by Jim Galford
With a deafening screech, the golem moved its foot, nearly stepping on the company. Linn had to bring them to an abrupt halt to prevent its heel from coming down on the lead ranks. Even so, it crashed within a few feet of the lead warriors, knocking several to the ground.
“Go, go, go!” Linn cried at Estin, even as he lanced another undead in front of him. The path ahead was relatively clear all the way to the golem’s foot. At the call to go, Greth gave Estin a firm push, then followed a few steps behind him, covering his advance.
Estin raced ahead, diving and sliding through the undead that clamored for a grip on him. His armor absorbed most of the impacts, letting him focus on running, rather than having to fight off every creature in his path. Several he cut down swiftly, but did his best to keep moving at all times. More than once, he felt bone claws rake his armor, trying to drag him down, but the creatures fell back as he ran, often when attacked by Greth or the other wolves, leaving long scars on the leather.
Finally, Estin reached the gleaming foot of the golem, leaping as best he could onto the decorative creases of its boot. His claws scraped loudly against the metal, but he clung and began making his way slowly upwards. Those first twenty feet were unbearably difficult, with him sliding nearly as far as he climbed, using mostly damaged metal on the golem to keep his grip. At last, he reached the top of the boot, where the tiny notches began. These sped his pace immensely, allowing him to ascend swiftly, soon reaching the golem’s midsection, despite its continued rocking movement.
Without warning, the golem reached back, trying to swat at Estin. Where he was, it could not reach, but the impact of its finger brushing nearby knocked his feet loose briefly. He was forced to hold still and ride out the golem’s attacks, until at last it went back to smashing the undead.
Estin hurried the remaining distance, scaling the torso rapidly, then reaching the base of the neck, where he was told he could get inside. At first, he thought the long ladder simply ended between the giant’s shoulder blades, but finally saw a well-hidden door.
Feeling around the edges of the door, Estin found a latch that released it, allowing him to fall inside. As he did, he kicked the door shut behind him, then tried to get his bearings in the shifting dark room. The entire place was sealed, letting no light at all in, rendering even his night-vision useless.
Estin slid across the floor as the golem shifted again, this time slamming into something solid that he grabbed onto to stay where he was. Once he was sure that the golem would not toss him around again, he raised his hand overhead, whispering words of magic to make his hand glow brightly, illuminating the room.
From where he lay, Estin could see that the chamber had been designed to allow dozens of riders to travel with the golem as needed. Long benches of metal were built right into the floor every few feet. The room itself was huge, perhaps thirty or more feet in diameter. A staircase nearby led down and from what little Estin could see, the room below was identical. He could only imagine how many dwarves could have been packed into the golem during a normal war.
Estin moved slowly through the golem’s upper-chest, trying to find a way up into its head. This took him longer than he liked, until at last he found a ladder near the middle of the room that had been folded up against the ceiling, making it hard to find. The ladder could be easily reached by standing on one of the benches, which he did, folding the ladder down. Climbing that soon put him at a hatch that he shoved open, clearing the way into the golem’s head.
As he pulled himself into the head, Estin was awestruck by the arcing energy that hovered over him. A large stream of bluish-white lightning seemed to flow outwards, feeding into the body of the golem as it crackled and hissed. It was as if the sun itself had been harnessed into the room, forced to do the bidding of the golem’s creators.
Estin hurriedly emptied the bag he had carried all the way up, letting the three heavy pieces clang to the floor. He attached them one to another as he had been taught on the way down into the quarry, receiving a sputtering hum from the device as he locked in the last piece.
He took a deep breath, knowing the moment he activated the device, he would need to be running. There would not be any time to waste. Nervously, he traced a symbol on the surface of the weapon, lighting a simple sigil on the side of the device. Within seconds, he watched as the energy above drifted towards and into the weapon’s end, feeding it and making it hum.
Then he ran, diving into the lower room and racing for the door to the outside. He yanked the door open and started to climb out when the cliff side came up on him swiftly, forcing him back inside as the golem crashed into the side of the quarry. Rocks flew everywhere and Estin’s bare feet slid on the metal, driving him almost halfway back across the room.
Digging in and running at the door as he saw sky again, Estin managed to get outside, even as the stone walls approached again. The golem was staggering drunkenly, crashing into everything around it. Though the other golems seemed to continue their fight against the undead, this one was stumbling and putting out its hands, trying to balance itself.
Far below, Estin could see the human troops begin to break and run for the ramp.
Clinging for all he was worth to the doorframe, Estin waited as the cliff neared. He had one chance and it was not going to be an easy one. He had done far more foolish things in his life to discount this one.
Estin leaped as the golem got close, slamming hard into the stones as the golem’s shoulder hit the wall nearby. He tried to hang on, but the impact dislodged him, sending him sliding and tumbling down the steep wall of the quarry until he crashed into the ramp twenty feet lower.
Dazed and hurting, Estin began crawling up the ramp, then slowly got to his feet and limped as best he could. The spot he had landed was almost two-thirds of the way up and he was moving far slower than he had planned, giving him only a small head-start over the other soldiers.
