"I… I heard voices earlier, pleading with me for help. The dwarves, they're trapped here, aren't they?"
The great elder brother nodded. Its canines were so long its lips curled around their sharp tips. "The tinkerers ever meddle in powers they do not understand. They have tried to harness forces beyond their control and in doing so have trapped themselves in the Red Ether, neither aging nor dying but existing, like too-strong emotions. They do not belong here. You should release them."
"Yes, please, help me. I need to set them free."
The great elder brother's beady eyes narrowed, and it cocked its head. "We do not understand, Snowbird. You are worthy. Free them if you would—or not. It is no longer our task to shepherd the fae, the dwarves, or your own people. Our time has passed."
"I need your help."
"Help yourself. You are worthy. As is the healer. The warrior also… if only at the end of her journey. Together, you are the healer, the warrior, and the wisewoman—a journey of three who walked as one."
"Please, help me set the dwarves free. Without their help, we'll die—everyone, first the children then everyone else."
"You have poisoned the land, land that belonged to all the creatures. It will no longer suffer your existence, not for many years, not if you fail in your destiny, the same destiny your mother saw. But that is another trial, one for which you are not yet ready."
"The dark elves attacked us."
"Yes, Snowbird, the fae." Loss and sorrow filled its clever brown eyes. "Once, we sought to protect your people and the fae. We tried to separate you so that both species could thrive. We were wrong to interfere. The fae saw us as enemies, called us demons, but we only ever tried to protect them from you and protect you from them. But even we cannot force peace. If you cannot learn to share the land, both fae and people will end."
"We're trying. But first, we need the dwarves."
"You're not trying, Snowbird. Not yet. Perhaps you and your kind are not capable. Maybe you never will be. Even the wyrms mastered their greed, to live in harmony with the other beasts."
"Please, help us. We'll die without the dwarves."
"Then free them, Snowbird."
"I don't know how."
"You knew how to find us, how to find them."
"I… I don't know what to do."
The great elder brother moved—shifted in space—and appeared so close she could smell its heavy musk, like wildflowers and dirt, and fresh rain. The creature gripped her left wrist and raised her hand between them, holding the Brace before her face. "You wield our gift but use it clumsily, as a weapon. It is a key, Snowbird, always a key."
And then the great elder brother's bulk shimmered and vanished, leaving her alone once more, surrounded by eternity. Its voice resonated in her skull one last time, but as if far away. "But be wary, Snowbird. You have attracted the attention of the wyrms now, and they have ever coveted power. They must not have it. Remember. It is a key."
A key, she thought, staring at the Brace on her hand. But what does it open?
She lifted the Brace above her head, channeling, drawing mana into her body. But rather than releasing the magic, she continued to draw upon it, filling herself to bursting. Even when linked with Cassie and Elizabeth, she had never held so much raw mana. She felt as though she'd burst into flames, erupt into her own supernova. And when she could hold no more, she released the mana at once, picturing the dwarven city in her mind.
The mana erupted like a thunderclap, an explosion of light and life, opening a portal.
Leela staggered back, stumbling away from the meteorite in the dwarven coliseum. The ground shook, and the meteorite no longer spun in the air but fell free, crashing down and rolling right at her.
Someone gripped her from behind and threw her to the side just before the meteorite crushed her. She rolled along the ground and came to a stop and saw Ylra. Ylra had saved her life. Veraxia was there as well, staring in confusion as the dwarven machinery erupted in a shower of sparks and smoke. The air stank of ozone. The mana was gone again, leaving her helpless.
But standing around her were dwarves, thousands of dwarves with the same looks of confusion on their faces as Veraxia. Male and female, young and old, they stared at the smoking machinery, the fallen meteorite, one another, and Leela. They filled the coliseum.
"Grandmother's hairy tits," Ylra swore, her voice filled with wonder. "You've done it. How?"
One dwarf stepped forward, his bearded face like granite, his nose disfigured by a large scar. His shoulders were as wide as Kargin's, and he carried himself with the certainty of absolute authority. The ceiling of the cavern rumbled with what sounded like an explosion, and dust and debris drifted upon them. The dwarf faced Leela. "I… you freed us, didn't you? How long were we… What happened?"
