Conqueror

by Isaac Hooke

  He broke free of the dead orak’s grip and climbed to his feet. “Filthy scum!” He kicked the carcass. “Only my fingers can remove these, fools!”

  “Told you we should have waited until your Darkness was about to return,” Gwen called to Malem from several paces away. “How the hell are we supposed to beat him?” She was still unleashing arrows as fast as she could; Xaxia worked in tandem beside her, cutting down any oraks or dwarves that got too close, or that came at the half gobling from the back or sides.

  Do you think Vorgon has revealed my abilities to him? Malem asked Ziatrice.

  Doubt it, the night elf said. Though it’s possible.

  All right. I suppose we’ll find out shortly. Weaken a dwarf for me, please.

  As Barrowfore stalked toward Malem again, Ziatrice pointed her free hand at a dwarf behind the king and launched deadly darts of dark magic.

  The target tried to strike the ghostly darts, but its ax passed harmlessly through them and they struck a moment later. Black veins began to crawl up its armor and the exposed skin of the impact sites, and the dwarf screamed in pain. But Ziatrice had held back: there weren’t enough veins to kill. Just torture.

  Malem backed away from Barrowfore and wrapped his mind around the lesser dwarf behind the king as the damage weakened its will. He squeezed, taking control.

  He had the underling run at Barrowfore and swipe at his hamstrings. The dwarf’s ax glanced off the king’s invincible body of course, but it had the intended effect of drawing Barrowfore’s attention.

  The dwarf ran in front of the king and said, at Malem’s bidding: “Vorgon is displeased, Barrowfore. You are not worthy of the title Black Sword. You are to drop your hammer, and give up your necklaces to me, immediately! Vorgon has chosen me to be the new king of the mountain dwarves.”

  Barrowfore stared at the lesser dwarf in astonishment. Then his expression filled with rage. “Fool!”

  The king swatted the dwarf aside with a quick swipe of the hammer. The dwarf went flying into the air, its ribcage crushed; it struck another dwarf nearby before rolling to the ground.

  Before it died, Malem crushed its mind, taking all of its remaining stamina. The boost he received was minor, given the dwarf’s state.

  The king turned toward Malem. “Vorgon is displeased? Bullshit! The master is in my head at this very moment! He tells me I’ve never been higher in his favor!”

  “Vorgon is deceiving you,” Ziatrice said, playing along with Malem’s game. She hewed down two lesser dwarves with a single swipe of her magic halberd. “Just as he deceived me. He whispers his love for you in your head while at the same time ordering your own troops to attack you. Why do you think I broke away from him?”

  “Bullshit!” Barrowfore ran at Malem, who was forced to dodge several heavy hammer blows in a row.

  Malem was going to ask Ziatrice to debilitate another dwarf for him, but he realized there were already injured dwarves nearby, their minds weakened by their wounds, who would suit his purposes perfectly.

  So while dodging Barrowfore, Malem seized another one of the injured with his mind and sent it limping forward. The dwarf leaped on the king’s back and tried to wrap its fingers around his necklaces.

  “What?” Barrowfore roared. He elbowed the dwarf off of his back, and smashed his hammer into its head, crushing the skull like a melon.

  Malem kept sending in injured dwarves, which lay in profusion across the battlefield around him. Sometimes he had to lend them stamina from himself and the women. At other times, they were able to ignore their pain and reach the king on their own. Before Barrowfore killed each one, Malem drained them of their vitality with his mind, to recoup some of the costs of Breaking them in the first place. Each draining gave him less and less vitality, but that’s how it ordinarily worked when he crushed too many in a row with his will. He was steadily weakening.

  I’ll have to find a dragon to kill with Balethorn at this rate…

  Since each dwarf took up three mental slots, Malem was able to control up to six dwarves at once—he had twenty total slots. He sent six at once to surround the king.

  “Vorgon demands you give up your hammer!” he had them all shout at the same time. “You are no longer in his favor!”

  “Fuck!” The king had charged his hammer so that it glowed red, and he smashed the big weapon directly down into the ground in front of him, creating a red shockwave of energy that sent all six attackers flying backwards. The hammer stopped glowing after the impact, evidently having expended its charge.

