Beyond The Wall

by Pwyll Duggan

  The fairy flies over the carts as I spot the slag pile, changing direction to get to it. Two more bolts fly at me, knocking me down into the slag pile, smell of burning flesh assaulting my senses, pain racking my back. Gleeful giggling washes over me as I roll over, the purple fairy 10 foot away, wand aimed at my chest. Her black and purple hair as wild as her eyes.

  "Got you pretty boy. Any last words." I nod.

  "Butterfree goes splat."

  The bihorn swings the shovel hard, punting the purple fairy at me, flattening its wings. My left arm rips her from the air, grasping her throat. Instantly I crush her throat until I feel her bones crack and break, eyes popping and blood seeping thru my fingers.

  "Last words are for losers."

  I glance up at the Bihorn, collar leading chains to her yoke. Her light hair is now mud caked. Flimsy cloth tied around her neck to cover her modesty, falling to just below her hips. Right side of her face scarred, but not healing well. Right arm being favored, held close to her breasts, pain pouring out of her crystal blue eyes. Her hand is held down to me, offering to help me up.

  I wince as she does, back flaring. I reach up to her neck with both hands and pull her collar apart, metal rivets bouncing off in the distance. I rip her yoke and chains off, freeing her from the carts, being careful not to hurt her at all.

  The sound of hammers on metal has changed to hammers on goblins, shrill cries coming from the forge. We both turn, seeing the remaining goblins flee from the forge, chained slaves now all alone. I waste no time on the goblins and race to the slaves, hooves hitting stone following me.

  There are ten pairs, chained to forges from beams across the top of the forge. I step up to the first terrified demi-human and rip it's collar off, hand on each side and pulling. The Bihorn tries the same but is too weak. As I free the first pair I shout out.

  "Gather any weapons you can from here. Food and water too if they have any. We're heading down into the mine." They look at me and one replies, "What the fuck for."

  Wailing and moaning comes from the far side of the cavern I just ran from. Dead are exiting the tunnel, some of them new dead. They pile out and start to fall to the cavern floor. The same voice rises again. "Good plan. We're on it."

  I free the last slaves as the Bihorn stares at the dead, all very slowly falling off the ledge. The other ledge gets a few wanderers on it. She's whispering to herself.

  "Not strong enough. Not a true lancer anymore. Too much pain." I walk just past her, watch the dead mill about as snotlings start charging them. The wailing gets louder.

  "My name's Paul. What's yours." I turn to her, eyes at the same height as hers.

  "Was Mary. Just a weak slave now." She’s dejected and morose.

  I add "Mary, I need your help to save all the slaves." She shakes her head yes, weakly.

  "Won’t be much help, too weak, not a lancer anymore." I look her in the eyes, screaming starting off in the distance, clanging sounds in front of us.

  "I need you strong. I can do something for you, but I am not sure what will happen." I get a quizzical gaze from her.

  "What can you do to make me stronger?" I keep her gaze.

  "I can 'up' you, right now, with a touch." She snorts in my face.

  "If you could do that, I'd give my blood as a Lancer to serve you until my dying day. Shielders don't do that anymore. Haven't for decades. They just kill all they find." Her voice has gone dark, but a glimmer of hope is in her eyes.

  "So, I have your word then?"

  "Yes, my blood oath is yours." I reach forward and touch her stomach, letting the power flow.

  The ex-slaves stop and stare in awe, some dropping things as they do so. The sound is drowned out by Mary's growing roar, turning to a howl, a huge howl of joy. She's not what she was. She's a few feet taller, towering over me now at 8 feet. Both parts of her have buffed up, and her wounds are gone. The color of her crystal blue eyes has rippled into her mane and hair, speckling thru both. Her coat is jet black, with white hair going up her legs, just over the knees, looking like stockings. Her dual horns that made her a bihorn are now larger and thicker. Two extra horns spiral back from the older ones, grooves deep blue, matching the new horns. They flow back and slightly down, going around her ears as they point straight out.

