The Key of Ban

The violent sounds of war gave way to an eerie calm. The war drum was quiet. The trog army had stopped its attack. The two wizards were the sources of the Royal Geks destruction.

  The dwarf defenders stared in disbelief at Cando and Topple. It was only in children’s stories that any reference had been made to wizards. The dwarves thought the stories of these robed masters of magic were only fantasies. Now standing among them were two jolly wizards. With radiant happiness, Topple and Cando walked along the rampart shaking hands with the dwarves and joking about the immobile trogs.

  There was a warm reunion between Topple and his long lost companions. Topple chuckled before saying, “Gentleman, you look pathetic. You are just too serious about your work. I recommend you get more bed rest, eat better food, drink more water and get involved in a good hobby. By the way, have you noticed the trogs in front of the wall? I do not approve of their rude attitudes. I must teach them better manners.”

  Even though Topple was tired from his use of magic, he still had the energy to share his exuberance for life. As he stood on the wall, he waved at the gek master. His big smile and excited waves caused a group of geks to rush the wall in a frenzy. With a twinkle in his eyes, Topple made a sweep of his arm toward the geks. A small burst of blue flame shot out of the wizard’s fingers hitting each gek on the forehead. The flames rolled around the geks’ heads tattooing their faces with bright, colorful bands of flowers. The terrified geks stood transfixed in fear as fireballs shot down their arms and blasted out their finger tips. In panic, the geks ran through the throngs of trogs. The grim faces of the dwarves awoke into broad smiles as they watched the frantic geks disappear into the distance.

  Topple turned to Cando saying, “I am hungry! Let’s go find some food.”

  With a nonchalant attitude, Topple and Cando strolled off the wall and into the dwarf community. By nature Topple was more out going than Cando. As Topple walked through the community, he greeted each person with a warm smile and handshake. According to Topple, nobody was a stranger. At first the dwarves were restrained, tending to shy away from the strange individuals who commanded lighting. The children were the first to warm up to his outgoing personality. Then, like the breaching of a dam, the whole community opened their hearts to Topple’s positive and joyous celebration of life. The dark cloud of gloom and despair hanging over the dwarf community began to vanish as Topple shared his joy in life.

  After a hearty meal, the population gathered around a warm, inviting fire. The first event of the evening was to mourn and bury the bodies of warriors dying in battle. A time of silence was declared; several speeches were made; and the bodies were buried under a rocky ledge. It was the tradition of the dwarves to bury their dead under the protection of solid rock. The ceremony provided a time for the dwarves to honor the sacrifices of the deceased and to band together in a common goal, the survival of the clan.

  When the dwarves returned to the common fire pit, Topple pulled out his flute and played a series of sacred songs. The beauty of Topple’s music helped transform the mood of the dwarves from a feeling of grief to an occasion of acceptance. The focus of the community shifted from pain to hope. Their faith in the One Presence was more than an acceptance of ideas, but also a claim to the promises of trust and peace.

  Topple ended his impromptu concert with an ancient dwarf song about two lovers who were reunited after a time of pain, separation and war. The music helped release the tensions caused by the violent events of the day.

  Rolfe stated, “It is time to rest and sleep. Tomorrow we must once again prove our right to exist. I want to have a short meeting with the War Council after this assembly is dismissed. I declare this gathering full and whole. Good night.”

  The members of the Council of War crowded closely together near the fire in an attempt to keep their conversation private. There was no reason to burden the community with the grim realities the Council needed to debate.

  Rolfe said, “The arrival of Topple and Cando has given us hope for another day. We now know there is a tunnel entrance in the canyon. Do we continue to fight, or do we attempt to escape into the tunnels?”

  Earthkin responded, “You left the Homekeep because of the trogs’ invasion. I am afraid an escape into the mountain would end with the same results. It is my opinion that a large group of dwarfs traveling in unknown passageways would be a disaster. Foul creatures are known to live in the deep recess of the mountain. Your passage might draw their attention.”

  Earthkin’s statement created the catalyst for a lengthy debate about the different options available to the community. Before making a final decision, the council received a report from the guards on the wall. The lookout reported the trogs were returning to their camp in an orderly fashion. A new Royal Gek had taken control.

