A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  “Too bad he didn’t come here as well,” Vognar said, “but I imagine he would rather cower in some dank hole in the White Mountains.”

  Orlac hissed again. “Ireru not cower. He hasss planssss for all dwarves.”

  “Really? Like what? Send us his herald so that we can kill him?”

  Orlac snarled, getting visibly angrier. “Meee not dead yetttt. In the coming age, dwarves will live only to fillll goblin bellies.”

  “The coming age? You mean when Zalustus has restored the Order?” Vognar asked. The dwarven king appeared calm, but he kept flexing his hands on Grimstone’s handle. Also, a muscle had started flexing above his right eye.

  Orlac nodded. “The dark one promised the dwarves to usss.” No sooner had the words escaped his lips than Orlac’s eyes widened in surprise and anger. “Tricks and traps! Lying dwarves!” He pointed his sword at Vognar. “Weee know of tricks and traps, toooo.”

  Derek was trying to work through what the goblin meant when it suddenly became all too clear. There was an enormous wrenching and crunching sound, followed immediately by the falling of massive stones.

  Derek whipped around to see huge slabs of stone tearing loose on either side of the ravine entrance. The slabs of rock collapsed to the ravine floor, killing tens, maybe even hundreds of the dwarven fighters. The goblins hadn’t been in the ravine long, but it had been long enough for them to rig the rock walls around the entrance to collapse. He dropped his hand to his sword, yanking the blade from its scabbard as he turned back around.

  Orlac still stood ahead of them, but he was no longer alone. Other goblins were coming out of the shadows, most were the smaller white goblins but there were a handful of the black goblins as well.

  “Ireru will praise me for killing youuu,” Orlac shouted as he sprang forward. The other goblins moved forward too, but at a slower pace.

  Derek, Kara, and Belgil hurried forward. Rotir already stood on the king’s left and Blore was on his right. All three dwarves held their axes ready.

  Derek moved and stood to the right of Blore, trying to grasp the number of the horde that was coming at him. By his best guess, it was no more than twenty-five, maybe thirty goblins – but that might just be enough to kill them.

  Derek could hear the dwarven fighters behind them working their way through the rubble, but he feared help wouldn’t reach them in time.

  The goblins approached in a hurry; they had to know they didn’t have long before the dwarven fighters would reach the battle. Their plan was all too obvious. They wanted to kill King Vognar before they in turn, were killed by the dwarves.

  The first goblin to reach them was one of the smaller white goblins. He came in from the right side and Derek was closest.

  The brute swung a huge scimitar overhand, bringing the sword down with awesome force.

  Derek didn’t try to block the blow, instead he swung his own sword hard left-to-right, deflecting the scimitar past him on the right.

  The goblin was thrown off balance and his scimitar slammed hard on the rock flooring. The goblin struggled to stay on his feet.

  Derek’s sword had been caught by the goblin’s and neither sword was in any position to do any damage. Derek snatched his belt knife free and stabbed the goblin sideways through the throat.

  The goblin’s eyes went wide and blood gushed from his ruined throat.

  Derek kicked the dying goblin away from him and yanked his sword free.

  In the short time that Derek had been fighting the first goblin, the others had closed the distance to King Vognar’s group. Derek didn’t have time to locate Kara or see what the others were up against, as the white goblin he had just killed was replaced by a nasty looking black goblin. The newcomer carried a mace instead of a sword and he swung it horizontally at Derek’s face.

  Derek fell backwards to avoid the mace, but still felt the wind as it passed over him. He landed hard on his back, the hard stone of the floor

  The goblin roared at Derek, spraying spittle everywhere. “Dieee human.” The goblin made to swing the mace downwards but had to stop and jerk backwards as Derek swung his sword wildly.

  Derek pointed his sword at the goblin and quickly scrambled to his feet. His breath was coming in quick gasps and his heart was pounding. Little beads of sweat covered his face and threatened to run into his eyes. He swallowed hard and took a step closer.

