Chapter 3: Attack!

The Dwarf Army of Man soon reached the snow line a mile up the steadily climbing pass through the mountains. By the middle of the day fresh snow started falling heavily again and the earlier falls, on top of old crystalline snow that had been compacted by a couple of thousand boots, became very slippery in places, particularly rocky inclines and declines as the road followed a path of least resistance through the unbending mountain. The width of the pass varied too, from six Dwarves abreast down to just one or two. Both those variations had the effect of stringing the Army out, with dangerous gaps opening up, reducing the dependability of the whole and risking disaster befalling on the smaller groups.

Korwyn had ridden back through the marching army to check on progress and saw this problem developing. He sent messengers from the Skirmishers to ride to the front and rear of the march to adjust the speed of progress to keep them all closer together. He waited in a wider part of the pass where he could dismount and observe progress of those already gone through and those behind who were trying to catch up. From his viewpoint looking down the line it was difficult to see the gaps that had opened up. But about 500 feet away, where a particularly narrow point with a rise up and dip down due to a succession of rockfalls, a sizeable gap become obvious to Korwyn.

He mounted up and set off towards the danger area. His mount had only taken a few steps when there was a mighty thunderflash, like a bolt of lightning striking the mountain, to be followed by a loud clap of thunder and a wall of air rushed past him.

Ahead it looked like half the mountain was falling, with huge rocks and boulders rolling down and filling the gap with snow, ice and rock debris, followed by small groups of loose stones and boulders bouncing down what had become a new rock surface right across the road. The area was becoming obscured by the clouds of powdery snow launched into the air like a fog.

Korwyn urged his horse on, but it was clearly only safe to ride a short way as the road had become impassable by mounts, full of loose snow and ice and possibly people buried beneath the rockfall. From his position he could only see this side of what was a enormous pile of masonry, snow and ice, and he had no idea how extensive it was. He dismounted and started to scramble up the fresh spoil heap. For every two steps up, he slipped one back and it was impossible to see much in front of his face as the cold air was filled with powdery snow released by the rockfall still falling through several thousand feet.

Around him, sturdy Dwarves had left the back of the last unit that had gone through the gap and were trying to make their way to the top of the rock fall behind Korwyn.

Behind the barrier ahead of him Korwyn could hear the sounds of a fight taking place. The avalanche was deliberate therefore, he told himself, but who was the actual aggressor his Army faced? As he scrabbled up the last part of the slope, his practiced hand loosened the bindings holding his double-edged battle axe on his back, then he held it in one hand while outspreading his other hand holding the second short Dwarf sword that the witch Queen Urmah had offered and he’d accepted before leaving, knowing how useful it would prove to be in close combat. He knew not how he could possibly refuse the offer. Well balanced, with weapons outstretched, he slid down the rocks towards the sounds of the battle as confidently and surefooted as he recalled Zyndyr’s was in an earlier battle.

As he slid down and got close to the battle, he could see hordes of Orcs streaming from open fissures in the side of the rocky mountain and joining in battle with the Dwarves, who had drawn themselves into squares behind their round shields, bristling with stubby swords and long metal tipped pikes.

Korwyn was angry. Dwarves were being attacked and dying and he felt he was responsible for them, all volunteer Dwarves prepared to battle for a Man’s honour in a Man’s world far from their homes. As he approached the skirmish he calculated that about an eighth part of his force had been isolated by the rockfall. Even if his entire army turned to enjoin with these new enemies, there was a bottleneck, so basically these Dwarves were on their own.

‘But not completely alone,’ he said to himself and he made his determined way to the battle.

When he hit the level road, he sheathed his Dwarf sword, that had ably aided his balanced descent, and then swung his axe two-handed at the nearest Orcs, who were blinking their eyes at the sudden light of day, as they emerged from the largest cave mouth that Korwyn could see through the snow cloud.

“No!” he roared, “You will not take these brave Dwarves in cowardly ambush! Nay, ye cursed Orcs, ye’ll sleep with your eyes wide open, tonight and evermore!”

And to the left and right of him stupefied Orcs were cut down like meadow grass in June. As more Orcs poured through the fissure, being pushed no doubt from behind and within the mountain, Korwyn simply swung his deadly glistening blade back and forth, laying evil smelling body parts in layers, heads to left and right, torsos where they crumpled in the centre. His double edged axe was like an Orc-magnet, the foul creatures drawn like moths into the sharp blade that ended the misery of their very existence. The snow that laid about him ran as red as a slaughterhouse floor just before the celebration of the midwinter feast.

