Varek was there in an instant. He pressed his kin aside and reached out. His stubby fingers wrapped around each bird-like leg, and he hoisted himself up. A loud crack rang out when his crown smashed into the harpy’s throat.
He landed beside his kin and watched as his foe struggled. She ripped the crown away, a burst of blood shooting out with it. Reaching for her throat, she fell from the air, landing awkwardly on her side. Varek didn’t give her time to consider her predicament. His heavy boot landed upon her face.
As Lund staggered on, Fali turned, watching the last pair of dwarves bob down the river beside sheets of ice. A little farther upstream, Bolt stepped forward, shaking uncontrollably.
“Lad, get over here,” his uncle called out. “Mordek is having a hard time swimming. We canna have him going over the falls.”
The human nodded and dove back into the frigid waters. The bitter breeze passed just over his head. The young man met his father at the floe the mage clung to, and both helped to steer him toward land.
Falling to his knees beside the cliff, Thurgan peered over the side. The way down was treacherous, but a ledge below seemed much more inviting than the open field of snow he and his kin were in. The harpies would pick them out like fish in a shallow lake.
“Yer majesty, it’s time fer yer escape,” he said, uncoiling the rope and dangling it off the cliff.
“Are you mad?” Varek asked. “There’s nothing but snow to hold the rope while we climb.”
“Nevermind that, me king. I’d wager I can hold it steady fer yeh a might bit stronger than some root or branch or stone. Now get going before I make ye hold me,” Thurgan said, tapping his stomach.
Gnashing his teeth together, Varek did as told. His kin stomped his feet into the ground and steadied the rope as best he could. The dwarven king took hold of the fraying old rope and began his descent. Fali was there a moment later, helping to stabilize their escape route. He patted Thurgan on the back, letting him know hope yet remained.
The other dwarves and the adopted human arrived shortly after. All of them made haste, scrambling down the side of the cliff or grabbing the rope to offset the weight. More than once, Mordek nearly slipped from the rope. As the dwarves below shuffled off onto the ledge below, Fali noticed the burden lightening. He tapped on his nephew’s shoulder.
“Keep her steady,” he said. He nearly leapt off the side, grabbing the rope as he dropped.
Bolt looked to his father with wide eyes.
“Get going, son,” Dorn said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The human nodded and grasped the rope tightly with trembling hands. Abruptly halting a sigh, he stepped off the cliff, rappelling toward safety.
“Pah, ye got to be putting more meat on that boy’s bones,” Thurgan growled. “He’s barely a breath on the wind.”
Dorn held on tightly, as if he was carrying the weight of all the dwarves. The cold water soaked his clothes, and he thought that he might freeze there, forever securing his son’s escape.
“Yer turn,” Thurgan bade, pushing his former worker ahead. “Just like old times, eh?”
Visions of the statue of Vaulen ran through Dorn’s mind. He held onto the rope as if it was the cord of the grappling hook from all those years before. A downward glance showed his son was safely upon the ledge. It was only when the dwarf looked up that he realized the dire circumstances he was in.
“Thurgan, look out!” he cried.
A dozen feet behind him, soaking wet, Humber heaved his axe over his head. Thurgan merely nodded, as if already aware of his fate. The crescent edge of the weapon slid into his back with a powerful thud.
The dwarf fell to his knees. Though his hands trembled, he fiercely held onto the rope.
Dorn watched on, aghast. Tears fought to the rims of his eyes, and he dared not blink them away.
“Ye’ve got a couple of good lads,” Thurgan murmured. “Can’t be a dwarf among us that could argue that.”
“What are you doing?” Dorn cried. “Come with me, quickly! He’s right behind you!”
The traitorous kin ambled toward the cliff, a wicked grin upon his face. Thurgan’s eyes narrowed, and he looked to his side, but he couldn’t summon the strength to turn his head. Breathing through his gnashed teeth, he focused on his friend once more.
“Keep on teaching them both what it means to be a Thunderfury,” he groaned. “If they grow up half as decent as ye, our whole clan’ll be the better for it.” He then watched as his fingers involuntarily shuddered.
