by Ben Hale
Siarra lips twitched, but instead of arguing, she asked. “Can you draw the dwarven city? I would like to get an idea of what we are up against.”
Arrow threw a look to Fisk and he slipped out of the circle. Returning his gaze to Siarra, Arrow said. “I can give you an idea of the exterior, and the battlements, but I know little about the inside. We would have to ask one of the giants if you want to know more than that . . .?”
Siarra shook her head. “For now, a rough sketch will do.”
Fisk appeared with a large piece of parchment and stick of charcoal. Moving a large crate to the center, he laid both down and resumed his seat, accepting the grateful glance from Arrow with a nod. Taryn scooted his seat forward to get a better view as Arrow began to draw, describing the formation as he worked.
“From what I understand, the fortress is a suspended city in the center of a volcano. Held up by three massive, enchanted chains, the city hangs above the lava. Above each chain, a bridge extends from the city to a tunnel that leads to the outer fortifications.” Spinning the charcoal in a wide circle, he continued. “Surrounding the citadel, and built a couple of thousand feet off the valley floor, a wall rings the volcano. I would put the wall’s height at forty feet, but the cliffs are sheer below the ramparts, making it look much higher. Behind the outer wall, several layers of ruins are visible, and I believe they used to be training facilities, as well as barracks.”
Arrow turned and began to draw a curving line. “The only entrance to the castle is a road that leads from the south side, and heads down the mountain. It crosses an ancient bridge and turns west before descending into the valley. Although old, three gates protect the road, and they appear to still function. We believe the bridge was at one time rigged to collapse, although we have no way of knowing if those mechanisms still work. Even without the outer defenses, there are more than enough fiends to stop an assault.”
Spinning the parchment, he began to draw squares to indicate enemy troops. “As far as we can determine, the fortifications above are lined with at least thirty thousand fiends, mostly the big armored ones.”
“Krakas,” Siarra said. “They are the captains.”
“Right,” Arrow nodded at her. “The road and gates have two or three times that number of the human sized ones, as well as roughly two thousand of the scorpion things,” He looked up at Siarra expectantly.
She flashed him a small smile. “The small ones are quare, and the others are skorpians.”
Arrow bobbed his head and bent to finish the drawing. “The valley below is the problem. A full contingent fills the entire breadth of it.” He rose to his feet. “We estimate a million fiends in this one valley. As if that weren’t enough, another army the same size is camped in the valley west of it.”
Taryn gave a silent sigh. There were more fiends in this one valley than there were people in all the gathered races put together. The sobering thought left Taryn feeling inadequate, and only reminded him of the enormous responsibility of slaying Draeken.
Mae leaned forward, speaking for the first time, “How did the giants escape the city?”
Arrow pointed to the north side. “There are tunnels below the outer fortifications. I believe there is an intersection point somewhere north of the fortress. It connects to tunnels that lead down into the valley, and to the southern side of the mountain. I suspect they were escape passages from the city, and there is probably a similar junction on the south side. But as soon as Royl got his people out, he collapsed the northern passage behind them. Until now, it has kept the fiends from following.”
Siarra didn’t take her gaze off the sketch, her expression thoughtful. Smiling to herself, she raised one hand and gestured intricately. Light from the flameless torches bent and curved towards the parchment, darkening the room, but brightening the spot over the drawing. At first, Taryn thought his sister was drawing more light to examine it better—until the light began to take shape.
Bit by bit, the light separated, until it formed a glittering image of Xshaltheria. Gasps and murmurs from the onlookers accompanied the magical display, but Siarra didn’t seem to notice. Flicking her hand, she raised the castle to head height, allowing her to peer at the ancient dwarven citadel with ease. Twisting her fingers, she sent the shining image into a slow spin.
To his credit, Arrow took the magic in stride. Inclining his head towards the Oracle, he gave a wry grin. “I fear your drawing is better than mine.”
Siarra grinned and pointed to the three-dimensional map. “Do you have any idea where Draeken is?”
