Chapter 17
The Triumph of Steel
Entrenched, the dwarves had suffered the first real attack of the humanoid army. With few cavalry to harass the attacking army, the evil forces had swept across the valley, reaching the far end before encountering the dwarves that had dug in. Elven archers from high up on both sides of the valley fired arrow and magic down upon the humanoids, but their numbers seemed endless, and still less then half had crossed the bridge.
The dragons had yet to be a large factor in the battle. For that, Kelnozz was concerned. Already most of the weaker metallic dragons had been forced to return to their prison, overcome by the pull of the evil forbidding. Of those remaining, many were showing signs of fatigue.
Of the dwarves, they were true to their boasting, and felled at least four for every one of theirs that fell. Showing incredible stamina, their short but powerful arms rose and fell, allowing axe, hammer, and sword to rend flesh and bone. Especially effective against giants and ogres, the dwarves had proven their worth many times over.
Humans served wherever they could, and more still flocked to join the army as word continued to spread. Some served with the elves, serving as archers, while others aided the dwarves on the front lines. Most were held in reserve units, ready to plug holes or rush forward and relieve the besieged dwarven lines.
Of the special unit Kelnozz had authorized to build the catapult, he had lost contact with them shortly after the first of the orcs and light elves crashed into the earthen fortifications of the defenders. Unable to tell them when to spring their surprise, he had ground his teeth in frustration. Now, four days later, he still saw no sign of them, and at least half of the evil army had crossed the bridge. If something did not happen soon, then no matter how many of their foe they slew, they would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the enemy. Kelnozz's estimation of the size of the evil armies had proven to be greatly underestimated. Looking over the battle field from his command position, he could see that roughly three times as many of them came against his army.
Kelnozz glanced about him quickly. Of his friends, there was no sign. Martin had joined the archers, doubling by leading a group of elves and woodsman to make certain that none of the humanoids managed to find any passes through the mountains and flank them. Nordan was with his tribesmen, waiting in the hills to the west for the signal that they should join the battle. Kayala was aiding the dwarves that had designed the catapult. Vallanius alone was at hand, as well as several messengers.
"Well old friend, things do not bode well," Kelnozz said, shading his eyes to stare across the floor of the valley on which thousands upon thousands of beings milled and fought.
"We slay five times our number!" Vallanius said, surprised at the grim tone of Kelnozz's voice. "What more could you ask for?"
"I could ask for 20 times our number, then perhaps we could withstand them," Kelnozz muttered. "Look behind or dwarven friends, what do you see?"
Vallanius studied the battlefield carefully. "Open ground, easily defended because it slopes upwards steadily towards us. Not to mention the ten companies of reinforcements, two hundred a piece."
Kelnozz nodded. "Now look to the others, what do you see behind those at the front?"
Vallanius instantly understood what Kelnozz meant. While they had only two thousand to bolster their lines, Alesha's army was far greater, possessing even more in reserve then they had at the front. "What of the elves in the hills? We can signal them to sweep down at any time."
While many of the elves were already pressed into service harassing the enemy, the majority of their numbers were hidden in the hills, ready to spring a trap and rush down into the attackers, striking them in the side. "Aye, they are, and they'd do it gladly," Kelnozz said. "But it would be for naught, even should they fell as many as the dwarves seem to be, they would be overwhelmed in moments."
Vallanius was about to open his mouth to retort again, but Kelnozz stalled him. "Aye, the barbarians as well. If that catapult has not been overrun yet, then it must be used quickly, or we will be lost."
Vallanius looked around again, trying to find some sign of hope. Trying to think of something they had missed. He gritted his teeth in frustration as his sharp elven eyes showed a section of the dwarven defenders give way for a moment, pouring attackers in until the hole was plugged. It was only the first such breach, and the attackers dealt with harshly, but it was the first of what would be many.
"I will join the elves then," Vallanius said bitterly. "It is as you say, and if we cannot hold them, then we must hurt them as much as we can."
Kelnozz favored Vallanius a tired smile. He shook the older elf's hand, and wordlessly, they parted ways. Kelnozz studied the scene for a few moments longer before calling to the pages.
"Tell the dragons we need them now. We must gain as much advantage by surprise as we can before the chromatic dragons take flight to counter our move. I will lead them on Luingirth's back. Have them stand ready."
To another messenger he said, "Tell Nordan to charge as soon as he sees the dragons. And you," he pointed to a different messenger, "Tell Vallanius the same."
"Of those held in reserve, they must rush forward after the barbarians and elves strike and the enemy is distracted. The dwarves will join them in the counter attack." Kelnozz looked at the two remaining messengers and smiled sadly. "For you, I have the most difficult task. Both of you try and reach that catapult and have them fire on that bridge. If we do not sunder it, then we are have lost not only the day, but the battle and the war."
Both their faces turned white at this news. That meant they would have to slip around and perhaps even through the enemy lines in order to reach their objective. They looked to one another, seeing the same fear mirrored in each others eyes. Looking back to Kelnozz, they could see the task he had given them was just as hard for him to give as it was for them to receive. One nodded, then the other, and they set off, running to the west and heading for the hills.
