Chapter Twelve

Mass Firing

In the room she shared with Seline at the Sign Of The Wolverine, Luna sat down at the table she borrowed from the innkeeper. She lit a candle of incense, and picked up one of the garnets the companions took from the monsters they’d slain on their journey to Flinthold. With her other hand, she removed the pendant that hung around her neck. The pendant was of a stylized sun, worked in the image of a benevolent, fatherly man’s face. The pendant represented the image of the sun god Pelor, who Luna dedicated her life to as a priestess.

With the candle burning in front of her and her garnet and pendant in her hands, Luna started casting her divination. Although she was in an underground city where Pelor’s rays could not reach, no stone could block her connection with her god. She felt her mind opening to Pelor as she requested his aid, so that she could help Airk finally find peace. Her pendant grew warm in her hand as Pelor responded, placing words in her mind. In her other hand, the garnet crumbled to dust as the power of the divination consumed it.

Finally, as the spell finished, Luna blew out the incense candle and put her pendant back on. Picking up a piece of parchment and dipping a quill in some ink, she wrote the words of Pelor’s divination for Airk to take to the Regency Council.

“The bearers of the scarlet crystals…” Airk said, reading the words of Luna’s prophecy that he’d translated into the gnomish language.

“Bring the flames of war and destruction…” he continued.

“Threatening the underground peace…” he kept reading.

“…To burn for centuries to come,” he finally finished, before his eyes rose to meet those of the Regency Council.

At Airk’s request, Osian had asked the Regency Council to meet so he could tell them about Luna’s divination. Wilhelm, Moswen and their supporters agreed to Airk’s request because they all believed that the divination would bolster either of their claims to the Crown of Arumdina and Flinthold’s throne. The divination wasn’t what any of them had expected, and they now scowled in annoyance at Airk. 

“Are we supposed to be impressed by this, Sir Airk?” Moswen asked. “Prattle that could mean just about anything, coming from a god that has no connection to the gnomes? For all we know, your human friend made it all up!”

“That ‘human’, as you call her,” Airk said, trying very hard to control his temper, “didn’t have to risk her life finding the Crown of Arumdina and bringing it home. Neither did my other friends. She didn’t have to cast that divination either, and it’s warning us of a larger threat-“

“Spare your words for someone who gives a damn,” Wilhelm said, cutting Airk off. “For all we know, the human woman made up everything she told you! Now begone-we have more important things to consider than the ravings of some delusional human!”

It was all Airk could do not to shout at the Regency Council, but Osian’s hand on his shoulder calmed him. Returning the councillors’ scowls, he let Osian lead him out of the council chamber as the councillors resumed arguing about the pending war with Garnetholme. They marched down one of the manor’s main staircases, where Gilduros awaited them.

“Luna made nothing up,” Airk said to his brothers as they left the council manor. “They didn’t even let me explain about the red crystals.”

“So enlighten us,” Osian said, his expression clearly showing his disbelief.

“Don’t you remember the stories I told of the battles we fought on our way here?” Airk said. “All those monsters only carried red gems as treasure. You haven’t heard of any monster bands like that?”

“I suppose you and your friends are looking for glory now?” Osian said. “Returning the Crown like some great hero wasn’t enough for you?”

Airk’s eyes narrowed, and he was about to respond when Gilduros got between him and Osian.

“We’ve heard a few rumors here and there about it,” Gilduros said, speaking before Osian could, “but no one thought more of it than that.”

“Perhaps they should have,” Airk said, his expression now reflecting concern rather than anger. Gilduros shared Airk’s concern, while Osian simply scoffed at the notion.

Osian opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a loud clanging of bells. All three of the Venbelwars, veterans of Flinthold’s military, recognized the bells’ clanging as a call to arms. Flinthold was clearly under attack, and it needed its sons to defend it.

Gilduros and Osian ran to join their companies, while Airk hurried to find his friends.

Ma’non’go scowled in anger as the hill giant’s sword cut a notch in the handle of his trident. The giant was a clumsy fighter, swinging his sword without any real finesse or technique, but he made up for it with sheer power. Ma’non’go had deflected the giant’s swing with his trident, and even avoided the worst of the blow, but his weapon didn’t escape unscathed.

The giant bellowed a war cry before swinging his sword horizontally at Ma’non’go, and the Olman warrior stepped forward, the opposite direction from what the giant expected. Ma’non’go held his trident out horizontally as the giant brought his sword in, and the giant soon punctured his hand on the trident. Screaming in pain, the giant lowered his defenses to pull his wounded hand back. Ma’non’go didn’t waste the opportunity as he sprang forward and plunged his trident deep into the giant’s gut. As the giant doubled over in pain, Ma’non’go followed up by tearing his eye out.

