Beyond Dagothar (The Oraclon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jason Breshears

  In a breath they sprinted like cheetahs through the mass of raging slogs. Garru stood rigidly mouth agape watching in disbelief as his umberslogs continued stampeding toward the castle walls as the panthers raced right through them and into the ranks of the surprised hammertaurs.

  In the tall plains grasses orc riders were suddenly torn bloodily out of their saddles by wickedly sharp claws and fangs, half of the hammertaurs losing their riders in seconds. The basilaks then catapulted forward with orcs waving sabers on their backs. Before they could arrive not one rider sat astride a hammertaur. The beasts had calmed, no longer guided by masters.

  When the basilaks shot forward at terrific speeds several erupted into bloodied ribbons along their flanks from the talons of vicious apanthoi, others lost riders in a blink as panthers leapt onto them while their steeds continued onward. Mostly the Ayr sprinted through them to their objective.

  General Garru watched numbly as the storm of panthers advanced rapidly having outfoxed the slogs, hammertaurs and basilaks. The menacing apanthoi approached Legion Four at breakneck speeds straight toward the lines of war machines where the pigmy goblin engineers and dusk giants were setting their equipment. Half of the artillary wasn't even loaded yet.

  "Summon the headhunters!" Garru screamed at a horn-carrying orc and the bloodborn herald blew three strong long notes. Far away at camp the black elves ran to their wingmordhs as pteragaunts lifted into the sky.

  Behind the seige engine brigades was a picket line of mageguards protecting the ten Aelvatchi warlocks and draconian warsorcers. The mageguards were made up of hornhulk knights with tower shields and orcan standard bearers. Behind the mage line were positioned the goblin archer brigades and then six thousand hornback orcs spread out into their companies.

  General Garru groaned at the sight of the enemy along the walls over the plain dropping spears and rocks on his maddened slogs. Out of the sky descended about two hundred giant hawks upon his unsuspecting cavalry which had already sustained many losses. All of the hammertaurs and half of the basilaks were without riders and he watched helplessly as hawks shredded them apart with their talons . Some were lifted high in the air to plummet to their deaths. As orcs were ripped from their mounts the dumb animals were rendered useless, wandering about in no particular directions. Garru had not anticipated needing his aerial cavalry.

  Each of the war wizards were provided four standard bearers who held up poles imbued with layers of enchantments. When all four poles were held up a powerful, invisible barrier, a shield, repelled all arrows, spears, javalins, thrown stones or any missiles as long as they were not magical. The barrier even reduced noise so the spellcasters inside it would not be distracted. Though this was an effective protection against objects, living creatures could pass right through it. For this reason the wizards were provided with a mageguard of hornhulk knights, the largest breed of underworld orc.

  Sometimes the barrier was so strong that it diminished spells so the war mages would signal to the bearers when to lower the standards so they could release their spells quickly. Once their magics were casted the standard bearers would instantly raise the poles again to bring up the shielding barrier. There were ten of these battlemages in the front line with another ten at the rear of the hornback army. All of their hornhulk knights were heavily outfitted in ringmail armor.

  It was this line of ten mages that attacked the oncoming panthers. As the pagai wailed for protection at the sight of the large black cats, the titan ogres and dusk giants dropped what they were doing to pick up weapons. The draconian mercenary warsorcers and dark elf warlocks hurled a shocking storm of bright streams of liquid fire, globes of pulsating light, shadowy bolts of lightning, blue beams of spinning whirls and orange pulsating spheres that detonated loudly. The grasses of the plain flash burned into ash erupting into a fiery brown wall of chaos as pillars of soil shot upward like mushroom geysers in a dirty waterfall. The standards raised back up as the wizards watched the earthen cloud of debris that had formed two hundred feet in front of the panicking seige engine brigades.

  For several long seconds the enemy could not be seen through the maelstrom.