Kelnozz watched them go, admiring their bravery. Little more then children themselves, he knew they would probably die. All of them would, he suspected, but victory was still possible, if only remotely.
Kayala groaned in frustration as she felt her grip on the magic that sustained the illusion concealing them slipping away. A crew of fifty dwarves, plus herself, and the catapult had been built on the rocky plateau just west of the bridge. Her constant concentration and supervision had been required once their foes had begun scouting. Now, five days without sleep or rest had taken its toll on her. Trained young in the arts of wizardry, Kayala had a mind that was as sharp and focused as the best of her peers. Had she the ability remaining to do so, she would have scoffed at the idea of any of her so called peers being able to maintain so large and taxing an illusion for so long.
"Lass, it's to late, they be coming fer us," the leader of the dwarfs said, putting his hand on her arm lightly to help break her meditative trance.
Kayala gasped, realizing she'd nearly drifted to sleep. She struggled to gather the wisps of magic that were tearing apart and realized it was to late. She jumped to her feet unsteadily and saw the large force of orcs coming at them. "I'm sorry, Kurn, I failed," she said sadly.
"Nay lass, tis as good a time as any for us to test this here catapult out!" Kurn said, signaling for the other dwarves to load and ready the catapult.
"Do we have time?" She asked, a fresh wave of adrenaline rushing into her.
"Aye lass, time enough for two shots, if ye can help us keep them stinking orcs out of our hair," Kurn smiled ferociously then ran to help with the catapult.
Kayala smiled. She knew that what Kelnozz had asked of her was a suicide mission. She knew it, and she accepted it. Nordan had taken Kelnozz aside later for a few strong words, and she smiled at the sweetness of the gesture. A powerful man, Nordan was nevertheless showing signs of being human as well. A pity they had not the time to further investigate that rare vulnerability he had displayed. In the end, they all knew that what they did was done out of necessity.
With that in mind, she summoned an incantation to mind and cast her first spell against the orcs, turning the ground under many of them into mud. It did little but gain them time, but time was all they needed. She prepared her second spell and was nearly distracted when the wooden beam of the catapult smacked loudly into the padded cross brace, the first missile on its way.
If dwarven engineers are said to be the finest in the land, the strike of that first rock against the side of the bridge is proof of it. The wood and metal comprising it twisted and splintered, sending several of those crossing it to a painful death in the chasm it spanned. The bridge remained, however, though it was weakened.
"Let's go, lads!" Kurn said, pulling 30 of the dwarves away from the catapult to charge the orcs. Kayala's second spell, sailed over their heads, great sticky strands of gossamer silk that reminded them of an enormous spider web. It landed on a group of orcs and bound them fast to each other and whatever else it came into contact with. The remaining dwarves had the arm cranked back already and were struggling to set the second boulder in the basket.
Shaking off a wave of weariness, Kayala summoned up the power for another spell. She knew she was pouring to much of herself into the magic, but at the same time, it made her feel more alive and in touch with it then she ever had before. A dangerous thing that others and even herself had warned against. Reaching deep into herself, she summoned forth a magical ball of electricity and sent it towards the orcs that were clearing the strip of mud she had created.
Kurn and his warriors crashed into a group of orcs that were nearly twice their number. The fighting was fierce and savage. After several minutes had passed, the dwarves found themselves standing triumphant, though eight would never rise to fight again. Gathering their breath, they prepared to meet the next group of orcs emerging from the mud when the ball of electricity flew into their midst and exploded, sending out bolts of lightning into orc after orc, sometimes arcing from one to the next as well.
Kurn grinned and let loose a war cry, calling out to Garrick to aid the dwarves. On schedule, another rock sailed overheard, hurled from the catapult with a deadly accuracy. Losing herself further, Kayala began another spell, reaching out and gather the mystical energies around her.
The bridge buckled under the second boulder, nearly ready to give way. A few more brave figures fell to their deaths, yet more crowded forward, anxious to cross over. Word of the attack had spread quickly though, and already more were rushing to reinforce the company of orcs.
Kurn looked about him quickly, only a handful of his dwarves remained, but the catapult was about to fire for the third time. Third and final, he was certain. An explosion of magic heralded Kayala's next spell, sending orcs screaming to their fiery graves.
With the orcs slain or incapacitated, Kurn had a moment to relax and breathe. The reinforcements were coming though, and an ogre in particular was bearing down on him. The third boulder sailed overhead, striking the bridge true and rending it asunder. Kurn felt a moment of elation then, and he knew that no matter what became of him, his son would live on and they would win the day.
Dragons filled the skies. Flying on wings of gleaming gold, silver, copper, brass, and bronze, they came over the hills to the south and passed high above the defenders. At their head could be seen a dragon that did not seem to fit in with the others. Scales of blue, it bore a rider upon its back.
Nordan grinned and bellowed loudly. No known word, but instead a primal urge, his tribe took it up behind him and as one, they charged from concealment and onto the battlefield. Catching a group of light elves unprepared, the brute strength of the barbarians quickly hacked their way through them, though the skill and magic of the light elves left them wounded more then they would have cared to admit. Still, with the presence of caution one would expect from a horde of barbarians, they plunged onward.
