Beyond Dagothar (The Oraclon Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  The giant dwarves charged forward in a straight line of shields and angular red blades unlike any we were experienced with. They were like a sharp cheese wedge. Matthias said with their strength and weight behind the thrusts, those shortswords would rip into anything. The Grimh front line remained straight as they marched into the smaller and weaker orcs. Arrows striking the Grimh stuck in their armor but had little or no effect. Already some ogres, minataurs and a hill giant were scrambling to get away through the winding ways and crags of rock on the valley floor.

  "Those bastards are incredible..." Matthias was awed. I found myself alarmed that the gauntleteer would regard our enemy with such fascination until I noticed what he was looking at.

  An axemaster had just felled a giant dwarf and was already fighting two more at the same time. The first Grimh stepped back with a bleeding gash across his torso.

  "Where do they come from, Matthias?"

  "I'm not sure. The dwarves of Ettertooth hate them but they are only spoken about with respect. King Droerg of Grol-galdir once told me at his table that the axemasters are an ancient cult and that somewhere hidden beneath a mountain in southern Devilspire was a temple to some orc goddess they referred to as the Great Mother. They are definitely why the Bholbash orcs have never attempted taking the southern range. They're scared of those bastards. For good reason, obviously."

  We watched as a third red dwarf giant got hacked to pieces by the raging orc. A dozen Grimh fell out of line and surrounded the axemaster as he beat the round shield out of a giant dwarf's hand, knocked his wedge-sword away and buried a hatchet into his face. The flanking Grimh started to close in when two giant dwarves dropped dead, a third fell yelling a warning as two more turned to see axes crash into their faces. Two axemasters joined their brother and in seconds the three slew all twelve Grimh.

  And then he witnessed something that disturbed both of us.

  A horn from the Grimh ranks blew a sharp note followed rapidly by two longer blows. Immediately the force of giant dwarves at its center split into two groups as gnomes in the very back bunched tightly in formation. The parting of the Grimh gave the undyrgnomes a perfect view and they unleashed their deadly arrows at the three axemasters who stood there defiantly. All three were studded with so many arrows they went down. The Grimh quickly closed their ranks as one of the axemasters, snarling, stood back up and broke arrows off to get some mobility. He raised his two axes, bleeding from over a dozen arrows still embedded in his flesh.

  The Grimh advanced on him and he slew another giant dwarf before he stumbled and they hacked him apart, marching right over his body.

  "What the hell was that, Matthias? Do other dwarves fight this organized?"

  "No...Hell no. The dwarves of Red Anvil are the most organized and disciplined. They gained fame among the dwarves and faeries for slaying the giants of Ettertooth when they took Il-Makkabor. But this, this is unheard of."

  "The Poltyrians?"

  "No. Maybe. I don't know, Josiah. The Poltyrian military is very well organized but they don't train to fight monsters. Hell, most Poltyrians don't even believe dwarves exist. What do you think they'll say if we send word of giant dwarves?"

  As we watched on the scene below became a slaughter. The forces of the Bholbash Alliance were not prepared for this sort of combined assault in the valley. A single axemaster cut his way through a mass of minatrorcs surrounding a seige-beast. Though he was unstoppable, the several large ogres and orcs trying to keep up with him in the press were heavily engaged by minatrorcs who separated them from their champion. I pointed the skirmish out to Matthias, for there were two dozen such engagements across the valley floor.

  The axemaster folded over the last minatrorc in his way over an axehead and lunged toward the garbolg.

  "Josiah, that thing's going to eat him."

  The orc dove under a gigantic split hoof, slid under the beast's neck and then stood back up to deliver two powerful slashes burying his axeblades into the creature's flesh. Yanking them back out he drew back leaving two deep gashes spilling forth blood as the monster shuddered. A minatrorc stepped in thinking to drive a sword through the orc's back but a whirling hatchet flung the blade wide and a second axe suddenly appeared in the underworlder's forehead. The axemaster leapt out of the way avoiding the silent lunge of the beast as its teeth gnashed at the air where the orc had stood.

  The garbolg's catlike eyes followed the orc and it tried to strike him with one of its curved tusks that protruded from the side of its wide mouth, missing the elusive axemaster. Spinning rapidly the orc severed a minatrorc's arm, dented in the helm of another who wandered off as if confused and chopped a horn off a third before also leaving the horrified minatrorc's right arm on the ground over eight feet from the rest of his body. All of this was done with his left axe and as soon as his immediate area was cleared he threw his right hatchet straight into the left eye of the enormous seige-beast.

  The garbolg's domed eye burst in brownish liquid. The howl of the monster blasted to dancing, lifeless masses those minatrorcs arrayed to its left. Over a dozen were caught in the blast cone where rocks disintigrated into powder. The garbolg backed up too quickly for other minatrorcs to get out of the way and their bodies were crushed, rolled and smeared beneath it. As this chaos erupted the axemaster picked up a double-bladed battleaxe off the ground and with two axes again he punished the minatrorcs.

  "I'm not ever going to fight one of those orcs..." Matthias uttered, having every reason to fear so unstoppable a foe. What we were watching was seemingly impossible.

