Beyond Dagothar (The Oraclon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jason Breshears

  The only race to have ever made war against the Grimh with any degree of success were the Taran ogres. This success lied only in that they had survived. The Horn-Helm War accomplished nothing. Aware of this history the Taran Warlord avoided their territories in his campaign building his armies for this surface invasion. He was pleased when Grimh envoys approached him with this tentative alliance. The Grimh wanted an Undyrchief to participate against surface-dwelling races, especially dwarves should they be found. In particular, the race of the Emim-gard.

  Aside from the Taran army of the Warlord himself, there were seven legions, the Grimh being the seventh. Led by the Undyrchief, a title in the Deep denoting his undefeated status, he was regarded as equal to the Warlord though he was in command only of his own legion. The Grimh made up the smallest legion, six thousand giant dwarves with no cavalries, no seige engine brigades, no war mages or mageguards. They had eight hundred Vodoy. These were a race of deep gnomes, all archers, their race subdued in some long forgotten campaign. The Vodoy were now a part of Grimh society perfoming a large number of functions and even having rights and privileges affording many Vodoy families a level of prestige amidst the Grimh. The giant dwarves did not perceive them as equals but nor were the Vodoy bullied. It was beneath the dignity of Grimh warriors to berate or inflict harm on so insignificant a species. The deep gnomes no longer spoke their own language and their treatment and living standards were so high they faught alongside the Grimh with the fervor of knowing their families were well taken care of back home. Vodoy society maintained its own caste, its own bylaws and traditions for which the Grimh did not interfere.

  Together the Grimh and Vodoy spent a month traversing the abandoned undervein long ago built by surface-dwelling dwarves. They found the highway in rather good condition with only a few collapses and cave-ins that had to be cleared. The trip from Mount Thokax to underneath Dijin Castle had been quite uneventful. They had passed two underground forts, ruinous complexes once having dwarf garrisons somewhere below Dimwood. They had no time to explore.

  Beneath Dijin Castle they found the double-reinforced and sealed portal from the old undervein system into the nether dungeons of Dijin keep. The Grimh found it interesting that the seals long ago placed on the doors were from the inside as if the dwarves worried about trespassers from Darkfrost or the highway entering Dijin Castle from below after the highway was closed and no longer in use. This great door was no obsticle to the Grimh.

  In total silence five hundred giant dwarves formed two lines standing in pairs as they removed their heavy shields from their backs. Each shield was round with tongue-in-groove locks centered on the front and inside of the shields. Every single shield of iron was identical, forged from a mold that had not been changed in over a millennia. The center of the shield was thick and thinned out toward its perimeter, the top having a handgrip that matched another grip along the bottom edge. Five hundred shields, all locked one against another held between two massive and muscular bodies formed the heaviest, longest and most destructive battleram in all of Dagothar...and below it.

  The dead weight of the shield-ram was four and half tons, but with the combined weight of the five hundred dwarves in pairs pushing it forward the weight was unfathomable. When the Grimh force-marched along the cave, the ram of shields bent with the lines as the cave slightly turned. Still, when the Grimh arrived at the door they rushed forward in a great heave in perfect unison learned from much training.

  The portal busted apart with what appeared no effort at all. Grimh through the portal pulled apart their shields and drew weapons entering the level below Dijin Castle as more and more giant dwarves did the same, dismantling their battleram of shields just as easily as they had formed it. Slender, pale-skinned Vodoy archers with sharp eyes poured into the corridors checking all corners, crevasses and causeways as scouts and spotters.

  Thousands of Bholbash orcs died that night inside the vast holds of Dijin Castle before others were able to light the fires.

  * * * * *

  Four hours later it was time to go. My drake rested, I mounted and lifted aloft after watching the lines of red-armored gigantic dwarves streaming out of the conquered castle. They were assuming marching ranks but not beginning as so many were still inside filing out. These were an elite fighting force unlike any I saw among the Warlord's troops. Their own rigid discipline was superior to that of the hornback orcs.

  When the first group of about a thousand moved out they did so with purpose, skinny light-skinned figures looking like children fanned out in all directions forming a wide perimeter. The ogrish-bearded soldiers moved slowly, not even attempting to pursue the fleeing orcs gathered along the passes and trying to hide along the lower ridges.

  They marched toward Kag'ar Grul.

  Ebrog Pass...southern Devilspire Mountains

  Over an hour before he arrived at Ebrog Pass the fires atop the mountain burned. Matthias knew then that somewhere the valley had been breached. His theory about the underveins was probably correct.

  Ebrog Pass was a dual-citadel with only the western fortress accessible by undervein. The east fortress was a later add-on by the dwarves to block off the pass into southern Devilspire proper which had always been rebellious and unruly. The domain of the axemasters. The pass was heavily fortified and garrisoned by seasoned orcs and trained ogres that kept contant vigil against the rock trolls, other cave ogres and orc barbarians, minataurs, hill giants and cyclopes of the southern range. All those who hated the Bholbash orcs. Though many had joined the alliance to stand only behind their revered axemaster heroes, others of the wilds had not.

