The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,133

be a good… two miles long!”

Slîn pointed out the firing towers on wheeled ramps ready to be maneuvered to the corners of the roof.

But those responsible for constructing this city had not reckoned with an enemy with the advantages of flight. Three of the domes were already manned and were hurling missiles at the monster. Too slow! If there had been a besieging army at the foot of the walls this hail of arrows and spears would have been an unbeatable defense system, with the projectiles traveling many hundreds of paces before hitting their targets. But with an attacker like the kordrion, although a few hits were landed, they were ineffective.

Slîn regarded his crossbow. “My bolt is a bit on the small side,” he sighed.

“I expect your women say that all the time,” one of the Zhadár said, his comrades laughing in response.

The fourthling turned in fury, his crossbow raised. “It’ll be big enough for you and your filthy mouth!”

“What do you think he means?” joked the Zhadár. “Keep it. I don’t want it.”

“Shut up, you idiot gnome-brains! What on earth do you think you’re doing, winding each other up at a time like this?” Ireheart reprimanded them angrily, adjusting his helmet and fastening the chin strap until it was uncomfortably tight, but secure. “So, the kordrion is after me? Then it will be risking its life. I’m going to entice it over to the firing towers.” He instructed the Zhadár to inform the älfar manning the towers of his strategy.

“Brave,” said the fourthling. “But dangerous.”

“Oh, that’s nothing! I like a challenge.” Ireheart dismissed the objection and took firm hold of his crow’s beak. He bared his teeth. “Come on if you’re hard enough, you filthy creature! You want the murderer of your young?”

The Zhadár hastened between the firing towers. When they had passed the dwarf’s message to seven of them, it was time.

“It’s heading back,” warned Balyndar. “Heading straight for us!”

“That’s the way!” Boïndil set off for a section of the extensive roof area that could be covered by fire from all seven towers. The kordrion’s wings swished and whistled in the air, giving Ireheart an impression of the speed of its approach—but it was not coming in his direction!

He stopped, gasping for breath and turned around. “Hey! You ugly bug-eyed monster!” He brandished his weapon to draw attention to himself. “Ho there! I’m the one who destroyed your nestlings! Are you blind?”

He watched in amazement as the huge, gray-skinned kordrion landed on the roof and slipped head first into one of the artificial ravines. Four feet like canine paws carried the weight of the hefty body. The ones in front were more like arms, with strong flexible claws. The barrage from the catapults did not seem to trouble it at all and the few spears and arrows that struck it were not inflicting serious injuries. The monster’s claws scrabbled for a hold on the stonework, leaving deep marks.

“No, no, no!” yelled Ireheart. “Come back here!” Stupid animal!

Slîn and Balyndar came over to him.

“What’s it doing?” groaned the fourthling, watching the tip of the monster’s tail disappear.

Balyndar was holding his side in pain and gasped. “It’s crawling in like a bear into a beehive.”

They both looked accusingly at Ireheart. “Wasn’t it supposed to be attacking you?”

“Well, yes.” Boïndil wiped the sweat from his forehead using the end of one his braids. “There must be something in Phôseon that’s more interesting than me.” Then he laughed. “Let’s go! We’ll do for it. If Vraccas is on our side the beast will get stuck down there and we’ll be able to cut it into tiny slices.”

He ran over to the edge of the ravine and saw that the kordrion was pushing its way past the hanging gardens, looking for a horizontal passage wide enough for its massive bulk.

“Follow me!” Ireheart leaped.

His flight was a short one. He landed in a blossom hedge that covered him from head to foot in white pollen dust. Now I look like a fairy, he thought, and grinned. A pretty little bearded fairy. He fought his way free of the hedge, sneezing, and made for the bridge that led to the level the kordrion was attempting to gain forcible entry to. What, by Tion…

Balyndar and Slîn landed next to him, their fall broken by the dense black-leaved foliage of some small trees. They both crawled out of the tangle of branches, cursing, bits of leaf and twigs stuck in the gaps on their armor. No time