“I learned from a friend a while back that things are never as black and white as we think,” Jonas said, momentarily melancholy as he thought of Taleen, wishing she could be with him, fighting side by side.
“You may be right,” was all he said as he looked up at Hagar. “Thank you, Hagar, for being here.”
Hagar smiled, revealing his fearsome teeth as he knelt on one knee. Reaching out he put a big hand upon Lathrin’s armored shoulder. Hagar’s hand was twice as big as Lathrin’s head, making the gesture look rather awkward. Lathrin tensed instinctively. A giant monster reaching toward one's head with hands capable of snapping one's neck like a twig was a bit unsettling, to say the least. “Friend,” was all he said before withdrawing his hand and standing up proudly.
Regaining his composure, Lathrin shook his head in bewilderment, and turned to give orders to his men. “Burn these beasts! And we will remain here to protect the gate in case the vile scum tries this again.”
Jonas turned to Tuvallis, Seli, and Hagar, smiling warmly. “Thank you for coming to our aid. I fear it would have ended badly without your help.”
Hagar, beginning to feel more comfortable with Jonas, tapped him on the shoulder and repeated his new favorite word, “Friend.”
Jonas stumbled backward from the power of the tap and they all laughed, releasing some of the tension that comes from battle and confronting death.
The fighting continued throughout the day. Orcs and goblins attempted to storm the city. They continued to mass around the siege towers that rolled against the outer wall. Some machines were burned before they reached the wall, while others were destroyed by the spells of Alerion, Addalis, and the wizards from Shyval. Others were destroyed by oil and fire after frantic fighting along the battlements. So far, the defenders had been able to keep the monsters from breaching or destroying the wall, and by the time the sun had set the wall was still standing and the gate remained sealed.
The wizards from Shyval had been instrumental in destroying several of the towers, and on several occasions from keeping the monsters from overwhelming them. Boranthos, the old wizard, had sent a stinking wall of fog towards the opening of a tower as the creatures emerged with killing glee in their eyes. The stench of it was so vile and permeating that it caused them to fall back, stumbling down the stairs and clogging the tower stairs long enough to give the defenders time to regroup. Talic, the younger battle wizard burned one tower with a powerful fire ball killing at least thirty orcs. In one instance a group of orcs had nearly overrun several hands of defenders along the north wall when Lizarcus jumped to the top of the battlements, at the risk of exposing herself to archers below, and shot a magical cone of ice into the throng of attacking orcs. The only way to hit the orcs was to shoot the cone above the heads of the Finarthian warriors, and the only way she could do that was from an elevated position along the battlements. Her attack just missed the defenders, the front line of the orcs froze instantly, covered with a sheet of ice that extended outward and along the stone pavers causing the beasts behind them to slip and fall. This gave the defenders time to regroup and attack, massacring the orcs before they could recover. Unfortunately the brave attack did not go unnoticed below. Before Lizarcus could jump down from the wall, the orcs on the ground had riddled her with arrows, killing her instantly, her body falling to the ground where it was hacked to pieces.
The great black Demon Dragon continued its attacks throughout the day, killing thousands of defenders. They had no real defense against the beast and the spells of the two Ekahals barely seemed to slow the thing. At one point Alerion had managed to strike the dragon in the chest with a powerful fireball, but the explosion merely rocked the thing backwards, causing no more damage than a few singed patches of skin. Since the beast came from the lower planes of fire, it remained relatively unfazed by such an attack.
They had to find a way to destroy the dragon and that topic occupied most of the discussion at the council that night. General Gandarin was stationed on the outer wall and was in charge of the city's defenses while everyone else met in the king’s council room to discuss the day's battles and what to do about the dragon.
“The thing seems to be resistant to spells, even my magic barely harms it,” Lor-telliam said.
“What are our options?” King Baylin asked everyone at the table. The wizards from Shyval were in attendance along with Alerion, Addalis, King Kromm, King Baylin, Durgen, Jonas, Allindrian, and both Ekahals.
