Beyond Dagothar (The Oraclon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jason Breshears

"There are five other armies, if the reports are true. But none of those are here. Their war standards are different. They don't have enough aerial fighters to take the valley by themselves."

  "No. I guess not."

  "Besides, Josiah, there are great strongholds that have never been breached at both ends of the valley." I pondered his words. As a loremaster of dwarven antiquities and a reliable Borderealm historian, his observations carried weight. He continued.

  "Perhaps there's some treachery, then? The axemasters are in a good position to storm the mountain. But they too would be badly outnumbered."

  "It's possible," I said doubtfully. "I heard at their council that headhunters have already been spotted as far as Splinterdark."

  "I don't know, Josiah. For sure there are many orcs unhappy with Bholbash dominance. Hell, the minataurs slay them whenever they find them wandering far from the valley. There's so many caves and tunnels that the Warlord might be trying to get troops unseen inside..."

  Matthias' face paled as he bit off his own words. His eyes widened with some sudden clarity, a realization.

  "What is it?"

  "I'm a fool," he said slowly, a dread seeping into my stomach. "They're coming through the old underveins...these used to be dwarven mountains after Nimbolc fell. Undervein highways spanned from here to Mount Thokax." Hearing this I recalled the reports of the council in Kag'ar Grul. The orcs reported that the trollocks had been crushed in Darkfrost, as well as the goblin domains. The ancient abandoned ruins of Nimbolc lied under that mountain.

  "Josiah, these underveins connect Mount Thokax to Dijin Castle and Ebrog Pass. In those days Kag'ar' Grul was a titan stronghold, never a dwarven residence.

  "He's attacking from underground," I thought aloud. Matthias nodded, pulling at his beard. "These other armies will take those keeps and storm this valley." A strange expression crept across the gauntleteer's face. But I continued.

  "We have no time for sleep. I'll go north to Dijin Castle. You take Ebrog Pass. Maybe we have time to warn them, to defend against an underground assault." The look I got from Matthias stilled me.

  "What?"

  "Uh, so much happened so fast that I haven't had a moment to really talk to you." This was not Matthias. I did not like what I was beginning to feel.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I ran into some wood elves this morning. Some Aelvani who left Wandering Elms heading back to Everleaf. Sort of an embassy, friends of King Thalleus."

  "They spoke with Luey?"

  "Yes. Luey visited Thalleus but he never made it out of the Elms. I'm sorry to have to tell you...Luey's dead."

  Unable to draw breath, I stared. The edges of my vision blurred.

  "They told me it was a headhunter."

  Losing their citadels throughout Shannidar to the

  kraxa'kin trolls, cyprian bog giants and scorpinids

  of the Silapenti jungle, the Silthani elves faught

  valiantly to hold Sigils Arch. On the fourth day of

  the seige the ground suddenly trembled at the un-

  expected rush of an army of angry trees, galloping

  centaurs and masses of hopping toggl'ids led by

  the mighty yak-centaur, King Thalleus of southern

  Dimwood. The plain of Shannider turned from

  battlefield to boneyard as the Silthani marched out

  of the Arch to slaughter their enemies, in this the

  year 1832 After Cataclysm.

  campfire tale of Wizened

  One to Hadatchi youth in

  Splinterdark

  Sigils Arch...the plain of Shannidar

  General Imok of Legion Five could not have been more pleased. Ambushed by the violent centaurs of Wandering Elms and then harassed for days, many of the centaurs along with their mighty leader were captured. Chained, they were sent behind the goblin prisoners to the funnelweb caves where they would begin their journey under heavy continuous guard down into the bowels of the underworld. The headhunters were deviously cunning.

  Now the general had acquired Legion Four. His newly enlarged force was twelve thousand orcs strong with twice the goblin archer brigades, aerial cavalry and now he commanded not twenty, but thirty war wizards with their hornhulk mageguards. He had a fully intact seige engine company of brigades, slave ogres, titan ogres and dusk giants. Outside the main Taran army of the Warlord, his own legion was the largest force from Hollowrealm. The two legions merged, they were prepared to storm the enemy ruins. A stronghold, but very old.

  To add to Imok's mood was the addition of an auxilliary host of four thousand lizardmen brought to him by the headhunters. He also had what the unfortunate General Garru did not- valuable intelligence on their shapeshifting enemies. General Imok's total force numbered about twenty thousand strong.

  The fortress-city Sigils Arch stood proudly defiant upon a wide mound that towered above the plain. The sapper imps reported to the pigmy goblin engineers and titan ogres that the hill was hollow, full of constructions, fortifications that went deep below the level of the plain. Halfway up the hill were the massive walls that encircled the city. General Imok as did others stared at these walls in astonishment, for their joints were barely noticeable enough to show that they were constructed of gigantic blocks over fifteen feet wide and twenty one feet high forming a wall almost sixty feet tall. Only giants could have managed moving such stones. Already the pagai with their seige equipment, slave and taran ogres and giants carefully prepared their assault. Surrounding them were wizards with their mageguards of armored hornhulk knights and all of the goblin archers, arrows readied.

