magical energy within her flowing down her arm and into Larin through her fingertips. She leaned on her staff as her knees began to tremble.
Shandon glanced over at the mages, frowning as he sensed some unseen force gathering around him.
“Larin?” he said loudly. “What is happening?”
The mage did not answer. Instead, he finished his spell and then opened his eyes to look at the king.
Shandon gasped and stepped back. Larin's eyes blazed like diamonds and, in that moment, his expression was remote and alien.
Then he smiled at the king.
“To save your life,” he whispered.
Larin dropped Odella's hand and spread his arms wide.
“Invectis!” he shouted, his voice ringing like a bell.
At that moment, the ground shook as the wyrm erupted in the midst of the dwarves. One of the troops screamed as he was swallowed whole and then a burst of white light filled the cellar. The explosion of imploding air tore the wyrm into gory pieces and left behind nothing but silence. The dwarves were gone.
Shandon was flung to his knees as he was momentarily blinded by bright light. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, trying to bring the world back into focus. As he pushed himself to his feet, someone took his elbow to steady him.
“Easy, old friend. I've got you.”
It was Pieter.
The king stared at him blankly and then looked around. He was standing on the street in front of the manor house. All around him were the others who had been in the cellar just a moment before. A lot of them were rubbing their eyes and staggering a bit as they regained their equilibrium, but no one seemed to be badly hurt.
“Did Larin do this?” Jergen asked as he hurried over to join the king. “How is that even possible? There are over thirty of us. I've never heard tales of mages being able to transport that many people at once.”
“Nor have I,” Shandon agreed as he rubbed his eyes. “We lost one of our soldiers, damn it, but that wyrm could have killed us all. It had the advantage. Larin saved all of our lives. Where is he?”
The three of them looked around at the group. Everyone had been scattered during the mass Gating and it was difficult to make out any one person. Hallic emerged from a crowd of confused troops with his arm around Mel's shoulders. She was limping a bit and the king hurried toward them with concern.
“It's nothing, my lord,” she said with a rueful smile as Shandon reached them. “I just twisted my ankle, that's all.”
Hallic helped her over to the front steps of the manor and lowered her until she could sit down gingerly. Mel sighed with relief and then looked around the street.
“I assume that this was Larin's doing?” she asked the king.
“It was. I saw him cast the spell.”
He shook his head in wonder.
“I've never seen anything like it. His eyes were glowing. I wonder what caused that?”
“A massive use of his power,” someone replied.
Odella was making her way out of the midst of the warriors. She was leaning on her staff as she approached and the lines on her face looked even deeper than usual. Her braid had come loose and her fine white hair floated around her face like an aura.
Pieter stepped forward to offer her his arm, but Odella shook her head, giving him a grateful smile.
“Thank you, sir, but I am fine. A little weak, but that will pass.”
“Where is Larin?” Shandon asked her.
“Gone, my lord,” Odella replied softly. “He is gone.”
“Gone? Gone where? You don't mean...?”
The mage shrugged, her expression filled with sorrow.
“I do not know, my lord. I cannot say whether Larin survived or not. If he did, I cannot sense him anywhere nearby. He used all of his energies, and most of mine, to transport all of us to safety. He refused to allow you to die in a dusty cellar and waste your life when the real fight still lies ahead.”
Shandon clenched his hands until his fists shook. He looked angrily at the others.
“This is my fault,” he stated. “All of this. The rebellion, the loss of innocent lives, and now, perhaps, the death of an amazing and noble dwarf. I could have stopped this before it even began and I did not. And this is the result.”
“Forgive me, my lord, but you are mistaken,” Odella disagreed. “Larin made the choice to save you because he knows that you are the only one who can defend the empire. Do not blame yourself. Instead, blame the rebels and deal with them accordingly. Do that and you will honor Larin's sacrifice. I do not know if he lives or not, but he would want us to go forward, not look back.”
Shandon stared at her for a moment and then turned to look at Pieter as the old dwarf punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Take that,” he said with a broad grin. “Act as a warrior should. Always move forward, never
look back and take the fight to the enemy.”
“What he said,” Jergen told the king.
Shandon let out a long breath and unbuckled his helm from where it swung off of his belt. He put it on his head and looked up the stairs at the open doors of the manor.
“Thank you all, especially you, Odella. You are right. Forward, not back. And forward means heading back down to the cellar to find out where those goblins and that damned wyrm came from. Commander Brokk? Are your troops prepared to follow me back into the manor?”
Brokk moved forward and saluted.
“We would follow you into the very depths of the Seven Hells themselves, my lord,” he stated. “We lost one of our own today. That death cannot go unanswered. Lead us, my lord, and we will follow.”
“Well said,” Jergen muttered.
“Indeed,” Pieter added.
“Odella? Do you want to remain behind or summon another of your people to join us?”
The mage pushed her hair out of her face and lifted her chin proudly.
“I will stay with you, my lord,” she replied. “My weakness has passed and I am prepared to do my duty.”
The king smiled at her.
“As you wish. And thank you.”
He looked around at everyone, all of whom were waiting for his orders.
“We are going back in. I don't know what we will find down below, but whatever it is, we will face it together and defeat it. Let's go.”
At the bottom of the last set of stairs, the king had to jump over the hole left by the magma wyrm when it had blocked their earlier attempt to retreat from the cellar. The edges of the hole were still glowing and the acrid smell of melted stone hung in the air.
“Watch your step,” he called back at the others. “I don't know how deep this hole is, but I don't think anyone should try to find out.”
Once everyone had made it safely into the cellar, it was clear that Larin's final spell had utterly destroyed the magma wyrm. Pieces of the beast were scattered in a circle around the center of the room, steaming and spluttering as they continued to burn.
“I don't know if there are any other surprises waiting for us down here,” Shandon said to the others. “But the way forward is in that corner where Larin found the illusion.”
The Dwarven Rebellion Page 39
