“Well, while they’re hurrying up, we’re slowing down,” Uolo pressed. “We should hurry up and speak to Varek before they leave us behind.”
Several yards ahead of them, a weak light pierced through the haze. Jor and one of his Lightning Guard, a stout dwarf named Agar, held lanterns high, trying to keep the rest of their people within their sights.
“Do ye think Groon found them birdies?” Agar asked.
“Even if he did, my guess is he would have doubled back ta us by now,” Jor groaned. “More likely his ambition got the better of ‘im. Bastard.”
The procession muscled on through the bitter cold, just over a dozen dwarves leaving their tracks in the frigid snow. At the head of the line, a human ushered them forward.
“Ye’re gonna lead us the wrong damn way,” one dwarf grumbled. “Give me the map before ye send us off a cliff or something.”
Lund’s face was bright red, the whipping wind slapping against his face like a wet rag. He did nothing to combat the discomfort beyond furrowing his brow and crinkling his large nose. Still, there were other dwarves who braved the elements with the same lack of care. No one’s face was as cherry as his.
“Better if I hold onto it,” Bolt protested. “I can see farther than you.”
Snarling, Lund leapt for the map, but the human held it high, putting his arm out to stay the dwarf. Bolt stood much taller than the dwarf, and his hand landed upon his furry face. Lund growled and continued reaching for the parchment, slapping to and fro. Bolt spun a pirouette then, stepping away from his agitated opponent. The dwarf lost his balance and crashed into the snow, splashing much of it into his face.
He rolled to his rump, a fierce gaze meeting the human and his eyebrows, hair, and beard coated in white. Roaring as he rose, Lund snatched the small hand axe from his belt. “About time someone chopped ye down ta size.” He cocked back his arm then, the axe raised high. As he stepped into his swing, his weapon did not follow his momentum. With his eyebrows arched, he looked over his shoulder.
Fali was there, his eyes wide, his chattering teeth nearly gnashed together.
Lund twisted beneath his weapon but managed to keep his hold. When he stood before the older dwarf, he pushed forward, ramming his hand against his chest. Fali didn’t budge and didn’t relinquish the weapon, but he wasted little time retaliating, lowering his shoulder and driving it into Lund’s upper torso.
Again, the younger dwarf crashed into the snow. His axe flew out a moment later, striking the icy surface beside him. When he regained his bearings, he quickly peered in that direction.
“Leave it, lad. Wouldn’t want yer father to see me—”
“I didn’t need your help, Uncle Fali!” Bolt shouted. “I don’t need to be looked after.”
“Aye, boy, I know. I was hoping to save him from you.”
“What’s all the commotion up here?” another voice called out.
Despite his large stature, Humber appeared from the darkness. He somehow moved lightly on his feet, reaching his squabbling kin in no time.
“Just a few lads trying to prove whose codpiece is bigger,” Fali offered.
Lund did not protest at that remark. He stared into the blizzard, his brow furrowing once more. Bolt crossed his arms and scowled at his would-be opponent. He realized then he wasn’t being watched. Fali followed the young dwarf’s gaze to the north, just barely noticing the silhouette there. He bowed his head, squinting past the obstructive snow.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, finally seeing the familiar figure more clearly. “We been looking for ye and yer boys fer hours, Groon.”
As Lund climbed to his feet, Bolt and his uncle were already approaching the leader of the third raiding party. As they drew closer, both were struck by the queer sight.
Groon stood enveloped up to his neck in snow. His hair was covered in the white powder, and a small dusting caked his scar as well. His eyes were wide, and his teeth were gnashed together so fiercely it looked like he had bitten through part of his tongue.
“Don’t ye worry, friend,” Fali said.
“We’ll get you out,” Bolt insisted.
They arrived beside the trapped dwarf, pulling away handfuls of snow. In due time, even Lund was by their sides, aiding in the rescue.
“He’s not moving,” Bolt said, never stopping, his hands frigid beneath the ice.
“Frozen solid,” Lund concurred. He, too, kept pressing on.
“Ah, you lads’re thick. Mordek or Uolo’ll warm him up and get him back to normal quick as ye know,” Fali protested.
