Dashtall

By Seth Giolle

The land is changing. Living under the Dashtall with Senglene’s golden city above, the Southern Dwarves know this more than anyone else. They find their old tunnels sealed up. New paths open as rock crumbles for no reason, and gold and silver veins dry, like the very ores are sucked from the stone, by magic. The latest slew of changes has them beset by ravenous creatures, and they’re soon fighting for their lives. These dwarves will not back down. Kelnoc struggles to temper wisdom with emotion and guide an emotion-driven, battle hardy kin to victory against seemingly insurmountable odds. This is the fifth book in my Prequel Stories series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365355097

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

Dashtall

Prequel Story 5

by Seth Giolle

0001

Prologue

History tells of an age when the world knew true calm. It was ruled by a good True King Ellor, and dragons filled the skies with all their colourful wonder. But darkness blossomed and flourished.

An evil wizard known as Auk Tria Yus is recorded as having spread potions and spells that turned friend against friend. The fiend crafted three magical blades and brought on the world’s first Darkening that burned the skies and spawned legions of dark wizard armies and bands of assassins that preyed on the innocent.

And Grio.dyness rose to power with his barbarian clan known as the Wolf. His barbarians met True King Ellor’s armies on the wasteland around what would later be his castle stronghold. They waged one final bloody battle, and he slew True King Ellor and took the throne to begin his equally dark rule.

There are other legends of those times: a man who could summon gold and built a city of wealth in the desert, what was then plains. There’s the tale of the fall of Sheava, a town and castle that equalled the True King’s castle. But fell nonetheless to unknown enemies.

These are the tales of those times.

These are the truths behind those tales.

Truth few have known before now.

Chapter One

Dwarves

They say they were twenty feet tall with long sharp claws that could take dwarf’s head in one swing! Kloshiac’s weathered, scarred face moved from one youth to the other. His bad, right eye seemed to pause at each one. The distasteful sneer remained constant. They’re fools, he spat, pathetic fools! No one knows what they looked like. They carried the dark on their backs. Their faces were ash, and their hands blinded all, but there is truth to one thing the legends say: many a dwarf was cut down at their hands.

The old dwarf’s dark nod was punctuated by a loud clanging noise. All eyes, old and young, went to the Inner Sanctuary’s main heavy iron doors. They remained in their moulding, but a thick wafting of dirt drifted out from the top hinges above.

That echo carried along the smooth stone around the two hundred dwarves, old, young, and wounded. Many of them were gathered in family units, lying on blood-soaked cots or huddled arm in arm. Both male and female rose with axes in hand.

A failing body didn’t stop the heart, but at least half of those who rose were ushered down again. Heads bore scrapes and burns, and dwarven armour displayed deep cuts. All eyes looked to the main doors, then, switched quickly to the other three sets of barred entrances as if expecting to see their enemy coming from any angle. Nothing came through. The defences held. For now.

They’re dead.

The whisper carried as effectively as a shout. His sneer twisting to a dark smile, Kloshiac turned back to his captive audience. He was lying on his left side, the right half bandaged, his right leg tied to stop the bleeding.

Don’t you say that, he countered, locking eyes with the youth who’d spoken.

Kloshiac rested his chipped, double-sided axe on the floor beside him. He straightened out some stray grey beard hair before speaking again.

Kelnoc has never failed us before. Even in that darkness that befell Kan Tanpas, his grandfather’s the reason any of us made it out alive. And his father’s the reason any of us survived the first season here!

Other weapons were eased down. Awkward talk and powerful boasts were heard scattered among the warriors all along that central hall.

Kloshiac grinned, shaking his head. This newest affront is nothing compared the heart in this place. We’ve forged a life here, on choice or demand, and we’re not going anywhere without a fight! I grant Kelnoc my life, he added, the grin widening. They’ll get in behind them. They’ll cut the vile filth down and drive them back into the hole they’ve come from! You’ll be out running the length of our halls in no time at all.

The youth smiled, and a nod was passed. Fires crackled. The smell of cooking meat caressed the nose, and mead was passed around. Its strong smell mixed in with all the rest. Amid the smaller bits of nervous laughter and tense bitter conversations around them, Kloshiac’s wary eyes drifted back to the main doors. Concerned.

0002

Kelnoc eased himself forward just enough to see down into to the corridor below. The creatures swarmed the floor, writhing over and under one another. One of them bent its near-gelatine, grey head down, the smooth surface going solid. Emitting a high squeal, it rammed itself into the Inner Sanctuary’s double doors. Getting nowhere, it let loose another squeal, the skin going soft once more, and writhed back into the masses again.

