by Levi Samuel
Gareth stepped into the room, finding his companion. "I only have one sunstone left."
Ravion clapped the book shut, feeling small bits of dust fly into his face. Returning it to its perfect sized gap, he glanced at bald warrior. "Well, let's hope we don't encounter any more large groups." Walking to another shelf, he picked up a strange dagger, made of some kind of blackened ore. It had a spectral feel to it, like it was pulling at his core.
"Gah! This is pointless. What the hell are we doing here? Dreu don't make plans or think like normal people. They slaughter and kill with no care for anything else. That's what they're bred to do."
Ravion raised the blade toward his face, inspecting the mineral. "Please don't tell me you truly believe that. You should know better than most that they plot and scheme. If they didn't, we wouldn't be in this place searching for their archives— again."
Gareth exhaled deeply, letting his shoulders drape with acceptance. “I know. It's just— I don't care what they’re hiding or planning. I want to kill them.” Pressing his booted foot against one of the abandoned shelves, he kicked, watching it topple over with a crash.
Ravion stuck the dagger in his belt. He couldn't explain what drew him to the strange weapon but he felt a connection to it. "I'll look through some of these books real quick. Whether I find anything or not, we'll head back to the surface. Maybe next time Kane or one of the others will want to come."
Gareth sat on the only table in the room, placing his hands on his knees. "You know I'll be here anytime we come to this place. I just don't like sitting here when we've got dreu to kill, out there."
Ravion smiled, seeing the frustration on his friend's face. He quickly scanned tome after tome before stopping on a leather-bound book with a strange marking on it. "I know this language!"
Gareth stood, walking over to his brother. "Looks like gibberish to me."
Ravion glanced at his friend and back to the binding. "No, not gibberish. It's eldar. My father was teaching it to me before he died."
"Maybe it's like all of these other things and was stolen in a raid." Gareth offered.
"I don't think so." Ravion flipped through the pages, skimming each passage. “At least, not in the traditional sense. I don't recall much of the teaching I received as a child. But I remember my father telling me about a corrupt sect of our people. He didn't give me specific details, as I was still fairly young. But he did say they went to war and were eventually forced underground. This book talks about that banishment. If I had to guess, I'd say this book was written by one of the dalari of that era. If it was stolen, it would have had to have been a millennia ago or longer.” One page in particular caught his eye. Scanning through the ancient words, Ravion read aloud. “Locked away, the faceless host with hair of azure and crimson awaits the time of the shattering. Born of war, the breaker of walls walks unseen, without sound. A silver jingle marks his target, for its chime shall be the throes of death. His release will come when the eldar of equals has tasted the blood of his oppressor and walked away unscathed.”
“Sounds like a damned ghost story. What do you think that is, a book of faerie tales?” Gareth laughed.
“It doesn’t seem like it. It reads more like a book of prophecy. Regardless—” He flipped the book shut and stuffed it into his pack. “—we need to get back to the surface and find out who all is going to help in the coming war."
“You go ahead. I think I want to explore a little more.”
“Are you sure?” Ravion asked, uncertain if he should leave the vengeful warrior to his solitude.
“Yeah. I'll head back once I've found something of interest.”
Chapter XVIII
The Catacombs
Perrimen stumbled through the unknown wilderness of Vale. The voices screamed at him, none standing above the others. They blended together, preventing him from picking a single voice in the garbled mess.
"Would you all please shut up!" He screamed, grabbing a fist full of his long, unkempt hair. He looked around, gazing at the wonderful woodwork of the castle interior around him.
Servants fluttered about, performing their daily task, ignoring his presence.
The aging wizard stood in the middle of the large grassland. The grain stood to his waist, tiny barbed hairs snagged his linen pants in the light wind, ripping the seeds away from the stock.
"Excuse me, ma’am. Can you please inform your lord that Perrimen Sarandar is here to speak with him about the birds in the library?"
The sapling stood just taller than him, swaying in the breeze.
