Prelude - part 1: The Third Way
Drachenhold - Duchy of Karameikos
398 AC - Somewhere on the front line
“Eirak..”
He could feel a gauntlet hand shaking him gently. Well, as gently as a farmer would carry a sack of grain but at least it wasn’t a bucket of cold water...
“Come on sarge, wake up.”
He grumbled. “T’is better be worth it corporal..”
“Sah! Corporal Kergor, first platoon, beggin’ to report, sah!”
Groaning, Eirak grunted once more for good measure and then forced his eyes open. He blinked in surprise.
“T’is not even dawn yet, durn it!”
Corporal Kergor was standing at attention, not two feet away, rigid as a picket in the mud of the trench where Eirak had been trying to get a few hours of sleep before the next assault.
He stood up wearily, grabbed his helm, put it on and turned to face his subordinate. “Well?”
“Sah! Sentinels spotted a contingent o’ fresh mea.. er.. troops approachin’ from the east, sah!”
“Reinforcements?”
“Sah! Is the sergeant askin’ for this soldier’s opinion?”
Eirak sighed. “Oh come on Kerg.. at ease man! Ye know I’m always jumpy when I don’t get me beauty sleep.” He winked.
The two soldiers exchanged a chuckle and Kergor grinned. The corporal rubbed his beard a moment before answering. “Dunno, sarge. Took a good look at them meself. Their chin looked way too bare to me. Replacements more likely.”
Eirak sighed again. He hated this part of the job. “A’right, get them assembled and give me a minute to put on me official face.”
Kergor grinned like a cat about to eat a mouse. “Sah!” He saluted and left.
Finally alone, Eirak rearranged his scale mail and straightened the brown and white tabard that marked him as a soldier from the Iron Badger battalion. Well, formerly brown and white, that is. Presently, in-between the mud and the gore, an observer would have been lucky to discern there had once been more than one color displayed.
Of course, given his squad had spent the last two months liberating the duchy from an Orgothian invasion, hygiene hadn’t exactly been their top priority.
If we win, there’ll be time enough to clean up before paradin’ through Widdershin. If we lose.. well, it won’t matter anymore then.
He drank once from his belt flask, letting the whiskey warm his throat before settling in a stomach that hadn’t eaten anything worth naming in three days. He knew he would regret it in a few hours but, right now, he needed the kick.
As ready as he could be, he made his way to the new recruits.
**
“I’m sergeant-major Eirak Delkilar, first squad, second company o’ the Iron Badger battalion. In case some o’ ye axelin’s don’t know, we’re not just any unit. We’re the one and only fully dwarven unit of this here army. Some o’ our brothers serve in other battalions but this one is ours and ours alone. Those who preceded ye in it bought the freedom o’ our folks back home with their blood. See that tent on the hill back there?” he pointed northeast.
“That’s where ol’ Steelbelly is. Lieutenant-colonel Steelbelly to ye! See that flag right next to it? That’s our standard, and all the medals danglin’ from it were earned by yer predecessors on countless battlefields. No enemy has ever captured it before and none ever will as long as ye remember there’re but two ways out o’ this unit: head held high or feet first (1). Those men in plate armor guardin’ the standard live and die by that creed. They’re the Defenders.”
.. and one day, Terak willin’, I might just be worthy o’ joinin’ them.
“I don’t care if you think ye’re Aerix (2) himself reincarnated, here ye’re nothin’ till I decide otherwise. I’ve only three rules, so listen well ‘cause I won’t repeat meself!”
He cast the gaze his men had dubbed Mormekar’s kiss over the five young dwarves standing at attention in front of him.
“First rule: whatever order I give, ye obey. If I say jump!, you jump. No but, if, when, or why. You jump, period. If ye don’t, that burnin’ sensation down yer arse will be me foot helpin’ ye along!”
He could see several of his men nearby wincing in remembrance and had to fight to avoid cracking a smile.
“Second rule: we retreat only if ordered to. I’ll deal personally with the first man I catch breakin’ rank or - Terak forbids - runnin’ around like a headless gobber.”
Four of the recruits had the good sense to turn crimson at the suggestion they could be cowards. One, however, blanched. Eirak marked him mentally as someone to watch.
