Faithless Steel

by J A Stone

  Below, Iris pushed though the swinging doors to see Whiterock’s lowest level completely empty—all of the canines were gone. She slowly entered the ancient Dwarven forge, listening to the plume of the blue flames in the hearth and the dripping of the showerhead, left trickling for the pack to drink.

  Nothing. Iris raised her head and took in a deep breath through her nose, wrinkling her nostrils. She was about to run for the stairs to warn the others, when a lizard head appeared at the open hatch to the underbelly of the Salt. The thing seethed, taking the final steps and motioning his brethren to follow from below.

  Outside, near the main entrance at eight thousand feet, dozens of Gudoshi Assassins clothed in white hoods, cowls and robes lined the wall on either side of the gouge in the solid marble.

  Jimmy walked outside to fetch meat from the smoke shack for dinner. He never saw it coming, but did manage a muffled shout.

  Two hundred feet internal, Samantha and Garret heard from the common area, the Security Chief’s wife hit the wall-mounted station peal as her husband tossed her his Longsword, lifting a Second Dynasty Cutlass from its pegs on the wall and pulling a long boot Dirk.

  “Stay behind me and cut low,” Garrett took a deep breath and blocked the entranceway with the curved Cutlass out front.

  “I got ya baby,” Samantha was a brave Soul. Garrett teemed with pride as the first two came running his way.

  By the time Robert and Eventine arrived, Garrett and Samantha were fighting abreast. Bollo, the young Knight Squire was fist fighting like a wild animal, overwhelmed with rage over his wife, Roue, sprawled on the marble dead at his feet—killed the second they entered the chamber.

  “RAAAAA!” Bigfoot Bob charged in, grabbing the closest Gudoshi, breaking her overhead like firewood and slinging the limp body into the growing crowd. Aside him, Eventine was slashing her twin Wakizashis, cutting into her assailants with precision.

  It’s just us? Eve thought as she fought.

  “NEED YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” she shouted to Bigfoot, taking a stab in the left arm and grunting for emphasis.

  She should be here by now, Robert thought, accelerating his punches in a frenzy, coming aside young Bollo and pulling Samantha out of the fray with a fast free hand.

  “Sam, find Iris below—NOW!” Robert bellowed.

  She ran as fast as she could. Nobody noticed one of the enemy breaking past the bottleneck and giving chase.

  Dane Den

  Iris did not waste time, now she could hear the pack of Danes and the Deerhound fighting below in the catacombs. Three must have broken through. The Lesser Grey’s hair and eyes flushed purple-black in the hearth light and she ran, bounced, then leaped for the neckline of the first, savagely twisting the skull askew, strafing a taloned hand across the soft tissues beneath the jaw. The huge creature hissed blood and fell as Iris bounded from its shoulders to the next.

  A whip-like tail caught her across the face and Iris screamed, biting the cruel appendage before hitting the floor. She rolled and crouched not three paces from the other two. In the distance, she heard one of the Danes fall with an eerie yelp and howl.

  She made the move, dodging another tail swipe and keeping low—straight for the femoral artery of the beast on her right. The young Arenthian turned Knight sank her fangs deep in the inner thigh and jerked her head, feeling the critical vessel rupture and taking a fast drink as the beast hammered on her back uselessly and rolled to the ground in pain.

  The last standing Therian ripped her small frame away from its brother and dashed Iris on the hard granite with every jule of power the creature possessed. It was enough to fracture her clavicle and thrust the wind from her lungs. No hesitation, Iris somehow found the strength to roll away from the beast and leap straight back towards it, fangs and talons extended, face covered in hot blood.

  In the tunnel, Torpa, Antigua, Landreth and Stroke left the rest of the dwindling pack behind as they scratched, mauled and ran with everything they had through the small army of ten-foot lizard men. All four canines were following the scents of their Masters, nothing else mattered at that moment, save getting to Warfell, Fey, Shadoweye and Snow. The mighty Hounds plowed through the opposition, more than fifty of them, making their bloody way to the underground facility beneath Stage Three.

  With the canines dead or gone, and most of the Knights in the city, Eventine, Bigfoot, Iris, Garrett, Samantha and Bollo were on their own.

