The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series)

by Wyckoff, Brae

  “The Guardian is here,” the black dragon said within their minds.

  A dozen skeletons reformed as they stood, and then moved toward Rondee.

  “Skeletons, bah!” El’Korr laughed, pulling forth his holy symbol—an item he had received at the Holy City temple. He yelled, “Shaubiste,” holding the clerical piece toward the walking dead. An unseen pulse of power waved out, hitting and shattering the skeletons into bone shards.

  Another group of skeletal remains sprouted up, and then another. Rondee was still on the first step, but now completely surrounded by the undead. He revealed his yellowed, chipped teeth in a snarl, and then began casting a spell.

  “Look out!” Bridazak signaled above them. The Ordakian spotted a distorted movement within the mist behind Rondee. He could not make out what it was, but he was sure it was descending the stone steps. The others looked around at each other to get confirmation of Bridazak’s alert, but saw nothing. The arrow in his grasp was glowing brightly and giving the strongest vibration he had yet seen from the magic. He quickly notched it and lined up his shot. He knew instinctively it was there. A voice inside his head settled his mind. It was the Orb saying, “Trust me.” He released his arrow. It soared through the chamber and ignited into the brightest light the heroes had ever seen, but was somehow soothing to their eyes. The light illuminated the entire room, and there before them they could all now see what Bridazak initially spotted. The once invisible dragon hovered above the Tree—a dragon like no other.

  “It’s a Dracolich!” El’Korr yelled.

  The arrow had launched into the sternum of the skeletal body and exploded on impact, so only Bridazak noticed its invisible bone tail had stabbed Rondee from behind. Blood shot out of the wound as the tip pen-etrated cleanly through the Dwarf, leaving behind a gaping hole under his left shoulder, but narrowly missing his heart and lung, thanks to Bridazak’s timing. The wild magic contained inside him burst as he flailed to the ground. A sudden rain cloud appeared above the skeletal warriors, and as the water droplets hit the dry bones, they began to smoke and hiss, like water striking a hot surface. The undead felt no pain, but they soon collapsed from the holy effect of the acidic rain pummelling them. Rondee flinched at each pelt of the wild magic he released; he was fortunate enough to be on the outside edge of the caustic torrent.

  A chilling roar echoed throughout the room, filling their ears. The nonliving dragon was still active, though several pieces of its bone structure were now missing. A bluish flame surrounded it, with intense light flaring from inside the empty eye sockets. It was a dragon larger than the black ones earlier, except it had no flesh. Its leathery wings were shredded, dangling from the cartilage.

  “It’s too powerful for me to turn it!” declared El’Korr.

  “Somebody get to Rondee!” Bridazak shouted.

  “I’m on my way,” Xan responded, running to assist the writhing, bloodied Dwarf.

  Abawken flanked the Dracolich by utilizing the power of his sword to walk on air. El’Korr cast a spell which caused him to rise up in the air. An aerial combat was their best chance to take the advantage back from the undead monster. The human fighter was soon dodging several attacks from its claws, wing bucks, and the powerful maw filled with sharp and broken teeth. A deafening snap of the ossein jaw rang throughout the chamber. Abawken spent his time defensively with no counter strike, and El’Korr understood the reasoning: his mighty warhammer was more effective in smashing bone than a scimitar slashing at it; they had found their strategy. Another crushing blow came when he hurled it while still moving higher into the air. Several fragments from the dragon’s neck fell to the ground below.

  Xan reached Rondee just in time. He quickly summoned healing powers and laid his hands upon the life-threatening wound. The gaping puncture soon began to fill in with flesh, tendons were repaired, and it was sealed with a new layer of skin. His left arm and part of his leg were pockmarked by several acid burns, but he would survive those for now. Rondee appeared to be himself again and said, “Fhelp rocks glin glitter.” Xan cocked his head; he couldn’t grasp the jumbled jargon, but understood the gratitude behind the Dwarf’s smile.

  As Xan helped Rondee back to his feet, one of the skeletons attacked, raking the Elf’s back. He turned in pain to see several more of the bleached figures coming toward them. He shouted out the same word El’Korr had said earlier, “Shaubiste!” His clerical training had given him the ability to turn and destroy the lesser undead. The skeletons were blasted back and exploded into dust particles.