  I look around for a cloak or blanket. Her chest is larger as well and needs covering. Way too distracting. One of the slaves rushes over with a cloak and hands it to her. She blushes, gasping a quick "thanks." Her voice is lower and husky, pushing all the right buttons. She wraps the cloak around her torso, covering herself, tying at her lower back. A very virgin killer sweater look. She clomps to the pile of tools and weapons, grabbing a very long handled sledge hammer. I pass up a weapon belt and a few short swords, more like long daggers for her. I also toss her the two bracelets from the Croc dude, Chomper.

  "Storage bracelets." She smiles and puts them on. Reminds me I have a fairy bounty hunter to loot.

  She's in her goth dress, wand lying on the ground next to her body. Wand goes in my hand and I pop it into storage. I take all her jewelry, rings, earrings and a long necklace. She has long silk gloves, black with purple weavings. Peeling them off I pass then to Mary. "Can you see if these are Gloves of Dispensing? Any stored items?" She starts to pull them on, and they change shape to fit her. I love magic. She closes her eyes and nods.

  "Two lesser potions. Nothing else." I nod as I move away.

  "Keep them."

  "No armor. Sorry." One of the dwarf’s laments. I shrug and look across the cavern. The second ledge has been cleared off, the white samurai cleaving thru the remaining dead there. I throw her the bird, uncaring if she sees it. Goblinoids are engaging the dead in force now as I wave the ex-slaves towards the tunnel. Mary is hefting the sledge, doing some practice swings, getting a feel for her new weapon. I empty the last mine cart, pulling the tipping lever and dumping the ore on the ground. We drop everything in it and I unpin it from the others and push it down. Mary trots up, resting an arm on the side of the cart.

  "I'll watch this down and keep watch, you go forward Master."

  Down into the depths we go, dead behind and unknown below.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mary and slaves behind me, I ignore the benefits of stealth and move fast thru the torch lit tunnel. Side tunnels are blocked off, every 300 or 400 feet. The ones to the right are boarded up, even piles of stone piled in front of the boards. Things that way are not wanted in here. Lucky, I gave them another way out.

  The sounds of work echo up the tunnels. Shouts, picks on stone, groans and greenskins laughing. The tunnel is slowly spiraling down, cart tracks in the middle, rubble and worked stone on the walls. Staff out I walk quickly. Turning a corner, a landing is before me, four gobs around a cooking fire, joking. One has a human female on her knees, slapping her face. She's the only one facing me.

  I look her in the eyes.

  "Get down." I speak to her, causing the gobs to turn as I start swing. They don't get a chance to even squeal as I finish my grim work. I pull in the spirita as I kneel next to a once young girl, experience ripping that from her now. Hands on either side of her collar I pull it apart, rivets bouncing off the tunnel walls.

  "Wait here for a few minutes, then come down with the others I just rescued." I don't wait for her to respond, just walk off down again.

  No idea how far, probably a few hundred yards and the sounds of work make it hard to hear anything else. I've had enough of this shit. Treating people, anyone, like this is wrong on so many levels. In my old world I could call for help, protest, or follow the law. There's no law here. No one stops them. Might makes right. People become monsters because it's easier than thinking of your neighbor, the guy down the street or the one in the next city. It someone else's problem. Who cares what happens to that girl, as long as it doesn't affect me. Fuck that! There's a new monster in town.

  The tunnel opens to a cavern, mining carts in the middle. Lines of slaves, mixture of races, g
enders and types piling ore from baskets into the carts. Others using picks on the walls and the seams down small cervices or side tunnels. Gobs and orcs with whips going to town on them when they feel like it. A pile of crates and mishmash of items to one side with the main group of greenskins. A large chair, trying hard to give the impression of a throne, holds a tall ogre in mixed plate armor. His 'entourage' sits around him, including two nude and beaten women.

  I purse my lips and whistle. Noise drops a smidge and then I cup my hands to my mouth, shouting.

  "OI! FUCKWITS!".

  The cavern stops, all eyes on me, the ruggedly handsome hero. Okay the mostly naked, bloodstained, injured asshole carrying a large all-metal staff. Rags draped around his shoulders, torn heavy duty pants, ripped boots and metal gloves come bracers. I slam the staff down, end shattering stone and staying upright as it went in a few inches.

  "You on the shitty impression of a throne. Nice armor. Bring it here bitch."

