“Grugnak was capable enough. No one can fully account for treachery,” Kodan Bak soothed, his voice a serpent nest of lies. “He played his part in this war. Will you do any less?”
Thrask wheeled on the Dae’shan, ignoring the fact he’d be incinerated well before he ever laid a claw on those foul robes. “My honor is unquestionable. Many have died for less.”
“I did not seek to rouse your ire, Goblin Lord. These are troubled times. Uncertainty lies in the minds of most. Kingdoms have fallen. A new order rises. You have the potential to rise above all of your predecessors. All you have to do is extend your sword and the world can be yours. Too many have fallen into ruin for failing to do so.”
“Too many were not Goblins,” Thrask growled harshly. Spittle dripped from his lower lip as he ground his teeth. “Will you uphold your promises? I want Malweir to burn.”
“Our goals align. Amar Kit’han has paved the way for your army to assume control of both Rogscroft and Delranan.”
Thrask gestured towards the surrounding forest. “We already occupy the eastern portion of Rogscroft. What has your commander provided we cannot take for ourselves?”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t be so smug if Thord and his army from Drimmen Delf had been arrayed against you at the Fern River instead of a mere handful. Look at the damage a hundred Dwarves caused you. How many hundreds dead and hundreds more wounded? A savage waste of fighting strength.” Kodan unfolded his arms, anticipating an attack. Goblins were brutal and savage, but ultimately predictable.
Thrask balled his fists. He imagined ripping the Dae’shan to bloody shreds but knew it was next to impossible. They were the chosen servants of the dark gods, impervious to mortal harm. Only a Dae’shan or higher power was capable of killing another. Instead he snarled, “My fight is with the world of Men, not you. What promises does Amar Kit’han offer that I cannot achieve on my own?”
Slightly disappointed, Kodan refolded his arms. “Simple. Your army will never reach Delranan in time to be of any value. Our enemies will have already established strong defenses and be prepared for you. Furthermore, crossing the Murdes Mountains in winter is next to impossible. Your entire army would be dead long before you ever set foot on enemy soil.”
Thrask growled menacingly. “You don’t offer encouragement.”
“Amar Kit’han plans to…transport your entire army, all fifty thousand, behind enemy lines in the middle of Delranan. Once this is accomplished you will be able to sweep our enemies from the field and claim dominance on the ruins of that kingdom. All he asks is your loyalty when the time comes.”
The Goblin Lord contemplated this. It was an unusually vague request with potential dire consequences for his army, but one he couldn’t afford to waste. The Dae’shan offered to reduce weeks of foot marches, though how was beyond his level of comprehension. He focused on his army arriving in Delranan in prime fighting condition and with the element of surprise. The world would change in the span of a day.
“Very well,” he answered, knowing there was no real option. “The Goblin army marches at your command.”
Smoke and electricity exploded between the two, knocking the powerful Goblin backwards. When he cleared his eyes of the grit coating them Thrask stared at Amar Kit’han and a small Human female. He snarled and reached for his sword.
“Not my command, Thrask,” Amar Kit’han hissed. “But hers.”
“Why should I take orders from one I am sworn to kill?” he countered. The blade slipped inches from the scabbard.
Smiling harshly, Amar replied, “This is Princess Maleela, heiress to the throne of Delranan. She has but one desire: the murder of her father, the king.”
“She is Human,” Thrask protested, taking a step forward.
Maleela, tilting her chin back defiantly, pointed an angry finger at the Goblin. “I have fought and killed better than you, mud dweller. You will obey my commands, help me achieve vengeance, and for that I will not set my conquered armies against you.”
Thrask admired her audacity, all the while planning her death. “Why should I trust a Human? You have the stench of treachery about you.”
“I don’t require your trust, only your swords. Disobey me and I’ll have the Dae’shan reduce your army to ashes where they stand.” Maleela, at barely five feet tall, looked the Goblin in his cold, dark eyes. There was no give in her. Not any longer. She became as tempered as the blade at her hip.
“There will be no alliance between Goblin and Man,” Thrask warned. “Your kind has betrayed mine far too many times.”
