Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 14

  Niall of the Long Arm wiped the sticky sweat from his face, grinding his teeth in frustration. He watched the destruction of the fort that had been his command, making no sound except an occasional swear when the cries of the men trapped behind reached him through the thin air.

  He stood six feet six, his short, cropped blond head towering over his men. He wore scale armor, and strapped about his heroic frame was an awesome selection of weapons. The second son of the Archduke of Ruegal, Niall had been trained for war since birth. He had never been trained for defeat. All his strength and knowledge had been useless in the face of the enemy horde.

  Six days earlier, he had with five hundred warriors prepared this place against the invaders. The completely controlled south plains and the mountains of Trulic were the only barrier between their continued advance and the lush farmlands of Ruegal.

  Lying on the south side of the mountains, the fort had seemed like a perfect base of operations for raids against the enemy's strung-out supply lines. The fort was a wide vale a mile in diameter surrounded by the sheer walls of the mountain. An underground stream bubbled up to form a small lake. It was protected by one great wall across the only entrance to the vale.

  The wall stood some thirty feet high and fifteen broad. Made of carefully placed rough-cut stone and possessing no gate, it had always proved impregnable. The enemy had captured the wall in three hours...

  The sides of the valley reached to incredible heights. The only way into the vale was through the wall, or so Niall and his war band thought. Somehow, the enemy had come behind the fort's defense, and only by the dint of Niall's fierce valor did some of the warriors escape. Escape to be trapped against the mountain's foot.

  Niall counted some eighty-odd men with him, all that survived of his command. Not a one, including himself, was without a wound. They listened with anguish to the sounds of the rape of the vale. Soon, the enemy would seek them out, and here, with nowhere to retreat, the small force would be wiped out.

  Any other leader would despair. But not Niall. He felt only anger. He had an unshakable faith in his own capabilities. He knew he would find a way out, and his fanatically loyal men waited in the sure belief that they were not defeated as long as their lord survived.

  A small band of goblins warily approached the humans. A few arrows were enough to send them running. 'Now,' thought Niall, 'they will attack in earnest.'

  "Sergeant, form the shield wall. Whatever archers are left, in the middle. I will take point." The sergeant nodded once, looking like a dwarf next to his lord. Quickly, the men formed a wall of swords. They made two lines like a 'V,' the ends right up against the mountain's sides. Hardly had they taken their positions than the invaders were upon them.

  Like a great black wave, the goblins threw themselves on the men. There was a crash, screams, howls, and war shouts. The enemy withdrew in five minutes, leaving one quarter of their number behind. Quickly, the humans dispatched the enemy wounded. Only six of theirs had fallen.

  A large goblin chief urged his troops on. Now some two hundred faced Niall's men. Quickly, the goblins were on them. The humans were so pressed that their long swords were useless. It was shortsword, dagger, and spear work. The enemy fell by the score, but exhorted by the chieftain, they continued to press, with others running up to join the battle and continually taking the place of the fallen.

  Niall knew his men could not last. He stepped back from the front ranks. Immediately, two of his warriors took his place. The line of the shield wall held, but few reserves were left to close up any gaps. Niall's mind raced for an answer. He spotted the goblin chieftain and without a conscious thought, took action.

  "Out of the way!" he yelled, moving through his warriors. Niall barreled into the enemy ranks. He had drawn his longsword again, and with a great two-handed blow, cleared a path to his enemy.

  The chieftain was fast for his kind. Quickly, it threw a short-shafted spear at the approaching warrior. Niall turned it easily on his shield. The goblins raised a war ax to strike at the human. Without even slowing his rush, Niall held his sword two-handed straight ahead of him and thrust it deep in the goblin's throat. Leaving the sword there he withdrew his long dagger, and with maniacal fury charged the nearest enemy.

  Four goblins fell and Niall received only a scratch on his thigh. None would face him and the whole group turned and ran. Niall's warriors pursued them a few yards and then worked their way back to the hill, making sure all the enemy on the ground were dead.