Thurgan raised his head, staring at the sky. His lips smacked together several times before he was able to wrest control over his body. “Get ready, Fali!” he shouted.
A cool serenity washed over him. He blinked once and lowered his head. With a smile beginning to form, he looked upon his friend one last time.
“Hold tight,” he ordered.
The rope slipped from his fingers, and Dorn’s weight carried it off the cliff. An incoherent wail echoed across the mountains as Dorn fell, no longer in sight of his clanbrother.
Below, Fali’s brow furled, for he was unsure of his task. As the rope fell, though, he lunged forward on instinct, grasping the braided line. Dorn dropped like a stone, and his friend’s eyes grew wide as he understood the gravity of the situation.
Fali dared not let go, and that immense weight nearly wrenched him from the cliff. He slid down along the ledge, his boots barely on solid ground. The waterfall was just in front of them, and Dorn’s back caught some of the stray mist. Bolt and Lund grabbed hold of Fali, and they fell back, finally stabilizing the dwarf below.
Still upon his knees, Thurgan heard the cries of relief below. He sniffed once, his large nostrils flaring. He could hear the slow approach of his treacherous clanbrother. High above, the harpies circled like vultures.
His body convulsed and his jaw locked as a sudden pain jolted through his body. A blinding, searing light affronted him, and when his vision returned, tears left it blurred. A firm kick to his injured back had him rolling to his side. He came to a halt just at the edge of the cliff, peering back at Humber, who once again had his axe in hand.
“Throwin’ in with them birdies,” Thurgan growled. “We never did think much of ye, and now I know why.” He spat upon the ground, watching the slow approach of his kin. The stout dwarf stopped just a few inches from him. “What are ye waiting for? Do it!” he roared.
As Fali and Bolt helped Dorn over the ledge, they saw another figure drop from the cliff above. Thurgan offered no protest as he fell to the rocks below.
Varek stepped forward. “Was that—?”
“Aye, it was, yer majesty,” Fali interrupted. “Let’s not have him die in vain. Get behind the falls. If we stay here, we take away their numbers.”
The five dwarves and the human adolescent huddled together there. For a long while, only the sound of the raging waterfall reached their ears. They shivered, for the cold wind was present even on that secluded ledge. Mordek held out his hand, conjuring an orb of fire that offered them some respite.
None were prepared for the razor sharp talons that pressed through that powerful rushing water. Keilana grasped the dwarven mage and tugged him off the ledge. Dorn and Fali clenched their hands over his robe and wrenched him away from the harpy.
The Matron of the Storm disappeared again behind that watery veil. Her prey pressed against the cliff, wary of another attack. When it came, Lund stepped forward, swinging his axe.
Keilana was quicker than he anticipated. Her claws wrapped around the handle of the weapon, and she snatched it away, diving behind the waterfall again.
“That damn bitch is going to kill us all,” Fali snarled.
To his surprise, his nephew stepped forward, sweeping Lund aside. As the harpy emerged above the ledge once more, Bolt thrust out his hand. Keilana sent a wicked grin his way and was quick to follow it. Her talons began to close as she neared the young man.
A mere spark was the only warning she received. The Matr
on of the Storm could not hope to evade that powerful shock. The human held true to his name, zapping the harpy just above her stomach. Keilana couldn’t even offer up a protest as she flew back from the ledge, splashing through the falls.
Shuffling to his side, Fali watched as the winged witch careened from the sky, landing in the river far below. His cheerful cry was infectious. All of the dwarves were filled with an almost ineffable mirth. Dorn embraced his son while Lund gave him a firm pat on the back. Even Varek gave a thankful nod to the young human.
That victory was short lived, for harpies still circled high above.
“Sisters!” the dwarves heard. “The matron has fallen!”
“Where are ye going?” Humber bellowed. “They’re still below us. Our deal isn’t done!”
A nod from Dorn was all the information his kin needed. Fali tossed him his axe and brought the rope that had secured their escape.
“Stay here with Varek,” Dorn ordered. “Make sure you keep him safe.”
Lund stood straighter, yet his head bowed somewhat. “Do what has ta be done,” he conceded.
