Tharadin eyed the ranks of Dwarves about him. Each stood ready to bear the storm of steel that marched steadily towards them.
Tharadin raised his voice. “Brave Dwarves, kinsmen, defenders of the Everpeak, brace yourselves. Those who would spill our blood and force us from our sacred duty stand before us. When we withstood their emissary’s words and veiled threats they sought my life, so I took his in return. Now they have brought an army here.”
Raising his voice even louder he continued: “—here to our lands, to threaten our lives, our liberty and our families. I will not allow it. I will fight to my last breath to fulfill the oath my forefathers swore in the presence of him who carved us from this very peak.
“Together we will stand. As firm as the mountains that surround us, we will stand steadfast and immovable. When the sun sets today, as it has for thousands of years, it will set on our Everpeak!” Tharadin’s emphasis on the name of their mountain home brought a rousing cheer from the assembled Dwarves. Content that he had lifted their spirits, Tharadin waited impatiently for his enemies’ advance.
*****
At Jonas’s command the Andarans advanced on the dwarven fortification. The forces of Vitaem advanced cautiously into the valley on the Andarans’ right flank. At Jonas’ suggestion the Kairon were waiting in reserve, albeit impatiently. The swift beasts would need little time to make up the distance between their position and that of the slower foot soldiers now moving steadily towards the Everpeak.
Jonas studied the structures before him—it was incredible how resourceful the doughty little warriors were. According to the maps he had studied, the Vernaldhum had been heavily fortified.
“It’s time to test their defenses, Yaneera,” he said. “If this Tharadin is as resourceful as you believe, it is certain a host of hostility lies carefully concealed in the valley before us. Karesa,” he said to the other Disciple, “let us show them the folly of their ways.”
Jonas planted his staff into the rocky soil of the Vernaldhum before raising his left hand. Shockwaves rippled through the earth, emanating outwards from the Disciple and setting the valley trembling. Jonas focused his will towards the Dwarves’ position in the valley, but the tremors shook the entire valley. Stones began cascading down the mountainside into the valley, threatening not only the Dwarves but the entire Vernaldhum.
Karesa shouted over the furor, “Jonas, you’ll bring down the entire mountain! Stop!” Sweeping her arm before her, Karesa manifested her wrath as flames rained down on the dwarven battle lines. Dwarves attempted to scurry out of the way of the arcane missiles. Those too slow were caught by the flames that rained down from the sky. While others would have screamed the Dwarves simply perished, their stubborn silence an unspoken warning of the measure of their resolve.
As the flames dissipated the Dwarves could be seen bustling about their fortifications . . . Then a deafening explosion split the valley air, accompanied by a puff of black smoke rising from the dwarven siege emplacements. There was a whine as something whistled across the valley toward the Andaran forces.
The projectile struck the earth before the Andaran lines and bounced, hurtling violently through the Andaran ranks. Men screamed as the cannonball shattered both flesh and bone with ease. Satisfied that their artillery was ranged correctly, the Dwarves sent a chorus of explosions ringing through the valley. Jonas hastily summoned a shield as a volley of the devastating projectiles struck the Andaran battle line. A number of the missiles struck the shield and were deflected, but the others around him were not so fortunate as the siege weapons reaped a deadly harvest.
Yaneera shouted over the carnage, “What are you doing, Jonas?! Shield our men!”
“I cannot!” Jonas shouted. “The power required would be too vast—I would be consumed in the attempt. This is why we brought an army, Yaneera—we must use them.”
“They will be slaughtered—those cannons will cut them down in droves!” Yaneera exclaimed as she stared despairingly at the dwarven fortifications in the distance.
“Then I’ll send in the zealots,” Jonas replied. “Their sacrifice will buy our regular soldiers the time we need to reach the Dwarves’ lines.”
“They are no less my people, Jonas,” Yaneera replied. “I do not wish to see them slaughtered.”
“This is war, Empress, and people die. If we do not do something we will be obliterated where we stand.”
“Very well, do what you will,” Yaneera responded with exasperation. She struggled within herself, shame welling up in her heart at the callous expenditure of her people’s lives. I didn’t save them from a famine for this fate.