  Round-eyed pigmy goblins looking through the eye holes of their iron helms screamed in terror as General Garru and his subcommanders watched in awe and fear as the crowd of rampaging panthers burst through the blasted area and back out in the open to lunge directly into Legion Four. Garru knew then that these were witches that no magic could touch.

  Shrieks on the front lines were abruptly cut off by fangs and talons. The panthers set upon the titan ogres and dusk giants ignoring that they stood like towering monoliths over the plain. Garru watched as the Taran ogre kin of the Warlord were ripped apart. He could hear his own heart beating in anticipation of the Warlord's punishment. Out of nowhere one of the sneaky headhunters appeared waving all four of his arms and barking orders for the orc companies to charge. The Aelvatchi elf's voice sounded as if very far away.

  General Garru felt numb, looking out over the scene as though he observed the world through another's eyes as panthers viciously slaughtered pagai as every single titan ogre fell under writhing masses of black panthers. Ogres were dragged bellowing to the ground where they remained, bitten, torn and shredded to lifeless ruins. Dark sinewy cats leapt up and climbed the armored dusk giants like they were fungalwood trees of Hollowrealm swamps. The duskim roared in pain and for every panther plucked off and squeezed to death four to seven more clawed their way up the giant's legs, waist, back and neck, chewing flesh between and under armor.

  A frantic dusk giant stood swinging back and forth two broken seige engines batting cats into bloodied masses of dark fur as two other giants tumbled hard to the ground kicking and screaming hideously at the feral violence they suffered. A giant snatched a panther and threw her high into the air and then screeched and looked at his own hand in disbelief. Bone was visible through the claw-shredded flesh. He stood still watching blood flow across his mangled hand when a black panther appeared from behind on his shoulder, quickly reached a black-furred arm across his face and clawed out a large gooey orb from his skull. The giant wailed as the pantheress leapt away with his eye. His loss was only minor compared to his life, which he lost a moment later as he stumbled under the assault of a score of Ayr. Garru watched as the colossus ceased kicking.

  The wizards were now in full panic and their retreat was hindered by the press of six thousand hornback orcs ordered to move in by the Aelvatchi dark elf. As the last pigmy goblins, titan ogres, slave ogres and dusk giants were chewed to death, half of the surviving apanthoi women changed back into their humanoid forms and disabled the seige equipment, breaking machines.

  The other half, still pantheresses, surprised the mageguards by a sudden burst of speed that allowed them to leap over the hornhulks to land firmly inside the protected standard bearer shields. As the draconian warsorcers and Aelvatchi warlords had just released their attack spells they had no time to cast anew, nowhere to retreat out in the open. Though the Ayr were obviously immune to magic the wizards could have been able to employ enchantments to escape. All ten mages died screaming under the fury of the Noble Ones.

  With their objective fulfilled and too many orcs rushing in, the apanthoi retreated. Injured Ayr changed back into slender females and laid across the backs of the stronger pantheresses. Over a thousand apanthoi survived the bold venture leaving General Garru in a daze with a sickening taste in his mouth.

  Dread.

  * * * * *

  The evacuation was nearly complete. The Borderealm ranger's plan had been effective and was a brilliant exercise of misdirection. All of the citadels throughout Shannidar were connected to Sigils Arch by long stone-lined tunnels beneath the plains, designed by the Silthani elves so long ago. The umberslogs stampeded right into the keep because the gates were left open. Hawkmen they pursued then fled on foot through the lower casemate as the slogs gave chase all the way up the stairs of the central tower.

  Mi
chel and the bruun sealed off the entrances and exits and reinforced the stone portals with pieces of crumbled architecture locking the six-legged beasts inside the confines of the tower. The bearlike Ayr roared challengingly through archer's murder holes enraging the slogs trapped inside and quickly the mindless monsters began turning on each other. Those still in the courtyard unable to fit in the donjon howled and gnashed their teeth as bruun dropped fragmented pillars, parts of old walls and boulders on top of them from the safety of the inner court wall ramparts A couple umberslogs struggled to free themselves from large spears thrown from above that transfixed them to the hard-packed earth that had for thousands of years layered the flagstone floor of the court.

