Bomm & Citoach

Part 2 - Unexpected Alliances

            “Re-form the line!”

            The dwarves rushed to follow Vegnar’s command. They pushed their large, rectangular tower shields together, forming a slowly moving wall from one end of the tunnel to the other. Directly behind this mobile wall was a group of dwarven berserkers, axes in each hand, ready to pour out once the wall was breached. And behind them were the archers, firing arrows over the heads of the lines in front of them and into the oncoming waves of dark elves. The dark elves were sending up their heavily-armored fighters, followed by their lighter, faster fighters. In the distance, leading the group, was a lordly elf in flowing dark-red robes. He issued commands with an air of indifference, as if victory were certain. This was probably the best way to encourage members of his kind, by bolstering their pride and ego. In reality, however, things were looking quite bad for the elves. More and more of them died as they smashed into the wall of sturdy dwarves. Nothing they had tried could breach that wall. The dark elf mage had even tried a few of his metal-shattering spells, but the dwarves’ shields seemed to be completely immune to it. The only way they could take them down was by charging forward and fighting up close, but every time a dwarf fell, another moved from the ranks behind to replace him. They could not breach the living wall.

            As the persistent, steady clanking of the marching, heavily armored dwarves grew louder and louder in his ears, the dark elf commander began to lose confidence. “Retreat!” he shouted reluctantly. “Retreat!”

            The dark elves did not obey immediately. As they stood irresolute, Vegnar Firebeard issued his own command. From where he now stood, just behind the shield wall, he pointed his axe forward and cried, “CHARGE!”

            The shields separated, and the dwarves began to run. The whole tunnel seemed to shake as the dwarf warriors and berserkers poured into the ranks of the dark elves, cutting them down mercilessly. But now they understood that retreat was inevitable, and most of them were running. They moved much more quickly than the dwarves, and soon they had left the tunnel completely, heading back into the gates of their towering underground city.

            “STOP!” Vegnar shouted. “STOP, DAMMIT!”

            The dwarves began to slow their charge. Finally, when they reached the end of the tunnel, all movement ceased. Dabfrag and Vegnar walked to the front of the line and looked out at the open cavern before them. The dark elf army was retreating into a pair of large gates that appeared to be made of solid stone. These gates were at the base of an extremely tall, smooth stone castle that extended from the cave floor to the ceiling like a pillar. From the top of it extended long ramps that led to houses built into the huge stalactites on the cave roof, and at the bottom, around the edges of the castle, lay many houses, some built into the stalagmites, others simply made of stone blocks. All in all, the vast dark elf city was a vast, breathtaking sight.

            But the dwarves had been besieging it for days now, and much of it lay in ruin. In fact, as he looked out across the floor of the cave, Dabfrag could now make out smoke rising from the other side of the city, and the sounds of battle faintly reached his ears. But the dwarves were not attacking from that side…

            “What is that?” the older dwarf asked his companion.

            Vegnar gazed out in the direction Dabfrag indicated. “Hmm… appears to be fightin’ goin’ on over there. But we ain’t attacked from that way. I know it.”

            Dabfrag’s expression turned grim. “What do ye think it is?”

            Vegnar shrugged. “Whatever it be, it’s helpin’ us, so leave it be, I say!”

            Dabfrag shook his head solemnly. “I don’t like it. This is startin’ to get too easy. If things seem to be goin’ well, it usually means ye’ve overlooked somethin’.”

            “Ah, Dabfrag, ye eternal pessimist!” Vegnar laughed, smacking Dabfrag on the back, which caused the sound of the two metal objects striking to ring through the halls.

            “It be a law o’ nature, Vegnar,” grunted the older dwarf. “Just like, if yer lookin’ for somethin’, ye’ll always find it in the last place ye look.”

            Vegnar paused for a moment to mull this one over, scratching his beard in thought. This made Dabfrag chuckle.

            “Never ye mind,” he said. “Let’s just get this siege on the move. If there really is somethin’ goin on over there to distract the elves, then we might as well take advantage of it, I reckon.”

            “Forward!” Vegnar cried. “Bring up the ram!”