Jonas turned away from the battlefront and made his way towards the mass of swarming zealots that had followed the army south from Andara. His preaching among the destitute peasant folk had yielded substantial results. The starving populace had eagerly embraced Mythos as their deliverer. Starvation is a powerful motivator, Jonas thought as he climbed atop a stone before them.
“People of Andara . . . By the all-powerful hand of Mythos you were delivered from starvation and certain death. Your crops were watered, your tables filled and your people given prosperity. Your very lives are a testament to the beneficence of the One True God Mythos. Now he requires you show your gratitude by helping us to crush those who would oppose his will.
“You are to lead the charge against the Everpeak,” he continued. “When we triumph, as we most assuredly will, all who survive will be raised up out of the poverty you have known all your lives and be made wealthy by the grace of Mythos. All who perish will be taken swiftly to his presence where you will enjoy eternal felicity in the presence of your God.”
The assembled masses chorused their approval as a cheer rang out from their ranks.
“Then go, sons and daughters of Mythos. Inherit the glory that awaits you.” Jonas gestured towards the Everpeak as he spoke. The throng of zealots surged through the spaces between the Andaran regiments and rolled like a tide toward the Everpeak. Armed with a haphazard array of cudgels, old swords and pitchforks they didn’t stand a chance. Jonas knew they would be slaughtered by the dwarven artillery that was no doubt already adjusting its aim to deal with the new threat posed by surging swell of fanatics. With the threat of the artillery minimized by its attention to the zealots, the body of Yaneera’s forces began to advance into the valley.
Chapter 32
Tharadin watched in shock as the mass of unarmored rabble stormed towards his position. “No mercy—fire at will!” he commanded.
The dwarven engineers continued their fusillade. The cannon fire tore through the ranks of the zealots, cutting them down like wheat before the harvester’s scythe. Still they surged forward, oblivious to the losses. Behind them the Andaran soldiers advanced steadily. As the zealots closed on the dwarven position Tharadin signaled the Master Engineer: “Fire the Flame Cannons!”
The dwarven crews readied the machines—two Dwarves worked steadily at the bellows while a third pulled a lever at the base of the machine. Thick viscous black liquid erupted from the barrel of the cannon and arced into the air after igniting as it passed through the brazier.
The flaming liquid rained down on the advancing zealots, and screams pierced the air as the fire consumed their ranks. In spite of horrendous casualties the zealots pressed on relentlessly, hurling themselves at the Dwarves.
Tharadin stood his ground with the Ironguard as the zealots funneled through the barricades and leaped at the Dwarves. Tharadin ducked swiftly under a clumsy swing of what appeared to be an old machete before his own axe cleaved through the assailant. The man collapsed but another appeared behind him and drove a pitchfork at the Dwarven King. As the pitchfork struck home on the black iron breastplate, sparks leaped from the weapon’s tines as they splayed and bent. Tharadin almost pitied the farmer as his axe separated the man’s head from his shoulders.
The peasants pressed on with no regard for their wellbeing, but the Ironguard did not yield an inch of ground. The ze
alots were little threat to the heavily-armored dwarven elite and the reassured Tharadin extricated himself from the fray, another Ironguard stepping into the breach as the King sought to survey the battlefield.
The Andaran Army was closing on the dwarven battle lines. The Shah’s forces were also closing on the Dwarves’ position. Syrion had better be good to his word or we will all perish here, Tharadin thought to himself. The left flank of the Dwarven Army was little more than a charade, as Tharadin had positioned every Dwarf he could to meet Andara’s charge.
The Imperial army surged towards the Dwarves. Noting the distance, Tharadin shouted to his warriors lining the fortifications, “Hand gunners at the ready. Fire!” Tharadin’s command was drowned out by a cacophony of noise as the Dwarves opened fire with their Blackpowder rifles.
The lead fusillade tore into the Andaran advance. What the dwarven guns lacked in accuracy they made up for with stopping power. Imperial soldiers fell as their armor proved ineffectual against the high-powered slugs.
