The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (15 page)

THE FALL OF GALENUS

“Why were we not called earlier?” demanded Ascilius.

“Your uncle did not want you interfering with Gavros,” replied Falco reluctantly. “I came on my own to summon you, risking the king’s wrath if he were to find out.” 

“I wish that my uncle had let reason guide him instead of mistrust,” said Ascilius grimly as he and Elerian armed themselves. “Now I must rush off into battle without even time to braid my hair and beard properly.”

“The Goblins will not care if your hair is braided or not when they try and cut your head off,” Elerian could not help commenting, but neither Ascilius nor Falco smiled.

“The situation must be very serious,” thought Elerian to himself, for the features of both Dwarves were grim to look upon.

When they were both properly dressed, Ascilius and Elerian ran to the main ramp behind Falco, fighting their way through crowds of panicked Dwarves. The ramp was also crowded, filled with Dwarves fleeing to the upper levels of the city, for word that the outer gate had failed had already spread among them. When Falco reached the second level, he ran down the center of the passageway that led to the south gate. As they followed him, Ascilius and Elerian were joined by hundreds of other Dwarves, all hastily armed and rushing to the defense of the city.

When they reached entrance to the great hall before the main gate, Elerian saw that it was already filled with armed Dwarves, all of them standing with their eyes fixed apprehensively on the inner gate. As he followed Falco and Elerian into the chamber, a tremendous boom suddenly echoed throughout the great hall, breaking like a clap of thunder on the ears of those gathered there.

“It sounds like the end of the world,” thought Elerian grimly to himself.

Over the heads of the Dwarves in front of him, he saw the doors of the inner gate shiver on their hinges. More heavy blows followed the first at regular intervals. White-faced, holding their collective breath, the Dwarves assembled in the hall kept their eyes riveted on the trembling doors before them as Falco pushed his way through their ranks with Ascilius and Elerian following close behind.

When they reached the gate, they found Gavros standing near it.

“How did they break through?” Ascilius shouted in Gavros' ear.

The Dwarf turned with a grim, troubled look on his rough-hewn face. He began to shout to make himself heard over the thunderous assault on the gate.

“The Goblins brought up a new ram that I have not seen before, Ascilius. Despite our best efforts to repel them, the Trolls wielding it overcame the lock spells on the outer gate and burst it open. They are before the inner gate now, notwithstanding the darts we have rained down on them through the grates in the ceiling of the passageway between the gates. I do not think the inner gates will hold for much longer. When they open, it will be the end of the city,” he said in a bleak voice.

Looking over Gavros’s right shoulder, Elerian saw the thick steel doors of the inner gate slowly buckle and spread apart in the center. Through the growing gap, Elerian discerned a red flare with his magical third eye each time the ram on the other side struck the doors.

“There is a powerful destruction spell at work here as well as cold steel and brute strength,” thought Elerian to himself. Before Ascilius or Gavros could object, Elerian slipped past them and ran to stand before the spreading gap between the two doors.

“Stand away from there, you fool,” he heard Gavros shout. “The doors will crush you if they spring open.” Ignoring the Dwarf commander, Elerian raised his right hand, holding the silver ring of power on his right hand against the steel of the gate.

“Now comes the moment of truth,” he thought to himself as the ram struck the gate with another hollow boom. The massive steel doors in front of Elerian trembled under the impact, but this time, they held firm, for the destruction spell that leaped from the ram flew through the opening between them and was immediately drawn into the silver band wrapped around the second finger of Elerian’s right hand. With his third eye, Elerian now saw a circle of crimson light swirling around his ring, layered with the golden energy from his own body that he had stored in it before. The ring felt warm on his finger from the powerful spell that it had taken in, but Elerian discerned no other ill effects.