            There was a clatter of platemail-clad feet as a dozen dwarves rushed forward, carrying a huge battering ram tipped with a giant iron ram’s head. The shield dwarves moved aside to let the weapon through, and then they flanked it on either side. Behind it came the other warriors, and last the archers. There were surprisingly few dark elf archers on the walls, but they did a lot of damage with their well-placed, accurate shots. But the dwarf archers picked them off one by one as the ram moved steadily forward.

            Varylys Ormalia, current Queen of the Dark Elves, made her way up the flight of stairs to the top of the wall. There, the archers were firing by the light of the glow-crystals that lined its edge. She shook her head in disgust as she watched them fall by the arrows of the dwarves. Throwing her long, silvery hair back out of her face haughtily, she shoved the archer commander’s shoulder.

            The commander hastily stood back up and saluted. “Your Highness, you should not be here! The Dwarves…”

            “My husband is leading the defense against the goblins on the East side,” she snapped, “so why should I not lead the defense against the dwarves on the West?”

            “Well, my Lady…”

            Varylys’s lavender eyes narrowed menacingly. “One more whimper out of you and I will kill you where you stand. Join your men! I am taking command of this wall!”

            The archer scowled, drew a black arrow, and joined the line of archers on the wall. Varylys took his position and raised her shield over her head, proudly displaying the sign of the royal family that was emblazoned on its surface.

            “Night arrows!” she shouted.

            One by one, the glow crystals lining the wall dimmed until they were black. The dark elves had excellent night vision, far better than the dwarves’. With no light available to either side, they would have a clear advantage. And the dwarves below would probably light their torches, which would make them easier targets.

            The dwarf commanders recognized the new threat instantly. Dabfrag shook his head.

            “Things just got worse,” the old blacksmith said.

            “Damn!” Vegnar shouted. “Shields! Protect the ram carriers!”

            The shield dwarves could barely be seen in the dim light that remained as they raised their shields and surrounded the dwarves carrying the battering ram. Arrows rained down from the air and struck the shields, bouncing off. But a few got through, and a few hit the warriors in the back. Cries of pain echoed through the cavern, for though dwarves were some of the toughest creatures in existence, dark elf weapons were designed to be especially painful. Then there was another sound, a great echoing clang of metal striking metal. The battering ram was striking the reinforced gates.

            “The only way to fight darkness… is with light,” Vegnar growled. “Fire arrows! Fire over the walls! One volley to see by and another to hit the targets!”

            The dwarf archers began lighting their fire arrows. As they did, several screams came from the back lines as the dark elves began firing at these bright new targets.

            Vegnar waited until most of the first row was lit, and then he shouted, “Fire the first volley! Second volley, fire at will!”

            The first wave of lights sailed over their heads, illuminating the dark elf archers on the wall. Vegnar saw a few of them cover their eyes as the arrows flew past. The dwarves were surprisingly accurate; some of the arrows actually found their way into a dark elf or two. Then the second volley flew forth. Dark elves fell by the dozens. In the flickering light of the rapid-flying arrows, Dabfrag caught sight of a female dark elf shouting commands. He was about to inform Vegnar, but just then there was an earsplitting crash, and one of the dark elf doors fell over, succumbing to the power of the dwarven battering ram.

            “Into the breach!” shouted Vegnar Firebeard.

            Varylys cursed as she watched the shining armored dwarves pile through the gates, shouting battle cries and smashing through the waiting dark elf resistance forces. At the same time, she heard a great crash echo through the caves from the other side of the city. Looking up, she watched as one of the great stalagmite towers on the far side split across the middle and toppled to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust just before all of the glow crystals in that vicinity went dark and obscured the sight from view.

            “All is lost,” she said.

            Beside her, the archer commander looked frightened. “All is lost! Men, abandon your posts!”

            “I gave no such order!” the Queen snarled.

            But just then the commander brushed past her and went running down the stairs leading off the wall. Varylys drew her sword and thrust it in his back as he ran past her. He gasped for air, stumbled, and then fell and tumbled down the stairs, striking the bottom with a hollow clang. Varylys then ran down, retrieved her sword, and dashed off down the street, headed for her palace. Her kingdom was in ruins. All she could do now was flee.

