Page 13 of Hammer the Exalter

  Chapter 13

  ‘Where is that traitor Le Frag?’ asked Hammer to no-one. For an entire day he searched for the informer and could find no trace. He called Ragnor aside and quietly gave him the job of searching for Le Frag, Ragnor being the only other of his people other than himself who knew of the little man’s existence and Hammer felt certain Ragnor would not be sharing the information with any of the others on the threat of his considerable wrath.

  The Aeserian army moved deep into the forest, avoiding the ‘Homeland Sentinel’ as Le Frag called it. The tower stood tall and smooth jutting out of the forest and darting straight to the sky. Hammer recalled the last conversation he and Le Frag had. ‘Avoid the Sentinel or Mesania will know that you are coming. Divide the army and enter the forest at night, with a portion attacking the Homeland Sentinel, some travelling across to the Guardian Sentinel while yet another can beset the Southern Sentinel. It should only take a dozen or so of your men at each of the Sentinels. You must leave no survivors who could relay the attack back to Mesania. They will not expect your arrival, particularly at night. Your Grosses must destroy any of the small settlements around the Sentinel. The remainder of the army should be able to quash any resistance from the forest dwellers and secure the whole western side of the mesa through to the eastern forest. The fighting should only take minutes and you then have a rear guard to protect any counter assaults that may eventuate from both east, west and south.”

  ‘The logic is sound Le Frag,’ said Hammer. ‘You have to date been useful to me. You may live to see another day.’ Hammer, in his own fashion, gave Le Frag praise although couched it in terms making it clear to Le Frag his place in the greater scheme of things. At the bottom of the hierarchy. Hammer did not want him to have superior designs. He did not see Le Frag after that meeting.

  Hammer led his army to their predetermined targets and soon received reports from his scouts advising the Sentinels had been defeated. He led the fight against the Guardian Sentinel himself and found little resistance. Some of the enemy chose to flee, overcome by the sight of the Aeserians. These they tracked down and either killed or held them captive in the topmost rooms in the tower for later use. He left a body of men to guard the newly acquired Sentinel and returned to the south with the rest.

  Like a vice grip, the army reformed at the south western side of the forest and ahead stretched the mighty mesa its beauty stopping all of the Aeserians as the stared in wonder. Afternoon colours gave the rock an orange hue and its shadow covered all of the lands stretching east until the darkness of the farthest ring of the forest blurred in the distance. Clearly on the top of the mesa they could see the Spires of Mesania reaching skywards indomitably, the resemblance to their own structures back in Salnikovia not lost on them Some could not move, struck by the magnitude of the view while others realised the enormity of their task confronted them.

  Ragnor came close to Hammer. ‘The Mesa looks unassailable. How in Kolin’s name are we to attack that.’

  Hammer did not answer. He did not need to justify himself to Ragnor or anyone else. He planned the assault with precision and he felt confident. As a general, if he stopped and explained himself to everyone who asked, they would never achieve anything. Suffice to know the army would follow him especially after the incidents with the Serpents, the Aeponysis and the Sprites. They would follow him off a cliff if he so ordered.

  He did worry however why Le Frag had deserted. His concern stemmed from the knowledge that this Le Frag proved himself to be a totally unscrupulous creature and may decide to turn himself back to the side of the Omarins. If that happened, then the war may be longer and more costly than he anticipated.

  He examined his plans in his mind one last time. He had surprise as his greatest weapon and he needed to maintain advantage at all costs. He knew specifically where the ancient viewing ports could be accessed and Le Frag assured him the Invaders did not know of their existence. It was through this shelf he would send a slice of his force. The remainder he intended to use as a distraction to avert attention from the real assault.

  He knew well the simple rules of laying siege to a castle or town and he intended to extend these to the mesa. Cut off their supply to the outside world with the intention of starving them to surrender. He would show this standard tactic to the Invaders. They would see a force below making camp intending to use known siege strategies and this is where their eyes would be turned, assuming incorrectly the attack would be a long one.

  Large catapults had been carried in pieces from the boats and these he directed to be constructed in full view of the mountain. The machines stood twice the height of the Aeserians and the engineers believed them powerful enough to reach the flat top of the mesa. Hammer did not really care whether their catapults could reach or not. It gave a necessary legitimacy to the entire assault to have the machines present and this would also assist in camouflaging the true point of entry.

  His men transported hundreds of pounds of rancid meats and vegetables which he intended to fire to the top of the mesa, another standard siege strategy of trying to promote disease to further accelerate a surrender. While the fools are looking outwards the attack will come from within. The only problem he could foresee is locating exactly where the ancient entrance is. Le Frag often boasted of the fact he knew, and now he was gone. He would have to rely on the sparse information Le Frag proffered. He said the ledge face was covered in rocks easily removed by strong hands and allowing an entry into the bowels of the mountain. Victory would be swift after which he decided to find Le Frag and kill him as a first order of business and he would also take the hidden princess as a vassal to himself thereby keeping the rest of the Invaders subservient and compliant. He smiled openly. It was such simplicity.

  The Aeserians began their march to the base of the mesa, emerging from the forest calmly with swords drawn, covering the ground quickly and efficiently, encountering no resistance. He called a halt when they reached the final plain leading to the mountain’s base and here he dispatched his gross of battalions to form a wide front. The engineers moved through the ranks laden with the timber for the catapults.

  The chequered plain of ploughed fields occupied most of the land around the mesa, some replete with green vegetables and others lying fallow, awaiting the new seasons sewing. Hammer ordered the fields behind them to be set alight ensuring he spared some for the feeding of his own troops. This gesture firstly announced his presence to the Invaders as well as showing them their food source could not be accessed. He did not know what stores existed inside the mesa. It was probable they had enough to last them some months. He did not need to know, the siege would mask the true plan.

  He would lead that assault himself. He yearned to see the Glory Hall, the great viewing room filled with the relics of his past, his heritage and his destiny all in one. He would reclaim his lands and he would be recorded in the annals of his people along side Kolin the Great as the one who returned their lands to the people. Hammer the Restorer and all will defer to him on bended knee.

  Hammer turned and saw Ragnor in front of him his eyes averted. He wondered how long he stood there and he smiled again realising Ragnor and any other in the army would stand there for years if necessary if that is what he commanded.

  ‘peak Ragnor. What of your mission?’

  Ragnor hesitated nervously before answering.

  ‘He is nowhere to be found liege. There are many places one such as he could secrete himself and I have searched them all. I am convinced he has left the area.’

  Ragnor prepared himself for Hammer’s onset and was surprised at the reaction.

  ‘Very well. You may leave and shine your sword thoroughly. There will soon be blood.’

  Ragnor backed away followed by the musing eyes of Hammer. It made no sense to fret about Le Frag he thought. If he is gone then so be it. The battle still beckons and even if all the plans go awry and we cannot find the Glory Room on our own then we can still
lay a traditional siege to the mesa. The attack may take longer and there may be more casualties but the will of the Omarins will eventually be destroyed. He gave a signal for the elite royal guard he personally chose, to gather around him. He decided to have a representative from each of the Grosses in his ranks thereby giving them all ownership in the grand battle and he knew their enthusiasm would be palpable.

  ‘Aeserians. You have been individually selected by myself to lead the Great Assault. For a thousand years we have prepared for this moment when we slaughter the Invader and return to our lands. Never would we have dreamed as refugees who fled the devastation of the first battle we would have grown so strong. Strong and deadly my people. We will destroy all in our path and be written in mural and stone for generations to come. We will again be supreme.’

  Rather than cheer their enthusiasm, the men drew weapons and dropped to a knee, holding the swords by the pommel and driving them into the ground in front of them. They closed their eyes and each gave thanks to the providence affording them such honour among their people. Hammer also dew his sword and followed their example. He guessed rightly the drama of him joining them as an equal rather than a leader would confirm the commitment they had to him. The looks on their faces told him his gesture was successful and he knew at this moment, if he so ordered, each of those men would have killed himself for the continuing glory of Hammer the Exaltor.

  Sounds of the catapults being wheeled and hammered began to fill the fields and the smoke from the burning fires stretched high into the air and wafted towards the mesa. Hammer stared long at the mountain. So far they met no resistance and he thought it curious the farmers, whom he guessed must exist to tend these fields, could not be seen anywhere. In fact he could see no sign of life in the fields or on the mountain.

  The Mesanians would know by now a threat entered their realm. They would not know exactly what form that threat took. Very likely rumours abounded of Aeserians settling the fields and the numbers would be either exaggerated in a ridiculous fashion or understated completely. Either way confusion was beginning to form within.

  The current government would shortly be under pressure to govern in war times. The conservatives would proffer ideas of appeasement and negotiation to placate the invader while the army would profess immediate retaliation from these obvious aggressors.

  The ruling class would be wondering how to gain more strategic power and the merchants would be planning how to profit from the cost of war. These competing priorities would erode their unity.

  The stars began to pockmark the sky as the sun disappeared and still there he saw no acknowledgment from above. The mesa looked as black as pitch. No evidence of occupation showed at all. No lamp light could be seen anywhere and no movement, even the crystal spires on the mesa’s roof remained dim. It looked to Hammer as if the mesa held its breath in anticipation of the battle ahead.

  Hammer decided to add to the chaos he guessed raged within the mountain. He called the head of the projectile team to report their progress.

  ‘The machines are almost ready great one. We can throw a half a ton of rock to the top of this pimple with ease. Direct us at your will,’ said the chief engineer, a man Hammer had never seen before. He dismissed him and called for his scouts.

  ‘I want an Invader within the hour. They are hidden about I am sure. They need to be flushed into the open. I want you to find me one and with as much ado as you need to achieve my charge upon you. I need prisoners. Be gone.’

  Four expert scouts left the encampment, scattering as quietly as a the cutting of a bird’s wing through the air as they melded into the night.

  There would be some surprises for the Invader come morning thought Hammer. For the remainder of the night he moved among the troops with brave words of encouragement and kept the men he was to take up the side of the Mesa close to him. Le Frag spoke of an eastern escarpment and path digging into the mountain's side. It would be invisible from the base but could be followed easily once found. Its entrance would not be a particular secret, as it was not designed to be so but this entry point into Mesania would likely be covered with rubble and difficult. Le Frag stumbled across it on an ancient scrap of a map which showed a tapering path used in emergencies. The map was not precise although it gave a reasonable description of where the path touched the ground and it was here Hammer would head.

  He went back to his tent too excited to rest and as the night passed and morning broke, he was met by the scouts who had broad smiles on their faces.

  With a deep bow one spoke. ‘Lord Hammer we have found some Invaders for your pleasure as you requested. We gathered those remaining secreted from the raids on the Sentinels and others we found trying to spy on us.’ They parted and twelve men sat in a huddle their hands tied behind their back, three of whom seemed barely unconscious and the others awake but covered in cuts and bruises.

  Hammer bent down close to them. They looked like Le Frag in every aspect. They did not look particularly evil, especially in their damaged state but even so Hammer felt the anger of a thousand years of exile build within him.

  ‘Prepare the engines,’ he said. ‘And bring these with you,’ as he pointed to the prone forms of the Omarins.

  The Aeserians followed Hammer to where a dozen catapults stood, aimed at the mountain. They looked tiny and insignificant compared to the size of the monolith they intended to attack. Hammer could see this question on the faces of those around him as they looked up at the daunting sight of the mesa.

  ‘If we have to dismantle Mesania one stone at a time then we will,’ he said confidently. ‘But this is not why we have brought these engines.’

  He signalled for the captured Invaders to stand in front of him. ‘You would like to go home no doubt,’ said Hammer with a sinister tone in his voice. ‘And I would like to facilitate this journey.’

