Battleborne Book 2: Wrack and Ruin

by Dave Willmarth

  Max decided to step in. “Pickstone, I have declared Stormhaven to be open to all races, except grey dwarves, from whom we took the kingdom. As of now, living in my city or my lands are orcs, dwarves, ogres, goblins, a leprechaun, gnomes, kobolds, and one crazy guy made mostly of metal. Dworcs, if you do not mind that term, would be just as welcome as any others.”

  “Dworcs be what we are, and none o’ us take offense at the word.” The young redhead spoke up. Be you offended when called a chimera?”

  “Generally, no.” Max smiled at him, purposely showing his fangs this time. “Though a few have managed to make it sound like an insult. Most of them are dead, now.”

  “Ha!” Pickstone slapped a knee. “I think we’ll be getting’ along just fine, King Max. If ye’ve no where urgent ta be, walk along with us. We’ve a village near the lake, and ye can spend the night.” He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “We’ve just finished a honey harvest, and we can talk about what ye might trade for some o’ the delicious mead we’ll be makin’.”

  Chapter 11

  Max and company fell in with the Blooded Clan, walking behind the wagon, at the rear of the fighters. Dalia made an effort to mingle and speak a bit with those nearest the back of the group, asking a few questions and doing her best to improve relations between dworcs and dwarves.

  They’d made it more than halfway across the valley when the sun disappeared behind the mountains, sending the valley into a grey twilight. The air cooled, and the sounds of night creatures began to filter through the trees. The moon was not yet risen, but sunlight still reflected off a few of the clouds that floated higher than the mountain peaks. Max was using his elven hearing to monitor Dalia’s progress, when he detected something that caused his blood to stir. It was a good distance away yet, but he heard a definite sound of something large crashing through the brush upslope and downwind of them.

  Drawing his bow, he whistled at Pickstone. “Something big coming up from behind us.” He warned his party as he began to jog to catch up to the wagon. As soon as he reached it, he called out. “I can hear something crashing through the trees above us, and slightly behind. It’s getting closer, and moving fast.”

  Pickstone and the rest of his clan all turned their heads in the indicated direction, some tilting to one side as if to hear better. The elder had just opened his mouth to ask a question when a tremendous roar echoed down through the forest.

  “Shit!” Pickstone cursed loudly. Immediately all the dworcs had weapons in hand, several drawing shields and moving a few steps toward the sounds. The wagon stopped, and three of the Blooded hopped up onto the bed, readying crossbows. “It be old Cantankerous! He must have scented our honey.”

  Turning his back to the wagon, Max raised his bow and asked, “Cantankerous?”.

  “That be what we call him. An overgrown cave bear, as mean n angry as any creature alive. Bigger’n this wagon from nose to tail, with claws of iron that’ll rip ye in half if yer not careful.” Pickstone’s eyes searched the trees as he spoke. The crashing sounds were now close enough for everyone to hear. “He has a taste fer honey, but not the stings o’ the giant bees who make it. He likely sniffed us on the wind as we passed, and figures on an easy meal.”

  “Giant bees?” Smitty asked, his bow in hand as he moved next to Max. Dalia stood next to him, while Dylan moved to take up a spot at the center of the line of shield-bearers.

  “Aye. That be part o’ why we chose to settle in this valley. Everything here grows faster and bigger than be normal. The bees grow to the size o’ miss Dalia there, and got barbed stingers as long as me forearm. Impossible to get out without cuttin’ em free, or rippin’ big holes in yer hide. Which is why Cantankerous, though he be several times bigger than yer average bear, is hesitant to try n steal their honey. He don’t have hands to cut out the barbs, or smokers to calm the bees, like we do”

  “So we just rang the dinner bell for a giant, angry, hungry bear with a sweet tooth.” Smitty summarized. “Anything else we need to know?”

  “His roar can stun ye, if yer not careful. Best to stuff somethin in yer ears right quick. And if he knocks ye down, play dead. If ye struggle, he’ll finish what he started. Just go limp and lay still, we’ll pull him away. Once he’s focused on us, run as fast as ye can.”

