Goldenhold
Chapter 39: Trial By Demigod
Zeon decided to ask another question before Stonehand had time to mention something about his life, one of his deepest secrets. Something made him think that Stonehand was the avatar of some greater power, or the disciple of one.
Unfortunately, he was right.
“Brave dwarf, what was your profession before this? Most dwarves would have backed down, and many are already cowering in their homes out of fear for their lives. Better question, what makes you stay?”
He responded, taking two seconds to think up a response, and in a impossibly deep tone he spoke out, “I was a fisherdwarf. But that does not matter at all. I am the final defender of this fortress. I have an intent to fight you all away.” He said this with such power, but with such calm also that both armies that stood in front of him felt an impulse to run from a man so confident to laugh at death in the face. “Brave human, what would you say your profession is, and why are you in a position to question me?”
Didn’t he already know my name? He should know! I’ll make him answer. “Why don’t you tell me, sir Stonehand? I’m certain your wisdom surpasses mine. So deep down, why am I here?” He was using that tone of sarcasm where it was half lie, but for the other half it was true. When you want to pretend that you want something so your really get it. But if he knew what Stonehand was about to say to him, he would have answered quickly, A General King, Dwarf. Now step aside or face my wrath.
The response though was filled with such anger and truth though that the general of the invaders went white faced at it’s response, turning into snow for a few moments in the stream of time. “You are a king, sir Zeon. You only fight for greed!, you even said so yourself!”
Zeon, terrified by this claim, shouted back, “I fight for the land and wealth of my people!”
“Lies! You want it for yourself! You say that, backing up your past in such a way to make you avoid feeling guilt! But in the end you became what you fought! Such trickery is worse than that of the elves!” Zeon went speechless. His troops looked at him, loyalties wavering.
People on the invaders side raised the question, “Is this true? This dwarf wouldn’t lie, right?”
The dwarf’s voice suddenly shifted to that of sympathy, sorrow for the poor tormented soul of this mortal standing if front of him for his judgement, a court before him. “Remember back when you were just a kid, a poor fourteen year old running away from the horde that killed your farming family? Those were goblins, yes? Butchered your parents and took your sister, your one prize jewel from you? How you vowed to take them off of your homeland and joined the army?” He said this sweetly, “Wouldn’t you rather have things they were then, when your life was simple and all you had to do was farm? Did you enjoy the fact that you joined the army as a runaway farm boy? Was that worth it? I think we all know family is more than wealth.”
Zeon yelled angrily, his eyes watering at the painful memories he had tried to forget so long ago, “Shut up! How the hell do you know this?”
Ignoring the question, the dwarf continued his mesmerization of the humans and the goblins. The next part wasn’t quite as nice, losing the innocent tone. “You didn’t think it was worth it when you had become and officer either. You passion quickly drove you to rank, not for the prestige, the land, or even the wealth that would come with it, but passion for revenge! Because of this, you protected your troops! You were punished for it! By this point, you had driven the goblins off the land with the army, and your new goal was to rid the empire of it’s injustices! Vengeance led you to topple it! The people cried praises when you rose to the throne not out of praises of wealth, but out of praises of incorruption, equality, fairness, a caring king! And your passion drove you there, to victory, to be loved! But do you really have passion as you stand here now? Do you think your people would really trade the lives of their sons and their husbands for a lot of gold? Did you think it was worth it when you made that exchange in the walls of Goldenhold?”
Zeon had tears rolling down his cheek, as no one had brought this argument against him in a while. But the next part drove him to anger.
“If you were a good king, for your people like you used to be, you would have stayed at home and ended the goblin invasion that is pouring onto the northern edge of your kingdom right now, butchering your villagers, those who depend on you!” Stonehand stood from the throne, lifting up a large sack with his right hand.
Zeon screamed at him, reaching his breaking point completely. “I am the human king and I didn’t come here for a philosophical debate! Kill him!” His army hesitated, but one by one they drew their swords, each encouraged by the previous one. After all, they had killed Karakzon, who was insane. The captain fell eventually also, and so would this lone dwarf. They began to charge across emerald floor, thousands of feet at once.
The lone dwarf threw off the brown cloak, threw off the sack, and showed what he wore beneath it. He donned a wondrous light blue cape, with gold trim on it. Etched with ocean blue thread were pictures of a fisherdwarf, a dowhakus, and showings of it being slain. It had other etchings in it, but the humans and goblin combined army was too busy looking at his other items to pay much attention to the cape.
The armor beneath the cape was colored gold, which was impossible to make armor from. In the centerpiece of the breastplate was a sapphire shaped like a trout, with a ruby eye glaring out into the army. He wore no helmet, his beard instead stuffed into the platinum belt he wore, although it was singed at the edges of his hair.
His weapon was the most impressive however, a two handed war hammer. However, the head of the hammer was ridiculous, having a two square foot head that was three feet long, made of an evil black stone, the same as the throne he just rose from. It menaced with three spikes of adamantine from the top, evenly spaced and jutting halfway forwards, directly up, and halfway backwards. The edges of the hammer were trimmed with gold once again, and the handle of the hammer made of bronze and silver spiraling downwards.
He yelled with many voices in one, “For the Fortress, For Goldenhold!” In three steps he traveled 500 yards and swung his hammer for the first bloodshed into a combination of goblins and humans, sending twenty flying.
Author
Topic: The Age of Myth: Goldenhold (A DF Novel Length Story) (Read 110462 times)