by Jake Yaniak
'Let's drive these devils off our mountain,' Sion responded as he tossed aside his bow and empty quiver. 'Our arrows are spent; it is time for blades and blood.'
The two charged to the front of the Noras ranks and leaped into the goblin army. They cut and stabbed with their knives until they had slain twenty goblins and three orcs.
Looking around swiftly, Daryas put aside his knife and took the sword of one of the orc warriors. Then the two pressed on, driving the goblins either off the edge of the ridge into the rocks below, or backwards, toppling over their fellows.
Their deeds encouraged the other Noras, who now rose up in unison to drive them off the ridge. They made as if to say, 'Not but by the death of ten-thousand goblins shall the enemies of Noras have the victory.'
But suddenly silence fell over the goblins and they fell back a little ways and for a while they left the ridge alone. In the distance under the light of the failing sun there strode among the goblins a dark and tall figure of a man. Black armor he bore and a cape of crimson hung about his shoulders. His blade was drawn and his visor was pulled down over his face.
'The Conjurer appears…' Daryas whispered.
The goblins roared with a sudden burst of shrill cries. They followed this with a deep groan that seemed to shake the very mountain. They stomped and they shouted, shrill again and then deep. They continued in this way until they had formed an eerie rhythm of shouts and stomps. The Noras warriors began to quiver in their places. The noise of the goblins grew louder and louder until it seemed to ring in their ears. After this dreadful clamor had gone on for what seemed like an eternity, the armored man lifted his blade in the air and spoke, and as he spoke it seemed like his voice boomed like an earthquake.
'Brave fools, you have fought long and hard in these mountains. But none of you shall leave here alive. Your legs are weights of iron, and your blades are set ablaze!'
With these words, many of the Noras dropped to their knees, their weapons slipping from their limp hands to clang and crash upon the mountainside. Some tossed their blades aside with a shout and stomped on them as though they were truly in flames. The armored man continued speaking amidst the clamor of the goblin cries:
'Many of you are weary of fighting, fall now to a deep and dreamless sleep.' At each command the men of the Galva Army obeyed until a great many of them were laying in sleep on the hard rocks beneath them. Through all this the goblins continued their stomping and shouting until the noise was almost deafening. They would only pause long enough for the armored man to shout another command.
'We are doomed if this madness continues,' Sion shouted. He took up his blade and raced down to the bottom of the ridge. Daryas followed close behind him.
The goblins now had their army completely surrounded. There was nowhere to flee save the edge of the southern cliff, which fell far into a deep valley. At the bottom were jagged rocks and a rushing mountain stream.
At this point the Conjurer's commands became more sinister, and more severe. 'Let blood pour from your eyes and stain the earth red!' he cried. All around them Sion and Daryas could see the warriors of Noras stooping and rooting around on the ground, clawing at their eyes. But to their uncharmed eyes they could see no blood.
All the while the Conjurer approached the ridge slowly but confidently. Some Noras who had managed to keep their wits about them tried to withstand him, but he cast them aside without even a care.
When he reached the path that led to the top of the ridge he paused and looked around at the terrified faces. 'Children,' he complained as he cut down ten more men with great ease. He started walking, he had left the goblins behind and now walked straight into the Noras ranks, alone yet unafraid. The Noras, despite their advantage in terrain and number, did nothing to stop his march. Those who did try to face him met quick deaths, for the man's blade was quick as Time itself and steady as Fate.
'Where is the son of Biron?' he called out loudly
Immediately after he had said this the night sky lit up in a flash of green light. A red flash followed, and then blue and orange. Streams of fire rushed over the heads of the Noras warriors, startling both man and goblin.
Each flash of light was followed by a devilish scream and that was followed by the screams of goblins and orcs. Flame seemed to rain down from heaven upon the goblins and they halted their assault and clambered about in a blind panic. Blasts of flame appeared in pillars here and there from within the goblin's ranks, sending them flying through the air torn in pieces. Their swords and shields were splintered in sudden bursts of flame.