            Several hours later, when the terrible battle was finally over, Dabfrag and Vegnar Firebeard stepped carefully through the rubble of one of the defensive towers of the central palace… toward the goblin leader who was waiting. The two armies had destroyed their way through the town and met in the center, and there they had paused and stared at each other, unsure of what to do. Surprisingly, it was the goblin leader who had first called for a parlay. And of course, the beleaguered dwarves accepted. Wearily, Dabfrag and Vegnar approached the commander. He was large for a goblin, almost the same height as Vegnar. He wore spiked armor that almost looked like it was made of stone, and his skin was grey, with eyes glowed red under his helmet. Ugly even for a goblin, he was apparently from deep within the mountains, where the goblins had pale skin and bright eyes… and an especially vicious demeanor.

            “I be Chief Zidorak!” the goblin snarled, in a quick, growling tone, like the yapping of a hyena. “We has crushed city of dark elves!”

            “With our help,” Vegnar added.

            “You wish to offer terms of surrender?” the goblin snapped.

            “Surrender?” Vegnar laughed. “Here we stand with an army just as large as yours, and yer askin’ us to surrender!”

            The goblin removed his horned helmet and scratched his head. “No surrender. Uh, not fight.”

            “I don’t think he knows our language very well,” Dabfrag said. And then he spoke in the tongue of the dark elves, “We only wish for peace. You may take the loot from your half of the city and we from ours. We will find and free our prisoners and make sure that the dark elves do not return to this place. This city will be the border of our two lands. Are these terms acceptable?”

            The goblin grinned, a hideous expression on his scarred grey face. “It is good. We too seek prisoners. My son, Siddo’ak, was taken in battle. Him pretty useful. Good at building siege weapons… though not for much else. We must find him.”

            “Well, we’d better head for the palace dungeons then,” Vegnar said, hefting his axe. “We’ve got to find Bomm… I suppose. For some reason, anyways.”

            Dabfrag ordered a small group of dwarves to accompany them into the dark elf palace. Zidorak gathered a similar group of goblins. Together, the strange allies approached the door to the palace, which had been smashed much earlier, and made their way inside. The halls of the dark elf palace were made of gleaming black stone, perhaps obsidian. Etched in the obsidian blocks at regular intervals was the symbol of the ruling family of the city of Ormalia. Statues of past rulers stood proudly in cutouts on either side of the corridors. Despite his hatred for the dark elves, Dabfrag Firebeard could not help but feel a slight pang of regret and sorrow at the sight of these statues. As a craftsman himself, he hated to see works of art destroyed, especially ones that contributed to the tale of history. He decided that, if he could somehow stop it, he would make sure the palace and the statues were not destroyed.

            As they made their way down the hall, the goblin leader spoke, still using the tongue of the dark elves, which he was far more fluent in than dwarvish, though he still spoke in choppy sentences. “We captured a dark elf little while ago and tortured him, trying to learn location of Queen. Him tell us she plan to defend west wall, and if it fell, she flee with her handmaidens down secret passage.”

            “What secret passage?” Vegnar asked.

            The goblin shrugged. “Him not know where it was located.”

            “Are you sure he just weren’t tellin’?”

            A hissing laugh escaped from the goblin’s mouth. “We cut off his fingers one by one, then toes, then arms, then legs. Me best goblin torturers was hardly able to keep him awake, much less alive. If he knowed, he would have told. He would have told us anything he know!”

            Dabfrag looked away and did not say anything. He was suddenly reminded of why he hated goblins so much. Vegnar emitted a low snarl. Apparently he felt the same way. Finally the group arrived in the dungeons. They were disgustingly filthy, made of less quality stone than the palace above. Marks of dried black blood stained the walls in many places, under racks of clanking chains. There were tables covered in torture devices so cruel that Zidorak whistled in awe. They went about inspecting each of the tiny prisoner cells in turn. A few of the dwarves would occasionally wretch or hold their noses as they came upon the remains of an unfortunate inmate. The dark elves had apparently slaughtered all of their prisoners before they fled the palace.

            “Bomm’s nowhere t’ be seen,” Dabfrag said, “and I dunna see any goblins neither.”