"Who are you?" Ylra asked.
He stared in confusion. "I… I'm Hrangar Storm-Shield, town master of Deep Terlingas." His eyes grew wide when he saw Veraxia. "A fae? Who are you?"
Another boom shook the cavern, more dust fell, and Leela climbed to her feet. An undercurrent of excited whispers spread through the dwarves.
"I'm Snowbird. Can you fight?"
47
Alex's lungs burned with each breath, but he forced himself to move, to help organize the defenders in the tunnel. They moved the wounded farther back in the round tunnel, all the way to the hexagonal chamber with the doors leading into Deep Terlingas. Alex and those who could fight, some twenty or thirty men and women, prepared for the coming boggart assault, taking ammo and weapons from the wounded.
They couldn't hold, Alex knew. But he couldn't surrender, either. Dark elves tortured their prisoners, and if the queen captured them, they'd never find the dwarves and save humanity. They'd defend the tunnels as long as possible before moving into the city to fight. There was no other choice. If they held long enough, maybe Liv's gateway rig could open an escape portal.
Right, he thought miserably, watching the other soldiers, you'll hold thousands of boggarts, trolls, dark elves, and Russians with nothing more than a platoon of walking wounded. And what if they roll chemical weapons down the tunnel? What then? Damn you, Valentin.
The Russian had beaten them again, forcing them from the only position they could hold—the high ground overlooking the gorge. Here, in the cramped tunnel, they'd be at a disadvantage, unable to shoot at the same time or bring the full range of their rifles to bear. They couldn't miss in the closed confines, but once the tunnel filled with smoke and the boggarts surged forward, they'd close to hand-to-hand range. When that happened, Alex and the others would die. Rifles and bayonets were a poor substitute for axes and swords.
Should I surrender?
He leaned against the tunnel wall, making sure his new Tac rifle was loaded. Liv, in her rig, stood at the front, her needle launchers aimed down the tunnel. Lee knelt beside her, both supporting her with his rifle and using her for cover. Martinez moved among the men, encouraging them. They heard boggarts yelling. They're coming.
Martinez joined him and took a knee, holding his rifle ready to fire. "You did real good, sir. Real good."
"Not… not good enough," Alex whispered, finding even that hurt.
Martinez snorted and shook his head. "Just take the compliment, goddammit." He sighed. "Fucking officers."
Alex laughed, instantly regretting it as pain burned in his throat. "You… call it for me, First Sergeant."
"Get ready!" Martinez yelled. "Only the two up front fire at a time. No goddamned fratricide. Empty your weapons on full auto then peel back by pairs. Let the next two fire while you reload. Fire and move. Fire and move. All the way back. Anyone goes down, drag them. Let's fill the tunnel with their stinking fish corpses!"
The soldiers cheered, but to Alex's ears, it was forced.
Then the boggarts appeared around the far end of the tunnel, a hundred paces away. They came cautiously, a handful of warriors with lit torches, holding large shields before them, protecting the others b
unched behind.
When they were close enough, Martinez gave the order. "Weapons free!"
Liv released her fléchettes in a silent but deadly onslaught while Lee emptied his rifle. The boggarts holding the shields screamed and fell back, dropping any pretense they had of protection. The warriors behind died as gun smoke filled the tunnel. Then, in what felt like only seconds, Lee and Liv ran past, heading farther down the line, and it was Alex and Martinez's turn. They opened fire, and he raked his bullets across the boggarts, shredding them. The noise was like thunder, even with the helmet's sound suppression, and Alex barely remembered his weapon clicking on empty, but soon enough, he and Martinez were rushing back down the line while the next two soldiers opened fire. The boggarts returned fire with crossbows, an onslaught of metal bolts that whipped past, and Corporal Ng, the man who had scaled the crevice with Leela, fell with a bolt through his neck. Faster than he could have imagined, Liv and Lee were at the front of the lines again. A crossbow bolt ricocheted from Liv's shoulder assembly. Lee launched a 40mm grenade, sending fire, death, and thick black smoke to fill the tunnel. Then it was Alex and Martinez's turn again. They fired their weapons, hosing down the boggarts.