  The enemy would have no chance to slaughter the seige engine brigades again.

  General Imok grinned.

  This odd horde of animal people may be impervious to magic...but not their fortress. All of the seige engines aimed their boulders and iron-slag shot at a sixty foot area of the wall at ground level to the left of a double gate entrance that had long ago been shut with rock that had sealed it by melting. Separated from the hosts was a herd of slobbering umberslogs with their Aelvatchi attendants. Behind the slogs were readied two one thousand orc battalians who would storm the Arch following the unholy beasts. The basilaks and hammertaurs were further back awaiting their signals to plug the breach once the slogs and two battalians entered.

  The old, graying bloodborn orc general saw no flaws in this plan. A single dark elf, all four arms behind his back, stood silently observing nearby. Imok did not like these damned headhunters but he did admit to himself they were very efficient.

  High above the plain the few standing towers of Sigils Arch were devoid of war engines or defensive equipment. No archers or anyone there to try and throw, shoot or drop objects on them. But hundreds of heads of the strange enemies could be seen peering at them from small windows, broken edifices, cracks in architecture. Dark-furred faces looked out at them from shadows. Having no obvious opposition to entering the keep was a little unsettling.

  The general nodded at his herald and the signal horn blew. Little pagai wrestling down levers weighing them down as three or four pygmy goblins at a time held on to them, sometimes their kin pulling down on their legs. Fungalwood frames reinforced with brass and iron banding shuddered in the release of their projectiles after all thirty wizards concentrated on the same area of wall with freezing spells, incendiary explosions, snakelike orange orbs writhing from sorcerer's hands to the stone wall and even one very powerful transmute-rock-to-dust enchantment. The stone surface, already aged, now weakened by the combined magics, gave way, crumbling. Fractures branched out like petrified lightning. Heavy boulders of stone and iron slag impacted the debilitated wall and whole sections fell inward in a cloud of dust.

  Sigils Arch was a relic from distant elven antiquity no longer protected by the enchantments that strengthened these very walls millennia ago.

  * * * * *

  Days after Michel and the Ayr from the northern citadel attacked Legion Four and escaped through the tunnel to Si
gils Arch, the ranger of Borderealm had stood in awe before the two lionlike leaders of the Nobles Ones. Eganosh Faerymane the Old and his brother, Alaryel. The last two ariels of the race of Ayr. They stood at the center of a semicircular gallery having many curved rows of ornately carved stone benches. The great walls were lined with three storeys of balconies with more seats. The enormous cavernlike chamber was missing a portion of its badly fractured ceiling and sunlight illuminated the western wall. The ariels already knew everything.

  Not only are the Ayr a telepathic race, able to communicate much by feelings and impressions, but the hawkmen arrived first and told the tale of the battle.

  In their war parliament the Ayr formed three plans. The first thing they organized was a census, a tradition of old conducted whenever they were about to embark on any campaign. They counted six thousand, two hundred and sixty-seven apanthoi, or panther people. Only one out of twenty or so were males. The hawkmen numbered nine hundred eighty-one, and ninety-four bruun. The huge, bearlike people, only one out of ten being female. Adding the two ariels the total number of the Ayr population in all of Shannidar now confined within the walls of Sigils Arch was seven thousand three hundred and forty-four.

  The second part of their plan involved Michel directly, a human that earned their trust and admiration. The Noble Ones would divide their forces, one group set to stay and defend Sigils Arch so as to allow the second group enough time and opportunity to escape through the tunnel leading to the easternmost citadel which lied abandoned at the edge of Dretchwold Hills. Michel was to lead this group all the way back to Everleaf to visit the god of the faeries, Elderboughs. This plan pleased Michel because their route would take them through Deep Ore Peaks, which was the path of his assignment given him at Conclave.

  Once the first group was clear the rest would also take to the tunnels, but southward, to the citadel closest to the Silapenti jungle. Then they too would make a long overland journey to Everleaf Pines.

  The hawks had brought the unbelievable news of the capture of King Thalleus. Hawks had stalked the train of chained centaurs from great heights in the sky but they had lost their trails somewhere in Darkfrost. The Ayr agreed that a rescue attempt so many weeks away to a spot where Thalleus was only last seen was too great a risk in the wrong direction. They all shared an aggrieved moment of silence for the yak-centaur hero.

  The third aspect of the plan set forth by the war parliament made Michel uncomfortable. His own group of escaping Noble Ones it seemed were dead set to commit an ignoble deed...passing through Dretchwold Hills to exact revenge against the lizardfolk. Not only were they long time enemies, but they were now formed up outside Sigils Arch allied to the underworlders. That they dared to stand before the walls of Sigils Arch deeply offended the Ayr. Theirs was a covenant of murder and they swore that none would be spared.

  Days later the mountaindrake inhaled powerfully and shifted his wings to compensate for the slight change of direction. Michel leaned forward to better see below as slender dark arms wrapped around his waist tightened their embrace. To either side of his own legs were the thighs of the apanthoi woman that had attached herself to him.

