In The Depths Of Winter

by Bradley Mitzelfelt

  “It’ll only make enough for one?”

  “Yes, only one.”

  “How can I possibly get enough to save them all, then? They can’t stay there. They will all die, as you said.”

  “You can’t save them all, Dearic. You will know why eventually, and that’s all I will say on the matter. For now you should get some rest. Tomorrow you will need to start traveling north.”

  “I only arrived today. Can’t I wait a few days to rest?”

  “There is no time. Gregor and his forces do not rest, and neither can you. The end is coming sooner than you think. It’s time for you to embrace it, or time for us all to die.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The mountains were cold. Cold enough that water had frozen, and yet the golems continued to march forward through the snow as if it weren’t even there. Gregor was more than a little intrigued by this. More he was intrigued by the golems themselves. Of course he’d heard of their kind of machination. They’d been a large part of the Brivanites lifestyle in the past according to many books and scrolls he’d read. But they’d lost the ability to make them because the materials they needed were not available to them in Amarand. This had furthered his belief in other worlds over the years.

  These machines, though, were not like the golems he read about. He was fairly certain there was a creature inside of them, piloting them. Which meant that he could make them do what he wanted, either through open honesty or deceit. And given the fact that his goblins had failed to do anything useful with their attack on the dwarven city, he saw an opportunity here.

  Having traveled via Magic, he now approached these beasts of technology from the rear. They’d already gone past what he wanted them to target, so now he had to correct their line of vision. If they would not bend ear to him then he would have to resort to other tactical methods for acquiring their cooperation. The snow was bothersome to him, but he wasn’t about to waste his time melting it all. There was too much of it and he’d have to waste energy on doing something that he need not bother with. Such an annoyance was beneath him.

  “Hello, golem-lings,” he called out to the rear of the column, hoping they would hear him over the movement of their mechanical parts. “An audience I require, heh.”

  Immediately the column came to a halt, and those at the rear turned to face him. They hefted what he assumed were weapons similar to what he’d seen from the humans he’d sent off to the Laradain forest. Either way, he was certain that they would fire some form of projection towards him with the intention being to kill. He was ready for that.

  “Athelum de Sheldarun.”

  The shield just barely spared him from being obliterated by the beams of light that the weapons fired. Gregor was more than a little perturbed by the fact that they wouldn’t even speak to him, choosing instead to kill him on sight. Clearly these creatures were of a very destructive variety, and showed little mental aptitude. On one hand that was a good thing. On the other, it annoyed him. In the end he shrugged his shoulders and started walking away from them.

  They stopped firing at him not long after realizing that their weapons weren’t touching him. They were smart enough to figure out when they were wasting their time, at least. They had to be somewhat intelligent in order to make the machines that they walked around in. Intelligence is subjective, heh. They aren’t smart enough to talk before attacking, after all. They were smart enough to follow him, though, as he noted when he glanced back over his shoulder. He giggled once and then went back to trudging along, not even caring to do much more than make sure the shield stayed up.

  It was a good thing that he spent the time to make sure it remained active. Every so often he found them trying to shoot him again. The more he led them along, the more he came to believe that they were the type of beings that could not stop until they had accomplished whatever was right in front of them. In this case they weren’t going to quit until they managed to find a way to kill him. He could work with that.

  Following their footsteps back the way they’d come showed that these beings preferred to move in a nigh straight line. If anything got in their way, they tended to destroy it. He found numerous dead goblins and wild animals littering their path. There were even several exploded boulders. This was exactly what he needed. Since he couldn’t count on the creatures of this world to do his work for him, he needed these outside creatures. Given the carnage in their wake, he was certain that he’d found the right way to get rid of the dwarves and then the elves.

  It took a long time for them to get anywhere. It had been more than a week since they’d passed the hall entrance. Gregor was left little choice but to use his magic to drag them further along through the snow.

  “Itenerum Spedus.”

  It would seem, at first, as if they had gained sudden speed, but he managed to cast the spell with quiet whispers on the wind that transported them all miles in the span of a few short seconds. It was only a variation of the spell that had allowed him to reach these beings so quickly from the safety of his fortress at Meridea. They weren’t worse for wear and he didn’t have to worry about them getting sucked into the void if they fell. Not to mention the fact that he would have had to be the last to go through if he was going to transport them the other way.

  What he’d done worked well enough. He could already see the mountain that held the dwarven hall rising in front of them. It wouldn’t be long before they reached it and then he could get them to attack the dwarves without having to actually do anything himself. Gregor liked it that way because he didn’t have to get his own hands messy. It already seemed he was going to have to do that in Laradain so he didn’t particularly desire to do it a third time with the dwarves. I grow older with each time I use the Dark Magic. Yep yep. No reason to make it any worse.

  In nearing the mountain, he could see the carnage that had befallen the goblins he’d sent to attack it. They’d almost all wound up dead. Most of the fallen were created by the dwarves, but the cold weather had gotten those that survived. Given that he hadn’t heard from his Mimikan within the hall, he was certain that mission had now failed as well. He was fairly certain that this idea would not fall victim to the failures of the past attempts on the Hall.

