by Tiger Hebert
19 The Tomb Under the Mountain
The orange orb crept over the desert expanse and the Black Sea beyond it. The cool of the morning was touched by the glow of the rising sun. These southern deserts lay at the feet of the Mar’Kren Mountains, and they were growing warmer this time of year as the sun came closer as it pushed further south.
Commander Ronnick and King Dorn stood watch atop the battlements at the mouth of Dar Mar’Kren. The cold air nipped at their bearded faces and tugged on their capes. Their eyes fixed on the dark northern horizon, watching, waiting. As the light stretched across the land, the army of the dragon was made known. The size of the force was beyond their expectation; what must have been more than three thousand soldiers moved toward them. But it was not long before their eyes were fixed upon the black wyrm.
The shadow drake twisted like a great snake, slithering through the sky above his army, spewing forth the flames of the legendary dragon’s breath in a display of his power. The wind swirled as his massive wings beat the air, sending clouds of sand and dust spiraling over the desert expanse. Then the dragon flew through the air like a writhing serpent as he approached Dar Mar’Kren. Like a dark cloud, the essence of fear raced before the shadow drake until it reached the mountain. Panic gripped the dwarves as the presence of the shadow drake fell upon them, and terror took hold. They braced for the worst as they shuddered with fear as he rapidly approached.
“Bow before Slayvin!” howled the dragon as he burrowed his giant black claws right into the stone face of the ledge before them.
His eyes, nostrils, and mouth were gaping chasms of fire that churned with smoke and flame. His wings still beat as he balanced himself on his perch. The bitter cold air, devoid of the warmth of life, rushed around them. Muscles rippled under the smoldering black carapace of thorns.
“Bow before me, maggots!” he cried furiously as he spewed flames into the morning sky above them.
They fought to hold their ground amidst the powerful beating of his wings and the sheer power of the dragon fear, but they cowered behind their tall shields.
Ronnick reached deep down within himself and shouted, “We will never bow to you, worm. Go to hell where you belong!”
Making what was sure to be his final stand, the dwarf hurled his axe at the beast as his act of defiance. The axe spun rapidly as it hurtled toward the heart of the beast. The beast let out a wicked howl, and in a flash, the armored tail of the serpent swatted the cleaver away. The second snap of his tail came crashing down like lightning upon the battlement, sending rock and rubble flying. The tremors of the impact caused the dwarves to stumble backward, and they grabbed at each other to catch their balance.
“If you will not serve me, then you will die,” hissed Slayvin as he poured out his fiery breath. The dwarves dove down the battlement stairwell as they tried to escape the dragon’s flames. The wind whipped around them as he beat his mighty wings and took flight. As he flew over back toward his army, the dragon issued the command to attack.
The dark forces of his army surged forward, both on foot and on horse. Evil cries escaped their mouths as they charged Dar Mar’Kren with wicked intent. As they charged, they moved into formations, long narrow columns designed to drill their way past the small dwarven defenses and into the keep.
The Zenari cavalry lead the charge as they dashed forward. They were primarily dressed in black garments, with minimal armor. Their lances were prepared for the task at hand, and onward they raced. Before them in the narrow opening at the foot of the mountain was the mouth of Dar Mar’Kren. It was there that the dwarves would make their stand against the forces of darkness. Shoulder to shoulder, the stout warriors braced for impact. They were heavily armored from top to bottom in the ornate regalia of their kind. Precious metals of gold and silver overlaid the iron and steel casings that covered their bodies with beautiful decorative family crests. Because of their heavy armor, very few of them carried shields. Instead they wielded great weapons. They prepared their hammers, axes, and pikes for the defense of their home.
It was the sound of thunder when the cavalry crashed upon the dwarven wall. The massive dwarven formation staggered back a bit under the force of the heavy beasts, but they were resolute. Riders were sent flying as their horses stumbled and even crashed to the ground. Wave after wave of Zenari broke upon the rock that was Dar Mar’Kren while the dragon circled high above. Slayvin became incensed as he watched such a small force destroy his cavalry. Groaning from the depth of his molten bowels, the dragon roared as he circled back upon the mountain. As he faced the mountain from across the battlefield, he aimed straight for the opening of the keep.
