Heroes of Magic and Might
Chapter 24 – Blue man's group
…
"You're sure she won't mind us tagging along?"
The friendly smallish man, who was an Elwin, come to find out, waved off the wizard's concerns. "She could do with the company," he assured them. "Poor thing lives out here all alone. Not her fault she is what she is, but you try explaining that to simple folk."
"No reasoning with unreasonable people," Rosebud surmised with a sagely nod.
It was hard for Harry to argue the point. He'd been raised by unreasonable people, taught by unreasonable people, confronted with unreasonable people for as long as he could remember.
Why was he trying to argue the point?
"I hope she likes dogs."
The wolf pack trailed the group like the tail of a comet. Rosebud's 'puppy' leading them in her stead. The fairy and the owl flitted ahead, coming back periodically to make sure they hadn't gotten lost. Rosebud had joked they were scouting, which was a fine idea but for their inability to perform the scouts most important function, report.
"They're back."
The vampire's singsonged declaration was small warning, but it was enough for him to look up and present an arm before the frantic owl hit him.
"Whoa, easy their Heddy, easy, easy," he coaxed the agitated owl whom he'd decided to name in memory of her predecessor.
"Awfully ruffled. What you spose the matter is?" Bill wondered aloud.
"I don't know," she hadn't been so worked up by the ghosts, and they'd almost killed him.
He turned to Cherry, the fairy, now with three tiny orbiting wisps, hoping to glean some clue. Having yet to learn proper gleaning he stared blankly as he usually did to the rapid bell like tinkling of her tiny voice.
"Well I got nothing."
"We should be close," said Bill. "I wonder if something happened. Did you find her? Is there trouble?" the Elwin asked, directing his questions to the fairy.
She nodded frantically, doing a pantomime that Harry interpreted as six-legged dancing fish, which was probably wrong.
"Better hurry," the small man said, gripping his sword and marching on with haste.
"We're walking into trouble again then?" Rosebud asked, expressing in tone her feelings on the matter.
"Look at it this way," said Harry, trying to be positive, "If there is trouble, we know she won't be mad about 'us' invading her home."
"Ever the optimist," the vampire said, shaking her head as she strode past him, smirking at the burning glare that followed her.
…You and what army
Invading, that's what he was saying. A one-man invasion, or so it appeared. He smiled from his perch as Dumbledore dissected the quandary. It was messy, to say the least, so involved once you peeled back the skin which made it look so simple.
He'd been in the castle, around the castle, this he knew. What he didn't know was how long, how much he'd seen, how much he'd prepared. The castle on its own was mostly indefensible. Too many ways to get in that had once been blocked by magic but were now dangerously open.
"Might I ask?" Dumbledore ventured, "what has brought you so far. We've seen no signs of what one might call 'civilization' since our arrival. Not even a small village."
"Yes, it is quite the hike to the nearest pub," the blue man joked. "One of the advantages to having wings."
"I should very much like to clip those for you," Snape said caustically, stomping up with McGonagall close behind, his patience finally reaching its end.
"My, my, aren't you hostile. Someone needs a nap."
Snape was not even tempered on his best days, and it had to be said, his best days were probably behind him. His wand was pointed at the blue man before Dumbledore could warn him. The spell he growled, unfamiliar, and ultimately irrelevant.
The blue man moved faster than the potion master's hand. His spell was cut off mid curse by a pair of hands slamming down on his shoulders with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground, and the blue man vaulting into the air.
His acrobatics were impressive, landing with a showman's flourish to the stunned onlookers.
"That boy from earlier was quicker," he remarked to the groaning Snape.
It wasn't much of a taunt, but Snape didn't have much in the way of self-control. Scrambling to his feet his next curse was thrown without consideration or even bothering to take proper aim. The blue man danced out of the way.
"Severus, stop!"
The command drew a brief pause, but the blue man childishly sticking out his tongue ended it with equal expedience.
With no consideration for himself or anyone else, Snape charged after the blue man who dashed away from the castle, leading the angry potion master and his trailing tagalongs quite the merry chase.
Being the younger, Snape was in slightly better physical condition than Dumbledore. Being a dungeon dwelling potion bat, it was not by much.
The blue man chuckled as Snape huffed and puffed, too winded to even snarl another curse he simply glared. It lacked its usual potency, what with his target not being a child ostensibly under his supervision in a closed room away from any kind of moral support. The lack of reaction only seemed to make him angrier.
