My soldiers were eager for the fight. Now was the time to trick the dwarves into thinking we were going all out whilst preparing to fall back at a moment’s notice. I didn’t want to be buried in the avalanche we caused. I stopped at the front of the infantry unit, then I probed my connection with the dragon.
Cinared?I asked, my teeth clenching. I prepared myself, ready for another lecture on how unworthy of his magnificence I was. Instead, I was met with a wave of surprise… and relief.
You need me. The warmth of his tone made me smile.
Can you see the highest rampart?
Yes, your men are almost there.
I drew my sword and shouted, ‘For Dagome!’
The infantry surged forward, and archers lofted their bows, sending a volley of arrows over the defences.
They are preparing the srebrec barrels while the dwarves concentrate on your attack,came the answer before I even asked the question. Despite the dread of the situation, a shudder of anticipation ran through my body, goosebumps prickling my skin.
‘Svarog, have mercy on those brazen bastards,’ I muttered, pulling the reins when the horse danced under me, sensing my impatience.
Get ready,Cinared warned right before a low rumble rolled off the mountain, and the side of the summit shifted. Fire erupted from the top terrace, turning the night sky into day, while the echo of distant thunder rolled over us, carried by the mountain wind.
‘Get ready…’ I said, gesturing to my herald to blow the trumpet. The archers stepped forward, nocking arrows on their bows, ready to draw. Cracks appeared in the snow covering the mountain. Time stopped; the moment stretched into eternity.
Then the mountain growled like a giant awakened from a deep sleep, and all hell broke loose.
‘Retreat!’ My voice rang out, echoed by the trumpet’s call.
Pride burst from my chest as the infantry withdrew in good order, grabbing the injured and pulling them back. The archers, almost as one, loosed their arrows, protecting their comrades as they moved to a safe distance. From above, the avalanche rushed, crushing the defences, rolling over everything and everyone in its path.
My lips moved in a prayer to Veles, commending their souls to his care, then, in the next breath, asked Makosh for her forgiveness for such senseless slaughter. The moon’s glow illuminated the scene, softening the destruction, but nothing could hide the dying screams. The Wild Magic fed on my fury, on the death I had wrought, fuelling the berserker inside me.
I couldn’t indulge the monster. Not now.
The golden glow of his fury encompassed my vision, but even half-blinded, I began counting. Four ramparts down, three, two to go, my inner voice roaring over the screams of dying dwarves. I didn’t start this war, but I was going to end it.
‘Oh, come on!’ I shouted as I watched our luck run out.
The avalanche rumbled to a stop, filling the trenches two levels up, leaving the ramparts below intact. Their walls were packed with enraged dwarven axemen who’d survived the carnage.
Without hesitation, I raised my sword and signalled the attack. We couldn’t let them regroup. The moon disappeared behind a volley of arrows, the infantry following, roaring their battle cries. The dwarves formed a line, slamming the shields against each other to create an impenetrable wall. Curses slipped past my lips. I remembered that formation from the Lich King war.
This is going to hurt, I thought, just as a guttural battle song carried towards us – the mourning cry of the living preparing to die. The dwarves no longer fought to win. They fought to take as many of us as they could to the underworld. They wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t surrender. We would be forced to slaughter the people we’d stood shoulder to shoulder with not so long ago.
‘Fuck my life!’ I pointed at the lowest rampart that hid the dwarven army. ‘Fire!’
At my command, the rows of arrows hummed in the sky, hardly making a dent in the wall of shields. The earth groaned when thousands of feet trampled over it mercilessly, beating the snow into ice. Even the sky knew it, the northern wind dying down while my men, the black army of Dagome, marched forth to the beat of death.
The fires above burned brighter, revealing bearded dwarven faces. Still, the grim resignation on their faces was less disturbing than the faint scraping against the sound of the attacking army. My skin crawled when I recognised it – the low rumble of rolling barrels.
I gestured to the messengers as my bannerets shouted orders. ‘Testudo!’
The soldiers immediately formed a defensive line as another order came from behind. ‘Barrier shields!’
Marius’ voice carried across the battlefield. I glanced at the head of the battlemages. He was pale, with sweat pouring down his forehead, and stiff as a rod. It was a miracle he was still standing, let alone able to fight. I had no delusions that he and his mages would last long. Each looked like a freshly resurrected corpse, but they pushed forward, protecting their units despite the price they paid for being here.
‘Fuck!’ I groaned, clasping my chest, fighting the roaring beast that wanted me to rush forth, reacting to the spike of magic. The scent of thunder filled my nostrils as the battlemages cast, their sigils flashing in the air, each spreading a shimmering mesh in front of their unit.
‘My lord, there’s movement on the eastern flank,’ a messenger said, and I moved my gaze to where he pointed.
‘Brace yourselves!’ I shouted.
