Face pale from loss of blood, the soldier abruptly halted in front of Vajna. His look was one of pure terror, as if all the demons of the underworld had just been unleashed. “General, you need to ride now with everything you have or it’s all lost!”
“Calm down, son, and explain what you mean. We can’t even see what’s going on,” Vajna said, his voice terse.
Taking a deep breath, the soldier continued, “Sir, Colonel Udo has secured a small stretch of the trench but he can’t hold it for long, not without your cavalry to break it open. The enemy is stronger than we thought. Our infantry is taking a mauling. Most of the first units to attack are down to fifty percent strength. It’s a slaughter, sir.”
Vajna and Herger exchanged looks, each processing the information in his own way. Hours of build-up were finally ended. It was time for the cavalry to draw spears and ride to war.
“Mount up! We ride now!”
THIRTY
Into the Breach
They ran as fast as the slowest among them. Separating now served no purpose. So close to Arlevon Gale and the dangerous energies swirling within, the time for unity had finally arrived. All arguments of disagreement and doubt were cast aside as they raced across char-blackened ground. Eyes were focused on the drab, grey stones that had once been grand buildings just ahead. There was no glory remaining here, only wanton death. Thousands of body parts littered the ground as they ran. Many more had simply been obliterated to dust.
No words needed speaking. Each knew what must be done. All were expendable save one. Groge carried his war hammer in one hand and the blind wizard in the other. There were no foes to stand in the way. No cheering armies as he plunged deeper into the chaos. Twice as tall as the others, Groge made an easy target for Goblin archers.
Bahr and Boen led the way, as they had since Thord called them forward. They were escorted by a squad of Aeldruin across the killing fields. Neither saw the need for the Elves but any assistance was welcomed at this point. Having witnessed the might of the cannons once before, Bahr’s group was largely unaffected by what they now stalked through. Grim determination saw them through. Drawn swords displayed their readiness to fight, though Bahr secretly hoped there was little of it. He’d had his fill of fighting and wanted it all to end.
There was no time for words. Everything had already been said back in the marshaling area. Drive hard. Stay together and head straight for the center of the ruins. Anienam assured them the ritual chamber was located in the middle. Nothing mattered but gaining the objective and stopping the Dae’shan. Faeldrin offered his assistance and rode at the head of the group, preventing stray Goblins from rising out of the corpse field in ambush.
They’d covered most of the ground. The first trench was immediately ahead and with it the wanton death wrought by Dwarf cannons and Minotaur brawn. Dwarves and bulls now joined the body count. Their once majestic bodies were strewn at odd angles, draped over the trench or folded impossibly small around it. Bahr felt immense sorrow as the full effect of the assault came into view. War was never glorious, despite what Boen might preach, but this went far beyond anything that had ever occurred save perhaps the Mage Wars.
Faeldrin’s Elves peeled away once Bahr was beyond the trench. They were lightly armored and posed more of a liability than asset in the middle of the fight. Besides, Thord suspected the enemy might try to circle down from the north and flank the army. The Elf mercenaries were needed to screen the far flank. Bahr didn’t lament their loss. The Elves proved fine allies but would only get in the way.
Up ahead the battle raged on. Massed units of Minotaurs and Goblins traded blows. Dwarves armed with muskets desperately tried to swing around the Goblin lines and rake fire down from the side. Alas, the fall of the first two trenches meant the Goblins had less to defend, constricting the defense and more than tripling the amount of strength they could dedicate to the battle. All of the Minotaur might meant nothing if they couldn’t find a way to pound into the guts of the Goblins.
Bahr couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by the almost desperate plight of the battle. He knew Boen would argue to divert and join the attack regardless of their mission. Daylight was already fading and time was running out. It had taken nearly half a day for the allied armies to get as deep in the ruins as they had. Each moment spent in wait was one less they had in which to deal with the evil at the heart.
No, Boen’s thirst for battle would have to wait. Only when they reached the spot of the ritual and finally faced the Dae’shan would he have an opponent worthy of a Vengeance Knight. If they made it that far. Several ranks of Goblins remained between Bahr and the ruins. Greatly depleted to fight the two-pronged allied assault, the stationary Goblins presented enough of a challenge to give Bahr pause. Fortunately it didn’t last long.
