“Snicker snack, snicker snack, Dwarves fall dead,” the storyteller continued, loudly emphasising his words. “’Let us play,’ she says.”
“Stupid story,” I grunted, walking away.
“Not the way I heard it,” an Arukh said behind me.
“How’d you hear it?” someone asked.
“I hear she’s dead,” someone else volunteered, “challenged a Shaman named Copper Thoughts in his own house.”
Ears burning, I ignored them. Moving along, dipping in and out of knots of conversation. Most of the talk was of the war or battle. I didn’t bother. The Arukh wouldn’t know anything about the war, they’d just know about the dying.
I saw many males that might fit my description. None of them had an iron knife, or seemed especially clever.
Another Arukh was added to the gallows, a belligerent female who kicked and struggled until the rope jerked her into the air and she had to hold it to keep breathing.
A clever Arukh wouldn’t be here, I thought sourly.
I glimpsed the young female from time to time.
As dusk fell, we were loaded into wagons. I followed the burned female.
“In with the Krohns,” a Vampire drover said to me. I got on the wagon, waiting patiently.
Most of the Arukh in my wagon were scarred older females. Horrors. We grunted at each other with subdued animosity.
“Rughk,” another couple of Vampires mounted the wagon, too heavily armoured to ride. They were obviously low status. Officers for Arukh.
“We go into battle,” he announced. “The Rippers and Hor’rs go first against the Dwarves. Then when the Dwarves tire, the Krohns and the Gnashers go.”
“Only trouble,” grunted the burned female, just loud enough for him to hear, “Dwarves don’t tire.”
“We can have one more hanging,” the first officer snapped.
There was a soft chorus of grunts. There was just enough of a threat there to acknowledge. Not quite enough of one to respond to.
After a moment, the Vampires continued.
“We’ll hold the Krohns back until the battle is joined, you look for places to attack, rather than go straight against Dwarf formations,” the second officer said. He was older, more experienced.
“Any who don’t like that, you can go to the Hurr’rs and the Zults and attack head on.”
Nobody in the wagon volunteered. We were all old and experienced enough not to want to face Dwarve legions head on. Let them split apart a little, so they no longer stood shoulder to shoulder. That was a little different.
The wagons lurched into motion.
We were off to war.
I heard the battle before I saw it, heard the screams of horses and beings, the clash and thud of weapons, the stench of blood and bowels. We waited, shuffling nervously, snarling at each other, hearts pounding.
A Goblin lit a bronze brazier near us, fanning a fast flame then smothering it until the brazier was heaped with glowing embers.
A Vampire on horseback rushed forward.
“Ready the Krohnns,” he ordered. His horse danced before us.
The Goblin nodded.
The scarred female walked to the brazier, filled her hands with red glowing coals and brought them to her face.
I stared, my guts heaving as she rubbed the embers down the sides of her head. The odour of burning flesh and hair filled the air as others did the same.
Her eyes rolled. She twitched as embers slipped under her armour, smoked as the coals burned slowly on tars she’d smeared onto herself. Her nose ran freely and her eyes rolled as she heaved and gasped.
“Ar Ar Ar,” she grunted, gasping and reeling with pain. Blood ran down the side of her face where she’d torn her scarred eyelid. She trembled violently. I backed away.
A Goblin offered me the brazier. I shook my head. Not all the Arukh took the fire to themselves.
“War,” the burning woman said. “Warwarwar.”
She paused.
“WARWARWARWAR...”
Around me I could hear other grunts and chants.
The burning ones shook and grunted and roared, nearly mad with pain and rage.
The horse whickered nervously, shivering with fright. The Vampire fought to hold it.
“Krohnns follow,” he yelled. “Hurr’rs come after, protect the backs.”
The horse wheeled, rushing into the battle, as much fleeing as leading the screaming horrors behind them.