  The hawkmen departed the castle flying in two groups that separated into opposite directions. One group made themselves seen by the oncoming aerial forces of the enemy who were led by the dangerous Aelvatchi hunters riding wingmordhs. These hawkmen flew so as to be almost caught by their pursuers, drawing them eastward and away from the battle.

  Before the cunning dark elf assassins realized the deception they were too far off to stop the low-flying group of hawkmen further west from swooping down to pick off hornback pursuers trying to chase the injured apanthoi women in the rear along the ground running back to the castle. The pantheresses not encumbered with the injured and still up for a fight, on their return to the citadel, fell upon the basilaks and hammertaurs viciously, causing them to panic and run about futily attempting to escape the Ayr. Without their orc riders these animals stood no chance and the plain filled with their lifeless bodies. When the Aelvatchi realized they had been drawn away, the hawks in unison exploded with astonishing speed flying straight up to heights no underworlders could follow. The black elves regarded their enemy anew and made sure to remember to relate these details to the Warlord.

  Miles away underneath the rolling flatlands of Shannidar on their underground march toward Sigils Arch, the apanthoi and bruun hastened to join the main body of their kind. Toward the rear Michel walked between two slender apanthoi women, holding their hands for he could not see in the dark of the tunnel.

  "Today you are a Noble One, ranger Michel," said the pantheress Durina, holding his right hand. Her sylvan was simple and clear and Michel realized that he understood the woodland speech better among them than when conversing with Josiah. Both had been taught by Jebrael, but only Josiah moved among the faeries to ever really employ this speech.

  "Thank you. Though I'd like to think that I've always been noble." He could not see the cat woman looking up and down his body.

  "You are handsome, too. Do you have a lover, ranger Michel?" In the dark she giggled, Michel not realizing she found the look on his face funny. In the blackness of the tunnel she moved close beside him and locked her arm around his back.

  "My name is Durina."

  * * * * *

  Several hours later General Garru, one eye totally swollen shut, sat on the ground wrapped in a barbed chain that bit into his flesh. His mouth was gagged and he was petrified with fear. Legion Four was in ceremonial formation as he remained still before the host, cowering.

  Out of nowhere had appeared the Enforcer.

  Gorloshi was thirteen feet tall, about a foot and a half taller that the Warlord himself. A crimson and yellow scaled mandrake, his own lineage boasted half dragon and half something else. Draconian or dark elf. He wore rough wrought-iron armor over his dense dragonscale hide and carried a cursed longsword called Mortal Wounding. A single blow from this weapon was terrible enough, but when a victim was struck by the blade a second time, the pain and damage from the first blow was combined with it. Few survived a third strike.

  Gorloshi the Enforcer served only the Warlord and if a poll was ever conducted it would have discovered that the Enforcer was more feared than the Taran Tyrant. Gorloshi had been sent to retrieve General Garru and assess the damage to Legion Four after a witch among the draconian camp of the Taran army led by the Warlord personally had received word by witchery of the disastrous losses due to Garru's ill-planning. And after seeing for himself the condition of the legion, Gorloshi knew the Warlord would not be pleased.

  Half, or ten of the war wizards were dead though their mageguards were untouched. Every single titan ogre, the taran kin of the Warlord himself, was killed. The dusk giants were all dead save one. The survivor was blind with an arm hanging loosely by bone. Gorloshi ran him through twice to kill him as the silent army watched on. The seige engines were ruined and most of the pagai had been slaughtered. The entire hammertaur and basilak cavalries were murdered, for these deaths did not tell the tale of battle. The priceless umberslogs had not returned but were found confined in the enemy ruins...all dead, having devoured one another.

  The dead of their adversaries numbered two hundred women.