Boen roared and raced ahead. His massive thighs propelled him forward. Sword brandished menacingly, the sixty-year-old Gaimosian struck the Goblins with unexpected fury. A quick swipe took one in the throat. Blackish blood spurted on Boen’s armor. His back swing caught another in the shoulder, gouging chunks of flesh and leather. A third Goblin tried getting inside his reach and tackling the bigger Gaimosian. Boen absorbed the blow and drove the pommel of his sword down on top of the Goblin’s exposed skull. Bone gave way with a sickening crunch as the steel sank into brain matter.
Distracted, the Goblins failed to notice Ironfoot charge into them. His axe reaped a terrible toll. A spine was ripped open diagonally. The paralyzed Goblin dropped without a sound. Ironfoot stabbed his axe head into another Goblin’s face and dropped into a half-body swing that clipped the knees out from a charging attacker. By then it didn’t matter. Bahr and the others were among the bewildered Goblin host.
They fought with utter surety. Weeks and months of minor skirmishes and full-blown battles had honed them into a lethal group. Rekka’s slightly curved sword claimed lives as quickly as she could swing. Nothol and Dorl hacked and slashed. What started as a lone duel devolved into a melee. Bodies dropped. Others slipped and fell in the mud and blood. Steel struck bone. Lopped off limbs and heads. This was war at its most brutal: a violent demonstration unparalleled in all existence.
Only Skuld and Groge hung back. Neither were particularly skilled combatants and more likely to get in the way than help. Skuld watched with sword clutched so tightly his hand hurt as his companions, those he’d come to call and think of as friends, mercilessly slaughtered every Goblin poor enough to get snagged. The battle was as brutal as it was quick. Nearly two score enemy bodies slumped around them in the span of moments.
Bahr looked back to the Giant. “Come on! Others will come.”
Swallowing his apprehension, Skuld followed the Giant deeper into the ruins of Arlevon Gale. They slipped through the carnage and finally gained the first set of ruined buildings. Lengthening shadows cast eerie fingers across the area. They could have easily concealed Goblins but worked to Bahr’s favor instead. He led the group into the deepest shadows where they collected themselves for the next stage. Now that they were in the ruins, beyond the madness of the battle raging around them, Bahr felt he could regroup and take a little more time.
“Is anyone wounded?” he asked, still trying to regain his breath.
The others were in similar shape. Goblins fought hard and his tiny group was hard-pressed to fight them off. Only Rekka seemed…normal. Bahr shrugged the feeling off and went back to scanning his group. Satisfied they were all in fighting condition, he looked to Anienam. The wizard appeared no more than a babe in Groge’s massive hand. In another time it might have been amusing.
“Alright, wizard. You’re up. Where do we go from here? Those Goblins won’t be fooled long and they’ll be looking for us,” Bahr said.
A thick cloud of black smoke passed by, briefly obscuring them from each other’s view.
Anienam cocked his head in thought. “We must find the direct center. More than likely the ritual chamber is underground.”
“More than likely?�
� Boen asked with a low growl.
Nothol added, “You don’t know?”
“Have either of you been here before?” Anienam snapped. He struggled to keep his voice at a whisper. “Find the center of this place and get me inside. I’ll provide enough cover for Groge to do his job.”
Scowling, Bahr knew there was no other choice and sticking around to debate the validity of Anienam’s guess was pointless. “Fine, what do we look for? How will we know when we find it?”
“Look for? Why, a lot of guards. Expect the Dae’shan to have their most lethal agents protecting them,” Anienam replied.
“Lovely,” Bahr frowned. “Let’s move.”
One by one they filed after the Sea Wolf. Arlevon Gale was much larger than any of them had thought. Scores of what had once been grand buildings and halls littered the area. Most were reduced to a mere few feet in height while others retained nearly two stories. Not a one was wholly intact. The rubble was strewn across the former roads and walkways. Hundreds of square acres were filled with ruins, clearly marking Arlevon Gale as a once important city. Bahr had spent a lifetime roaming the world and never once bothered to inspect these ruins. Whispers of ghosts and fell powers stalking the ruins kept most sane people away.