Staggering up the rise, he looked down the ramp to where the army was riding up furiously, gaining ground on him. That gave him hope and drive, allowing him to quicken his pace slightly. His leg—the same one that had been badly injured by Insrin’s honor guard months earlier—was just not holding his weight very well, even with some quick healing. He recognized that he would need to devote some time to mending the injury, but it would need to wait.
Estin soon reached the top, beginning to hobble towards the abandoned mining town part way around the lip. Once he was sure that he could reach the buildings soon, Estin leaned over the quarry’s edge and checked on the others, finding them more than halfway up. They had slowed considerably as the golem had damaged part of the ramp, forcing the soldiers to go single-file up one section, near where Estin had fallen.
The narrow-file of the group gave Estin a chance to see what their losses looked like. From what he could see at that distance, nearly a quarter of the men were still there, in addition to those who had stayed with the horses. They had done extremely well, especially without a healer. He even spotted the entire contingent of wolf wildlings, making Estin smile at their stubbornness.
He mentally cheered on his companions, then hurried to close the gap to the mining town. Its large grey wooden buildings loomed ominously, though nearly anything would look inviting to Estin at that moment, knowing what was coming soon. He wanted any form of cover he could find, be it building or a large rock.
Though there were many buildings, one in particular caught his attention. The squat structure was solidly-built, with several iron beams supporting the otherwise wooden walls. It was the only one he had seen that might survive the explosion, if it reached as far as the little town.
A sudden waft of animal scents alerted Estin that something was not right. He sniffed the air, initially thinking he smelled wolf, but the scent quickly changed into fox…and blood. From what he could tell, it came from a two-story building a little farther from the quarry edge. He started to move on, ignoring it, but the scent grew stronger, almost as if the winds were trying to
coax him into checking on something important. He finally gave up on his original plan, unable to ignore the smells and the vague familiarity of them.
Following his nose cautiously, he approached the tall building and eased the door open. Inside, fly-ridden corpses lay strewn everywhere. Their broken bodies had decayed considerably, but from what he could see, they had likely been dead when they walked in and then cut down after shambling inside. Several of these were draped over a makeshift barricade at the back end of the room, up against a staircase. A few even hung off the sides of the staircase. Aside from the ruins of the battle, there was little in the room, other than some broken furniture and cabinets.
Estin padded slowly into the room, watching the bodies for movement. All appeared to be truly dead, but he could not be too cautious. As he stepped among them, he began to see dried blood near the barricade, pooled and covering much of the floor. In it, he could see dragged prints that looked human, as well as wildling…and some that were too large for either and looked faintly wolf-like, though not wildling.
That was when he began to see the defenders’ bodies.
Fox wildlings lay behind the wooden barrier, strewn across the first few steps of the staircase. Several were actually draped over the barricade, as though they had been mauled and dragged onto the small wall to die. One fox body that lay among the zombies had been torn so far beyond recognition that he could not even be sure of gender or coloring anymore.
Estin eased himself up to the barricade, kneeling slowly to check the nearest wildling body. The male had been beaten until his face was caved in, but Estin did see that his hand still held an ornate weighted axe—one of Insrin’s guards’ weapons. When he touched the male’s hand, he found the skin cold. This had happened hours ago.
Climbing over bodies and the remains of the barricade, Estin hurried up the stairs, finding that the second floor was in no better shape. At the top of the steps, another barricade had been built, with two more foxes and dozens of undead bodies lying in front of it. Beyond the barricade, he could see nothing but a bare wall and ancient cabinets, like the ones downstairs. The mostly-dry blood bore many footprints, again of wildlings and the human zombies.
Moving over the barricade, he found five more bodies. Surrounded by four zombie corpses, the single wildling body’s eyes still stared blankly up at the ceiling, the grey fox’s throat torn open. His sword was still clutched in his hand and a spear lay near the barricade. His claws and even his mouth were covered with dried gore, as though he had resorted to every weapon at his disposal at the end, but still fell to superior numbers.
“Insrin,” Estin said softly, kneeling beside him. The body was cold to the touch and he felt no spirit present. He could only guess that the man had sought safety in Lantonne and never quite made it. Lowering his head, he closed Insrin’s staring eyes. “You fool, what did you get yourself into?”
A rustle nearby brought Estin to attention. It was coming from the cabinet. He sniffed the air, trying to identify what else might be in there with him. The scent he recognized instantly—he would known it in his sleep—and did his best to swiftly cover Insrin’s body with debris from the barricade. Estin then tossed Insrin’s weapons away, where they would be less visible.
With trembling hands, Estin opened the cabinet, praying to the newer gods, the dragons, and anything else he could think of that was more powerful than him that the kits were alive. He doubted he could bear the idea of fighting off two tiny zombies. If that was what he found, he began to wonder if he would even be able to stop them from killing him.
Inside the cabinet lay Atall and Oria, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. They were shaking violently, pressed against the back end of the small space.
“Daddy said we need to stay in here til he comes back,” Atall said softly, trying to pull the cabinet closed on Estin.
