Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

“So what are we looking for?” Sirka yelled. “Or do we just try and break it?”

“Shouldn’t think that would work. We need to find the driving mechanism. Then we have to destroy it.”

She made a face. “And what does a driving mechanism look like?”

Rodario indicated something on the left: a huge iron block as big as a house. Chains emerged from it, distributed via a series of rollers and pulleys to other parts of the machine. “Let’s start there and see what happens,” he suggested.

One of the ubariu screamed and dropped its weapon. A narrow blade poking up through a gap in the iron mesh they were walking on had pierced the warrior’s groin. Beneath their feet the unslayable was clinging like a spider to the underside of the walkway.

The dying ubari fell and the unslayable launched himself into the air, deftly landing on a slender cross-pole and then disappearing again into the dark.

Rodario gulped. They only had a handful of ubariu left to fight the enemy with. “Lot-Ionan, do something, for goodness’ sake,” he begged.

Tungdil could not blame the actor for such a reaction. “Over to the block, quickly,” he commanded, racing ahead.

They reached the iron block. Chains were running past them at such a speed that they were only a blur causing an oil-laden draft. It would be almost impossible to halt them, Tungdil decided. They would have to concentrate on the pulleys.

But before he could tell the others what he wanted them to do the alfar turned up again out of the blue. He was targeting Flagur, but this time he faced an opponent who was expecting an attack.

Flagur parried the first blow with his own sword and caught hold of the arm bearing the second weapon. Then he kicked the unslayable one in the chest, making him hurtle backwards. He did not release the arm. The bone would fracture.

The alfar fell back like a doll, but pushed off again from the wall, slamming back into Flagur with twice the impetus. He thrust at Flagur with his sword, forcing the ubari to release the arm without having injured him at all.

His fellow ubariu rushed up and delivered blow after blow.

The unslayable one quickly realized his mistake. These opponents were not the normal kind of orc: strong but not very nimble. He took some punishment: two hits on the chest and on his left thigh. He tried to flee off into the shadows once more to try another surprise ambush.

Striking one of the ubariu down, he tricked a second with a feint that left his victim perilously close to a chain. After another lightning strike the ubari was tangled in the links and dragged off, his screams soon dying away. From somewhere inside the machine came a sickening clunk and the chain come back out of the engine room covered in blood.

“Grab him!” Lot-Ionan had seized the opportunity to weave a binding spell that he threw like a net over the unslayable one.

The runes on the black armor glowed in protest, but they could not protect the wearer from the effects of the magic. He froze stock still, issuing shouts of fury from behind his helmet.

“Force him to the ground!” Tungdil flung himself on the alfar. Flagur came to his aid and wrenched both weapons out of their enemy’s grasp.

“Go ahead, you two.” Rodario had no desire to join in. Instead he made for the engine. “I’ll stop the motor.” He had found a hatch that opened to reveal a whole row of cogwheels and a number of large fat metal springs constantly coiling and uncoiling.

Underneath them stood a tray full of oil; into which small lubricating ladles dipped prior to smearing the rapidly moving parts. The black liquid ran back along the rods to collect back in the same tray.

“Even I can work out what to do here.” He laughed, then took his sword and punched a hole in the tray so that the oil ran out. The ladles had nothing to spoon up now.

Nothing happened. The machine went on running smoothly.

“That will take too long.” To speed things up, Rodario chucked handfuls of powdered rock in through the hatch. The ladles picked it up and spread it over the circulating parts of the machinery.

Soon the first sharp tearing noises were heard. The metal was running hot and emitted a scorching smell. It would not be long before the machine came to a standstill.

“And once more the Incredible Rodario has an incredibly inspired idea.” He congratulated himself. He closed the hatch and turned to see how Tungdil and the others were faring.

The first wheel came to a screeching stop. Some of the parts that had been moving at very high speeds were suddenly halted. Others kept running but the transmission failed. Clanking and shuddering, some of the iron parts gave way. Fragments of shattered cogwheels shot through the air.

Girdlegard,

Queendom of Weyurn,

Northern Edge of the Red Mountain Range,

Late Summer, 6241st Solar Cycle

Let’s see what’s under that helmet,” said Tungdil, reaching out to loosen the chinstrap. Loud crashes warned of trouble and fragments of shattered cogwheels flew past his ears. He swung round in shock to see what was happening. “What on earth have you done, Rodario?”

“I’ve wrecked the machine. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” the Fabulous One retorted indignantly. “It’ll all be over soon.”

But the noise was telling a different story. Chains and drive belts were bursting and ripping apart and in the interior of the engine room havoc reigned. A symphony of destruction echoed from all sides, with projectiles shooting out from exploding machinery. It would have been safer to stand on a battlefield in a hail of arrows from a thousand enemy archers than to be in the iron belly of that machine.

“Everybody out!” yelled Tungdil. He had taken a painful hit on the back. Although the chain mail had stopped the metal bolt he was badly bruised.

They headed back. On the way Sirka spotted another hatch through which they got out onto a narrow iron walkway to a second exit. The unslayable one wasn’t objecting. He had no desire to die inside an exploding machine.

It was not long before they got outside and could leap down into the dust on the tunnel floor and run for the wagons. Only then could they stop for breath.

“Remind me never to ask you to do any sabotage again,” Tungdil said to Rodario, only half joking.

With a deafening screech like the death cry of some primeval creature the drill finally stopped turning and the machine stopped thudding. The last dust floated to the ground and the air grew still.

“We’ve done it!” Rodario gave a triumphant shout. He checked to see if he had been injured. “The old heroes are the new heroes of the day! Girdlegard is safe, my friends!”

“Not quite.” Tungdil stretched out a hand, intending to take off the unslayable’s helmet and interrogate him concerning the diamond, but the alfar’s pointed boot shot out, catching the dwarf full on the forehead.

Either the unslayable one had only been pretending that Lot-Ionan’s spell had worked, or the magus was no longer able to sustain the magic. The alfar grabbed a sword from the nearest ubari and elbowed away the soldier who had been restraining him; as the armored arm struck him in the face he fell senseless to the ground.

“How dare you stop me?” the alfar bellowed from behind his protective headgear, as he wielded his sword against Flagur, who fended off the blow but got punched on the nose instead. Blood spurted out to land glistening on the unslayable’s metal gauntlet. “I’ll slice your sinews and have you kneeling at my feet in your own blood!”

“Come on, wizard!” Rodario shouted to Lot-Ionan, swerving out of reach of the remarkably agile alfar.

Tungdil confronted the foe. “You have something that does not belong to you!”