“Ah.”
“There are many words that I don’t know. But that’s the gist of it. They are moving their equipment now to accommodate the new path.”
Klay watched for hours. And he wasn’t alone. Most of the party who had entered the Deep were in the way, so they stayed down the street from the sappers and listened as the burrowing noises grew louder. The sound of it began to drive Klay mad. He wanted to wrap his ears to muffle it, but he couldn’t tell which was worse, the growing screech of claws on stone or the silent dread of a tunnel opening at any moment.
He tried to sleep, but the idea of monsters tunneling up through the floor made his rest fitful. He missed the gates of Ironwall. Ramparts and stone walls made more sense than tunneling monsters.
For a few days, the dwarves monitored most of the city for secondary tunnels. Silas consulted with Marah multiple times to ensure that the one tunnel was the only threat. Later, the king of the city showed himself to oversee the large orbs of stone that moved into place. Klay learned that they were like trebuchets in the Deep but designed to drop the heavy load on the heads of the demon spawn.
The sappers stopped working.
Klay asked, “What now?”
“They are very close to our trap,” Silas said. “When the noise is right, we’ll know that they are on us. And we’ll drop the stone.”
At some point, the sound became worse, and the dwarves reacted. They knew what the pitch meant and armed for battle. Klay and the rest of Marah’s party imitated them, even though no one had sounded a horn or made a speech. The wardens and priests mustered for battle, and Klay wasn’t sure where they wanted him or what he was supposed to do.
He sidled up to Tyrus, who held Marah. “What do we do?”
Tyrus said, “We follow their lead.”
“Have they told you what to do?”
“No. But the wardens will charge, and the priests will follow. Marah will decide when to go after them.”
“And then what?”
“Then we protect her.”
“I don’t like digging to fight. It’s not right.”
The wardens called out to each other, and the call was taken up by others across the city. Klay watched as teams of sappers climbed out of the tunnels and the ramps with the heavy stones were wheeled into place.
Silas found them. “We smash them first. Then we see how clogged the tunnel is. They will have their own traps waiting for us.”
Marah said, “The tunnel is filled with pockets.”
Silas nodded. “Yes, and they’ll use those to dodge our stones. When we enter their tunnel, we have to clear each of them, or they will use our own trick against us and drop more weights on us.”
Lord Nemuel and hundreds of sentinels joined the Norsil on the streets. Everyone was dressed for battle.
Nemuel asked, “Where do you want us?”
“Stay here,” Silas said. “If any of them crawl up these tunnels, stop them here. We will climb down to them first. If we need you, we’ll send for you.”
The sound worsened, filling the air with a wretched screech. All the dwarves turned to their king, who stood on a building overseeing the tunnels. He raised an ax and let it drop. Teams released one of the heavy round stones. It roared as it rushed down the tunnel, and a moment later, a great crack like a thunderclap sounded from below. The screech of burrowing ceased in a moment of blissful silence that didn’t last long. Wails and cries and echoing gongs replaced it.
Marah said, “It struck true. Thousands were crushed.”
Silas asked, “How many more do they have?”
“Tens of thousands.”
“Are they tribesmen? Or worse?”
“Trolls.”
“Good.”
Silas raised his war hammer to the king. The king signaled again with his ax, and another round rock was dropped into the depths. That time, wardens followed. About a hundred dwarves, covered in heavy plates from head to toe and carrying shields as tall as doors, hurried after the stone.
Klay watched them go. Everyone in the city waited in silence, which seemed thicker after the days of digging sounds. As the minutes dragged on, people fidgeted with their weapons, and Klay imagined hordes of gray-skinned monsters rushing from the depths.
A series of loud metallic bangs echoed from the tunnel. Silas signaled the release of another stone. It roared into the Deep, and more wardens followed it. Then Silas and a team of priests joined them.
Klay asked Marah, “What are they doing?”
“Claiming side tunnels. The stones get stuck on twists or turns. The priests use runes to send them farther down.”
Sounds of fighting echoed up from the tunnels. The dwarves became agitated and moved the ramps with the heavy stones away from the tunnels. More wardens rushed below.
Marah said, “Silas sprang one of their traps. He needs us.”
Tyrus said, “Are you sure?”
“Hurry. It’s bad.”
Tyrus carried her into the tunnel. Klay had one moment to look at Lord Nemuel, and they both hurried after them. The dwarven tunnel was easier to navigate because it was a series of downward-slanting platforms, like really long and thin stairs that provided room to fight. Klay had to catch himself from hurtling into Tyrus’s back. Then the passage became littered with loose dirt and broken stone from where the dwarven tunnel met the tribesmen’s.
The smell hit Klay first. The debris came second.
The large stones had made a ghoulish mess of smashed bodies and shattered rocks. The walls were dented, and sections of them were pulverized into dust from where the heavy weight had smashed, bounced, and rolled past. The ground was uneven from the burrowers and slick with mud. A few dozen yards from the entrance, they found one of the stones lodged into a wall.