Pulling his trident free of the giant’s face and stepping aside as the lifeless body fell forward, Ma’non’go took a deep breath. He saw Luna and Revafour off to one side, but he’d lost sight of their other friends in the vicious fighting that now thronged the streets of Flinthold. The horde of monsters, made up of humanoids and giants from nearly a dozen different races, easily overwhelmed Flinthold’s outer defenses and broke into the city. Now, the city’s defenders were fighting for their lives while trying to evacuate as many of the civilians as possible.

Ma’non’go didn’t think he’d ever seen a military defense as badly organized as the one Flinthold tried to put forward. Flinthold’s soldiers were trained and equipped well enough, but their different units and battalions didn’t cooperate as a larger force. Ma’non’go had seen just how deeply divided the Flintholders were over whether Moswen or Wilhelm should become king, and that same dysfunction had clearly spilled into their armies. Now, after nearly two hours of solid fighting, Flinthold’s forces were faltering.

Ma’non’go could only hope that the Regency Council could somehow rally Flinthold’s defenders, or everything might be lost.

 “Some fine leader you’ve turned out to be!” Moswen shouted at Wilhelm when they heard the latest report from one of Flinthold’s generals. “Had you allowed me to take the throne, I could lead-“

“You’re the one undermining my authority!” Wilhelm shouted back. “You’ve damaged our people’s resolve, so it’s no wonder their hearts aren’t in the fight!”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Moswen shouted, his eyes widening in anger.

“It’s both your fault for not acting like leaders when we’re in the middle of a gods-damned invasion!” Arthur shouted, making the rest of the Council stare at him in shock. “Our people need us, and you’re squabbling like children!”

Moswen, Wilhelm and their followers all fell silent for a few moments, before Wilhelm spoke up again.

“He’s right,” Wilhelm said, before he walked over to the glass-fronted cabinet where the Crown of Arumdina was stored.

“What are you doing?” Moswen asked in surprise.

“Putting an end to this,” Wilhelm said, as he unlocked the cabinet and reached for the Crown.

Ma’non’go was pulling his trident out of an ogre’s chest when he heard the trumpets blaring. The cries and shouts of Flinthold’s defenders became louder in response to the trumpets, and Ma’non’go ran in the direction of the trumpets’ sound. He suspected that either the leaders of Flinthold were joining the battle, or the leaders of the monster horde had finally appeared. In either case, he was determined to help the Flintholders.

Ma’non’go was surprised to see High Regent Wilhelm surrounded by some of his personal guards and swinging a war hammer as he tried to rally his people. Instead of a helmet, he wore the Crown of Arumdina, its many stones glittering as he shouted a war cry. A large gnoll came at Wilhelm, swinging a hammer of his own at the gnome regent, but Wilhelm easily blocked it with his shield. Wilhelm struck the gnoll in the knee with his hammer, and then crushed the monster’s skull when he stumbled.

Several of the Flinthold soldiers cheered at the sight of their leader, but Ma’no’go frowned. The Crown didn’t seem to be doing anything at all, even though Airk and all the other gnomes insisted it had some sort of tremendous power. What was it waiting for?

Ma’non’go didn’t have any more time to think about it, as he turned to face another ogre charging at him.

Despite Wilhelm’s bravado, he didn’t feel any surge of power from the Crown. Nor did any of his soldiers seem to fight any more bravely, whether they supported him or not. He was soon attacked by an orc, a chieftain by the looks of him, thickly muscled and carrying a large halberd. Wilhelm staggered under the orc’s blow, his shield arm going numb, and the orc didn’t flinch when Wilhelm struck him in the ribs.

A pair of Wilhelm’s guards ran to help him, attacking the orc chieftain from either side, as Wilhelm pulled back to regroup. He couldn’t understand why the Crown wasn’t reacting, and he felt a sudden tinge of fear.

“Garl Glittergold, Gaerdal Ironhand, grant me your blessings!” he shouted, hoping that he might somehow activate the Crown’s powers.

“I doubt your gods can help you here,” he heard a feminine voice say. The voice somehow managed to cut through all the noise of combat, so that every combatant in the vicinity heard it. They all ceased fighting, defender and monster alike, and turned to watch the woman emerge from a crowd of monsters. She didn’t resemble any human Wilhelm had ever seen, her skin being as white as a cloud, and her attire was completely unsuited for a battlefield, being a thin and revealing gown.

“Who in the Nine Hells are you?” Wilhelm demanded, raising his hammer threateningly.

“The queen of all these devoted worthies, and of your realm,” she said, gesturing at the monsters all around her. They all bowed in unison, and the woman smiled, her smile far longer and wider than that of any other human Wilhelm had ever met.

Wilhelm felt distinctly unnerved as he looked around at the monsters who bowed before the woman. Many of their races generally hated one another, and would have been as happy to kill each other as the Flintholders, but the woman somehow had them serving her loyally. She was dressed as a noblewoman, not a warrior or a mage, but she acted as if she wasn’t in any danger.

