He had told her that her kind had been studied, and now, the enemy king had found a way to make himself immortal. In less than an hour King Sigrant returned to the side of her cage to thank her, showing her his restored arm, sweat upon his brow. She screamed at him in rage, pounding upon the bars of her cell but he simply smiled at her, understanding and adoration in his eyes. Already the change was beginning to take him.
The men with Sigrant rushed him off into another nearby tent. As the flaps were pulled back Sara could see hundreds of naked women within the tent. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together within the building, it was already apparent to Sara their intended purpose. King Sigrant had a feast waiting.
Rising to a sitting position, now that her body was mended, Sara looked about her cage. Sadly it was very well built with thick iron bars and a massive locking mechanism of the likes Sara had never seen before. Even without trying the bars she knew she would not escape the cage unassisted. There was simply not enough room in the cage to get decent leverage.
Though Sara could hear the sounds of battle, she was far enough from it that she could not see any portion of the fight. Occasionally, upon the breeze, she could smell death and taste the blood of those upon the battlefield, but she knew that Valdadore was being pressed back. Their champions had dwindled. Seth was gone. His troops had thinned to alarming levels. Though Sara’s heart was broken and her anger destroyed, having been used against her, she showed no sign of emotion. There was nothing left now but pain and allowing it to show would be of no use.
She was trapped without a chance of escape. The only person who could possibly rescue her was Borrik, and he had no way of knowing where she was. She knew none would come to her aid.
Sara felt she at least had to try to escape so she could tell herself that she had made an effort, even if there wasn’t anything to go back to. Crouching, she sprang upwards and invoked the blessing upon her boots.
Rocketing up to the all-too-near ceiling of her cage, Sara’s head glanced off the steel top at an unnatural angle as her neck and both shoulders were crushed by the impact. Without so much as a dent, Sara fell back to the floor in a twisted heap, waiting patiently for the ability to control and feel her body once again. Her situation was helpless, and if her inability to escape were not bad enough alone, a man appeared from between the tents and came directly to her cage. He quickly harnessed a pair of oxen he had led to it and began to lead the beasts further away from the battle.
*****
Linaya stood at the edge of the portal cut through the floor at her feet. Below her, Zorbin had just killed a man by throwing a pickaxe at him. Though she was disgusted by the murder, she silently cheered the dwarf on. If he managed to win, they would have the army they needed to march back to Valdadore and bring aid to their kingdom. Linaya watched anxiously, imagining what the future might hold in the days to come. Below her, Zorbin jogged down the ramp opposite the one he had killed the dwarf on. She watched him go, praying that Gorandor would protect him.
*****
Zorbin made the base of the ramp without opposition and, glancing around warily, he turned left, in the last direction he had seen the dwarf he sought. Walking half a mile he climbed a rise to look around and located the dwarf off in the distance. At first Zorbin did not realize how his adversary was making such good time across the landscape. After studying what it was he was looking at for several minutes, he then realized what had made him analyze the sight in the first place.
Though his opponent was some way off in the distance, he appeared much closer than he should. Zorbin became worried. He expected the man to have strength, or perhaps a magical hammer as did Drummit; hell, maybe even the ability to walk through stone. Instead his opponent shared a similar blessing to himself. The dwarf had expanded to three or four times his normal size. Zorbin picked up the pace, for even the underground colony of dwarves relied heavily upon the sun for light, and already the day was getting late. He wished Xanth was with him. The dire wolf would be a great asset in such a situation as this.
For two hours Zorbin moved to intercept his opponent and nearing to within a few hundred yards he finally came fully into sight. His opponent was intelligent. The dwarf had gone to a location that gave him a strategic advantage. Not only was the unnamed dwarf uphill from Zorbin, but also there was only one narrow path to gain access to him. All over the landscape in this area, stalagmites climbed from the ground creating sharp spikes on the ground in varying sizes.