The stomp of many boots forced Bahr to duck into what had once been a meeting hall. They filed against the largest wall, weapons gripped tightly as a column of infantry marched towards the battle. More than one in his group held their breath from fear of being discovered. They hadn’t come to fight a war, just end the madness consuming the world. Bahr couldn’t do that if they engaged every Goblin element that marched by.
He gently eased his head around the grey stone edge. The last rank of Goblins had rounded the corner and were well on their way to meeting the Minotaurs. Satisfied the path was clear, momentarily, he gestured the others to follow. He took them skulking deeper into the ruins.
The buildings grew taller, suggesting they were nearing the center. It became increasingly difficult to avoid further Goblin units. Whole battalions were massed in wait. Many were already mustered and heading to the front lines while even more were preparing defensive positions for the eventuality of the enemy breaking through. Clearly whoever commanded intended to make the allies pay for every step of ground.
Bahr began to feel frustrated. Any progress his group made was stymied by the continuous stream of Goblins moving about. Thankfully the squat warriors were seemingly oblivious to Bahr’s task but he knew it wouldn’t last. Sooner or later their luck would run out and the Goblins would discover them. That fear kept him driving forward, sometimes taking roundabout paths to avoid Goblins. Anienam hadn’t mentioned it, but Bahr secretly began to suspect the wizard had placed an enchantment over them to prevent the Goblins from finding them. Regardless, he couldn’t trust to luck. Only skill was going to see them through to the objective--skill and a river of blood.
The rumble of gears and wheels forced him down the nearest side alley. A battery of catapults was being dragged towards the front, narrowly avoiding running into Bahr’s group. Groge barely managed to avoid detection as he ducked into a bank of shadows. Fortunately none in the Goblin army expected the enemy to be so deep within their ranks and walked with the arrogance of supremacy.
Satisfied the way ahead was clear, Bahr continued to lead them deeper into the ruins. The deeper they went the calmer it became. The air took on an arcane atmosphere, confirming they moved in the right direction. Nerves stood on edge. Hairs danced on end, as if tiny jolts of electricity lingered in the air. Stomachs roiled, threatening to empty at the alkaline taste permeating tongues and nostrils.
The shadows had grown so deep it was near pitch-dark now. Bahr couldn’t risk lighting a torch and was forced to rely on instinct. Fewer Goblins were noticeable. Most activity faded, ending altogether. Only the harsh whisper of winds kissing the sun-blasted stone accompanied the tiny group. The buildings were closer together, forming tight avenues nearly impassable for Groge. Frowning, Bahr had to find a way for the Giant to pass. They backtracked and swung to the right, immediately taking the first open lane before heading back in the same direction.
Bahr sprinted down a thin corridor and came to an abrupt halt upon hearing foul speech directly ahead. The sun was dropping over the horizon. Shadows deepened. Even with the rage of so many fires nearly a third of a league behind them, Arlevon Gale grew dark. He spied the reflection of many torches on the snow. Boen, catching his hesitance, nudged Bahr aside and crept forward. The Gaimosian returned a moment later, a look of sheer disgust on his face.
“We’ve found it,” he told them.
Dorl pricked up. His nerves were beyond frayed. Nothing in his past adequately prepared him for what they were doing. “How can you be sure?”
Boen grinned in a way only a madman could. “Because there’s a Troll standing in front of the door and close to one hundred Goblins.”
Dorl Theed swallowed hard. We’re dead.
* * * * *
Torches flickered in the supernatural gloom, revealing a chamber deep underground. The low hanging ceiling trapped the light, brightening the room more than any of the Dae’shan wished. The chamber was oval. A small hole was centered in the ceiling. Golden sunlight filtered in, widening when it struck the ground. Dust from several hundred years clogged the sandstone floor. Leaves and other detritus had been blown in and windswept to the corners. Had there been a point the chamber would have been cleansed. As it stood, there was no need.
