“I know what you mean. She and Mange have become quite smitten with one another. I am a bit surprised as well, but I know Lundy well enough that I am not shocked at her joining the general ranks. Her elven eyes help out a lot, even if her dwarven body makes her appearance less threatening.”
The streets were lined with dwarves, fully clad in their armor, ready for war. Battleax’s at the ready for many of the men, though some held javelins within their grasp.
“What are Mange and Barth up to in their workshop anyway?” The thought played around in Skalmaena’s mind as she tried to imagine what kind of contraptions they were making in preparation to defend the walls.
“They are working on some sort of harness. Mange has been talking about it nonstop since I went to ask for their help in Thirndor. Something called ‘wolverine.’ Apparently, it is a harness that can be worn that gives the wearer tremendous power. It has its setbacks, however, as it is bulky and slows movement to some degree.”
Skalmaena was about to reply when the dwarven horns pierced the air, interrupting her thoughts. A split second after the horns erupted, Margoor, accompanied by a large grouping of ogres, stepped out of the treeline on the far side of the freshly dug river.
“You do not have to die today, dwarves! Back down, kneel before your new master, and you shall be given mercy!”
“This is our land, Margoor. The giants have long had a standing alliance with the dwarves. If you want more land, all that had to be done was pose a formal request to renegotiate terms. Your destruction and rampant killing of innocent people is unacceptable.” Skalmaena did not hesitate to rebut the giant, and though she had no idea – she had just made history, for no one, male or female, had ever spoken for the crown of the dwarven people if they were not the king or queen.
Margoor stepped forward and raised his shield, “Consider this a formal request. Move aside dwarf – or die.”
Skalmaena held up her hand – a hundred soldiers stepped forward and began to fan out across the edge of the cobblestoned street. As she lowered her hand, the soldiers stepped from the street into the grass and started forming a wall. If the giants and ogres wished to battle, they would have to cross the river first. Once they did so, they would be met with force.
She watched from within the forest while staying out of sight. While it was hard for such beasts as cyclopses to sneak through a forest without being spotted, it was not entirely impossible. As Margoor stood on the shores and threatened the dwarves, Metakon led the cyclopses through the woods and closer to the eastern walls of the castle.
No matter whence they came, they would have to cross the river. The strategy was simple: divide the dwarves and force the dragons to commit to one side of the attack or another. The more time they had to cross the river, the better.
“I will not give you another chance, dwarves. Relinquish your hold on the crown this instant or today shall be your last to breathe.”
She did not hear what the response was, but whatever it was did nothing but anger Margoor; he charged ahead and into the river. The water was waist deep, and in one-step, he was a quarter of the way across. He took another step and screamed out in pain:
“Blades! There are blades in the water! Mind your step, men!”
A significant portion of the army began to wade into the water, their shields above their heads to protect from any arrows that might be loosed upon them.
“Nothing to it, boys! Just take your time and soon enough we will be dining on dwarven flesh!”
Margoor’s words had no sooner left his mouth than the unthinkable happened – his men began plummeting below the water’s surface.
“Loose arrows!” Mange yelled.
Moments later the sky was blotted out as thousands of arrows flew through the air, aimed at their targets.
“Shield wall!” Margoor yelled.
He and others in the open raised their shields to protect themselves from the arrows. Some were successful; others failed and felt the stinging pain as sharp steel sliced into their skin. Giants and ogres are thick-skinned beasts, and while the arrows hindered their movements, they did not stop them from advancing forward.
Margoor reached the far side of the embankment and began to climb out as men all around him continued to be yanked below the water, gone forever to a murky death.
As he stepped out of the water and began to climb up the bank, a reophuse bolted out of the water, wrapped around his legs, and yanked him to the ground. Before Margoor knew what was happening, the snakelike creature had his head in its jowls as it squeezed the giant’s body until he stopped moving. Margoor died before the real battle ever began.
Mange and his younger brother, Barth, watched from the tower of the castle as they prepared for battle with their new weapon – the wolverine.
It was a rather ingenious weapon. Set of strong, steel rods were the focal point of the mechanism. The bars were made to run the length from the small of the back all the way to the shoulders. At the top of the bars sat a ball joint capable of a three hundred sixty degrees radius. Attached to the ball joints on either side of the rods, were more steel rods that ran the length of the shoulder to the elbow, where a custom-made strap wrapped around the arm to keep it in place. From the last ball joint, one large steel rod ran to the wrist, where three large, sharp blades protruded.
The harness was worn by wrapping the leather belt attached to the bottom of the rods at the spine, around one's waist and buckling it. From the top of the rods were two more straps that wrapped around the shoulders and tied off by snapping into the strap that wrapped around the person’s waist.
The device was quite cumbersome and required the help of several dwarves to get it into position. Barth wore one – his brother wore the other.
Mange kept an eye on the forest – this was not his first war, and both he and his brother knew that only a fool sends a leader into battle on the first charge. To Mange, that meant there was a secondary attack coming from somewhere, and he would be sure to see it before it happened.