“Magical weapons,” Lor-telliam said. “For some reason magical spells don’t seem to harm it much, but I think magical weapons may be able to cut through whatever protective barrier has thus far thwarted our magic.”
“But how do we get close enough to fight something like that with sword and spear?” Jonas asked.
“We need to knock it from de air,” Durgen interjected. Everyone turned to look at the dwarf as he continued. “If I told ya that I had a great spear, a bolt made from mithril silver that could fit into a ballista, would ya be able to imbue it with proper spells to kill the dragon?” the dwarf asked the Ekahal.
The elf thought for a moment. “Yes, I believe so, but it would take several days and that means I would be off the wall while I worked on it.” Everyone could now clearly see the Ekahal age, his once perfect skin etched in new wrinkles and his golden hair was now almost all silver.
“I think it may be worth that risk,” Kiln said slowly. “That dragon is killing thousands and it may get bolder and try to break open the outer gate. We can’t let that happen.”
“Do you have such a bolt?” Kromm asked.
“Aye...me weaponsmith’s been workin' on such a spear as soon as word about de beast arrived from da Garrison. It will be done tomorrow.”
“We need to bring the beast down on our side of the wall where we can finish it off,” Allindrian added.
“Will our weapons harm it?” Jonas asked.
“I believe some will,” Lor-telliam said. “Jonas, yours would surely, as well as any sword made by Tsillerian Cho Andoran, which includes Allindrian's as well as Tihr-Alliam.” Tsillerian Cho Andoran was the ancient weaponsmith from the elven kingdom of Mel’un-riam. She made Tihr-Alliam over a thousand years ago and she created the weapons for every Blade Singer for as long as any elf could remember, and that is a long time. No one really knew how old she was, but there was no maker of weapons that could compare, even the dwarf masters praised her skill, and a dwarf praising anyone, especially an elf, was a rare thing. “Allindrian, your bow may harm it as well,” Lor-telliam added.
“I made this axe with me own sweat and blood,” Durgen said, patting the blade that was leaning against the table. “It was imbued with spells by de greatest dwarven clerics. It will hurt dis beast,” Durgen said matter-of-factly.
“Very well,” King Baylin said. “We bring the dragon to the ground and if Durgen's spear doesn’t kill it, then we will.”
“We cannot risk the prince’s life with this dragon,” Alerion said. “He is too important.”
“I can wield Tihr-Alliam,” King Baylin said.
Everyone looked at the king, including Prince Riker who wore the blade at his hip.
“This is my city, and I should protect it,” the king continued.
“What of Hagar?” Jonas asked. “His weapon is blessed by Shyann as well.”
“Yes, and his power will be helpful for such a task,” Lor-telliam responded.
“Then it is settled. Lor-telliam, please inform us when the spear is ready. Now, get some rest while you can,” King Baylin added, standing up from the table. Everyone followed the king’s lead and prepared to do just that, for they knew that they would need all the rest they could get for the battles to come.
It was late into the night when something awoke Durgen from his sleep. His men had been given quarters in the catacombs below the king’s palace. The halls were narrow and the rooms’ small, but it was perfect for a dwarf. Most of the musty rooms were used for storage and they had to rearrange
quite a few supplies to make room for the nine hundred dwarven warriors. The king’s secret escape passage was located deep within these tunnels and Durgen had been shown its whereabouts. A long tunnel led well beyond the walls and emerged in the forest beyond the city. The opening was blocked by a solid door of iron over which a concealment spell had been placed. There was no key hole or lock on the outside; it could only be opened from the inside, and only the king, Alerion, Kiln, and the generals had that key.
A low deep booming had stirred him from his slumber. At first he thought he was hearing things but then it came again, this time a little louder. Some dust shook loose from the wood rafters above and rained down upon him. Something wasn’t right.
He was curled up on a cot in a small room. Ballick, his second in command, was sleeping on a wool blanket to his right. To his left lay Olandar Rockfist, a powerful cleric of Moredin and third in command after Ballick. Durgen woke them both and grabbed his mithril axe. The sturdy dwarf slept in his armor and boots so he needed nothing else. “Get up, I sense something is wrong.”
