by P D Dennison
“The king has two armies. We’ll take the eastern pass and hold it and the borders to the South. His other will go west and overrun it completely as far as the sea. You cannot stop us! Ughn….. ughn….. You cannot stop a plan a thousand seasons in the making! The goddess of death herself guides my master’s hand! You cannot stop the power of Skulga! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa! ughrnn.....” And with that, his mind left him and he slumped down into a lump on the ground, twitching some and bleeding from the nose and ears as his brain turned to pudding from the potent magick.
Kaldrinn finished him off with a quick blow to the back of the head. He couldn’t stand to see any creature suffer so, even something as wretched and wicked as a goblin.
“What’ll we do, Master Rostioff?” Postgaar looked up at him completely and utterly filled with angst.
Hengaar’s face showed him to be equally troubled as he thumbed the top of his axe nervously at the prospect of his beloved dwarven kingdom being overrun by goblins and ghouls. He was only a child in the First Age, but remembered well the stories of their enslavement and the evil wizard Graxxen who he knew to be rotten through and through.
“It would appear we’ve some dark days ahead of us. I won’t blame you if you decide to turn for home to warn your loved ones and to be with your people when the wicked old lich brings war to your homeland,” said Rostioff.
Postgaar spoke up immediately, not even giving Hengaar the chance to think on things.
“I’ll stay at yer' side. Hengaar here’ll make haste back to our people to warn and prepare them for war. He was once a sergeant in the King’s Command. If he moves quickly enough, he’ll make it back in time to send reinforcements to the horde lands and they should be able to help them fend off the Dark Fang goblins, at least for the time being.”
He nodded at both Rostioff and Hengaar, seeking reassurance at his words. Hengaar furrowed his brow and thought on the situation a moment before speaking.
“I’ll go back. Yer right, we must warn the people of Aragon. I don’t feel right leaving ye here alone, but I think yer’ in good hands with these lads and I know yer’ a fine warrior, Postgaar. I’ll leave at dawn.”
“I think for now we all need some shut eye,” said Kaldrinn. “This is a lot to take in and we have a great many tasks ahead of us to consider on the morrow.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“While we now have the gist of Graxxen’s plans, nothing has changed. We still need to gather those eggs from the clutch at Dragon’s Maw Keep and get them back to the Tower of High Sorcery as quickly as possible. We have to find my apprentice! I foolishly sent her out here, most likely to her doom, and we have to get back to the South where we can warn our people of the coming war. We knew an evil was awakening to make an attempt at a rise to power, but we had no idea the magnitude. So while we may have been somewhat unprepared for the scope of what was to come, we are still on the right track from our initial assessment of Graxxen’s plans. The eggs are our focus right now. We’ll head out for Dragon’s Maw come sunrise and hope we can make it through the massive goblin armies that now stand between us and the eggs. Get some sleep. We’re going to be busy on the morrow.”
Dawn came quickly for Rostioff and company. He awoke to find Hengaar and Postgaar divvying up the contents of their packs and preparing to part company.
The sky grew overcast and grey and the air smelled of rain. A warm summer breeze blew and with it came the scent of blooming holly in the forest.
Rostioff and company ate a light breakfast of dried fruit and couple of big swigs of water. Looking about, he realized that Kaldrinn had gone off someplace.
“Where’s Kaldrinn?” he asked the dwarves.
“He’s gone to scout out the trail ahead,” Postgaar informed him and quickly went back to the matter at hand with his brother.
Rostioff readied his gear and rolled up his bedroll. By then he felt about ready to head out and began to grow a might impatient at Kaldrinn when he finally returned. He rose to address them.
“Everyone! I beg your attention!” Rostioff said.
Postgaar and Hengaar were busily refitting their gear onto their mules. Tightening straps down, making sure pots and pans were covered from the elements. They’d divvied up their supplies to ensure both had what they needed for their respective journeys that lay ahead. They were basically ready to move out themselves.
