The Shards (32 page)

You are on fire, my friend. I am not a practiced healer, but I know l can help you somewhat
, he reflected quickly.

Beolan sent what healing energy he could to his friend, and he felt him stir if only slightly. He helped him to his feet and put his arm around his shoulder.

“He will not die! I left him soon enough,” the Armadiel said, as he easily read the elf’s thoughts. “Courage, you say I lack? Observe then how I let my enemies live,” it boasted. “I can kill you both later if I choose to. I have no fear of you, little one,” it said, as tentacles of stone danced around Beolan, skimming his ankles and causing him to cringe at the touch.

“You are truly magnanimous, beast,” Beolan said, though he was completely repulsed by the appalling feeling of violation. “It is a shame that you were not strong enough to defend yourself against Caeltin’s domination.”

The Armadiel roared again, only this time it was his own lungs that generated the sound, and it was so loud that it almost burst Beolan’s eardrums.

“I am led by no man!” it howled.

“Then why are you here? What do you want with Silandre and Crispen?” he asked.

“The water, little one. I want the water,” it replied. “I crave it. It is among the purest in all the land. That was the deal that I made.”

“There are other well springs in other places where no one resides. Surely one must be just as good. Why must you destroy my land?”

“What do I care for you and your people?” it replied. “The source here is limitless.”

“It is not limitless. It freezes in the winter. The falls turn to glistening icicles, and the lakes become so hard and thick you can build upon them. You are one who covets the warmth, are you not? The legends speak of you so,” Beolan said.

“Your legends speak of me?” it asked. Its black eyes opened wider than before and rolled upward in satisfaction.

“Perhaps I am mistaken,” Beolan said. “When our books refer to the Armadiel, they describe it as one who thrives in the water, not upon it. They speak of a beast who moves gracefully beneath the surface.”

“That is me, little one. I prefer the water to the land,” it replied. “The legends describe me correctly,” it said, and it puffed its chest out and elongated its neck proudly. “But the water here runs deep.”

“I see,” Beolan nodded. “He did he not tell you then of the extent of our weather changes here, I should have guessed. For half of our year, the water does not flow and the snow falls without a break.”

“Snow?” it asked as if the word were unfamiliar.

“Yes, snow. It is like frozen rain that falls heavily from the sky, though it accumulates everywhere upon the surface and does not melt away until the spring. The higher up the mountain we climb, the deeper it gets and the colder the air remains.”

A shiver ran down the spine of the beast and it shook the entire chamber.

“Here within the caves, the air gets so cold that when I breathe, the moisture in my breath freezes as I exhale. I cannot even come up here in the depths of winter. I would die. Are you accustomed to the cold?” he asked innocently, knowing that the Armadiel was born in the molten depths of the earth.

“Cold?” the Armadiel repeated as if this word too was unknown to it.

“Sedahar is warm. It is in the south. Perhaps Caeltin forgot how different the weather is here,” Beolan replied innocently.

The beast snorted his derision and everything shook once again. Maringar lifted his head weakly and looked at Beolan. He nodded to indicate that he was alright, and the elf acknowledged him with relief.

“You did not lie to me, beast. My friend lives,” he said to the Armadiel.

“Why need I lie to you, little one? I told you that my courage is great and that I have no fear of you. Have I not proven that?” it asked, and it seemed as if it was almost seeking Beolan’s approval. “There will be time enough later to dispose of you both if I so choose.”

“The legends depict you accurately. Your courage may indeed match your wisdom,” Beolan replied.

The beast appeared to be almost smiling to itself, childishly flattered by the elf’s praise, and distracted enough not to realize that he was leading him further and further down the path. It was so preoccupied by the praise that it paid scant attention to what was happening around it. Beolan could hear a different sound now resounding throughout the passageway, that of picks striking stone, and he knew that he was getting closer to the others, but the demon was deaf to all but Beolan’s flattery.

“Are you courageous enough to leave us be? Could you walk away from Crispen now? Do you fear the wrath of the Dark Lord?” he asked.