Arrow pointed at the bottom of the city, but Taryn noticed he didn’t touch the magical light. “I think the secret chamber was at the base of the city. Royl described it as an empty round platform suspended in at the bottom of a pit. He said he could see lava below it, so I would guess it is at lowest level.”
“How far away is Xshaltheria from here?” Trin asked.
“A day’s journey, no more,” Fisk answered.
Taryn looked at the fortress, wondering how they could get in. There was no way they could fight their way through the fiends on the surface. There would just be too many. And with the tunnels collapsed, they couldn't attack from below. The moment they did strike, all the fiends in the valley would flood up to them.
Siarra suddenly gave a deep sigh, and something about the look she flashed him made him worry. Rather than triumphant or excited, it expressed regret. Turning to Arrow, she said, “I believe I know what we must do, but we will need the giants help.”
Captain Arrow’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. “Royl is out scouting. He should be back by tomorrow. You can speak with him then.”
Siarra frowned at the delay, but nodded. “Then we have the day to prepare ourselves.” Her gaze found Taryn’s, and what he saw their sent a sliver of fear up his spine. Rather than confidence or determination, it carried only one thing . . .
Resignation.
Day 5
Chapter 19: Choice and Consequence
Wall groaned and brushed aside Derek’s efforts to wake him, but that just made him try harder. Then something impacted his shoulder, causing him to wince.
“What did you do that for?”
“It’s time to get up big brother. We still have a war to win.”
Growling in frustration, Wall heaved himself into a sitting position and blinked at Derek. “When do we start winning, huh?”
Derek grinned despite his tone and replied, “Of course we will win. Good always does.”
Muttering under his breath, Wall stuffed a foot into a boot, trying to remember what day it was. When he managed to string together the different days, he realized that only four days had elapsed since the battle had begun.
It felt like much longer.
“Are you ready yet?” Derek asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.
“Why are you so ready to fight?” Wall asked, annoyed at his own petulant tone. “We are lucky to have survived this long—and who knows how long our luck will last. We could be dead in an hour.”
Derek’s somber expression eased the sudden anger Wall felt, but it couldn't dispel it so he looked away. “I’m sorry. I just hate this . . .” For a moment he struggled, searching for the right words until he shrugged helplessly.
“I know Wall,” Derek said. “I do too—but something is different about today. I can feel it.”
Wall snorted. “You think some rock trolls are going to show up and help us too?” The story of the reinforcements had spread like wildfire late the previous day, inspiring members of every battalion to stand firm.
“I don’t think so,” Derek grinned, either not catching or ignoring his sarcasm. “But something good will happen today, you mark my words.”
Before Wall could respond, Derek slipped out of the tent on his way to the front line. Sighing, Wall laced his boots and stepped into the sunlight, coughing as the lingering smoke drifted past him. Rubbing his eyes against the irritating haze, he listene
d to the sounds of soldiers preparing for battle, uncomfortably familiar. Catching sight of the large retreating form of his younger brother, he sighed and trudged to catch up.
His eyes down, he worked his way through the sprawling encampment, heading towards the front line. Although the screams of the dying black elves and humans grew louder, he barely heard them. He’d heard it all before.
Soon he reached the blackened scorch mark that had been a sea of fiery, burning oil just two days ago. Over half a mile wide, it sloped downward to the soot covered remains of the wall at the edge of the cliff. As before, fiends poured over the crushed stones, howling for blood.
Wall stopped to rub his eyes once more, grateful for the numbness that he felt, but at the same time wishing he could feel something for the dying. Perhaps that would make him more human.
Maybe he just didn’t care anymore.
Derek, fifty yards in front of him, had already begun laying out spears for the two of them, readying them for their shift. With their diminished forces, many of the harder hit commands had been consolidated, meaning the two of them were now posted together. It was a small boon, but a welcome one. Sighing, Wall trudged his way down the ash covered stone. Without him, Derek would get killed in a heartbeat.