“The ring accomplishes its purpose even against this great outflow of power,” thought Elerian triumphantly to himself as the ram struck the gate three more times without causing any further damage. Then, displaying the speed and agility of a cat, Elerian suddenly sprang back from the gates when a huge clawed hand suddenly thrust itself through the gap between the doors. Powerful, taloned fingers swept down, barely missing his face, and he heard the ring of steel as iron hard claws scraped harshly across the rings of his mail shirt. A moment later, a huge head suddenly thrust itself through the gap between the two doors. A steel helmet with a nose guard covered the Troll’s bald head, but most of his coarse, greenish colored face was clearly visible. He grinned ferociously at Elerian, exposing long, yellowed fangs for a moment before withdrawing his head. The thunderous assault on the doors began again, but Elerian dared not approach the gate a second time with the Troll standing guard behind the opening.

“I might have stood here all day, rendering the assault of the Trolls useless if only someone had called Ascilius and me sooner, before the gates buckled,” he thought regretfully to himself as, before his eyes, the gap in the center of the doors began to widen again. The three great shot pins that held the doors closed, each as thick as a man’s leg, slowly bent inwards. Then, with a sharp crack that echoed through the hall, they suddenly broke in half. Elerian sprang back for a second time as the doors flew apart, the spells holding them closed failing at last. The opened doors revealed an iron ram thick as a great tree and hung by massive chains from an iron frame, the end of it shaped like the head of an enormous lentulus. Red eyes glared above its wrinkled snout and widespread nostrils, and thick lines of argentum, shining with a fiery crimson light, were inlaid in the black steel of which it was forged. A dozen enormous Trolls, clad in black mail and more than twice as tall as a Dwarf, stood on either side of the ram, holding great shields of steel over the heads to deflect the darts that were raining down on them from above. Lying on the floor of the passageway, Elerian saw the lifeless bodies of at least ten more Trolls. All of them, both the living and dead, wore plain iron collars around their corded necks.

“They are no more than slaves to the Dark King, spending their lives at his will,” thought Elerian to himself when he saw the collars. “The fallen ones were not slain by darts. It was the ram which killed them, its destruction spell draining them dry of their life forces.”

Gavros rushed by Elerian then on his right side, fearlessly swinging his ax at the great tendon on the left side of the nearest Troll’s knee in an attempt to sever it and bring the creature down, but his sharp blade made only a light cut in the Troll's stony flesh. Roaring with anger, the Troll struck Gavros on the head with his clenched left fist, caving in the Dwarf’s steel helm as if it were paper and crushing his powerful body to the floor like some enormous hammer.

Despite the death of their commander, other Dwarves rushed by Elerian, voicing war cries as they bravely attacked the nearest Trolls with their hammers and axes. Despite the ferocity of their assault, Elerian saw that the Dwarves' axes were leaving only shallow wounds in the stony hides of the creatures. The hammer blows were also doing little damage although they did hurt the Trolls.

“Their courage is useless here,” thought Elerian to himself as he watched the futile attack. “These are all mature Trolls, their flesh grown almost as hard as granite over the long years. Ordinary weapons will not overcome them.”

Roaring with anger, the Trolls began to fight back against their small attackers, swinging their massive fists at the Dwarves while stamping and kicking with their great taloned feet. Elerian saw broken Dwarf bodies fall lifeless to the floor of the cavern while others flew over his head to land amongst the Dwarf troops packed into the cavern behind him. Behind Elerian, Ascilius seized a horn from a nearby Dwarf and blew mightily on it until the veins stood out like cords in his neck.

“Pull back,” he shouted in his great voice. “We cannot hold them here!” When the Dwarves around Ascilius hesitated, questioning his authority to command them, he angrily struck the floor of the cavern with Fulmen. Light rivaling a lightning strike flashed from the hammer, and a deafening crack filled the air as the stone floor of the hall fractured where the hammer’s handle had struck it. “Pull back!” Ascilius shouted again, menacing the stunned Dwarves around him with his upraised hammer.

“Pull back to the hall doors,” shouted Falco, adding his voice to that of Ascilius. “We can hold them there.”

Forcing his way into the ranks of the Dwarves before him, Falco began to force his way toward the back of the hall. A trickle of Dwarves that soon became a flood fell in behind him, leaving Ascilius and Elerian alone in front of the ruined gate. On either side of it, the doors to the guardrooms flew open as the Dwarves who had defended the passageway between the inner and outer gates poured out into the hall, abandoning their posts in response to the horn blasts that called for everyone to retreat.