Time became a series of actions: fire, run, reload, wait, shoot again, and repeat, all the while, moving back down the tunnel then down the stairs. They moved and fired, moved and fired. Men and women fell, some crawling on their own, others dragged away. As their numbers dwindled, Alex's turn came again faster. He glimpsed the foul-mouthed Specialist Flannors screaming obscenities as she fired a prolonged burst with her Tac rifle before turning and sprinting past him. If their only medic was fighting, they really were in the shit.
And then disaster struck—a boom shook the tunnel, and their helmet circuitry fried, shorting out their visor aiming systems, tactical info, and radios. Confusion roiled through them but only for moments.
"Keep firing!" Martinez yelled. "You don't need the damned electronics to be soldiers!"
They started shooting again, unable to miss in the confined tunnel even without their helmets, but Alex knew they'd never hold. They were too badly pressed by too many enemies.
Just when he thought the boggarts would reach them, they stopped, holding back instead, and he guessed they were clearing the dead and dying to make room for one final assault. With the brief respite, they moved back into the hexagonal chamber and took up firing positions along the walls. Here, at least, they could all fire at once and concentrate on the circular tunnel. They'd fill that tunnel with boggart dead, but it wouldn't stop them. This is where it ends, he realized.
He was reloading as someone staggered into him and dropped on a knee. Huck! She was awake and held a pistol in her hand, her eyes unfocused.
"I'm… I'm sorry," he whispered.
She wrapped her arm around his neck and clung to him, aiming her pistol with a shaky grip. "See you on the other side, Newf."
A horn echoed in the tunnel, followed by bestial cheers. The boggarts charged forward, overcome by bloodlust as they realized they were about to kill those who had so savaged them. Alex knew enough of history and warfare to know when the enemy broke through a siege, there was always a mass slaughter before commanders could gain control over their enraged fighters. It was too late for surrender. New drums pounded with excitement, and more cheers and heavy boot steps echoed through the chamber.
I'm sorry, Cassie. I tried. Sorry, Lizzy. Sorry, Noah.
He must have been more disorientated than he realized, because it now sounded as if the cheers were coming from behind them. Then he understood the yells were in Dwarvish.
He looked over his shoulder as hundreds of plate-mail-clad dwarves bearing battle-axes, pole arms, and war hammers surged past. They came from the now-open remaining steel-shod dwarven door leading to Deep Terlingas, a stream of others behind them. Their steel-shod boot steps echoed like gunshots.
Huck, still holding onto Alex, stared in wonder. Reacting faster than him, she yelled, "Weapons hold. Weapons hold!"
The boggarts spilled out of the tunnel and into the chamber, but those in the front ranks froze when they saw the dwarves. The dwarves roared in fury, sending shivers down Alex's spine, and charged forward. Like a tidal wave, they washed over the boggarts, sweeping them away.
The enemies' screams rang out—pain, terror, disbelief, and distress mingled into a prolonged cacophony as the dwarves cut them apart with powerful ax swings, often killing more than one boggart with each strike. Others, they brushed aside as if toddlers. Some boggarts tried to fight back, but their blades scraped from the dwarven plate mail, casting sparks in the darkness, and when the dwarves riposted, their blows shattered the boggart weapons.
The boggarts broke, fleeing back up the tunnel, running into those still coming, creating a stoppage of flesh. Alex expected the dwarves to pursue them, but instead they made room for one of the dwarven war machines now chugging along as it came out from Deep Terlingas—it was the same strange motorcycle-like vehicle with the propeller blades on its nose that Ylra had called a tunnel-bore. Alex understood its role in a single heart-wrenching moment. The dwarf piloting it wore goggles over a leather helmet, and he grinned as he pulled a lever, and the vehicle roared to life, belching black smoke. The blades whirled. The dwarves cheered, making room as the driver drove into the tunnel, pumping his fist in triumph. Alex now understood why the tunnel was perfectly round. In a cloud of black smoke, the vehicle disappeared from sight. Moments later, the boggarts screamed. For the first time, he felt sorry for boggarts.
More dwarves surged out of the city—men, women, even youngsters, armed with whatever they could lay their hands on, their eyes filled with savage joy as they fell upon the surviving enemies. They ran past the humans, staring at them as if they were animals in a zoo. A young dwarven woman with long blond hair smiled sheepishly at Alex, a huge meat cleaver in her hand.