"You—can't keep—running—forever," he wheezed.
"Longer than you," he teased, giving Dumbledore and McGonagall a brief glance as they caught up, McGonagall appearing far less winded than Dumbledore. "Seems the lady is the only one in shape. Shame on you boys."
"A bit pretentious don't you think? Calling me boy," said the much-aged Dumbledore.
"Not hardly," he replied. "You clearly do not know what I am but allow me to assure you. I am older than you could ever hope to be."
"Hah! What do you take us for?" Snape snapped, now that he had the wind.
"I take you for a childish fool," the blue man said. "I've led you around since the start and all you've done is follow, like a bleating sheep."
His wand trembled in a furiously shaking hand, but Dumbledore was glad to see he held it in. The man was right, he had led them all a merry chase and they, like children, had followed. They were now well away from the castle, from any reinforcements.
But, and it was a big 'but', they were not children.
Drawing his own wand, he stood next to Snape, motioning for McGonagall to join them. "You've had your fun," he addressed the blue man, "but now it is time to stop."
"Oh?"
"You say you have come to take my castle? You must know I will not give it up."
"Indeed," he said, "with all you have in there I should think not."
Inwardly he scowled at the reminder of how easily the blue man had infiltrated their fortress, outside his face remained perfectly neutral. "If you have come to fight then let us be about it. Though I would prefer you just leave us in peace."
"Peace is overrated," the blue man said flippantly, "and I will not leave. I have come for your castle and I will have it. If you will not surrender, I will simply take it."
"There's three of us," said Snape, bolder now that he did not stand alone.
"It doesn't matter. Three or three hundred, I will still take it."
A sudden heavy feeling filled Dumbledore's stomach, like his breakfast had turned to lead. It became only heavier when Snape said, "You and what army?" and he saw the smile that spread across the blue man's face.
"I was wondering when you'd say that."
Producing a small glass orb with an odd gesture of his hands, he turned and hurled it away from him toward the tree line.
The wind blasted when the orb exploded, tearing a rift in reality.
"It's so inconvenient dragging them around everywhere," he shouted over the howl of the wind. "I find it much easier just to open the door when I'm ready for them."
It clarified, the doorway I mean, as he spoke, and the three magic users could only stare as the first lines marched through. Feet pounded across ground twigged and leafed by the comings and goings of the woodcutters and farmers. Beating their own presence into the malleable earth as they formed up on the blue man, banners waving, armor glinting.
"Albus," said McGonagall weakly.
"I know," he replied, face as hard and unreadable as stone.
… Get the pig!
"Are you seeing this? You are seeing this, aren't you?"
"I'm seeing it Bill," Harry said. "You were right, she is rather comely."
Though comely is not a word he would normally use to describe someone, bit old fashioned, but it seemed to fit. The half goblin girl was comely, could even be considered cute if you wiped the soot off her face, the ash off her clothes and the cinders from her hair.
Her skin was a brownish color, dark caramel, while her hair was the color of soot, or may have just been full of soot, it was hard to tell at a distance.
Even not being told of her heritage it was easy to tell she was neither human nor Elwin. She shared a height with Bill while still having the proportions that spoke of being an adult and her ears were a touch longer than normal with just a bit of a point, something neither Harry nor Bill possessed.
The proportions of her face, size of the nose, the eyes, while placed in a fashion to be not unattractive, made it clear she got the good genes from her mother, who had taken the genes from her father and done things with them they never would have dreamed possible.
This was easy to see by the twenty points of comparison standing opposite her. Twenty green goblins with their pointed ears and pointy teeth. They weren't like the goblins Harry remembered, they were too tall, though still shorter than he. Gangly, scrawny, and each one holding some sort of weapon.
That was the first problem, and likely what Bill had been referring to when he asked if Harry was 'seeing this'.
Harry was seeing this, and more, or boar if you prefer. Another goblin, bigger than the others, in a tarnished breastplate and helmet, sitting atop the boar holding a fancy looking club, threateningly pointed at the half goblin girl.
That was the problem; 'the' problem.
They had come across the tableau upon reaching the edge of the trees some thirty or so yards from her home where they remained, unseen, observing.
"What do we do?" Bill asked.
"Wish I could hear what their saying," said Harry.
"The big one is demanding things," said Rosebud. "I know you have more, he says. I'm losing my patience, he says."
The two men stared, "You can hear them?" Harry asked, feeling stupid a moment later when he remembered who he was talking to.
