“There are too many,” Grenda said. “We can’t hold them all back.”
Zollin’s fear fed the firestorm of power suddenly whirling inside him. He could barely make out the insectile creatures, their bodies moving swiftly toward the fortress. He held out a hand and sent a bolt of blue energy arcing down from the top of Kelladoon. The powerful magic popped and hummed as it hit the floor of the cavern and spread out across the smooth surface in all directions. The oremites shook violently, their hairy bodies stiffening and smoking as they fell. Almost the entire swarm was defeated in an instant, but Zollin felt his power stabbing at his body.
And even though hundreds had fallen dead, more were streaming through. Grenda was shouting orders and Reenah had raced back to join the fight. Zollin knew he had to do something or the fortress would be overrun. He didn’t want to see the dwarves die, and his own desire to live was stronger than ever, but more than that he didn’t want to lose the stone. He glanced down at Prawg, who was staring at Zollin with awe.
Then an idea struck Zollin and he searched the dark cavern for the tunnel, sending his magical senses out in a wave. As soon as his magic touched the oremites he knew they were coming for the Star Stone. They were like ravenous dogs with the smell of meat in the air. He let his magic flow into the rock around the tunnel. The magic from the Star Stone surged up in him and he pushed as hard as he could on the roof of the tunnel the oremites had made. The sound of rocks cracking and falling made Zollin cover his ears with both hands. Dust and debris flew from the tunnel, but the stream of oremites stopped.
“What happened?” Grenda shouted.
“The tunnel,” Zollin said, gasping for breath. “I destroyed it.”
Every inch of Zollin’s body was aching. His bones felt hollow, and his legs weak. His hands were shaking and he had to lean against the wall. Below him, slings whirled, filling the air with flying stones and the sounds of twirling leather. When the oremites reached the fortress walls they climbed the smooth, stone like spiders. The dwarves tipped large containers full of heavy stones over the parapets, smashing the oremites below. The battle raged for a few moments, but the strong fortress gave the dwarves an advantage. Only a few of the oremites reached the top of the walls, and they were quickly beaten to death by powerful blows. The dwarves on the wall may have been elderly, but they were still strong. Their war hammers fell hard, smashing the creatures’ thick skulls and sending their bodies falling onto their hive mates below.
When the fighting was over, Zollin felt a sense of relief, even though he could barely stand. Grenda, once she had shouted orders to the dwarves manning the walls below her, turned and stared at Zollin for a long moment. He wasn’t sure if she was going to thank him or attack him, but finally she nodded in appreciation.
“Your help was welcome, Wizard,” she said.
“Thank you,” Zollin said.
“I can’t believe they found our fortress already,” she said, obviously thinking out loud.
“They didn’t just find you,” Zollin said. “They came for the Star Stone.”
“And how can you know that?” she demanded.
“I felt it,” he explained. “I sensed their longing for the stone.”
“Then we must be rid of it,” Grenda said. “Take the stone, Wizard, carry it to the surface and do not return.”
“It is too late for that,” the elderly dwarf said. “They will follow it here and follow it wherever it goes. It is their nature.”
“But if it isn’t in the fortress,” Grenda said. “Surely they won’t attack.”
“Nothing is sure, nothing is certain,” the dwarf said.
“Prawg, please don’t speak in riddles,” Grenda said.
“I wish I could be more clear,” he said. “The crynods will come, but we knew this. They will attack, but we knew that too. They have the numbers to overwhelm our defenses and they will slaughter us if they can. The only way to stop them is to slay their queen.”
“Their queen is in a tall shaft,” Zollin said. “I’m sure of it. I saw them digging more of their kind out of the walls.”
“We know where the hive is, and where the queen has taken refuge,” Grenda said. “But we don’t have enough warriors to fight through the thousands of diggers and defeat her. Not to mention the guardians that defend her, which are much larger and more ferocious than the diggers.”
“No,” Prawg said sadly. “Even the wizard is not strong enough to defeat the entire hive.”
“There has to be a way,” Grenda said angrily. “I refuse to give up. I refuse to let our people die like this.”
“What if I could lure the oremites away?” Zollin said. “We know they want the Star Stone. If they can feel it, sense it the way I can, then I can draw them away."
"They will not simply forget about us," Prawg said. "Now that they have discovered Kelladoon they will return and destroy everyone taking shelter here."
"But if enough of the oremites come after me, they won't hinder your attack. I can lead them away from the hive while you kill the queen.”
Grenda looked at Prawg, who nodded at her.
“If we kill their queen, the hive will be lost. They will wander aimlessly until they die,” Prawg said.
“You will need a guide through the caverns,” Grenda said. “If you accidentally lead them here, or back to the hive, we’ll all be lost.”
“Moss and I will take the wizard,” Reenah said as she strode back into the room, her face flushed from the fighting. “We’ll keep the diggers far away from the queen.”
“Then we have a chance,” Grenda said. “We must prepare for it soon. They might dig back through the tunnel and attack the fortress at any time. If we’re to succeed, Wizard, you must go now.”