  The Council agreed there were only two realistic options. They could either fight or flee. The Council finally decided they would fight for one more day before retreating into the caves. Fighting the trogs under the mountains might be a disaster. As the members of the war council walked back to their individual campsites the slow beat of the drum resumed. The booming of the drum was a reminder of the unseen reality in the valley.

  The next morning the geks wasted no time in beginning their attack. The change of command caused delays in the communications between the gek master and trog slaves. The trogs attacked the wall with limited effectiveness. It was not until early afternoon that the attacking army regained its former efficiency. The dwarves noticed the number of trogs in the valley had been reduced. This observation did not create a false sense of hope. The defenders were still outnumbered at least fifty to one. Early in the day, Topple and Cando used up most of their magical powers slowing the advancement of the enemy. They were now observers to the passing events of the battle.

  An intense, concentrated attack by the trog militia, under its new commander, forced the dwarves to use up most of their energy to resist the tide of destruction. It soon became obvious to the dwarves the trogs were about to over run the wall. Rolfe was ready to call for retreat when he heard a rush of air over his head. To everybody’s surprise, twenty black war eagles swooped down picking trogs off the top of the barricade with their powerful claws. Time after time the large birds attacked, using their fierce yellow talons to dislodge trogs from the wall. The trog arrows bounced off the eagles’ feathers.

  Even though the eagles’ intervention helped slow the trogs’ assault, the ability of the dwarves to continue fighting was reduced by the effects of fatigue. Each dwarf and human fought as if moving in slow motion.

  Coaldon knew he had to do something to save the community, but he was surprised by the absurdity of his behavior. Something guided him to go beyond logic and to take extraordinary personal risk.

  Coaldon declared in a firm voice, “It is now time for me to take radical action. Impulsively, the young warrior left his position and jogged toward the north end of the wall. Without any hesitation, Coaldon threw himself headlong into the raging river. Pacer gasped at Coaldon’s actions, but could do nothing because of the trog onslaught.

  Coaldon went into shock when his sweaty body hit the cold water. As he sank, his muscles cramped, not allowing him to move. He saw bubbles in the churning torrent and heard the roar of water flowing over large boulders. Twisting and turning, he tumbled down the river like a helpless log. He held his breath, but his lungs burned with the need for air. He floated down the river for what seemed like an eternity. From the corner of his eye, he saw a large rock only seconds before he slammed into it. Pain shot through his frozen body. The force of hitting the rock pushed him toward the shore. To his relief, the intense pain broke the grip of his paralysis. With a desperate effort, he threw his hand out to grab for an obscure object over his head. He was able to grasp it with one hand and pull himself to the surface. As his head cleared the surface, he gasped for breath and saw a low hanging tree. With the rushing water ripping at him, he breathed deep and seized the branch with his other hand. He climbed up
the limb and pulled himself onto to the rocky shore line. He did not allow time to recover, but forced himself to scale up the steep bank.

  Looking over the bank, he saw the rear of the massive trog army to his right. He detected no signs of trogs searching for him. Now, he needed to decide what to do.

  He thought, “The only way I can gain time for the dwarves is to destroy the Royal Gek. After Topple and Cando’s attack, the geks moved the Royal Gek’s tent to a new location. I wonder where it is located? I assume it is in the rear of the camp.”

  The distant sounds of war, accompanied by the boom of the war drum, provided a backdrop to his unusual situation. Muffled screams and the clash of metal reaffirmed the importance of his mission. He was surprised when he heard the trumpet of horns blending into the general turmoil of the war.

  He thought, “The dwarves must be using the horns to summon their last vestige of resistance. I do not have much time.”

  Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the trog soldiers were being formed into units and marching to the south.

  “No matter what is happening, I must find the Royal Gek.”

  Upon closer examination, he saw the top of a large tent on the far side of the flat meadow. He knew the tent was too far away to use the power of his sword. He had to get closer. Yet, if he walked across the meadow he would be detected. Waiting for the cover of darkness might be too late for the besieged dwarves.

  To his shock, he heard footsteps approaching from down river. With a quick motion he rolled under the cover of dense brush. Through the branches of the undergrowth he saw a gek wearing a yellow robe patrolling the river bank. With slow steps the guard ambled up to Coaldon’s position. The gek did not seem to be concerned about anything.

  He considered, “The gek’s yellow robe might be the disguise I need to get across the meadow.”