  The orc kept to the garbolg's blind side as about a dozen more minatrorcs closed in on his position, wary, few wanting to be the first to engage. The underworlders did not know what to make of this large orc. Already the news had spread that one of them had easily cut down a headhunter. Two trorcs closed in together followed by a third hoping to overwhelm the axemaster.

  One minatrorc gasped wordlessly falling forward, clutching his throat. The tip of an axe blade opened up his neck. The second trorc parried an attack and then folded inward as the tip of the other axe split him open from chest to thigh. The third hesitated and took a hatchet to his right knee and a battleaxe to his groin. The three minatrorcs out of his way, before the other nine could know what he was doing he leapt through their opening and with two great heaves sank the axes half-deep into the flank of the seige-beast. He peeled off hide and pink flesh.

  The entire bulk of the monster retracted and it stood high on small back legs, squealing frantically. The orc buried his axes in to another underbelly area of the animal as a longsword spinning through the air whisked beside the orc's head and hit the garbolg hilt first, falling to the ground. The other minatrorcs caught on quick and instantly, as the orc sliced open a gash from which guts popped out of the garbolg, several of them aimed their battleaxes, maces and longswords at the axemaster and threw them with all of their power.

  They were not going any where near that orc.

  A mace, two swords and even a spear hit the big orc barbarian as he beat his axes over and over into the garbolg in an astonishing flurry of slashes but it was a spinning battleaxe that took him down. The shaft of the axe thumped against the back of the axemaster's head and he dropped like a stone.

  He twitched. A leg folded. Then his hands pushed down against the ground and he began standing to the disbelief of the minatrorcs who had no time to react before the injured garbolg brought down a five foot wide hoof atop the orc crushing him into the earth. Matthias and I watched on as another situation developed involving an axemaster.

  From out of the ravines and depressions of the valley an axemaster suddenly led a charge of southern Devilspire orcs, ogres, rock trolls, minataurs and two hill giants directly behind the ranks of the Grimh formation. They had cleverly hid off to the western side of the valley and waited for the giant dwarves to pass their places of concealment.

  The screams of the undyrgnomes added to the cacophony of battle as they turned to
see their own kind shredded apart by the fury of an axemaster and his stampeding troops. Orcs gleefully hacked to death pale-skinned gnomes as some faught back letting go their deadly arrows. Matthias looked at me.

  "Looks to me the orcs realize those gnomes are the greater threat." Archers were a problem for any army but not a priority. Archers simply did not win wars. A giant scooped up screaming gnomes and threw them high into the air to scoop up more and repeat the ritual, already his massive arms and shouldered pinned with dozens of arrows. The underworld gnomes were butchered. A group unscathed and further away rapidly loosed volleys into the orcs and minataurs.

  The axemaster, having cut down over a score of the little archers, stumbled. An arrow was buried in his stomach. Four orcs gathered to guard him and three fell by arrows quickly. A charging Grimh skewered the fourth on his wedge-blade and two other Grimh thought to end the axemaster. With arrow buried in his gut through his armor, the orc champion removed an armored leg of one of the Grimh right before the other giant dwarf knocked him down with the weight of his body.

  The axemaster slowly stood, broke off the arrow, and faced the lone red-skinned and crimson-armored dwarf. In a blink four of five arrows whispered through the air to sink into the orc's body. The axemaster fell and did not move.

  "There is nothing normal about those arrows. I see no wizards in this battle." Matthias and I searched the field of controversy for any who could be empowering the archers. No wizards.

  The Grimh finished off those attackers from southern Devilspire who did not flee back into the ravines after the fall of the axemaster. The undyrgnomes, diminished and angry, regrouped.

  The giant dwarves spread out as did the minatrorcs in a great formation that from our position high on a nearby cliff face looked like jaws biting a shadow. The shadow was the tightening press of Bholbash orcs still defending the ascent to Kag'ar Grul's entrance. The air seemed to still as Matthias and I both anticipated what was about to happen.

  The garbolgs, now rested, blew forty creek bed-like clearings out of the enemy orc horde, reducing the victims to quivering flesh with splintered bones and warped armor. These tunnels carved into their forces extended eighty feet in length through many ranks because the seige-beasts were now closer to the Bholbash front. Their defensive lines shattered the minatrorcs marched forward with the garbolgs trampling dead and dying orcs. The sides of the valley were already filling with those smart enough to flee. A giant thinking to bash a garbolg in the head with a boulder was himself blown backward, broken and bleeding. He sat up looking about dazedly, vision blurred.

  In no time at all the Grimh in row after row marched in formation up the slope toward the entrance to Kag'ar Grul, often right passed whole groups of Bholbash orcs who did not oppose their passage. Minatrorcs formed a wide perimeter and began gathering the orcs, convincing them to lay down their arms. As the surrendering on the outside of the mountain began the little deep gnomes carefully spread out and searched the entire battlefield, even overturning bodies. Matthias and I watched from above as they used knives to cut out their arrowheads. Lots of intact arrows were retrieved, but they were ever so careful in examining the dead and dying to find even the ones broken off their shafts. Gnomes cut and then dug the heads out of dead bodies. I watched as the majority of the arrows were put right back into quivers. Every dead gnome's body was searched, their pockets and sacks in case they had been carrying arrowheads.

