The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  The hideous creature’s head rocked only slightly with each blow. The goblin turned his yellowed eyes toward Nal’drin. It snapped and snarled as it bared its wicked fangs. Nal’drin reflexively drove his fist into the goblin’s face. The crunch of bone echoed as the creature’s nose was smashed. The goblin howled through snot and blood. Then the bloodied goblin shoved Nal’drin away and lunged at Sharka. His teeth sank deep into into her shoulder.

  Sharka screamed as the goblin’s jaw locked down on her flesh. She was finally able to pull one arm free. She drove her dagger through her attacker’s eye. The goblin’s jaw fell open, and the creature’s dead weight rolled off her back and onto the floor. Tears of pain rolled down her checks as she held her left arm close to her body. Nal’drin wasted no time helping her to her feet.

  “Can you walk?” he asked quickly as he surveyed the dangers around them.

  “I’m fine, help the others,” she said as she moved away from the chaos of battle.

  Nal’drin lifted his sword from the ground and joined Dominar in battle.

  “I got your back,” he yelled as he impaled one of Dom’s attackers.

  “What took ya so long?” shouted Dom in a playful voice.

  “I just wanted... to make sure... that the odds were in... their favor, before I performed my daring... rescue,” boasted Nal’drin between attacks.

  Dominar chuckled, and then he brought his hammer down on one of his enemies, obliterating the goblin’s skull. Then he was forced to retreat as one of Krom Krom’s giant legs came crashing down where they stood. Nal’drin dove away, just barely escaping the giant’s foot. Krom Krom bellowed as he finally set his sights on a group of goblins. The stone giant swung his other leg forward and plowed through a couple of the green skinned bodies. The other goblins scrambled away in different directions.

  “I think he’s on our side,” yelled Nal’drin excitedly.

  The smile hadn’t even faded from his face when the wrecking ball that was Krom Krom’s fist swung right toward him. Nal’drin yelped as he jumped back just before being crushed. The back of the giant’s hand slammed into the library’s stone wall. Cracks traced the mortar lines and stone began to fall away.

  “Maybe not!” said Nal’drin as he dodged falling debris.

  Dominar tried to get past the giant by going around to the other side of the street. He ran as fast as that old body could, but Krom Krom saw the graybeard out of the corner of his eye.

  “Where you going?” demanded Krom Krom with a grunt.

  Dominar reached the other side of the street and was closing in on the spot where Theros fought against the third troll.

  “Theros, run!” screamed the wide-eyed dwarf.

  Theros dodged the troll’s hammer strike just in time to see Dominar barreling toward him.

  “Run, dummy!” screamed Dom as he pointed ahead.

  That is when Theros saw the giant’s boulder-sized fist flying right behind his friend. In that moment, he had an idea. The crag troll swung again. Theros dropped below the attack and slammed one of his hammers onto the troll’s foot. Theros then rolled away from the troll as it howled in pain.

  Theros got back to his feet about the time that Dominar reached him, and the two darted down the street, away from Krom Krom. Behind them, the crag troll hopped about on one leg, as it held its other foot. The giant’s flying fist finished him off. Crag troll remains were scattered across the street.

  That only whet the stone giant’s appetite for destruction. Krom Krom roared with rage when he saw Theros, Dominar, and Nal’drin running away from him. The lumbering giant began to run after them. His slow but huge steps thundered upon the street’s carved stones, and the echo reverberated through the cavern.

  “Where are the girls?” demanded Theros.

  “...the library,” said Nal’drin.

  “I’m too old for this...” groused Dominar as he gasped for air.

  “Keep running!” commanded Theros as he looked over his shoulder.

  Krom Krom was a ways behind them, but he gained ground quickly with his long strides. The earth shook with each crashing step.

  “Where are we going?” demanded Dom.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Nal’drin who led the way.

  Dom tried to make eye contact with Theros, but it was futile. So he just ran after them.

  “We... need a plan... and we don’t have one,” panted Dom.

  “No crap, why do you think we’re still running?” said Theros.

  Then the voice whispered to Theros, “Turn left in two blocks.”

