The recruits stood huddled together, their backs against the polished wall. Another terrifying howl reverberated through the barracks, mingled with the frightened cries of the pack animals pastured outside. This had only been a practice drill, and few of the recruits had any weapon, let alone armor. They were still far from a proper military, and while Dwarobaki's doomsday speech had been overly dramatic, he was right about one thing: They all lacked discipline.
"What are we going to do?" asked Rovod, a broad-shouldered wood cutter turned axedwarf. "What IS that thing?"
"I don't know", said Thob, who had been fortunate enough to receive a newly forged copper battle axe when they drew straws for equipment. "I don't know, but we have to do SOMETHING!" She steeled herself and motioned for the door. The recruits turned their frightened eyes towards her.
"But Officer Dwarobaki said-," began one of them.
She turned around. "I don't care what Officer Di-Sci-Pline says! I haven't come this far to die in submission! Riding the caravan through that accursed swamp for months, while goblins made away with our young ones at night and peppered us with their crossbows by day, and all I could do was hide under the tarp, praying that they'd leave us alone! Well, I'm done hiding! I will NOT stand by and watch our livestock getting slaughtered by some wild beast, while our superiors twiddle their beards! By Armok, I'm going out there to kill that thing, whether it'll be the end of me or not!" She disappeared through the door. Rovod hurried after her, and left the others in fear.
The full moon was bathing the Peak in a silver glow. It would have been a beautiful night, if not for the grotesque sight that met the two recruits as they crept out of the tunnel. A monstrous, corpulent hulk of shaggy, blood-stained fur and gnashing teeth was in the process of devouring a poor donkey, shaking it around with its head locked in its maw, its red eyes glowing madly with hunger. The other animals were pulling at their restraints with all their might to escape the abomination, crying out in terror. Thob and Rovod had walked straight into a waking nightmare.
But Thob was not afraid. She had been afraid for far too long. All she felt as she charged forwards was the warmth of her axe, and a burning, all-consuming desire to remove this creature of the night from the face of the Earth. Remembering the name of her village which no longer existed, she channeled it into a roaring battle cry and plunged her axe into the monster's bloated belly, for when a dwarf is about to die, their last thoughts are of home.
"FOR KHAZ MODAAAAAAAN!!!"
Lega was utterly surprised. His teeth were sunk deep into his prey, and he had been looking forward to enjoying the feast. How could a defenseless animal hurt him so, he who had the strength of the Moon in his blood? No, it was something else, an attacker he could not see! He thrashed around violently to free his mouth of the donkey's head, only to feel his left arm explode in agony as the sharpness bit through his hide once more. With a final heave he liberated himself from his meal, and now his source of pain was visible. A short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry was slashing at him with an axe. He roared in fury and threw himself upon her, but Thob merely jumped out of the way, and the clumsy beast lost its balance. "DIE! DIE! DIE!", she screamed repeatedly as she unleashed her rage on its exposed right side, carving dwarven history into the beast's arms and legs, where its unholy strength was now ebbing out through numerous wounds.
"PRIVATE THOB!" yelled a voice and cut through the crimson fog that had consumed Thob. She turned her head and saw a group of dwarves running towards her. Rovod had run back to wake Officer Burnie from his sleep, and they were now joining the fray along with Officers Wallace and Dwarobaki, and the rest of the recruits.
"Relax," she shouted, and gave the monster a last hack in the paw, grinning ecstatically as she got to her feet. "There's enough of him left for all of you!"
Her triumphant smile was replaced with a look of surprise as her left arm caught on fire. She looked down to see rows of serrated teeth locked around her biceps, and then the beast rolled over, dragging her to the ground with vengeful malice in its eyes, their fierce glow now reduced to a slow burn. Thob screamed in pain as she hacked desperately at it with her axe, giving it wounds that would have killed any natural being, but an avatar of the Moon is not undone so easily, and the last thing she saw was its maw closing around her head.
"NOOOOOOOO!" yelled Burnie and closed the remaining Urists between him and the beast in the blink of an eye. His bismuth bronze axe severed its right paw with a mighty cleave, and he proceeded to furiously hack it to pieces, aided by Rovod and the unarmed Endok, who made up for her lack of weaponry with a strong right hook.
It was Rovod who gave the beast its death knell, buring her axe so deep in its thigh that only the shaft was visible, but they all knew that the kill rightfully belonged to Thob. The beast gurgled its last stinking breath, and was dead.
The dwarves stood there, panting. Then Rovod fell over. Copious amounts of blood were running down her left leg. In the heat of battle she had been so focused on hurting the beast, she had forgot to keep an eye on its teeth. Now she was lying on the ground clutching her ruined leg, her breath rapid and her face pale.
"Rovod! Private Rovod, listen to me!" Burnie knelt down and looked into her face. "You're going to be all right. Lie down on your back, like that. There, now hold your leg up high, keep it far from the heart. You're going to be all right, you hear me?"
"Unnngghhh," moaned Thob.
All of the dwarves, including Burnie and Rovod, looked at her. There was more of her on the ground than inside her. How could she possibly still be alive?
