by P D Dennison
“Axe, please,” said Turynn with his hand outstretched to Ravak, who very quickly and curiously produced one of his axes in great anticipation of what was to come next.
He’d never seen a thief in action before. He found Turynn’s skills to be most intriguing. Turynn always managed to produce another very useful little tool from his pants, all procured from the odds and sods he’d found around Krigaar’s cabin. Just imagine what he’d be capable of with an expertly crafted set of tools.
Turynn placed the back of the axe head against the rod and glove to line it up and then gave it a whack. Nothing happened. He shook his head and rubbed his hand through his hair out of frustration, muttering something about motherless goats, and whacked it again. This time the rod slipped into the lock and he smiled, letting out a little chuckle as he often did when his plans came to fruition. He took back his glove, handed Ravak back the axe, replaced his pipe between his teeth, taking a large pull while smiling coyly at his sister as the smoke billowed out his nostrils.
Manya grinned at him and shook her head in disbelief at his way of doing things. He turned the rod over, grabbed hold if it very firmly, gave it a good hard crank, and the latch opened fully.
“There we are. A little patience sometimes pays off. Ravak, we’re going to need your arm on that door. She’ll be stuck fast.”
He nodded and began to work on the door, which seemed very firmly stuck even now it was unlocked. He pulled the rusted old handle right off the door, leaving them no way to work it open at all and stuck again they were.
Manya heard Kaldrinn’s cry and her eyes went wide, not recognizing the voice.
“See?” said Turynn, “I was right.” He grinned at her again and gave her a wink.
The cry came again, but this time it sounded like a voice very familiar to both Turynn and Manya, Rostioff.
“Manya? Turynn? Are you over there?”
Manya leaned over and looked around to see Rostioff’s face peeking out of Graxxen’s chamber. She instantly lit up and smiled broadly. The tears came almost immediately. It was like a flood gate opened to relieve her of all the stress she’d been placed under and she wanted to collapse into Rostioff’s arms like a little girl and fall asleep there, telling him of all the things they’d endured. He’d been like a father to both of the Silverleafs and they were quite relieved to hear his voice and see his face.
“We’re stuck, Master Rostioff. The door won’t budge and we’ve broken the latch. Can you come around and kick it in for us?” Turynn explained to him.
Not a moment later came a great crash at the door as Kaldrinn booted at it from hallway. It took a couple of good hard kicks, but eventually the rusted hinges gave and broke and he knocked open the door.
Manya came out into the hallway, she threw her arms round Rostioff’s neck and gave him a great hug and kiss, then stepped back to have a good look at him.
“Your hair! What is this magnificent staff you have?” He couldn’t believe her appearance for it had certainly changed. He could sense powerful magick at work.
“All in good time, master. The eggs are our first priority. We must get them out and back to the Tower immediately. Graxxen will be alerted to our coming by his ghouls and they seem to know both parties are here now. They’re hungry for our blood so we’d best move quickly.” She turned to head into Graxxen’s chamber when she stopped cold at the sight of a brilliant flash from within. She extended her arms to stop the others as well and raised one hand to her mouth to shush them.
“Someone or something has just Transportaled into that chamber,” she whispered.
Turynn crept ahead with Kaldrinn close behind, bow at the ready. There in the dim and gloomy torchlight stood the imposing figure of Graxxen the lich. He busied himself invoking some sort of ritual. Turynn scampered back, nearly bowling over Kaldrinn after not realizing the Ranger had followed.
“It’s Graxxen,” he said.
Rostioff gently herded them all away from the doorway to speak with them out of earshot. “I want you all to listen and listen closely as I am only going to say this once. I will battle Graxxen. Me and me alone. I want the rest of you to help Manya secure the eggs into one large pile and prepare them for transport. When the moment is right, Turynn will give me the signal and I’ll leap onto the pile and Transportal them all back to the keep. The rest of you, keep those damnable ghouls out to allow us to make our plan work! Once I’ve gone, flee! Don’t try to defeat Graxxen. He will not give chase as you won’t have the eggs and it’s his only purpose for being here. Now move!”
“But, master...”
