Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,120
nostrils.
The shadows had grown so deep it was near pitch-dark now. Bahr couldn’t risk lighting a torch and was forced to rely on instinct. Fewer Goblins were noticeable. Most activity faded, ending altogether. Only the harsh whisper of winds kissing the sun-blasted stone accompanied the tiny group. The buildings were closer together, forming tight avenues nearly impassable for Groge. Frowning, Bahr had to find a way for the Giant to pass. They backtracked and swung to the right, immediately taking the first open lane before heading back in the same direction.
Bahr sprinted down a thin corridor and came to an abrupt halt upon hearing foul speech directly ahead. The sun was dropping over the horizon. Shadows deepened. Even with the rage of so many fires nearly a third of a league behind them, Arlevon Gale grew dark. He spied the reflection of many torches on the snow. Boen, catching his hesitance, nudged Bahr aside and crept forward. The Gaimosian returned a moment later, a look of sheer disgust on his face.
“We’ve found it,” he told them.
Dorl pricked up. His nerves were beyond frayed. Nothing in his past adequately prepared him for what they were doing. “How can you be sure?”
Boen grinned in a way only a madman could. “Because there’s a Troll standing in front of the door and close to one hundred Goblins.”
Dorl Theed swallowed hard. We’re dead.
* * * * *
Torches flickered in the supernatural gloom, revealing a chamber deep underground. The low hanging ceiling trapped the light, brightening the room more than any of the Dae’shan wished. The chamber was oval. A small hole was centered in the ceiling. Golden sunlight filtered in, widening when it struck the ground. Dust from several hundred years clogged the sandstone floor. Leaves and other detritus had been blown in and windswept to the corners. Had there been a point the chamber would have been cleansed. As it stood, there was no need.
A small pedestal sat directly in the sunlight. Knee high, it was made of pure obsidian. Five other stones, each as long as an adult, were spaced out in a star pattern connected to the obsidian. Stone runnels angled down from the curved stones to the centerpiece. Created for singular purpose, the chamber hadn’t been used since Arlevon Gale fell into decay.
All three Dae’shan hovered scant inches off the ground. This was the chamber from which they would free the dark gods and ascend to the pantheon. A disturbance at the entrance forced them to part. A squad of Goblins marched in pairs with a bound prisoner between them. Humans all, the prisoners were hauled up and dropped on the stones. Their hands were bound as were their ankles. Each was blindfolded and gagged. They were the final sacrifices required to activate the latent power in the Olagath Stone. Squirming in the vain attempt at freedom, they’d each been told what was coming to them. Amar Kit’han enjoyed the theatricality of the moment.
“We stand a very real chance of losing this battle. Thrask’s Goblins are of little real use,” Kodan Bak said, his pale eyes never leaving the sacrifices.
Amar Kit’han frowned. Bringing the Goblins in had been a gamble from the beginning. His hopes of presenting a major military power to cow the other kingdoms into submission backfired twice. If they couldn’t hold the lines long enough for him to complete the ritual it would all be over. A thousand years was a very long time to wait for the next opportunity to free the dark gods, even for an immortal.
“The Goblins are strong when need be. Give them the chance to hold,” he replied.
Reaching into his robes, the Dae’shan produced an onyx athame. Fear brightened the eyes of the five victims strapped to the stones.
Pelthit Re, ever eager to prove his value, added, “They will not hold. Those new weapons of the Dwarves are an unforeseen complication.”
Frustrated, sensing it was nearly time for one of them to make their play for leadership, Amar Kit’han drifted around to face his kin. “Send forth the Gnaals. We will make quick work of our enemies.”
Ignoring the threat from his peers, Amar turned back to his victims. Their deaths would open the path between dimensions and usher forth a new age for all Malweir.
THIRTY-ONE
Counterattack
Maleela’s stomach tightened as she watched the wholesale slaughter of Goblins on the western flank. She’d never dreamed of such violence from the Dwarves, having been sequestered deep inside Drimmen Delf when Bahr and the others had gone out