The Doom Brigade

by Don Perrin

  “You go with the scouts. They might need your magic.”

  Gloth saluted, and moments later he and the three Sivaks disappeared down the tunnel.

  Slith entered the chamber, shone the light around.

  The chamber was large, filled with tools, including several enormous hammers. Six rail cars stood outside it. Judging by the stacks of rail ties and a couple of bent rails scattered over the floor, Kang decided that this must have been a maintenance shed, used by the dwarves to keep the iron rails in repair.

  The draconians set up camp inside the chamber, placing sentries at the entrance.

  “I’ve got to get some rest, Slith, so that I can restore my spells,” Kang said. “Áou take the map.”

  He drew out his holy symbol, held it fast in his hand, and found a darkened corner. No need to gain Her Majesty’s attention. He felt her presence almost at once, as if she had been keeping watch over him. The thought was comforting. He smiled and slid into the trance.

  * * * * *

  Kang was deeply asleep when sometime later Gloth and his three Sivaks reported back to Slith.

  “Keep quiet,” Slith ordered, herding them outside the chamber. “Don’t wake the commander. What’s up? Did you find the dwarves?”

  “No, sir.” Gloth pointed out his route on the map. “The chasm is there, just like the commander said. The bridge across isn’t, though. That is, the bridge is there, but a span’s missing in the center. We dumped our gear and glided across the chasm and—”

  “Damn!” Slith swore.

  Gloth was startled. “What, sir? What’s the matter?”

  “You say the span from the bridge is missing?”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s only about twenty feet. We crossed without any trouble—”

  “After you dumped all your gear!” Slith gave Gloth a rap on the head. “Use that skull of yours for more than a place to hang your helmet. How are we going to fly back across, carrying dragon eggs and all the rest of the treasure?”

  Gloth blinked. Now he looked worried. “I see your point, sir. We’d fall like rocks. What are we going to do?”

  “We’re engineers, Gloth,” Slith said. “It’s what we do for a living. Or what we used to do. Everything we need we either brought or we can probably find lying about down here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gloth still didn’t get it. “Need for what, sir?”

  “We’re bridge builders,” Slith explained. “We’re going to build a bridge.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kang woke with a start, after a frightening dream in which he was wandering around lost in a maze of tunnels, carrying a dwarf on his back. The dwarf was heavy, and Kang wanted to get rid of him, but he couldn’t, because the dwarf was chained to him and neither of them had the key. He carried the dwarf until he was ready to drop, and the dwarf laughed and laughed …

  Shaking off the dream, Kang sat up and stared around. The lantern was gone. He couldn’t see or hear anyone in the darkness. His men were gone, too.

  And somewhere, off in the distance, Kang heard clanging, metal striking metal. He went over the magical spells in his mind, the words to each coming to him like others learn rhymes in childhood. But these rhymes, unfortunately, were very simple.

  The spells which he had requested—complex, powerful spells—were not there. His Queen had granted him only rudimentary magical spells, spells that even Gloth could have learned. Kang worried Her Dark Majesty was angry at him for some reason. Hastily he reflected over his time spent in prayer with her, intending to seek her forgiveness if he had said or done anything contrary to her wishes.

  But it was not anger he felt, when he approached her throne. It was fear. His Queen was afraid. Her war against Chaos must not be going well. Kang tried to imagine a war raging in heaven, but he failed. Such a thing was beyond his comprehension. Well, he would do the best he could down here on this plane, work with what he had.

  The clanging grew louder. It sounded like a pitched battle.

  Kang drew his sword, crept out of the chamber and, as he did so, he had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. He caught sight of a short, squat figure, lurking at the chamber entrance. Kang raised his sword and leapt forward.

  “Oh, hullo, sir. You awake?” Viss sprang to his feet, saluted.

  Kang lowered his sword, heaved a sigh. “Damn it, Viss, I nearly cut off your fool head! What the devil are you doing out here alone in the dark? Where is everyone? And what’s all that noise? Are we under attack?”

