Chapter 10

“Report!” A runner jogged up to the command post in the underway annexe, “We’re two hundred metres from the exit.”

“Resistance?” Falagrim asked.

“We’re fighting for the cargo hub right now. Things have slowed down drastically since the Gazers started showing up. We still have plenty of Undead to throw at them, though.”

Falagrim nodded and dismissed the runner. As long as the Gazers had slaves to throw at them, they would have plenty of bodies to get in the way of their deadly eye rays. Only one or two of them worked at all against the Undead, which made it far easier for Clan Felhammer’s forces to lock them down than if they were using battle thralls.

Still, even reduced to a fraction of their potency, they were still powerful opponents. Due to their use of eye powers that resembled magic spells, one could conclude that they were something like a mage. That, however, was wrong and those who came to that conclusion were usually dead wrong. Gazers were a type of Heteromorph with physical traits and capabilities that made them respectable in melee combat and nothing resembling fragile. Their eye powers were instantaneous and they had no issues using them while engaged in physical combat, making them more of a risk the closer one got to them.

“Report,” the Elder Lich assigned to the command post said. “Flights seven, thirteen, and thirty-three have returned from their sorties.”

“Results?”

“They destroyed fourteen Watchers and several hundred slaves. The situation appears to be as you suspected: ambushes by Standards or greater are only in place around the illuminated areas of the principality.”

It had cost them over twenty Elder Liches to learn that lesson. The leased Undead – Elder Liches especially – were particularly vulnerable to the Gazers’ Disintegration rays and were easy marks for ambushers lurking in the shadows of the city buildings.

“What’s our progress on mapping the way to the citadel?” Falagrim asked.

“Twenty per cent complete,” the Elder Lich answered. “This one would like to note that it will be a long and hazardous path if we aim to avoid the defended areas.”

“Don’t you worry your bony little head about that,” Daergor Deepingstone said from nearby. “We’ll be taking the direct route.”

“Have you figured it out yet?” Falagrim turned his attention to the Dwarf Lord.

“I think so, yeah,” Daergor replied. “The Gazers have made a major strategic blunder, as far as I can tell. Most of their forces have gone into the city layer to avoid aerial bombardment. Their leaders, however, have holed themselves up above the city layer, in Grimmantle Citadel.”

Meaning that, if they moved quickly when the time came, they could storm the citadel before most of the Gazers knew what was going on. All they needed to do was keep the Gazers in a defensive mindset by continuing to perform aerial bombardments around the area. Once Clan Felhammer's main force broke out of the mines, they could reinforce that mindset and keep the Gazers in their holes while a strike was directed at Grimmantle Citadel.

“Do we have anything on the rest of the Principality yet?”

“No,” Daergor snorted. “It’s a whole damn principality we’re talking about. Going by what our new friend said, their main force should be concentrated around the Spawners.”

Falagrim sent a questioning look at the Raellor, who was standing behind Agni’s shoulder. The Blackguard from Grakulstaz had assumed his duties as Agni’s bodyguard without question or complaint.

“Lord Deepingstone has the gist of it,” Raellor said, “but he’s also wrong about a few things. I can’t tell you exactly how many individuals are under this hive, but I can say it takes roughly ten days for the entire population to migrate past a single spot. While they move from one place to another, they spread out to support themselves, consuming whatever is in their path. Here, their strongest fighting forces are indeed concentrated in Grimmantle to protect the Spawners, the majority of the slave population and their overseers are out in the other Principalities gathering what they can for the next leg of their migration.”

“So you’re saying that they may call for reinforcements,” Falagrim said.

The Blackguard shrugged.

“With Gazers, it’s a contest between ‘I alone am more than enough to handle this’ and ‘this is beneath me’. They will tend toward the latter the longer our offensive goes on and the more threatening we appear. I can’t say at what point we’d cross that line, but, the sooner we hit them, the less time they have to consider their situation.”

“It’s about fifteen kilometres from this underway exit and Grimmantle Citadel,” Falagrim told him. “We should be done before any reinforcements even start crossing over from the other principalities. Deepingstone, get started the moment we secure our way to the city layer.”

“It will be done, my prince.”

The huge Dwarf strolled off, whistling along the way. With the lull in activity, Falagrim took an inventory of his surroundings. A continuous column of Undead went by as they ascended the spiralling ramp of the underway’s main access shaft. Once in a while, a company of Dark Dwarves escorted a rail car filled with supplies bound for the front.

