The eastern dwarfs part.., p.22
The Eastern Dwarfs: Part Three - The Mountaintop, page 22
Torra looked around trying to find someone; “Damn it Gorduro, where are ye?” she whispered. Then she decided to act by herself; going back to behind the barricade she came to the cart where the bombs were.
Rurur came to meet her. “Ye plan to throw it against the beasts using the catapult?” he asked in the middle of the noise of the battle.
Torra shook her head slightly. “No… I would not aim properly, it would end up in disaster. Come, Rurur, help me!” she answered taking one of the bombs.
The dwarf came to help her and both lifted the artifact, which was quite heavy even for the two of them.
“What are ye doing?” he asked.
“Just come with me!” she said, going back to the battlefield.
Rurur asked no more questions and the two dwarfs entered the fight but now not with their weapons, just carrying the bomb, avoiding the enemies and even some blows from their own allies, for the battle was total chaos. Then they dropped the bomb on the ground; it went a little into the wet mud.
Torra gave a flintstone to Rurur. “Wait for my signal! Light the fuse when I shout!” she said.
“What’s this about?” Rurur asked after being pushed by someone who was fighting behind him.
But Torra just left and passed in a hurry amidst the fighting avoiding being hit. From a distance she could see the pointy horn of one of the beasts in the middle of the mess, both skeletons and living ones avoiding getting close to it; then she ran to a place in front of it and stood there. When the way cleared she raised her arms, waving them. “Hey! Over here, ye big beast! Come get me!” she shouted.
At first the animal gave her no attention; she had to pick up a warhammer on the ground and throw it against the beast, only then did it spot her.
“Come here…” she whispered.
The animal focused on her; it kicked the ground with one of its hoofs throwing mud behind, then it jumped ahead galloping against the princess. All those in its way gave space, only Torra stood there, and now she was running back towards Rurur.
“Light it! Now!” she shouted.
Rurur obeyed. A sparkle ran on the fuse of the bomb;he was nervous about what could happen and just distanced himself.
Torra came running being chased by the animal; she passed over the bomb and advanced some distance ahead passing by Rurur and dragging him by his clothes. The beast passed over the bomb too but right when it stepped its hind hoof over the craft, it exploded in a violent blast throwing the shattered animal into the air, making it fly over the heads of the combatants.
But the explosion was so strong that it pushed those around against one another, making dwarfs, men and skeletons fall. The animal’s carcass was thrown far and fell on the mud. For a moment, the noise of the battle ceased; the ears of those near the explosion site were buzzing, everyone was dizzy and shocked by the blast, but after recovering themselves, the fighters began the struggle again.
Rurur looked at Torra’s eyes. “That was madness! How could ye know when the bomb would explode?” he asked.
“I know the length of the fuses, Rurur. Remember, I’m a Steel Fist,” she replied. “Though I admit it was too risky, not to be done again.”
“Risky! Yes!” Rurur said. “Ye could have been seriously hurt!”
“Not risky for me, Rurur. I was talking about people around,” she replied.
Both of them drew their weapons again and rejoined the fight. Still one beast was around causing trouble to the defending army.
But Olaf was now worried about something else. Among the combatants, he saw some who were not skeletons nor living ones. The Black Viper assassins, the two of them that Olaf and Torag had left behind back near the Haven Hill.
Standing like stakes amid the battle the two enemies stared at the dwarf; Olaf held his weapon firmly. Then one of them disappeared among the fighters, the other came walking; he drew out a long dagger and now both he and the dwarf were preparing to fight.
The assassin then ran so fast against him that Olaf only had time to hide behind a shield, but the blow given by the attacker was strong enough to throw him to the ground and into the mud.
Then the attacker stood over the dwarf. He raised his weapon and prepared to stick it in Olaf’s belly, when Vixen came out from the dwarf’s shirt collar; the sprite flew against the enemy’s face but the assassin quickly hit her with his hand throwing the fairy away, she hit the ground and went into the mud.
