Within minutes a few dozen were felled, but already thousands of dwarves had been lost. Linaya forced herself to watch every bloody, gory moment, trying to memorize the heroics that took place upon the field in an effort to keep herself from being sick or breaking down. It was horrid to watch the dwarves being slaughtered and not be able to do anything to help.
More giants fell and then even more. Perhaps six dozen or so had been brought to ground and slaughtered, but the dwarves lost hundreds in comparison to each singular giant. Then, when no one thought it possible, the battle took a turn for the worse.
Rushing from somewhere beyond the field of battle, a giant unlike any other any of them had seen or heard of appeared. She was no bigger than the average giant, and sported four arms like the rest of them, with a boney beak-like structure for a nose and a huge round maw filled with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. Her attire is what immediately set her apart.
Upon the giant’s body, great runes had been drawn and each of them glowed green upon her skin. In one great hand she held a collection of skulls that dangled upon a cord, collected from her own kind. Opposite that hand she carried a giant staff carved from an immense tree, its roots were braided around a huge green colored crystal that served as the top of the staff. The entire length of the shaft was also decorated in the glowing runes that adorned her skin.
Linaya watched as the creature reached the far edge of the battle and touched the tip of her staff to the ground, chanting unintelligible words in a deep and booming voice. Within seconds the staff and giant burst into bright yellow light, as a green fog began to rise from the ground and envelope the nearest dwarves. Those within the fog died within seconds, coughing and spasming, spewing blood from their mouths as they drowned on their own fluids.
The fog spread in an ever growing circle, having no effect on the giants, who stood above the fog breathing fresh air. Linaya knew the battle to be over, her hopes of saving Valdadore dashed. The dwarves would be lucky to save themselves.
Chapter Four
Seth stood upon the wall, watching both the camp a few miles off and the western horizon. Sigrant’s forces showed no signs of stirring, though his vision of the gods assured him they were indeed within the multitude of tents erected just a few short miles from the city. More than half of them had changed. By the next day the process would have been completed.
The horizon showed no signs of change. He hoped that at any moment Borrik would wing into sight, carrying Sara aloft in his arms to return her to his master’s side. Thus far no such thing had occurred. Seth still had faith that Borrik would see the deed completed, no matter how long it took.
So instead, Seth stood silently within a deeply cowled black cloak he had acquired during the morning, the lone defender upon Valdadore’s walls. His men were gathering the only beasts within the city that they could find with excellent night vision and strength. Rats.
He intended to bolster his troops with rat men. It was a decision made of necessity, but hopefully would serve the purpose he intended. At least the rats were proving plentiful in some places within the city. Already cages had been filled with hundreds of them. Soon he would begin experimenting to find the perfect combination of human and rat to suit his purposes. Until then, Seth decided to send King Sigrant a little welcoming message.
Focusing his thoughts, Seth reached out across the miles to Sigrant’s camp. It was a long distance, but Seth was determined. Sending out tendrils of his power, he created illusions of himself and hundreds of his werewolf troops surrounding the tent city. Sweat beaded upon his forehead with the effort of maintaining so many illusions, but still he was not finished. Now he needed the enemy to see them. Concentrating his efforts, he focused on the air above the enemy encampment. There he forced his will and power to become one, as hundreds of thousands of tiny droplets of fire sprang to life to rain down upon the tents in the enemy camp. Within seconds the screams started as small holes burned through the canvas of tents, allowing rays of sunlight to penetrate into the darkness. The fires spread and soon entire tents were engulfed as Sigrant’s vampires fled the fires to be caught in the sun.
Screams and death cries filled the air as great plumes of smoke arose from the encampment. Those vampires caught in the sun caught fire. Burning and blind, they only helped to spread the destruction. It was near ten full minutes before Sigrant’s mages created a dense fog to blanket the camp, effectively blocking the sun and smothering the fires. Before they were done, however, Seth reached out to the mage nearest the invading king. Just paces away from Sigrant, Seth latched onto the aura of the mage and tore the bloated life away from him, letting the man disintegrate into a pile of ash before his king.
Then Seth was satisfied. Thousands had died in mere minutes. Thousands more had seen his apparitions. More importantly, when the vampires died something miraculous happened. Thousands more within Sigrant’s camp were changed, their auras becoming fully human once more. Seth pondered the possibilities. He was beginning to understand just how Sara’s condition was being transmitted and used as a weapon. Already he was developing a theory on how to defeat the blood-sucking horde, but in case he was wrong he turned and stalked back down the steps of the castle wall. If Sigrant’s troops came to call he would easily see them coming with his magical vision.
His thoughts returning to Sara and Borrik, he climbed down the many flights of remaining steps in preparation for the day’s activities.
* * * * *
Linaya watched as the masses of dwarves parted and a single soldier darted between them, as boulders began to rain down on the giant shaman. She watched as not only did the dwarves part, but they began to flee from him in all directions. The giants realized something was amiss and several began to rush the lone warrior, but the dwarf ignored them and continued running as fast as his short legs would take him.