The battlefield was already disintegrating into chaos. The Vampire lead us against a battered phalanx of Dwarves. They screamed as the burning Krohnns tore into them, snapping their lances and scattering their shields. We who followed behind the mad rush, clubbed and stabbed at the Dwarves within the torn phalanx, preventing them from cutting down the burning Krohnns.
Behind us, a mixed force of Hobgoblins and Vampires and lesser Arukh poured into the wound in the Phalanx until the Dwarves formations began to break apart. As they did, Vampire cavalry swept in to cut them to pieces.
Suddenly, before me, the scarred female I had known, screaming and smoking and covered with blood, appeared. Her eyes wild, she rushed at me, knowing nothing but killing.
I got out of the way, rushing into open ground. She found someone closer to kill.
I looked around wildly. Fighting was everywhere. The phalanx had fallen, but other formations of Dwarves and Humans coalesced. Horsemen and Vampires on horses swept back and forth.
I raced for broken ground, ruins of buildings and piles of rubble, that promised an illusion of safety.
A screaming Dwarf came rushing at me. I hit him with my club, the impact rattling both our bones. His scream choked and he went down.
The air was thick with blood and smoke, the thunder of hooves and the cries of beasts and beings. Three Dwarves with lances spotted me. I darted away, looking desperately around for help. One of the Dwarves feinted with the lance. It glanced off my armour. I dropped the club, grabbed the lance just past the barbs and pulled. The Dwarf, startled, stumbled forward. I reversed, pushing the grip of his lance into his belly. I pulled and pushed again, twisting and dodging to avoid the others.
The lance came free in my hands. I swung it right and left, clattering on the other lances as I retreated. I reversed the Lance and growled.
The Dwarves came on, spreading on either side of me. I backed away. I’d seen Arukh killed on those lances, impaled and held while they bled to death.
I growled and shook the lance at them as they came on. I bobbed my head ranging them, but they kept moving back and forth, sliding further apart.
I roared and rushed the one on the left. He backed away quickly, as the other came at me. I backed away. Now they were even wider apart. If I rushed one, the other would be behind me.
“Arrah,” I whined.
I stopped and squatted, waiting to see what they would do.
They paused and glanced at each other. I watched. The Dwarf on the left came in wide, screaming, his lance raised as he scuttled further left and inwards.
I roared and turned, retreating. The other Dwarf was right behind me, rushing in silently. I dodged his lance, aiming my own low. I caught him in the gut, the barbed head of the lance burying itself in his stomach and catching there. He fell back heavily, sitting down, legs splayed, holding the lance. His hairy face was suddenly pale.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered. He looked horrified.
I let go my lance and sprang forward, expecting any moment to feel the other Dwarf’s spear in my back. I leaped past the fallen Dwarf and whirled around, crouching against the sitting body.
“Arrah,” I grunted, gulping air.
The last Dwarf faced me with his lance. He grinned, exposing craggy teeth as he closed in. I reached for the dying Dwarf’s lance, where he’d dropped it. The grinning Dwarf
feinted, driving me behind the body before I could grab it.
“Abomination!” he grunted. “Coward! Come out from behind my brother and die.”
I hissed at him, trying to think what to do.
He feinted again, working his way around to the side, confident of killing me.
I waited for his next feint. When the lance jabbed at me, I lifted and hurled the body of the dying Dwarf, catching the tip of the lance. He cursed. That was all I needed. Even as he pulled the lance free of his fallen comrade, I was past the barbs. I pushed the lance shaft down, burying its head, snapping it with my weight, and rushed him.
“Who dies?” I screamed, stabbing at him. My first blow turned on his armour. He raised his hands to defend himself. I stabbed again, feeling the knife bury deep in his flesh, I twisted the blade as I pulled it out, and stabbed and stabbed again. He kept fighting, and in panic I kept stabbing.
“Who dies now? Who dies now?” I screamed as blood poured from his mouth and his hands dropped. The light went out of his eyes.
I stopped, gulping air and looking around.
