Chapter 3

He was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Gods he was no runner. Sweat dripped from his brow like drops of water slipping free from the melting ice of spring. Even his beard was soaked, the only time he had ever been so drenched in his own bodily fluids he was working deep in the mines. That or bending molten metal to his hammer in the blacksmith's quarters.

"Sir! They're still... Still gaining on us!" His first in command called from somewhere behind him. The man was barely able to talk, his own breath heaving in his chest. They were all tired, all worn down, and they were well aware there was no escaping the scourge behind them.

"If we can make it to the trees at least there we can make a stand." He called out. There were no replies, only the continued sound of labored breath. He felt sorry for the men, for his men. He had gotten them into this mess they were currently in; he had dragged them half way across the world in his mad expedition. There were no other dwarves this far out into the human-lands, even with the jagged mountains that surrounded the deep valley. He was alone, they were alone, and no one would save them. Especially not the humans that frequented the area.

Just as he had said not far ahead of them was the start of a great pine forest. It started at the foot of a small rolling mountain range before rising up to blanket the majority of the fine slopes. It wasn't much but so long as their enemies didn't sling fire they would be ok, at least until the monsters managed to rip them apart from behind.

Bromyr wasn't certain what they were, a mix of ground creatures the likes of which he had never seen and a beast that had taken to the skies. Perhaps it was a dragon; it wouldn't surprise him considering the cargo he was carrying. Sure, they had been dead for thousands of years, but considering what he had seen of the one following their every move it couldn't exactly be called living. The same could be said for the creatures, their hollow cries still echoing too close for comfort.

"Ready your weapons!" He cried, gripping the axe handle at his back with shaking hands. He had seven guardsmen, all of whom wore grim looks of determination as they followed his order. He stopped hard before unsheathing the weapon and turning back to face the rapidly approaching onslaught of enemies. Most of them were twisted creatures, dogs with maws that opened far too wide or birds who had suddenly grown more wings and rows of jagged teeth. They all had glowing eyes and left a trail of black mist-like substance.

"We will fight with honor!" His commander Floki called out sharply to the men. Floki was as stout as any dwarf Bromyr knew, a thick roped brown beard showcased his prowess in battle and his age. Like the rest of the men Floki wielded a battle axe as was custom with dwarves, though Bromyr held one dagger and a short sword as well just in case.

"Stand steady men, this is not a mission we took lightly and it is not one we will abandon! Not until we die." It was a solemn message, one he had hoped he wouldn't have to deliver. He never imagined he would be met with such otherworldly resistance, especially this far from his kingdom. But considering the cargo in his pack he had to admit he was foolish to hope for a smooth passage back to his homeland.

"Sir, if I may offer a suggestion?" This time Grimor spoke, a young guardsman under Floki's command. He nodded, eying the enemies swift approach.

"We should pray." Grimor continued, panting hard. He was still just a boy, his rounded face and youthful eyes a testament to his untested mettle in battle. Bromyr paused, turning to spare the boy a look.

"Explain boy." He gripped his axe harder, nearly shaking with the fatigue bogging him down. Pray? To whom? Their gods had gone silent, did they think he had not already prayed to them a thousand times over? No one would stand by them in their mission, he had disobeyed his own father and King after all. There would be no rescue, likely no eulogy either. They would die nameless and forgotten for what he had done.

"Which god do you think would answer us? Even our own have turned a blind eye! If they will not hear us, who then?" Floki called out harshly, his voice cracking above the roar of the animals as they continued to rush forward.

"Hephatus. She's the only one who would answer such a desperate plea. I've already tried N'Kalla, Oolem, and Kii. If she has any agents nearby, perhaps she would..." Grimor spoke quickly and with a surety that had Bromyr wondering but Floki cut the boy off harshly,

"She is the goddess of murder! Of darkness, of death! Do you truly think we should try praying to such a... A repulsive god?" Floki was nearly screaming, his dark eyes frantic as the sounds of the monsters approaching grew louder. Floki was a devout religious man who followed the old rules and prayed to the ancient dwarven gods. He would hardly be likely to yield to Grimor's desperate idea. Bromyr watched as Grimor grasped at anything to make a point until he finally shouted,

"What other options do we have? You saw that monster in the sky! If we don't get any help we will die here and what then? That egg will go straight into the hands of the enemy and you know it!"

Bromyr flinched, he was not afraid of death but he was afraid of what would happen if they failed. If they fell where they were it was over. The egg he carried was more important than anything he could have ever done as the Prince of Marimoor. He had done the one thing his god had bid him to do, he had managed to find and steal one of the five remaining dragon eggs. In his satchel was the fire egg, an incandescent red colored thing which was priceless. He had hoped his god had him find the egg because he was the true rider, but it had never even moved while he held it.

Dragons had died out thousands of years ago; however the last riders had bred five eggs before their demise in a desperate attempt to keep the era going. They had hidden them in the hopes that their descendants would crack their codes and take the eggs to form a new line of riders. Ages had passed and the last riders efforts had yet to see fruition.

"If you think it will work, call upon her." He nodded to Grimor. Calling upon a goddess was something that most did not do without a great deal of preparation and offerings. This was especially true with Hephatus. She was not the most fickle goddess, but she was the most brutal. The stories of her work still haunted him, even as a grown man. But what could one expect from the goddess of murder?

"Protect him while he prays." Bromyr looked to Floki who nodded back at him with a scowl of discontent. If it worked, at least they stood a chance and he could try to appease the man with a few pitchers of Stinger. If not... The roars of the death-looking dragon were enough to reaffirm their swiftly approaching demise. He braced as the first monster had finally caught up, lunging straight for his face. He swung his axe powerfully, slashing downward hard cutting the head off. It fell to the ground, black blood seeping into the soil as it collapsed. Its body convulsed several times but the haunting noises from its maw had finally died away.

"These creatures... They aren't natural." Floki shuddered as he said it, watching the mass of monsters closing in. They had only moments before battle would ensue in earnest.

"No, I imagine they're what our ancestors faced. These, my friends, are likely demons." Bromyr sent a quick prayer to his own gods as the words left his mouth. He eyed the mutated dog like creature that lie beneath him. It was certainly fetid and twisted, but the black blood and once glowing eyes were a dead giveaway. He had read many ancient texts which had described the creatures from the viewpoint of his ancestors. He had to admit there were a lot of parallels. Demons had disappeared along with the dragons of old but it would seem that times were changing.

"Then truly we are doomed." Floki sighed, his shoulders squared as he resigned himself. Bromyr sighed while silently wondering if Hephatus would take pity on them. She probably never heard prayers from dwarves before, perhaps she would find it amusing. He'd take being a goddess's clown over being a demons dinner any day.

"Unless the goddess has a bigger monster to send our way. Knowing the stories, it isn't difficult to imagine she's got a few powerhouses up her sleeves." He grunted and swung his axe again cutting down what he could only assume was the unholy amalgamation between a bear and a wolf. While he had been fortunate enough to have never been acquainted with an Agent of Hephatus he knew the stories, they were not to be taken lightly. He also knew that there were a select few that were far more monstrous than the normal agents.

"I suppose then, we shall have to try and survive this." Floki offered a quick salute to Bromyr before slashing at three new canid demons which had surrounded him.