  Hammer nodded to his men and they took an Invader each and tied them in a knot of legs and arms, forming human balls, dumping the bodies into the catapult buckets. They slowly began to draw back the huge sling arms, the wheels and cogs turning with a loud ‘click’ as the arm stretched back further and further until it rested at the horizontal.

  Hammer place a finger in his mouth and pointed it in the sky testing the wind direction and smiled at those around him. ‘Send these Invaders home to their brethren.’

  A few minutes later the catapult engines snapped forward as the weight of the brackets and arms were released and in ever increasing arcs they flung the Invaders high into the air until they became mere dots in the sky, slowly flying to the roof of the table mountain. Thin screams could be heard cutting through the morning air as the Omarins flew to their deaths.

  Hammer followed their flight with a satisfied grin and faced his cheering people. ‘Fine marksmanship on this beautiful morning engineers. You earn your keep from this action alone. I think these two need some slight adjustment in their elevation,’ he said pointing at the farthest machines. ‘It seems their payload hit the side of the mountain instead of the top. Never mind, go out and find some more ammunition and fire at will.’

  Aeserians scattered and searched the lands around their encampment looking for more Invaders, while Hammer unsheathed his sword, testing its edge on a nearby tree leaving a deep welt in its trunk . He ordered the rotting meats and fruits, as well as piles of excrement they carted with them, to be packed into the buckets and flung to the top of the mesa. They were protected from the putrid stink by thick sweet smelling leaves wrapping the cargo in bundles, always kept damp to release the leave’s redolence which battled the smell. Once opened, even the strongest gagged. Under the leaves, the parcels were solid balls of filth packed tightly and bound with rope. They loaded the catapults and hundreds of tonnes of garbage flew through the air, its stench leaving a trail behind it. When they exhausted their fuel of rubbish they filled the catapult’s buckets with giant rocks, they also dispatched in a steady stream Hammer ordered to continue unabated t
hroughout the day. The air filled with projectiles, the catapults regularly re-calibrated to slightly change height and distance. Whatever sat on top of the mesa was slowly being pulverised, including the spires, where large holes could be seen even at their distance. ‘Buildings can be rebuilt,’ said Hammer to the men. ‘We need conquest first.’

  The Aeserians experimented in many of the sciences and years ago discovered a mixture of saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal could create a volatile product and when lit, exploded. They possessed little in the way of sulphur, and as such incendiary devices were not common place.

  They used it mostly in their agriculture to nuture the ground before seeding fields and never gave it military application until some children placed it inside the hollow of a tree and blew the tree to pieces. The product was immediately banned except for farming and there it remained. No-one thought it had a military use until Hammer and Le Frag made some investigations. They took a small box of the powder out of the city and repeated the children's experiment and their thoughts quickly moved to the catapults. If they could send rocks filled with the stuff to the top of the mountain then they would have a fire which they hoped would force the Invaders down and out of the mesa. The problem of how to ignite the rocks remained unanswered. It took some experimenting and finally they added some rope to squares of timber and doused it in animal oils to allow it to burn. They called the team of engineers together and soon they had enough expertise to reasonably well regulate the length of time before a square would explode. There were a few incidents of burnt beards and fingers but generally it seemed to work well.

  Some did not like the idea of using these things as weapons and thought them tools of the Fylgia and not for honourable fighting men. They found it somewhat offensive you could likely kill someone from a distance and not hand to hand. Hammer immediately squashed the arguments by suggesting it would naturally follow then to ban archery also.As this was the primary method of catching dinner, his point was made. If arrows were acceptable then why not these balls of fire. The arguments ceased and experiments continued.

  Hammer ordered a lull in the bombardment while the catapults reloaded their payload, this time with the timber and powder lodged in square boxes with bucket loads of gravel to aid in the amount of shrapnel generated. As a second night fell, he commanded the saturation of the mesa to continue. In the dusk the rope wicks caused a line of fire and spark to arch across the sky, tracing the missile in its flight. Large explosions could be seen high in the night sky as the balls reached their target. The bombing lasted throughout the night and tonnes and tonnes of rocks and timber missiles pounded the roof of the mesa and still Hammer could see no sign of retaliation. He suspected the Invaders must be locked away like rats, waiting for the bombardment to relent. They would not be so fortunate. He gave specific orders the missiles should continue unceasingly day and night until they either ran out of material, which would be at least a week, or the Invaders surrendered.

  Hammer slowly wiped his sword with a rosin bag, looking over the fields in front of him. It would soon be time for the true assault. Although Le Frag said the room was a secret he could not take unnecessary risks. He would scout the area himself along with his elite guard and when the way was discovered and secured, he would move to the main doors and progress the rest of the army into Mesania.

  The night passed as Hammer and his troop mobilised and moved to the base of the mesa making a fire less camp under the shadow of a rocky shelf.

  ‘We will wait here until daylight,’ he announced as he sat with his his back to the ice cold of the mountain. He looked up and could see the mesa taper off into the distance until it was lost in the darkness. Regular flashes of light from the missiles briefly bounced off some low clouds. With the bombardment as cover they could take their time discovering the mesa’s secrets.

  They passed the night sleeplessly, the explosions keeping them awake as well as the euphoria from the promise of battle. As dawn broke Hammer gathered the men around him, instructing each to work in pairs searching every recess for the next half a mile, looking for a disused path. They beat the brush away from rocks and overturned scrubs searching urgently, and thoroughly. Hammer having to calm them lest they miss a vital clue. It took less time than Hammer would have thought, considering it could have been hundreds of years since the path would have been used. His forbears were great masons and if they built a path, then it would exist for ten times a thousand years.

  They found a small trickle of a road entering an ancient arch not more than one Aeserians wide. they removed some debris and shuffled through the gap. It did not possess the grandeur of the rest of the mountain but Hammer reckoned this path would be for secondary access and the primary point of egress would be internal. They climbed the path steadily, Hammer leading the way until a single file of twelve soldiers climbed behind him, all marvelling at the panorama exposed with every new step.

  Although old, the path still had fine edges untouched from a millennium or more of exposure to the elements. His people built it so well, it was difficult to see from the ground and equally as they rose, they always seemed to have cover from any attack coming from the ground while still able to have their own views. It was more like a rocky canal allowing them to peer over a lip of stone while keeping their bodies hidden. Onlookers from below, assuming they knew where to look, would see only the tiniest glimpse of the tops of heads and could easily be missed. Hammer could see now why the path would have been neglected and lost to the Omarins. They would not be able to see over the edge and likely lost interest.

  The path became steep and began cutting back on itself in a zig zag always biased towards the southern side of the mountain. Hammer could now see his own army scattered below him as they continued, enormous missiles soaring over their heads as they moved under their path. He made a mental note to congratulate the marksmanship of the engineers as one loose shot at this point could be catastrophic for his sortie.

  After a few minutes they passed through the missile flight path and headed further west, following the now steeply rising path. The road turned back on itself again and they now pointed east before it took another hairpin turn and dramatically moved around the full face of the west side of the mesa.

  To a man the Aeserians stared at the view. Eons of their history opened in front of them like a fan. The forest smoke ahead and far below the line of mountains punctuated by the great ice Mountain in front and through the gap a glimpse of the ocean a hundred miles away. Further still they could see an odious line of black which they thought to be an approaching storm and nearer to them, the western Sentinel, its nose poking out of the trees below a wisp of smoke from the wreckage of the earlier attacks. The whole view staggered them. It was as their fathers told them it would look, without exaggeration. The most beautiful site any had seen. They could have sat there all day ignoring the war around them.

  Hammer called Ragnor to his side and told him to drop his pack and scout as far ahead as he could go and if he reached the top of the mesa to return immediately and not to engage the enemy.

  Ragnor leapt into a jog, his powerful legs pounding up the mountain and disappearing around another bend. Hammer knew he would have turned back on this path once more and now was somewhere straight above him, perfectly camouflaged by the design of his forbears.

  The rest of the troop followed at a more steady pace, careful to investigate every small gap in the rocks to see if it his an entrance to the mountain. After a few minutes Ragnor returned with wonder on his face. It is there my liege, only a short distance. I did not enter awaiting your command however clear to all is a ledge which opens into a large room. It was empty and dark. We will require torches.

  They quickly broke out their tinder boxes from pouches around their waists and lit some timber torches they carried for this contingency and followed Ragnor. The road wended up and east and then followed a series of steps ending at a large overhanging ledge dropping thousands of fe
et to the valley floor below.

  Hammer drew his sword and told Ragnor to come with him and to hold the torches so his arms were left free to fight. The fast rising eastern sun had yet to pass its zenith and would not light the cavern for another few hours. As the men entered, Ragnor’s torches chased the shadows away, the entire room dancing with flame light. Hammer expected to see the colours and pageantry his fathers described. What he saw both depressed him and threw him into an odious burning anger. The room was a charred shell and smelt of recent fire. Some remnants of wall hangings and murals could be seen trying to escape through the black burn marks however most of what they saw was burnt beyond recognition. There were swords scattered throughout, the pommels ruined by fire, the shiny and gleaming metal now black and dull to the touch. The mosaic floors were brittle and scraped and no sign of the former splendor of the Aeserian Glory Hall remained. Hammer sheathed his sword and punched his gloved fist into his other hand with a muted thud.

  ‘The Invader will pay an even greater price for this sacrilege. They have broken asunder the Glory Room and disrespected our greatest memories. They destroy only, they cannot build. It is they who will shortly know the meaning of destruction.’

  Hammer sent Ragnor to bring the rest of the troop to him and the twelve were now inside searching for any salvageable relic, the cinders offering them nothing. Hammer’s temper began to abate. He must lead and fight with intelligence and not emotion. He needed to make clear decisions and not have them flawed by rampant feelings.

  ‘It appears some catastrophe has beset this place and judging from the smell this has happened only recently,’ he said to his men. ‘I think we will be a greater catastrophe for the Invader. Come draw your swords, they will soon be needed.’

  They sidled carefully along the only corridor they could find leading into the heart of the mountain. The walls were blackened and a foul air blew into their faces. They found they did not have enough hands, to cover their mouths, carry a sword and a torch so they tolerated the smell and kept moving.

  The tunnel wound around a corner and straightened for some miles. The sense of having millions of tons of rock above them making some uncomfortable. Even Hammer could feel the weight of the mesa bearing down on him but he knew once they reached the inhabited parts, the feeling would pass. They finally arrived at the end of the tunnel and into a massive room. It too was black and scarred but Hammer knew where he was immediately.

  ‘The Triumvirate,’ he said. ‘The ancient meeting hall of our people. Here hundreds of our kind would gather and they would perform matters of government. People would come and go as they please. In this very spot one could see Kolin and others.’

  The men were in a state of wonder as they traced their heritage, marvelling at the slightest thing and all trying to imagine what splendor once existed here. ‘We will restore this place as a matter of urgency,’ stated Hammer to the approving nods of his men. ‘But first we must regain the mesa.’

  They passed a deep and wide hole leaking small trails of smoke waving towards the roof. The scorching heat from the hole beat them back as they tried to fathom its contents.

  ‘It seems we have found the source of the damage. Something exploded here in the same fashion as our own powder. It must have been enormous to cause such damage.’

  Past the hollow they found three entrances, two of which were blocked after a few feet and the other full of rubble loose enough to remove with kicks from their heavy boots. Hammer whispered some instructions to one of the men who turned immediately and ran out of the corridor. The rest continued until they reached a dead end and they held the torches up high to see if there were any other hidden paths.

