The twin embers had settled into the face where eyes ought to be, and the knight captain, vanquisher of many horrible foes, felt a shiver run down his spine as those flaring, evil orbs seemed to flicker before focusing directly upon him. With a muttered curse, Cedric lowered the spyglass and drew a breath. He could see the vapor monster well enough with his naked eye: the conjured being seemed to be standing upon stony legs, while fire surged and flickered all across its torso, arms, and face.
“Look sharp there, men!” he ordered. “Archers, make ready. Torch the oil pots. Get the reserves back from the ramparts. But all of you, stand by.”
By the time he had finished his commands, the giant creature was already striding forward, heavy feet pounding the ground with steps that reverberated all the way to the top of the high rampart. This was no smoke monster, he saw now; clearly, it had become a solid mass of rock or metallic weight. Cedric thought of the thick, iron-banded gate below his feet, and with a twinge wondered if it could stand against this foe.
The drums, massive kettles pounded by ogre drummers, picked up the cadence to a marching tempo. The first column of ogres swung toward the gate, trailing the giant by several hundred paces. But the monstrous creation led the charge… all alone.
Not that it looked like it would need much help.
Closer and closer the monster came, seeming to grow and loom larger with each thunderous step. Its growth was an illusion, Cedric realized-by the time it was two hundred yards away, the thing loomed as tall as the great drawbridge that, naturally, had been raised into blocking position. At one hundred yards, the distance previously marked by white posts on the ground before the gatehouse, the captain uttered a sharp command:
“Archers: mark the range! Volley fire!”
A cloud of arrows rose into the air, the missiles launched by more than two hundred longbowmen of the gatehouse garrison. The missiles converged in the air at the apex of their flight, glittering in the dawn’s light for a moment before plunging down to shower the conjured giant and the ground around him. Cedric stared, his hands clenched into fists as he muttered a prayer to Kiri-Jolith-a prayer that went conspicuously unanswered as the shower of missiles seemed to disintegrate upon striking the monster’s enchanted flesh. Some of the missiles missed their target altogether, of course, and they hit the ground, leaving a grotesquely elongated outline of the gigantic shape tattooed onto the dirty plain.
Cedric glanced over his shoulder as two young mages, beardless, clad in white tunics emblazoned with the colorful bird, joined him on the platform. They were looking, aghast, at the massive apparition.
“Kingfishers! Make ready!” commanded the captain. With trembling limbs, they raised their hands, chanting their spells. Several magical missiles blazed outward from the first mage’s fingers, the crackling bolts vanishing as they made contact with the fire-eyed giant. The second tried to cast a more complicated spell, but terror apparently drove the words from his memory-he mumbled an inarticulate sound, gesturing wildly, but nothing happened.
The creature lumbered on with no appreciable change in speed, drawing closer and closer with each passing breath. Cedric ordered a second and third volley of arrows released, but they had the same inconsequential effect. The ogres in the column behind the conjured giant roared a hoarse challenge, exultant as they sensed the power of their new ally.
“Ready the oil! Shower the bastard when it crosses the moat!” cried the captain. To both sides heavy caldrons were rolled to the very brink of the rampart, levered upward, and balanced between the jutting balustrades. The giant strode on, one foot plunging into the muck of the moat while the other crossed the wide obstacle in a single stride. The mired foot came free with no visible effort; then the monster was, literally, at the gate.
“Now-dump oil! Toss the torches!” Cedric’s voice strained not with fear, but with volume; he would betray none of the terror he felt. He gripped the sword of his father, silently daring the creature to come within the weapon’s reach.
But first would be the trial by fire. Cedric watched as the hot oil shimmered as it fell through the air, splattering across the creature’s head and torso, outlining the black body in a slick, dense layer. Its flesh, closer up, looked more like rock than iron, the captain decided, fully conscious that neither substance was especially vulnerable to fire.
Dozens of burning torches tumbled downward, tossed by courageous men waiting upon the battlements. They smoked and sputtered through the air, and when they contacted the oily form of the monster, they ignited the liquid fuel almost instantly. A huge wall of flame roared up into the air, driving the soldiers back momentarily.
Within mere moments the gigantic form was engulfed in flame, but if it felt any discomfort from the intense heat that burned the faces of the Solamnics, it gave not the slightest indication. Instead, the monster cocked one mighty fist and delivered a crushing blow to the heavy planks of the drawbridge. Cedric heard boards splintering and felt the groaning collapse of that massive barrier as the tower itself swayed under his feet.
“Rocks! Drop them-now!” cried the captain, despair growing.
Immediately the huge baskets that had been poised on the rampart toppled forward, spilling their heavy loads downward. Large boulders struck the monster’s head, torso, and arms-but even the heaviest of these simply bounced away without causing any visible harm.
Even under this barrage, the monster continued his pummeling, smashing the raised barrier again and again. Soon pieces of timbers, then whole beams, broke free to burst or tumble out of the way. The creature reached through the gap to seize the heavy portcullis, the second barrier to the gateway, and yanked at it. With a single, massive effort, the monster ripped that barrier aside; the iron grid, which weighed tons, was simply jerked off its mounting brackets. The monster tossed the heavy portcullis aside as though it were a toy. It fell across the moat where it would serve as a bridge for the following ogre troops.
Now the way into the gatehouse was clear. Men gathered above the murder holes, ready to stab downward with long pikes in a valiant effort to pierce the monster from above. But instead of advancing, as Cedric and the other defenders expected, the beast paused, turning its attention to the stone wall to the right of the open gate. With a series of heavy blows of those great fists, it shattered the masonry and crumbled the wall.
The captain sprang to the side as he felt the ground start to give way under his feet. Other men were not so lucky; at least a dozen soldiers toppled downward as the creature hewed a gap right through the outer wall. Cedric heard their pathetic screams as they fell directly on top of the creature-sounds of panic that were quickly silenced by death. The elemental giant crushed the defenders with swatting blows of its hands and feet, shot fiery blasts at them out of its eyes, roared flames out of its gaping mouth.
Still, the giant clawed at the wall, pulling down another great section, rubble and stone spilling into the moat, filling it, piling onto the plains beyond and also tumbling into the deep courtyard. More bridges were created across the moat. More of the rampart fell. Both Kingfishers-among many other warriors-fell to their doom, Cedric saw. The veteran captain fell back to safety just as another section of the wall flew away.