  What? thought Theros in confusion. This is not the time.

  “Don’t be an idiot. I’m trying to save your life, you’re going to have to trust me,” came the King’s raspy voice.

  It is an invitation to trust. The words from the book replayed in the orc’s mind as he ran.

  “Follow me,” Theros said as he willed himself past the sprinting human and dwarf.

  Neither of them protested. Theros took the lead.

  “Take a left at the next cross street,” directed the king.

  “Left,” Theros said tersely as he steered his great mass down the side street.

  His two companions took after him. Behind the trio, the stone giant wrought destruction upon his kingdom. His wildly swinging limbs were reckless and indiscriminant in their smashing. Buildings, pillars, and braziers alike erupted in violent explosions of stone, mortar, and dust as the giant pursued the trespassers.

  “Where’re we goin’?” said Dom as he struggled to keep up.

  The voice spoke again, “You’re almost there. The next right brings you into the palace. I have a weapon here that will allow you to defeat the giant.”

  “To the palace,” shouted Theros as he looked back to make sure Dom was still with them.

  The dwarf was struggling. His short legs had grown tired and heavy, and his labored breathing was only made worse by his bruised ribs. The giant drew closer.

  We’re not going to make it, thought Theros. His mind went back to the times when he had wielded, no, when he had been wielded by the blessing. He remembered the swirling mists, he remembered his hammers striking faster than the speed of thought, he remembered protecting his friends. Theros called upon the power, he called upon the gift of Ynu as he stared back at the approaching giant.

  “What are you doing?” demanded the king’s angry voice. “Get to the palace!”

  Dom and Nal’drin ran ahead, but Theros locked his gaze on the mountain that charged him. He didn’t know if he had imagined it or not, but he thought he felt the gentle rustling of wind. His mind became clear and everything around him seemed to slow down. He felt a surge of strength enter his body. It wasn’t just strength though, it was something else. It was like a jarring charge of electricity flowing through him. It was like an amplified rush of adrenaline had prepared him for a thousand battles. He pulled the hammers from his belt and he began to spin. For a brief moment, the orc became a vortex of dwarven iron. Theros let his right hammer loose, sending it rocketing away from him.

  The iron hammer sped toward the giant with tremendous speed, and it struck it’s massive body. The hammer clanged away. Krom Krom continued to charge. Theros switched his other hammer into his right hand, then he hauled back and launched it at the giant. The hammer crashed into the giant’s face before ricocheting away. Like he had done before, Theros then willed the hammers back to him, but nothing happened. With no weapons and no power, he stood there stunned as the giant crashed toward him.

  “Run before he kills you!” screamed Duroc in Theros’ mind.

  The massive orc snapped out of his state of disbelief. He turned and ran. It was amazing how someone so large could move so quickly. He could really pick ‘em up and put ‘em down. The grayhide sprinted away with Krom Krom right on his heels. Nal’drin and Dom dashed onto the palace grounds, with Theros trailing them by thirty yards. They located the entrance to the palace itself, and made for it.

  �
�Not my palace, nooo!” roared Krom Krom. The rock giant swatted at a nearby building. His massive hand crashed through the structure, launching debris toward the trespassers. Then he did the same thing with his other hand, and then again and again. He was a living siege engine, bent on their destruction.

  The chunks of stone and wood hurtled through the air as the three fled. The makeshift munitions began to rain down around them just as they reached the palace steps. Dominar stumbled and Nal’drin rushed to help him climb the small flight of stairs. Then they were able to duck inside the safe confines of the palace’s gatehouse as boulders began to slam into the thick stone walls.

  “I’ve got you, just get into the keep,” said Duroc with a strained voice punctuated with a grunt.

  Somehow, Theros ran forward on desperate legs, ones beyond the point of exhaustion. His speed and strength were all but a memory, but his legs continued to churn. Pieces of buildings, large and small, crashed to the ground all around him, but nothing so much as touched him as he crossed the courtyard and made his way up the steps. The orc stumbled inside the gatehouse and crashed to the floor.