  The goblin roared and swung his mace again, but this time it was a feint and he stopped the swing halfway and tried to reach out and smack Derek with the mace.

  Derek twisted his body, just managing to avoid the blow, but his sword was pointing the wrong way, the point facing away from the goblin. Instinctively, he jammed the hilt of his sword in the goblin’s face; it smacked the monster’s nose hard and blood spurted outward.

  The goblin shook his head and backed away. He looked to have some of the blood in his eyes.

  Derek didn’t waste the opportunity, but jumped forward, jabbing his sword at the brute.

  The goblin never saw the blow coming. The sword cut easily through its nasty hide, ripping the beast’s chest open.

  The goblin collapsed to the ground, but Derek was already looking around – seeking out his next opponent. The first thing he saw was King Vognar fighting valiantly against three goblins. The king had his back to a stalagmite, which was the only reason he was still alive and, undoubtedly, he wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Telur!” Derek screamed and raced to the king’s aid.

  The nearest goblin was black and he turned at the sound of Derek’s shout.

  The goblin was surprised, and Derek used that to his advantage. He rushed in close jabbing his sword at the goblin. He intended the sword as more of a distraction and it worked perfectly. The goblin swung his sword, which surprisingly was a long one, and deflected Derek’s sword to the side. Derek continued his charge though and used his knife to gut the goblin. He cut a horizontal gash across the goblin’s stomach; blood and gore seemed to explode outward and the goblin collapsed screaming. Derek had already moved past.

  The second black goblin was Orlac and his sword became entangled with Vognar’s axe Grimstone, so he simply slammed a massive fist down onto the dwarven king’s head and the dwarf collapsed to his knees.

  Orlac wrenched his sword free and began to raise it for the killing blow.

  “No!” Derek shouted and charged. He had a momentary vision of a blur off to his left. He suspected that someone was engaging with the third goblin, but his attention was completely focused on Orlac.

  The goblin flicked his massive sword, causing Derek to slide to a halt. “Human, not your fighttt.”

  Derek straightened just a bit at those words. “My name is Derek Aldanon, and I am a Guardian, a supporter of Flaranthlas Eldanari, so this most certainly is my fight.” Orlac gave a little jerk at the words. “If you want to kill Vognar then you’ll have to kill me first.”

  Orlac snorted and nodded his head once. “Much honor will beeee mineee. Killing the dwarvennn king and one of the elven bastard’s friendssss.”

  Derek moved in closer, holding his sword at the ready.

  Orlac attacked with a ferocity that nearly caught Derek unprepared. The goblin swung his sword horizontally, managed to stop the swing halfway through, and then dive at Derek, trying to impale him.

  Derek began to step back when Orlac started his swing and it nearly cost him his life. He was not ready for the goblin’s sudden move and the sword nearly cut him in two. At the last second he jerked to his left, just managing to avoid a killing stroke from the goblin’s sword. As it was, the sword cut a painful gash on Derek’s right forearm. He clinched his teeth as the pain burned through his arm.

  “Yesss. Hurtsss doesn’t itttt?”

  Derek’s answer was to swing his sword at the brute, but it was more in pain and frustration than any masterful plan.

  The goblin stepped back one step and easily deflected the blow. Then, he raised his massive right hand and brought it down hard
on the top of Derek’s head.

  Derek collapsed to his knees, fighting hard to keep his eyes clear. He had to shake his head several times to get his vision to clear. When he could see again, he stared down at the goblin boots that stood one foot in front of him. He didn’t raise his eyes, afraid that any such delay would cost him his life. Instead, he did the first thing that came to mind. He grabbed his knife and stabbed it down on the goblin’s right foot. The blade easily sliced through the boot leather, skin, and tissue.

  Orlac let out a mighty yell and fell backward away from Derek, dropping his sword as he landed hard on the ground. The goblin grabbed his foot and let loose with another scream. The initial damage had been done by the knife stabbing the foot but then the blade had become stuck in the hard rock of the cavern floor. When Orlac fell, the knife didn’t move and his foot ripped even more as he fell.