From the nearest squares of Dwarves defending themselves against these foul beasts, came a roar that soon spread among them all, “Lord Korwyn Dragon And Orc Slayer!” which they repeated as with fresh heart they advanced together with determination and drove the now disheartened Orcs before them, stabbing them to the ground and trampling their ugly misshapen skulls into the bloody ice.

Korwyn continued to swish back and forth like a maddened harvester of souls, but the ugly beasts continued to come forth from the heart of the mountain. He just gritted his teeth and continued the reaping with a grim paced rhythm that he was certain he could keep up for hours if he survived the occasional pinprick that got through his steady arc of death. On either side of him, dwarves arrived to battle nearby fissures that Orcs were issuing forth from and doing their damnedness in stemming the screaming flow from below the mountain.

Suddenly, an explosion from above the cave entrance sent down a rain of stones ranging from fist to Orc-head size. Another explosion higher up the mountain caused a rumble and a roar and Korwyn yelled, “Back, lads, back!” as down the mountain came another rockfall that buried the Orcs outside and trapped the reinforcing Orcs within. Korwyn turned to find the source of this turn of events.

There, hovering off the ground on beating wings so small they looked as though they couldn’t lift a fallen dry leaf, yet suspended the Elf as if she was as light a dandelion seed.

“Are you all right, Wyn?” she called, anxiety heavy in her voice.

“Aye,” he answered, “naught but a couple of scratches.”

“Well, come with me and I’ll treat them. There are medics coming to help with the wounded.”

“Let us get our heroes here over the barrier and onto the road away from this evil place, first.”

A burly Sergeant approached. “We was surprised when they comes out the ground, Sire, but we’s soon sorted usselves out. We’s lost two good dwarfmen an’ a few walkin’ wounded but we’ll mek us own way up the line, my Lord.”

“Aye, ye will, Sergeant,” Korwyn grinned, and raised his voice so all the Dwarves, those in the fight and those that came back to rescue them, “you are the first of our Army to be blooded in this campaign and you won’t be the last, but you acquitted yourselves admirably and I’m proud to serve with you all.”

As a man they shouted, “Lord Korwyn Dragon And Orc Slayer!” with grins on their faces, as if they were just out for a gentle stroll after their daily toil instead of facing dangers at every turn, with the prize of changing the course of history at the end of their long roadway from their loved ones.

A little embarrassed by the display of affection, Korwyn walked back to his mount with his Lady the Elf-Warrior by his side.

Clive was deeply wounded by Carole’s betrayal. He knew this was something that will damage him for the rest of his life. He was brought low on both fronts anyway because it seemed no company wanted to employ him outside the home anymore and at home he had discovered that the woman he had committed his heart to fourteen years ago for the rest of his life, had no future use for him either.

His pride was damaged, his confidence in himself crushed. Lost was the future he thought they would have when their day to day responsibility for their children evolved into relative independence. It was something that Carole and he used to say to each other, “Just wait until the kids leave home!”, and looked forward to that time with a pleasure that now seemed to have evaporated without leaving a trace other than the sour taste of regret to the one of the pair that had been cut out of the equation of family.

Now it looked like he’d be the one leaving the home well before even the first of their children reached puberty. Ahead of him he could see that he would have to face weekend visits to see the children, perhaps having them live with him for a week or two for holidays at whatever grotty little studio flat he could afford on his own, probably above some smelly fast food place, and having to deal with them and all their demands on his own. His children in turn would resent being taken away from their comfortable mother’s home where they had their toys, computers, Wi-fi and neighbour friends. With no confidence, no money and anchored to a piecemeal existence with the remnants of his family, he could forget any chances of forming a new alliance with another female. Yeah, he thought, once bitten, was not much of an incentive for him to try again.

He tried to think through all his options. He was used to solving problems at work, whether they were in terms of quality, quantity, delivery issues, problems with the manufacturing process or machinery breakdowns. At work he was a fixer, no matter what it was, he could fix it. His work had given him purpose. But marriage? A marriage broken and nonfunctional? No, he couldn’t possibly fix the unfixable. And now he had nowhere to go, no haven where he felt valued and loved.

His marriage was at an end, he was certain of that. It wasn’t just the adultery by this wife, it was more than that. If it was a momentary lapse and she was putting in an effort to discharge her guilt, there might be grounds for reconciliation, probably with the aid of professional advice and counselling. But the continual abuse and disrespect, the demonstrable lack of love for him, well, it killed his love for her and there was no point in continuing a relationship without equal love on both sides.

He needed somewhere to live. He first needed to secure his finances, rationalise what he and she paid for after the split. He needed professional advice to be certain where his responsibilities lay as first step a separated husband and then in good time, a divorced husband and forcibly absent father. He needed a strategy and he needed time to line everything up before he pulled the plug on his terms.

