Even Gods Must Fall (26 page)

Boen began to whistle softly as he repeatedly ran his sword over the stone. Tomorrow he would test his resolve. He would either be found wanting or deliver all of those unspoken promises to his friends.

Dwarven work crews continued digging their cannons in throughout the night. Weapons were sighted in on lines of fire that would, theoretically, provide the most damage to the Goblin army. Aiming stakes were emplaced as far out as Dwarves were able to crawl without drawing attention. Cannon crews dug in their powder bags. They knew the Goblins had only one counter to the gunpowder: fire. Should any arrows drop into the ammunition pits, the entire battery could go up in flames. Piles of ammunition were rolled together beside each cannon. Gunners sighted in prefixed targets as work continued around them.

Individual firing lines were established for the musket-laden infantry. Over one thousand Dwarves went about cleaning their weapons, double checking their powder reserves, and ensuring they had enough ammunition to sustain a heavy attack. Barrels were brushed clean of dust and debris. Triggers were tested for reliability as the musketeers chatted quietly amongst themselves. They were already experienced, having stood toe to toe in the trenches at Bode Hill with their dark Dwarf cousins. Then it had been practically even. The Goblins had nothing comparable to their muskets. Tomorrow promised to be a glorious battle.

Back in the center of camp, the beleaguered rebels struggled with personal demons. Far from being real soldiers, the citizen army of Delranan individually had to come to terms with their mortality. The decision to stand and fight or flee wore heavily on them. Conducting the civil war campaign against Harnin’s forces was a series of hit-or-miss ambushes and raids. Never before had they stood the line against a proper field force. Imaginations threatened to run wild. The old timers recalled obscure battles where thousands were slain. These bits of history were kept silent from fear of routing their own army.

Several looked to the Dwarves and Minotaurs for motivation. They were true warriors. Many of the people of Delranan were inspired by the professionalism of their new allies. They set about readying their weapons and kit for the coming battle. Others floundered in self-doubt. They weren’t heroes or even soldiers. Personal motivations ranged as greatly as the colors in nature. It was for each to decide how to handle their role. Some would break and run as the nightmare erupted around them. Others would drop to their knees and cry uncontrollably. Yet others would rise to the challenge and show the world the mettle of Delrananians.

Oblivious to the rest of the camp, the civilians went about their tasks with heavy hearts.

The Minotaur army watched them with amusement. Born and bred for battle, the bulls were ready to attack under the cover of darkness. Until recently the Minotaurs had remained in their forest home of Malg, far to the east. They seldom cared for the goings-on of other races and were intent on learning new secrets of warfare and savagery. Krek had come to power long after his experiences with Anienam’s father in the Deadlands. He’d forged bonds with several from the kingdom of Thrae but his most important alliance was with the Pell Darga tribes in the Darkwall Mountains, the very ancestors of Cuul Ol and his tribes.

Both races were largely considered outcasts. Without the grand courts of the Mage orders to convene quarterly and bring order to Malweir, there was a growing discourse among those like the Minotaurs. Krek was determined to lead them back to an age of greatness where they were both feared and respected. It began in Delranan. The army was strictly punitive. Old rivalries remained between Minotaur and Goblin. Once subject to petty raids at the behest of the Silver Mage, the bulls of Malg finally found their opportunity to exact revenge.

They snorted and laughed. Sleep was long in coming. Seasoned warriors, the bulls spoke of grand schemes to kill everyone. They brandished weapons at each other and utter curses in their course language. Humans too close quickly shied away lest they get caught up in the melee growing in the center of the Minotaur camp. Young bulls charged into each other. The thunderous noise made many cringe throughout the camps. Blood spilled. Cheers raged. And the army of Malg continued its ritualistic endeavors.

Dwarves soon thronged to the edges, eager to witness the test of strength. True warriors appreciated strength. The Dwarves were no exception. While the bulls were all more than double the height, Dwarven soldiers looked on admiringly. They clashed axes in shields in a rhythmic song that made blood boil. Roars of approval went up when a bull fell. More than one injured warrior needed to be carried off to camp medics.