On the eastern edge of the valley, thousands of elves poured down the trails and out from behind rocks, cutting deeply into the ranks of the enemy. Elven wizards sorceresses hurled flaming bolts and balls of exploding frost into the dark army, striking ruthlessly. Dark and light cousin came face to face, the only acceptable outcome of such a meeting being death.
The metallic dragons overhead swooped down, causing great damage to the evil beings with magic, breath, talon, and tooth. Stricken with uncertainty at last, they began to falter. Orcs, elves, ogres, giants, and others turned from the front and began to try and retreat, striking out at their own allies that still pushed to the front. It was at this time that the reinforcements charged forward, leaping over the fortifications and striking into the disorganized front ranks. The dwarves, refreshed by the change of momentum, also leapt to the attack.
The rout was short lived, for as soon as news of the metallic dragons joining the fray arrive, the chromatic dragons flocked to the battle. Battle was joined both above and below. Kelnozz and Luingirth flew up and away from the battle, for fear that Luingirth might be mistaken as on of her evil kin, and attacked accidentally.
Borrik cursed loudly as an slain orc fell against his leg, distracting him from the light elf he fought. Kicking the corpse away, he accepted the shallow wound on his arm the light elf delivered and returned a powerful two handed stroke with his great axe, blasting through the parry and cleaving deeply into the pale skinned elf's chest.
Yanking his axe free, Borrik stepped over the fallen elf and severed an ogres leg from its body, making it tumble to the ground and allowing another fatal swing from his axe to fall. Wiping some blood off of his face, the dwarf looked about and realized he had outdistanced his brethren. Muttering curses at the evil forces in disarray before him, he returned to laying about with his axe, rending flesh and bone without pause of mercy.
Wulf, second son of Vorm, followed his leader willfully onto the battlefield. Nordan was a hero in his eyes. In the eyes of all the barbarians. Wulf tried to stay close to his leader, but found it difficult to do in the press of the foul beasts they fought. He had never realized how loud battle could be. The sounds of metal on metal and men shouting was deafening. Focusing on his other senses, Wulf used his two handed sword to great effect, he struck again and again.
To Wulf's right, his clansmen fell, stricken by a giant. Wulf clove at the giant to avenge him, landing a telling wound on its thigh. The giant was hard pressed from its other flank as well, but it turned it's attention to Wulf for a moment and prepared to smash him to the ground with its club. A thundering boom stunned Wulf for a moment, and the giant fell back, crushing an orc beneath it. Nordan leapt atop its chest, mighty warhammer reappearing in his hand magically, and bellowed out a challenge to any that could hear him.
Wulf watched in amazement as both orcish and light elven archers took aim and fired, but Nordan was already moving. The arrows sliced through the air around him, seeking his flesh, but none could find them. It was as though Nordan could not be touched. Wulf looked down and saw a stray arrow had struck him in the forearm. Frowning, he reached down and broke it off, then turned back and barely blocked a rushing orc from running him through with a spear.
Slashing out, the orc went down in a fountain of blood. Wulf had no time to rest, for a giant wolf with hate filled eyes and a spiked black collar lunged at him. Backpedaling quickly, Wulf stumbled over the fallen body of another barbarian. He grunted as he hit, and tried to scramble away. The dire wolf lunged forward, jaws clamping down on his leg. Before it could tear his calf apart, Wulf kicked with his other leg, crushing the dire wolf's snout and sending it yelping away from him. He regained his feet with a quick glance at his leg, it bled freely, but only from some puncture wounds in his calf, there were no tears.
Ignoring his growing injuries, Wulf returned to the battle, slashing out at the next creature he came to face.
Jyslen was no ordinary warrior, she was a bladesinger. To her, battle was an art form, and she an artist. Not merely an artist, but a perfectionist. Each slice of her blades seemed graceful, each parry was flawless, each pivot a dance. In other circumstances, the dance she performed would have been beautiful. But there, amidst an army of 20,000 orcs, trolls, ogres, giants, lizardmen, wolves, and dragons, it was fatal.
Part of a unit in which less then one in twenty elven warriors were qualified to enter, the bladesingers were devastating on the battlefield. Nothing stood in their way, even the powerful giants were to slow and clumsy to halt their advance. This was what they were trained for, and to many of them, it seemed to be the very reason they were born.
But even with hundreds of years of training, even with the skill and coordination to slice an arrow out of the sky, even with the ability to turn aside the most harmful of blows, nothing can truly make one immune to the many forms death can take.
This time death took the form of a light elven wizard. Slicing through his bodyguards as though they were wheat before a scythe, the bladesingers were to slow to stop him from casting his spell. Flames burst out from his fingers, rolling over many of them in an arc to great to be dodged. Jyslen herself felt her arm and leg on fire, caught on the edge of it in her desperate lunge to safety. Her training allowed her to ignore the pain and block it out, but it would not make either her arm or leg move as she wanted it to, for the magical flames had burned deeply.
Another light elf charged in at her from the side, hitting her squarely in the face with its shield and knocking her to the ground. Jyslen stared at her arm, wondering why it had not done as she ordered and sliced through her racial enemies throat. She never looked back in time to see the longsword slicing down towards her.