"Ma’am, I must insist." Perrimen declared. "Why are you ignoring me?"
A dark cloud floated overhead, forming a bulbous shadow on the ground.
Perrimen tensed, turning to see the dark form behind him. "At last, you’ve found me. But I must inform you, I'll not go without a fight!" Red energy crackled around his fingers. He flicked his hand toward a small shrubbery, launching his power at the unsuspecting foe.
The bush exploded, ripping its roots from the ground.
"That should teach you. Next time, make sure you know who you're dealing with." The aging wizard turned in search of the keep he was in moments before. To his surprise it was gone, replaced with the most unsavory of fields. “Who would put a grassland in the middle of nowhere?” Sighing heavily, he stumbled through the weeds, unaware of where he was headed.
An unseen force snagged his foot, sending him toppling into the overgrown field.
Perrimen glanced at the mettlesome trap, seeing a golden mask lying at his feet. “You don't belong here. Why have you come all this way?” He snatched the mask up and got to his feet.
The voices intensified, their ramble more chaotic than usual.
He closed his eyes trying to quiet them, but it didn't work. They just grew louder. Excitement filled his mind, but it wasn't his own. “Shut up!”
The voices silenced, leaving him to his solitude.
He turned the golden cover in his hand, inspecting the faded scratches along the sides. It had no straps or buckles of any kind, simply a golden emotionless face with eye holes. The nose and mouth were formed, but held no expression.
A single voice rang out, booming in his head. "Put it on!"
The insane wizard slowly placed the item against his face. Quicker than he could react, it shifted, forming itself to him. Perrimen felt the insanity of his years in solitude wash away, leaving him whole again. For the briefest moment, he was himself.
A brown leather duster formed around him, replacing the tattered and dull robes. A blue and red jester's cap with silver bells sprouted from his tangled, unkempt hair. The mismatched tendrils danced around like twin serpents in search of something unseen.
He stood, looking around the empty wilderness. "That was a hell of a way to spend the last decade." With a chuckle, he snapped his fingers.
The air around him began to swirl. The wild plains were no longer in sight. An orange glow formed around him, engulfing everything he was. As quick as he wished it, he was gone.
Kane stood defiantly at the edge of Aldridge staring at the map, calculating the distance from Heroes Gate. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought, glancing back at his men, anxiously waiting behind him.
They shivered, standing in formation, whether from the cold, autumn night, or nervousness of the impending battle, he couldn’t tell.
Dusk had fallen, and the sun’s glow faded from view.
Returning his attention to the northern road, Kane rolled the parchment and stuffed it in his pouch. His great sword stood in front of him, the tip several inches in the ground. He wrapped his hand around the pommel and lifted the blade, heaving it to his shoulder. Squinting in the distance, he took a deep breath. It was time. "To arms, men. We're under attack!"
The dreualfar filed out of the darkness, showing their number against the hand-full of soldiers.
They'd made it much closer than he’d realized. “Form a wall. Keep the flanks open.”
The soldi
ers squeezed together, locking their shields against the next. Several men stood behind the line, ready to thrust their spears into the approaching enemy.
Standing several steps ahead of his soldiers, Kane searched the force, ready to impart his final orders before the attack. "Beware the dreuki! As a rule, they tend to be spell casters. If we can kill it, we may break their resolve."
His men shouted in confidence, taunting their attackers.
The dreualfar roared forward, trampling the first few who weren’t quick enough to stay ahead of the group.
Readying himself, Kane let loose a mighty swipe, cutting the first three in half. Spinning around to keep them at a distance, he prepared to attack again.
The dreualfar swarmed, surrounding the lone warrior. The others washed around, slamming into the shield wall. Several fell to the spears, but they continued to pour forward.
The soldiers planted their feet, holding their shields between themselves and the enemy. Many took turns, stabbing whatever weapons they had over and under the wall, hoping to fell as many as possible before the shield would have to drop. Several of the shieldsmen fell, letting the enemy pass through the openings. Absorbing the fallen, they closed ranks, entrapping the few dreualfar. It took nothing for the spearmen to dispose of them.