  As he neared it, two Half-Elves appeared on the mountain and pointed to the large boulder that now covered the entrance to the Hall. He nodded his head in understanding. Somehow the dwarves had dropped this huge stone down to conceal the entrance in the battle with the goblins. The one that had told of this had been unable to explain how it had happened, but he suspected that the dwarves had cleverly crafted defenses placed all across the surface of the mountain to keep out unwanted guests. This had probably just been one of those that they’d had to use as a last resort.

  He approached the boulder and looked at it for a moment before turning his back on it. The golem-ling army was fast approaching him, trained on his location. Good. He reached a hand back and touched the stone boulder.

  “Lenum des Partes,” he said, a grin covering his face.

  The rock suddenly splintered and then blew apart, raining away from his hand and into the tunnel beyond. Two dwarves were blasted down the tunnel along with the debris. The Hall entrance was now exposed, which, he figured was all he need do. As he glanced back, he could see more dwarves running up the tunnel towards him. Good, they’re coming.

  With his work now done, he lifted a hand.

  “Itenerum Meridea.”

  A portal of purple light opened before him and he stepped into it, moving swiftly towards the end, and leaving the dwarves and golemlings behind. He had other work to attend to.

  * * * * *

  The explosion resounded within the hall and kicked up a cloud of debris. Shakrin had been climbing down the stairs from visiting his Uncle when he’d heard it. Immediately other dwarves went to investigate what had caused this. They had been working on breaking up the stone ever since that blasted human had left, but they hadn’t been doing it too quickly. Repairs had to b
e made on the door before they could fully move the stone out of the way. Had they moved it too soon the hall would have been exposed. That meant, to him, that something was wrong.

  He barreled down the stairs like an avalanche, and other dwarves were quick to get out of his way. From his belt he pulled an axe, which he hefted in one hand, and a dagger, which he hefted in the other. Across the narrow bridge he went and approached the tunnel that led up to the entrance. He could see that some were cleaning up stones and helping the fallen workers. Others were making their way up to the entrance to find out what it was that had happened.

  As soon as they reached it, there were several flashes of bright light, the sound of rock exploding, and the spray of blood and gore on the rocks in the tunnel. He froze and stared at the scene before him. In an instant, one of the dwarves was dead, and the other crushed by falling rock. More lights lanced out, blowing the stone apart. His people, the ones in the tunnel, were confused by this and began to back away. A few of the braver ones, the warriors, pushed past even him and started to head up the path. He reached and grabbed one of them.

  “We have to seal it up. Now,” he said calmly, though he felt no small amount of fear coursing through his body. “If we don’t, we will all die.”

  More flashes of light caused more explosions in the tunnel. More dwarves went to their deaths. Shakrin shook both in anger and fear at what he was seeing. He’d seen the light before. He’d seen it destroy a goblin in the mountains. He’d also seen the machines move on, so how they had found Pabila he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, though. His people were dying because of them.

  By all reckoning he knew it was too late. He could already see them at the entrance. They had to find a way to stop them from getting in, but as far as he could see there wasn’t one. Their weapons would blow apart any stone that they managed to get into place. Their only chance was metal.

  “Shields! Shield wall!” Shakrin shouted.

  Dwarves moved forward with huge tower shields and formed a line at the entrance to the tunnel, the shields held in front of them. Someone handed Shakrin a shield and he moved in with the others, covering the entrance. He didn’t know if this would do much, but it was a start. Other dwarves moved up behind them with polearms, ready to reach through when the enemy came close.

  It was hard to see if they were. With the shields in front of them, they didn’t take the chance of trying to look between them. They could hear the fizzle of air and still see flashes of light from around their shields, but it appeared that they weren’t going through the metal. Dwarven steel was quite dense. Perhaps it would hold against their weapons.

  “My shield is getting hot,” a dwarf down the line said.

  “Mine as well,” another seconded.

  “Leather and water! Use the water to cool the shields, and leather to hold it!” Shakrin called.

  Dwarves ran off to get both, and Shakrin too began to notice the increase of heat around his shield. Their weapons weren’t punching through, but they were heating the metal. If they didn’t get them cooled fast enough they would eventually begin to melt.

  “Someone tell the Hallmaster we must evacuate!”

  Choruses resounded as Shakrin continued to hold his shield, the heat becoming slowly unbearable. He was resolved not to let go under any circumstances. It could sear the flesh from his body before he would allow the shield to drop. Protecting his people was more important to him than his life. Without the willingness of the warriors to sacrifice, all would be lost.

  Just as he was about to think it had been forgotten, hands brought forward buckets of water and dumped them on the shields. Hisses of heat being quenched met their ears, almost as loud as the fizzles that the light weapons caused against their shields. The water felt good, refreshing. The problem he saw was that it wasn’t going to come as fast as the enemy weapons could be fired at them.

