by RG Long
It unnerved Gorplin greatly.
Jurrin cleared his throat.
"Well?" Thuda asked in frustration.
"Bah,” one of them finally responded. He was a tall dwarf with hair as black as midnight. His beard was intricately braided and studded with various bits of metal jewelry. His armor was thick and strong looking. At his side lay one of the largest maces Gorplin had ever seen.
“This one you better see for yourself, my Lord," he said through gritted teeth.
"Never once has my first captain left one of my questions unanswered," Thuda said to him threateningly.
Gorplin had never seen dwarves look nervous at the prospect of a fight before. The skill of the mountain dwarves in battle had been part of the legends and bedtime stories his own father had told him in his younger days. It was very unlike the stout warriors to show fear.
"What army has shaken my most loyal troops so that they've all lost their tongues?" Most of the dwarves in front of him just shook their heads or else stood still.
The first captain spoke up.
"It's not an army, my Lord."
His face was hardened as he looked to his king.
"It's a monster twice as big as the dragon,” he finished.
As soon as the words left his mouth the mountain shook with the force of a great tremor.
GORPLIN STOOD ON THE balcony overlooking the valley below. It had been carved into the mountain, along with all of the other fortifications and decorations of the dwarven capital, to take advantage of the natural protection of the mountain as well as adding additional improvements along the way.
Strong iron studs protruded just underneath the opening to dissuade anyone from climbing into the opening. Though how any beast could reach up this high was beyond Gorplin. They stood over one hundred feet in the air.
All of the battlements on Grandun-Krator were excellent at repelling attack. For hundreds of years, the mountain had stood firm against all invasion attempts.
The demon marching towards them, however, might give the mountain dwellers something to worry about.
“Great Goblinbane's axe,” Thuda said as he gazed at the abomination marching their way.
Gorplin had seen a monster like this once before. He nearly had his head taken off by the creature's hoof. Sinister writhing, purple flames seem to emanate from its body. The back half of the creature resembled a mighty bull, but was scaled like a reptile. A great serpentine tail swung back and forth behind it. Where a bull's head should be, a giant torso protruded straight up, like a centaur of legend.
Massive arms had chains wrapped around them and draped off of them like vines on trees.
As horrible as the beast was, nothing could compare to its face.
The last one Gorplin had fought wore a helmet that covered its head. He wished this one had, too.
No permanent facial features could be distinguished on this creature. Its massive head may have been human like, if it weren't enveloped in flames and constantly flickering.
A twisted smile followed a contorted face full of rage which came after a glaring, sour stare.
Like a flame, its face was constantly changing.
Large holes in the flame, where eyes might have been, seemed to burn with a greater intensity than the fire itself.
For the fifth time since they had arrived at the balcony, the demon raised up its giant arms in unison. A purple ball of light and power formed in-between them before the demon hurled it at the mountain.
The beast was still some distance away, but the ball hit the mountain with a great force and shook the very foundations of the city.
Gorplin wasn't convinced a crack beneath his feet had always been there.
“Bah. Don't just take it!” King Thuda yelled as he recovered his footing. “Give it a taste of our own fire!”
Two dwarf captains signaled with red-hot irons, while two more took their gloved hands and pressed them to the balcony's edge.
Dwarven runes began to glow with a familiar green hue. Gorplin could sense the dwarves were about to show the full force of the mountain.
Thuda looked over the side of the balcony with grim satisfaction.
“Let's see that thing take dwarven firepower,” he said as more rumbling filled the mountain.
Gorplin looked over the balcony to see what Thuda was looking at and let out a dwarven curse.
No fewer than fifty dwarven canons from dozens of similar balconies were being pushed into position. He had never seen so many of the weapons before and was in awe of their size. Each one stood taller than two dwarfs and longer than six laid down end to end.
Thuda rose his hand into the air to signal the cannoneers.
As one, the canons began to glow as their runes were activated by the engineers and weapon smiths standing by them.
“Our cannons are powered by Rimstone and our runes!” Thuda explained, waiting for each to glow with a green light. “Each projectile is a finely crafted iron ball from the depths of the mountain!”
He then looked over his shoulder at the halflings who stood behind him.
“Cover your ears, little ones.”
Jurrin and Jurgon both followed his advice. Jurgon closed his eyes, too, for good measure.
Gorplin wanted to show the king he was a true dwarf and that he could handle whatever sounds those canons made.
As soon as Thuda let his hand down, Gorplin immediately regretted that decision.
The mountain shook with the force of the canons firing simultaneously. Gorplin nearly fell to his knees. He thanked his luck for grabbing onto the balcony railing in time to save him from embarrassment.
His ears rang with a terrible, splitting pain. The balcony spun as he attempted to reorient himself. Pillars of smoke rose from the balconies that the cannons had fired from. One balcony seemed to have been obliterated.
Rocks and debris slid down the mountain, along with a few flailing dwarves.
“Misfired...” said an adviser to Thuda's right. The dwarf scribbled down a note on a roll of parchment and then ran off into the mountain.
Where the demon had stood was now a cloud of dirt, dust and smoke.
All was quiet.
King Thuda humpfed triumphantly.