"Will," she coughed up a glob of blood, "will... someone get this... stinking furball... off of me?" She made a weak attempt at moving the beast's arm, which was still pinning her to the ground. "It's, *cough*, it's... bleeding all over my clothes."
The dwarves all looked at each other, struck dumb in the face of such heroism. Wallace was the first to snap out of his confusion. "MEDIC!" he yelled. "We need a medic!"
The next month:Wallace was brooding in his room. He could not sleep, and polishing his new silver warhammer gave him no solace. Inside him was beating a war drum, the same drum that sounded its steady rhythm every time he was in combat, the one that had made him the soldier he was and saved him so many times, slowing down time and the motions of his enemies, turning them into sluggish clay figures. He knew enough to trust the drum. But why was it still beating, now that the battle had long since ended?
Thob and Rovod had both received a hero's welcome upon their return to the fortress, and a great celebration party was to be held in their honor three days from now. In a miraculous display of fortitude, Thob had not only recovered from her grievous wounds, but was actually sparring in the armory, and Rovod was steadily recuperating in the newly built hospital in the barracks, where Elagn and Neblime were busy installing a new set of fortifications. The entrance rooms there were to be sealed off by walls that could raise and lower at the pull of a lever, mighty walls that were impossible to breach. When the walls were up and the drawbridges raised, Ilrom Ziril would be impermeable. With such fighters under his command, and the fortress so secure, any chief of military should be able to rest at ease. Boom... boom... boom, went the drum.
Wallace got out of his bed and meandered down the hallway, heading for the Glow platform. The heat and smoke up there always helped him think. It was something about that beast, something lurking in the back of his head, a single fact that he had overlooked, one of crucial importance. But what? And he was certain that he had seen such a beast before, but where? He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he collided with Peregar, who was on her way in the same direction as him, and he knocked the ore she had been carrying out of her hands so it clattered all over the floor.
"My deepest apologies m'lady," he said, and bowed. "Forgive a clumsy old soldier for not seeing where he's going. I might as well resign my post and get a job as a cheesemaker."
"Oh think nothing of it, sir!" said Peregar and blushed, her eyes wandering over Wallace's ancient, weathered breastplate, its texture only slightly distinguishable from that of his tanned, muscular arms. "I should be more careful! Umm, do you... want to help me carry this up to the platform?" She beat her eyes at him and breathed heavily.
"Nothing would please me more, m'lady. In fact I was heading that way myself."
He helped her pick up the ore, and they carried it up to the metalworks. Iamblichos had grudgingly gone to bed on strict command from Magnus, but Taupe was there, working her magic on what was to be a new shield. The moon shone down on them, and the Glow shone up on them. It was one of the most serene sights a dwarf could ever hope to see.
Wallace stood in the middle of the platform and watched Peregar as she loaded the ore into the furnace and began treading the lava pump. The furnace made a muffled hissing noise as the blood of Armok came in contact with the ore and began to purify it. A red glow welled up in its two air intakes. It all reminded Wallace of the way the Beast's eyes had glowed at him as it hissed its last breath. It had looked directly at him, and its eyes had been full of...
Then it struck him. He had seen the life extinguished in more eyes than he could count, and he knew what that looked like. It was a look of peaceful resignation, as the fallen accepted their defeat and let go of their desires. But the Beast's eyes had not looked like that. They had been full of satisfaction, the eyes of the victorious. The beast had
won. And now Wallace knew where he had seen such eyes before. It was on an engraving in the barracks back in the Still Shield. The engraving had been of the killing of a werewolf, who had terrorized the Mountainhome many years before Wallace had been born. But Wallace knew that part of the story well, and he also knew how it continued. Clang... clang... clang, went Taupe's hammer.
"Hey Wallace", said Taupe and lifted the shield out of the cooling trough, "come here and tell me what you think of this," but Wallace was no longer there.
Two days later:It was either very late, or very early, and Wallace was getting rather tired. They had been walking for hours, and his arthritis was bothering him. His companions had given up asking him questions after a while, and now followed him in silence. Even the donkey had stopped braying. The woods around them were quiet and peaceful, the sun was on its way up and there was not a breath of wind, but Wallace was in no mood to enjoy the scenery.
Eventually they came to a clearing in the woods, and Wallace stopped. The others did the same. He released the rabbit from its cage, and led the donkey into the middle of the clearing. Behind them, in the distance, was the Peak.
"We're here," said Wallace.
"All right," said Rovod, who had been walking on a crutch the entire time, yet she did not look the least bit tired. Thob was standing next to her, looking very skeptical. "Mind telling us what this special assignment is all about now, sir? You do realize we're missing our own party?"
Wallace looked at them. He had always believed in action over words, but now it seemed he would have to weigh his next ones very carefully.
"Thob," he said after looking at her for a while. "Do you think it's strange, that just two weeks after that beast nearly bit your head off, you were up and about, fencing in the armory?"
Thob looked at him. "I've always been quick to heal. But yeah, I thank my stars every night."