  “Good to know.” Smitty nodded once at the elder. Dalia was already handing him some kind of waxy substance to press into his ears. She helped herself, then passed some to Max, who in turn offered it to Pickstone, who shook his head. He and his clan had already plugged their ears with something that resembled cotton balls. Clearly, they’d fought this monster before.

  Max trotted forward and made sure Dylan’s surprisingly small ogre ears were plugged, then took up position behind and to the left of the ogre, where he could clearly see the treetops shivering a good distance behind them. It wasn’t long before the gigantic bear appeared as a shadow emerging from the trees and pausing on the road. Its head rose into the air, sniffing for a moment, before it let loose another roar and bounded down the track toward them.

  Cave Bear Alpha

  Level 30

  Health: 10,000/10,000

  It was a higher level than Max or his people, and Max hadn’t bothered to check Pickstone or his fighters’ levels. The bear had a massive health pool, nearly four times Max’s own, and he had a feeling it was going to do some damage before they could bring it down.

  When it came within a hundred yards, Max and Smitty both loosed arrows. Max’s arrow sunk into the bear’s shoulder, barely causing any reaction other than a grunt. Smitty had used one of his new abilities to enchant his, causing the arrowhead to explode a second after impact. The arrow struck the top of the bear’s head, digging a furrow in its fur and hide as it bounced off. The enchantment went off as the arrow passed just above its back, startling the bear into stumbling to one side as it looked over its shoulder.

  Both took the opportunity to launch a second arrow as it stumbled, then began to pick up speed again. When it reached fifty yards, the dworcs with crossbows fired. The cave bear roared in pain, but continued forward seemingly unphased. The blood from Smitty’s first shot ran down between its eyes and dripped from its muzzle, making the monstrous thing seem just that much more terrifying.

  Dylan, who was about half the size of the charging bear, raised his shield and stepped forward, shouting one of his favorite insults. “Your mother was a hamster!” At the same time, he used one of his tank abilities that turned the insult into a taunt. As Smitty shouted something about elderberries from behind, the bear focused on Dylan, who charged forward.

  The action did not go as Dylan had planned. His charge should have allowed him to stun the bear on impact. Instead, the giant ursine attacker lowered its head and slammed into Dylan’s shield, denting the metal, knocking the ogre clean off his feet and sending him rolling backward into the line of shields, his health bar down to thirty percent. The dworcs were battle savvy enough to open a hole and let him pass before locking their shields together. They began to chant in unison, and their shields glowed a soft blue in the deepening twilight.

  Though the bear wasn’t stunned by Dylan’s charge, it was slowed considerably. Much of its momentum was lost when it bashed into the line of shields. The tanks grunted, their feet digging in as its weight pressed them back, causing the line to bow, but not break. Short swords stabbed out to puncture the thick hide of its neck and legs. Hammers struck at its knees, hoping to pop a joint. One ambitious tank landed an overhead hammer blow directly onto the bear’s skull as it took hold of the top of his shield with its jaws.

  The hammer struck with a resounding thwack, but the bear just shook his head violently, pulling the dworc off his feet as his shield was yanked to the side. His arm instantly broken, the tank dropped his hammer and tried to free his shield arm. But before he could manage it, the bear lowered his head until the dworc touched ground, then used a treestump-sized forepaw to pin him down, ironlike claws digging into his ch
est. In a split second the bear let loose of the shield and lowered his massive jaw over the screaming tank’s head. A hideous crunch abruptly ended the screams.

  Not finished, the bear repeated its tactic, shaking the dwarf’s corpse left and right so violently that it knocked down the tanks that had stood on either side of their dead comrade. He then dropped his first kill, raised up onto its hind legs for a moment, then slammed both front feet onto the body of the downed dworc to its right. The sickening crack of ribs and sternum could be heard over the sounds of battle.

  With a roar of anger, Dylan charged back through the open hole, dented shield held high and war axe already swinging for the bear’s head. Max, Smitty, and the crossbow wielders all put arrows and bolts into its exposed belly before Dylan blocked their line of sight and reengaged the monster. This time he applied a little strategy, rather than just brute force. Standing upright, the bear was easily half again as tall as the ogre, and at least twice his bulk. Before it could use its advantage against him, he raised his shield up sideways and thrust upward, knocking its forepaws up and away at the same time that he drove his heavy axe’s blade into its chest.

