Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,104
the bulls spoke of grand schemes to kill everyone. They brandished weapons at each other and utter curses in their course language. Humans too close quickly shied away lest they get caught up in the melee growing in the center of the Minotaur camp. Young bulls charged into each other. The thunderous noise made many cringe throughout the camps. Blood spilled. Cheers raged. And the army of Malg continued its ritualistic endeavors.
Dwarves soon thronged to the edges, eager to witness the test of strength. True warriors appreciated strength. The Dwarves were no exception. While the bulls were all more than double the height, Dwarven soldiers looked on admiringly. They clashed axes in shields in a rhythmic song that made blood boil. Roars of approval went up when a bull fell. More than one injured warrior needed to be carried off to camp medics.
The ritual continued long into the night. Pre-battle jitters faded under the pretense of bravado. Blood mixed with snow and mud, painting the ground in shades of what tomorrow would bring. Gradually the crowds thinned. Warriors went to find much-needed rest. The Dwarves finished their pre-combat checks and bedded down. Cannon crews slept behind their pieces. Pickets were emplaced. Roving patrols circled the camps at intervals.
Incredible tension spread from person to person. Words went unsaid. Looks were exchanged. Those still awake skillfully avoided contact with their fellows. Even the trees seemed to feel it. Branches curled upward, their tips inching back towards the trunks. Birds and small animals fled lest they get caught in the middle. Clouds hung suspended in the sky as if afraid to move. The moon lacked its shine. Dull light barely reached the ground. A hush fell over the fields surrounding the ruins.
Night deepened. Armies bedded down. Nerves ran high and for good reason. The fate of all Malweir rested in the hands of all those assembled around the ruins of Arlevon Gale.
TWENTY-SEVEN
A Final Trick
Maleela, dark queen of the Goblins and heir to the hatred of the world, stood atop the hastily constructed watchtower centered on her command pavilion. Her slender hands were encased in black leather and clasped gently behind her back. Dressed in the colors of midnight, Maleela watched the plains of Delranan like a ghoul creeping through a cemetery. The sweep of her long dress had a thin line of sawdust clinging to it, marring the illusion of perfection. Her hair was tied back in a long tail that draped down between her shoulder blades.
Hard eyes stared down on the multiple armies camped nearby. She had no way of knowing for sure, but close to ninety thousand combatants were going through their final preparations before the battle was joined. So much death and hatred was going to happen Maleela could feel the electricity burning up from the ground. It stretched the height of the tower and tickled the soles of her feet. She suddenly felt stronger than ever before. Raw power flowed into her, imbuing her with the fortitude required to see tomorrow’s events through. She closed her eyes briefly as power consumed her.
“Intoxicating isn’t it?” Amar Kit’han asked. His raspy voice was the sound of rocks being crushed. “As if there is a direct connection with the heart of the world.”
“What is it?” she asked.
Amar drifted closer, stopping as he drew even. Thousands of campfires burned to the edge of his vision. So impressed, the Dae’shan failed to find comment. “A link between Malweir’s soul and the wielder of power. Very few have ever felt it and I suspect none will again once the ritual concludes.”
“Has the end truly arrived?” she pressed. The desire to know her fate strengthened. “Will tomorrow be the end of the past and the beginning of your new, dark world?”
“Where I will ascend and you will be made a true queen,” Amar replied. “Never before have I come so close. The dark gods strain against the mesh of their prison. They hunger for freedom. Time is nearly upon us. No longer will the Dae’shan cower in shadow. We shall take our rightful place as lords of the world. Malweir will be plunged into an eternity of darkness and nightmares. It is all so close now. So very close.”
“There are many awaiting us that might claim to differ,” Maleela countered. Power so strong it forced her fingers apart lest the currents burn them together.
Amar paused, his revelry disturbed. “There is more at work than you know, princess. Great armies have gathered. Many have come in the