“Are you feeling better, Wyn?” Zyndyr asked as soon as she noticed that he moved from unconsciousness to wakefulness.

Lord Korwyn blinked and shook his head and looked around to remind himself where he was and had been. Yes, he was in his and Zyndyr’s tiny, barely two-person tent made of impervious dragonskin and camped in a forest deep in Goblin territory. It had taken a week to get through the snow and mists of the mountains and they had had to fight off Orcs almost all the way. The attacks had been sporadic and apparently unfocused, just maddened Orcs who charged the Dwarf lines time after time until they were killed. Damage to the Dwarf Army was slight, but the result was that it forged within them a fighting unit that was ever ready for whatever was thrown at them. Morale was high, especially as they were happier back below the tree line once more.

Korwyn gradually adjusted to consciousness. Goosegog mead, was powerful stuff but he knew that his body had needed the draught to relax to allow mortal flesh to heal overnight from fresh wounds received.

“What of my wounds?” he asked of his beloved Zyndyr smiling down on him.

“The slash to your sword arm will ache for a few days yet, my love, but the honey poultice has kept the wound clean and free of the odours which can weaken or even kill, your arm is safe, sweetheart. I have covered the dressing with a healing web which is light and flexible, so you can use the arm if you have to, but a day or two’s light use would help if you could favour that arm. The other wounds were mostly bruises and minor cuts and are already as good as new.”

“I can wield the axe one-handed, Zyn, my father insisted on my ability to swing it effectively with either hand when doing my basic Militia training all those years ago. Besides, I have used it since on occasion and not just by necessity. I also have the light dwarf sword for my sword arm, does that count as ‘light’?” he grinned.

“I dare say that it’s probably the best I could wish for, my love,” Zyndyr conceded with a slight shake of her head, “but I think we should be safe here, the delegation from Goblin King Mamdhuk were friendly yesterday after their escort happily joined us in battling the last Orc horde, even though they were unasked.”

“That was a welcome incident that showed Goblin, Dwarf, Man and Elf side by side fighting Orc. A memorable scene that would warm any warrior’s heart seeking justice for all.”

“Aye, there was ever animosity between Goblin and Dwarf, but Orc was always a common enemy to them. And, before Hawkhart, the Goblins were allies of your grandfather when he was King of Man.”

“I know of none that favour the Orcs, ‘cept the Undead of Blearn.” Korwyn said with certainty.

“True, but there are Rock Spirits, too, who have allied themselves to the Orcs in the past. And this world’s natives, the Woodland Spirits, are elusive creatures who rarely trouble anyone, but may ally themselves to the Rock Spirits if pushed. I know of these woods now part of Goblin lands from when I first came to this world, when they were called the Frogmere Beeches; then they were a haunting ground of disturbed spirits and only the Goblins could endure their haunting attentions.”

“Mountoule claimed last night that it will take two days of marching to clear the woods and a further day across the flat lands to the Bridge at Swollen River.”

“Aye, he mebbee about right, these woods are indeed extensive,” Zyndyr agreed, “but I still trust him not.”

“Well, after breakfast I will go to the head of the column and, if confronted by any Goblins I will speak with them and explain that King Mamdhuk allows us through and will allow the Dwarf Army to return this way home unhindered after confronting Goadrik.”

Korwyn indeed rode at the head of the column all morning and it was around midday that, in a clearing in the forest, he came across a welcoming party of Goblins, including King Mamdhuk himself and his Queen. A buffet table was laden with fruits and cold meats with jugs of Goblin ale to drink out of lovely crystal goblets. Zyndyr was swiftly sent for and the column halted as at least a dozen dozens of Goblin servants passed down the column handing out flasks of ale and Goblin pasties of meat and jam to the Dwarf soldiers.

Zyndyr could speak Goblin fluently and translated what the Goblin King was offering.

“They too lost so many Goblin courtiers and soldiers at Hawkshart and he wants to be part of the historic righting of the wrong. He has ordered two regiments of Goblin infantry and one regiment of Goblin cavalry to join our Army under your command, Korwyn. They are making their way from their winter quarters to meet with us at the Bridge across Swollen River.”

Korwyn ordered the Army to set camp there after enlarging the clearing, erecting their tents and joining in the feast and relaxing. Each regiment set guards and changed them regularly, but there were no attacks during a night notable for its laughter and camaraderie.

The King and his entourage had departed late afternoon before dark. Korwyn and Zyndyr retired to their Dragonskin tent that aides had set up ready for them beside a small babbling brook.

