Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 13

  "Don't feel bad, lad, even Mearead's power has been blocked and the lore masters are hard-pressed to perform the simplest of rituals."

  Colin did not answer. Sighing, the other left the dwarf lord to his thoughts. Colin unhooked his ax from his silver girdle. He stared at the sharp edge of the weapon, his mind wandering.

  It had been three weeks since the first attacks. The dwarves thought it likely the Dark Ones would move against them, but they had thought the enemy would try to storm the gates. But evil was smarter than that and more powerful. Somehow, the enemy had bridged the ancient magic that protected the Crystal Falls, and attacked from the lower halls.

  In the first surprise the enemy was able to capture and hold many of the older and less used caverns, using them as a staging area to press their advantage. Hundreds had died trying to recapture the lost territory. Finally, with a combination of magic and weapons, the dwarves had overrun all the enemy camps. But the cost was high. Two of the twelve lore masters died along with three thousand warriors. And Mearead himself wounded.

  That was a week ago, and things had only gotten worse. The dwarves discovered hitherto unknown caverns, passages all through the lower regions of the Crystal Falls. Mearead thought the enemy must have been digging them for years. Many of the passages ran parallel with the ones the dwarves had carved, and no one knew when next a wall would crumble and the enemy would pour in through the breach.

  It was impossible. What power had the enemy to do this thing? It was sacrilege and desecration. Since Mearead had introduced Colin to the Goddess he had become more aware of her and her power. He knew that in Her own way, She, too, fought in the caverns, 'But,' he thought gloomily, 'She isn't doing very well either.'

  The cavern the dwarves sat in was not very large, barely a hundred feet by forty, the ceiling a scant ten feet above their heads. No passages led out of it, though a wide passage had led the dwarven troop here. The cave was obviously not natural. In its crudity it could be seen it had never been shaped by dwarven hands.

  They had searched for some sign that the enemy had been here, but there was nothing. What purpose did it serve? One small riddle in a world gone mad with them.

  Colin lifted his head for a moment to peer in the pitch-black cave. He felt something. There! There it was again. He pulled off his gauntlets and placed his hands on the ground. The floor felt distasteful, unpleasant, like no stone had ever felt to his touch. It was like touching a corpse, for here the stone was dead...The riddle was answered!

  '"Ware!" he cried, jumping to his feet. 'To the passage! It's a trap!" The others leapt up, brandishing weapons. But even as the first few headed toward the opening, a loud crash was heard, and the rock wall furthest away began to flake apart. At the same time, the thud of running feet came toward them from the passage.

  "Close ranks!" Colin yelled, even as he tugged his gauntlets and helmet on. "Form a wedge facing the far wall!" A weird howling filled the area. It was unlike anything Colin had ever heard. It was low-pitched, but hurt his ears like a high-pitched shriek. It continued for a moment and then stopped as the first of the enemy piled in from the opening.

  They were cronbage, creatures barely the height of dwarves, brutish and fur-covered. For a moment the dwarves just stared. Up to now all they had fought had been goblins. The cronbage shouldn't even exist. They had been the troops of the Fomarians, the elder dark gods of ages gone by.

  "Damn, damn!" Colin swore. One more riddle. What were these creatures doing here? The ancient enemy of the dwarven folk. They were supposed to be long dead. They smashed into the dwarven ranks.

  The cronbage wore little armor and relied mostly upon spears and maces, but for all that proved to be hardy fighters. Five dwarves fell in the first rush.

  Then the opposite wall crashed down, a mass of the hairy warriors rushing through the dust into the waiting dwarven ranks.

  It was a bizarre battle, there in the depths of the mountains. Neither dwarf nor cronbage made any sound. The cave filled with grunts and cries of pain, but no war cries, no calls to heroism, just the grim business of survival.

  As the dust settled from the fallen wall, the dwarves let out a shout of dismay, for the wall had hidden a cavern of immense size. So large that neither roof nor wall could be seen. And the whole area was covered with a blanket of the cronbage.

