Goldenhold
Chapter 23: Hanging Around
Zeon Was at the end of the line, a little too literally for his liking. He held on, the rope starting to fray with the weight of many. His horse dodged the lava and went straight into the abyss. No one heard anything from it. It was too far down. He gripped tighter on to the rope. More pieces of thread came out. Then he heard someone yell that the lava had stopped pouring out.
He didn’t know it, but a part of a soldier that Karakzon cut off had hit the lever back to the off position. A little bit too lucky for him, but he wouldn’t have an empire at his control if he wasn’t at least mildly lucky. He had been through worse than this.
“So we have to wait an hour for the lava to cool? Are you kidding me?” He yelled this to his nearest officer. When the reply was positive, Zeon told everyone to shut up, relax, and move as little as possible.
Everyone complied. There was no dissent. Then minutes went by with no event. Soon half an hour was over. But something had to disturb the peace. Zeon knew luck had a price.
A wounded man dropped off, unable to hold on any longer. Everyone began to scream, the echoes pouring through the gorge. No one heard Zeon to shut up, even though he was yelling at the top of his lungs. Another man gave up on life, his armor shinning as he fell. No one heard the eerie snap of bones, or the splash of lava. In some way, that was more scary.
And more inviting. Somehow it started to edge at the ends of his conscious that perhaps it was fine down there, and that the people down there were yelling for the army to join them. Perhaps they had just landed comfortably in water, and......
His grip loosened. Perhaps..... “It’s starting to turn darker! Yay!”
Zeon was annoyed, but a new strength filled his arms. One for survival.
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The portcullis were weakening with every hit. Archers fired at each other from both sides, the distraction giving the trolls the perfect opportunity to give the gates a final bash in. Everyone who didn’t run in as soon as the gates were down was stampeded over in a frenzy of blood.
Amud sprinted forward, wielding the commanders sword. It had gone through so much, over hundreds of years, that the weapon had received a name. It was called Blade, and was handed down from prime commander to prime commander every generation. It was called that name because it was the only sword with a perfectly refined blade in existence, sharp as possible, some saying even more sharp than that. It was stolen from the dwarves of Goldenhold a few thousand years back while the king was out on an envoy.
He noticed the dwarves were once again gathering heavy infantry, and he couldn’t wait on the trolls to lumber forward in order to squash them. He yelled out a battlecry as he ran foreword, straight into the dwarf line, striking fear into their hearts and making them waver.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”
The rest of his troops recanted that, a horrible sound of screeches and howls. Then they all added, “May Armok drink your blood forever!” He slashed open the shield of a dwarf, cutting it clean in two. The dwarvern steel shined as it fell, only for it’s wielder to give off a look of terror as he found the Blade in his chest, torn out as soon as it entered. Blood spilled the ground and splashed everywhere, pools forming as the fight went on. Ikled sprinted to his next enemy, sliding in the blood to a stop. The dwarf didn’t even feel the Blade in his neck, dying before he even hit the bloodied flooring.
Soon the lines were crushed, the bodies of both sides piled into a ramp against the bridge that originally held the portcullis. The goblins charged up it, their feet burying themselves into the bodies of the dead.
The dwarvern officer had a look of surprise at the way the goblins did things, having no respect for the dead. Bones crushed under the weight of those stampeding over them. Of course he had heard rumors of their brutality and bloodlust, but nothing like this. Some tripped while on the corpses, and after a few people running over the unfortunate goblins, they joined the pile, part of the ramp to victory.
They poured in, attacking the battlements from the hallways. The helpless crossbowdwarves were quickly routed, Ikled ordering their bodies to be thrown into the water to make a bridge over the canal.
One dwarf tried to fake his death though. Amud had special treatment for cowards. After kicking the dwarf, “GET UP YOU COWARD!” He stood, shaking all over. Amud took out his dagger, cutting off the cheeks of the dwarf, then moving to the fingers one by one as other goblins held him. To the invaders, he was just a screaming body without a soul.
After they let his body drain of blood, they threw it in the river for it to join the other corpses. Then they started banging on the doors that made the battlements access the fortress. By taking the short cut, they thought there would be less traps in the way.
Actually, there were no traps left. They had not been expecting a seaside invasion, because one had never occurred. As they slammed down the door, they saw the last gate that accessed both the sea and the land. Archers shot from holes down on them, taking hundreds of casualties.
Karakzon was trapped with those warding off the humans. Amud decided to help them a bit. Kyle would be doing much better with the help of the other party.
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Topic: The Age of Myth: Goldenhold (A DF Novel Length Story) (Read 109694 times)