  Bridazak held his last arrow, made specially for dragon-kind, waiting for the best shot possible. He scanned the battle below; Abawken and El’Korr still engaged it head on, Dulgin battled more of the skeletal army, and Xan put down another group of them with Rondee back up on his feet and by his side. Bridazak suddenly felt very alone; an inexplicable chill of separation caused his heart to race and his breathing to become more sporadic, until a garbled voice snapped him back into focus—Rondee was casting a spell. His torso swayed from side to side and his arms waved sporadically in all directions. There was a low groan coming from him that became louder each second.

  “Shaza bocktel geesta!” He finally shouted. An eruption one-hundred feet up along the wall sent huge fragments of volcanic rock coming down. Massive pieces of the columned wall now descended.

  “Look out!” Xan yelled to them.

  Abawken and El’Korr scurried and dodged the larger rock, but were grazed by several other smaller debris. The Dracolich was hit multiple times, as it was too large to maneuver away. One of its wings completely snapped off, like a huge branch cracking off of a tree. The behemoth pitched sideways and was hit by another large piece of rock, which caved in its torso. It was pushed further down by each impact, but it still remained in magical flight, showing no signs of weariness.

  “What in dwarven crap is going on?” Dulgin scrambled around the falling rubble. Large chips destroyed several of the walking bone warriors that had sprouted around him.

  Another roar from the Dracolich sounded in the cavern as the rock pieces shattered. Bone and rock dust enveloped everyone on the ground below, and rose up into the air like a billowy cloud. Bridazak’s vantage point allowed him to see the dragon turn invisible again while the others battled the dust now around them. He suddenly noticed a protective, blue-hued force field around the Tree, brightening a bit with each impact as the rocks bounced away harmlessly.

  Abawken and El’Korr pushed higher into the air to be able to see the area more clearly. Xan and Rondee could only wait for the dust to settle. They had their hands over their mouths, their eyes squinting against the powder. The smell of rock and bone infiltrated their noses and they couldn’t see more than five feet in front of them.

  “It’s not dead yet! It went invisible!” Bridazak shouted to them.

  Some of them were coughing. Dulgin was closest to Bridazak but still deep into the room. “We’ve got it on the run!” Dulgin yelled.

  “I don’t think so,” Bridazak whispered quietly, arrow still readied, eyes carefully peering through the dust. “Where are you?” he whispered.

  A slight shift in the dust behind Xan and Rondee drew Bridazak’s focus, but it was too late. A blast of electrical energy shot out from the Dracolich as it became visible once again. The Elf and Dwarf convulsed wildly; blue and white sparks shot out from them like arcing static, too charged to have been extinguished by their bodies alone. A bright light once again filled the room at the release of Bridazak’s arrow. It slammed into the eerie eye socket and then detonated, splinters of bone launching violently in all directions. Then it was quiet. Remnants of electrical shock intermittently crackled over Rondee and Xan’s crumpled bodies. Bridazak held his breath. The Draclich now laid motionless, but he did not feel at ease.

  Bridazak lowered his bow. Dulgin yelled back to him, “Good shot!”

  “Yes, a fine shot indeed, Halfling,” came the voice of the black dragon again inside his head. Before he
could turn around, the scaled beast had him inside its mouth, the same way he’d held Xan.

  Dulgin responded to the sudden attack, “Let’em go, Blacky!”

  The black dragon pulled Bridazak back into the darkness.

  “I changed my mind. The Halfling, once presented to King Manasseh, is a bigger prize.”

  The group hustled, Rondee and Xan still sluggish, to the open cavern perch to intercept it, but it was too late, as the dark betrayer blinked from sight and teleported itself, along with Bridazak, out of their reach and directly into their greatest enemy’s evil hands.

  Dulgin screamed as he continued to charge the vacated location. He fell to his knees and raised his father’s axe while yelling uncontrollably in pure rage.

  “He’s gone. Dammit! We need to get the Orb back,” El’Korr stated.

