by Levi Samuel
Chapter XVII
Dreuslayers
Thick patches of moss clung to the ancient walls of the Underdark catacombs. Most of the low hanging stalactites had been broken off, leaving a jagged ceiling just above head level. The floor was solid, the dense clay and stone worn down from centuries of travel.
Gareth and Ravion made their way through the dark corridors, listening to the echoes off the seemingly natural walls.
Ravion led the way. His light steps were unheard compared to the clanking of metal from Gareth. The thin dalari scout wore his usual dark blue clothing and tan leather vest. He carefully made his way forward, searching for any presence in the deep tunnels.
Gareth continued on, not caring if the vile creatures heard him. In fact, he hoped they did. It'd give him an excuse to kill the vermin. His large shield was slung on his back and a heavy mace hung from his side. His twin cutlasses were sheathed on each hip, waiting to be drawn.
Ravion stopped, throwing his fist into the air. Reaching across his body, he grabbed his longsword and prepared for battle.
Rolling his shoulder, Gareth flung his shield around and locked his arm into the strap. Grabbing his mace, he readied himself.
Several careless footsteps echoed down the dank passage, carrying the stench of feces and body odor. Unintelligible chatter bounced back and forth, announcing their numbers. It was clear they didn't know about the trespassers awaiting them around the bend.
Ravion stepped to the side, wedging his back into a crevice. He smiled at Gareth, knowing his companion would gladly play the bait. That would give him the perfect chance to ambush the creatures when they charged.
Two dreualfar walked casually down the passageway, carrying on their conversation. One ran his fingers along the rough wall, listening to the other talk. They rounded the bend, freezing at the sight of the broad warrior in the middle of the way. The man was stocky and of average height. He wore tattered armor and held a large mace, the head pointed toward them menacingly. A spiteful grin burned in the dark, taunting them into action.
"Come get some, you black-skinned bastards!" Gareth dared, slamming his mace against the shield. It rang out, echoing along the walls. It was possible the noise would summon more. And he desperately hoped for it. That meant more to kill. Knowing he had some time before they'd pass Ravion, lying in wait, he charged, daring them to do likewise.
They drew their crude scimitars and hesitantly rushed toward the large warrior.
Gareth purposely took half steps, allowing them to close the distance. Seeing they were nearly upon him, he jumped back, throwing off their perception. Bracing his shield, he prepared for the impact.
The first dreualfar slammed hard into him, dropping his sword from the unexpected change in distance.
The bald warrior brought his mace around, crushing the dreualfar's head. It popped, splattering brain matter and blood across the metal device. The now dead dreualfar fell to the rocky floor.
Ravion stepped from his veil, quickly moving behind his unsuspecting prey.
Gareth threw his shield out, easily blocking several swipes. He had no chance of getting past it. He was nothing. Just a simple grunt, armed for no other purpose than patrolling the tunnels.
Ravion calmly positioned his longsword, placing the tip against the unaware dreualfar's spine. Wasting no time, he plunged the sword downward, sinking over half of the blade. The dreualfar buckled at the knees, his life gone before the blade came to a stop. Falling forward, gravity retracted the blade.
Gareth took the opportunity to kick the bottom of his shield, slamming it against the dead creature's face. He heard the neck snap, whipping the head backward. The body spun from the impact, landing roughly in the dense clay.
Ravion knelt and wiped the tainted blood on the tattered clothes of his kill. He stood, sheathing the ancestral weapon. “You just had to get your blow in didn't you?” Shaking his head, unconcerned with the answer, Ravion turned and continued down the passageway.
“Of course! Now when he reaches Osirus, he can tell all his kin that he died at the hands of Gareth Dreuslayer! I'll bet he gets grand honors for that.” Laughing at the notion, Gareth reached down and cut an ear from each of the fallen dreualfar. Quickly adding them to his necklace, he rushed after Ravion. “Besides, you can’t say I didn’t set it up for you perfectly. That means he was half mine.”
The sun hung low in the sky, retreating toward the horizon. In a few minutes, night would claim dominion and the city of Shadgull would slow for the evening.
The streets were wide, laid with the finest brick. Not a single stone was out of place in the fading light. The buildings were fantastic, made of stone and wood, each one with a blue shingled roof. The blue and silver banner of Shadgull hung in every direction. A lantern post stood every thirty feet, alternating on each side of the road, allowing merchants and citizens to find their way in the dark.
Kane sat atop his horse, taking in the sight of the grand city. He'd been here before but it always made him feel small in comparison. It was by far the largest city he'd ever been to. And here, the people knew his name. I am Kane, High Templar of the Tower of Magi. He chuckled at the title. It was such a frivolous thing. Little better than a waxed stamp on a note. It spoke of position, nothing more. Though he couldn’t deny its use. Such titles had a way of granting access to audiences normally out of reach. Returning to the task at hand, he recalled his reasoning for the trip. The words played in his head once again. Army of dreu— searching for something.
In the distance, he could see the outline of an amazing fortress. The shadows of the fading light made it glow like a beacon of hope. Spurring his steed, he closed the distance, urgency in mind.