  “Not that I know of, sir. Slith left me here to keep watch while you slept. The others are off building a bridge, sir.”

  “They’re what?” Kang couldn’t believe he’d heard right.

  “Building a bridge, sir. You remember that bridge on the map? Well, when we got there, we discovered that the bridge was out. We managed to fly across it, but the chasm’s pretty wide and Slith said that flying wouldn’t work, carrying dragon eggs, not to mention the rest of the treasure, which he said you wanted to go in the rail cars. So we’re building a bridge, sir.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Kang said, impressed. “Good for Slith.”

  Two Sivaks loomed out of the darkness, carrying torches. Seeing Kang, they both saluted.

  “We’re here for more rail ties, sir,” said one. “We’re using them as joists for the main span.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Kang offered.

  * * * * *

  The remains of an enormous stone bridge hung over the chasm. The central span was missing, and it looked, to Kang’s experienced eye, to have been purposely felled. The dwarven craftsmanship was excellent as always. The bridge—what was left of it—did not appear to be unstable. A quake would have taken down the whole bridge, not just the center.

  No, the dwarves had smashed their bridge deliberately. And they must have destroyed it some time after the Daewar had hidden their treasure, because nothing like this was marked on the map.

  It was a tantalizing mystery. Kang could picture a beleaguered army, retreating from the foe—whatever foe that happened to be—breaking the bridge after they had crossed. He threw down the rail ties he’d been carrying, spent a few moments studying the bridge.

  Slith caught sight of his commander.

  “Hello, sir!” The Sivak saluted and grinned. “We’re building a bridge, sir!

  “I see that. Show me your plans.”

  Slith and Kang walked across the part of the bridge that remained standing, moved out near the break in the center span. A rough drawing, done in charcoal, adorned the inside part of the bridge’s stone railing.

  “I had Gloth’s second, Drossak, draw this up. He’s an understudy to Hornalak, the Plans Officer for the First Squadron. I think he did a good job, considering what we have to work with.”

  The replacement span was to be a twenty-eight foot drop-in, made of wood, formed in the shape of a triangle. The iron rail tracks would hold it together. The draconians would hoist up one end of the span, keeping the other on the floor. Letting the span teeter, the draconians would then drop the hoisted end down into the gap between the two ends of the part of the bridge still intact. The triangle would wedge itself in between the far and near side, effectively bridging the gap.

  It wasn’t elegant, but it would do, Kang admitted. Crews would be posted on the other side, ready to align the span when it fell.

  The Bozaks were hammering straight the bent rails that would be the mainstay of the bridge, keep it stable. Some of the Sivaks were working to build a network of wooden trestles. Others were scrounging the area for rail ties and tracks.

  Gloth coordinated the construction of the triangle support trestles that would be under the rail sections. Wood was nailed and lashed together as best as they could, considering the shortage of materials.

  “Squadron Leader Gloth, can I see you for a moment.” Kang drew the officer off to one side.

  “What is it, sir?”

  “You are doing a great job here. Perhaps too grea
t. This bridge only has to get us across and then back again. After we cross, I want to pull it up onto the other side, so that the dwarves won’t be able to use it. Don’t build me a masterpiece. It only has to be used twice—once on the way over and once on the way back.”

  Gloth nodded. “I understand, sir. Still, we can’t afford to lose anyone, so I thought I’d err on the side of safety. Especially when we’re coming back with the eggs, sir.”

  “That’s a big ‘if,’ Gloth. Don’t get your hopes too high,” Kang admonished sharply.

  “Yes, sir.” Gloth looked dejected, puzzled.

  Kang was sorry he’d spoken. It was his duty to increase morale, not dampen it. Still, he couldn’t help feeling depressed over his lack of magical spells and the feeling that he was being watched, a feeling he couldn’t shake off.

  Kang sent Gloth back to work, adding a compliment on the fine workmanship that cheered the draconian. His commander went to watch Slith directing the straightening of the rails. They were using four rails to secure the top of the span, to increase its stability and strength.

