Taker Of Skulls (Book 5) (16 page)

Verlek sounded his horn desperately. Shadowy shapes moved on the balconies of the fortification above them.

A howl came from very close behind Kormak. He turned. A dire wolf snapped at him. Its goblin rider thrust with its spear. Kormak parried it, beheaded the wolf, and then stabbed the rider through the chest even as he tumbled to the ground.

The other dire wolves were almost upon him, and behind them came a company of tall, thin great goblins with wicked looking blades.

The first of the mangy dire wolves sprang. Kormak stepped to one side, letting the wolf pass through the empty air where he had been. It landed, twisted immediately, snapped at him with jaws that could tear off an arm. He leapt back as another wolf attacked him.

The pack surrounded him. Red eyes glittered with insane ferocity. Froth bubbled over yellow fangs and lolling pink tongues.

He slashed the throat of the nearest dire wolf. Blood spurted, spraying Kormak and the ground at his feet. The red fluid tasted metallic on his tongue.

Two wolves attacked, one from each side. He avoided the first but the second snagged the sleeve of his jerkin and pulled him off balance.

He snapped the pommel of his blade down on the wolf’s sensitive nose, and it released its grip on him, whimpering in pain. The second wolf sprang at him. He did not have time to get his blade into position. It overbore him, its massive weight pressing his body to the ground, huge jaws snapping down towards his throat.

An eerie whistling sound filled the air and a moment later an explosion of infernal brightness burst overhead, distracting the wolf.

Kormak rolled, knocking it off balance. Clumsily he swung his sword round and down, connecting with the wolf’s skull, splitting it. The wolf reared, blood pouring down into its eyes, brains spilling from the gash in its head. Kormak rolled against its back legs, his weight knocking it over. As he rose to his feet he saw that it was dead. It had just taken a few moments to realise it.

A quick glance showed him that all was confusion. The goblin horde had raced into the plaza behind the wolves. The great goblins were in the lead but scores and scores of the smaller creatures scurried in their wake. Comet trails of fire descended from the balconies on either side of the plaza and where they touched the ground, huge explosions ripped the darkness. A wave of heat washed over them and then vanished. The rune on Karnea’s arm blazed brightly as it fed on the energy.

It only took Kormak a moment to realise that the defenders were using larger versions of Sasha’s weapon. The goblins yipped and screamed but kept coming, too filled with the thrill of pursuit to consider flight. Their prey was in sight and they were not going to let it escape.

The great goblins closed with Kormak. In the light of the explosions, he made out their lean horrible faces leering at him. Mouths full of razor sharp teeth grinned evilly. They emitted strange chirping sounds and their huge bat-like ears twisted as if in response heartbeats later. In the flickering light of the exploding runestones, their eyes changed colour in response to the intensity of the flames, going from very dark to almost glitteringly light as the explosions burst and faded.

Kormak picked the closest group and sprang towards it, lashing out with his blade, cutting armour and flesh as if it were cloth, shattering bone as easily if it were porcelain. Within a dozen heartbeats, half a dozen of the great goblins were dead and he was carving a way through their line.

His instincts told him not to go too far. Doing so would take him into the line of fire for the exploding runestones and no blade could protect him from those. He needed to be close to Karnea and Sasha if he was going to protect them too.

A horn sounded close to him and turning he saw that Verlek and Boreas had returned to fight beside him. The dwarf’s axe flickered around him almost too fast for the eye to follow. Boreas had picked up a goblin scimitar. A glance behind him showed that Karnea stood near one of the great doors, Sasha beside her with a dagger in each hand.

All around them the goblin army surged, a sea of scaled flesh assaulting an island of whirling steel. Kormak cut and parried and slashed, losing track of everything in his desperate fury. Standing alone, any of the three would have been cut down at once but forming a triangle, and watching each other’s backs they managed to withstand the onslaught.

Kormak knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Soon they would become too weary to parry their foes, or a lucky blow would get through and take one of them down, and then it would all be over.