Without a word Ballick and Olandar grabbed their weapons, slipped on their iron shod boots, and followed Durgen out the small door. The dark haired cleric wore silver armor etched with magical symbols and wards. His long beard was braided on both sides and there were streaks of grey in his long unruly hair. An intricate symbol was tattooed on the dwarf’s left cheek and he carried a short war hammer and a small round shield called a buckler. Durgen hesitated in the hallway a moment, listening, but nothing broke the silence.
“What did ya hear?” Ballick asked.
“A low booming sound; it was not loud, I felt it more den anything.” The tunnel they were in split to the left and the right. The tunnel to the right led to the storerooms and hundreds of sleeping dwarves, eventually leading to the inner castle. The left tunnel went further down into the ground and led to more storerooms that were temporary quarters for more dwarves. The tunnel then continued on to a magically sealed door that led to a final door that was magically concealed and opened to the forests located around the city. This was the king’s secret escape route. Durgen remained in the hall, continuing to listen intently for anything out of the ordinary.
Leaning his axe against the stone wall he put both hands on the cold rock. The tunnel had been crudely carved with picks and every mark could be seen on the dull grey rock. Durgen was a Daz-rothos, which meant that he was able to speak to the stone; all master traders had that ability. As he touched the stone he began to chant. Anyone listening would have heard only gibberish, but to a dwarf who was Daz-rothos, the garbled sound that came from Durgen was a chant that connected him to the stone, conveying feelings through a sharing of energy transformed into images.
Durgen's chanting abruptly stopped as he pulled his hands away from the stone as if it were red hot. “Call the alarm, the enemy is near!” he yelled.
Ballick wore a ram's horn around his neck that was used for various signals in battle. He brought it to his lips and blew a series of notes. It was deafening in the tight confines of the passage and immediately they heard the commotion of dwarves jumping from their beds as the cry of alarm carried down the passageway.
They also heard distant howls come from somewhere deep to the left. Whatever was coming towards them had found the secret entrance and were already in the tunnels.
“Where do we make a stand?” Ballick asked.
“We have men down there,” Durgen said as he advanced to the left, toward the approaching sound. “Let us make a stand there, where our numbers are greatest.”
“Wait!” Olandar said. “Somethin's not right.” The cleric thumbed an amulet around his neck, whispering words of prayer to Moredin, god of the dwarves. The silver amulet was a circle embossed with an anvil and hammer, Moredin’s symbol of power. It began to glow, shedding a powerful light down the dark tunnel. Dwarfs can see in the dark, but they could not see the mist slowly creeping up the tunnel, a vile green cloud that was almost upon them. “Back up!” Olandar shouted. Both dwarfs quickly jumped behind the cleric. He began to chant louder, the light from the symbol flaring even brighter, this time hitting the noxious mist and repelling it backward. “It’s poisonous and thick with evil,” Olandar said, holding his ground, the magic light creating a barrier between them.
“What of my men?” Durgen yelled behind him.
“Killed in their sleep,” was all Olandar said. Durgen swore, growling furiously.
Armed dwarves from the opposite tunnel emerged from various side rooms filling the tunnel quickly. Only two dwarfs at a time could fight side by side in the tight space, but this was the kind of fighting fit for a dwarf. This was what they were good at.
“Send a messenger to de castle in case they did not hear de horn,” Durgen ordered. Ballick passed the message to a runner who pushed his way through the milling warriors.
Durgen turned to face his men. “Dwarves!” he yelled. “Something has found a way in and comes at us now! Whatever we face here must not make it past us!”
The war cries of hundreds of dwarves filled the tunnel.
A chorus of screeching sounds began to emerge from the dark hallway. Whatever was coming was getting closer. Dwarves could see in the dark and they gripped their weapons tightly as they gazed into the blackness. The mist was now retreating and in moments it had completely dissipated. The light from Olandar's amulet had also dissipated back into the silver symbol around his neck.