They measured from ten to twenty feet in length, and resembled, the dwarf mused, a large beetle, not unlike those his grandfather had described burning as a child to clear the crops. Of course, those beetles hadn’t had oily black limbs that could crush a dwarf in half, heavy armour or not. Those beetles had died easily. These things were another story.

They still had to die.

Kelnoc glanced behind him. Eighty dwarves showed scars and cuts, some still bleeding. Some showed burns from when they’d still had fire to use against their enemy. Kelnoc’s armour had the same scarring, and his nose had been broken in two places in the retreat. He moved some hair from his face, dark black mixed with fleshy pink.

The helmet had been lost in battle.

Fifty, maybe more below, he quietly affirmed.

The dwarf beside him, near on twice his age, his General grimaced and shook his head. His armour had three gashes across the breast plate where one of the creatures had gotten too close. His blood-soaked chainmail coat could be seen beneath.

With what the signals say, the old dwarf grumbled, there are twice as many beyond. He sneered in disgust.

Kelnoc considered the other side of the corridor and its opposite air shaft.

The shafts ran from the Inner Sanctuary, also known as the Central Chamber, high above the iron doors. The air shafts ran through the three surrounding channels, each with their own bit of corridor and set of heavy iron doors.

That corridor and its three channels ended at last at the Entrance Hall beyond. They were the three channels that, once blocked, split a large enemy up into more manageable groups. The channels gave an enemy nowhere to turn or run, nowhere to jockey for position against a foe that knew those smooth stone walls. They’d have no hope against those dwarves who’d chiselled those smooth stone walls and corridors.

Nodding, Kelnoc accepted the message the opposite dwarf currently sent and turned back to his General.

With the thirty in the third channel, he reasoned, we should be able to bunch them up here, flame or not, and force them back into each other. They’ll be more manageable that way. We can clear them out one channel at a time.

There were hearty grunts rippling back behind them. General Loppiac showed no overt reaction. The General just scratched behind his right ear and nodded. His hair had long gone white to match his beard.

Once in the Entrance Hall, Loppiac warmed in his grainy voice, it’ll be a different story.

Kelnoc picked up his double-sided axe, stared across the corridor again, and signalled for the assault to begin. It’s in every dwarf to live and die well, old friend. Let’s see what this day holds.

0003

My father told me about the ogres and lanchir. He said there were glool in these caves once too. The youth of ten or eleven clad in thin furs and layered skins grinned nervously, others returning the gesture.

Kloshiac nodded. I fought with your father, he grunted, smiling. He was a brave dwarf, an honour to this clan, to dwarves of any clan. The youth’s grin dimmed slightly, a respectful nod being offered instead. Kloshiac sighed. They were all over here when we first arrived. It’s their original handiwork that carved out the lower quarters where we now sleep, he added, motioning to the right-most, iron door. We, of course, made them better. An anxious, short laugh.

We lost many fine dwarves clearing this level and the ones below of the foul beasts, and then, as things were calming down, the lanchir moved in. At least the ogres had honour. They fought with dignity, as well as beasts can. The lanchir had no style or worth, and I was mighty glad to see them die out.

But the glool followed, the youth who’d spoken before challenged. And they nearly beat us.

Kloshiac sneered. Where do think I lost the right eye? he asked, growling lightly. Eyes went wide and expressions stilled. Kloshiac nodded. The glool taught us a thing or two about hunger and strategy. It was their threat that forged the three channels around us now. Any enemy can be contained and controlled in those halls by those limited entry points - no matter how vicious or strong they might be in the open. They may have nearly beaten us, the dwarf agreed, defiantly shaking his head, but they didn’t, and though we lost too many good warriors, we rebuilt stronger than ever!

Some laughter started up in the far corner. It was otherwise still conversation and tired sneers. All talk stopped as whistles penetrated glazed stone, and squealing echoed left and right. Kloshiac, the youth, and all wounded dwarves in the Inner Sanctuary followed the sounds as they chimed in on both sides, towards the main doors, converging on that central point.

0004

The squeals were sharper outside the hall where no sound was blocked, and all eyes were focused down on the pulsing mound of creatures that mixed and churned at the encroaching battle.

Kelnoc smiled.

Axe in hand, he leaned forward. Below, the churning mass rose, the creatures building and writhing further upon one another. Dwarves could only just be seen fighting left and right where the creatures dropped and died. They were a near-endless stream forcing the enemy back on each front. He wanted to drop that second and help out, but that wasn’t their plan. They needed the creatures properly bunched up. Kelnoc, like all other dwarves who waited above, was left to watch for the time being.

They’d held their ground quite well until what they’d thought to be shadow moved. The creatures had drawn them out into the cave tunnels that surrounded their underground domain. It wasn’t until he’d seen the black around them flex that he’d understood. The creatures had built a wall on either side. Their black underbellies had mimicked darkness. They’d fallen on the dwarven