The Human, of course, was wandering around somewhere, Ever-insistent on watching events unfold. Velgath had snapped up a reconnaissance assignment the moment it was presented to her, leaving the Human to harass everyone else.

At least she isn’t pestering me.

“Prince Felhammer.”

Gods damn it.

He turned to the source of the sickeningly pleasant voice with a glower.

“What?”

“I just came across someone interesting–”

“You don’t say?”

“–and I’d like an explanation.”

Damn diplomancers…

At some point, the Human had learned how to phrase things in such a way that he had no choice but to engage with her. Or maybe she always knew and had recently brought that part of her arsenal to bear. He couldn’t simply brush her off because he didn’t know what she was asking about. It could have been something entirely frivolous, or it might have something to do with the Undead lease or some diplomatic concern that was unwise to disregard.

“We had better be done before the next report comes in,” he said.

“I met a fellow who described himself as a ‘Thrallherd’,” the Human said. “He claimed that he controlled two hundred battle slaves with his psionic powers. Is that true, Your Highness?”

Why would anyone bother lying about that?

“I’m pretty sure you’ve heard that term thrown around before,” Falagrim said.

“I have.”

“What did you think it was?”

“Well, since it was called that,” the Human pressed a finger to her chin, “I thought it would be a vocation similar to a shepherd or a goatherd.”

“Ah,” Falagrim grunted. “So that’s where you went with it.”

“Was I mistaken?” He snorted.

The Human had a strange tendency to make out everything as if it was nicer than it was, but he also suspected that she wasn’t anywhere near as clueless or naïve as she behaved. She worked for a Demon, after all.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” Falagrim told her. “A Thrallherd does borrow from that terminology, but, instead of herding sheep or goats, they ‘herd’ thralls. The problem is that you seem to equate ‘thrall’ with ‘slave’.”

“Are they not the same, Your Highness?”

“Every thrall is a slave,” Falagrim said, “but every slave is not necessarily a thrall. Thralls have a psionic bond to their master – the Thrallherd, in this case – and they can be anything from an extension of their master’s will to relatively free individuals who have any problematic thoughts suppressed.”

The Human’s only reaction was to remain silent for several moments.

“So the ‘battle thralls’ that Khazanar uses aren’t the same as slaves trained for battle?”

“Of course not,” Falagrim frowned at the ludicrous notion. “Why would we use military assets that pose a risk of not functioning as intended? I thought you visited The Refinery with Velgath the other day. All of the materials produced for combat there are thralls well before they come out.”

The Human stood there silently with her silly smile plastered on her face. She was probably thinking of something equally silly.

“Report!” A runner came to his rescue, “We’ve broken out of the underway exit.”

“Let’s hear it,” Falagrim said.

“As expected,” the runner said, “the Gazers dispatched a force to hold us there. We lost forty-three Death Knights and three Elder Liches – all to Gazer Disintegration rays. The Undead are reorganising their forces now. One flew back to Hardar to request replacements.”

“And the Gazers?”

“Not including their battle fodder, our Captains’ combined tallies put the tentative Gazer losses at twenty-three Standards, six Directors and one Overseer. No Spawners. The remaining Gazers are on the run and Lord Deepingstone is spearheading the advance toward Grimmantle Citadel.”

Falagrim sent the runner away with a satisfied nod before ordering his command to relocate. Breaking into the city was the hardest part before storming the citadel. If he had lost three times the number of Undead, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“I’ve not heard Overseers mentioned before,” the Human said.

“They’re an evolved form of the Director,” Falagrim replied. “You know that they’re putting up a serious fight if one is present.”

“I’d think that losing so many Undead would indicate that it was a serious fight,” the Human said. “How are there so many powerful things down here?”

“There aren’t,” Falagrim said. “Not in one place, at least. You were there to hear what Raellor had to share.”

The sheer number of Standards and greater Gazers was beyond what the area below Khazanar could have produced in a century. It wasn’t so much that so many couldn’t come into existence within that timeframe, but the fact that they were functioning as a single hive. Centuries of cannibalism and power struggles would have to occur for that sort of order to be established.

Even if they had neglected their responsibilities on the frontier, no amount of preparation could have saved the council from it. It was a rare event that only tended to happen every few centuries, which was one of the reasons why empires like Grakulstaz created colonies in the first place. There were just some things that even the greatest empires couldn’t stand against. All one could do was survive in some form and rebuild.