  Hammer pointed his sword at a deep gash in the wall and turned to his men. ‘If my guess is right this latch will open a door into the mesa. We are about to take the first steps into the heart of our ancient homes. Beware, they are not yet ours and much blood will be spent before we claim victory. Do not stand and marvel at what you see, focus only on our plan. We head down as fast as we can and open the gates for our army to enter. I have sent word back to our people we have found the entrance and they will be preparing to attack from below. The fate of the world rests on the shoulders of the ten in front of me. Come through unscathed my people so we can all enjoy our victory.’ Grim and fearless faces turned to Hammer and thumped heavy fists into their chests.

  He reached into the chest high cavity and found a stone lever which he pulled and they jumped back as a door slid open revealing a well lit path. They filed through and the door closed by itself them leaving them exposed in the open. Hammer could not immediately see how they could get back inside the trophy room and he knew he would need this avenue if his plans were to succeed. Now was not the time to search.

  They chose the descending path and jogged steadily, the bouncing of their leather jerkins silent as they ran. Hammer leveled his sword at every opening and quickly scanned other tunnels as they ran. They kept to the largest of the canals and always the one descending and they saw no signs of any of the Invaders, the stony silence of the mountain and the sound of the leather soles of their boots the only noise.

  The further they went without challenge the more concerned Hammer became. This could be a trap. Le Frag may have entered the mesa and warned the Invaders who may be prepared for his assault. They travelled approximately a mile to the best of his reckoning and still there was no sign of life. He stopped the troop and they all listened carefully to see if they could hear rumour of the enemy.

  The well tendered paths told them them they were often used but they could hear nothing. They were about to move out again when Hammer stopped the troop and listened as hard as he could. In the far distance he could hear something. It sounded like the din one hears when a huge crowd is gathered many miles away. From a distance the noise sounded like the ocean, sometimes rising as a wave and at other times abating like the retreating tide.

  ‘It comes from far below,’ said Hammer. ‘There must be many thousands of them and that can mean only one thing.’

  As they neared the noise, they could now hear the distinct clatter of metal as weapons were being either handed out, cleaned or practiced with. The men became more urgent. ‘They plan to attack. We thought they would hold up like rats. The Invader surprises me, they plan to go on the offensive damn them,’ he said.

  Hammer thought as he ran. His own army gathered outside not knowing they were about to be the ones who were going to be attacked and this in itself would be a considerable advantage to the Invaders. He could rear attack with his troop however even though they had the advantage of size and surprise, they were still only eleven. He could see his plans going awry and quick action was needed. Before they knew it, they burst out of the tunnel and out into a huge expansive mall also deserted of people, the stands and stalls of food and goods left unattended.

  They had little in the way of a strategy now the Invaders behaved in an unexpected manner. He originally planned to create a front of battle inside the mesa drawing away forces from the great doors below. He would personally beat his way down to the doors, their surprise invasion of an unprepared enemy meaning the Invaders would need time to organise themselves allowing him easier access to the gates. He planned to release his army into the mesa while the rest of his small troop would back towards the trophy room and escape the way they came. By the time the Invader knew what was happening they would have control. He estimated he would lose over half of the eleven men in his van guard. He accepted these potential losses as a necessary sacrifice to win the door and create mayhem. With the roof of the mesa on fire and the prospect of disease from the rotting carcasses, he expected the foe to be discouraged and their will evaporate. Many would die and many others would surrender. That was his plan and it no longer had relevance. With the offensive thrust the Invaders would throw at his people, victory would be costly. He needed to create some internal obstruction to interrupt the Invader offensive.

/>   The best bait he could think of was himself. The men ran harder, their swords cutting the air as they swung them in great arcs warming their shoulder muscles. They rounded a corner and hundreds of Omarins gathered at two giant timber gates, the doors to Mesania. Hammer knew he had to reach them immediately before the Invaders could rally a defence and it would call for sacrifice from his men. As they came closer to the Invader army Hammer bellowed a mighty battle roar from his tree trunk throat, the noise echoing off the walls and belching down the canals, thumping into the army of Invaders.

  Like a flood the Aeserians engulfed the Invaders sending dozens of them flying through the air. Screams of terror rang out in reply to Hammer’s challenge and hundreds of the little people fled from the ferocity of the attack. Hammer could see the doors, surrounded by a sturdy group of Invaders, dressed in black, who had not moved from the attack and stood feet wide apart and large swords in two hands levelled at the enemy. Hammer saw one a good deal larger than the rest, covered in a yellow cape, and who took a few brave steps towards him. Ragnor brushed past Hammer and drove straight at Le Vulk, a death stroke loaded in his double edged broadsword. Le Vulk stepped to one side and Ragnor rushed past him, losing his balance. The Omarin needed no other advantage and like lightning he swung a backhand swipe at Ragnor. The smaller man’s sword cut a wide rift in the Aeserian’s hamstring, cutting an artery, the deep red of a vicious wound spurting from Ragnor’s leg as he collapsed to the ground. Hammer looked in shock as three Invaders pounced on the fallen Ragnor hacking him to death with a brutality surprising him.

  The others also saw the death of their man and it sent them berserk. They hacked mercilessly at the surrounding Invaders killing twenty in seconds. The Omarins formed large groups and began rushing Hammer’s men, isolating each from the others. A score of men began attacking each of the Aeserian warriors and slowly Hammer could see his men losing the battle against overwhelming numbers. He needed his army right now or they would all perish.

  Raising his sword to waist height he began swirling it round and round creating a deadly eddy slaughtering everything in its path. He moved towards the door his sword a blur and the Invaders were swept aside. Le Vulk leapt into Hammer’s path and rolled under the circling, trying to drive his sword into Hammer’s vitals, a corset of armour blunting his swing. Hammer kicked him hard, slamming Le Vulk into the wall of the cavern. Two black guards replaced Le Vulk and Hammer punched one in the face crushing head and stabbed the other skewering him on the end of his sword. He reached for the handle of the timber doors, kicking other challengers out of his way as he leant his shoulder against cold wood, pushing hard as his men outside at the same time pulled and in seconds the alcove in front of the gates of Mesania filled with teeming Aeserians, their swords held high.

  They gushed into the room. Screams billowed from their thick lips and adrenaline sweat leached from their foreheads. A loud whistle sounded in the entrance and to the surprise of the Aeserians the Omarins retreated at incredible speed.

  As soon as Le Vulk saw the open doors, he signalled for his army to withdraw into the mountain. A score of Aeserians followed too quickly when suddenly a thick solid rock wall slammed down from the roof separating them from the rest of the Aeserians. Hammer launched his weight against the wall, smashing his shoulder time and again until his whole body ached however the wall remained solid. He was certain the trapped men were already dead.

  Hammer placed his hands on his knees, gulping air and trying to calm himself so he could reorganise his attack. He saw six of his men lying dead around him and countless Invaders. He had no time for grief. His plans to this point bore little fruit and although he succeeded in breaching the mesa, his attack failed. He searched the room he was now in and it was solid on all fronts except the doors of Mesania opening to the world. There were no other ally ways and Hammer realised the strategy of the little people and admired it to a degree. Had it not been for his raiding party it was likely the Invaders would have coaxed a very large portion of his army into the base of the mesa. The doors would have closed, the wall would have appeared from no where and his army would be trapped. The Invaders would not even have to kill his army, just leave it completely alone for a few weeks until it starved itself to death.

  His heart began racing again as he realised another folly. He screamed at his men to leave the mountain as quick as they could, physically throwing the men out as a hundred strained to exit the gateway at the same time. He pushed the last man ahead of him and passed the doorway when another wall of granite came slamming down behind the gates sealing the entrance completely.

  Hammer stared in disbelief at the wall for a few moments and then led his men down the steps from the entrance, leaving a few to ensure the wall did not disappear as suddenly as it had appeared or they would have an army of Invaders cutting their throats in their sleep. With anger beating in the veins of his temples, he searched for a quiet place to think.

  He sat against a tree and chewed slowly on some dried meat as his generals approached, and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. What did this all mean, he asked himself? The main artery into the mesa seemed to be closed to them through the very defensive designs in the mountain his own people designed. The Invaders now knew the strength of his force and he had lost at least twenty of his countrymen. He still had the secret access through the Glory Hall although he would find it difficult to move his entire force through this portal quickly. He needed to devise new strategies and he needed to know the Invader mind and at this moment Le Frag would be very useful. The first battle had been won by the Invader, with far superior tactics and this he conceded. He ordered the barrage from the catapults to continue as he pondered his next move knowing he could not plan another foray into enemy territory until the morrow.

  He looked to the sky and not far to the west the line of storm clouds he spied from the side of the mountain appeared much closer. He rose to his feet his eyes locked on the wave of black and he slowly drew his sword.

  ‘To arms Aeserians, the threat comes from the west.’

  The sky turned a deep shade of grey as thousands of Ratite descended on the Mesanian valley, each carrying a black Tusse passenger screaming as they landed. The Aeserians drew their swords in return and prepared to meet the new enemy.

  ‘What are these new devils?’ screamed an Aeserian nearest to Hammer.

  ‘They are Ratite with Tusse,’ said Hammer. ‘They come to claim us, we must attack or perish.’ Hammer attacked the nearest Ratite who landed too close to him, its Tusse passenger sliding off its back before Hammer sliced the throat of the bird and in a return stroke separated the Tusse head from its body. The other Aeserians seeing their captain and general do battle also screamed a battle cry and leapt at the Ratite. Swords cut the air and Ratite claws scratched at anything they could reach occasionally killing a stray Tusse as the noise of battle filled the valley.

  Hammer fought like ten men as he killed and parried, destroying all who came near him. He could see the vast Tusse numbers and could see no alternative strategy other than to fight till the death. Hundreds and hundreds more Tusse replaced those his men killed as the Ratites unloaded their passengers and began carrying away scores of Aeserians who screamed in agony as the beasts dug their razor claws through their chests.

  He could see his men fracturing and becoming isolated, all semblance of an organised fighting force evaporating before his eyes as each man fought desperately for their own survival, each too busy fighting his own battle to help others. Evening began darkening the fields and still the Tusse arrived outnumbering his men a hundred to one. Hammer sliced another Ratite in half and skewed the Tusse rider when a clear golden sound peeled across the din of battle. He lopped the heads of two Tusse and swung around to see a sight freezing him. A hundred feet away he saw the unmistakable figure of the great Kolin, his huge chest covered with a mail shirt and the famous sword Morpheous swinging in killer arcs cutting a swathe through the enem
y. The remainder of the Aeserians also saw Kolin and their eyes widened with wonder as the greatest of their kind walked and fought amongst them after a thousand years. To each Aeserian he stood as an omen for victory. Kolin arrived in their darkest hour to lead them to victory and with the Aeserians from Salnikovia fought with a renewed power. The Ratite and Tusse fell in obscene numbers, their screams of despair filling the air.

  The battle turned in the Aeserian favour when another painful shriek filled the air paralysing the entire battle field. Every creature was stabbed with a shock of fear so debilitating some stood riveted to the spot while others threw themselves to the ground while others merely let their weapons fall from their grasps as they looked in terror at the creature who belched the foul noise.

  In the middle of the battle field a monster towered over the terrified Aeserians. It stood twenty feet high, with thick scales covering its tree trunk like legs. Its’ black wings beat backwards and forwards creating such a rancid and foul wind men collapsed merely from the smell. It raised itself on its hind legs, folded its wings behind its back and drew a black sword in one hand and a trident in the other. It breathed a blazing red fire aimed at a group of Aeserians and Tusse killing them all in an instant. The Beast released another cry greeted by screams from the far eastern side of the battlefield where another army of Tusse appeared and prepared to enter the fray.

