Sapphire of Souls

by M. R. Mathias

  Baragon, with his sword drawn, held his free hand up and called out, "Hold! Hold your arrows." The only other man left standing was in front of him. He, too, had his sword drawn but looked ready to dive out from in front of his commander at any moment.

  "My eye," the man on the floor wailed. "I can't see anything, and I'm burning."

  Nixy grabbed her sword and, without hesitation, stepped over and pushed its sharp point into the throat of the man she'd stabbed in the thigh. She then walked casually over to the man on the floor and did the same. He moaned, but the sound died out in a gurgle.

  The man in front of Baragon dropped his sword and ran for the door. Nixy made no move for him, but gave a nod to Savon who put an arrow through his back, which sent him sprawling to the tiles.

  "We meet again, Baragon." Nixy growled. "The last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me and my friend for profit."

  "Nixy, please. I swear I wouldn't have done it," he begged. "All we wanted was the boy's medallion. Come on, Nixy. You’ve known me all your life. Please."

  "And that assassin you sent with us on the ship, is that all he wanted?"

  "I know nothing of an assassin." Baragon still held his sword, but his other hand was out palm open in supplication. "What do you want me to say?" He looked at the elves, then glanced at the dead men lying about. "I've got gold, Nix. You can have it all."

  Seeing that she wasn't interested, he swallowed hard. It was clear he wanted to bring he sword to bear, but with an elven arrow trained on his heart, he was wise not to.

  "I'll make a deal with you, Baragon."

  "Whatever you want," he said. His eyes showed he was relieved, but they were still searching for a way out of the situation.

  "Tell us where Reaton-Stav is, and tell it true. Then, if you can kill me, I swear my friends will let you go." Nixy raised her sword in challenge. "Now speak up."

  Baragon weighed his options. He licked his lips nervously and swallowed hard again. "He's gone to Antole," Baragon said, then he lunged at her extending his sword.

  Nixy swatted his blow away with her blade and stepped toward him. Baragon blocked her swing, countered, and forced her back with the sheer strength of his blows.

  Feeling his masculine strength, Nixy was worried for a moment, but the rage inside of her swelled, and she remembered all the lies he'd spread about her and Braxton, and how he'd chased them through the forest with a dozen hardened men as if they were criminals. When his next blow came, she ducked it and spun, and when her momentum carried her around, she cleaved one of his legs from his body. She didn't stop, though. She came around again, and on her second pass, her sword separated Baragon from his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dowgen paced impatiently at the first sizable side cavern the diggers made after the tunnel broke through. The prisoners from Pranty's cage would be coming through any moment, and he couldn't wait to hold her in his arms. The escort of well-trained fighters who'd come with Prince Gruval, and even Prince Gruval himself, were trading places in the cage with the prisoners. They were going to wait until the cage door was opened for their shift at the forge to attack the unsuspecting trolls. The other cages were to be emptied to other tunnels that branched off this one and led to each. Then after all the prisoners were back underground, they would spring the big surprise Prince Gruval thought up.

  Bangler and Little H made sure Pranty was the first one let down into the hole. She was followed by the women, then the elders then, finally, Little Hoop followed Bangler. When Pranty saw Dowgen, she was overwhelmed with emotion and nearly tackled him. She leapt into his arms and covered him with kisses and tears. She then took a step back, seeing that he was wearing battle armor and about to go fight with his prince. Dowgen nearly had to fight Pranty and her mother both to get away, and even his Uncle Bangler argued he'd done enough and shouldn't have to risk his life anymore.

  "I go because I want to, not because I have to," Dowgen said. "If you love me, then let me defend the honor of my people." His words moved everyone from his path safe for Pranty, who he had to hold and comfort for some time before she finally yielded.

  "I must love a fool," she told him. "You'd rather wet your axe than your wick."

  "No, me Pranty," he said with a grin as he pulled away. "I'd rather wet me axe and me wick."