  He grabbed a branch, giving it a quick jerk. The gek’s attention was drawn to the brush with the hope of an easy meal. The beast thought a rabbit or fox would provide an excellent dinner. With casual steps, the gek slowly crawled into the undergrowth anticipating finding a small animal, not the tip of Coaldon’s sword. Before it could even react, death came quickly.

  Without hesitation, Coaldon put on the robe and pulled the hood over his head. Using the rangy strides of a gek, he walked toward the large tent. The attention of the trogs and geks were on the war, not on a lone individual wearing a yellow robe walking across the meadow. He stayed away from any geks or trogs who crossed his path. He stopped when he stood on top of the knoll overlooking the tent. Several guards patrolling the tent became aware of him, realizing he was out of place.

  Shouts alerted guards to a possible threat. A small platoon of trogs, under the control of a gek, ran toward Coaldon. Coaldon drew his sword, dropped to one knee and pointed it toward the tent. Consolidating his energy, he sent a blast of lightning through his sword toward the tent. The rush of energy was so intense it produced a clap of thunder. He felt strength drain from his body.

  Upon impact, the bolt of lightning dissolved the tent into a puff of black smoke. Beasts standing in the general vicinity of the tent were also destroyed. Upon seeing the trogs become disoriented, he knew he destroyed the Royal Gek. The charging gek stopped when the trogs lost focus. The gek paused to determine if it wanted to attack the great warrior by itself. Fear of Coaldon caused it to ran away.

  Coaldon looked toward the canyon, hoping this would give the dwarves time to regroup and make one more stand. Glancing around, he realized he had not considered his own escape. He thought, “Now what do I do? Which direction should I go? I am in a real mess. No matter which way I go, I will face death. I might as well start walking toward Rockham. Why not?”

  Wearing the yellow robe and hood, he ventured into the churning mass of the trog army.

  Earlier, the dwarf warriors fighting on the wall also heard the sound of the shrill horns. They were slow to respond. At first, they believed the bleating horns were only a figment of their imaginations. When Topple and Cando heard the horns, they casually walked to the top of the wall. The battle on the wall raged on as the two wizards watched movement on the southern edge of the meadow. The attention of the trogs attacking the wall was diverted by an unknown disturbance. The beat of the war drum slowed as the focus of the trog army slowly shifted to an emerging threat.

  A wave of silence moved from the center of the trog war camp toward the new battle zone. The fighting at the wall stopped. At this point, the eagles withdrew from the battle and flew away.

  Standing on the wall, Earthkin raised his arms in triumph. He yelled, “The dwarves from Rockham have come to rescue us.”

  On the southern edge of the meadow, row after row of Rockham dwarf soldiers swiftly emerged from the trees in regimental formation. The attack was so sudden the trogs and geks were caught unprepared. Archers and spearman led the dwarves’ attack followed by swordsmen. They attacked in short, rapid strikes. The swordsmen would retreat allowing the arrows and spears to inflict more damage. This advance and retreat strategy was effective. The lethal offensive was so successful the whole southern section of the trog army collapsed. Young dwarves moved in from the rear carrying arrows, spears and other supplies needed by the warriors. They also cared for the wounded and dying. As the deadly dwarf army advanced, a dense black cloud rose over the new battlefield.

  The Royal Gek withdrew the army from the canyon to defend against the new assault. The early success of the dwarves was short lived. As more trogs were thrown into the battle, the southern dwarves were forced to retreat back toward the forest. The attacking dwarves were slowly overwhelmed by the shear numbers of the trog army. The geks decided to counter attack using flanking assaults. They saw the dwarf army was too small to stop attacks from the side.

  Earthkin’s hopes were dashed when the Rockham army was forced to retreat. The dwarves were successful in performing frontal attacks, but could not counter the flanking assaults by the trogs. The dwarves soon discovered they could not retreat fast enough to stay ahead of the trogs advancing on their flanks. The dwarves realized their danger too late. Only a miracle could save them.

  Everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to a bright flash of light that came from the rear of the trog camp. This was followed by a clap of thunder that echoed up and down the canyon. The trog army once again was released from the power of the Royal Gek. The advance of the evil army came to a halt. The trogs stood in anticipation of the next command.