Grishnak, orc warrior and member of Karav's company, hacked at another elf with his hand axe. The axe was parried, but his shield was left ignored, allowing him to bash it into the face of the elf. His axe rose and fell again, cutting the elf apart.
He turned next to a human that had come at him, wielding a long sword and shield. Grishnak took the sword on his shield and hacked out with his axe, crippling the human. Another swing defeated him, and Grishnak snarled out an orcish oath at the dying human.
Seeing no opponents, Grishnak turned and fled after his company, trying to get back to the bridge and away from the thousands of remaining dwarves, elves, and humans that had suddenly turned the tide of the battle. Dragons swept bye overhead, striking with near impunity at his companions. He waved his axe at them angrily, thinking it unfair that they could cause such death without any threat to themselves. Seeing the chromatic dragons approaching, he stopped and cheered at the site.
His cheering was the last sound he made, for an arrow suddenly found his chest. Silenced, Grishnak stared at the wooden shaft protruding from his leather brigantine. Suddenly at a loss for breath, he stumbled to his knees and grabbed onto the shaft. A great numbness began to spread then, and within moments the light faded from his eyes and he collapsed to the ground, just another corpse on the valley floor.
Martin had left his pathfinders on animal runways and at good hiding spots in two and threes. They were there to defend and turn back the enemy in case they tried to flank. Now he move alone towards the chasm at the end of the valley. He swore softly when he heard some rocks shift above him. He was in a cleft in the rock, moving from one ledge to another.
Martin cleared the miniature ravine and saw that a group of light elves were attacking two of his pathfinders. He readied his bow quickly and put an arrow to it. Firing as rapidly as he dared, for fear of hitting his men, he took two of the light elves down from behind before they realized he was back there.
Finding themselves attacked from both sides, three of the light elves broke away from the group of eight and came running back towards Martin. He wounded one of them on the way by hitting him in the thigh with an arrow. The other two reached him quickly though, forcing him to discard his bow and drawn his sword.
Light elves were known for their skill in battle, a fact Martin had hoped not to prove true. He gave up ground rapidly to them, retreating as he defended from their attacks. The two were obviously not used to fighting alongside each other, however, and in that, Martin saw his only chance of survival.
When one of the elves crossed in front of the other, he kicked out with his foot, catching the lunging elf in the side of his knee and making it buckle. The elf reached out desperately to keep from sliding off the edge of the cliff. He grabbed the other light elf's boot, distracting him further. Martin lunged forward, skewering the upright elf. He then kicked the prone elf hard enough to roll him towards the edge. A swing with his sword caused the elf to duck its head in order to not lose it, but that distraction allowed Martin to kick him again, this time it was enough to dislodge the elf.
Martin peered over the side of the ledge and saw the elf rolling down the steep side of the valley, bouncing off occasional rocks or sparse tree growth. He turned back and saw the wounded elf pointing it's own bow and arrow at him from where it had limped to. Martin cursed and threw himself down to the surface of the ledge. The arrow streaked over his back, and he heard the light elf muttering. Martin scrambled to his feet and charged the elf, hoping to get there before the elf could ready another arrow.
Elven archers are some of the finest in Viconia, be they dark of light. Martin threw his hands up in front of his face to block the second arrow, expecting to feel it sink painfully into his flesh at any second. The arrow flew true, striking him in the palm of his right hand. Martin felt the impact, then realized that the arrow had not penetrated his hand. Biting back a laugh, he lashed out with his sword, taking the bow from the elf's hands and rendering him defenseless. Another few swings and the elf lay dead at his feet.
Martin examined his palm then, thankful for the mithril arm the dark elves had given him. There was a scratch on the otherwise smooth surface where the arrow had hit, but other then that, there was no sign of damage.
Martin ran back and grabbed up his bow, launching more arrows at the elves and slaying three more of them. His pathfinders had dispatched one as well, and with Martin's help, soon turned the table on the two remaining light elves. Both of the humans were wounded, but both were still in fighting condition. Martin set out quickly, searching the hills for more pockets of enemies to keep from gaining the sides of the valley.
Nordan rose from where Wulf had fallen, a rage overcoming him. He lashed out then, felling a troll in one mighty blow. Behind him, a torch was brought forward, setting the body of the troll afire to keep it from healing.
He found himself in a company of trolls then, and lashed out time and again, striking them down and hoping that his companions could get to them with fire before they regenerated the wound and rose again. It was then that he encountered a troll wearing black armor and wielding a great sword.
"Ey! Me no yu!" The troll said, parrying Nordan's hammer. "Yu Nordan, dat hoomin dat bash'd dat draggin!"
Nordan took a step back, suddenly remember the encounter from what seemed like so long ago. "Aye, Grabbil, I am he. We meet again."
"Yer bashin fer da emenee," Grabbil said, frowning. "Grabbil tel yu wut, uz wil bash fer yu gyz ef yu let uz owt uv heer. Dis bad bashin fer uz, we loozin."
Nordan blinked a few times as he struggled to decipher the trolls butchered common. When he finally understood he nodded and said, "Good enough, my people will grant you passage when the battle is done. Until then, slay any orc, light elf, wolf, troll, ogre, or giant you meet!"