“Some monstrous beast,” he said as he turned to face his captains. Gorplin was sure they were in for a berating for their lack of faith in their own power.
“Look!” Jurgon said, pointing out to the spot where the demon had been.
Gorplin wasn't sure which was more surprising: that Jurgon had spoken or that a bright purple light was coming from the cloud in front of the stronghold.
A small breeze began to blow, shifting the cloud and revealing a purple orb of light.
Inside of it, completely unharmed, was the demon with its arms outstretched and mouth in a twisted smile.
It raised its hands into the air and let out a roar that rivaled a hundred canons and split the ground asunder around its feet.
From these, an army of the demon hounds that had followed Gorplin onto the bridge and claimed Gaflion's life began to emerge.
“Bah,” King Thuda said in consternation. He turned to his first captain.
“Bandrin, ready the troops to defend the mountain,” he commanded.
The dwarf saluted and marched through the doors, several dwarves following him as he went.
“You three,” Thuda said as he looked at Gorplin and his halfling companions. “Come with me.”
He threw the demon another glance before heading through the stout doors of the balcony himself.
“I need to speak with my dragon.”
19: For Jurgon
Jurrin still couldn't believe that he was in the same room as a dragon. They were supposed to be beasts of legends and fairy tales.
Then again, there was a giant demon attacking a dwarven stronghold covered in canons.
Their adventure was getting stranger by the day. Jurgon and he struggled to keep up with the two dwarves. Even though they
were all quite short, the dwarves had a strength that the little halfling could only dream of.
A fact Jurrin was becoming more aware of and concerned for.
He wasn't much of a fighter.
“Nidashma,” Thuda said as they burst into the throne room. “I am in need of your strength, old friend.”
The creature's nostrils let a small fire fill them as it raised its head.
“I have felt an evil presence close by, young king,” Nidashma replied. “This threat will not be easily disposed by might, even such as mine.”
Thuda stopped short. He had been marching quite purposefully towards the dragon, but at the response given to him, he paused.
Jurrin and Jurgon were able to catch up to Gorplin and Thuda as the king considered the words of his dragon. He humpfed and adjusted his belt around his middle.
“No beast can withstand your fire, Nida,” he said with pride and enthusiasm.
Jurrin couldn't help but notice a hesitation in Nida's eyes.
Two hot breaths came from the dragon's mouth and warmed the room so much that Jurrin began to sweat.
“I have sworn my allegiance to you, Thuda, King of the Dwarves. As always, I will assist you in battle.”
Nidashma let out a roar that shook the throne room and made Jurrin's stomach twist in knots.
“Why is everything on this mountain so loud?” he shouted over the deafening roar.
Jurgon shrugged as he uncovered his ears.
Gorplin patted him on the back.
“Dwarves aren't known for being the quietest of the races,” he said with a laugh.
“King Thuda!” Gorplin said with great gusto. “Allow me to join you on the field of battle! I've seen these demons before. One was defeated in Thoran not a few months before.”
The dragon had stood on all four of its legs. Three dwarves were now hoisting a giant saddle onto the dragon's back, just in front of Nida's wings.
Thuda turned to Gorplin and sized him up.
“And were you the one who dealt the final blow, Gorplin, son of Thorplin?”
Jurrin noticed the look of inquiry in the king's eyes, as well as the slightly deflated younger dwarf.
“No, my lord,” Gorplin began.
Thuda turned.
“But I saw it defeated. By a warrior beyond compare. He wielded a spear...”
“If you were not the one who gave the demon the killing blow, young dwarf, then you are best served by protecting your wards here in the mountain.”
Nida lowered herself so that Thuda could climb onto her massive back and mount the saddle that was affixed there.
“Be careful, King Thuda,” Jurrin said as the dragon resumed her upright posture. “And you, too, Nidashma.”
Thuda let out a hearty laugh.
“It's not us that you ought to be concerned for!” he shouted as he grabbed the reigns and lifted his hammer high into the air. “That beast attacking my mountain is who will feel defeat in battle today!”
With a kick from the king, the dragon let out a roar and began to exit the room. Jurrin and Gorplin ran to the left to make sure they were not in the way of its great clawed feet. Jurgon dove in the other direction.
The mighty tail of Nida, swinging from side to side and narrowly missing one of the huge columns that supported the ceiling, was the last they saw leaving the throne room.
Gorplin was the first to recover. Jurrin had tripped on his own feet and hit the floor quite hard. He was glad for the hand the dwarf offered him. With minimal effort, he was back on his feet and standing by the stout warrior.
Jurrin noticed that Gorplin's mood was downcast. He wondered if he had been hurt by the king's response. Legends had always spoken of dwarves and their readiness to jump into a fight.
If Thuda told Gorplin he wasn't ready for a battle, what must be going through his mind?
Jurrin didn't understand much of it. What he did know, however, was that he wanted to know if Thuda was going to be okay facing that demon, even with a host of dwarf warriors and a dragon at his side.
“Can we go back up to that balcony, sir?” he ventured. “I would like to see how they fare out there.”
Gorplin didn't respond. Instead he gazed longingly after the king and his dragon.
