by Sam Bowring
‘That’s the thing about living in a mine!’ he shouted at the shadow army. ‘Always got a lot of rocks!’
Laughter came from his soldiers, a sound that gave him strength.
‘Lightfists!’ he called. ‘Make ready – they seek to hurl some of their own!’
Taskmasters repeated his orders along the lines. As the Fenvarrow catapults unleashed a wave, lightfists were already channelling bolts, which shot out to meet the oncoming rocks with a series of whump noises, making them shudder in the air and sending them falling back to earth, to land short of the fort. There they hit the hill and rolled back down with gathering speed. The shadow front lines scattered to avoid them, exposing those behind to be crushed.
‘Did you think it would be easy?’ Galfin yelled, and cheers of defiance rose from his soldiers. More boulders flew over his head, one of them even smashing into another that was only just rising from an enemy catapult, showering fragments on those who had unleashed it.
Then, out of the front lines, something moved that caught his attention. Long and sleek, hard to make out in the dark, it wound its way like some kind of enormous lizard. Behind it followed a group, led by . . . yes, a man with blue hair. He was accompanied by a goblin, and a group of mages conjuring a mighty shadow ward to protect them. The creature took off suddenly, up the slope towards the fort. It stopped about halfway up, then ran along a line parallel to the walls, as if it dared not come any closer.
‘Lightfists!’ shouted Galfin. ‘Let’s have some spells on that monster!’
In answer more bolts went forth, and fireballs, and streams of lava, and glowing orbs. The creature froze to cock its head curiously at the approaching storm of light and fire. The first lava stream hit its back and sizzled over it, and the creature gave its tail a flick. Light bolts smacked into it, not even rocking it on its feet. A fireball burst across its hindquarters, leaving a streak that quickly faded.
‘What is that thing?’ muttered Galfin.
Behind the creature, the Shadowdreamer and his entourage were making their way up the hill. As they did the creature came further forward, maintaining its distance from them and matching their speed.
‘As if it’s tethered to them,’ observed Kalda, and Galfin realised she might be right.
‘Then that’s who we need to stop,’ he said. ‘Lightfists! Attack the dreamer!’
As the order travelled down the line, the barrage of spells realigned from the creature to the blue-haired man. In response the dark lord’s mages expanded their ward, which wobbled as light spells began to slam against it. A rock fell from the sky towards the group, and Galfin saw the Shadowdreamer raise a hand. The rock stopped suddenly in the air as if caught, and Galfin felt awed by the power on display. Then the dreamer brought his hand forward, and the rock came rushing towards Galfin with a speed not born of any catapult.
‘Down!’ he shouted and dived, dragging Kalda with him. The wall where he’d been watching exploded, spraying him with chips.
‘Graka!’ he heard someone shout, and pulled himself to his feet. Sure enough, a great flock of the stony creatures was climbing into the sky.
‘Time to put our special recruits to work,’ he said. ‘Send forth the Zyvanix!’
He hoped the dreamer had not expected they’d have a swarm of the wasps on hand here. Indeed, Galfin had been grateful when they’d arrived, sent ahead from the main army by Brahl several days ago – not exactly a secret weapon, but one which the enemy may not have thought of. A great buzzing sounded as Zyvanix rose inside the fort, wielding their distinctive stinger-like spears and barbed arrows. They were faster than the Graka, and would meet them somewhere high above before they ever managed to get over the fort.
The dreamer was now halfway up the hill, his creature almost touching the fort’s base. As the light spells continued to pour down, one of the dreamer’s mages cried out and fell thrashing, on fire. The others ignored him, labouring on slowly under the bombardment. Meanwhile the creature reached the wall, and began to climb.
‘Bows,’ Galfin shouted, ‘kill that thing!’
Arrows pelted down, bouncing off the creature as it clawed its way upward. What manner of beast is it, he thought, that cannot be harmed by magic or steel?
Looking at the distance between the creature and the dreamer, he guessed that once the dreamer made it to the base of the fort, the creature would reach the top of the walls. They needed to halt the dreamer.
‘All bows on the dreamer!’ he shouted, frustrated with himself that he kept changing targets. ‘All lightfists!’
The air grew thick with projectiles, fireballs setting arrows aflame, light orbs bouncing off each other. The ground around the dreamer’s ward was instantly peppered with smoking shafts, and tracks in the dust left by streams of lava turned aside. Another shadow mage fell, and Galfin saw the dreamer himself raise his hands to strengthen the ward, turning back the tide of flashing metal and light. Silently the creature crawled higher up the wall, and Galfin felt his stomach sink. It had started so promisingly, but what could he do against such fell magic?
With his lightfists distracted, enemy stones were beginning to make the fort quake. Some hit the walls while others made it over, and he heard soldiers shouting and things smashing. All at once, the rest of the shadow army began to charge. Galfin felt overwhelmed – had they ever really had a chance? All he’d needed to do was hold back the shadow for a day, maybe two . . . and they weren’t even going to last the night.
Get yourself together, man. At the very least we can make them pay for what they take.
‘Bows!’ he shouted. ‘Ignore the damn dreamer! Take aim at their front lines!’