  Now, barely fifty humans survived. Niall had the men collect the wounded warriors and drag them to the middle of the thinned shield wall. The goblins regrouped at the foot of the slope, screaming insults and waving their weapons menacingly. They were frightening to look at, with the light of the burning buildings at their back mixing with the dark shadows on the lake. But for all their taunts and ferocious mien, none approached the hill.

  Niall walked up to his wounded. "I can't leave you to the swine, my bravos," he said. The warriors said nothing but stared back as bravely as they could. Quickly and painlessly they were dispatched by their lord, not a one making a sound of protest. Niall never hesitated in the grim task, but he felt each knife thrust in his own breast.

  He stood wiping the blood from his hands. He had no intentions of dying here. He knew another leader would give the goblins courage and this time his men would be butchered. But the only emotion the war leader felt was anger. Aye, a warrior's death for him, but not now, not in an insignificant skirmish....

  A commotion in the enemy ranks caught his attention. From the midst of the enemy walked a large creature. Even in this light, Niall's sharp eyes could make out its features.

  "A cave troll," he murmured. He frowned, taking in the great barrel chest, the two-jointed arms ending in three shovellike fingers. Now he understood how the enemy had breached the vale. He walked to the front of the ranks. 'More time,' he thought, 'more time.'

  "Well, worm!" he shouted. "You look big enough to give me a half decent row. I dinna think your bonnie lasses have much stomach for this fight! Perhaps you and I should become a little better acquainted." Niall bared his teeth and rattled his weapons.

  The troll growled, a wicked light burning in its shark eyes. Slowly, ponderously, it walked up the hill. The goblins snouted encouragement, breaking out in grotesque dances. The humans wondered if even their lord could defeat such a monster. Niall just waited.

  The troll stopped three yards away. Niall's warriors moved away at his curt hand signal. Though his adversary stood only a few inches taller, it outweighed the man by four hundred pounds.

  "Feth, manthing," growled the troll, "rip thy flesh, eat thy bones, this is good food for troll people." The creature had an apelike snout, but the top of its face angled back, giving it a bizarre appearance unlike anything Niall had ever seen.

  "Och, now you have me shaking, you big turd," he answered. "Come now, my pretty, I tire of Niall Long Arm. Trollsbane fits me better." The creature gasped something in its guttural language and baring its two tusks, charged the human.

  For all its bulk, the creature moved fast and its first rush nearly did Niall in. His hastily swung sword was easily blocked. The troll's powerful arms opened up to sweep him into death's embrace. The warrior feinted to the right and then dove between the troll's legs. He did a quick roll and before the slow-thinking monster could react, was on his feet behind it.

  A bellow roared out of Niall's throat as his sword flashed at the troll's neck. With a thunk, the sword hit, but the creature's thick hide protected it. The sword barely cut an inch into its flesh. A brown liquid leaked out. The creature grabbed Niall's shield and threw the warrior ten feet to the side.

  Niall smoothly rolled and met the troll's advance with a stop thrust. This time, the monster's inertia did what Niall's strength could not. The sword buried a foot of steel in its gut. The troll made no sound, but grasped the weapon around where it stood out from its chest with one hand, while the other gave Niall a
terrific backhand that knocked him into the air and cracked his wooden shield.

  The monster pulled the blade from its body and contemptuously snapped it in two. More brown fluid stained its midsection, but it showed no sign of weakening.

  Niall withdrew a throwing dagger from his boot, and with a quick motion sent it at the troll's head. The dagger scored a long gash in its face, but again it took no notice. Niall barely avoided the troll's swing. He felt a burning pain along his arm. The creature had bitten through the mail and scored a painful, if harmless, wound.

  The warrior backed up against the mountain's wall. In one hand he held a small throwing ax , while in the other he held a wide parrying dagger. The creature rushed again. This time Niall met the attack. He parried both arms with knife and ax while his helmeted head butted the troll viciously in the snout. It backpedaled a foot or two. Niall delivered a vicious kick to its knee. That kick would have broken bones in a bull. The creature gasped, but no crack of bone was heard.