  Hammer looked with despair as new formations of the Tusse began swarming from the south and the east and a squadron of Ratite rejoined the melee, driving in on the flanks of his army. The monster released the entire field of battle from its mental grip and the fighting recommenced. From the corner of his eye, Hammer saw the hulking form of Kolin slice through the nearest ranks of Tusse and he noticed for the first time the familiar face of Arad who guarded one of Kolin’s flanks and the distinctive squat form of Minar on one knee bleeding from many wounds, guarding the other. Minar sliced at another Tusse on the ground while being pecked and clawed at by the Ratite above.

  He did not try to question how they came to be here, rather he tried to breach the gap between them so he could at the least die with his brethren, the magnitude of his folly striking him a heftier blow than any of the enemy. With a last surge he beat his way to his king and stood in front of him bleeding, shards of bone hanging from his sword.

  ‘I needed you King Kolin, Fylgia took me over. This beast has entered all our minds and I the worst. It is all so clear to me now how this beast has designed our fate and I existed only as his minion.’ Hammer hung his head wishing for forgiveness and unable to ask.

  Kolin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘We have all of us suffered Hammer. You are still Hammer the Exalter. Remember who you once were and die that man. You are forgiven.’

  Hammer looked up at his benevolent king humbled by the magnitude of the wisdom in front of him. He saw the gulf between what he designed to be and that of a true king and his stomach burned with the rage of his ignorance. He calmly turned and watched the vast sea of enemies in front of him. All across the fields of Mesania the black armour of the Tusse dominated and swarms of the locust-like Ratite carried away his men or slaughtered them where they stood, some feasting on the dead bodies. It was a nightmare unfolding before him. He looked further afield and he could now see the Omarins pour from the gates of Mesania, thousands of them joining the battle against the Tusse and Ratite. Aeserians and Omarins fighting together. Hammer looked with a tear in his eye. ‘This is how it should have been Great Kolin. Two races together not two sundered.’

  A screech leapt above the din of battle and the monster appeared near the base of the mountain. The rocks under its feet began breaking and burning under the beast’s weight. Fire belched from the creatures mouth, as it consumed a hundred of the little people in an instant. Its sword as large as a tree, swung in wide arcs killing many, many more and in the other hand it held a trident, the forks spewing flames.

  In a final flurry Hammer leapt off the high area where he stood with Kolin and charged at the beast. He came upon it from its flank, his head only reaching the black waist. Kolin could do nothing except watch as Hammer stabbed his sword deep into the thigh of the monster and with his other hand slammed a mighty blow from his sledge across the other leg of the beast.

  The monster let out a cry of pain and rage and knocked Hammer flying with a stroke of is claw, sending him crashing against the side of the mountain, rocks tumbling down from the impact as the beast walked slowly to the crumpled form. It hovered over the body, briefly examining the insect who wounded it and it leant down, grabbing Hammer by the chest engulfing him in its huge claw. He brought Hammer’s face up close to his own and twisted and turned the still struggling Aeserian as he examined the features, carefully smelling him, trying to decide if this is the one he had battled before.

  As his life’s breath left him, Hammer raised his head to the sky.

  ‘Forenstarlumbi, I call in your debt.’ Hammer searched the battle field through blood soaked eyes, expecting the sprites to arrive in numbers, saving his people in a display of magic however nothing happened. He felt his body crack under the force of the black grip as he began losing consciousness. He knew his death was only seconds away and all around him his people were being slaughtered.

  The monster decided this was not the one he sought and he blasted Hammer with a fiery breath,t wrapping the Aeserian in flame. It threw Hammer high against the mesa a hundred feet from the ground and the dead body slid to the mountain’s base in a crumble of ash and dust.

  A victory roar blasted out of the beast and the armies of Omarins and Aeserians toppled at the sound, even the Tusse and Ratite stopped their attacks in fear. Small tears formed in Kolin’s eyes as he helped Minar to his feet as Arad also joined them.

  ‘He was once a good man,’ said Kolin. ‘Let us remember him so.’

  The waves of Tusse continued their assault on the remaining Aeserians. Kolin estimated his numbers were reduced to a mere seven hundred and the Omarins number maybe two thousands. Of the enemy he estimated ten thousand and an unknown number of Ratite. Even with such numbers he would be confident of victory if they did not have to also battle the beast. The monster came as it pleased, dropping in among groups of his army and slicing or burning them in an instant and then flying elsewhere and repeating the carnage. They could survive like this for perhaps an hour and then there would be none left to tell the tale.

  Kolin sliced lazily at a band of Tusse in front of him, killing a dozen and then absently returned the stroke killing a dozen more. He repeated over and over knowing what would happen. It was inevitable the beast would seek him out. He posed the greatest threat. By killing the Tusse so effortlessly he painted a target on himself and then the battle would be on.

  Kolin did not feel scared or even intimidated. He knew of all the creatures in all the lands of Salnikov he alone could battle the monster. He also knew the outcome of the fight. He would lose. He knew this the moment Wodan explained everything back on the island. He read the Jharnell and believed himself to be the foretold hero of whom the book spoke. Who else could it be? Wodan tried to tell him the mysteries of the book were untold and none could be sure of the messages therein but Kolin knew better. Surely this is way he had been granted the gift of long life. Why he existed for a thousand years when all others died. It was why he possessed powers others did not have. It could only be he. Kolin tried searching for Wodan amongst the confusion of battle and he could not see him anywhere. He chuckled to himself after all the old man’s posturing about the urgency to get here and all the ramblings about the beast and the prophecies and the Jharnell and so on you would expect he would actually turn up when things got interesting. Here they stood on the brink of disaster and Wodan could not be seen anywhere.

  ‘Typical of an Omarin I suppose,’ said Kolin to the others. ‘All talk and no action. Perhaps Hammer was right after all.’

  ‘I am worried about Isaac,’ said Arad. ‘I have not se
en him since the battle began.’

  Minar hobbled to him as he dispatched another Tusse who breached the slight mound they decided would be their last stand. ‘You realise of course you are about to die,’ said Minar, ‘and all you can think about is that annoying son of a Tusse Isaac?’

  ‘I suppose I have become quite fond of him,’ said Arad.

  ‘What like a pet?’ asked Minar laughing painfully and then coughing a glob of blood which he spat out.

  ‘Yes something like that,’ said Arad as he placed and arm under Minar to steady him. They looked at each other as only friends can and decided without words if death was to greet them then they would be content to die in each others arms. They watched the Aeserian army gather around the southern base of the mesa and also spied more flying Tusse heading in their direction. With little hope and no debate they hurried to the mountain to reach their people before the eastern army of Tusse cut them off altogether.

  A Ratite swooped them and before they could react Kolin took its head off, its spiny body landing with a thud, its head rolling down the hill bowling a few Tusse over.

  The Beast thundered around the mountain, heaving rocks in the air and slaughtering any who came near. Kolin, who was still a few hundred feet away, turned to the monster and drew a large elkin horn from his belt and blew a sweet golden note, a stark opposition to the wails of pain and death screeching across the battle field. The monster instantly swung its head in his direction and the black face turned red with rage.

  It lifted itself on its huge wings and flew towards Kolin, each beat of its wings knocking down men and Tusse alike. Kolin stood firm as the beast landed in front of him levelling his sword at the dripping fangs. The battle ceased and every eye fell on the representatives of light and darkness. Arad and Minar could not move, rooted to the spot unable to assist even if they wanted to. Time seemed to pause, waiting for the result before continuing towards the destruction of the world.

  The monster threw its head back and belched of stream of fire skywards, its challenge making the stones crumble and shake around them and the grass singe like burnt hair.

  Kolin however merely stood and pondered the beast. He could not see a weakness immediately. He did not think he would take Hammer’s approach and brazenly attack, as the monster seemed well equipped to handle such basic strategy. Its hide seemed covered in a thick armour-like skin and its flesh looked so thick it would take a hefty stroke to cleave it and likely have little impact. Kolin looked at the long and thin neck and thought perhaps a blow to it may be more successful however it too was protected by large scales like an outcrop of shale. He did not like that option either.

  The Beast folded its wings behind its back and Kolin thought this may be a weakness. Again he would have to manoeuvre the beast so its spine faced him and he did not like his chances. Fire would be ineffectual against it considering it breathed the stuff and while water may quench the fire there was none available and certainly not in the volumes he would need. His examination moved to the taloned legs of the beast and these looked like solid rock, each as large as a man with spikes for toes and one large hook protruding from its heel for balance and protection. It did not seem to Kolin the creature had any weaknesses at all.

  With another piercing scream the monster swung its sword at Kolin who deftly rolled under the blow, the monster both surprised and angry at this ones agility. It thought perhaps the Foe had new incarnation. The beast more carefully swung a second time with better aim and again Kolin leapt into the air and somersaulted over the swipe, landing on his feet. His helmet dropped off his head and his blond hair blew behind him as he stood feet slightly apart and a crooked smile on his square face.

  ‘You need to be better than that fell beast. I am Kolin the Great, King of the Aeserian Empire and I do not fear you.’

  To the amazement of everyone the beast spoke. It was a vicious noise emanating from its thin mouth and every word causing a splutter of smoke and fire to eke past its lips.

  ‘You are a fool not to be afraid. I have waited long to kill you and then I will be supreme.’

  It heaved huge gasps of air as if the effort of speaking made it tired and Kolin noticed this.

  ‘I have read of the Raqnarok, the Gathering of the Gods, beast from the night and the winner has not been ordained. It will be you who is no more.’

  Kolin sounded so confident and proud as he spoke for a moment the monster seemed unsure of itself and pendulumed from side to side on its massive legs.

  Without warning it slammed its sword directly at Kolin’s head who again leapt out of the way, the black sword gouging a crater in the earth Kolin nearly fell into. He knew he was agile and strong but this could not go on forever. The beast would eventually strike him and the size of the sword meant even the slightest gash would be life ending. He decided, much like Wodan a millennium earlier, to head for the forest and try to find some advantage in there.

  The monster also had a thousand years to ponder a strategy and it already guessed at Kolin’s thoughts and it flew in one leap ahead of him, barring his way. Reaching out it tore an entire tree from its roots and threw it at the Aeserian who this time only barely managed to avoid the trunk and watched as it killed thirty Tusse where it landed. The beast did not notice the carnage, its whole focus was on Kolin whose elusiveness enraged it further.

  The beast sat back on its haunches and blew a thick vapour of poisonous steam from its mouth with Tusse and some Aeserians dropping to the ground as soon as the gas hit them. Kolin ran back towards the mound he came from, as the smoke formed a halo of death around his knees before dissipating. He looked to Arad and Minar who could again move freely and they fought through the Tusse to get to their leader.

  The black shape did not move. On either side of its bulk, the killer fog thickened until it took a physical shape the sight of which made the men scream in terror. Kolin knew some believed in the Fylgia, creatures who lived in a parallel universe to their own, some existing to protect and nurture the Jotins while others were mischievous even dangerous, tricking and at times injuring. For each Jotun there was fabled to be a Fylgia linked to them. As a counter point to the Fylgia were their antithesis, the ‘Hamingja’, fabled spirits of death, the mortal enemies of the Fylgia. They were forever locked in a battle for supremacy, enraged by the good of the Fylgia always searching for a means to destroy them and never succeeding. It was a deadly dance that would only conclude when no more Aeserians bred and as such no more Fylgia needed to protect them or they met in a final battle to extinction. The legends said once the Fylgia died then the Aeserians themselves would be more vulnerable to attack from forces both natural and supernatural. Before this moment Kolin believed none of it.

