Most of the dwarves called him lad, boyo, or elf. He had learned to take it in stride, though he was as old, if not older than many of them. Dwarves lived much longer than men, and as they aged, they grew broader, thicker, and beardier, coming to resemble the stone they worked with so often. However, elves still had the edge in longevity.
“Oh? What is that?” Elias asked, curious as to what the dwarf had in mind. The technical skill and tendency toward engineering that the stout race had fascinated him; they seldom had bad ideas when it came to this sort of thing.
Seamus pointed at the war machine with one stout arm.“Ya see, yer ballistas, they throw spears right good, but these ones, they throw rocks too, but only one at a time. They take too damn long t' reload t' just be throwin' one rock. We need t' throw lots o' rocks!”
Elias nodded. “That makes sense, but these machines tend to jam or misfire if they're loaded with more than one.”
Seamus nodded vigorously. “Aye, that they do, but that's because the back rock pushes the other rocks around, shoves 'em off th' track. If we could find a way t' bind 'em together, that might not be a problem anymore!”
Elias lifted a brow. “I'm listening.”
Excited, Seamus gestured to his drawing. “See, if we take ah bunch o' smaller rocks, the size o' a fist instead of the size o' yer head, an' stuff 'em in a sack, we could keep 'em together, and fire more weight. We tie the sack to a rope that's attached t' the base o' the ballista, so when it hits the end o' th' rope, the bag bursts open, and th' rocks spread out.” He pantomimed the process with his hands, spreading his fingers to represent the stones.
Elias nodded appreciatively, crouching down to study the drawing in closer detail. “Fire that at a tightly formed group, and it would hit multiple enemies, perhaps killing more than one or two per shot.”
Seamus nodded as well, fairly bursting with enthusiasm. “Aye! That's the idea!”
“How quickly could you make this happen?”
Seamus considered. “We'd need smaller rocks; the ones we got up here, they're too big. I saw a pile o' burlap sacks in the granary, should do the trick. Only need one roper per machine, we got plenty o' that.”
Elias stood again, patting the dwarf on his shoulder. “This is an excellent idea. Make it happen.”
The dwarf saluted. “Aye! With pleasure!” He hurried off, sprinting down the stairs as fast as he could. Elias turned back to Brandt, who had watched their exchange with a raised brow.
“Do you think it will work?” Brandt asked.
Elias shrugged. “Seems sound enough. Worth a shot, and if it fails, then we always have the single stones to work with.”
Brandt chuckled. “Worth a shot, eh? You make that joke on purpose?”
Elias palmed his forehead. “No. No, I did not.”
Brandt patted him on the shoulder, laughing. “Don't worry, it happens to the best of us.”
~ ~ ~
The sun grew closer to the western ridge outside of Valtheim, and with no moon, the cloud cover threatened to douse the entire valley in complete darkness. To the north and the west, a vast army of torches lit up the hillsides. Thousands of infantry and cavalry were assembled, ready for battle. Several riders broke rank from both sides and rode towards the wall, near where Elias and Brandt stood, Quartz at their side. Elias glanced over to Brandt.
“Are you sure you want to be seen manning the defense of the city? If this got back to Carloman, it could put your mother in danger.”
Brandt nodded, his jaw set. “I am committed now. It is better that my men see me leading from the front, not hiding in the city.” He looked askance at Elias. “Besides. If this battle goes according to plan, we'll be on our way to recover her before Carloman can learn the results of this battle.”
Elias looked back towards the riders as they neared the wall, moving between the ranks of Valtheim's cavalry. “Very well. Let's see what they want.”
The riders approached the wall, and drew their horses up, coming to a stop. One of them stepped his horse forward a few paces. “Steward Brandt of Valtheim, come forward!”
Brandt set his hands on the battlements, looking down at the man. “I am Lord Brandt. What do you want?”
The man held up a scroll and read it aloud. “Steward Brandt,” he said, as if correcting Brandt, “you are to open your gates immediately and submit to occupation. Any delay, and we will burn your city to the ground. There will be no negotiations. These are your terms.”
