Infernal Cannon, Part 1

Cautiously, so as not to attract attention to his hiding place, Reiner studied the huge cannon being dragged by the slaves. It was the largest piece of artillery he had ever seen, twice as long as the great cannon possessed by the Empire of Kaleth, with a muzzle as wide as a beer barrel. The muzzle was decorated in the shape of a howling demon's snout and rimmed with fangs. The barrel had been adorned with silver dragon scales and barbarian patterns. The chariot on which it rested was made in the form of two bent legs, also covered with scales, which gripped the axle with two immense bronze paws. The wooden wheels were as tall as a man.

Reiner shuddered.

"A few of those would decide the course of a battle, eh?". Franz turned to look at him with wild eyes.

"May the gods protect us! We pray that there won't be more than one!"

"But where did they get the information to make it?" asked Ulf. "The secret of gunpowder and artillery is most jealously guarded by the dwarves. The kingdom's army does not possess a single gunpowder siege weapon; in the theocracy gunpowder is almost sorcery and black magic; the republic does not use such weapons, for they have their demigods capable of breaking walls with a fist; the only human nation that possesses cannons is the Empire, and only because they managed to buy a few from the dwarves. How are barbarians capable of creating them when even civilized human nations are not capable of doing so?"

The question got an answer when they saw the figures following the cannon and shouting orders to the slaves pulling it. They were half as tall as the shortest slave, standing just over 90 cm tall, their bodies were slender, but possessed marked and outlined musculature, as if their small bodies were incapable of gaining musculature, they possessed no beards, but long braided hair that varied in color; from deep orange, bright green, dark red and purples.

"Dwarves!" said Franz with a choked exclamation.

"Are they dwarves?" asked Pavel uncertainly.

Reiner looked more closely. He had not seen many dwarves in his life, but those characters did not resemble any dwarves he had ever encountered. They seemed almost the total opposite of dwarves.

While dwarves possess large, bushy beards, these figures were all hairless, instead appearing to possess unnaturally colored hair. The dwarves possessed muscular and robust bodies, while these gunners possessed slender and marked bodies.

"Evil trolls." Gustaf said in a whispering voice. Reiner shuddered. Gnomes are deeply capricious creatures and always looking for new and more exciting experiences.

Northeast of the Empire, there is a place called the Confederation of City States, which is a coalition of different non-human towns and cities. Among the many races that inhabited that place, gnomes were one of them.

The intelligence of gnomes is said to be equal or even superior to the intelligence of dwarves, being able to create mechanical wonders capable of emulating magical effects.

"Nordic invaders with artillery!" Ulf groaned. "This could mean the end of civilized nations. They must be stopped. We must tell someone."

"Of course." Pavel replied acrimoniously. "As soon as we're out of here."

Reiner shook his head as the warriors continued into the tunnel.

"I don't understand. They can't go and wage war underground. No one in their right mind, not even berserkers gone berserk, would fire a cannon into a mine. What do they intend to do?"

"They're heading south to fight a battle." Gustaf said. "Underneath the mine are old tunnels that run the entire length of the mountain range."

They all turned to look at him.

"How do you know that?" asked Reiner.

"I heard about it from the patrol that passed near us."

Reiner raised an eyebrow.

"Do you understand that gibberish?"

"Of course he understands it." Hals said, spitting. "A servant always learns his master's language. I knew there was something off about you, you demon-worshipping scum."

"If I serve the dark ones, why don't I betray you now?"

"And how is it that you speak that language?" asked Reiner.

For a moment, it looked like Gustaf wasn't going to speak, but then he sighed.

"I don't speak it, but it resembles Glacia's language. I once worked with a company of winged horsemen. I learned their language, particularly the oaths, when I was treating their wounds."

The others looked at him coolly as they weighed the information. They didn't seem to believe him.

"What else did they say?" asked Reiner. "Did they comment on any specific details?"

Gustaf shrugged.

"As I said, I only know a few words. They uttered the words 'south,' 'tunnel,' and 'castle.' I formed the idea that they were going to fight in the castle, although I don't know whether to take it or to defend it. They said the name. 'Nor...' something. north, maybe?"

Reiner's heart pounded.

"Nordheim!"

"Could be."

"Isn't that Duke Herlmann's castle?" asked Pavel. "The one Captain Barrister was talking about? Didn't he say the Norsemen had taken it?"

"Yes." Reiner nodded, and turned to Gustaf. "Why didn't you tell us about this before?"

"You didn't ask me."

Reiner pursed his lips and turned back toward the cave in time to see the cannon disappear into the tunnel. He started to think frantically. If that cannon made it to the battle, it would be terrible for the Kingdom. But did he care? The Kingdom had imprisoned and branded him unjustly. He owed it no favors. At the same time, helping his homeland could be to his benefit. If they could convince Herlmann to reward them for warning him of his brother's treachery, how much greater could the reward be if Reiner also informed him regarding the approaching cannon?

He bit his knuckle. Which way was the least dangerous? Which was the most profitable? How to decide?

At last, he decided.

"Well, gentlemen, I have a plan. I doubt you're going to like it much, but I think it's the best option we have, so I'll put it to a vote, shall I?"

