The night was endless—sure, in no hurry. It had us, it knew it. But it was not the darkness of eternal rest; death would be too sweet for us. Nor was it the dusk of my forest or the oppressive society where I grew up. Here, death stalked us every day, refugees in a house while surrounded on all sides.
I should not have accompanied them. I was sure no one would blame me if I left. But I could not! Damn it! It sounded poetic to name what we went through, but the time we had—I healed them again. They only served to help us for a couple of hours before hell broke loose again. The city where we took refuge was protected by a kind of shield. It was not very useful, but at least when there were no large enemies, it allowed us to heal our wounds, find food, prepare and repair everything useful to us. Unfortunately, we could not return to the master forge—it was still infested with enemies. They were all lurking. The few survivors continued to defend themselves, but like me, they were tired. Their leader was fighting with us. At least for me, that meant that people—true leaders—did not hide; they helped, with what they could, how they could. How noble this race was. How sad it would be to let him die. That was why I did not escape. Besides, I did not want to deceive myself—where would I go? What could I do to leave the mountain if we were surrounded all the time? I could leave this city. The weapons that cursed smith crafted were less problematic in my hands. Now I could use them for a long time without issue. But even so, the blood I spilled was not enough.
The engineers returned. They said they had managed to start the city's mechanized weapons. Apparently, since there were not enough warriors, the engineers of this dwarven city created many mechanisms that could attack anything near them. They ran on compressed air tanks, so during the day, we spent our time using bellows, charging those marvels that expelled spikes, arrows, hidden saws. The gas did not last long, but the five hours of sleep it gave us at night made the calluses on our hands and raw flesh from working the bellows worth it. I had almost no warrior companions—there were healers and barely twenty soldiers. Nothing imposing. They were tough, but more of them had fallen with better armor and preparation. They all sought weapons that could eliminate enemies. We were surrounded and had already endured a week of this siege... If not for my strength, they would already be dead.
I heard their leader—this Caliza was someone to fear. Being a worker or merchant, as I understood, he helped Chapatrueno in the liberation wars. Then he became representative of the poorest cities and directed his efforts to reducing economic and knowledge differences between the dwarven nations. It was not as if there were many in here to be "nations," but for them, that was how it was. I tried to sleep a little after hearing the speech. He knew there was no other option for us than for someone to come from outside and break the siege. He hoped for news from his guard chief, who had left with a few others to get reinforcements. I knew it was not easy for him to survive, but he was all we had. Like one of the few mushroom potions I brought from home. The food here was richer, even if it was meat from miscellaneous crawling animals, but I must not stop consuming my nation's food. Without it, I would gradually lose my ability to invoke magic—I certainly needed it.
Night fell without warning. I was at the outposts, at the village entrance. Something was felt outside. Suddenly, one by one, small things emerged from the darkness that clouded our torches. Those were easy—things with claws and teeth, no larger than a rabbit. They always tried to sneak inside our defenses, but we anticipated them. Here, all who did not know how to fight participated with a small mace, putting an end to their existence. But they barely had a few minutes before the rest came for us like a flood—like clockwork, unstoppable.
The battle dragged on—two hours, three. With the help of the city's defenses, we could make it past midnight outside the main square. But by the hour before dawn, our bodies were wounded. We were an open wound. We ran to the town hall. There, they awaited us. During these days, they had reinforced the place—wooden planks, iron, everything we could place to make a ridiculous cone, but not useless. We entered, and while they tended our wounds, the monsters clung to the walls. There, we left holes—as large as a spear. There, all the engineers and other weaklings like Caliza—he was not necessarily weak, but at this point, he could not face all this alone—used the spears and stabbed at what came. The defenses in this area were flamethrowers and a few "sweepers"—dwarven devices that pushed large bars with spikes at leg height using bellows. That was how we survived—they stabbed, we slept between fear and our wounds. The sweeper removed the corpses until light filtered slightly through the cracks and reflection lighting systems. Then they withdrew, leaving destruction for which we had a couple of hours to recover—just enough to live one more day.
Normally, I slept the first hours, but something had me restless. So, tired as I was, I walked around. Everyone had expressions of defeat. They knew it did not work like that. Things should improve after surviving and keeping their people in one piece. But they knew the reality—it was only a matter of time before our defenses fell, someone made a mistake, we ran out of healing supplies or strength, our weapons broke from fatigue, and we perished in this deserted area, so close to the goal as to salvation.
The shadows were a rest—for me as for them. I took refuge in them and could almost say I disappeared. There, I drank the penultimate dose of Dark Forest mushroom. I did not know what I would do when these runes stopped protecting me, when my strength and agility increases ran out of food. Would I stay here without the vengeance I swore?
"It is too soon to give up, little elf. Salvation and death travel together, often without recognizing which is which, choosing at random. But today, your life hangs on you not doing so."
Who are you? Speak! Do not leave me searching, because as soon as I find out whose silhouette that is, you will have a couple of arrows in your chest... just to start!
"Little impulsive one. Have you been away so long that you do not remember the voice of whom you serve? Even if I cannot be by your side, the Lady of the Succubi does not abandon her people. I will deliver a couple of vials with more magical distillate to you. Today, you will need it."
My Lady! Where are you? I only see a dark shadow. Tell me if it is not a lie—we will not be able to resist. The attacks are more intense every day. I have to get out! You know I have a vow from my race that the traitor to my husband will die.
