The Obsidian Axe: Prelude to the Prophecy

by Patrick Sattler

  As their mounts neared the drawbridge, the order went out to open it up and allow them passage. Twenty dwarfs went to work on getting it open as fast as possible as the group raced up the causeway. Without interruption, they went right back to work lifting the drawbridge up as soon as the horses ran across it, to prevent any breach. The group was met by the marshal himself, and his entourage, as they dismounted their horses and kneeled to pay their respects.

  Gulan'Mór motioned for them to stand, and then stepped forward to approach Draegos. "Is it true? You have the Obsidian Ax?" he asked, hope in his eyes.

  Draegos untied the ax and raised it for the marshal to witness, the blade glowing softly with a white light, and the commander sat in awe and whispered, "So it's true. You are the Wanderer, the mystic who would reunite the stones, our savior in the time of need."

  Every dwarf kneeled before Draegos. The three companions looked around as all the dwarfs bowed their heads, and Draegos put the ax away. The marshal motioned for the three advetnurers to follow him, leading them into the main building with maps strewn about the tables. He called for the porters to bring in four chairs, invited the adventurers to have a seat, and called for something to drink for everyone. As they settled in, he looked at the assembled group and spoke, "So tell us what is about to happen, Draegos."

  Draegos recounted the tale thus far.

  Outside the air grew colder, the winds settled, and the dark clouds moved closer with every step the army of darkness took. The dwarfs stood guard as they watched the horizon. Each of them knew an impending battle was coming, one that they might not survive, but each was an army themselves, for they had trained at the famed citadel of Dor'Brachta, the Citadel of Arms, and each was a member of the Brotherhood of the Shield. Today they would become legends, tales spoken by Minstrels at taverns, an honor reserved for only the mightiest of warriors. But they weren't just warriors they were Marauders, the best kind of soldier.

  Each trained in the art of war, specializing in defense, and each had been active participants when the first Draegos united the dwarfs of the Southern Realm. Their acute vision helped them to be skillful crossbowmen, their stout bodies contributed to being perfect shield bearers, and their agile frames allowed them to master the ax and spear. They trained in the art of war, who stood by the code of defense and peace, but who was a force to be reckoned with when provoked. Stories speculate that a small group of dwarven Marauders could take on even the mightiest of armies and survive.

  Each one stood ready to prove to the world what and who they were.

  "So that is where we stand, then?" Asked the marshal, wiping his mouth of mead.

  "Aye, it is," Draegos replied. He had to feign confidence because of what he was seeing and forced himself to look at the marshal as if nothing was happening. But his mind could not help but keep pointing out that every single dwarf here had the same mark as Glorýa. It was unsettling to stare at people who would soon be all dead.

  "Then let us be ready to tackle this darkness together," the marshal said as he walked over to a safe, opened it, and removed something wrapped in cloth. Draegos felt the ax come alive, the humming rose to an audible level, and the glow filled the room.

  Draegos unwrapped the last stone, the Bloodstone of Life, and placed it over the hole. The usual hissing and then popping sound could be heard, and then darkness erupted in the room. The marshal and companions were startled by the sudden event, and all stood to see, or hear, what was happening. Then they all noticed the beating, red light emanating from the stone in the ax as it was once again whole.

  Draegos's body rose into the air, and each stone lit up, with the ax itself being the last to glow into life. The energy in the ax ran through the body of the dwarf and forced his form to stand with his arms outstretched, his legs spread wide. He shook in the air as the relic attuned to him, and all at once there was a blinding flash. The dwarfs outside saw the flash and raised their voices in celebration.

  Slowly Draegos landed back on his feet, on solid ground, and the light in the room returned to normal. But Draegos had once again changed. His sapphire blue eye now had flecks of red within the iris, his hair had auburn highlights within the deep brown, and his skin was glowing slightly. He could feel his body healing, knew he would not perish from poisons, and felt confident that he would never have to fear the elements again—at least not fire or snow. He stood a moment to collect his thoughts and steady the surge of power within.

