The Sundered Arms dad-8 Read online

She struck one more time, forcing the head below the surface. Finally, though she stood poised with the sword, she struck no more, for Zagreb did not rise again.

  Across the catwalk Sandrine howled at the two tormenters who closed in on her, one on either side, each wielding one of the short swords she had dropped. Lidda clutched her own sword as well, while Devis held his bloody longsword pointed at her eye.

  "I'll kill you both!" she shrieked, pawing at her wounds. "Before this is done, I'll kill you by inches!"

  "Now, now," cautioned Devis, "that's not a pretty thing to say, is it?"

  She whipped around to face him, just as he had calculated, and Lidda plunged her sword into Sandrine's back. The blade barely missed the vampire's spine, but it sizzled through her undead flesh.

  Devis darted in and hacked at her slender neck. He knew that Andaron's sword could not cut Sandrine's flesh, but he hoped he might knock her off balance. The blade passed through a sudden mist as Sandrine vanished. The cloud lingered tantalizingly where she had stood, then floated toward the ceiling.

  Lidda readied her bow just in time to fire a single, useless arrow through the gaseous foe, but then the mist vanished into one of the hidden vents in the cavern wall.

  "I hope it's noon out there," Lidda spat after the retreating enemy. She turned back to Devis and shrugged. "I lost track."

  Together, they hefted Andaron's short swords and looked down at the battle below. It was a hurricane of bodies with Tordek at its eye. A lightning bolt in the form of Andaron's hammer flashed out and back, leaving carnage in its wake.

  "Let's go," said Devis.

  They ran along the catwalk and descended toward the battle.

  Vadania was there ahead of them, wielding Andaron's greatsword as lightly as a willow wand. Though her face was wet with tears, her eyes were a terror to behold-cold as ice and hard as granite. Devis and Lidda joined her and the three of them cut a swath toward the forge, leaving mounds of goblin dead marking their path.

  Without realizing the transformation, they were soon caught up in the same battle-glee that buoyed Tordek. They marveled inwardly at their killing power and delighted in the sounds of tearing flesh, shattering bones, and dying screams. The remade weapons rang with glory and glowed with insatiable lust for combat.

  Too soon, only a few hardy goblins lingered in a wavering circle around the blood-spattered warriors standing amid mounds of corpses. The goblins hesitated, unwilling to advance to their doom. As they wavered, blinding light burst upward from the lines of the pentacle surrounding Andaron's forge. The surviving goblins cringed, then fled in terror from the unholy radiance ringing their foes.

  Only Hargrimm remained to stride past the heaped dead. Tordek rushed him, but the barghest rose high above the floor with a casual gesture. Levitating near the center of the circle, directly above the radiant forge, Hargrimm shouted out his triumph and his rapture.

  "At last-, my master, the sacrifice is sufficient!"

  Tordek felt jarring, icy guilt spread through his gut. It chilled his bones and cooled the fury that charged his limbs with strength. Hargrimm's exultation made clear the meaning of Andaron's warning. They, Tordek and his companions, who risked so much to stop Hargrimm, had unwittingly become the instruments of their foe's triumph.

  Hargrimm's voice swelled to fill the room and echoed back down with a tangible wave of force. "Come, glorious Gruulnargh, master of these tools of destruction. Command us!"

  The ground trembled and cracked. Tordek and the others leaped to get outside the circle just moments before the stones between the arms of the pentacle fell away, revealing an endless pit beneath the forge. A firestorm swirled within that abyss, roiling up to spill upon the demonic circle. Where it splashed out, it pooled and congealed. Each new, lapping wave of the hell-stuff solidified over the previous layer adding to the amorphous figure that grew slowly and steadily before the forge.

  "At last," called Hargrimm, lowering himself to the ground outside the circle. "The summoning is irrevocable, and we are brothers in arms. Rejoice, for you have all earned a place at the heel of Gruulnargh the destroyer."

  "Never," spat Tordek. He raised the hammer and hurled it at Hargrimm's head, but the weapon glanced away as if deflected by an invisible shield.

  Hargrimm smiled and backed away nonchalantly, gesturing at all the remaining corpses. The bodies withered to ectoplasm that flowed into the burning circle, feeding it with ever more souls.