Brandt rubbed his chin, and glanced over at Elias. Turning back to the man on the ground, he winced, as if making a hard decision. “Unfortunately, that doesn't work for me or my men. You see, we got all dressed up for a battle - which you have kindly provided, thank you - and it would be quite the disappointment if we weren't able to put all that time to good use.”
The man on the ground scowled and lowered his scroll. “You're a fool, Brandt. Our army outnumbers yours, and there are more men less than a week away. Your city will fall-”
Brandt signaled, and his men lifted the naked bodies of a score of enemy soldiers, throwing them over the wall. The man on the horse had to wheel it around and canter away to avoid being hit by the corpses.
Brandt leaned against the wall. “Why don't you ask them what most recently fell in this valley. Bring your army of peasants and cowards. We have warriors ready to meet them.”
The messengers rode back to their armies at a gallop, and Brandt turned to Elias, grinning wide. “I think I may have offended them.”
Elias chuckled. “I think so.”
Before long, there was a great cry from the northern and western slopes of the valley, and thousands of riders charged down the hill towards the castle. Valtheim's cavalry surged forward, eager to meet them, and as they did so, Brandt signaled for the banners of Valtheim to be dropped, unrolling down the walls, the vibrant green and white standing out against the stark gray stone. Gerulf and Adalhard's cavalry galloped around on either side of Valtheim's four hundred horsemen, enveloping them entirely. Watching from the walls, it was impossible to tell which force each horseman belonged to.
The fighting was savage, the screams of men and horses as they fell audible from the top of the wall, but then something happened. Half of the enemy cavalry broke from the battle and retreated back to the hillside, while thousands of footmen rushed towards the castle from the trees. When the two forces met in the field, the footmen drove into the cavalry with spear and sword, decimating them as the riders retreated. There was a very short-lived skirmish as the cavalry fought their way through the charging men on the northern and western slopes, and then the cavalry was through, beating a hasty retreat towards the safety of the trees.
Brandt grabbed Elias by the arm, shouting. “Look! It's my men! They got my message! They've come back to Valtheim!”
Elias nodded. “They're alone out there now. We need to come to join them, and crush our enemies now!”
Quartz held up a hand. “Not yet. Do not open the gates yet.”
Elias turned to her, frowning. “If we leave them out there at the base of the walls, they'll be riddled with arrows! Now is the time to charge!”
But she wasn't listening to him. She climbed up on top of the battlements, her black cloak blowing in the slight breeze. Spreading her hands, Elias saw the same purple glow that had come from them the night she had healed his ankle. The ground shook as she spoke a language he had never heard before, louder than he thought was possible.
Her voice reverberated through the valley, and the ground shook again. The trees on the top of the ridge swayed, and Elias could hear the confused shouts of men, both at the base of the wall and on the far hillsides. Enemy soldiers poured out of the trees and onto the grassy slope in front of Valtheim's fields.
Great spires of stone burst from the ground, coming from the ridge and beyond, soaring dozens of feet into the air before toppling downward into the scattered forces. The earth split asunder under their feet, smoke and red light pouring forth, swal
lowing entire groups of soldiers before snapping shut, only to open again in another place.
The terrified soldiers ran towards the city to flee the devastation. Elias stood there in awe as Brandt frantically signaled the soldiers who manned the ballistas. “Fire now!”
With a loud thump, each ballista launched its artillery, a large burlap sack filled with stones. Once the ammunition had flown perhaps fifty feet, the ropes that attached them to the ballistas themselves snapped taut, and most of the bags split, their contents spreading out like a handful of seeds thrown into the wind. They rained down upon the sprinting soldiers, knocking cavalry from their horses, and hammering the infantry.
Brandt had been staring up at Quartz, his eyes wide, jaw dropped open. Snapping out of his shock at the events on the battlefield, he waved his arm at Elias. “Now! Now, we charge!”