“Third and final rule: no one, I repeat NO ONE, dies without me express permission. Break that rule and I’ll make ye wish ye had stayed alive.”
He remained stony-faced while he watched them wonder silently if he had been serious about that last statement.
Good. As long as there is doubt in their mind, they’re bound to remember.
“Sarge!” came the cry behind him. “Scouts report they’re comin’!”
He swore under his breath. “A’right axelin’s, time to earn yer beard.” (3)
**
He cast a quick glance around him. All along the front line, as far as the eye could see, torches were being lit and planted into the ground, except in a few locations. He marked those as the areas defended solely by his battalion or one of the elven units from Suress. With a full moon gracing the night sky, the pointy-ears would be seeing as in full daylight. For dwarves such as himself, the dark of the night had already turned into a world painted in hues of black and white. Not at a long range, unfortunately. Living aboveground had dulled this particular gift of their race, but it would be sufficient to do what they excelled at: melee combat.
“LOCK .. AXE!” he yelled. Immediately, he heard his command being repeated along the line by his deputies. Quickly, he attached his own waraxe to his right-hand gauntlet through a series of small but sturdy chains. The soldiers of his battalion were famed for being well-nigh impossible to disarm, and rightly so! After all, no one had ever seen a badger lose its claws half-way through a battle...
“Sarge?”
He looked left. Corporal Kergor was standing at attention but with a worried expression on his face.
“What’s the matter, corporal?”
“Sah! I’m sorry to report Battle Chaplain Thundrin won’t be available to perform the Prayer. He hasn’t recovered yet from yesterday’s wound. T’is up to ye, sarge.”
He started to grumble but, after watching every soldier within earshot turn an expectant face his way, composed himself. He climbed out of the trench, put his shield down, closed his eyes, and mustered as loud a voice as he could.
“TERAK, BATTLE-FATHER, STEEL OUR HEARTS THAT WE MAY HONOR YE THROUGH OUR VALOR.” He laid his left hand atop his right vambrace.
“MORMEKAR, GRIM WANDERER, IF WE SHOULD FALL ON THIS DAY GUARD OUR SOULS ON THEIR WAY TO YER SON’S HALL O’ JUDGMENT.” He touched his shield with the tip of his waraxe.
“KORAK, SOUL-FORGER, HARDEN OUR WEAPONS THAT THEY MAY SHATTER THE BONES O’ OUR ENEMIES.” In one smooth motion, he struck the ground in front of him, sending mud flying.
“RONTRA, EARTH-MOTHER .. A CURSE UPON YE FOR TURNING YER BACK ON US!” He spat on the ground, an action he could hear his men imitating. The familiar anger filled his heart. He used it to strengthen his resolve (4).
On a sudden impulse, he added “WE ARE DWARVES! WE WILL NOT GO DOWN QUIETLY!”
The last statement elicited loud roars from the entire squad and many axes were raised in defiance before striking the ground symbolically.
Eirak picked up his shield and allowed himself a grim smile. That was the part he liked about his job.
Then, his eyes registered movement in the night. “STAND FAST! HERE THEY COME” He jumped down in the trench and readied himself.
**
They had been fighting for a good hour already, both sides neither giving quarter nor expecting any.
The Orgothian soldiers knew this was their last chance. For the past month, they had been slowly repulsed throughout the entire province till they stood with their back to the Wyrmsteeth Mountains, surrounded on two sides by Drachenhold’s army and on the third by the sea. But no help would come from that direction as warships bearing the flag of the Dragon Fang battalion, the king’s own, patrolled ceaselessly. And everyone knew that Drachen sailors could sink anything the Tsar dared send their way...
The Pass of Valsag had been retaken by the Lion Claw and Border Guard battalions three days before, cutting off the only possible escape route through the mountains.
On the other hand, Drachenhold’s soldiers weren’t in much better shape. The Karameikan regiment had sustained heavy casualties during the initial phase of the invasion and, though the other provincial regiments had scrambled to the rescue, it had still taken them two full months to break the siege of Korsk (5) and reconquer the duchy. And every inch of ground had had to be paid in blood along the way.
Both sides knew that, today, someone would have to break.. and be slaughtered.