  “What is your estimate of when it will be finished?” Kang asked.

  Slith looked around, taking in the work being done. “I’d say we’ll be ready to hoist the span in about two hours, then it’ll take an hour to drop it into place, sir. That’s going to be the tricky part. We don’t want to send all this work plummeting down to the bottom of the chasm.”

  “Three hours.” Kang nodded. “Good, that’s what I figured, as well. I want two sentries back down the tunnel. We’re making noise enough to attract all sorts of attention. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us.”

  The work progressed as planned, but slower than they had hoped. It took them four hours to assemble the span, and then another to secure one end and raise it up, pulling on it with ropes. The hard part was yet to come.

  The triangle teetered on the bottom end, the top held suspended in the air by ropes and makeshift pulleys. The draconians now had to shove the bottom end that was balanced on the floor toward the hole.

  Eight draconians held the ropes needed to keep the span raised in the air. The rest wrestled the opposite end of the triangle into position, shoving it forward inch by inch, toward the gaping chasm. Twice they were forced to stop when the top began to sway out of control. If the span tumbled over the side, they did not have materials enough to build another.

  They inched the span closer to the precipice. Finally, it was about six paces from the edge.

  Kang yelled, “Let her down gently, boys!”

  Draconians held the end on the floor in place. The rope holders started to lower their side. The span dropped a few inches at a time. As it crossed the halfway point on the descent, however, the draconians had a more difficult time holding it up, keeping it from falling. The span was still five yards above the far side’s edge when suddenly the ropes let go.

  The bridge span crashed down. The crews who were on the other side, waiting to align it, ran for their lives. The end struck the far side with a thunderous boom, overlapped it by three yards. As it hit, however, the span bent upward slightly, allowing more of the triangle to drop into the chasm. The rails that held the span together groaned under the pressure, then everything went quiet.

  The draconians watched, listened.

  The span held.

  The draconians cheered. Kang felt his depressed mood elevated. Once again, the engineers from the First Engineering Regiment had succeeded in building a bridge.

  The yell died down as Kang walked the span, gingerly stepped out onto the rails. Moving forward, he found that the bridge was not only steady, it was also sturdy. He crossed to the other side, turned, and gave his engineers a salute.

  The draconians cheered again.

  Four Sivaks began pounding stakes into the near side, aligning the rails on the bridge with the existing rails, then bracing the rails together to give them strength. The far side overhung the bridge span by two yards, making it difficult to align. The Sivaks on that side were attempting to wrestle it into place. But, all-in-all, Kang was impressed. The structure would hold.

  “Slith!” he yelled back across. “I want a reconnaissance done ahead. All tools and provisions are to be repacked. I want everyone ready to cross this bridge in ten minutes!”

  Slith began barking orders, urging everyone to hurry.

  Three troopers, one Bozak and two Sivaks, donned their field harnesses and drew their weapons. They crossed the bridge, then trotted off down the tunnel. According to the map, the tunnel forked yet again on the opposite side of the bridge. The iron rails ran to the right, entered another tunnel. The draconians disappeared into the darkness.

  Slith had the rest of the troops and all of the kit ready with a minute to spare. Kang returned, recrossing the bridge to pick up his own gear.

  “Well done, my friend,” he said to Slith.

  “What about pulling the bridge back up now?”

  Kang shook his head. “It’s too damned heavy. We nearly lost it the first time. I don’t think we have the sheer muscle-power to—What the devil’s that?”

  A rumbling sound thrummed around them, bouncing off the chasm walls.

  “Quake?” Slith said, looking alarmed.

  “The ground’s not moving. Where’s it coming from?” Kang yelled over the din.

  “I can’t tell, sir!” Slith shouted. “This damn tunnel! It distorts every sound!”

  The rumbling increased. A fearful wail, like the scream of some elf maiden, dying in agony, screeched through the darkness.

  “Banshee!” Slith cried and drew his sword.