  Still a bit groggy, Derek climbed hesitantly to his feet. His addled mind idly wondered what had become of the third goblin, but Orlac immediately drew his attention.

  Orlac grabbed a skull-sized rock and heaved it at Derek’s head. Derek just did manage to duck to his right, stumbling as he did so.

  Derek tripped over something and went down to one knee. He looked around to see what it was that had tripped him – it was his sword. Relief flooded into him at the sight of it. The sword had been in his family for generations. It was dwarven crafted and it was called Surdim el Aldanon which simply meant Sword of Aldanon in the tongue of the old Steel kingdom.

  Derek bent down and picked up his sword, noticing as he did so that the knife was stuck in the rock. A blinding pain went through his head; the goblin’s earlier blow was giving rise to an unbelievable aching in his head – bending over didn’t help either. He grabbed his sword and then retrieved the knife as well. He pushed himself back to his feet and felt his blood go cold.

  Orlac had managed to get back to his feet, although the goblin was balancing on one leg. The goblin’s right leg was held out to the side and blood dripped from his boot. Even more sobering was that Orlac had managed to retrieve his sword – although it seemed doubtful that he could chase Derek very far.

  Orlac stood there staring hatefully at Derek.

  Derek raised his sword to point at the goblin, tired of this fight and wanting it over. He held his sword with both hands, although the last two fingers of his right hand also held the knife he had picked up from the floor. An idea occurred to him and he acted on it almost immediately. He paused only long enough to say a silent prayer.

  Derek took a quick step forward, swinging his sword upward at Orlac’s head. It was a feint and he stopped the swing but let the knife go so that it flew straight at the goblin. As soon as the knife was away, Derek aimed his sword at the goblin’s chest and jumped forward.

  Orlac swung his sword upward and deflected the knife, but in so doing he exposed his mid-section.

  With Orlac’s sword out of the way, Derek slammed his blade into the goblin’s chest. His own weight was behind the blow and he felt elation as the blade slid all the way in. The blade stopped only when the hilt hit the goblin’s chest.

  Orlac’s eyes blinked at Derek for several heartbeats and then the goblin toppled over backward, pulling Derek over on top of him.

  Derek came down hard, his fall being softened by the goblin’s body, and then he rolled over onto the hard stone. The pain arced behind his eyes again and he idly wondered if the goblin’s blow had broken something in his head. He lay there for a heartbeat and then he remembered the third goblin. He let out a massive groan and pushed himself to a sitting position. He blinked several times at what he saw; Belgil and Kara stood over the body of the third goblin, while Blore and Rotir were helping the king to his feet. Dwarven fighters streamed around them to engage the remaining goblins.

  Chapter 18

  Rotir turned and shouted at several of the dwarven guards still near the half-buried entrance and Derek realized that he was giving orders to get King Vognar back to his castle. The assembled dwarves jumped to obey.

  The sounds of fighting from farther up the ravine could be heard but Derek believed that he had done his part; time to let the dwarven defenders do their job.

  “Are you all right?” Kara asked. She had just caught sight of him sitting on the ground.

  He nodded and then groaned; the sudden movement of his head causing pain to flash behind his eyes.

  Kara leaned closer and looked into his eyes.

  Derek pushed her away. “I’ll be fine. That goblin just landed a lucky punch.”

  “Only one?” she asked.

  Derek sighed. “Yes, only one. Why? Do I look that bad?”

  She shrugged. “Worse than normal.”

  Derek was just opening his mouth to say something that he would have probably come to regret when Belgil walked over.

  “Are you two all right?”

  Derek nodded again before he remembered the pain. “Yes,” he said. “I took a blow to the head and I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

  “Rotir is getting the king back to the palace. I think we should go as well.”

  Something in the dwarf’s tone made Derek suspicious. “Is there a problem?”

  Belgil shrugged. “Not sure, but the goblins caught us by surprise once, and Rotir doesn’t want it to happen again.”

  “How’s the king?” Kara asked.

