Even Gods Must Fall (36 page)

Artiss Gran and Amar Kit’han were locked in deathly grip. Neither was stronger than the other. Their magic slowly began to break down their molecular structure. Ancient bodies withered and crumbled to ash. Colliding colors washed between them in amplified rainbows. Amar opened his mouth to roar but flames and ash spewed forth. Artiss could barely blink before their combined power began to disintegrate them both. Soon only ash remained.

The Dae’shan were no more. Their evil was already washing away from the world as a far greater evil returned. Blood streamed from ears and noses as the dark gods forced their way back into Malweir. Millennia of endless torment drove them mad with impatience. They clawed their way back into the world before Groge could accomplish his task.

Foul power drove the Giant to his knees. He retched across the blood-stained stone. The Blud Hamr suddenly felt heavy. His heart beat fast, much too fast. His body threatened to rebel. Groge closed his eyes and began to pray to his god. The only god of his people. He opened his eyes with clarity of purpose, focusing on the wizard.

“Now Groge! Smash the stone!” Anienam cried out before he collapsed.

Groge tore his eyes from the prone wizard and hefted the Blud Hamr over his head. The Olagath Stone drew his attention, attempting to mesmerize him into succumbing to the irreversible power locked within. Spectral fingers reached down through the hole in the ceiling as the dark gods were desperate to stop Groge from fulfilling his role. Dark fire plunged down to strike his iron-thick hide. Terrible burn marks scored him as he brought the Blud Hamr down, fulfilling his destiny. The chamber was plunged into darkness.

Golden light suddenly flooded the ritual chamber. Anienam dared to gaze upon the light even as the sheer strength of it rendered his heart to stop. The last wizard felt darkness eclipse him and the world was lost.

Through the Hurt

The battle was ended but none of the survivors were fool enough to believe their world would ever be the same again. There was no explanation for what they had witnessed. The golden light showering Arlevon Gale wasn’t natural. Some believed the gods of light had returned. Others figured Bahr and his group had succeeded in their quest but were destroyed in the process. Many just didn’t have the stamina left to care. The battle was over. What was left of the Goblin army was in full retreat. It was a movement that would eventually fail. Already Dwarf and Minotaur commanders were planning to hunt down and exterminate them. Most of the people of Delranan and Rogscroft lacked the stomach for any more fighting, even the vaunted Wolfsreik.

General Rolnir stood looking down into what remained of the ruins. His burly arms were folded across his chest. Confusion stitched across his brow. Nothing in the last few moments had made any sense. An ill feeling clung to his nerves.

“Have the scouts reported anything yet?” Aurec asked from Rolnir’s side.

“Nothing. I fear Bahr’s group has met their doom.”

Aurec wasn’t so sure. There was no explanation of the gathered darkness nor the purity of light immediately following. Rather than waiting for his mind to conjure ghouls and stark images, he struggled to find conversation. “What do you suppose that was? All the light and dark?”

“Hard to say. I almost felt…a divine presence in the world,” Rolnir admitted. The notion proved particularly disturbing. He’d never placed much faith in gods, light or dark, and to have come within the presence of so many at once threatened to tear the fragile constructs of his mind. “And now this,” he gestured to the haunting glow in the sky. “It should be the middle of the night yet we stand in an ethereal landscape void of either light or dark. Are we dead?”

“I don’t feel dead,” Aurec said. “This is…something else. Maybe Bahr succeeded after all? The wizard seemed convinced this was the day of reckoning. They might have won.”

“Perhaps. We’ll find out soon enough. Dawn is approaching,” Rolnir added. “I figure if the dark gods were freed we won’t see the dawn.”

They waited in silence for a time, apprehensive towards the dawn. Aurec’s eyes stayed focused on the ruins. All friendly forces had been pulled back to form a perimeter once it was established what remained of the enemy was gone. Aurec wasn’t willing to risk any further casualties without need. Sending Mahn and Raste in to find Bahr went against his better judgment but he needed to know.

Aurec spied movement amidst the rubble. It took a few moments before he was able to make out his scouts. Instant relief washed through him but was quickly replaced by excitement. Several others follow Mahn and Raste, the largest towering over them all. He tapped Rolnir’s forearm and gestured. Without a word between them the duo headed towards the perimeter to greet the incoming.

