River Of Life (Book 3)

by Paul Drewitz

  Erelon turned to several men behind him. Grabbing one wizard by the shoulder, the master wizard commanded, “Once the creature gets inside, hit it with a bolt of electricity.”

  The wizard turned to two other men and pointed to two large siege weapons that were based on the concept of the ballista. However, these shot rounded stones and not crossbow bolts. They were seldom used as they were hard and slow to load. They required an extraordinary amount of pressure.

  “Bring those to me,” Erelon commanded of both men.

  Again the wizard stood before the gate. Kneeling down, he held his hands with outstretched fingers over the ground. Slowly dirt rose and began to bubble and glow as it turned to molten ooze. Within a sphere of energy, much like what Erelon used for shields, the wizard entrapped dirt and built pressure and heat within it until the earth melted and formed into a heavy steel sphere. Erelon closed his eyes as he dropped several of these to the ground.

  Turning to the men operating the ballistae, Erelon commanded, “Here, use these.”

  Looking at the men who were shooting the ballistae, Erelon stated solemnly, “I need the creature fairly stationary for only a moment in order to use the spell I think will destroy it. That is your task.”

  Erelon did not say another word but instead turned to face the opening door.

  Slowly the defenders released the stops that held the door closed. Erelon’s plan was simple. Allow the big brute inside, close the door behind him, and allow as few enemies as possible inside with it. Erelon’s concern was whether the monster would destroy the gate getting in. It would be impossible to keep the enemy out if they rushed both the gate and the walls. Allow the monster inside, ambush it, destroy it.

  The gate swung open and the monster charged blindly in. Multiple heads grew on its body like warts; each muscle was cut with geometrical clarity. Its hide was made of rock. Immediately, the ballistae behind Erelon shot their steel spheres. One smashed into the monster’s knee cap, tearing a hole into it, sending chunks of rock hurtling through the air. The giant monster began to favor its left leg, bringing it towards the ground as it could no longer support it's own weight. The second shot slammed into the right shoulder, contorting the monster out of shape as it was twisted. Its left leg began to crumple and its right side was jerked backwards.

  A lightning bolt streaked from the sky, causing the monster’s body to straighten in paralysis. Erelon clapped his hands together flatly above his head in a pyramidal form. It made a thunderous sound as he began to whisper the spell. Slowly he brought his hands straight down, still together, splitting the creature visually in half. Still holding his hands vertical and straight, he pulled them apart, half of the rock monster on either side. The rock beast cracked apart with a piercing explosion. Erelon released the spell and the rock monster crumbled into a pile of rubble.

  Chapter 6

  DURGE stormed the enemy that gathered behind the rock monster. He knew that the giant menace was Erelon’s to bring down; he trusted that the wizard could destroy the monster as he had promised. The gates started to close as Durge and his men engaged the enemy. Sword in one hand, shield in the other, the warrior started swinging low, hiding below his round metal shield. It was light, given to him by dwarven smiths.

  Cutting the legs from under one foe, Durge charged on, pushing against the enemy, waiting for the gates to close so that he could meet with Auri and pin the enemy against the wall. Bodies piled up, and more still came. He shoved back with his shield, keeping the enemy before him, trying to avoid making himself venerable. A hairy gray leg stepped below the shield, Durge's sword slipped out, cutting it at the knee. The goblin fell forward, he slipped the blade up below it's chin. The warrior looked around, his line of defenders held fast. A wall of shields, forcefully pushing back on the gray flood.

  A wolfman jumped over the wall, and attacked from the back side. His first swipe severed the muscles across the back of several warriors. Then it was impaled by several arrows and pitched forward into the ground. Durge's men spread a little thinner trying to cover the extra space. The sound of metal cutting through skin and muscle mixed with the banging of metal on metal. Durge's muscles grew warm. Sweat trickled between his armor and his clothes. Will need to oil my armor again, the thought passed through his mind. It was a brilliant mirrored silver in the sun light, he abhorred men who wore armor into battle that had rusted.