I could hear fighting all around me. But a short wall, relic of some building, blocked much of the sight of it. I paused, trying to gather my wits and steady my pounding heart.
I crawled over to the wall and looked. Out in the clearing it was a contest between horses; Humans on horses, and Vampires on horses; sweeping back and forth. Battalions of Dwarves poured in with their lances, and the Horsemen drove the Vampires up against them.
Dwarves died, crushed and overwhelmed, but while they fought the Vampires, the Horsemen pushed from behind. Vampires died. I watched as Horsemen chased down and clubbed dismounted Vampires. The battle swept back and forth, churning the open grounds into a killing field, thick with torn flesh and spilled blood.
Most of the ground fighting was among the wrecked buildings and ruins scattered around the commons. Here Dwarf fought Arukh, and Human fought Vampire on foot. A desperate dance of grunt and thrust and blood.
I tried to spot a powerful band near me, something I could join for a measure of safety.
In the distance, a Shaman strolled, resplendent in beads and bells, he held his pipe out before him. Copper Thoughts? No, some other.
A Human came around the wall. I gutted him before the surprised look left his face.
I stared at him for a second, looking at his dead face, still young and childlike, his jaw slack exposing stained, unnaturally flat teeth. Humans were not made for war, I thought suddenly. Perhaps he’d just been looking for a place to hide. A place to be safe from the killing.
I shook myself, pushing the thoughts away.
He had a short sword. I took it, judging it to be more serviceable than the lances. No shield. I took his cloak. Perhaps I could use it to divert the enemy while I came at them.
I had to get out of here. More, Humans or Dwarves, would come, I was sure of it.
I searched for a way out of the fighting. This was howling madness. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to go back to where killing was intimate. To places of desperate, single struggles in dark corners.
I scanned my surroundings, trying to place the fighting Dwarves and Humans, the strongest bands. Finally, I headed right, the way I’d come.
I skirted around a couple of fights. Once I came close enough to stab a Human in the back. When some of his companions, Dwarf and Humans, turned at me, the Vampires they’d been fighting leaped. I backed away, retreating from the death struggle.
I ran past a dead Human. Not a soldier, his throat cut, he’d died hands pressed to neck, trying to hold back the blood. I knew him. I paused a second, trying to place him.
The meat vendor. The meat vendor who’d had such opinions of the war. He’d probably been trying to get away when it had caught up with him.
Here and there, whole buildings stood. Merchant houses, apartment blocks. Fortified and full of tense residents, hoping that the battle raging around wouldn’t claim them.
I wished I was inside one of them now.
I stopped and crouched behind a mound of rubble, gulping air, and thought.
Or on top of one.
I looked around. A Dwarf came screaming at me, club raised. I roared at him and sprinted away as he braced himself for a charge that didn’t come.
The closest building was four stories, and looked to be Dwarf residences. No.
Back the way I’d come was a merchant’s warehouse. Smaller, but with a sloping roof that offered no concealment.
I stopped before I was winded. The Dwarf came up after me, expecting to club a panting, helpless Arukh. I waited motionless until he was almost upon me, then I sidestepped his rush and let his swing carry him into my sword. The blade caught in his ribs, nearly pulling it from my grip as he collapsed.
I glanced around instinctively, to see if I’d been observed. But if I had, no one cared. No one else was coming at me this instant.
Halfway around the edges of the battle I spied what I was looking for. A moderate sized house, three stories, flat roof, crudely fortified. I could see places where balconies and stairs had been torn away from the exterior. Mixed residence, I judged, different peoples lived there, crowded by poverty.
I began to work my way towards it.
I came upon the young female spattered with blood, in a small band with two Hobgoblins. She’d found a sword somewhere, a long piece of bronze, more club than blade. It was a Troll sword by the look, almost as long as she was. Grinning, she wielded it like it was a part of her. They were hacking up a dead Dwarf. I could see the remains of cheap Goblin armour. It had blundered into them and never had a chance.