  "You okay, Draegos?" Greffel asked finally. He had his right hand on the table in front of him and his left on the back of the chair he was sitting in.

  "Oh yes . . . just trying to steady this," he replied closing his eyes.

  A sentry came into the room and whispered something into the marshal's ear, and then promptly left to go back to his post. The commander waited for the right moment, and then informed the companions of a massive army headed down the canyon.

  "Go, I'll be out in just a few minutes," Draegos told his companions.

  They all headed out as Draegos composed himself for the event that was about to unfold. As he stood there breathing, he heard the marshal giving his rally speech, and he listened intensely.

  "Brothers!" the commander began, "We are here today defending our home! Our way of life! Our Citadel! It is our job to protect it, to hold back the darkness or go down trying! We will not let the darkness take our Citadel of Blood, Dor'Úátá! You are the last of the Shield, so let's show these bastards how to defend a castle properly!" As he raised his ax, the keep came alive with hoots and hollers as the soldiers went about preparing for the attack. Finally, Draegos was ready to enter the scene.

  As he stepped out onto the main grounds, the dwarfs all looked to their savior and cheered, as they had a hero on their side. A surge of pride and duty ran through the ranks, as each one doubled their efforts. Soon they were done and awaited the arrival of their greatest adversary.

  "You really should ditch the hat, Draegos," Greffel chided. "Doesn't really fit a dwarf."

  "I am not your typical dwarf, Greffel," Draegos replied and winked. "Besides, how many dwarfs do you know who have only seven fingers?"

  Greffel blushed and then laughed, following up with, "That's true! None. None at all." Then he stood there with a toothy grin.

  Their attention focused on the scene unfolding on the battlegrounds below. Deep in the canyon, the beast-men had let loose several giant rats, and they were all running towards the keep. The marshal ordered the front formation of a two-shield-high barrier, and the Brothers got moving. They exited the keep and formed a line that curved around to a point and secured it.

  "Umm . . . .sir?" Draegos asked the marshal. They had left their rear exposed, and Draegos was not aware of a strategy for such a tactic.

  The rats bore down on the front line and turned to flank to the rear, as Draegos knew they would, and he heard the commander call out "Vallishbon!" and the whole causeway disappeared into a dark chasm below. The dwarfs remained, unflinching, in a tight, secure wall, and a solid road led back to the drawbridge, but the rats were all gone.

  "Now that was cool!" Greffel exclaimed, and he turned to face the marshal. "We gnomes don't have anything that cool."

  "Are you going to recall the dwarfs, sir?" Draegos inquired.

  The somber look in the marshal’s eyes said it all, but he spoke it to have no misunderstanding:

  "Draegos, I leave in your care the Bloodstone of Life. This citadel was built to be our home, not a fortress. It would serve no one to die behind the walls. Instead, we will fight with honor, but should we lose, you must get out of here. Behind the throne in the main hall where we just were is a secret door that leads to a passage that runs out the back side of a hill. Take it and do not let the ax fall into their hands.

  “I stand before you a changed dwarf, thanks to you. I shall pay for my transgressions with my life, and I shall do so willingly for the side of the light. I only beg your forgiveness kind dwarf, for betraying our people and dem
anding a stone."

  The marshal knelt, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  "If it is absolution that you seek, I cannot grant that, for only the Divine Mother can do so. But I can forgive you, and I do so. Go with honor; go with pride, for you have redeemed yourself," Draegos spoke, placing a hand on the marshal's shoulder. The commander rose, put his helmet on, and went to join the ranks of his fellow brothers. They cheered as he stood by them the front line, and Draegos went below to help back them up.

  Glorýa stayed on the upper platform to have a better view from which to throw her spells. Greffel found himself a spot on the side of the keep battlements and laid out all of his bolts, his two daggers, and his pack. The first wave of beast-men flowed out of the canyon like a river, spilling into the shields but with no success. The dwarfs held the line.