  Pressing his advantage, Niall swung the ax into the snout and simultaneously stabbed the knife under the creature's armpit. The knife stuck and the ax ruined the troll's face. But it retaliated with a clawed swipe that tore the man's helmet and sent him smashing into the mountain's side.

  The creature's wounds were beginning to tell. Niall went for the face with the ax but was blocked. The troll's left hand raked into Niall's side. The armor shredded and Niall heard ribs crack. In desperation, he chopped at the small knee and this time was rewarded with a bitter snap. The troll shook its head, drunkenly slipping in its own foul-smelling blood.

  Niall smashed the knee again and with a jerk straight up, drove the pointed end of the ax two-handed into the underside of the troll's snout. The troll punched the warrior's shield, demolishing it and nearly breaking Niall's arm. Once again he smashed into the mountain wall. The troll made a wild swing that Niall easily ducked. Its fingers ripped a deep gash into the stone behind his head. With a wordless shout, Niall swung the ax into the creature's snout. Such was the force of the blow that the ax handle broke and the creature fell like a tree newly cut. It did not rise.

  "Trollsbane," chanted the warriors. "Trollsbane." His men took up the chant and turned on the already retreating goblins. They had no more wish to face this fierce warrior and once again took up their position at the foot of the slope. Even as his warriors rejoiced in his victory, Niall finally faced the thought of defeat, for now at the foot of the hill were some four or five hundred goblins and more were streaming in to join them.

  He shifted his great weight on the pile of his treasure. His mind roved in and through the black caverns. He felt the troll's hands dig in the wall. His mind flowed through the gate entrance to touch the welter of emotions beyond.

  "Humans," he thought. His mind expanded further out to explore and identify all that happened in the vale. "It is early," he thought, "but this is a golden opportunity."

  His thoughts swiftly centered on the doorway. "Someone knocking," he thought. "Impolite not to answer."

  Two warriors helped Niall discard his ruined shield and placed a splint on the damaged arm. Another bound his wounds in dirty bandages. From behind, Niall heard a loud cracking noise and all four of the humans turned.

  Where the troll's hand had torn the rock a thin line was seen. This line widened and as it did, three inches of rock facing crumbled and a bizarre doorway was revealed. Slowly, the door opened. It was shaped oddly in a disjointed geometric figure. Behind was only darkness.

  Niall glanced down at the goblin hordes. There was no hope there.

  "In," he gasped, "everyone in. Whatever is behind this doorway canna be worse than what waits for us here." Inwardly, he rejoiced. He knew this was a way out, knew he would not die this day. "Trollsbane," he mouthed silently, "Trollsbane."

  The warriors shambled into the waiting darkness, trying to shield their movements from the enemy's eyes. With a great cry the goblins began to charge up the hill, but by now all the humans were within the door.

  "We must close the damn thing," said one. Then as if in answer, the door quickly swung shut, fitting perfectly into the mountain face. The warriors stared about. They were in pitch blackness.

  The goblins hammered at the door in a futile attempt to open it. Two cave trolls approached to try.

  "Hold," came a voice. A rider garbed in a complete suit of black plate mail rode up on a skeletal horse. A helmet entirely covered his features. About his frame a purple haze shimmered. The goblins shrank from the figure.

  "They have not escaped." His voice was harsh and scarcely human. "There is doom behind those walls and yours if you seek to follow." The goblins withdrew, leaving just the dark rider. He dismounted from his skeletal steed and approached the wall, stretching his fingers across the doorway. He assumed a position of listening and held it for a few minutes. A weird yelping sound echoed from the helmet, perhaps a laugh. With that he rode off into the black vale to enjoy what entertainment he could muster from the few captured humans.

  Niall struggled to see in the darkness about him. The floor beneath his feet was smooth and free of debris. They seemed to be in a long, low tunnel with barely room for two men to walk abreast.

  "Crohan," he called out, "you take point, laddie, and see you dinna fall into some great black hole." The young warrior edged past the others and slowly felt his way along the tunnel. The road took a slight downward trek but there was nothing on the floors for anyone to stumble on. They continued downward for some twenty minutes.