  The warriors of the Crystal Falls held their ranks. Their enemy falling at their feet two and three feet deep as the superior armor and weapons skill of the dwarves began to take its toll. But as Colin's ax swept off the arm off one of the fanged cronbage, he knew it was useless. The enemy's number was endless, and already one third of his men had fallen. He wiped blood from his mask's eyeguards, his mind losing all concerns. For some reason, this day, this moment, seemed familiar, and death held no fear for him.

  Another crack began in the wall behind them, and Colin knew it was over, even as he formed his men in a rough circle so they could face this new threat. The weird howling began again, but the note was different, and for a moment the enemy pulled back in confusion. Colin knew this was their only chance and ordered the dwarves to make a break for the passage. As he began shouting his orders, a new voice interrupted him.

  "For honor! For the Crystal Falls!" a great voice yelled, as the second cave wall gave way. This time it was dwarves who rushed through, hundreds, thousands, with their king, Mearead, leading the way.

  The cronbage were swept away and Colin and his men, with the new forces, pushed the enemy back out of the first cavern into the larger one.

  Colin stopped as the dimensions of the cavern before him became apparent. It was fully a mile long in all directions and its roof hung two hundred feet in the air.

  Mearead strode ahead, five lore masters to either side of him, white fire streaming from their hands, burning the enemy before them. The dwarves pushed further on, as the enemy scattered in confusion, the front ranks trying to retreat, the warriors in the back trying to move forward to fight.

  Colin cried, "For Mearead and the Crystal Falls!" and plunged into the battle, seeking to fight his way to his uncle's side.

  The fighting became more fierce and the cronbage answered the dwarves' challenge with inarticulate cries of their own. In the larger cave the dwarves could use their bows to devastating advantage on the poorly armored enemy. The cronbage gave way, grudgingly, leaving hundreds of their fallen to be trodden by dwarven boots.

  Then a third time the strange voice howled, but this time all the dwarves heard the hatred in that sound. Streaks of red power flew from the enemy's ranks to smash into the dwarves, and the room was lit by strange colors as black magic met dwarven strength.

  On the far back wall a large, dark shadow took form in the witchlight. It was long and bent, as of an old woman, and its eyes glowed red. Colin could see now that the cavern was dotted with openings and from these poured enemy reinforcements. Large goblins dressed in grey, and giant trolls, their wicked fangs gleaming white. And more cronbage, most armed as their fellows, but some units marching, covered in armor as the dwarves, poleaxes and halberds dancing over their heads.

  The dwarves pushed on and Colin realized not all the cave openings were held by the enemy as dwarven reinforcements joined the fight. The crash and roar of the battle was deafening in the cavern. Smoke stung eyes and nose from where bodies burned from magic flames.

  Colin fought his way to his uncle, his armor covered in the blood of his enemies. Mearead turned to his nephew, his eyes glowing behind the dragon mask he wore.

  "Well met, lad," he cried above the battle noise.

  "Well met, indeed!" Colin laughed. "What took you so long?" he added.

  "Damn wall was thicker than I thought." Mearead grabbed the lad's shoulder. "I need your strength, boy. Whatever that thing is," he pointed at the shadow, "it's stronger than anything I've ever encountered." Colin nodded once and sat by the king's feet, as their warriors pressed by the two.

  He closed his eyes, cutting out sight, sound, and sm
ell. He focused on his uncle's face, the dwarf king's laugh and, like a sword slipped into its sheath, followed with his magic the power of Mearead's spells.

  He opened his eyes again to see the battle with new eyes. The individual warriors blended into shades of light and dark. Above, around, and through them multicolored lines and shapes slashed at one another, as the magic light and dark fought with grim determination.

  Colin burned with his power. He directed it to strengthen Mearead's magic, thickening a line here, widening a formless shape there. He felt the enemy's counterstrokes as a pressure on him, a weight, and when an attack was particularly strong, a slash along his insides. When that happened the pain was such that he would shout in agony, trying desperately not to lose his concentration.

