“How far away is your father?” Kenner asked.
“That depends on what you consider far, sir.”
Kenner turned and looked at Terri again.
“He does make a fair point.” She told him.
“Alright,” He said to the Morgril, “Let me put this another way. How long would it take to get to your father?”
“That depends on two factors, sir.”
“And what factors are those?” Kenner said feeling a little irritated.
“The first would be when we left. Would you be interested in the second?”
“I am understandably curious.”
“The second would be how fast we go.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“Of course,” The Morgril continued, “All of this is pointless if neither you nor your very pretty companion are Kenner or Terri. After all, they’re the ones who my father wants to see and not anyone else.”
“And what if we’re not Kenner or Terri?”
“Then we would part the boats and let you be on your way.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I should probably warn you though, that there are fifty ships with Walechian sails up the river and very angry looking soldiers on them.”
Kenner turned to Terri again.
“Fifty ships?” He asked in alarm. “Does Walechia even have that many ships?”
“That’s almost the entire fleet.” She answered.
Kenner looked back over at the Morgrils and thought carefully before asking his next question.
“Assuming we left now and walked at a steady pace, how long before we get to your temple?”
“We can’t leave now, sir.” The Morgril answered.
“Why not?”
“You’re still in the boat, sir.”
Kenner sighed, closed his eyes and then lowered his head.
“Fine!” He called to them. “You win. We’ll go.”
“Are you Kenner, sir?”
“Yes, for crying out loud, I’m Kenner!”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Krall surveyed the battlefield with a pleasure he’d never before known in all his years of fighting. The carcasses of both Wolfen and Silther were strewn across the plain and the ground was red with blood. Soldiers navigated through the bodies spread over the field looking for any surviving creatures only to end their lives with a final strike either from a spear or a sword. The Silther still tried to fight, despite horrible injuries. The Wolfen whimpered and howled in agony before finally being struck down.
Generals Font and Sebring had pursued the enemy all the way from the Northern Wall and pushed them to the plain. There they were met by Krall’s army, surrounded and massacred. Only a few Walechian men lost their lives. It was easily the most decisive victory in the war.
General Krypt wasn’t so sure about this victory, though. Something didn’t seem right. Even though it was a large enemy force, it seemed too easy. The enemy forces hadn’t tried to evade the Walechian forces. They hadn’t tried to move through the hills for cover or tried to cross the Serpent River. Neither had they tried to turn around to try and escape the Walechian pursuit. It seemed as they had simply marched straight into the slaughter likes cattle being driven. It seemed to him that they knew they were going to their doom and went anyway.
He was also disturbed by General Krall. This didn’t seem like the same man he had known before. He seemed angrier and more hostile. He seemed to have enjoyed this battle in ways that Krypt had never seen before. Never before had the great General seemed to have enjoyed killing.
Standing on a rise overlooking the battlefield, Krypt noticed an expression in Krall’s eyes that looked like wild lust. After previous battles, he sometimes looked sad or tired. This time, he looked as if he had just been entertained. He also noticed that the Silver Axe appeared to be softly glowing.
“This was a great victory.” Krypt told Krall.
With the look in his eyes of someone who had just finished a satisfying meal, Krall nodded.
“Yes, it was.” He said proudly. He then turned and Krypt saw a wild and hungry expression that didn’t seem quite natural. “And it’s only the first of many.”
“Is it still your intention to move into the pass?”
“Yes it is. We will move into Masallah and join with Terri and Kenner. We will then enlist the aid of the Masallan King and this war will be over by the winter solstice.”
“How do you know their King will join us?”
“Because he will have no choice.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
Krall then turned and gave Krypt a cold and angry gaze. It softened a little, but Krypt was still unsettled by it.
“Krypt,” he said in an icy tone. “I respect you above all my Generals. I think of you like a brother.”
“I appreciate that sir.” Krypt said carefully.
“But,” Krall added with an added harshness. “Do not question my orders or my plans.”
The two stared at each other for a moment. Krypt tried to hide any misgivings he had, but he couldn’t help but think that this was not the same Krall he’d known before. Something was very wrong. He bowed slightly.
“As you wish sir.” He said simply.
Another prisoner was brought before Firth; another traitor, he thought. Her name was Belal and she had once been the mistress of Edum and a high ranking member of the ‘Shoes’ faction. She too had conspired against Admiral Janna; Firth was sure of it. Like Edum and a dozen others who had been rooted out, she would need no trial; only to be committed to the unforgiving depths.
She was dragged in on her back and then turned over to face judgment. Her dress had been torn to shreds, deep bruises covered her body and her face appeared to have been beaten. With one eye barely able to open and the other swollen shut, she looked up desperately at Firth.
“Guilty!” He pronounced.
The woman then looked as if all hope had been taken from her. The crowd in the courthouse cheered lustily and she was then dragged away. Firth then looked at the list of names of those who had been arrested and awaiting trial. His mother’s name was still not on it.