They scrambled around that and past a second large stone. They ran into a big open mess of uneven terrain. An army of seven-foot trolls with tusks and black steel armor were charging into a small formation of wardens who held a shield wall. Their little circle of steel was beset on all sides by snarling creatures who hammered and smashed at the shields. The beetle-like wardens formed ranks around the priests, who used runes to cut into the swarm.
The mob pushed against the heavy infantry, and the infantry pushed back. Marah said something to Tyrus, but Klay struggled to hear it over the battle. Tyrus carried her to the center of the battle, and Klay dogged behind them with an arrow nocked.
A troll reared up over the smaller dwarves, and Klay unleashed an arrow. He relished drawing the string and letting fly. For once, he felt useful again and proud when his missile snapped the troll’s head back.
Then Marah assaulted the tribes, and the battle became chaotic. Roaring explosions deafened Klay’s ears, and blinding smoke made him cough. He fought to stay beside Tyrus and Marah, but if it weren’t for Lord Nemuel pushing him along, he would have been lost in the haze.
Tyrus seemed immune to the smoke and uneven terrain. He carried Marah farther into the tunnel, and Klay felt like a clumsy fool scrambling after him. In the confusion, he also began to worry that the dwarves might send more giant blocks of stone hurtling after them.
He didn’t know what to do if he heard the roar of falling rocks. The tunnel left him with few options and nowhere to run.
As if on cue, dwarves shouted warnings. Nemuel screamed at Klay to look out. Rocks fell from the ceiling and rolled down ramps. He wasn’t sure if the dwarves were trying to kill them, but after a gust of smoke, he saw that the trolls had set their own traps.
Klay coughed but glimpsed priests and sorcerers using runes to fend off falling rocks. Then, thousands more trolls followed the falling stone. They appeared like ants scurrying from a hive. Large, dark shapes scrambled and fell from the ceiling or rushed out of new tunnels in the sides of the walls.
They howled as they charged, banging blades against shields. More wardens answered from
behind them. The tunnel floor vibrated from the tens of thousands of boots clomping toward each other, and long strands of dirt rained down from the ceiling.
Marah started a firestorm. Roaring flames and a searing heat filled the underworld. What had seemed like a large space became smaller as the oppressive heat forced Klay to kneel. Then he cowered on the ground, trying to shield his face from the fires.
The tribes retreated, and the fires followed them.
Klay slowly stood, coughing and wiping grime from his forehead. He watched as several knots of dwarves rose from the ground as well. They had knelt and held their shields above their heads, and they slowly poked their heads out of their cover, looking like gophers peering from their holes.
Marah stood near the center of the room. Tyrus loomed behind her, sword and knife drawn. Nemuel stood on her right and Silas on her left. They were all covered with soot and breathed heavily, except for Marah, who appeared untouched by the battle.
II
Tyrus waited for the smoke to clear, and what he saw made his jaw drop. Marah had wreaked havoc on the demon tribes. Smoldering bodies, discarded weapons, and charred armor were cast about the cavern. Everyone stood still, taking it in, before breaking out of their stupor. Wardens moved their shield walls forward to block the tunnels that fed the cavern, and priests tended to the wounded.
Tyrus waited to hear weapons smashing on shields or the clomp of boots or the screeches of another swarm of trolls. But the tunnels were quiet.
He asked, “Is it over?”
Marah said, “We need to follow them.”
“We should destroy this tunnel network first,” Silas said. “Who knows how many other tunnels feed into this place? We collapse them one at a time, as we move deeper.”
“We need to go now,” Marah said. “Send for other priests.”
Silas said, “We can’t overextend ourselves. They’ll double back on us through a side tunnel and sack the city.”
Marah pointed toward a tunnel. “They are rallying. We need to attack.”
“Listen to Silas,” Tyrus said. “They know their craft.”
“I’m going.”
“Marah, wait,” Silas said. “If other priests collapse tunnels behind us, it might destabilize the whole network. They could bring the whole thing down on us. We have to work slower.”
“But there isn’t time.”
“Let them rally. We’ll push them back again.”
Marah stepped toward the tunnel. She paused, and the air chilled. Tyrus waited for her to do something, but she just stood and watched the tunnel. The wardens reinforced the tunnels, and the wounded were dragged toward the city, but Marah stayed and glared at the dark passage.
Silas told Tyrus, “She is surprisingly stubborn.”
“Just like her mother.”
Tyrus sheathed his weapons and looked around the cavern. He saw fresh soil on the walls and remembered the first ambush, when the walls had crumbled away to reveal scores of tribesmen. Silas was right, but Tyrus had to find a way to convince Marah.
He knelt beside her. “They have the numbers to be reckless. The dwarves don’t. Slower is better.”
“There isn’t enough time…”
“For what? Will we lose if we wait?”
“I can’t stay here.” Marah’s eyes filled with water. “The voices are too strong. This is an awful place.”
Silas approached them. “One battle won’t win the war. And these are little more than slaves. The shedim’s true strength is closer to the Black Gate.”
Marah said, “We can chase them to Ros Koruthal.”
“No, we can’t. We need supplies. And there are safer routes.”
“This takes us there.”
“We have our own tunnels, braced by stone. And the way is long—weeks to get to Ros Koruthal. We’ll need water and food and picks and shovels. We’ll need to build camps to defend ourselves when we sleep.”