Estin held the door of the cabinet and did his best to look like nothing was wrong, though he bet he looked as though he had rolled down a mountainside after the run through the quarry.
“Your mom sent me to get you,” he told them, making sure his body blocked their view of Insrin’s corpse. “We need to go. She’s very worried.”
Oria was the first to pounce Estin, clinging to his neck with a death grip that impressed Estin. Atall was not far after, running up his knee to grab hold also. They had grown a lot since he had last seen them and were getting big for carrying this way, but he would find a way.
“Close your eyes,” he told them, and both buried their faces against his damaged armor. “I will protect you. I promise.”
Estin hurried down the stairs, not knowing how much time he had left before the explosion. There could not be much, he knew, so when he heard a high-pitched noise growing in intensity, he rushed into the back of the bottom floor, where the beams looked the strongest.
He knelt in the corner, setting the twins on the ground beneath him, using his body to cover them both. As best he could, he covered both of them with the heavier sections of his armor, hoping that even if he died, between his body and the armor, they would survive. As an afterthought, he wrapped his tail around them, using its added armor to help guard the kits against any flying debris.
“Cover your ears,” he whispered, then cast a defensive spell that would allow his body to absorb one impact from debris or the roof coming down on them. It might not save them, but it could not hurt. “This is about to get very loud.”
He dearly hoped the kits were fully covered, as the screeching noise grew deafening.
White light washed out his vision as his ears rang. The floor shook and he was tossed about, though he kept himself over the children. Vaguely, he became aware of the ceiling flying away, followed by much of the walls, as wind roared over them. The next thing he knew, Estin was tumbling across the ground, the twins still clutched in his arms, crying loudly.
For a time, Estin lay there on the soft ground, staring up at the sky. His vision was blurred and his ears throbbed, but he could feel both twins moving. He had managed to keep them both alive. He felt sunlight and cool air on patches of his skin, letting him know that much of his armor had been torn away, but that was the least of his concerns.
Footsteps neared as Estin heard voices talking. He was so giddy at having survived that all he heard of the conversation was, “I think the wolf went this way.”
Seconds later, a large human leaned in over Estin, checking to see if he was alive, as he just laughed at the craziness of having gotten through anything like he had that day. Estin sat up and slowly put the kits on the ground in front of him, where they clung to each other nervously.
Looking around at the dozen men around him, Estin realized that he had no idea who these humans were. They did not look to be the ones from Linn’s company. The armor and even hairstyles were all wrong and every one of them glared at him angrily.
“Do we kill it or throw it in with the others?” asked the man standing over Estin, turning to an older man on horseback. “It’s not the wolf, but I still say it doesn’t belong here.”
That cut through the shock and Estin grabbed the twins again, trying to get to his feet. They screamed and clutched at him again. He had no idea what wolf they were talking about, but he was not about to let these strangers near the kits.
“Throw him in a cage. I’m not worried about trying a foreign beast for murder. Skin the pups.”
Estin lost his mind on the spot. With one hand holding the kits to him, he tore into the soldiers as they came up on him, using his free hand and tail and sometimes his teeth. When he came to, he was kneeling on the ground, the kits crying nearby, with a sword in his stomach. He numbly pulled it free and closed the wound with magic, sitting up to see if he had any chance of getting to the kits without being struck again.
Dozens lay bleeding around him, just behind a line of soldiers who had weapons drawn and leveled at his throat. The kits were just a few steps from him and the soldiers appeared nervous about touching them, but the humans
had effectively cut Estin off from them.
“Fine, throw them all in the wagon. Damn, I hate cornered vermin.”
A heavy blow to Estin’s neck dazed him and was swiftly followed by a harder hit to his head that blacked everything out.
*
Estin woke and felt as though the war golem had fallen atop him. His leg was badly twisted, his stomach hurt where he had not finished mending the mortal wound from the sword, and he could tell that after blacking out, he had been beaten even more. He was deeply thankful that he found himself in the dark when he opened his eyes.
He lay there, listening to a creaking noise and feeling a gentle swaying of his resting place. It felt as though he were in a wagon, but for all he could see, it might have been a cave.
“You thought you could escape?” whispered an airy voice inside Estin’s head, startling him wide awake. When it spoke again, Estin realized it was the bodiless voice of the Miharon. “The fae always win in the end. Our bargain is at an end.”
Reaching out nervously in the absolute dark, Estin tried to find out what was around him.
The floor was wooden, that much he could be sure. Tightly-fitted boards. He could even feel the holes where nails had them attached.
He reached out to his sides next, feeling vertical metal bars on his left and beyond them, more wood. To his right, he felt nothing at first, but then his hand brushed fur. A little yelp was followed by scurrying.
“Oria? Atall?” he asked of the dark. The scurrying came closer.
“Daddy?” asked Atall, his voice trembling.
“No, it’s Estin,” he answered, smiling at knowing the child was alive. “Where is your sister?”
“You’re not a fox. Why should I tell you?”
Estin sat up and banged his head on more bars overhead.
“I want to know she’s safe, Atall.”
“I’m here, too,” came Oria’s little voice, somewhere near where Atall’s voice had been.