Had they leapt among the retreating Dwarves, the Trolls might have wreaked enormous damage on their enemies, but drawn irresistibly to the scent of fresh blood and warm flesh that wafted up to their broad nostrils, they remained clustered in front of the inner gate. Yielding to their savage appetites, they picked up the broken bodies of the Dwarves lying at their feet, displaying a fearsome strength as they effortlessly tore away the Dwarves' mail shirts. Wrenching arms and legs from the corpses, they began devouring the still warm flesh of the slain Dwarves, tearing it away from the bones with their sharp fangs, bright blood running down their chins to puddle on the floor under their horny feet. Many of the retreating Dwarves paled at the terrible sight and averted their eyes.

Behind the feasting Trolls, Elerian saw that ram was already being drawn out of the passageway by a fresh group of newly arrived Trolls, clearing the way for an assault on the city by the entire Goblin army.

“Let us pull back also,” said Elerian urgently to Ascilius. “They will sweep us away in a moment.”

“These creatures must first pay a price for feasting on the flesh of my people,” growled Ascilius in his deep voice. Before Elerian could interfere, he ran toward the closest Troll, his shield on his left arm and Fulmen raised high in his right hand.

“Not again,” groaned Elerian to himself, cursing the blind courage of the Dwarf race as he sped after Ascilius.

Avoiding a massive, bloodstained fist aimed at his head with an agile leap to his right, Ascilius broke the nearest Troll’s left leg with a single blow from Fulmen, white light briefly illuminating his grim face as the argentum inlaid in the hammerhead shone silvery white. As the Troll collapsed onto his right knee, he threw back his head, roaring in pain and anger. Leaping lightly past Ascilius, Elerian thrust Acris deep into the stony flesh of the creature’s exposed throat, the threads of argentum inlaid in the blade gleaming brightly as they drew on his power to enable Acris to penetrate the stony flesh of the Troll. Drawing on the wealth of power now stored in his ring, Elerian was spared the usual weakness he felt when his sword drew on his strength.

“What a powerful weapon I gave up by weakening the ring,” he mused to himself as he sprang back, withdrawing his sword with the same motion. “If it could take power by force, I could clear this passageway singlehanded.” His brief thought was interrupted by Ascilius’s mighty voice.

“That one was mine,” the Dwarf complained loudly to Elerian.

Before the first drops of black blood from the wound Acris had inflicted splashed steaming onto the floor of the hall, Ascilius rushed among the other Trolls. Barely reaching the great creatures’ waists, he ran agilely between them, striking right and left with Fulmen as he rained down blow after blow on their great, horny feet. Elerian stepped away from the Troll he had killed, bemused for a moment by the sight of eleven great Trolls roaring in pain and dancing around on one foot as they cradled their injured members in their knotted hands.

“Take that!” roared Ascilius as he flattened another stony foot. He meant to bring the whole troop to their knees if he could so that he might bash their heads in, but Fulmen was sapping even his great strength, slowing him down and making him lightheaded. Sensing an opportunity, a Troll standing stopped hopping about and swung a massive fist at the back of the Dwarf’s head. Springing lightly into the fray, Elerian swung Acris down in a glittering arc, cleanly shearing off the Troll’s huge hand at the wrist before it could strike Ascilius’s head. Upon hearing the creature’s roar of pain, Ascilius whirled around, dark eyes aflame with battle lust. Avoiding the black blood that shot from the Troll’s severed wrist and the hand that continued to clench and unclench on the floor as if still controlled by its master, Ascilius struck the creature on the left kneecap, breaking his leg. When the Troll collapsed onto its right knee, Ascilius leaped up and crushed its skull with a weighty blow from Fulmen. He staggered a bit from the aftereffects of the blow when his feet touched the floor, but that did not stop him from throwing Elerian a triumphant look.

“We are even now,” he roared. “I will pass you with the next one.”

“We should pull back with the others,” Elerian advised his companion, for the remaining Trolls had retreated into the passageway behind the ruined gate. Standing shoulder to shoulder with cold stone to guard their backs and sides, all the advantage was now on their side.