Isadora's Final Stand
A D'veen Tale
Finton Merrybrook stood at the edge of a vast quarry long abandoned. He had decided to venture out for a walk, for it was a cool night, and his mind was restless.
As he stood staring at the shell of what used to be a marvel of engineering, his mind wandered to one of the many tales he had collected over the years.
He recalled Isadora, daughter of the Dwarven King Brocknar. The story of how she saved her people from the clutches of an unfathomable horror had earned her a place in the halls of history.
Of course, Finton hadn’t been there, but he could imagine what it must have been like, based on the stories passed down through the Dwarven people.
The quarry was massive, but the pit in the center had originally led down to a hollow cavern where the dwarves built their first kingdom. Now, it was nothing more than rubble. The bars of an ancient prison are best left sealed.
Finton wished he could walk through that cavern again with Kazra by his side. After all, she had been the one to create it. It was hand-crafted, a passion project during the cultivation of the realm.
She had hoped that the children of the Aluthian Titans would one day call it home, be they man, dwarf, elf, or something else entirely.
The Dwarven people called it Kazra's Deep as a dedication to her, but they didn’t really know her. Not like he did.
Finton looked up at the shattered moon in the night sky.
“Perhaps tonight, the story is for me,” he said.
Finton sat down with his legs dangling over the ledge and replayed the legend of Isadora’s Final Stand in his mind.
Corporal Jack Cassidy took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it into the desert sand beneath his stained boots. He stamped it out, his eyes squinting through the wavering heat mirages in the distance.
One last job, Cassidy, and then you can retire.
Cassidy should have just told the admiral to go fuck himself, but instead, he got talked into another trip to the Middle East. The kind of trip that never happened.
A black ops operation, and in a career filled with strange missions that could fill an entire conspiracy theory website, this one sounded like it would take the cake.
Your curiosity got the best of you, huh?
Cassidy chuckled at his own joke. He checked the safety of his M4A1 and turned around. Behind him was a desert cave carved by time and wind into the side of a mountain.
It looked perfectly normal, but if his intel was right, it was a stable wormhole.
A portal to another universe.
Cassidy had laughed when his CO said that, but his commanding officer didn’t laugh with him.
Wait, you’re serious?
They sent him out to the Middle East with a whole squadron, but the others had a different mission.
A normal one.
Cassidy’s orders were clear. He slung the M4A1 on his back, tightening the strap across his chest, and stepped into the cave. It quickly became clear this wasn’t an ordinary cave.
Cassidy’s feet were still, yet he felt himself rocketing through space and time. Tossed about like laundry in a dryer. Colors and images flashed all around him, soaring by in smeared blurs. He tried to breathe, tried to blink, but he couldn’t.
Then he arrived.
He stood on solid ground, but the air was different. Even underground, it felt clean. Untainted by the march of industry or the bite of gunpowder. It was clear he wasn’t on Earth anymore.
A piercing roar crashed through the tunnel ahead. Cassidy readied his rifle and charged headlong toward the sound. His training was exquisite, his mind battle-hardened. He had courted death so many times that he could tell you its life story.
He emerged into a vast underground cavern. A winding pathway sprawled out before him. It led to a castle built into the roots of a mountain, with massive braziers casting a flickering glow across the walls.
Another roar tore through the air. He looked down to the right side of the castle. He spotted what looked like little people wielding axes and bows on a plateau.
Vast tentacles emerged from a black abyss near the edge, plucking the fighters like fruit from the ground and retreating into the darkness. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It had been some time since he enjoyed a good fantasy novel or a video game, but Cassidy was certain:
These were Dwarves.
He didn’t bother to question how such a fantasy race could exist. He saw people in trouble, and he knew he needed to help. Cassidy sprinted down the winding path toward the battlefield
As he got closer, he saw clockwork robots fighting alongside the dwarves. It was unlike anything he had ever seen on Earth and further proof that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, figuratively speaking.
