Even Gods Must Fall

by Christian Warren Freed

  Badron wasn’t sure what possessed him to disguise as a soldier and join the second wave of the attack. Nor was he certain what made him think he could sneak past the Goblin defense and get away unscathed, but that was what happened. His old legs carried him across the killing fields, into the trenches where he exacted a small measure of revenge for the humiliation suffered in Rogscroft, and into the outer rows of ruins. Only when he was squirreled away in the shadows did he feel comfortable enough to shed some of his protection and breathe easier.

  Comfortable. “I must be out of my mind.”

  If anything his position had worsened considerably. He’d gone from certain escape to almost certain capture. Even though the Goblins were distracted on two fronts he was most assuredly heading towards his ultimate demise. The promise haunted him as it had done since first agreeing to Amar Kit’han’s lies. He took new umbrage against his enemies and readied to delve deeper into Arlevon Gale.

  He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish. Truthfully he never expected to make it this far. All he knew, and that not for certain, was his enemy was located in the center of the ruins. The Dae’shan had only hinted at this moment, never bothering to speak clearly enough for Badron to understand the severity of it. Killing Amar or the others seemed unlikely given their supposed immortality. So why am I here? Vanity? Could the idea of trying to get revenge be more important than regaining my crown? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this ordeal was rapidly drawing to a close and his destiny was somewhere in these ruins.

  He let his thoughts wander back to the devastating new weapons of the Dwarves. While none of the soldiers in his platoon had any idea what they were he instantly recognized the raw power of the weapons and decided he needed them for his vision of the new Delranan, whether the Dwarves chose to share their technology or not. Badron hoped Harnin hadn’t destroyed too much of the infrastructure in his mad quest for fame. He needed his old spy network in order to enact his new strategies.

  Badron crept through the ruins. Any surprise he felt at not finding Goblins impeding his progress went unnoticed as he spied the haunting glow just ahead. His heart raced. He’d found the Dae’shan. Weapon gripped tightly, Badron hurried to meet his destiny.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Loss and Gain

  Heart racing, Bahr was about to do the dumbest thing he had ever imagined in his long life. He gripped his sword tightly, as if afraid it would fail him when he needed it the most. Taking three quick breaths, he rounded the corner and prepared to charge into the mass of Goblins and the Troll. Boen’s strong hand jerked him back at the last moment. Confused, Bahr turned on his friend with venom in his eyes. Boen’s face remained impassive as he pointed.

  Bahr squinted through the gathering darkness to where the Gaimosian pointed. There, amidst the angry rabble defending the entrance, stalked a slender figure no larger than a girl. Bahr squinted harder as he glimpsed her face. His heart fell. Mouth dropping open, he surged forward only to be held firmly in place.

  “Not yet,” Boen whispered in his ear.

  “Let me go, you bastard. It’s Maleela,” Bahr snapped back.

  “Think clearly you old fool. She’s not here as a prisoner,” Boen argued.

  Bahr finally succeed in shrugging off Boen’s grip but didn’t move. Reason was blocked by emotional attachment. Days of worrying over her death finally wore him down, here when he needed all of his strength. At the end of the quest Bahr found yet another obstacle preventing him from ending it all. Despair crawled into the shallow parts of his soul and he wept.

  “Use the pain. It will make you stronger once we get inside,” Boen urged.

  Anienam whispered from a short distance away, “We are wasting time. The Dae’shan have already begun the ritual!”

  “He’s right, we need to move,” Boen seconded.

  Bahr risked another glance and was dismayed to see Maleela disappear within the ritual chamber. “There’s too many. We’ll never break through in time with that Troll standing guard.”

  Boen offered his most charming grin. “Leave the Troll to me. We can take care of the Goblins well enough.”

  “It has to be quick, before others come down on us from behind,” Bahr said.

  “Quick killing is the best. Are you ready?”

