Dark Thane

Tarn quickly clambered to his feet. A good head taller than any of the other dwarves in his company, he could see the whole battle from his protected position within the circle. Still, this made him an obvious target, and he knocked aside one spear with his sword, while trying to figure out his best move. All around him, his dwarves were battling furiously, some of them engaging two or three opponents at once. In one glance, he knew that they couldn't last for very long. More and more draconians were climbing onto the road, while his dwarves were slowly being cut down before his eyes. Ilbars Bleakfell rose up beside him, sword drawn, and eyes blazing.

Then a gap opened as a dwarf fell with a spear through his heart. Tarn grabbed Ilbars by the shoulder and rudely thrust the surprised dwarf into the gap. He turned and looked back the way they had come. There didn't appear to be as many draconians attacking from the rear. He might be able to slip out of this trap, but only if he acted swiftly, before the draconians cut off their escape route.

Tarn was about to shout orders that would shift his dwarves into a column when he heard words of magic being chanted.

"Wizard!" he shouted, seeking out the source of the eerie words.

Too late, he saw the bozak draconian standing at the road's edge, its brown robes caked with mud. The creature lifted its hands, and as it did so Tarn threw himself to the muddy ground. Crying in surprise and rage, nearly a third of Tarn's dwarves suddenly found themselves engulfed in thick sticky strands of web.

Tarn scrambled to his feet, brushing clinging fibers from his arm and beard. Mog was instantly at his side, pulling him away from the battle. Half the draconians attacked the entrapped and helpless dwarves, slaughtering them mercilessly. The other draconians surged toward Tarn and the others, who had fallen back in disorder at the actions of the magic-user.

Tarn barked a quick series of commands that brought the dwarves together in an inverted V shape just in time. The bozak came up, already casting another spell. Tarn braced himself and shouted for shields to be raised. Two bolts of white energy exploded from the draconian's fingertips and streaked toward Tarn. Brave Mog threw himself into their path, but the gesture was futile, as the bolts wove past him and the shields to strike Tarn full in the chest. They seemed to burn through both layers of his armor, searing into his flesh like gouts of molten metal. He sank to one knee, screaming in agony.

Mog stared in horror at his fallen thane then turned, his face flushing crimson. He knew that the bozak must be stopped, but the few dwarves who had been armed with crossbows had long since switched to axes or hammers. Casting about, he saw a spear lying half trampled in the mud. Jerking it free, he hefted it and rushed the advancing draconian line.

Those draconians who had shields lifted them to their shoulders, but Mog halted halfway and flung his spear. It sailed over their heads and thudded into the bozak magicuser's chest. So forceful was Mog's throw that the head of the spear burst out a good arm's length from the creature's back. Its eyes widened in surprise as it clutched the shaft and staggered forward.

Mog then dropped back, ordering the others to retreat. He quickly reached Tarn's side and lifted his gasping thane under one arm, retrieving his war axe with his free hand. Tarn struggled to stand on his own feet, even as the smell of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils. Nevertheless, he fought through the pain. He didn't have the luxury of hurting.

Meanwhile, the dying bozak, clutching the spear that transfixed its body, wasn't done. It half ran, half staggered toward the dwarves, its hideous reptilian mouth champing a bloody froth. The other draconians parted to let it pass, then closed ranks and held their ground. The dwarves at the head of the inverted V eagerly awaited the bozak magic-user, and, when the wounded creature got close enough, swarmed forward and hacked him to pieces. Strangely the other draconians merely watched their leader die under the dwarven axes. Blinking through the pain, Tarn watched, baffled. It almost seemed that the draconians were smiling.

As the bozak fell to the ground, its flesh instantly turned to dust, leaving behind a gleaming draconian skeleton. One of the dwarves stooped to retrieve Mog's spear, dragging it free of the hollow rib cage. At that instant, the bones exploded violently. The dwarf stooping over it vanished in a glowing golden ball of fire, his gore spattering the survivors. Others were flung back, their bodies riddled with bone fragments. The rest fell back in horror, utterly amazed and routed. With a shrill, inhuman cry, the draconians charged again. They fell upon the confused and dazed dwarves like wolves among thunderstruck sheep, slaughtering left and right.