“Halfmen, what the?” one of the apprentices stammered.

  “Yep and a few trolls, use you short spears and we’ll go in horns first. Are ya ready?”

  “Aye, ranger,” the five said in unison.

  “Alrighty then, here we go,” he said and blew the horn right as the rams plowed their horns into the mass. He instantly saw that these weren’t soldiers, they were people. Ratlike muridai people, a halfman wearing the leather apron of a black smith and a troll wearing a pulling harness making him look more livestock than troll. They were people, he couldn’t think about it, they were the enemy even though they would be bystanders in most frays. Here, today…they were the enemy.

  “Keep moving, boys! Cover this snow with blood!” Bobbick shouted, knowing that the younger ones would be having more of a moral dilemma than he would. The breeds on the other hand needed no prompting. They had witnessed the execution of their own innocents by people who looked just like this. They attacked as if they could smell the blood of their own upon their hands. They used rusted axes, steel pipes, clubs, and knives. Picking up more weapons with every swath they killed. They were grim, determined, desperate…

  Shouting and roars from the rocks caught his attention and he could see Lindwarf’s face glinting in the fires light, and he smiled. The breeds of Youlose hadn’t let him down.

  * * *

  Drick danced out behind the breeds, his sword feeling a renewed energy behind it with the addition of the long boats filled with warriors. If not warriors, then a really pissed off group of north shoremen. A scream that sounded like Bryan echoed between the rocks but Drick couldn’t get to him, having committed to the battle in front of him and this time around it was with true soldiers in the muridai attack. Its force was of a singular race operating in an organized and concerted effort. They were good, very good.

  “Stop them up, boys, make them bunch together!” He heard Grodeg shouting instructions.

  These muridai were trained soldiers, but it was doubtful that they had seen as much combat as Drick had. As Har Karoome he was absolute second to the Karoome, a position previously held by his father but now held by the Prince of Lilieack, Juin. He fought a rolling front never squaring against one individual, instead blocking and striking whatever individual that was in front of him while still moving forward. In seconds he was through their line where he pushed out and attacked the wing to the east. The elf killed that day, but more importantly he confused and surprised the trained troops, making them more vulnerable to the rage with which the breeds attacked.

  From nowhere there was a group of dwarfs fighting next to him with hammers and axes cutting deep into the backs of the muridai. Drick turned when one of the dwarfs shouldered him aside to advance with his group.

  “My apprentices lack etiquette sorry,” he said to the elf.

  “Ranger Bobbick!” Drick stated more than asked.

  “Har Karoome? Well, it do be a worthy ass we are pulling out of the fire today isn’t it?” Bobbick said jovially as he slammed his hammer into another rat like skull.

  “Yes, I do believe my ass is worthy of saving, but the situation is worse than you know.”

  “We can’t discuss it now!” Bobbick shouted back, obviously startled by the elf’s actions.

  “We have to kill them all or they’ll go back and kill all of the slaves!” Drick shouted so that more than just Bobbick heard him.

  The breeds redoubled their attack and were soon overwhelming the muridai. If time was measured in blood, the next few minutes would have lasted many days and well into weeks. In truth it was only fifteen or twenty minutes before the sounds of steel died down. The mish mosh of an army that stared back at Drick looked desperate, hungry…ready for more, and he had just the place.

  “We found where they are holding our people in chains to use as slaves and food. We must go there now!” he shouted and looked up at Grodeg who was on his mule with his bloody ax held out pointing to the east and inland.

  “Follow me to the mines and free our people!” the dwarf shouted. “Go to Bryan, the damn donkey won’t let me near him, I’ll take them to the right place.” He said to Drick.

  Drick turned and ran, giving Bobbick a slap on the back. He was back on his ram and meeting up with Grodeg, whom he was well acquainted with. Up in this part of the world when you run into someone, you usually knew them or at least you remembered them for the next time. Usually you knew them and their sisters, their brothers, as well as extended family. These two were a couple of the movers and shakers of this world and had crossed paths many times.

  He came around the rocks at a run to find Spunk standing over the prone body of Bryan, fending off some of the breeds who were trying to get in and help. Spunk recognized him and stepped to the side as if he were a comrade. The massive amount of blood under a long gash down his thigh told Drick all he needed to know. Bryan’s time was done and Drick felt a great sadness at his passing. He didn’t know the man long, but what he did know, he liked. He stood up and looked into the donkey’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Spunk, it looks like you’re stuck with me now,” Drick said and reached up and scratched behind his ear. Spunk lowered his forehead and rubbed against his chest. “You stay here with him and we’ll give him a proper send off when I get back,” he said, not feeling the least bit awkward at talking to the animal. That’s how Bryan was with the beast and he responded, so he figured that if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

  He jumped bareback on to one of his mules and rushed back toward the mine entrance. It wasn’t as smooth of a ride that Ice King would give, but it wasn’t bad and the beast was fast.