  The two fortresses faced one another across a flagstone court three hundred feet across with only open sky roofing it. In his descent upon his heavy wardrake, Matthias looked down on a court packed with armored Bholbash and barbarian orcs all facing and arrayed against the western castle. Bloodied bodies were already laid across the stones around the western gate and horned figures with contorted bovine and orcish features tried to break free of the enclosed entry gate area but the press of orcs withstood their attempts.

  As ranger and steed descended the orcs looked up and moved out of the way. He landed about fifty paces from the center of controversy. Seeing it was Thunder Hands the orcs cheered in their gutteral way to the surprise of their southern Devilspire orc, ogre and axemaster allies who had no dealings with humans at all. Most alarmed were the enemy. The minatrorcs from the underworld attempting to break the orc hold on the exit from the undervein did not at all like seeing a human here. Upon touching ground the orcs rallied around him as more and more orcs emptied the eastern citadel to join the court below.

  Matthias, a large, brown-bearded man covered in dwarvencraft armor, holding dwarven masterwork weapons, with a love for the dwarves and hatred of orcs, thought it ironic that he was standing amidst so many orcs who rejoiced in his presence.

  The impressionable orcs shouted in unison- "Maa'chiush! Maa'chiush!"

  The bastards couldn't even say his name right. Standing on firm ground the Borderealm ranger shoved his hands into the huge dwarven-gilt razored, war gauntlets and began moving toward the orc line holding in the horned underworlders who eyed his approach.

  * * * * *

  Long ago a race of minataurs in the underworld invaded a series of connected caverns filled with poorly defended orc habitats. They became their overlords and began to interbreed with the orcan females. Over eight centuries later the larger, tougher and more wicked race of hybrids, the minatrorcs, turned against the pureblood orcs and minataurs, slaughtering most, enslaving the rest. They too came to hate the Deep Men and joined the other Hollowrealm races in the largely unsuccessful Barad-ai Wars.

  The minatrorc civilization had become populous but they had lost two battles against the Taran Warlord causing them to enter a covenant, albeit a submissive one. Their kings provided the Warlord a legion full of minatrorc veterans as well as many of their dreaded seige beasts called garbolgs. These vile an
imals were slightly larger than elephants, being gray-hide herbivores with two spiralled, out-turned tusks. They had thick, huge forelegs, broad chests and massive shoulders with arched backs bent downward in to little hind quarters and small back legs with virtually no tails. The had no apparent nose. Their eyes were domed but catlike and floated in a liquid membrane that thickened to protect them from light. When threatened they could for a short duration stand on their back legs looking truly menacing.

  But the garbolg was not bred and domesticated by the minatrorcs for its appearance and size. This strange and majestic creature had a unique weapon that protected it against all of the enormous predators in the Deep that hunted it for food. The garbolgs roared. This roar was a powerful sonic wave, a concussive force of energy that issued from its mouth in a concentrated stream almost a hundred feet out. This sound, a voice-weapon, bent and warped metal, splintered trees, softened fungalwood, shattered crystal, glass and pottery as well as the bones of the living. Garbolg roars vaporized liquids, turned away projectiles, fractured large stones while bursting to powder much smaller ones. This lethal sound-weapon was a stream of blurry vibrating rings in motion almost like a straight undulating serpent. These beasts required a moment or two of rest before they can issue forth a second roar. The need for rest lengthened the more the weapon was used. Without the garbolgs the Warlord would never have subdued the dusk giants.

  Though the minatrorcs had taken the western citadel by surprise, emerging suddenly from the blocked off undervein, garbolgs blasting through barriers, the underworlders now seemed trapped by circumstance.

  A valiant group of orc barbarians, taller and tougher than ordinary Bholbash orcs, led by a single hero among the orcs, an axemaster, had completely opposed their exit from their captured keep. The axemaster wore boneplate armor and the minatrorc captains reported to their general, Bruik Caveraider, that this axemaster faught like a god. The third push of minatrorcs attemtping to break the line had just been hacked to pieces of carcasses.

  Caveraider stood beside an Aelvatchi headhunter subcommander after listening to his captains relate their woes. He turned to the elf.

  "Buy us time to position the bolgs. Go and engage the orc in the Code." The black elf nodded, unfolding his four arms that had been crossed over his darkjade armor. The Heroic Code was a widely recognized and celebrated one-on-one combat ceremony that was even honored by the Deep Men. Few ever refused a challenge because the challenge itself was a compliment to one's valor and prowess admitted by an enemy. The weak, the fearful and the unwilling were never challenged for their participation in the Code would be an affront.

  "Oh, and when you have finished this axemaster, go and kill this other visitor the orcs so praise."

  * * * * *

  Matthias pushed forward through the crowd of orcs and stopped thirty feet from the line of controversy between the axemaster and his barbarian orcs of southern Devilspire and the horned minatrorcs of the underworld trying to break free of the confines of the castle. The ranger stared dumbstruck at the stacks of bodies piled up at the entry gates. They weren't orcs.