“I told you, little one, I fear no one,” it replied. “But why should I leave? I am enjoying this. And I will enjoy it even more when I destroy you and your city as well. I can depart later if what you tell me proves to be true.”

“You will ne’er be allowed to leave. You made a bargain with him; Crispen for your freedom. If you do not destroy us, he will send you back to whence you came. And if you do, he will never let you leave here. You will die once again in this mountain, only this time it will be for all eternity. He wishes to rend the whole cloth, and put an end to the weave forever.”

“He is not so powerful as that. You give him more credit than he is due,” the Armadiel replied. “Your fear should be of me, little one. You and yours will not live to contend with the Dark Lord. I will see to that. You have captured my attention but your words cannot change what I must do. ‘Tis a shame that your scribes will ne’er have the opportunity to write the legend of the Armadiel and the mountain it conquered in your books.”

Maringar and Beolan had finally retreated to the point where they had overtaken the burrowing dwarves. They could practically hear them behind the walls. As planned, the tunnels had been dug around and behind the main passage that Beolan, Maringar and the Armadiel had been walking down. With the cooperation of Silandre, the rock and soil responded to the picks and axes willingly and practically fell away at their touch, thus allowing them to progress at greater speeds than even they anticipated.

As the elf and the dwarf emerged into the larger chamber where they had planned to converge, they came to a halt. There was now only a thin wall of rock on either side of the cavern that kept their fellow dwarves and elfin bowmen separated from them and the beast. The barricades of rubble had been rolled into place right up against it and the men waited anxiously behind the last row of dwarves. The timing was as perfect as they could have hoped. Once the stone was breached, they could begin their attack.

“The fabric weaves of its own will, Maringar,” Beolan whispered to his friend. “We have come far enough now.”

“Just in time, it seems. The demon grows restless,” he replied weakly.

“I have enjoyed our little talk immensely, but all things must come to an end at some point,” the beast hissed. “He has given me life once again. I am afraid that what you have to offer cannot match what he has already done, and what he can yet do. We are too different, you and I. Sadly, I am more akin to the Dark One, and that is why, although it is truly a pity little one, I must kill you.”

Beolan stood with his back against the wall and pressed the palm of his hand to the surface. He could feel the vibrations behind it, and he knew that the men had accomplished their task. He signaled to Maringar to assume the same stance on the opposite wall. The Armadiel had been so distracted by the conversation and it was so enamored of the moments of flattery that it never even sensed the presence of the others in the adjacent passages.

“I can offer you one final opportunity to renounce him and to leave Crispen,” Beolan said. “This will be your only chance to prevent the sundering and save your own life.”

“Or you will shoot one of your arrows at me? Or perhaps your friend will hit me with his axe?” the beast snorted derisively. “Though it pains me, the time has come, little one.…”

The floor began to vibrate violently and the Armadiel rose high upon its powerful hind legs. Its black scales shimmered dangerously in the near darkness. Beolan watched in horror as its tail pierced the rock surface as if it was a piece of parchment and disappeared underneath them. The ceiling and walls pulsed with the beast’s potency as it they were alive. Maringar and Beolan both pressed themselves tightly against the walls and removed their weapons from their scabbards. With gloved hands, they grabbed the blades and pounded the hilts hard against the stone.

Silandre responded willingly to their caresses. The thin sheet of rock that remained between the tunnel that they now stood in and their waiting soldiery shattered and fell away in a cloud of dust, and revealed two wide openings to the left and to the right of the demon in its wake. The dwarves had performed their tasks masterly, and as soon as the holes were clear of debris, the elves pushed the easily maneuverable barricades forward through them and into the chamber and formed a semicircle in front of the Armadiel. From behind their defenses, they began to rain elfin arrows upon the beast. Out of the darkness of the tunnels, more barricades were thrust forward, and perhaps four dozen additional elves emerged and proceeded to deluge the Armadiel with arrow upon arrow. In the meanwhile, Beolan and Maringar retreated quickly behind the foremost defensive position. They acknowledged with pride and no small amount of relief the efforts of their countrymen. Though the plans were well conceived, they did not know until that very moment that they would be just as well executed.