  The dwarf and the young king hurried to drop the portcullis. The iron door came crashing down, its long teeth lodging firmly into the iron sockets that were bored deep into the floor, and not a moment too soon. The stone giant slammed into the gatehouse. The reinforced barrier of stone and iron shuddered upon impact. The blast was deafening, but the defenses held.

  “These walls won’t withstand him much longer, you must listen to me,” pleaded Duroc. “Get inside the palace!”

  Theros crawled to his feet. His breathing was short and shallow as he struggled for more oxygen. Then he pointed across the courtyard and said, “To the palace.”

  The other two looked at him and nodded. It would be hard to argue with anything that suggested putting more distance between them and the raging rock giant.

  The giant wailed in anger as they made their way into the palace. His fists battered the palace’s outer defenses, crushing stone with each blow.

  “My kingdom! I kill you,” he promised with a scream.

  The dwarf king spoke again, “Theros, the walls will not hold him long. You must get the axe.”

  “An axe? What the hell is an axe going to do?” Theros yelled out loud.

  Dom and Nal’drin jumped and looked at their friend with concern. They began to say something, but he didn’t pay them any attention.

  “Trust me son, get the axe,” said the king confidently.

  You’re going to get me killed, thought the orc.

  “Don’t be a fool, I’m the only one that can save your hide! Get the damned axe! Down the left hall, third door on the right,” snapped the king.

  Theros’ head snapped around to the left and he spotted the corridor that the king was talking about.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said before he hurried off down the corridor.

  One, two, then three doors. Theros jiggled the handle. Of course, Arggh! The door was locked. Theros took a step back, leaned back and then kicked the door near the latch. His boot thundered against the oaken door. The hard wood broke under the force, splintering the door and rendering the latch useless. The subsequent kick sent the entire door crashing in. Theros stepped into the mostly empty room. It was nondescript in every way save for that which rested in the room’s center. A short stone altar held an axe.

  The battle axe was a stunning weapon. In the middle of the formidable weapon was the head of a dragon. It sat directly between the two massive blades that flared out and then curved back in like two great silver wings. The axe’s long haft was a rod of hardened black steel, skillfully wrapped with finely cured leather.

  “Its name is Vrasch en Drak. It was mine, the weapon of a king. It is yours now, Theros Hammerfist, take it and protect your friends,” said the king with a voice of pride and sorrow.

  Theros wanted to just stand and admire the weapon, but his friends were still in danger. He wrapped his fingers around the thick straps of black leather that made up the axe’s grip. Theros carefully lifted the axe with one hand, a feat not many men could perform. It was huge and it was hard to imagine that it could have been wielded by a dwarf at one point, as it was nearly as tall as Dominar. As he raised the weapon up, the light of the room’s crystals glinted across it, revealing intricate scrollwork that decorated much of its metal surface. The engravings were elegant, even beautiful, its tongue foreign.

  “He’s breached the fortifications. Your friends are in danger,” warned the voice.

  The thought of his friends being in danger incensed him. Rage filled the orc’s mind and he left the room in a mad dash.

  “Do not let fear stay your hand, the blade will not fail you,” Duroc assured him.

  The orc warrior found his strength surge through his body once more. Adrenaline is quite a sorcery in its own right, he thought as he burst into the main corridor where they waited.

  “You weren’t joking, you really grabbed an axe... He’s a stone giant! You know, one made out of stone!” shouted Nal’drin as he began freaking out.

  Dom tried to talk some sense into his friend, “Theros, this is madness. You can’t go out—”

  Theros shot him a smile, the smile of a madman, then he threw open the door and ran outside.

  Krom Krom lumbered across the cobbled courtyard. His eerie purple eyes locked onto the orc who stood before him in defiance. The hardened lines on the giant’s stony face formed an angry expression. Then he bellowed.

  “You trespass. My kingdom. Why?”

  “Now you want to talk?” snapped Theros with a snarl.

  “Me ask questions!” the giant yelled with what must have been a frown.

  “We are here to find the king.”

  “Krom Krom King,” assured the giant.

  “The old king, we are here to find the old king,” said Theros, correcting himself.

