by Rex Hazelton
“Lord,” the little cretchym that had been created for speed said with a voice that was so high it sounded like a hawk’s screeching cry, “Seym Blood has taken the bait.”
“Good.” Roy’Dohk’s voice had the deep rumbling quality that was the norm among the griffin. “Lead the way.”
“You know what to do,” the huge griffin-human cretchym shouted out to the company of assassins who flew behind him. And indeed they did know what to do since the plan to kill Seym Blood was worked out to the smallest detail.
****
Seym Blood came upon the abomination as he flew after a swarm of mesquito-human cretchym that had been harassing him. Swirling about him as they fought, the winged-demons had drawn the griffin away from others of his kind, though Seym Blood didn’t know it with how furiously he had to fight to keep the cretchym off of him.
Once the creature that looked more human than Roy’Dohk did flew into his line of sight, Seym Blood knew he was looking at a variation on a theme that was created with material taken from a winged-lion. With the griffin element having been further diluted when another dose of the Sorcerer’s essence was added to Roy’Dohk’s own to make the mutant, it looked looked more like an alley cat had been its progenitor than a griffin, a very big and very dangerous alley cat, one whose hair-color was influenced by Ab’Don’s own flaxen hues, especially the unruly hair that jutted out of its head.
“Grandfather,” the winged-mutant chided the griffin it hoped to keep distracted until Roy’Dohk arrived, “come fight me.”
But no chiding was needed to draw Seym Blood its way since the huge winged-lion was already racing toward the cretchym. A growl bred by desdain for its kin, who lacked Ab’Don’s contribution to its makeup, slipped past the sharp teeth the mutant’s parting lips revealed as it withdrew its sword and got ready to fight.
Never having met a griffin before, the cretchym was awed by Seym Blood’s size and speed. Quickly taking into account what it was seeing, the human-griffin mutant recognized it would be fighting more for its survival than to keep the griffin distracted if it stayed where it was. So, off it went with Seym Blood closing in from behind.
To its surprise, the cretchym was startled to see that the huge griffin had already caught up with it and was flying off its left-wing tip. At first the experience of soaring alongside one of its mythic ancestors was unexpectedly exhilarating. This was most likely because the winged-lion didn’t show any signs that it was about to attack. When the griffin spoke, this became all too apparent.
“Child,” Seym Blood said, “have you eaten man flesh?”
“What foolishness is this? What I eat is no concern of yours.”
“Answer correctly, and I’ll give you a chance to live, that is, if you’ll submit to the Law of the Sea and the Sky that governs the Community of Blood.”
“I spit on your law. And if my stream were strong enough, I’d urinate on every griffin that defiles the Hall of Voyd’s sky with their presence.”
“Then we fight?”
“If you can catch me Old One.”
Folding its wings against its body, the cretchym dropped like a stone that was being followed by another stone set on catching it.
Seeing that the human-griffin was implementing an evasive maneuver to avoid directly confronting the winged-lion who looked like it could make short work of the cretchym, the mesquito-human mutants attacked Seym Blood trying to keep the human-griffin intact for as long as possible, so it could continue to serve its purpose as a decoy.
Not wanting to lead the winged-lion out of the predetermined killing zone it had flown into, the human-griffin opened its wings and banked back up into the sky where it waited for Seym Blood to arrive. Once the huge griffin swept up to meet it, a ferocious battle took place where cretchym steel was pitted against the griffin’s massive claw-laden paws.
When the mesquito-human mutants showed up to take over the fighting so the human-griffin could withdraw to a safe distance, harassment was replaced with all out fighting, a change in strategy that they paid a horrible price for implementing as their broken, flailing bodies proved.
Risking getting smashed by Seym Bloods’ deadly paws, when the outcome of the ensuing mayhem was turning decidedly in the griffin’s favor, the human-griffin mutant flew closer to draw the winged-lion’s attention away from the swarm of cretchym it was busy thrashing. It wouldn’t do for them to be totally annihilated lest the mutant lose those Roy’Dohk sent to help it keep the griffin occupied. In the end, the human-griffin and the accompanying mesquito-like mutants took turns feinting an all out attack on Syem Blood to keep him off balance and prolong the fight. But even this didn’t keep Seym Blood from continuing to thin the swarm out and eventually catch the human-griffin with a blow that injured its wing.