Gasping, Bolt stumbled back. Lantern light had reached the frozen dwarf then, his kin arriving and surrounding him. Fali and Lund both looked inquisitively at the human, noticing the horror in his eyes.
Returning his attention to the trapped Lightning Guard, Fali more carefully observed the situation. His eyes grew wide then too, even as Lund continued to sweep the mound away. As he did, the pike that Groon’s head sat upon became more clearly visible.
Behind the young dwarf, the rest of the procession murmured and gasped. Lund finally saw the fateful sign and yelped, hopping back.
“What the devil happened here?” Thurgan growled. “Where’s the rest of his boys?”
The sky opened up, the storm seeming to cease all at once, and a light haze shone down, illuminating the path ahead. Six other dwarven bodies lay battered and mutilated, strewn across the mountain.
“Broor,” they heard Jor whisper.
“Them winged bitches!” Thurgan yelled.
His attention was drawn skyward as a screech rang out through the air. High above, the darkened silhouettes of the harpies circled over them. A deep and steady cry echoed as they fell in unison.
The dwarves had been set upon.
Chapter Seven: The Fury of the Gale
The buffet of harpy wings resonated across the Snowspear Mountains, as though the blizzard had shielded a giant dragon taking to the air. Battle cries rang out as the winged warriors fell, one after another.
The surviving dwarves banded together, just beyond where the bodies of their fallen lay. More than one among their party struggled to look away from those who had passed. Jor still whispered his brother’s name, the engineer sprawled out in the cold with deep slashes opening his tunic and the flesh of his back.
With uncanny control over their descent, the harpies caught an updraft mere feet from the ground, hovering in the air with ease. In moments, they had encircled their hated enemies.
Near the front of the group, the human adolescent stood tall and alert. He could not keep his attention from the winged beasts before him. It was the first time any of them had seen a male harpy, and two of them floated just above the snow. With every flap of their wide, dark blue wings, a similarly colored sash bobbed from their waist. Beyond that, they wore nothing, their bare chests shining against the cold backdrop of the mountains. Still, the twisted daggers behind their backs were not so obscured that Bolt could not see them.
High above, one last figure gingerly lowered into view. The clouds and fog shielded her descent until she was just several dozen feet above. Everyone paid heed to her when she scanned the group, her radiant golden eyes visible even from afar. “We meet at last, Lord Varek.” As the dwarves grumbled and whispered amongst themselves, she reached the ground and gently let her birdlike feet touch the snow.
Bolt felt the grasp upon his wrist and didn’t protest when he was pulled back into the mob. Dorn stepped ahead of him, holding his arms out wide. Both he and his son were quietly enthralled by her striking presence.
Her body was more ivory than the powdery substance that blew past her clawed feet. Those talons were a mottled blue that inched up until just beneath her knees. A similar shade of cobalt sprouted out at her wrists, feathers protruding from her skin. Likewise, feathers seemed to grow from just above her rump, casting out downward into a long, broad tail.
Many of the other dwarves were stricken by the sight of her as well. Nearly everyo
ne was caught off-guard to see Varek stepping forward, leaving his kin just beside him.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” he slyly remarked.
“That much I’m quite sure,” she cooed. The beautiful harpy stepped forward, her lithe body moving deliberately side to side.
Bolt still observed her carefully. There was something unique about her appearance. While many of her sisters wore little to nothing, she was ornately adorned with various garments and jewelry. A thin garment trimmed in gold shielded her pelvis from prying eyes. A shimmering purple opal was placed in the center of that miniscule garment. Stray feathers, not growing from her skin, were tied to the golden lace that journeyed around her supple back end. Similarly, a pair of golden rings drew in around her breasts. More feathers were sculpted around and across her bosom, leaving plenty to stoke the imagination. A golden halo seemed to come down upon her brow, though an affixed pendant kept it solidly locked in place. Cocoa-colored hair drifted down from that headpiece, carefully swept out of the way of her eyes by the jewel—another midnight purple opal.
“I’d know the fiend that stole my people’s hammer before she tried to disembowel me,” Varek said. “If ye’d be so kind.”
