by Logan Petty
“Archers! Aim for the giant! Take him down!”
A barrage of flaming arrows answered his call a second later. They clattered against an invisible bubble that surrounded the grenadier. He laughed a deep guffaw as he lit another grenade. Jatharr knew this challenge would require leaving the safety of the cliffs or risking decimation from this behemoth. He pointed his sword and took a breath as he heard a voice yell his name from behind.
“Captain Jatharr! Send us!”
He turned to see Vrendr and five other orcs run up to him, armed to the teeth with spears and swords. He furrowed his brow and shook his head as another explosion hit the face of the cliff, collapsing it and sending more of his soldiers to the enemy army.
“No, that would be suicide. We have to attack as one!”
Vrendr and his tribemates rushed past Jatharr, leaping off the cliff. Jatharr turned to try to catch them but missed the last one narrowly. He watched in horror as they plunged downward, narrowly avoiding the white stone that jutted outward. His jaw dropped as each one picked a target, expertly speared them, then rode their bodies like sleds down the rocky, corpse laden mountain.
Vrendr leapt from his undead mount and drew a sword as he reached the foot of the cliff. Hundreds of the dead swarmed around him as he pushed forward, slicing and bashing, weaving around their swords. Fiery arrows thudded around him, opening the path toward his target. He dashed forward while he could. A flurry of spears shot past him as his teammates reached the fray. The spears sank into a few oncoming enemies, stunning them long enough for Vrendr to get through. The giant grew closer, towering over his head. Its focus remained on the cliffs beyond. He smiled as he passed through a rippling barrier within reach of the giant’s massive feet. He guessed that the barrier only reacted to fire, to keep him from being set ablaze while carrying hundreds of pounds of blasting powder.
The army of undead swarmed around his feet, clambering over him as they charged forward. Vrendr ducked below a wide swing a he stabbed an oncoming zombie in the throat. His allies surrounded him, cutting a swath through the horde. Despite their best efforts, one by one, the horde overwhelmed them as they fell beneath a flurry of stabbing spears. Vrendr made it to the giant’s foot at last. He clambered up it and jumped onto his calf as the last of his friends went down, bashing at a dozen zombies. He tried to focus on his goal, ignoring the screams of his dying comrades. He scaled the giant’s bare leg, wondering how he did not feel him tugging at his hairs as he wrapped them in his open hands. He glanced down after he reached the knee. Several zombies snapped at his heels, trying to climb up as well. He looked upward and thrust toward the Giant’s kilt. He managed to grab ahold and work his way up to its belt, where one of the lower kegs rested. He tucked his leg into the inside of the belt and pulled flint rock and fire steel from his pouch. He struck them together frantically as the giant’s hand reached down to grab the keg. The wick lit a moment before the massive hand wrapped around the barrel. Vrendr jumped onto the hand as it moved away, drew a dagger, and thrust it into the softest flesh he could find. The giant bellowed and looked down at his hand, where he noticed the small orc. He flicked his hand, slinging Vrendr away from him.
The giant snarled as he watched the orc tumble through the air and disappear beneath the tide of the dead. Satisfied with this small victory, he reached over to light the wick, only to discover it was not there.
Vrendr smiled victoriously as he lay upon his shattered back, enemy spears piercing his lungs and heart. He held his final breath to the best of his ability so he could watch the series of explosions ricochet back and forth inside the barrier, reducing the giant to smoldering ashes before the magic barrier gave out, spilling flames across the battlefield for hundreds of feet. He closed his eyes as the cold of death gripped him just before the purifying flames ensured he would never fight for the Grey King.
Jatharr watched the show in awe as he shook his head, sighing. “Grey skinned fool. Why do my bravest warriors have to be the most reckless? At least that will hold the bombardments off a while.”