Maleela cocked her head slightly, unsure of what he meant. It mattered not. Whatever deviations her father led them through were his issues to deal with, not hers. She had but one goal: destroy Badron and the Wolfsreik. The Goblins could fend for themselves once they assisted accomplishing her goal.
“I see no allegiance, Goblin,” she seethed, her words careful, measured. “I want your cooperation, nothing more. Once I’ve achieved my aims you can do whatever your black heart desires. I care not.”
Recognizing strength, as well as the unfiltered opportunity to slaughter hundreds if not thousands of Men, Thrask tipped his head in acquiescence. “It shall be so, your highness.”
Amar Kit’han watched the scene play out with mild interest. His creation was much stronger than Badron or Harnin ever proved to be. She was the anvil on which a new empire would be hammered, an empire of pure darkness once the dark gods returned to assume their rule. With her as an instrument, the dark gods would slay all who opposed them. Malweir would be theirs once again. It began here in eastern Rogscroft.
“We await you, Dae’shan,” Maleela said, turning to Amar. “Open the portal.”
“Magic?” Thrask asked suspiciously.
Amar ignored the Goblin. Instead he slid down the hill and went to the largest open area in the vicinity. Ranks of Goblins recoiled, ever eager to be away from the nightmare the Dae’shan represented. Some evils went beyond the scope of mortal comprehension. Amar Kit’han ignored them all. Fools and murderers, the lot. Each Goblin was as insignificant as the tide in so far as he was concerned.
He raised his arms shoulder level, hands extended beyond the cuffs of his robes. Tendrils of electricity bounced across his fingertips. All noise ceased suddenly, leaving the gathered army trapped in a void between worlds. Several Goblins dropped to their knees. Blood streamed from eyes and ears as the Dae’shan built waves of magic within. What he attempted hadn’t been done in thousands of years. If he was successful in opening the ways between worlds, there was no promise all of Thrask’s Goblins would survive the journey. Dark, powerful creatures lurked in the shadow paths, eager to snatch the unsuspecting traveler.
A hole opened in the air. A rent, tearing the fabric of reality. Gone were the trees and snow-covered fields. Blackness filled the rent. Screams rippled through, suggesting violence and despair in equal measure. Such sounds shouldn’t be heard by mortals, of that Maleela was certain. Only the strength imbued, without her knowledge, by the Dae’shan allowed her to remain largely unaffected.
Growing larger with each passing moment, the rent quickly became wide enough to funnel ten abreast through. Amar Kit’han gradually lowered his arms. Flashes of red and green power tainted the rent’s edges. The surrounding ground was scored, deadened. The Dae’shan returned to his previous position beside Maleela and bowed reverently.
“It is done. Move your army through.”
“What awaits us on the opposite side?” Thrask asked. His mistrust continued to rise.
Amar Kit’han feigned exasperation. Goblins were ever the cantankerous lot. Dealing with them stole years off his life, so to speak. “Delranan.”
“This had better not be a trap,” the Goblin Lord replied and loped down the hill.
If it is you will never know. Fools. Had you any inkling you were no more than puppets you wouldn’t be so eager to march into slaughter. The dark gods have no need of your filth any more than the supplication of Men. You wi
ll all die upon the whims of your betters.
“Will you not join him?” Amar asked.
Maleela shot him a violent glare. “And risk death at the onset of my campaign? What fool do you take me for, demon? Thrask will lead his army into Delranan. Let them deal with whatever force awaits them. I will follow when I deem it wise.”
The Dae’shan contemplated telling her the portal led to the largely abandoned southern plains where no major military units were stationed. The way between worlds was relatively harmless. His magic ensured that. So long as Maleela kept her gaze focused on the end point she would come to no harm. She’s stronger than I originally believed. This one will become a great weapon for me to use against her kind. Instead he remained silent, allowing her the illusion of controlling her own destiny.