            Vegnar stopped suddenly. “Wait, I found somethin’. Looks like a logbook. Come ‘ere, Dabfrag. I can’t read no bloody dark elf scratchin’.”

            Dabfrag approached and picked up the heavy tome. The cover was heavy, reinforced with metal and bound with a metal fastener, but the lock was gone. Dabfrag threw the book open and flipped through the pages until he found a fairly recent date, around the time that Bomm had been captured. But he saw nothing about the dwarf. The logbook did not record the arrival of prisoners with much accuracy, only a short note such as “ugly dwarf captured for humiliation of dark elf officer – thrown in cell three.” It went into more detail on how the prisoners were punished and tortured, and what they said while they lay dying.

            “I’d like t’ find whatever damned dark elf wrote this book,” Dabfrag snarled viciously as he read over the pages. “This accursed sadist deserved a slower death than he prob’ly got. Wait! I found somethin’ about the goblin.”

            Zidorak perked his ears up and scurried forward, listening attentively. It was clear that he could not read dark elf either, only speak it.

            “We captured a grey goblin today,” Dabfrag read aloud. “Son of the chieftan, he claims. Put him in cell six. List of inquiries: How many goblin tribes are in your alliance? How did they destroy our advance warning forts so quickly? Who is leading this army? An’ these bloody questions go on fer another page or so… Anyway, it says Siddo’ak spilled ‘is beans after they threatened t’ cut off ‘is nose. Here’s a note about Bomm too. Says a black-haired ugly dwarf was killed. They stabbed ‘im through the head and… one o’ his eyeballs came out with the sword. Ugh…”

            “Damn,” Vegnar swore. “I always hated Bommlech Blackbeard, but no dwarf deserves a fate like that.”

            Dabfrag nodded. “An’ there’s more. It says ‘ere that they was dragged out an’ thrown in a dark pit where dwells a giant, monstrous cave crab…”

            “I sure would like to be able to see me hand,” said Bomm Blackbeard, in the most forlorn and weary voice he had ever heard escape his own lips.

            Citoach Lyve snorted. “How many times have I heard you say that?”

            The two of them had been wandering in the pitch-black tunnels together for what seemed years. During that time, the two of them had come to know one another well… and they had also nearly driven each other completely insane. At first Bomm had attempted to be the leader of the group, but he had soon discovered that he had no idea what he was doing. He could not see, and he did not know the tunnels. So gradually Citoach took the lead, though Bomm was very reluctant to give up the position and would never admit that he had done so. Citoach did not know the way either, but he could figure it out well enough. He felt his way along and marked where they had been so that they did not go in circles.

            “We must be getting closer to the surface now,” Citoach said. “The air feels less stuffy.” Suddenly he stopped. “Wait! Bomm, I can feel something on the ground here…”

            “Please tell me it ain’t more mushrooms. Or those pale crab things. I’m so sick o’ eatin’ that stuff, I’m feelin’ sick at the thought o’ it. One more minute without real meat, an’ I’ll just have to eat YOU.”

            “No, it’s not anything like that,” Citoach hissed, “And be quiet, will you? It’s tracks! Boot tracks!”

            Bomm lowered his voice slightly when he replied, “Boot tracks? Whose boots? Is it our boots? Ye ain’t goin in circles, is ye?”

            “No, you idiot! We don’t even have boots! These boots are long and thin… maybe dark elves?”

            “What? Be we headin’ back to the dark elf city then?”

            “No. I don’t think so. I think these elves are heading out, just like us. To the surface.”

            “Nonsense, goblin! Dark elves never visit the surface! They’re more reclusive than me own kind and yours put t’gether.”

            “Well, just keep your voice low as we move on.”

            “Aye, like it’ll do us any good. Our kinds needs light t’ see, but dark elves can see usin’ heat, or so I heard.”

            “Yes, so you’ll stand out like a sore thumb, as hot-headed as you are.”

            Bomm chuckled. “Yeah… bring ‘em on. I prefer a straight fight anyways, opposed t’ all this sneakin’ around.”

            “Hold on,” Citoach said, stopping again, “There’s a light ahead in the distance.”