“Vixen!” Olaf shouted.
Thuor arrived and hit the enemy making him stumble aside; the assassin disappeared amongst the crowd.
“Get up!” The captain said while helping his fellow to rise up.
Olaf ran towards his beaten fairy. He thrust his hands into the mud trying to find her, ignoring the fighting around. There was the small sprite, fainted and dirty with her tiny limbs hanging through the dwarf’s fingers. Olaf gently put her back inside his clothes and rose up. “There are two of them, captain!” he said.
“I saw them!” Thuor replied.
The assassin who was hit by Thuor’s stroke was now back and circled the two dwarfs with a most aggressive mien.
“Let’s stand back to back!” said Thuor.
So did the two dwarfs, holding their weapons. Then the other Viper showed up, coming out from the battle; he moved like a lightning bolt, so fast that his image was blurred.
“Where’s the other dwarf?” asked a Viper, the one without a turban.
Olaf knew he was asking about Torag. “I’m the one here, come and deal with me!” he replied, defying him.
“So be it, this shall be my revenge,” said the assassin.
The fight between the two dwarfs and the assassins began. So fast the opponents moved that Thuor and Olaf had difficulty following them with their eyes, yet they were able to defend themselves against the enemies’ blows; blades hit Olaf’s shield, kicks were given.
“They move too fast!” Olaf spoke after pushing away his enemy.
“Yes, they can dodge our moves!” Thuor shouted while defending himself with the handle of his weapon.
Olaf took from his backpack the small bottle Altar had given him, the Attitude beverage. He drunk it all in a single gulp and threw the glass away. His vision immediately changed; the noise of the battle turned into many separated sounds which he could distinguish one by one, everything became more focused in his senses.
The assassin fighting him moved quickly trying to confuse Olaf, but the dwarf was now seeing him clearly and his fast movements seemed slow to his eyes. The Viper gave a blow with his dagger against the dwarf; this time Olaf did not block the attack, instead he dodged so fast that it surprised the enemy, then in a quick movement he jumped and turned to behind the assassin, to then hit his back with his weapon.
The Black Viper stumbled, seriously wounded; then he looked back at Olaf to receive another hit, now so powerful that it broke his ribs and then pierced his heart. The assassin fell on the ground now dead once and for all.
The remaining Viper took some distance and observed his defeated partner, surprised. Then he looked at Olaf with the most hateful of expressions.
“The beverage, captain! Take an Attitude!” Olaf shouted.
Thuor took a good distance and quickly drank his bottle of beverage. The effect was the same on him; a fierce fight followed, the Black Viper dropped his dagger, his nails became long claws and his teeth turned into tusks. He advanced clawing on the dwarfs but they kept side by side blocking the attacks and striking back.
Meanwhile Torra and Rurur were on the top of the wooden tower, observing the undead beast down there in the field in the middle of the battle.
“What about that one, princess?” Rurur asked her.
“Let’s break it down as we did with the other,” Torra replied. She cut the knot in the rope holding one of the tall logs of the barricade, then held the log by its top preventing it from falling.
The beast was running on the field throwing folks aside and stomping them; the space right in front of the barricade was clear as the fight was happening at some distance ahead, but the undead animal was not close enough for Torra to execute her plan.
“I’m going to bring it here,” Rurur said suddenly realizing what she was trying to do.
She replied, “No, wait, Rurur. One would need to run really fast, let me…”
“Leave it to me!” Rurur interrupted.
“If ye say so, Rurur, but don’t get too close to the barricade,” she replied.
“All right,” the dwarf said, then climbed down the ladder and got to the ground. There he took his bottle of Attitude and gulped it, not bothering to let the princess know about it. Rurur felt a strong warmth run along his body, his muscles got toned, the noise of the battle became quietness and he saw everything as if it was in slow motion.