  The commander gave out a shout, and the formation shifted, allowing for soldiers with spears to jab out into the beast-men. The next command he gave shifted them back but with a slight hole between shields, and the crossbowmen fired. Then the guards went back to their hold formation. Every now and then a bolt of magic would shoot down and strike a beast-men attempting to jump over the barrier. Greffel began shooting towards the back of the line in hopes of creating a fire line.

  Again they repeated the same four maneuvers and more beast-men were slain. It was a long process, but one in which they seemed to be very well trained. No matter how hard the beasts beat at their shields, not a dwarf wavered or resigned, but then a pause came.

  "They're fleeing! The beastmen are running!" the gnome yelled from his perch. The dwarfs cheered but never let their guard up, instead, they hunkered down harder. Draegos stood at the back and used the winds to raise him up just barely above the front line so he could see what was coming next. Indeed, it appeared to be true, the beast-men were running away, but a lone figure was walking towards them.

  "They sent a lone person forward. I'll go out and see what he wants," Draegos told the marshal. A hole was made so he could exit the barrier and meet the stranger in the middle of the bloody battlefield. As Draegos walked forward, the lone figure aimed his crossbow and fired a flaming bolt straight at the dwarf.

  He drew his ax and focused on the flames of the small missile, feeding them energy, until it exploded before reaching its target. Again the stranger fired another bolt, this one of ice, and Draegos countered with a burst of fire of his own. The stranger growled a disapproving curse and drew a long curved sword—a scimitar—and charged Draegos. That was when he remembered what one of the Masters had told him as a young dwarf learning to fight: "It’s like dancing, lad. You move with your partner, and find their tempo."

  He reached down and touched the ground with his right hand, his left extended up and behind him with his ax, and waited for the right moment. He felt the third spirit step into his form and released control to it; his senses flared to life as his eye dilated, focusing on his adversary. They locked eyes and as the corrupted one ran closer, the moment grew in intensity. Draegos felt a static charge begin to form. The real magic came when the spirit began to fight.

  As the combatant approached, Draegos lifted his left foot up slightly, preparing to make his move, and as he did so, his adversary lunged forward. He watched as his body spun along the lunging blade, landing a blow to his opponent’s face, and his ax rose to deflect the next shot, which came in wide and high.

  The spirit moved his body into a roll and then sprung up to slash down with his ax. A cut formed along his opponent’s shoulder as he shrank back into a defensive position from the dwarf. The adversary could see the red flecks in Draegos’ eyes glowing and decided to use different tactics. All at once he came at Draegos with two blades whirling around.

  Draegos looked for it as his adversary stepped forward—the middle exposure—and timed it just right. As his opponent stepped forward again, Draegos dropped onto his back and foot swept him. Then he rolled over and smacked the back of the ax into his opponent's skull. After which he rolled back up to his feet, his ax drawn up crosswise to protect him, and he squared off with the combatant once more.

  His opponent stood and rolled his head side to side, shrugged his shoulders, and shook off the blow while wiping the blood away with his hand. His eyes held utter hatred for the dwarf, and such contempt that the dwarf could see it. The waves of dark red energy flowed around him. Draegos pressed on.

  He charged the foul creature with a rush of side-to-side ax swipes and a final lunging move where he brought up his knee, and the adversary deflected all the blows. Deftly, he began his assault on the dwarf, and as he did so, he raised his right hand and gave a signal. From the canyon erupted a wave of beast-men, flowing in fast and furious, causing the dwarfs to engage in hand-to-hand combat fully. The scene soon became a bloodbath.

  As the creature gave the signal, Draegos stepped into his charge and caught him off guard, carving out a good chunk of his side. It was a deadly blow, and Draegos’ adversary knew it. As the area filled up with beast men and dwarfs, the corrupted one used the motion to distract the focused dwarf, tossing one of the beast-men in front of him. The dwarf tore through the creature without any effort, slamming the ax straight through its skull, and then kicking it back at his adversary.