            “I don’t see…”

            “It’s a faint glow, pretty far off. Greenish. Probably glow-crystal, like the dark elves use in their cities when they want to see by light.”

            The two companions slinked closer in the direction of the light. Gradually it grew strong enough so that even Bomm could see it reflecting off the dark cavern walls. It was coming through a small aperture in the side of their tunnel. When they reached this hole, they scrambled on either side of it and peered through together. There in a large opening below them was none other than a dark elf camp. It was bathed in the cold green glow of several dark elf glow-crystals, each attached to the top of a tent. The tents were made of black cloth that blended into the rocks around it perfectly. The dark elves in the camp were seated in a circle in the middle of the semi-circle of tents, holding council. There were only a few of them… about a dozen warriors, both male and female, and one very important-looking female in elaborate purple robes. This one was obviously the leader, perhaps even a queen, since two similarly-attired females sat on either side of her, probably her handmaidens.

            Bomm gasped as his eyes fell upon a familiar sight. “Well, by Ymir’s toenail… It’s me axe!”

            “Your axe? Looks like a dark elf axe to me. Actually, no… it looks… demonic. Probably very powerful.”

            “It’s mine,” Bomm hissed greedily, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I stole it fair and square…”

            “Well, it looks like they stole it back.”

            Bomm picked up the broken piece of bone he had been carrying as a weapon this whole time and lifted it above his head.

            “Well let’s bring the game full circle then, eh?”

            Citoach’s large eyes went even wider than normal. “No! Are you crazy?! This isn’t the way to attack a dark elf camp!”

            Bomm knew that the goblin was right, so he threw his piece of bone down in anger and stamped his foot, “Well how does ye propose we go about it then?”

            “Well, first stop making so much noise,” Citoach answered, looking around, his mind working. “We can set up some traps… cause some distractions… We have the high ground, but they have us cornered. Maybe we can use this small passageway to our advantage.”

            The goblin sat down in the glow of the green crystal light and opened up his loincloth-pouch. Since discarding the old loincloths they had made other clothing anyway, from creature hides and shells. Inside were several mushrooms, bits of bone and rock, and pale cave-creature skins and exoskeletons that he had collected. He poured these out in a pile and began sorting through the junk. He set several of the small, round, brownish mushrooms at the tiny entrance to the dark elf camp that they had just been peering through, and he arranged the stones around the mushrooms to disguise them. Bomm noticed he worked very carefully with these.

            “What’re ye doin’, goblin?” Bomm grunted, eager for battle.

            “Don’t touch these. I’m setting traps,” Citoach said, “Using my head, unlike you, for something other than a blunt object.”

            Bomm snorted. “Goblins ain’t exactly famous for usin’ their heads, ye know…”

            “I’m not like most goblins,” Citoach replied as he continued setting up his strange traps throughout the room, “I probably could have been the leader of my goblin tribe if I had wanted to. As it was, I just invented siege engines for them. I don’t want to be a leader.”

            Bomm nodded. “Me neither.”

            “What do you want then?”

            “Action,” was Bomm’s only answer. “What about ye?”

            “Gold, for one thing,” answered the goblin, “but my real passion is for collecting magical artifacts. I have some stowed away at my home, if I ever get back there…”

            Bomm looked around the room at what the goblin had done. Citoach had set several small, dark mushrooms farther up the tunnel in which they were now located. He had also stuck some heat-emitting mushrooms in the walls, arranging them in the right positions so that they appeared to be the silhouettes of dwarves… or goblins. On the floor farther down the cave he had imbedded rows of sharp bones in the floor so that their pointed ends poked upwards.

            “These mushrooms here at the window overlooking the dark elf camp will explode in on contact, releasing a noxious gas,” the goblin said, pointing to the flat brown mushrooms he had hidden among the stones, “The smaller black mushrooms I placed farther up the tunnel will squirt out acidic goo when squished. The glowing mushrooms on the wall here are just distractions. To the dark elves’ heat vision, they will appear to be more enemies to shoot at. By the time they figure out they’re attacking the wall, they’ll be dead. And of course, the bones farther down are just there to spike the dark elves in the feet. Most dark elves wear light shoes for sneaking, and these bones should stick right through them.”