The men waited patiently. Gustaf crossed his arms. Reiner swallowed saliva.

"I assume Herlmann is waiting for Ulburt to meet with him to attack Nordheim together. And as soon as he has Roselyn's banner, Ulburt will set out, but not to help his brother. I think he will march to fight him, army against army and, with that unholy thing at his side, Ulburt may very well win." Reiner coughed uncomfortably. "If we can find a way out of here and make it to the lowlands without running into other Norse, it will take weeks, maybe a month to get around the mountains and reach Nordheim, that's if we're lucky and don't get devoured by gods only know what along the way. By then, the battle may have already taken place. Ulburt might have won, and we would be too late to warn Herlmann and collect our reward." He pointed down toward the mouth of the mine. "These guys have found a shortcut, a direct path between here and Nordheim. I..., I say we follow it."

There were grunts of shock and dismay.

"I know it's a disgusting idea." Reiner said. "But I think it's the only way we can get there in time. what do you say?"

There was a long silence, and then Hals chuckled. "Boy," he replied. "That speech you gave us by the landslide, that stuff about you being a bad commander. Well, most of it was true, I suppose, but you continue to have more ideas than the rest of us, and one has to come out right by force, one of these days, so... I'm with you."

"And me," said Pavel.

-"And me," added Franz.

"We must warn Herlmann as soon as possible of the existence of that cannon" said Ulf. "Count me in."

Giano spread his arms wide.

"One way is as bad as another, isn't it?"

"Into the mine?" asked Oskar, stunned. Gustaf shrugged.

"I wouldn't make it out of here alone, would I?"

"You might not make it with us, demon worshipper." Hals growled at him. Gustaf pursed his lips.

"You might not, but you guys certainly wouldn't make it without me."

"And what does that mean?" asked Reiner as he looked up. Gustaf smiled affectedly.

"The barbarians spoke of an obstacle, a blocked point near the end of the tunnels that we will have difficulty dodging, but there is a way."

"Which one?" inquired Reiner. "How will we get around it?"

Gustaf shook his head.

"Do you think me stupid? I know what you think of me. I know you'd stick a knife in my guts if you thought I was no longer useful to you. Consider this an additional protection against... accidents."

Reiner and the others looked at him fiercely.

"You really are a filthy worm." Reiner said at last. He turned his back on Gustaf before Gustaf had a chance to reply, and clapped his hands. "Good, then it's settled. Now the trick lies in getting to the mine shaft without them noticing."

"Get into the mines?" asked Oskar again in a plaintive voice.

"Sorry, man." Reiner replied. "But Gustaf will take care of you." He shot a glance at the surgeon. "Won't he, Gustaf?"

They returned to the main tunnel. About fifty paces ahead, the rails descended down a ramp to the cave floor as the sound of hammering and the roar of fire grew louder and louder. At the end, the ramp turned right into a short corridor, intersected a narrow passage and led into the giant cavern ten paces further on. Reiner saw rows of blacksmiths forging swords and pieces of armor before the anvils while slaves ran around them feeding the fires and operating the bellows so that the work would not be interrupted. The corridor that formed the junction looked most promising. It was small and dark and smelled of death, decay and roasting meat.

"It smells like pork," said Pavel, hungrily. Gustaf snorted. "Two-legged pig."

"Shut your mouth, you filthy dog." Hals snarled.

"Shut up." Reiner ordered. "Now, put out your torches and draw your weapons."

The men unsheathed swords and daggers and slipped inside the dark passage. The stench was almost overwhelming and only got worse as they advanced, as did the noise. After twenty paces they saw an entrance covered by a leather curtain that lay before them on the left wall, through which came floor-shuddering hammering and flashes of blinding green light; below the deafening clatter of blows they heard a chorus of guttural voices chanting in unison. A moment later, the curtain was flung aside and two slaves emerged, dragging a third, obviously dead.

Reiner and the others stopped and held their breath, but the slaves looked neither right nor left and just apathetically dragged their burden down the corridor, oblivious to their surroundings. Reiner crept forward to the curtain and peered inside, then jumped back at what he saw. After waiting a moment to calm his heart, he looked again. The others peered over his shoulders.

On the other side of the small doorway they saw a seven-sided room furnished with columns that had been roughly hewn out of the living rock. On each of the seven walls were huge depictions of blood-red demons, though Reiner didn't know if they were seven different entities or seven aspects of the same god. Seven columns surrounded a high dais. At first glance, Reiner thought the columns were decorated with carvings of skulls, but a second look confirmed that the skulls were real, with chipped teeth and sunken crowns, and they covered every inch of the columns from floor to ceiling. There were thousands of them.

But what had made Reiner recoil in fear were the occupants of the room. A circle of Nordic armored men standing against the walls chanted incessantly. Their heads were uncovered and their eyes were completely blank. Lines and sigils had been drawn in blood on their chests. The focus of their attention was the dais in the center of the room. There, where one might have expected a pagan altar, was a huge iron anvil with a glowing furnace beside it and a wide, low-rimmed basin in front of it, filled with a red liquid that could only be blood.