He redoubled his efforts to slay, knowing that there was no hope of survival, determined that he was going to drag as many of his enemies down into death with him as he could. The unleashed fury of his blade was too much for the goblins. He drove them back towards the bridge, moving further from the gate. Howling desperate war-cries, Verlek and Boreas accompanied him.

The hail of runestones stopped. That was it then. His last hope, that the goblins would break in the face of the unrelenting hail of explosive missiles, died. They were on their own now and it was only a matter of time before they were pulled down.

A STRANGE MOMENT of calm swept over the battlefield. For a moment, the goblin assault ceased and all the screams and clamour faded away.

He stood amid a pile of fallen bodies, bleeding from scores of small cuts, and surveyed the sea of goblin faces. They had killed dozens but it made no difference, hundreds more waited to cut them down. They were encircled by the goblins, hundreds of saucer eyes stared at them. The creatures seemed to smile, revealing rows and rows of small sharp teeth and then, as if at a prearranged signal, began to chant the name of Graghur.

Horns sounded behind them. There was a grinding sound as if a great stone gate was being opened. The sounds of dwarf battle-cries rang across the plaza with the clangour of weapon upon weapon.

“Ferik has sallied forth,” Verlek shouted in Kormak’s ear. There was something like pure, unrestrained joy in his voice. The dwarf seemed drunk on killing. “I knew he would not be able to resist joining in such a fray!”

Much good that will do us, Kormak thought, unless we can join him. A quick glance back over his shoulder showed him that a flying wedge of heavily armed dwarves charging the goblin forces. “Back!” he shouted and began to cut a path through towards their rescuers. Boreas and Verlek followed.

The dwarves smashed through the confused goblins like the prow of a ship breaking through a wave. They left piles of dead and broken bodies around them. All of the dwarves were half-naked and made savage by their runic tattoos. Some of those glowed in the darkness as if focusing magical powers. The male dwarves were for the most part broader and more muscular even than Verlek, with longer beards that swirled around them as they fought. The females were just as underdressed and just as tattooed and they fought alongside the males with even greater fury.

Their chanting had taken on a resemblance to some great, strange song, like that of the galley slaves Kormak had once served among as they rowed. The dwarves moved in time to the chant, struck their blows on its beats. Their song seemed to bind them into one mighty, multi-limbed organism.

Comet trails descended from the walls again, explosions tore the further points of the goblin lines. Under the sheer force of the dwarven attack, their pursuers turned tail and fled, leaving Kormak and his companions to confront the angry, uncomprehending glares of the dwarves across the blood-soaked paving stones of the battlefield.

The tide of goblins flowed back across the bridge, scuttling as fast as their legs could carry them, the few surviving wolves leading the retreat. The dwarves chased them down, slaughtering those they caught. Some of the dwarves were going around the battlefield, severing goblin heads and collecting them. Bones splintered and spines snapped as they did so.

Kormak found himself confronting the largest dwarf he had seen so far. This one came almost to his throat and was far broader than Verlek, seeming almost as wide as he was tall. His tattooed arms were like tree-trunks and he held a great pick in one hand and an axe in the other. His beard reached almost to the ground even when he stood straight and it rippled like a nest of snakes. The dwarf’s ears twitched and his blank-seeming gaze met Kormak’s levelly.

“I knew you would not be able to resist such a fight, Ferik sire,” said Verlek happily. He seemed mightily pleased with himself, as if he had sprung a surprise party purely for the benefit of this huge dwarf champion. The massive dwarf bent over and severed a goblin head with a short savage chop of his axe. He did not once take his eyes off Kormak.

“You have caused a lot of trouble, youngling,” said Ferik. There was an undertone of exasperated affection as well as controlled anger in his tone. “What new trouble have you brought on the Hold now?”

Ferik’s eyes were fixed on Kormak’s blade. His beard rippled towards the Guardian, as if reaching out in his direction. Kormak sensed the tremendous power in this dwarf and the explosive violence. He realised it would not take too much to have it directed at him.

“I have blood-debt to these men,” said Verlek.

“You have blood-debt to Shadow worshipers?” The anger in that great booming voice outweighed the affection. There was suspicion in Ferik’s expression now. He tilted his head to one side as he examined the younger dwarf.