Wilhelm’s temper flared at that. This arrogant human just walked into his kingdom, and acted as though it was hers by right. She led a horde of monsters to kill his people, people who were fighting and dying for their homes and loved ones.

His uncertainty was replaced with anger as he raised his hammer, realizing that the time had clearly come. He was going to fulfill Garl Glittergold’s prophecy, as the Crown of Arumdina bestowed its power on him, Flinthold’s worthy champion. When he disposed of this woman, he would found a king’s line, a line that would reign for centuries to come.

“You would be queen, and I would be king,” Wilhelm said, banging his hammer on his shield. “Why should our peoples shed further blood when we might battle for the throne ourselves? The winner becomes the new ruler, and the loser becomes carrion. What’s your name, woman?”

“You may call me the Scarlet Woman,” the woman said with that too-wide smile.

“Name your champion then, o Scarlet Woman,” Wilhelm said, smirking confidently. “Who will he be?”

“She will be…me,” the Scarlet Woman said with a smile, as her minions cheered loudly.

Wilhelm stared at the Scarlet Woman in disbelief, shocked that she would challenge him herself. He wondered if she was some manner of wizard, given her snow-white skin and disturbing smile, but he realized it didn’t matter. Gnomes were resistant to spells, and he was confident he could strike her down before she could finish any spell she might cast. The Crown’s power would enhance his abilities, and she would be utterly helpless against him.

Smiling at her foolishness, Wilhelm accepted the challenge with a nod.

“So be it, woman,” Wilhelm said, stepping into a fighting stance. “Just know that your death was your own doing.”

The Scarlet Woman didn’t react, except to widen her smile again.

Wilhelm advanced confidently, expecting the Crown’s powers to finally activate.

He didn’t even take two steps before the Scarlet Woman raised her hand. A massive streak of fire seemed to erupt from it, consuming Wilhelm as he opened his mouth to say something.

Watching from the crowd, Ma’non’go gasped in horror as the stream of fire engulfed Wilhelm. He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the speed with which the Scarlet Woman cast the fiery blast or how focused it was. The blast was narrow, stopping short of burning anyone else, but it was so hot it killed Wilhelm almost instantly. When the blast faded, it revealed Wilhelm’s charred bones, cracking from the heat, and his armor half-fused.

Only the Crown of Arumdina remained undamaged, and the Scarlet Woman picked it up. She turned it over in her hands for several moments, as if savoring its beauty. Then, she looked up, and smiled wickedly at her minions.

As if broken from a trance, the Scarlet Woman’s minions and the gnomish defenders resumed their battle. Many of the gnomes who saw Wilhelm’s gruesome death, and the lack of reaction from the Crown, lost their nerve. The battle around the Scarlet Woman soon turned into a massacre, as many of the gnomes fled for their lives.

Ma’non’go, Revafour and Luna were forced to flee with them, realizing that the odds were hopeless.

The Scarlet Woman called off the slaughter of the retreating gnomes who saw her destroy Wilhelm. The fleeing gnomes reacted as she expected, spreading word of the High Regent’s death and the Crown being captured by the invaders. The resolve of the gnomes, already sorely shaken by the bitter arguments wracking their community over the potential Garnetholme war and which member of the Regency Council would wear the Crown, finally broke at that news.

Struggling to find his friends in the chaos flooding Flinthold’s streets, Airk only managed to locate Weimar. They searched for anyone else they knew, and they soon came across Osian and his company in a vicious melee against a large group of monsters. The company had hit the invaders hard, as the number of enemy corpses around them showed, but the invaders had hit them harder. There were nearly as many corpses of gnomes as there were of the invaders, and the surviving invaders greatly outnumbered the surviving gnomes. Osian himself bled from half a dozen wounds, and his breathing was ragged, but he stubbornly refused to go down.

Screaming in anger, Airk charged into the melee, determined to help his brother. Weimar followed suit, and the two companions drew several of the monsters away from Osian’s company. For a moment, it seemed as though the tide would turn…

…but then the gnoll Osian was battling took advantage of his injuries and exhaustion and beheaded him with a two-handed swing of his axe.

Airk stared in horror for a moment at the gnoll, as time seemed to stop all around him. He then screamed again and charged at the gnoll, crushing the gnoll’s head to pulp with a single blow of his morning star. He went into a frenzy, attacking wildly even as Weimar ran to help him. Fighting his way through the monsters, Weimar finally caught up to Airk, who whirled around to face him.

Airk seemed as though he’d attack Weimar, but then he recognized his human friend. He snapped back to reason as he saw the look on Weimar’s face, a look that told him their fates were sealed if they didn’t escape.

All they could do was run, as Flinthold seemed to fall apart all around them.