At the sight of the dragon’s approach, Ronnick ordered the retreat of his men. It was hard for them to turn and fall back under such circumstances. It was already shoulder to shoulder, and their bulky armor made it slow. They struggled to fall back, first from the rear then all the way through the middle and front ranks. He urged them to hurry back further into the mountain as the dragon rocketed over the desert expanse toward them. Then with a deafening roar, the dragon expelled a torrent of flame into the mouth of the mountain before flying away.
The almost-liquid flames raced through the passage, chasing after the dwarves as they scurried away. The dwarves poured into the opening of the outer court, with the fire hot on their heels. The fire gave chase as they hurried to retreat, but several of those from the frontlines did not make it. Flames quickly overtook and consumed them. The otherworldly heat incinerated them, leaving little behind but ash and scorched armor as remains.
There was no time to grieve, though. It was an open-air courtyard, and they would have no protection from the dragon here, so they retreated further into the mountain. Hurrying inside, they formed another defensive front in the narrow confines of the entrance to the keep. The black dragon poured fire down upon the courtyard, but the flames could not reach them, so they waited for the army to come. The halls of the courtyard quickly began to fill up with the servants of the shadow drake. They charged ahead recklessly, fearless, without hesitation. Their curved blades danced as they attacked with an unholy fervor. The line of the dwarves fought valiantly, but the numbers they faced were overwhelming, even in the narrow confines.
Slayvin swooped down and perched himself upon the ledge above the courtyard so he could watch the gruesome horror of battle. The shadow drake’s aura of fear constantly ravaged the minds and the hearts of the dwarves as they stood against the dark host in the shadow of the dragon. Then came the call.
From inside the cavernous expanse echoed a horn. The echoing blast came from the streets of Dar Mar’Kren, and it reverberated well into the deep. Seconds went by with nothing happening. Then creaking and groaning sounds came from the bowels of the mountain, and the ground began to shake. As the battle continued, the shaking grew more violent, and the groaning became louder.
The dwarves became inspired, and they fought with a newfound confidence against the tides of the Zenari. The sounds of battle carried on as the earth quaked violently with the sounds of the very ground cracking and snapping. Then from the hollows within the cavern emerged their champion. A towering stone titan rose from the depths of the earth. The bellowing roar of the giant shook even the dwarves, and then the stone goliath lumbered toward the battle. As he moved toward the conflict, the dwarves began to peel back and get out of his way. Even the dwarves on the frontlines abandoned their position as they fell back.
The charge of the mindless drones was met with the Strength of the Mountain, as the giant swung its leg through the wall of men. Bodies were sent sprawling as the dwarves’ champion stormed its way through the ranks of the dragon’s army. Stone fists pummeled soldiers. Their arrows ricocheted off him, and their swords rang out like gongs as they helplessly clanged against his earthen hide. His massive body did not fit through the passage, so he just crashed right through the corridor, walls and all. The whirling dervish of stone spun through the courtyard with hurricane force, toppling
the forces of the enemy. From the middle of the courtyard, the rock giant locked eyes with the shadow drake and roared in opposition to the wyrm.
With no intention of backing down the dragon roared back and spit fire upon the colossus. The titan emerged unscathed, with but blackened stone skin. He began climbing the rock walls as he pursued the dragon.
As he climbed, the dragon only climbed higher up the mountain. While the two great beasts prepared for battle, both dwarf and man returned to the fight. Dozens of men flooded into the courtyard, and the battle-hardened dwarves met them with force. King Dorn led the charge, and he delivered a crushing blow with his dwarven war hammer. Ronnick followed suit, his blue eyes blazing like an icy fire as he threw himself into battle. Crushing with the mace and rending with the axe, the commander devastated the forces of the dragon. Other gray beards joined the fray as Tomel and Zorin battered the invaders with their hammers and shields. The courtyard was theirs once again, but the Zenari were still coming.