  "There is no need to squabble now. We shall all be rewarded for our part in this triumphant moment. Do not think otherwise. After all, you contributed as many sacrifices as I."

  Tordek's heart grew cold at the barghest's words. The faces of his companions grew pale.

  His eyes wide with horror, Tordek staggered back from Hargrimm. He stared for long moments as the master demon took shape. Lumps of magma gradually transformed into scabby tentacles studded with tiny, yellow spikes.

  Tordek looked down at the hammer in his hand. He looked back up at Hargrimm, against whom this mightiest of weapons was useless. His eyes continued farther up, toward the heavens.

  The barghest smiled back at him. "Even you must see the irony, Tordek, brother of Holten," he said. "Accept the destiny that you forged with me."

  Tordek's gaze came back down to Hargrimm, and a grin creased his face. "Accept yours," he said coldly. He flung the hammer as high and as hard as his mighty arm could throw it, far above the barghest's head.

  Hargrimm followed the hammer's flight upward and saw it smash through the bottom of the cauldron in which the half-dragon had drowned. A pillar of fiery red molten iron rocketed downward toward him. The barghest threw himself to the side with superhuman effort, and he almost escaped.

  Zagreb's flaring corpse smashed Hargrimm's legs flat against the floor with a horrible sound of crushed bones and searing flesh. Sizzling iron splashed across the floor and over Hargrimm's broad back, burning black holes into his body. Oily smoke rose from his wounds in ruddy purple swirls stinking of brimstone.

  Tordek spared only a brief, grim glance at his dying foe before turning toward the urgrosh that tumbled from Hargrimm's hands to skitter across the floor.

  "Quickly!" he yelled to his friends. He held out a hand to receive the returning hammer, and it slapped firmly into his grip, smoking and glowing. Tordek stepped haltingly toward the forge, then paused while gazing down at the weapon.

  Its steel body gleamed pure and silver in the hellish light of the charnel house that had been Andaron's Forge. Such beauty, Tordek thought, and such power.

  He looked up at the monstrous figure of Gruulnargh, at its lashing tendrils and half-formed mouths. He glanced at his friends, who rushed to his side while struggling to elude the partially formed demon's grasp.

  Tordek closed his eyes and hurled the hammer toward the forge. Guided by his will more than by his arm, the weapon smashed through a closed iron door and plunged into the nova-bright heart of the infernal fire.

  Gruulnargh shrieked, and tornadoes erupted across the chamber. The monster's sulfuric breath stung their eyes and choked their throats. Its tentacles whipped blindly in all directions, seeking betrayers, for its eyes had yet to form on this plane.

  As one, Lidda and Devis tossed their short swords into the hole in the forge made by the hammer. Vadania flung the greatsword moments later, shaking her hands as if to clear them of some lingering filth.

  The demon's body swelled and throbbed. It accelerated its materialization by thrusting up bone and sinew without benefit of flesh and skin to support them. Ghastly organs bobbed from its nether portions, screaming with mouths of their own until half-formed eyeballs burst out of the wet surfaces to search for targets. Skinless tendrils shot out with blinding speed and latched around Vadania and Devis. They were lifted from the floor and waved madly through the shimmering air. Lidda narrowly escaped the powerful clutch by tumbling out of reach.

  Only the urgrosh remained of Andaron's arms and Tordek dived toward it. He clutched the
iron shaft in both hands as the demon's tendrils whipped around his legs and spiraled up to squeeze the breath from his lungs. In the instant before they could pin his arms, Tordek hurled the weapon toward the opening. It tumbled awkwardly and struck the edge of the opening but fell inside the sundered forge.

  The last weapon vanished with a fiery flare.

  Gruulnargh's roars turned to screams and squeals as the five doors of the forge burst open and flames spewed across its partially formed body. Tendrils writhed uncontrollably, dropping Devis and Vadania to the floor, where they scrambled away from the dying demon. Tordek struggled to follow them, but powerful limbs and jaws clamped tightly on his leg.