The Noras host regathered and stood against the goblins with a renewed vigor. 'The heavens are on our side!' some shouted enthusiastically.
'So it will come to this,' the armored man said as he peered over his shoulder at the bolts of light and flame. 'Very well,' he said. He stood just about a stone's throw away from Sion and Daryas.
'Now it is time for some courage, my friend,' Sion shouted as the armored man approached.
'Courage to die?' Daryas asked.
'Certain death approaches, but if we cast our fate into the hands of the gods they may bear us to better fortunes.'
'The odds are against us if we leap,' Daryas said as he peered over the northern edge of the ridge. Where they stood the ridge came to its height. To the west the ridge ended abruptly at a sharp cliff which overhung the battlefield below. On the southern side was the fierce mountain stream rushing through jagged rocks among the cliffs. To the west lay a steep and slippery slope that fell down into the battlefield.
They chose to jump. Ere the Conjurer could reach them they darted to the northern side of the ridge and slid over the edge. They half slid and half fell their way to the bottom, grabbing rocks here and vines there to slow their descent.
The lights and flames intensified until the goblins were so terrified and shaken that they took to running. They clambered over each other and stomped their own companions into dust underneath them as they flew in wild fear from the soaring lights.
The Noras began to regain their wits and shamefacedly gathered up their arms and formed ranks. Suddenly from the eastern pass appeared a tall man of Noras, clad in brown and green clothes with a shirt of chain armor sparkling beneath his cloak. The underside of his cloak was as black as night, but the outside gleamed bright in the morning light and the colors danced upon it like the shifting of sunlight under the leaves of a forest. In his hand he held what appeared to be a large staff, but with an iron pole running the length of it, until it came to a sharp iron point. At his side hung a sword and over his shoulders he carried two more of the strange staves and a ram's horn.
'Dynamis is come!' shouted the Noras warriors with renewed hope. They gathered around him and charged after the fleeing goblins with a devil's fury. 'Repay them in blood!' they cried.
And so they did. The goblins rushed like madmen back toward their camp. The men of Noras followed hard after them, killing all those that they were able to overtake. Dynamis rallied his own men behind him and followed after the Noras.
Each of his warriors carried with them similar weapons, though some were larger and some smaller. When they caught up with the Noras warriors they would stoop and point their staffs toward the goblins and in unison they would sent blasts of flame and light hurdling into the goblin ranks. With renewed panic the goblins would turn and flee again, until they were again overtaken by the Noras warriors. Finally they came to the goblin camp, where many goblins still remained unharmed and well rested. The Noras were of a mind to charge straight in and make an end of them, but Dynamis halted them.
'Do not give them the advantage,' he ordered. 'For courage can just as easily turn into folly as it can turn into glory. Wait here, until my men have taken up their positions. But take care not to allow any goblin to pass through this way.'
Daryas and Sion came to their senses to see the Noras charging forward after the goblins. Not wishing to be bereft of honor they sorted out their things and cast away whatev
er had been battered by their fall and charged with their comrades.
They reached the goblin camp just as Dynamis ordered his men to attack. He had sent two dozen men up the same path that Daryas and Sion had taken when they first discovered the camp. From there they now sent down fire and light to burn and batter the goblin tents. Within twenty minutes almost every tent was ablaze and the goblins ran about screaming and shouting in terror. But there was nothing to be done, the goblin archers spent their arrows in vain trying to reach Dynamis' men in the cliffs above.
Dynamis ordered the men of Noras to march. 'March now, form ranks, raise your shields and leave none of these sorry devils alive.' In his eyes there raged a fire of passion and he raised his staff and pointed its end toward his enemies. A swift burst of flame sprang out and tore through the goblin army, rending limbs and piercing mail. He threw the staff onto the ground and repeated his attack with the other two weapons.
When he had finished he lifted the staff toward the heavens and poured powder from his horn into the tip and slid a large round ball of iron into the iron tube. One of his warriors repeated this process until all three of his staves had been filled with powder and iron. He set the edge against the goblins once more and let three more fireballs burst through their ranks, shattering bones and tearing flesh asunder.