Fortunately, the appearance of the Sorcerous Kingdom staved off disaster. Then again, such rare events tended to happen in groups. Maybe they were leasing out their Undead forces for precisely that reason and Khazanar had unwittingly been caught up in a proxy war between unfathomable powers.

“Speaking of Raellor,” the Human babbled on. “He’s not very talkative.”

“You’re just too talkative,” Falagrim replied. “And he’s under no obligation to entertain you.”

They took a set of lifts to the top of the access shaft where Falagrim’s new command post was being set up in the cargo hub just inside the underway entrance. A line of runners was already waiting there to deliver their reports.

“Let’s start with the most recent one,” he said.

A young woman stepped forward. She had a bit of red in her hair so he hoped she wouldn’t do anything crazy.

“Lord Deepingstone has advanced ten blocks towards the citadel. They’ve suffered no losses along the way.”

“I suppose he really did figure it out,” Falagrim said. “How did he manage it?”

“Since we’re out of the mines,” the runner replied, “we can communicate with the Elder Liches suppressing the city layer. We’re positioning sets of air strikes close enough to keep the Gazers’ attention while we sneak over the rooftops and ambush them in their hiding places. One of the Elder Lich sergeants sends down some Wraiths to attack them when we get close. They don’t last more than a few seconds when ten of those Death Warriors are putting quarrels in them.”

“Sounds like something you Deepwardens would do,” Falagrim muttered.

“Yes, sir.”

Falagrim turned his attention to the other runners.

“Did her report obsolete any of yours?” He asked.

Three of the runners left. They would have to fix that at some point.

The remainder of the reports had to do with the defensive perimeter around the underway exit, but it seemed that they were meeting next to no retaliation after breaking through. His concerns changed from being able to maintain their foothold in the city layer to securing the trail that Daergor was blazing with his forces.

“How long until our reserves arrive?”

“We sent for them yesterday,” one of his officers said, “so they should be stuck at the back of the main column somewhere.”

“I expected a tougher fight,” Falagrim said, “but now we’re short coverage. Send some runners down and get as many officers up here as they can find.”

“Yes, sir.”

Falagrim took a seat on a nearby bench, crossing his arms as he continued mulling over the situation. He did want to storm Grimmantle Citadel as quickly as possible, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to get cut off and flanked. Grimmantle was not much different from the rest of Khazanar when it came to how it laid on its infrastructure, so the Gazers had thousands of holes to come out of to do so if they wished.

“Why not use the summons that you used in Felhammer?” The Human asked.

“Because they won’t work,” he answered. “Lesser Graveyards are a huge target and Gazer rays only need to hit a single bone to make the entire thing go poof. We could only get away with it back then because the council forces didn’t bring anti-air defences and their armies were equipped to fight Clan Felhammer. Armour-piercing quarrels don’t do much, if anything, to skeletal Undead and we knew that the clans would keep any Clerics powerful enough to turn them at home.”

“I see. There should be other options…”

He sent a glance at the Elder Lich sergeant nearby, who said nothing.

“Lesser Gazers like Watchers are fine to use summons against,” Falagrim told the Human, “but Standards and above cause problems.”

“Why is that?”

“Their central eye has a certain power. An anti-magic cone. It doesn’t go out too far, but any summon that enters it winks out of existence. It nullifies all magic – including the Gazers’ own eye powers – and even enchanted items lose their effects.”

“So that’s why Uldun ordered his Death Knights to keep their distance…”

“That’d be why,” Falagrim said. “Though it seems that the boy needs more tactical experience.”

“I thought he did well,” the Human said.

“You can think all you want. You’re not a Commander.”

Falagrim retired for a nap while the additional forces made their way up and worked to secure their path to Grimmantle Citadel. Two hours later, the officers that he called for arrived.

“We’re currently securing a corridor to Grimmantle Citadel,” he said, “but Deepingstone’s advancing faster than expected. We have more than enough bodies, but too few Commanders to organise things.”

“What’s the situation like out there?” One of the Captains asked.

“It’s mostly quiet on the street level,” Falagrim said. “The Gazers and their slaves have gone under due to the aerial bombardment over the last few days. Watcher patrols have been cleaned out, so we have unrestricted mobility up top. The problem is we have hundreds of access ramps to cover and the Gazers could counterattack out of any one of them.”