“Arrah,” I bellowed. The female looked up, panting hard, grinning with battle lust.
“This way,” I pointed at the building I wanted. “We go this way.”
I waited to see if she understood. For a second, her eyes glittered bright and animal, then she glanced at my finger. She followed its direction to the building.
“That way,” I repeated.
“Arrah,” she nodded, and headed off. The Hobgoblins followed us.
She was much more tired than I was. I could see that from the way she kept stopping, from the way her sides heaved. Good. If there was trouble, someone come after us, I could sprint away and leave her behind to deal with it.
The Hobgoblins were in better shape. We were stronger, but tired faster. They lasted longer. Had she begun to rely upon them? Let them fight while she marshalled her strength for killing blows? If so, she was cleverer than I’d credited her.
Two Humans appeared. She fell back, letting the Hobgoblins contend with them. As they fought, she came in on the side, cutting one of them down. Then they went at the other Human who died beneath flashing blades. One of the Hobgoblins went down with him, his gut opened, intestines spilling out.
As it kicked, the remaining Hobgoblin cut its throat. It mumbled something in Goblin tongue.
The small female hacked at the Humans’ bodies. She smashed a head open, popped an eyeball in her mouth. She glanced at me, as if seeking approval.
I grunted, nodding my head.
“We go, travel fast,” I told her.
She swallowed and followed me. The Hobgoblin followed her.
We detoured around several large fights. Twice we encountered single Humans or Dwarves who weren’t interested in fighting us. I had to stop the little Arukh from pursuing. Once, we came face to face with a trio of Dwarves. We stared at each other for a second, both groups measuring our chances and not liking them much, and then sidled carefully past each other.
“Arrah,” the young female called after them, her nostrils flared with bloodlust.
Fool.
At least she hadn’t started anything I would have let them finish for her, I thought sourly.
Finally, we reached the building. Wary eyes stared
at us from the corners of shuttered windows. I made Goblin, Hobgoblin, Kobold, Human, Dwarf. A very mixed group.
I circled the building, looking for the safest way up. Come close to a window, and there’d be a knife waiting. I examined the crude stonework of a corner, looking straight up.
I placed my hand on a corner, gauging it.
“This way,” I grunted, and scrambled straight up. I hugged the side of the building, my face against stone. My fingers digging into minute ledges and crevices around stone. Hauling myself up by sheer strength.
I heard scratching below me, as the Hobgoblin and the female climbed up after me. The Hobgoblin cursed and kicked but hung on and climbed carefully. I could hear the female puffing below. Did she have enough strength to make it?
I clambered over the ledge, falling heavily onto the roof and gulping air.
An astonished Dwarf stared at me, he held a crude sharpened stick.
“Get off,” he barked automatically.
Behind him was another Dwarf, an old female, I could tell by the cut of the beard, a trio of Hobgoblins, another Arukh, and a Traditional Vampire.
“What?” I asked, sitting up and bracing myself against the ledge.
“More of them, Tcharok,” the female Dwarf said. “Now they’ll all come. We’ll lose everything.”
“These yours?” the Dwarf asked, jerking his head towards the traditional Vampire.
The traditional Vampire shrugged. “I didn’t call them. Do as you please.”
“Get off my roof,” the Dwarf bellowed, he looked past me. “You too.”
I stood, the Hobgoblin pulled itself over. Below him, I could hear the young female squealing in terror as she lost her grip. Abruptly, the Hobgoblin stiffened, and let out a cry. It slipped rapidly down.
I grabbed it. I needed an ally. I felt extra weight. The female, when she lost her grip, had grabbed for the Hobgoblin. She howled her terror below us.
The Dwarf rushed me, hitting with the stick. I kicked at him, almost pulled over by the weight that held me. I felt the Hobgoblin’s arm jerk out of joint. I braced myself and heaved, hauling the Hobgoblin over. The female let go to grab the ledge of the building. I pushed the injured Hobgoblin at the Dwarf.
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