Tharadin nodded his satisfaction as the hand gunners began to reload. He surveyed the battlefield and a thought struck him with thunderous force: the valley before him was covered in soldiers—on his left Songrilah could be seen advancing steadily. Before him, Vitaem and Andara continued to march on his position. But the right flank was almost empty—to leave such a large area of ground unutilized forced Andara to pack its forces even tighter together in the narrow confines of the valley. As a result, the dwarven artillery was reaping an incredible death toll. It made no sense to leave the ground there unfought at the expense of so many of their own soldier’s lives. What do they have in mind?
Tharadin had little time to ponder the thought as a thunderous pounding filled the valley. The earth shook as a dust cloud rose on the horizon. Cavalry, Tharadin realized. The callous use of the armed peasantry had distracted the dwarven gunners while the forces of Andara and allies closed on the Dwarven position. Now their cavalry would strike home as the Andaran regulars struck the Dwarven line in the center.
Already engaged, the Dwarves would be unable to reorganize their flank to meet the new threat. “Engineers, cease fire. Adjust your aim—those cavalry are a greater threat to us than are a few gangly humans. Bring every gun we have, aim at the cavalry and open fire as soon as they are within range.” Hefting his axe, Tharadin made for the eastern line. You will not stand alone, brothers.
*****
Syrion turned to the Shah. “It’s time. Our enemies are committed. We must strike now while we still have the element of surprise.”
“I agree,” replied the Shah. “It is unfortunate that Vitaem anchors this flank, though. Their pikes make for a formidable defense.”
“Pay them no heed, Songrilah. I will disrupt their ranks. Once your men are on top of them, their pikes will be worthless. Signal the charge.”
The Shah turned to his herald. “Have Suleimon take his regiment and wheel left to strike Vitaem in the flank. Have the rest of our forces press forward—once Suleimon has Vitaem in place we will strike the exposed Andarans in the flank and pin them between us and the Dwarves until we grind them to dust.”
The herald lifted a large war horn to his lips and blew a series of deep rolling notes that reverberated through its ornate carved structure before bellowing across the battlefield. The Kashel quickened their pace, as did the regiments on either flank. Syrion hastily lifted the Disciple’s robes over his head and discarded them. Syrion looked at Talan’s staff and considered discarding it, then stopped. I think I can put this to better use, he thought. With a mental command Syrion rose into the air.
From his new vantage point Syrion had a much clearer view of the battlefield before him. To his left Suleimon and his regiment had veered left and were charging towards the flanks of Vitaem’s forces. The main body of the Khashishian military continued barreling towards the dwarven lines.
Syrion soared toward Suleimon’s unit. Vitaem had seen the swift desert soldiers change direction and were hastily repositioning their forces to meet the assault. The flank which only moments before had been terribly exposed now presented a bristling wall of pikes against the lightly-armored Khashishian soldiers. Without assistance the scimitar-armed soldiers would be impaled long before they could get within reach of their foes.
Drawing on the power of Talan’s staff Syrion hastily conjured a fireball and hurled it into the midst of the enemy. Men scattered as the blazing missile consumed a dozen soldiers and maimed scores more. Syrion shook his head in shock at the strength that coursed through him. With the power of the staff he could unleash tremendous devastation without the fatigue he normally experienced from using his powers.
Without hesitation Syrion amplified his efforts. Hurtling towards the soldiers of Vitaem he launched a flurry of flaming missiles, sowing death and discord throughout their ranks. To their credit the unit held firm. But Suleimon and his warriors had crossed the narrow stretch of ground between the two armies and were almost upon the soldiers of Vitaem. No half measures, Syrion told himself.
Syrion drew on the staff’s reserves and unleashed what power remained in a torrent of destruction. Curtains of fire rained down on the soldiers below, and screams split the air as the suffering soldiers cried out in agony. Soldiers scattered in every direction as those not already caught by the flames sought to evade the blaze. With the enemy ranks in disarray, Suleimon would be at a distinct advantage—at close quarters his swift soldiers with their scimitars would take a bloody toll.
Satisfied, Syrion turned his eye towards the remainder of the Andaran forces. The sight that greeted him struck him to the core.