Waving to Fali, Dorn led the rope through the open leather hoop at the end of the axe. When his friend arrived beside him, he cinched the cord into a tight knot. “You’ve seen me climb before,” he said. “You think you can do it just as well?”
“Why not?” Fali shrugged. “It’s what we did ta get down here, only backwards.”
“If only it was that easy. Bolt!” Dorn called out in a muffled tone. “See if you and Mordek can’t distract the harpies that haven’t abandoned their cause.”
Nodding, his human son walked out beyond the waterfall. From there, he could clearly see the flock up above, still circling the dwarves like hungry raptors. Mordek arrived beside him, steadying himself with a sigh. Once again, he summoned an orb of flames in his hand, but that time, he sent it skyward.
As the fireball burst high above, Dorn swung the axe in circles at his side. The arcs grew wider, until finally he released his hold. It went up and back, cresting over the edge of the cliff. Tugging down on the makeshift grapple, the dwarf was content in its hold.
“Wait down here until I reach the top,” he told his friend. “Could just be a tough patch of snow.”
“Just keep yer head down when ye’re up there,” Fali pleaded. “Gods know ye’ll stick out like a broken thumb.”
Dorn took a deep breath and began his ascent. When he squirmed over the cliff, he saw a majority of the harpies flying away to the north. At least four eager huntresses circled in the sky above, periodically dodging flying fire or diving on the ledge below.
His friend was not far behind him. Dorn offered his hand, and Fali gratefully took it, swinging onto solid ground once more. With the axe in his hand once more, Dorn coiled the rope. He and his friend raced north along the river, until they reached rocks that sat high enough to cross on.
“Let me handle Humber,” Fali whispered, pulling a knife from his belt. “Just watch me back. I don’t need no birdies flinging me off the mountain.”
Dorn nodded and fell in line behind his companion, his hand lightly tapping the dagger upon his hip.
On the edge of the cliff, the stout, traitorous dwarf flung rocks to the ledge below. Even when they struck Bolt or Mordek, they were only inconvenienced. Humber’s brow had been marred by sweat, and his foes were barely aware of his presence.
“A councilman throwin’ stones at his people,” a voice behind him said. “What are ye, a human?”
Humber spun around so quickly he nearly lost his balance. Fali took a step back and beckoned the treasonous dwarf forward. As Humber stood, he tossed the knife into his dominant hand.
“Let’s get this over with, ye fat bastard,” he said. “I don’t have all day.”
A hoarse growl left both sets of furry lips. Axe and knife swiped at each other, sometimes meeting between the short and hardy fighters. More than once, a fist or a boot entered the encounter, though nothing could sway the battle one way or another.
Beside the two combatants, Dorn swallowed, the prominence in his throat nearly reaching the top of his tunic. His fingers clenched around his axe, but his legs remained steady.
The harpies above had not yet noticed the infighting between the dwarves.
Again, the two blades met, though Humber’s swings had become erratic. Still, Fali’s weapon was struck, and he was forced to pivot to accommodate it. Without losing any momentum, he swung back with his empty hand, slapping Humber across the cheek, spilling the dwarf to the ground.
“And ye meant to overthrow our king?” Fali boasted. “The Thunderfury needs a leader who can fight.”
“Our folk need someone that can outwit the daft ones like Varek. Like you.”
Humber’s fingers wrapped around a cold pile of snow. With a growl, he slung his projectile at his opponent. Fali turned but not soon enough. The icy clump struck him in his eyes, blinding him.
The traitor dwarf rose and rushed at his foe. He dipped his shoulder and drove it into Fali’s chest, knocking him to his back with a tremendous thud. Huffing and puffing, Humber gathered his axe and waddled toward his fallen foe. “I always knew I’d get to be the end of ye,” he said, raising his weapon high.
As Fali raked the snow from his eyes, he was surprised by what he saw. Dorn was upon his knee behind Humber, tying the rope around his leg. The corpulent traitor noticed that queer glance as well and turned, swiping back with his axe.
Dorn was already safely away, holding the other end of the rope in his hand. It remained tied to the axe he had used to ascend the cliff.
