The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (49 page)

He was right. The scouts came back with little to report, for the most part. One of the recently recruited Aranthians had more to say, however. He was an Air Elementalist, so he could keep the wind and sand from touching him. He had gone further than the other scouts, and he reported that the entrances were heavily guarded but there were few troops outside of the protective shelter of the doorways. Machai thanked him, and he spent a few moments trying to decide if it would be better to use the storm as cover and attack while the army was under shelter, or if they should wait until the storm settled so that his men could see. He decided it was likely that Dredek’s men were packed into the tunnels just inside the entrances, and there wouldn’t be a better time to catch them unaware. He worried that it would be dangerous to attack during the sandstorm, but he also knew that Osric needed him to get to Dredek and the Well of Strands as swiftly as possible; they just couldn’t wait for the winds to calm.

“We be marching on foot or we be dying!” Machai shouted to his men. “Grab what courage ye may. There be no traveling today! Their gates be guarded by many men, but none be matching the spirit of the Aranthians, and none be matching the cave experience and might of me dwarven kin!” As the words flew from his mouth, he hefted his axe above his head and motioned for all to follow as he turned in the direction of the entrance and sprinted on short legs.

Above the whipping winds and abrasive sand on his face, Machai could hear the sound of more than a thousand warriors at his back. Their march, muffled by the coarse sand below, still carried along with their battle cry. Blade clanged against blade as his brethren pounded one sword against another to instill fear in their enemy. The uproar sent chills of excitement through Machai as he led the way.

He crested the first dune and sand assaulted him with even greater vigor, but the thrill of battle—either death or survival—urged him to continue at a quickened pace. His feet continued to kick through the softened upper layer of sand until he could finally make out the shape of the entrance through the storm. At least a dozen soldiers stood around it with a mixture of fear and fortitude in their eyes.

By the time he had gained his vantage on the entrance, many of the Aranthians had overcome his position and had engaged the enemy with surprising deftness. They wielded both wand and blade with such skill that many of the enemy faltered, watching with mouths agape.

Machai turned, sensing the pause, and addressed his kin. “Don’t be letting ’em steal all the glory!” He turned back and, with a shout, charged headlong into the fray.

Humans had nearly always been easy opponents in battle. Machai had watched them battle dwarves on many occasions. Predictably, they would swing for the head of any dwarven opponent, attempting to end the fight at its start. Humans had rarely respected his kind for their prowess and had rarely fought them as equals, but rather they had seen dwarves as inferior due to their stature. Whether it was luck or some kind of prophetic intervention was a question one never asked on the battlefield, but Machai’s first foe was one who hadn’t learned from the folly of others. Machai easily ducked under the attempted beheading.

With a quick spin and heft of his axe, Machai removed the legs from below the fool. The man let out a scream as Machai turned to face whatever was before him. Before he could swing his axe for a killing blow, two men stepped forward with the tips of their swords held low, but they were wary and careful in their approach.

Machai smiled, as these two respected him for both his stature and his skill. They wore worried expressions as their eyes followed him. Holding their swords low would keep him from rushing in like he had with the last soldier, but he knew more tricks than just dodging a fool’s sword strike.

He held his axe as if he were going to smack a rock across a field and whispered the traveling spell under his breath. Machai appeared between the two men, and he could see the shocked looks on their faces as their guts spilled out with one well-timed sweep of the axe.

He had dispatched three of Dredek’s men, and as he turned he could see dwarves rushing into the entrance just a few strides away, with several of Dredek’s men and one of his brothers lying dead in their wake. He allowed himself a moment’s regret for the dwarf who had fallen a short distance away, but then he followed the line of soldiers into the vast empty dark that lay ahead.