As it appeared he would be intercepted before reaching his target, the dwarf raised his hammer and without so much as pausing brought it down to the earth with a blinding flash of light. Following the light by a fraction of a second was a concussive boom, the likes of which Linaya had never heard before, and following that the ground split in a wide chasm, beginning where the dwarf had struck and snaking out towards the shaman. Linaya managed to watch as the blessed dwarf sentenced himself to death, his momentum not allowing him to stop before he careened over the edge of the chasm he had created, never to be seen again.
The shaman could not react in time, and neither could those giants who had rushed the hero. All of them plummeted into the abyss, giant masses of flailing arms, legs, and echoing death screams. Other dwarfs then rushed the chasm and, bending to the ground, they began to glow as the chasm began to close, the dwarfs working to mend the damage they had done.
The battle resumed once again as it had been before. By the time the chasm was closed another fifty giants fell, but not without taking a toll. Nearly thirty thousand dead dwarves littered the ground, some of them smashed and smeared to become indiscernible from those around them. Even so, the ratio was beginning to change in the dwarves’ favor.
Linaya watched as a huge brute of a giant swung his club low to the ground, flinging dozens of crushed dwarves into the air to rain down upon their comrades. Again and again, the giant repeated the process unhindered. Linaya’s mouth fell open as she saw Zorbin charging the brute from behind upon the great dire wolf that served as his steed. Without slowing, the armored dwarf and wolf crashed into the giant’s legs from behind causing them to buckle unexpectedly. Down came the mighty giant, crushing dozens more beneath him as he crashed to the ground. Those nearest that survived the debacle charged in and swarmed over the creature like angered ants. Within seconds the giant’s screams of rage ceased.
More and more giants fell, and finally it seemed the dwarves would have victory as the remaining giants began to flee. But that was before she realized just what was happening.
* * * * *
Zorbin and Xanth brought the brute down in
a twisted heap. It was the third behemoth they had felled similarly, and were getting quite good at it. Leaping back into the fray, they dashed across the field to the nearest giant and watched it tumble as they neared. Doing their part they sprang upon the giant, Xanth ripping and tearing with teeth and claws while he brought his massive war hammer to bear against the giant’s joints and skull. They had lost many men, far too many to even be believed. Scanning the field, he estimated they were at half the strength they arrived with. Fifty thousand dead in less than an hour. The thought sickened him.
Leaning in his saddle to guide the giant wolf, they lent themselves to yet another felled foe and watched as the remaining giants began to flee. Sadly it was not the terrorized flight of a defeated foe, instead the giants ran a short distance and turned to fight once more. At first, Zorbin thought them regrouping. Until he heard the screams.
Turning in his saddle, he watched the unthinkable. Those dwarves that had fallen in the noxious fumes created by the shaman had begun to stir once more. Their comrades thinking to help, rushed in to lend aid. It was not long before they realized the error of their thinking.
The re-risen dead of the Dwarven army clutched and clawed their comrades down to the ground, ripping off the rescuers’ armor before beginning to feed upon their flesh. The newly dying cried out for help but none dared enter the fray against such unholy creatures. The giants had not fled, they had simply placed Bouldergate’s army between themselves and the living dead. Once again the dwarves were attacked on two fronts. Without any options, all they could do was begin felling the giants once more as those nearest the revived dead re-killed their own kin.
Zorbin was now closer to the undead than the giants, and shared a concern with Xanth through their telepathic link. They agreed that Zorbin would do the fighting, in case the wolf could become infected by biting the mindless creatures.
Charging into the tottering undead, he was disgusted to see that those who had been bitten by the undead began to spasm and jerk about uncontrollably before vomiting blood. These men were repeating what the previous had done and would likely rise again as well.
Leaping into action, Zorbin began bashing the creatures, learning almost instantly that they ignored any injury that did not put their head out of commission. So it was that he guided the great wolf through the throngs of undead, bashing skulls with his war hammer, as if it were a sickening game of sport.
Before long, boulders began to rain upon the undead, ending them in mass quantities. Not wanting to risk being struck by friendly fire, Zorbin and Xanth extracted themselves from the undead and watched as the giants began to flee in earnest, their numbers having been whittled down to no more than a couple dozen survivors. The dwarves let them go. Too many had already been lost. Minutes later the barrage of falling boulders stopped, having smashed every last one of the undead dwarves to bits.
A horn trumpeted, and every dwarf turned and began to converge between the giant altar of fire and the massive arena of caged wolves. Zorbin followed as the dwarves formed into ranks in order to calculate their losses. Some brought the injured with them, others hobbled about confused, and were ushered into place by those without injury. In just minutes a count was made, and Zorbin reached the king and Gumbi just in time to hear the news.
“Thirty seven thousand sir, and just over sixteen hundred injured.”
“We lost thirty seven thousand?” Zorbin asked, devastated by the news.
“No, Zorbin,” Gumbi replied, his face ashen. “We have only thirty seven thousand men remaining.
