Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  "I serve meself and no one else. I swear allegiance to neither the Dark Lord, nor the Father."

  As soon as she said the word, ‘Father’ Thaluzont wanted to reach up and cup his ears to try and muffle the hundreds of agonizing screams that echoed in his head, but he forced himself not to react.

  "If the Dark Lord sent ye here,” continued the witch, “then it is because he requires me services. I be more than happy to oblige, for the right price."

  Now Thaluzont was beginning to lose the grip on his anger. "How dare you assume that you would be paid for a service required by the Master!" He pulled out his short sword slowly, allowing the ring of the freed blade to resonate off the walls of the small hut. "You will do what is asked of you, or you will do nothing ever again." He didn't know if it was the calm, cool expression on her face, or the multiple thuds that sounded all around the small hut, but Thaluzont began to think that pulling his sword free may have been rash. But he would not be backed down so easily. No mere witch, or her giant dogs, would give him the slightest bit of fear. "If you think to attack me witch, do you believe that I would not kill you first, before your beasts could take me, if they are even able to do so?"

  She gave him that cool smile and raised her eyebrows. "Is it yer master that speaks for ye now? Or is this yer decision, to threaten someone whom he requires a service from and who, if dead, will not be able to render such a service? And if ye were to die this night, the great leader of the northern horde, what do ye suppose would happen to yer army? I be a simple old woman who has lived her life. Death would be a warm embrace for me I think." She ended it with a soft chuckle and went back to mixing her serum.

  Thaluzont could hear the chorus of low growls coming from outside the hut. He guessed that there were more than ten worvak out there, but that didn’t worry him as much as the tricks this witch might yet hold up her sleeves. But she was old, and her reactions were slow, especially compared to his. He finally decided to take her life and be done with the foul woman no matter what his Master would say. But as the thought crossed his mind, burning hot pain lanced through him. The pain was enough to stop him still and get his attention, but not so much that he couldn’t keep his composure. Hundreds of whispers echoed in his mind, telling him what to do, or in this case, what not to do.

  The witch gave him a strange look, wondering what was happening, obviously seeing the inner turmoil showing forth in his dark, soulless eyes.

  Thaluzont slowly slid his sword back home until the familiar clink of it locking into place echoed around the silent hut. "The master wishes you to live, for now." His dark glare did nothing to penetrate her calm countenance.

  "What is it that yer master be wishing of me?" the witch asked.

  More whispers tickled at the back of Thaluzont’s mind. "He commands you to send your dogs out in force against Vorea under my control."

  The witch laughed as though she were genuinely amused. "Commands me does he?" Her lighthearted laugh died out quickly as she fixed him with a scowl. "The worvak be following none other than meself, yer master knows this much. What is it that ye really be wanting?"

  Thaluzont had to concentrate hard to control his anger now. "You are to coordinate an attack from the worvak under my command. You will come with me to Vorea, to play your part in the battle."

  "Ye wish me to leave the safety of me home? And ask that I spare the worvak to die for ye in this war? What type of payment does yer master think will cover such a cost?"

  Thaluzont was tired of this old hag and of how important she thought herself to be. "Your reward in helping the Master and his kingdom in this will far exceed anything that you could possibly imagine." He leaned forward, giving her a most hideous smirk. "But most important is that you will keep your life for a little while longer. And do not think that death would be a quick release. You can be sure that yours would be a long lasting, agonizing death."

  "If ye wish me to save yer life, than it would behoove ye to stop threatening me own,” said the witch as she gave him a pleasant smile.

  Despite how beautiful it made her look, Thaluzont wanted to strike her down now, more than ever. He cocked his head in confusion after realizing what she had just said, and then belched out a loud rumbling laugh. "You dare threaten me with your dogs? I would cut a line of death all the way out of this wretched swamp, wearing your flesh as a cloak the entire way."

