The Adventures of Pungo: Battle Warrior Dwarf Extraordinaire

By Joseph Swerdon

The one-thousand-year dwarf war is over. The doors of the once majestic dwarf stronghold of the Natcheleen Vale remains sealed. Terror rules the day, and evil stalks the night. Pungo, battle warrior dwarf extraordinaire is now faced with a grave decision: save those he comes to know as friends, or continue on his mission of vengeance. Who or what are these riders of the ice-mist. One thing is for sure, Pungo intends to find out or die trying. By change or plan, the adventure begins in this page turner of battle, magic, and so very much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644627334

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The Adventures of Pungo

Battle Warrior Dwarf Extraordinaire

Joseph Swerdon

Copyright © 2019 Joseph Swerdon

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64462-732-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64462-733-4 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 1

Part 1

Riders of the Ice-Mist

Prologue

They rode white horses that blew frosty breath from noses. With every step, they galloped and concealed them with their own mist. Sitting upon white saddles were shadowed things, perhaps men, possibly something other, dressed in long white robes with hoods hiding their looks and bony long fingers exposed holding reins. Where they went, the icy cold mist concealed. They were the ice-mist riders, bringing with them an unimaginable terror and leaving in their wake villages empty and silent.

At first, the thin tendrils of mist drifted into the sleeping village known as Marapee, a small farming community of hardworking and honest people. Slowly, the long, many-tendriled fingers of ice-mist crept silently through the cracks of every home, probing every room until finding those who slept within, touching each, and selecting those it decided to take.

Outside, a thick mist followed. Horse hooves pounded the ground like thunder, leaving behind a heavily frosted path. Horrible screeching noises suddenly broke the silence—screams unlike anything before heard. These sounds caused a panicked terror from those awakened from beds, but it was already too late.

Chapter 1

Pungo, battle warrior dwarf extraordinaire, stepped cautiously upon a ground painful to the touch and crumbled underfoot like broken glass. Many rivers flowed into this land, but none flowed out of this arid—dry wasteland. Pungo looked up and winced from a sun that burned a brilliant orange in a cloudless sky.

Standing nearly four feet tall and having long, ungroomed, fire-red hair and matching full beard, Pungo continued on by placing one foot in front of the other with pants tucked into knee-length leather boots. Leather vest worn over leather shirt caused him to sweat, bringing with it an uncomfortable feeling. As if this was not enough, strapped to his waist and fastened by a metal buckle, a wide, black leather belt from which hung a scabbard exposing the hilt of a heavy broadsword. Lashed to his back, a wicked-looking double-sided battle-ax having thick blades honed razor-sharp. Across his barrel chest, two smaller sheaths, each holding within a half-sword with handles facing downward for easier reach.

All around him stood crazy pillars, arches, and fantastic shapes, differently eroded crags and pinnacles. His breath was labored, caused by the thick heat and putrid gases that rose from the many stagnant pools of thick goo that bubbled to the surface from the superheated gases released from deep within the earth.

Pungo, accustomed to such harshness, trudged forward until the land itself began to change. He came to an area where the path twisted through a forest of stunted trees, gnarled and brittle things without life. The path he followed zigzagged in direction until the trees became sparse. The ground became again barren and rocky the higher he climbed. Soon Pungo stood before a sheer rock wall where he was given no choice other than to climb up or tum around seeking another way.

Pungo carefully studied the rock wall then grumped a noise of displeasure from his parched, dry throat. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of first one handhold and then another in beginning the climb to the height far above.

The climb was tedious and near exhausting. Hand over hand, he pulled himself upward on the sheer rock wall. The air changed to colder, thinner, something welcomed after the furnace-like lands before. Clouds loomed overhead, threatening rain and bringing with them a damp fog, soon causing him difficulty with seeing his surroundings. For a moment, he wondered if this was part of the mysterious ice-mist but shrugged this thought off, knowing this to be a natural doing of nature. Small stones knocked loose, rattled, and bounced off the rock wall to the ground far below, reminding him as to how far he had climbed.

In time, and nearing exhaustion, Pungo pulled himself heavily onto a wide ledge where before him opened the gaping entrance of a cave. Firelight from within reflected eerie shadows as if it was something living, entities suggestively inviting him inside.

Pungo unlashed the battle-ax. He knew that within the cave lived the witch Bluetella, the last remaining hag long ago banished into this land no man cared to enter or had use for. For reasons unknown, her life had been spared during the final witch hunts and banished here for all eternity.

She stooped over a bubbling liquid that boiled from within a blackened cauldron. Her gown was tattered and filthy. Gray and scraggly hair hung unwashed for long. On the cave’s floor lay scattered about bits and pieces of bone, possible remnants of meals long past or things used for other purposes, he knew not which.

Surprised by his intrusion, she turned to face him, causing even him, a battle-hardened warrior, to wince with repulsion. She was beyond ugly, something horribly unnatural to look upon, yet something one would look at again and again with disbelief as to existing.

Dwarf, she hissed with disgust. What dee ye wan? she demanded.

Pungo gripped tightly the handle of the battle-ax. Information, witch! I warn… should you not tell me what I want to know, then you shall feel the bite of my ax blade!

The anger of Bluetella’s look caused him to step closer with menace obvious.

Speak, dwarf, she hissed.

The riders of the ice-mist. Where are they, and how do I stop them?

Bluetella shrieked with laughter.

Pungo raised the battle-ax in readiness to swing.

No! Wait, Bluetella pleaded.

Speak, Pungo demanded.

He will destroy me if I tell.

I will destroy you now if you don’t, witch!

Far to the north… a wizard named Jarracker. The riders of the ice-mist are his.

What do you say, witch? Tell me! Pungo shouted, his patience wearing thin.

Kill Jarracker, and you kill the riders of the ice-mist, Bluetella whispered, clearly afraid.

How do I kill this Jarracker?

How do you kill any wizard… you don’t—because you can’t!

Pungo stepped forward angrily with battle-ax raised.

Bluetella saw the dwarf’s intention. I cannot tell you something I do not know the answer for, she said, frightened. All I can say is that he is a powerful wizard, she hastily warned.

Pungo relaxed his grip on the battle-ax.

I cannot tell you more, dwarf. Kill me if you must.

Tell no one of my visit, witch, or I will return.

Then go, dwarf! Jarracker will do to you what I can’t, she hissed.

Aye, witch, many have tried, but here I still be, Pungo grimly stated while backing from the cave and watching her suspiciously.

Chapter 2

The land was accustomed to rage in full fury with bitter cold for most of the year, a period of utter winter of days and nights. Very gradually, the forces of the epic blizzard would fade, only giving one a moment’s thought of finally ending but would then again resume in its fury of mocking gesture. Winds howled, coming from the south, and snow swept the landscape in storms that remained frequent and broken by preternatural calm, though the temperature remained well below freezing. One who bundled against the cold could safely view a spectacular light show in the constant night sky. A number of months would pass before the sun again appeared with bright sunshine, only a moment’s tease; the waning of the storms was inevitable and only gave one hope who truly believed they could survive anything.

Even when the violence of the storms passed, no one ever dared travel into this cold and violent of a place. In the bosom of this land lay a remote island rising in the midst of