“Couldn’t we just go on the offensive?”

He turned his attention to Uldun, who was part of the recently-arrived group.

“With things as they are,” Falagrim said, “that’s not a fight we can afford to pick.”

“We don’t have to commit any, erm, permanent assets,” Uldun explained. “We can use Wight balls on them.”

“Wight what?”

“Wight bombs,” the Elder Lich sergeant said.

“That doesn’t clarify anything,” Falagrim growled.

The other Captains made room for Uldun to come forward.

“We employed the tactic at the Gazer landing zone back on Felhammer,” he said. “Gazer slaves are battle fodder, and Wights turn that fodder into more Wights. We won’t have to contain their spread here so they should be even more devastating than the last time we used them.”

“Doesn’t that mean we’ll lose track of all the Wights and eventually lose control of them?”

“That’s not a problem here,” his son shrugged. “And since Wights can only turn their kills into more Wights, we’ll have no problem cleaning up the mess later.”

“Huh,” Falagrim grunted, “I suppose that makes sense. Find an access ramp and try it out.”

The closest ramp was already solidly under Clan Felhammer’s control, so Falagrim followed Uldun and the other officers out to see how it would go. They walked through the clearing around the underway entrance, past formations of tens of thousands of Zombies, a growing base camp for Clan Felhammer’s army, and a small ‘airport’ that the Elder Lich squadrons had set up.

“On any other day,” Falagrim said, “our enemies would call it quits if they saw this.”

“Would they?” The Human’s voice was dubious.

“Alright, maybe not call it quits,” Falagrim conceded, “but they’d know that they’re fucked.”

A squadron of Elder Liches awaited them at their destination, which was marked with a sign that said ‘Grimmantler Mines East’. Over a thousand Wights crowded the street next to it.

“So,” Falagrim said, “what now?”

“This access point is ideal for our demonstration,” the Elder Lich said in tepid monotone. “Wraith reconnaissance has determined the closest one hundred metres of corridors to be ninety-nine per cent Goblin with no notable Gazer presence.”

That much was obvious. The Gazers wouldn’t stick around after being beaten and they would leave fodder behind to slow down any would-be pursuers.

“Our subjects will be directed into the access point and–”

“Uldun,” Falagrim said, “did they put you through this?”

“No,” Uldun replied. “I just told them to do it.”

“Do it,” Falagrim told the Elder Lich.

The Undead mage issued a long, dry sigh. In a column ten Goblins wide, the Wights streamed down the ramp. It wasn’t long before terrified shrieks echoed back out.

“That’s a lot of screaming,” Falagrim said.

“Yup,” Uldun nodded. “We had to listen to that for days.”

“Deployed Wight strength has increased by fifty per cent,” the Elder Lich reported.

He looked over his shoulder to see what the Human’s reaction was like, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Deployed Wight strength has increased by two hundred per cent.”

“Are those compounding percentages?” Falagrim asked.

“The figures are relative to the original deployed strength,” the Elder Lich replied. “Deployed Wight strength has increased by five hundred per cent.”

“How far have they gone?”

“They are filling every available corridor in search of prey. Deployed Wight strength has increased by two thousand per cent.”

At the rate they were going, a third of Grimmantle’s city layer would be swarming with Wights in a day. He turned to address the other Captains.

“Get this mess started at every access ramp you can reach,” he ordered.

“And if we encounter Gazer resistance?” One of the Captains asked.

“Then those Gazers will be busy for a very long time,” Falagrim answered. “Also, let our people know that any Wights running loose around the city aren’t ours and to destroy them if they approach.”

“Deployed Wight strength has increased by one thousand per cent.”

“You can stop updating me on their progress,” Falagrim said. “Let the nearest officer know if that number starts going in the opposite direction.”

The clomping of ironshod boots echoed toward them from further up the street. A runner entered the range of his Darkvision and stopped in front of him.

“I have a message from Lord Deepingstone, sir,” he said.

“What is it?”

“‘Where the bloody hell are you?!’” The runner said with a straight face, “I didn’t include the shouting.”

“Did something happen?” Falagrim asked.

“No, but Lord Deepingstone’s forces are nearly at the citadel.”

“We’re on our way,” he told the runner, then turned to the Elder Lich sergeant. “Have the assault force head over to the citadel.”