Nordan and Grabbil both called out to those nearby then, relaying orders. Trolls, being not incredibly intelligent but more interested in food, money, and who to kill, we just as happy to fight their former comrades as their former enemies. With Grabbil telling them who to fight, they turned coat.
Reluctant at first, the barbarians followed Nordan's lead and let the trolls turn away from them and hack and slash their way back into the enemy army. First one, then another barbarian began laughing at the odd turn of events. The relief was short lived, but it refreshed their minds and bodies and allowed them to reenter the fray with a renewed fervor.
Fyrentennimer let go of the black dragon it had clutched in its claws and watched it crash to the ground, crushing many of the evil humanoids in its path. Wings flapping mightily, the powerful gold dragon climbed higher in the sky and saw two green dragons pursuing a silver one. He pursued them, powerful flames leaping from his jaws to catch the larger green dragon and send it crashing into a hill, blinded and wounded. The silver was doomed, however, for the other green dragon had caught up to it and latched onto its back and used its powerful legs to rip scale and flesh and bone. Letting go, the green spiraled up and turned to face Fyrentennimer on even footing.
Fyrentennimer crashed into it, his jaws snapping around the neck of the green while his clawed hands wrapped around the dragons body and shredded one of the greens dragons wings. The green dragon bellowed and tried to use its legs to tear at the Fyrentennimer's belly, but the gold dragon had already dug its teeth into the greens throat and released its hold on the weaker dragon. It plummeted to the ground, dying of a crushed windpipe even before it crashed into the ground hard enough to remove all chance of survival.
Fyrentennimer was caught unaware by a more powerful red dragon then. The red dragons flames rolled over the gold dragon's scales, doing no damage but forcing Fyrentennimer to keep its eyes closed long enough for the red to latch onto his back. Fyrentennimer flipped about in mid air, trying to throw the red from him. The evil dragon held on, fanged maw trying to snap shut on Fyrentennimer's neck.
Losing altitude quickly, Fyrentennimer managed to twist about in the red's grasp and tear away at the armored scales on its chest and belly. Sensing how close they were to the ground, the red let go then, allowing both dragons to flap their wings and come together again much higher in the sky. Both of them spouted flames on each other, with Fyrentennimer's overpowering the younger red dragon's breath weapon. Stunned by the heat, the red was blindsided by Fyrentennimer, who tore a great chunk of flesh from the reds side. Hot blood rained upon the combatants below as the red struggled to bring its body about and face Fyrentennimer.
Two more passes and the red dragon as sent to join its fallen comrades below, bleeding from even greater wounds the powerful elder gold had inflicted upon it. Fyrentennimer glanced about, seeing a blue dragon approaching, and it readied itself for combat again.
"Hold!" Kelnozz called out, seeing Fyrentennimer about to unleash its breath weapon upon them. Fyrentennimer turned its head away at the last moment and sent the incredibly flames into the empty sky, sparing the drow and his companion.
"Be thou careful, elf, thy companion couldst be mistaken for mein foe!" Fyrentennimer said, flying closer and hovering.
Kelnozz yelled to be heard over the hovering dragons. "Aye, Fyrentennimer, we are being weary. Look below you, the bridge is no more, the evil dragons are being driven back, with the help of the good dragons, we can win this!"
"At what cost, elf?" Fyrentennimer asked, doing as he was bidden and studying the battle below them.
Kelnozz knew what the dragon was referring to. Not only the loss of life to the drow and dwarven cultures, but to the chromatic dragons as well. "This battle threatens to set us back many years, Fyrentennimer, but it will set Ancaruin and Alesha back just as much, more if we defeat them! I'm not asking for a favor, and I'm not asking you to ignore the fact that many good beings will die. I'm demanding that you acknowledge what is at stake here!"
Fyrentennimer swooped away then, soaring over the battle below. Indeed, the evil dragons were in retreat, though many good dragon was wounded or dead already. Below the evil army had realized its condition. Stranded from retreat, it had no choice but to stand and fight. Already many fights had broken out amongst its own ranks as well.
"Very well, drow," Fyrentennimer said, returning to where Luingirth and Kelnozz waited. With that, he turned in mid air and roared loudly enough for his voice to carry for miles, even over the din of battle.
The good dragons responded to Fyrentennimer's call, flocking to his side and streaking down towards the ranks of the enemy. Fire, frost, lightning, and other powerful breath weapons and magical assaults wreaked havoc on the enemy forces, with Kelnozz and Luingirth still circling above, the call to battle singing out in both their blood.
"Great one, we have lost this battle," Narellin said, hoping Ancaruin's wrath was not so great that he struck out at him for being the bearer of bad news. Narellin Kinslayer had been born during the first elven wars. Because of that, his power was from another age, his sorcery nearly unmatched throughout Belurian. Yet in spite of that, he hid within him a great fear of Ancaruin.
The mighty red dragon was in the guise of something humanoid. A towering giant of a man with deep black eyes and crimson skin. He stared at Narellin for a moment, his eyes boring into the light elf. Finally he spoke, his voice to deep and powerful to come from a mortal body. "What of their forces?"
