Free PURE OF HEART by Christopher Greyson Page A

rested on his chest plate. His leather boots, fringed with fur, were over his leather breeches; his gray metal shield was strapped to his back, and in his thick hands was a long, two-headed battle-axe. As the Dwarven horn echoed rich and deep through the mountains, both sides swarmed forward like waves smashing against the rocks.
    The Dwarves cried their deep, rich battle cry, and the creatures answered with their wicked guttural screams. At the front of the ranks of the Krulgs, flanked by Varlugs, rode a Tearog, a demon warrior. The creature’s features seemed almost human except for its deathly pale skin and slanted black eyes. It wore midnight black armor with a black moon on its huge shield. It was much larger than any man. When it stood, it was over seven feet tall, but now was riding a beast. The animal was a Ravinulk. It had the body of a huge wolf with the head of a dragon.
    As the two fronts clashed, their weapons crackled like lightning, their screams of death echoed like thunder, and their blood poured down like rain. The Dwarves’ line swept around both sides of the approaching force, but the Varlugs, led by the Tearog, ripped into the middle of the Dwarf formation to split it in two. As Dwarf, Krulg, and Varlug fell, the cloud of dust from the dry earth grew thicker, and the sun grew fainter. The two Dwarven brothers stood back to back. All around them lay a ring of fallen enemies. Braga blew his horn to rally the Dwarves to attack with renewed fury. The Dwarves came together, and again the creatures started to retreat. The Dwarves fought to drive the Krulgs back.
    As the Tearog cut a path back out through the Dwarves, it saw only the Dwarven brothers standing in its way. They both turned to attack the Tearog but only one saw the spear fly from a Varlug’s dark hand. The spear flew straight for Bravic’s side. Braga didn’t hesitate as he jumped in front of it. The barbed spear sank deep into Braga’s breast, and he crashed to the ground, his outstretched hand passing just behind his brother’s back, and his dying words were lost, as though they were cried in the midst of a storm.
    Bravic’s heart was filled with a hatred that he’d never felt before. Unaware that his brother had fallen, Bravic rushed at the Tearog. He swung his axe in a massive arc only to have it crash into the Tearog’s huge shield. The Tearog’s bloody mace struck out, but it had misjudged Bravic’s attack. The mace clipped the Dwarf’s helmet. Had it struck him full on, the blow would have caved in his head, but the glancing hit was still hard enough to knock the Dwarf unconscious.
    As the other Dwarven warriors rallied around their fallen comrades, the Tearog reared back its head and laughed a wicked laugh. Its evil mouth twisted into a vicious smile and revealed its pointed teeth. The Ravinulk turned and raced back to the rest of the foul creatures.
     
    ****
     
    When Bravic came to, he was lying on the side of the battlefield next to the woods. The bodies of the fallen Dwarf warriors lay all around him. Rolling over, he saw his brother’s still form, his battle-axe still clutched in his cold hands. He pried the axe free as he wept; his tears fell onto the bloodstained grass.
    “We can’t win. Volsur’s army is all around, and all we’re doing is dying—for nothing. Braga, I’m sorry. I have to leave. I want no part of this anymore. Volsur has won. This is just needless death.”
    Bravic rose and walked into the woods, away from the two forces that prepared to face each other again. He walked away from the bloodstained battlefield. He walked away from his fallen brother.
     
    ****
     
    As the first rays of morning fought vainly to drive away the shadows, Dean and Han were already on the road. They both agreed that the few berries they had for breakfast were not the best way to start their day, but they were better than nothing at all. As they traveled along, Han pointed out various trees and birds; most of the names