Orders barked. Whip masters lashed their soldiers, stirring the Goblin army into action. Oaths and curses snarled back at their overseers, but the mighty war machine eventually formed ranks. Eyes white with stark fear never experienced, the Goblins waited for Thrask to assume his rightful place at the head of their ranks. His tusks gleamed wildly in the witch-light. Sword raised above his bullish head, the Goblin Lord roared at the top of his lungs and marched into the blackness. One by one the ranks followed.
Amar Kit’han grinned savagely from the security of his cowl. All of his long centuries of planning were finally drawing to their end. There could be but one conclusion in so far as he was concerned: the total destruction of every race on Malweir. The dark gods would return. All life would wither and die while he and his brothers stood by enjoying the fruits of their labors. Too bad Kodan Bak has betrayed me. His death will be most satisfying.
THIRTY-FOUR
A Mighty Thunder Breaks
The snow-capped peaks of the Murdes Mountains struck high into the sky, piercing the fabric between night and day like angry teeth from an imagined nightmare. Wild winds howled between the peaks, echoing ages-old frustration. The mountains seemed to grow larger over time, rather than wither away like the rest of the world. Here Malweir remained wild, untamed. Life was rare among the ancient stone. Yet what little managed to find purchase thrived.
Long ago, when memory turned to legend, the tribes of the Pell Darga and Giants fled their ancestral homes and made their way deep into the mountains. The Pell, ever diminutive and cunning, discovered the forgotten crevices and caves, making them a home ever hidden from the rest of Malweir. The Giants did likewise. With no place to fit in, their leaders turned their backs on the rise of Humanity and fled to the mountains in search of peace of mind.
Venheim became their greatest secret. Lost amidst the jagged peaks of the southern half of the Murdes Mountains, the greatest smiths in Giant lore crafted intricate tools, weapons, and statues coveted the world over. None but their own knew the hidden paths to Venheim and soon the forges became myth. Hidden against the depredations of the world, the Giants enjoyed the freedoms few experienced. No visitors sullied their smiths for centuries.
Dakeb the Mage had been the last to visit, on behalf of the Mage Council. He formed strong bonds with Joden, the mightiest of the forge masters. A whisper of budding evil threatened the lands, but without concrete proof, Dakeb and the others of his order had been unable to act. Joden convinced several key members of the Giant leadership to get involved despite their misgivings. When the war finally came it saw the Giants of Venheim contribute in numerous ways. Bonds of trust and loyalty formed between Mage and Giant and, even after the horrors of the Mage Wars ended, Dakeb remained friendly while living under the constant threat of the dark gods.
Once, so long ago there was no recording of it, the Dae’shan and Giants formed a simplistic union. Allies, they roamed the world in search of balance. That balance shifted unsubtly when Amar Kit’han betrayed the gods of light and all sentient life on Malweir in order to obtain his own twisted enlightenment. The enmity between Giants and Dae’shan grew stronger in the intervening years, until only apathy remained. Joden studied the old texts thoroughly during his tenure in Venheim, growing increasingly more interested after Anienam Keiss visited.
The Giant forge master felt change riding the winds. Darkness was brewing in the west. He felt that familiar ache in his bones. A warning. All Malweir stood in jeopardy and only a handful of hapless heroes formed a wall between good and evil. That worried Joden. Groge was a talented apprentice, nearly ready to accept the responsibility of his own forge, but he lacked the experience to deal with such a threat as the treacherous Dae’shan.
Joden hardly looked up as the air shimmered within his stone house. Colors bloomed and faded, revealing the fragile form of a man in gossamer robes. The Giant blinked, slowly understanding who stood in his home. He whistled quietly. “There are many wonders in this world, but to have one of your kind within these walls goes beyond them all.”
Artiss Gran unfolded his arms, smoke lifting off the fabric. “Circumstances have kept me secluded in Trennaron of late. I come bearing ill tidings that cannot wait any longer.”
Joden’s thick brow rose. “Ill tidings concerning my apprentice?”
“Concerning all involved,” Artiss replied.
Joden nodded understanding. “When last I checked, the Dae’shan had become enemies of the light. How is it you resist that pull so claiming your brothers? Is this some poorly devised scheme to ensnare my people at last?”