The hulking machines had blades for hands. They used great broadswords to slice and stab at the tentacles that rose from the depths. As Cassidy reached the fray, he raised his M4A1 and fired a few bursts. The bullets tore into one of the tentacles.
An otherworldly scream echoed out from the depths. Among the dwarves, a redheaded woman paused and turned toward the sound.
She had piercing green eyes and freckled skin. She wore a suit of shimmering golden armor and wielded axes in each hand. She was perhaps one of the most beautiful things Cassidy had ever laid eyes upon.
He lowered the rifle as she charged toward him, axes held high.
“Wait, I’m not here to hurt—”
Cassidy instinctively raised his rifle to block the dwarven woman’s attack. Her axe ricocheted off the barrel of his gun, giving him a moment to step back.
“Stop! I’m here to help!” He shouted.
The woman lowered her axes. Her burning eyes traced a path over Cassidy’s body.
“What manner of weapon do you carry?” she asked.
“It’s called an M4A1. It’s an assault rifle.”
She stared at him with a blank expression.
“It fires bullets. Really fast. Watch.”
Cassidy raised his rifle, and the woman readied her axes.
“Relax. Just watch.”
Cassidy let out several bursts of gunfire, each finding its target within a separate tentacle. Three of the slimy appendages retreated as he hit them.
The Dwarven woman nodded, her face painted with approval. “Very well, strange man. You shall fight alongside us.”
Cassidy nodded, following the woman back into the fray. He took up a position closer to the towering monstrosity. He crouched low and began firing bursts into each tentacle. The other dwarves quickly became aware of his weapon’s efficacy.
Many of them stopped fighting to watch as he sent tentacle after tentacle retreating into the abyss. The battle was over before he ran out of ammo.
The dwarves swarmed around Cassidy, their jaws agape and their beards tangled with dirt. Their weary eyes regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and dread. The Dwarven woman pushed through them. Cassidy saw the way they looked at her. With respect. Admiration.
She must be the one in charge.
“Give me your name, strange man,” she said, holstering her axes on her back.
“Jack Cassidy, Ma’am.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am?”
“It’s how we address a woman where I’m from. If you’re a man, you say, sir.”
She nodded. “And if you are neither?”
“Well, I guess in that case, you’re non-binary. Wait, do you have that here?” he asked.
The woman shook her head. “People, sir, be they dwarves, elves, or men, don’t fit into tidy boxes. So yes. To answer your question, we have that here. Follow me; we have much to discuss.”
Cassidy followed the Dwarven woman towards the castle’s gate.
“So, are you their leader or something?” he asked.
“My father was. King Brocknar, first of his name. Nineteenth ruler of the Dwarven kingdom.”
“Sounds like a pretty impressive guy.”
She stopped, still facing away from him.
“He was, for a time, but then he went mad in pursuing imagined treasures hiding beneath our feet.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did something happen?” Cassidy asked.
“He was killed. Slain by his mad dog assassin,” she spat on the ground. “And the world is all the better for it.”
She led Cassidy into the castle grounds. He felt the eyes of other dwarves watching him as he walked past. The construction was impressive, on a scale the likes of which he had never seen.
“I never got your name,” Cassidy said.
“I never gave it. I am Isadora Brocknar.”
She pushed open a set of massive doors with ease. Cassidy walked through into a sprawling throne room. Flanking the throne were two dwarves in ornate golden armor. They carried polished halberds, which they crossed over the empty throne.
As Isadora approached, they pulled back their blades. She set her axes down beside the throne and took her place on it. Cassidy could feel those emerald eyes burrowing into him.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
“Well, I went through some sort of portal. I think it is somehow connecting our two worlds.”
She nodded as a dwarf in lavish and embroidered clothing approached with a platter. Upon it sat a goblet. Isadora plucked it from the surface, taking a large gulp.
“And your world. Does it have more of the weapons you carry with you?”
“Uh, you mean guns? Yeah, we have a lot more.”
Isadora drank the rest of the liquid from the goblet and slammed on the armrest of her throne; the sound echoed through the chamber.
“More wine!” she declared.