The ritual continued long into the night. Pre-battle jitters faded under the pretense of bravado. Blood mixed with snow and mud, painting the ground in shades of what tomorrow would bring. Gradually the crowds thinned. Warriors went to find much-needed rest. The Dwarves finished their pre-combat checks and bedded down. Cannon crews slept behind their pieces. Pickets were emplaced. Roving patrols circled the camps at intervals.

Incredible tension spread from person to person. Words went unsaid. Looks were exchanged. Those still awake skillfully avoided contact with their fellows. Even the trees seemed to feel it. Branches curled upward, their tips inching back towards the trunks. Birds and small animals fled lest they get caught in the middle. Clouds hung suspended in the sky as if afraid to move. The moon lacked its shine. Dull light barely reached the ground. A hush fell over the fields surrounding the ruins.

Night deepened. Armies bedded down. Nerves ran high and for good reason. The fate of all Malweir rested in the hands of all those assembled around the ruins of Arlevon Gale.

A Final Trick

Maleela, dark queen of the Goblins and heir to the hatred of the world, stood atop the hastily constructed watchtower centered on her command pavilion. Her slender hands were encased in black leather and clasped gently behind her back. Dressed in the colors of midnight, Maleela watched the plains of Delranan like a ghoul creeping through a cemetery. The sweep of her long dress had a thin line of sawdust clinging to it, marring the illusion of perfection. Her hair was tied back in a long tail that draped down between her shoulder blades.

Hard eyes stared down on the multiple armies camped nearby. She had no way of knowing for sure, but close to ninety thousand combatants were going through their final preparations before the battle was joined. So much death and hatred was going to happen Maleela could feel the electricity burning up from the ground. It stretched the height of the tower and tickled the soles of her feet. She suddenly felt stronger than ever before. Raw power flowed into her, imbuing her with the fortitude required to see tomorrow’s events through. She closed her eyes briefly as power consumed her.

“Intoxicating isn’t it?” Amar Kit’han asked. His raspy voice was the sound of rocks being crushed. “As if there is a direct connection with the heart of the world.”

“What is it?” she asked.

Amar drifted closer, stopping as he drew even. Thousands of campfires burned to the edge of his vision. So impressed, the Dae’shan failed to find comment. “A link between Malweir’s soul and the wielder of power. Very few have ever felt it and I suspect none will again once the ritual concludes.”

“Has the end truly arrived?” she pressed. The desire to know her fate strengthened. “Will tomorrow be the end of the past and the beginning of your new, dark world?”

“Where I will ascend and you will be made a true queen,” Amar replied. “Never before have I come so close. The dark gods strain against the mesh of their prison. They hunger for freedom. Time is nearly upon us. No longer will the Dae’shan cower in shadow. We shall take our rightful place as lords of the world. Malweir will be plunged into an eternity of darkness and nightmares. It is all so close now. So very close.”

“There are many awaiting us that might claim to differ,” Maleela countered. Power so strong it forced her fingers apart lest the currents burn them together.

Amar paused, his revelry disturbed. “There is more at work than you know, princess. Great armies have gathered. Many have come in the false quest for righteousness. Others simply because they had no reason not to. A handful, a very small minority are here for you.”

She stiffened, bringing her hands from behind her. “Speak plainly. What do you mean?”

“Your uncle sits to our southwest. His quest will attempt to break my power while the armies ruin themselves around us.”

Conflicting emotions raged within her. Deep inside, so deep she’d nearly abandoned it, the prospect of hope for the future stirred. Since devoting herself to Amar Kit’han and her fervent desire for revenge, Maleela had done nothing but hate. She’d lost faith in Humanity, her family, and most importantly, herself. Misery became her companion, comforting her in those long hours in the middle of the night when she thought no one was paying attention.

Amar Kit’han heard it all. His unique tortures were designed to break her mind under the false pretense of empowerment. Thus far it had worked perfectly. She was his willing tool. A tool he had every intention of discarding once the war was finished. Each night he continued to pour subtle traces of magic into her dreams, darkening them to the point where she was ready to take up a sword and spill blood. Her descent was nearly complete. All it needed was a final act.

“My uncle will be difficult to stop,” she finally said as the war of emotions in her mind quieted. “He will be most formidable if he’s managed to acquire the Blud Hamr. Killing them should be a priority.”

