The last few orcs grouped together trying to hold off execution. They sloppily moved backward trying to retreat into the field, but it was no use. There were too many of them. The remaining band was surrounded. Nowhere to run they fell to the tarnished, once elegant weaponry.
A strong gust of wind blew across the plains flinging Ravion's long, red hair about his face. He held his sword low, but at the ready to assure he meant no threat unless provoked. His beaming blue eyes were locked upon the remaining force.
They stared watching the lone ranger stand in defiance against them. He was brave to say the least, but likewise foolish. There was no way he could hold against so many regardless of skill. They knew who he was. Just because they'd changed didn't mean their memories were robbed.
“Do you speak common?” Ravion asked. “My name is Ravion Santail, Dreuslayer and Co-founder of the Order of the Trident. I’m afraid I’ve never seen your kind before, therefore I hope you won’t take it as sign of disrespect if I refuse to lower my weapon.”
From their ranks a beautiful woman stepped forward from the head of the large group. She moved with such grace and elegance, her form never betrayed her. Standing midway between the formation and the lone combatant, she surveyed him from head to toe.
The dreuslayer watched the woman make her way toward him. Perhaps he'd be able to learn something about these people and their society. She was beautiful by all standards. Her platinum hair was pulled into a tail hanging low down the back of her black, leather armor. She carried a polished, silver rapier on her side and had a bow strung across her back. She studied him for a brief moment.
“We know who you are, Ravion. My name is Senaria. We’re refugees seeking a place to call home. Our kind had been broken. Us few no longer share the beliefs of our ancestors. Outcast from our own, we're searching for a new place to call home.” Her voice was strong and unwavering. She spoke as a warrior, but had a soft harmony underlying the musical tone.
He studied her face. There it was again. That familiar trait he'd thought he saw earlier. Looking beyond her appearance he searched her energy. There it is. The light blue aura, like the one surrounding Kane, only this one was brighter, unblemished. But these…creatures… weren’t like Kane. They were pure, not like the memories from his childhood. That was able to be seen without looking. These were a different kind of pure. Like something that once was returning to its former grace. They have to be dalari, don't they? His mind raced with the possibility. If they were that would mean he was finally in the position to reclaim their legacy. “Please don't take offense to this, but what are you?”
She smiled briefly, considering his question. “We’ve chosen to call ourselves Mul'Daron. The first of our kind.” The answer, while accurate, wasn't what he'd meant. And she knew it.
“You said you're outcast from your people. What were you before?” He didn't have to ask. The pieces just clicked into place. But he needed her to confirm it.
Senaria shifted uneasily, unsure if she could trust the seemingly young human. Trust had to start somewhere. And who better to trust than one that could possibly understand. She sighed heavily and spoke. “You knew us as dreualfar.” She froze, ready to defend herself if he attacked blindly. Seeing his reserve she continued. “The corruption was pulled from us a few days ago. We fought to escape the catacombs, taking arms against those of us that weren't changed. We knew we couldn't remain among them, not that we'd want to. The taint was broken and while we have the memories of the pain we've caused, we're no longer the enemy you've spent so many years battling.”
Ravion heard her words. They were like a heavenly voice narrating a dream. He recited the ancient stories his father used to tell him. Both stories aligned into one truth. That meant he'd found what he was looking for. These Mul'Daron are the first of a new generation of dalari. Ravion sheathed his sword and looked upon her in a new light. A commanding and assured presence built inside him. “You have nothing to fear from me. If you’ll accept, I’ll guide you to a safe location where you can begin your lives without fear of persecution. It won’t be a pleasant existence, but it’ll be safe until I can find better accommodations for you.”
Senaria considered his offer. He had the potential to aid them, his status alone was verification. But it was a huge risk. If she was mistaken in his intention he could easily betray them. Was trusting him, a previous enemy of her kind, worth the possible extinction of her family? She looked back at several hundred homeless beings, each one looking to her for guidance. I hope I'm right about him! Turning back to Ravion she stared him in the eye, silently warning him. “Your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”
***
A single arrow spun through the air aimed on its target. The hardened, steel head struck with such ferocity it tore through the man's armor, sinking deep into his chest. Losing his footing he slammed into the reinforced wooden wall. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Over a dozen dreualfar roared from the shadows of the hidden cavern. They rapidly engulfed the unsuspecting guardsmen. Their green and black tabards sprayed red in the slaughter, leaving them to bleed out on the dirt covered road. The small band rushed through the unprotected gateway and into the incognizant city.
Levithion stepped through the opening, shoving his sword into the back of one of the defeated guards. The man went limp, crying out in his death throes. He heard the horns echo in the distance announcing their attack. “This way!” he ordered, sheathing his blade.
Unaware of where they were going the dreualfar followed. Never before had they dared go into the heart of the forbidden city. Such a thing was believed to be a death sentence. Yet this man, this masked figure, showed no fear of the dreuslayers or their tactics which had led to the deaths of so many. A number of guards charged toward them ready to reclaim the security of their beloved city.