On the slopes of the mountain, high above the mortal battle, Slayvin would have to face the Strength of the Mountain. The gargantuan titan ripped chunks of rock from the face of the mountain and hurled them toward the dragon. Slayvin smashed the first with a crack from his armored tail of spine and bone. The boulder exploded, sending bits of rock fragments into the air. The second boulder passed through the dust and debris and smashed into the dragon’s left shoulder. Slayvin was staggered by the blow, but he was not prepared for what came next. The mountainous monster charged through the swirling cloud of dust. Boulder sized fists rained down on the dragon’s hardened body. Slayvin’s body was being crushed under the flurry of blows that hammered his back and side. Writhing, the wyrm turned and slashed with his claws, trying to grasp the monolithic creature. His claws violently raked across the stone torso of the giant with little effect. The dragon frantically clawed at the elemental with all of his might, but the pounding kept coming. The relentless assault from the stone guardian forced the dragon over onto his back. Slayvin hissed and whipped his tail at the creature, but he couldn’t slow the attack. Then with his tail and his claws, he tried to subdue the Strength of the Mountain, but his power was too great.
While the brutal battle continued on top of the mountain, the war raged below. The dwarves were winning the battle; they were like armored tanks amidst a hail of glancing blows. The Zenari were but lightly armored if at all, and their curved blades were not designed to pierce this layered armor of plate and mail. Despite winning, the dwarves’ legendary strength and stamina were waning as the battle carried on, and their reserves were few. They tried to rotate in and out of battle between waves, but the rotations were getting shorter and shorter. Exhausted from battle, the king and the commander tried to rally the troops, giving encouragement. They pointed to the battle above, which surely promised a victory, hoping to give their soldiers renewed strength by just watching as their champion thrashed the serpent upon the rocks. They were inspired, no doubt, but their mortal strength still had its limits.
Above their kingdom, the epic battle continued. Lashing his spiked tail frantically, the dragon landed a series of shots upon the rock’s face. The titan stumbled back a bit, and Slayvin went on the offensive. The dragon rolled forward and used his mighty hind legs to launch himself into the air. Whipping his tail at the giant, he wrapped around one of the giant’s arms as he flew into the air, trying to snatch the giant up with him. The titan snatched the black drake down from the sky by his tail and slammed him onto the mountain. He quickly picked up the beast by the tail and hammered him down onto the jagged rock face once more. Trying to end the fight, he dropped the dragon’s tail and hoisted a massive boulder over his head.
The stone champion let out a hardy laugh as he stared down on the battered dragon before yelling, “Looks like you’re between a rock and a hard place, snake!”
At that moment, Slayvin twisted around and whipped his tail around in a high arc. The end of his tail crashed through the boulder, reducing it to a cloud of dust and debris. The dragon leapt into the air and whipped his tail into the cloud. His blackened tail coiled tightly around the titan’s ankle. Flying through the dust, the dragon rose high into the sky with the stone giant in tow. As he climbed higher under the power of his wings, he lifted the giant into the grasp of his hind legs. The powerful feet wrapped around the titan’s arms. The elemental fought to free himself from the grasp of the wyrm, but he just couldn’t escape the clutches of the dragon.
The dragon climbed higher into the sky until the mountain all but faded, and then with his evil eyes, he looked into the face of the titan and hissed, “The Strength of the Mountain has failed!”
And with that, the dragon changed his course and spun into a dive, releasing the giant from his grasp. Disbelief washed over the stone face of the giant as he fell away from the shadow drake. Just then King Dorn looked up and saw their champion falling from the sky, plummeting to earth. He stood and stared in disbelief as their hope failed. Then the first blade pierced the opening in the side of his armor. The pain shocked his body, and he turned to see the blade buried in his side. The next attacker knocked the king to the ground and drove a second sword underneath his armor. The king lay there, fighting for breath as he watched the titan crash to earth.