Kane spun around, letting the weight of his blade do the work. The dreualfar were afraid to move on the young warrior, fear of being chopped down by his agile fighting style evident in their eyes. Mid-swing, Kane dropped his left hand, leaving his right to control the large weapon. Grabbing hold of one of the clay flasks from his waist, he threw it as hard as he could toward the largest group of dreualfar. Regaining control of his blade, he ducked and shielded his eyes.
The bright flash exploded, sending several of the dreualfar into a panic. They rushed about, trying to escape the burning light, leaving nothing more than bone and ash to be carried away in the wind.
Kane felt the ground shake beneath him. Looking up, he saw eight, hairy, muscular legs stomp toward him. They reminded him of a giant tarantula. Though that didn’t help to ease the concern. Lifting his sword, he prayed the fight would not be his last. The dreualfar still had him surrounded and his men were a bit preoccupied.
The human soldiers held together, keeping the dreualfar from entering the town. Several of the men lay dead around the wall, leaving less than two dozen to hold the line.
The dreuki stalked forward, flexing its thick legs with each step. It stopped just out of reach, extending its hands toward the armored warrior. Palms facing up, it's twisted dreualfar face hissed their vile tongue. "Taht rof yap ll'uoy!" The creature flexed its arms, displaying the hulking muscles beneath flesh. It slowly squeezed his hands into fists, locking them around some unseen object.
To Kane's surprise, two short blades formed in the creature’s grip. It towered several feet over him, smiling wickedly. Rubbing the summoned swords together, the seemingly hardened material crackled with energy. Swiftly, it lunged, aimed to kill.
Kane swung his sword in defense, blocking the attack. It glanced off the steel great sword, going wide, leaving a trail of static down his blade. He could feel the hair on his arms stand on end.
The dreuki thrust with the other, whipping its rear around. The foot long stinger stabbed in, narrowing missing the armored commander.
Kane dodged the second attack, but the third made him stumble backwards to avoid the deadly sting. The surrounding dreualfar would most-likely run him through if he fell into their ranks. Realizing he had one option, he fell to his back. Timing the impact, Kane rolled, hoping he could get back to his feet.
The creature jumped, landing atop the prone combatant. The stinger plunged many time, leaving a green ooze in the dirt with each stab, unable to connect.
Kane kicked the oversized abdomen, launching himself a few inches at a time. It wasn't much, but it allowed him to avoid the deadly punctures. Trying to maneuver his great sword was impossible, the several legs of the creature and its size made the weapon a hindrance. Abandoning his sword, he drew a dagger from his waistline and narrowly dodged the arm-sized spike. Slicing quick and shallow, he felt the dagger connect against one of the hairy legs. That told him where he needed to aim. Repeating the process, he slashed hard, tearing into the spiderlike appendage.
It hissed, moving its other legs to compensate for the injured one.
Kane rolled, slamming all his weight into the injured leg. It collapsed from the impact, allowing him a small hole to escape. He squeezed through, crawling from beneath the beast and narrowly avoiding the crushing abdomen. Kicking hard, he twisted, letting the momentum carry him to his feet.
Realizing the human escaped his trap, the angered dreuki stomped toward him.
Kane grabbed the pommel of his short sword, drawing the small weapon from its scabbard. He adjusted his style and prepared for the incoming attack.
The dreuki locked its gaze on him. "Siht fo hguone dah ev'i!" It straightened its legs and hunched its abdomen toward the warrior. The bulbous, hair covered rear convulsed, ejecting a stringy spray of green across the field.
Kane dove to the side, dodging the thick stream.
Several dreualfar screamed, feeling the acidic liquid eat into their flesh. The others stepped aside, hoping to avoid a similar fate.