  He swung his shield into the face of another goblin, crushing its nose so that blood squirted back into the enemy mass. Some one else shoved a blade through it's ribs. To his right he saw a soldier go down as he tripped over the body of a dead goblin. A larger monster in the back pushed forward causing the enemy mass to ripple. Durge leaned into his shield and held the sword forward ready to block and swing. It was slow, the goblins pressed together so tightly that few could make an honest effort to fight. Durge's men kept in close, slowly striking down those on the edge of the enemy mass who tried.

  He felt a sword glance off the armor around his abdomen. Immediately his sword came down, severing the hand that held the sword. Durge forced the goblin back into the mass, a body that was extra padding between him and the wall of goblins who were still capable of fighting. Screaming came from his right. He looked between the slits in his visor. One of his men was down, his leg gone.

  "Get him out of here!" Durge roared.

  "But sir, our defense, our wall is thinning," came a cry of alarm from a soldier.

  "I will hold it. Get him out of here," Durge growled and slid to his right to help fill the gap.

  One gate shut, but the other stood wide open, and with nothing to lock and brace against the closed gate, it began to give against the pushing hordes. Looking back, the horses that were to pull the other gate shut, were gone. In the panic of battle, they had bolted. The chain to which they had been attached, the chain that pulled on gears to close the gate, lay along the ground limp as it had been severed.

  “Hestler!” Durge yelled to a giant man who easily slung the largest of enemies, even the wolfmen, “Come with me.”

  Durge began to push a path to the open door, Hestler following, swinging madly with a mace. Several died with every swing. Every swing was an onslaught, leaving a clearly defined path.

  “Get some more men and push,” Durge ordered.

  As Hestler and a dozen other men began to push, several more gripped the chain and began to pull. Durge organized men to protect those that labored to close the valve that allowed the inflow of enemies.

  "There," Durge pointed to the men who pulled against the chain while grabbing one man by the shoulder. "I want two men fighting for every one pulling."

  Grabbing another by the arm Durge bellowed, "How many do we have left."

  "Ten from the Duras district," the soldier bellowed proudly.

  "Twenty of our finest from home then," Durge proudly puffed back. "Bring them, eight to help Hestler push, twelve to protect."

  The enemy quickly observed the valiant effort of Durge and his men and charged, ignoring all other warriors that attacked their flanks. Durge’s shield brought down one as it slammed into the creature’s skull, and then his sword lunged. Durge did not lead a grand offensive push; instead, he backed up, protecting those trying to close the gates. They fell into a half circle around those shoving against the door. For all it budged, the men might as well have been pushing against the wall. The goblins from the other side held it steady.

  Time and again Durge would swing his shield and bring his sword crashing downwards. His arms began to scream, and a spasm took control so that his shield arm jerked and flinched.

  "Move!" He bellowed to his body.

  He brought his sword down through the hip of one goblin as he shield came up over his head to block a blow from a crude spiked mace built from a log and thorns. His sword lunged into the abdomen of another goblin, and then cut through the rib cage of another before he brought his shield swinging back down, shattering the arachnid leg of another beast.

  H
e swung both the shield and sword around wildly trying to force the enemy back while slowly backing up himself, spittle and foam madly flying out of his visor. He looked around at his shrinking circle of defenders. Two who had been pushing against the door had left to help with the defense of those trying desperately to close it. Hestler had set his enormous shield up to help protect him and the others pushing with him from the barrage of arrows and spears.

  An intense pain broke his rhythm as an arrow pierced his armor. Breaking the shaft off, Durge continued, blood draining from the wound just below his arm. Around him, his men were falling fast as they bore the brunt of the enemy assault.

  An enemy before the southerner fell as an arrow bit into the creature’s face. Durge slashed at another, and as he thrust his sword, it went through the wooden shield of a goblin. The shield was twisted with the arm of Durge still within it, snapping the bone. The warrior’s sword fell. He brought the shield up to protect him, but it was futile. An arrow pierced his neck, blood gurgled to his lips and filled his lungs, and as goblins passed, they pitched into his body with every weapon they carried, scattering flesh and blood until the warrior lay in pieces.