  “We need to be gettin Bridazak back is what you meant, right brother?” Dulgin snipped.

  “But how? Manasseh will have him,” Xan questioned.

  El’Korr responded quickly to soothe and control the volatile situation, “Then that is our new target. Our only option is to infiltrate the castle and find Bridazak and Manasseh.”

  “It’s time to go for the head of this serpent,” Dulgin proclaimed as he stood back to his feet.

  “But Manasseh is getting his power from the Tree. Without the Orb we can’t defeat him,” Xan added.

  “I don’t care!” Dulgin retaliated. “Abawken, back me up on this.”

  “Master Dulgin is right. We must try. I would lay down my life to rescue him.”

  “Bridazak didn’t come all this way on his own. We must have faith that the Orb will protect him, and hopefully grant us a little luck along the way. An answer will reveal itself in due time,” the Dwarf leader finished.

  “During the battle, Master El’Korr and I spotted a narrow stairway on the other side. We suspect it leads into the castle somewhere,” stated Abawken.

  Dulgin headed out, mumbling as he passed, “Somewhere is a great start; let’s go.”

  They crossed the chamber to the stone steps. El’Korr came alongside Dulgin as they walked. Dulgin walked hurriedly and paid his brother no attention. El’Korr kept in step with him and there was an awkward silence until finally El’Korr began, “…Brother?”

  “He’s my best friend and we need to be gettin him back, Orb or not.”

  “We will, but we have to be smart.”

  Dulgin abruptly stopped and glared into El’Korr’s eyes to show his bitterness behind his words. “I don’t have time to be smart! He is—” Dulgin’s voice started to crack with emotion, “a brother I didn’t have.”

  “I’m still your older brother,” El’Korr finally broke the intensity, “but because of you, I’m alive and I’m back. Things will be different now Dulgin, and I hope you can forgive me.” Dulgin paused, noticing the others moving further away, as he wondered what to say or do next.

  “Bah, older my ass. You never aged in that damn curse you fell into. I look older than you now.”

  “When our father left us in search of the Mountain of Gold, I took on the role of protecting you. I never imagined I would, in a sense, wind up doing the same as our father. I never wished to abandon you for anything. Now though, I see that in trying to shelter you, I have done you a great disservice. You have become a mighty fighter on your own. I no longer walk in front of you, but instead, walk beside you, my brother. Your pains are my pains, your goals are my goals, your victories are my victories. Let us unite, and let nothing separate us again.”

  Dulgin held his gaze until finally embracing him. The two mighty warriors walked side by side, and caught up to the others soon after, both seeming a little taller, now. Abawken stared at Dulgin’s moist eyes.

  “Cave allergies,” the Dwarf retorted as he walked by.

  Abawken smiled.

  .

  16

  Black Rock

  Raina stood, dauntlessly surveying the area from the precipice above the expansive ravine they had been traveling through. Before them waited Black Rock Castle, the menacing tower rising hundreds of feet above the obsidian walls. The base of the fortress appeared to have been fashioned from the lava rock itself, and indeed showed the great power of King Manasseh. There were thousands of men in training outside the walls along the edge of the Desert of Guilt. The ashen grey stretched for miles—the marker for those insane enough to enter Kerrith Ravine. Several small, black, mounted dragons practiced maneuvers in the distance. Only a few hundred yards of open terrain separated her army from Manasseh’s. The odds were against her; they were outnumbered ten to one. “Perfect,” she thought to herself.

  “I am ready,” she said aloud to one of the wild dwarves standing beside her. “Direct the men to engage once my spell has been cast.”

  She stepped up onto the lip of an opening that led down into the ashen desert. A slight breeze caused her hair to flutter back and her robes to push into her sleek, elven body. She raised her wooden staff into the air above her head and began to whisper words of the arcane. “Kel vas torakvue sheltite ke-ahmbet!” Sparse clouds overhead quickly gathered together and became dark. A flash of lightning struck from within. Her eyelids fluttered as the sky opened up, revealing a wrathful hailstorm of fire. The initial stares from the humans below turned to yelling, then screaming directives to take cover. Raina opened her eyes to witness the beginning onslaught coming for King Manasseh and his army. The humans were forced to take cover and be spread out or be showered with the ignited meteors pouring out of the sky. Hundreds from the ground and air now writhed on fire, and the smell of burnt flesh and sulphur reached Raina’s nose.

