*****
Gefiny had grown in her training to become a fierce fighter and a mighty warrior when it came to it, but unlike the rest of the females of the city she was forbidden to attend such conflicts as war.
Gefiny always carried a black obsidian knife that was given to her by Vaknorbond when she was still very young. Vaknorbond saw that she was a great fighter and accepted her gift, but still forbid her to fighting outside of mock battles. This day, when all of Vulzdagg was preparing for battle, Gefiny watched from her window with remorse. She practiced with her blade, a curved scimitar, and was hoping she could at last prove to her father that she was a worthy warrior. However, he refused to let her go.
“You should be glad, not having to attend such terrible things as war,” Dril said to her, sensing his sister’s distress and anger, and seeing her again beside the window where she usually stood when watching the warriors prepare for combat. He strapped his two curved blades to his hips and tightened the belt. “Battle is nothing to see. It is better for a lady to remain out of its sight than be in the middle.”
Gefiny turned to face her brother. “I am a warrior. I’ve trained with the sword my whole life, you’ve taught me all I know, but still father won’t let me prove that I am a warrior.”
“To be a warrior is a hard task,” Dril stated calmly. “Be thankful for what you already have. You’ll be the leader of Vulzdagg someday.”
“And sit in a chair my whole life,” Gefiny grumbled as she turned back to the window.
“That chair signifies who we are! How dare you disrespect it in such a way,” Dril scolded. He sat down on her bed and began shoving his feet into his leather combat boots. “Not every member of a Branch gets a chance to be what you will become – a great leader among fighters! The day will come for you, Gefiny, whether or not you accept it.”
Gefiny left the window and crossed the room to the door, and she swung it open as Dril’ead rose. “Farewell my brother,” she said solemnly, avoiding his eyes.
Dril’ead stood before her for a moment, hesitating. “I’ll kill Maaha Zurdagg for both of us,” he said. And then he added, “And if I don’t return… Remember what I told you.”
“You’ll be back,” Gefiny said, looking up at him painfully.
“Just this once,” Dril replied, and he turned and stalked from the chamber, metal scabbards scrapping against his mail leggings.
Dril’ead walked down the passage from his accommodations and into the anteroom of the throne room, and in the courtroom the two thrones of the Lord and Lady of the Vulzdagg Branch stood erect, empty of both leaders. Matron Leona’burda was in the Circle of Power, he knew, where the commanders and captains of the armies had been making their battle plans earlier that day. She lay on a stone table, ready to give birth at any moment during her prayers to the Urden’Dagg, and soon to be joined by Gefiny. Vaknorbond, though, was with the soldiers, forming them into ranks and going over with their commanders and captains the order of which things were to happen.
Outside the forces of Vulzdagg were gathered and already beginning their march, and Dril went straightway to the stables of the Basilisk where soldiers were preparing their mounts for battle; armoring them in iron and bronze, and strapping their saddles down tightly. Mounted and ready, they rode out and stood in wait for their captain. Dril, however, took his time finding his Basilisk and tying its armor down across its back.
At last he mounted and rode out to meet his force, a number of Riders consisting of a hundred and fifty swords and claws, and signaled with a cry and a kick to his Basilisk that they should ride and catch the rear lines of the footmen before they could pass down the chasm into the lower level of the Shadow Realms.
5
The Taste of Vengeance
The climb down the crack into the lower level was an easy task for most. The mages levitated themselves and the militia down, leaving the Basilisks to clamber on their own paths with their powerful claws. Dril, however, was very used to this situation, having ridded his Basilisk up and down such cliffs most of his life with no problem.
When they came at last upon level ground, and the mages went forward to scan the area for any guards or patrol units. There were a few quick flashes of light seen between the stalagmite towers as the mages eliminated guards patrolling, such as the gnome Dril’ead had seen when coming down to meet with the Master Mage, and way was clear.