In the chaos of the battle Daryas and Sion made their way to the front where they felled many orcs and goblins. The Noras charged after them and the goblins fled away toward the strange stone road from which they had originally entered the eastern mountains. All the while the man in the dark armor cursed them and called them to return. He made his way to a flat place and called after his army. With abrupt shouts in an unknown tongue he summoned the orcs and goblins to himself. Like a dog drawn to his master's whistle the fleeing goblins turned on their heels. They stopped fleeing and regrouped on his right side and on his left. It was apparent that there was still something which they feared more than the Noras and the leaping flames of Dynamis' warriors.
Just as the forces prepared to renew the bloodshed the Conjurer stepped forward and spoke. 'Has the Galva army no heroes remaining, that it sends fireworks and magic tricks against us? And has Noras no allies, that they dabble in the dark arts of Lapulia for their security?'
Daryas and Sion were nearby. Sion stepped forward and drew his sword from its sheath. As he approached, both armies stood still and watched anxiously.
'I am Sion, son of Cheftan Ponteris Oastirne. Though many heroes have already fallen, and though I may fall here today, I will not allow your mock to go unchallenged.'
'Stand aside, son of Ponteris, I have promised your father to spare your life,' the man responded in a cold voice that boomed from behind his helmet.
'My father!?' Sion shouted as he walked forward. 'What do you mean, devil?'
'I am not the sort of man to break a deal if I don't need to. I was told to spare Hassan, the son of Ponteris, "if it is at all possible". Step aside boy, for I am come for the blood of Biron. Besides, you are not even rightly a man of Noras. You are only half-noble, and the other half was a brigand!'
Sion flew into a mad rage when he heard the Conjurer speak his right name. He might otherwise have believed his words to be a ruse. But few people knew him by that name, and among his acquaintances there were none who dared call him by it. Sion swung his blade with skill, but the Conjurer, in heavy armor though he was, stepped aside with such speed that Sion's stroke sent him dashing past his foe. Several more times the man evaded Sion's skillful strokes. Suddenly the man turned swiftly, dodged a blow, and smacked Sion in the back of the head with the hilt of his blade. He fell to the stony ground like a felled tree.
Daryas rushed forward to help him, but stopped when he caught the gaze of the Conjurer. Through the dark slits on the man's helm, Daryas saw the gleam of his eyes and stood still as if he were turned to stone.
The Conjurer approached. Daryas struggled within himself and shaking his head he drew his sword. The Conjurer struck, and Daryas dodged. Again the Conjurer swung his fatal blade, but Daryas turned it aside and moved backward.
'Few survive the first stroke of my sword, and none survive the second. What is your name, child, that I may pay you some honor when you are fallen?
'I am the son of Biron,' he said as he stepped back dodging another blow. 'I am Daryas.'
'Very well,' the man said. 'You have done well to survive this far. And I will tell you plainly, that I wish we could have met under better circumstances. For the Galvahirne are a race of peculiar strength and wisdom, and the lords of that Clan are unrivaled among mortal men.'
With this the man stabbed fiercely at Daryas. He slipped away, avoiding the point of the sword, but the edge cut him across the belly and he dropped his sword and fell to the ground holding his wound. The Conjurer lifted his blade again and without any hesitation he swung down at the wounded man. Mityai threw herself over Daryas to shield him, as though her invisible body could stop the blade.
Daryas shut his eyes and braced himself for the end. But it did not come. There was a loud clang, and then a murmur from the Noras army. Daryas could hear the goblins stomping and growling with frustration.
Dynamis
When he opened his eyes he saw Dynamis standing over him, his own sword locked with the Conjurer's. 'And what is the meaning of this?' the Conjurer asked with a laugh. 'Do you know what becomes of those who come between the Noble wolf and its prey?'
'Do not think that you will make prey of me so easily,' Dynamis said boldly as he flicked his blade up and tossed the Conjurer's sword aside.