  Pacer yelled, “Coaldon has killed the Royal Gek!”

  When Earthkin came to his senses, he realized the opportunity offered to the dwarves trapped in the canyon.

  He ran down the wall yelling, “Breach the wall! Breach the wall! We must join the dwarves from the south before the trog army regroups! We must hurry!”

  Earthkin’s words cut through the minds of the warriors like a sharp knife. They instantly understood the truth to his words. With renewed hope, the warriors quickly opened a hole in the wall. Leaving the canyon was a terrifying leap of faith for the dwarves. The members of the clan would walk directly into the milling throng of the trog army.

  Topple, with the dignity of a grand lord, was first to exit through the wall. He enjoyed the privilege of waving his arm forward to begin the march out of the canyon. The wizard’s poise and confidence generated an up beat mood of assurance for the people following him. Even though the community was facing death, many dwarves smiled as they watched Topple stride forward with an overly dramatized show of noble character and bearing. He used his magical powers to clear a path through the harmless mass of trogs. Following behind him were the weary warriors. With trembling hope the remainder of the clan formed a long line behind the soldiers. The column moved slowly out of the canyon. The dwarves’ bodies were weak, but their determination was still strong and unbendable.

  The dwarf soldiers from the south were astonished when the trogs stopped fighting. This event was beyond all understanding, but accepted without question
. They cheered when they saw the clan members filing out of the canyon. A unit of Rockham dwarf militia was sent to assist the escaping clan. Without hesitating, they pushed a swath through the trogs toward the canyon.

  Under the leadership of Topple, the escaping community advanced into the churning mass of trogs. The dwarves were surrounded by trogs. The beasts were so close the dwarves could reach out and touch them. The dwarves were repulsed by the trogs’ foul odor and grotesque appearance. The trogs’ mouths hung open with green slime drooling down their faces. Large, yellow eyes uttered their dull and limited intelligence. The trogs stared at the passing dwarves with hostility. As they hiked through the mass of trogs, the dwarves felt small and vulnerable. The trogs would easily destroy them if a royal gek regained control. This could happen anytime.

  The two dwarf communities joined forces and blended into one unit without words or show of emotion. A series of trumpet blasts gave the command for the dwarf regiments to regroup and prepare for orderly retreat. In a secluded area, a work detail quickly prepared the earth for the burial of the dwarves dying in battle. A short ceremony was held to give honor for their ultimate sacrifice. With wary eyes on the trog army, the dwarves then made a hasty exit.

  The need to travel rapidly put extra stress on the weak. Warriors gladly volunteered to carry the wounded and feeble. The survival of the whole required a sacrifice by each individual. Mental and physical toughness was a prerequisite for being a dwarf. The dwarves accepted this challenge with courage and a sense of duty.

  The faint beat of the war drum indicated a new Royal Gek had assumed power. It would not be long before the trog army would be in pursuit. As the group moved south, they were thankful the trogs were slow in mounting their attack.

  Many ambushes were set by the dwarf warriors to slow the spearhead of the trog army. The hit and run ambushes were triggered as the advanced units of the trog army chased its prey. The trogs blundered into one ambush after another. Following each attack, dwarf warriors melted into the forest to regroup for another ambush. These attacks were so effective the trogs became leery of rushing ahead without considering the consequences. The further south the dwarves retreated the fewer trogs they encountered.

  After a twelve hour forced march the dwarves realized it was necessary to rest. A good defensive position was located; the rear guard was strengthened and campsites were set up. Little was said while meals were prepared and consumed. This was not an occasion for the formal introduction of the clans, but rather a time for sleep and recovery. The rear guard spaced itself out over a large area to gain the greatest advantage over the trogs. When the dwarves encountered trogs, they continued to use rapid hit and run tactic. The effectiveness of this strategy forced the trog army to stop its advance.

  After a several hour rest the clans returned to an orderly retreat south. The pace for the remaining journey to Rockham was slower and more responsive to the needs of the travelers. The desire of the trog army to fight evaporated like smoke in the wind. It was speculated that Crossmore was content to gain control of the northern end of the Sadden Mountains.

  The disappearance of Coaldon was viewed as a tragedy of war. It was assumed he died when he destroyed the Royal Gek. Yet, a hint of hope glowed in the eyes of his friends.

  ~ ~

  Rockham