The militia moved forward as soon as the mages had destroyed any possible threats to their secret approach; and the first line of attack was sent forward, leaving Dril’ead uneasy on the back of his Basilisk. He watched intently as the Horg slaves led The Followers to the borders of the Zurdagg Branch, six or seven thousand soldiers in all. Soon there arose flashes of orange and white in the darkness before them, detonations launched suddenly into the ranks of the advancing Horg’s and Followers from the walls and towers of the Zurdagg Branch. The guards at the gate stood still, waiting for a signal to retreat or attack… They hoped for the latter.
Now was the time for the mages of Vulzdagg to make their mark, and they came forward and immediately began shooting orbs of light into the Zurdagg gate and towers where Zurdagg mages where sending their attacks. It was a mess of bright light that burned the eyes of both The Follower and Horg’s.
A moment or so later most of the wall was blown away, the shields the mages of Zurdagg might have thrown up acting as nothing beneath the heavy onslaught of Vulzdagg’s counterattacks, and Dril’ead prepared to order his forces forward for their stroke in the killing. He drew out one of his curved swords and roared his battle cry, kicked his Basilisk into its charge from the shelter of the stalagmites, and crashed into the field of combat with his force of Riders following on his mounts heels.
The Followers of Zurdagg were already charging out of their barracks and strongholds, pouring out the gate and into the ranks of Vulzdagg like a flood of water to consume a fire. Dril dropped the reins of his Basilisk and drew out his second scimitar, stretching out his arms to either side, and clinging to his mount with his knees to wait for the impact of either force.
To the captain of the Basilisks, these weapons were like extensions of his arms.
The Horg’s were the first to meet the Zurdagg’s, there axes ripping through the magically enhanced metal of their armor as they tore through their lines, eventually being struck down themselves once their momentum faded. But their job had been done; the Zurdagg lines were penetrated and pushed back, allowing the footmen a clear passage into the scattered lines of Zurdagg. Then, when all was through, the basilisks tore what was left of the fighting Zurdagg’s apart.
Dril’s Basilisk rose to its four rear legs, clawing through the armor and defenses of their opponents, and Dril brandished his swords before slicing through the breastplate of a passing Zurdagg. He forced his Basilisk through the soldiers to reach the gates of the Zurdagg city, and another swing of his blade stole the throat of another of The Followers of Zurdagg. He crossed blades with a warrior of Zurdagg for only a moment before he cut him down – a slash across his throat – and in that same moment his other blade cutting into the armor of another charging from the side.
Returning both blades back into their scabbards and taking the reins in both hands he kicked his Basilisk into running and they crashed through the battle, making their way toward the gates of Zurdagg. He could taste the vengeance of his actions, the blood and the salty tears of pain of death, and it was all sour to his taste. Yet he pushed forward unto the Mage Tower.
*****
Before departing, Vaknorbond found himself a worthy mount. It had dark scales and yellow eyes that foretold of its fierceness when called upon, and once he mounted it took to the air, following the troops as they marched into battle.
The Drake of the Shadow Realms perched on the edge of the crack opening downward into the lower level, where the Branches of Zurdagg and Grundagg lay in once quiet solitude. The Drake, however, climbed down much like the Basilisks had done, and came upon le
vel ground at the chasms base. Again they took to the air and soared over the midst of the battle before the walls of Zurdagg, now a mere slaughtering of Zurdagg by the hands of Vulzdagg.
Vaknorbond saw Dril’ead pushing his way through the battle, cutting down soldiers of Zurdagg as he went straightway toward the gates of the city. “He knows his task well,” Vaknorbond remarked to himself somewhat grimly, “A sorry understanding, nonetheless.”
The Drake dove downward on command by its rider, and together they fell gracefully toward the crumbling walls of Zurdagg even as the mages of Zurdagg began to desperately throw up barriers around their city to hold back the detonations of the Vulzdagg mages; and though the barriers could hold off magical attacks Vak could still fly through with no delay.
His mount pulled short just above the city wall as Vaknorbond commanded, and he leapt from the saddle to fall freely, his purple cloak billowing behind him as he drew his blade, and then softly land with the aid of magic upon the battlements of Zurdagg. With a single stroke he slashed the chest of an unsuspecting male guardsman, having been distracted by the chaos before him, and he fell without a cry.