  The trapped dwarf twisted around to see an enormous worg. Its crushed and useless legs and the black burns on its back left no question as to its identity. Despite the crippling wounds, Hargrimm clawed his way across the floor to Tordek's body. Orange eyes seethed with hatred. Scarred jaws opened wide.

  Tordek punched Hargrimm's lupine skull, but even bolstered by Andaron's gauntlets, the blow was trifling in the face of the demon's infernal rage. The dwarf twisted away, reaching for his axe. He saw the weapon and knew he could reach it, but Hargrimm dragged Tordek back, away from the weapon's hope of salvation.

  A thudding sound grabbed Tordek's attention and he saw an arrow jutting from Hargrimm's neck. An instant later, a crossbow bolt pierced his cheek, and then a wound exploded on his canine snout from a sling bullet creasing his skull.

  The dwarf heard Lidda's voice shouting something, but he needed no prompting. A sharp kick propelled him away from the tenacious worg, then the axe was in his grip. He swept the blade past his feet and felt it connect with snapping jaws. In a moment he was standing above his crippled foe with the axe gripped in both hands. Tordek looked down into the face of hate and met it with his own undying enmity.

  "You want to be with your master?" he said. The axe swept down toward Hargrimm's neck but the barghest heaved itself forward with powerful front legs. Its fangs caught hold of Tordek's greave and clamped tight, but a mighty blow of the axe sliced away the lower jaw. The second strike severed the monster's spine, and the third sent the giant wolf's head rolling away from its body.

  "Join him in hell," spat Tordek as he wiped his axe blade on the worg's wiry fur.

  When Tordek looked up, the last of Gruulnargh's burning body was seeping back down through the gate. The magical portal itself was shrinking. Its circumference was now barely wider than the forge. As the glowing border of the pentacle touched the solid iron base of the furnace, the earth shook again.

  Afterward came a long minute of silence in which Tordek heard only the clatter of falling pebbles and his own labored breathing. Gradually, and then with growing urgency, his companions gathered their belongings and joined him. Together they watched the last infernal radiance die out from Andaron's forge. Its hellish fires extinguished at last, leaving the giant cavern pitch black.

  Vadania rapped a sunrod on the floor. Its illumination highlighted a fifth figure in their solemn cluster beside the forge. It was the translucent image of Andaron himself, no longer formed of the pages from his own chronicle. He looked at each in turn, a growing expression of puzzlement creasing his visage.

  The earth trembled again, this time shaking loose a huge stalactite from the ceiling to burst upon the floor. The catwalk squealed in protest as it buckled and slumped.

  "What are you waiting for, fools?" shouted Andaron's ghost. "I've given you your reward, the deed is done, and I can't hold this place together much longer. Run!"

  "Which way?" yelled Tordek.

  The ghost shot him a look of supreme annoyance. "The way out, unless you care to join me in eternity." He closed his eyes as if in tortured concentration. His image sank once more into the earth, heralding another jolt of the ground.

  "This way," cried Lidda, running toward the mineshaft. Devis was already there, pushing bins of forgotten ore off the remaining sledge.

  Vadania hesitated only an instant before chasing after them, and Tordek was hard on her heels.

  "This is suicide!" Tordek shouted. "We survived the first time only through a miracle. This time the whole place is coming down. We'll be buried alive."

  Despite his complaint, he helped Devis shove off the last of the bins. Together, they spun the sledge around and pushed it to the edge of the shaft through which they had plunged once before. He complained again, "It was a miracle."

  "Yeah?" said Lidda, climbing on board. "If anyone's earned a miracle lately, it's us."

  Devis jumped on behind her, and Vadania behind him, leaving Tordek to give them a push. He threw his full weight and strength behind the effort, shoving the sledge over the edge and leaping aboard at the last moment.

  "Moradin!" he cried. "Please?"

  HEROES

  Tordek dreamed of Holten. This time his brother was young and hale, not harrowed and broken as he appeared in Tordek's countless nightmares of the past decades. This time the handsome young dwarf smiled at his younger brother, his ten-year twin, before turning to walk down an endless stairway. As he disappeared into the cool darkness, Tordek knew he would rest easy at last.