“We could not have asked for more,” Maringar said to his comrade.

He was still exhausted from the abuse that his body had suffered, but the adrenaline in his veins was keeping him alert and aware.

“I had expected no less from your brethren,” Beolan replied.

The dwarves had cleared large areas just before the tunnel walls on either side of the passageway. They were able to accommodate at least fifty elves and twenty dwarves in each. While the former were busy chipping away at Silandre’s stone and preparing for this moment, the other fifty or so armed elves had made their way into the tunnel from the main entrance. Now, almost two hundred warriors with bows raised and axes ready proceeded against the beast.

The Armadiel roared in anger. It had been so thoroughly taken by surprise, that it took more than a moment for the beast to fully understand the nature of the threat. Immediately, it needed to protect itself, and it had no time to concentrate and plan a counterattack.

“Do not cease the barrage!” Beolan yelled, loud enough for it to hear his voice.

Knowing that it had been deceived by the elf enraged it even more, and it lashed out in fury without contemplating the impact of its actions. Sharp spears of stone fell heavily from the ceiling all around it and bounced off of its hard scales. Most of the arrows too fell harmlessly to the surface at first, though a modest number did insert themselves into the small spaces between its armor and its broad belly, causing it to shriek in pain. It swung its taloned fingers back and forth, and knocked the shafts out of the air as they flew at it from its front and sides.

A moment later, yet another contingent of elfin warriors began their assault from behind the Armadiel this time. They had traveled deep into the mountain and emerged at a point well to the rear of the beast. Their weapons too now added to the monster’s travail. With lightning speed, the elves of Crispen unleashed onslaught after onslaught of silver tipped arrows upon the monster, never giving it even a moment to rest and organize a response. It howled in frustration and swung its tail dangerously back and forth, shattering rock and stone and sending sparks flying everywhere. But the attack continued relentlessly.

Beolan walked to Maringar’s side, making sure to remain well hidden behind the many partitions, and he whispered in his ear, “Will you able to do this, my friend?”

“Most definitely!” he replied without any hesitation. “I think that the only way I will ever rid myself of this terrible feeling of filth and disgust that the beast has left in me is to kill it!” he replied. “It will not be enough to witness its death from afar.”

“Then we must ready ourselves. The opportunity may come at any time. It has been awake and aware for quite a while now, my conversation intrigued it so.”

“That was as well done as any man to man combat I have ever seen,” Maringar praised him.

“Thank you. The beast was most receptive. I even think it liked me.”

“It liked you alright! It liked you enough to have you for dinner, though not as its guest I suspect, ‘little one’,” Maringar chided him.

The black scales that covered it all over were darkening in color as the torrents of arrows continued to pummel them. Their inner gleam faded as time wore on, and they began to assume a duller, flatter color.

The Armadiel swung around and thrashed out wildly at everything that the warriors sent against it. They refused to rest even for a moment, and with Beolan and Maringar coaxing them to pursue their attack without any break whatsoever, the beast had no opportunity to relax. It was being assaulted from all sides and from all angles. Arrows were dropping down on it from above, as some of the elves arched their shots deftly and had them fall on its head and back, while others aimed at its chest and face. Small contingents of dwarves rushed the beast in sporadic waves and hacked away at the plates of armor on the back of its legs, while nimbly avoiding the thrashing tail each time.

An emboldened dwarf leapt over the demon’s tail and sought to strike at the beast from below, but he was caught in one of its clawed hands. Instantly, the Armadiel pierced the warrior’s heart with a sharp talon, and the dwarf turned grey as stone. It released the dead fighter, and as the immobile body hit the surface, it crumbled to dust. Two more dwarves leapt into the fray and they began to hack away at its hind legs. The beast flicked its heavy tail first to the left and then to the right so quickly that the brave fighters had no chance to even sidestep it. The first dwarf was flung into the wall with such force that its back was shattered by the impact, while the second was caught under the foot of the beast and squashed to death mercilessly.