Arriving next to Derek, Wall reached for his first spear, ignoring the teasing comment from Derek, and sought for his first target. In seconds he spotted a victim and took up a position to throw. Yanking his arm forward, he launched the spear right on target, smiling to himself as he saw it heading true—but the fiend was no longer there.
At first he thought he had missed, or that someone else had killed the same one. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But then he realized that the other fiends were dropping from view. One by one, they retreated back over the wall, until not a single black body was in sight. Dark elves and humans alike looked at each other in confusion.
“What is going on?” Derek said beside him, echoing his thoughts. “Did we win?”
Wall shook his head, unwilling to respond. Something didn’t feel right. The fiends had never retreated before.
***
“The fiends have pulled back, Commander,” Thacker said, his tone confused as he interrupted Braon’s conversation with the head of the mage guild.
“What? Where?” Braon asked, stepping to the map to see for himself.
“The Deep is reporting that the fiends have retreated back over the wall.”
“Why would they do that in the black elf garrison?” Telerial Sur’Magrian asked.
Braon gestured for the archmage to continue working on the map, his attention focused on the map before him. Please be wrong, he thought, working the magic to the correct area and enhancing the view until the cliff came into view. Staring into The Deep, named for the two hundred foot dip in the cliff, he saw the remains of the wall that had once brought it to the same height as the plateau. Red colored shapes were all withdrawing, leaving it clear.
Then Braon saw it. Squinting, he saw that the vertical rock was not entirely barren. A solitary figure worked its way up the cliff, and it was nearing the top. Swallowing at the quick knot of fear, he ran through the possibilities.
War, high general of the army they faced, had only been spotted once or twice. He doubted he would go in alone. Was it Plague, who had already attacked the Lake Road, and may have survived the crushing landslide? Or Famine, the last of the leaders of the fiend army, who had been encountered by others before the battle but hadn’t been seen since?
His gut said it would be Famine. Furrowing his brow, he reviewed what Sirfalas, the historian, had told him. Famine could be injured by normal weapons, but no one had ever been able to get close enough.
Braon’s eyes snapped open and saw that the figure was nearing the top. Wheeling to face Thacker, he said. “Tell Val’Trisian to withdraw any and all infantry. Then post all ranged soldiers—including magi—as far back from the wall as she can while keeping them in range of the edge.”
***
Wall listened to the order, irritated that his stomach grumbled as the sergeant turned away. When had he last eaten? Taking up his proper position, he joined the large half circle of archers, spearmen, and dark elf magi. Hefting his spear next to Derek, he tried to ignore the gnawing pain in his belly.
But the hunger did not go away.
Second by second it got worse, until he couldn’t help but grimace. Embarrassed, he glanced around and saw that everyone around him was clutching their bellies. Suddenly someone collapsed, crying out in agony as he wrapped both arms around his midsection so hard his arms went white.
In seconds, other began falling, yanked to the ground by the aching want. Cries for food assailed him from all sides, causing him to envision his favorite dishes. Images of pies, meats, and roast pheasant floated through his mind, making the pain in his belly increase. Unable to stay standing, he dropped his spear and doubled over, gasping.
“What . . . is that?” Derek panted beside him.
With an effort, Wall raised his head to see a slim figure, shorter than a human, climb carefully over the broken wall. Dry gray skin hung on the creature’s skeleton like dirty cloth on a rod. Its stomach had shrunk so much that the entire ribcage was visible. Moving awkwardly, it took two steps forward before stopping—and then sucked a ragged breath in.
The pain in Wall’s belly doubled and he dropped to the ground. The madness of hunger enveloped him, and if he had had the strength he would have bitten into a block of wood.
“We have to kill it!” Derek screamed, somehow managing to get the words out.
With supreme will, Wall rolled on his side and saw Derek, stubborn, tender Derek, crawling towards the creature.