A small pedestal sat directly in the sunlight. Knee high, it was made of pure obsidian. Five other stones, each as long as an adult, were spaced out in a star pattern connected to the obsidian. Stone runnels angled down from the curved stones to the centerpiece. Created for singular purpose, the chamber hadn’t been used since Arlevon Gale fell into decay.
All three Dae’shan hovered scant inches off the ground. This was the chamber from which they would free the dark gods and ascend to the pantheon. A disturbance at the entrance forced them to part. A squad of Goblins marched in pairs with a bound prisoner between them. Humans all, the prisoners were hauled up and dropped on the stones. Their hands were bound as were their ankles. Each was blindfolded and gagged. They were the final sacrifices required to activate the latent power in the Olagath Stone. Squirming in the vain attempt at freedom, they’d each been told what was coming to them. Amar Kit’han enjoyed the theatricality of the moment.
“We stand a very real chance of losing this battle. Thrask’s Goblins are of little real use,” Kodan Bak said, his pale eyes never leaving the sacrifices.
Amar Kit’han frowned. Bringing the Goblins in had been a gamble from the beginning. His hopes of presenting a major military power to cow the other kingdoms into submission backfired twice. If they couldn’t hold the lines long enough for him to complete the ritual it would all be over. A thousand years was a very long time to wait for the next opportunity to free the dark gods, even for an immortal.
“The Goblins are strong when need be. Give them the chance to hold,” he replied.
Reaching into his robes, the Dae’shan produced an onyx athame. Fear brightened the eyes of the five victims strapped to the stones.
Pelthit Re, ever eager to prove his value, added, “They will not hold. Those new weapons of the Dwarves are an unforeseen complication.”
Frustrated, sensing it was nearly time for one of them to make their play for leadership, Amar Kit’han drifted around to face his kin. “Send forth the Gnaals. We will make quick work of our enemies.”
Ignoring the threat from his peers, Amar turned back to his victims. Their deaths would open the path between dimensions and usher forth a new age for all Malweir.
THIRTY-ONE
Counterattack
Maleela’s stomach tightened as she watched the wholesale slaughter of Goblins on the western flank. She’d never dreamed of such violence from the Dwarves, having been sequestered deep inside Drimmen Delf when Bahr and the others had gone out to fight at Bode
Hill. The cannons were impressive and world changing. She tried to calculate the implications of these new weapons and failed. Hundreds of Goblins were murdered in those first few moments. Close to a thousand by the time the Minotaur army attacked.
She watched her new army as it threatened to break under the onslaught of so many different foes. Her gaze reluctantly tore from the horrifying Dwarven weapons and centered on the Wolfsreik to her east. Aurec was there, standing in resplendent battle armor under a sea of waving banners. He’d grown to become a true king, despite her earlier protestations. She bore no doubts that he would soon take up the sword and join his army in the attack. Aurec often suffered from an excess of honor. Maleela didn’t particularly want him dead, but she wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down if he stood in her way. Badron was out there and she wanted him dead.
Her defense against the Wolfsreik was much stronger than against the Dwarves. Without those infernal weapons the Wolfsreik was forced to execute their attack the way it had always been done. She was prepared for that, or so Thrask assured her. The Goblin war machine had fought their way across the northern kingdoms for months, slaughtering and killing along the way. Maleela had no stomach for it. There was no glory to be had in killing. Her alliance with the Goblins was one of convenience. Amar Kit’han promised her the blood of her father before the end, leading her to the inevitable conclusion that Badron was on the field. Most likely skulking in a soldier’s uniform no doubt. Her hand idly tapped the blade strapped to her right hip.
Too many thoughts swirled in conflict. Goblins. Aurec. Badron. She slowly felt her sanity being dragged away. Feelings of vengeance dominated her waking moments. Dreams had become nightmares threatening to consume what remained of her soul. She wondered how she had become evil. Had it always been there? Lurking in the hollow corners of mind and spirit? She only felt marginally different, as if these feelings were natural.
Even Gods Must Fall Page 29