The servant returned with a pitcher, eagerly filling the cup to the brim before retreating.
“I will give you three men. You will return from whence you came and procure these weapons of war. We will use them to silence Borgoth’Ur.”
Cassidy was still trying to wrap his head around the entire scenario. “What’s a Borgoth’Ur?”
Isadora took a drink of her wine, never breaking eye contact.
“The Slumbering Terror. One of the old gods that ruled D’veen before the reign of the Aluthian Titans. My father’s hubris awoke it, and now we must silence it before it can escape this cavern. We must succeed at any cost.”
“What happens if it escapes?” Cassidy asked.
“Death. A slow and painful one. Not just for ourselves, but for the realm of D’veen.”
Cassidy didn’t know the rules of this world, but it was clear that this was a significant threat. As a soldier, he knew not to question his duty.
“Alright. Give me your men, and we’ll get it done.”
Isadora nodded. “I like you, Cassidy.”
“Please, call me Jack.”
Isadora gestured to her servant. He ran over to her, and she whispered something in his ear.
“Right away, my queen,” he said, scurrying off.
Isadora took another drink of her wine. “So, Jack, tell me about this world you’ve come from. Is it peaceful?”
Cassidy stifled a laugh. “No, ma’am. I mean, it can be, but more often than not, we’re fighting each other.”
She nodded. “So it is not so different from our own.”
“What is this place called?” Cassidy asked.
Isadora gestured above and all around her with an open palm.
“You stand within the halls of Kazra’s deep—the heart of the Dwarven kingdom. Our realm, D’veen, once knew glory and prosperity. A place of magic and science, of knowledge and wisdom.”
“But it’s not that way now?” Cassidy asked.
Isadora’s eyes fell to the ground. “No. It is not.”
Cassidy looked back as the doors to the throne room swung open. Three weary dwarves, fresh from the battlefield, lined up in front of him, facing the throne.
"Draenor, son of Drakar. Gimson, son of Glorain. Xander, son of Xaldun. You three are my most faithful soldiers,” Isadora said.
The three dwarves all knelt before her, a closed fist over their hearts. One had a sword on his back. Another had a spear, and the third had a crossbow.
“We live to serve!” they shouted in unison.
“Rise, my friends.”
They stood up.
“Come here, Jack,” Isadora said.
Cassidy walked in front of the three men, turning to face them. They regarded him with curiosity.
“This man is from another realm. One with weapons both strange and fearsome. You will follow him and obtain more of these weapons so we may send Borgoth’Ur back to the depths of the hollow world.”
The dwarves all nodded.
“They are yours to command, Jack Cassidy. Do not let us down. You hold the fate of all D’veen in your hands.”
Cassidy saluted. Even though they were from different worlds, he could tell Isadora understood the meaning of the gesture.
“Good hunting,” she said.
Cassidy led the three dwarves back to the wormhole. After another disorientating trip through spacetime, they landed back in the desert. It was night. Cassidy realized that time must pass differently between our two realms.
Cassidy led the three dwarves back to the supply depot with weapons, ammunition, and explosives stores. They found a vantage point nearby and lay prone as Cassidy examined the camp with a pair of binoculars.
“What manner of magic are you using?” Draenor whispered.
“I believe it is some sort of device,” Gimson replied.
“You fools. It is clearly an enchanted artifact,” Xander added.
“They’re called binoculars. They let me see far away things. Here, try them out.”
Cassidy handed the binoculars to Draenor, who regarded them as if they might explode at any moment.
“Look through here,” Cassidy said, pointing to the viewing side.
Draenor turned toward his fellow dwarves and looked into the binoculars. He let out a yelp and dropped them into the sand.
“By the old Gods, you were gigantic!” he said.
The three scrambled over who would try out the binoculars next. Cassidy looked back to the camp, watching the guards retreat from the perimeter for the shift switch.
“Hey, all of you! It’s time to move.”
Cassidy took back his binoculars, and they headed toward the camp. The group gathered around the backside of the main tent.