Very ruthless, this one. Much better than her pathetic father ever proved
. “Agreed. The Hamr must not be allowed to reach the ritual site. Are you capable of setting aside loyalties to accomplish this?”

Her face hardened in reply. “I am. Bahr has done nothing for me. Seeing him dead will serve as a brutal reminder for all who might one day cross me. You said a minority. My uncle does not constitute a minority. Who else must I face tomorrow?”

Amar grinned from beneath his hood. The glow emanating off his form was faint enough to go undetected by her mortal eyes. “Are you sure you can handle the knowledge I am about to bestow on you? You are only Human after all. An inherent weakness you are incapable of escaping.”

“I grow weary of these verbal games, Amar. Tell me what I need to know so that I may win this battle. If you insist on speaking in riddles go find Thrask. Perhaps that foul-smelling beast would be better companionship for you.” Maleela practically spat her words. Her disgust for the Dae’shan was rivaled only by the need to remain allied with him. For the time being.

“Very well. King Aurec co-commands the combined army to our east. They are the strongest, with thousands from your father’s Wolfsreik. Aurec will stop at nothing to destroy the Goblins and end this war,” Amar admitted.

Maleela turned slowly to face him. “Aurec lives?”

“Unless he just died, yes, and he is the crowned king of Rogscroft. Does this displease you? I can summon my…pets to dispatch him before dawn.”

Her tiny hand raised. “No, if Aurec falls it will not be by your monsters’ claws. He is…was a good man. He deserves to die with honor. I should like to see him one final time before the battle begins.”

“Love still holds sway I see. Perhaps I was wrong about you,” Amar hissed.

She fixed him with a deadly glare. “There is no love. You’ve managed to kill it. I am a creature of your making. I feel nothing but hate.”

We shall see, puppet. We shall see. I wonder how deep your resolve runs the moment you are forced to confront your lover. Do you have the strength to take his life?
“I am pleased to hear you say that. Aurec has grown to become a cunning foe. He will bring his army with all of the might he possesses. Our Goblin allies are strong but they have seldom won great victories against Man. We have numbers but I doubt they will be enough.”

“I will make them enough. Do what you must to free your gods. Thrask and I will hold off our enemies long enough,” she said with defiance. Already plans and counter plans warped in her mind. No strategist, she had grown up around the army and had absorbed enough to be confident about her chances tomorrow.

Amar appreciated her confidence but ultimately knew it wasn’t enough. Thrask and his Goblins were weak. Otherwise their kingdom would have conquered half of the known world by now instead of wallowing in caverns in those places no one else wanted to go. Sadly, the Goblins served a singular purpose: kill as many of the allies as possible to make his mission easier. Nothing else really mattered.

“I think your proposal should be executed,” Amar said without warning. “I suggest presenting a flag of truce to meet with our enemy leaders. It will be good to demoralize them moments before they order the assault.”

“And you don’t fear the same of me?” she asked.

“Should I?”

Maleela hesitated for the briefest moment, enough to cause quiet concern in the Dae’shan. “No. I will do my job as long as you fulfill your promise. I want my father’s head.”

Amar stared back at her hard. She would get her wish sooner than she could ever expect, for only he knew that Badron, the former king of Delranan, was cowering amongst the Wolfsreik just scant meters away. Oh yes, they would meet again. Remaining silent, Amar Kit’han decided to let Maleela learn the truth of this the hard way. Some secrets were too delicious to waste before their proper time.

The first tendrils of dawn crawled across the face of the world with lazy intent. Bright pinks and reds replaced the dark clouds, threatening an ominous future. Maleela viewed it as no better sign. Blood skies were proper for the amount of blood about to be shed. She watched from her tower as the small envoy of Goblins trudged beyond their trenches and partially erected palisades. The dingy white banner waving over their heads in the predawn breeze reminded her of a soiled nightgown. There was nothing dignified to it at all.

Frowning, Maleela stormed down the steps. Her mind raced through several possibilities. The growing desire to confront and murder her father filled her with rage, with purpose. She had never felt closer to her goals. Soon all of the wrongs that had been thrust upon her during her short life would be avenged and the world would be open for her to ascend to her rightful place. Those desires proved almost too powerful, threatening to render her mind to fragments. Sanity and reality waivered back and forth as she slowly felt her core slipping away.