“Are you . . . insane!” Wall bellowed, fighting for breath. “We have to . . . get out of here!”
Derek crumpled to the ground. Looking back he yelled over the hundreds of screams, “Look around you! Everyone is dying!”
“You want to join them?” Sudden rage gave Wall strength to rise to his knees. “We have to run!”
The pain increased again, causing Wall to gasp and look at his stomach in disbelief. It was shrinking! Gradually, his enormous girth had begun to melt away like snow on a hot day. Oddly, the diminishing weight seemed to give him strength, and for a moment he managed to look around.
His eyes widened in horror.
Others had begun to shrink too, but they had nothing to lose. Their skin sank inward, their stomachs diminishing as if their belts kept tightening.
Panic engulfed Wall, and his eyes sought Derek, but he had begun to crawl again—still moving towards the horrific creature. “What are you doing!” Wall bellowed.
Derek didn’t stop, his eyes fixed on his target fifty yards away. “Don’t you see! We can do this!” His voice was distorted with aching pain, hope and determination. “We are the only ones that can!”
Wall shivered, frozen in fear as he watched Derek move closer, his body shrinking faster than anyone else’s. Wall's eyes darted back and forth from his brother to the evil fiend, gauging the distance. He’s not going to make it! he screamed internally, unable to get the words out.
But I can. The words came out of nowhere, shocking him so much that he almost forgot the lancing hunger. I am bigger than Derek. I can do it. For one brief glorious moment, he saw himself crawling after his brother and slaying the creature.
In a flash he remembered all the times that Derek had covered for him, had defended him. How many times had Derek stepped forward in the face of a bully, ready to take a beating to spare Wall? How many times had he talked to girls that Wall was too afraid to approach? How many times had he fought for him, and had been bloodied for it? Now was Wall's chance to make up for it. Now he could be the kind of older brother that rescued his family.
And his size would make that possible.
Never in his life had he imagined a day where he could do something that others could not—and do something heroic in the face of death. But today was hi
s day, and all he had to do was crawl fifty paces and strike down a frail fiend. Feeling a rush of determination he crawled a few feet forward.
The pain exploded for every inch he moved towards it. Looking ahead, he saw Derek had passed the half-way point. How did he get so close! Wall moved one hand closer, his hand shaking as he fought the ache.
But his courage failed him.
Of its own volition, his body turned and began to move away. For every painstaking, crawling step in the opposite direction, his body felt better, but his heart felt heavier. Soon he reached the line of dying archers and passed them, gaining enough strength to stand. Hobbling, he took twenty steps until he could breathe and turned around.
Somehow Derek had managed to reach the thing, but, emaciated, he was no longer the brother Wall had grown up with. Even from this distance, he saw the creature realize that the human was too close, and it began to back away—but it couldn’t move fast enough.
Drawing on some well of strength, the once overweight man raised a trembling hand wielding a glittering dagger. Even as his legs thinned and his body shrank, Derek plunged the blade deep into the creature’s side.
A shriek of pain exploded from the thing’s mouth at the same time as the hunger began to diminish in Wall’s belly. Crumpling like scraps of deadwood, the creature collapsed next to Derek’s inert form, slain.
The hunger evaporated, leaving a dull ache in Wall's stomach. With a knot in his throat Wall bolted forward, running past the surviving men and dark elves until he reached Derek's side. In the pile of once tight clothing, he saw Derek's chest rising and falling.
Wall lifted his skeletally thin brother into his arms. “Derek, you still with me?” He choked on the words.
After a moment, Derek's eyes blinked open. “Did I do it?”
Wall laughed through his tears. “You did, you saved us all.”
Derek smiled and closed his eyes. Then he was gone.
In that moment Wall knew—without a shred of doubt—that it had been his destiny to defeat the hunger fiend. With his greater size he could have achieved what his brother had done, and survived where Derek had not. That understanding evoked a pain unlike anything Wall had ever experienced, causing his stomach to spasm as he fought the racking sobs.