He stepped confidently through the door into the chamber of the lich.
“Graxxen! You’ve come to your end and I’m here to send you back to your mistress in the Avgruxx!” Rostioff let forth a great fire from his hands, making a terrific sucking sound as it drew in all the air around it rushing out to find its target.
Graxxen laughed wildly at Rostioff’s threat. With a wave of his cape, out came his staff of power and with a spin, it materialized before him a great wall of ice at least a foot thick. But Rostioff forced his hands forward into the air and the fire pushed through the wall with a terrific crack then a crash as the ice came tumbling down. Rostioff raised his hand out and up in a fist striking it against the other open palm and a great fissure opened between Graxxen and the egg clutch. Graxxen shrieked with rage pointing his staff at Rostioff. He let fly with a sickening black wispy spell that reached through the air for Rostioff, black tendrils like the long fingers of death seeking it’s next victim. It hit Rostioff as he tried to regain his composure from his first attacks.
Manya cried out, “Master!”
His visage withered before her from that of a strong middle-aged man to that of an old one.
Rostioff staggered back at the sensation of so many seasons being taken from him all at once. He did his best to shake it off and pressed the attack. He called forth the meteors and began to hurl them at Graxxen, the first striking true against the lich’s staff, shattering and sending burning embers every which way. The lich stumbled back and threw up his cloak as the next hit his sleeve, burning through and exploding into his side, knocking him down. The third meteor came and Graxxen was ready. He fought back with more ice and sent a shower of tinkling icicle shards down upon the rock in midair, freezing it solid. With a wild swing of his staff, he shattered it as it came close, laughing like it was all merely a game to him.
“If this is the best men have to offer in defense of my awesome power, I shall have no issue taking your lands for my own and making you all my undead slaves!” He thrust both arms forward with the staff in his hands and out came the terrible form of a misty dragon-like apparition.
It snaked through the air slowly and wormed its way toward Rostioff, who met it with a crack of his sword into the earth before him. Up from the sword rose a great mound of bubbling mud and Rostioff staggered back, falling onto his backside so terribly weakened from the aging affects of Graxxen’s withering attack. The misty draconic form rose high into the air and took in a deep breath before breathing out a black vapour that resembled a swarm of insects. The earthen mass Rostioff had summoned was now fully formed into an Earth Elemental, a servant of another plane, and prepared to die for its summoner. It raised its hand and shot hot lava up at the dragon in the air, completely ignoring the swarming attack around it. The form of the dragon dissipated almost immediately from the heat. Hot rain of liquid rock fell all about Graxxen and he scampered to and fro with supernatural speed and agility, trying to dodge the deathly hot embers as they splashed onto the cave floor. The Elemental stepped forward, picking up great pieces of stone right out of the rock formation as if they were loose pebbles and hurled them at the lich. Graxxen dodged and made it free of all, but one. A massive piece found him and smashed him back into the wall of the cave. The rock sunk down to the ground and none could see the lich, thinking him crushed and gone beneath the massive boulder. The Elemental turned and bowed to R
ostioff before sinking back into the rock beneath it.
Rostioff slowly rose to his feet and took a couple of steps forward. The rubble exploded into the air with great force, knocking Rostioff back into the dragon egg clutch and breaking a few of the unhatched eggs in the process. Embryo and unformed dragon larvae spilled out around him. Graxxen leapt into the air, floating before him cackling, eyes blazing purple as he flew over. Rostioff’s robe had come open from the explosion of rubble and his Dragon Orb lay exposed on his chest. Graxxen shrieked and halted in midair before him.
“What’s this? You have the Fulcrum Orb!” He lunged at Rostioff.
Rostioff did the only thing he thought he could do to save the eggs and himself. He turned to Manya and Turynn and the rest and shouted;
“Flee!”
He grabbed the orb tight and Graxxen latched onto him as he spoke the incantation. In a flash of brilliant white light and with a clap of thunder, they disappeared.
“What happened?” said Postgaar.
“He’s gone. I think he took that foul creature with him,” said Manya, her voice cracking with fear of the unknown.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” commanded Kaldrinn as he ran for the door.