  They flew five hundred feet over the ruins of the eastern citadel, many gray hawkmen flying in formation before and behind his drake. They all took turns looking down as the small forms of apanthoi, bruun and the twenty-one elves of Everleaf who lived in the Arch ascended out of the underground and spilled out of the ruins following the great lion, Alaryel.

  Three thousand apanthoi, fifty bruun and many hawks. The Ayr far below spread out like ants across the field, prowling through the high plains grass.

  "They killed lizards in there," Durina said, clutching him tightly.

  "How do you know that?"

  "I can smell their blood, Michel." The pantheress had been direct and bold, choosing Michel. After a few nights spent with her the ranger realized quickly that he liked being chosen. He had learned to his delight that little could match the passion of a pantheress in heat. Apparently human males were not only much more virile, but better endowed and human body temperature was slightly warmer than that of the Ayr. These three traits made Michel particularly valuable to Durina.

  "You can smell that from up here?"

  "Oh yes," she answered as she squeezed him tighter and brought her lips to his ear in the wind. "I can even smell how much you like me, bowmaster," she giggled, biting on his ear. As he turned his attention back to where they were heading he felt Durina press her face to the back of his neck. As they flew on toward the hills she breathed in his scent. As they began to descend to where they would rejoin the others on the ground, he began to worry over the next phase of the Ayr's plan. She sensed it immediately.

  "What is wrong, Michel?" They were now on the ground. Standing in front of her he looked down into her beautiful catlike eyes. She returned his gaze, genuinely concerned. He tried to shrug it off.

  "Nothing. Things are not well right now. We are safe but I fear for the others." Hearing this Durina smiled.

  "You rangers really do care. Humans continually amaze us. I had human friends long ago, Michel. Caedorians. Back when the world was simpler. I even went to the fair a few times."

  "Well, this human cares for everyone. And Josiah does too. We rangers have taken an oath,

  Durina. I'm afraid there are many who do not."

  "Myriam agreed when I called you a Noble One. You are much like us, Michel. You speak the truth even to your disadvantage. This I know about you."

  An hour later the army of Ayr looked out at the Dretchwold Hills from the high plains grasses, the ruins of the eastern citadel far behind them on the horizon. As one, over nine hundred giant gray hawks took to the sky from their places of concealment in the grass. The panthers moved stealthily forward followed by Alaryel and the hulking bruun.

  The mountaindrake heaved upward into the air with powerful wings as Durina hugged strongly around Michel's waist. She shivered with anticipation.

  "Michel, I love flying! All Ayr should have wings...it's not fair," she laughed. Michel watched the air fill and the land below crawl with thousands determined to commit murder within moments.

  * * * * *

  Eganosh was many thousands of years old. His eyes had beheld the rise and fall of entire races, the emergence of civilizations for which little trace remained today...whole epochs of the history of Dagothar. Very few alive could claim to have journeyed as far as the unknown world on the other side of Dagothar, the world of Aroth Beyond. Most even among the faeries believed it to be a myth.

  Eganosh Faerymane knew the truth.

  His golden mane was now jeweled with silver streaks but his eyes flashed like that of a young lion. The two panthermen had informed him of the bad news. The Ayr work crews were still laboring to clear the old collapsed tunnels leading south to the citadel. They had a mammoth job and had only just begun. There was more excavation to be done than there was time to do it.

  The outer wall fortifications had given way to a combined assault of spellcraft and bombardment by seige engines. Eganosh knew that there would be no escape through the tunnel to the jungle. He could not defend Sigils Arch with some while others labored in the tunnel. Like a master at games able to perceive multiple moves ahead of time, the ancient ariel mentally conjured myriads of variables and quickly came up with a plan of action that would save many of his kin. He informed Myriam the pantheress and others what he intended to do, how they would defend the Arch.

  All agreed that his idea was the path of wisdom.

  As the Ayr prepared for the underworlders to attack through the breach, Eganosh remained motionless concentrating on his brother, Alaryel. Though telepathy was a trait of faerykind, at that moment he did not exult in its use. Focusing on his lionlike brother he thought out a message.

  My brother, make haste to Elderboughs...tunnel collapse...no time to dig...the Arch has fallen...we stand to punish the enemy...I will send those who survive...honor us in Everleaf...
>
  In the archaic ruins of the old Silthani elf Hall of Assembly, surrounded by apanthoi and bruun with hard, determined eyes under the sightless gaze of scores of finely sculpted statues of elves no longer alive, Eganosh lifted his proud head. His chest inflated and he roared powerfully, his own joined by the thousands of others until the noise shook dust off the stones and echoed through miles of abandoned corridors and courts to the very foundations of Sigils Arch.

  Startled pigeons in the upper towers took flight as the underworld army outside listened to the alarming noise.

  * * * * *

  General Imok turned to the dark elf. "What was that?"

  The headhunter barely glanced at the general before turning his attention back to the broken section of wall that the herd of umberslogs squeezed in to. He too listened to the deep rumbling but was in no position to know what it was. Now two full one thousand orc battalians were filing in to the breach. Behind the orcs were two thousand lizardfolk about to enter Sigils Arch as well. The general was sure that the slogs and four thousand soldiers would be sufficient to put down the enemy. The Aelvatchi was not.