Kane glanced back at the screams, seeing the small group of dreualfar melt into a chunky pool of black and green ooze. His eyes widened. Great, it can spray acid.
The other dreualfar broke into cheer watching the spectacle.
The soldiers were beginning to gain ground. Their flanks horseshoed out, encompassing the attacking dreualfar. Even the spectators were beginning to fall to the advancing protectors.
Kane focused, knowing he would have to get much closer to injure the beast.
The dreuki hissed, angered by the miss. Stomping forward, ready to strike the human down, his deadly gaze locked on the warrior.
Kane waited for the creature to close the distance. Counting steps, he timed his attack.
The dreuki sprang into action, aimed to strike the troublesome warrior.
Knowing his failure would result in death, Kane lunged with the short blade. Training prevailed. Unable to close his eyes, he saw the tip plunge deep into the dreuki's chin. Refusing to leave it to chance, Kane reacted on impulse and brought the dagger around. It slammed into the side of the beast's head. Both blades passed easily, crisscrossing in its skull. The sword erupted out the top of its head, while the dagger narrowly escaped the other side. They were covered in black and pink ichor.
The summoned blades flickered and dissipated into nothing. The unarmed hands scratch harmlessly against the polished, yet dirty breastplate, unable to penetrate it.
"Meet one of the dreuslayers." Kane whispered into the creature's destroyed ear. He watched it draw its final breath, eyes going dull. Ripping his weapons free, he spun around to face any attacking dreualfar.
Unprepared for the loss of their muscle, the dreualfar screamed in shock and panic. As if an order for retreat had been given, they scrambled into the darkness.
“Follow them. Cut them down before they can escape!” Kane heard the words escape his lips. I'm spending too much time with Gareth.
Knee-high grass danced on both sides of the dirt trail, swaying in the breeze. A dense forest stood in the distance, and the mountain range was to the east. The sun beamed down causing beads of sweat to form on Krenin’s green flesh.
The orcs lived on the northeastern edge of Krondar. They were known to be difficult to deal with, but with any luck, perhaps he could get through to them.
Grace was not his specialty, Krenin stomped as he walked, kicking up dust from the barren path. Wore tan leather breeches with an oversized red tabard, and leather armor comprised of multicolored scales in various browns and reds. The mighty half-orc carried his drastol great sword with a row of throwing daggers across his chest, and his trusty battle axe hanging from his side.
Krenin spotted the dusty path
way leading off the main road. Shifting direction, he trekked for nearly an hour before seeing the domed structures in the distance. Making his way closer, Krenin recognized them for what they were. He'd found the elusive and nomadic orcs of Krondar.
Making his way into their village, Krenin felt small under their glares of disapproval. It didn’t help that the smallest among them was nearly half a foot taller than him. He wasn't accepted here, no more than he was accepted outside of Marbayne. But he had a job to do. It didn't matter if they liked him. They would hear what he had to say.
Approaching one of the armored males, Krenin stared up into his green face and spoke in orcish. "I need to speak with the clan chief."
"The chief does not need to speak with you, puny half-breed." The orc retorted, measuring the smaller abomination. The orc was nearly a foot taller, but had much less muscle despite his potency.
"You’re mistaken." Krenin corrected. “I traveled here with intent to speak with him.”
The larger orc backhanded him, nearly knocking him from his feet.
Krenin caught himself against the side of the crude, wooden hut. Reaching up, he wiped the liquid running from his lower lip. Inspecting his fingers, the bright red blood clung to them. He spat a mouthful onto the dusty ground, feeling his rage build. Abandoning all reason, Krenin charged the orc, hitting him in the gut.
The large orc didn't have time to react, falling to the ground with the half-breed atop of him.
Krenin punched, left, right, left, left, right. He could barely recognize the face beneath his fist any more. Stopping himself, he stood and glanced at his blood covered knuckles. The skin was split in several places, making it difficult to see how much was his.
Several other orcs surrounded him, spears and axes ready to end him.