“Have you not found her yet?” He demanded of the soldier standing next to him.
“We’re still searching My Lord.”
He tightened his grip around the Golden Spear which began to glow a little brighter.
“I want her found.” He said hatefully. “I want every house and every building torn apart until she is found.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“And I want her alive. I want her to face justice like the rest of them.”
“It will be done, My Lord.”
In his private quarters in the palace carved into the very rock of the mountain of Glahm, King Kryam, lord and master of Masallah stared out a large open window. From here, he had a panoramic view of virtually his entire kingdom. The Holy City with its labyrinths of offices, residents for his advisors and counselors, temples and gardens and the small, but ornately decorated houses of his wives and concubines were just below his view. Below that, he could see the city of Merz beyond the Golden Gate and then stretching out for endless miles were the sloping foothills of the Blue Mountains. Some of the plantations, terraced farms and estates of his Lords were visible, and beyond that stretched out a vast plain. On a clear day, he could even see the swamps and forests of the Tree of Life.
Today, he surveyed his kingdom knowing that destiny had called him to the throne at a terrible time.
“Is it true?” He asked in his deep, booming voice.
“I’m afraid it is, Your Holiness.” An advisor lying prostrate behind him said. “The city of Lahkhert has been destroyed. Its people have been slaughtered and its houses and dock have all been burned to ash.”
Her peered out towards the direction his port city once was; almost as if he wanted to see the smoke rising.
“And what of these fifty Walechian ships coming up my rive
r?” He asked the advisor.
“They were last reported to be in the Morgril lands in the deepest branches of the mighty Tree.”
The King leaned his head back and took breath of the still cold and dry air of the mountains.
“There is snow coming from the west.” He said. “It will cover the mountain, but not travel to the plain.”
All of the advisors and counselors in the room softly chanted “It is so.”
“It is a sign coming from the Great Mother herself.”
“It is so.”
“Soon the armies of Walechia will come through the pass that I, in a gesture of peace have removed my armies from. All of their forces will come forth and march upon our lands and our people.”
“It is so.”
“But the snow does not cover the foothills or the plain. Great Masallah will be threatened but not defeated.”
“It is so,” they said again with more energy.
He turned away from the window and faced his court.
“The time has come.” He commanded.
Followed by a procession of Lords, Ladies, priests and his highest generals, Kryam proceeded down the ancient stone steps into the original mine from which his palace had first been carved. For two days and without resting, they marched deep into the bowels of the mountain until reaching a small cave. There, only the King could enter.
It was dark, except for dim light coming from the procession behind him. On a stone altar in the center and covered in centuries of dust it laid there, the Stone Hammer. While the other Great Weapons had been taken away by the dictator Faraday, the true sons of the Great Mother had hidden away this weapon in the knowledge that someday it would be needed again. Lifting it from the altar, he noticed an almost imperceptible humming sound coming from the head of the Hammer. He closed his hand tighter around the shaft and it felt to him as if it were waking from a deep and long sleep. Its life force began to course through him and the humming grew louder. The centuries of dust fell away and the head then began to glow a brilliant gold. The time had come for the Stone Hammer to return to the world of women and men and for the mighty King of Masallah to bring the peace and justice of his kingdom to all the world.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Kenner and Terri followed the small group of Morgrils through a narrow path through the dense forest. They stayed behind the three that seemed to be the leaders of the group and weren’t worried about the seven others behind them as Shela was bringing up the rear. All the while, Kenner could swear he could hear Shela whispering to him as he thought she had been doing back at the palace of Sheyron. He had dismissed it afterwards as he simply thought he had to be have been drunk. But now, he was hearing it again.
She was whispering, what sounded like threats or challenges to the Morgrils in front of her. “Try something,” He thought he heard. “I dare you. Try something.”
They walked along the path for approximately an hour before the forest suddenly cleared to a breathtaking sight. An immense structure, looking almost like the Temple of the Lady in Kallesh seemed to come right out of the forest. It looked older and ancient with cracked and faded stone pillars and a massive dome.
Suddenly, Kenner remembered where he’d seen this sight before. This was the temple in the forest from his dream. Just as he’d seen in his vision, Terri was next to him and so was Shela. There were armed Morgril soldiers on both sides of a soft, red clay road leading to the steps of the temple. Kenner could somehow sense that both Terri and Shela were uncomfortable with the soldiers, but he also knew from his dream that there was no cause for concern.
“It’s alright,” He told Terri who had taken the Bow off of her shoulders. “They don’t mean us any harm.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.
“Would like to know what happened after the last man who told me to trust him?”
“Not right now,” Kenner said as now led the way to the temple before him.
Everything was just like in his dream; the sights, the rich, vibrant colors, the soldiers and the stone steps leading to the temple doors; which appeared to be made of Blackwood. The doors opened wide and he was astonished by what waited him inside.
