The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla

by Scott D. Muller

  “Stand in pairs,” Wallace commanded as he waved his sword. “I want everyone fighting in pairs”

  O’Brian stepped forward and swung his giant sword, slicing clean through the neck of one of the wolven. Its head slid to his feet and the eyes glowered at him as it continued to try to bite at his legs.

  “Bloody halla!” the man next to him screamed as he kicked the head out into the field.

  “Here they come again…” Wallace bellowed.

  When the attack stopped, more than a score of the beasts were dead or dying at their feet. O’Brian kicked at one of the beasts. “What halla is that? It only has one eye…” He plunged his sword deep into its chest..

  He stared into its single yellow eye as it went dull. “Blimey, that one is a stonker!”

  “Indeed!” Wallace shrugged and his eyes showed fear. “I..I believe...these are beasts of legend. I didn’t know that they actually existed.”

  O’Brian wiped his blade clean on the coat of the cat. “Pray tell me what are ye jabbering about?”

  Wallace got down on his knee and used his knife to open the mouth of the beast, exposing its fangs. “These be the catomen, beasts of magic!”

  “Magic? Of what nonsense do you speak?”

  “Aye, but not nonsense! There are tapestries in my keep that show these monsters from battles fought by my ancestors. That was nearly a thousand years ago…”

  O’Brian rubbed his chin. “I know nothing of such. Are you yanking me leg?”

  Barnaby rolled his eyes, “I had thought that they were legend—stories—nothing more.”

  “It appears that they are not…”

  “Then, I wonder if the stories of wizards, dragons and the Ten are true too.”

  O’Brian’s face turned ashen. He had heard of the Ten and of the dragons. “We had better pray that the stories are not true.”

  A man ran up, “M’lord? What do you want for us to do with the beasts?”

  O’Brian thought for several seconds. “Mount their heads atop poles and line the road with them!”

  “Yes, sir! The man replied as he hurried off to do his masters business.

  Wallace rode his horse down the ranks, “We leave in five minutes.”

  The men set the last of the beast’s heads atop arm-sized poles and fell into rank behind the others as they continued their march toward Jonovan’s castle. Wallace let them ride as he stared at the display of carnage they had wrecked. If the stories were true, then they would need wizards on their side. Trouble was, he didn’t know of any wizards—or how to find one.

  “Stick close,” Barnaby bellowed. “Keep your eyes open and don’t go gallivanting about.”

  Quinn sat on the back of the mighty red dragon she had captured centuries ago and nursed back to health. The dragon, Ergo, had been gravely injured in a mating fight and would not have survived without her strong magic. The dragon had initially been grateful…until he learned that she was a dark mage. She had collared and chained him in her dungeon for as long as she had been planning her revenge.

  She kept the dragon’s reins tight and its head down while she hid behind a large rock outcropping far above the strung-out band of soldiers below. She cautioned it against bellowing out and giving away her surprise.

  “I will obey,” came the thoughts threw the link of the collar. The tone was bitter.

  She smiled to herself.

  The ranks of the enemy’s army grew as she watched. Four rows of men filled the road and stretched far down the valley, disappearing into the forest at the opposite end. Her plan was moving into action. She sat quietly letting them pass, taking a mental note of their numbers and arms.

  She had watched them mount the heads of the wolven and catomen on their pikes. She didn’t care. There were always more where those came from.

  She supposed that it would have been easy for her to swoop down and let the dragon kill them all, but it didn’t serve her plan. She watched them as they rode off into the distance, covered by the thick gloom that had gathered. As of late, the gloom always gathered where she was, she didn’t understand why.

  After they disappeared into the fog, she launched the dragon forward into the sky and flew east, heading back to Jonovan Castle. Her men had already laid siege to the castle. The pieces of her plan were almost in place. She smiled for the first time in days, but it was short-lived as her mind became preoccupied with the next step.