A wicked smile parted her lips for a moment before a mischievous giggle emerged into the air. “It is a shame that you know so little, dwarf king,” she teased. “It would have been so much nicer if we could have met on even ground.
“But you’re right,” she conceded. “My manners have been abhorrent. I am Keilana, Matron of the Storm. But it was not I who stole your hammer.”
“Bah,” one dwarf protested. Thurgan stepped forward, nearing the perimeter of the group. “We know ye birdies took it. We saw it with our own eyes!”
Keilana turned to gaze at him, and her eyes narrowed. Her irises were so large that she seemed demonic. Still, the dwarf stood proud, defiant of her and her flock.
“How wrong you are, Sir Dwarf,” she snapped. “We didn’t take your precious hammer, for there was no hammer to take.” Across from such incredulous expressions, the wry smile returned to her face. “Oh yes, we took a hammer, but it was as simple and mundane as any you wield now. Your long lost artifact was a fake, and your journey here was planned all along.”
“Lies!” Lund shouted. “We had found that hammer ourselves. There was a magical presence.” He looked to the mage among them who swallowed hard and averted his gaze. “Mordek?”
“Perhaps your people cling too hard to the past,” the matron said. “And perhaps your people are far too trusting.”
“Ye filthy traitor,” Lund said, firmly grasping the mage’s robes.
Another sinister giggle resonated from behind Keilana’s lips. Mordek protested, even after a fist had smashed his nose to the side and spilled him to the ground.
“I swear, I was told it was Stonemaw!” he cried. “The council even sent someone there the month before. Your da’ll tell ye!”
Lund seethed, his entire body rocking underneath the weight of his anger. The rest of the dwarves looked to and fro, trying to locate his father. One by one, they realized where Humber stood, and a series of gasps rang out in the crowd.
The stout, stocky dwarf stood beside the harpies on the southern side of the circle that surrounded his kin.
“What the hell are ye doin’, Humber?” Corvo called out.
“He’s sold us out to the damned harpies, ye fool,” Ingus insisted.
Finally, Lund stepped away from Mordek, who lay quivering on the ground. The mage’s nose dripped crimson upon the ivory snow. “Father, what have ye done?” the dwarven son shouted.
“Saving our people, son,” Humber coldly replied. “We needed a victory to instill courage in the Thunderfury Clan again. And we needed a new leader to guide us toward prosperity.”
A singsong whistle flowed through the harpy matron’s lips, and one of her warriors hopped forward, a burlap sack in her hands. She whipped it toward Humber, and it fell to the ground before him, its contents spilling out onto the ground. There, between the dwarves and their foes, was the head of a harpy.
“Your proof, as we agreed on, Lord Humber,” Keilana said. “Her head should be more than enough to convince your people of your heroics.”
“That’s…” Mordek began, staring at the grotesque head upon the ground.
“And what of the hammer?”
“That’s the harpy that took Stonemaw from me!” the mage cried out. He sprang to his feet, his brow furrowed, his bloody nose crinkling. “You even planned the attack on the Goldenscales!” He pressed forward, but Lund stretched his arm out wide, halting Mordek’s advance.
“Ye stay back,” he growled before turning his attention back to his father.
“When we’re finished here, I’ll grant you the mundane weapon,” Keilana said. “We haven’t discarded it yet, but it is worthless beyond serving as a symbol of your people’s stupidity.”
“It makes no difference,” Humber stated. “Stonemaw is still clutched in our lord’s hands, his fingers tightly grasping it even as he was flung from your roost.”
“Father…” Lund snarled.
“Silence, lad,” Humber said. “Stand beside me while the others meet their ends.”
“We can take them,” Thurgan whispered. “They only outnumber us four to one.”
A war cry ripped into the air as Lund charged forward. He raised his axe high but wasn’t quick enough to reach his father. One of the harpies leapt ahead, slashing her talons out, raking them across the dwarf’s face. That powerful blow sent Lund sprawling backward, landing him in the snow.
“Let my son live,” Humber ordered. “But the rest must die.”
Bolt bent low and lifted the battered dwarf to his feet. Lund blinked excessively, blowing out a huge breath.