  “You’re all fools!” Barrowfore said. “I’ll teach the cursed Balor to betray me!”

  Barrowfore lost all interest in Malem and began attacking his own men, even though they all had their backs to him and were currently occupied by soldiers of the Alliance.

  You got him to turn on his men, even though he’s still firmly in Vorgon’s control, Ziatrice said. Impressive.

  Thank you. Now have one of your black dragons repeat after me.

  He dictated his next sentence into her mind, and he heard the words carry across the battlefield as one of her nearby dragons spoke them with its booming voice.

  “King Barrowfore has gone mad,” the dragon thundered. “Vorgon has decreed that the first dwarf to slay him will be granted the title of king, and will become the new Black Sword of the mountain dwarves in his place.”

  Malem suspected that Vorgon only had direct ties to his Black Swords, and not to the minds of all those who served them, and he was proven right when nearby dwarves began turning away from the Alliance soldiers to concentrate on the king. It helped of course that when those dwarves looked, they saw their king attacking their fellows from behind.

  Just like that the tide of battle shifted: the Alliance soldiers were free to focus their efforts on the oraks bolstering the enemy ranks instead. They also struck dwarves in the back as the smaller troops turned to face their king. Malem doubted the news had the same effect across the entire battlefront; those who fought well away from the king wouldn’t be abandoning their positions so readily. Still, the words would at least distract them.

  Another black dragon was saying something nearby. It was probably a servant of Vorgon, and no doubt refuted the claims of the previous dragon, but Malem couldn’t hear the words above the relentless thud of hammer strikes from Barrowfore.

  Sprites came at the king, trying to chew him up, but Barrowfore laughed, and cut his way to the mage who had launched them and proceeded to pound the hapless individual into the earth.

  Malem had the tendrils of his mind poised above the king’s will. He kept testing Barrowfore’s mental strength, but always his touch evaporated.

  And then the king suddenly grew tired: Vorgon had stopped providing him with an endless supply of vitality, at least for the moment, perhaps in an effort to rein in the Black Sword. Or maybe Vorgon was inviting Malem to touch the king’s mind so that the Balor could attempt to trap him, as he had tried to do when Malem Broke Ziatrice.

  Malem wrapped his mental fingers around Barrowfore’s mind and squeezed.

  The king flailed about violently in his head. Physically, the king halted, allowing the press of dwarves around him to strike continuously at his body, even though they caused no damage. His expression filled with concentration, and he turned around to look Malem in the eye.

  “Get out… of my… head!” Barrowfore said.

  Malem was forced to concentrate all of his attention on the king.

  Gwen, Ziatrice, to me!

  The two of them hurried to his side, along with Xaxia, and protected him from the blows of enemy oraks, as well as the few dwarves that seemed to realize he was the greatest threat here, not their king.

  Barrowfore broke free of the mental grip but Malem simply reapplied the pressure and caught him in a vice all over again. It was hard to contain the king’s will, considering Malem was rapidly weakening. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. Physically, he was already flagging. If the women
weren’t there to protect him, he probably would have been hewed down already.

  And then all at once Barrowfore stopped fighting him.

  As he squeezed tighter, allowing the tendrils of his mind to embed within the king’s will, he sensed the sinister presence of Vorgon and pulled back. Malem didn’t want to wrap his mind too deeply inside, lest he give Vorgon the chance to trap him. The last time, Banvil, the Balor who had cursed Malem, had saved him, but Malem didn’t want to make a habit of relying upon Banvil’s help.

  Break him! Ziatrice sent suddenly. She would be able to sense that he hadn’t yet broken the king’s mind. What are you waiting for? Take his army! Then we will lead the dwarves against Vorgon!

  Malem was tempted to do just that. Except he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Assuming Vorgon didn’t trap and Break him instead, it was doubtful Malem could take the king’s army just like that. He’d Broken Ziatrice, after all, and her night elves didn’t follow him. No, once Barrowfore was gone, Vorgon would simply assign some other dwarf to serve as his Black Sword. But the loss of Barrowfore would still be a blow.