"But a few score of metallic dragons remain, and their armies are weary and wounded, with perhaps half their number able to do battle," Narellin said, taking small comfort in the apparent calm of Ancaruin's voice. "My lord, I recommend we wait, the longer we wait, the weaker their dragons become fighting the forbidding. We will be able to recall the dragons that have fled the battle to our side, and in spite of their forces resting and healing, we will be able to crush them!"
Ancaruin lashed out then, with one mighty forearm. It came no where near Narellin, but the magic behind the blow struck him powerfully, driving him to the far corner of the pavilion. He sat up, coughing and gasping. Flecks of blood in his spittle marked his lips.
"Never speak of the forbidding, fool!" Ancaruin spat at him. "Were thou not present when it happened and still useful to me, I wouldst drink of thy blood and feast upon thy flesh!"
Narellin nodded quickly, wiping the blood from his lips and struggling to regain enough breath to rise to his feet. He had been present when the metallic dragons were banished, one of less then a handful of light elves still alive. None were supposed to know of it, for both light elf and chromatic dragon had broken their vow to release the metallic dragons after a thousand years had passed.
"Use thy wizards and army to confuse them," Ancaruin said, striding towards the door of the command tent. "It is nigh time I join this battle."
Narellin watched him leave, shocked to see Ancaruin taking part in things himself. He had served the dragon for centuries, the impetuosity of his move startled him. He then scrambled about to call upon the captains of the army to issue orders. Nearly a third of their force had been defeated, and they now had a great chasm to cross, but with the unmatched power of the light elven magic, victory would still be theirs.
Kelnozz leapt from Luingirth's back, landing lightly upon the scorched ground. He approached Nordan and knelt down next to his large friend. All around them the rock and dirt was blackened and charred. The catapult that had destroyed the bridge lay in charred ruins. Where they knelt, however, was a spot where the ground was not burnt. In the form of a body grass and flowers had already sprung forth to reach towards the sun.
"She died here," Nordan said, standing up stoically but still staring at the small garden.
"Aye," Kelnozz said, believing him. "She fought valiantly, Nordan. I saw what must have been her final moments from Luingirth's back. A spell of such power must have overwhelmed her, for it overwhelmed those seeking her death."
Nordan laughed, though it sounded hollow. "They did this for you, elf."
Kelnozz looked to Nordan, surprise in his eyes. "What do you mean?" He asked, uncertain.
"We all know the stories now, we've all heard them told time and again. What we do is for the good of all," Nordan said, his tone barely convincing. "But all of the elves, they fight for you. They've seen and heard our deeds and believe you truly are the chosen one they dream of. Maybe they're right, I've known you to long as the scrawny elf that sneaks around whenever an honest brawl starts. Remember that, elf, every person that dies does this to make Belurian a better place as much as they do it because they think you want them to."
Kelnozz stared after his companion, unable to say anything. He was surprised to hear such a thing from Nordan, and he realized that in spite of the years of friendship and the many trials they had been through, perhaps he still did not know the barbarian well enough. He hurried to catch up to him then, following his trail around the rocks he had disappeared behind.
"There are many things you must know."
Nordan spun about, his hammer drawn back and ready to strike out. Standing with one leg up on a rock was the chief of his tribe, Helmut. "We thought you dead!" Nordan said, happy to see him alive.
"My son, I'm not so easy to kill," Helmut said, grinning. He walked forward and clasped Nordan's arm fondly. "Many things you should know, but if I am right, in time you will know them. Now you must hurry. Return to your army and prepare for the greatest battle you have ever fought."
"Wait!" Nordan said, as Helmut turned to leave. "What do you mean?"
"Nordan! Come back here!" Kelnozz called out, rounding the rocks and spying the large man with his back turned to him.
Nordan glanced back at the elf, then looked over at Helmut again. Except Helmut had disappeared. He hurried after, searching about for some sign of him, but found nothing. Kelnozz caught up to him quickly though, and stood watching silently while Nordan looked about. Finally Nordan let out a laugh and turned to face Kelnozz, a smile on his face.
"Come elf, this day is not done! We have much to do, and more to fight!" Nordan clapped Kelnozz on the shoulder roughly on his way past.
Kelnozz turned and stared at the barbarian, twice in one day at a loss for words. He hurried to catch up, not letting him out of his site this time. "What are you about? We've destroyed the bridge and driven off their dragons, the day is ours!"
"We have something in common at least, dark elf," Nordan said, ignoring him. "My people follow me as much as yours follow you. With Helmut gone, it is only right that his son take over the tribe."
"I thought your father was slain years past, with you to young to know him?" Kelnozz said, remembering what Nordan had told him.
"Parentage is a trivial matter, among my people," Nordan said, stopping and looking at Kelnozz. "With women as free to choose a mate as a man, the man I thought to be my father was not. Helmut was my father."
"How do you know this, all of a sudden?"
"He just told me," Nordan said, grinning and glancing back at the rocks where his strange encounter had occurred.
