Honourkeeper extract
Death… Death was everywhere. It was the reek on the breeze. It was the screaming in his ears. It was the hot red haze in his eyes. Death was redolent, it permeated everything, soaked every pore. Death revelled with the savage ecstasy that filled Haggar’s thumping heart as he killed.
The elf knights were pinned and had lost the advantage of the charge, but they were still fearsome foes. Well-armoured, high up on their steeds, they would be no pushovers. Even still, Haggar dragged one from his saddle by the boot and applied the death blow with his axe. One of the beasts rammed its muscled flank into him, but it obviously hadn’t reckoned on dwarf tenacity and Haggar pushed back with his armoured shoulder making the steed rear up, unhorsing its rider. Skengi, fighting just ahead of the thane, was quick to dispatch the fallen elf with a blow from his hammer.
It was hard fighting. Probably the hardest that Haggar had ever fought. The elves were skilled, disciplined and phenomenally fast. Dragon knights jabbed down with swords and lances in a crimson blur, piercing dwarf armour with their accurate blade thrusts. Steeds kicked and trampled. It could go either way. Though the dwarfs fought for all they were worth, the arrival of the spearmen and limb-reaping sword masters had dented their resolve pushing them to the edge. Haggar could feel the warriors hanging on the brink of retreat. Only the banner of Karak Ungor, the shame of fleeing from it and allowing it to be taken by the enemy, held them… at least for now.
‘I’ll be damned if I see you put us to flight,’ Haggar snarled under his breath at the nearest elf in his eye-line.
With some satisfaction, he watched as the dragon knight was brought down. Another figure loomed out of the battle haze behind him, cutting at either flank with his shimmering, gore-slicked blade. Carving a path through a band of clan warriors, he found the dwarf he was looking for. The noble, he who had led the charge of the dragon knights with such ferocity and skill, levelled his long sword at Haggar. A ruby of blood peeled along the edge and fell ominously onto the ground in front of him.
The dwarf thane bellowed a challenge, thumping his chestplate and then brandishing the banner of Karak Ungor meaningfully.
‘Try and take it you pointy-eared swine,’ he cursed, ‘I dare you.’
Haggar recognised the warrior. A black mane issued from beneath his stylised dragon helm. He even maintained the cocky swagger in the way he approached the dwarf on his steed. This was the raven-haired blade-master, the elf called Lethralmir.
A shrieking war cry tore from the noble’s lips, sounding tinny through his helmet. Lethralmir stirred his barded horse and charged. Though it was only a short distance through the melee, Lethralmir’s first blow struck with all the force of an avalanche. At least that’s how it felt to Haggar, as he was battered, barely able to turn the blade aside from his neck.
The smallest of gaps had developed in the bloody struggle for the centre. It was through this that the elf noble brought his steed around for a second pass. Though he couldn’t see the elf’s face hidden by the snarling visage of his dragon helm, Haggar was sure he would be smiling.
Bastard, he thought working the tension out of his axe-arm where Lethralmir had managed to strike him on the pauldron, step down off that bloody horse and we’ll see what’s what.
Three short strides and Lethralmir was upon him again, angling his blade in a vicious downward thrust intended to find the gap between the dwarf’s gorget and battle helm. But Haggar was equal to it. He fended off the elf’s attack, turning the sword with the flat blade of his rune axe. The impact jarred Lethralmir’s arm, forcing the elf to take a tighter reign on his steed. As he pulled up, Haggar was able to stay on his feet and whirled his axe around, raking it down the beast’s barded flank as it sped past. Armour chinks cascaded like red rain and the dwarf was rewarded with a whinny of pain from the elven horse. Haggar looked down at the freshly reddened edge to his axe blade and smiled.
Lethralmir’s steed staggered and nearly fell. The ragged wound in its side was making its barding and armoured rider an intolerable burden. Even so, the elf hauled on its reigns to bring it around. Despite loud protests, the steed obeyed. Blood was running freely down its flank now, the enforced exertions tearing its wound ever wider. Suddenly its forelegs bunched beneath it, fetlocks collapsing under the weight it could no longer bear, and Lethralmir was dumped onto the ground in front of it.
The elf blade-master rose swiftly, in spite of his heavy armour, dispatching a pair of clan warriors that came at him out of the melee axes swinging. Two expert blows, the first whilst he was still on one knee striking the groin and the second rising to his full right, preceded by a deft pirouette that make the dwarf’s axe strike seem slow and clumsy, followed by a brutal arcing slash that took the warrior’s helmeted head from his shoulders.
Haggar blanched when he saw it – the elf’s long sword had sheared straight through the decapitated dwarf’s chainmail coif.
‘You’ll find me a sterner test,’ he promised, growling beneath his breath as the elf stalked towards him.
Labels: Dwarfs, Honourkeeper