  She sat on the back of the dragon, circled the Jonovan’s castle and watched the battle play out below. At this distance, the soldiers appeared as ants, the black ants in the castle and the red ants attacking from the outside. The red army surged forward, only to retreat when the next volley of arrows floated over the walls. She could see the archers of the keep step out from their fortifications just long enough to let loose a volley. Neither side was going to make much progress.

  She kicked the dragon in its neck and sent her command down the chain to the collar, causing the red dragon to bellow and dive down at the castle. The dragon roared loudly as its brain filled with pain—pain which would grow unbearable if he refused to obey.

  Men pointed at the sky and ran for cover as the dragon splayed its liquid fire across the battlement. Quinn fed more magic through the chain and the dragon obeyed with tears in its eyes, for it understood the havoc it was wreaking on the people. The effects were frightening to the people below as they dashed for cover under the metal shingles and stone walls. Quinn’s attack buoyed her troops who shouted pontifications of glory in her name. She made a second pass and was forced to use magic to deflect a large spear that had been shot from the oversized battle bows in the Keep. The spear turned to ash as she flipped her wrist. She broke off her attack as quick as she had started, pulling into the clouds before circling away to the safety of the fields behind her troops.

  Quinn landed well out of the reach of the arrows and javelins that the castle launched in her direction and dismounted. She strode across the field straight to her commanders.

  “Call up the mudlings and the orc,” she yelled, red faced. “I want them to feel fear.”

  Seeking Council

  D’rel left early the next morning. He broke into a jog realizing that he needed council with his elders. Having been scryed by them in a brief, he had been summoned. Things must be dire he thought, we will have much to ponder. He ran on steadily for the full day, only slowing to avoid detection or packs of hunting hounds and bear.

  He stopped late in the day, climbing up into a tree to spend the night. He was up at the crack of dawn and left without breaking his fast. Almost as soon as he began his trek for the day, he happened upon a group of orcs sitting around a fire with a fresh kill. Spotting orcs in these parts was worrisome. There had been no reports of orcs for generations. Orc’s took priority over his seeking council. Orcs were a poison on the land.

  They had removed their battle gear. One was skinning the freshly killed deer and the other was polishing the well-oiled leather breast armor. The third got up and walked off into the woods. D’rel followed the loner for a while. The orc soon stopped to relieve himself and just before he was finished, D’rel pulled out his tirfafe and jumped on the creatures back while jerking the orcs head to the side, exposing the neck. He quickly drew his keen blade across the orcs neck.

  Before the orc could realize what was happening, green-blood gushed from the deep cut. The orc half turned and tried to call out, but all that escaped its lips was a low gurgle as it its eyes rolled up into their sockets and the already dead creature collapsed to the ground. D’rel wiped off his tirfafe on the orcs pant leg. He quickly checked the blade and satisfied it was undamaged, slid it into its sheath and started stalking back toward the orc’s camp.

  As he approached from downwind, D’rel kept low, crouching, and moving from shrub to shrub. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said from this distance; however he did catch a word or two between the grunts and the rough guttural speech.

  Staying crouched close to
the ground and creeping slowly from rock to bush, it took him a long time to get within arrow-range, but he was patient. He climbed up the back side of a large tree, hiding himself in the foliage. He watched them while they cooked large slabs of the deer. His stomach grumbled. He recalled that he hadn’t broken his fast yet this morning.

  He removed his bow and carefully nocked an arrow. He hooked a branch with his knees and so quickly it could be barely be seen, he pitched himself backwards and hanging by his knees, got two shots off in quick succession. The first caught the lead orc in the eye, the second caught the other in the throat and it fell to the ground with a gurgling sound.

  D’rel climbed out of the tree and walked over to the beasts, poking them with his bow to make sure they were indeed dead. Satisfied, he rolled them to their backs and checked them for clues as to where they came from, or what they may have been up too.