  Little H appeared, already dressed in armor, with a battle axe strapped to his back. In one hand, he had a huge slab of meat, in the other, a goblet of ale. A young dwarf was behind him with a tray of more goblets and Dowgen wasted no time grabbing one for himself.

  Bangler protested about Little H going, too, but he reminded everyone that he knew the layout of the camp far better than any of the others.

  Unlike Little H, Dowgen wasn't going back up into the cages, he was leading the surprise that wouldn’t come until all the prisoners were back underground. As he waited with his fellows in a specially dug area not a stone's throw away from the cavern where his Pranty was, he cursed his self a fool for not wetting his wick before attempting to wet his axe. He would have had plenty of time, he knew. It would be hours before all the prisoners were safe and the call from Prince Gruval came.

  Up in the cage, Prince Gruval told Little H about his big brother's goat-jousting victory and all about the dragon infested island of elves. All the dwarves listened intently while shivering in the cold air, waiting for their cage's shift to begin. Awestruck when hearing about Prince Darblin saving the young wizard from an assassin on the ship, and tales of aerial dragon battles, and bald-headed sorcerers who appeared out of thin air, they passed the time until one of the trolls finally opened the gate.

  The dwarves felt five feet tall and arrow proof. They were ready to give the trolls a taste of their steel; quality steel that was well-crafted to a razor's edge, forged and honed with honor and pride.

  While the cage was still being cleared, one of the trolls noticed that there were no women among them and that they were wearing clean cloaks. He barked out an alarm and tried to close the gate, but Gruval shouted, “Attack!” and the troll was cut down by several axe blows and left wailing by the cage door. Several of the dwarves still coming out of the cage used his face for a step as they hurried into the chaos blooming around them. Many of the dwarves who were leaving the forges were cut down by the trolls, but a few managed to get free and into the hole of the still open cage.

  The deaths of these innocent dwarves fueled the anger of the attackers, and Gruval cursed himself for not making his fighters wear old tattered cloaks. His mistake had cost a dozen lives or more.

  The trolls, caught unaware, and with most of their numbers holding only a whip or a club, still fought viciously. A single blow from one of their thick branches could bust a dwarf's skull like a melon, and many a dwarf died in the melee.

  Little H wielded his axe as well as his big brother did a hammer. He cleaved knee caps and feet and occasionally split a troll from groin to bellybutton as he drew the enemy away from the emptying cages. He fought like a true warrior until a rock thrown by a troll whose leg had been shattered, cracked into his forehead and caused him to fall to his knees. He tried to dodge the blow coming from the troll before him, but wasn't fast enough. The club came down and killed him instantly.

  Gruval saw this and went into a rage. He swung his axe madly, sending bits and pieces of troll legs in separate directions. He didn't bother to kill his victims. He maimed them and moved to the next. He looked around seeing that the cages were almost empty, but as he spun to block a flying stone, he saw a fresh group of weapon wielding trolls coming down the mountainside.

  The newcomers weren't expected, but Gruval's surprise would balance things, or at least he hoped so.

  Gruval then saw one of his men pointing to the opposite side of the valley. The dwarven prince was forced to accept the fact that they all might die this day. His man was pointing at a group of gothican warriors who topped the opposite ridge, and by the clouds of steaming breath rising behind them, it was clea
r there were a lot more that they couldn’t see.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was midafternoon. The clearing by the ruins was cool and breezy, but Braxton, Cryelos, and Big H were sweating and out of breath. They were no closer to removing the lid from the tomb to retrieve the piece of the Sapphire of Souls they could see pulsing inside, either. They'd started in the morning, halfheartedly sure it would be easy, but it wasn't. Before long, it became a challenge. Big H beat on it with his hammer, and they pried at it with everything they could find. They heaved against the lid with sheer brute force, and it still hadn't budged.

  Chureal watched them, giggling occasionally when one of them would throw a fit of frustration. The laughter didn't help their effort but did help their spirits. It was a silly endeavor, they agreed. What would they even do with the piece of the sapphire when they got it? They had no idea.