"I've given you all I have, she says," Rosebud continued to relay. "I don't believe you, he says. You 'gotta' have more, he says. I live alone, I don't need that much, she says."
He clearly didn't believe her or didn't care which seemed more likely. They didn't need to hear what he was saying to see that, at least, Harry didn't. He knew a Dudley when he saw one; the boar rider was Dudley in green body paint with more than the usual number of lackeys.
He noticed too; the lackeys looked far less enthusiastic than their leader with the current activity, shifting about nervously, refusing to look directly at either the girl or their leader. It wouldn't take much to break their resolve, Harry thought.
"He's getting angry," said Rosebud.
"Wait," said Harry. "If he tries to attack her, we go. Send the wolves after the other goblins, I'll get her out of harm's way. We kill the rider the others will break and run."
"What should I do?" Bill asked.
But before Harry could answer the club was pulled back, hands were raised in defense, and there was no more time. "GO!"
Before they could blink, Harry was there, then Harry was not there.
The boar rider was equally shocked when his club passed through open air, and the momentum nearly threw him from his mount.
"WHAT! Huh? Where'd she go!"
Twenty feet away, 'she' was staring up at an unfamiliar face and trying very hard to fight down the rebellion in her stomach.
"Who—who are…" it was a hard fight that required all her concentration.
Anyway, there was little time for questions. The boar rider had just regained his balance and spotted them when a howl went up and Bill Baggs charged from the tree line, followed by a half dozen wolves. Then it was Bill following the wolves who brushed past the rider, startling the hog who flailed about like a bucking bronco.
The rider hung on for dear life, losing his club to grip his mount with both hands.
Bill, now charging alone, rushed the raging boar. His small sword gleamed in his hand, drawing the boar's attention, ceasing its thrashing for the briefest instant it took for Bill to drive the sword into its throat.
The thrashing recommenced; it's death flails hurling Bill like a sack of flour, and its rider like the second place at a rodeo.
The armored goblin rolled as he hit the ground, come to a stop upright and only slightly dazed. He snarled as his mount gave a final twitch and he quickly sought out someone to vent his anger on.
"Ready to give up."
Glaring at the scrawny man thing, he decided it would do. Snatching up his fallen club he bellowed a challenge and charged. The human had no time to react before he was on him, club held high came crashing down to crush the pitiful man creature.
Except, it didn't. Looking down at his empty hands which should have held a bloody club, the goblin marveled. Looking up, he saw his club floating just overhead.
"Now are you ready to give up."
The goblin snarled, "I'll flay you alive wizard! You and that stupid little bitch!"
The wizard flinch at his declaration, or something like that. It was mostly in the eyes, bright green, and glowing. "Is that so," he said.
Tired of standing, the goblin attempted to leap at the wizard, but found his legs would not respond. He looked down and discovered, to his shock, he was turning gray, and stiff; stiff as stone.
The transfiguration was progressive but quick, taking the head last which attempted to shriek in horror, realizing in its final instant what was happening; then its only thought was the eternal thought of marble and granite.
The other goblins, surrounded by growling wolves, watched the wizard retrieve their leaders club, reel back, and swing for the fences. The ugly stone head flew a majestic arc, disappearing into the bushes.
His work done, he turned to them, "How bout the rest of you?"
Weapons thudded to the ground, followed by goblin knees, then goblin heads.
"I think that means they surrender," said Rosebud, strolling up to join him.
"Gee thanks, I never would have guessed."
… Mono a mono
"Sweet Merlin! They just keep coming."
Row on row they marched in perfect formation, the blue man's army. As McGonagall said, they just kept coming, never breaking stride, never stepping out of line. No thrown together horde but a professional army. Dumbledore marveled at the diversity.
The front ranks were stocky dwarves, led by their banner man, shield and spear, phalanx units. Behind them came dog like men Dumbledore did not know, marching with trained precision, gripping the pair of short swords belted around their waists, ready to draw at a moment's notice.
Behind those came a single line of tall goat-legged men, satyrs, each carrying some sort of long heavy weapon, bearded axes, poleaxes, one even carried a large wooden mallet. And behind these, the most worrisome units, golems. Twenty rows of stone men marched in mechanical lockstep, the last of them stepping through just as the portal sealed shut.
"Impossible," Snape cowered.
"There must be a thousand of them," McGonagall whispered.
Twelve hundred, he'd counted them as they came through. Twelve hundred… and three. And it was those three that worried him the most. They were the only ones mounted of the entire group, wearing ornate robes, and carrying long staves with bejeweled heads.