“Ye mean to tie me to what? The snow?” Humber snorted.
“I mean to watch you hang,” Dorn growled.
He heaved the axe west, letting it slip beneath the frigid waters of the river. All three dwarves watched it bob for a moment before the current caught it and ripped it beneath one of the heavy rocks that would not budge.
With a scowl, Humber turned to Dorn and attempted to step forward. The rope went taut, rooting him in place. He looked down at his bindings and swung at it with his axe.
A powerful punch landed squarely in his jaw, and his weapon teetered out of his fingers. Fali kept swinging, but Dorn had other plans in mind. He charged forward, ramming into Humber. Against such odds, the fat dwarf couldn’t fight against the momentum. Before he realized it, his boots hung off the edge of the cliff.
Dorn swept his friend back, and both watched as Humber rocked back and forth. His face was bloody and bruised, and he could barely focus on either of his kin. His sight gradually lowered until he saw the dagger protruding from his belly.
“Damn the clan and damn both of ye,” he spat. “It’s dwarves like ye that made us weak.”
Gnashing his teeth together, Dorn cocked back his fist. Fali steadied him, though, and pointed his chin at the beaten foe.
Humber tumbled backward, the loop catching him as he fell, and swung around toward the waterfall. The axe remained firmly rooted, and both dwarves watched the rope bounce and tug and pull. The struggle went on for a few more moments, and then the rope ceased to move.
Dorn’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his rump. Fali stepped up beside him and patted him on the shoulder.
Up above, they watched as one of the harpies dove, far beyond the waterfall. It landed downriver, scooping up some distant object. As that harpy took to the air once more, the pair of dwarves noticed how clear the sky had become. All of their foes had moved on.
“We’re gonna have some fun getting our king back up here,” Fali said. “I’d wager not one of us has another rope.”
“Maybe we can help with that,” they heard.
Both of them glanced over their shoulders, and neither could hide their grins as Jor and Agar waded across the shallow of the river. The captain of the Lightning Guard reached into his pack, retrieving another coil of rope. A stunted, tired cheer rose up, and even the dwarves on the ledge below shared in it. To the east, the sun began to
peak through the clouds.
“All right, enough with the cheering!” Dorn heard his son shout. “How about we get that rope?”
Chapter Nine: Lightning in a Jar
From the tone of his voice and the cadence of his words, his audience discovered his lengthy tale had concluded. Everyone in the inn applauded and cheered. One man by the doorway crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to stifle a wry grin.
“Well, boys and girls,” Dorn began, “I’m sure I’ll be telling you the story again soon. For now, I’ve got to get my lads back to the Goldenscales so they can see their own children.”
A chorus of mild dissatisfaction rose up, and the youths of Lacrimore began to disperse. Several of them approached the weary storyteller, giving him farewell embraces, which he gladly accepted. His laborers said their farewells to the townsfolk as well, until the building emptied out.
A young man approached his dwarven father, his arms still crossed over his chest. “You left out some important details there, Da,” Bolt insisted.
Dorn scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with your uncle Fali,” he teased. “Always embellishing the story more and more every time you both tell it.”
“Better than reeling back on it!” Bolt protested with jubilance in his voice. “But you could have told them how you were inducted into the Lightning Guard.”
The dwarf waved his hands at that notion. “That was only an honorary title.”
“Well, what about the harpies? There were easily twice as many as you described.”
“Boy, do you know how hard it is to keep the little ones’ attention? I had half a mind to tell the children it was just you, me, Fali, and Thurgan.”
Bolt groaned and dragged his hand down his face. He sighed, shaking his head, a smile still prominent upon his face. “At the very least you could have given them the good news and told them we found Corvo downriver later. The kids loved Ingus and Corvo. Hearing that he lived would have been the highlight of their day.”
“I considered it,” Dorn admitted. “But that was when it was day. Look outside, lad. It’s dark. Too dark to get our boys home tonight. Besides, I know what would have happened if I talked about Corvo. You’d take us on a completely different adventure, and we’d be stuck here until tomorrow evening.”
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