The main corridor led down at a slow slope but continued its descent for a great distance. As they proceeded down the tunnel, their eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of sunlight, and dim globes of light bloomed brighter along the wall as more men approached. The stone floor and walls were smooth, forcing the Aranthians into combat in the tight, unfamiliar quarters. After seeing the efficiency with which Osric’s men fought, the FireFalls dwarves took up a deep, rumbling chant. “Aranthians, Aranthians, Aranthians.” Machai smiled through his blood-splattered beard, cheering as his men embraced their new position among Osric’s ranks. Most of the dwarves from other clans joined in, and the chant grew louder. The sound echoed from the narrow walls of the passage and became a thunderous roar that preceded them down the tunnel. By the time they reached the bottom, where the tunnel widened out and joined other passageways in a large, high-ceilinged chamber, Dredek’s soldiers were struggling to maintain their positions as the wave of intruders crashed into them.

Although their training together had been incredibly brief, the discipline of both groups allowed the Aranthians and the dwarves to fight together more effectively than Machai could have hoped. Pendres led the Aranthian troops with firm efficiency, calling out single syllables that translated into elaborate orders which could be yelled back through the ranks without interfering with a fighter’s focus. The dwarves had picked up the code quickly, and all of the units moved together to keep the enemy contained as they pressed firmly into the depths of Angmar. Machai stayed close to Pendres, awed by the man of myth who fought as well in life as he did in stories.

Pendres moved like a machine, his face clear of all emotion and his grip perfect on his sword and wand. His blade carved a smooth arc through the air, only making contact often and long enough to immobilize his target. He never allowed the sword to get caught up in the armor of the enemy. He used small spells from his wand to clear his path—a blast of air here, a tangle of roots from the ground there—and he kept himself shielded to help deflect the few stray blows that made it past his own blade. Many times Machai thought Pendres would be struck down, but the limber old man moved or blocked attacks that Machai thought it was impossible for him to even see coming. The worst he suffered was a few shallow cuts that he didn’t bother deflecting.

Meanwhile, Machai was just as enveloped in the battle off to Pendres’s right. He wielded his axe with deadly efficiency, surprising the enemy with his deftness at fending off the blows of much longer blades from much taller foes. Machai used his stature to his advantage when he could, moving inside the enemy’s defenses, and he used his wand when he couldn’t to even the match.

Many of Dredek’s soldiers were also dual wielding, attacking or defending with a wand while battling with swords. However, they had only been practicing for the short time since they had last battled the Aranthians, and Machai had been training in the technique for his entire life—all of the dwarves had. The floundering humans quickly realized how much harder it was to utilize the skill in a chaotic battle with experienced troops than it had been in training, and many of them dropped their wands or took fatal strikes from swift blades before they could get a spell off. Still, they were skilled with their swords, and the battle was far from decisive in the early moments of engagement in the open chamber.

The Aranthians and dwarves were outnumbered, and even as they cut through the ranks of Dredek’s men before them, two more were waiting in the tunnels to the sides of the room to replace each one that fell. Pendres was hard at work trying to determine the best strategy to get the upper hand, and his mind raced as he considered how many men Dredek could have in the extensive network of tunnels and rooms beneath the desert floor. They needed to get to the Well of Strands as swiftly as possible, and then they could only hope that Osric’s plan would work. None of their men, including the old war hero, would be a match for Dredek if Osric couldn’t stop him from afar. Then, Pendres and Machai noticed their opening at the same time, and the two communicated with a quick nod to each other as they started calling out orders to shift their troops.

A small group of Aranthians, the men and women who had remained in Angmar to aid the irua after the last battle there, had managed to fight their way up one of the tunnels to join their comrades in the main chamber. Having seen them arrive, Pendres and Machai shifted the drive of the battle toward that tunnel. It took several moments, but a unit of dwarves and Aranthians led by Ergon from Stanton broke through the last bunch of Dredek’s men who blocked the way, and suddenly Pendres and Machai were following the unit through the gap to meet their men.

“Well met! Be there any chance this tunnel be leading to the Well of Strands?” Machai asked the man leading the group who wore the dirty but still recognizable uniform of a Stanton Vigile.

“Not directly, but we should be able to come into the tunnel we need from both ends and clear it out. I will lead you there, but it would be best if we weren’t worried about being followed.”