  He slid to the ground at the entrance to find three breeds securing it as battle raged within. Drick rushed in and down the passageway to get to the main pit that spiraled deep into the earth where the glows of forge and heavy fire could be seen. A scream to his right brought his blades whipping around to face two muridai who were dressed in robes like they were some sort of priests. Their sword play, however, was anything but priestly. They attacked with precision and Drick found himself backed against a wall until one of his attackers succumbed to a breed’s club from behind. The other approached with the low crawling height attack that Drick had begun to dread. Their skills were of the same training as the blades master outside had earlier. Drick hadn’t had time to think of the perfect way to defend against such a style but he did reason that by working toward the sword arm side he would reduce the number of weapons the creature could bring forth from his underside unless he twisted his body in a manner that may leave an opening.

  The rat man must have been aware of his strategy as he worked to keep the elf in front of him. Drick stopped trying to go right for the kill shot as you would during battle and took it on as a duel to the death. He went through a series of feints until he could put a gash on the creature’s wrist to be followed by one on his cheek. He wanted to hamstring the thing, but his stance was extended so far behind that there no way to reach his legs without giving the muridai a clear opening, so he settled for another gash down his sword arm and the muridai started to slow. This is when he would typically go for the gut or a slash across the throat but its position was so lateral that the opportunity would never present itself. Kidney then?

  I guess there has to be more than one direction to slash a throat from, Drick mused before doing a series of feints until he was able to cross the outside of the muridai’s blade. He rolled into the shoulder where he sheathed his long knife in it’s ribs and continued his spin, bringing both hands to pommel as he raised his blade high before coming down hard in a fully committed move on to the back of the ratman’s neck. His movement was a blur of elven grace and Drick was standing behind the falling corpse before the brain registered its death.

  He jumped back as a third warrior entered the fray, reacting spontaneously, catching the beast in almost the exact same spot. He severed vertebrae and muscle until he felt the threatened tug of throat and neck membrane. He sliced down and out practically taking the entire head of the late coming priest.

  He looked out upon the scene aghast. People in chains huddled against the walls trying to stay out of the way of flailing blades and clubs. Some type of ogres or trolls were walking long ramps up to get to the fighting not minding the legs and arms they crushed along the way.glowing embers from their forges casting long shadows before them. The fetid area that resembled the inside interior of a paper wasp’s nest, smelled of stale urine and feces mixed with rotten flesh and sickly sweet blood. There were several torches, maybe the muridai could work in the dark, Drick didn’t know but he did know that trolls and halfmen needed some light as well as ogres. Goblins live in the dark where they can’t be seen, not because they don’t need light, everybody knows that being the same with the halfmen.

  A knot of three of the priest-like creatures were bearing down on seven or eight breeds who were focused on getting chains off the captives, others of which had already been guided toward the exit. It irritated the elf from a strategic point of view. They were under the mentality of getting as many out as they could while they could. Drick was of a mind to not leave until every one of these fiends were dead.

  He spied the center priest who carried a long spear like he knew how to use it, the other two were carrying the sharp angled blade that was typical for muridai. Drick always thought of them as corn knives and not real swords. He leaped over the edge, bringing both feet down on top of the spear-wielding fiend, using his momentum to bury his sword deep into the back of the priest’s skull. He yanked the sword out, using an upwards swinging motion to slice through the brain stem. He plunged it in to the chest of the muridai closest to him then squared off on the third priest, hoping that he could end it swiftly. He needn’t have worried, as four of the breeds attacked with axes and clubs, as well as throwing rocks or dung or whatever they could find on the floor.

  He grabbed the long spear up from the fallen muridai. Using it as a pole vault he landed two levels down where he continued to push through the mass of bodies that was trying to fight or run toward an exit. The ogre had made it to the first level and started to swing his forge hammer with efficiency toward Bobbick and his apprentices who had penetrated deepest into the hive. He saw them duck and roll away from the swing, leaving themselves open to a group of halfmen with long hooked poles that looked more crafted to capture and herd slaves than be used as a weapon.

  The dwarfs crawled to their feet and to their credit, faced off against the ogre and opposing goblins in a quick, organized manner, but it wouldn’t be enough. There was no one close enough to help them. They were five levels down and Drick was trapped in a mass of breeds and muridai until he started swinging the long, stout staff of the confiscated priest’s spear. He drove them back further until a way cleared enough to get some speed behind him before he turned and ran. He ran hard and at the last moment he did what most races knew the elf for, and he took to the air in a massive leap assisted with the pole. The steepness of the terraced wall of the mine sent him out into open air and he watched his downward projection, afraid that he would miss his mark. The only way to survive a jump and fall from this distance, even for an elf, was to have a cushion at the destination. An ogre cushion was what he intended.

  The spear’s tip struck first, sinking deep into the neck of the giant beast, the force of impact from his momentum caused his hands to slip down the shaft until his feet connected with the ogre’s chest, causing it to fall backwards and wrench the spear out of his hands completely. He allowed the momentum to roll him into a group of halfmen where he regained his feet, sword drawn. The dwarfs joined him and they cleared away the remaining twenty or so muridai and halfmen. Drick yanked the spear out of the dead ogre’s neck before rushing down to the forge area to look for the other two ogres he had seen.