  He laughed even louder and put his hand against the wall to hold himself up. Just as he did so, he felt a prick at his palm. He looked down at the small pin hole as a bead of blood formed. A wave of nausea rushed over him and his flesh seemed to ignite, burning all over. Suddenly he was aware of what was happening. He spun to face the witch. She gave him a crooked grin and a shrug. He started to pull his sword free and charge her but the weight of the blade pulled his arm down. Before he knew it, he was lying face down on the cold vine floor of the abode. The witch was standing over him with her hands on her hips. He couldn't see her face but held no doubt that she was savoring this moment.

  "What have you done to me witch? My master will skin you alive for this treason." He spit up mucous with his last word and broke into a coughing fit.

  "If yer master could skin me alive himself then he would not have to use ye as his pawn in this place, would he?

  Thaluzont couldn't speak. He rolled over and looked at her with wild eyes.

  "Besides, I not be the one who done this to ye. It was yer own doing." She could see confusion through the pain in his eyes. "Yeh see, all through this swamp be vines that hold a vile poison. They be barbed with the same type prickles that ye laid yer hand on over there." She pointed at the spot on his palm that had been pricked by the small thorn. "Ye probably have more than one cut on yer arms from them, it’s almost impossible to get through this swamp without being bitten by the blasted vine." She moved over to her table and picked up the bowl of serum that she had been mixing. "That is why I saw fit to mix ye up a little of the antidote, that is, until ye became so rude. Now I might just have to watch ye die on me floor and let me dogs, as ye called them, pick the flesh from yer bones."

  Thaluzont pulled himself up to his knees, using the table for support. He was shaking and coughing up green phlegm. He was ready to collapse when the witch moved up and leaned over him. She was about to speak when he reached out and snatched her throat.

  Her eyes went wide, shocked that he had so much strength left after being pricked by the poisonous vine.

  Thaluzont pulled her close, sweat streaming down his face. He finally saw a hint of fear in her eyes and broad smile stretched across his grizzly face.

  "Thank you for making me this antidote. Now I won’t have to kill you today." He snatched the bowl from her hand, and was about to drink all the syrup down, when he was stopped by her raised finger. He let up his vice grip just a little so that she could speak.

  "Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't be taking that entire bowl. One sip is all ye be needing. More than that would kill ye quicker than a toads tongue."

  Thaluzont let go of her neck and gave her a look of feigned appreciation. "So you do care about me eh witch?"

  "The name be Lornareen, not witch. I would assume that one of such intelligence as yerself would recognize a label given out of ignorance."

  Thaluzont ignored her and took a sip of the antidote, then waited for his symptoms to leave. It took all the strength and resolve he had to keep the poison from making him immobile. An impossible feat for any normal man, but for someone like himself, it was just another test of his superiority. The dark voices whispered to him, playing on his arrogance and filling him with pride.

  "Go now ye must. I will join ye when yer ready to begin the assault," said Lornareen as she set right the table and some of the items Thaluzont had knocked from the shelves when the poison made him falter.

  "How will you know when that time will come?" he asked with a sneer.

  "I suspect ye will send a messenger in advance." Her reply held complete truth and logic, laced with
sarcasm.

  Thaluzont was tired of this woman trying to make him look foolish. He was the hand of the Master, sent to lay the foundation and prepare the world. He smiled inwardly as he thought again of wearing her skin as a cloak. When the war was over, he made a promised to himself to do just that. He headed out the doorway answering only with a nod. Before he went through the portal, he stopped and spoke over his shoulder. "Will I need more of the serum in case I get scratched again on my way out of this wretched swamp?"

  "No,” she answered. “Once ye have taken the serum it never leaves yer blood. The prick of the viper vine can no longer harm ye."

  Before she even finished what she was saying, Thaluzont was striding out the door. He was glad that the escort was waiting for him outside, along with close to twenty other worvak, no doubt the ones that intended to rip him to shreds if he had hurt their Mistress. He was anxious to be out of the fetid swamp.