  He found a small blue globe and quickly covering it with a torn piece of cloth from one of the orcs, shoved it deep into his pocket, He didn’t find anything else so he took extreme care to recover his arrows and cover his tracks; he grabbed several slices of venison and continued his journey.

  Soon the landscape became more familiar and by midday of the following day he had nearly arrived…home. Time to exercise caution; he sat quietly, hidden, observing. After a long period of time spent looking around to make sure he wasn’t being followed, he entered the hidden path into a steep-walled narrow canyon. Pushing aside dense foliage, climbing large boulders and weaving through briars, he slowly navigated the unmarked path.

  He took tremendous care to neither break any greenery nor leave footprints. The elf village was secreted and fiercely protected. Deeper into the canyon he traveled. At the end, he slid into a cave that was all but obscured from view. The cave was completely dark, but D’rel required no light. He preceded, right, right, ahead twenty-five paces, left, and then right followed by a final left.

  Deftly he wove his way through the circuitous path. Eventually, he reached the exit and stepped into the protected and secluded valley. He was immediately met by several guards, who recognized him and quickly lowered their bows and bowed. He returned their bow before continuing down the path.

  The council of elders had already gathered before he entered the small village. They had known he was coming for hours. The scouts had relayed the message and all was prepared. He talked to the border guard and informed him to relay to the elders that he would be along shortly after he cleaned up from the trip. The guard pulled out his crystal and spun it while blowing on it.

  D’rel headed straight for the baths. He removed his clothes and settled into the hot spring. The hot water loosened his muscles and relieved the stress of the trip. Unfortunately, he had no time to dawdle and climbed from the pool and dived into a small stream that ran through the center of the village.

  He had been very dusty and smelled terrible. He hated smelling. He pulled himself out of the water and used his hands to wipe off his taunt muscular physique from most of the water. A young female elf eyed him with approval, and when he was finished, came running up with a towel. Another had brought him a new set of clothes. He quickly got dressed, gathered his belongings and headed to the council chambers.

  D’rel walked through the enclave. A couple of kids played off to the side with their bows and blunt arrows. The gatherers wandered about the village with their baskets full of nuts, berries and fruit. It was harvest time in the enclave and much preparation was needed before winter.

  The high boughs of the majestic spruces towered above, blocking much of the sunlight. The location was hidden from the sky and protected with wards. Other than a steep climb down the sheer cliff walls, or the heavily guarded cave entry, the glen was isolated from the surrounding landscape. He took a good look around, resting his gaze on all things familiar. It was good to be home.

  He stopped at the bottom of a huge pine with a small rope ladder attached. He began nimbly climbing up to the elder’s council chamber hidden high in the treetops.

  He topped the climb onto a small platform and pushed the heavy curtain aside. His eyes had to adjust to the dimmer surroundings after entering the chamber. The ornate room, carved into the large tree was large enough to hold many elves. The small orbs surrounding the room glowed and softly lit the space. He knew that they also shielded the room from scrying magic and blocked all sound. He was met with a stern face by the Council Head.

  “Lor’rel! Long life,” D’rel greeted the high elf. She nodded in return. She was slightly reclined on a large pillow, holding the orb and decorated with the enchanted crystal necklace. Her sheer covering barely hid her shapely legs and well-toned physique. Her ageless face held no expression. “D’rel, how was your trip home?”

  “Mostly uneventful. Curiously, I ran into several orcs yesterday. They posed no problem, but I didn’t expect to see them. I had not heard that they had been spotted in the valley.

  “Interesting. The veil must be in worse shape than we imagine.” Lor’rel shook her head imagining what this meant.

  D’rel reached into his small pack and pulled out the orb. “Here,” he said, handing the bundle to the High Council. “I found this on one of the orcs.”

  “Fire and ice! Is that what I think it is?” Lor’rel gasped.

  “I think so. D’rel fearfully said. “The Gods! I haven’t seen a wizard’s globe in ages. This one is dead, so it is safe to hold.”