The Conjurer laughed. 'You have given me some entertainment already, surely you will not deprive me of your name.'
'I am Dynamis Galvahirne, the eldest son of Cheftan Biron of Peiraso, who rules over the sons of Galvahir. Now that I have given you the honor of my name, it is your turn to answer me. Who are you, and for what do you vex the people of Noras?'
From deep within the Conjurer's dark helm a small laugh began to grow until it seemed that the man's guffaw echoed through the entire mountain.
'It would be in vain for me to tell you such things, for the dead have no need of knowledge.'
'Very well, Noble wolf,' Dynamis said coldly, 'I will not press you further. But hear me well, since you are so sure of victory. It is only from the heights of pride that a man can be made low. For the humble man is low already. We will see which one of us the Master of Causes chooses today.'
The two fell upon each other with such strength and passion that the armies of both the men and the goblins started back. To start, the Conjurer did as he had done before, holding his blade in one hand and skillfully blocking the attacks of his opponent. But this proved to be insufficient, much to his frustration. He stepped back and with a sigh he grasped his sword with two strong hands.
Then he began to attack with even greater ferocity. His strokes were quick, much quicker than any other in such armor would be able to manage. But Dynamis furrowed his brow, focused his eyes and dodged each blow.
They fought for a long time in a full fury, neither taking the advantage. Finally the man found an opening and smacked Dynamis' cheek with his iron bracer. Dynamis fell down on his back. The next blow would have cut through his chest, but he rolled backwards skillfully and threw himself back to his feet. He gathered his wits just in time to catch the next sword-stroke with his blade.
Dynamis began to pant and to grow weary. Yet the Conjurer appeared to have the same vigor throughout the battle.
Meanwhile, Daryas hobbled over to his comrade Sion who now sat clutching his aching head in his arms.
'Sion, you live,' Daryas said. Sion looked at him and then hung his head to his chest.
'You speak as though that were a good thing,' he responded sullenly.
'It is so to me,' Daryas said as he looked at his friend.
'There are some men, Daryas, for whom the world would not be bereaved.'
'What do you mean, friend?' Daryas asked, but
his friend said nothing more. Their attention returned to the Conjurers' duel.
As the two men battled on, the skies grew dark with heavy clouds. Winter returned to the mountain in one last desperate attempt to preserve its dominion against the coming of Spring. The air turned cold and the wind howled. The rain fell on the earth heavily, but still the men battled on.
With a skillful slash the Conjurer knocked aside Dynamis' blade and cut his arm. He staggered back holding his bleeding limb. But he was not so badly wounded that he was unable to block the next attack.
'I see that it was not in vain that I chose to perform this task myself,' the Conjurer said. 'You are in every way the son of Galvahir. Any other would have been hard-pressed to slay you.'
'You are hard-pressed yourself,' Dynamis said panting. His head was swirling and the pain in his arm was great. But all of this discomfort he turned into rage and flung himself upon his foe.
His strokes were swift and strong, enough to push the mighty Conjurer back toward the edge of the field. The goblins stepped aside in terror and the men fought on, every step drawing closer to the edge of the western cliff.
The Conjurer stepped back and gathered his strength for a strike. His motion was swift and his sword fell hard at Dynamis. But the son of Biron turned aside and kicked the flat part of the Conjurer's sword, pinning it to the ground under his boot. He stomped and there was the sound of bones breaking. The Conjurer released the blade and stepped back, holding his hand and grunting with pain.
Dynamis rushed at him with a shout and his blade pierced the front of the Conjurer's plated armor and came out through his back. The man gave a groan and fell to his knees. Dynamis shouted and gave his face a mighty kick and sent his body hurdling over the edge of the cliff, his armor clanging against the rocks as he dropped.
When Dynamis came to the cliff and looked over the edge he could see nothing but the sharp points of jagged rocks peeking out of a dense mountain mist. Below he could hear the roar of treacherous rapids, tearing through and smashing against the mountain stones.