            “Won’t they see the bones?” Bomm asked, “Especially if they’re sneaking? Sounds pretty dumb to me.”

            “If they do see the bones, walking between them will slow them down, anyway.”

            Bomm huffed, but said nothing.

            “Now we just need some weapons,” Citoach Lyve concluded, scratching the stub where his long goblin nose had once been.

            “Does ye want to sneak down there into the dark elf camp an’ steal ‘em then?” Bomm asked, “I be no good at sneakin’. No use for it. That means ye’ll have to do that job yerself.”

            “It won’t work. The dark elves never lay down their arms when traveling. They keep them on their persons at all times. We’ll just have to use what we have. I’ll throw stones… mushrooms…”

            Bomm looked at the long, pointed piece of bone that he had been using as a weapon thus far, “Alright then, time’s up, let’s do this – BOMMLECH HELLAXE!”

            With this, Bomm stepped up to the opening above the dark elf camp, carefully avoiding the exploding mushrooms as he did so. “Hey, down there!”

            The dark elves stopped talking and looked up, all of them drawing out their weapons. The glowing crystals reflected off their dark armor as they moved, and Bomm could see the murderous glow in their eyes as they looked up at him. One of them shouted, “Hey, that’s the dwarf we captured!”

            “Nonsense,” retorted the woman who appeared to be the queen, “He is most certainly dead.”

            Bomm laughed, a booming laugh that echoed through the whole cave and deep down the tunnels, and then he began to boast loudly at the dark elves below, “Aye, that’s right! I be Bomm Hellaxe, greatest dwarven warrior what ever did live! Yer skinny-arse swords ain’t nothin’ to me! Me eye’s half grown back already! Me father was a dwarven king and me mother was mountain lion! Yer petty blades can’t kill me; they be like birds peckin’ at me skin! Ever’thing I meet ends up dead or permanently maimed! If somethin’ gets in me way I smash it into dust, be it man, beast, or mountain! Me muscles be like iron bands, me bones like dwarven steel! Me skin is harder ‘an boar hide an’ there ain’t the blade that can cut me hair! I eats rocks for breakfast and me dung-piles made the mountain range! I be Bomm Hellaxe; hear me roar!”

            The dark elves laughed heartily at the dwarf’s boasting, which made him puff up even more.

            “If ye thinks ye can face me, ye skinny burnt twigs, then may the most manly of ye come forth!”

            The dark elves laughed and spoke to one another in their tongue. The one with the axe that Bomm had stolen earlier hefted his weapon and began to walk up the slope to the hole that the dwarf was standing in. But one of his brethren grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down. Bomm could not understand what he was saying, but he knew what order the queen was giving when the saw six dark elves draw out their bows and notch arrows to the strings. Bomm barely had time to leap back into the tunnel behind him before the arrows came flying through the opening, ricocheting off the walls around him.

            “Blasted bloody…” Bomm muttered, rising to his feet, “Get ready, goblin; they’ll be up ‘ere soon, no doubt!”

            But Citoach was already scrambling about, picking up the fallen dark elf arrows. After a few moments, they heard feet scrambling up the incline leading to the small entrance window. One dark elf stuck his head in and snarled. But once he put his foot on the edge of the opening, one of the mushroom traps exploded. A grayish smoke immediately filled the area. Bomm and Citoach were just far back enough to be out of reach of the effect, but they heard several dark elves coughing and sputtering. When the smoke had cleared, Citoach saw four dark elves writhing on the ground in agony.

            “Only four?” Citoach moaned. “What a waste! Do you know how rare those mushrooms are?”

            “Shut up!” Bomm shouted. “’Ere comes some more.”

            Sure enough, several more dark elves were now rushing at the opening. Bomm met them with his spike of bone. The first intruder swung at Bomm’s head, but missed as the dwarf came in low and jabbed his bone shard up under his jaw. The dark elf coughed and sputtered, blood running down his chin. Bomm tossed him aside and roared for the next intruder to come. But Citoach grabbed the dwarf by his hair and pulled him back down. As soon as he did so, a volley of arrows came whizzing past their heads.

            “Don’t stand exposed at that entry point!” Citoach hissed.