  He stood as solid as stone and faced the new threat. He could not believe his eyes and even he, Kolin the Great began to lose hope and despair crept up on him like the fog around his ankles. He was as close to the gods as any here and still these creatures seemed too fantastic for even he to believe, creatures more brutal and carnal then any he had ever seen.

  The Hamingja stood Aeserian height but much broader across the shoulders and while their form was a few moments ago vapour, they now existed in as solid a form as Kolin. They wore ring mail shirts and carried a shield across the arms and double edged swords. Two large horns protruded from each side of their smooth heads and each of their wrists and elbows had sharp spikes. Fine hair covered their bodies and glistened with keenness. Their beardless faces held no expression and resembled the rock the mountain was made of.

  Three moved towards Kolin who levelled his sword and they attacked in unison. Arad and Minar met the attack of one of the beasts and Kolin the other two while the black monster watched as a spectator would at sports.

  Each impact from the Haminga’s swords crushed the Aeserians to the ground, their shield arms straining to repel the blows. The blank faces of the enemy did not register surprise, fear, anger, nothing one would normally be
expected from any living beast. They merely issued blow after blow and soon all three of the Aeserians sank to their knees urging their arms to withstand one more attack. All three discarded their swords, Kolin dropping the famed Morpheous as they used both their hands and arms on their shields, trying to survive the onslaught. In a breathless moment they would be dead when Arad found a last burst of strength and climbed to his feet. At the top of his lungs in a last gasp he heard himself call to the sky.

  ‘Forenstarlumbi, Tssarmassassintents again I call in your debt.’ It was Arad’s mouth issue the demand but the words were Hammer’s, desperately calling from beyond this life, his verve making one final effort before it expired completely.

  Arad collapsed to the ground. Unexpectedly the blows ceased and all around him he could see small cloud-like shapes appear as wisps of fog. The three Aeserians raised themselves from the ground watching as the knoll they stood on became dappled with small white ghostly shapes. The Hamminga backed away as more and more of the creatures took form and began surrounding them. The battle ceased and the Hamminga for the first time looked nervously to the great black shape who sat in the distance, a wisp of smoke dribbling from the corner of its mouth.

  Kolin dropped his shield and began rubbing his trunk like arm as he reached for his sword. In front of him floated whom he assumed to be the leader of the mysterious guests.

  ‘My name is Forenstarlumbi Great Kolin. We know you and your people. We are the Fylgia or as some rustics call us Sprites and while our races at one time journeyed together we have been sundered and that was a mistake. We owe a debt to your Hammer the Exalter and we mourn his death as he was great among the people of Salnikov.’ The head turned slowly glimpsing the monster and returned to Kolin. ‘We are bound to repay Hammer for past issues although we know it will end us on this plane. Fare thee well Kolin of the Aeserians.’

  Before Kolin could answer Forenstarlumbi left the knoll and drifted towards the Hamminga along with a hundred more of the tiny shapes. The Hamminga could back away no further as their backs closed on the monster who remained unmoved. It drove its trident into the dirt and held it loosely with one hand.

  The Hamminga raised their weapons and the Fylgia attacked them. Swords blazed in the yellow of the afternoon sun. Each time the swords met shields, instead of the clang of metal there was only silence. It was the most macabre sight Kolin had ever seen. Hamminga drove into the ranks of Fylgia who washed away like a veil of mist and reformed behind the monsters, driving their swords into their sides. Each stroke was silent and screams came from open and voiceless mouths. Arad and Minar looked at each other incredulously as one of the Hamminga staggered up the rise and past them as twenty Fylgia attacked it with a swathe of blows.

  The Fylgia however were not impervious to the attacks of the Hamminga. Time after time the Fylgia would fall from a blow and the mists would evaporate in a blinding flash of light and the men knew another expired. Small flashes filled the battle field and the Fylgia numbers dwindled with a third of their kind gone in minutes. The Hamminga slowly were being defeated and paradoxically so too the Fylgia. Minutes passed and the flashes of light continued as more and more of the Fylgia perished and each time one disappeared, the Hamminga also weakened. In a few minutes the Hamminga dropped to their knees and the remainder of the Fylgia rained blows on them while others blinked into oblivion. Eventually two of the Hammingas dropped their sword and the Fylgia beheaded them before they too disappeared. There remained only two of the Fylgia who moved cautiously to the last of the Hamminga who lowered its head to the ground only to lose it from a swipe of one of the Fylgia who in turn erupted in a shock of light.

  The last Fylgia, Forenstarlumbi, floated to Kolin. ‘Our debt to Hammer the Exalter and the Aeserians has been repaid. It will of course all be for nought.’

  Kolin bowed to the creature as it turned its back and headed for the monster who returned to its feet and awaited the King of the Sprites. They closed the gap quickly and faced each other the enormous dichotomy of appearance obvious to all, the black devil huge and seemingly indestructible and the misty shape of the Fylgia gliding silently. All who watched this final battle held their breaths scared to blink unless they miss the final confrontation.

  ‘Be gone fell beast of the night. Your minions are dead as is your reign.’

  Through thin black lips the beast smiled and dragged its trident out of the ground. With lightning speed it drove its point into heart of the unmoving Forenstarlumbi and slowly lifted the trident high with the sprite dead and skewered on its end. The beast threw the sprite high into the air and it evaporated in a blast of light small sparks raining down on Arad, Minar and Kolin.

  The monster screamed at the victory. The pleasure at the destruction of another race seemed to increase its anger. Tongues of flame leapt from the sword and the trident and shot, plumes of smoke and fire towards the mesa’s side. Huge rents exploded from the impact and tonnes of debris fell across the battlefield. The beast took a few steps towards Kolin and then swooned and dropped to a knee, its trident and sword hanging loosely from its claws.

  In a flash of understanding, Kolin now knew the nature of ‘Balance’. When the great good of the Fylgia perished, so too did the evil of the Hamminga whose death did not compensate enough, so the beast too lost some of its power. Kolin stood his ground and returned to his assessment of the creature who quickly recovered and raised itself to its full height.

  Minar and Arad stood on either side of him and although they spoke no words, they knew this would be the place where they made their stand against the beast. They each scanned the battle field and any hope of victory evaporated when they looked to the south and saw a huge caravan of Tusse coming directly from the highways of Silver City. They numbered in the tens of thousands and leeched out of the forest like a mudslide covering the southern plain.

  ‘The Tusse have become strong in number and heart damn them,’ said Minar. ‘It would seem our friends from the Silver City were unsuccessful in waylaying them. I think I would like the opportunity to relieve these filthy Tusse of their heads.’ Minar looked over his shoulder, ‘I am afraid however this problem might occupy us instead.’

  The beast took flight and landed in front of them, its feet thumping into the dirt leaving deep welts in the land and kicking up a small sandstorm. It beat its blackened wings harder and harder and soon the wind pulled at their clothes, upsetting their balance. They placed one leg behind them and leant into the gale. The long blond hair of Kolin streaming behind him like a pennon and Arad and Minar’s brown curls bounced like a field of wheat in a storm. Together they looked like the gods incarnate. The wind increased and they could no longer resist, both Minar and Arad blown off their feet. They tumbled down the tor, landing among a host of Tusse who beset them immediately with another whirlwind, this time of folded iron.

  They blocked as many blows as they could and caught some gashes across their arms and legs before they balanced themselves enough to fight back. They knew Kolin was now alone with the monster and the fate of the battle lay solely in his hands. Their job would be to rally what remained of the Aeserian army to resist the Tusse. The tide of the enemy seemed to surge once again and Minar and Arad turned back to back and swept head after head of Tusse with their swords until a sickening pile of corpses lay all around them, the enemy’s blood mixing with their own.

  ‘Even though there may be too many of these creatures to fight, at least I gain some solace from killing my share,’ said Minar whilst cleaving another two Tusse.

  ‘Your right,’ panted Arad.’“But I will not die at the hands of creatures such as these. Let us fight towards our brethren to the south.’

  The two began advancing on an incredulous army of Tusse who began fracturing under the ferociousness of the two Aeserians. Ahead of them a group of twenty of their kin fought hard against a flock of Aeponysis and at least two hundred of the largest and hardiest of the Tusse warriors.

&nb
sp; Arad and Minar reached them and they recognised one of the men immediately.

  ‘How goes the battle Orlock the Subtle,’ asked Arad of one of the Aeserians present at his judgement which now seemed an eon ago.

  ‘None to well Arad. It seems you were exiled by us and then we have exiled ourselves.’ Arad smiled back at his grinning countryman. ‘As subtle as you have been named,’ he returned.

  ‘Do you see us winning the day?’ asked Arad.

  ‘No,’ replied Orlock

  ‘Then let us at the least exact some penance on these abominations.’

  The Aeserians fought with renewed vigour and soon cleared the immediate area of Tusse and even the Ratites hovered outside sword distance, unsure of whether they should continue the attack here or find easier prey. The Aeserians leant on their swords with the temporary relief and could feel perhaps there was a chance they may defeat the enemy.

  ‘We must link with more of our men,’ said Minar as he searched the battlefield trying to work out which of the many small fighting grosses they should try to merge with when Orlock grabbed him by the shoulder.

  ‘Why bother,’ he said curtly. They all swung around and the shadow of the new Tusse army Minar and Arad saw advancing on them earlier, arrived at the field. Arad guessed they now faced at least thirty thousand of the Tusse and even they could not defeat such numbers.

  The rest of the Tusse and the Ratites took heart from the sight of their renewed numbers and rejoined the battle this time with smiles across their leathery faces. Snarls and the gnashing of teeth began to resound across the battle field.

  Just as the Tusse looked to be overrunning every gross Arad could see, another movement caught his eye. He grabbed Minar’s jerkin and the pair stared towards the mesa. Huge trumpets blasted across the field and the Tusse once again paused their attack to find the source. At the base of the mesa, rocks began to shift and a dozen large doors opened. A score of their brothers they thought trapped in the bowels of the mountain, now charged at the new army of Tusse and behind them, the remainder of the Mesanian army held back by Le Vulk until the last moment also gushed onto the battle field. He had also partitioned off some of the Aeserians from the earlier invasion of the meas and while they had destroyed some of the giants Le Vulk did not see the sense in killing them all when he could drop another wall of stone and corral them

  Until now, Le Vulk had only sent a portion of his strength into the battle, making the Tusse believe the mountain was empty of their fighting force. Now thousands and thousands of Omarins all mounted on horses and each carrying a pennon and sword charged into the midst of the Tusse and began slaughtering them at will.

  Minar and Arad could not believe their eyes. The entire enemy army began disintegrating. The formidable fighting force they faced only moments before, degenerated into a leaderless rabble, Tusse running aimlessly in every direction and being run through by the swords of the Omarins who led the charge deep into the enemy lines. The van of the Tusse disappeared and they met the remainder of the army. Most of the Tusse had no idea what hit them. This far back from the front of the battle all the Tusse knew was at least ten thousand of their army stood between them and the enemy and most did not expect to be involved at all and now they faced a ferocious attack by a mobile and motivated enemy whose anger shone from their eyes.

  Many of the Tusse tried to flee the tide of Omarins, while others just stood and died on the spot. Le Vulk was irresistible. Everywhere he went the armies of Omarins and Aeserians alike rallied and beat the defence to a pulp. The cries went up from the Omarins ‘Le Vulk, Le Vulk,’ and Le Vulk would push through defences and rally his men.