“Hengaar, I want to thank you for your service thus far and for taking on the great responsibility of travelling back to Stonehammer by yourself to warn your people. It is of great importance that you reach them in time to prepare their defenses and to send help to the horde in the Great Northern Plains so please, don’t tarry. Postgaar, I would thank you for your service as well and want you to understand I have a great deal of respect for your choice to stay with our little company in search of the eggs. A lesser man might’ve turned tail for home after the story that wretched little thief conveyed to us last night, and I respect you for your decision. You’re both fine upstanding examples of dwarves. I’m proud to have met you and shared your company. Hengaar, I bid you a fond farewell. May the road rise up to meet you and the wind be always at your back as you make your way home.”
Rostioff had become well versed in etiquette and he figured there to be no time like the present to begin making allies with the other races within the Land of Shaarn. It seemed to be his duty to bring them all together to defeat Graxxen.
“Good day ta’ye’, brother. I won’t say goodbye for we’ll see one another again soon enough. Be safe, be wary, and be ever vigilant!” Postgaar hugged his brother close before sending him off.
Hengaar, who was a man of few words and even fewer in an emotional situation such as it was, said nothing but simply nodded in recognition. He smiled at the others, turned, and walked off headed west, back to the Kingdom of Aragon.
The three left in Rostioff’s company made for the forest at once. They had no time to lose after hearing the broad scope of Graxxen’s terrible scheme from their little goblin prisoner the night before.
Kaldrinn led them at a slow jog while the others fumbled and stumbled. They grumbled and swore their way through the forest which neither of them particularly enjoyed. Rostioff because he was a wizard and not a trained Ranger. Postgaar because he was short and stocky and as a result not exactly the most agile little fellow in the undergrowth. The forest thickened as they went and the sounds of the goblin camp ahead made them uneasy. They had to leave their horses and pony. Kaldrinn gave them all a good slap on the ass and sent them running back in the direction from which they’d came so the horses would at least be headed away from the goblins who would, in all likelihood, eat them. There was plenty of good grazing and streams for the horses to sustain themselves on their way back home.
Noon approached and they were hot and tired from fighting the bush all day. The sky above the canopy filled with clouds and the air grew hot and muggy again. The threat of rain hung in the air the entire morning, but it never happened making it all the worse as the clouds made travel through the forest and the brush that much darker and more dangerous. A hush fell over the company. They were worried they might draw attention to themselves if they made too much raucous ploughing through the brush. Kaldrinn had been gone for a good long while now, at least twenty minutes. Rostioff began to worry when they heard him give a signal from somewhere just above and stopped to have a look about to see where the Ranger had gone. He stood on top of a cliff face that rose steadily alongside them as they walked for the last hour or so. He must’ve been twenty feet above lying down with his head and shoulders hanging over the ledge to make eye contact with the other two. He pointed furiously ahead of them. Rostioff turned to look at the danger he tried to warn them of too late. A patrol of goblins had already spotted them. This time there were five of them.
They ran at the two surprised companions. Rostioff called forth the magick of the meteors once again with a crackle and a flare in his hand and Postgaar readied his
axe, steadying himself just in front of Rostioff so as to take the brunt of the onslaught as the goblins attacked. Kaldrinn stood and readied an arrow. He loosed it while the goblins were still fifteen yards out, taking one mid flight as it jumped over a tree stump. Another immediately behind tumbled over his wounded accomplice. Kaldrinn felled him next with ease. The other three ran on, jumping over their fallen comrades.
At ten yards, the one that appeared to be the commander of the patrol let fly with his spear, launching himself off a dead tree that lay in his path to gain even more momentum with the throw. It caught Rostioff in the right shoulder unexpectedly and he dropped his meteorite on the ground next to his and Postgaar’s feet. It went off on impact, sending hot little bits of rock searing into their boots and flesh. Rostioff went down clutching his shoulder while at the same time complaining about his ankle, He pulled the spear free and rolled on the ground trying to get at the red-hot rock that was still boring into his tender skin right through his boot. Postgaar, a seasoned dwarven warrior, rolled away and shrugged off the burns to his feet. It had been so hot and dry the last couple of days that the dead ground cover caught fire with ease.