“I come only with good intentions, forge master,” Artiss said. “The world stands on the edge. The coming conflict will engulf all life on Malweir, whether you choose to ignore it and remained huddled in this mountain refuge. I come not as the perversion Amar Kit’han turned my brothers into but as the Dae’shan the way the gods intended. I am the last caretaker of the light in all Malweir.”
The Giant idly stroked his iron-like chin. “A weighty title to claim. One many better would choose, wisely so, to ignore. These are not proper times to announce allegiances to the old ways. You would be Artiss Gran. I’ve been expecting you.”
Artiss recoiled slightly, the shock registering for a split second only. “I did not think to come announced to the vaunted halls of mighty Venheim.”
“Be that as it may, I had inklings that one of you would come to sway my clan,” Joden answered. A hint of anger tainted his words. The old vows were straining, struggling to remain in place. “What would a Dae’shan, a true servant of the light, have need with the Giants? You must know we long ago eschewed all ties with the lower world.”
“Precisely my reasons for invading your privacy,” Artiss said. He dared to drift closer, but still far enough out of range to flee should Joden become enraged. “This self-imposed exile is quickly crashing to an end. Nothing you have come to love will remain once the dust from this new peril settles.”
“Do not come into my home seeking to cower me with veiled threats,” the Giant interrupted. He balled a massive fist.
Artiss brushed the hostility off and continued, “My errant brothers seek to unleash the dark gods. As we speak their armies are converging on the final nexus.”
It was Joden’s turn to be surprised. “I was under the impression that all three of the nexuses were destroyed?”
“A lie Amar Kit’han went to great lengths to perpetuate through the ages but one now exposed. Two have been permanently destroyed yet the third remains active. The hour approaches when the way between dimensions thins. The dark gods will be at their strongest. Amar Kit’han knows this. He has taken every precaution to ensure success this final time. I won’t insult you by telling you what will happen should he succeed.”
“Why then have you come? And to me precisely?” Joden asked, suspicion now edging in.
The fabled judgment of the Giants. Perhaps we are not so doomed after all. How could I have told Bahr I don’t believe he will succeed? That he would perish anonymously as the armies of darkness swept over the lands? More needed to be done. Artiss risked almost certain death by leaving Trennaron. There was no going back. Fortunately there was one in Malwei
r capable of maintaining stewardship of the ancient temple. He just didn’t know it yet.
When he spoke it was slow, measured. “You trained young Groge for the past few decades. His is a very likeable young man, but that youthful inexperience will turn against him when the darkness rises. Groge has the Blud Hamr in his possession though I don’t know if his heart is strong enough to withstand the eldritch energies pulsing through it.”
“Have I sent him to his doom?” Joden asked.
“That remains to be seen. My brothers continue to strengthen their position. An army of fifty thousand Goblins has been transported to Delranan in the attempts at preventing Groge and the armies of King Aurec from reaching the nexus in time.”
Joden balked. “Fifty thousand? Their filth has not enjoyed such numbers in my lifetime. Do any of these heroes understand what they march towards?”
Artiss shook his head, lamenting the inescapable losses fast approaching. “There is still hope. Once I leave Venheim I will make for the camp of the young king of Rogscroft. He leads the largest allied army in the north. The only field force capable of halting the Goblin aggression.”
“But?” Joden asked, noticing the slight hesitation at the end of the statement.
“But it is not enough. They are marching into a trap. Once they cross the Murdes Mountains they will be trapped between the mountains and the Goblins. I can’t imagine it taking too long before they are destroyed.”
Joden winced. “How many swords does this King Aurec command?”
“Perhaps twenty thousand, but it is a combined army of several kingdoms, not the least of which are the Pell Darga. A much smaller army of Dwarves, aided by the Aeldruin, march out from Drimmen Delf in support. Their cannons and gunpowder weapons will give Aurec the tactical advantage needed to break the enemy lines.”
“Only you fear they won’t arrive in time to be of any good,” Joden concluded.
The Madness of Gods and Kings Page 29