  After only minutes the defenders seemed ready to claim victory as thousands of the Tusse left screaming, their swords thrown to the ground, however they underestimated the vastness of the Tusse army. A battalion of Tusse, who to this point only observed the destruction, now entered the fray and the allies could not overcome this group so easily. Both their sword play and their intensity seemed greater than the other Tusse. They seemed to all come from the one tribe and unlike the traditional Tusse, their shields and swords were forged from the same armoury.

  Many used the Ratites as steeds and swooped on the Omarins and Aeserians, killing them from the air. Le Vulk saw them coming and pulled an ivory horn from his belt and blew three loud turns. Immediately the battle began to swing towards him as his men rallied to his call. Within minutes, two lines of warriors faced off, each showing no signs of wavering.

  Le Vulk spoke to the nearest of the Aeserians who was not much taller than himself while he sat on his steed. The giant men immediately formed a wedge, the pointed end facing the leaders of the Tusse and Ratites. The Omarins spread in a line and each of them manned off against two of the enemy. Le Vulk raised himself on his stirrups and called aloud, the din of battle around him abating momentarily.

  ‘I give you some quarter Tusse and Aeponysis. Leave now and you will be spared. If you engage us, then the wrath of the Aeserians who were the Jontenhiem of old and Mesanians who were called Omarins, who together we call the armies of Mesania will destroy you.’

  Le Vulk raised his shield as a spear struck it and bounced harmlessly away as the Tusse gave their reply and both armies charged at each other. The crash as they came together sounded like a thunderclap and blood and bodies of both the Tusse and the Mesanians spurted into the air, painting the ground in a sickly hue of red. The stench of death and the screams of the dying blackened the air and still the battle waged. Both armies struggled to find sure footholds amongst the slippery mud and blood, so they moved to surer ground and re engaged, neither side prepared to give any quarter. The sun dropped behind the trees to the west and long shadows stretched to the eastern horizon making the men seem like elongated ghouls as they thrashed their weapons against anything that looked like it threatened.

  To the despair of the Mesanian troops, their initial assault now slowed dangerously and the Tusse numbers began to swell once again, the southern Tusse finally joining with their kind from the east. The fresh troops of Tusse smashed into the tiring Mesanian army and they fought as if each blow would win the day.

  As more and more men and Tusse fell, the battle began to slow as tired arms and screaming lungs made the battle harden. The Tusse numbers became so vast they could not push enough fresh troops ahead to destroy the enemy quickly, which assisted Le Vulk in his defence.

  Le Vulk looked around him just as the last rays of the sun disappeared and he breathed a little easier. Surly the battle would pause in the night hours especially when Argil and Arean the twin moons would rise late. Neither side could see the other and he could get some drink and food and prepare for the next morning.

  He began issuing orders when a light as bright as the day burst among the forest. The initial blaze the Aeserians set days earlier ran low on fuel and the trees now smouldered slowly. The entire ring of forest, hundreds of miles around the perimeter of Mesania erupted into a white blaze, lighting the battle field like white sun. The Tusse took this a signal to renew their assault and the allies became despondent knowing soon there would be a result one way or another. They folded back towards the mesa, hitting the base of the mountain and spreading like a wave washing against the shoreline.

  ‘At the least they cannot come on our rears,’ declared Le Vulk to those around him as another wave of Tusse attacked. Strong as he was, Le Vulk was mortally tired. He shed his broadsword and now fought with a much lighter single edged sword, not as strong as his old one although much easier to hold. The impacts of his strokes did not have the weight behind them of his primary sword but the edge was keen and rather than sever a head, this sword left the head dangling awkwardly after he sliced half way through the neck.

  He rallied the men around him for what he knew would be a bitter assault. Next to him a group of six Tusse flew past him each missing a number of limbs. A second batch followed the first and then a third and suddenly the Tuss
e in front of him decided to retreat. Le Vulk looked to his right and saw two giants he had not seen before breathing heavily and smiling.

  ‘Well met,’ said Arad bowing low. ‘We watched you fight all through the day and decided we should meet before we die.’ Minar came to his side and also bowed. ‘We know bravery and skill when we see it,’ he said. ‘I am Minar the Loyal and this is Arad once The Generous now the Source of Peace. It is not our custom to tell you our names in such a hasty fashion and we would also normally espouse the virtues of our given names however we are under some time constraints at present,’ he said the last as he lifted his sword through the neck of two Tusse who crept up behind them.

  ‘Well met indeed masters Enormous. I am Le Vulk, captain of the forces of Mesania. I have met many of your kind today and you fight well. A great part of me is happy for a time at least we have a common enemy because I would not like to battle you and yours.’

  ‘We thought the same of you also Captain of the Omarins. What can we do?’

  ‘The only thing is to fight to the gates and try to hold up inside the mountain. We would not have ventured out at all if we had not seen the worthy fight your people on the outside were having. At first we thought a few hundred of our people could rid ourselves of a few Tusse but their numbers grew, and we decided we could not leave you alone to die. It is not neighbourly.’

  ‘You have a gift of right speech,’ said Arad. ‘I have spent some time with one of your kind lately and it seems typical of you race that flowery speech and clever words are a part of you. We like that.’

  ‘Time for speech etiquette later Arad,’ said Minar. ‘If we are to reach the gates we need to rally our peoples. There is no time to lose.’

  Le Vulk blew two piercing notes from his ivory horn and instantly across the battlefield, the allies began retreating towards the gates of Mesania. They tried to breach the lines of Tusse who saw their plans and grouped to block their escape with the Omarins numbers dwindling as the Tusse hacked into them The clamour of battle filled the area in front of the gates and the immediate area around Le Vulk harboured more Tusse than his men and grew in numbers by the second when a roar erupted across the field. Far in the distance a long line of mounted soldiers charged through the battalions of southern Tusse, cutting them down as they passed, creating a clear path some twenty feet wide the Tusse could not enter.

  The men of the Silver City mounted and five hundred strong arrived at the battle field and cut a swathe towards the mesa, slicing at any Tusse or Ratite coming near them, They formed a guard for the hundreds of tired allies to escape through. The Omarins and Aeserians quit fighting and sprinted down the new path the Silverarians carved.

  The first men to reach Le Vulk did not try to rush past and enter the mesa but rather turned again to fight making a semi circle of defence growing wider more numbers arrived until an umbrella of swords formed admitting the remainder of their kind as well as the Aeserians and the remainder of the mounted Silverarians.

  As a defensive measure it was impregnable although it provided little scope for attack. It was perfect for maintaining a shield allowing the army to pass through the gates but each man in the chain relied on the man along side to remain solid and so they could not become an offensive unit lest they weaken the line.

  They began collapsing in on themselves as the doors swung open and hundreds of survivors poured into the cracks in the mountain like a storm water filtering into dry ground.

  The men protected the gates until the last ally entered the mesa and against a growing pressure of attacking Tusse they turned giant wheels and chains, closing the gates, squeezing some of the Tusse in their jaws as they finally sealed. Every man, Omarin, Aeserian and Silverarian collapsed where they stood and hundreds of women and children rushed to them with medical supplies, water and food, bathing heads both big and small and issuing words of comfort for those who lost friends. Arad sat on the ground getting his breath back when Le Vulk urged he and Minar to come with him.

  ‘Where do we go Le Vulk? I need some rest,’ said Arad.

  ‘We go to the roof Messrs. Arad and Minar. It is there we see what the enemy has for us.’

  The two Aeserians walked as if in a dream through their ancient homes, eventually reaching the legendary Great Staircase windin inevitably up to the summit of the mesa. They ignored their tired legs as each step revealed new wonders they thought they would never experience. They held no bitter feeling towards the Omarins and wished only the battle to end so they could wade in the beauty around them. Tapestries, murals and assorted art both ancient and more recent, filled the mountain and Arad and Minar could have stood for hours bathing in the beauty. Le Vulk understood their feelings and gave them some moments before he urged them forward.

  Finally they reached the summit still burning with the debris of Hammer’s catapults, piles of rubbish strewn everywhere and above them the mighty spires pock marked with holes from the tonnes of rock which had pounded the roof over the last few days. Le Vulk took them to the mountain’s edge and onto a timber ledge lookout facing south. There clearly, although many hundreds of yards below, stood the defined shapes of Kolin and the Beast as they battled, blow after blow from their weapons causing a lightning blast flaming many feet into the air. Even at this distance they could see the disparity in size between the two, as the black monster swung its weapons tirelessly at the smaller shape of Kolin who desperately jumped and dived to avoid the blows.

  A light shone from the brow of Kolin as more and more of the peoples of Mesania came to the top of the mesa to witness the battle below while tide of Tusse harmlessly washed against the mountain side trying to breach the ancient doors leading to into the mesa. In frustration they hacked uselessly at the mountain’s girdle blunting and breaking their blades. The sea of bodies settled around the base and with no live enemy to engage they hacked mercilessly at the bodies of the fallen Aeserian and Omarin soldiers. They threw body parts high in the air for the Ratite to devour or chewed on other remains. The allies looked on in revulsion, powerless to stop the desecration. They eventually averted their eyes and above the din below they could hear Kolin and the beast continue their war. As the Aeserians watched breathlessly, two figures sidled up next to them and tugged at their aprons of mail.

  ‘Good to see you survived,’ said Isaac to Arad.

  ‘Well I see the little master has managed to avoid the real fighting,’ said Minar who smiled down at Darion and Isaac.

  ‘My bleeding all over the enemy would have had little effect,’ said Isaac as he peered over the edge.

  ‘How did you manage to get inside before us. I seem to remember some ten thousand Tusse stood between us and the doors.’

  ‘You forget with whom we travel,’ said Darion.’A bit of local knowledge led us through some little used paths and directly into the mountain. The others wanted to go straight out to fight but Wodan took them away somewhere and I haven’t seen them since. I must say I am worried about them all.’ Darion searched the roof expecting to see his friends calmly stroll towards them discussing the weather.

  ‘I hope Kolin beats that ugly brute,’ said Isaac ‘I wish I was bigger and I would have a go at him myself.’

  ‘There will be plenty of time for heroics,’ said Minar. ‘I fear Kolin will not defeat this monster however this battle is his alone and we cannot and could not assist. It is why he came on this trek and he will do as best he can. I fear also our urgings will be for nought and we will all have to further defend ourselves and after that I suspect we will fall.’

  He said this with such a finality the others felt a cold chill run up their spines.

  Darion was lost for words. He had left Le Carra in the infirmary to tend the injured and he climbed onto the roof of the mesa to see if there were anything he could do. The despondent and resigned looks on every face made him feel useless. He assumed Le Tare and the others who were meeting with Wodan would devise a strategy and he hoped also they
hurried as time appeared to be short. Below Kolin and the beast still waged their death dance, neither one willing to concede while the eyes of the world watch on.

  Wodan suddenly appeared next to them along with Le Bow, their faces blank and shocked with resignation. Wodan spoke in a language none could understand. It was a sing song type of chant drifting from his aged and thin lips and it felt both familiar and alien all at the same time. When he finished, Minar looked at him.

  ‘Is that a funeral dirge?’ he asked.

  ‘Not quite. It does however signal a change to come.’ Wodan slapped a hand on each of Darion’s and Isaac’s shoulders. ‘You have played your parts well my young friends. It does appear though there is now little else that can be done. Kolin will not last much longer although it is the bravest struggle the beast has had for an eon.’

  Wodan threw back his cloak and underneath he wore a bright silver mail suit and at his side a long bright sword in a scabbard covered in jewels. His hair flowed back, revealing a face with the lines of age rinsed from it. The visage was of a young and powerful warrior not much older than themselves, who stood brave and proud.