**
Eirak blocked a spear thrust, taking care not to deflect it into the soldier fighting next to him. In one powerful chopping motion, he sundered the haft of the spear with his waraxe and, when the Orgothian soldier was carried forward by the momentum of his charge, sliced through his belly with the reverse blow. Blood sprayed all over, momentarily blinding him. He heard the voice of Kergor yelling a warning a second before something hard connected with his helm and sent him flying to the ground. Dazed, he tried to stand but had to wait a few seconds before his limbs responded to his will once again.
By the time he got up and his vision cleared, it was over. Kergor had stepped in front of him and taken the brunt of the next attack from a great brute wielding a two-handed maul. The corporal, half his face caved in from the blow, collapsed at Eirak’s feet.
Eirak growled and quickly closed the distance with the Orgothian, forcing the latter to backpedal to keep the dwarf within the maul’s reach. Unfortunately, mud and blood had combined to turn the battlefield into a slippery mess. The enemy soldier lost his footing and fell on his back.
Eirak didn’t give him a chance to get up. He took two steps forward and struck hard, severing the Orgothian’s left leg at the thigh. Instead of finishing him off, he then retreated to his former position while the enemy soldier was bleeding to death, yelling all the while as if he was being dragged to Hell. The commotion this created prevented other enemies from stepping forward immediately into the breach, affording Eirak a precious few seconds to catch his breath. He grabbed Kergor’s body and dragged him back into the trench while soldiers were creating a shield-wall behind him to buy him a minute of peace.
“Sa.. sarge..”
Eirak blinked. He was still alive?! “Shut yer mouth Kerg, and keep yer strength. T’is ain’t over before I say so”
“Sar.. ge”
“Durn it, man! Since when do ye disobey me orders like a first year axelin’?” He sighed. “A’right, what is it now?”
“Per.. mis.. sion.. to die.. sah...”
Eirak’s vision blurred as he watched the closest thing he had to a friend expire at his feet, a familiar grin etched on what remained of his face.
“Sergeant!”
He whirled around, doing his level best to fight off tears he hadn’t thought he could still shed. He half-discerned corporal Darrek standing grimly at attention, doing his level best not to meet his eyes.
He forced steel into his voice before answering. “Report!”
“Sah! Lieutenant Kelbar sent me to warn ye the Raven Wing companies on yer right flank are retreatin’. They’re bein’ replaced by troops from the Fiery Death battalion, sah!”
Eirak stifled a curse.
Elves .. as if things weren’t bad enough already.
“A’right, corporal. Give the men the usual warnin’. Ye know the drill (6)”
“Sah!” Darrek saluted and left.
Eirak bent and quickly arranged Kergor’s corpse as was proper, right hand on his chest and left hand over it, touching the right vambrace. As he did so, he noticed a silver key tucked inside the left gauntlet. He didn’t know what it opened, but didn’t want to leave it on the battlefield. In the confusion, someone might steal it. So, he pocketed it.
Shouts from soldiers drew his attention back to the battle. Apparently, the Orgothian troops had regrouped for one final assault and were even now advancing on them, forming a shield-wall bristling with spears.
He yelled “CLOSE .. RANKS!” and stepped forward to take his place once again among his men.
“Maal’s infinitesimal mercy!”
The curse had come from his right and had been uttered by a voice filled with fear. He turned and silently repeated the oath. An elven battlemage was floating above the ground some distance away, apparently impervious to enemy’s arrows, and preparing a spell.
A spell aimed at the Orgothian troops.
The same Orgothian troops that were less than 20 feet away from them and closing fast...
He had only time enough to yell “TAKE COVER!” before they were all suddenly engulfed by an ice storm.
Hailstones the size of a pigeon’s egg pounded them relentlessly for several seconds, while an intense cold seeped into their bones, freezing them to the marrow.
**
“Sergeant”
A voice, cutting through the darkness. The kind of voice that expects instant obedience.
“Sergeant!”
The voice, stronger this time, accompanied by a strange noise.
He dimly realized the noise was made by his teeth chattering.
By a supreme effort of will, he managed to open his eyes and immediately spat blood. He was lying on the ground amidst other soldiers from his squad. Unmoving soldiers for the most part...
That pointy-eared bastard! I’ll-
“Sergeant-major, can you hear me?”