  Bobbick came up behind him and kicked the firestone top off one of the forges before throwing a massive amount of fuel piled near it on top. The result was a bright bonfire that illuminated the entire mine. His apprentices saw the advantage this gave their allies and followed suit on three more of the glowing forges. Soon the entire room was brightly lit, forcing the muridai to fight from the shadows. Drick had seen them fight in daylight, but assumed that their eyes just didn’t adjust quickly to the brighter light. Maybe they were simply creatures of the night, designed to slink about in shadows.

  He spied another of the ogres making mincemeat out of a group of breeds and the other one farther down the line doing the same.

  “Bobbick, get the ogres and this is pretty much over,” he shouted, wondering why there weren’t any trolls in here. Trolls are the products of mountain valleys and deep wood,as well as t caves, he reflected as he downed a halfman and a muridai to get to the back of the ogre. The beast spun with a swing of his hammer causing the elf to fall and roll backwards away from the heavy steel head of the forge instrument.

  He struck with the regained spear, but almost had it swept out of his hands by the back swing of the hammer and he found himself staring into the red-rimmed black eyes of a beast that hardly registered basic intelligence. Ogres were known for their single-minded purpose, which is what made them good on a forge or shaping bone, but other than brute strength and fear of their overwhelming girth, they weren’t warriors. The ogre tried to use that fear now to intimidate the elf. He sneered a malicious grin and roared before he charged with single minded purpose. The thrown dwaren mallet that slammed into his temple staggered him, but didn’t put him down. The quick reflexes of the elf however did as Drick slammed the spearhead a foot deep into the chest of the malevolent beast.

  Its howl of pain sent the remaining halfmen and muridai into the shadows where they disappeared, leaving the few dwarfs, one elf, and a number of breeds staring at each other wondering if there were more. What they had thought was going to be a simple rescue mission to help out a few strangers trapped upon an icy shore, had turned out to be a battle to determine the fate of the entire extreme north.

  Drick could see that many of the captives were breeds as well as dwarfs and humans. After more careful scrutiny he noticed that there was an entire pocket of elves that were badly beaten and huddled in the shadows in chains. He didn’t recognize faces, but he did see the colors of their clothing under the grime, Noril and Pine Hold had suffered greatly at the hands of these beasts.

  “Your people will be glad of your return,” he said to a larger contingent.

  “How did you find us?” One of the men of Noril asked.

  “Luck…or maybe it was fate. Who knows in times like these,” Drick replied feeling glad at the outcome of his ill-fated plan.

  38

  Return

  It took two days of hunting, hauling wood, and fishing to get the released captives to a point where they could function enough to travel and in some cases even communicate. There had been food of sorts in the mines, but it was nothing that fair folk could even think of eating. Not now that they were released and weren’t having the meaty gruel forced down their throats.

  Drick couldn’t wait for the folks from Follock to arrive, they had sworn to take care of the situation and bring all of the breeds into their small town until they got right with the world. It was with no small amount of regret that he set off with Bobbick and his apprentices as well as twenty or so of the wild men, which he had taken to calling the breeds who had survived in the wilderness after their cities had been taken by the muridai.

  He sat casually upon the back of Bryan’s horse, a solid mountain breed probably bred by the humans down in Skorsdale. It was rugged and solid of leg and back with a shaggy coat that said it would do well in this climate. He felt bad taking all of Bryan’s things, but he knew that if he ran into any of his family in the years to come, he would see that they were compensated. Bryan’s mule was loaded with stores as was Spunk, but Drick’s mule that he had purchased in Follock carried two of the breeds, one of which was a maiden of elven-dwarf decent and possibly a little human mixed in down the line. It was hard to tell when you were in the masses of them. Some were obvious half breeds of this sort or that, but after years of living together in the extreme north, they had begun to meld together as a people, making it hard to determine which race they had descended from. Most just called themselves breeds as if it were a badge of honor rather than what they or their parents had been shunned for.

  She was pretty and strong, Drick could see despite of the scars from the hardships over the last few months. She had been living out in the wilderness after her family had been killed. Unfortunately, they had found no survivors in the pit from her line and a fury burned within her just beneath the skin. She carried a bow that looked much too large for her and a woodsmen’s ax, which she had proven that she knew how to use. Drick didn’t know if it was a product of her being in the wilds for as long as she was or it was some innate ability that she was born with. She had a way of sniffing the wind or feeling the air that told her of approaching game or danger up ahead, and Drick learned to follow her instincts in a very short time.

  One morning Luna approached a ridge top and signaled everyone to stop. A quick peek over the edge told them why as a huge army of muridai and trolls was camped in the valley below. They skirted the army while Bobbick and his apprentices climbed to the highest peak to use mirrors to signal back to Grodeg, who was still back at the beach, about what was coming. A small part of the elf wanted to be there to see the slaughter when actual dwarf soldiers surprised them. No doubt landslides and pit falls were already in the works to surprise this force. Why they were coming was no small mystery considering the empty wagons dragged with them. They were going to harvest something and the only thing that he could think of was meat. Slave meat from the pit.

  This has to be why they were keeping the slaves up here, a stock yard. Bobbick thought but something about it… wasn’t right.