  Stage Three

  British Fey took half a second to look at the bar she just fixed up. Dammit-man, were her thoughts as the huge axe came crashing down yet again, splintering the section of counter she had rolled into.

  “BE STILL YE!” the Dwarf bellowed with a hoarse throat from more than one contact.

  “EAT ME!” the pixie chirped right back.

  Near the back room entrance, Tawnee was assisting Dobra, having correctly surmised the young Knight’s need. Fortunately for both, the entry to the first stairwell was simply too small for more than two at a time, lizard, human or otherwise. The two swordsmen kept the Therian invaders at bay, giving Shadoweye her own fast moment to think.

  From the rear threshold, she saw Warfell and Snow blast through the front doors. Sweet! Murdoc didn’t stand a chance now that—

  Behind Danica and Tom, a young man with white hair pushed silently through the doors. There was a Blackbird on his nape. It was Furtado! She tried to scream but couldn’t! Her split-second of thought ran out when the tip of a tail struck her just right on the temple with enough recoil inertia to send Tawnee Shadoweye into instant darkness, out cold.

  Quickly, her consciousness reformed and Tawnee found herself in a grassy field with her doppleganger sitting next to her. It was Tara Shadowfall.

  *

  “Hey,” the teenage girl picked a reed of grass and twiddled it between two fingers.

  “What just happened?” Tawnee asked, sitting up.

  “You’re out cold in a bar, what have you been doing?”

  “Fighting ten-foot lizard men, you?”

  “Chillin’ like a—wait what?”

  “No time, I need to wake up now Tara. Can you get me back there?”

  “I can’t Tawnee, it’s a physical, not a mental problem.”

  “Crap,” Shadow lowered her head in defeat.

  “What are you gonna do? Will you…will you call for him?”

  “I don’t know,” she had to think! She quickly realized that more than half of their muscle was away from Salt Mountain. The Therians came from below, which meant Whiterock had only a handful of Knights. This was a well-timed diversion!

  “Okay, I know what I need to do, save the Gods and damn the odds,” Tawnee met Tara’s gaze and her eyes welled with tears.

  *

  The Tunnel, midway point

  The reptilian abominations of evolution tore into the bodies of Domino and his two brothers, hissing and fighting amongst themselves, shredding and tossing shards of meat to the back of the crowd to avoid a stampede of ravage. To their surprise, the four largest Hounds had moved right past them, abandoning the mountain’s belly—all the better. It was time to begin the formal assault. Forward squads were already there and the humans were attacking from outside the mountain.

  Once down to the dog bones and sinew, seventy Therians began the steady march towards the ancient home of the Dwarven-Kin.

  Whiterock

  Robert John Stone was frantic. Fear for Iris was consuming him. At that moment, it was a good thing though, giving the eight-foot muscleman the adrenaline he needed to end each opponent swiftly. Urgency to get to his new love was something he had never experienced, aside the feelings he had for British and Danica, and his overwhelming need to make them proud.

  Robert’s calculated ferocity likewise compelled big Bollo to heights of strength. Bollo was six feet, shorter than Dobra, yet almost as wide as Robert—zero fat, all muscle, Bollo could powerlift more than a thousand pounds. Despite the anguish over his wife, the young Knight Squire also fel
t a desperate urgency to show Bigfoot Bob that he could swing with the best.

  Violence is rarely conducted with honor. The amassing band of Assassins, fifty strong, quickly passed word down the line that two giants were bottlenecking them in tight.

  A stick of dynamite was the answer to the cork on that bottle, keeping the Gudoshi from their promised wine.

  “GARRETT FALL BACK, FA—“Robert succumbed to the skull crashing shockwave, the flash of light and the tonal ring like a massive bell in his head.

  Darkness, then smoky-grey mist as the ringing lessened and Robert’s eyes opened to white boots running on deck next to his face. He snatched a foot and twisted, stammering to his feet, still holding the astonished man and using him as a primitive bat. Bollo was still down, Eventine as well. No telling how many got past him, no sign of Garrett either.

  Bigfoot grabbed a dagger from the floor and reversed his grip on the steel toothpick. He roared at the top of his lungs and engaged men and women on both sides, punching into and through craniums with his iron-kettle fists, keeping them away from his fallen comrades.