It had been a long time since wizards had used such things, at least according to their history. Looking at the three mounted magic users, it was clear they had not fallen out of fashion everywhere.
"So, what do you think of my army?"
Snape, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say, though his lip did curl like he'd tasted something sour. This greatly amused the blue skin man. "I thought as much. You can always tell a lot about someone by the way they run their mouth when they think they've got the advantage. And what about you 'old' man? Impressed?"
"They appear, most exemplary," he felt no harm in admitting.
"Bit smaller a force than I usually travel with, but needs must be met," he said conversationally. "Back to the matter at hand, my castle. I am, at this time, prepared to accept your unconditional surrender, if you should like to be giving it—hint, hint."
Yes, big hint, twelve hundred big. "I cannot."
"Really!"
"Your army is great, but my responsibility is greater," said Dumbledore. "I cannot—I will not abandon them."
"Them, yes, your castle full of children," the blue man said through a frustrated scowl. "You must know, even if you beat us back, it will not go easy for them."
His own visage darkened at the none too subtle threat, "They are children."
"Which makes them soft targets, wouldn't you agree."
He would, which is exactly why he felt his ire rising. "I will not let you."
"You have no choice. I take no pleasure in slaughter. It is a useless waste and I did not come here for corpses. I will have that castle, and all those within it. All who resist will die. Now, I say again, surrender."
"No." He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it.
And the blue man could see his mind would not be changed, "Stubborn fool," he said. "But if that is to be your choice, I offer a compromise."
"Compromise," it couldn't be. After demanded unconditional surrender, he now spoke of compromise. It had to be a trick.
"You claim responsibility, you claim you will not surrender. I must then assume you are prepared to die upholding this responsibility."
"If I must," though I'd rather not, he left unsaid, gripping his wand in preparation.
"Then let us do this like gentleman," the blue man said, gesturing to one of the wizards who tossed him a large curved blade, a scimitar. "We shall fight, you and I. If I win, your castle and its inhabitants are mine."
"And if I win?" said Dumbledore.
"My army will leave."
"Your army, but what of you?"
"If I lose, I will be dead," he said simply. "Was that not clear? This will of course be a fight to the death."
Ah, there it was, "To the death, like civilized men."
"Indeed," he said, drawing his sword and tossing the sheath aside, "civilized men."
"Albus!" McGonagall cast him a pleading look, but what could he do?
"Very well, I accept your challenge."
"Excellent. Feel free to fetch your weapon, I'll wait."
Drawing back his sleeve, he pointed his wand, "This will do."
The blue man shrugged, leaning the curved blade on his shoulder, "By your leave."
He didn't attack straight away. He had not the young man's daring, nor speed, nor stamina. He knew next to nothing about his enemy while his enemy almost certainly knew something about him. He was at a complete disadvantage and he knew it.
He started slow, slow and small. The one thing he did know was his opponent was quick and light on his feet. The stunner was never expected to hit him, nor the follow up, or the half dozen after that; they did not disappoint.
The blue skinned man danced around his spells like it were the ballet, slowly moving in closer till he was within dashing distance. His speed surprised the old wizard, his sword slicing through the air so recently occupied.
"You are fast," said Dumbledore, now twenty feet away. "But so am I."
He forwent simple stunners for a stunning whip he lashed at the sword wielder. Whips, as anyone who knows anything will tell you, are difficult weapons, both to wield and dodge. The stun whip struck like a serpent, sending up bits of the earth as it missed again and again to connect with its target.
Such was not all for naught as he drove him to a position he could not dance around. The whip snaked to strike at his calves and the blue man leapt into the air. The whip followed, glancing off his sword to no effect. His feet had only touched the ground when the sword leapt from his hands like a vertical boomerang, flying at Dumbledore.
Another apparation saved him a skewering but also cost him his whip and the blue man was already on the move to retrieve his sword.
A barrage of inconveniencing spells flew in rapid succession, exploding small patches of the earth with unutilized magic. The sword was collected without issue and the swift stride readjusted toward Dumbledore.
Finally understanding his opponent was too quick for such point and shoot magic, he turned to his true strength, raising the ground up in an earthen wall, followed by row after row of spikes when the blue man tried to scale it.
Flipping away from the impaling implement, he tried to go around only to find a pair of angry dogs waiting. Without so much as blinking he dispatched the beasts and continued forward.
