Chaos Descending (30 page)

“It might also weaken all these shafts,”
Reenah said. “I don’t like the thought of being crushed by the mountain.”

Zollin didn’t like that thought either, and his foolhardy idea sent a tingle of fear down his back. He slumped against the tunnel wall and waited. There was nothing else to do. His breathing was just getting back to normal when the fighting started. The oremites marched through the tunnel single file, raising their shovel-shaped blades to attack Moss, but the dwarf was a deadly fighter. His long-handled war hammer smashed bodies and broke limbs. The oremites had a longer reach than Moss, but his smaller body and shorter limbs were not as restricted by the narrow tunnel, and soon a pile of dead insectile bodies clogged the tunnel.

Zollin, Reenah, and Moss fell back as the oremites removed the bodies of their fallen hive mates. They acted without any outward sign of concern for the comrades they had lost, or of their own safety.

“They don’t seem too distraught by their losses,”
Zollin said.

“They have no conscious mind,”
Reenah said. “They are controlled by their queen.”

“Makes sense, I guess,”
Zollin said. “Their heads are mostly thick bone.”

Moss grunted and Zollin realized the mute dwarf was laughing.

“They are like extensions of their queen, which is why they fight so fiercely," Reenah explained. "They are not burdened with fear or remorse. They have no qualms about murdering the innocent, or wiping out entire clans. They are a blight on the mountain, weakening it as they consume the minerals. It is said that if left unchecked, they will destroy entire ranges of mountains.”

Zollin couldn’t help but shudder at the though, but then more of the strange creatures were coming at them. This time they crawled along the roof of the tunnel, which while narrow, was tall—Moss and Reenah wouldn’t be able to reach them. He took the lead and sent a wave of fire rushing through the tunnel. The screams of the burning oremites sent chills down his back.

Once more the trio retreated down the tunnel, stopping this time at a place where the ceiling lowered. Zollin felt slightly ashamed standing back and letting Reenah take the fight to the oremites, but his feelings changed as he watched the dwarf maiden wage war. She was faster than Moss and absolutely ruthless. She wielded a smaller hammer than her companion, holding it with her left hand and stabbing with a heavy hax knife in the other. Dwarves usually preferred war hammers to swords, but most carried hax knives, which were more tool than weapon. The blade ran straight from the handle for several inches, then angled slightly, and was used for everything from cutting food, to prying rock loose when digging for gems or precious metals. The way Reenah used her hax knife, it was obviously useful in hacking off limbs as well.

The oremites had thick black blood, which soon spattered the tunnel walls. The long, thin limbs were severed easily, and as Reenah fell back step by deadly step, she filled the corridor with the dead insectoids. Eventually she tired, and Moss took her place. The oremites were becoming skilled at removing the bodies of their fallen comrades as they fought, so the dwarves were forced to keep up their onslaught. When Moss faltered, Zollin stepped in again. This time he sent a bolt of magical energy as far down the tunnel as he could manage. Many of the creatures were killed instantly, while others were burned. The spell left him gasping for breath, but it gave the trio the time they needed to retreat once more.

“What now?”
Zollin asked as they hurried through the tunnel.

“We’ve reached the lake at Erendruss,”
Reenah said. “We’ll make our final stand there.”

The words
final
stand
struck Zollin hard. He realized that unless the attack on the hive queen was successful soon, he and the dwarves would be slaughtered. It was a jagged pill to swallow, and Zollin’s mind rejected it completely. He refused to think about death, refused to accept that there was no alternative. He just needed to find a way to overcome the thousands of oremites that were bent on his destruction.

Then they came to the cavern called Erendruss, and Zollin was dumbfounded by the paradise of the dwarves.

Chapter 29

The trail that led to Zollin’s cottage was screened from view by a copse of willow trees. When Quinn came around the small grove, he found a group of almost twenty men watching the home and workshop burn. They didn’t see Quinn and he didn’t make a sound until he was among the men, pushing his way through the group to reach the front where Kurchek was gleefully watching the buildings burn.

Quinn shoved him hard, sending the bigger man sprawling on the ground. There were gasps of surprise, but the group immediately spread out into a circle around Quinn and Kurchek. The miner got to his feet slowly, his face twisted into a hateful snarl. Many of the men began to cheer him on, but Quinn barely noticed. His anger burned hotter than the fires consuming Zollin’s home.