  Break him!

  Malem shoved her thoughts away, dismissing them to the far corners of his mind.

  He explored the sinister presence he felt in Barrowfore’s mind; it gave easily beneath him, almost inviting him to shove it aside. He remembered very well what happened the last time he did that: Vorgon had wrapped his mind around Malem’s instead.

  So instead of doing that, he pulled back, and attempted to envelop his will around both the sinister presence he felt and Barrowfore’s mind. He couldn’t quite squeeze around them entirely, not enough to bring the king into the fold. But perhaps he didn’t have to…

  “Xaxia, see if you can knock the hammer out of his hands,” Malem ordered.

  Xaxia fought through the dwarves that surrounded the king, some of which were still trying to attack him, and then slammed Biter down on the haft.

  Barrowfore, in his distracted state, had left his grip on the hammer quite loose, and Xaxia’s blow managed to pry it free. The hammer dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Xaxia knelt to pick it up, but the weapon was too heavy, so she quickly retreated as nearby dwarves forced her back. Some of them tried to grab the hammer as well, but failed just as she did.

  “Ziatrice, the necklaces,” he ordered.

  Ziatrice fought her way forward to the king next. Dwarves and oraks gave readily before her, most not wanting to face that halberd of hers.

  She reached the king, and reached toward his neck…

  But since Malem’s will wasn’t wrapped entirely around Barrowfore, the king was able to break free in that moment, and he punched the night elf in the jaw.

  3

  What happened next was enough to ruin Malem’s day, to say the least.

  Ziatrice responded with an apparently instinctive swipe of her halberd. The blade struck Barrowfore in the waist, just below the rib cage, and physically cut him into two halves.

  The king gave Ziatrice a look that was part shocked and part hurtful, as the upper part of his body slid away from the lower. The two pieces landed on the ground in disturbing fashion, with blood launching in spurts from the upper half, and the bottom half slowly bleeding out in turn.

  And thus the king of the mountain dwarves lay dead before the queen of the night elves.

  Malem’s mental fist had instantly tightened when the king’s will vanished. The sinister presence had gone, too. There was simply nothing left for him to grasp. Thankfully there hadn’t been a rebound effect upon the king’s death, either: Malem hadn’t actually formed a link with Barrowfore’s mind.

  The surrounding dwarves paused, staring in horror at what had just transpired.

  “Run for your lives!” one of the dwarves shouted. “The king is down. The king is down!”

  All it took was that one dwarf to run, and then the rest of them fled en masse across the churned ground, leaving behind only the oraks and black dragons who had come to reinforce them. The Alliance soldiers beat back the former on the battlefield, while the Metals fended off the latter in the air.

  Malem and the others had a moment of respite as the immediate area cleared.

  “You weren’t supposed to kill him,” Malem scolded the night elf.

  “Whoops,” Ziatrice said. “Maybe next time he’ll learn that you never hit a lady.”

  “Except there won’t be a next time!” Malem said.

  She shrugged. “So. Moving on: I guess it was the hammer that granted him invincibility after all. Anyone want it?”

  “Why don’t you take it?” Xaxia said. “You killed him, after all.”

  “Hammer’s aren’t my style,” the night elf said.

  Gwen came forward. “I’ll take it.”

  She slid her bow, Wasp, around her shoulder, using the bowstring as a strap, and then wrapped her hands around the haft.

  She pulled.

  The hammer didn’t budge. “Can’t… do it.”

  Panting, she released the haft.

  “Let me try,” Ziatrice said. She slid the halberd over her shoulder, and grabbed the haft with one hand, all confident-like. Then she frowned. She lowered the halberd and tried with both hands. “Hm.” She retrieved Wither, and backed away. “Oh well.”

  “I can’t believe none of you care that the dwarf king is gone,” Malem said.

  “Oh, we care,” Xaxia said, approaching the hammer. “But what can we do about it? Besides, we came here to capture or kill the king. We failed at the capture part, but succeeded at the kill part, so as far as I’m concerned we completed the mission. And we all survived, to boot. That’s something to be thankful for.”