The fortress had a large wall built around it with several sentries patrolling the ground. Two armed guards stood on each side of the barbican. The drawbridge was lowered, granting access to the structures on the other side. A heavy portcullis stood open, serving as a secondary gate comprised of a steel lattice. The heavy gate rested between two layers of stone and was held up by large iron chains, keeping the massive steel from sealing itself into the ground.
Kane reached the wood planked ramp and slowed his horse. While it stood open, he didn't need the guards attacking him over a simple miscommunication. “I bring message from the Tower for Master Remle De Leon.” His horse fidgeted, unhappy with the sudden stop.
One of the guards waved him entry.
Kane obeyed and led the horse through the grand opening. Continuing up the road, he came to a stop at the fortress doors. He dismounted and handed the reins to the groom in waiting. Straightening himself, making sure his armor was aligned and unmarred, Kane marched the stone stairway toward the barred doors at the top.
The guards stood erect, waiting announcement of intention.
"I am Kane, Sheriff of Aldridge and High Templar to the Tower. I require audience with Master Remle De Leon."
"This way, Master Kane." The door creaked open, allowing him entry.
One of the guards led him through the doors and into the reception hall.
"Master Kane, I'm afraid I must ask you to disarm and wait here." The guard rang a bell mounted to the wall and turned back the way he'd come.
Kane nodded his understanding and unbuckled his weapon belt. Hooking it on one of the many racks, he ensured both his short sword and dagger were easily accessible if required, though such thoughts were foolish in such a place. He unhooked the leather strap, securing his great sword, and laid it beside his belt.
A moment later a thin man wearing a blue robe with silver inlay stepped into sight. “Master Kane, I presume?”
“Yes?”
“The Tower sent word of your arrival. This way please.”
So they can send a message that I'm headed this way, but they can't relay the information themselves to save me a trip? He silently vented his frustrations, but followed after.
They passed through several hallways and large rooms until they finally reached the
grand hall.
The floor was comprised of silver marble slates, and a thick, blue rug ran the length of the room. Matching tapestries hung from the walls, and the far end had a four-tiered dais, alternating between silver and blue. The top was set with an aged throne of what appeared to be polished oak. It was encrusted with several gems arching over the back rest and along the ridged frame.
Remle sat in the throne, his blonde flowing hair radiated the last glimmers of sunlight through the stained windows above.
Kane followed his escort toward the throne, stopping several steps away.
The court mage bowed low before the city's lord, holding pose in wait for the warrior to follow suit.
Realizing his mistake, Kane quickly gave a respectful bow and stood, waiting for permission to speak.
The mage stood and announced his guest much louder than required. “Lord Remle, may I present Master Kane, Dreuslayer, Sheriff of Aldridge, and High Templar to the Tower.”
Without word, the mage turned and disappeared down the blue carpet, leaving Kane alone with the large lord and the several servants silently performing their various task along the sides of the room.
"It's good to see you again, Kane. What brings you to my city?" Remle asked, his fingers interlocked in front of him. He peered down at the man, recalling their previous encounter. It seemed much had changed for the boy since that night in the pub those few years ago. He was hardly a boy any longer, though he was still surprisingly young.
“My Lord, a group of scouts were sent to Tresengal to discern the motives behind the dreu assault on Maradar Keep. We received one message but it was cut short. 'Army of dreu, searching for something,' was all the magi were able to discern.” Kane took a step closer. “My Lord, may I speak freely for a moment?”
The fair-haired man nodded his approval.
“What troubles me more— they were able to storm the capital in under a day. Even if they were attacked completely by surprise, they should have been able to hold for at least a month until reinforcements could arrive. That tells me two things. The dreu are extremely well organized. And they have something at their disposal that we haven't seen before. And now, My Lord, a question I pose to you. What’s stopping them from directing their attention here?”
Remle leaned against the back of his throne, keeping his hands in position. "I understand what you're asking. I’ll prepare my army for war and have them at the ready if these vermin should crawl from their hole in the ground. You may inform your brothers, Shadgull stands with them."
Kane bowed once again, dismissing himself. The last rays of light gleamed through the skylight, reflecting an emerald green gem set in the top of the throne. He paused, inspecting the stone. It was just like the others, but there was something different about it— something inviting. Shaking the thoughts from his head he acknowledged the lord once again. “It will be done, My Lord.” Respectfully, Kane half turned to prevent presenting his back to the ruler. It was a long ride back to Marbayne and he needed to return as quickly as possible.
The heart trees of Evinwood stood taller than all the forests of Dalmoura. The smallest trunks were nearly twenty-foot-wide and the undergrowth between them was thick and constricting. The sheer size of the vastly unexplored lands made it easy to get lost. Even the canopy, far overhead, blocked out direct sunlight making direction hard to navigate.
The two soldiers pressed on, careful to prevent damaging the overgrown vegetation as best as possible.