Thundering towards the dwarven lines was a stampede of creatures Syrion had never before beheld. The beasts were difficult to discern at so great a distance but their size was immense, easily dwarfing a human knight sitting in the saddle. From the size of the dust cloud they were stirring, there had to be thousands of the creatures. Syrion felt a pang of concern for Tharadin as the savage juggernaut closed rapidly on the dwarven fortifications.
*****
Yaneera shouted angrily at Jonas: “What the hell is Talan doing?”
“It’s not Talan,” Jonas replied definitively. “You’ll notice he can fly. Whoever that is, it is not Talan. Songrilah has deceived us.”
“Vitaem is being destroyed!” Yaneera exclaimed. “And while I have no love for Vitaem, if Songrilah routs them, we will be wedged between Songrilah and Tharadin. We may have numbers on our side, but stuck between their armies, our force will perish, no matter its size.”
“Songrilah is a fool to have crossed us,” Karesa spat. “You deal with whoever that is. I will crush the desert dogs.”
“With pleasure,” Jonas responded. “Yaneera, keep pressure on the Dwarves. If your army can hold them in place while we deal with Khashish, we will still carry the day.”
Yaneera nodded as Jonas hurried off toward Vitaem’s position.
Karesa turned towards the Kairon that were bearing down on the dwarven position. The Herd was vast—even with the space Yaneera had left them to maneuver in the Kairon were struggling to bring their numbers to bear.
Clearly Songrilah is unaccustomed to fighting those who can walk between worlds, Karesa thought as she opened a portal in the midst of the stampeding horde. The Kairon knew their role well—without hesitation they plunged through the portal, emerging moments later in the valley through which the forces of Khashish had entered the Vernaldhum. The Kairon bellowed as they charged towards the rear of the Shah’s forces. In a single masterful stroke Karesa had pinned the Shah and his forces in the valley.
Excellent, Karesa thought to herself. There will be no retreat for those who deny Mythos and slay his servants.
Chapter 33
Arsenath howled in excitement as each galloping stride brought him closer to his foe. Explosions echoed through the valley, accompanied by clouds of black smoke rising into the air above the dwarven position and steel missiles tearing through the Herd
, slaying dozens of his warriors with each shot. What magic is this? Arsenath wondered as he led his warriors into the storm.
Arsenath saw the portal open before the Herd, and without slowing his pace he signaled to Skaros and pointed at the shimmering gateway. Skaros bellowed to his warriors and broke away from the Herd, heading straight for the portal. Arsenath would not be deterred—he sought vengeance for the fallen of his people.
The rampaging Warchief reached the dwarven lines. The short, stout warriors were clustered densely together in the space between the barricades, seeking to block the Kairon’s advance. Arsenath bellowed as he leaped into their midst, bringing his warhammer down with glee. The stubborn Dwarf before him was surprised by the bold advance of the Warchief and sought to block the blow with his shield.
With deafening force the hammer struck and shattered the shield, broke the Dwarf’s arm, and drove onward into his chest. The poor warrior was knocked off his feet, never to rise again. The Warchief moved nimbly through the ranks of the Dwarves, careful to avoid the shorter warriors’ sharp axes as they sought viciously to hamstring him.
Stepping over a low, sweeping strike the Warchief raised his hammer and brought it down shaft first into the gap between a Dwarf’s splint mail and his neck. The sharp spike of the shaft found its mark and blood fountained from the Dwarf as he collapsed, clutching his wound.
The main body of the Kairon Warhost slammed into the dwarven lines, anxious to keep pace with the rampaging Warchief at their head. Their lust for battle drove them deeper and deeper into the dwarven lines.
*****
Songrilah shouted over the din of the raging battle: “Kashel, form a phalanx!” Songrilah had heard tales of the savage Kairon but he had never seen one in the flesh. As thousands of the beasts streamed out of the shimmering portal behind his army, his blood ran cold. The Shah’s forces were committed already: Suleimon was engaged with the forces of Vitaem, and if the Kairon hit them in the rear they would be caught and destroyed.
When The Gods War: Book 2 - Chronicles of Meldinar Page 22