  Leaving the axe where it was, Dylan spun to his left as he took a single backward step, guiding the increasing weight of the bear’s head and front legs off to his side, thus avoiding being pinned or crushed.

  One of the brave dworc tanks shot forward, slamming his own shield into the rear blade of the axe, driving the front blade an inch or two deeper. Both he and Dylan could hear when it impacted bone and stopped dead.

  The bear completed its fall, managing to swat the smaller tank aside with one paw, leaving his face a mess of blood and exposed bone. Ignoring the axe embedded in its chest, it pushed forward into the dworc line, which was still struggling to reform and reconnect their shields. Two more tanks were knocked down as it charged over them, then turned to swat at the back of another.

  Less than twenty seconds since first contact, and so far it was a massacre. Max had considered both Boom! and Zap! while firing arrow after arrow into the beast, but either might have created collateral damage he didn’t want. He quickly tried to Levitate the massive monster, but its bulk was too great for his current spell level.

  Dylan roared again, taunting the cave bear as he stood his ground, well in front of the tanks and off to one side of the road. The bear turned instantly, blood spraying from dozens of wounds as it spun toward the ogre. Having equipped his halberd, Dylan banged it against the dented shield and spit a glob of blood onto the ground. His health bar was back up to half, thanks to Dalia’s healing efforts, but it was clear the initial impact had done some internal damage.

  The bear picked up some speed as it charged, and Dylan calmly hunched behind his shield as he shouted more insults. When the bear was maybe four steps away, Dylan jammed the butt end of his halberd into the dirt at his feet, then tilted it forward so that the pointed end slammed right into the charging bear’s body. He’d been aiming for its heart, for a spot right next to his still-stuck axe. But he’d judged the timing wrong, and the blade slid into the monster’s neck right where it met the shoulder.

  Still, it did the job. The bear’s momentum was stopped dead, its body pushing upward as the blade sank deeper, several muscle and an artery before scraping against bone. The shaft of the sturdy weapon bent, then broke under the strain, and the bear fell forward onto Dylan.

  One paw hit the top of his shield, dragging it downward, even the ogre’s prodigious strength not up to resisting the weight. The other paw raked at Dylan’s right side as it fell, and the jaws closed on his right shoulder. The badly wounded bear still had plenty of strength in its jaws. Eight-inch long fangs crunched through his chainmail and the layers below, shattering his collarbone and causing blood to spurt. Dylan roared in pain, his body being twisted as his left arm was pinned under the shield and his right arm went numb. He was bleeding badly, and the bear was completely covering him, preventing Dalia from being able to see him to cast heals. Without the use of either hand, he couldn’t produce a healing potion from his inventory.

  The bear continued to savage his shoulder, wrench its head back and forth with all the strength it could muster. The other tanks had all charged forward, stabbing and pounding at the monster’s head and neck. Dalia and Max both charged around to where they could see their tank’s head, casting simultaneous heals on him once, then again, bringing him back from the brink of death.

  And still the bear kept tearing at him.

  Desperate, Max drew his sword and leapt at the bear’s head, driving the point through its eye and deep into its brain. With a final shudder, the monster died.

  Without pause the dworcs went to work, grabbing handfuls of the bear’s fur and pulling it toward one side, rolling the massive weight off of Dylan’s body. The ogre heaved a deep breath of relief, having found it difficult to breathe with the heavy weight pinning him down. Dalia fed him a healing potion, then set another on his chest as she moved to help with the wounded dworcs.

  Five of the company were beyond help, but she managed to save the one with the shredded face, and a couple of others who were less than mortally wounded. The one’s face would bear horrible scars for the rest of his life, but he seemed to just shake it off. Several of his comrades took a good look, then patted his arm or slapped him on the back in congratulations.