He took a moment to survey the battlefield, scanning for more threats. He noticed that the gates of the city swung wide open. More giants, pushing siege engines of wood and steel, emerged one by one from the inner walls. He counted four altogether. One hoisted a crossbow the size of a ballista and a quiver of bolts the size of small trees. Another pushed a catapult larger than any the war-experienced captain had ever seen. Another lumbered ahead of the rest, bearing a dark iron shield the size of a house. Dozens of metal spikes protruded from its surface, each one the length of a pike. The final giant carried a metal sphere roughly half his size. He wore plate mail that covered his entire body and resembled a walking steel fortress. Jatharr did not like the look of any of these monstrosities, especially when the one with the crossbow began to take shots at Ylsgrin, while he remained preoccupied. He grit his teeth and prayed to anyone who could hear him.
Please, let Vaskar’s plan work. But most of all, let us live long enough to see it through.
Chapter 10:
The sun sank toward the city walls as Sawain, Sydarion, and Axel crept along the quiet streets of Jordborg. The siege outside emptied the Hold of many of its defenders, making the trip from the northern wall to the southern docks much faster. They still had to stop and wait for patrolling gnolls to pass by on occasion. In fact, Sawain marveled at how many of the mongrels he saw wandering around, hunting for living prey as the trio quietly shifted from one shadow to the next. The closer they drew to the docks, the more frequent the packs of sniffing gnolls passed by. He noticed they were less like wanderers and more like hunters actively seeking something. He wondered if they suspected anything or if they were simply on high alert. The three heroes managed to reach the southern extremity of the city right before sunset.
The sky burned a fiery gold as the sun dipped beneath the western wall. Sawain marveled at the scene before him. The Hold’s southern wall actually extended roughly a mile beyond the shoreline, encircling a large portion of sea. The far wall consisted of a series of sixteen massive archways that spanned enough length for two large ships to pass through at the same time. Each arch began where the previous one ended, the upper ramparts held in place by elegant pillars, each one the girth of Ylsgrin’s tower. Sawain had never seen such stonework, even in Anvilheim. The beautiful white stone archways split evenly on either side of a titanic tower that held each half of the wall steady. A gleaming spire made of blue gemstones shimmered like the ocean in the dying light. It reached higher than any tower in Anvilheim, taller than even the Heart of the Forest. The very top of the spire flattened out to a deck of some sort. It housed a massive brazier made of tarnished silver. It looked as if it had not been lit in a long time. Above it, suspended by a lattice of steel arches, a pointed crystal pinnacle finished the spire. Sawain’s knees grew weak as he pondered its size. Sydarion gawked upward at it as well.
“We have to get inside that thing? And light that giant beacon at the top? Is it too late to trade with Kyra?”
Axel checked the street to his left and right before stepping out into the open. “Never knew an elf that was afraid of heights. Ye losin’ yer sense of adventure, Syd?”
Sydarion drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he followed Axel. “It’s not the heights as much as it is all the . . . water. I mean, who builds a tower out in the middle of the sea?”
“Well,” Sawain ventured as he stepped from the shadows, “if you want to show off to anyone coming by boat, that’s a good way to do it.”
The docks creaked quietly in the gentle tide. Ylsgrin’s thundering roar reminded Sawain that a battle raged outside these beautiful white walls. He scanned the waterside for a boat. Many of the larger ships sat beneath the depths, only their masts poking above the water. Some fragments of boats floated haplessly around, smacking against the wooden piers. A few moments of searching along the boardwalk paid off as they uncovered a small rowboat tucked within a tangle of flotsam. Th
e three worked quickly to get the boat free of its knotted prison. Axel smiled as he pulled a plank out of the water.
“We’re in luck that it still floats. Just need a few makeshift oars and we’ll be set to sail.”
The tiny vessel rocked violently as Sawain stepped in. He lost balance, making it rock, and fell face first into the floor of the boat.
“Ow.”
A soggy plank thudded against the floor inches from his face as Axel’s voice chuckled from the outside.
“Legs of a sailor, eh lad? Good thing ye don’t have to fight the Grey King on the sea.”
Sawain pulled himself upright and sat on one of the simple wooden benches. He grabbed his oar and braced himself with it as Sydarion climbed in next, more gracefully, as expected. Axel piled in last, nearly capsizing the boat with his weight. Sydarion sighed.