There were probably only two hundred dwarves filling the halls behind them, all that were left of the original thousand. Most of the men had been sleeping deeper in the tunnels where the strange mist had found them in their sleep.
The shrill howls suddenly got louder, erupting in a cacophony of screeches down the hallway. Whatever had gotten in was almost upon them. “Olandar, bring up your cleric light!” Durgen yelled over the din of eerie screams. The perceptive dwarf always trusted his instincts and something was telling him that the type of creature attacking them was not of their world, something dark and evil, which meant that the cleric's light, similar to a cavalier’s, might aid them greatly
Olandar said not a word but this time lifted his hammer while he prayed to Moredin. Within moments the hammer lit up like a white star, the bright light bathing the dark tunnel.
What they saw coming at them was unlike anything they had ever seen before, creatures resembling scurrying cockroaches, human in form, but smaller, much thinner, and with longer limbs. Their skin was an opaque white, and large bulging eyes, the color of churned cream, with no pupils, peered out from their bony heads. Bat-like ears protruded from their skulls and their mouths, filled with razor sharp teeth resembling crystals, glittered in the magical light. The long digits of their hands and feet were tipped with sharp white claws that allowed them to grip the stone of the tunnel like lizards. Some scurried along the ground while others climbed along the walls and ceiling.
When they hit the light they screeched even louder, hesitating, using their hands to cover their large translucent eyes.
“Crossbows, aim for the ones on the ceiling!” Durgen yelled. The advantage of being short was that the dwarves could actually maneuver in the tight confines of the tunnel. Several dwarves with crossbows came forward and even with the low ceiling they could still fire the weapons above the heads of their comrades. Several bolts hit their marks and the creatures fell to the ground. But they did not die. They tore the bolts from their flesh and resumed their charge, despite the light.
“They are demons!” Olandar shouted as the creatures were almost upon them.
“None get by us!” Durgen shouted, swinging his axe, taking one in the skull, and splitting its head like a melon.
One leaped from the wall towards Olandar who lifted his buckler to protect himself, while swinging his glowing hammer at the same time. The creature hit the shield and the hammer struck it in the side. There was a bright pulse of light as the cleric's enchanted weapon crushed its torso, caving in bones and fl
esh.
Olandar and Durgen fought side by side, not giving up a foot of ground. Hammer and axe worked in unison, crushing and slicing the strange creatures as they came near. As bodies began to pile up they were forced to back up to keep from stumbling over the grotesque corpses.
The creatures were not only hideous to look at, but they also exuded a putrid stench as well, filling the narrow tunnels with the smell of rotting flesh and garbage.
Several of them managed to get past the two warriors by scurrying across the ceiling, but the crossbowmen easily dispatched them and they fell into the mass of dwarves where they met a barrage of axes and hammers, most of which were not magical, but nonetheless the sheer numbers of them pounded the creatures to a bloody pulp. Not all dwarves came away unscathed however. The crossbowmen couldn’t load their weapons fast enough to keep up with the attacking demons. As more demons made it over the top of Olandar and Durgen, they began dropping onto the dwarves, oblivious of the danger, sharp claws and teeth finding their targets and killing handfuls before the demons could be dispatched by their comrades.
Olandar, seeing the creatures scuttle across the ceiling, switched tactics. “Give me a moment!” the dwarf shouted to Durgen, stepping back behind the axe wielding fighter. Durgen, understanding the move, blocked the narrow tunnel on his own, his glittering axe flashing left and right as he cut the creatures into pieces.
Durgen heard Olandar chanting behind him. Within moments the cleric yelled for Durgen to move. Durgen dodged to the side as Olandar shot his left hand forward, sending a devastating cone of fire down the narrow hallway. He could only use the spell one time a day, and he was hoping to save it, but their present need made the decision for him.
The searing flames filled the entire hall transforming the creatures into sizzling husks of burnt flesh. Thuds could be heard as the creatures fell from the ceiling to die with their brethren on the ground. The screeching sound of agonized howling reverberated down the tunnel as dozens of demons perished.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 35