Kaldrinn loosed another arrow as the goblins locked blades with Postgaar, who swung hard to sink his mighty axe into one of their shoulders with his first swing. It took the arm right off and the goblin went down shrieking as its black blood spurted all about the scene in an awful manner. Kaldrinn loosed another arrow into the fellow headed for Rostioff with his short sword drawn now fully above his head, ready to bring down a killing blow on the prone wizard. Rostioff rolled over just in time to see the goblin leap into the air with his short sword raised high when Kaldrinn’s arrow found its mark in the goblin’s back. All Rostioff saw was the tip of the arrow come through the front of the goblin’s chest with a hot black spray of goblin blood as it pierced his heart. It landed on top of him bleeding and twitching, stinking something awful as it died. He pushed the foul monster off in disgust.
Postgaar was locked in a melee with the remaining goblin that now looked quite afraid, sweating profusely and fighting for his life to no avail. Postgaar matched his every strike with a well-placed parry. Metal clashed against metal mechanically while he patiently waited for his opportunity. It came soon enough. He gave his axe a half spin and locked the blade of the goblin’s sword between the eye and the toes of his axe. It locked up tight. Postgaar didn’t even breathe heavily from the fight. He looked as calm as a cow.
“I’m gonna loose yer’ sword, lad. Then yer’ gonna drop it and if ye’ don’t, I’ll cut ye’ from chin to eyebrow with one stroke and that’ll be the end of ye’. Do ye’ understand me?”
The goblin panting frantically and sweating profusely in absolute terror nodded.
Postgaar loosed the sword with a deft flick of the wrist and the foolish goblin swung quick and hard, nearly missing Postgaar’s eye. Postgaar delivered on his promise without even flinching. His axe rose up and the backside of the double edge caught the goblin under the chin, cleaving clean through his jaw, into his nose, and right up to his eyebrows before it came back out, leaving a horrific bloodied chasm in the goblin’s face. His eyes had a look of utter disbelief as he staggered back cross eyed, trying to look at the wound in its face. The creature’s eyes rolled back and it fell sideways into the dirt, dropping its sword as black blood poured out onto the ground.
Rostioff, fussed over his foot and casted a minor healing spell on himself to stop the pain. He completely missed the exchange between the dwarf and goblins.
“You two alright down there? Rostioff, can you walk?” asked Kaldrinn.
Postgaar turned to look at the wizard and would have laughed if not for the blaze creeping up behind Rostioff right where he sat.
“Ye’d best get off your arse before it gets roasted!”
The fire the Meteor spell had started blazed away. It grew as it fed on the bounty of dry leaves and deadwood strewn about the forest floor. Rostioff finished with his foot and wheeled over to have a look. As he did, Postgaar realized the wizard’s cloak already smouldering and ran over to pat out the embers. Rostioff scrambled to his feet and stuffed his foot back into his boot as quickly as he could. He used the power of the Dragon Orb to heal the dwarf’s burnt foot. He held it aloft and whispered the incantation to himself as blue light emanated from the orb and electric magic brought the artifact to life before Postgaar’s eyes. An arc of arcane power shot out of the orb and Postgaar’s leg went rigid. He fell back onto his haunches staring at his foot as the magick went to work stitching the wounded flesh back together. Rostioff healed his own shoulder next in the same way wincing at the pain as he held the orb up to himself.
Postgaar unravelled a length of rope and tossed it up. Kaldrinn secured it quickly to a nearby tree and gave the signal. He began to climb the rope quite deftly for a dwarf, given their stocky and un-dextrous nature, but still not quick enough for Rostioff, who scampered up behind him as fast as he could. The climb seemed to take forever and Rostioff was nerve wracked by the assent as the flames below licked up at his cape. It slowly burned up toward his back with nothing he could do until he reached the top. Soon they made the crest of the cliff face and Rostioff rolled about on the ground to put out the flaming cape.
“We must move with great haste. The smoke of the fire will surely draw the attention of another patrol and we don’t want to be about when they come looking for the cause of the blaze.” Kaldrinn motioned for the two to follow him into the tree line to conceal them from the view of anyone or anything at the base of the cliff below.