  He slept for what seemed hours after the brief vision. When Devis woke him from this restful slumber, Tordek was not in the least irritated to see the half-elf smiling back at him. He even liked the black smudge that remained on the tip of his nose, resistant to any amount of scrubbing over the past five days. It was good to be alive and among friends.

  There had been moments of real doubt in the tumultuous passage through the deep caverns of Andaron's Delve, but eventually Moradin provided that second miracle. After the screaming descent through the shaft and the cold plunge that was no less thrilling for being expected this time, they dragged themselves into the shuddering caverns and searched for Gulo's passage through the underground streams. It was past midnight by the time they swam up and out to the clear eastern stretch of the stream running past Jorgund peak. They did not stop until they were a mile away from the shaking promontory. From the outside and in the bright moonlight, the only sign of collapse was the absence of the trees directly over the foundry. At dawn, they could see the deep cracks in the stained white cliffs and several mounds of rubble at the base of the little mountain. The collapse stifled the stream, whose waters were already pooling to form a new, if small, lake. Lidda worried aloud that all their efforts might have been for naught if the collapsing delve had killed the stream.

  "It will find a new path," said Vadania. "Water always does."

  The druid mourned for Gulo, but she made no ritual of her grief. When the others offered their condolences, she accepted them with a quiet grace that invited no further efforts at consolation.

  "He was a great warrior," Tordek said to her.

  "And sometimes a great coward," she said with a wan smile. "I think I loved him best when he was afraid."

  Later, as they marched toward Croaker Norge, Devis made a point of walking beside Tordek for a league. He was silent for the better part of an hour, but finally he said, "You know, I meant it as a compliment when I said you were a poet."

  Tordek almost choked with laughter, but to Devis it seemed as if the dwarf was stifling a cry of outrage. Tordek did not correct that impression. "Just don't let it happen again," he said.

  Devis nodded, smiled uncertainly, and dropped back to walk beside Lidda.

  A few hours later, Lidda joined Tordek in gathering firewood. Once they were out of the bard's hearing, she said, "That was kind of mean, you know."

  Tordek nodded and shrugged. "What he doesn't realize is that I'm a damned fine actor, too."

  "Not all the time," said Lidda. "Right?"

  Tordek looked at her and saw that she was not about to let the question pass unanswered. He set aside the fallen branches in his arms and sat on a fallen log. Lidda joined him there, sitting beside him without speaking for a long time. They watched the sun sink lower in the west until its upper edge barely broke th
e silhouette of the highest trees.

  "You felt it, didn't you?" he asked.

  "Maybe," she said. "A little bit, right before I threw it into the forge. Everything was happening so fast that I couldn't really tell whether it was the sword or my own fear."

  Tordek nodded. "It was difficult," he said, "to resist the lure of the hammer. If I had held it any longer…"

  Lidda chucked him on the arm. When he seemed not to notice the gesture, she repeated it with much greater force. "You did great. You were a real-"

  Tordek looked down at her with one hairless eyebrow arched, and she squirmed under his gaze.

  "Hero. There, I said it. I know you don't like the word, but it's true."

  Tordek shook his head and rose to his feet. He gathered up the firewood in his arms, and Lidda did the same. They walked back to the campsite.

  Sandrine stirred as they pulled the lid from her coffin.

  Her eyes were still closed against the light filtering into her cottage from above. The vampire lay in a grave lined with skulls. Four shadows fell across her pale body.

  "Did you think we would forget you?" asked Devis. He held the sharpened stake to her heart.

  Either his voice or the pricking point of the stake plucked the vampire fully from her torpor. Her eyes widened as she saw her predicament.

  "Kill us by inches, I believe she said," added Lidda.

  "Hurry," said Vadania. "The earth cannot abide her poison any longer."

  Tordek raised his axe and brought its flat side down against the stake. Sandrine shrieked one last time as her body wracked with the final, hated spasm of true death.

  Tordek grunted and raised his axe again. This time he did not strike with the flat. The rest was work for flame.

  No festival awaited them in Croaker Norge, but never had Tordek felt more genuine gratitude from people he helped. Granted, this lot had not paid him for his services so they should be doubly pleased with the results. Still, their honest offers of the best they had was more touching than countless free ales and fawning adulation from tavern wenches in towns he'd defended for pay.