Tearlach (Chapter 29)

Template:Tearlach nav We built prisons. The thought wouldn't leave Tearlach's mind as he smashed the last of the catapults, which were still trying to rain death on the faraway city. Only southlanders build prisons, so they can torment and enslave those they fear. The sons of Bul-Kathos have the resolve to finish off their enemies. Aye, that was what the elders said. They also said the sons of Bul-Kathos don't use magic. After kicking the last earth demon back down to Hell, Tearlach found the broad steps which led up from the foothills into the highlands.

He'd never been this far up before. In ancient times, the people built rings of walls around the sacred mountain, to defend it in the end times. Walls are a good defense. Barbarians don't need them, most of the time; we have nothing to defend. That purity of life gives us the freedom to attack without worry. At the top of the steps, Tearlach saw, almost invisible under the dirt, an old Horadric waypoint. For a moment, he glowered at it. Bad enough that they'd been in Hell. How did that bunch of pansy-ass sorcerers get here, and find the time to build something of their own on the very slopes of sacred Mt. Arreat? Was no one on guard against foreigners? Or did the elders invite them here? Cold fury crept into his heart, but he activated the waypoint. It was too damn useful not to.

One last group of slaves beset him (maybe reinforcements for that "general" down in the hills) and then it was nothing but open spaces, full of little big-heads. By the Light, who knew Hell was so full of tiny annoyances? Every single one of them must be up here, right now, just for him. Even the dart Flayers weren't this hateful -- they could only run away. These things took great pleasure in vanishing the moment he got close enough to hurt them, always with the sassiest smirk on their pointy-chinned faces. When he leapt, they were gone by the time he landed. When he gave chase, they scampered away, laughing while their fellows peppered him with magic. The only time they'd sit still was when the found a beast to ride: huge animals that walked like men, covered in iron plate with a saddle on their heads. Each had a flame-throwing device mounted on the saddle. Anywhere else, and that might have been a terrible weapon; in Arreat's chill air, it was almost invigorating.

It took far too long to reach the first set of walls. The big-heads should have known they had no chance, all they did was make him chase them. It was so frustrating, he hardly took the time to loot. Now that he was here, seeing for the first time the mighty defensive works his ancestors labored so hard to build, he was... disappointed. He hadn't expected them to be great walls, but these weren't even very good walls. Hardly more than the height of a tall man, built of wattle and sun-baked mud, they looked like a good kick could go right through. There were a few towers; a big-head was desperately pouring fire on his head from the top of the nearest one. Only demons used the wall now... so Tearlach raised his axe, smashed the tower, and split the big-head in two from below. It wasn't even difficult.

Behind the wall were open platforms, one with a catapult, another with a cage. Tearlach hadn't noticed the catapult firing. Maybe he'd been running after the cursed big-heads so much, the thing couldn't take aim. The cage was nothing but sticks and rope, with a single chain locking the flimsy gate. They weren't even very good cages. A strong man could jump over that ring of sticks, or break them. They couldn't hold even an unarmed man unless he were constantly watched. Five men stood in the cage, shouting for release; slaves were stabbing through the bars, trying to kill them first.

Tearlach chopped through the chain with one swipe. "Get out of there! Get a sword, there's plenty of killing for all of yoo!" Maybe they'd clear big-heads so he wouldn't have to bother. As soon as they were out, a portal appeared, and they all ran. Well... maybe that was for the best. A hot meal would do them good before they came back into the fray. Now that he wasn't out in the open, the big-heads couldn't blast away at him so freely; he went through the wall from one end to the other, looting thoroughly. The ancestors left a lot of wizard toys behind them: Druid skins, staves, and wands made from glowing crystals or dried human bones. By now, Tearlach could only shake his head; he'd gone beyond surprise. It wouldn't even surprise him to learn that the ancestors were all magicians, and the great traditions all got started as their little joke.

Beyond the first wall was another open plain, full of bouncing big-heads. Tearlach killed them without thought; they weren't a threat, but his heart wasn't in the battle anymore. None of the men he'd rescued returned to the fight. There were no honorable foes, only little ones that cast spells and ran away. The things that stood their ground did so because they were too stupid to do otherwise. In the middle of the highlands was a pit, with a bridge that led to a red gate. Having been in Hell, the red glow from below was very familiar. An entrance to Hell on Mt. Arreat? Why not? The guardians of the mountain not only failed to guard it, they even failed to be the men they were supposed to be. Why wouldn't Hell come to the most sacred place in the world and make itself at home?

Tearlach went down to a tiny bit of Hell, an island in a lake of fire. The River of Flame might flow here. Siege machines and hand armaments lay about, mostly pole-arms, spears, and other two-handed weapons. And there were big-heads, more and more big-heads all over the damned place. He was about to scream in frustration when the bull-men charged. Ah... these ones, at least, look like they fight in ways a man can understand. The big poleaxes lying around were not two-handed weapons either: bull-men used them one in each hand. They were fast, strong, eminently respectable, and very rewarding to kill. Though even he had to admit, it was good they only came one or two at a time.

