The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,258

clung onto the dagger in order to gain leverage to extract the crow’s beak, which he wielded in an upward swing.

There was a clang as the spike met and pierced metal. The bucking motion ceased and the dwarf was pitched forward and down as the invisible warrior crashed down at Coïra’s feet. Ireheart picked himself up and stood on the creature’s neck, hands around the crow’s beak. “Ho! That was none too easy,” he called out to the maga, as he pulled his weapon out of the body of the fallen foe. Visible now in death, its enormous dimensions could be fully seen.

Ireheart stepped over the head and hopped down to where the maga was standing on the soft ground. “Girdlegard needs you!” he urged her, proffering his bloodied gloved hand. “Get over your fear and concentrate on your magic powers or things will end badly.” He pointed to the barrier. “Help Lot-Ionan!”

Coïra’s eyes fluttered; she was in a panic, not even daring to grasp the dwarf’s hand. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m too frightened.”

With a hissing sound the swamp started to boil and bubble. Jets spurted up twenty paces high all over the battlefield, deluging the warriors. The impact knocked many of them over and the soft mud covered their armor, helmets, eyes… It also covered the invisible giant hordes! The coat of dirt made them instantly detectable and the dwarves made immediate use of this fact.

That will have been Goda’s work! thought Ireheart, proud as could be.

Coïra was still staring at him blankly, refusing to budge, so he turned and ran to the barrier. Stupid human women! Out of the corner of his eye he saw Balyndar, Tungdil and Lot-Ionan hurrying over to her.

Ireheart grinned. The quartet would surely prove too much for the dwarf in the posh armor. “You’ve been a master, now you’ll be an ex-master,” he smirked.

One by one they too arrived at the barrier, through which they spied the master and the last of his followers.

“Go on,” Ireheart urged the magus. “Get the barrier down so we can do for him!”

Lot-Ionan paid no attention. His fingers were making shapes in the air.

Tungdil stepped up to the barrier and banged on it with Bloodthirster. It pinged like glass. “Our duel is not yet over. Your fighters are being defeated, as you can see. Would it not spur you on to see me dead even if you have lost them all?”

“He who bears many names,” the nearest enemy fighter spoke up, “announces that the battle is not over. But until then,” and suddenly the barrier moved to encompass Tungdil, locking him in, “he will fight you and punish you.” Then he lifted his black bugle and blew a blast on it. Numerous holes in the instrument allowed him to play a range of notes, as if on a flute.

“No!” called Ireheart, smashing his crow’s beak into the shield. It hummed but did not disintegrate. “Let me in!”

Balyndar grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to look at the ravine. “What do we do now?”

Ireheart pulled himself out of Balyndar’s grip. “Don’t you touch me…” Then he noticed what all the others were staring at.

Another kordrion had appeared in the cleft. The head was smaller than the fully grown version—but then one head after another popped up. The beast revealed itself to the armies of Girdlegard.

“A kordrion with four heads,” groaned Ireheart.

Tungdil had taken up the fight with his former master while the shimmering protective shield expanded in size once more. The dwarves and Lot-Ionan had to step back.

Ireheart cursed and looked at the magus, who was still casting spells but having no success on his own. “Goda!” he called. “Goda, we need you!”

“Disappear!” Balyndar struck the magic hemisphere, but Keenfire had no effect. It bounced off and nearly injured its owner with the spike.

The giant bugler sounded another range of notes and, in response, the kordrion hissed and charged the nearest ubariu soldiers, breathing a sea of white fire over them. Spewing out flames in three directions at once, the four-headed creature was inflicting carnage on the troops. At a further signal it unfolded its wings, took off and landed in the very heart of the ubariu, crushing many of the valiant warriors; two of the creature’s heads snapped and bit at them while the other two sent out the deadly white fire.

“Come, on, wizard!” Ireheart bellowed at Lot-Ionan. “We need to get that trumpet thing.”

Meanwhile, the bout between Tungdil and his master was progressing;