The russet-haired, giant dwarf stood within a small clearing inside the stalagmite forest, a long poleaxe balanced over his shoulder. Zorbin eyed him carefully as he grew nearer, looking for a clear way to approach his foe but was unable to find one.
The brown-haired dwarf had a vast advantage over him. He had the upper ground, only one clear approach, and a weapon that gave him an extended reach. Zorbin had a shovel which he discarded. Useless. He also had a chain and a chisel. These he kept, tucking the chisel into his belt, and holding the long chain with both of his hands. He saw no way to draw the dwarf out to him, and as such had no choice but do exactly what his foe wanted.
Swinging the chain around his head, Zorbin charged his enemy up the only clear path available to him. He hoped, if the opposition tried to attack, his chain would tangle around the poleaxe thus allowing him to yank it out of his hands. As he neared, however, one thing he anticipated and another that he didn’t happened with unexpected result.
Twirling his chain, he ran full tilt towards his foe, who lashed out with his poleaxe as expected. Instead of tangling around its long shaft as Zorbin had hoped, his chain instead bounced off the lowered shaft to twist around a stalagmite that rose from the ground just a few feet ahead. As the chain twirled back in Zorbin’s direction, it became slack and, bouncing off the ground, the jumbled links tripped Zorbin, sending him sprawling forward totally off balance.
Seeing his opening, the other dwarf struck out again with his weapon, but Zorbin reacted with yet another unexpected response. Closing off his blessing momentarily, Zorbin shrank instantly as his enemy’s weapon sailed overhead. Still flailing as he stumbled through the tangles of his own chain, Zorbin again summoned his blessing. Now exploding in size he dove head first towards his enemy. They connected in a wholly unnatural way with Zorbin driving the top of his head into the groin of his enemy.
The brown-haired dwarf released his poleaxe as his breath exploded from his lungs with an awkward squeak. As Zorbin righted himself slightly, he drew the chisel from his belt and used its sharp edge to plunge through the Achilles tendon of his enemy. As his foe retreated a step, still unable to breathe with his stomach in knots, Zorbin yanked the chisel free and plunged it into the dwarf’s opposite knee with a twist.
With neither leg able to bear his weight, the brown-haired dwarf toppled over backwards with a twist as he fell. Not even a scream escaped him as a stalagmite thrust up between his ribs, ripping an ever-widening hole the further gravity and momentum dragged the dwarf down. For several minutes the dwarf twitched as nerves in his brain continued to fire.
Zorbin looked around and climbed back to his feet. Luck had been on his side this time. Without it, his trip over the chain would have been fatal. He located his dead enemy’s stash and collected a pair of single-edged axes, a sack filled with food and a water flask. He grinned. At least he would have a full belly when he went after the remaining two candidates for king in the morning. Darkness was falling fast, and so long as Zorbin stayed put and did not bother lighting a fire, the chances of one of his challengers sneaking up on him were less than slim.
Zorbin quickly ate a meal and drank his fill of water. Relinquishing his blessing he gathered up the chain and draped it about his small clearing, spanning the spaces between the stalagmites. It was a minimal defense, but if anyone ran into the chain he hoped it would wake him. He sat motionless the last hour before dark upon his small stalagmite-covered hill peering off into the distance. He searched for anything that appeared ou
t of place; any movement, or any flash or shine of light.
As dark fell Zorbin thought he spied movement several miles off, however at that distance, in light that had all but failed, he assured himself that it was simply a trick of the eyes. Laying back, the pack as his pillow, Zorbin settled in for the night. For more than two hours he listened to the darkness before finally drifting off to sleep.
*****
Linaya watched Zorbin’s chain mishap from above, and though the details were lost at such a distance, even Gumbi and the king thought Zorbin a goner when he tripped. Each of them was surprised when the member of the Ironfist clan sent his opponent sprawling over backwards to fall upon the stone spikes. Though she may or may not have smiled proudly, clapping her hands like a fool, Linaya reminded herself that there were yet two more dwarves to subdue. One of them would have to be killed. As darkness fell both above and below the coliseum and Linaya rose from her kneeling position, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.