A large shadow fell over him. Light was filling the horizon. Dawn had come, finally. He raised his head and squinted. A horseman was standing there, others - at least two squads - behind him. He thought he saw a flash of gold at the level of the cavalryman’s head.
He grunted once.
The man chuckled. “I will take that for a yes.” His voice turned serious again. “You are to assemble your men and retreat. We will replace you here. The enemy is routed anyway. We just have to mop up what is left of them.”
There had been a hint of bravado Eirak didn’t much care for in that last statement. For a second, he felt tempted to tell the human that overconfidence often breeds disaster and to warn him Orgothians seldom allowed themselves to be butchered without a fight. But then, he remembered the same human was probably part of those who continued to turn a blind eye to the kind of mistake the elven battlemage had just made. So, he nodded once and remained silent.
The cavalry unit rode past as he was picking himself up.
He spat to clear his throat. “PLATOON COMMANDERS, REGROUP YER MEN! WE’RE OUT O’ HERE”
**
When he woke up in his bunk, night had fallen again. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. He actually felt strength coming back slowly into his limbs.
Wait.. somethin’ ain’t right here.
While he could hear voices and noises outside his tent - the usual background noise you come to expect from any military camp - he didn’t hear what he most expected. When soldiers win a war, even one that cost them dearly in terms of casualties, they celebrate. They get drunk and thank the gods for having been granted one more day of life. In short, they make a lot of noises. But, here, the noises and voices were kind of muted as if the soldiers didn’t have any reason to be merry. Indeed, it felt more like a wake.
He got up quickly.. and almost fell to the floor when a wave of dizziness overtook him. He grabbed the nearest pole and used it to steady himself while the sensation passed.
Groaning, he reached for his armor only to find out his shield and waraxe were gone. Cursing, he searched the tent but couldn’t find them.
“If ye’re strong enough to swear, ye’re strong enough to come with us sergeant” stated a voice from outside the tent.
Eirak opened a flap and stepped out, coming face to face with his direct superior, lieutenant Kelbar. The latter was grim-faced.. as were the two Defenders accompanying him.
Two Defenders just for me?! You’ve got to be kiddin’
“Sah!” he saluted.
“Ye’re to come with us without delay, sergeant. We waited till ye regained consciousness but this can’t wait any longer” and with that, the lieutenant turned and left while the Defenders moved to flank Eirak. Having no other option, he followed.
On his way to who-knows-where, Eirak noticed soldiers nearby stopped whatever they were doing to look at them. No, correction, they were looking at him! Some few displayed expressions of pity. Most had anger in their eyes. He even caught a few elves smirking openly.
T’is lookin’ better and better by the minute...
“Sah, could I at least know where ye’re takin’ me?” he asked.
Without stopping or turning, the lieutenant answered “To yer court martial, sergeant. Where else?”
Eirak’s heart skipped a beat.
**
Eirak was standing in a circle formed of members of the Defenders, elite soldiers all. Half were facing inward, watching his every move, while the other half were facing outward, probably watching for trouble. Not that he expected any given the trial had been set some distance away from the main camp. Torches had been positioned around him to form a smaller circle to which he was confined.
A large oaken table stood about 6 feet in front of him. Behind it sat three persons: lieutenant-colonel Steelbelly, with their battle standard at his back, captain Solmin, his company commander, and a human. The latter was tall and sinewy, the mark of a Drachen. He was in his early thirties, and wore a spotless full plate coated in silver along with a midnight-black cloak. His hair, beard, and moustache - all cropped short - matched the color of his cloak. Combined to his aquiline nose and piercing green eyes, they lent him an air of confidant authority. Even if Eirak had never seen him before, the golden scale-shaped pendant he wore would have betrayed his identity: Earl Saladar, Lord High Justice of Drachenhold.
Uh oh! I must really have stepped on the wrong foot this time.
Eirak’s shield and waraxe had been laid out on the table, in front of the lieutenant-colonel, to await the result of the trial as was customary.
Captain Solmin stood up, took a scroll and read it. “Sergeant-major Delkilar, you stand accused of dereliction of duty. Namely, you abandoned your post in front of the enemy. How do you plead?”
What the..! T’is got to be a nightmare!
He had to swallow twice before words accepted to form in his mouth. “Not guilty!”