  Bollo opened his eyes and crawled to Eventine.

  “Master Delacroix, wake up!” he slapped her face and Eve came to. Brown eyes popped wide to see the young brute standing to fight aside Robert. She took in a deep breath, found one of her Wakizashis and reentered the fray.

  Below Eve, Rob and Bollo, Samantha reached the Dane Den to see Iris limping away from the huge bodies.

  “Iris! We nee—” her sentence was stopped cold by a Gudoshi dagger in Sam’s back.

  “NO!” the Lesser Grey shouted and ran, though she knew it was too late for Garrett’s sweet wife.

  “KILL YEH!” she snarled, leaping the final steps, taking the neck with a fast swipe, seeing quickly that none were following and drinking from the jugular whilst staring at Samantha’s prone body. After a long moment, Iris broke contact and held her face to the ceiling with her eyes closed tight, absorbing the power of the hot human blood, and shedding a tear for the brave Samantha. I failed her, she thought. “Forgive meh Sam,” she whispered.

  Iris kneeled solemnly, picked up Garrett’s Tiborean Longsword, and then ran for the interior of their home, leaving the hatch to the underbelly of the Salt wide open behind her.

  Bigfoot, Eventine and Bollo had no choice but to fall back to the common area where they found Garrett crawling on deck awash in blood—the bodies of six Gudoshi lie painted red beside him.

  Robert grabbed a two-handed Greatsword from the wall and began swinging it as a bat, Bollo grabbed a thick metal spear and joined him at the archway, closing the advance once more. Eventine slid to Garrett, turned him over and saw the wounds.

  “Samantha?” the Chief of Security spoke through hazy eyes. He did not recognize Eve.

  “She’s fine Chief, you rest here, you did good,” she forced back a tear as the hearty Knight’s eyes closed and his breathing stopped.

  Eventine stood tall, grasping Garrett’s bloody Cutlass to replace the lost Wakizashi. She saw the stick of dynamite slide between Robert and Bollo’s boots just in time and kicked the sparkling incendiary right back from where it came, shouting to the two giants.

  “GET DOWN!”

  Bigfoot kicked his man in the chest, grabbed Bollo, and tackled him with a grunt.

  Stage Three

  Nobody sneaks up on Danica Warfell—nobody. She spun about with a backhand fist strafing the young man’s jawline and jacking the skull sideways.

  But the kid was fast. Furtado moved with the punch and spun himself, launching a boot for Warfell’s face. As he did this, the Blackbird took flight, careening for British Fey and harrowing the pixie as her Westbury and Coralo passed effortlessly through the ethereal form of the creature.

  It’s a Spirit, British suddenly realized.

  Murdoc got his first contact, and a good one too. His left knuckles bashed the little head as the two foot section of chain wrapped about the slender neck.

  “HA! GOT YE AGAIN!” the Dwarf exclaimed, hoisting his tiny nemesis clear of the flooring.

  British pulled the Blunderbuss and unloaded twice—chest and shoulder. Murdoc dropped his heavy chopper and smacked the weapon away, striking her pretty cheeks over and again with the right, while tightening the iron chain with the left.

  Tom rushed forward and the bird appeared before him again, stopping him cold.

  Warfell was fist-fighting Furtado, still unable to free her Katana

  British was having her little ass handed to her.

  Behind the counter bar, Dobra was shaking Shadoweye, when the mighty Danes and Deerhound flew up the stairs. Landreth stayed behind for the unconscious Tawnee, whining and licking her tattooed face as Dobra backed away, just now noticing the deep stab in his side. He hit the wall with his back and slid to the floor. Torpa, Antigua and Stroke shot past, leaping the five fallen Therians with growls, entering the barroom and bounding over the long wooden counter.

  Murdoc saw the dogs. He shot a fast glance to Furtado.

  “NOW SON!” the handsome Dwarf yelled.

  Across the club, the young man with white hair asked Warfell a question.

  “Have you met My Problem?” he grinned wide, leaping free of Warfell’s grasp, rolling on the floor and covering his eyes with both hands.