Jurrin pulled on his sleeve.
“Mister Gorplin, sir?”
“Bah,” he said as he shook his head. He dropped his eyes and clasped his axe with one hand. Jurrin could tell something bothered him greatly. He didn't quite know how to bring it up with the stout dwarf, either.
Before he could think of the right way to phrase his concern, Gorplin put an arm on his back and patted him. “Let's go, little one.”
The two began to walk out of the throne room. It wasn't three steps before Jurrin felt odd. Like he was missing something he was accustomed to having close by at all times.
In that moment, he understood.
“Where's Jurgon?” he asked.
There were only a few spots to hide in the giant throne room as it was mostly open.
“Maybe he's already gone up to the balcony,” Gorplin suggested. “Let's head up there quick.”
Jurrin wasn't so sure about that. Jurgon wasn't usually one to leave without having someone take note of it.
All the same, Jurrin trotted after Gorplin, who had begun to run out of the throne room and towards the stairs that took them back to where they had seen the demon before.
The sounds of many dwarves rushing here and there greeted them as they exited the throne room and made their way upwards. A column of warriors was leaving the mountain through the giant protective doors. Jurrin could see that they were only open a crack, barely large enough for two dwarves side by side to march through.
Outside and past the doors, he heard the mighty cry of the dragon and saw a flash of red.
Dragon fire, he guessed.
He bade them all good luck in his mind and followed Gorplin up a flight of stairs.
Another tremor shook the mountain, just as Jurrin saw something out of the corner of his eye.
The doors were being closed with loud metallic noises and several grunts from dwarves pushing on it to hasten the sealing of the mountain.
Just as it was about to shut, a little halfling slipped through the opening, making more than one dwarf shout in alarm and anger.
Jurgon had gotten outside just as the massive door was shut and a giant metal arm came crashing down to lock it.
"YOU'VE GOT TO LET US out, sir!" Jurrin shouted at one of the dwarves who guarded the formidable doors. The warrior was clad head to toe in steel and had little regard for the halfling. Gorplin was trying to pull him back. Despite his smallness, Jurrin struggled against his dwarf friend's strength.
"Bah. Get out, before you get hurt," the door guard said, dismissing the pair and turning to other duties.
"But my friend, sir! Please!" Jurrin was shouting over and over again.
Jurrin knew he was causing a ruckus, but he couldn't leave Jurgon out there alone to face a demon. He had to go and help.
Why did he go out there without me? Jurrin thought wildly.
"Gorplin, sir!" he said, turning to look at the sad face of his remaining traveling companion. "We've got to do something!"
Gorplin's face didn't change. He was still wounded from the king's dismissal of him.
"Bah. C'mon, Jurrin," he said softly. "Let's get up to that balcony and watch."
The mountain trembled again and shouts of war could be heard just beyond the door.
Large groups of dwarves were now marching up to the door, preparing to defend the mountain should the demon break through. They looked at the struggle taking place with quick glances, having other things to worry themselves with.
Jurrin pushed Gorplin's arms aside with a great shove. He was sure the dwarf hadn't been holding onto him with his full might. It made Jurrin furious. He had never felt this way before. There was a fire in him like those of the dwarven forges. His friend was in trouble and h
e was going to help one way or another. The little halfling felt powerless behind the doors. Jurrin knew he had to get outside, using whatever method he could.
Or whomever.
One dwarf seemed out of place among the steel clad warriors. His gray hair and beard stood in contrast to the reds, browns, and blondes of the others that gathered nearby.
"Thrank!" Jurrin shouted as he saw the old miner. "Sir!"
He sprinted up to the old miner, even as Gorplin trotted behind him. If he were thinking properly, he'd be concerned for his friend.
But another companion, one closer than a brother, and how to help him were the only things on his mind at the moment.
"Master Thrank! You've got to help, sir! Jurgon has gone outside the gate! He's out there with the king fighting a demon!"
"Jurgon?" Thrank said with a questioning look. Then his eyes widened.
"Bah! The other little fellow? The one we gave that Rimstone to? What's he got in his head, going out there when there's danger all around? Did the king know?"
"No! He snuck out just as the door was closing, sir!" Jurrin grabbed one of Thrank's hands. They were rough and calloused from years of mining, like the stones he spent so much of his days with.
The old dwarf looked at Jurrin with stern eyes at first. With a sigh, his gaze softened a bit.
"Come on then," he said, pulling Jurrin alongside him and into a small hallway that led away from the main chamber.
Jurrin called to Gorplin, who was moping by a large ornate column.
"Gorplin! This way!" he shouted before he turned to trot alongside Thrank.
For an old dwarf he certainly could keep a good pace, Jurrin thought.
They made a few quick turns and went down a flight of stairs before ascending two more. Every now and then, Jurrin glanced over his shoulder to see that Gorplin was right behind them. Any dwarves they saw met them running in the opposite direction.
After a few moments of jogging through halls and a few more turns, they arrived at a simple wooden door with a keyhole. Thrank produced a key from one of his pockets and inserted it into the lock. Jurrin heard a faint click just before the ancient dwarf pushed his shoulder into the door. It groaned open and they filed inside.