Excitement instantly turned into panic the moment Aurec saw Groge carrying Maleela’s limp body. He rushed to them with cold dread in his heart. The others continued to limp his way, oblivious to his silent concern. They were exhausted and near broken. All bore haunting stares that saw past what was before them. They struggled to accept what they’d just been through and, for some, it was a reckoning that would take years to accomplish.

Mahn cleared his throat. “Sire, it’s finished. The enemy has been defeated. Delranan is safe again.”

“Maleela? Is she….” He let the thought trail off, suddenly afraid of asking.

Bahr stepped forward, limping heavily on his right side. “She lives. I had to knock her out to keep her from getting hurt. She’ll be fine soon enough.”

Aurec was speechless. So many questions bothered him. What had happened beneath the ground? Where were the others? Was this war truly finished? As if sensing his confusion, Rolnir stepped in to shake Bahr’s hand.

“You look terrible,” the general offered. “I trust you did what needed to be done?”

He scanned the group, noting how a few of them were missing from the ranks.

Bahr nodded. “It is. The dark gods are gone. The Dae’shan dead. We lost a few friends along the way but the deed is finished. We can finally move on with our lives.”

Even as he said it Bahr knew it was easier said than done. Personally he’d never be the same again. He was irrevocably changed. Bahr turned his gaze to the breaking dawn and said no more.

Rolnir sympathized with him. He’d lost thousands of soldiers in the past day, over a fifth of the Wolfsreik. While the army could be rebuilt, the sheer amount of quality veteran lost was irreplaceable. His kingdom was another matter. Kingless, Delranan would struggle for generations. No matter which way he looked at the problem, Rolnir found no easily obtainable solution. His life would be dedicated to rebuilding all that was lost.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked to no one in particular.

Only the wind replied.

Maleela awoke slowly. She winced as the pain in her head instantly assaulted her. Her eyes took awhile to focus and when they did she found Aurec staring longingly back at her. Her first instinct was to recoil, thinking he’d come to do her harm. Vague memories of her deeds in the service of the dark mocked who she was. The Dae’shan influence dissolved the instant Amar Kit’han was destroyed, freeing her mind and soul.

“Aurec…I….” She fell into tears, ashamed of what she’d done.

He swept in to take her sobbing figure in his strong arms and pulled her close. Aurec whispered into her hair, “It’s all right. You’re back with me now and I swear I will never allow harm to befall you again. I love you, Maleela.”

She gripped him tightly, as if afraid to let go. “I love you too.”

* * * * *

Ingrid clutched Orlek’s hand. The fighter had recovered from his wounds well enough to hobble about. He insisted on limping to an audience with King Aurec. She suspected he was withholding information but couldn’t pry it out of him. The smug look he bore was proof enough as they entered Aurec’s pavilion.

Aurec let them stand for a moment before speaking. He still claimed to not be ready to wear the crown but was growing accustomed to the idea of being in charge. “Ingrid, out of respect for your actions and your losses I think it only fitting that you are bestowed a proper gift. One worthy of a regent.”

“Sire, I don’t need any…excuse me?” she said, changing direction mid-sentence.

Both he and Maleela smiled warmly. “You heard me right. We are making you Regent of Delranan. I can think of no better person to lead this kingdom out of the dark hole it is now in. But there is more.”

Ingrid struggled to maintain her composure. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“Delranan will no longer be an independent kingdom, nor will Rogscroft. Maleela and I are combining our two kingdoms into one. Together it is our hope that we will maintain peace and order throughout northern Malweir for many long days to come. Rolnir has already been appointed General of the Army and plans are being fleshed out for permanent bases across the kingdoms. Never again will evil be allowed to thrive in the north. Are you comfortable with this decision?”

She pursed her lips. Ingrid was a natural leader, but a regent in what amounted to a small empire? She didn’t know if she could handle that or not. Of course, with Orlek at her side, she felt as if she was ready to take on the world. “Yes sire, I believe I am. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“No, it is we who owe you the thanks. Without your guidance all that was good in Delranan might already have been lost,” Maleela told her.

The two embraced as sisters, leaving a smug Orlek grinning like a child.

* * * * *

Groge tilted his head back, enjoying the brisk spring breeze. The snows had melted and life was returning to Delranan. His hand was still wrapped in heavy bandages, though he doubted it needed the care. Burned to the bone, Groge accepted the wound and pain for services rendered. The Blud Hamr had flared with burning magic as it struck the Olagath Stone. Both Stone and Hamr exploded, their purpose in this world accomplished. Groge had been burned in the process but it was a small price.