The cascade of arrows turned outwards in all directions. As the shadow swarmed up the hill, their soldiers began to fall. However, with the bows’ attentions elsewhere, the dreamer made better progress, arriving quickly at the base of the fort. As he did, the creature clambered up the last stretch of wall, over the side . . . and was amongst them.
‘Fall back!’ screamed Galfin, but it was too late.
The creature seized a man in its jaws and shook him violently. Others around it drew their swords, and one gallant bow screamed furiously as she swung with all her might at the creature’s hind leg. Her blade ricocheted as if meeting the hardest iron, with enough force that it almost flew from her hands. The creature dropped the limp body, and turned its empty eyes almost casually over its shoulder to look at her. Then it raised the leg she had tried to sever, and kicked her away, over the side.
Other bows backed away, frantically notching arrows and sending them whistling uselessly at the creature. Lightfists also shot forth spells, though each crackled just as impotently against the creature as the last. Its head turned this way and that, as if deciding what to attack next. Spoilt for choice, Galfin thought grimly.
Suddenly it surged away from him, moving in the opposite direction along the wall, its tail swinging wildly behind it. The narrow width of the space meant it hardly even needed to bite or claw – rushing along was enough to send soldiers flying over the edge, or squash them against stone or grind them underfoot. Cries of pain and terror filled the night as bodies tumbled over the walls, and the flood of arrows fired at the approaching horde quickly dried up.
‘Into the fort!’ yelled Galfin, but he heard no taskmasters take up the call. He spun to the soldiers immediately around him, who were staring at him wide-eyed. ‘You heard me! In!’
He pushed a young bow towards the stairs and the man stumbled, then fled. Others followed.
‘Sir,’ said Kalda, a tremor in her voice. Galfin followed her eyes.
The creature had reached the far end of the wall, and was now turning around. Between them, where moments ago hundreds of soldiers had stood, the stone was slick with blood and pulp. Galfin could barely comprehend that so many had been lost in such a short t
ime. It was appalling, and it made his heart hot in his chest. Snarling, he reached for his sword, but felt Kalda’s hand on his own.
‘Sir, we have seen that does no good.’
‘That thing must pay.’
‘The fort needs you, sir,’ she said. ‘Please, retreat, as you bid the others.’
Beneath his fury, Galfin knew she was right. Without other targets, the creature was now thundering towards them at breakneck speed – quite literally, for he could hear bones snapping beneath its claws.
‘Back,’ he muttered, although he needn’t have bothered – Kalda was already gone. Quickly he moved after her onto the long flight of stairs that went all the way down to ground level. As he took the first step, he felt a sudden rush of air by his ear and twisted around.
Galfin found himself staring into the creature’s eyes. Its claw was raised as if to strike again, and he tensed, expecting to be knocked from the stairs. Maybe he’d be dead before he hit the ground.
The creature brought its claw towards him, then stopped, as if it met with resistance. Elsewhere on the walls came the whimper of someone still alive, and its head snapped around before it darted away. Galfin watched it with confusion – why had it spared him? There was a brief gasp as another of his soldiers was snuffed out for good, and a moment later the creature was back, seeming to leer at him, but not taking the first step onto the stairs.
Galfin heard an explosion below and turned to look down into the fort. Beside the gate rocks were falling, and he knew the dreamer was blasting his way in.
Something clicked. In coming up the walls, the creature must have reached its limit; it could not take the final steps into the fort proper. But tethered as it was to the dreamer somehow, if he managed to make his way inside, so could it.
‘Defend the breach!’ Galfin heard himself bellow as he pounded down the stairs. If they could hold back the dreamer from entering, they could keep his monster from descending. Taskmasters and cerepans took up the cry, and soldiers converged on the opening. Lightfists poured spells through it, but Galfin could see flickers of shadow snaking in despite the force of the flow. The fort shook in other places as the enemy tried to create more breaches, and without anyone on the walls, there was little to be done to stop that. A hole opened and Black Goblins leaped through, but they were immediately cut down by the wealth of waiting blades.
Galfin was about halfway down the stairs when the dreamer’s opening blasted even wider. Shadow mages rushed in, many screaming as they fell to arrows, spells and blades, but others came fast on their heels. They spread out, pushing the fighting back into the centre of the fort. As they did, the dreamer entered, still under his heavy protective ward, still with that goblin by his side.
Galfin’s heart sank as he saw two reptilian feet edging over the wall above. Suddenly the creature was climbing downwards inside the fort. After a moment it simply let go, dropping to land amongst the troops, and the carnage began again. Multitudes fell in seconds, powerless before the attacking lizard, as simultaneously the dreamer forced his way forwards, and more holes appeared in the walls. Watching the creature carve its way through swathes of soldiers in the blink of an eye, Galfin felt at a loss as to what to do. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for this. He thought of Corlas Corinas, and the difficult decision the man had had to make. Corlas had looked at what was going on around him, weighed everything up, and made the right choice. A difficult choice indeed, but the right one.
Now it was Galfin’s turn.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and grabbed a cerepan who was running past, jerking him to a stop.