They moved as quickly as they could, given the diminutive stature of Mr. Postgaar Fireaxe for whom the pace was quite unbearable. He had no qualms about letting the other two in his company know about it. Kaldrinn walked much too far ahead to hear, but Postgaar walked, almost jogged not but a few steps in back of Rostioff. All the while grumbling and complaining enough to drive the mage to his wits end. After a good four-hour’s travel to the east, they came upon Kaldrinn standing on the edge of the cliff face, squatting and holding his hand up signalling for them to stop and wait for his report. Postgaar nearly knocked over Rostioff as he didn’t notice anyone had stopped walking and stumbled right into him with his head down, watching the ground below to keep from tripping while moving at such a pace.
Kaldrinn looked down over the edge of the cliff and weighed their options. He’d spotted a patrol of goblins, fifteen by his count, heading out of the pass below to the northwest back toward the Dark Fang fort. The cliff swung south and went on along the top of the pass as far to the east as could be seen before being swallowed whole by some of the most massive Rowenwood trees he’d ever seen. The way looked rough and thick with bramble, forest, dead wood, and treacherous rocks so the going would be slow, but likely much safer and less possibility of a goblin attack than if they chanced the road below. Kaldrinn instructed them to wait where they were, telling them he’d scout ahead along the top of the cliff to find a pass for them to take. They both nodded and agreed. They took a much-needed break and tried having a bit of lunch before he returned.
Kaldrinn headed south at a scamper, hopping over fallen tree trunks and through thick bramble with the well-practised ease of a Tower Ranger, when he came upon a rope securely fastened to a tree trunk and neatly tucked in between rocky crevices down along the cliff face to the ground below. He surveyed the area and surmised three people and a small goat had made their way down the cliff face at this point. He thought it must’ve been Manya, Turynn, and their Barbarian companion Rostioff had mentioned. He assessed whether or not it would be safe to use the same route and decided it might be at night when the patrols were smaller and the darkness would help cover their trail. He pressed a little further on to see what lay ahead and found the top of the cliff face simply too rough for the likes of a fragile wizard and the short legs of a dwarf, no matter how stout of heart he might be. He turned back at once to regain his company.
Rostioff and Postgaar were
eating venison jerky and drinking ale from their skins when he returned. He sat with them for a few moments and hungrily wolfed down some of the venison, then washed it down with a couple of big swigs out of Postgaar’s ale, much to the chagrin of the dwarf who was reluctant to even let go of it.
After he’d taken his fill of lunch, he explained what he’d found. All agreed nightfall would be best to make the descent down the cliff face. They decided to rise just before dawn since goblins were notorious for shirking their duties and the three agreed it was likely they would not encounter any patrols at all if they waited until then. They moved back into the thick of the woods a ways to ensure they were not seen from below and lit a small fire to cook their supper by, feeling safe to do so at the distance they now were from the goblin encampment.
They prepared their gear and weapons for the road ahead and turned in quite early before the sun had fully gone down. Postgaar woke first and gently shook the others awake. The sky remained dark and cloudy. He could barely even find them in the blackness of the thick forest. A fog hung in the air at ground level and enveloped them, making things cool and damp. Coupled with the eerie calm and darkness of predawn the old forest seemed quite a frightening place even for a battle hardened Ranger, a stout hearted dwarf, and a wizened wizard. They all sleepily gathered up their gear by the light of the last few embers that smouldered in the quickly failing fire.
Kaldrinn suggested they each take hold of a length of rope he had and twist it about their wrists so they would not get separated in the dark foggy woods or accidentally tumble off the cliff they were seeking as he happened to be the only one who knew where the rope to climb down had actually been hidden. Slowly they began making their way cautiously over rock and stump, bush, and bramble. Rostioff lit up the blade of his sword for them with magick, but it was of little use in the thick fog. It served only to keep them from tripping as much as they might have in the complete darkness without it. Not a sound could be heard, save their crunching through the deadwood and leaves and the occasional curse by a very vocal dwarf, who was only as agile as a four foot tall fellow could be in heavy armour with great deal of gear strapped to his back.