Straining against the darkness she was certain she saw a form darting among the darkest shadows just a few miles away from her fellow Valdadorian. Darkness then filled the chamber below and all sight was lost.
Rising, Gumbi took Linaya’s arm and guided her from the room and through several more adjacent chambers where smokeless candles had been lit. Leading her back out of the capital building and down a side street he brought her to two stone dwarves that each held an axe over a doorway.
Opening the door, Gumbi allowed Linaya to enter and told her he would return before daylight the next day. Closing the door behind him, Gumbi left Linaya to her own musings to return to his own chambers, allowing her to explore her accommodations.
Linaya inwardly drooled at her surroundings. When Gumbi turned to leave, so slowly she was certain he did it on purpose, she began to take stock of the room already. Everything here was lavish and made by expert craftsmen. The walls were painted in murals of wilderness scenes of the like only found above the dwarven realm. The floor was covered entirely in thick lush rugs and there was a selection of places to sit with several styles of chair. Linaya tried them all, at least briefly, before settling on a favorite.
Rising from her preferred chair, she then strolled into the next room only to find a huge lavish bed covered in silky luscious pillows, and canopied in silken linen so fine it appeared to be made of heavenly gossamer. Again Linaya plunged herself into the luxurious comfort laid out before her and the bed swallowed her like a giant awaiting a meal. Lying there for several moments, indulging, she chided herself harshly for allowing herself such luxuries. The man she loved was upon a field of battle somewhere, quite possibly fighting for his very life alongside everyone else she knew, yet here she was upon a silk covered bed that was softer than a cloud.
She wondered suddenly if this is what Garret had imagined for her all along. He knew the trip was a long shot at best and would more than likely end in failure. He anticipated her staying here for the long haul, but even so she was angry that there was literally nothing she could do to help Valdadore.
From the beginning it had been an unlikely quest. When they had arrived at Boulder Gate and heard that the king was old and tired, Linaya’s hopes had fallen further. When he openly admitted he would not march out his armies without so much as being asked, her hopes had died. Then Zorbin had literally been tossed into the fire, and suddenly her optimism had been renewed. She knew the outcast dwarf had what it took, not only to win, but also to rule this nation. Unfortunately thus far most of the ceremony had been more luck than skill.
Anything could happen, but Linaya held her faith in Zorbin and the gods. As neither Garret nor Zorbin would likely get much rest this night, Linaya crawled out of the luxurious bed, deciding instead to sleep upon the floor. Sadly, she still felt guilty as even the rugs felt amazing upon her skin. Such was the case that she quickly fell asleep, a dream of home, and of Garret, quickly coming to mind.
*****
Sara, within her iron cage, trundled across the frozen lake in the opposite direction to the flow of Sigrant’s troops. Though multitudes of eyes fell upon her, she ignored them, knowing if she were to show a reaction then they would have gotten exactly what they wanted. Instead, she sat upright in the middle of her tiny cell watching the passage of bodies around her. Most of the troops were already upon the battlefield but here upon the lake teams of animals and men pulled war machines and siege equipment across the ice.
Sigrant’s rear lines had caught up with the main body of his army and Sara made calculations, counted machines and teams, and memorized the information in case somehow she was rescued. Such information could be priceless. With her pain and hatred pushed aside in order to preserve her sanity, she focused upon counting and watching to pass the time.
Hours later, Sara strained her ears as a roaring began to grow in the distance. Slowly the sound grew and eventually, leaning into the bars of her cage, Sara could see the great armored beasts slowly crawling across the ice of the lake. As they grew nearer she witnessed for herself the smoke that poured from their nostrils as fire peeked out from between their jagged teeth. Their enormous bodies were covered entirely in plates of overlapping metal, and handlers ran about the beasts in a chaotic maelstrom of bodies.