It was surreal, like everything around them had stopped and time stood still. Like lightning, the mountain thundered as rock and stone went asunder. The ground shook; rocks and boulders crashed down inside and outside the stronghold. The massive body of the giant smashed through the mountain into the cavernous interior of Dar Mar’Kren. Light broke through into the depths as their champion was smashed to bits upon the streets of the keep. Their champion, their hope, was reduced to rubble. Dust filled the sky as the north face of the mountain, where the giant was slain, continued to cave in. The remnant of the dwarves stared at the horror. The enemy continued to advance on them, and the very roof and walls around them were toppling to the ground.
The wicked serpent descended down into the hollowed crater of a city, sending vibrations through the ground as he crashed to the wreckage in the streets. He slowly walked toward the dwarven army. They were trapped. Before them stood at least another hundred or more Zenari, and behind them, in the ruins of their home, was the shadow drake.
The clouds of dust grew thicker as the earth continued to shake. They could scarcely see each other, but they banded tightly together, only to witness the flaming eyes of evil burning their way through the clouds of dust. The eyes were so full of hatred, malice. As they watched the eyes move closer toward them, the ground beneath them began to shake violently, and more rocks began to crash down around them.
“The Strength of the Mountain has failed, but you have fought well, brothers. You have honored the memory of our great fathers. Go in peace,” declared Commander Ronnick solemnly as he released his men to die.
As the words left his mouth, all of his men’s eyes shifted to his breastplate. The embossed head of the lion on his armor began to shine brightly until it was completely illuminated. The bluish-white glow intensified until it blurred the last of their vision. Overcome, Commander Ronnick and his surviving comrades dropped their weapons to the floor, and as they collapsed, the walls and the roof came crashing down upon them, burying them in a tomb under the mountain.
20 Of Orcs and Men
The sun inched its way further into the vast expanse of the northern sky. The hint of warmth that came from the rays of light was a welcome touch, granting a slight reprieve from the cool hours of the night. A heightened sense of excitement was evident among the nearly four hundred surviving orcs. Most of them were just seeing the great mountains of the north for the first time, and now they were actually seeking refuge there. However, excitement couldn’t quite describe the emotions that the elders wrestled with. Ogron could not help but wrestle with anxiety for the future of his people.
Will we find refuge here among the men of the north? What if we are turned away? Where would we go? How
would we defend ourselves if the Zenari pursued us? How would we…survive?
His thoughts continued to run away with him, leading him down fearful and worrisome paths. Every doubt and concern weighed down upon him as every fateful scenario played out in his mind’s eye. Then a deep voice broke in and snapped him out of his trance.
“Fear not,” said his hulking brother with a subtle smile.
“I battle my thoughts, attempting to resist them, but they persist,” vented the chieftain.
“A restless mind does not bring peace or hope, victory or salvation, or anything thing else save for despair and restlessness itself,” replied Theros.
Ogron asked his brother, “How can you stay so calm and focused with everything that lies before us?”
“I see the perils that face our people just like you, but what control do I have over them? Do I have the ability to grant us protection among these people? No, none of our people do. That is a choice left to the men of this place,” said Theros as he gestured and let his eyes scan the surrounding peaks.
“It…it feels wrong to, to be calm when our people are dangling in such a precarious situation,” said Ogron in frustration. “I am chieftain. I am supposed to lead and protect our people. How can I do this when I have no control?”
“Look at me, brother,” Theros replied. “There are many things that I have no power over—not the sun, nor the winds, nor the animals, nor over the very heart that beats in this chest. For even it will betray me. In fact, I can count on wrestling for control over my heart and my hands until my bones come to rest.”
“You can count on evil. It always brings death and destruction,” remarked Ogron.
“And I can’t stop it from coming. But when it knocks, I will meet it with a calm mind, a clear vision,” answered the giant orc with a slight pause, “and a big freaking hammer.”
The moment of levity was needed, and the orcs shared a brief laugh before the silence returned. Nothing else was spoken for a while. Ogron continued the slow hike up the mountain pass in silence as he contemplated the wisdom of his younger sibling. Behind them, the caravan crept up the snaking road slowly, but their progress was steady.