  The axemaster was drenched in blood and innards not his own were plastered to his body. The veins in his forehead and neck pulsed regularly and his breathing was controlled. He was muscular, of very fierce aspect, brutish and a head taller than his own barbarians. Thick locks of stringy black hair hung from his head. Statuesque, he stood before the broken gates daring any to emerge from its shadows. Behind and around him were close to a thousand orcs both from the wilds and those of Bholbash valley. Slightly behind him were two hulking loyalists of his from southern Devilspire, war-hardened ogres over nine feet tall wearing iron breastplates and thick bands of armor on their arms and thighs. They held longswords in both of their hands that looked more like longknives in so massive of hands. These personal guards made sure none approached the axemaster too closely from behind.

  Matthias studied the axemaster. He appeared as if to fear no one, wordlessly gripping two curved waraxes each with one blade larger than the other, with jagged spikes below the handles for stabbing. Twisted leather braids secured the axe handles to the orc's thick wrists.

  The fighting had abated and the whole court stilled. It was quiet save for the moaning of minatrorcs unable to stop their life from leaking out of their butchered bodies. At a slight nod from the axemaster, orcs rushed forward and snatched the mortally wounded enemies and dragged them to a quicker death, throwing their bodies in the stacks of dead minatrorcs. The axemaster wanted a clear field of battle before the gates he sought to block.

  The axemaster visibly twitched with anticipation and Matthias struggled to see what the orc hero saw but the darkness was too great. Something was walking out of the gateway into the open area surrounded by the orcs. The Borderealm ranger pushed his way closer to ten feet behind the large cave ogre guards. Matthias felt icy recognition clutch his heart as his eyes adjusted to make out a four-armed dark elf assassin appear out in the open holding two curved, blackish-bladed scimitars and two wavy daggers in his lower hands. He glared at the elf wondering if this was the one that murdered Luey in Wandering Elms but then dismissed the thought. This elf had travelled the undervein all the way from Mount Thokax. Luey's killer was elsewhere.

  Silently the headhunter raised only one of its four arms and pointed at the axemaster as a ripple of excited disbelief passed through the crowd of orcs. Matthias, shoulder-to-shoulder with orcs, observed with a mounting sense of dread arising within him. This is desperation, he thought. The enemy needs the axemaster to give up his position.

  To the ranger's dismay the axemaster accepted the challenge with a widening of his arms holding out his axes to clear more space to fight. Matthias shook his head. It is exactly what the underworlders want, to open the entryway. Standing alone in the alcove entrance court the dark elf and large orc faced one another quietly. The orcs and ogres slightly tightened the semicircle in their excitement to watch. Matthias studied the dark of the entry trying to see if other enemies were about to storm the court. The entry had to be held because it was the only choke point left stopping these invaders from entering the valley. As they stood there the citadel and undervein beneath it were full of minatrorcs all trying to get above ground. He did not like this turn of events at all.

  Orcs are stupid. Though the axemasters were truly awesome fighters, this was a headhunter.

  The orc and elf walked straight for one another and met in the middle in a shower of sparks as whirling axes met slashing blades, illuminating the shadowy combatants. In the space of a breath all heard the distinct thump and clang of a limb and weapon drop to the flagstones. The dark elf pitched backward evading another attack and fell. The axemaster did not move in for the kill.

  Matthias suddenly realized what happened as the Aelvatchi leapt to his feet. With a quickness he had not thought possible, somehow the orc struck the elf across the chest through three blocking blades after severing a limb, hitting the elf with the flat of the axeblade. Which should have been a deathblow had the edge struck the headhunter.

  He's toying with the elf.

  Again the two collided in a blur of flashing blades and whistling axes and almost immediately the headhunter found himself back-stepping, parrying blow after blow so rapidly that he used both scimitars and his wavy dagger in his right lower arm to defend against the insanely rapid strikes all aimed to slice him in half.

  An axe blade tore through the air at his face. Blocked. A fraction of a second later another ripped toward his neck. Evaded. An axe aimed at his chest was barely parried requiring a whole twist of his body to escape.

  The elf saw the orc pitch his heavier body forward, legs bending and the the Aelvatcvhi understood what was coming. A backswing followed by a deadlier forward slash of the other terrible axe. The headhunter stood his ground ignoring the stinging of his missing hand and used a scimitar and dagger to block the first axe while parrying the second with his other sword. He grinned nastily seeing his thrustin
g opening to run the orc through when unexpectedly the hard wooden handle of the first axe he blocked crashed heavy across his face, disorienting him.

  The confused elf stepped back in time to avoid a decapitating slash and brought up his two scimitars almost as if by accident warding away another axe assault toward his torso. The flipping in midair of a weapon to use its handle for an attack was so unexpected the confused Aelvatchi continued back-stepping and blocking trying to better understand what sort of warrior this orc really was.

  Blood covered the elf's lower jaw and cheek as the side of his face swelled from the blow. To the right of the center of the entry the two champions exchanged lightning-quick slashes and thrusts with the elf finding himself having to duck, to parry away death-blows one at a time until the orc's swings became so fast the headhunter could only perform an adroit dance of body evasions, each one saving his life. The dark elf blocked the spinning axes and then stepped into the orc. It was the first time since their contest that the elf had aggressively attacked. Matthias watched anticipating it was the opening the elf had waited for. These were among the most cunning killers in the underworld.