  “Geetock! Begin your assault!”

  “Yes, Master Raina. It will be our pleasure,” the Wild Dwarf responded.

  “Do not move to the walls until I give you the sign,” she added.

  “Understood, my lady.”

  Geetock gave a shrill whistle to alert the dwarven army to move into the region. The booted footsteps poured out from the ravine into the Desert of Guilt. Twenty-two formations of warriors in groups of fifty, plus a group consisting of just the wild dwarves, fanned out and made their way to their enemy. Fifteen of El’Korr’s personal bodyguards charged in as the tip of the arrow. The remaining four dwarves stayed with Raina along the ridge.

  “It is done, my lady,” Geetock informed her.

  “We will have King Manasseh’s attention with our first strike, and then my full destructive might will fall on his castle door,” she claimed.

  The firestorm subsided but the clouds and mystical energy above remained. Dwarves flooded through the ranks of King Manasseh with their killing blows. A thousand men fell at their hands.

  “My Lord, we are under attack!” Vevrin quickly announced as he barged into King Manasseh’s personal chamber.

  Manasseh was shirtless, wearing only black leather pants. He turned in surprise to face Vevrin, rising from his seated position upon his mock throne.

  “What! By whom? Which of the Horns dares to attack me?”

  “Not the Horns, my Lord; it is dwarves.”

  Manasseh’s eyes narrowed in contemplation of this unexpected scenario. “Meet me in the tower with your other mystics. I will assess what we are facing from there.”

  “Yes, my liege.” Vevrin turned and promptly left, his red robes flowing behind him.

  Two guards sealed the door and Manasseh sat on the edge of his chair, stroking the smoke-filled medallion gifted to him by the dark deity. “Could this have anything to do with the halfling?”

  “I think we have his attention now,” Raina declared. “Alert your team to move toward the gate.”

  Geetock nodded and then moved to the three others of his clan. They closed their eyes in unison, only to open them moments later.

  “It is done, my lady. Our message was received by the others.”

  The storm clouds above the battle began to swirl in a vortex. Lightning bolts hit the ground in several areas, each releasing
a deafening crack. Raina stretched out her staff toward the sky and labored to bring it down, as though she were pulling on something tangible. Out of the formed eye of the clouds a huge meteorite of fire burst forth with a sonic boom, streaming down toward the fortress. The battle below stopped to watch the ball of flame soar in and strike the front gate of the castle. A gigantic crater lay behind as splinters of the former door and shards of the surrounding stone were sent flying in all directions. Smoke and debris littered the area, with the strong smell of burnt wood, stone and flesh mingled together.

  “Knock, knock!” Geetock yelled. “I’ll bet our King El’Korr below heard that one!”

  “Indeed. He will know we have arrived.”

  Several smaller meteors fell from the sky and pelted along the wall of the castle. Archers fell in scores, brick tumbled, timber split.

  Several minutes went by before one of the other wild dwarves pointed, “Look—dragon!” A colossal black dragon suddenly appeared at the top of the highest tower and hovered there.

  “This is the first large one we have seen. I will target the tower next,” Raina said with a smirk.

  “Where did these dwarves come from?” Manasseh demanded, looking out of the Tower of Recall.

  “We are not sure my Lord. There has been no—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the King cut him off as he returned from the balcony. “Once we regroup, we will crush this minor speck of an army. Send out the giants to push them back and then have our commanders gather what is left of our men outside the wall. They have no siege warfare to penetrate our defenses.”

  “Yes, my King,” Vevrin responded with a head bow. Suddenly they heard a boom, and watched a soaring meteorite hit the front gate. They grabbed hold of something to steady themselves as the tower swayed.

  “They have a mystic! Find it and kill it!” he raged. Vevrin signaled to a group of red-robed wizards standing behind him, waving them out.