  ‘The chase finishes here and it is as the Jharnell says. The Raqnarok is nigh, The Gathering of the Gods and the final battle will occur. I cannot drive the creature away and have not prepared a canvas to escape through, it has caught us too quickly. It would take many years to make a new world we can escape to and I believe it is better this way. We are tired of the unknown and the chase. Let us finish what we started a hundred ages ago and for better or worse the universe will have its answer tonight.’

  The blazing forest lit the battle field as bright as the noon sun for miles around the mesa. Kolin sidestepped another deadly blow and this time struggled to his feet as exhaustion set in.

  ‘It will not be long now,’ said Wodan closing his eyes as if praying and every now and then he would speak to the air in front of him and then wait as if hearing a reply.

  Le Bow slammed his sword into the dirt and cried into the air. ‘How I wish the Ginningagap would swallow this nightmare where it stood.’

  Wodan’s eyes snapped open and he stared incredulously at the fuming Le Bow. ‘Repeat thyself Le Bow. What is it you just said?’

  ‘I said I wished the Ginningagap, the fabled void at the end of the universe, would swallow the creature and rid us of it forever.’

  Wodan looked wide eyed at Le Bow and then at Darion and Isaac and he began chuckling to himself. ‘That is it,’ he said. ‘That must be it. For a hundred millenniums I and my kind have pondered the destruction of the creature and here Le Bow you have stumbled on the answer. But how can I do it?’ he said to himself. ‘I must enter the battle now or Kolin is lost. I do not have a hundred years at my disposal.’

  The others looked at each other with confused faces as Wodan talked to himself. He grabbed Darion and Isaac by their collars and rushed them down from the roof and into the bowls of the mountain, quickly followed by Le Bow, Le Vulk and the Aeserians. They reached Le Tare, Le Fidler, and the Chief of the Silverarians who were rallying the armies for a final assault when Wodan burst among them.

  ‘Quickly get me a canvas and some paints.’ They all hesitated until Wodan slammed his sword into the ground cracking the rock in a rent to the depth of a man’s knees. ‘NOW!’

  Le Bow leapt into action and a minute later produced the required materials.

  ‘What is going on Wodan?’ asked Darion who was as confused as everyone else.

  ‘I have little time to explain so I will be brief. Isaac and Kolin both said it. We cannot destroy the beast. If we did then an equal amount of good would leave the universe and the evil in the monster is so vast it would assuredly destroy life everywhere. It is the great conundrum that faces us. Destroy the monster without destroying ourselves So, we do not destroy it, we send it into the Ginningagap, the great void. There it will live forever and be unable to do any harm. The balance will be maintained and the creature effectively harmless for all of eternity. The problem is we need to find the Void but maybe we can re create it on the canvas and trap the creature into it. That is the easy part. The hard part is painting a pure void in minutes where it would take a skilled artisan like myself a hundred years. That is the problem and I have the answer.’

  They looked at him blankly and he continued.

  Wodan calmed his voice and took Darion’s shoulders in both hands, his own shoulders relaxing and a knowing and friendly smile on his regal face. ‘It is you Darion who will paint the void, it can only be you. ‘The Rok of Salvation will deliver the people from the creature.’ It is written throughout the Great Book and now I understand it all too clearly.’

  ‘But I can’t paint Wodan. You know that. I have never been able to paint, I’m hopeless at it. I can’t do this.’ Darion knew he was not trying to avoid responsibility. He genuinely believed he was incapable of painting anything at all and certainly not the one picture that could save the world.

  ‘I do not have time to argue. I go to help Kolin. Do the best you can is all I can advise. We will make a last stand on the fields below. Le Vulk, have the armies attack. We go to glory.’ Le Vulk, and the Chief immediately began marshalling the troops.

  ‘Minar and Arad, gather your people and Le Tare gather all the brothers of Omarin,’ said Wodan. ‘We will charge a final charge into the midst of the enemy. Darion and Isaac will need to bring the painting to me on the field and leave the rest to me. Hurry, I feel the Beast is losing patience and when it does all will end very quickly. Do not dawdle, life depends on it.’

  Wodan sprinted back up the great Staircase and onto the roof where he measured the wind with a wet finger in the air and leapt off the edge. The crowd gasped as they saw Wodan float quickly and directly to Kolin below, his silver sword bright, reflecting the forest fire below.

  ‘Quickly Darion do as he says,’ urged Isaac as Minar, Arad and the others gathered tightly around him.

  ‘Isaac, I can’t paint. What makes him think I can paint any better on this world than our own.’

  ‘I don’t know much buddy but what I do know is that I trust what he says and if he thinks you can do it, then I believe him. Now start painting.’

  Darion picked up a brush and stared blankly at the canvass. ‘What does a void look like?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, just splash some black paint on the canvas and see what happens.’

  Darion lifted a black blob of paint from the pallet, dabbling it onto the canvas and spread it around as best he could, trying to cover the entire sheet and after a minute stood back to observe his work. As far as Darion could see, the picture certainly looked black and that was all. He poked and prodded it with his paint brush to see if it possessed a life of its own, like the one in the museum.

  ‘I told you it wouldn’t work,’ he said. ‘It is just a mess of black paint.’

  Le Carra arrived and the others told her what Wodan planned and she moved next to her betrothed. ‘I do not know about art my Rok but I know a little about feelings and I do not think you tried to paint the Ginningagap. I think you tried to splatter black paint on a canvas, and if that was your goal then you have succeeded. Try again and let me speak to you as you paint and I will tell you all I know of the dream called the ‘Ginningagap Void’ and you will place the reality into a painting.’

  They set up another canvas, again Darion loading his brush with paint and this time hesitated to put any on the canvas. Le Carra held his hand and spoke softly to him. ‘Our legends say the Ginningagap lies on the edge of the universe and in it goes all the evils of the world. Every lie and deceit, cheated love and evil thoughts stream like a river to the Void so when we die we leave the bad behind and take the good remaining in us to the next life. It is a place as dark as our darkest thoughts. It appears in our dreams, on the edge of consciousness and it is where the creature belongs.’

  Darion closed his eyes listening to the soft sweet voice of Le
Carra. He could now picture in his mind the Void. It became more than just a dark place, a blob of pitch. It possessed a life, and even though no light came from it, its verve was as subtle as a dream of a kiss.

  He began painting, first with his eyes closed and then slowly opening. The canvass filled with paint and although it looked like the first in colour, it appeared to have its own contours, and shifted like an ocean’s currents, waves ebbing and flowing through the darkness, a bottomless pit of sombre, breathing life. He sat back staring, as did the others, at the final result. Everyone who saw it shivered as if the painting gave off its own cold, chilling the bones. The black was deep and intense, heaving with an unseen energy.

  Darion took his brush and tried prodding the painting and to his amazement the tip of the brush disappeared into the void. He quickly pulled it out and it appeared unharmed so he thrust it further in. An unseen forced tried to whip the brush from his grasp and he fell forward with shock, his hand falling into the canvas. Le Carra pulled him back before the rest of him fell all the way in and he sat back breathing heavily.

  ‘It felt like someone had hold of my hand and they tried to pull me inside. It froze my blood.’ Le Carra rubbed her hands over Darion’s arm cold and thick with goose bumps. He recovered and stared at what he created.

  A timber frame kept the canvas rigid. Isaac and Le Bow bent their knees and tried to lift the painting expecting it to be heavy however they had no trouble and moved as quick as they could down to the doors of the mountain. Le Fidler, Darion and Le Carra walked in front of the painting urging everyone to keep clear of it lest they fall in.

  They reached the doors and the remaining army of the allies gathered quietly in attack groups. Le Tare stood on a pedestal so he could see his troops and Minar and Arad joined him.

  ‘We are come to the final assault my peoples. Beside you are the race of Aeserians who built the world you live in and next to them our long sundered brothers from Silver City. We must forget our differences and work together for as sure as I stand here if we do not then the filth outside will live within these walls. The beast is abroad and battles the legendary Kolin the Great and Wodan our Saviour. You are living in times only the Jharnell foretold and if we win the day, you will fill a chapter in the appendix of the great book as heroes of the world. We make directly for the beast as fast as the enemy allows. Do not diverge. We must make a path for The Rok of Salvation and his friends for it is his hands we place our lives. The Allies of Salnikovia are come.’

  Le Tare met Le Vulk and Le Fidler who drew their swords and pointed towards the doors which slowly began to swing open. Within seconds the portal was breached by scores of Tusse pushed by the force of the numbers behind them. The battle at the gates was fierce and short, as the van of the Omarins hacked at the Tusse. The Aeserians reformed the remainder of their grosses now dwindled by a third and they too charged into the blazing magic light from the forest. The dark of the insides of the mesa was lifted by the light of the white forest fire and it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust. Once they fully exited the mountain, they could see the huge swarms of Tusse and Ratites. The Allies army burst upon them ignoring the absurd numbers against them and fighting like they were the ones who held the advantage.

  The initial fighting went well and they carved large inroads into the Tusse army until the volume of Tusse numbers began swamping the allies. The Tusse fought with venom and aggression, slowly gaining them ascendency. The beast seemed to inject them with a fearlessness they did not previously possess and even their fighting skills improved. They did not seem so quick to die and more accurate and canny in attack. The whole of the defender’s army now stood in the open and the great doors of Mesania swung closed stopping any retreat. Le Vulk could be seen sitting on his horse directing attacks and defences, always moving towards the shock of lightning a few hundred yards away.

  He looked across the field and saw Le Tare along with Le Fidler and Le Bow form a brigade around Darion and Isaac, urging a number of other men to protect the painting. A huge Ratite swooped down, snatching Le Vulk, and raising him off his steed and into the air. Le Bow cried in shock as the Ratite flew above them, carrying Le Vulk by digging its claws deep into his back. Le Fidler pulled a long hunting knife from his boot, took aim at the creature and let fly with a throw. They all watched unmoving as the knife pierced the air with a long high whistle and sunk directly into neck of the bird. It let out a cry of pain dropping Le Vulk who landed with a thud into a cluster of Tusse. As he fell, Le Fidler and Le Bow moved quickly to reach him before any of the Tusse had a chance to attack the fallen body. To their amazement Le Vulk sat up leaning on his good shoulder and shook his head.

  ‘Are you made of stone?’ asked Le Bow checking his friends injured shoulder as he spoke. He knew the Ratites talons were dipped in poison and expected Le Vulk to be dead in seconds. Le Vulk’s thick mail shirt and leather jerkin were only partly torn and it seemed the skin remained unbroken. ‘Well Le Vulk, you are lucky indeed not to have been worse hurt. I think I will stay next to you for the rest of the night. If that didn’t kill you nothing will.’

  They looked back at the troop Le Tare led and saw them heavily under attack. Le Tare did what he could but the numbers of Tusse were forcing him into defense. Isaac and Darion put the canvas down against a rock and unsheathed their swords and joined Le Tare.

  ‘I have had it with these things Darion,’ said Isaac fending off another blow. ‘What did our old football coach once say? ‘The best form of defence is attack.’ so lets attack.’

  They immediately used all their reserves of strength and swung heavily at the Tusse in front of them. They struck hard and true at the monsters, stabbing and hacking until a clear path formed in front of them.

  ‘Good stuff,’ said Isaac with a gleam in his eye as he wiped the blood from his sword on a dead Tusse. ‘Where are the rest?’ He looked around and a squad of Tusse ran directly at him. ‘Oh here they are,’ he called.

  As the enemy reached them, Le Bow, Le Fidler and the recovered Le Vulk attacked the Tusse from the side and killed most in a few seconds.