Laboring to gain the altitude it once had before it was struck by the impossibly fast swipe of Seym Blood’s huge paw, the human-griffin was sent spinning about as a beetle-like cretchym the size of a large boar flew right through it. Unable to avoid a second beetle-like mutant as it struggled to regain control of its flying, the human-griffin was accidentally gored in the side by a horn that stuck out of the thick carapace covering the brutish mutant’s head.
Once the human griffin pushed itself off of the horn and flailed along as it fought to stay aloft, the cretchym knew it had done its job, though it wasn’t sure it would survive the effort, since the beetle-like cretchym were numbered among the assasssins that were accompanying Roy’Dohk.
****
“Grandfather,” Roy’Dohk sounded triumphant over how well the plan to separate Seym Blood from the rest of the griffin had worked. “We meet again, but this time I doubt you’ll escape from me.”
“Escape?” Seym Blood’s laughter was accentuated by a bolt of lightning that looked like the mammoth thunderhead was trying to take root in the ground below it. “You were the one who left once you saw the battle turn against your master.”
“I don’t think either one of us will be leaving today, not until we finish our fight.” Roy’Dohk looked about to make certain the trap was properly set. “Unless you wish to accept me as your sovereign and Lord of the Griffin.”
“Ashes, not that again.” Seym Blood let out a blood curdling roar before he shouted, “I’d rather fight.”
Fully aware of the human-griffin that were patrolling the sky around him and Roy’Dohk, and the giant, beetle-like mutants that guarded the area beyond those who were clearly siblings of the cretchym he had just fought, Seym Blood went straight for the larger more griffin-like mutant.
Driven by instincts he didn’t understand, Roy’Dohk chose to fight Seym Blood hand to paw, instincts that demanded this be done if he was to assert his rule over the pride. Gaining control of the Community of Blood with human weapons in hand just didn’t seem right, though the rightness of an action usually had little in common with Roy’Dohk’s way of thinking.
Convinced that the Hall of Voyd’s environs, with its ambient dark magic, would give him the advantage needed to best the griffin, Roy’Dohk let out his own roar and flew into battle.
The swath of blond hair that ran through the cretchym’s otherwise dark brown mane and his yellow eyes lit up with each bolt of lightning that flashed in the dark sky. Seym Blood’s amber-colored eyes looked like large, polished stones nestled above a huge muzzle that scrunched up to show the armory of sharp teeth that were there. Where Roy’Dohk looked lion-like, Seym Blood was all lion, a lion who had wings massive enough to carry his huge body swiftly through the air.
By human standards: both were giants, both were heavily muscled, and both would fight to the death. Once they met and swirled around one another, time and again, as they frantically swung their claws at one another, every cretchym within sight was glad they were not tangled up in the fight that would surely see them torn to pieces by the massive combatants’ fury.
Roy’Dohk’s children roared their approval over their father’s fighting skills. They growled in anticipatio
n of getting their shot at the griffin they would soon descend upon once Grour Blood and Thor Blood succumbed to the clever strategy that had separarted Seym Blood from the rest of his kind. In time, their growls were tinged with frustration that their father didn’t quickly dispatch his foe. The growls turned to bursts of angry roaring once a handful of griffin showed up to join the fight.
Too few to get past the massive beetle-like cretchym who took turns ramming the winged-lions with their bulk and the horns that rose up between their insect-eyes that looked like peeled pomegranates, the griffin had their paws full contending with the huge mutants who were covered with purple-carapace that was thicker than armor. Still, the handful of griffin that had arrived came with the promise that others of their kind would soon join them. And if this happened, as often times occurs once plans are made and the fighting begins, strategies would have to be altered to accommodate unexpected turn of events.