Zorbin nearly fainted. Over sixty one thousand had been killed in just over an hour. Sixty. One. Thousand. He wondered how many tens of those thousands were fathers and mothers who would not be returning home to their children. Dwarves were not humans. They lived for hundreds of years naturally, and many here had yet to reach their first centennial. He could not believe the devastation, and wholeheartedly expected the king to pull back his forces and return to their ancestral home.
He watched as Linaya trotted up on her white warhorse, tears streaming from her eyes.
“My deepest sympathies, your Majesty,” she sobbed.
“No, lady Linaya, my sympathies to you,” the king replied, removing his helm. “I can take my men no further…”
Zorbin’s breath caught in his chest. He had been right. Valdadore would fall without the aid of Dwarven allies.
“Ye see, m’lady, here on this field I lost five brothers. They been all the brothers me had. Nine of my cousins fell and two of me uncles. I am the sole remaining male of my bloodline. It is my responsibility to care for all of their families. I am sorry but I can go no further.”
Zorbin watched as Linaya broke. Already she had been crying, but now she was wracked by sobs. Even so, she nodded her understanding to the king.
“The injured and any others who must be returnin’ home to carry on their line, or for other honorable reasons will be stayin’ here with me to bury our dead, returning them to the ground from whence we came. Zorbin Ironfist, ye take the rest on with you to Valdadore and see to it my oath to aid your kingdom is kept.”
Zorbin could not believe the words he was hearing. Even Linaya’s sobs stopped momentarily as she struggled to listen. They abruptly started anew when she realized that at least some aid was still being sent to Valdadore. Only this time they were tears and sobs of happiness and relief.
Zorbin bowed his head in respect to the king, thanking him for the kindness and sacrifice he shouldered the burden for.
“What should we do with them?” This time it was Gumbi that spoke, motioning to the enormous pen housing the dire wolves.
“I might be havin’ an idea,” Zorbin replied, a crooked grin appearing from within his thick beard.
* * * * *
Sara sat inside her cocoon of wood and thorn, bustled about like a ragdoll for many hours. If it had not been for her armor, she would have been impaled by the great thorns adorned by the living tree thing that held her captive. Upon breaking the point off of one said thorn, she found it to be hollow and filled with a dark brown, noxious smelling fluid thats scent made her feel dizzy and disoriented. Eventually the feeling had passed, but she could not help but imagine what the dark concoction would do to her if she were pierced by one of the thorns.
Between the branches she could see their surroundings as they traveled, though even with her improved night vision there were not many useful references to make note of in a dark forest. She did glean, however, that they were steadily climbing up hill. For hours they traversed the forest, and Sara was certain that they were not alone, catching glimpses of what she thought were dozens more of the walking and talking trees.
It was near morning when they broke through the trees into a clearing. Ahead, cresting the hill, was the remnants of an ancient fortress. Though parts of the walls had crumbled, and buildings collapsed, much of the structure still remained. Coming to a stop, Sara’s captor turned slowly and sighed loudly, shuddering oddly.
Peering around, the clearing they inhabited was quickly growing smaller and smaller as more and more of the tree men slowly extracted themselves from the forest, filling in the clearing one by one. When they stopped, they each plunged their root-like feet down into the soil, shaking as if a cold wind had just blown down their spines.
For several minutes, creaks and groans filled the air as they all settled into position. Moments later a pair of huge oaken men appeared. In one’s great tree branch arms, the creature carried the pair of crushed horses. The other carried the driver and the remnants of the cart. They entered the clearing, and using their great root-like feet they tore at the soil, ripping huge chunks of the ground up with each movement. Within minutes a great hole was dug and into it the horses, cart, and driver were placed. The soil was summarily replaced and then too, these tree men took to the soil, planting their roots with a shudder.
Sara had no idea what to make of the events. Walking and talking trees that buried dead creatures an
d carts. Who knew? The real question was, however, what was to happen to her? Did they intend to hold her prisoner long? If so, to what end?
“What do you want with me?” Sara shouted, not really expecting a response.
A moment passed and her captor shuddered once more, and the veil of leaves outside her cage parted slightly, giving her a much improved view of the ruins and tree men surrounding it. A great groan broke the silence and from just out of view another of the great tree men leaned forward to come nearly face to face with Sara. She recognized him as the first tree man she had seen after the accident. At least she thought it was him, they all sort of looked the same.
“Every life is precious,” the tree began hollowly. “And every life deserves its life. But not every life deserves to be among other lives.”
Sara concentrated on the slowly coming words, searching them for their meaning. She watched the bark upon the creature’s face crinkle and stretch with the movements of its speaking. He reminded her of an old man, the way his features drooped and moved with too much slack.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she shouted back at the tree.
Several other trees nearby creaked and groaned before their apparent leader began to slowly speak once more.
“Every life has a destiny and a fate that can only be changed when encountering another life. Now your life has encountered ours, and so all of our fates have changed.”
Sara gave up on asking direct questions as there were apparently not going to be any direct answers, so instead she simply repeated her previous question.
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 127