A Giant with an Axe

Outside of the darkness, the situation was dire. Dellinger and his people had to flee higher onto the mountain, pursued by enemy troops like beetles running from an ant army. Their favorable position was long overturned. Only their faster advance up the stony slope kept them from being swarmed by enemies. It would not be long until they lost even their last advantage - the higher ground. Why? Well, because they were rapidly drawing close to the tip of the mountain, avoiding the grey buildings on the one side. As soon as they were forced to retreat over the mountain apex, their descent would begin, in more than one way.

"Why did I ever trust an Icelandic General?!" Dellinger hissed through his teeth, regretting his decision to give up command. If not for the old man intervening, he would've retreated long ago, before the enemy was right on their heels. Besides this, he had the nagging suspicion that his master, who'd ridden into that ominous black mass with his companions, might not emerge anymore. Whatever that mass was, it was taking numerous lives on the battlefield still, only that it now was their enemies'.

There it was, the peak of the mountain.

"Halt!", He heard the General shout. "Shoot!"

All as one, Dellinger and his companions knocked their arrows and shot once again at the nearing armored army, yet most of their arrows recoiled as they hit metal. He could hear the wheezing and grunting of exhausted soldiers below, far too close for his liking.

"Again!"

Three more salves were shot, than the enemies were upon them. Why not retreat over the mountain's back, Dellinger thought furiously as he let his bow fall and reached for the hilt of his sword. Simultaneously, he believed he knew the reason. Running downhill would put their enemies at an advantage. Even their heavy armor would help them in a faster descent and if they ever equipped ranged weapons, Dellinger's small group would be gone in a flash. And then there was the stream.

He'd glimpsed the reflection of moonlight on water only shortly. Maybe it was bigger than it seemed, possibly cutting off their path, despite that its source was a few hundred meters to their right. Still, wasn't the risk better than dying fighting? And it would be easier for them to hide in the dark or the water than for the blinking metal wearers.

Too late.

Like a roaring tide, the enemy army reached the meager group on the peak. Flames erupted around Dellinger's blade, painting the scene in a flickering light. Swords clashed, and screams of pain and anger erupted. Dellinger dispatched his first two opponents but was soon forced back by the never-ending waves. There were just too many. As he prophetized, the mountain was covered in blood and corpses, and yet the enemy troops never seemed to diminish. Soon, his own corpse would adorn the summit. There was no backup, no help in sight.

Just as he thought that a horn blasted through the night, the tone long and mighty, seemingly coming from right behind his back. Dellinger's head swirled around.

It was a bizarre sight to behold. A ship, as big as a small palace, rode up the back side of the mountain. Neither gravity nor the downward rushing water of the stream seemed to slow its ascent. Did it even ride on the stream? Though it was above it, it appeared slightly set off, as if floating in the air, yet masses of water glittered around its bow, sparkling brightly in the moonlight, just like the silver ornaments adorning its rump. A white sailcloth akin to a ghost fluttered in the dead of the night. Yet, it was by far not the most frightening sight.

On board this ship stood men as big as giants, axes or scimitars in their hands, with grins like mad hyenas on their scared faces. It was hard to overlook that they craved a fight. Dellinger just prayed they did not come to block their last path of retreat. He doubted he could last against one of them, not to mention several dozen as they stood on board this ship. Yet, he had no time to watch them further as his opponents swung their swords again.

Meanwhile, the biggest and most scared of the newcomers lowered the buffalo horn in his hand, his eyes dark and dangerous. He was none other than Maddox Stormbringer, Scorch of the Sea, King of the Glacial Coast. Over his pants of black bear fur, his board chest wore nothing but the trophies of victories, and in his right rested the hilt of his trusted two-bladed axe.

As the ship came to a stop without anchor or ropes holding it, he lifted the axe high into the air. "This is for the Princess! But since you lot are rats with no loyal bone in your bodies, do it for gold! Do it for jewels! Do it for the fucking urge to kill you maniacs always brag about! Fight! Riot! Slaughter!"

Even before his last word rang out, his crew bellowed and shouted their response. Their weapons rose in the air and like wild animals free of their leashes, they stormed down the plank, swung to land with the ropes, or just jumped from board, too impatient to wait for even a second longer. Their leader though, followed slower, yet as he strode along the plank, a grin slowly drew on his face as he watched his barely clothed men engage with the armored army that came up the hill. "You bunch of crazy punks."

Almost lovingly, he spat to the side, then gripped his gigantic axe with both hands and charged into battle. When he collided with the enemy, one wide swing sent five armored soldiers flying. A deep laugh roared out of his throat as he wreaked havoc like a raving bear in a flock of sheep.

.

The news of danger for her child flustered Katherine, yet she balled her hands into fists and straightened her back. "If it is damaged, can't you somehow repair the gate in my child's body? Or - I don't know - block it somehow?"

Her magic sighed. "I might be helpful, but I'm not omnipotent. The life in you is so fragile that I dare not attempt anything."

"Then maybe when it is born?"

"Maybe," the magic power repeated, sounding uncertain.

Katherine fidgeted a bit, then posed another question. "Um, if you can feel my child now, can you... can you tell if it's a boy or a girl? I'm just a bit curious. And it's only one, right? I'm not getting twins? I mean, of course, I'd love them all, but twins or triplets or... anyway, that would be a bit taxing. Not that a single baby is not taxing..."

She laughed nervously. "I just don't know what to expect."

There seemed to be a smile in the magic's voice as it answered. "Rest assured, it's only one. You bear a little boy."

"A boy!" Katherine's cheeks flushed with excitement. "I knew it! And, does he have white hair? Red eyes like his father or violet like mine? Somewhere in between? How big is he right now? Does he have everything? Ten toes, fingers, head, and eyes? Is he healthy? He has to be healthy after you healed him, right?"

The magic power sighed deeply. "My dear master, your baby is barely the size of a pea, how do you expect me to know all that?"

Disheartened, Katherine's shoulders slumped. "But... he is healthy, right? Tell me that he's healthy. Everything else is not so important."

"He is. Now, if you'd focus on yourself again, I get the feeling that you should leave this place soon. I don't know how long the rift will last. You do want to return to your dimension, right?"