  “Ello?” Warfell cocked her head sideways, yanking Tung-Vohra free of her back. She looked behind to see Tommy passed out on the floor again and the bird careening straight for her. She thrust the Katana out of reflex as the tiny demon flew into and through her face.

  Flash of light, and blackness….

  Torpa, Stroke, Antigua and Landreth licked their Masters faces until they opened their collective eyes one by one.

  “Shit, it hurts,” Danica held her head as if to keep it from bursting. Tommy was sitting up, British was—

  “BRITISH!” Danica screamed, crawling to her partner’s side and cupping the horribly beaten face. She was breathing thank the Gods. “Oh partner, what happened?”

  “Dogs—scared ‘em—off,” the battered pixie stammered for the words as Tawnee came running and sliding on her knees to her lover’s side. Tears flowed fast and British shook her head.

  “There’s—no time,” Fey pointed to the back room and everyone realized the Dwarf, his strange human friend and the bird were already on their way to the Salt.

  “Not if I can help it,” Warfell stood, chirping for Torpa. “Put her on Antigua’s back, strap her down if you need to, but we need to get home right now.”

  “Let me help,” Tommy picked little British up and winced at the sight of her face. “Damn boss,” he tried to smile.

  “Put me down Snowman,” she ordered and he complied. Leaning on Antigua, British gave her remaining Knights one open eye. “Get there as fast as you can. I’m right behind you,” she said, twisting up to her Dane’s wide back as if she were a pony.

  They took off on foot, leaping the bar and pausing to see Dobra’s body covered in crimson. Shadoweye touched his cheek and kept moving. Warfell, Tom and the Hounds right behind her.

  Once alone with Antigua, British leaned in and whispered in the Hound’s ear.

  “The stables—get me to Snowflake.”

  The intelligent canine took off, pulling the doors open with her teeth and racing to the cobbled street with her Master bouncing on her strong shoulders like a child.

  Minutes later, they were at the stables. British clambered to the back of the Snowhorse from the corral gate and took off for the surrounding woodlands on the Salt’s north side.

  “There!” she exclaimed and Snowflake came to a bouncing halt beside a cluster of granite boulders. She slid to the leafy ground and climbed the rocks, gazing down on the black hole that led to the tunnel two hundred feet beneath them.

  “Buggers,” she said aloud, checking her weapons and meeting eyes with the two white beasts who simply adored her. “I love you guys,” she smiled a red-toothed grin, jumped up and forward and then disappeared
feet-first down the primitive ventilation tube.

  Antigua nervously scrambled to the top of the rock-set and peered down the hole, whining desperately, the Dane moved too close to the sharp edge, slipped, and fell into the abyss.

  The Tunnel

  Murdoc and Furtado met up with Aurora and Corella.

  “Are they dead?” Aurora asked.

  “No, but me Scouts need me,” Murdoc brushed past the women, Furtado sticking with him.

  “The mountain?” Cora asked again.

  “Our fight is still this way, come.”

  Not far, Tawnee somehow matched pace with the enhanced metabolisms of Warfell and Snow. One mile in and the three were leaping over the bodies. Shadoweye counted three Danes and seven lizards. Domino was there, but no Corella. She knew there were many more of the Therians, had to be! Tawnee found herself following the trail of blood through the blackened corridor. She remembered the words of the Aequitas Caelum. She will betray the Knights, he said. It must be Corella with that damned Temporal Blade. She should have known! How did Danica and British miss her lies?

  Everyone slid to a stop. Aurora and Corella were there, swords out, brows low.

  Warfell, Snow and Shadow pulled Katana, Epee and Scimitar. Torpa, Landreth and Stroke growled deep.

  “You killed my Brothers. Nigel and Gustav were all I had. Did you think I could forgive this?” Aurora asked politely.

  “Truthfully? No,” Warfell shot right back. “What’s your excuse Cora?”

  The young Knight Squire turned traitor grinned with a snort of derision.

  “My Great Grandfather to the third was married to a Dwarven woman—a descendant of the Second Dynasty. The Races of the Little Folk run long, strong and proud Miss Warfell. Everything is passed down by word of mouth, keeping our lineages and heritage the strict business of the families involved.”