Running faster than he would think he could, the dwarf passed among many combatants to finally spot the beast. Rurur did not even have to attract its attention, for as soon as the animal saw him it chose the dwarf as a target and threw itself against him.
Rurur ran, his legs moving so fast that it even impressed Torra up in the tower; he dodged the combatants while passing by them and finally reached the empty area in front of the wall barricade.
“Bring it here, Rurur!” Torra shouted.
The dwarf reached the barricade positioning himself close to the log that the princess was holding; when the beast came into range, she pushed the log with her leg while holding on to it, coming down with it.
She jumped aside a moment before the big wood piece fell on the ground smashing the animal, splashing water, mud and bones around. The princess rolled on the mud, then stood up slapping her palms.
“That was exciting!” Rurur exclaimed.
“All right, no more undead beasts!” she said. “We are doing well, keeping the enemies out of the city.”
Then they got into the battle again, and Rurur used all the ability acquired by drinking the beverage to give cover to and protect the princess.
The defending side had suffered many losses; more than half of the fighting citizens were dead, wounded or had gone back to their homes. The Steel Fists had now only one third of their battalion remaining, yet they were keeping the enemies from entering the city.
But now Thuor and the Steel Fist captain agreed to bring their troops close to the barricade, for the enemies were more numerous, and fighting in the open field was now a disadvantage. In the distance, flashes were seen on the top of the White Tower, blasts and sounds like thunder booms.
“It’s Altar! He’s finally fighting the necromancer!” Thuor shouted looking out.
From the clouds in the sky a thin swirl came down slowly till it touched the ground near the tower; a tornado, and as it twisted it became larger and larger. Even though it was far from the battle, the simple sight of it made the citizens tremble. Powerful energies were colliding.
While fighting, Torra looked at the mound in the barricade and what she saw made her happy; there was Gorduro, the prince, holding an object in his hand while looking at it, and somehow he seemed to ignore the battle.
“Brother!” she shouted coming to meet him, but as soon as she got close enough, she noticed there was something wrong.
The prince’s skin looked strange, as if in the veins under it was running a dark blood; he was not using his helmet anymore but still held his sword, and his eyes had a sinister light.
“Gorduro…” she said coming slowly near him. “What happened? Where were ye?”
But the prince gave no answer; he just closed his hand with the object that was in it, then turned and walked firmly towards the wooden tower. The princess went after him and stood on the ground while he climbed the ladder. When he finally got up there he stood looking at the battle, showing no reaction, as if just watching.
“What’s wrong with him?” Rurur asked, coming close to the princess.
“I don’t know… he’s strange, as if it’s not really him anymore,” she replied, looking up to her brother.
Then Gorduro raised his sword and came close to the barricade’s wall of logs.
Torra realized what he was about to do; she looked at the sector in front of the wall where now all the remaining city defenders were fighting against the undead. “Gorduro! No! Not yet!” she shouted.
The prince hit his sword violently against the rope that was holding the mechanism made by Olaf, cutting it and making all the many wall sections lose stability. The entire structure began to fall towards the field ahead.
“Oh, no! They are still there!” Rurur shouted.
Olaf saw the exact moment when the heavy logs fell towards him, Thuor and the many others. But the RockFoot captain was fighting against the last Black Viper assassin so he did not see them coming.
“Captain!” Olaf shouted jumping towards his fellow. He pushed Thuor away just a second before the logs hit the ground, making a loud noise that was followed by a mortal silence. The battle was over, the armies had been smashed.
Thuor rose up from the ground still confused about what had happened, then he realized that Olaf had saved him but had not been able to do the same for himself.
“What has he done?” Rurur asked, perplexed. “That was a brutal measure that will bring us no victory!”
Torra just stared at his brother, not believing what her eyes were seeing.
The chamber of kings.
Meanwhile, Torag and Montaron were still travelling in the underground, being followed by the old dwarf they had rescued from the catacombs. Now walking through a gallery, they came to find a side way, an arch giving entrance to another corridor, and above it an arrow.