  He wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Boen used that momentary distraction to leap into an attack, stealing Bahr’s place at the head of the group. The Gaimosian bellowed an almost monstrous roar as he raised his sword high above his head. Goblins turned, startled by the sudden appearance of enemies this deep within the ruins. The Troll roared back in challenge, knowing Boen for what he was. Shoving the smaller Goblins aside, the Troll rushed to meet Boen. They collided like mountains collapsing.

  Boen struck swiftly. His sword ripped chunks of sickly green flesh away. In pain, the Troll tried to swat Boen’s sword away and grasp his throat. Boen was quicker. His sword danced over the Troll’s rough hide, scoring deep wounds designed to infuriate more than kill. His only chance was to get the Troll angered enough to where it didn’t think clearly.

  The beast was close to eight feet tall and five hundred pounds of muscle and anger. Boen had never fought an opponent so large, the Gnaal notwithstanding. This was a beast of the old world, a creature seldom seen outside of their mountain homes. Trolls weren’t exceptionally bright but possessed the martial skills of a Gaimosian. Boen was in the fight of his life.

  The Troll swung hard, clipping Boen’s shoulder and sending him tumbling to the ground. Goblins backed away to give them room. None were in a hurry to die. Intense pain ran through Boen’s right side but he struggled through it to rise again. Lip busted, a thin trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. Madness sparkled in Boen’s eyes. This was the fight he’d been searching for. A fight where he’d either win or die. There was no alternative.

  Boen lunged forward and ducked back as the Troll reached for him. He was rewarded by losing two fingers as Boen’s sword sliced through. The Troll stumbled backwards, blood pulsing from the stubs.

  “Now we’re even, beastie,” Boen barked.

  The Troll attacked again, abandoning caution. He barreled towards Boen. Unaware of the surrounding area, the two battled with all of their might. Sword hacked and cut. Fist pummeled and broke bone. Three of Boen’s ribs snapped like kindling. The Troll buckled as steel ripped through his right hamstring. Blood peppered the ground. Both panted heavily. Exhaustion crept in for neither had gone against such a worthy foe.

  Bahr and the others fired arrows into the distracted Goblins, felling several instantly. Battle erupted as Ironfoot and Rekka burst into the Goblin ranks. Sword and axe worked fast. Limbs and heads were hacked away before Bahr and the others managed to catch up. Though severely outnumbered, the group made quick work of their enemies. Not even the mighty Troll was enough to bolster Goblin confidence. Scores died within the first few moments.

  Oblivious, Boen continued to fight. He felt the end of his strength fast approaching. He’d given his all, throwing everything he had at the Troll, but the beast was a monster of unchecked proportions. Bone from his shattered ribs pierced several organs. Boen felt death coming. He vowed not to die before killing the Troll. As if in agreement, the Troll attacked.

  He wrapped Boen in a massive hug, crushing and squeezing the life away. Boen struggled but the grasp was too tight. His vision darkened. A series of pops burst up and down his spine. Tears flowed freely for the first time in his life. Boen raised his sword in both hands and plunged the tip down into the Troll’s throat, driving the steel deep into the chest cavity where it burst the Troll’s heart.

  They collapsed in a heap of broken bones and cooling flesh. Boen slammed his head on a stone as five hundred pounds of lifeless flesh crushed him. Broken, battered, and bleeding from a dozen places, Boen lost feeling in his hands and feet. His vision began to fade. The Vengeance Knight, son of vanquished Gaimos, managed to turn his head and watch as his friends cleared the entranceway to the ritual chamber
and rush inside. Satisfied he’d done his job, Boen died with a smile on his face.

  The enemy held until Groge waded into the slaughter. Taller than the Troll, the young Giant kicked, smashed, and crushed any Goblin too slow to get away. Those survivors broke and ran. Bahr turned to go back and help Boen, for no single man was equal to killing a Troll. The gates to the ritual chamber were clear and, with time fleeing, Anienam urged the Sea Wolf to hurry. Bahr gave a final glance to his friend of many years and rushed into the passage.