"You are a child, then. Understand—you will have the opportunity. But you have to help them, for there lies the only possibility of survival. Today, you are not only attacked by my stupid chaos enemy's troops. The dead are coming, also relatives of your race—stupid people who lost their lives and sight. Yet reinforcements will arrive. Who will come first... I do not know. My strength does not reach its fullness there. Now, you must go and lend your help."
To whom, my Lady? All I see are the houses still standing and the engineers working while the warriors eat and sleep. Besides, my swords, however strong, are limited to my hands, and these are tired.
"I think your hunter master would regret having given you the title... you are asleep! Think! How can you see them all—everywhere, without moving? Wake up, elf! I have been patient with you! But evil will arrive very soon. The vials are beside you. Also, before I leave, I must warn you—you sleep unprotected. If one of the mystical creatures that attack in dreams had been here, you would be dead or worse. I have protected you all these nights, but I have to devote my attention to another invasion—that of my enemies. So, elf... if you live, you will be able to see Chapatrueno again. If by then you still seek vengeance, you will be able to face him. But not like this—you are still too weak."
My eyes focused as a small, bright thing moved away into the cavern's shadows. I sat up as best I could—had I dreamed my lady? But no. Beside me, the promised vials. Inside, the oily black substance of distilled mushrooms gave me a couple more days to survive... So there had been nocturnal enemies? I would have to thank my lady when she returned—if I ever succeeded.
I ran, alerting everyone. Most believed me. We had not lived here long enough to distrust one another. But we barely placed the last piece of machinery in operation when I heard them—they came in great numbers. They were large and heavy—the games were over, from what I saw. At the entrances, enemies were arriving that barely fit in the tunnels—enormous, muscular, shapeless, like sacks of muscle with teeth. None of the traps could harm those masses. None of us had the mass and strength to push them. There were only fifteen, but that was enough. In the back, the rest of the rabble could be seen, waiting. They were going to eat us... but I would give them some arrows! They would leave full of stomach pain!
I heard a shout—not ours. We were still too tired to lament. We all held our weapons, trying to cling to a reality that was quickly slipping away. The shout sounded like a dwarf's, but very high-pitched. Suddenly, I saw them—emerging from a small tunnel—about twenty dwarves, all running. At their heels, enemies were close, but all but one came to see us. That one ran with great determination toward the nearest beast. That dwarf was crazy!
The potion was at its peak effect. I could clearly see the first victim of chaos. He was old, but also thin. Gloves, boots, and a helmet were all he wore. Compared to all the enormous protections these newcomers had, he was naked. His dirty leather pants would not defend him from those Abominations. But I saw his legs ignite. From his feet, a pillar emerged, lifting him at great speed to the height of half the enemy. The enemy had not yet noticed that lump attacking him—he was too interested in us. But he stopped being so. I still did not know how, but the kick he landed in what we could consider its stomach lifted it off the ground. His gloves shone, and a blow with both hands pushed the beast to the ground while from its—mouth?—torrents of liquid or blood, whatever, came out.
Everyone cheered, but not me. I ran after him. He was powerful. Between the two of us, we could defend the main entrance. Let the dwarves handle the smaller entrances and the other feedings—smaller, since one led to the forge and was closed, and the rest only led to small villages that supplied provisions and raw materials to this city in the past. I caught up as he was dispatching another giant. The small creatures swarmed over the fallen, feeding—they had done it before, so it did not surprise me. But it must be disturbing—they did not even leave the bones. Then I felt a threat—from the walls, some shadows began to stand out... they were the aberrations that had attacked us at the forge, but they looked stronger, more determined. I hoped the dwarf was really that strong—we would need him!
I kept fighting without seeing them. For the moment, they did not attack. The jovial dwarf told me his name was Rockbreaker. I did not even answer. I just cut down everyone—as fast as I could, as definitively as I could. That was how I reduced the enemies that fell and those that strayed to consume their comrades. He struck—whether into the air or at the enemies—knocking down whatever was in his front line. If we kept this up, we could make it through the night! Suddenly, I saw that one of the elves was not there. Panicked, I looked for him, but I saw him too late—at that dwarf's back. Faster than I could reach, he delivered his weapon—a stupid bone mace, but lethal. Yet upon impact, I saw a light increase where his arm was. From there, it descended and disappeared into the floor. Without more, he took the enemy warrior's hand and pulled him, slamming him against the ground.
He did not kill him and approached me. He asked if they were my friends. Before I could answer, he asked if my swords were forged by the legend. I told him a dwarf helped me—Chapatrueno, I added even though he did not insist. He smiled contentedly. He told me his gloves were also forged by him, but he saw with sadness that I still did not know how to use them. That annoyed me a little, and I made a double cut to prove otherwise. But he observed me and said:
"The weapons he forged have power—beyond what we can give. They are designed with a purpose. If you manage to activate them, you will put an end to part of the battle. I am sure of it! If not, well, we will keep killing and die of exhaustion."
For the first time in days, I examined the weapons. There were runes there—many I did not know. I did not even know how to activate them. Out of sheer desperation, I asked my weapons to help me. They glowed, and a voice invaded me.
"Dear Night Elf, your weapons were forged from Obsidian itself—the continent's greatest dragon. Your elf enemies—they are, even if you doubt it—also carry weapons, but from less powerful dragons. The answer is in your hand. Use the words I will teach you, and you will enslave them, or others I will tell you, and you will be able to eliminate them. There are answers beyond this, but no happy endings. Vengeance is my goal. I hope it is not yours."
I looked at the hilts of my swords, and there was the traitor's name. I knew what I had to do. But if I did not want either of the previous options... Chapatrueno, what would you say?