  What mattered was that they were keeping their minds on moving the blasted lid and not on the losses of their companions and the seemingly impossible task of stopping Pharark that lay ahead of them.

  "Let's take a break," Braxton suggested and slid down to sit with his back against the tomb.

  "Ye already done in, Lord Braxton?" Big H asked in a sarcastic tone between gasping breaths.

  "I am," offered Cryelos with a grin. "And I'm hungry, too. Let's eat, rest, and try again later."

  "Sounds good." Braxton extended his hand to Big H and the dwarf pulled him to his feet. They walked back over to the low burning fire where Chureal sat shaking her little head in mock disgust at their inability to move the stone slab.

  "Ye think ye could do better?" Big H joked to her.

  "I couldn't do any worse," she said smugly. "After you've eaten, I'll show you."

  They all laughed at her.

  "Aye." Big H ruffled her hair as he passed. "I'll be glad to see it."

  "And I," added Cryelos.

  Braxton caught the look in her eye and remembered Taerak telling him how much power she had. He decided she might be able to do it.

  The mood stayed light and cheery as they ate a stew made from nuts and roots with dried beef soaked in it. The warm meal was filling, and Braxton fell fast asleep with his back against a tree. Apparently taking the whole of last night's watch by himself, and then laboring all morning on the stubborn tomb, had taken its toll. Beyond that, his body had been broken badly when Pharark swatted him from the sky. The healing Chureal had done was still working inside him.

  After a while, Big H turned to Chureal, "So little one, how do we move that slab off yon tomb?"

  "Come," she said and stood up. "I'll show you."

  Cryelos looked at Braxton sleeping soundly and decided not to wake him. He had to hurry to catch up with the dwarf and the girl.

  Chureal motioned Big H to give her some room, and Cryelos could tell by her scowl she was serious, and he should stay back, as well. She took her time walking all the way around the rectangular tomb, running her little hands along the seam and the crack in the lid. Then she looked at them as if they were hopeless and giggled.

  Big H made a growling face at her. "We put monumental effort into trying to move that slab little one. Let's see ye do it then."

  Cryelos laughed at the exchange but was curious now because of the girl's confidence.

  "You can't watch," she said sternly. "Now turn around and count to ten."

  "I thought you were going to show us how to move the lid," Big H said with what might have been a pouting face, but with his bulbous nose and grizzly face, it was hard to tell.

  Chureal put her hands on her hips. "Just turn around." She stared at them as menacingly as she could until they obeyed. "When I say start, count to ten, and don't turn around before you're done."

  “This be ridiculous,” the dwarf grumbled over his shoulder but did as he was instructed.

  "Start now," Chureal said. She was in the void with the jewel and her words sounded like they were spoken through a tube from a great distance.

  "One," Cryelos and Big H said in unison. "Two, three—" Chureal reached out and pushed the stone slab back far enough for an arm to reach down into the tomb with ease.

  "Four, five, six—" she heard the distant voices of her friends continuing.

  She was about to let go of the void and walk back to the fire, leaving the elf and dwarf to wonder how she'd done so easily what they all failed to do, but a creeping green vine shaped like a hand reached up out of the tomb. With no effort at all, it pushed the broken piece of lid all the way off.

  Chureal screamed as the heavy piece of stone fell to the floor and broke with a loud crack, but she held herself still and in the void. She was prepared to defend herself and her friends, if necessary. At least she hoped she was. She’d never had to fight before.

  Unlike Braxton, Chureal's actions inside the void were instinctive. The how and why of what she commanded the power to do wasn't even thought about. What she wanted to happen, she willed to happen, and either it did or it didn't. But mostly it did, and she was ready to blast whatever it was coming out of the tomb because she didn’t want it to hurt the others.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dendle's breath came out as a great billowing cloud into the frigid mountain air. He stood at the ridge, looking down at the mayhem below. Balo, Tarthin, and a few of the other straggling gothican outcasts who’d joined them, came to a stop at his side, each one looking on in amazement at the valiant effort the dwarves were making against the wood trolls. It looked like they would get the prisoners clear, and then die holding off the horde closing in on them.