Barth spotted the cyclopses first – a small group of twenty lumbered out of the forest and scanned the skies in search of dragons. When none were located, the cyclopses began making their way across the river. Moments into their trek, several of their ranks suffered the same fate as the giants and ogres further down the river.
There were reophuse everywhere – the unseen predators of the water, their teeth were more than capable of slicing through the flesh of the dwarves’ enemies. The giants were familiar with the slithering assassins of the swamps, but the cyclops had no clue what they were getting themselves into.
The first wave of cyclopses stood no chance once they hit the water. If the caltrops did not slice through their bodies, the reophuse killed them without mercy.
The Demoweir continued to watch, baffled by the scene of events as they unfolded before her eyes. She was getting ready to send a larger, second wave of cyclopses into the water when Metakon stepped forward and stopped her.
“I have an idea, my master.” He said as he looked out and saw the scores of dwarves waiting on the far side of the river.
“I do not have time for petty ideas, Metakon. What do you want?” she spoke without ever looking at the skinder.
“When the dwarves attacked my men near the cliffs, they dropped these things” he held up one of the traps that landed on his ship during the dwarves’ attack, “and I found that they activate when they encounter water. Before you send more of my cyclopses to their death, toss a few of these into the water. Perhaps they will take care of whatever beasts lurk below the surface.”
The demon smiled as she realized the dwarves’ own weapons would be formed against them and used to bring about their eventual destruction.
“Go ahead, Metakon. Toss the trinkets into the water.”
Metakon reached into one of the many bags the skinders brought along with them and fetched a few of the traps. He handed the traps to his fellow Chaotic, and they ran onto the field
and began throwing the traps toward the water.
Seconds later, the water erupted as shards of metal broke the surface and launched through the air. The devices killed several dwarves. Below the surface of the water, the shards sliced through the reophuse, diminishing their numbers significantly. The few that remained wanted no part in the war and began swimming back upstream to their swamplands.
Metakon laughed with delight, but his laughter was short lived. The reophuse that followed him back to camp was still following him, and as the skinder leaned his head back while laughing, the reophuse dove from the top of the tree and swallowed the skinder in one snap.
Its body slammed into the ground with a loud thud that caused the Demoweir to scream from the surprise attack. Her voice echoed through the forest, and the cyclops army took it as their sign to attack. Without warning, hundreds of the beasts tumbled out of the woods, running full steam ahead for the river.
“Attack! Attack!” Mange yelled at the top of his lungs.
Storm Riders, led by Fogrolir on the backside of Mersoth, shot into the air from the stables below and began raining down fire upon their enemies. There were only thirteen riders left, but they flew masterfully and attacked with precision. The ogres, giants, and even the cyclopses, all had to contend with the new threat.
“Everyone attack! I want that throne!” the demon woman screamed. Margoor was dead – the giants and ogres no longer had an acting general, but they found one as they watched the cyclopses slice through the rivers and to the other side. The dwarves were terribly mean fighters, but they were no match for creatures of such stature.
To hurt a cyclops required being able to reach their face, and the beasts were slashing through dwarves by the hundreds without so much as a little resistance. The elves, led by King Vulred, were not much help as their keen eyesight served no use against an army clad in protective armor.
Skalmaena, Kurikjaw, Kragjaw, and Lundrise pushed forward into battle. They refused to back down and allow the enemy to just waltz into their homes without a fight. As they fought their fight, the cyclopses turned their attention to the half-mile long stone bridge that separated the castle from the mainland. They began their trek across the bridge, expecting little to no resistance.
The dwarves on the towers began to load the catapults – they would launch boulders and chunks of wood at the beasts. The wood was set ablaze before being loosed over the castle walls.
“You know Barth, we have lived through three wars and countless battles, but I have never felt like this before!”
“What do you mean, Mange?”
“Look at us! Look at these contraptions! It is our finest hour, and I suddenly feel like a transformer!”
“You feel like a trans what?”
“A transformer, Barth! It is a glorious feeling!”
“Mange, I am not sure that now is the best time to tell me that you feel like a man that wants to be a woman. I mean, that is a human thing, not really an issue with dwarves.”
“No, you blubbering moron! I feel like a trans… argh! I feel like an auto-bot!”
Barth began to laugh uncontrollably, “Oh! You know, you are right! These contraptions do make us more like robots, though I am still not sure what that word means. That other world has some crazy weaponry.”
The two continued to joke around as though nothing were going on around them, until a cyclops threw a boulder at the tower, breaking the top portion on one side.
“What in the name of…” Barth looked over the edge of the wall and saw the giant beast. He was ahead of the others and stood tall, waiting for a fight.
“Little dwarves, it is time to meet thy doom! Open the gates, and I will kill you quickly! Heh! Whaddaya say?” his deep, throaty voice echoed in the air.
Barth looked at his brother and shrugged. “Quickly would be better, but I do not really believe him. Do you?”
“Not at all, Barth. Not at all.” He replied, jokingly.
Mange smiled at his brother, “follow my lead.”
He looked over the edge and yelled down to the cyclops.
“Hey, you! Yeah, you – you big ugly buffoon! You know what I am going to do to you?”
The cyclops laughed. Only the lower part of his jaw was visible as the helmet covered everything else.