Tyrus said, “Marah, listen to him. We need to do this right.”
Marah sighed and raised her arms to be carried. Tyrus lifted her up and headed back toward the city.
Tyrus told her, “If the wardens march on an empty stomach, the next battle will be over before it starts. We can’t chase them for miles and fight again. If you want to invade, we need supply lines and a strategy.”
“But I can burn them.”
“The trolls, sure,” Silas said. “But when you get to Koruthal, you’ll find Tusken sorcerers and maybe shedim legionnaires. They will throw everything they have at you.”
Marah scowled at the tunnels. “What now?”
“We break this system, floor by floor, and funnel them into a kill box. They’ll rally and try again—they’re nothing if not tenacious—and we have little time to work.”
Tyrus carried Marah as the dwarves did the tedious work of clearing the battlefield. Wardens salvaged steel, and priests collapsed tunnels until the network became smaller and easier to defend. They found a larger cavern deep down and fortified its walls so it could act as a bottleneck. Marah helped the priests shape the walls with stone.
The darkness began to pulse with activity again. The dwarves sensed it first, something in the sounds or air currents, but they set their shield walls without orders or shouts. The priests stayed in the rear, and Silas found Marah.
Silas said, “They’re coming back.”
Marah said, “I know.”
The tribesmen charged the tunnels several times, and each time they were cast back into the darkness. The dwarves spent as much time pushing down the tunnels as the tribesmen had spent burrowing them. They systematically broke what the tribesmen built just as their wardens dismantled the mobs of unorganized warriors. And as the days passed, the dwarves crawled down into the lower levels and eradicated the threat. A dozen miles down, they found another breach in a deeper section of the Ward.
Silas and the priests used their runes to move larger blocks of stones into different tunnels to make it harder for the tribes to reopen them. When the dwarves were assured of their victory, they prepared to march deeper into the Ward. Tyrus and Marah watched them work, and despite Marah’s frustrations at the pace, she relented when Silas argued for patience.
III
A smaller force of wardens marched from Dun Berthal toward Ros Koruthal. Tyrus carried Marah, and Silas went with them, along with all the Norsil and elves that had followed them into the tunnel. The dwarven king, Donat, kept the bulk of his strength behind to defend his section of the Deep Ward. All told, a hundred dwarves joined them.
They followed dwarven passages that spiraled deeper into the world, but they had clean stone, clearer air, and larger spaces every twenty miles for camps. They were stocked with fuel for fires—which was some form of peat—and Silas said they had much thicker walls, which made them easier to defend.
As they walked, Tyrus asked Silas about Ros Koruthal. He wanted to know how sieges worked in the Underworld. Silas described a mind-bending sphere of sappers all trying to tunnel into the city and countersappers who intercepted the other tunnels and collapsed them.
Tyrus said, “I can’t see it. There’s a city carved into the rock, and there are tunnels circling that city? Why not go directly into the city?”
“Well, that is their intent, but we thwart them.”
“How?”
“By tunneling into their tunnels and breaking them. And when they hear us coming for them, they divert their tunnels around and back.”
“Why have gates, then?”
“That’s how we travel between cities, of course.”
Marah told Tyrus, “Think of an onion. The tunnels are the layers of the onion. And everyone wants to get to the center.”
Tyrus imagined tunnels above his head, circling their tunnel, and he didn’t understand why the charge was a circle. They should go straight at the enemy.
“How many gates does Kor
uthal have?”
“Six main ones,” Silas said, “although there is a network of smaller fortresses that hold those and more causeways that connect to them. Each fortress is like a joint in a spider’s web.”
Marah said, “The causeways are like tree roots. The biggest ones go the deepest.”
Silas scoffed. “It is far more organized than roots.”
Marah told Tyrus, “They are many near the surface, but only the biggest ones run deep.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Kind of.”
Tyrus asked Marah, “What are we headed towards?”
“The dwarven warlord, Blastrum, is trying to hold Ros Mardua, but the Tusken are battering the doors.” Marah’s eyes lost focus, and she seemed to be very far away. “The gates will fall, and the fighting will be in the city.”
Silas asked, “How much time do we have?”
“They’ll be in the city when we get there.”
When Silas passed that information along to the wardens, they set a harsher pace. Tyrus had to trust their scheduled breaks because he had no way of tracking time. He missed the sun. Perpetual darkness was unnatural and made him feel weary. With his runes and regular meals, it was almost impossible for him to be tired, but the darkness tricked his mind. He walked with stooped shoulders and dragged his feet. The oppressive shadows made him crave a bed.
After a few rushed naps, Tyrus told Silas, “We aren’t sleeping as long as we should.”
“If we kept the schedule of the surface dwellers, it would take months to travel to the Ward.” Silas patted Tyrus on the arm. “You will find it easier to adjust without the sun. Surface dwellers waste so many hours a day.”
“Marah needs her rest.”
“She can sleep while you walk. With all those runes, you should be able to walk for weeks. If we take too long, there won’t be anything left by the time we get there.”
Dance of Battle: A Dark Fantasy (Shedim Rebellion Book 4) Page 33