  One larger Tusse sidestepped the rest and headed for Darion who blocked a heavy blow and followed with a smart punch to the side of its head. The Tusse was stunned for a moment then swung around and attacked ferociously until Darion lay on his back, the Tusse on top of him and their swords crossed at his throat. The Tusse forced its blade down while Darion tried to push it up and away. Their grips tightened and for a moment neither could find an advantage and break the sword lock. The Tusse’s jaundice eyes and dripping fangs breathed down on Darion exuding a stench floating into his mouth and making him gag.

  Darion’s strength ebbed as the sword came closer to his throat. He managed to wriggle and slide first one knee and then the other under the chest of the monster and he kicked out as hard as he could. The Tusse went flying off him and hit the ground on its feet. It lost balance, staggering backwards and fell against the painting. For a moment it looked stuck to the canvas and tried to prepare itself for another attack when it screamed. The painting sucked at the creatures back which disappeared into the blackness of the picture and left only its arms, legs and head sticking out. In an instant the rest of the Tusse disappeared, an oily ‘plop’ sound the only residue of the beast.

  The others looked in amazement at where the Tusse had stood and all at once realised the power of their weapon. They had to get to Wodan.

  They fought with renewed energy and waded through the Tusse. In the distance they could see Kolin and the beast locked in battle and then the familiar sight of Wodan circling the fray.

  Kolin struggled to keep away from the monster. When the forest first roared into fiery life he thought it an advantage as he could now see from whence the beast attacked. Now he wished the light was gone so he could try to plot an escape or at least a diversion to allow him more time. He smiled crookedly, and chastised himself for trying to prolong an inevitable
defeat. His innate power and pride forbade a soft surrender. He would fight to his last breath which unfortunately he could feel fast approaching.

  He rolled again to his side and felt the breath of the monster as it again missed a clean hit on him and he could feel the tension in the enemy as it prepared to spring another attack. Kolin knew he was more agile than any of his kin, though even the most balanced can topple under pressure. He took several steps backwards and held his sword ahead of him when he tripped on the tiniest of tree roots, a mere sprig in the ground and he fell over onto his back as his sword sprayed out of his hand, tantalisingly out of reach.

  The monster leapt at the opportunity and hovered over the defenceless Kolin, its talons aimed at his face and neck as it dropped its full weight down towards the leader of the Aeserians. As it started its descent, a weight landed on its back and began to drive huge welts into its spiny scales. Hit after hit assailed the beast as Wodan rode the monster like a rodeo bull, being lifted high off its back as it bucked and flailed its wings trying to dislodge him.

  Wodan somersaulted off its back and landed perfectly on his two feet, slightly crouched in attack stance, his sword posted high and behind his shoulder, both his gloved hands holding the hilt. To every onlooker it seemed he and not the monster led the death dance.

  Kolin rose to his feet.

  ‘The beast is as strong as you said Wodan. It seems to delight in the battle.’

  ‘It sure does,’ answered Wodan absently as he searched the area for a more defensive position. ‘Go to your people Kolin, they need you more than I.’

  They both dived full length to either side of the beast as it made another lunge with its black sword, narrowly missing the flying legs of Kolin who rolled to his feet and ran back to Wodan.

  ‘I would like to abide but I do not think the beast will allow me to take my leave.’

  Two swipes from the black trident of the beast sent Wodan and Kolin both flying through the air. Enormous sparks like lightning sprouted across the battle field as it raised its trident high in the air, pulverising a distant outcropping of rock, leaving crumbs and dust in its wake.

  With a fury surprising both of them the monster attacked again and this time neither man had time to flee, the trident coming down on both of them, their swords held high meeting the blow just above their heads. The metal swords and trident clashed and locked above their eyes as the beast added its weight to the downwards pressure, its boiling breath singing their hair and arms. The metals began to warm and redden with heat as the three powers directed all their strengths into their blades. Hotter and hotter the weapons became and the red made way for white as the metal began to change form and become soft and pliable. The monster sensed victory and forced down even harder onto the two men until their own blades formed teardrops of molten metal dripping towards their faces.

  A long bead of metal began to slowly fall towards Kolin, the viscous metal stretching and elongating inches at a time. The droplet hung a hairsbreadth from Kolin’s sweating forehead when the monster was suddenly knocked off its feet by an airborne Arad who hit the beast with his shoulder as hard as he could.

  Arad felt like he ran at full pace into a stone wall covered in broken glass, so hard did the hide of the monster feel and he hit the ground hard.

  Kolin and Wodan regained their feet while Arad struggled to recover from the enormous jolt to his body.

  He raised himself on an elbow when he felt the white-hot heat of the beasts sword as it passed through his chest. He looked up and saw the black shape silhouetted against the yellow and white of the forest fires behind him and saw into the beasts mouth to the emptiness within it.

  The monster twisted the sword, making the hole bigger and pierced Arad’s lungs. Rather than scream, Arad held onto the beast’s sword with his mail gloved hands and pulled himself to his feet and stared imperiously at the deliverer of his death.

  The beast let out a roar of victory and raised Arad off the ground and flung him across the battle field and left him in a dying heap, his blood spilling out of the gap in his chest and onto the remaining square of grassland on the battlefield.

  Kolin let out a cry of despair, launching a ferocious attack on the beast along with Minar who now also entered the battle. Minar’s eyes shone with anger as he too fought with the beast. Kolin hit the enemy twice along its thick hide, his blows harmlessly deflecting. It swung an arm and tossed Kolin through the air like a toy. Minar had greater success slamming his sword onto the talons of the beast and severing one completely. They creature unleashed a roar of pain freezing battle field. Cold fear pulsed in their bodies and minds causing some to drop their swords and cower in the dirt covering their ears from the noise.

  The monster threw down its trident and reaching forward like lightning took Minar by the collar and flung him a hundred feet into the sky, watching as the body crashed against the mountain and sank to its base.

  The beast turned slowly and faced Wodan who remained defiant and now alone on the battle field.

  ‘Seems it was always going to come down to you and me Muntare,’ said Wodan. ‘The chase is over and the future will be decided in minutes after eons uncounted. Throw down your weapons and I may offer you my clemency.’

  The beast opened its mouth and a blast of hot air and flame hit Wodan, engulfing him, his body barely visible through the sheet of yellow and blue. In reply a chilled wind sprang up and blew the flames away and Wodan emerged unharmed.

  ‘You need to do better than that,’ he challenged, flicking a hidden dirk from under his sleeve and sending careering into the monsters thigh.

  The beast looked down at the knife and fired a blue flame at its own leg, watching the knife melt away.

  It leapt at Wodan who dodged and sent a deep blow into the other leg of the beast who this time yelped a guttural noise in pain and anger. It swung clumsily and missed Wodan who dropped to one knee and swung another blow into the tendons at the back of the creature’s ankle.

  This time the beast became more wary in its attack as it realised Wodan did not flee like he had a million times before. The monster was confused. For time uncounted the champion fled and he chased, but here it stayed and fought, and in such a fashion he could be dangerous.

  ‘If you choose to remain then you choose to die,’ said the beast, coughing the words out of its black mouth. It hit Wodan with another flurry of blows this time with no intention of ceasing until Wodan lay dead on the battlefield.

  Initially Wodan blocked the blows easily. Each time he parried however, another edge of the trident stabbed at him and as he repelled this charge another presented itself. The monster rained blows on him, some ineffectual and many others beginning to strike. For the second time the beast hovered above Wodan and forced him slowly down onto his back. In a minute it would be over thought Wodan calmly. I pity those who remain.

  The monster focused completely on the destruction of Wodan and took little notice of the two small men who crawled near his legs. Isaac and Darion followed Minar and Arad but could not keep up while carrying the picture and fighting Tusse. From the moment the monster began its last attack on Wodan, the remainder of the Tusse decided to observe their master rather than continue the battle themselves. The tor Wodan and the monster occupied looked like a crown of brown and green surrounded by an ocean of Tusse and allies, who stood mesmerised by the battle.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Isaac, who along with Darion placed the picture as close as they dared to the monster.

  ‘Are we just going to leave this here and hope the black devil trips into it?’

  ‘How should I know,’ replied Darion. ‘Why don’t you go up and ask the sod if it wouldn’t be too much trouble would it like to take a holiday in the Ginningagap.’

  Isaac could see Wodan losing the battle. The Saviour straining with all his might to repel the irrepressible attack. He could not survive much longer thought Isaac. In a burst of clarity Isaac knew why he was born.
All the years of self-indulgence and frivilousness, the cheap jokes and general lust for the easy way out, filled his mind. He had done nothing with his life while others like Wodan and Kolin and Arad and Minar lived for others. He felt a shame he did not know possible as he saw his friends dying around him. Kolin was barely conscious, Arad was a bleeding mass not far from him and Minar’s broken body was wedged unnaturally against the base of the mountain and even the thought of Hammer cried at his heart. They all lived to achieve great things or died trying. He drew his sword, a small trifling iron dart and he knew what was required.

  ‘I think I just might do that.’ Ignoring Darion’s protests he rushed towards Wodan. The monster dismissed the sight of Isaac running under his feet. This was nothing to be wary of it told itself, another insect who would disappear once Wodan had been vanquished. Isaac used the beast’s scales as a ladder and he sprung up the inside if the its legs and within a few heartbeats drove his sword into the groin of the beast. Initially the monster did not react and then a sickening feeling grabbed at its stomach as it peered down and saw a stream of green blood coursing down its leg. The pain hit it in a nausea crumpling it to its knees as it held onto the wound as tight as it could.

  Wodan sprung to his feet and caught Isaac by the arm and both jumped clear of the falling monster.

  ‘Well done my boy, very well done indeed,’ said Wodan dragging a stupefied Isaac along with him, the magnitude of what he just did sending him into a light shock. He was covered in the beasts green thick blood and the stench made him dry retch as he ran.

  They reached Darion who stood guard around the painting, his sword raised confidently.

  ‘Are you all right Isaac?’ he asked as the men arrived.

  ‘Don’t worry about him, he will be all right. What of the painting, did you complete it?’

  Wodan inspected the black canvas and in a few seconds looked at Darion with a new respect.

  ‘You have done it my son. You have the gift,’ said Wodan as he caressed the sides of the painting lovingly. ‘It was an honour meeting you.’ To both the friends amazement Wodan went down on both knees and took Darion’s hands in his. He opened the palms and kissed them and gently closed them together.

  ‘Take care of this idiot,’ he said as he pointed to Isaac. He drew his sword and rushed back to the beast.

  The monster recovered and saw Wodan running towards him and he attacked to meet the challenge. The sword and trident met again and again and each time Wodan backed away towards where Darion and Isaac held the painting. They fought with huge strokes of their weapons. Each clash and each new blow brought them closer to the canvas. Without warning Wodan turned around and with a quick smile at the boys he dived into the black of the canvass and vanished in a ‘plop.’ The monster hesitated for only a moment and it too sent first its trident and then the rest of it into the black of the painting its huge form squeezing like toothpaste as the black picture devoured it.

  Isaac and Darion looked at each other not sure what to do when a thin voice seemed to eke out of the canvass. ‘Destroy the painting, hurry before it is too late.’

  The boys hesitated and then looked around them for something they could use to do as Wodan asked. A flying ember had ignited a small pile of leaves near them and Darion rushed over and lit a dead branch. He burnt the edge of the canvass which blackened and caught fire and quickly covered the entire work. In minutes the canvass was a sea of yellow quickly coiling into a pile of flaked paper. Isaac stamped on the ashes and soon nothing remained of the portal to the Ginningagap.

  We can see no Further.

  The future is covered in a deep mist.

  Perhaps it has not been written

  And is in the hands of the victor

  Jharnell 96/27-30