“What the hell are you doing here?”
Kurchek said.

“Finishing what you started this morning,”
Quinn said, his voice tight with fury.

“I don’t know—”

Quinn stepped forward and hit the larger man in the nose. It wasn’t a powerful blow; Quinn was relying on speed rather than strength to shut the miner up. It worked. Kurchek staggered back, both eyes watering, and a trickle of blood seeped out of one nostril into the man’s filthy mustache.

“You waylaid me this morning,”
Quinn said. “Now you and your lackeys are burning my son’s home.”

“You bastard!”
Kurchek screamed.

Then there was no more time for talking. The bigger man rushed toward Quinn, whose own adrenaline and anger had vanquished his fatigue and pain from being knocked unconscious earlier in the day. Kurchek was taller and wider than the wiry carpenter, but Quinn was strong and fast. He sidestepped at the last second and delivered a powerful blow to Kurchek’s kidney. As the miner spun around, throwing a wild haymaker in the process, Quinn danced away. He stayed on the balls of his feet, ready to move and dodge when he needed to. Kurchek lumbered toward him again, and as he had in the first attack, Quinn slipped out of reach, this time kicking the miner in the side of his knee.

Kurchek stumbled but didn’t fall. He was shouting in anger, and his friends were screaming for him to land a blow. The entire mob knew, just as Quinn did, that it would only take one punch by Kurchek to turn the tide. Quinn hadn’t been able to set his feet and put real power into any of his attacks yet, but he wanted Kurchek angry. And he also wanted to humiliate the bigger man. Quinn had no illusions about what would happen once the miner was defeated. Most of the mob that had come to Zollin’s cottage would be shamed, but Kurchek’s friends would attack Quinn all at once. He would either be stabbed in the back or beaten to death, but everything Quinn had to live for was gone. Zollin and Brianna had left the Great Valley, Mansel and Nycol were nowhere to be found, and now their homes were burning to the ground. Quinn had done so much for the people of Brighton’s Gate, but they had never truly accepted him. Now they would have to survive without him.

When Kurchek attacked the third time, he was expecting Quinn to slip away again, which was why Quinn stood his ground. Kurchek’s attack was little more than a feint; he swung at Quinn, but there was no strength in the punch. He had hoped to pounce on the smaller man when he dodged, but Quinn didn’t move. He raised his arm to block the punch then grabbed Kurchek’s beard. Quinn saw the look of terror in the bigger man’s eyes as Quinn tugged his face down and slammed the heel of his hand into Kurchek’s face so hard it shattered the miner’s nose.

Kurchek staggered back then fell, his hands clutching his face where blood was gushing from his ruined nose. Quinn could have fallen on the man, used his knife and ended the hateful miner’s life, but he didn’t. Instead he waited patiently, taunting the bigger man a little.

“That should improve your looks a little,”
Quinn said.

Kurchek roared, then had to spit blood as he got back to his feet. Quinn tensed for the attack he knew was coming, and didn’t see the man who rushed at him from behind. A shoulder slammed into Quinn’s back and sent him sprawling. Before Quinn could recover, Kurchek was on top of him, driving a knee down into Quinn’s chest. All the air in Quinn’s lungs, along with his strength, was driven out of him by the miner’s weight. Quinn saw sparks of light dancing in his vision as he struggled to suck in air to refill his lungs. He felt the blood from Kurchek’s ruined nose dripping down onto his face. His hands came up to twist Kurchek’s foot and relieve the pressure on his chest, but then the first punch landed.

Kurchek’s hands were large, and the punch landed on Quinn’s left cheekbone, slamming his head back into the ground. For a long second the world went dark, and then reality came flooding back as the big man raised his fist for another blow. Quinn tried to twist Kurchek’s foot, but his arms had no strength, his hands were numb, and he fumbled around until the second punch fell. Quinn felt as though he’d been kicked by a mule. The meaty fist smashed Quinn’s nose and dazed him. He didn’t know where he was or what was happening; all he knew was pain. Blood poured from his nose into his mouth and down the back of his throat. His stomach clenched, threatening to vomit, and he still couldn’t breathe.