Her cart lurched to a stop, the oxen pulling it becoming nervous. The man that led them covered their eyes, blinding them from the potential danger lying ahead. With a few well-placed strikes to the animals’ heads and flanks eventually they began to move again.
Nearer and nearer still the giant metal-covered beasts came, and she continued to observe them without realizing the obvious. It was not until they were right on top of her that she understood what it really was that she was seeing.
The handlers were not handlers at all, but teams of gnomish engineers and mechanics who accompanied these great war machines they had designed for King Sigrant. Each of the metal beasts, though appearing a great lizard-like creature that breathed fire, was no more than a mechanism built of metal and powered by fire and steam.
The great lumbering machines had no real legs to speak of, but instead had great spiked steel wheels that spun below them, camouflaged by armor plates that resembled limbs. The fronts of the machines were designed to resemble the heads of the great beasts, and fire spat and spewed from their open mouths, into which the gnomes regularly fed a fuel source that appeared to be small black rocks. At regular intervals steam exploded from the nostrils of the machines. Within the lenses of the eyes, if you looked close enough, you could see yet more gnomes behind the tinted glass pulling levers and twisting knobs to propel and steer the machines across the ice.
They were by far the most complicated and wondrous machines Sara had ever seen. She knew the gnomes invented and created a vast many things, but she would have never imagined such creations as these were possible.
The line of metal beasts lumbered along and, after a while, Sara witnessed what many would probably not see in their lifetime. At a point of apparent panic, gnomes rushed to and fro screaming and hollering with bags of tools and other various implements that were beyond Sara’s understanding. One of the great beasts had come to a stop, and the gnomes had removed the armored side from it, exposing its inner workings.
Though she did not know the proper names for the vast majority of what she saw, she recognized many of the pieces, and believed she also had found a major weakness in their design.
Within the metal beast copper piping ran amuck with valves and tubes seemingly everywhere, but tracing the lines of copper with her eyes, she saw that they all ran eventually to a great copper container that sat just behind the mouth and was heated by the fire in the jaw. None of that was the weakness that she saw, though, as it was all protected by the steel-plated armor.
Instead it was the larger pieces of the machine that she thought could be used to bring the beasts to a stop. Though the copper piping was prevalent throughout, the largest two pipes ran into a box that had a large cog attached to it. Thi
s cog meshed with another which was the first of a series running to the rear of the machine and finally meshed with the rear axle. Sara realized two things about the machines. If the fire in the mouth went out, the beast would stop moving. Also, if something were wrapped about the axle, causing it to twist up into the various cogs, the machine would become entangled and unable to move.
Though her thoughts were more or less a distraction to keep her mind off the inner pain she felt, it was not until she sensed something else that her emotions broke free of the dam she had constructed before them. Just as she was passing the last of the mechanical beasts she felt the tug at her soul as yet another connection was made with her soul.
Another of her kind had been changed and reawoken. Moments later a surge of power flowed into her, slow at first and building strength with each passing moment. King Sigrant had awoken anew. He was one of her kind. Worse, he was rapidly feeding upon a great many people to increase his power. Sara felt sickened. Had it not been for her mistakes such a thing would not have happened. If it had not been for her need to be always more, she would not have spread her sickness. Had it not been for her, Valdadore might have stood a chance. Not now. Sara finally understood Sigrant’s plan.
*****
Garret towered over the soldiers surrounding him, and kicked out, sending several flying as they screamed. In one hand he held a sword, the very sword he had used to remove his own arm. Upon that shoulder, where the arm had been, naught but a crudely formed jagged scar remained. The metallic sheen of his flesh made it appear even worse than it was.
Garret surveyed the battle. His father and Jack had been lost. His remaining Knights of Valdadore had all fallen. The vast majority of the mages under his command were gone. His brother Seth was lost. Most of his brother’s giant werewolf soldiers had perished as well. Their army had been decimated. It was only a matter of time before they all fell.
The Champions Page 15