CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  A MOUNTAIN TOP EXPERIENCE

  Standing atop a mountain for the first time since he had invaded The Dwarven Kingdom, Lord Grimdall stared out before him, lost in memories, waiting for the one man that knew him longer than anyone in his forces. Daukus Kasson had been with him well before his attempt to take King Brock’s throne, and he had been indispensable after they were cast upon The Barren Wasteland.

  Any time he himself was away, leading men and goblins in search of food or anything that would help them endure the unforgiving island that was their home this past year, Daukus held camp. Now as then, his strong will, mixed with what he deemed a deep sense of justice, garnered respect from the men and control over the goblins.

  Without Daukus’ calm demeanor, the unity between the men and goblins could have ended the day he returned as Lord Grimdall. However interestingly enough, still to this day Daukus had never asked him how he returned with his armor and powers, even though everyone else in the camp discussed it openly and with fear.

  “Lord Grimdall,” spoke a man’s voice.

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  Behind his black helmet, Lord Grimdall blinked as he returned from his thoughts. “Report my friend.”

  As both men looked out over The Dwarven Mountains, Daukus spoke. “We had many casualties. As you know, the dwarves are strong and stubborn. And this is their home.” Then after Daukus was silent for a moment, he pointed at the sabercats and giant desert spiders. “Still, with the great numbers of these beasts and monsters you have created, along with your impeccable leadership, all I and the men need is to be patient. I do not doubt we will take these mountains. Even the goblins see it.”

  “You have served me well, Daukus. You always have,” replied Lord Grimdall. Now please. Go. Rest. Tell the men the hardest part is over.” Then Lord Grimdall clasped Daukus around the shoulder. “There will be no attack tomorrow. We have earned this rest.”

  After Daukus bowed and walked away, Lord Grimdall knelt down, picked up some dirt and made a fist. As he stood up again, he let it fall.

  They had made it to the top of the mountains that bordered the beach below, and in good time. Lord Grimdall looked out over the mountains still before him, that they now had to cross as the dwarven army fell back.

  “Look upon the grandeur of this place. Soon it will be ours,” whispered Agmon.

  Hearing the joy in the evil demigod’s voice, Lord Grimdall smiled and grasped the handle of his dagger with his left hand. “Your time is running out, Ironhearth.” Then he took off his helmet and looked out again for a moment, thinking. “And when we descend the mountains, Brock...”

  Lord Grimdall tapped the handle of the large blade for a few seconds. Then he pulled it out of its scabbard and announced...

  “You are next.”