  All sense of time was lost to him. At first the battle went back and forth. Once he felt the death agony of a lore master as the strange shadow's power cut the old one to ribbons. Another time Colin had to leave Mearead's spell to throw a shield about himself as a fireball crashed into his body. But slowly the battle turned. The enemy's magic was strong, but even the least of dwarves has some ability to resist. The berserker strength of the dwarves that made them immune to pain and inhumanly strong, beat back the invading army.

  One by one, the dark wizards were overcome by magic or ax blade. The cronbage and their allies died by the thousands. And magic or no, weariness and simple survival forced them to retreat. Mearead pushed his strength to the limit as he tried to break once and for all the enemy's power, to bring wreck and ruin on the Dark One's army. But his strength and Colin's was giving out.

  Colin saw with his witch sight a glowing form pull itself from the cavern floor. It spread and the luminescence became unbearable, and with long arms it reached toward the shadow. The shadow thing contracted itself and fled. With that the dwarven magic could be turned on the enemy army alone and what would have been a retreat in good order became panic.

  The dwarf power cut deep into the ranks of troll, goblin, and cronbage. What few wizards they had retreated as quickly as they could, leaving the warriors to the mercy of the dwarven berserkers.

  The Dark Ones threw down their weapons and fought one another to flee through the narrow passages. They were chopped down from the rear, and as many as had died up to that time, twice as many fell now. With a gasp Colin allowed unconsciousness to take him as his strength finally gave out. But his ears still filled with the savage cries of the victorious dwarves....

  He awoke to the soft light of an oil lamp by his side. It took him a moment to realize he was in his own room. Colin smiled and stretched luxuriously in the cool sheets, his mind already working to dull the nightmare images of the battle.

  "Well, good morning to you." Mearead pulled a stool up and sat by the bed. His dark eyes unclouded, throwing the light of the room back.

  "Ah, uncle," Colin just beamed. He felt light-headed, his whole body fresh and healthy. Mearead touched the other's hands lightly.

  "You look good, boy."

  "I don't know. I don't understand, I feel so, uh. . . "

  "Better than a good drunk, huh?" Mearead laughed. "The Goddess's gift to you, boy. You fought well in the cavern." Colin pushed himself up on the pillows facing his uncle.

  "What happened after I fell?"

  "You can guess." Mearead's mouth went hard. "We hunted the scum down, slaughtered them like pigs. Even now our warriors track the Dark Ones through the bowels of the mountains."

  "How long?"

  "A week." That shocked Colin. A whole week lost is hard.

  "So long," he murmured.

  "You pushed yourself, boy. The trance you were in is a subtle trap for the uninitiated. It can lull you, and hold you tight, killing you before you know it." He brushed a lock of Colin's hair. "Partially my fault. I drew a lot off your power. I was pretty unmerciful about it." He sighed and looked away. "You were closer to death than you could imagine."

  "We won. That's all that matters."

  "Oh, aye, we won, and we had to. It was our only chance to catch the enemy together, to break them. Otherwise we would be fighting them in our halls for the next three hundred years." Colin was quiet for a moment.

  "Uncle?"

  "You should go to sleep, boy." Mearead started to stand up, but the young dwarf caught his arm.

  "I've slept enough, thank you," he said, though even as the words came out he felt a deep weariness in his bones. "Just a few questions, then I promise I'll go to sleep." Mearead snorted once, but sat down.

  "First, where did you come from?"

  Mearead laughed, but his eyes were hard. "These are our caves, our mountains, Colin. And I am king. Somehow the enemy was able to build those tunnels and caves without my or the Goddess's knowledge, but," he held up a finger, "but it is still ours. It wasn't hard to find them once we thought about it. That cavern we fought in, it was humongous. Could I not feel the enemy's breath in all that space?"

  "Okay, but how did you show up then, right when we needed you?"

  Mearead put both hands on his knees, his long beard swinging. "That breath I felt was heady and foul. The enemy could not hide it from me. I sent you down that tunnel while I followed right next to you." He smiled. "The passage we went down was finished only the day before."