Further along the wall a female guard lifted a spear and hurled it at Vak, but he dropped into a crouch and the spear passed harmlessly over his head. Then taking a knife from his boot he threw the weapon directly into her heart, killing the officer immediately, and she fell to the side with hardly a groan. Vak then took the guards spear, snapped it in half, and tossing either end aside. He made a quick hand signal to his mount and the beast departed away from the scene, and then he ran along the length of the wall with his blade in hand, tossed his cloak over his shoulder, and leapt down from the wall and onto the roof of a barracks without a sound. He crept to the edge of the structure and looked out over the cityscape in the direction of the Mage Tower looming above him.
Soldiers were already gathered in front of the weakening city gates, waiting for the invaders to enter. When Vak saw them prepared for his peoples entry he remembered at once the figure of Dril’ead fighting his way to that gate, and he began searching round the city from his perch to see at the base of the wall, near the gate, a pile barrels containing explosive powder used for magical detonations was stacked nearby. Vak furrowed his brow in contemplation of the plan forming in his mind, and then dropped down in front of the structure he used as his perch to look inside the barrack through an open window.
To his relief there was no one inside. But inside he found steel crossbows and darts of various shapes and sizes lying on tables or hanging from walls or upon racks. He climbed in through the window and dropped to the ground in a low crouch. There was darts specifically made with a thick fabric of some kind wrapped over their tips, and Vak knew their purpose and so took one before steeling a steel crossbow from a rack near the window. Then, silently, and checking the room for any unwanted eyes, he departed back out the window and climbed up the side of the building.
On the roof of the barrack Vak set the dart in place on the crossbow, and then gripped the covered tip of the dart as he silently chanted the command for the appearance of fire, and the fabric immediately blazed with fire in response to his incantation.
A call went up from the crowd of soldiers at the gate the moment the flame came to life, and all were soon shouting and pointing in his direction. Without a moment’s hesitation, though, Vaknorbond took quick aim at the barrels of explosive powder, pulled back on the trigger of the crossbow, and sent the flaming dart away.
There followed a painful outburst of light as the dart vanished into the barrels, the explosion of the powder enveloping everything in its destructive path, and Vak leapt off the roof and rolled away even as the barrack he had been perched upon was consumed in flames behind him. The soldiers at the gate cried out in pain and alarm as they were taken up in the flames, fleeing from the exploding barrels and crumbling buildings all round them, and the wall and gateway into Zurdagg was at last destroyed by the blast.
The Mages along the wall were killed as the wall crumbled to the ground, towers and barracks alike, and also those soldiers who had guarded the gateway. With them now destroyed, their share of the magical wall crumbled, the army of Vulzdagg charged into the very streets of Zurdagg to finish their slaughtering.
Vak padded the flames off his cloak and wiped the blood from his nose. His work there was complete – chaos was beginning to grow in the treacherous city of Zurdagg. He departed quickly, darting in and out from behind barracks and smith shops, making his own way toward the Zurdagg citadel and the aristocracy of that Branch.
6
Child of the Basilisk
Leona’burda’s cries of pain could be heard even in the great hall of the Vulzdagg citadel. It was her birthing hour, and the nurses were busying themselves about her. She gripped Gefiny’s hand tightly as she stood beside her, eyes shut, muttering prayers for her mother and for her brother and father as they battled the Zurdagg’s.
“Time is running short, dear mother,” Gefiny said with a weary voice. “I feel we are close to victory; Zurdagg will soon be no more.”
Leona’burda replied with a groan and tightened her grip on Gefiny’s pale hand. “Seleg Zurdagg! Euxa heldar, Vulzdagg!” Leona’burda cried out, tears streaming down her face.
At that moment the baby emerged and the nurses received it in warm blankets. Leona’burda’s grip loosened on her daughters hand and exhaled deeply, her breath shaking.
“It’s a boy,” the nurses told her.