Krenin squeezed between the low hanging vines, stepping into a patch of moss. He searched in all directions, amazed by the sights around him. He’d never traveled through Evinwood before, making the trip a completely new experience to him. The thick growth hindered his movement due to his thick, muscular frame, but he managed, amazed by the next strange looking plant he stumbled upon. “Malakai, look at this one!” Krenin knelt beside the large pod, resembling an open pistachio shell with several thin whiskers protruding from the edge. The inside was a deep pink pedal, covered in tiny bumps that smelled of fruit. He pressed his meaty finger against the whiskers, pulling back just in time to see the plant slam shut. A child-like giggle escaped him, watching it slowly open up again.
Malakai was somewhat less enthused. He'd encountered the myrkalfar on many occasions. Their pompous attitudes made him dread meeting the tall, slender folk. While he was able to travel the small trails much easier than his larger counterpart, he still found the forest cumbersome compared to a cleared road. Or even a stag trail for the matter. But they had neither. He desperately wanted to pull his blade and chop a path, but if they came across the treefolk—. It was one thing to hack your way through a familiar forest. But to do so in alfaren territory was asking for trouble. Malakai watched the half-orc poke the plant again, lost in glee with its response. “Leave that thing alone. You don't know if it's poisonous. Last thing I need is to be draggin' your ass through this forest.”
Krenin stood, wishing he could play with it one last time. Following after his friend, he glanced around in search of other unseen wonders. “You see anything?” His short tusks made the common tongue hard to pronounce.
“Trees!” Malakai replied, clear annoyance in his tone. He stopped, staring dead ahead.
“You not lookin' hard enough—.” Krenin walked into the back of Malakai, cutting his words off. The sudden stop startled him, causing him to jump back. His feet got tangled around one of the many vines littering the forest floor. Losing his balance, he crashed down, landing in a patch of briars. “Ouch, why you stop?” Krenin rolled over, trying to get up without the thorns digging in.
"What business does a human and a half breed have in the forest of Evinwood?" The brown haired myrkalfar stared down his arrow, trained on the swashbuckler. Three others stood at his side, their bows drawn and ready to fire.
“We bring word from Marbayne. Kane of the Tower asked us to speak with your king about the recent dreu threat." Malakai replied, trying to keep his irritation from showing.
The myrkalfar lowered their bows. "Follow us. We'll lead you to our commander. He'll decide if you have audience or not." They turned and easily passed through the trees showing no trouble in doing so whatsoever.
Malakai rushed after them, slowed by the foliage. He had no idea how they were able to move so nimbly. One moment they were there. The next, they were gone. He raced after them, catching a brief glimpse just long enough to enforce proper direction. His irritation grew. He knew they were toying with him. There was no doubt he could have seen them at all unless they desired it.
Krenin ran to keep up, finding it hard to stay on his feet. The forest was conspiring against him and his hurried pace. Tripping for the third time, he barreled through, letting the vines and ivy obstructing his path tear against his larger form. He slowed seeing Malakai just ahead.
The swordsman stepped through a rather thick patch of brush, disappearing into a grove of sorts. It still had its growth, but it would be much easier to travel than the forest itself. He spotted the myrkalfar at the far side waiting for them, clearly annoyed by their lack of respect for the forest and their slow movement.
Malakai and Krenin traveled unhindered for quite some time, following the alfar to a small clearing. The trees remained thick and tall, forming a natural wall around them. The canopies offered a great amount of shade, but allowed plenty of light through. It was as if the area was grown to perfection. Even the forest floor appeared as if the leaves naturally fell someplace else, leaving the bright green grass to flourish in the grove.
The brown haired myrkalfar reached behind him, pulling a thin, white horn with a leather strap attached to it. Pressing it to his lips, he blew, angling the opening toward the sky. It echoed out sounding more like some kind of animal call than a horn.
A few moments later another myrkalfar stepped through the trees and into the grove. He wore black leather armor with several studs placed to give the appearance of dragon scales. He spoke in a language neither of the dreuslayers could
understand.
Malakai couldn't help but get lost in the unknown tongue. It reminded him of an ancient song of loss and sorrow, with a brief flicker of hope.
The others nodded and stepped through the veil of greenery, disappearing from sight.
The dark armored myrkalfar approached the two, giving a slight bow of respect. "Greetings, I'm Jaklus Motin Afar, Captain of Evinwood. My men tell me you bring word from Kane of the Tower. Judging from your garments, I wouldn't assume you to be in the Tower's service. This means you're more likely Dreuslayers." He cocked his head, curiously, seeking validation.
"You're correct. I’m Malakai Torne and this is Krenin. Kane asked us to meet with your king to discuss the recent dreu incursion. As I'm sure you're aware, they recently attacked Tresengal and have abducted its lord. We sent a group to discover what the dreu are after, but they were apparently killed before they found much."
Jaklus nodded, "I know of the men you speak. They passed through here not long before the Reaping of Maradar. Aldulrien has already declared that the dreu must be purged. Order has been given and if your people are going to march, you may count us among your number." Jaklus turned to leave.
Malakai reached out grabbing the alfar's arm.
The myrkalfar captain glanced at the hand securing him, warning evident in his eyes.
Realizing his error, Malakai released him, gesturing apology. "I'll inform them upon my return. Which I was hoping you might be able to help us with. My friend and I have been having a bit of trouble trekking through your forest. With your aid, there's less risk of breaking anything you hold dear."