Hearing his children roaring as they were, Roy’Dohk looked about to locate the source of their consternation. When he saw a clot of beetle-like cretchym pounding on the griffin who gave as good as the got, he withdrew his sword so he could kill Seym Blood without further delay, a task that was proving to be much more difficult than he had anticipated.
Unbeknownst to the Lord of the Cretchym, Seym Blood was buttressed by the Hammer of Power’s magic twice over: once, in Chylgroyd’s Keep where he and Roy’Dohk had first tangled, and again, on the very battlefield where they now fought.
Though Roy’Dohk retained much of the magic that the wicked fires bathed him in back in Chylgroyd’s Keep, those that rose out of the odious pits that pock-marked the dungeon floors found there, and the Hall of Voyd’s ambient dark power was his to draw upon, he was not better equipped for the fight than his opponent was. Instead of worrying about why this was so, Roy’Dohk pointed his sword at Seym Blood and ordered his children to attack.
Thrilled that they didn’t have to wait any longer to get their claws and the swords they carried soiled with griffin blood, the winged-mutants collapsed on Seym Blood like he was a plain’s deer they had run to ground. The ensuing roaring was so loud it filled all of the sky that spred beneath the monstrous storm cloud whenever the thunder that accompanied the staccato-like flashes of lightning abated.
With all the magic that reinforced Seym Blood’s body, cuts were still sustained by the unrelenting assault, but the blood that was being spilled wasn’t his own, it came from the human-griffin that were quickly learning that their grandfather, as they called him, wasn’t as outdated and irrelevant as they had thought. Still, they kept up the assault they were sure would see the griffin slain once Roy’Dohk added his own sword to their thrashing weapons.
Clearing a path so their father could reach his seemingly overwhelmed prey, the mutants added their roaring to Roy’Dohk’s own who was sure Seym Blood’s strength had been drained as he fought the swarm that had swallowed him up with their numbers. When he spread his wings out as wide as they could go and lifted his blade overhead to display his glorious physique to his children and the host of cretchym that was watching the spectacle before he plunged back into the fight, a bolt of lightning was drawn to his sword’s sharp tip like he was one one of the Sons of the Storm who were wielding the thunderhead’s might.
This notion was not dispelled when his sword’s magic absorbed the bolt’s energy and was lit up with its radiance, nor was it dispelled once the radiance escaped the sword’s grasp and finally passed over the Lord of the Cretchym entirely. But when Roy’Dohk cried out in pain as the lightning began to burn him, the false impression was quickly cast aside. The four bolts of lightning that passed through his chest, tearing out holes in his mutant body as they went, made certain the outlandish thought wouldn’t return.
Looking across the battlefield when the human-griffin fled from his presence as their father fell to the ground like he was a piece of burned meat that had slid of a spit and into the campfire below, Seym Blood let out a roar that acknowldeged Muriel Blood’s sons’ intervention. Watching other bolts of lightning target the beetle-like cretchym the griffin were fighting, Seym Blood was able to retrace their flight and catch a glimpse of the young men in the midst of the chaos below.
Nodding his head as he flew after the assassins that had tried to take his life, the huge griffin gave approval to all the brothers had done since it was the Blood who had dealt with their own wayward kind like they did during the Battle of the Breach. It wouldn’t do for others to fight this battle. And as all griffin knew: Kaylan, Travyn, J’Aryl and Ay’Roan belonged to the Community of Blood by reason of their mother’s adoption.
****
As the battle continued, it became clear that the white-skin sea was winning the day that had turned to night. Each flash of lightning that reflected off of their white faces showed that they were still advancing while everyone else had been stopped in their tracks. Only the Fane J’Shrym had success against the whiteskins, halting the Sorcerer’s minions progress wherever the two met. At such places, the fighting was unusually furious for multiple strokes of the sword and ax or repeated lance thrusts were needed to bring warriors from either side down.
