Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

“What a giant,” murmured Flagur, sounding delighted.

“Anyone see the unslayable?” asked Rodario, peering around in the half light.

“Let’s deal with this misbegotten fiend first. Then we’ll find the other one.” Flagur licked his lips in anticipation. “I wonder what it tastes like. Never tried one.”

The monster froze, its huge fingers still on the controls, and it looked back over its shoulder. A large tear slipped down from under the helmet and dripped over the lipless mouth.

“Why did he do it?” it whined. “I was a good son! I was always a good son.” The long pins connecting helmet and skull banged against the iron cauldron above him. “He wants to kill me.”

“No, we want to kill you,” Flagur grinned and motioned his warriors forward.

“Stop!” Tungdil called them back. He approached the monster, recognizing its fear and wanting to turn this to their advantage. “Where is he, your father?” he asked softly.

“Gone,” it sobbed. “He left me here to kill you. But I know he wants me dead. I’m supposed to die at the same time.” It turned round, grabbing different valves now and spinning them randomly in its panic. The pressure indicators shot up and high over their heads came the screech of escaping steam. “I don’t want to drown.”

From where he stood, five weapon lengths away, Tungdil could read the rune on its helmet: eight. “Where did he go?” he asked the creature.

“He promised we’d go through the tunnel together,” it muttered to itself, like a sulky child.

The contrast between its tremendous stature and the way it spoke and acted was almost pathetic, but the sight of the black gums and white fangs in its terrifying mouth made Tungdil shudder in revulsion. “Do you know where the tunnel is? We could take you there.” He swallowed. “I’m a scientist. I know how the machine works.”

The weird creature let go of the controls and swiveled round. “You do?” Under the oversized helmet its eyes sparkled green. “But the originator told me to kill you as soon as you arrive.” It was overwhelmed. It could not reconcile its duty and its wish to survive.

Tungdil read the simple creature’s mind. It intended to accept his suggestion, then kill them all as soon as they surfaced.

“Good. I’ll take you there,” it said, deception obvious in its voice. It stepped to one side and pointed to the controls. “Make it go up.”

“Tell me where the tunnel is and we’ll make the island go there.” Tungdil’s hand was on the lever. “But you must tell me the truth. The machine will know if you lie. It will screech and won’t obey me. It doesn’t like liars. It’ll just let us all drown.”

The creature had not expected that. Anxiously it surveyed the wall of controls, levers, wheels and indicators. “It’s in the… south,” it said, nervously.

Tungdil made the topmost valve expel whistling steam. “You’re lying!” he exclaimed, as if outraged. “Now we’ll all sink and drown.”

“Northwest!” it yelled. “Northwest, I swear! It’s in the cliff just under the giant’s nose! There’s a little sandbank with trees in front to hide the entrance.” The creature dropped to its knees in front of the boiler, its armored legs clanking against the stone floor. “Please, dear machine, don’t be angry. Bring us back up to the light!”

Tungdil was almost feeling sorry for it. “How does your father plan to get there?”

“Does it need to know?” The creature was astonished.

“Yes. The machine wants to get there first so that we can all go to the tunnel together.”

“The originator took one of the warships that were floating round the island.”

“And how did he destroy the other ones? With a diamond?”

“No.” It turned to face the dwarf. “I destroyed them. All five of them.” It lifted its shiny metal and green glass forearms as evidence of its ability. “With my special powers. I can use them whenever I want to.”

“Five,” murmured Rodario in dismay. “Would you credit it?”

The magus did not dare move. “It must be that alloy it has throughout its body. I’ve a feeling this monster may be the most dangerous and powerful of them all.” He glanced over to Flagur. “Whatever you do, don’t upset it. The weapons it’s carrying are the least of our worries.”

The ubari found it hard to do nothing, especially as the enemy seemed vulnerable, kneeling and not expecting an attack.

The island gave a shudder. It had reached the lake bed and the source.

“Make it go up,” begged the terrified hybrid, taking its two axes out. As soon as it clasped the handles in its gloved fists the runes shone out on weapons and armor alike.

“Yes, I’m going to,” Tungdil said calmly. “Watch.” He pushed and pulled a few of the levers.

Just as the creature was about to stand up, Flagur saw his chance. The opportunity must not be missed. He lunged forward with his warriors.

The hybrid acted fast, throwing an ax at its assailants; it split open one of the ubariu down the whole length of his body, spewing blood and guts on the stones. Then the creature raised its free hand, the glass cylinder glowing green.

A beam of light shot from it, knocking Flagur to the ground and hurling him against the back wall by the entrance.

He leaped to his feet with a roar. His breastplate showed a black scorch mark.

“No!” yelled the monster, throwing its second ax, but the ubari dodged the missile. “Not now!”

Tungdil took his own ax and thrust it into the creature’s naked shin while the monster’s attention was elsewhere. He knew why the creature was so horrified. Its magic had been used up. Destroying all five of the warships had exhausted its power store, making the monster considerably less dangerous than they had been assuming.

As black blood sprayed out, it roared and yelled, wrenching an iron bar from the platform railings over its head, and launching it at the dwarf.

Tungdil had to drop his ax and jump out of the way. The massive iron stave missed him and pierced the control wall, smashing dozens of levers and wheels or bending them out of shape, to complete the work of destruction the thirdlings had begun in the previous battle.

“No!” it cried out. “Look what you’ve done! You’ve made me break the machine!” It launched itself from the floor, springing high onto the next platform and leaping away. “I’ll kill you all!”

“Lot-Ionan!” Tungdil called. “Stop it recharging!”

The magician raised his hands and sent out a bright blue ray of light, missing the monster narrowly as it swerved at the last moment. The beam struck the middle of one of the boilers, releasing clouds of scalding steam from a hole the size of a mill stone.

Flagur and the ubariu stormed forward at Tungdil’s command; Sirka, Rodario and Lot-Ionan followed at a slight distance.

The magus continued trying to zap the monster in an effort to prevent it reaching the platform and taking on more magic. He failed. Some invisible power was deflecting the beams.

Tungdil and some of the troop stepped onto the lift, while the others operated the winding gear. He heartily wished he still had Keenfire. “Let us hope it doesn’t see us coming,” he said to Flagur.

The monster climbed nimbly onto the nearest boiler and leaped from there to land on the platform.

As soon as its feet touched down, greenish flames flickered up and surrounded the armored figure; sparks sizzled along the rods on its glass forearms where the magic force was concentrated, and from inside the hollow glass, light blazed like small suns.

The swaying lift cage arrived at platform level, and Tungdil pushed the door open.

“You shall die!” screamed the beast in fury. “It’s your fault I am stuck down here.” It raised both arms toward the exhausted magus.