Elias grabbed a torch, and waved it over the edge of the wall. Another torch answered him, waving back, and Valtheim's forces leapt towards the enemy, the cavalry outpacing the infantry, spears and lances leading the way. They drove into the scattered, terrified soldiers like hammers through sand, splitting the opposing infantry into fragments.
Valtheim's footmen came behind the cavalry like a wave with a great shout, hacking and cleaving any enemies that stood in their way. From where Elias stood, he could see the men of Valtheim shoulder to shoulder with the Silverdeep dwarves, swords and axes working together to decimate the confused and terrified enemy.
In the distance, on top of the ridge, the ground still bucked and heaved, smoke and dust rolling towards the sky. Quartz stood atop the battlements, her hands still outstretched, a bright light shining from her hands growing more intense. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her teeth clenched. She balled her hands into fists, and pulled her left hand towards her chest.
The western ridge collapsed into itself, forming a massive crater at least two hundred feet across. A cloud of dust shot through with debris surged down the hillside towards the raging battle. Turning to look to the north, Quartz drew her right hand towards her chest, and the northern ridge followed suit, a similarly enormous crater forming, as if a massive fist had struck the earth, sending a plume of dust and shattered stone flying into the sky. She brought her hands together in a loud clap that echoed through the valley like an enormous blast of thunder, shaking the ground with its intensity.
To the northwest, stone and soil surged skyward, forming a low, craggy mountain, molten stone pouring from the base and flowing a short distance down the hill. The peak of the new mountain crumbled, rolling down the slopes and covering over the lava, smoke pouring upwards where trees and bushes were ignited by the burning catastrophe.
The battle below broke, soldiers scattering in all directions, most of the forces making their way to Valtheim, while a few ran to the south and east, avoiding the decimated northern and western ridges.
Elias stood staring at Quartz, his mouth hanging open in shock. He had heard stories of wizards with immense power, but had dismissed them as just stories until now. Even with what he had seen in Greenreef, when they had taken the Hollow Island and Marl had battled the dark knight, it had been nothing like this. He looked out over the annihilated battlefield, then up at Quartz again, and he felt apprehension, and a little fear tightening his chest. If she could do this, what chance did anyone have against her if she turned her power against them?
Even Brandt stood in awe, gripping the battlements so hard his knuckles were white. He gazed out over the decimated ridges, dead and dying horses and men littering the site of the battle.
The sun had sunk below where the western ridge had once stood, but the depression caused by Quartz's magic let the last beams of sun shine under the clouds and onto the walls for longer than usual. She turned to look at Elias, the purple light fading from her hands as she smiled.
“I think they won't soon forget that,” she said. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she went limp, falling towards the city. Elias caught her, and lay her down on the stone blocks that formed the top of the wall.
Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she opened her eyes. The light that had been glowing from her hands had completely gone, and exhaustion lined her face. “I... I will be alright,” she said, her voice soft and weak. “Take me to my chambers, and let me sleep. What I need now is rest. Rest and water.”
Brandt nodded. “You shall have it.” He looked up at Elias. “Can you carry her to her room? It's off of my meeting chamber.”
Elias lifted Quartz, one arm under her back, the other under her knees, her light frame hardly any encumbrance at all. “Yes. I'll make sure she gets there safely.”
She set her hand on his shoulder, and rolled towards him in his arms. Her body was warm, almost hot to the touch, even in the cool autumn evening. Her rhythmic breathing slowed as he carried her down the wall, through town, and into the great hall. The long tables were completely empty, save for bandages, bowls of hot water, and surgeon's tools; the wounded would be brought here for treatment.
A servant opened Brandt's door for Elias. When he told her to open Quartz's door as well, the woman hesitated. Elias repeated the directive, and she complied, opening the door, then fled back to the great hall.
The interior of the chamber was dark, any candles having long since gone out. Elias let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and slowly, the room came into focus.