And then Ylra was there with Leela. "Stay down," Ylra warned. "Dwarves get ax happy in battle." She rushed forward to join the other dwarves.
Leela embraced him.
"How?" he asked, but with his raw throat, his voice was too soft to hear in the tumult.
The screams of the dying boggarts reverberated in the tunnel.
Mounted atop their kelpies, Valentin and Dimmi led a section of their men past the throngs of boggarts milling about in the odd crater atop the mesa. There was a cave entrance through which Za-zalgar 'Urth's warriors had pressed the Americans, and Valentin's intent was to save as many of them as he could in the bloodbath that would follow. Near the cave entrance, Za-zalgar 'Urth stood with his brood commanders, arguing with one of the fae-seelie mages assigned to support him. Before the entrance, several cohorts of warriors waited in ranks for their turn to enter.
Valentin felt sick, his remorse coursing through him like bile. "You should have surrendered, Alex," he whispered.
"Why is there a crater?" asked Dimmi. "And why is there a cave entrance in a crater?"
Valentin hauled on the reins of his skittish kelpie mount and stared at the cave opening, now wondering the same thing himself. "I don't—"
"I told you, you ignorant boggart fool," screamed the mage, her voice rising in hysteria. "I can't cast any spell, and I'm not going in there."
"Boss," said Dimmi in a worried tone.
"I know," Valentin answered, looking at the hysterical mage then the boggart cohorts then the cave entrance. Screams came from that opening now, boggart screams. His lack of intelligence on why the Americans had come here of all places now sent his mind reeling. Why is there a cave? How deep does it go? And why would Alex trap his men down there? The last wyvern that had tried to fly over the mesa and obtain intelligence had been shot out of the sky. "Dimmi… that mage-scout they killed, I don't think she dropped her invisibility spell. Something's wrong here."
The screaming grew in intensity. The rush of boggarts into the cave faltered and stopped, then boggarts rushed from the opening, streaming past those trying to get in, terror on
their faces.
Valentin's scalp prickled in warning. "Don't dismount," he told Dimmi before edging his mount closer to Za-zalgar 'Urth. He yelled over the rising din. "What is it? What's happening?"
The veteran boggart commander stared at Valentin with his one good eye. "I do not know, Wolf. We were atop the manlings, the fight almost over. Now… I fear there's blood in the water. I must see for myself before this becomes a rout."
The boggart commander turned away, drew his sword, and pushed past the throngs of fleeing boggarts, making his way to the cave opening. His brood commanders followed, loyalty overcoming the fear they must have felt.
Valentin and Dimmi traded looks.
"Something big is in there," Dimmi said. "Is… Have… the Americans awoken a dragon?"
Valentin shook his head. "Sweet God, I hope not."
A stream of terrified boggarts burst out of the opening, clawing past one another in their panic. Many sported bloody wounds, their weapons gone. Fear spread among the other boggarts. In moments, only Za-zalgar 'Urth and his brood commanders remained, swords drawn. Now, Valentin heard what sounded like a combustion engine and the high-pitched whine of a buzz saw.
A final boggart burst out of the tunnel, one of his outer arms gone, the stump spurting blood. Za-zalgar 'Urth stopped him, screaming questions at him, but the wounded boggart, mad with terror, looked past the commander.
"The dwarves are coming!" he screamed and broke free.
Dwarves?
Several things happened at once. Za-zalgar' Urth faced the tunnel opening, his sword held ready. The buzz of a chainsaw grew impossibly loud, then the one-eyed boggart commander just disappeared into red spray and bits of gristle as a nightmare machine with spinning blades burst out of the tunnel—breaking right through the rocks and stones and leaving a perfectly circular opening in its wake. Valentin stared in horror as the machine spun about and eviscerated Za-zalgar 'Urth's brood commanders in a single horrifying moment. Seated atop the vehicle, glistening with blood and tissue, was a dwarf. The dwarf paused only long enough to wipe the blood from his goggles with one hand before gunning his vehicle's engine and sending it forward again to disintegrate at least ten more boggarts who had been too slow to flee, sending torrents of blood flying in the air and painting the nearby rocks red.
Ranger Page 40