“Now remember, stay absolutely quiet.”
Cassidy lifted the cloth exterior, and they stepped inside. He walked over to one of the crates and pulled the lid open. M4A1s were stacked inside.
“Draenor, take as many of these as you can carry.”
The dwarf began gingerly pulling out rifles and slinging them over his shoulder. It was crude but effective, and Cassidy marveled at how many he could carry.
Cassidy opened another crate of ammo. “Gimson, can you carry this?”
Gimson lifted it with ease. Cassidy watched as the veins in his thick biceps bulged to support the weight.
Cassidy turned to the explosives crate. “Xander, I want you to help me with these, but you must be careful.”
Silence.
“Xander, are you listening?”
Cassidy turned around and saw two soldiers, Henson and Daniels, aiming their weapons at them.
“Hands up, now!” they both shouted.
Cassidy did as they asked. The dwarves did so as well, though still holding their weapons. They were more confused than afraid.
“Guys, it’s me, Cassidy.”
Henson’s eyes wandered from the dwarves.
“Cassidy? What the fuck’s going on? Are these…”
“Gnomes?” Daniels asked.
“We’re Dwarves, you dolt!” Gimson growled.
“Guys, just put the guns down; I can explain,” Cassidy said.
“We’ve no time for this!” Draenor said. He turned the hilt of his blade and cracked it against both soldier’s skulls with incredible speed.
They collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.
“Okay, that works,” Cassidy said.
“Let us take our plunder and leave before more arrive,” Gimson said, hoisting the crate over his shoulder.
That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.
With the help of the surprisingly strong dwarves, they took all the explosives, guns, and ammo they could carry and returned to the wormhole.
When they returned, Cassidy felt a profound sense of deja vu. He saw a similar scene playing out on the plateau beside the castle, but the tentacles had returned in greater numbers.
The group made their way toward the battle below. Cassidy watched as the tentacles smashed the walls and ceiling of the cavern, using falling rocks to crush unfortunate dwarves and clockwork soldiers below them. Isadora broke from the fighting to join them.
“Your timing is fortuitous. Borgoth’Ur is restless, and I fear our time is nearly at an end. Did you bring the weapons?”
Cassidy opened the crates to show her.
“Good, we must distribute them immediately!”
Xander eagerly plucked one of the rifles from the grate. A devilish grin crawled across his face. Cassidy snatched the gun from his hands.
“No! These things are dangerous. They need training before using them,” he said.
Isadora gestured to the tentacles. “We don’t have time, Jack!”
Cassidy sighed. “Okay, at least let me demonstrate how they work. Can your clockwork soldiers hold the line for a second?”
Isadora nodded. She raised her arm and flipped it over. Within her gauntlet sat a complex panel composed of dials and switches. She flipped two of the switches and watched as the dials changed.
In the distance, the remaining clockwork soldiers formed a phalanx; their swords pointed forward as they marched into the fray.
“Warriors! To me!” Isadora shouted.
The dwarves retreated, gathering around Cassidy and the crates.
“Alright, this is going to be quick and dirty. Battlefield training always is, after all,” Cassidy shouted.
He demonstrated how to reload the rifles and how to disengage the safety. His impromptu training ended with the most important aspect of using a gun.
He pointed to the tip of the barrel. “Remember, just point this end at the tentacles and pull the trigger,” he said, handing rifles and clips of ammo to the fighters.
Soon, Cassidy had armed a vast portion of the fighters. The cacophony of gunfire echoed through the cavern, but the beast was far more resilient than the last time he had encountered it.
From behind the front lines, Cassidy waved Isadora over to show her the explosives. He picked up one of the bricks of plastic explosive, already armed with a detonator.
“This is called C4. It’s a bomb,” he said.
“Fascinating,” she said, turning the bomb in her hand.
“The way I see it, we can arm this whole place with it. We’ll put explosives on the supports of the castle. If we do that, it should bring down the whole structure on Borgoth’Ur’s head, that is, if it even has a head,” Cassidy said.