She didn’t care. The dilemma within was paltry compared to the full force of her wrath. Nothing could deter her from claiming vengeance against a lifetime of mistreatment. Maleela was dressed in resplendent onyx armor. Intricately carved skulls poked out from beneath her full-length cape. Polished leather boots stretched up over her knees. Her sword belt was sprinkled with emeralds and sapphires. Hair tied back in a tail, the princess of Delranan wore a severe look. She had become the harbinger of doom for the northern kingdoms.

A pair of Goblins met her at the base of the tower. Maleela ignored their drooling glares as she marched past. They had become tedious to her. Foul beyond measure, the Goblin horde was merely a means to an end. Secretly she wished them all to die in the coming battle. There was no room in Malweir for such filth. Not in her visions. A handful of Humans were secured among the ruins. Most, she guessed, were prisoners intended for sacrifice in Amar Kit’han’s dark ritual to bring forth the dark gods.

The notion of Human sacrifice was sickening but concerned her little. Maleela tried to stay focused on her goals. Everything else was an unpleasant distraction from the truth. Mud sucked at her boots with each light step. She took the reins from a Goblin and climbed aboard her horse. Thrask was already waiting.

His tusks gleamed in the morning light, as if he’d purposefully polished them. “This will be a day long remembered.”

Maleela grunted in reply. Her tolerance for the Goblin Lord was weakening the longer they shared company. “I want no quarter given. Their army is a nuisance at best. Can your forces handle them?”

Insulted, Thrask thumped a meaty fist to his chest. “We will kill every…last…one.”

I certainly hope so, though not without suffering great losses on your part, my dear Thrask. It would be divine if you managed to get yourself killed as well. That would solve matters nicely for me
. She nodded. “Good. Now, let us go meet with our enemies. I am most eager to hear what they have to say.”

The lines parted enough for her column of twenty warriors to march through. Only she and Thrask were mounted. The others marched with grim determination. Their boots struck the ground with fury as if their anger was translated deep into the earth. Maleela cringed inwardly at the sound before steeling her nerve. This was war. It took several long minutes for them to reach the parley area secured between the lines--long minutes in which she dealt with questions and doubt. This was her first true test of leadership, though she knew neither Thrask nor Amar expected her to be much more than a figurehead. She vowed to prove them both wrong.

Maleela recognized Aurec immediately. Her heart threatened to get the better of her, overturning all she’d endured before she tightened up. There was no room in her life for love. Not any longer. There were others, but none she knew. Pennants and banners waved on the morning breeze, announcing the Wolfsreik in all of its glory. She spied several other colors amidst the very large group. Rogscroft and the tattered remains of flags she failed to recognize. All told her enemies presented an opposing group.

Sliding to the ground, she walked side by side with Thrask until they stood under the hastily erected pavilion for the meeting. Maleela avoided looking at Aurec, though she clearly saw him start to move towards her. She could only imagine how much willpower it took to make himself stop and remain still, like a king should.

“So, at last all of my enemies are gathered,” she began without pause.

Aurec clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Enemies? I see several but only one I would not consider such. Why are you with this filth, Maleela?”

Thrask bristled at the insult, momentarily forgetting the banner of truce. “Mind your tongue, boy-king. I have killed many like you.”

Maleela held up a hand to silence the Goblin. “This is not the world you once rescued me from, Aurec. I have made my choices and they lead me to an inevitable conclusion.”

“That being?”

She turned to the redhead. “And you would be?”

“Rolnir. What is your conclusion?”

Madness twinkled in her eyes. “Ah yes, the mighty general of the Wolfsreik. I grew up listening to tales of your heroism. How paltry they seem to me now that I finally meet you. You’re all going to die here. I trust you realize that.”

“If that’s what the gods decree, so be it, but I doubt that very much,” he replied.

“Are you thinking of the second army massed on our western flank? We know of the Dwarves and their pathetic civilian force. Thrask and his Goblins are more than familiar enough with those stunted beasts. They will be dealt with efficiently.”