Korwyn shook the cold water from his wet hair as he bent down and crawled naked into his tent and dropped his clothes wrapped up in his Dragonskin cloak just inside the entrance. There was no room to stand, he just crawled in and rolled over on his back on the straw mattress.

“I’ve had too much Goblin ale to drink, Zyn,” he admitted, “this tent is spinning like a top.”

Zyndyr was on her knees just an inch or so from the top of his head. She leaned over him and the tips of her loosened hair tickled his face.

“You were nervous and uncomfortable, my love, not understanding much of what was being spoken, and King Mamdhuk is an ancient ruler and very formal in his dealings with visiting dignitaries,” Then Zyndyr laughed, “His Queen Quistyn and especially Crown Princess Myddy were quite taken with you, though, judging by the roving hand of the Princess on your thigh all afternoon.”

“Aye, she was persistent, every time I removed it, she put it back. Short of stabbing her between the ribs with my elbow, I was at a loss what to do!”

“Well,” she placed her hands either side of his face, her fingertips tracing the edge of his freshly shaved jaw, “perhaps I need to restake my claim upon you.”

More of her soft green hair brushed against his face as she lowered her head and pressed her lips against his in an upside down kiss. Her tongue licked his lips, so he parted them that she could better sweep her insinuating tongue around his mouth, playing with his tongue. It felt so different this way around. She kissed his smooth chin, then his throat and chest. By the time she started nipping at his naked nipples, he was able to suckle from her ripe breasts, her nipples stiffening under his attentions, sucking and licking, and sucking again. All too soon she moved down his torso, pulling her breast from his mouth with a pop. She stopped at his navel, where she licked and nipped at his taut skin over solid muscle beneath. He kissed her softer belly, that was just starting to swell a little more noticeably, almost two months into her pregnancy.

Just the thought of his tiny unborn daughter being only a thumb or two thickness from his loving lips brought a wave of emotion over him, of the dangers his beloved Zyn faced on this campaign. Then her stomach moved on and he was now smelling the intoxicating musk of her arousal, his nose then mouth buried in the soft green curls of her sex. Meanwhile, Zyndyr had reached his own sex and gripped its steel hardness with a firm hand, before licking with wet licks the length of him from base to tip, before swirling her tongue around the head and forcing him into her mouth, where she sucked and caressed as she slowly moved down sucking more and more of him into her hot mouth. Korwyn kissed her lower lips, using his fingers and thumbs to open her up so he could lick the sweet honeyed nectar that filled his senses of smell and taste and drove him to suck up her essence from deeper, knowing that he would never tire of her glorious taste. They continued to lick and suck each other until Korwyn concentrated his tongue on the little nub above the entrance to her elfpussy, lashing and lathing at it until she groaned, shuddered and flooded his face with her gushing juices. He lapped them up as much as he could, but then she swung her lower half away from him, leaving her hot juices cooling on his face in the dark. She turned fully around, trailing her lips against him, alternating nipping at his skin or kissing and licking him. Soon their mouths met in a searing kiss and biting lips and tongues, at the same time feeling her hand on his cock, stroking the tip against her streaming sex lips before she lowered herself down on his rock-iron hardness. She left off sucking on his mouth as she tilted her head back while she wiggled her arse as she impaled herself further down his ramrod shaft, deeper and deeper. Korwyn licked her neck and she shuddered again as ecstasy overwhelmed her senses again. As she pressed down, he pressed up and they were soon bucking and slapping against each other as if their lives depended on reaching their entitled fulfilment. Korwyn held off as long as he could but she was flooding him once again with a hot gush of her juices and he had to let himself go, pumping his ejaculate into her for all he was worth.

Korwyn woke with a start. He must have passed out for a few moments. He was faced with the arresting sight of Zyndyr’s silhouette against the side of the tent as the dawn approached. She appeared to be watching him.

“Zyn, you are so beautiful,” he said, his dry voice no more than a croak.

“I was just thinking the very same thing, Wyn,” Zyndyr said softly, “how lucky we are that we met when we did and that we can be together sharing our adventures, our lives, our future. It is better than being one of those wives of warriors left behind, waiting your return and imagining all the horrors you’re enduring along the way, without the comfort of renewing our relationship when needed.”

Clive took a week-long course consisting of five half days on basic computer skills at the Job Centre. The course was free to the unemployed and it got him out of the house all day and into the evening, because that is the lie that he told Carole regarding the length and intensity of the course. He had used computers at work for most of his working life and within the first morning he found himself helping some of the other students with the basics. Mostly they were manual labourers who had no time for computers and found them difficult, the other larger group were women who had worked on assembly lines now long silenced through factory closures and trying to improve their skill sets ready for office work or telesales.