  "You knew," Colin sat up straighten "Why, you old bastard. You never even told me."

  Mearead looked at Colin as if he studied something not particularly bright.

  "Boyo, you have power, and one day maybe more than I wield. But," he emphasized, "you're still new to it. If I told you the plan, then the enemy could have picked it from your brain."

  "So I was the bait."

  "Yep." Mearead looked well-pleased with himself. 'They did not know we knew that the cave you were in was right next to their main stronghold. We also knew they, whoever they are, could not resist the chance at attacking the heir to the throne."

  "Why didn't you just attack them? Why did you need me?"

  "Simple. We had to hide ourselves from their magic. If they were busy doing the same so you wouldn't find them, that was less strength they had to search for me."

  Colin slapped his knees. "Well I'll be damned. Simple, direct, and absolutely brilliant."

  "Oh, I could get to like you, boy," Mearead laughed.

  "The cronbage . .

  "Ah, yes," Mearead said, "the cronbage. You know what they are?"

  "I know who they are, but not why."

  "I really can't answer that, Colin. The cronbage were supposed to have been killed long years ago, when the Goddess and the Hunter fought the Fomarians for the rule of the world." He tugged his beard.

  "We were young then, we dwarves, the only people to take part in that war. And," he shrugged, "the cronbage were our enemies, like the goblins are for the elves and humans. They were like us, but unlike us. Opposites. Long before ever a dragon dreamed of dwarven holds, the cronbage fought with us for the caverns of the mountains."

  "They were supposed to have been wiped out when the fomarians were cast down," the young dwarf added.

  "Yes, they were. The story goes that the Hunter tracked the few that survived and slaughtered them one and all."

  "Then you think the Hunter. . . ?" Colin left the thought unsaid.

  "Ha! Not that one. The cronbage are Fomarian slaves, heart and soul. Nope, the Hunter would never have anything to do with that lot."

  "So who?"

  Another shrug.

  "Perhaps that duiraglym, that howling shadow."

  "That's another thing. What the hell was that?"

  "If I only knew." Mearead got up and walked about the bed, his hands emphasizing his words. "Whatever it was, it was a power! A great power. Unknown to me or any of the loremasters. Perhaps Arianrood or Lonnlarcan might know, maybe even Dammuth, but I have no idea."

  "It ran from the Goddess."

  "Yes, but I didn't detect any fear in it as it fled. At least no mortal fear." Mearead watched Colin's pale face. "Did you?"

&nbs
p; Colin thought for a moment. "No, it was afraid of something, but not death, not of a trial of strength."

  "Exactly. It was afraid." 'His eyes are too bright,' he thought.

  "It was afraid," Colin repeated, going over bit by bit the whole of those last moments of consciousness, "it was afraid of Her. No, not of Her, but--Gods! It was afraid of the Goddess touching it , therefore knowing it. . . ! "

  Mearead slapped his hands together.

  "Good, lad," but his smile quickly faded. "It has great power, Colin. Whether enough to contest the Goddess or not, well, She is constrained from true battle." He shook his head. "No, it was afraid She would recognize it, and let us know what power we faced. Frankly, that thing could be almost anything. Something the Goddess would know, perhaps from an earlier time."

  Colin felt his strength leaving him and his body crying for sleep."

  "Mearead, the cronbage."

  "Aye, lad, the warriors of the Fomarians. If they are here could their master be far?"

  "If that thing was a Fomarian. . . " he stopped, mumbled.

  "Don't worry, lad." Mearead touched Colin's brow and sleep held the young dwarf tight. The king fixed his nephew's covers and gave him a light peck on the forehead. But his mind was elsewhere.

  'If that thing was a Fomarian,' he thought, 'and the elder gods walk the earth, then surely this is the last war....'

  C H A P T E R

  Eight

  That same night, a thousand miles away from the dwarven caves, another battle was being fought, and being lost. A tall man stood on a slope, silent. Around him his warriors muttered amongst themselves as the red flames a mile away lit the night sky.