  “Father dead. Me king now,” said Krom Krom.

  “King Duroc is your father?” asked Theros.

  Krom Krom began to fidget as he answered, “Yes. He dead. Me king now.”

  “How did King Duroc die?” asked Theros, prodding further.

  “I kill him. Too much talk. Kill you now,” said the giant with a frightening calmness. Then he charged.

  Krom Krom’s steps were slow, but it would only take a few to reach Theros. The orc would have to move quickly—and carefully. He lunged ahead to the right—to the place where the giant would step next.

  A deep, coarse chuckle rose from Krom Krom’s throat as his left foot began to descend upon the orc. Theros slid the axe out of the way, then he dove into a forward roll. Krom Krom’s foot violently slammed down to the stone courtyard. The impact jarred Theros as he came out of the tumble. The orc initially stumbled, but he was able to quickly regain his footing. Wasting no time, Theros snatched up Vrasch en Drak and turned toward the giant’s leg.

  Krom Krom roared when he realized that the orc had not been crushed. He twisted his torso around as he tried to find his target, but it was too late. Theros grunted as he swung the battle axe toward the back of the giant’s leg. To his surprise, the steel blade of the axe tore through the back of the giant’s ankle. The leg was far too thick to shear through, but the large swath that was cut in the back of the leg was sizeable.

  Krom Krom howled, not in pain, but in rage. The giant kicked backward with his damaged foot, but he missed. The maneuver cost the giant his balance and he stumbled away to his right. Theros backpedaled. The giant toppled over and crashed to the ground.

  “The life is in his eyes,” said Duroc.

  Theros grunted in irritation, then he charged the fallen Goliath. He brought the edge of Vrasch en Drak down upon the giant’s head, slicing away a large chunk of rock. The giant roared and began to thrash around wildly. Theros tried to duck away, but the giant managed to get a piece of him with one arm. It was only a glancing blow, but it sent the orc reeling.

  “You fight good. Too bad
. You die now,” admitted Krom Krom as he rolled over onto his hands and knees.

  “Not today,” said Theros with a growl as he slammed the axe through the back of the giant’s head with a powerful downward swing. The curved steel blade of the axe ripped with unnatural ease through the giant’s hardened skull. The stone split and cracked as it surrendered to the blade. Chunks of stone scattered as Krom Krom’s head shattered. Bright purple light filled the courtyard as a large glowing stone clanged to the ground amidst Krom Krom’s crumbling skull.

  Theros’s eyes went wide in surprise as he watched the glowing gem bounce across the hardened stone cobbles of the courtyard. The gem tumbled about for a moment before it came to rest. The amethyst was large, roughly the size of a human fist. Its facets were various and unconventional, indicating that it was unlikely that it had been cut by the hands of dwarves or men. Powerful light was emanating from within the stone and it almost seemed to be pulsing. Without an angry giant sieging the city, the once faint ringing in Theros’ ears grew louder. It could not be ignored anymore. The piercing hum of the high-pitched frequency was a revelation to him, and an unpleasant one at that.

  “What curse is this?” he said aloud as he covered his ears. It did nothing. This newfound acoustic seemed to be coming from within. Instinctively he closed his eyes only to heighten the sense, amplifying his affliction. With his hands still clasped firmly over his ears, Theros opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the glowing stone. He watched as the rhythmic cadence of the ringing matched the stones pulsing light. It’s the stone, he realized.

  “Don’t worry, it will pass. All of the stones do that when they are energized. You get used to it after a while,” said Duroc calmly, showing no concern for the orc’s current condition.

  Theros’s vision blurred and a wave of nausea started to overcome him. He felt his stomach lurch as it began to rise up into his throat. He closed his eyes once more and took slow, deep breaths in an attempt to fight off the nausea. Nearly a minute went by before the sickness had passed. His stomach settled and both the sound and the illumination of the stone subsided. He could still hear the stone’s faint hum, but it had been reduced to nothing more than a nagging whisper. Then the pain set in; the pain from the torn flesh across his back, from the encounter with the trolls.