  "Ye better clasp belts," cried Crohan from in front. "There's a bloody great cavern down here." The warriors carefully joined the man, all straining to catch a glimpse of their surroundings.

  Suddenly, a great light burst in front of them. Momentarily blinded, the warriors struggled to assume some sort of defensive position. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they saw drifting in front of them a small flame. It floated about five feet off the ground, flickering and weaving in the still air. The flame made no move to attack, it would just float toward the men and then dart away about three feet.

  After studying this odd behavior for a few minutes, Niall's mind clicked.

  "Whatever it is, it wants us to follow," he said. "Our choices are limited. We either follow this wee bit of flame, or stand here like a great bunch of idiots. Or I suppose we could wander around aimlessly seeing who could get lost first." The men put on stem faces and followed their lord, the flame leading the way.

  They went through ancient caverns, catching glimpses of statues, ornate pillars, doorways, and stairs. The flame led them deeper and deeper into the mountain. All recognized the place as some sort of dwarf dwelling, though none had ever heard of any of the wee people living in these mountains.

  After more than an hour of walking, the men found themselves on a great thoroughfare wide enough for carts and horses. A sparkling was seen ahead, answering the tiny flame's bit of radiance.

  As they approached, the sparkle became a bright sheen and the men were led to a great hall. It was full of treasure of unimaginable splendor. The roof was lost in the shadows above. Around the huge hall were lighted torches spaced every twenty feet or so.

  "Visitors, oh welcome, welcome," came a voice from the chamber. The warriors warily walked through the great double doors that none had missed were made of beaten silver.

  "This is so exciting," continued the voice. "Oh, do come in. Don't be shy." The voice emanated from the largest pile of treasure. Atop it was a wooden chair where an indistinguishable figure sat. It made vague motions to the men.

  "Come, come, let me see you," it said.

  Niall led the men in , carefully walking over the foot-deep treasure. His eyes noticed that all the treasure seemed to be curiously crushed, but could think of no reason for it.

  "We beg your leave, my lord," he began, but the figure cut him off.

  "No, no, no," it said, "I'm no lord. You got it all wrong, dear me." It seemed to lean forward toward the men. "Eyes aren't
what they used to be, nope, not anymore. My, you are a big fellow, aren't you?"

  The little flame stopped floating above the figure's head, which the humans could now see was an old man. He wore a dirty, frayed robe that might once have been white. A long scraggly beard reached to his waist. A hooked nose amid a million wrinkles was counterpointed by dark eyes that sparkled in the flame's light. In his hand, the old man held a staff that was so time worn it looked like it might crumble at any minute.

  "My, my, people!" he shouted the word with joy. "Ah, goodness, by the flame, it has been so long. No one here, you know, 'cept me of course. Ah , yes, just me. Not even a little bitty rat or a big bitty rat." The old man crooned with delight. "Must have our jokes. Not much else to do around here, it is such a gloomy place."

  Niall did not know what to make of the old man. Lugh only knew how long he had been here. His face was open and his obvious delight at seeing humans was apparent. He had the look of a wizard, albeit a senile one.

  "We dinna mean to invade your hall, grandfather," Niall said. "We were trapped and we--"

  Again the old man interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know. Nasty, vicious creatures those goblins, but I opened the door. You're safe, you know. I can show you right to the other side of the mountains. But," he added hesitantly, "you won't leave me here, will you?"

  "Of course not," said Niall, his heart warming to the old one. "You have saved us, and, to be sure, we are glad for your company." All of the warriors had climbed the pile of treasure and stood in a loose circle about the chair. This pile was easily twenty feet high.

  "Young man," the old one's voice cracked like a whip, "you put that down this instant." In the back of the warriors one grinned with embarrassment and dropped a jewel he had picked up. "This isn't yours, you know, so don't any of you hulking warriors touch it! Bad things happen to those who try to take it. . . " Niall noticed a red gleam in the old man's eyes, a look that was quickly hidden.