            “More of ‘em are comin’ from the bottom!” Bomm said, seeing something move down below them.

             As the dwarf had predicted, the dark elves spotted the bone shards in the ground. But as Citoach had predicted, they walked slowly and carefully to avoid them. So Citoach unleashed his attack… he sent two heavy boulders rolling down the tunnel. The dark elves heard them coming. One soldier simply stood there, hoping he would not be hit. He was crushed flat by the largest of the three boulders. Another saw death headed his way, so he jumped aside. He landed on his face on the ground, the boulder missing him completely… but one of the bone spikes in the floor jabbing into his side. Two other warriors, both females, died similar deaths, but one dark elf managed to make it to the top alive. This was the warrior with the axe Bomm claimed was his. Bomm rushed at him as soon as his foot was past the last row of bone spikes. The dark elf swung down at the dwarf’s head, but Bomm dodged so that the axe only cut into his shoulder. Then he head-butted the dark elf right in the face. There was a sharp crack, and the elf fell over. Bomm did not care if he was unconscious or dead. He just jerked the elf’s bloody axe out of his hand and lifted it above his head with a mighty war cry.

But it was unnecessary, for the dark elf attackers who tried the last entry way all died by the acidic mushrooms. While Bomm and Citoach were watching them burn in the acid, two archers sneaked up behind them through the window-like opening. The dwarf and the goblin were only warned of their presence by the sound of two arrows hitting the wall behind them. They turned to see the confused elves, wondering why their targets had not budged. By the time they figured out that they had shot a formation of glowing mushrooms on the wall, it was too late. Bomm had grabbed the both by the heads and smashed their skulls together. There was a loud crack, and they both slid to the ground at his feet. He then rushed out the opening and straight into the dark elf camp. Citoach scampered behind him, gasping for breath.

            The two remaining dark elf archers were so surprised to find a half-naked goblin and dwarf rushing at them, clutching dark elf weapons, that they barely had time to respond. The first to notch his arrow caught a bolt from Citoach’s stolen dark elf crossbow right in his chest before he could even pull back his string. Citoach chuckled and notched another bolt. But before he could shoot the second archer, Bomm slammed his axe into the dark elf’s gut. Now there were only five people left alive… Bomm, Citoach, the dark elf queen, and the two dark elf handmaidens.

            Bomm was about to slaughter the three females when Citoach stopped him with a piercing cry of, “WAIT!”

            Somehow the high-pitched goblin voice got through to the dwarf, who was now in a foaming mad, bloodthirsty rage. He paused in his mad rush, staring at the three females. They were the most attractive of all the female dark elves, for handmaidens were selected for their beauty as much as their ability. And the dark elf queen was the comeliest of all. All three were dressed in elaborate gowns, but they were also clutching dark elf swords. The queen brandished two long, curved blades, spinning them above her head.

            Citoach staggered up behind Bomm and patted him on the shoulder, “We… we could use them… alive. They might know… the way out of here.”

            “Drop yer weapons, dark elves!” Bomm growled in the most menacing voice he could muster.

            The dark elf queen laughed, a musical elven laugh, but with an obvious tone of derision and confident superiority. She threw back her head and shook her long white hair out of her face. Her eyes were a bright, almost glowing shade of violet, a shade that matched her robes perfectly. All of this made her dark black skin look slightly purple as well. As they watched, she reached up and unfastened her robes at the shoulders. They fell to the ground, revealing the shining suit of armor that she was wearing under them. The armor was tight and form-fitting, covered in spines and sharp angles, like most dark elf armor. It was dark black and reflective, but surprisingly devoid of ornamentations and engravings, as would have been expected of a dark elf queen. Under the armor, dark violet cloth was visible. All in all, she looked very impressive. Seeing her drop into battle pose, her handmaidens did likewise.

            “Hmm… hold,” the dark elf queen suddenly ordered, even the dwarven tongue she now used sounding beautiful in her cold but silken voice. “Fighting like this would be foolish. There are only three of us, and there are only two of you. Why should we decrease our numbers more?”

            “Only three of you?” Citoach said, looking around. “But you’re a dark elf queen, aren’t you?”