“What are you going to do, dwarf?”
Mange looked at his brother once more and grinned.
“Well, since you asked...” he said in a serious manner, “I’m gonna knock you out! Hooah!” he yelled.
“Cause mama said knock you out!” Barth joined in.
“So, I’m gonna knock you out! Hooah!”
“Cause mama said…. wait, this is wrong, Mange,” Barth said as he stopped dancing and stared at his brother.
“What do you mean? I am sure I heard the words correctly from that guy with the weird name.”
“No. Not that, Mange. We did not know our mother, so how do we know that she would have said to knock him out?” Barth was dead serious.
“That is a good point, dear brother. We do not know what she would have said since she died when we were young.” He looked over the edge at the cyclops once more, who no longer stood alone as his comrades were just a few yards away.
“Excuse me, cyclops. It appears we have a bit of an issue as my mother…”
“Which is also my mother!” Barth blurted out as he looked over the edge of the wall.
“Yes, his mother as well. We have the same mother. Anyway, it appears we have an issue as we are not sure if she would have told us to knock you out or not. If you would be so kind as to give us a minute I am quite confident we can remedy this situation.” Mange did not wait for a reply.
Instead, he and his brother jumped back from the wall and ran over to the catapults. They each climbed into the hull of the catapult arm and signaled for their launch. The dwarves operating the catapults pulled their levers simultaneously, releasing the brothers into the air with thunderous speed.
The force of the catapult launched the two well over the first large group of cyclopses. They careened through the air and slammed into the second wave of cyclopses and ogres as they made their way across the bridge.
With their arms outstretched, the blades sliced through the cyclops as if they were nothing more than a thin-skinned vegetable. Within seconds the brothers killed over twenty men with their contraption they called the wolverine.
Ogre after ogre ran forward, but they were no match for the dual-wielded blades on the dwarven brothers’ arms. Before long, the two were across the bridge and running headlong down the street, gaining ground on their friends. They watched as the others fought from the backsides of their leolf’s.
“One ogre, two ogres, three ogres, four! Five ogres, six ogres, oh crap, door!” Mange yelled as he ducked a wooden door that a giant ripped from the latches of a small shop and flung it into the middle of the fighters.
“Hey Mange, you know what you call it when we shred a ton of ogres?”
“What?” Mange yelled as the two fought with their backs to one another.
“Ogre kill!” Barth shouted as he swung his arm and the claws ripped through the leg of a rather large giant.
The battle appeared to be going in favor of the dwarves as they gained ground and began pushing forward.
Mange and Barth were just about to catch up with the others when Kurikjaw’s leolf was hit with a javelin. The force threw the dwarf from the beast, and he slammed into the ground. Lundrise was the closest to the dwarf, and she turned to charge a giant as he barreled down on Kragjaw’s father.
“No!” Mange yelled. He ran with all his might toward the giant, hell bent on protecting Lundrise.
Barth heard his brother’s cries and did an about face and followed him into the new battle.
The giant was almost upon Lundrise when Mange intervened. He swung his arm with everything he had – he connected with the giant’s shield. The impact shattered the shield, but in the process, it snapped the claw from the
harness, ripping the leather from Mange’s arm.
Mange continued his turn, and as he came around, his other claw cut through the giant’s thigh, slicing through the bone and severing the leg. The beast fell to the ground with a cry of anguish.
“Lundy, are you alright?” Mange said as he turned to face the woman he had grown accustomed to being around over the last few days.
“I…Yes, I am alright.” Lundrise turned to check on Kurikjaw while Mange continued to watch her.
He never saw another giant pick up the claw that broke from his harness. The giant reared back and threw the bladed instrument at the dwarf.
“No!” Barth yelled. He ran forward and slammed into his brother, knocking him to the ground.
Mange, dazed from the hit, climbed to his feet and looked around. As he turned in a circle, his eyes fell on Lundrise, still attending to Kurikjaw. He continued to turn in a circle – and then he saw him – his brother Barth, lying motionless on the field.
“Barth!” he screamed. He ran over to his brother, but it was too late. The claws protruded from Barth’s body, one in the upper shoulder, one through the chest, and the last through his abdomen.
Mange fell at his brother’s side, screaming obscenities’ only the dwarves could understand. Barth looked up at his brother as blood trickled out of his mouth.
“Maybe we missed an episode, dear brother. I never knew Logan could die.” He smiled.
Mange cupped his brother’s head in his one free hand and pulled him to his chest, all while shaking and repeating the word ‘no’ repeatedly.
“Oh, Barth. Not you, you cannot go. You are all I have. Anything or anyone else, but not you dear brother. Not you!”
Barth tried to point behind Mange as he struggled to speak. Mange looked at him and attempted to read his lips.
“Lundy,” Barth whispered.
“Not even Lundy, dear brother. Only you.”
“No…Lundy,” he said as he pointed with his last breath.
Mange looked up and saw Kurikjaw just getting back to his feet with the help of Lundrise. He also understood why his brother whispered her name, for he saw the ogre coming from a distance and was trying to warn his brother. It was too late, however.
Demoweir's Rise (Great War Chronicles Book 2) Page 30