The surviving Giants unanimously elected him their new leader. It was an unexpected role he wasn’t prepared to accept but they wouldn’t allow him to back away. He was a proven warrior now and it was his right to rule. The savior of the free world deserved no less.

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?”

Groge looked down with a fond smile as Ironfoot strode up to him. The Dwarf brandished a fresh set of rank epaulettes denoting his promotion. “It makes me wonder what the world is coming to. I never wanted to be a leader, just a forge master.”

“Huh, I guess I never wanted to be a general. There’s no way King Thord will let me scamper off on any quests or missions again,” the stalwart Dwarf replied with a hint of disdain.

“I shall miss you, my friend,” Groge told him. “It has been an honor to fight alongside you. Dwarves and Giants once shared their knowledge of the forge. I believe the time has come to do so once again.”

“What do you mean?” Ironfoot asked. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Groge broke into a grin. His massive teeth, crooked and stained, reflected sunlight. “Thord has agreed to exchange smiths in order to regain what was lost. You are going to escort the Dwarves of Drimmen Delf to Venheim and remain until he calls you home.”

Ironfoot opened and closed his mouth before barking a deep laugh. “It looks as if I’ll have myself another adventure after all!”

Together, Dwarf and Giant returned to their camp. They had much to plan before leaving.

* * * * *

Thord was the last Dwarf to leave the battlefield. He watched, assisting when the mood struck, as the dead and wounded were removed to either be taken to the massive funeral pyres constructed on the edge of the camp site, or to the overflowing surgeon’s tents. Great sorrow settled upon him, for he had lost much.

The army of Drimmen Delf accounted themselves as only Dwarves could. They reaped a terrible harvest of Goblin lives but at great cost. Close to half of the army was dead or wounded. It would take generations for the community to recover.

“What is to become of us?”

He turned to look up into Faeldrin’s eyes. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Of course it does. This war has changed everything. The world we knew is already fading. Tomorrow presents a brand new challenge for all peoples to accept. I do not enjoy the thought of returning to Elvenara with this news. The old ways are dead.”

“Some old ways should have died long ago,” Thord replied.

“Indeed. I shall have my Aeldruin attend the funeral services of your Dwarves. It was an honor to fight alongside you…friend.”

“The honor was ours. Dwarf and Elf. We’ve never been stalwart friends.”

He grinned through his beard, brownish teeth clashing with his hair.

Faeldrin’s thin lips remained pressed for a moment. “Perhaps it is time to end that. Change is, after all, coming whether we wish it or not.”

“I can live with that,” Thord said, making a show of running fat fingers through his beard.

“My Elves depart after the wedding. If you’ll have us, we will accompany you back to Drimmen Delf. I admit to having an affection for your ale.”

“Ha! It takes you Elves far too long to get drunk,” Thord replied, “But I accept the challenge.”

Elf and Dwarf stood for a moment longer, their minds trying to forget the horrors conducted on the battlefield.

* * * * *

No one ever saw Inaella again. Some say she went mad and was lost to the last winter storm, her body devoured by wolves. Search parties scoured the kingdom, for she was a severe threat. Life would go on in Delranan, her memory slowly fading into obscurity. The fate of Inaella, once noble-born, devolved into mystery.

On cold winter nights, the coldest of course, travelers came to bear witness to a terrible wraith-like creature stalking the countryside. Emaciated, dressed in tattered robes, the creature strode across the snow covered fields moaning like a banshee. Future legends would name it a witch-woman and a warning to avoid the frozen wastes of western Delranan spread.

* * * * *

Dorl Theed knelt beside the freshly dug grave. He was speechless. Nothol Coll was his best friend and it had nearly broken his heart to return to Arlevon Gale to collect the remains. What little remained of Nothol had been hard to view. No one deserved to die in such a manner and it was all Dorl could do to keep his stomach. Rekka Jel had helped. Her impassive demeanor made the task easier.

They gathered Nothol’s remains and brought them home to a sleepy village south of Chadra where Nothol had grown up. He was given a quiet funeral with but a handful of guests to bear witness. Bahr and the others were there, as were Aurec and Rolnir, Ingrid, Thord, and Krek. It seemed only fitting for the leaders to be present.

That was days ago and only Dorl and Rekka remained. Their bags were packed. Horses were saddled in preparation for the long trip southeast.

Rekka’s slender hand offered just enough pressure to his shoulder to reassure him of her presence. “He was a good man. One of honor.”

“He was my friend,” Dorl replied. “I will miss him.”