Thick, dark cloth covered the windows, the chandelier hoisted high and out of reach. Desks and tables lined the walls, piled high with various tomes and journals, some of which lay open, with strange sigils and diagrams covering the pages. None of this made any sense to Elias. He could read and write the common script of Lonwick, as well as the official elven language, and he was fluent in the angular, runic writing of the Northmen as well, but the words in these books were neither of those.
The middle of the room was empty, the table having been pulled to one side of the room. On the ground, a large circle was drawn in chalk, with a star drawn in the middle, eight-pointed, like a compass rose. A burned out candle sat on each point, where it touched the circle, melted wax solidified on the stone floor. Elias wondered as to the figure... it was very prevalent in the southern societies. Even the Felle used it as their insignia, albeit black instead of gold, like on the churches of Lonwick.
On the far wall was a simple bed piled with blankets and furs. Elias walked over to it, avoiding stepping on any of the lines drawn on the floor, and set Quartz down. She was still quite warm, so he didn't bother covering her, but he did pull the blankets aside so she could easily do so if she grew cold. Quietly, he left her room, closing the door behind himself.
He definitely had some questions for her when she woke.
Chapter Ten
2nd Waxing Frost Moon, Year 4369
The battle had been an overwhelming victory. Almost the entirety of Gerulf and Adalhard's forces had been slain, over seven thousand in all. What few had survived fled south or east, away from their lord's strongholds. Whether they would circle back or not, at this point, was irrelevant There were not enough left to even begin to be a threat to the forces that now held Valtheim.
Their soldiers had fared well. All in all, they had lost about fifteen hundred soldiers and warriors; Brandt's forces had taken the brunt of the casualties, nearing a thousand men and horses killed, while Elias's elves and dwarves had lost two thirds that number. Of the forces he had come to Valtheim with, he had almost two thousand warriors left, with four hundred sea elves and fifteen hundred dwarves having survived both battles.
He felt the loss keenly, but as he had said many times before, this was what war was. Nobody had a guarantee that they would see the next conflict. All it took was one arrow or sword thrust, and that would be the end. During the last battle, he hadn't entered the fray, instead directing combat from the wall of the city, and waiting in reserve in case the attackers made it to the city itself. Quartz's magical assault had rendered that plan obsolete and put a swift and decisive end to the
battle.
Spirits were high in Valtheim. Brandt's forces were back to near what they were before he was unseated by the rebel lords, Elias's warriors swelling his army to nearly nineteen thousand. In one solid stroke, he was once more the most powerful lord of the Northlands. However, his task was nowhere near complete. At least six thousand soldiers still waited at Adalhard's northwestern fortress at Eisberg, and Gerulf commanded slightly more at Steinhalt in the western mountains. If Brandt were to consolidate his rule once more, he would need to root out those men and make examples of them, before moving on to the leader of the rebel lords, Carloman.
The dwarves and men had been busy collecting the dead and burning them, and the smoke was thick in the valley, obscuring the sun. The smell was unpleasant, but within the city walls, it was less severe. The most arduous task was hauling lumber in from the forest that was dry enough to burn. Thankfully, there had been little rain over the last few months, so there was much in the way of deadfalls that aided that effort. Unfortunately, this would make gathering firewood much more difficult for the population in the coming months. It would be a cold winter in Valtheim.
Elias, Brandt, Jonas, and Tataramoa sat in Brandt's chamber, planning their next move, while Jenna and Geoff assisted with the wounded, and Martin helped with the cleanup of the battlefield. While he grumbled a bit, Martin was a hard worker and an efficient middleman when it came to getting things done. Elias found that his temperament complimented those of the dwarves, and thus used the young man as a go-between with the warriors from Silverdeep.
Brandt drummed his fingers on the table. “First thing's first. We need to rescue my mother from Carloman.”
Elias nodded. “If I remember correctly, Quartz said she had a plan for that. I am willing to hear it.”
Tataramoa was repairing his spear, wrapping sinew around a newly forged spearhead to secure it in place. “This seems like a good idea. My people are ready to help where we can.”
Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2) Page 16