“Agreed,” Turynn replied as he put his hand on both Ravak and Manya’s shoulders. “Rostioff is a powerful mage and we needn’t worry for him.”
They managed to make their way back up to the keep unseen and didn’t see or smell any sign of the rotten dead things that hunted them. They came out into the main hall that led them back to their entry point where they faced a swarm of ghouls waiting for them to make an escape. The stench smelled like hot garbage left in the sun too long. It grew so intense that it burned the eyes and nostrils to be in the presence of so much death on one drove. They snarled and growled, drooling and reaching for the companions until finally their commander let out a roar that echoed throughout the halls of Dragon’s Maw Keep that sent them into an attacking frenzy.
Kaldrinn loosed an arrow into the fray of ghouls and then came Ravak’s and Turynn’s not far behind. They dropped nine of the foul beasts before they were overrun. Postgaar had taken a frontline position in front of Manya with his axe steady at his waist. They came hard and he swung in a long wide arc. Ravak leapt up on top of several and swung down, wildly flipping and rolling so quickly and agilely, the dead things could not keep up with his movements. He sent limbs flying and ghoul blood spraying in all directions. Turynn fell back, continuing to fire with his bow.
“Dwarf, behind you,” came Turynn`s warning.
Postgaar wheeled about to find one of the ghouls he’d already felled rising up and reaching out to take a bite out of his calf from behind. He stomped the creature’s skull into the floor.
“You must take off their heads at the neck completely or they do not die their final death,” he shouted out to Postgaar and rolled to one side, coming up under the chin of a ghoul with another arrow, pushing it right up through the monster’s skull and sending the beast reeling over backward, sputtering and slobbering black ghoulish blood.
Postgaar found a new task. He ran about cutting the heads of the ghouls off with his axe while Kaldrinn and the Barbarian cut them down. One by one he’d reach down for the heads of the ghouls, grab them by their brittle, dead hair and slice their heads off. A handful of scalp came free more than once due to the rot on the corpses. He’d simply toss it aside and step on their skulls chopping away at their necks, black, lifeless blood spraying up at him all the while as he did his dirty work.
Ravak watched Postgaar out of the corner of his eye as he battled the ghouls. He ensured that not a single ghoul made it within striking distance of the dwarf allowing him to complete his work.
Postgaar, drenched from his hands to his waist in ghoul blood, gagged at the terrible rotten smell that enveloped him, but he went ahead with his task, retching and grumbling.
Manya fended them off with her staff and wisps of magick, blasts of air currents, and meteors similar to those Rostioff used, but she faltered and every time either Ravak’s axes or Turynn’s arrows came to her aid.
It took many long minutes before the last of the horde fell before them and the hallway was quiet. Everyone panted wildly while Postgaar made his final rounds hacking off heads and flinging them into the walls of the hallway. The scene looked all gore and body parts, black ghoul blood and the rotting stench of the dead. Ravak turned to look about seeing shadows moving down the hallway from a distance.
“Move,” he shouted, pushing them all toward the exit.
All five companions ran for the door, panting and dragging their feet from utter exhaustion at the hard battle they’d just fought. They found their exit and made their way down into the courtyard easily enough.
“Where are your horses?” Turynn asked of Kaldrinn.
“We have none. We came in on foot. We left the horses on the north side of the Mystpeaks where the forest grew dense.”
“We must double up,” Ravak stated. “Manya, you can ride with me. Kaldrinn and the dwarf will take Manya’s horse. Let’s move before the moon rises and leaves us to the ghouls night time feeding.”
They made for the gates, which Kaldrinn had left open purposely to make a hasty exit. They turned north and broke hard down the road away from the keep. Turynn looked back a couple of times to see if the ghouls had followed, but they didn’t. However, Ravak called them to a halt after not more than five minutes and slowly led them off into the trees.
“There’s a patrol of goblins just ahead sitting off to the side of the road waiting for us. It’s likely they saw us coming from a ways off and plan to ambush us.” Ravak pointed out the two goblins tucked into the brush on each side of the road with spears at the ready.