Dumbledore vanished to the other side of the wall, wrapping it around his opponent who escaped out the top just before he was able to close it, flinging his sword again and forcing Dumbledore to abandon his work for another new location.
By some unspoken agreement there was a brief pause. The blue man collecting his sword while Dumbledore collected his breath. It had been years since he'd done that much casting so quickly. Few realized just how taxing it could be performing magic at such a velocity.
"I feel I owe you an apology," the blue man said, surprising Dumbledore. "I underestimated you."
"You wouldn't be the first," Dumbledore replied, which was entirely true. His most historic victory had been just that.
"But I shall be the last," he said, "and with that in mind, I shall cease holding back."
A bolt of pure energy flew from his hand, smashing like a battering ram against a shield raised just in the nick of time.
A sudden flux of temperature was all the warning he had to fuel an instinct driven apparition that saved him from the ring of frost that turned a small circle into a frozen funeral.
The blue man was on him almost before his apparition was complete, running at him while leading with yet another spell, a focused bolt of cold that exploded in a burst of snow against his shield.
A half-formed wall caught the sword before the sword caught him, but the boot was faster than the wand and he was sent sprawling to the ground with an ominous crack and an agonizing wince.
Fighting through the pain he vanished again before the sword could be freed. He felt it again as he reappeared but fought it down, knowing far worse was in store if he didn't. And far worse was coming again, he lashed out without thought.
The flame whip pushed the blue man back in acrobatic flips, ducking, dodging, narrowly avoiding with a precision that defied belief. If he'd been able to feel things like discouragement he would have been crushed, but in the midst of casting there was no feeling except magic. Magic and cold.
Another ring of frost shortened his whip and the blue man rushed in, his hand sparking with a sort of power Dumbledore knew would be fatal if it hit him.
The whip was abandoned for a shield that lit up like Christmas when the lightning bolt stuck. He tried to hold it, but something was wrong. His arms felt weak, and his neck felt odd.
He looked at the blue man for some indication. The golden eyes gave away nothing. His scimitar, edged in red, sat casually on his shoulder.
Words attempted to form, but the wind would not pass his lips, then quite suddenly he was moving, the world around him spun, then he was looking straight up, straight up at his own self, sans head. It was a most befuddling moment.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The attack from behind was expected. He didn't know what the words meant, didn't know what the green light would do it if touched him, and he had no intention of finding out at that moment. The spell flew harmless past his shoulder, and his sword flew far from harmless into the greasy looking man's chest where it remained, till he went and pulled it out.
"I suspect he thought himself very clever for doing that," the blue man remarked to the elderly witch who stood gob smacked at the sudden and efficient use of violence.
He allowed her a time to collect herself while he cleaned his sword, collected his sheath, and returned the weapon to its case. "Now, if you'd like to take your shot let us be about it. If not, perhaps you'd like to show me my castle."
… Who's the boss
"Truly, truly a strange day," Bill mused, sipping from his teacup in a distracted manor.
"Probably best not to think about," Harry said, tending the spit, then turning to tend the other one.
"I'm usually very adaptable, you know," the small man said, "but everything is happening so fast today. It's hard to keep up."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "gotta light your ass on fire just so you don't fall behind."
He'd never had prisoners before. Technically speaking, it didn't feel like he had them now either, though the surrendered goblins had assured him that is what they were. He hadn't felt like arguing, so he let Gabby, the half-goblin girl, and Rosebud figure it out.
He should have known this was a foolish thing to do. Rosebud alone was far to persnickety for his own good, and even knowing nothing about Gabby, she was still female. And the sort of female comfortable living alone in the middle of nowhere.
The sort of person who could do that was not to be trifled with. So, he didn't and left the two overbearing females to deal with his 'prisoners'.
His mistake became apparent when one of the goblins, followed by the two females, approached him holding the dead leaders club which he offered up in a distinctly ceremonial fashion.
Knowing not what else to do, Harry accepted the club, and this was where he realized he was in trouble. The goblins yipped and hooted excitedly, joined by the wolves which did likewise.
"What did I just do?" he asked the smirking vampire.
"Some sort of custom," she said flippantly. "You want to explain it to him."
"It's nothing so difficult to understand," said Gabby. "You killed the former leader. By accepting his weapon you've claimed by right of combat all that was his. In this case, them."
The goblins, hooting excitedly.
"Huh?"
"You're the boss," she simplified.
But his brain still could not comprehend, "Huh?"