Zollin wanted to scream that he had just saved the entire fortress of dwarves and that he needed a little rest, but he knew Grenda was right. There was no time to rest, no time to regain his strength. He had to go with Reenah and Moss. He had to get the Star Stone far away from the dwarf stronghold, before the unimaginable happened. He nodded at Reenah.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 24
As soon as the sun came up, Quinn saw the smoke from Mansel's cabin. He knew something was wrong, but there was debate raging about what the villagers of Brighton's Gate should do next. Some were advocating that they go out and hunt down the strange animals. Others wanted to remain in the safety of the inn. Quinn had also noticed that none of the wounded or slain creatures remained. They had been pulled away from the town, a fact that seemed to elude the others. It wasn't normal behavior for animals—not that a systematic attack on the town was either, but removing the dead seemed more ominous than anything the strange creatures had done before. Quinn couldn't understand what the animals were hiding. He couldn't imagine that such savage creatures cared about their fallen pack mates, which only left one reasonable explanation. The animals didn't want the townsfolk examining their dead.
“What are you thinking Quinn?” Buck asked.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “I have to go.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Kurchek said. “Not until we know who’s behind these attacks.”
“Do you really think I have control of animals? That I would risk my life to help save the people here if I was behind all this? You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe not you exactly,” Kurcheck said. “But that demented son of yours.”
“You insult Zollin again and you’ll lose a lot more than an eye,” Quinn threatened.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," Buck said, trying to calm everyone down. "We need to decide what to do. Can you help us Quinn?”
There were nearly fifty men in the common room. The archers Quinn had stationed on the rooftop had come down once the sun rose. Their supply of arrows was dangerously low, and they were all exhausted. Quinn saw weariness, fear, anger, and frustration in the faces around him. But he also saw hope in a few people as they waited to see what
he would say about helping them.
“Of course I can help, but I need to find Mansel. That’s his cabin burning out there.”
“He’s probably dead,” said one of the men.
“Good riddance,” grumbled Kurchek, but when Quinn glared at him the miner looked away.
“I don’t know if you can help Mansel,” Buck said. “He’s a good man, but there are dozens right here who I know you can help.”
“I don’t know what the right move is,” Quinn said. “But you need to be thinking strategically. We didn’t kill all of those creatures last night, and even if we did there will be other attacks. Brighton’s Gate is too isolated, too vulnerable to raiders, outlaws, even wild animal attacks.”
“So what do we do?”
“You need a plan,” Quinn said. “And maybe it’s time you started thinking of building a wall.”
“And I suppose you’re just the man the for job?” Kurchek sneered. “He doesn’t want to help us. He’s looking to fleece us.”
“You’re a fool,” Quinn said.
“What about those animals?” someone else asked.
“Will they come back?” asked a second.
“You should prepare for it,” Quinn said. “You should be ready for any kind of danger.”
“He’s a fear monger,” said another man.
“He’s the only one who knew what to do,” said one of the hunters who had fought the animals with Quinn the night before. “Think about what would have happened to us if we hadn’t come to the inn, or if Quinn hadn’t posted archers on the roof.”
“Yes, we would have all died screaming like a bunch of old women,” Kurchek spat. “We aren’t fools or cowards. And this one isn’t the only person who was smart enough to put bowmen on the roof.”
“Look!” Buck said loudly, trying to quiet down the crowd. “Quinn has experience in the King’s Army. That’s more than any of the rest of us have. Whatever your feelings about him, or his son, I think he can help us. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay here. Go back to your homes. Or better yet go hunt those devilish creatures down, but don’t expect us to shelter you or your families if all you want to do is cause trouble.”
The group settled down and Quinn almost wished they had turned on him. At least then he wouldn’t feel obligated to stay and help the townsfolk when all he could think about was Mansel. He knew without a doubt that something horrible had happened to the young warrior, and possibly even his common law wife, but Quinn was in no position to help them. He simply couldn’t turn his back on the entire town just to go searching for one man.
“We need to stay here until we know more,” Quinn said. “We can send out a few scouts to see about anyone who didn’t come with us to the inn. We need to restock our arrow supply. Make sure there is enough food and water for the next few days.”
“You really don’t think this is over?” asked one of the men.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “We killed a lot of those creatures last night, but not all of them. Take a look outside. Do you see any of the creatures you shot with your arrows? I know we killed at least two of the beasts out back, but their bodies aren’t there now. Why would they come back for their dead?”
“Maybe they’re eating them,” said one man.
“If they really are magical creatures,” said another in a trembling voice. “Maybe they come back to life.”
“The point is,” Quinn said, taking control of the conversation again, “we don’t know. It isn’t the behavior of animals to come back for their dead, and I for one won’t feel comfortable about our safety until I know why.”
“So we have to hunt them,” said the man who had fought with Quinn in the night.
“Eventually, yes,” Quinn said. “But we’re all tired. And our first priority needs to be making sure we’re ready to survive another night.”
“What if they attack in the daylight?” asked another man.
“That’s possible,” Quinn acknowledged. “But they didn’t attack us when we were out hunting for them yesterday. I’m hoping they’re nocturnal and we can do what we need to do today to ensure that our families are safe.”