  Hestler watched as his commander Durge fell. Without any sign of emotion, he went back to shoving on the door. Durge’s courageous efforts would go for nothing if the gate was not closed and the walls overrun. A sword tore at Hestler’s arm. Turning, he grabbed the face of the goblin and squeezed it until it popped and oozed like a grapefruit. With disappointment, Hestler saw that those that had pulled on the chain lay dead and his entire defense was gone. Only Hestler and the few that had helped him in pushing against the gates remained. The goblins swarmed on them like insects. A mace appeared as Hestler made ready for the confrontation. With power and agility, Hestler swung, and quickly the first line fell, their bodies broken and as he brought the massive shield around, more flew backwards through the air, each body clunking against the metal shield.

  Yet Hestler did not get a second chance to swing. A swarm of short, stocky men brandishing axes and wearing red-hued armor stepped before him. They were yelling threats and chants for war in a guttural language that caused the earth to shake. Hundreds more charged the goblins' flank, pushing them out the gates. More lay hold of the chain and started pulling, the gates closing as their powerful bodies made the gears turn.

  The rock menace disintegrated before Erelon. With a sigh of relief, Erelon breathed easier, until he noticed the plan had not worked as it had been plotted. The gates were not closed, and through them poured a gray ocean. On the right side, Durge struggled to hold back an onslaught as several men tried to close the doors themselves.

  On the left, Auri struggled to make a path to join Durge. The elves from the top of the walls were working hard to keep the enemy from scaling the embattlements. They did not have the time nor the numbers to help those below. Too many of the enemy and too few warriors, Erelon thought to himself sadly.

  Behind, Erelon heard Grism’s men give a cry of energy and then charge. Quickly Erelon was also caught up in the tide of charging men as well as feeling their adrenaline flow through him. Sword out, he cried out in dwarvish, a battle cry learned from Bahsal. Suddenly he felt as if something had answered him. Looking around, hundreds of dwarves flew in, swinging axes. The enemy did not have a chance to escape as the heated dwarves swept in. Bahsal led a charge to the door, protecting those there that fought to close it. Bahsal and his dwarves created a wall as the flood of the enemy smashed into it. The wall moved little. Such a dust was stirred that only the helmets of the dwarves could be seen above it. But the goblins disappeared into the dust as each stroke of a dwarvish axe brought them down to the ground.

  Erelon, Grism, and their men swept into the battle, Erelon bringing his shoulder up into one and his sword crashing into another, now flaming brilliantly with so many friendly races so close and needing its help. The men following Erelon and Grism, along with dwarves, shoved the enemy into the walls. Electrical energy exploded from Erelon and raced through the center of the enemy army and out through the gates, casting severed and burned bodies left and right. The gates had slammed shut, any chance of reinforcements for the enemy shut out and held down by the elvish archers on the walls. The entirety of the enemy forces that were trapped inside died before an onslaught that they had never expected. Erelon's men and the dwarves pushed them up against the walls so that the goblins could not move, pinched between rock and the bodies of their fellow warriors.

  On a stand, a bier, a fire roared. It rose high into the air so that it could be seen above the walls, a beacon into the dark world beyond. In dark shrouds, a company of men stood around it quietly, respectfully. Auri at the front, close behind were Erelon, Hestler and Grism, and just behind them the men Durge had brought with him, now fewer in number.

  The moment Auri had reached the side of Durge on the battlefield, tears filled his eyes. This most noble friend of his had come far north to protect his home. He had died on a foreign battlefield. Auri held his friend’s body, torn, bloody, mutilated within his arms, tears rolling from his eyes, the drips of water kissing the still face of Durge.