"Nordan, did you take a blow to your head? Helmut was taken by Alesha months ago," Kelnozz said, thinking his friend mad with grief. He knew he and Kayala had become closer then friends, after the dark elven sorceress continued to tease him with her magic and show him how it could be used to his benefit. Eventually he had come to agree with her, albeit reluctantly, and from there they had become lovers. It was rare that an elf took a human as a lover, for in the lifespan of an elf, a human's life is but a blink of an eye. But then again, Nordan was a rare human.
"In those rocks over there, Helmut appeared to me. He called me his son and told me that I needed to return to my people, for a greater battle was yet to take place this day. Then he left, disappearing before my very eyes."
Kelnozz nodded, his concern for Nordan growing. He looked Nordan up and down, seeing no wounds that would account for seeing such visions. "You speak of the impossible, my friend, Helmut is gone."
Nordan laughed loudly, clapping Kelnozz on the shoulder again. "You speak to me of magic and great prophecies, yet will not believe in something so simple as this?"
Kelnozz closed his mouth, admitting that he could be wrong by his silence. Nordan set off again, heading back towards the blasted crater where Kayala's last stand had been. Kelnozz followed him, doubtful but acknowledging the possibility that his friend might not be going insane after all.
"Today I stood and slew foe after foe. It was a glorious battle. A mountain of my enemy lay in my wake, from orc to wolf to giant to troll to elf. My people cheered and fought beside me, meeting your people in the middle of the valley. It was then that I saw one of my tribesman fall. I had noticed him time and again, taking many wounds but fighting on without complaint."
Nordan paused, they were beside Luingirth again, who looked down at them impassively. Kelnozz listened attentively to Nordan, signaling Luingirth that they would be ready in a moment.
"I made my way to him, killing the light elf about to slay him, and tried to help him to his feet. His wound was mortal though, and he was just a boy. He saw that it was me who had come to aid him and in his eyes I saw nothing but pride and joy. His wounds forgotten, he smiled and fought past the blood in his lungs and mouth to tell me his name and to wish me luck. He died then."
Kelnozz studied Nordan carefully. He had lived beside the man for many years, but only know was he glimpsing deeper into his soul then he had all that time. Kelnozz realized, in that moment, how self absorbed the elven people could become. He realized he had been just as bad as the elven council he had all but fought over the years.
"You have taught me a lesson this day," Kelnozz said, laying his hand on Nordan's forearm. "I do not understand what it was to have this happen to you, nor do I pretend to, but I offer you my apologies for each of your people slain, and wonder if what I have to offer is enough. All we have is vengeance, Nordan, and that will not bring any of those we have lost back. It will not feed our friends and families. It will not sow and reap our crops. It will only shed more blood and cause more grief. My hope, a small one now, is that in the end all of this hardship will come to an end and that the lives of those lost will have paid for a better life for those remaining."
Nordan shook his head and smiled sadly. "This is my people's way, Kelnozz. This is what we know. We live and we die the riddle of steel. There is no grief at the loss of Wulf, son of Vorm, cousin to my mother. There is grief at Kayala's death, for your people live a different life, and your God does not ask such of you."
"No, upon us falls the same duty, to lead our people to victory," Nordan looked down into the valley at the army that was tending its wounded and tossing the dead into the chasm. Archers guarded them from the occasional foray from other side of the chasm.
Kelnozz nodded, signaling to Luingirth that they were ready. "That is true, my friend, but until now, your people, the dwarves, and even the humans were all but pawns and tools to be used to help the elves achieve this end. That is no longer, for there are greater things at stake then the honor and pride of the elven people."
Lifted onto Luingirth's back, they settled in before Nordan responded. "Nay elf, none of us were ever pawns. The elves are simply the only ones who have yet to realize it."
Kelnozz laughed at the truth of that. Luingirth took to the sky then, winging quickly towards where the army rested. It was already several hours past midday, if Nordan was right and another battle awaited them, they must hurry to prepare for it.
"Lord Kelnozz, a band of trolls is holding a section of the valley. We tried to fight them, but they keep knocking us back. We tried fire and magic, and that caused them to howl at us in their language, but brought no return attack. One of them came out and called for Nordan, saying they were friends?"
Kelnozz listened to the messenger's story, at first incredulous, then laughing. Turning to Nordan he raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Aye, that's Grabbil's company of trolls. They turned on the enemy. I guaranteed them safe passage away from us if they aided us," Nordan said, grinning at the strange moment in battle.
Kelnozz laughed again. "Carry word, the trolls are to be let go," Kelnozz told the messenger. When the messenger stood there for a moment, surprise on his face, Kelnozz shooed him off with his hand and turned back to Nordan. "The same Grabbil from our trip into the Lost Lands?"
"Aye, one and the same!" Nordan said, still chuckling.
"My Lords!" Another messenger burst into the camp, sweat streaming from his face. "The light elves, they're up to something! The ravine has been hidden by great clouds of darkness! We can hear noises, but they're not human!"
"What are they up to?" Vallanius asked, stepping forward. He had a bandage across his forehead from where he had been wounded, and another on his forearm.
"Another battle," Kelnozz said, looking at Nordan incredulously. Nordan grinned back him smugly.
"We're hardly ready for another fight!" Vallanius said, not daring to believe that what Kelnozz said was true.