  Leather was handed over and he changed his grip, hands already burned from the heated metal. Somewhere behind him came shouts as others began to move through the halls, rousing everyone. Apparently the Hallmaster had agreed with him and was rousing the army. That was good.

  “Shakrin what do we face?”

  He was surprised to hear that his Uncle was down there with them. How he had managed to get there so quickly was beyond him, but he couldn’t dwell on that fact.

  “The foe we saw in the valley. The ones with the machines that shoot light,” Shakrin answered. “They’ve already slain several of us and I don’t think the shields will hold much longer.”

  As he said that, a young female dwarf down the line could bear it no longer and dropped her shield. Almost instantly a flash of light lanced through to strike her, sending an explosion of bloody gore cascading on those around her. Dwarves were resolute, however, and one with a fresh shield stepped forward in her place.

  “We cannot stop this foe,” Shakrin said as he glanced at his uncle off to the side of the others. “We must evacuate the Hall.”

  “I already gave the order. They will head south towards Brivan. That is the only place we can go now.”

  Shakrin frowned but nodded. Even though he hated the idea of their people fleeing to the home of the humans, it was better than all of them dying by remaining in the Hall. He also doubted that any of them would want to head west to the home of the elves. They would likely be skewered alive there, if they even made it that far. Xilu wasn’t safe so they couldn’t go there.

  His shield was starting to turn red, and more water was poured onto it before someone appeared with a new shield. Rather than moving out of position, he pulled his shield back and allowed the other to be slid in its place. The other dwarf held it as he dropped the heated shield and then grabbed the new one. He wouldn’t allow someone else to be burned as he already was. There was no sense in that.

  Though his hands felt like they were on fire, he put all of his strength into holding the shield. There had been no physical impacts against the metal aside from the jostle of the light striking it. There was surprisingly little force behind the impact given the exhibited destructive power.

  “You should leave with them, Uncle,” Shakrin said as he stared at the back of his shield. “They will need you.”

  The elder dwarf didn’t respond, instead looking over his shoulder and away from the shield line. Shakrin could only see this out of the corner of his eye, and he wasn’t going to turn to see if the Hallmaster was looking at anything specific. Instead, he held his place and his tongue. He knew what was going to be said already because he knew that his uncle was even more stubborn than he was. They were both going to die in Pabila to save their people.

  Shakrin wasn’t happy about this fact, but he knew he would be unable to dissuade his uncle from doing so. There wasn’t any use spending his breath on the argument.

  The new shield was starting to get hot, but still no enemy had rushed to push against it. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. The enemy had a lot of patience, it seemed, and he didn’t. He’d rather be fighting them.

  “As I expected,” Shakrin heard Dwemorin say. “Most were prepared already, or left behind things without wasting time. The Hall is clearing out now. Most of our people have gone save for us.”

  A sigh of relief came from many of the dwarves down the line. All of them had suffered severe burns from holding onto the shields, but not a one of them complained. Shakrin couldn’t help but feel pride at this. They would all die together in an honorable fashion.

  Dwemorin moved closer to where Shakrin was standing, and he could now see the older dwarf more clearly. There was a look of determination in his eyes that immediately told Shakrin that trouble was brewing. His uncle was up to something, and he already didn’t like whatever it was.

  “I want you to give me the shield and I want you to leave. Go out the west gate and go to Laradain. The elves need to know what happened.”

  Shakrin snorted at the mention of the elves. Unlike his uncle, he couldn’t stand the tree folk and their
constant parties and cheerful attitude. They acted like they never worked a day in their lives and always made everyone feel inferior to them. There was no way he was going to do what his uncle said. In fact, he hoped the elves rotted and died.

  “You will do as I say, Shakrin,” Dwemorin commanded.

  “Since we’re all going to die here, I think I will do as I please,” Shakrin responded. “I will die an honorable death, not flee to speak with the tree folk.”

  It appeared for a moment that Dwemorin was going to acquiesce to Shakrin’s desire. Shakrin let out a sigh of relief at this, but then he felt hands grab him roughly. Where he was prepared to stand his ground and hold the line, he suddenly felt himself being pulled away from the shield line. He didn’t have the purchase to hold his position, and before he knew it, he was being thrown through the air at the chasm.

  He stared in horror as the maw of darkness raced towards him. Only after a moment did he realize he was heading straight for one of the stone bridges. Both hands grabbed the edge and he screamed in both pain and anger as he did everything he could to hold on. He was about to fall when hands reached down to grab his arms and help him up. When he looked up, he found himself looking at Fanan. She looked confused as she pulled him to his feet.

  “What‘re ya doin’, Shakrin?” she asked.

  “Your father threw me down here, so ask him!” he exclaimed, turning his eyes to the rim. “Why? Why would you do this to me, Uncle?”

  “Because it had to be done and I won’t see you die here. Fanan, take your cousin to the Laradain,” Dwemorin yelled down to them. “Go quickly!”

  “I don’ understand,” Fanan said as she looked from her father to Shakrin. “What be goin’ on?”