  Auri’s hand passed across his friend’s face, closing his eyes. When one joins a battle, in the back of their consciousness, they know death can come at any moment, but none really think about it, confront it mentally. Death can come to any at any moment in life, but how would one live life if always in fear of death? So it is the same in battle, or so Auri felt.

  The fire mounted high in the evening sky. The sun had long gone down, and the fire was easily seen as it stood out from the darkness settling in behind. There was no good way in which Auri could pack the body of his friend to take back to his home in the South, so instead he had decided upon a funerary bier. The ashes of his friend he would take back, along with what had belonged to the old nobleman and warrior.

  Slowly the fire began to die, and then its light was gone completely. With a slow sigh, the men disappeared until only a few remained. Slowly they ascended the stand to collect the remains of their friend.

  Erelon looked up at the sky from the balcony that adjoined his room. The stars glowed brightly, yet it did not seem at all right. Many times he had been able to tell his position or time of day by the stars. But tonight, he was confused. The constellations were not located as they should be, or were nonexistent altogether. Erelon brought out a map and charted the stars, as he thought it might be hallucinations, yet the chart also disagreed with the night sky.

  The chart was only a solid, shiny, black piece of parchment, yet it mirrored the night sky as well as plot out the directions when laid out flat below a full view of the sky.

  Only a few stars on the chart agreed with the stars in the sky. Blurry, hazy lines and dots discolored the rest of the map. As Erelon watched the stars, for an instant they formed a hammer over an anvil with a sword behind. Erelon smiled as he thought to himself that the young man had made the trip alive after all.

  Erelon was finding that sleep did not come easily. Several short battles had kept everyone within the walls continually busy, and then all skirmishes ceased. Yet Erelon could still hear within his mind the ringing of metal against metal, the splintering of wood, the ripping of flesh, the last gurgle as something living died. He awoke continuously, reliving battles in his dreams at night and during the day. There seemed no end to the mass of soldiers the warlocks could send from Mortaz, and also there was no end to their marching through Erelon’s dreams. The battles had even begun to stretch out along the wall that extended into the prairie where the enemy army had no cover.

  The wizard woke. Sweat soaked his blankets. In his dreams, hundreds of goblins, each sticking his body with a blade. The sweat had been his blood, breathing became impossible, and as he drowned on his own body’s fluids, Erelon’s eyes had lurched open, forcing himself back into the real world so that he knew he lived. Erelon stumbled to the window for fresh air that swept down off of the mountains. He had been watching the s
kies, but the stars no longer moved. They had returned to their normal positions.

  As Erelon turned back to his bed, a blue flash in the hallway arrested the wizard’s attention. Quickly he was in the hallway in time to see a little fluffy tail run around the corner, the sound of hard hooves gently clipping the ground and growing more silent as time passed and the creature distanced itself from the wizard. Erelon grunted to himself. It had been long since seeing the blue spirit of the faun. Swiftly he was following it, only catching occasional glimpses. Yet he was resolved to seize the little creature.

  Again it led him through the lobby and into the forest where it seemed to glow brighter as the power of the moons was no longer blocked by the rock walls or clouds. Erelon no longer slinked behind trees but boldly walked in the open, his body a dark mass as the moons lit up the light brown carpet of pine needles. Draos gently pulled on the rope that anchored it to a stake, begging to be taken along, his ears twitching as the wizard passed on by. Slowly the faun, with light steps that made no noise on the soft carpet, led Erelon back to the mountain and through an opening in the wall. Erelon cautiously watched, having not seen the entrance before, but as he sensed no danger, he stepped through.

  The crack led only one way. The path turned corners and dodged rocks. All was covered in an unnatural blue, all felt at peace, almost as if Erelon had stepped into some portal into the twilight world of the elves. The path quickly widened into an open oval chamber. A tall, natural, rough spike made of rock stood in the center gleaming. The spike was almost like a crystal as it glittered and radiated light, yet still it was not transparent. It was as if the spike gathered the power of the blue moon. The faun returned to where it had been spawned, the source of its own power and life.