Solmin seemed to sigh inwardly, as if he had expected as much. Steelbelly’s face was inscrutable, a frown etched into it. Saladar was looking annoyed, though Eirak got the distinct impression it wasn’t at him but rather at the whole situation.
What’s goin’ on here?
Solmin threw a side-glance at the other two before continuing. “Thus, you deny that your actions led to the death of Crown Prince Wolfgang and Prince Kaul?”
Eirak gaped, unable to believe what he had just heard. Then, he remembered the flash of gold and pieces started to fall into place.
Just like the King, the Crown Prince’s helm was customarily adorned with a golden crown (though less elaborate than the King’s own). The cavalry officer who had told him to retreat must have been Prince Wolfgang. And where Wolfgang rode, his brother Kaul was never far behind. Given both were dead, it wasn’t hard to guess what must have happened. They had probably ridden forth, ready to mop up the last Orgothians.. and had fallen into an ambush, or something like that.
Small wonder he was on trial! The King must have been beside himself with anger and grief. To lose two of his heirs on the same day...
Durn it! If only I hadn’t been half-stunned from that thrice-damned ice storm. If only I hadn’t been facin’ the risin’ sun. If only-
Solmin’s voice broke his reflection. “Sergeant-major, we are waiting for your answer.”
“I.. not guilt.. er.. I mean, aye”
He finally understood the look on their faces. The King must have demanded someone to blame for the whole mess, a scapegoat as it was. And that someone was to be him...
Saladar must have been the one receiving the order from the King and, as a nobleman, was duty bound to carry it out, no matter how unfair it was.
Steelbelly was probably smoldering inwardly, furious that one of his men had to take the blame and even more furious that his battalion’s honor would be sullied because of it.
Which left only Solmin. As commander of Eirak’s company, it had to be him who had singled him out. That would explain why the man wouldn’t meet his gaze squarely.
Eh.. but wait a minute..
Eirak cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was steady again. “Sah, I didn’t desert me post with me men, I received a direct order to do so.”
Saladar looked at him intently. “Can you prove it, sergeant-major?”
Eirak thought for a minute before replying. “Well, the officer who gave me the order could confirm it but I’ve got a feelin’ he won’t be showin’ up as a surprise witness, right?”
The silence that followed was confirmation enough.
“Then, surely, one of me men must have heard-”
“They have been interrogated already, sergeant. Alas, none of them can corroborate your version. Either they had been knocked unconscious during the.. ah.. unfortunate accident that occurred just prior to that or they didn’t survive their wounds. Well, at least those men who would have been close enough to hear the officer give the order.. if he actually did, that is...”
Eirak gnashed his teeth in frustration.
Well, only one thing left to do then.
He locked gaze with Steelbelly and said, loud enough for all to hear: “On me beard, that’s how it happened, sah!” Then, he stood at attention, the living incarnation of righteous indignation.
Steelbelly turned crimson while Solmin looked about ready to die of embarrassment. And then.. the silence was shattered by Saladar’s laughter.
The Earl turned to his fellow jurors. “Gentlemen, I believe he got us there. Indeed, how do you refute the word of a man whose entire military life has revolved around the concept of honor?”
Saladar stood up and slowly walked till he stood in front of Eirak. By the time he spoke again, all mirth had left his eyes and his voice would have given the shivers to an honest man. “Understand this, sergeant-major, I don’t like this.. ah.. travesty any more than you do. That said, my.. our first duty is to the King.”
“And here I thought yours was to Justice and Truth.” The words had escaped Eirak’s mouth before he even realized he had pronounced them.
Me and me big mouth.
Saladar’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t be daft man! You know as well as I do that the word of the King is law. And, right now, the King grieves for his sons. Any father would. More so any father whose constant duty is to keep our kingdom in one piece. The King wants a culprit, so we will give him one.”
Saladar marked a pause for dramatic effect before adding “Or.. you could do the smart thing...”
“M’lord?”
“You have served in this battalion for some 20 years, I am told. That is two decades of exemplary service, judging by your decorations. Correct?” Saladar didn’t bother to wait for his answer before continuing. “Normally, the only way for one of you stout folks to retire is to either reach the end of your enlistment term or die in the line of duty. What if I told you there was a third way?”