The two groups crashed against one another, each holding their own. The dreualfar were out manned and out skilled, but they fought with a resolve that tested the commitment of their enemies. Uncaring if they fell in battle they tore into the guards, claiming nearly three to one.
The masked rogue stood behind his men watching the battle play out. The dreualfar were little more than a tool at his disposal. Several were going to die here. He had no question of that. He didn’t need them all anyway. But at least a few had to survive. Hearing the clank of chains in the distance he glanced to the west to find the massive Dreuslayer Keep perched at the mountain base. The heavy portcullis was raising. That meant word had reached the order. He was nearly out of time. If the army made it here all of this planning would be for nothing. Returning his attention to the battle in front of him he quickly counted the fodder. Less than half remained. This has gone on too long! “Enough!” His voice carried over the battle, silencing both sides. All eyes on his, he drew his sword and stepped to the forefront.
The remaining dreualfar stepped back allowing their commander access.
The guards stood ready, unsure what was going to happen. Their eyes locked on the pale orc skull covering the man's face. They permeated fear. It was one thing to battle the vial black-skins when they were being commanded by one of their own. Quite another when they didn't know who was commanding them. It made the entire situation unpredictable. Raising their weapons they readied to face the disguised man hoping they could hold long enough for the border wardens to arrive.
Levithion smiled beneath his mask. These are the men chosen to keep this city safe? They're frightened little puppies, awaiting their master's protection. Silently drawing on the powers within himself he flipped his sword around and raised it to the sky. A bright flash of blue and white erupted from the heavens jumping to the blade and splitting off into the opposing men. He watched the static charge rip through their bodies, scorching them each time it exited. They collapsed on the well-kept road, unable to delay him any longer. “Come on!” Refusing to wait a moment longer he led the way along the eastern road, ignoring the cowering citizens and frighten
ed merchants.
The roads turned from dirt to stone. Both sides were lined with staggered wooden posts. Every other one had a glass shield mounted to the top, an amber glow beaming from beneath. The lanterns didn't offer much in the daylight, but at night they lit the streets quite nicely. Street signs intersected occasionally marking the way for visitors and traders. Each one displayed a carved trident, serving as a silent promise of protection inside the city. A promise that was currently being tested.
The dreualfar launched themselves at the few patrolling guards that approached. They were little more than a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. The ring of battle died down leaving all the market guards dead or dying.
Levithion looked around at the defeated men. He had no doubt there would be more very soon, but he wasn’t overly concerned. So long as he reached his destination before the army reached him there was nothing to fear. He glanced at the exhausted dreualfar. There was a sadistic pleasure in their eyes. As if they treasured their current trespass more than anything. It made sense; an assault against a group that specialized in the killing of their people. It had to be liberating. He just had to be careful. If he gave them too much reign they were likely to waste time on the townsfolk. That would do nothing but waste his time. And his time was too precious.
They rounded the market square and stepped into a fair sized courtyard. The cobblestone street intersected another leaving a large landing at the center where the road curved around. In the middle several stones were stacked to form a large fountain with a perched dais at the center. Water sprouted from the center of the top tier, splashing onto the stone ring and trickled down to the lower level. The reflective water left an emerald mist in the fading sunlight.
The dark cloaked figure approached the fountain and jumped up onto the ledge. The crystal clear water soaked into the back of his pant legs. Staring down at the gathered dreualfar he ensured he had enough to complete his task. Confident in their number he returned his attention to the fountain. “Circle around and get ready.”
The dreualfar moved into position unsure what was going to happen.
He reached beneath his cloak and drew a dagger. Kneeling down into the water he traced the edge of one of the stones and pried up. The transparent liquid filled the compartment almost instantly. Stashing his dagger away he peered down into the hole, spotting the hidden lever at the bottom. Grabbing the metal handle he gave a light tug, feeling it click into place. The fountain rumbled to life shifting the base in a counter clockwise direction. The mid layer spun opposite and the top layer stopped spouting water and dropped down into the base.
The dreualfar watched nervously. The water drained from the pool revealing a series of tracks and gears hidden among the stones. One by one the molded granite slabs slid into place revealing a stairway spiraling down.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Levithion jumped from his perch and rushed down the stair before the final stones had settled. Reaching the bottom he stopped at a heavy, wooden door with several rings embedded in the face. Glancing back he made sure all the dreualfar were present. Seeing them in position he returned his attention to the door and reached out, spinning the outer ring.
An echo of moving stone radiated in the small chamber. The dreualfar jumped back, watching the stairway shift into a solid wall. No sooner than the passage closed fully the grinding resumed and the walls moved toward them, threatening to crush them between them.
Levithion wrinkled his nose, smelling their fear in the enclosing space. Cowards! He quickly shifted the remaining rings arranging them into the image of a large, jagged trident. The walls retracted and settled back into place. A resounding click echoed on the other side of the door and it swung open revealing a long tunnel. He marched into the dark path watching the mounted basins ignite with each step.
