A Whisper After Midnight (26 page)

“Sometimes it’s not what you say,” he told Faeldrin.

The Elf merely nodded, memories of his own trials casually playing out before him. There was a time he might have been a king, before he decided to sacrifice the security and ease of a simple life for the greater good of not just the Elves, but for all of the races of Malweir. He’d never looked back, never questioned that decision. Faeldrin convinced himself that he had done the right thing. Sometimes even heroes needed to be reluctant.

Another Elf strode towards them, stopping respectfully short and bowing. “My lords, our scouts report seeing a large force of Dwarves moving back through the forest. The Men are with them as well.”

“It’s about bloody time,” Thord growled.

Faeldrin said, “Thank you, Euorn. Summon the others. I have a feeling the final battle is about to begin much sooner than anticipated. Oh, and see that Captain Ironfoot and the Sea Wolf are escorted here immediately.”

“Stop berating yourself, Ironfoot. You did good. You all did.”

Ironfoot struggled to meet Thord’s gaze. Deep in his heart he knew the words to be true, but that did little to assuage his guilt over losing half of his attack force. Enemy casualties notwithstanding, Ironfoot performed his duties admirably. Victory and honor were heaped upon his name. Scribes were already fastidiously composing his tale for the archives. Lore masters would tell of his valor in every hall east and west of the Kergland Spine. All Dwarves would bow their head in respect to Ironfoot and his raiders.

None of that mattered. He’d lost good friends destroying the enemy cannons. Good friends whose empty seats would fill his heart with sorrow come the morrow. He sighed and tried to accept Thord’s words. Try as he might, he couldn’t find solace. The war had already claimed too many and hundreds more were going to die when the sun rose. Ironfoot would be there, at the head of the advance. His axe would reap vengeance for lost friends.

“Sire, too many did not return. That is unforgivable,” he replied dourly.

Boen looked at Bahr and rolled his eyes. A true warrior never apologized for surviving. Especially not after successfully completing a difficult mission. These Dwarves should be celebrating, not mourning as far as he was concerned.
War does strange things to us all
. Bahr took it in with his usual demeanor. He sympathized with Ironfoot, images of the
Dragon’s Bane
burning to the water line and his crew killed on a whim fleeting past. He knew exactly what the Dwarf was feeling. The helplessness of not being able to do anything was strong, so strong it threatened to overwhelm those not strong enough.

Thord waved off Ironfoot’s concerns. “Many more will not return from this next fight. It is a small matter, Captain. We are at war and I need you to act like one of my best commanders. Can you do that?”

Bahr watched Ironfoot’s resolve stiffen his back. The Dwarf stood tall, head back and chest out. He had remembered his pride. “Yes sire. I’ll head back to my battalion and get them ready.”

“Good lad,” Thord complimented. “You’re already a hero, Ironfoot, don’t let it go to your head and act foolish out there.”
Not like your fool of a king
.

Ironfoot saluted and turned to Bahr. “I cannot thank you enough for your assistance. You have done our clans a great service. If ever you need my axe, you shall have it.”

“The honor was mine, Captain Ironfoot. May fortune favor you in the coming battle,” Bahr replied with a forced smile. Having seen the size of the enemy force, he didn’t know how anyone was going to survive.

“He’s one of my best,” Thord said thoughtfully after Ironfoot was out of sight. “Would that I had more commanders as capable, this war wouldn’t have happened. Hindsight is the great lament of kings. Sea Wolf, you have upheld your part of the bargain. The enemy won’t be able to use their cannons to stop my infantry advance. What Ironfoot said goes for me as well. I name you all Dwarf-friend.”

Bahr bowed at the great honor. What little he knew about Dwarves suggested the title was not given freely, or without cost. He and his friends had paid enough. It was time to leave and continue on with his quest. “Thank you, King Thord.”

“Unfortunately I can’t let you leave just yet. There is the small matter of a rather large and very angry army between you and the river. Have no fear. We’ll have them cleared out and sent crawling back to their caves in short order. I anticipate you being able to depart by dawn,” Thord said.