Eirak raised an eyebrow interrogatively.
“Resign”
“What!? Never!” Eirak felt indignant at the very suggestion.
“Very well then. You will be convicted - my word on it. Being a soldier, the only penalty is - of course - death by hanging in front of your regiment. Your shame will sully the honor of your squad, not to mention your entire battalion.” He looked meaningfully at the battle standard proudly displayed behind a somber-faced lieutenant-colonel Steelbelly.
Eirak felt the world shattering under his feet.
“Wha.. what’s the alternative?”
Saladar smiled benignly. “I already told you: resign! Basically, you recognize you did not do the right thing at the right time. Oh, I am not asking you to lie. After all, you were heavily-wounded at the time, no? We will just state you weren’t fully coherent when you ordered your squad to retreat. By resigning, you shoulder the blame and avoid passing it on to your unit. Once you are a civilian, you will not depend on the code of military justice anymore and I will graciously pardon you as, say, a gesture of goodwill given your otherwise pristine career in the service of our nation. As Lord High Justice, that is my privilege. The King will not be happy but I can deal with that.”
Saladar walked back to his seat but, halfway there, stopped and turned around. “Oh, and the best thing is that you get to keep your precious beard (7)” he added genially.
“Of course, this little.. ah.. transaction stays between you and us” he finished, once he was seated. “Well?”
Eirak could feel knots forming in his stomach but knew he was cornered.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Durn it!
“I accept” he snarled.
**
Eirak stood outside the army camp. The road to Korsk stretched out in front of him, filled with refugees who were slowly returning to villages that had been pillaged by the invaders.
He had been able to keep his armor and his waraxe but had had to exchange his steel shield for a wooden one, an unadorned one.
He sighed.
Soldiers he had campaigned with for years had spat on his path while he was leaving. Spat!
He laid his left hand on his right vambrace.
Battle-Father, give me strength.
“Hello there!” came a cheerful voice behind him.
He whirled.
A forest elf was standing a few feet away, leaning casually on a longbow. He wore the brown and green garb of a forester and a friendly smile on his face.
His elven face.
His cursed pointy-eared face.
Eirak growled and unsheathed his waraxe. He took a step forward.
The elf backed off hastily while raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Sherth! Calm yourself, friend! I come in peace, no blood to spill save in answer.”
Eirak barely restrained himself. “Speak quickly or begone!”
The elf’s smile returned. “My name is Aniel, and my little finger tells me you have a silver key in your possession.”
Kerg’s key? Durn! I had forgotten about it.
“If you do” the elf continued “I have a proposition for you. A lucrative proposition at that.”
Alone, jobless, and penniless, Eirak gave the only possible answer. “Start talkin’..”
**********
(1) Hence the Iron Badger’s motto: “Give me honor, or give me death!”
(2) Son of the wargod Terak, the greatest mortal warrior who ever existed.
(3) Sundered dwarves have lived in perpetual shame ever since the Cataclysm forced them to leave their underground home to become wretched refugees in the World-Above. As such, they stubbornly refuse to grow a beard. Only by joining the military do they regain (in their own opinion) a shred of honor and earn the right to a beard again. Thus, it is relatively easy to judge how long a particular dwarf has served based on the length of his beard. More so given they have taken the habit of braiding their decorations in it. Once they leave the army, they can retain their beard but must keep it at the exact length it was at the time.
(4) When the Cataclysm brought their cavern-home crashing down on them (literally!), the ancestors of the sundered dwarves became convinced Rontra, goddess of the earth, a deity they had honored above all others (save Korak), had betrayed them. Since then, they have refused to worship her in any way and, indeed, continue to curse her name to this day.
(5) Provincial capital of the Duchy of Karameikos.
(6) Ever since the dwarves fought on the side of the humans during the Forest War, the elves of Suress (especially the forest elves) have borne them a grudge. Even though the two races are now part of the same kingdom and, supposedly, fight on the same side, it’s not unheard-of for elven units to target mistakenly dwarven units in the heat of battle. Of course, the elven officers always apologize afterwards but the damage is done. Usually, army commanders don’t make those units fight side by side unless they have no other choice.
(7) It is customary for dwarves serving in the military and earning the death penalty to shave their beard in shame before their execution is carried out.
**********