They passed several doorways and connecting tunnels. He ignored them completely. There was no telling where they led, or how far they went. It was entirely possible they connected to the catacombs at one point, but such a finding was little more than a shell game in this underground labyrinth.
Levithion made his way to the far end of the tunnel, approaching the final door. Quickly unscrambling the puzzle as he had upon their entry it sprang open revealing a large room. The wall to his right was lined with barred cells. Many of them were occupied by a number of dreualfar or orcs. Even the occasional human rested comfortably in the underground prison. The center was dished down, forming a large ring. Training dummies made of wooden posts and simulated swords and shields were grouped around the edge. The left wall held an independent room with its own stairway leading up. And the far side of the room was sectioned off, sealed by a large, reinforced door and an odd looking disc positioned over where the latch would have been.
“Free your kin if you must. When you’re done meet me in the ring.” Refusing to wait for them he marched across the room and approached the disc mounted to the sealed door. It had a faint aura surrounding it and five finger-sized holes embedded in the center. Pulling his glove off he extended his peach colored fingers and pressed them into the holes. He felt the cold mineral ebb from his touch. The stone-like material started to glow a bright orange. Twisting his wrist the disc rotated clicking into place. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The exterior walls were lined with tables and shelves. Several racks were fixed to the walls displaying a wide variety of weapons. Upon the shelves a number of items rested peacefully. They were sectioned by type. One layer was stacked with runed chests nearly locked against one another. One shelf was filled with books. Their multicolored bindings coated in dust from disuse. Numerous artifacts rested where they'd been laid gods knew how long ago. There was even a wooden divider organizing a rack full of scrolls.
Levithion made his way around the room running his bare fingers over the placards and reading what they said. He found it amusing how many of the items were labeled 'Unknown'. He sighed. “Such is the way of pompous do-gooders, always claiming treasures they know nothing about.” He rounded the isle and stopped, finding the treasure he'd been searching for. Reaching down he held his hand over the finely crafted blade. He could feel the power within yearning to be released. The dagger itself was made of a rare ore embedded with crystalline fragments. Very few knew of its existence. Even fewer had ever seen it. Recalling the mineral’s history he carefully grabbed the handle making sure to keep the blade from touching him. Looking over the room one final time he made for the door.
Twice as many dreualfar stood in the center arena awaiting the fearful figure.
Levithion approached, glancing over at the empty cells. Not only had they freed all the dreualfar they'd also murdered all the other prisoners leaving them to bleed out on the floor of their cages. It was no loss. This prison was for the special few that had no chance of rehabilitation. They wouldn't have even known about this place otherwise. He casually approached the group, unable to contain his smile beneath the mask. Stepping to their center he reached into the pouch hidden beneath his cloak and retrieved the fist-sized emerald, once the crown jewel of Shadgull. He extended the gem while holding the crystalline dagger over the top. Several sparks of energy jumped from one to the other draining the color from the emerald. His fists shook, struggling to contain the power transfer. It took every ounce of strength to keep them in place, like trying to push two opposing pieces of magnetite together. Feeling the last bits of power transfer to the blade he tossed the empty gem to the slate floor, watching it shatter into several fractured pieces of clear quartz. The enchanted blade glowed a deep purple, pulsing in the basin lit chamber.
The dreualfar stared in wonder and impatience. The power of the blade demanded their attention, but the lingering presence of their mortal enemies left them uneasy.
“Now for the final ingredient.” Levithion smiled beneath the mask. Striking like a bolt of lightning he sprang forward, slaughtering the assembled mass with the pulsating blade. Each death made it grow brighter. He watched
the final dreualfar hit the ground. He was barely able to look upon the beaming weapon. The blackened skin of the bodies faded to a light pink, draining them of their identity. The weapon burned so brightly. He could feel it trying to penetrate his armor.
Holding the dagger away from him he pulled the straps of his bracer and exposed the tan colored skin beneath. Taking a deep breath he chanted the spell. “Twhi skandres I ubmei tish lohy adble, yam sit urnb nbid em ot iths ofmr. dulhso I fila ot stae, hsi uslo ahlsl sawh hte urnb yaaw.” Without hesitation he pressed the tip against his flesh, hearing the sizzle burn deep into him. Screaming his torment he fell to his knees, careful to keep the weapon in place. The corrupted magics wrapped around him, crawling beneath his skin. It felt as if his soul was being ripped out, burning it beyond recognition. He strained against the pain feeling the magics take hold. His arm quivered, but he had to finish it. Breathing heavy, Levithion angled the tip and drug it through his charred meat inscribing the rune.
Chapter III
The Bigger They Are
The pitted iron bars were coated in a thin layer of flaky rust. Krenin's thick, green hands were locked around them watching the spectacle upon the other side. The large human straddled the defeated alfar. Reaching down he grabbed the agile creature's matted, brown hair. Lifting his head up the human drug his sword across the alfar's throat; cutting him to the spine. The dead creature dropped, his face slamming into the damp sand. Roars filled the air at the scene. They couldn't get enough blood to sate their appetite.
The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2) Page 3