  A handful of thoroughly winded humans came stumbling up behind the gothicans. Most of them fell to the frosty ground, gasping for air, but one put his hands on his knees and spoke after taking a few deep breaths.

  "You don't have to run as fast as you can, all the time, you know," he said to Dendle.

  "We were taking it easy because of your wounds, Davvy," Dendle joked back. "It seems the dwarves have started without us." He pointed down into the valley.

  Davvy reached up and put his hand on the half-breed's shoulder for support and looked down at the bloody battle happening below. It appeared the dwarves were doing pretty good for themselves. Then he saw the fresh trolls coming down through the trees on the other side of the valley. "I guess they're going to need our help," he said to Dendel. Then to the other humans, who were still fighting to get their breath, "On your feet. Get your wind. It's going to get bloody."

  Dendle had warned Captain Murdle of the approaching trolls just in time. Not in time to save all the people and homes in Uppervale, but in time to get the majority of women and children safely into the basement of the big gathering hall built in the center of town and to organize some sort of defense.

  The better part of Uppervale was defended in a bloody battle that lasted for days and cost many lives, including both Davvy’s and Braxton's fathers, and both of Braxton's brothers. Mercifully, the women of both families were spared and were now on a boat heading to a safer place, maybe Camberly or further south to Antole, if need be. Davvy wasn't sure, but he'd given them enough gold to go as far as they needed and live well enough until this madness subsided.

  The battle in Uppervale didn't really stop the trolls from going into the kingdom, but it did divert them from the valley to a more southerly route that took them out of the mountains and into the northern farmlands of The Rich. This wasn't good for the farmers, but that area was sparsely populated and the trolls could do far less damage. On the other hand, they would get a lot farther into the kingdom before King Barden's reserves could hunt them down. Since the rock trolls had finally busted through in the Gothfol Forest, the battle front was sliding slowly south.

  Captain Murdle had told them the enemy’s plan to trap the kingdom’s army failed, but with the wood trolls flooding Narvoza on the southern side of Uppervale, the king's men were slowly backing toward Camberly from the east, too. This meant that Uppervale was cut off like an island in a stormy sea. The
fighting in Uppervale was costly, but an unspoken alliance between the gothican exiles and the humans had been made, and together they defended the valley side by side.

  Writhick's brother, Karthick, along with Skalab, the older gothican that Dendle met in the forest, had left the growing group to seek help from the gothicans who opposed Lord Ulrich, his bloody war, and his pact with the long-hated trolls. Since the battle for Uppervale was over, and the bulk of the trolls had left the prison camp below for the kingdom, Dendle and Davvy decided to try and free the dwarves. The plan wasn't so much out of good will, but their desire to stop the supply of weapons being made there. No one planned on the dwarves breaking out on their own, or another horde of trolls marching in from the southeast. One thing was sure, though, the trolls had to be stopped and now. At least the dwarves were able to help them.

  All totaled, the group was about forty strong, but many of the humans were struggling to catch up with the long-legged gothicans who could run as fast as horses.

  "Use bows and give us cover when you're about halfway down, Davvy," Dendle said as he drew his big sword. "And make sure to keep the arrows falling onto the trolls, not us." He grinned at his human friend, then bolted down the hill. Immediately, the gothicans followed and the sound of heavy foot falls and steel being unsheathed filled the air.

  "Bookny, Scrub, stay and wait on the others," Davvy ordered. "When they catch up, try and get around to the flank, there," he pointed. "The rest of you. We're going to go about halfway down to find some cover and see if we can't drop some trolls from there. Be sure you have a clear line of sight. I don't want to watch another arrow being pulled out of Dendle's arse because you were just sending them into the fray. Hit trolls, and hit them in the middle." He started down the hill, but over his shoulder he called out, "When you run out of arrows, you know what to do."