The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,44

legs, their long mandibles clicking and clacking.

The remaining spheres landed and bounced a few times before bursting open to let more of the little beasts escape. The arrows fired at them found no hold on their chitin plating.

Boïndil cursed. “Use the spears…”

“General, they’re reloading,” shouted the ubari, prompting Ireheart to turn to the front again. The slender throwing device was being attached to the chains once more and pulled back toward the ground.

“Goda, destroy that thing,” said Ireheart. “Or we’ll never be able to cope with these animals. Who knows how many cocoons they have waiting to send out.”

The dwarf-woman nodded and took the telescope to have a closer look at the sling mechanism. Otherwise she would not be able destroy it with her magic spell. With her other hand she groped in her bag for the diamond fragments and pulled one of them out. Before she exhausted her own store of energy it would be better to use the strength left in the splinters.

Goda sent out a destruction spell directed at the upper edge of the cliff wall of the ravine. Dazzling lightning shot from her hand and screamed into the stone, breaking off boulders to crash to the depths. Then came the sounds of things falling followed by cries of dismay from inside the ravine. The beasts had lost their new weapon and presumably some of their fighters as well.

Goda felt the splinter of diamond in her hand crumble into dust, which clung to her fingers.

“Well done,” said Ireheart. He realized that Tungdil had been correct. They would have to force the monsters away from the ravine mouth, and then bring the whole cliff down on top of them. Bringing down whole mountains—who could do that kind of thing better than his own folk?

Suddenly he heard the clank of weaponry.

Boïndil looked along the walkway to his left and saw that the spider creatures had climbed the fortress walls.

The ubariu, undergroundlings, humans and dwarves were fighting them with all their strength, but what he saw made Boïndil doubt that the creatures could be subdued easily. Only heavy weapons such as axes, cudgels and morning stars were having any effect on the hardened body cases. Swords were useless, ending up blunt and damaged.

“We need Vraccas to crush them with his hammer!” A glance to Goda was enough—she turned to the fight, her first since the building of the fortress.

She took another diamond fragment into her hand, preparing herself to hurl another spell, but suddenly a flash came from the right side of the Black Abyss. Where the steep slopes fell away almost vertically, a figure stood, casting a sulphur-yellow ball of pure magic in the dwarf-woman’s direction.

The ubari had noticed the threatened danger and warned her with a shout.

She managed to form a barrier in front of the battlements so that the missile of magic crashed and exploded against it. A pressure wave whirled up the dust in front of the gate, obscuring their view of the Black Abyss, shields, helmets, flags and banners flying through the air as if in a hurricane. They would not be able to see a second wave of attackers approach.

“By the creator! Now evil has a magus on its side!” Ireheart coughed, pulling up his neck cloth to cover mouth and nose. “I call that a proper challenge!” He heard triumphant cheers resounding from the ramparts, and he peered through the veil of dust.

Tungdil was standing with the defenders, thrashing away at the spider creatures with Bloodthirster. His weapon smashed through the chitin armor plating of the insects, hurling their innards in all directions. Bluey-green blood spattered everywhere. Tungdil had taken off his helmet so that all the soldiers could see him.

The hero marched forward grimly, confronting the spider creatures, the inlay on his black armor flashing and glowing by turns. One of the beasts threw itself at him from behind, touching him with two of its legs, and instantly there was a loud bang, the creature exploding as if it had been detonated from within.

Boïndil gulped. Exactly that fate could have been his own end.

The warriors sprang back into combat with renewed vigor. Tungdil gave short commands and steered their counterattack better than any dwarf-king ever commanded his army. Ireheart had to hand it to him. He was already playing with the idea that he might pass command of the fortress to his friend—if he would accept it, of course.

The wavering veil of dirt and dust was starting to settle, allowing the fortress