"Bah, sit on yer arse, elf, me boys will take care of them fer ye!" Throin said, hopping to his feet from where he had been sitting on a log, sharpening his axe.
Vallanius was momentarily cowed by the courageous dwarf. While the elf had two wounds, the dwarf was nicked and bandaged in numerous places. Still, he was ready to fight.
"But how will they come at us? We destroyed their bridge!" Vallanius said.
"Magic," Kelnozz said. "They use it to hide whatever they are doing at the chasm. Get our own spellcasters over there to counter it. Nordan, you may want to return to your people for this."
Nordan thought for a moment then said, "No, this is a different battle. Let us go to the dragons."
Kelnozz stared at him for a moment curiously. Then he shrugged and nodded. "Vallanius and Throin, I leave the army in your care, come Nordan, let us head for the skies."
Leaving the tent they encountered a somber faced Martin. "Have you been told?" He asked, pointing towards the far end of the valley.
"Aye, we're going to check it out now from dragonback," Nordan said, grinning at the ranger and punching him lightly in the arm.
Martin fell into step beside them, limping slightly from a gash in his calf and rubbing his now bruised shoulder. A few minutes later and they stood before the resting dragons. Many were wounded, and many more looked very weak.
"What's the matter?" Kelnozz asked Fyrentennimer.
"The Forbidding," He explained. "Its pull is very strong and the more wounded and tired of my kin are finding it to strong to ignore."
"To return is more then a week of flight from here! If they are so weary, can they not wait until they have rested?" Martin asked, surprised.
"This is but a part of the price of this war," Kelnozz said, understanding reaching him. "The forbidding will force them to return, even if it means death trying to get there."
"What can we do?" Martin asked, shocked to see the metallic dragons willing to make such a sacrifice.
"Little," Fyrentennimer responded, watching sadly as a bronze dragon with a terrible gashes in its side leapt into the air and headed south and west on unsteady wings.
"My friend, another battle approaches us, we need your help again or all of this will be for naught." Kelnozz said, reminding himself of why they had come.
Fyrentennimer gazed towards the end of the valley. Seeing the darkness with his keen vision, he nodded. "I sense something powerful is nigh to happening."
Kelnozz glanced to Nordan, who had that smug look on his face again. Kelnozz chuckled in spite of himself. He opened his mouth to say something more when all of them heard a distant roar. It grew more and more powerful, then trailed off. They all turned and looked towards the clouds of darkness obscuring their view.
Difficult to see at first, then becoming more obvious, several figures stumbled forward from the darkness. Some lumbering along, other running almost smoothly. Then, from above the darkness a shape detached itself. It was clearly a dragon, though even from the distance they were, it was plain to see that this dragon was huge. Dwarfing any of the other dragons they had seen thus far, it sailed over the valley quickly, heading towards the army of dwarves, humans, and elves.
"Ancaruin," Fyrentennimer growled. "Come, we must slay him!"
Martin found himself nodding agreement. Still over a mile away, he believed he could feel the evil of the red dragon reaching him. His skin was crawling and something inside of him screamed that he should run away. He overrode it and looked about. Nordan was on Fyrentennimer's back already, and Kelnozz a few moments from Luingirth. Nearby a silver dragon was preparing to take flight as well. Martin waved his arms and called out to it, gaining it's attention and allowing him to talk the dragon into letting him aboard its back.
The three heroes lifted into the sky and fell in near each other. They closed rapidly with Ancaruin, and other dragons joined in with them. Soon nearly two dozen metallic dragons flew through the air, aimed at Ancaruin. Not a one of them came close to the red dragons size or strength. Below the army of Belurian had come together and stood ready to defend the latest attack. As the charge grew closer, the smell preceded it. Using unholy magic, the dead had been risen from the grave to fight again.
Alesha awoke from a dream she had been having. In the dream she had been riding her nightmare steed through a town that was once Mezarbolle, but now was laid to ruin. An army surrounded it. A conquering army. She saw corpses all around her, and one of them moved.
Leaping off her saddle, she had approached the body and found it to be a human. She stared at it for a moment, something familiar in its features. The eyes opened then, and they stared at her. "He'll come for you!"
Alesha backed away, the eyes staring sightlessly past her now. She hopped back on her nightmare and turned away. She remembered who the body was now, it was Nordan's and Kelnozz's companion before she had me them. The human Pompey. She had seen him only briefly, and even that was after he had been killed.
Shrugging away the strange dream, Alesha sensed that she needed to hurry. Her followers had grown quickly. Nightly orgies were now being held in the club she had acquired, ending in a ritual sacrifice that fed her energies. Several times the law had come looking, but no amount of technology or investigative experience was a match for her magic.
"Soon, Talifernon, soon we will be free of this world and back where we belong!" Alesha reached under her pillow to stroke the hilt of her short sword fondly.
Brian murmured in his sleep beside her. She had taken to instructing him nightly, after she returned from the club. Magic ran strongly through him as well, and with Alesha's tutelage, he would be very powerful in his own right.
Alesha turned to him and smiled. Still asleep, his dreams began to take on an erotic twist as Alesha's mouth enveloped his manhood.
Continued in Chapter 18
Tender Mercies: Book 1 - Chapter 17
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