“That’s it, must be this place; it says To the nest of the scourge of the East, his last grave under the dome we built for him to rest forever,” Torag said, pointing at runic scriptures near the symbol.
“Is it here?” asked the old dwarf, “The thing ye are looking for.”
“That’s the guess!” Torag replied, now stepping into the corridor.
They entered, noticing the walls were not as before, not covered by bones or made of bricks but shaped in noble flat marble, so well-crafted that it contrasted heavily with the previous rooms. Then came a majestic door, also made of marble and without any lock. In its center was a hole, large enough for one hand to enter.
Torag gently passed his palm over it. “How’s this supposed to be opened?” he asked.
Montaron pointed to some runes on the top of the arch.
“Chamber of Kings, what’s that?” Torag asked reading the runes. “The place where the CoalLock Kings are buried?”
“I’ve heard about it. Yes, the Kings’ graves, not to be violated,” answered the old dwarf.
“Ye seem to know a lot, old one,” Torag argued.
“I am… I’ve been a long time inside the CoalLocks’ realm,” replied the dwarf. “I’ve heard many stories and legends of the ancient; the guards, they came from time to time bringing me food and water and they were always chatting.”
“Right,” Torag continued. “This place is between us and our destination. No word about how to open it?”
The old dwarf just shook his head.
“What do ye think, Montaron?” Torag asked.
“There’s something else,” said Montaron pointing to more scriptures carved into the wall.
Torag reached out his torch and began to read, “The Chamber of Kings, the place only for the high lineage of the most fair of the sovereigns. Sealed by a powerful magic, encasing the remains of the CoalLock rulers, their glory never to be violated. He who enters it will be proved by himself…” he finished reading.
“Proved by himself…” Montaron muttered.
“Yes… whatever it means. Open it!” Torag said looking at Montaron.
This latter just shrugged and smiled slightly.
“I saw ye opening a door without using any key back there…” Torag insisted.
Ribs, Montaron’s weasel, was now on the shoulder of his master sniffing and looking around with curiosity. Montaron reached for the hole.
“Wait!” Torag interrupted him. “Not sure if ye should put your hand into that. it could be a trap, a blade inside it to cut one’s hand off… maybe… Why don’t ye put your rat inside first, then we could see what happens,” Torag continued.
Montaron looked at him, annoyed; he put Ribs inside his clothes again, then rubbed his palms, preparing to stick his hand into the hole, and so he did, reaching as far as he could, leaning his body against the door.
“What’s there inside?” Torag asked.
“There’s…” Montaron muttered as he frowned making an effort, “a handle...”
“Pull it,” Torag said.
The old dwarf broke in, “There’s a magic keeping it closed, ye cannot …”
But before he finished his speech a click was heard, the door was unlocked. The old dwarf looked surprised.
“Ha! Ye know, Montaron, we’ll make a fortune with these gloves as soon as we leave this place. Think about how many locks we could open with them,” Torag said as he pushed the door; it slid open smoothly with no noise.
The two fellow dwarfs went inside, but the old one seemed worried about going ahead.
“What’s it? Don’t tell me ye are afraid of some undead king coming after us,” Torag joked.
The old dwarf stepped carefully inside the room. That was an even more finely wrought room, and Torag was specially taken by what he was seeing, the gems adorning the walls.
“Oh my… maybe we could take some of these when we get back,” he said, marveling at them.
Then they walked through the room; on each side wall there were open drawers and above each one, runes carved in the marble.
“The hounds of King Pronto, Matar…” Torag read in one of them, then turned to the other. “And here, Comer.”
“Matar and Comer, strange names for dogs,” Montaron spoke.
“The best loved animals from this Kingdom; the King loved them so much that he ordered that they be kept here, so he could pass his eternal rest beside his beloved dogs,” said the old dwarf.
“Ghrrr…” a loud growl sounded.