  †††

  Lornareen watched as the mountain of a man left her small hut. He seemed to fill up the entire place when he was inside. She felt as though she could finally breathe now that he was gone. Sharing company with that monster ran chills through her bones. She could feel the currents of evil pulsing from him. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to from being on the fringe of evil her entire life.

  Her small door swung open and one of the large black worvak hunched over and stepped into the room. Blood covered its hands and forearms. The black worvak were the largest and most intelligent of the twisted creatures.

  "What be the meaning of this? I did not call for ye?" asked Lornareen as she looked over the blood covered worvak in surprise.

  The worvak's thin lips pulled back, revealing a wide, toothy grin that looked infinitely more sinister than Lornareen thought possible from the already wicked looking beasts. "Your balancing act on the fringe of my domain is wearing thin, mistress."

  Two voices spoke to her simultaneously. One was the low growling dialect of the worvak and the other was an unworldly, menacing rasp. Lornareen sat down in her stool at the small table. She was trying her best to look unafraid, but inside, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a small box and lock herself away.

  "If ye can take control of me worvak so easily, then why ye be needing me help, Dark Lord?"

  The large worvak stalked over to the witch and leaned in, placing its blood-soaked claws on the table. "You think that you are safe from my grasp witch? I need only to take over the simple mind of one of these beasts to rip the skin from your body." He reached out and traced a bloody talon down the line of her jaw. "I will end your miserable existence if it so pleases me. The Father would not lift one finger for your wretched soul. He cares nothing for that of a witch."

  Lornareen swallowed and stuck her chin out. "Ye have no claim to me soul. Choice in life be taken from me, to serve a penance brought on for the sins of me father. Until me death and judgment, a flea in me ear is all ye be."

  "And what of your choice to help me?” came the dual-voiced response from the worvak. “This would help determine your judgment don't you think, helping me to destroy countless lives? You did not have to agree to such a thing. Or is it that your own life is more precious to you than the lives of your fellow man? And what of all the men women and children that have died at the talon and fang of your pets?" His toothy grin stretched out again. "Oh my child, your soul already belongs to me, I guarantee you that. Too many have already died at your hands. The Father holds no love for you in his heart.”

  Lornareen tried but couldn't hold back her tears. "It is yer doing that has kept me in this prison. Yer doing that has caused so many deaths. Not me own."

  "If you do what I have asked, I will free you from this prison. I alone have the power to do it. Grant me what I wish, give me your oath, and you will be free, with power beyond even that of Thaluzont. Wouldn't that be exquisite?"

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up to look through the beasts eyes and into the being that controlled the worvak. "Yer forked tongue not be sly enough Dark Lord. I will not grant that which ye have no lordship over. Now leave me home, for invited ye were not!"

  The worvak howled and threw the table against the wall, snatching Lornareen by the throat. It picked her up and walked to the back of the hut, slamming her against the wall. "Care to rethink your theory witch?" hissed the voice within the beast.

  Lornareen smiled into the face of dripping fangs. She managed to squeeze out a few words. "Yer visit is over."

  The worvak reared back its head and let out a bone shaking roar, a hissing laugh echoed along with it. Opening its jaw wide, it came down to burry its fangs into her head.

  Clawed hands suddenly came around from behind the beast, snatching its upper row of teeth and lower jaw. Lornareen saw the worvak’s eyes open wide as the hands gripping its jaws jerked back. Before it’s head split open with a loud snap, Lornareen saw the shadow of evil abandon its eyes, leaving only the look of terror from the beast that had no control of the situation and was now about to die.

  The large body slumped to the floor, blood spilling over Lornareen’s feet. The worvak that had saved her life stood behind it.

  "Others outside dead, killed by this one," said the worvak in its growling dialect as it pointed to the beast at his feet.

  Lornareen answered without words, her thoughts projected into the mind of the beast. "Thank ye Magrash, ye saved me life. Gather the other elders, we have much to talk about, the war be upon us."