  The red flecks flared a brightly, and a rage ran through the dwarf’s veins causing his body swell, heave, and groan as he slammed the ax into beast-men of all types. All he wanted to do was end his adversary’s life, to take it in battle, and to show these foul beasts why they never would rule the light. He began to glow as he let go, and with every strike, hack, or cut, he grew brighter. The other dwarfs rallied around him and formed a circle.

  The adversary sought to escape during the rage, but as he tried to step away, Draegos charged him. As his opponent went to raise his swords, Draegos threw the ax and willed it to "jump" past the swords—and it did. Surprise filled his adversary’s eyes, as the ax "blinked," totally catching him off guard. There was no defense.

  As the body fell backward, Draegos called the ax back, and it once again was in his hand. He went about hacking the heads and arms of the beast-men around him. As he did so, the group of dwarfs began to move back towards the Bridge of Spirit to form a bottleneck. They would defend their position while regrouping from that point. All the while Greffel fired carefully aimed flaming bolts to separate and confuse the beast-men, creating pockets of chaos. Glorýa focused her magic on helping the dwarfs, throwing spells of ice and fire in the form of balls at various points to help ease pressure points.

  It was far easier to manage as they created the bottleneck, using the shields to push the attackers off into the chasm and prevent any harm to themselves, but it was only a short-term solution, and they would soon tire. Now and then they would open up and lunge with spears, causing many of the beast-men to die as the best-men behind them rushed toward the front line. Glorýa threw a massive boulder of fire and rock down into a group of beast-men, exploding and killing hundreds of the foul creatures. Greffel was out of bolts, so he tied his crossbow to his belt, drew his daggers and headed down to the front lines to fight by Draegos's side.

  Glorýa knew it would not end well if they did not do something soon. She used her magic and summoned up the winds to swiftly take her to the entrance of the hall where they had been prior. As the dwarfs kept the beast-men at bay, she slipped inside and prepared her contingency plan. At about that time, Draegos spotted what he wanted to see: the trio of casters who had taken the other two citadels was bringing up the rear of the army.

  He raised his ax high and gave a mighty shout. The wave passed by the dwarfs and lifted their spirits, and as the beast-men heard it, they shrank back. Their resolve had broken, and they began to flee from the vicious dwarfs. Draegos ordered a slow retreat to prepare inside for the Triad, unaware of what Glorýa had already planned.

  As they entered the citadel, Draegos watched as the trio moved closer, approaching the bridge. Greffel showed the secret passage to the remaining Marauders
and instructed them to follow it out and flee, as Glorýa stepped up behind Draegos and whispered, "Draw them in, and then take Greffel and leave." She slipped something into his pack and kissed his cheek.

  He ran out onto the bridge, knowing this was the moment he’d dreaded but was unable to avoid.

  The price.

  The price to pay for knowledge. Said the second spirit.

  The price to pay for magic. Said the third spirit.

  The price to pay to become a legend, said the fourth, and as it made that proclamation, Draegos felt the power course through his veins. As he held the ax with his left hand, resting the blade in his right hand, he drew some blood from his palm and drew a symbol on the bridge. Then he smeared the blood all over his hand and placed it in the center of the symbol. He retreated into the citadel, sealing the doors behind him as they waited for the final assault.

  All the Marauders had made it to safety, and the three companions were the only ones left. Glorýa worked at the final preparations for her contingency plan. She looked up at Draegos and said hurriedly, "I need a few more minutes, keep them off till then!"

  "Aye. I'll do what I can then, and be damned if I fall!" He winked, which looked odd coming from a one-eyed dwarf, and he stepped up to the massive doors. He listened and waited, but he didn't have to wait for long before he heard an explosion, the wave making the huge doors groan, and he knew they were sealed off from any ground troops. It would just be the trio of spell throwers.

  Several moments passed, and it was quiet on the outside. Suddenly Draegos felt the air still, the static grow, and then the doors exploded with a bright flash of sparks and lightning. They entered riding the winds and swirling with electricity. One of the Triad casters threw a spell that unleashed a stream of electrical plasma and lashed out towards Greffel, who barely scrambled out of the way. The second stream of electrical plasma shot towards the dwarf.