Taking time to observe this, Elamor looked about and saw that few Fane J’Shrym were succumbing to their wounds in any of the arenas where they fought- against the Hag, the hunchman-humans, the winged-cretchym, the warriors from Ar Warl’s various kingdoms, and, of course, the soldiers that had fallen under the sway of the Spell of the White Hand. Remembering the tendrils of red light that sprung off Jeaf’s knuckles, where the Hammer of Power’s rubies had come to rest, and reached out to touch the Fane J’Shrym, Elamor rightly guessed that the magic Vlad’War’s Child possessed was at work in them. As astonishing as this was, the realization that the Fane J’Shrym were ony a little more that seven thousand strong tempered Elamor’s enthusiasm over the discovery.
Then an idea came to her that made her address her son, “Jeaf, take note, the Hammer of Power has strengthened the Fane J’Shrym when the rubies’ light touched them. But they are too few to beat the throng of warriors controlled by the Spell of the White Hand by themselves. More need to be infused with the hammer’s magic.”
Searching the battlefield, Jeaf saw that his mother’s words were true. Still he asked, “What am I to do. Do you see a remedy for this?”
“Yes, Son,” Elamor placed her hand on Jeaf’s shoulder as she spoke, “I think I do. Do you remember how Travyn brought the storm into existence with a command?”
“Aye,” Jeaf replied as he blinked while sorting things out in his mind. “Are you telling me to take command of the Hammer of Power and order it to do as I will?”
With a wry smile on her face, Elamor lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “But I don’t think you’ll have to give any orders, for I am convinced the hammer has taken your will as it owns. So, use your imagination and tell it what you want. If it doesn’t obey quickly enough, strike your fist against the ground like you have in times past. That bit of theatre seems to always bring it around.”
Taking a moment to watch his sons wield the lightning bolts the storm conjured up for them, Jeaf shrugged his shoulders and let out a burst of weary laughter before closing his eyes and concentrating. Three heartbeats later his arm lit up with blue light that shot into the sky in the direction he had lifted his hand to inspect the phenomenon. Rising into the cloud of cretchym like it was a ball of fire thrown by a giant catapult, the mass of light exploded, sending multiple thousands of blue sparks drifting downward. The explosion pummeled the cretchym that flew nearby, tossing them about like gravel thrown by a herd of horses as they ran along. On the other hand, the shock wave passed over the warring griffin like it was a breeze winding its way through Stromane’s jungle.
At first, the blue sparks looked like they were floating about with no purpose in mind. Then the waffling motion most of them embraced ceased and they began to gain speed as they fell. But not all of them fell straight down. Tens of thousands of them
shot out in almost every direction and raced off into the dark sky looking like innumerable tiny blue comets flying through the air. What the sparks did once they reached the various destinations the Hammer Bearer’s mind had sent them must have been the same thing that those that plummeted downward did once they reached the warriors they were aiming for. Like an ember touching a candle’s wick, the blue sparks set the warriors they touched on fire. Blue flames could be seen burning for a time until they were absorbed in the bodies the magic engulfed just as Jeaf’s arm had soaked up the Hammer of Power’s melting form.
Amazed and refreshed all at the same time, the alliance of Nyeg Warlers and rebels squared their shoulders and returned to the fight stronger than they were a moment before. Yet, strength was not the only gift the Hammer of Power’s magic had given them. They soon discovered they had more protection than the chainmail shirts and boiled leather armor they wore gave them. Their skin had toughened to the point that a sword blade slicing across an exposed neck only drew out a string of miniscule drops of blood.
Exhilarated by their new-found powers, the alliance attacked the whiteskins without waiting for the Candle Warriors to send help.
Noting what had happened and seeing the success the rebels and Nyeg Warlers were having with pushing the whiteskins back, Dolfon had the Candle Warriors focused on the Hag alone. With the magically enhanced skin each of her warriors now had, a single direct hit by a Hag fiery-rope couldn’t bring her charges down, a fact that didn’t bode well for the black-robed wizards who lacked the same ability to survive a thrust from a fiery lance. Where the Hag’s fiery-ropes barely punched through the Candle Wielders’ skin, a Candle Warriors lance would pass through a black-robed wizard’s body like a tent peg driven into the rain-soaked ground.