Leona smiled at the infant’s furrowed face as it began its soft cry. The mother then took the child in her arms and held it close.
“What will you name him?” said Gefiny, her tone revealing slight displeasure.
Leona’burda was silent in thought for a moment. She read the tone in her daughter’s voice and knew why she was disappointed, Gefiny having ever detested the idea of the throne as the next Lady of Vulzdagg, and so hoped that her mother, Leona’burda, would give birth to a daughter to fill the throne for her after their mother instead. Gefiny was a warrior at birth, and Leona’burda knew this.
Leona looked at her daughter then to the child. She sighed and replied softly, “Neth’tek Vulzdagg.”
7
Untouchable
A flash of flames erupted from the ground in front of Dril’ead, forcing him to shield his eyes as the light and heat grew then diminished in a quick flash. The mage that had cast this spell was right afterwards summoning up the next; mumbling the incantations even as the first flames died away. The tail of Dril’s Basilisk whipped outward and struck the mage across the face while he was in the middle of casting his spell, and the mage fell out of their path.
Dril’ead turned his beast to the shattering gates of Zurdagg to plunge forward and leap over the smashed gate; but once inside the city he discovered that the walls were crumbling down, the mages of Zurdagg unable to raise shields in time to save their defenses. The Zurdagg infantry were slain and fleeing into their city to regroup, but were cut down and destroyed as the flood of Vulzdagg Riders and footmen pursued them. The only reliable source of the Zurdagg’s was their mages, and even they were quickly diminishing.
The Basilisk charged into the main street of the city, which was now burned and destroyed, and Dril’ead couldn’t help but feel the sickening sensation after looking upon such an awful ruin as this. He realized that a great number of Zurdagg soldiers lay dead in the streets, burned by some unknown flame that was destroying the city from the inside out, and could smell the explosive powder. He guessed the cause of this destruction, charred flesh reeking in the air among it, and pushed his Basilisk onward toward the Mage Tower of Zurdagg where Vaknorbond would be fighting his battle.
*****
Four guards rushed forward to meet Vaknorbond blade against blade as he approached the gates to the citadel. But the first fell before coming anywhere near to the Vulzdagg, a knife in his throat, and the next were taken as easily as the first: A simple cross hand left block to the first, a
kick to the stomach of the second, then a spin and jump over him followed by a downward lung to the third who blocked it as expected. The following flurry of steal lasted only seconds as Vak slashed the first across the thigh, bringing him to his knees, and elbowed the third in the nose. A scimitar went into the back of the second as he was still recovering from the hit to his stomach, and a blade through the belly of the first.
The final guard, with blood smeared across his face, charged forward and lunged with a spear at Vaknorbond’s exposed chest. Vak, however, leapt aside and kicked the tip of the weapon down. It struck the stone and snapped as the full weight of the wielder fell upon its shaft.
Vak swung at The Followers throat, but the guard was too quick and dropped to his knees, rolling beneath the blow and jumping up behind the Lord of Vulzdagg. The Zurdagg guardsman lunged with the broken half of the spear, and stabbed Vak in the thigh with the split end. In tremendous pain Vaknorbond turned and stabbed with both scimitars into the guardsman’s breastplate, ending its days as a guard of Zurdagg.
He fell to his knees, feeling the sharp pain of the shaft in the back of his leg, and groaned audibly.
From the shadows ran forward Grulad, the Master Mage, and he dropped to one knee beside Vaknorbond. “Lord Vulzdagg!” he exclaimed, “do not move! I’ll tend to your wounds!”
He laid Vaknorbond upon his face and took the splintered shaft in both hands, inhaled deeply and contemplatively, then pulled the steel out of his leg. Vak cried out, veins bulging in his neck, and slammed a clenched first against the earth. The pain soon resided as Grulad laid both hands on the wound and uttered a spell of healing, the wound sealing and the pain becoming nothing but a throbbing in the hand and a tingle in the leg.
Shadow Realms: Part One of the Redemption Cycle Page 5