He could tell upon entering that, at least half of the temple was built into the ground, making it appear to be larger on the inside than the outside. The walls appeared to be shaped like the inside of an egg and the tiled floor he remembered was even more colorful; the image of the paintings more vibrant.
Dominating the floor was the huge, black tree trunk standing on its roots. He could just barely see the jagged top and that the inside of the trunk was hollow on the inside. Smoke billowed from the hollow and the entire temple was thick with the familiar aroma of strong tobacco.
Tobacco, Kenner thought? That can’t be. He followed a root from the tree to one of the sides of the temple. It led to a large billows being made to go up and down by a series of ropes and pulleys hung from the ceiling and pulled by a Morgril regularly.
“Is that what I think it is?” Kenner mumbled to Terri.
“Oh my Lady!” She said gasping. “I think it’s a pipe.”
“And you would be right,” said a powerful voice echoing off of the stone walls.
Seated high on a huge stone pedestal beyond the pipe was an enormous Morgril covered in thick, white fur. He looked to be at least three times the size of the other Morgrils with a huge, bloated body that looked as if barely supported by the stone chair he appeared to be both sitting and lying in at the same time. He held a vine that led back to the pipe and took a deep inhale. He then blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. Kenner followed the thick cloud of smoke to an opening in the dome where all the smoke poured out into the sky.
“Where can I get one of these?” Terri asked in a whisper.
“This was a gift from the Lady of the Woods.” The huge Morgril said to her. “It was given to me a long time ago and I’ve enjoyed it for many, many years.
“Must be difficult to clean,” Kenner said dryly.
“I wouldn’t know.” The Morgril boomed. “I’ve never had to do it myself.”
“I don’t recall the Lady mentioning giving a gift of a pipe to anyone.” Terri said suspiciously. She didn’t like anyone mentioning Kayla without what she felt to be the proper respect.
“I’m not talking about the lovely young Kayla, Terri.” He said, appearing to be smiling under his thick fur. “This was given to me by a Lady that has been gone for a very long time.”
He then turned his attention to Kenner.
“And you must be Kenner from the hills?” He said with a grin appearing behind another thick cloud of smoke.
“You have me at a disadvantage sir,” Kenner said in a guarded voice. He was beyond the events in his dream and didn’t know what would happen next. “You know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”
The Morgril peered at Kenner through curious eyes. It looked to Kenner as he were being searched or examined like something new.
“My name,” He said as if trying to remember. “My name…yes…I think I had a name once.”
“Most people do.”
The Morgril then laughed.
“Most people do, yes.” He said chuckling. “But would you consider me ‘people’?”
Kenner was taken aback by the question. He looked at Terri as if she might help him.
“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who said it.” She told him.
He looked back at the Morgril, trying to think of something intelligent to say.
“I don’t see why not.” He said trying to sound diplomatic.
The Morgril laughed again.
“Do you consider yourself a Morgril then?” He asked Kenner.
Kenner thought for a moment, looked at Terri who merely shrugged then sighed.
“Is it too late to end this particular discussion until I learn not to put my foot in my mouth?”
The Morg
ril then leaned his head back and his whole, huge body shook with laughter.
“That sir is as fine an answer as I’ve ever heard in this hall.” He then held up the root from which he had been smoking. “I salute you sir.”
“I thank you sir.” Kenner said allowing himself to laugh a little. “Unfortunately, I still don’t know what to call you.”
“Ah yes…my name.” He said and then took another draw of smoke. “I think I had a name once, but it’s been so long since anyone has said it to me, I simply can’t recall it.”
“Surely they call you something.”
“They usually call me ‘Father’.” He said.
“And may we call you the same?”
“You most certainly may.”
Kenner and Terri were then led to the floor of the hall where ‘Father’ was telling them something about the images on the tiles. They barely heard him as they were both fascinated and awed by the enormous Blackwood pipe. It stood, at least twenty feet tall with a jagged open maw that smoke continuously billowed out of. It was balanced perfectly on its roots like a table on enormous legs. What they were both most amazed by was the feeling that they seemed to be sensing from the pipe. It wasn’t like a cut down and hollowed dead tree. Like all the Blackwood trees they had seen in the far away forest, it seemed alive, old and wise. It didn’t seem to mind being a huge smoking pipe. Kenner would swear that he felt that the pipe was proud of what it was.
“It is the only one of its kind.” Father told them.
“Before today, I wouldn’t have thought even one of these could exist.” Terri said grinning.
“Before it was given to me, I wouldn’t have thought so either.”
Terri reached out her hand to touch it and when she did, she felt as if a thousand years of memory tried to flood into her, but then pulled back as she simply would not be able to hold it all.
“The ironic thing is that I was considering quitting smoking at the time.” Father said with a joking tone. “But how could I possibly quit after such a marvelous gift?”
The Black Sword Trilogy: The Four Nations Page 22