There was plenty of war-gear on the fiery island, useful things any warrior would appreciate. What had happened to the sons of Bul-Kathos, that more good steel could be found down in the pit than on the slopes of Mt. Arreat? Almost sadly, Tearlach left Hell and returned to the hell on earth that was his homeland. The second ring of walls came into view, no better than the first. Two cages stood here; at one, he found another Barbarian warrior, hacking away at the guardian slaves. Fool! He should free his brothers first, not try to get all the kills for himself. After kicking through the cage wall, Tearlach turned his attention to the slaves, getting five kills to the other man's two. A member of the wolf tribe (so marked by his use of two axes) should be ashamed of so poor a performance. Ah... but what does it matter, next to the shame that hangs over us all?

Beyond lay another highland, and another wall. The fighting was even more tedious than in that forsaken desert down south. At least there were no walking dead; his people do not leave bodies for demons to work their magic on. Far up into the highlands, the land leveled off. Some earth demons guarded the pass, but after killing them, Tearlach climbed a tree and looked out over the vast plateau. Fires burned everywhere, and the thick acrid smoke did not all come from wood. Thin winds carried the screams of slaves and the crack of whips to his ears. The flanks of Arreat were now a staging area for the enemy. A new force was gathering for another assault.

The square in Harrogath was full of men, preparing their armor and swords. Where were they a few minutes ago, Tearlach wondered? "Old man," Tearlach growled at Qual-Kehk, "demon slaves and their masters gather above the highlands. Have any of those who returned found the stomach they'll need to face them when they come?"

Qual-Kehk was drawing lines on a map. Ignoring Tearlach's tone, he replied. "They have returned, and eaten for the first time in days. Their wounds no longer fester, their bones are whole and strong once more. They have spoken well of yoor bravery. I thank yoo for saving them."

Hmm... they were a bit battered when he found them. "It was... there was nothing too difficult in it. The worst was the time it took to slay all the little wizard things."

"Aye, they are a plague. The men also tell me yoo broke the old walls in many places, and found the things the elders kept there."

Slowly, Tearlach nodded. "Aye."

"I often wondered why those things were there. The elders would not say, just that they were to stay. I thought, perhaps so long as they are here, the world's sorcerers and demon-kissers cannot have them. Now I know better."

Teeth gritting audibly, Tearlach muttered, "Aye."

"When Aust, who I looked to as a father, came to me and told me to hold back my men, magic would defend Harrogath, it was all I could do not to strike him down. The spell did not save the mountain." Now Qual-Kehk looked straight at Tearlach. "We are the sons of Bul-Kathos, mightiest of men, the only king of this land. Walls may save a city, but we must do more than save our lives. Baal is out there. Kill him... and all this collapses."

"Aye!" Tearlach grunted, standing straighter.

"Beyond the plateau yoo saw, there is a tunnel under a wall of ice. Through those tunnels lies the way, by a hidden path he seeks, but will not find. If our warriors go there, he will follow, thinking we will lead him to it. We can lure him into a trap and put him and all his kind to the sword."

A fire lit in Tearlach's eye. "A sally..."

"Aye. But we must break through his armies with enough men left alive to deal with him and his cohort. We must not fight for glory, or the honor of our clans. I have decided to adopt a new strategy. Yoo, and all yoor fellows, will be paired. Each of yoo is to watch the other's back, and fight as yoo would to protect a brother. Yoo are not to compete; all yoor kills will be in common."

This brought some grumbles. Only Tearlach took no convincing. "Aye, that's not so bad. 'Tis good to have a shield-brother at yoor side, when surrounded by the enemy. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, after all."

"And speaking of shields... Tearlach, I had thought to put these runes in a shield, but seeing how yoo bear one, yoo may use them better. Yoor partner will be Klatu."

"What, him?" Tearlach snorted. "A damned Crane tribesman, what a --"

"Hoo are you, speakin' to me that way, boy!?!" Qual-Kehk roared. "Forget yoor clans, most of 'em are dead anyway! This is bigger than clans, this is everything! We have to fight, and we have to win! If we're dead, it'll do nobody any good!"

No one spoke up again. Soon, all were paired up, mostly outside of their tribes. Tearlach looked over his new "partner" with some resentment. "I am Tearlach, son of Grignr, son of Gor."

"I've heard of yoo. I am Klatu, son of Gort."

Tearlach frowned. "Don't you have brothers named Borada and Niktu?"

"Aye. I intend to avenge them."

Tearlach nodded, a smile slowly coming to his lips. "Aye. There's chance enough for that."