“Are you sure this thing won’t fall apart on us halfway over?”
“Relax,” Axel assured his friend as he pushed off from the dock with his plank-turned-oar. “We’ll be safe on the other side before you know it. Now, keep it down and watch for patrols. We’re a big target floating out here on our own.”
Sawain pulled at the water in time with Axel as the little boat glided gently across the water. Axel pointed at the nose of a large ship that jutted out of the water.
“Remember to give those sunken ships as wide a berth as possible. They stick farther out under the water. Same goes for any masts ye see. We don’t want to run aground on the debris or get tangled in their nets.”
“Wow, Axel,” Sawain grinned as he rowed along. “I never pegged you as a sailor. Where’d you get all your ship faring knowledge?”
Axel shrugged his shoulders. “Ye know how it is. An adventurer’s life takes ye all over the known world. But I don’t have to tell ye that, now do I, my little runaway.”
“Hey, I thought I apologized for that already,” Sawain said, feeling abashed.
Axel grinned, “Aye, well, hard to stay mad at ye when ye run off and come back a hero any mentor would be proud of. Maybe I never said it enough, but I’m proud of ye, lad.”
Sydarion groaned, “Normally I’m always up for a gushy moment, but can we focus on getting to the other side of the bay?”
A moment later, the boat shook violently as it collided with something beneath the surface. Axel leaned forward, grumbling under his breath.
“Now ye did it, Sawain. We’ve gone and struck some debris. We need to get loose before we’re spotted. Now quick, help me unjam it.”
Sawain looked over the side of the boat into the dark water below. He could not see a thing beneath the black waves. The smell of rotting fish filled the air as he caught a glimpse of a slimy tendril slithering along the side of the boat. Soon the area around the boat writhed like serpents on the water as several rotting tentacles slinked upward, crawling into the boat. Sydarion readied an arrow as he tried to stand up in the boat.
“Axel, I don’t think you hit debris.”
The boat lurched forward as more tentacles emerged from the water, flailing and curling in an almost sickening manner. Many of them were broken and rotting, covered in green wounds. Sawain peered forward and saw a monstrous head break the sea’s surface. It looked like the maw of a great white shark, but its body was a wriggling mass of tentacles. They lashed out and attached to the boat, pulling it toward the head. Its pearlescent white eyes and the fact that its bones could be seen through its rotting flesh indicated that this creature did not belong in the world of the living. Syd turned and fired an arrow. It arced with electricity as it struck the thing in the face. The sea of tentacles writhed more sporadically as the beast opened wide its putrid jaws. Three rows of razor sharp teeth on the top and bottom of its mouth waited eagerly as the boat sped ever closer to them. Axel withdrew one of his smaller hammers from beneath his disguise and whacked at any meaty parts he could find. Each one he hit exploded at the point of contact, spraying inky blood everywhere. As one released the ship, another took its place. Sawain knelt in the boat, his great sword drawn. He tensed his muscles, ready to strike.
“Turin, guide my blade.”
Electricity surged through him as he sprang into the creature’s maw. Several of the moldy tendrils wrapped around him as he hurtled through the air. Axel and Sydarion fell backward into the boat as the impact from Sawain’s divinely charged blade cut through the creature’s bones, teeth, and tentacles. Bits of burning fish monster rained down around them as Sawain sputtered in a pool of undead guts and bile, his wet clothes and armor pulling him down beneath the water. To his dismay, he had to let go of his sword. The elegant fey blade sank out of sight as he tried to flail closer to the boat, his fear of water taking hold. Axel lunged forward and grabbed him, hauling him back on board after a moment of struggling and nearly sending everyone into the water.
“Great Freynja’s hammer, what a hit! Urk, ye smell like a day at the undead fish market, lad. Maybe ye should just swim the rest of the way.”
Sawain nearly gagged at the smell rising from him as he waited for the burning in his body to subside. “Oh, that’s bad. How does this keep happening to me?”