  They had conducted this exercise as if it was routine, as if there was gold under these bodies.

  We waited for dark to come. The underworlders could no doubt see better in the darkness, but I did not feel comfortable flying down to the battlefield in the light of day. I had to go down there and find an arrow. I had to know what these things were. Matthias had observed keenly that the underworld gnomes neglected to fully search out the area toward the very rear where they had shot at the axemaster and his troops but missed. Arrows had flown quite far beyond the field.

  As we waited for darkfall a winged goblin like the one I killed in Dimwood passed overhead. Later Matthias observed two headhunters on wingmordhs fly across the valley. Nothing flew near our hidden camp under the precipice.

  I descended at full night into the valley below. It was all quiet. The gnomes had killed all the wounded, even some minatrorcs and Grimh unable to walk. It took only a few moments to find an arrow the gnomes missed. It was stuck in the ground by itself. The archers sought for bodies and then searched for arrows. The arrow I found was intact, buried at an angle in the dirt, and was nowhere near a body. I quivered it, remounted, looked around the black skies and then flew aloft. A host of minatrorcs were camped at the cavern entrance to the fortress inside the mountain. The Grimh were nowhere to be seen.

  Back at camp Matthias warmed strips of dried venison over a small flame in a ring of high stones around a little pit. I sat down and cleaned off the arrow to study it in the light.

  "What on Dagothar is this?" Matthias eyed the purple arrowhead I held up. Thin blue veins lined the material. "They are no sharper than my own arrows, nor heavier."

  "Are they even metal?"

  The question struck me as odd and I found myself scrutinizing the arrowhead closer. I had no answer. They were not obsidian, or a crystal, not flint or any stone or metal I recognized.

  We took turns sleeping after we ate. Later in the night Matthias awakened me and we listened to the unholy howling of the umberslogs echoing off the valley surfaces. We looked out to see the dark sky writhing in black forms with wings that dimmed the stars.

  "They're from the underworld, Josiah. Guess it makes sense to attack at night." As the battle for Kag'ar Grul began the implications of Matthias' words sank into my soul.

  Will they fight all their battles in the dark?

  Kag'ar Grul Keep...fall of the Bholbash Alliance

  In the dead of night the Grimh, already in position, flooded into the interior of Kag'ar Grul with the minatrorcs and their garbolgs. In the morning Matthias and I saw there were only about two hundred minatrorcs stationed outside the mountain. They had even taken their own orc prisoners into the cavernous entrance.

  Cave openings higher on the face of the mountain were being assaulted by swarms of winged goblins with longspears and dark elves riding wingmordhs. On the western slope of the mountain over thirty thousand Bholbash orcs and a small cavalry of winter wolves faught a desperate battle against basilaks, hammertaurs, a force of five thousand armored hornback orcs led by the tall mandrake and several columns of titan ogres, hornhulk knights, goblin archers and dusk giants. The underworlders pushed the surface orc defenders back up the slope toward their immense portal. Only about five thousand of the Bholbash orcs made it back inside the mountain but we knew this meant nothing with the Grimh and minatrorcs also somewhere inside the stronghold.

  As the battle continued near the western portal whole lines of Bholbash orcs were surrounded, forced to yeild their weapons and marched off under guard as others continued to fight. Defenders stole glances further down the slope where their kin were marched off of the mountain and out of the conflict.

  "What do you think, Matthias?" I asked, gathering camp and stowing away my gear. We both knew it was time to get far away. This area would soon be crawling with patrols.

  "Orcs are stupid."

  "Yeah, well, go to Ettertooth and talk to the Haddarim. Then go to Emim'gard." Matthias was more than happy to visit the two dwarven cities. He was fond of the dwarves of Red Anvil and I knew they would accept him more than me.

  "Where are you heading?"

  "I'll leave instructions for Michel at the tower and then move on to Splinterdark. We have to inform the wild elves and scorpinids. I'll then go to the court of the Magrar." At saying this aloud, mentioning the dreadful Muzzle Lords who ruled over the gnollocks and gnolls, Matthias cut his eyes at me.

  "No men have ever returned from Gnosh City, Josiah. Dwarves either."

  "I know. If I feel it is not safe when I get there I'll pa
ss it by." The umberslogs herded on the slope howled in hunger for blood. Those had not been released into the mountain.

  "Inform the Haddarim about these strange arrows. Maybe the the High Haddarim can make some sense of them."

  "You want me to warn dwarves of arrows? Matthias looked at me incredulously.

  "Yeah, why not?"

  "Well, alright. I'll ask about them. Don't expect you to understand, Josiah. They are not like us. Dwarves feel it disrespectful to use arrows and spears in close combat, to have that leverage to inflict harm while remaining relatively safe. It would be an insult to insinuate in their presence that they could ever be in real danger from an arrow. Arrows are the weapons of elves. Dwarves...well, you know, blades and bludgeoning and stuff."

  "I didn't know they felt that way." Suddenly I had a reason to dislike dwarves, a people I have done nothing against and did not know.