A column led by sixty Undead infantry squads appeared from the direction of the mines a few minutes later. Accompanying them were ten squadrons of Elder Liches and a mass of Zombies that stretched out into the darkness. Falagrim and his command joined the procession. With Daergor clearing the Gazer strongpoints in a rough line to Grimmantle Citadel, their enemies wouldn’t have the slightest clue what was coming for them.

Two hours later, they caught up to Daergor, who had stopped his advance a few blocks short of the clearing under their target. Unlike Felhammer Citadel, which was carved out of a magically-reinforced stalactite, Grimmantle Citadel was built into one of the massifs that joined the city layer to the cavern ceiling above.

“It’s about damn time,” Daergor said. “Did you take a nap or something?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that makes the two of us,” the Dwarf Lord chuckled. “What’s our plan?”

Falagrim looked up into the darkness. It had been a long time since he considered attacking another clanhold.

“Light up that hold!” Falagrim ordered, “We don’t want any of our guests flying off.”

“Can’t they escape out of the back?” The Human – who had reappeared to join them at some point – asked.

“It’s a fortress,” Falagrim frowned at her question. “There is no ‘back’. The rest of the massif isn’t connected to it or invaders could just bypass all of the defences.”

The engineers started setting up their siegeworks while the Undead forces spread out to enclose the citadel’s perimeter. When the lights started illuminating their target, however, a huge Gazer descended upon them.

“Spawner!” A Captain ahead of them called out.

Seconds later, a calamitous crash filled his ears. Falagrim frowned as a handful of Death Knights were sent flying through the air and orders sounded across the field. Beams of bright green light pierced the front lines as scores of Gazers followed after the first Spawner.

Another crash sounded, sending six more Death Knights tumbling through the air. They slammed into the building nearby and crumbled into dust.

What the hell is going on here?

Falagrim craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the front. Another group of Death Knights was sent flying.

“Falagrim!” Agni shouted, “We need to get to safety!”

The Cleric grabbed his elbow and started to drag him away. He shook himself free.

“I can walk on my own!” He said, “Raellor, what the hell is this?!”

“I don’t know!” The Blackguard said, “Spawners shouldn’t be able to do this!”

“They’re getting close,” the Captain of Falagrim’s bodyguard said. “Stand your ground! Protect the prince!”

His escort spread out, forming a shield wall blocking the street. The nearby Death Knights came to join them. Insidious chanting filled the air as Death Priests layered defensive enchantments and robes fluttered as dozens of Elder Liches swarmed in from above.

“Keep going!” Agni said.

Half of the Death Knights vanished. The shield wall shattered in an instant, scattering Dwarves and the other half of the Death Knights into the air. Rays of searing flame lanced down from the Elder Liches overhead, but they were turned into dust one by one as the Spawner retaliated in kind. While that happened, the missing Death Knights appeared again, only to be swatted aside like their fellows. The huge aberration then floated forward, its maw opened wide to reveal thousands of needle-like teeth.

Greatswords raised, the Death Warriors positioned behind the shield wall charged in to close the gap. An object whistled in from the darkness and blasted them apart in the blink of an eye.

A sharp intake of breath issued from Agni’s direction.

“This can’t be…” Raellor said.

“What can’t be?” Falagrim asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”

“That Spawner,” the Blackguard answered, “it’s wielding the Felhammer using telekinesis.”

“The Felhammer?! Isn’t that just a legend?”

The rank of Death Priests behind them was swatted away. Falagrim ducked his head as the dormitory next to them exploded.

“Never mind,” he said.

His clan’s namesake was a weapon wielded by a great Dark Dwarf in their distant past. Legend claimed that it could shatter entire cities in a single blow. Even if that wasn’t true, shattering entire city blocks was good enough.

They continued fleeing as more and more soldiers came to their defence. The Gazer showed no signs of slowing down, unceremoniously crushing any challengers that came before it.

This is it, I guess. There’s no accounting for calamities like this, even after centuries of safeguards.

After running for several minutes, he realised that they were no longer being pursued. Falagrim dared to slow his steps, panting as he examined the street behind them, then the air above.

“What happened?” Agni said as she examined him for wounds, “Where did that Spawner go?”

“I don’t know,” Falagrim said, “but I’m not complaining. Let’s get out of here.”

It was only after they returned to the base camp that they found out that the Human was gone.