  Gasps and snickers echo in the stone expanse. The ogre stands, a good 9 feet tall. Dull, dented and scratched heavy armor covers him head to toe. He stomps echo as he moves closer to me, metal plates rattling as he does so. I like his helmet. Corinthian style I think, definitely not his originally. Normal curved top as for any helmet, like motorcycle ones. Eyes holes that curve inwards then down, leaving a metal strip to protect the nose. What I like is it's what two of my favorite heroes wore - Magneto and Statesman from City of Heroes.

  He grunts as he gets near. He stops and struggles to get the huge sword off his back. Honestly that only works for me as I have someone who can pass it to me. Better if you loop the belt over a shoulder and slip it off to draw from the sheath. Fuck waiting. I propel myself forward and low, right fist skirting the ground, left covering my head and body.

  Power Attack.

  I throw the right upwards with force, impacting past the groin tassel plate and square in the crotch.

  Twisting and following thru with the punch lifts the ogre 2 feet in the air, audible crunch with a high-pitched squeal displaces the silence of the cavern. Shock and awe dominate as the crunch of his bulk slams into the floor. I remove his helm, seeing his bulging eyes and thankfully bald head. No lice that way. I place the helm on my head, too big for me by far. Then the familiar heat of spirita and the helm shrinks down and shapes itself to me.

  The helm's goes all the way down to cover my neck, further at the front. I kneel and punch down, splattering the ogres head, blood pouring out. In the silence I dip two fingers in the blood flowing away from his body, down the cavern floor. I draw a line downwards under each eye. Standing I look out at the shocked faces before me.

  "Next!" and chaos comes home to roost.

  Slaves go berserk, cheering and some attacking their overseers. I shoot the six orcs I see in rapid succession, icebolts sticking out from various body parts. They fall from the picks of their nearby workers. Gobs panic, trying to run. The entourage tries to run past me, staff swing in huge arcs, reaping them down as they try and pass. Hooves race down the tunnel and Mary goes to town on any that get away. Her sledge crumples many a goblin, bouncing some of the far walls.

  I leap at any greenskin I can find, helping put down the last of them. Many slaves keep attacking long after their targets are dead. Good for them. Seeing no-one to help, I turn to the nearest slave and pop their collar. Those that see that jostle to get to me.

  "Two lines!" I shout "one here, one next to Mary and we will remove the collars. Move it people!" They rush to comply.

  "Dwarf - get that armor off the ogre. Suit me up." I rip off a collar.

  "Get these people armed." Another goes.

  "Cover those ladies and help any injured." Pop, pop, pop.

  "See if any armor fits Mary." Pop, Pop. The dwarf gets to work.

  "Niall" he says.

  "Sorry Niall, didn't ask." I keep removing collars. I feel hands on my legs and lifting my feet. Heavy boots and greaves get buckled to me. Splashing water behind me as something is washed.

  As more collars are removed, food and drinking water is spread for all. Makeshift weapons handed out for those that need them. As I remove more collars, I point to the mine carts. "Tip those out. Anyone injured goes in there. Need a harness that Mary can use and drop as needed for the carts. Something good as a brake in the last one as well please."

  A skinny young guy takes command as I pop collars, getting people organized. Others go to him to ask questions. He shouts out. "Form the two lines, get those collars off and help your partners!"

  "Niall, who's the guy that stepped up?" Niall looks up from buckling on the greaves, between people’s legs as I pop collars.

  "Reiji, Stone Priest and our unofficial leader. Guy gets three heals a day and never uses them on himself. Only reason so many are still alive. Bloody other-worlders no help at all." He grumbles, going back to work.

  "The other-worlders?"

  "Shielders, but na like you. Gave up and wonna fight back. Sylar the Lizard bloke is their leader, probably hiding again. Want the most food, do tha least work. They beat up other slaves just fine thou - no risk onna them." The pain and disgust obvious on his face as he spits on the ground.

  "Fuck 'em Sir. Need ya to stop, get this padding and plate on." I kneel, and he looks at my back. "What the fuck is that." Doll stirs, vines slightly moving.

  "Doll, my heartwood. Doll meet Niall, my dwarf friend and gofer." Niall shakes his head then questions.