Sydardion chuckled as he placed his sleeve against his face. “This isn’t your first time being covered in monster guts? I can’t wait to hear all the stories you’ve accrued in your time away from us.”
Axel grabbed his oar again and began to stroke fervently. “Save yer stories. We need to get to that tower before anyone sees us. That was quite the spectacle.”
Sawain glanced back at the docks and noticed a couple of gnolls looking in their direction. They were too far off to make out any details, but they quickly turned and vanished into the shadows.
“Too late. We’ve been spotted. But my sword!”
He scrambled to the edge of the boat, staring into the watery abyss. Axel handed Sydarion an oar and they quickly began to row.
“Sorry lad, there’s no time.”
Sawain sank backward into the hull, his heart aching. Sibilach crafted that blade specifically for him. It broke his heart to leave it behind. It scared him even more to think about what Sibilach would do once she found out.
Several minutes of frantic rowing pushed them to their destination. They hopped out of the boat into waist deep water. Sawain quickly abandoned his disguise, seeing no further need for it. He hastily washed in the brine water, hoping it would get some of the stink off as the other heroes discarded their over-clothes, revealing their armor and gear underneath.
The tower’s door lay broken all over the ground. Darkness reigned within. The three heroes steeled their nerves as Sawain stepped in first. His eyes adjusted to the lack of light, though many details still eluded him. The inside of the tower was divided up into several rooms and hallways. They crept along the corridors, avoiding broken furniture and shelves as they went. Sawain noted a disturbing lack of corpses despite the large amount of bloodstains everywhere.
They soon stumbled into a room that looked like the epicenter of the battle that broke out within this place. A barricade of tables divided the chamber in half. Scores of arrows protruded from the barricade. A steel door set in the wall behind the barricade remained intact and undamaged. Sawain stepped over the barricade and approached the door. A hand grabbed his shoulder as he reached out for the handle. He turned to find Sydarion shaking his head.
“Hang on, little brother. Look at your feet.”
A thick pile of ashes lay around Sawain’s feet, clinging to his boots. Sydarion gently pushed past him and examined the door. He nodded as he found a wire that led to a strange box attached to the wall.
“Look here Axel, Dwarven technology. Much like your generator at home, but a lot smaller.”
Axel stroked his beard as he sauntered forward, squinting at it. He flipped a tiny latch on the surface of the box and removed a panel. The inside looked like a coil of copper wires attached to other strange metal pieces, running in a network that reminded Sawain of a spider web. Axel nodded.
/> “Aye, it’s a lot like my generator, but I never thought about running the capacitor array like this. And it’s so tiny! How did they get that coil so tight? Interesting. Give me a tick or two, lads. I’ll have this thing disabled in a bit.”
The master dwarf drew a dagger and began to gently slice the wires. Each time he did, sparks flew in the darkness, accompanied by loud pops. Soon, the sparks stopped and Axel severed the cord that ran from the box to the door. He then wedged his knife under the box where it remained attached to the wall. He worked it a moment, then managed to break it free. He grinned triumphantly as he slipped it into his bag.
“Alright, the way is safe. Ye may open the door, lads.”
Sawain smiled at his master’s antics. He knew that the old dwarf counted that box as a great treasure, one he could take home and learn from, and then turn into a profit. He kept his thoughts to himself as he turned the door’s handle. It did not surprise him to find it locked. He looked at Sydarion.
“Please tell me you’re handy with locks.”
Syd squatted, pulling a thin metal device from his pouch. “Well, someone in Dawnstar needs to be. How else are we ever going to get anything done?”
He inserted the pick into the lock and began to jiggle the tumblers within. A few moments later, Sawain heard a click as Sydarion turned the handle, opening the door.
“Alright, we’re in. Who wants to go first?”
Sawain peered into the darkness. Behind the door, a stone staircase spiraled downward out of sight. The absolute darkness proved too much for his eyes. He had an idea. He pulled his totem out and held it in his hand.