  Lor’rel slowly turned it over in her hands. It wasn’t much larger than a plum. “I wonder how the orc came by it?” she muttered.

  D’rel shrugged his shoulders. “That, I cannot say, for I do not know.”

  Lor’rel turned the orb over in her hands.

  “Maybe they found it on the ground while walking the old valley. There were certainly many of them lost in the war.” D’rel speculated.

  “Let us hope so, Lor’rel said, as she lifted her eyes to meet his. “If this was active, the situation would be…dire.”

  “The dark ones!” D’rel whispered. Lor’rel nodded slowly. She took the bundle and sequestered it into a container next to the throne.

  “Well, what have you learned of the mage?” she asked, changing the subject and leaning forward inquisitively. “Is he the one?”

  D’rel shrugged his shoulders. “He is no mage, but… I think that he may be the one we seek. He is resourceful. I expected him to be dead by the time I arrived. He has managed to… survive.”

  “Not a mage?” she echoed.

  “He is raw and undeveloped. A child,” D’rel said, as he kept his head bowed out of respect. “Should I continue my search?”

  “No!” she commented shaking her head from side to side. “I think the situation has worsened. I fear the world is again at a crossroads.” She motioned for him to take a seat. “Come. Let’s talk!”

  “Worsened?” D’rel moved to sit on the single chair provided for guests to the chambers. He crossed his legs and settled on the low stool.

  Lor’rel nodded, “We can no longer assume any of the mages have survived. I can only scry the boy. All the others have vanished.”

  “I have searched daily for any sign of the others. They are either dead… or gone somehow.”

  “All of them?” D’rel couldn’t believe his ears. Lor’rel nodded slowly. “I get moments, but the magic isn’t clear or precise. I think I am picking up but rogue magic. I thought I found two, but they would have been in the Spires. I also found two near the wilds, but as with anything near the wilds, the magic is unpredictable. There were several fleeting detections, but they lasted only minutes. I’m afraid we are on our own.”

  What do we do?” D’rel inquires. “Do we break the rule of interference? The last time we got involved, many brothers were lost.”

  “I know. We must be cautious. But, if the veil falls and there is no mage to restore it…”

  “So, has the council met and decided?”

  “We have. At this point, we have no alternative. We mu
st proceed in protecting the boy. He needs to be trained. We are cornered. Time is short and we cannot lose the last Mage, no matter his past history! Are you up to the task?”

  “I don’t know if he will be an asset to us or not.” D’rel looks directly at the high elf. “He is immature. He is impatient. He talks too much,” D’rel hung his head, recognizing that the question was moot! “He learns quickly, but it will take…. time!”

  “Time. There is no time,” she said, losing her temper.

  “It may very-well be that he is useless, but he is all we have at this point. If we lose him, we are all lost!” she said, waving her hand in a quick dismissal gesture. On this point, the conversation was over.

  She waived her finger pointing at D’rel, “Remember who his mother is! He has great potential, good breeding! His father is rumored to be accomplished too, but he lives on the fringe—we know little about that area, only what the trees whisper.”

  “Bah! Remember who Topaz’s other brother is,” D’rel offered back, making a very disturbed face.

  “Hmm, true! A formidable foe. Does he know?” Lor’rel asked, contemplating the ramifications.

  “I do not think so. I mentioned in passing that he looked like his uncle’s brother. He didn’t really react as if he understood. I think he knows nothing of his families past.”

  “Just as well he doesn’t know his history!” Lor’rel commented philosophically. “Sometimes, our past can haunt us even when we had nothing to do with circumstances or our relative’s choices.”

  “What do you wish me to do my queen?”

  “Go back, train him in the way. While you are gone, I will send scouts to the Keep to investigate on what is really going on there. Maybe Ze’rel. He is quick of foot, clever and motivated to move up in the family. I’ll let him choose two others to join him. The band should be small. They must remain hidden. It is crucial that we remain an unknown for now! I expect their trip to take several weeks.”