  The entire party, except for Pickstone, who turned out to be level 40, gained at least one level. Dylan got two, and Max made a mental note to ask Red about the experience distribution from fights like this. Max hadn’t thought to group up with the dworcs before the fight, so the monster was killed by two separate groups, assuming they’d created one of their own.

  The loot was better than average, though Red informed him that the cave bear wasn’t technically an elite level monster. It was, however, very old, overgrown, and powerful. Max received thirty pieces of cave bear meat, two foreclaws that were each as long as his hand from palm to the tip of his middle finger, and three teeth. Smitty, Dalia, and Dylan received similar, with Dylan also receiving its heart. Picklet received a gold ring, which turned out to be a storage ring that had been lost along with one of the clan’s elders years earlier. It had been one of only two storage rings the clan had possessed, and Pickstone was thrilled to get it back. And now they had an answer to the question of what had happened to their elder and his party.

  While Dylan recovered, the dworcs went to work harvesting the corpse. They removed its hide, the fur seeming large enough to carpet an entire room once it was laid out in the grass. They removed its head, and Pickstone asked for permission to keep it so that they could mount it in the village.

  “We’ve lost more’n a few to this beastie over the years. An old enemy, and worthy o’ many a tale at the tavern! The wee ones fathered by them we lost today will be able to look up at the skull with pride!”

  “Of course it’s all yours.” Max answered immediately. “I’m glad we could help you defeat this beast, though I suspect we’re the ones responsible for it catching up to you. If you hadn’t stop to speak with us…”

  “Nonsense! This wagon be slow as the honey in them barrels. Old Cantankerous woulda just caught up to us later. Better here than within sight o’ the village, where wee ones might’ve been hurt. Or worse.”

  Max nodded his head, appreciating the sentiment if not quite believing it. A quick look around showed him that the dworcs were ready to continue, having stored their dead in the recovered storage ring, retrieved the loot and any lost gear, and harvested the corpse down to a few scattered bones that were too broken to be of use. One of them walked up to Dylan with the business half of his broken halberd, holding it up. “Would ye be wantin’ this back, then?”

  “Dylan shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ll grab a replacement when we get home.”

  “Mind if I be keepin it?” The dworc grabbed the haft near the broken end and give it a few experimental swings and jabs off to one side. “It be a good length for a shi
eld battle now.”

  “May it strike fear in the hearts of your enemies.” Dylan grinned down at the warrior, who grinned back through a bushy black beard before nodding once and walking back to his place behind the wagon.

  *****

  Darkness had truly fallen, and several fires were lit in braziers atop the stone wall by the time the group reached the clan’s village. Max and the others hung back just inside the gates, allowing the others to report on the battle and their losses. Runners were sent to fetch a couple of families that weren’t there when the wagon arrived.

  Max did his best not to intrude upon the grief of the villagers. From the size of the place, there was a not a large population. If he had to guess, maybe a hundred or more souls in the clan. Losing five warriors was a heavy blow. He and his group took seats and leaned against the interior of the wall, waiting patiently for Pickstone and the other to remember them.

  Eventually, the redheaded dworc who’d spoken up when they first met came jogging over. “If ye please, me da invites ye to the tavern for food n drink. We’ll be celebratin’ the victory, and honoring our dead.”

  Max and the others got to their feet and followed. Dalia asked, “You be Pickstone’s son?”

  “Aye. Ye can call me Picklet. Everyone else has since I were a wee one.”

  “Ye fought well in the battle, Picklet. And I see’d ye pull one o’ the wounded right out from under the beast’s belly. Yer father should be proud o’ ye.”

  “Was him that trained me to fight. Me, and most o’ the others here.” Picklet stopped at the tavern door, motioning for Dalia to step in first. “There be an empty table for ye, King Max. And ye others.” He looked up at Dylan apologetically. “I’m afraid ye’ll have sit on the floor.”

  “I’m used to it.” the ogre grinned at him.

  Inside there was indeed an empty table, right in the center of the tavern’s main room. When Max and the others began to step through the opening the locals made for them in the crowded room, there was a rousing applause and cheering, led by Pickstone himself. When they’d taken their seats and the room had settled a bit, the elder raised a mug.