“Don’t forget,” she warned her troops. “Focus on the queen’s guardians. We take them out, then we concentrate on the queen. Don’t get distracted by the easy kills.”
More grumbling acceptance, then she waved and jogged forward, leading her troops into battle. The cavern they had been in led to a much larger vertical shaft. Far below was a pool of magma, its heat rising up through the hive. The walls of the cavern were uneven and easy to climb up or down. Below them, the queen was digging into the soft, volcanic rock to lay more eggs. In various spots crynods peered up. The dwarves weren’t loud, but they weren’t sneaking quietly into the shaft either. The soft rock crumbled as they hopped from ledge to ledge, making their way down toward the queen as quickly as possible
The first of the guardians appeared. They were at least three times as large as the other crynods. They climbed up toward the dwarves with reckless abandon.
“Attack!” Grenda shouted, just before jumping down toward the nearest guardian.
The chief dwarf set a great example, twisting in mid air and driving her hammer down hard into the guardian’s skull. The resulting crack sounded like a lightning strike, and then chaos descended around her. The fighting was fierce, with most of the dwarves engaging the guardians, but very few having the success that Grenda had. It only took one look around the hive to realize that victory was going to be costly. And Grenda wasn’t sure the dwarves could afford the fight.
***
For nearly half an hour the oremites worked to get across the crevice. They made living ladders by locking their bodies together then swinging out toward the other side of the massive abyss. The first few attempts were not long enough, and the oremites fell into the darkness below, but eventually they adapted. More were pressing into the cavern, crowding the far side of the wondrous space.
“They’ll be across soon,” Zollin said.
He was still exhausted, but he’d had time to catch his breath and study their surroundings. Reenah had taken a position between two large boulders, with Moss in a similar niche not far away. Zollin on the other hand, remained atop one of the round boulders. He had the best view of the hordes of insectile creatures, so he called down to warn the others.
He knew he would have to use magic to fight the oremites, and while he was filled with the intoxicating sense of power from the Star Stone, he also knew that he didn’t have the strength to keep up a long engagement. He needed to perform very precise spells that would do the most damage. Several of the living ladders were now stretched across the abyss. Rows of oremites started to cross, walking on the backs of their hive mates.
Zollin waited as long as he dared, then used his magic to snap the long bones of the oremites at the center of their living ladders. This time hundreds fell in to the abyss. There were no screams of fear, or even anger. The creatures on the far side simply reformed more ladders, this time linking dozens of the ormites side be side as well as end to end, creating wider bridges that would be more difficult to break down.
Some of the oremites, especially those at the top of the living ladders that were already on the garden side of the abyss got to their feet and rushed forward to attack. They ignored Moss and Reenah, instead focusing their efforts on Zollin.
He waited until they were close, since working magic at a distance was more taxing than spells that he could perform at close range. Then he sent a pile of pebbles flying, using his magic to levitate the stones. He'd gathered the loose rocks together while they waited to see if the oremites would find a way to cross the abyss. Many of the creatures dropped under the onslaught, their foul blood soiling the beauty of the garden. Those in the back of the mob that had attacked were able to continue fighting, but Zollin sent a wave of fire to dispatch them.
By the time the minor attack was over, the oremites were once again stretching across the abyss. Zollin brought three of the living bridges down, but there were three more that allowed hundreds of the insectoids to cross before Zollin could knock the bridges out. He was already feeling the strain and knew that he couldn’t keep working magic for long.
“Here they come!” he warned Reenah and Moss.
“We’re ready,” she shouted back. “Let them come to me!”
But the oremites didn’t attack the dwarves. Once again they focused only on Zollin and he realized that all the oremites cared about was getting the Star Stone. They didn’t care how many of their number died, or how dangerous it was to attack Zollin. They would keep coming as long as he had the stone. It was a horrible thought, but he knew that he could use that information to his advantage.
His next attack focused on the river that the oremites had to cross to reach him. He let his magic flow into the water, and when the oremites began to splash across, he sent a jolt of energy into the water. The oremites in the stream stiffened, then dropped. Their bodies were carried toward the lake, where they sank into the deeper waters.
Zollin used the same attack over and over, holding back the majority of the oremites, but those on the far side of the crevice were almost ready to cross the divide again, and Zollin knew his strength was almost gone. The magic inside him was like an inferno and he felt as if he were cooking from the inside out. He would have sworn that his insides were blistering from heat, as pain lanced all through his body.
“This isn’t going to work,” Zollin said.
“Why aren’t they attacking us?” Reenah said.
“All they want is the Star Stone.”
Then an idea occurred to Zollin. It was a loathsome thought, but he knew that it might work. One glance back toward the abyss told him his time was short. If he was going to take a chance, now was the time. In the back of his mind he knew that his plan was insane. He couldn’t just throw away the one thing that gave him the strength to fight the oremites, but he reasoned that even with the Star Stone he couldn’t hold back the hordes of insectoids forever.