“You are in no position to make demands, Lord Humber,” Keilana said. “You only live because I will it so. You are a mere dwarf. I am in no way obligated to abide by our agreement,” she spat. The matron looked to her winged warriors and gave a slight nod. “Kill them all.”
Before any of the harpies could move another muscle, another dwarven cry echoed into the mountain air. Jor charged ahead, swiping with his axe. Keilana, agile as an elf, spun out of the way, a sneer upon her face.
“Fool!” she declared.
The harpy matron lifted her hand, gesturing to the sky. Before Jor had even pivoted to face her once more, a roar of thunder was already in his ears. A bolt of lightning came down from the sky and struck him, blinding everyone who watched.
Before the flash had completely diminished, the dwarves broke into frenzy.
On all sides, battle had been met. A mix of blood and steel had taken to the air. Jor’s son, Noor, raced to his side, meeting the harpies that would flank his group. Beside him, Uolo also advanced, falling to his knees almost on top of their fallen guard captain.
Behind them, another Lightning Guard, Edda, met the harpies at the rear of the group. Slender compared to the other dwarves, he was dexterous enough to avoid many of those powerful talon swipes. In mere moments, two of his kin were by his side.
“Ye spent so much time in the cold,” Ingus said. “Let’s hope yer muscles still work.”
“They’ve been waiting to break a harpy’s bones,” Corvo insisted.
“This way!” one dwarf cried out.
The dwarves were surprised to see Dorn charging east, his axe high above his head. Just before him, the line of harpies waited, snarling with brandished steel. He never hesitated, barreling ahead, swinging the weapon in wide arcs.
“Durned fool is going to get ‘imself killed!” Thurgan shouted. Without pause, he began after his friend. He urged Varek along as well.
Beside the body of Jor, Uolo’s hands radiated in a warm light. “You aren’t meant to die here, Lightning Guard.” As he lay his hands upon the cold flesh of his kin, though, he saw a twisted dagger just above him.
A satisfying clank reverberated before him. As he looked up, he noticed Agar, on
e of Jor’s lieutenants, a heavy mace in his hand. With a powerful swing, that barbed club smashed into the harpy’s shin, laying her low.
Uolo swallowed hard, resuming his dire task.
“Stop them,” Humber cried out. “They’re getting away!”
Still propping Lund up beside him, Bolt stared at the traitor. He reached for the dagger on his belt, but he felt a firm grip on his wrist instead.
“Get us out of here,” Lund pleaded.
Behind him, Fali huffed, watching the chaos unfold. Confrontations were made on all sides, and as he lifted his crossbow, he couldn’t decide where he was needed. To the west, he saw as Noor took a trio of talons to his neck. He was swept off his feet, thudding to the ground.
“Time to pluck some feathers,” Fali growled.
A harpy buffeted her wings, pressing Dorn back toward another. A clawed foot rose up.
An axe came down. Thurgan’s momentum never wavered. As the injured harpy reeled forward, her leg sheared off, he merely pushed her out of the way. Varek gripped Dorn’s arm and pulled him along.
“Get to our king,” Edda urged.
Beside him, Corvo and Ingus danced in circles around each other, a sphere of swords the harpies couldn’t penetrate. Like a ball of churning fury, they rotated through the border of their foes.
A blast of fire brightened the area. Mordek, blood still pouring from his nose, cast his arm out and conjured pillars of fire from beneath the snow. With a whip of his arm, he sent a pillar spinning away toward the harpies. He wasted little time summoning another, raising his other hand as though he was conducting a symphony.
Another bolt of lightning struck down, but Agar was prepared. He rolled out of the way, leaving his horned helmet on the ground behind him. Another dagger stabbed his way, but he brought his mace up, sending it wide.
Uolo concentrated on his blessing, even as Noor crawled beside him. Blood poured from his throat, but he wore a determined scowl until the young dwarf ceased to move.
“Rise up, Jor,” the cleric ordered. “You have to save our—”
Crimson spurted from Uolo’s mouth as he bit through his tongue. He reached up to his neck, feeling the jagged blade that protruded there. His hand trembled upon the fallen Lightning Guard’s body. He could no longer continue his prayer as the weapon was violently ripped from his flesh. Everything grew dark, and the cleric felt the cold embrace of the snow beneath him.
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