  As the Worvak left, the hissing laughter still echoed in Lornareen’s ears. The feint whisper was barely audible. "I will visit you again. Fail me in this war and it will be sooner than you desire."

  Through Fog and Death

  The fog was still thick on the plains just outside of Kaheendra. Lucian and the others were only a few miles away from the city now. It was still raining, as it had been since the day before. They had all been able to get a little rest and decided to wait no longer and brave the weather. They traveled throughout the day as the storm continued to assault them. It was getting close to evening again and the already dense fog seemed to grow impossibly thicker. Lucian regarded it with a curious suspicion. He had never seen such a fog before, not in his homeland, or south of there even during his recent travels. It seemed to him that the clouds above had sunk to the cold Deru floor to envelop everything.

  At some times visibility was so bad that the group had to dismount and stay in a tight line, one right in front of the other so that no one got separated or lost. It was utterly mystifying. Lucian heard some of the others complaining that the fog wouldn't be so bad if not for the pouring rain. Lucian on the other hand enjoyed the rain, and always has, since he was a child. He loved how it masked his movement on a hunt. But it worked against them now. It muffled the ambient sounds around them, making it hard to hear if anything was coming in at them or circling. It left them more vulnerable to attacks, something that seemed to be occurring frequently.

  The journey was nearly over though. They would soon reach Kaheendra and everyone would be able to dry off and get a warm meal. Lucian had begun to notice that meals were something Tarriel rather enjoyed. He was constantly amazed how the woman could eat so much food and yet stay so lean. She was rarely without food. And hot meals were her specialty. Even in the deepest, darkest wood, she could spark a fire and cook up a meal out of seemingly nothing and make it taste wonderful. Lucian was growing rather fond of her delicious cooking. He wondered to himself if he will be able to enjoy a meal made by his own hand the next time he is alone in the forest.

  His mood soon darkened at the thought. The way things were going, and all that he heard, made him wonder if he would ever again spend a night alone in the forest. He looked over his shoulder at Eliath. Would he ever share a story and a laugh with his friend over a warm fire again?

  Eliath gave him a questioning look, wondering what his concern was.

  Lucian tried to relax, closing his eyes while the damp fog brushed across his
flesh.

  Thunder started to dance and snort, something unseen causing him to bristle about on edge. Lucian heard the other horses jerking about, sensing the same danger. He thought he saw something pass by, running parallel to them and heading toward the back of the line, but he didn't know for sure. The thick rolling fog could play tricks on the eyes, but he couldn't get past the feeling he had in his stomach.

  "I feel it too my friend, steady now," said Lucian in a cooing voice as he patted Thunder's huge black neck. He heard blades ring out behind him as the others drew from their scabbards. He motioned back for them to hold steady but stared ahead, trying to see through the thick fog. Tarriel rode up alongside him, followed by Eliath and Solomon.

  "Something is amiss. The horses know it. We all feel it," said Eliath

  "Let us dismount and form a circle. Prepare for battle!" yelled Tarriel as she started to swing her leg over the neck of her steed to jump down. But Lucian caught hold of her knee stopping her.

  "No, we don't even know what we face. It could simply be a predator that spooks the horses."

  "You do not believe that,” argued Tarriel. “The horses are trained for war. They do not spook easily. We must ready ourselves for an attack."

  "Or we could race toward Kaheendra, we are not far now. We need only to stick to the road," said Solomon.

  Tarriel started to object but Lucian raised a hand, silencing her. Which he thought for sure would make her come right out of her skin. "I don’t like idea of sitting here and waiting for an attack that may or may not come. I think the Priest is right. We should ride hard toward the city, but stay in groups of three. If we spread out to far then we run the risk of those on the outside, and off the road, running into catastrophe.

  Everyone except Tarriel nodded their agreement, but she lined up next to Lucian's right side, Eliath to his left. When the others took up their posts, Lucian started the charge. Tarriel’s mare, pushing to get ahead of the gelding, almost caused her to slip off the back of the horse. She was still getting used to controlling the beast.