Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

It was the fourth of the bastards, a crossbred mixture of alfar and orc.

Its dark skin shimmered in the starlight, showing black wavy lines; the graceful but repellent features were mostly concealed behind locks of black hair. Opening its muzzle to show sharp teeth it growled aggressively. “I will kill you all,” it vowed, drawing what appeared to be a multi-segmented sword. Abruptly it went into the attack, turning on the ubari standing nearest.

As the weapon swept in a wide curve the sword segments slipped apart. Inside, the weapon was hollow and contained a slender chain connecting the individual parts of the blade, giving the sword twice the normal range.

It struck the ubari unexpectedly and lethally, the flexible blade colliding with his sword, lifted in defense, and the sharp tip coiling round it like a snake and cutting him deep in the face. He fell dying to the ground.

The guards held their halberds ready but lacked the courage to advance on this terrifying enemy, whose lower body seemed to consist entirely of iron. Metal plates decorated with runes were sewn into its flesh to protect the upper body.

The monster moved forward, the iron foot grating against the stone. It was clearly extremely heavy. Again it brandished its cunning weapon and struck again, this time at Tungdil.

He managed to duck under the green-glowing blade, nearly falling off the wet slippery gangway as he did so.

The strange sword swung through the air and sliced through the ramp; the dwarf plunged into the water as the broken gang-plank fell. The waves met over his head and he sank like a stone.

He was overwhelmed with fear. This was Elria’s element and suddenly he was reliving the terrible moment when he had fallen into the torrent that had drowned his young son. A thousand bubbles disorientated him; he could not see which way was up. He paddled around in a panic, splashing out wildly. Then he forced himself to be calm. It was panic that had robbed him of Balodil.

He abandoned trying to swim to the surface; his armor was probably too heavy for that anyway. Instead he felt his way along the wall to get to the quayside where, if his memory served, there were steps he should be able to climb up.

The bottom was soft and he sank into it. He was short of air already, but then his foot met the first step. Elria would not get him this time.

Above his head he heard the sound of metal striking metal; a flickering green light gave a ghostly glow to the stern of the ship. He could hear curses and shouts. This was no time to take a rest.

“There! There he is!” Rodario had leaned over the harbor wall and seen him. “Praise be to Palandiell-he’s not food for fishes yet.” He disappeared again, obviously keen to participate in the fighting.

Tungdil reached the pier; only eight ubariu were left standing now. The guards all lay dead or gravely injured. The creature had formed two small shields from its iron bands, and was using them to protect its flanks while it wielded its snake-sword, forcing the ubariu to keep their distance.

Tungdil lifted a halberd in both hands and ran straight for the creature’s back.

It sensed his approach and whirled round to attack, but Tungdil was too far away to fall victim to the segmented sword. One of the shields was raised to protect the monster’s face, but Tungdil thrust his halberd at the monster’s right foot. The sharp tip penetrated the armor plating, and black blood gushed out of the wound. It wasn’t a deadly wound but that hadn’t been Tungdil’s intention. He had something else in mind. A quick turn and a swift pulling movement and the long hook at the head of the weapon lodged between the armor plates.

“Take the halberds,” he called to the ubariu. “Keep stabbing at its legs, then we’ll have it over and into the water. Hold it fast so it doesn’t escape.”

The iron bands slammed down in an attempt to break off the halberd shaft, but it was sturdy enough to withstand the blow. Tungdil responded by shaking the weapon to and fro.

The ubariu picked up the weapons of the fallen guards and came to assist the dwarf, managing to force the monster ever closer to the edge of the pier. It hit out with the snake sword in fury, slicing through one halberd shaft after another. “I shall kill you,” its clear voice called.

“For Girdlegard!” came a rallying cry above their heads and Rodario swung down on the crane’s rope, feet outstretched, to crash into one of the monster’s shields.

The irreverent assault took it by surprise. Weight and momentum allowed the actor to sweep the monster over the pier edge and into the harbor. As it fell it aimed a final blow at Rodario, cutting the calf of one leg. Then it sank below the surface.

“Oh, ye gods,” groaned the actor, swinging back again, to be helped down by the ubariu. “Oh, that hurts like stink.” He sat down on the pier. “But I was incredibly incredible again, wasn’t I?” he joked, in spite of his injury.

“Yes, incredible,” Lot-Ionan confirmed. There was nothing more he could do for the rune master, so he was kneeling next to the actor to inspect the wound. “That will have to have stitches,” he said. “It will leave a fine scar.”

“It’s a good thing that accursed weapon didn’t get me in the face. My good looks would have gone forever.”

“Well done.” Tungdil was staring into the water, and the ubariu were standing to his right and left, halberds raised, ready to hurl them at the monster should it resurface.

Bubbles came up and there was a glow from the depths.

“Sirka,” called Tungdil, pointing at a heavy ship’s anchor hanging from a nearby vessel. “Drop it. Quick!”

She took a plank, leaned it up against the side of the ship, ran up and along the deck to the bows, and released the anchor. It shot into the water with an enormous splash, and the next bubbles that rose brought black liquid with them.

“Right,” said Tungdil to the waiting ubariu, “heave up the anchor and drop it again.”

They did what he asked, noticing bent strips of iron with scraps of flesh attached to them caught on the tip of the anchor as they hauled it up. When they dropped it a second time, the water quickly changed color as though there were a thunder cloud directly under the surface.

They repeated the procedure a few more times until they could be positive there was no life left in the monster. Even if the injuries had not killed it, it would certainly have drowned by now.

More guards had arrived on the scene; Lot-Ionan described to their leader what had occurred, but he struggled to grasp what had befallen his men. They looked as though a millstone had flattened them.

For the ubariu rune master, too, the encounter with the monster had meant the end. This meant Lot-Ionan was the only being who could confront the unslayable with magic.

“Bring some nets and drag the bottom,” he commanded.

Tungdil shook Rodario by the hand. “Excellently done, Incredible One. Without you it would have gone badly awry.”

“Only a relatively small contribution. And only a slight wound.” His gaze wandered over the bodies lying on the pier. “Compared with the toll of victims.”

Lot-Ionan got to his feet. “We must make haste. I think the unslayable is already on his way to the island.”

“Will you be all right?” Tungdil helped Rodario up.

“I’ll have to be,” he replied through clenched teeth. “Who else could put on a performance like that?” Together they made their way up the gangway and boarded the ship.

Sirka took command without further ado. The sailors were surprised but obeyed without question. There were forty of the royal guard on board now and the Waveskimmer had been commandeered in the queen’s name. Mutiny was punishable by death.