Chapter 4
The Stone Warrior
AN 1217 (AZ 1454) - Early Summer
Outside Iakobin, Notos
When the Zephyrians set sail, it seemed like the Alliance's work was finished, or at least the part that concerned Garm and his Dwerkhar. He only joined the Alliance to strike a blow against the Zephyrians and with them gone, there was little reason to remain. It was not their job to help build a new nation for the humans. Their only concern was securing a way across the sea to take back their own lands.
They were busy negotiating for passage across the sea when the attacks came. First it was a great swarm of snakes overrunning Iakobin. Garm's warriors were called from Kordai to deal with the matter and along the way, they heard more stories. Dragons with their scorching flames and then a great company of Darklanders that seized the town to call it their own.
The first two hordes came and left after inflicting their damage, but the last of the three remained behind. It would seem that Iakobin would serve as the foothold for a full-scale invasion from the Darklands. They needed to to be driven into the sea before it was too late.
As usual, there were voices of dissent. What business was it of theirs if the Darklanders took this land? For one, they had not yet crossed the sea and would have a much more difficult time of it if the humans were fleeing en masse. Secondly, even if they returned to their mountains in the West, if the Darklanders took Notos, it would only be a matter of time before they continued their advance. How long could they hold their newly reclaimed home when faced with wave upon wave of all manner of foul and evil creature? No, it was better for them to drive out this advance party and take away any advantage they might claim from holding Iakobin.
They broke camp at daybreak and it was drawing close to noon as they approached the city. The Darklanders would be vulnerable during the light of day. Idly, Garm recalled the days of legend when Dwerkhar were cursed by the mountain spirits to be turned to stone if ever they saw the light of the sun as punishment for the great and bloody war that polluted the land. According to legend, a great warrior-king subdued the mountain spirits and broke the curse, so if the mountain spirits' intent was to force the Dwerkhar to abandon their warlike ways, they failed rather pathetically.
Before they moved in, Garm summoned his lieutenants to give them their orders.
"We split into four comp'nies o' hundred," he told them. "Borinn an' Golfi, take the flanks north an' south. Ye get two ballistae an' a catapult each. The rest o' the engines're split 'tween Dari an' Thari's comp'nies marchin' east. Don't get yer damn engines stuck in them narra alleys. If ye fine a buildin' filled wi' 'em, use yer catapults an' split 'em open. The sun'll take a lotta the fight outta 'em, so don't fight 'em in the dark if'n ye kin avoid it."'
"Aye, milord," the four lieutenants replied.
"Then move. Blood an' iron."
"Blood an' iron!"
His lieutenants departed and soon the war-band split up as ordered. Once they got into the city, they would check each house in fives or tens. If the Darklanders were too thick, the catapults would do their work. The humans had little head for building anything sturdy. It would not take much to bring the buildings down if it was necessary.
Borinn loosed his catapult early, bringing down a tower on the north side of the city. Even from a distance, you could hear the shrieks and howls of the creatures being crushed under the rubble.
Peals of mocking laughter echoed through the ranks. Garm's own voice was among them.
"So these're the terrors o' the Darklands," he scoffed. "Not much to fear, is it?"
The Dwerkhar were not a people that took much stock in Fate, so Garm did not appreciate how ominous it was for him to tempt it so. Indeed, he felt no fear that day, but no sooner had he said those words that he felt nothing at all.