Isadora shook her head. “Such a plan will result in all of our deaths.”
“I know, that’s why you and your people will flee. I’ll stay behind and detonate the bombs.”
“You would sacrifice yourself for a people you’ve only just met?”
“Ma’am, I’ve been a soldier my whole life. When I joined this cause, I had no disillusions about how it would end.”
Isadora set the explosive down.
“An honorable death is perhaps the greatest thing a warrior can aspire to, I suppose.”
Cassidy nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”
She picked up one of the rifles. “Good. Then I shall stay with you.”
“What? No! What about your people?” Cassidy asked.
“They are Dwarves! They do not need someone such as me to hold their hand. They will survive and endure, as we always have. Besides, a death such as this will secure my place in the halls of my ancestors. It is a fitting end.”
Cassidy was shocked at how calm she was, but he understood where she was coming from. He had also known her long enough to realize she would not be swayed.
“Alright then. Order your people to retreat, and I’ll show you how to arm these bombs.”
“Dwarves of D’veen, lend me your ears! It is time to lay your weapons down and leave. Gather your families your children, and head for the surface.” She turned to face me. “The stranger and I will seal Borgoth’Ur’s tomb with his weapons of destruction.”
The men were visibly confused but obeyed their queen’s orders. Cassidy demonstrated the process of arming the C4. He told her where to plant the bombs to collapse the castle, the plateau, and the cavern itself.
Cassidy didn’t tell her, but he was guessing. He had no true experience in demolitions, but fortunately for them, they had a lot of explosives. As they placed the bombs, the people fled, and the beast beneath clawed its way upward with every passing second.
The tentacles gave way to a body with shimmering black skin and eyes that protruded from all angles across the surface. Simply glancing at it sent a sharp pain through Cassidy’s head. It was clearly not meant to be perceived.
As the last of the Dwarves left for the surface, Isadora and Cassidy stood with their backs facing the lurching horror known as Slumbering Terror.
“So, once I press this button, everything detonates,” Cassidy said.
She nodded. “And this will send Borgoth’Ur back to the depths of the world?”
It should. “Yes. These are powerful bombs.”
Isadora glanced behind her briefly. Cassidy saw her face sour at the sight of the thing.
“Tell me, Jack, what do your people believe happens when you die?”
Cassidy had to think about it for a moment. “Well, some of us believe there is an afterlife. Others believe that nothing happens at all. That we cease to be. What do your people believe?”
Isadora smiled. “We believe we are reunited with our lost ancestors and loved ones. They will greet us with open arms in an infinite banquet hall called Venaraheim. It offers endless food and wine. A fitting reward for a warrior’s death.”
Cassidy looked down at the detonator in his hand.
“I like your version better.”
Isadora placed her hand over his.
“Then I shall see you there, my friend.”
Cassidy nodded, closed his eyes, and pressed the button to detonate the explosives.
Finton stood up as a cold wind swept past him. He looked down at the collapsed quarry, imagining those final moments between Isadora and Cassidy.
The dwarves of D’veen often spoke of a savior from another realm: one that spared them and all of D’veen, the wrath of Borgoth’Ur.
Many saw it as an exaggeration. Nothing more than a tale that had spun out of control after being shared over generations.
But Finton had a feeling there was a kernel of truth to the tale. That the story of Jack Cassidy was perhaps as true as the tales would have you believe.
After all, Finton knew many stories others would not believe, but that did not make them any less real.
He started the walk back home, quietly contemplating Isadora and the stranger who saved all of D’veen.
Thank for Reading! Here’s Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this after reading, like pairing a glass of wine with dinner.
First of all, Dwarves with guns??? Badass. You made that work completely. And overall this was an amazing read. I absolutely dig the entire world you’ve created here and all I can say is that it’s so damn unique, paired with your amazing writing voice that just exudes fun fantasy mixed with heartfelt tragedy. I love your D’Veen tales.
i am OBSESSED. I love this story, i love that we get to see Fenton giving himself a story for once, the story itself is amazing... everything about this is absolutely incredible