"Every night," repeated Wallace. "Do you sleep well at night then?"
Thob paused for a while before she replied. "No, sir. I don't sleep much. I'm not tired, though. Maybe I'm still in shock, I don't know. But I feel great, actually!"
"Yeah, me too," added Rovod. "We're both doing fine. If you're worried about us, sir, you really needn't be. Now, if it's all right that I ask, what is our mission here?"
Wallace stroked his beard. This beating around the bush suited him ill, and he had never been much of a wordsmith. He took a deep breath.
"That thing that attacked us, and put you two in the hospital, it was no ordinary wild animal. I've looked over the few history books we brought with us from the Still Shield, and compared the date we got attacked with the moon phases. It all fits." He sighed. "It was a werecreature of some sort. When you get bitten by one of those, it puts a curse on you, and every full moon from then on, you change into one of them. I'm sorry."
Their mouths fell open. Wallace couldn't help but notice that their teeth were unusually sharp, and the upper front ones had grown by almost a Urist. He shuddered, and continued.
"This mission, well, truth be told it was just something I said. The reason we're here..." He steeled himself. "It's to get you away from the party. And the fortress. I don't know if you'll be able to control yourselves when you change, from what I've gathered it seems that you lose your minds when it happens. And the reason why we brought the animals along, well... Hopefully they'll keep you occupied so you won't be following my trail back to the Peak. My arthritis tells me it's going to rain tomorrow, and that's when I've calculated that your change will happen. On the 16th of Galena. Hopefully that'll wash away my scent."
"This can't be true!" cried Rovod. "You're making this up!"
"Feel your teeth, Rovod," said Wallace quietly. "Think those were meant for chewing plums and pears? Speaking of which, how long has it been since any of you ate?"
"But we just haven't been hungry! We've been drinking loads of booze!"
"Yeah, you have," said Wallace. "But it's also a fact that we don't have any meat in the larder, and I get the feeling that you two have lost your appetite for fruit salads. Seeing as you've been staring at that rabbit with a bad look in your eyes ever since we left, Rovod. And also, I took a look in your ration bag, Thob. It's got two pears in it, and they're both rotten." Thob looked down, and Rovod fell silent. Then she started crying. "I'm so sorry," said Wallace.
"Don't be," said Thob. "It's true. I can feel it. Every night it's like I can sense the moon, and it's calling for me. It wants me out there, killing... eating. And it's made me stronger. If it's true as you say, that it only happens every full moon, then maybe it isn't a curse? Maybe we can use it to our advantage?" She stepped up to Wallace and put her hand on his shoulder. "I will fight for you, sir. I would die for you. And if this condition helps me do it better, it would be a waste to throw it away. Please, sir. Don't cast us out." Rovod looked absolutely terrified, and Wallace's drum was beating again.
"We will see," he said, and slowly removed her arm. "I'm going to leave you now, and I'll come back tomorrow night. If you're still... you, then you can come back with me. If not, then... We'll see." He cast a pitying look at the sobbing mess on the ground that was Rovod, and left the clearing.
It was a deathly tired Wallace that returned to the fortress at dusk. Walking uphill had been harder than walking down, and it was about to get dark. "The moon will be up soon," he thought to himself. "Hope it'll be on our side tomorrow. I'd rather not have to make that walk again, only to have it end with..."
Then he realized what a fool he had been. He had assumed that the changes occurred every 28 days, and that the last one had been on the 18th of Malachite. But it took the better part of a day to walk up the Peak. Now, why would any human have done that, unless it had had a good reason? Unless...
"Unless he had changed the night before, and was following the scent of all the animals that were chained up outside!" He had got the dates wrong! The change was tonight! Wallace looked down at the earth. It was dry as bone, it had not rained for weeks. They would trace his scent back to the fortress, and then... He dared not think what would happen if two of those werebeasts were to assault them, with the walls incomplete. And they would be armed, to boot!
No time. "Magnus must know of this," he thought, and stormed inside. He was gasping for air, but he had to find her and prepare a defense, or they would all be butchered. "Where's Magnus?!" he shouted when he reached the workshops, nearly collapsing from fatigue. A hauler pointed at Magnus' workshop. He ran up to her, only to find her completely delirious, not responding to a word he said.
"Oh no. Not this again. Not now!" He hastened back to the hauler, and shook him violently. "How do we get her to snap out of this?! Tell me! What does she want?"
"I-I think she wants wood, sir! It's hard to tell!" the hauler stuttered.
"Well, give her the wood then!"
"We can't!" said the hauler, exasperated. "There none of it left! She used it all on bins last week, and our other woodcutter's gone out to find her donkey, she said someone took it! It's like she's got some weird psychic link with it, she always knows where it is! I'm sorry sir, I really am!"
"Her donkey," said Wallace, and started laughing. He laughed, and laughed, and could not stop. Madness embraced him, and he fell to the floor, still laughing hysterically. "HER DONKEY!"
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Topic: Ilrom Ziril: The Peak of Fire (Read 32741 times)