  Every draconian in the troop grabbed his weapons. They faced various directions, keeping sharp watch. Kang was doing his level best to try to remember how to fight a banshee, though he seemed to recall that once you heard their deadly song, it was all over for you.

  He was hearing the song all right; the horrible sound pierced his ear drums. He was still standing, was not, as far as he knew, dead yet …

  And then Kang felt the rails under his feet begin to vibrate.

  He looked back down the tunnel.

  “There!” Slith gasped.

  Riding on the iron rails, one of the ore carts careened into view. Inside were six dwarves, clutching the sides of the cart for dear life. Beards flying, mouths wide open, shouting and laughing in derision, the dwarves hurtled past the draconians at a break-neck speed. The iron cart rolled along the rails, heading for the newly replaced span.

  “Look out!” Kang cried and leapt to one side.

  Draconians standing on the tracks flung themselves out of the way. The cart rocked violently when it hit the new rails, appeared perilously close to tumbling off into the chasm. The dwarves’ derisive jeers changed to terrified screams, several covered their eyes. Rattling and shaking, the cart clung to the rails and sailed across the span.

  The Sivaks working on the rails on the opposite side scrambled to safety, leaving their task undone.

  At that end of the bridge, the iron rails did not meet. The bridge jutted up about two feet into the air. The cart carrying the dwarves shot off the end of the bridge, flew some distance in the air, crashed, and overturned, spilling out the dwarven rail-riders, who took off down the tunnel at a run.

  Kang and his troop just stood there, staring, dumbfounded.

  The rumbling sound, that had ceased when the first cart tumped over, started up again. The draconians pushed forward onto the tracks to see what was coming.

  Kang yelled “Get back!” just as the second iron cart hurtled out of the tunnel. A third was right behind.

  The two carts flew across the new center span. The dwarves’ elation changed rapidly to sheer terror when they saw the overturned cart blocking their path. One of the dwarfs attempted to put on the brakes. Sparks flew from the iron wheels. The screeching sound went through Kang’s skull, started his teeth vibrating.

  The second car shot off the uneven span and lurched into the first. The third ca
reened into both of them. One of the cars remained upright. The other tipped over. Dwarves poured out in all directions, clambering over the sides, crawling out from under the wrecked rail carts. They fled like rats into the darkness.

  The sounds of chortles and laughter and insulting catcalls echoed down the tunnel.

  Kang snapped out of his dazed state.

  “Damn it! Get after them!” he yelled furiously.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “That ride,” said Pestle, departing the overturned iron cart, “was the single most wonderful experience of my entire life!”

  “Ooh, boy, what a ride,” said Mortar, eyes shining. “Where’s Auger?”

  “Down here,” said Selquist.

  He bent over a dwarf huddled in the bottom of the car. The dwarf had his head buried in his hands, and he was screaming, “Is it over? Is it over?”

  “It’s over,” said Selquist. He shook Auger. “Hurry up! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  Between him and Mortar, they managed to drag poor Auger to his feet. The sight of the furious draconians pounding across the bridge did a lot to help the dwarf recover after his terrifying experience. He broke into a staggering run. The others dashed along on either side of him. The dwarves from the first two cars had already run on ahead.

  Selquist stopped a moment to wave back at the draconians. “Thanks for the nice bridge!” he yelled. “And for showing us the way to the treasure room! It’s been a real pleasure doing business with you!”

  “Where do we go from here?” Mortar asked, worried. “How will we know the way?”

  “The iron rails,” said Selquist. “Haven’t you noticed that by now? We just keep following the iron rails. And it’s not far now, no matter whose map you go by.”

  Selquist’s plan had worked better than even he had anticipated. The dwarves had waited, hidden, in a small shaft branching off from the first main chamber room. They watched the draconians scout the chamber, heard Kang ascertain that this was, indeed the starting point on the map. Allowing the dracos a five- or six-hour head start, the dwarves had then proceeded to follow the draconians through the maze of tunnels.