Not what I needed to hear but without Anienam’s correct deciphering of the book we don’t know how much time is left. I need to get back and find out what the delay is
. “I understand, though I would rather leave as soon as possible,” replied Bahr.

“You may return freely to Drimmen Delf. Eat, bathe, and sleep. Your wagon will be supplied, weapons sharpened, and I’ll see to it that you have enough supplies to last a month of travel. I’d weigh you down with gold if I thought you could use it,” he added as an afterthought.

A lesser person would have demanded payment but Thord recognized the honor inherent in Bahr.
This is a Man who is good for his word. The world would be a better place if more strove to be like him
.

They paused to watch Anienam and Skuld amble up the soft slope of Bode Hill. The look in the wizard’s eyes was wild, unpredictable. Bahr grimaced. The old fool clearly had something cooked up.

“Wizard,” Thord said in greeting. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

“Wars are mundane, Dwarf-lord, but sometimes unavoidable. While I didn’t come to help you fight there are certain advantages to having a wizard on your side.”

Bahr felt his stomach tighten.
What are you up to
?

Thord eyed Anienam briefly, searching for signs of madness or genius. “What did you have in mind? It’s about to get nasty out there.”

“I have a few spells worked up that will aid your warriors during the advance. I don’t promise victory, mind you, just a little unexpected help.”

“Are you sure about this?” Bahr asked. Not what he wanted to say, but this wasn’t the place for arguments. Already the first battalions of Dwarves were assembling in formation. Time slowly ran off.

Anienam winked slyly. “Of course. There’s no real danger to me and any army welcomes as much aid as they can get. Hopefully I can speed the battle along and get us moving south again. In a way, I need to do this.”

Answerless, Bahr shrugged and took his leave. He’d seen and done enough. Standing idly by to watch hundreds of Dwarves die didn’t do much for his stomach. Besides, sleep beckoned. He slung his pack over a shoulder and headed towards the trail leading back to Drimmen Delf. The others followed suit, all but Boen. The Gaimosian stood and looked out over the battlefield. His eyes were clouded with debate. The warrior blood demanded he armor up and join the attack. It’s what Gaimosians were born and bred for. Age and prudence demanded otherwise. Reluctantly, he gave in to common sense and followed Bahr. He’d seen enough war for the time being.

Bode Hill

Dawn was especially cold. Evergreens taller than Groge swayed in the breeze. Ice crystals filled the air. Exposed flesh burned from the touch and soldiers shivered uncontrollably as their bodies struggled to find warmth. There would be plenty of heat coming soon enough. Thousands of Dwarves in full armor stood in ranks two hundred across and twenty deep. All waited for the deep horns bellowing across the snow-covered field. The call to charge.

For most it was long overdue. The Black Hammer clan insulted them just by being in the valley. Commerce all but stopped. The Dwarves of Drimmen Delf found themselves isolated for the first time since the Mage Wars, centuries ago. Removing the dark Dwarves opened the path to liberty and a return to normalcy. It ended six months of stalemate and stagnation. Victory lay on the other side of the wide valley.

Anxiety spread through the ranks. Most had seen enough of war and were eager to go back to their normal lives. Drimmen Delf had no standing army. Each Dwarf assembled had another profession but answered the call, as all good Dwarves should, when the invasion began. Those too wounded to be returned to duty frowned and stewed as their comrades prepared for the assault while others managed to sneak from the hospital tents and join the rear ranks.

Banners and pennants waved over the army, each battalions’ standard, crisp and saluting a long, distinguished heritage. The very air was electrified with excitement. Waves of frosty breath mingled with the ice. Hands clenched axe hafts. Hearts beat loud. Murmurs and general chitchat circulated the ranks, preventing boredom from setting in. After all, the soldier’s life was to hurry up and wait.