“I am not a Shadow worshipper,” said Kormak. “I am a champion of the Holy Sun.”

The strange dark eyes turned to regard Kormak. The lips tightened, revealing tombstone teeth in a mirthless grin. “You will speak when spoken to, man, or you will die. I am having words with my son. When I am done, I will have words for you.”

Kormak took a tight rein on his own anger. He was not used to being talked to in such a fashion but he was surrounded by the dwarves and he needed their help.

“He slew the Slitherer, father,” said Verlek. “He has killed many goblins. You have seen it with your own eyes. He can take many skulls.”

“The followers of the Shadow are cunning and given to many deceptions,” said another dwarf from nearby. He was not as large as Ferik and his face was leaner. There was something about the set of his mouth that did not seem quite right, that gave his face a sneering look. Kormak could see that this dwarf had a severed goblin head in each hand. He was holding them by their ears.

“My life is beholden to them, Utti,” said Verlek. “I have talked with them. I say they are not followers of the Shadow.”

Utti turned his sneering face to Verlek. “And what would one so young know about the ways of the Shadow? You have barely grown a beard, boy.”

The air between them fairly crackled with tension. There seemed to be real hostility between these two, Kormak thought.

“Aye, Utti, but I know how to fight, unlike some, who collect heads of those they did not kill for the Wall of Skulls.”

Kormak saw that all of the dwarves were red-handed now and were piling up small mounds of severed heads in front of them. Boreas was watching all of this with narrowed eyes. He did not understand Dwarvish but he could hear that the tone of speech was not friendly. Kormak put a hand on Boreas’ arm just to let him know everything was all right.

“There are four more heads we could take right here,” said Utti. He turned to look at Kormak once more. Kormak met his stare levelly. He did not want trouble but if he was attacked he would respond. Utti’s beard twisted and writhed and seemed to be tangling its furthest end in knots. He took a step back almost as if he had been reading Kormak’s mind. Ferik laughed. It was a sound like stone grating against stone.

“Utti has just discovered that taking this one’s head might be harder than he thought.” Kormak sensed a change in the air. There was still suspicion and hostility but there was no longer a sense of imminent violence coming from Ferik. He realised the change had happened during the exchange between Utti and Verlek and just afterwards. Was it possible that Ferik did not like Utti?

Utti spat on the ground, but carefully. The spittle did not land anywhere near Kormak or the other dwarves. Ferik glanced around. It seemed like all the heads had been taken. The dwarves were starting to place them within sacks. They looked as happy as children who had collected their gifts on a feastday morning.

“We do not need to decide to do what to do with these humans right now,” said Ferik. He turned and looked at Kormak. “Put down your weapons!” he said.

Kormak looked back at him. Every fibre of his being rebelled against putting down his sword. He would almost rather lay down his life.

Ferik sensed this. Suddenly the violence was back in the air.

“You have the look of a handy man with a blade, whatever else you may be,” said the dwarf. “But we outnumber you and be assured we will kill you if you do not do as you are told.”

There was utter confidence in the dwarf’s manner. Kormak considered the situation. He could hold onto the sword and die. In that case, he would still have lost the blade. At least if he was still alive he might be able to reclaim it.

“Be not afraid, that anyone will take your sword. No one would want to carry such an unholy weapon,” said Ferik.

“The sword was forged by dwarves,” said Kormak.

“Aye, to our shame it was,” said the dwarf.

“I will carry it until it may be returned to you,” said Verlek. He said this as if he were taking a great burden upon himself. Kormak felt sure this was not from the responsibility of holding the weapon but because of the nature of the thing he had to carry. He seemed embarrassed but determined to do this anyway. He held out one huge hand to Kormak.

Kormak still considered refusing. He could see the tension in Ferik now. He glanced around and the other dwarves were all staring at him. One or two were thumbing the blades of their axes. The prospect of taking another skull seemed to appeal to them.

Abruptly, he pushed the scabbarded blade into the young dwarf’s hand. “Take good care of it,” he said.