  Regret building, Bahr forced his legs to work, carrying him deeper into the unnatural darkness. Steps went by as he led his small group deeper into the unknown. The ground was smooth and steadily sloped downward. Humidity rose despite the winter chill. Bahr didn’t know how far he marched before a haunting glow broke the curtain of dark in the distance.

  All thoughts voided. His mind focused on what must be done. They had crossed half the known world in search of this moment. All Groge needed to do was smash the Olagath Stone and their ordeal would end. Bahr felt reinvigorated at the thought of finally being freed. He couldn’t be concerned with who lived or died in the coming fight, for surely the enemies of light intended on fighting. Anienam promised this to be the final, desperate battle of their time and made no promises for success. Bahr didn’t care.

  Shadows detached from the tunnel walls and quickly formed to block the way. Bahr jerked to a stop and raised his sword. “Wizard! We are beset!”

  Anienam, using Skuld as his crutch, hobbled to the front of the group and slammed his hands together. Violet light sprung to life, bathing the tunnel. Bahr felt his stomach lurch as the shadows came to life. They were a roiling mass of bruised flesh. Hundreds of different souls trapped by fell powers. Hands turned to claws stretched out for Bahr. He reeled back a step, knowing that should they touch him he would be lost forever.

  The wall began to moan. It was a most horrid sound. Bahr felt lost. He couldn’t fight what wasn’t real. “Back, get back.”

  Anienam held his ground. “No. Do not show fear. It is an apparition, nothing more. Foul torments designed to induce fear.” He took a step forward. “Go back to the nothingness of the afterlife and trouble us no more.”

  Laughter mocked him. The dead reached harder. The promise of living flesh spurred them on. Anienam clapped again, expanding the light between his hands. The dead wailed. The sound was so foul it made the wizard’s nose bleed. Anienam felt strength leave his legs. He clapped again. This time the violet power surged forward to strike the wall. Shadows disintegrated upon contact, forcing the others to contract.

  Anienam’s lack of vision prevented him from experiencing the true horror the others suffered from. The Dae’shan had enacted a very old spell, dark magic from the time before Mages. He didn’t know if his power was strong enough to stop it. Anienam attacked again. Violet light bathed the tunnel as he continued to attack. Shadows were blown apart. The wall shrunk but in doing so became stronger. He heard one of his companions retch. Noxious odors filled the tunnel. Anienam recognized them as poison. He had to end this or they’d all die.

  Clenching his fists, Anienam whispered words that hadn’t been spoken in thousands of years. The ground began to tremble. Sonic vibrations threatened to tear the already fragile tunnel apart. Anienam felt years bleed off of his remaining life. He clenched Skuld tighter and was imbued with fresh energy. Revelations burst in his mind. He’d been right all along. With a mind-shattering scream, the wizard launched his collected magic at the wall.

  Screams tore rocks from the walls. The shadows exploded into fine mist. Hundreds of years of pain and suffering were released with a final whisper of a groan. Anienam slumped to his knees before Skuld could hold him up. Streaks of grey lined the young boy’s hair. Wrinkles formed around his eyes. It took every measure of strength to lift the fragile wizard.

  “It is done,” Anienam told Bahr. “There will be no others.”

  Bahr resisted the urge to ask what he’d just witnessed. There was no real point to it. With the path cleared, they had a direct approach to the ritual chamber and whatever fate destiny had in store for them.

  “Come on. Let’s end this.”

  “The Goblins aren’t strong enough to win this battle. Your Gnaals have failed as well. Our enemies encroach upon the ruins in waves. Do something,” Maleela demanded without waiting to be acknowledged.

  One by one the Dae’shan turned their heads to the impudent female. A useful tool but nothing more, Maleela quickly approached the point of uselessness.

  “Princess, you should not be here,” Amar Kit’han hissed. “Unless perhaps you wish to take the place of a willing sacrifice?”

  He took pleasure at the way she swallowed harshly in response. He enjoyed her pale flesh and sudden nervous flicker in her eyes. The haughtiness she carried into the ritual chamber fled as she looked upon his face for the first true time. It was long past time for keeping secrets. Amar needed her to understand the despair of her actions. He wanted her to know how close to the underworld she had traveled by dealing with him.