He had to climb from one boulder to the next, until he was near the edge of the lake. Already hundreds of oremites were charging toward him. Time was slipping away, but his one solace was that the creatures seemed to have no interest in harming Reenah or Moss.
Zollin looked down at the magical gemstone. For a while it had given him hope that he might be the powerful wizard he had once been, but even as he stared at the glowing stone his mentor’s words came back to him. Kelvich had told him that the wizards of the Torr relied on magical objects to enhance their powers, rather than working to build their magical prowess. He took a deep breath, reveling in the feeling of power the Star Stone gave him one last time, then he threw the stone as far as he could. The stone landed in the lake with a distant plop, then sank beneath the surface of the water.
Instantly Zollin’s body sagged. The pain from his magic increased exponentially, and he dropped to one knee, gasping in pain. He felt weak and afraid. He would have taken the Star Stone back if he could have, but he was simply too weak to even levitate the magical gem up from where it sank into the lake's cold waters.
When Zollin looked toward the hordes of oremites, he found they had turned like a flock of birds and were rushing toward the lake. His heart filled with hope. Then the insectile creatures were rushing into the water. They seemed oblivious to their danger and plunged onward, the water rising higher and higher, until it covered them. With the last of his magical strength he sent a small ball of fire out over the water, illuminating the lake, but the oremites were drowning in the cold depths. Their desire for the stone was immutable. If Reenah was right, and the oremites really operated by the mind and will of the queen, then she must have been occupied with something else. Zollin only hoped that Grenda and the dwarf army reached the queen before she realized what was happening to her hive and changed their instructions. If the queen came to her senses, the oremites would surely overwhelm and slaughter Zollin, Reenah, and Moss. For once, Zollin’s fate was in someone else’s hands.
***
The fighting in the hive was so fierce that Grenda was tempt
ed to call for a retreat. The Queen simply had too many guardians, and they couldn’t keep up the attack for much longer. She ducked under a vicious swipe from a towering guardian and then shattered the creature’s lower leg with a massive blow from her war hammer. The guardian toppled and two more dwarves rushed forward to slay the beast. She was still too high up to engage the queen, and more guardians were hurrying upward to push back the dwarves.
All around her dwarves were being killed. Their death cries echoed in her ears and filled Grenda with a fury rarely known among her kind. The bezerker rage was not common in dwarves, but Grenda was filled with it. She looked down at the queen, who was a huge creature, even larger than her guardians. She knew stories of whole clans battling crynog queens. They were fierce beasts, almost unstoppable, but this queen was stuck fast to the wall where she was laying eggs. Grenda didn’t think about what she was doing, she merely ran to the edge of the ledge she had been fighting on and dove out across the expanse, her momentum carrying her across the cavern.
In that moment the dwarves above her stopped, watching their chieftain’s courageous act of valor. The queen saw it as well and raised an articulated claw. Grenda realized she wouldn’t be able to deliver a devastating blow to the queen the way she had with the guardian, so she threw her hammer instead. The weapon hit the queen’s thick skull just before the claw batted Grenda aside. The blow stunned the queen, so that the resulting swat wasn’t deadly. Grenda toppled into a row of soft rock, her body smashing through what had once been chambers filled with crynod eggs.
Grenda felt her left arm shatter, and the dwarf chieftain’s right knee buckled as she crashed into the wall. The rage that had motivated Grenda was gone, and all that was left was a desire to save her people. She filled her lungs to bellow an order to retreat, when several more war hammers came raining down. The queen was still laying eggs in the wall and couldn’t avoid the weapons, many of which struck true. The Queen was knocked senseless, but she wasn’t dead. Above her, the dwarves had drawn their hax knifes. The guardians seemed dazed, just like their queen, and Grenda followed the example of her troops, who were hacking and slashing the guardians to pieces.
Grenda knew that if the queen came around, there were still enough of the guardian creatures to win the fight. Barely half the dwarves who had begun the fight still lived, and many of those were fighting with wounds and injuries. Grenda pulled herself up onto her good leg and limped toward the queen. The huge beast was stirring as Grenda drew her own hax knife. She just needed to get in the right place to do the most damage, but that was no easy task. The pain radiating up her arm was almost more than the dwarf could stand. And she couldn’t put any weight on her injured leg. She had hopped on one foot to the queen, but she needed to get down beneath the massive creature and there was simply no way to climb down.
She took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, then dropped to her side. She did her best to support her broken arm, but the pain left her seeing bright sparks. And then she did the unthinkable, rolling off the ledge and falling to the one below. The impact made Grenda scream and for a moment she swooned. But then she came to, shaking her head and ignoring the agony she felt. It took all her dwarfish strength to stand up, but she did it, then she hobbled toward the Queen and stabbed the beast with her knife.
Blood drenched her and the Queen reared high, but the wound was deep and severe. The Queen’s strength ebbed away and the massive body sank low again. Grenda plunged the knife in over and over, stabbing the queen to death and then stabbing even more in her rage. All over the tall, circular lava shaft the bodies of the crynods began to fall. The battle was over, the queen was dead, and Grenda had saved her people.