  "Gofer?".

  "Yup - go for this, go for that. Gofer." He pauses, mouth curling as he thinks.

  "So, I'm ya Squire then. Aye, I ken live with that fah now."

  The padding and breastplate go up and over my head and get buckled on tight. Doll squirms, then vines come out under the plates that cover my back, pushing their way under. She makes the same cross brace on my back as before. I look around for these other-worlders as I pop more collars. No luck spotting them. Reiji has the slaves form up in their chain gangs again, people side by side. He has the stronger on the outside, others helping the injured or sick.

  Niall finishes me up, slapping me on the shoulder. He goes to pass me the sword and I shake my head no.

  "Mary needs it more. Get it strapped to her and see what you can scrounge for her, armor wise." Next to the pile of chains and collars keeps spreading. Mary is throwing hers on the same pile. As it grows, I get angrier and more shocked at just how many people are down here. My original plan was to bust thru a side tunnel and come up the way the dead did. No way I can cover this many people, even with Mary.

  "Reiji!" I shout at him, motioning him to come to me. One line of slaves left for me to free as he comes over.

  "Organize those that can fight, well throw things, to the front. Then another lot like that to the bring up the rear. Mary and I'll lead the way. When the Night One shows I'll keep her busy. Mary and you lead these people out. Got it?" He nods his bald head, scruffy beard framing his skinny face. Reminds me of Mari... maybe.

  "Your Mari's brother, aren't you?" He spins to me, eyes bright.

  "She's alive?"

  "Head priestess type of alive. Old one met with a fortunate execution." His lips thin into a line.

  "She deserved it."

  I finish the last collar and move over to Mary. Niall's found some mail, getting her a shirt and putting the mail over her. The swords strapped to her side and she's still wielding the sledge. She stands to attention as I get near her.

  "Master." Relaxing my face, I speak in a low volume to her.

  "We'll head straight back up. When we get to the cavern with the forges, take the rescued out via the right side. I'll engage any forces - you get these people out to The Grove and safety. Understood?" Her face can't hide her disagreement, even when she replies.

  "Yes, Master. As you command."

  I turn and face the mass of rescued peoples. Way too many. People are going to die getting out. I breathe deep and calm my nerves. I have no other choice. Some will die so most can live. Ra
ising my hand high, I slowly get the silence I need. I refresh Tongues and start.

  "We're going up and out. Stay together. Help your fellows, the injured or weak. Stay to the right and follow Reiji and Mary the Bihorn once we get to the top. Once out head to The Grove. Good luck."

  I turn and walk up the tunnel, Mary's hooves clicking just behind me as the mass of peoples slowly follows.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I lead them up the tunnel. I outdistance them quickly, Mary trotting next to me, keeping a good distance apart. No need to tempt an Area of Effect attack. A line of poleaxe heads can be seen as we approach the landing. Mary and I slow and make our way there, keeping in sight of each other. A forlorn flag hangs down a pole, white with the pink cherry blossom tree on it. White girl's here with a few cronies then.

  The line of ogres comes into view, few other greenskins behind them. Standing out front is the White Samurai again, broadsword in hand, tip resting on the ground. Her blonde hair is in a braid down her back and she starts to speak and I raise my hand, icy sphere about to greet her.

  My eyes water and their lids get heavy. A yawn escapes my mouth, hand going up to cover it, staff clanging on the ground. Mary looks over, saying something, but it's too quiet for me to hear. She's waving something, her hands? And the light seems too bright. I squint as White opens a closed palm and sparkles swirl around, guess the breeze has picked up.

  A long form blocks my view as I steady myself on the ground. Why am I kneeling? Oh yeah, need a rest, so tired. White looks like a nice person. Blondes are more fun, right? Four dark forms move the long form away. Someone's banging on stone, lucky it's so far away, not too loud. Words are being spoken, making no sense to me. A small stone drops next to my arms. Where did that come from? A ding on my helm and another is at my hands. Nice, flat and round, that one. Make a good skipping rock at the lake.

  I scream, back on fire. Thousands of needles are thrusting in and out of my back, pain making me roll away to my feet. My vision is misty, head like mush and limbs like lead poles.