  He sighed. She was right, at that. Still, he had hoped to control the dwarven army through the king. No point moping about that now, though.

  Xaxia grabbed the hammer and tried to pull it free as well. No good.

  He looked at Gwen. “Okay, see if you can grab the necklaces at least.”

  Gwen knelt. She reached out with her bare hands—she wasn’t wearing the gloves that came with her dragon scale armor, because they interfered with the firing of her bow, and so she made a disgusted face, as if repulsed at the thought of touching the dead body.

  She finally wrapped her fingers around the different necklaces and tried to yank them off. The front portion got caught in the braided beard, so, wrinkling her nose, she shoved the beard through and tried again.

  She was able to lift the necklaces to the dead king’s chin, but they remained firmly attached at the back of his neck. She tried lifting his upper body off the ground slightly with one hand, but it didn’t help.

  She dropped him. “They don’t come off.” She wiped her hands in disgust on her armored thighs.

  “It’s too bad we can’t get that hammer,” Xaxia said.

  Abigail, we have a hammer we need you to carry.

  The silver dragon landed nearby, next to the press of soldiers, and Malem and the others stepped back as she approached.

  When she arrived, she attempted to pick up the weapon in her huge mouth by wrapping her teeth around the haft. She was able to lift that haft, yes, but the hammerhead itself remained firmly attached to the ground.

  “I can’t,” Abigail said after a moment. “It’s too heavy.”

  “It’s probably cursed,” Ziatrice said. An orak broke through the Alliance soldiers, and she was forced to swipe at it. “Only Barrowfore can wield it. Or the next Black Sword the Balor assigns. Now that we’ve completed our task, we should return to the safety of our own lines. Vorgon’s reinforcements will soon become too great to defend against.”

  More oraks began to break through as the nearby ranks of the Alliance faltered. Ziatrice was right.

  Worse, he could actually feel Vorgon out there. The Balor seemed to be reaching out with its mind, trying to influence him.

  They had tarried too long.

  “Do you feel that?” Abigail said. She raised her voice so that it woul
d carry across the field of battle. “Vorgon is close! Retreat!”

  The Alliance members turned tail and ran, as did the surviving members of Ziatrice’s forces. The enemy oraks harried them from behind, stabbing them with their pikes, impaling them with arrows, and hitting them with dark magic.

  Streams of oraks leaped over those that fell, and chased after the remaining soldiers. Malem Broke three of the weaker oraks among them and had them turn upon their comrades to sow confusion. He felt each of them take mortal hits in rapid succession, and drained them of all their remaining stamina before they died.

  Abigail and other metals made flybys, encasing the enemy ranks in fire, but were soon driven off by black dragons.

  Malem led the retreat with Ziatrice, Xaxia, and Gwen at his side.

  Why didn’t you Break him? Ziatrice asked on the run back. You didn’t want his power?

  Not at the cost of my freedom.

  He kept his eye on the ground, knowing that if he tripped on anything here, that very likely meant the end of him. The oraks were too close behind for tarrying of any kind.

  He soon came close enough to his own lines for the rest of the Alliance to help. Arrows rained down from the sky, cutting through swaths of their pursuers. Magic of different kinds tore through the ranks, pulverizing any enemies in its path. More Metals joined the fight in the sky, driving off the black dragons.

  Then he reached the front lines. The soldiers had left spaces between their ranks for their comrades to dash through, and he steered through one of them with Gwen close behind.

  Ziatrice’s oraks wouldn’t be entering here—even though they wore different sigils on their breasts to differentiate them from enemy oraks, as per General Rashan’s orders they would be heading for a special section set aside further south, where the front lines were manned exclusively by her units.

  Malem kept running, even when all the Alliance soldiers had returned behind him and the lines had closed up. He was climbing the gentle rise the troops had deployed upon, until he crested it and left the armies behind for the main camp. Tents strewed the field below, covering the land outside the eaves of the western Midweald. A few of the injured wandered between the tents, alongside the camp custodians and guards. Beyond the tents resided the camp followers, deployed in a small city of wagons just outside the forest.