  “At last you begin to understand. There will be no dawn for you, Maleela,” Amar taunted. “Your life ends tonight.”

  Amar Kit’han drew his athame and walked to the nearest sacrifice. The victim lay peacefully in anticipation of the liberation to come. He drove the athame into the chest of a middle-aged female. Blood fountained before spreading in a hot pool across her white robe. She died with a scream of pain. The Dae’shan found the interruption more than troubling. The ritual had begun.

  “You lied,” she whispered.

  “I merely told you what you wanted to hear. This is not a pleasant world and we are not pleasant creatures.” He drifted around to the next sacrifice and repeated his killing stroke. “You are all but sheep for the slaughter. With these five souls the Olagath Stone will be filled and I can finally release the dark gods.”

  He ripped the athame from the cooling flesh. Ropes of blood trailed away to splash on the cold, stone ground. Blood flowed from both bodies now, filling the runnel leading down to the dais where the Olagath Stone sat. The obsidian stone began to glow deep crimson. Amar Kit’han plunged the athame into the third heart, adding to the carnage.

  The Stone continued to brighten. Unbridled power pulsed from the object. As the world continued to tear itself apart on the surface, Amar Kit’han enjoyed the relative quiet of the ritual chamber. He tasted the strength of thousands of souls trapped within the Stone and was rewarded with clarity of purpose. Never before had he felt this impassioned for his task. Soon the dark gods would be released and his ascension promised.

  “You can feel it, can’t you?” he asked her. Blood dripped from the athame, sizzling as it struck the ground. “So much raw power just waiting to be claimed. I’ve spent generations awaiting this moment.”

  “This…this shouldn’t be,” she protested after finding her voice. “Life isn’t meant to be lived like this.”

  “Perhaps you would care to claim the next victim? It is quite liberating, I assure you.”

  Amar floated around the ritual table to the fourth sacrifice. It was an elderly man with wrinkled hands tied across his lap. The twisted agony on his face was one of raw terror. Devoting his blood so that proper masters of the world could reclaim their throne was the fulfillment of purpose. To be one of only five was a high honor.

  Maleela felt her stomach rumble at the thought of murdering a helpless victim. She looked down on the victim’s face with regret. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe these people are willing to die on purpose?”

  “You don’t honestly expect me to care what you think, do you?” Amar fumed. “I recruited you to perform a job, which is on the surface, not down here.”

  “I didn’t think you were concerned with the battle,” Maleela spat back.

  “I don’t but the Goblins must hold long enough for me to complete this task. You must return to the surface and oversee the battle. Where is Thrask?”

 
Maleela frowned. “He took a battalion of Goblins to confront the Dwarves and something else.”

  “Something else?”

  “They are unlike anything I have ever seen. Great beasts that walk on two legs and have heads like bulls. They are slaughtering the Goblins at will,” she admitted. Dire fascination laced her words.

  Amar Kit’han found the news disturbing. He’d taken into account almost every angle from which their enemies could attack, but failed to imagine the warriors of Malg would leave their forest homes. “Minotaurs. So Artiss Gran has managed to unite more races than we supposed. I believe our wayward brother is in need of cleansing.”

  “You should have never let him live,” Kodan Bak snarled. His anger had boiled over. Sensing momentary weakness and distraction, the lesser Dae’shan decided it was time to make his play for control.

  “Now is not the time, Kodan,” Amar cautioned, his tone suggesting he knew what was about to happen.

  “You will not be made a god. You’ve led us down wrong paths for too long, Amar Kit’han. The time has come to end your rule.”

  He and Pelthit Re spread out to either side. Raw power danced from their sleeves. Ripples of blue electricity coated their cloaks. The very air around them began to hum. Maleela stepped back and hugged the far wall lest the battle destroy her.

  “Stand down, brother. It does not need to end this way,” Pelthit Re ordered.