            In answer to this, the dark elf drew a shining silver circlet, inset with purple and blue gems, from a pouch on her back. She then placed the ornament upon her head. Even Citoach was awed by her strange beauty. Bomm only rolled his eyes. She gave a slight bow, a gesture that seemed to surprise the dark elf handmaidens as much as it surprised the dwarf and the goblin.

            “I am Varylys Ormalia,” she said, “Formerly Queen of the great dark elf city of Urbizmar.”

            “Formerly?” Citoach echoed.

            “Yes, formerly,” she replied, “The city, unfortunately, no longer exists. We had been straining on resources for years, trying to keep peace with the dwarves and goblins while still surviving ourselves. But as the dwarves delved deeper and deeper, and the goblins became more and more of a nuisance, we decided we had to act. We attacked the goblins first, believing them the weakest. We managed to destroy the main goblin city. This accomplished, we turned our fury on the dwarves. Unfortunately, they proved to be a match for us… and the goblins came back. One tribe of goblins had survived, the toughest of them all, and now we found ourselves under attack from both sides. Thus it was that our city was completely destroyed. I barely escaped with my life and a small party of warriors, and of course my two handmaidens here. And now the two of you, formerly our prisoners, have destroyed my war party. All that remains of my once magnificent city now stands before you.”

            Bomm smiled. It was a very, very unpleasant smile.

            “Well then I suppose that’s it for yer city!” he said, raising his axe.

            “STOP!” Citoach shouted again, grabbing the dwarf by his hair.

            “Dammit!” Bomm cursed, whirling on the goblin, “If ye doesn’t quit pullin’ me hair I’ll cut off yer pointy nose and stuff it up yer…!”

            Citoach pushed past Bomm and gave a little bow to Varylys. “Marra Ormalia,” he said, using the dark elf title for a respectable female, “I think I know the best way for us to get out of this scrape. We need to go to the surface.”

            “Right!” shouted Bomm Hellaxe. “An’ ye an’ yer pretty little han’maid’ns are gonna take us there. An’  yer not gonna give us any trouble about it, are ye?”

            Varylys sneered at the dwarf. “You two wish to go… to the surface?”

            “I have connections there,” Citoach said. “My goblin tribe is finished. I have no desire to return to them.”

            “Aye, an’ I don’ wanna spend the rest o’ me life servin’ under the self-righteous Firebeard Clan,” Bomm added.

            “And here I am with but two servants under my command,” Varylys concluded. “Very well, I suppose this could work to our mutual advantage. We shall head for the surface then.”

            Finally one of the dark elf handmaidens spoke. “But, my Lady, what if this is a trap?”

            “What have we to lose?” Varylys replied. “The other dark elf cities would have no respect for us after what happened. We cannot run to our own people. All we have now is enemies in this realm. Perhaps things will be different in the surface world.”

            “I doubt it,” said the handmaiden irritably.

            Varylys raised a hand as if to strike her, but thought better of it. Instead, she simply placed the hand atop her head and kissed her on the forehead.

            “Worry not, my daughter,” she said, “we are dark elves. We will find a way to survive… even thrive, no matter where we are.”

            Citoach made a purring noise. “I could get to like this.”

            Bomm spat/ “Right. Well, we’d better disarm the two girls, anyways. Hand over yer pretty little frog-stickers, girlies.”

            The two handmaidens looked at their queen. Varylys nodded. They handed their weapons to the dwarf and the goblin. Citoach then instructed Bomm to watch their prisoners while he rounded up what supplies they could carry from the camp. It took several hours for him to get everything sorted out, and when he was done, Bomm and the two handmaidens ended up as the primary pack mules, carrying most of the heavy gear and supplies. Bomm did not seem to mind, and the handmaidens did not complain, so the goblin and the former queen got away with light loads. Citoach also made some suits of armor for himself and Bomm from scraps of the dark elves’ clothing. He did this surprisingly quickly, for he had adjusted salvaged dark elf armor to fit goblin warriors many times in the past. When they were all set, it was a strange group that set off in through the underground caves of the North… one dwarf, one goblin, and three dark elves. Besides their matching suits of armor, they were as different as could be. Or so they believed.