The third punch ended the fight, if there was any fight left in Quinn. He felt his jaw break. The pain was so intense he shuddered. But then Kurchek stood up, and Quinn could breathe again. The miner was laughing with his friends.

“That’ll shut the arrogant prick up, I’d say,”
Kurchek roared.

Quinn had rolled onto his side, spitting out a mouthful of blood and sucking in air as fast as he could. His mind was clearing and the pain grew more intense. His face was numb, but the pain in his jaw was like being too close to a fire, only he couldn’t move away. When he moved his mouth, the pain shot through his head like bolts of lightning, shocking his senses and bringing tears to his eyes.

“You say I attacked you, eh?”
Kurchek shouted.

Then a massive boot slammed into Quinn’s side. Ribs fractured and the air was banished from his lungs again.

“Well, that’s the first thing you’ve gotten right since you came here,”
Kurchek went on. “I won’t let you and your evil sorcerer son cause any more damage.”

The second kick broke another rib, and Quinn heard himself groan. It was nothing more than a fleeting whine as the air shot out of his lungs again. He wanted to pass out, to simply die and be done with the pain, but he wasn’t fortunate enough.

“And if your friend comes back, I’ll take his eye.”

Kurchek kicked again, but not before spitting a glob of bloody phlegm onto Quinn’s face.

“Then I’ll kill him, just like I’m going to kill you.”

Quinn felt the pounding of hoofbeats but thought it was just his body reacting to the pain. He saw Kurchek raise his foot, the boot heel aimed at his face. Quinn’s only thought was that at last the pain would end, but the boot never fell. Instead, Kurchek’s head went flying from his body. Quinn thought he was hallucinating, but then Mansel slipped from his saddle, slapped the horse’s rump and stepped over Quinn’s body.

“Who’s next?”
Mansel shouted. “Which one of you bastards is ready to die?”

The man who had blindsided Quinn in his fight with Kurchek darted forward, but Mansel spun, slashing with the long sword Zollin had fashioned for him, ripping the blade across the man’s chest and stomach. The death scream was horrible, and Quinn saw the coward fall, grasping at his ruined body as blood and organs spilled out of him. The crowd backed away, many turning and running toward Brighton’s Gate.

“If you come back,”
Mansel snarled, “I’ll kill you all.”

The rest of the men moved cautiously back, until they too could turn and hurry away. Mansel looked down at Quinn, who was spitting out more blood. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and relief for Mansel’s safety flooded through him, but then the pain returned in such a powerful wave, that Quinn passed out.

When he woke up, he couldn’t move. His face was bandaged, and there was something tight around his chest and stomach. He could hear the river and smell smoke. A small camp fire burned nearby, but the smoke in the air was from Zollin’s cottage. Mansel sat nursing his own wounds. Quinn opened his mouth to speak, but the pain from his broken jaw surged through him again. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside, then spoke carefully, not moving his jaw at all.

“You look like hell,”
Quinn said.

“I feel worse than I look,”
Mansel said.

“Nycol?”

Mansel shook his head, but didn’t look at his mentor. Quinn’s eyes filled with tears. He had liked the quiet woman from Falxis . She had loved Mansel fiercely, but always with an openness that allowed the young warrior to be himself and pursue his interests. Her death, now that he knew for certain, was so terrible he couldn’t speak for several minutes.

“Sorry,”
Quinn said.

“I avenged her,”
Mansel said, setting the severed creature’s head that he had cut off in front of Quinn. “But it didn’t help.”

“It will…in time.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. The fire crackled and Quinn managed to turn his head. They were a few hundred yards from the remains of Zollin’s cabin. The smoking heap of rubble was like a fresh wound to Quinn. Coming back to the Great Valley had seemed like such a good idea a year ago. Quinn had believed that the locals would eventually come to accept them. Zollin had saved Yelsia after all, and held back a tide of evil that would have swept away every good thing in the Five Kingdoms. But their exploits in the south were nothing but stories to the villagers of Brighton’s Gate. And now those same villagers had destroyed everything Quinn and his family had worked so hard to build.

“I’m going to help Zollin,”
Mansel said. “Something evil is stirring. These monsters didn’t just come out of the mountains on their own,”
he said, pointing at the severed animal head. “I wish he was here to help you.”

“I’ll be fine,”
Quinn said. “I’m coming too.”