  Legion Four now consisted of six thousand warrior orcs, ten mages with doubled guards and the aerial cavalry of pteragaunts led by the dark elf headhunters. The Enforcer commanded the headhunter subcommander to await Legion Five which was at that moment finishing up their controversy with the centaurs of Wandering Elms. General Imok would lead the combined legions and march on Sigils Arch. The brutal mandrake looked down at the former orc general.

  "Come, Garru," he uttered, reaching down with a claw to effortlessly pick the bloodborn orc off the ground by the chains. "Its time to give the Master your report."

  Later that afternoon Garru was fed to the slogs in the Taran army.

  Dretchwold Hills

  The lizardfolk were a hard people to read. Their facial expressions never change. One had to judge by their actions the thoughts of their mind. And right now Trevor Sindair III did not like what he was seeing. The Borderealm ranger cursed under his breath.

  Earlier in the afternoon as he was aloft he looked down on trains of lizardmen mobilizing for war. He naturally assumed that they learned somehow of the Warlord's approach. After Conclave he had thought back to everything he had heard and his mind wandered to thoughts of Cavin Knightshade. Their former First Ranger was indeed secretive but now Trevor suspected that Cavin had not at all been up to something sinister. Maybe he had met an untimely end. If he had made it to Talan Dathar then he might have been captured or killed by the underworlders. Two days ago he and Luey had separated since having flown together from Feymark'ul. He wondered what Thalleus, king of Wandering Elms, was like.

  But right now, standing rigidly in front of the shamans and chieftains, Trevor realized his error. Icy premonition coursed through his being.

  He had walked into the court of the enemy.

  Casually looking around him without giving himself away, Trevor glanced about now seeing the evidence that only moments ago he ignored. The folk warriors lined the walls gripping tight their spears, long poles with wicked barbs at their tips, no doubt poinsoned. Dozens had followed him down into the underground burrow-chamber and stood in a crowd at the only exit available to him. What appeared to be elite guards were standing on the sides of the main shaman who was sitting on a crude chair and holding a bone rattle. On a raised platform of earth next to him sat the high chief. The elite lizardmen guardians wore tusked masks and necklaces of finger bones. Trevor remained still, pretending to suspect nothing, wary of the move he knew was to come.

  "We hate Ayr..." spat the translator as the shaman shook his bone rattle. It was the anticipated signal and Trevor knew it. His attempt to convince the lizardfolk to aid the Ayr of Shannidar where Michel flew to, had failed.

  With inhuman efficiency the lizardfolk were totally unprepared for, the Borderealm ranger, a bladesmaster and expert knifethrower, jerked his wrist three quick times releasing tumbling knives from his baldric in a blur. The bone rattle dropped to the dirt floor as the shaman gasped round-eyed and clutching its throat. A knife was buried in its neck to the hilt. The chieftain squawked in pain and surprise, looking down at a knife handle protruding from its torso. He folded over with a hiss. An elite guard trying to step forward caught the third knife in i
ts face and went down without a jerk or sound.

  As a fourth raised its spear it fell to its knees screaming, a knife buried in its left eye. A fifth tried to run Trevor through but missed after pitching sideways with a knife sunk into its belly. The sixth knife folded a lizardman between him and the door. The entire chamber of reptillian folk paused, startled. The suddeness of the ranger's death-dealing was unbelievable.

  Trevor did not hesitate like the lizardfolk had. He withdrew the two machetes hung from his belt, aimed, then tossed them with fatal accuracy. Two more lizard warriors fell writhing, neither dead instantly. As the miniture hatchets sank into the reptillian flesh of his victims, Trevor unsheathed his two scimitars and stood as still as a statue in the center of the chamber, barely breathing. In the space of a breath he had taken down eight of their number. The folk were about to find that Trevor Sindair III was an adept with his scimitars and a master at two-handed fighting.

  As the warriors stepped forward and pointed their spears, spreading out to surround him completely, they began to slowly advance. Trapped in the underground burrow chamber, Trevor knew he would not make it to the outside by killing all of the folk. The only way to escape was to make them get in each other's way.