The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,249

turned on the threshold. “Praying to Sitalia,” he muttered under his breath. “Begging the pointy-ears’ goddess for favors! It’s come to that! I’m innocent!” Depression and prevarication had given way to the familiar stubborn resistance. “Then I’d rather die a hero’s death in battle! So there! That’s all the elves will get out of me!”

He stomped off down the corridor to his own chambers with grim determination. Vraccas will help me.

XXXI

The Outer Lands,

The Black Abyss,

Early Summer, 6492nd Solar Cycle

It was pouring down.

A violent storm had broken out overnight, deluging fortress and ravine alike as if to wash the defending forces from the very battlements and to flood the chasm of the evil beasts.

By daybreak the thunder and lightning had passed but the rain remained. The attack was still scheduled to take place. Tungdil had insisted on this.

The units stood ready behind each of the four gates. This time they were strictly divided: Humans at the eastern gate, the ubariu to the west, undergroundlings north and the dwarves in the south. The intention was to confuse the beasts by disguising the direction of the major attack.

And this main focus was to be from the south, with Tungdil, Balyndar, Ireheart, Goda, Coïra, Lot-Ionan and the dwarf contingents. The humans would divert and feign an attack together with the undergroundlings at the northern entry point, while the ubariu were to come to the dwarf-army flank in support.

Ireheart stood up in his stirrups to survey the massed army of male and female warriors. Their banners and standards high in the gray air displayed their pride in the newfound harmony among the children of the Smith. A victory would unite them still more firmly. “I thank you, Vraccas,” he murmured and turned to the gate. Even if I find my own death today.

Around him were gathered the heroes of the first mission, as well as Goda and Lot-Ionan. The dwarf-woman would not look at the magus and always kept her distance. She would have refused to speak a single word to her former master even if he had wished it.

Ireheart saw from his wife’s expression that she would rather have been confronting the magus in combat than the beasts from the ravine. Again he noted Goda and Balyndar exchanging rapid glances. The fifthling looked at Slîn, who was observing him intently and tapping the shaft of his crossbow, as if by chance.

Ireheart scratched his silvery black beard. What are they up to? There was something he was not privy to and it worried him. He would not be able to stop in the heat of battle to play nursemaid to them in order to head off some harebrained scheme.

He was about to wheel his pony toward Tungdil, but the one-eyed dwarf was already giving the signal to attack.

The double doors of the mighty gate swung wide open and Ireheart knew the same would be happening at the other three entrances, sending these disparate armies on their way. If he had got it right there would be one thousand humans fighting under the leadership of the elves, four thousand undergroundlings, a solid ten thousand ubariu and then another force of ten thousand dwarves, of which the six thousand thirdlings made up the largest section.

But before any of them could set foot on the plain the first stroke had to be successful.

Lot-Ionan stepped forward to study the dark-red barrier edge. He placed his left hand on it and spoke a short sentence, suddenly crying out loud and tensing his whole body.

White lightning flashed through the shield, causing it to dissolve. The barrier disappeared with a high-pitched whine!

“For Girdlegard!” came Tungdil’s rallying cry. He sounded his bugle. All four armies started their advance, while the fortress catapults went into action, raining down havoc on the bewildered monsters.

Rocks, arrows and spears hurtled through the air, crashing and thumping down; burning petroleum bombs and red-hot iron balls shot over into the monsters’ unprotected camp, striking the tents to kill and maim those inside. They struck the siege towers, the battering rams, the storm ladders, all the military equipment the beasts had placed ready on the plain.

As fire erupted, the crackling of bursting wood could be heard above the screams of the beleaguered creatures. At that moment the clouds parted and the rain stopped. It was as if the gods were sending them propitious weather. But all of a sudden a second barrier appeared twenty paces further on. The projectiles bounced off it harmlessly.

“Shields!” bellowed Ireheart to the forces behind him,