“Go now. I will make sure you have the men you need and you aren’t followed,” Pendres said, heading back into the large chamber where the battle was still raging. He barked out several orders, guttural syllables that would sound only like grunts or war cries to the enemy, and he was pleased to see his men falling into place according to his calls. One unit pressed forward, pushing back the enemy troops to widen the path to the tunnel. A second unit, still nearly intact with only a couple of losses, sifted quickly through the area, taking out all stray enemies that had been fighting behind the main line of combat. Pendres called out more orders. A line of troops funneled through the narrow opening created by the others, and Pendres waved them into the tunnel behind him. He fed just over one hundred men through the opening, and then he ordered the others to clear the immediate area and to press the attack harder. As the men melted away from the opening of the passage, Pendres stepped away from the arch and watched as the last of the men headed down the tunnel behind Machai. Pendres held his wand up before him and began a simple cooling spell. He widened the spell’s target area to span the stone several paces around the archway. The spell was quite basic, the sort of thing a child could use to cool his soup so he didn’t burn his tongue—but Pendres was no child.

Pendres watched closely as frost formed on the stone all around the opening. He continued cooling it until the air before him caused his breath to fog out in a white cloud when he released a controlled and focused exhalation. When it was done, cold enough that any flesh brushing against the stone would be burned and blistered instantly, Pendres swung his sword in a great arc and struck the top of the arch. A loud crack echoed the chamber, startling men on both sides of the battle, followed by the crashing of large chunks of stone and the raining of crumbling rock. Pendres felt his head pounding from the extensive use of magic, but he pushed the pain down and ignored it. He looked at the space where the archway had been, and now there was only a wall of massive rocks, rubble, and sand. He still held his wand out before his body, and he took a deep breath before his final spell.

Rather than merely halting the cooling spell, Pendres channeled a great deal of magic into reversing the spell. The air in the huge chamber cooled rapidly, chilling the sweat on the skin of the fighters and sending a deep ache into their joints, but the air around Pendres grew so hot he had to shield his face with one arm. The many minerals in the stone liquefied as heat replaced cold, and the pile of rubble was sealed tightly. It wouldn’t just be a matter of moving the chunks of stone aside; the blockage of the passage was nearly as solid and strong as the stone surrounding it, and there would be no worry of the enemy soldiers following Machai into the tunnels. Pendres turned and waded his way back into battle, ignoring the pounding of his head and the burning of his skin, and his men cheered him as he swung his sword into the next enemy.

* * *

Introductions were brief. The leader of the Aranthian group in the tunnels was named Elidin. He had been with the Aranthians since the beginning, and he had served under Osric as a Vigile before the attack on the palace in Stanton. Machai had trained him to dual wield, although he did not hold it against the dwarf at all that he didn’t remember him.

“I’m a head-down, work-hard, stay-out-of-trouble kinda guy. It’s served me well here in Angmar, and we have been able to get quite a few of the irua out to safety, not to mention the headaches we have caused Dredek’s men when the opportunity presented itself. Although, we never want to risk too much, so mostly we spend our time making sure the irua we can find are fed, sheltered, and out of sight of the soldiers who patrol the tunnels. Most of them have gone to other irua cities, but we send the ones who want to keep fighting back to Stanton to gain strength and training. I never realized how peaceful the irua are as a race; I guess I only met the ones who leave because they aren’t at home here.”

“Thanks for yer commitment to be seeing this through to the end, Elidin. Ye be coming in just when we be needing ye.” Machai followed him through the tunnels at a jog, reassured by the sound of one hundred men moving steadily along with them.

“We knew something was happening when all of the soldiers started mobilizing at once. They were all heading toward the main chamber at a run, fully armed and stinking of nervous sweat. We figured either the invasion had begun and the Aranthians were here or Dredek had done something horrible with his creepy magic and the tunnels were about to flood with fire, or poison, or worse. Either way, we wouldn’t have been safe or helpful hiding out in secret rooms deep in the tunnels. We were glad to see it was you when we finally got that tunnel cleared.”