‘What?’ said the man angrily, then saw who it was. ‘Sir! What shall we do?’
‘Open the north tunnel,’ growled Galfin. The man stared at him for a moment, then nodded and bolted.
Galfin glanced at the sky. As if on cue, rocks came spinning into view. Further up, a dark blur showed him the Zyvanix still fighting the Graka – at least the wasps could get away from this menace.
He strode towards the fighting. Back from the breaches soldiers milled about, confused, ready to fight but unable to get to the multiple fronts that were already clustered thick with bodies. He spied Kalda directing troops to fill up gaps, and almost sent a prayer thanking Arkus for guiding him to her – but could not quite bring himself to, given that the gods also owed them this ruin.
‘Kalda,’ he said, ‘we’re retreating!’
‘But sir, our orders . . .’
‘I would rather be accused of insubordination than sacrifice countless lives for no reason. Do not question me further – there’s no time.’
A boulder smashed through the roof of the armoury not far away.
‘I’ve ordered the north tunnel opened,’ said Galfin, ‘but we cannot send all at once. I’ll join the attacks, you see to the rear. We must flee in stages, Kalda. I will hold back the shadow for as long as I can. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then be off!’
She disappeared into the mass, and he heard her shouting orders.
‘Right,’ he muttered. ‘Let it not be said that I fled hastily, abandoning those who covered the passage of the rest.’
He moved into the throng, pushing soldiers aside. ‘Let’s keep them busy!’ he called. ‘Make them pay for every step they take!’
He felt like a poor imitation of Corlas, but around him soldiers seemed to take heart at his words.
At one of the breaches, the wall was still smoking with foul shadow magic, and enemy soldiers were funnelling through. With a cry of rage, Galfin launched towards an Arabodedas wielding a mace, slashing him across the face.
‘Protect the gerent!’ he heard someone call, and quickly he was flanked by several young soldiers.
‘Push them back!’ he shouted, as arrows came in through the hole from enemy archers outside. He glanced behind, trying to make out how many soldiers were already moving towards the north tunnel, but could not see through the jostling.
A Vortharg landed on him, knocking him onto his back. He saw the creature’s rubbery lips descending, opening, its long tusks dripping, and knew he was about to get a face full of poison. Then an arrow plunged through the side of its warty head and it rolled off him. For a moment he lay dazed, then he shook his head and clambered unsteadily to his feet.
No time to take a nap.
A great crackling came from his left and he looked over to the next breach along. The Shadowdreamer stood inside a circle of his minions, now well within the fort. More streamed in behind him. They had established a solid front, the dreamer himself maintaining his own powerful ward over them all. Light magic could not penetrate it, yet the ward did not stop shadow mages from firing outwards, or warriors from swinging their swords. Shadow tendrils crept from the dreamer, seeking any that were near, making them convulse as dark energy rippled through them.
Again Galfin thought of Corlas, who had managed to wound the dreamer at the end when all seemed lost. But staring at the protection around Losara, Galfin knew he had no chance of getting through. His soldiers were being battered and beaten, dying on their feet all around him. The best he could do was to salvage what he could. Hopefully Kalda had had enough time.
‘Fall back!’ he called. ‘Come on, you fools! Fall back! You,’ he ordered a lightfist, ‘no more attacks! Protect our folk! Wards! Fall back!’
Somehow his orders were passed along, and as one his soldiers began to retreat from the breaches. Lightfists turned their attention to defence, and light wards appeared scattered randomly about. As they deserted the inside walls, more of the enemy was able to get through.
Galfin saw the dreamer’s creature scurrying past nearby, leaving a grisly path of death behind it. Even retreat is a massacre, he thought. Hysteria kissed him, but there was no fear for himself . . . all he wanted was to save
those he still could from this terrible mess.
‘Disperse!’ he bellowed. ‘Save yourselves! Make for the north tunnel! Abandon the fort!’
He turned and ran, leaping over corpses. Others joined him, fleeing through the dusty town in the centre of the fort. Off to the side rose the top of the hill on which the fort was built, the entrance to the mine at its crown.
Such a towering monument, Galfin thought gloomily, just to protect a burrow in the ground.
He approached the north tunnel – a failsafe dug after Corlas’s time. Its gate, made of the magical metal shine, was raised and wide enough for some twenty people abreast . . . but soldiers were stampeding now, pushing others aside and even trampling them underfoot. Kalda was standing at the gate, shouting about maintaining order, her voice barely audible above the panicked throng. Galfin reached her side.
‘How many through?’ he puffed.
Kalda wiped her face with a dirt-stained hand, leaving a black smear across her brow. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Not enough. You should get inside, sir.’
‘No. I’ll stay with you. We shall see our people safely through.’
As soldiers continued to rush past, the creature appeared around a building and lazily knocked a sprinting blade from his feet.
‘By the light,’ said Galfin. ‘If that thing gets in the tunnel . . . hey!’ he shouted, striding suddenly from the gate. He noticed a sputtering lantern that had been dropped and stooped smoothly to pick it up, then swung it over his head. The creature’s gaze snapped to his.