“Good eye,” said Kaldrinn. “I wouldn’t have seen them for another ten yards or so. They must have seen us take to the brush here.”
“I’m sure they did, but they will not come looking for us until they have reinforcements to back them up and then they’ll come in numbers,” assured Ravak.
“What shall we do?” asked Postgaar.
“We could check out the road that leads around the keep to the south,” suggested Ravak. “It heads away from these goblins and the ghouls.”
“By my reckoning, we’d come out deep within the Danthar Forest and that’s no place for us,” Kaldrinn said warily.
“Well, it’s that or wait for nightfall and fight goblins on our north flank and ghouls on our south,” said Turynn as he gave his horse a kick and took off following Ravak, who already headed back out onto the road and turning south.
They rode hard and fast past the keep. Turynn was an expert marksman from horseback and he dropped as many as he could with his bow to clear the path ahead. They rode right through the ghouls like a tidal wave of horse hooves trampling the undead as they went.
The road was somewhat clear to the south, but deadwood and undergrowth barred their passage as the goblins hadn’t cleared the road yet. They slowed to a trot, plodding on well into the night before finding a nice little hollow to make camp in. It was agreed a fire would be to their detriment none ate or drank, but went to sleep. Each person took two-hour watches until morning.
Rostioff’s calculations were exact, given the urgent fashion in which he’d opened the Transportal. He landed very softly in his master Danthalas Whiteash’s study, right in front of the fireplace. Unfortunately, Graxxen landed on top of him, clutching the Fulcrum Orb tightly, and trying to wrench it from his neck.
“I must have the Fulcrum! It’ll mean my victory over you worthless skin sacks!”
He summoned up all of his strength and ripped the orb from Rostioff’s neck. A brilliant flash signalled the magickal protection of the necklace broken. Rostioff let out a terrible cry as the chain of the pendant cut deeply into his flesh being torn free. He reached for it, but felt so weak from his casting and the aging curse Graxxen had hexed him with. The lich shot off through the air and outmaneuvered him.
/> Danthalas watched as Graxxen tore the Fulcrum Orb free of Rostioff’s neck. He leapt up onto his desk, threw his robes back, and slammed his staff down before him. It let out a crack of a thunder so sharp the glass in his bookcases shattered and the window panes rattled in their frames. Up from his hands rose blue, arcane energy.
“Forinta,” he cried out as his eyes lit up with blue fire.
A swirling beam of energy shot forth from the staff with such force that it set Danthalas fine blond hairs blowing back in the breeze. It sent papers every which way. The force of the blast knocked Graxxen back over into a bookcase and dozens of books came toppling down upon him along with splinters of broken wood. He slid down to the floor with a blue glow emanating from a hole in his chest. Danthalas had reversed the healing magick into a destructive force.
Graxxen looked down at his wound inquisitively as the room settled momentarily. He looked up, eyes ablaze with wicked purple Blood Magick. “You foolish mortal! Your magick has no affect on me! I’m already dead and withered eons ago!” He rose to hovering in the air a foot from the floor and quickly moved toward Danthalas as he did so chanting the whole while.
“Tillata spratt av uraldrig drakar gripa din sjal!” He began at a whisper and was yelling by the final word with an arcane might so ominous, the walls shook and the windows shattered as he summoned forth the ancient and powerful shamanistic Blood Magick of old. The Blood Fire flew from his eyes and mouth and a terrible demonic form resembling a dragon shot forth. It bit into Danthalas’ chest. Danthalas’ body hung in the air paralyzed by the intense ancient magick. The Blood Fire Dragon gnawed and ripped at his torso. It tore his heart and with it his soul from his mortal husk. Blood sprayed the desk and walls. It shot across Rostioff’s face blinding him with his own master’s vital fluids. Rostioff shrieked in dismay and ran for his master, but it was too late. Danthalas eyes withered, his body went white and limp, then slumped down into a lifeless heap on the desk. It slid to the floor in an awful-looking mess, blood trailing all the way down. Graxxen, still in mid air, cackled terribly as he grabbed the heart and ate it in front of Rostioff. Just then there was a pounding in the hall.