Thord had snuck away from the command bunker with a handful of his closest advisors to be with the cannon crews in the moments before the battle began. He needed the time away from maps, troop dispositions, and strategies. The fresh air cleared his mind and prepared him for what came next. Ice and snow clung to his beard like old friends. His eyes, normally dark from being underground, were bright and shining. He glanced skyward and was surprised to find he wasn’t disappointed with the sun being concealed behind an ocean of grey-black clouds.

“A good day for a fight,” he commented.

“Not so good for those bastards on the other side of the field,” Brek replied just as casually.

“No. I don’t imagine it will be, but make no mistakes about their ferocity. We’ve taken their long range weapons but not their will to fight. They’ll dig in like badgers and make us earn every inch of ground.”

Brek yawned. “We’ve got all of the advantages, sire. Our cannons were moved closer to deliver maximum firepower down on their trench lines and we have close to one thousand muskets issued to the front ranks with enough ammunition to sustain ten salvos. The Black Hammer will break and fold.”

Muskets. Thord snorted. There was a time when Dwarves fought with axe and iron. Engineers accidentally discovered gunpowder and it wasn’t long before idle minds turned it into weapon-grade material. Warfare changed forever that day. Weapons now had range and were three times as lethal as any catapult or trebuchet. They had the ability to kill far more than anything the Dwarves had used before.

Dwarves trained daily to improve marksmanship. The sounds of gunfire transformed large halls into firing ranges and echoed a hellish roar throughout the hold. Cannon crews practiced gunnery for hours a day. Scorpions and ballistae were steadily phased out. Thord despised the gunpowder weapons but was forced to recognize their importance to the future. Thus far only the Dwarves had such weapons, but that wouldn’t last. Soon enough all of the kingdoms of Malweir would wage wars with musket and cannon. The death toll would be catastrophic.

None of that concerned the Dwarf king. His sole problem lay in the six-thousand-plus army threatening to steal his kingdom. Rumors said the Black Hammer clan had been bribed with untold riches and power by secretive dark powers. Thord thought the notion foolish, until Bahr and the others were brought to Drimmen Delf and explained their quest. Now the idea held greater portent. He became more convinced that the Black Hammer clan needed to be destroyed to the point where they’d never be able to rebuild. Total annihilation was the only way to ensure his victory and see peace return to the Kergland Spine.

“We still have to get through their trenches,” Thord offered.

Brek snorted. “Easy enough. We’ve got ladders and breeching equipment. If worse comes to worse we can turn their own gear against them. I don’t see this being an issue.”

“You could show a bit of modesty. I appreciate your zeal and boasting as much as the next Dwarf, but we’re fighting our kin. Not some Goblin rabble with their heads stuck up their asses. I am worried, Brek. We have never fought a war like this,” Thord confided.

“War is war. It doesn’t matter who the enemy is. We will crush them all the same. I have no doubts about our forces, sire.” He lowered his voice so only the king could hear. “We will win the day and take the field.”

“You’re sure you can do this?”

Brek only smiled before storming off to take his place at the front of the advance. Dwarves cheered as he strode past. Axes were thumped against chest armor. Booted feet stamped the cold, frozen ground. Brek’s zeal transferred to the rank and file. What he believed, they did. He was the fire in the forge, the shining example of what a true hero should be. Each and every Dwarf believed General Brek was about to lead them to victory.

Thord watched his most competent general march through the formation, slapping shoulders and sharing laughs. There was a Dwarf bound for greatness.
Much like myself, long ago. Where did those days go? Am I to spend the rest of my life watching others reap the glory while I sit back and receive the credit?
Jealousy was a base emotion that even a king wasn’t above. He reluctantly admitted he wished he and Brek reversed roles. That he alone stood at the end of the battle and raised the banner of Drimmen Delf. Disappointed, he headed back to the command bunker. There wasn’t anything left for the king to do here.

“A magnificent sight, don’t you think?” Thord asked with pride.

His legions stretched out before him, a mighty metal phalanx strong enough to crush any opponent. A brief hint of sunlight snuck through the clouds long enough to shine on the Dwarven army. Rarely had Anienam seen such majesty. The wizard admired the Dwarves for a moment longer before turning back to Skuld.