Chapter 32
Mansel's wounds hurt. There were cuts and scrapes over most of his upper body. His leg throbbed from the pressure of keeping his foot in the stirrup. But it was his shoulders, where the long claws of wolverine-like animals had punctured his leather armor, that hurt the most. But his physical wounds paled in comparison to the wound in his soul. Nycol was gone and she was never coming back. That fact left Mansel angry and ashamed, but he was needed. Quinn needed him more than ever before. It might be weeks before his mentor was back on his feet again. And their first priority was to get out of the Northern Highlands before the snows filled the passes. Then they could focus on finding Zollin.
It was a wet day, but Mansel was determined to get what he needed. There weren’t many horses for sale in Brighton’s Gate. Very few residents in the Great Valley owned a horse, and even fewer were inclined to sell one to Mansel, but the owners of the Valley Inn still counted themselves as friends to Quinn and Mansel. And Buck had a gentle mare that would be ideal for Quinn until he regained his strength.
As Mansel rode into town, he could feel the anguish all around him. The people of Brighton’s Gate were in shock. Many remained at the Valley Inn, too afraid to return to their homes. The devastation the pack of wolverine-like creatures had wreaked was plain to see. The only people who seemed to be out and about at that early hour were grave diggers.
Mansel rode his horse to the inn and then lashed the stallion’s reins to a post outside. The gristly trophy he’d taken in his fight with the animals that had slain his beloved was in a burlap sack, which he swung over his shoulder before walking to the inn’s main entrance. He heard the heavy locking beam being lifted so the door could be opened. The people inside were shamefaced as Mansel entered the building. There was a fire burning in the fireplace and the common room was filled mostly with men. Mansel recognized several that had been at Zollin’s home, helping burn the quaint cottage and workshop to the ground. His jaw tightened, and his own anger burned hot, but he didn’t give in to the temptation to beat the men who had turned against Quinn. Their fear and grief left them wounded, in need of someone to blame for their pain. Kurchek had pointed them to Zollin as the source of their troubles, and so the men had accepted the lie as a way to deal with a reality that had become so unbelievable.
Mansel couldn’t blame anyone for his pain but himself. He hadn’t been there when Nycol needed him the most. She had been there for him, giving him comfort and peace when his world felt out of control. But now she was gone forever, and it was all his fault. He would never be able to forgive himself for that failure, but the only thing that felt right to him at the moment was his self loathing, so he held onto it with all his strength.
“Mansel, is Quinn all right?” Buck asked hurrying up to the young warrior with a worried expression on his face.
“He will be,” Mansel said. “We’re leaving the Valley. Quinn needs a horse.”
Mansel held out the small pouch of coins. Many of the coins were gold crowns and silver marks, more than enough to pay for a horse. Buck instinctively reached out and took the proffered coins.
“He can have our horse, for this,” he said hastily.
“And food as well,” Ollie said from the entrance to the kitchen. “I'll prepare you something to take.”
“Of course, this is more than enough,” Buck said. “And you'll need ale, or wine? Something to keep you warm on the journey.”
“Quinn could use wine,” Mansel said. “And clean bandages if you have them.”
“What about those wretched monsters?” one of the men asked. “You’ll be slaughtered before you reach the pass.”
“No,” Mansel said, his voice heavy. “We won’t.”
He removed the sack from his shoulder and reached inside. He saw the villagers tense, expecting him to draw a weapon of some kind. Instead he lifted the severed head of the alpha, gore still clinging to the white fur, its tongue sagging from the long, narrow muzzle that hung open now to reveal oversized teeth. Mansel set the severed head on a table, and after a moment several of the men moved closer. It was the first up close look they’d had of the creatures.
“Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it, I found their den,” Mansel said. “I killed them all, even the nearly two dozen pups I found. You
have nothing to fear from these creatures again.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Buck said. “We were all relieved when none of those dreadful things returned last night.”
Ollie returned with a sack of food. Ellie, her daughter, gave Mansel a bundle of clean cloth that could be torn into strips for bandages. She also handed him a small crock of ointment.
“This will help your open wounds heal faster,” she said.
“Thank you.”
Mansel turned toward the door, but Buck hurried up beside him. He looked nervous, his hands shaking slightly. Mansel didn’t know if it was out of fear or guilt.
“Wait,” he said. “You don’t have to go. We realize that Quinn and his son had nothing to do with the attacks.”
He waved at the rest of the room, urging them to speak up.
“We’re sorry,” stammered one of the men who had helped burn down Zollin’s home.
“We want you to stay,” Buck said. “Really we do.”
“So you can blame us the next time something bad happens here?” Mansel said. “Quinn has done nothing but help you. He put his life on the line over and over to protect this town. And you all stood by while that bastard Kurchek nearly killed him.”
Mansel spit on the floor.
“I’m through with you all,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll build some defenses. You’ve had people fighting for you at every turn, but now you’re on your own. I’m taking Quinn away from here.”
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