  “I think he’s fine, but he also took a blow on the head. His neck is sore and he’s having trouble focusing his eyes.” Belgil held a hand out to Derek. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  Derek allowed the dwarf to pull him to his feet and then stood there wobbling. For some reason, the ravine seemed to be spinning. Kara stepped up close and put his arm over her shoulders.

  “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

  The trip back to the palace was slow and arduous. Derek wasn’t sure how long it took them, but it felt like hours and hours.

  Finally, they reached the palace and Rotir turned Vognar over to the healers. Then the Captain General headed back toward the tunnel. He stopped when he came even to Belgil and the two Guardians. “The king wants you to stay in the palace. You’ve done us a great service today and the king wishes to express his gratitude.”

  This time Derek remembered not to nod; just barely though.

  “He needs to see the healer as well,” Belgil said.

  Derek shook his head and grimaced in pain. “No I don’t. I’ve just got a small headache.”

  Rotir ignored Derek and looked at Belgil. “See to it.” With that the Captain General strode away.

  “Why is everyone ignoring me?” Derek asked.

  “Where are we going?” Kara asked of Belgil. “Is there somewhere that Derek can lie down?”

  “I don’t need to lie down,” Derek said in a grumpy tone. If the truth was told, lying down did sound good.

  Belgil nodded. “Follow me. I’ll take you two to one of the guest rooms and then I’ll send for a healer.”

  “I don’t need a healer,” Derek said emphatically, despite that his knees buckled and nearly dumped him on the ground. If not for Kara, he would have fallen flat on his face.

  “I understand,” Belgil said smiling, “but the Captain General has given me my orders and I must follow them. I’m sure you understand.”

  Belgil got them situated in a rather nice guest room. There was only one bed, but there was an oversized couch along one wall. Derek took the couch as it was actually longer than the bed. He collapsed to the sofa with a groan.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Kara asked.

  Derek exhaled a deep breath. “Yes, I just want a quick nap.” Within moments he was asleep.

  Derek awoke when the guestroom door creaked open. Belgil stepped in leading what had to be the oldest dwarf Derek had ever seen.

  The newcomer was short and fat with snow-white hair. His body was covered with old-age spots and he walked in a hunched, stooped manner. The dwarf’s long beard nearly reached
the floor.

  Derek sat up and immediately regretted it. His right hand flew to his temple and he let out a groan.

  The old dwarf clucked his tongue. “Serves you right. No reason to sit up after a goblin hit you on the head. Lie back and let me have a look.”

  Derek did lie back but he twisted around to look for Kara. He spotted her climbing off of the bed. Strangely, her hair was wet. “Why are you wet?” he asked.

  Kara nodded over her shoulder. “There’s a bath through that door. The water is naturally warm.”

  “Bath?” Derek repeated dully. “How long have I been asleep.”

  Kara shrugged. “An hour or two.”

  Derek turned back to the two dwarves and tried to focus on the old one bending over him.

  “Now sit still and let me have a look.” The old dwarf didn’t wait for an answer but pushed Derek down on the couch. Then he busied himself looking over Derek’s head, feeling his skull, and looking into his eyes.

  Belgil was looking over the old dwarf’s shoulder, wearing a large grin. “This is Ennst. He’s the king’s healer.”

  “How is the king?” Kara asked.

  “He’ll be fine,” Ennst replied. “Just took a rather nasty blow to his head, rather like this young fellow.” He turned and looked to Belgil. “Please get me a glass of water.” He turned back to Derek. “You’ll be fine. I expect some soreness for a day or two. Probably some painful headaches, too.”

  Derek nodded and grimaced. “I’ll live,” he croaked.

  “Yes,” Ennst agreed. Just then Belgil returned with a full glass of water. He took the water and began crumbling up a dried root into the water. The resulting concoction looked horrendous.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Derek asked, eyeing the mess warily.

  “Me? I’m not going to do anything with it,” Ennst replied with a twinkle in his eye. “You, however, are going to drink the entire glass.”