“All right, that sounds like a good plan,” Buck said. “Ollie and I will see that there’s enough food and water for everyone. Arlis, you take some men and start making arrows.”
“The women can help if we get the supplies,” the man named Arlis said.
“You’re in charge of arrows,” Buck said. “Do whatever you need to do.”
“The rest of you break into groups,” Quinn said. “We’ll need people to stand watch, and some to scout. Plus we need to rest in shifts, so that we don’t drop from exhaustion.”
There was a murmur of approval at the mention of rest. Quinn was so tired he felt as though he could sleep for a week, but he wanted to check on Mansel, so rest would have to wait. He looked at Buck, who nodded at him appreciatively.
“I’m going to check on Mansel,” Quinn said to the innkeeper. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The inn was filled with people, all of them nervous or outright frightened. But Ollie was busy in the kitchens, which smelled of fresh baked bread. She had recruited some of the other women to help her, but she was picky about who she allowed into her kitchen. Quinn waited just outside the large room that was hot from the ovens.
“And what do you want?” she asked when she noticed him.
“I was hoping I might get a small loaf,” he asked, flashing her a smile.
“Men,” was all she said.
A crusty loaf of warm bread came flying out of the kitchen. Quinn caught it and waved a thank you. Then he went cautiously out of the back of the inn. He paused only long enough to tear the loaf of bread, which was small enough to fit easily in one hand. The bread was yeasty and comforting. His body seemed to gain strength as he ate. The area behind the inn was made up of homes and shops. His natural caution was beginning to wane as he moved further from the inn. He was so worried about Mansel and so busy eating his breakfast, that he didn’t hear the person rushing toward him from behind.
One minute he was hurrying toward the plume of smoke just outside of the small village. The next thing he knew he was waking up. His whole body ached. His nose was filled with dried blood and there was a scuff on his chin that was raw to the touch. The back of his head ached horribly. He rolled onto his side from where he was laying on the path between two houses. Reaching up, he probed the back of his head gently and felt a large lump behind his right ear.
Someone had knocked him senseless, that much was clear, but nothing else was. His body hadn’t moved for hours it seemed; every joint and muscle ached. His arm that had been bitten by the strange animals seemed no worse, the punctures in his flesh were minor. Looking up, Quinn could tell that it was no longer morning. In fact, by his guess it was late afternoon. He couldn’t understand why anyone would attack him and leave him in the street. It wasn’t a busy street, and with everyone in the village taking shelter in the inn, no one had noticed him. A shiver of fear ran down his back. He could have easily been killed by the creatures that had attacked the village, or even by the person who hit him in back of the head. But they had left him alive, and he wasn’t sure why.
He got slowly to his feet and looked toward Mansel’s cabin. There were two plumes of smoke now, but neither seemed strong. Quinn moved instinctively in that direction. Walking took some time to get used to. His body was so stiff, and his head was a little dizzy. His mouth felt like it was coated with sand, and the pain in his head made his stomach twist dangerously. He leaned his weight against the houses he passed until the dizziness cleared. He was still moving slowly, but he comforted himself with the fact that he was on his feet and moving at all.
He checked his belt, but he’d lost his knives in the fight with the animal the night before. His spear had been taken, so he was unarmed. He wondered just how long he could survive in such a state. It seemed that the world had turned against him, and he was
the one caught unprepared.
He staggered slowly to the small workshop where he kept most of his belongings. It wasn’t really a home, but he spent most of the winter at the Valley Inn, so the workshop was really just a place to keep his tools. He opened the door and went into the small area at the rear of the little building, which was cordoned off with a simple screen. There was a narrow cot there, along with clean clothes and a few possessions he’d collected since fleeing Tranaugh Shire with Zollin. Tools were what he’d spent most of the meager funds he’d earned on, but he had a few more of the simple throwing knives. They weren’t polished, just rough, black metal, the tang shaped to balance the blade. They were sharp, and he could hit almost any target within forty paces. He tucked two into the sheath in his belt, and one in his right boot. He still had a military issue short sword, and he strapped the belt and sheath around his waist before checking the blade.
Quinn rarely wore his weapons, but he kept them in good condition, always honed and ready if he needed them. He put on a stiff leather vest and wrapped a long cloak around his shoulders. He had a feeling that he might not be coming back to the little workshop, so he retrieved his small pouch of coins and tucked it into his belt.
There was nothing left of value other than blankets in his sleeping quarters. The tools had value, but he couldn’t waste time or energy hauling them around. Instead, he turned his back on the small shed and set out to see what he could find at Mansel’s cabin.
There wasn’t much left of the property when Quinn arrived. The home had been made of thick logs, but they had fallen in and were almost completely consumed by the fire. Quinn guessed it had been burning for hours by that point. The stable was gone, too; all that remained of it was a pile of smoking debris. There were tracks in the yard, hoof marks and boot prints, but Quinn couldn’t tell where his friend had gone. His only option was to return to the Valley Inn and try to discover who had attacked him.
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