The Orb of Truth

by Brae Wyckoff

  King Manasseh composed himself, “I have always hated that front gate.”

  “I am sure this mystic is not able to summon another of that magnitude. It has never been heard of that one could summon two meteors,” Vevrin tried to console his leader.

  “You are sure? I would suggest you make damn sure right now Vevrin, because you stand where they will most likely strike next. Do something for a change.”

  Vevrin moved to the balcony and cast a spell. His mumbled words were not discernible and then he walked back inside. “The tower is protected, my liege.”

  “Good. I feel perfectly safe now,” he sneered. “Now somebody tell me just how an army marches right up my ass.”

  Manasseh walked to the balcony to view the battle below, watching more of his men fall. He knew the group of dwarves were more than regular fighters. They were different—more powerful, but still no match for what lay directly beneath him. He could feel the strength of the Tree pulsing through the very ground he walked on as it radiated its power throughout his conquered land.

  Suddenly, a huge black dragon manifested right before his eyes. He retreated back from the opening along with Vevrin.

  “I have the halfling you seek,” it said telepathically while displaying the caged Bridazak.

  Manasseh moved closer to get a better look, his mannerisms starkly altering to that of a gracious host, “My gratitude, Barawbyss.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude.”

  “I know that we have not always seen eye to eye, but we might be able to come to some agreement.”

  “You have waited too long to move on the other Horns. I have run out of patience.”

  “So have I. We were building an army with your help, but it appears we are currently losing some men, if you haven’t noticed. This halfling, however, has something that will change the tide.”

  “This is your last chance Manasseh, and this will be my last gift.”

  He released Bridazak and two guards grabbed him.

  “Where did you find him, Barawbyss?”

  “He was in the caves. Alone.” The dragon then disappeared.

  “I see. So this army is yours, perhaps. Where did you find so many dwarves? Most of this race is dead and scattered.”

  Bridazak courageously looked into King Manasseh’s eyes and responded with silence.

  “Where is it?” the King asked, in a sickeningly sweet tone, but still received no answer. “Search him,” he commanded.

  They tore through his backpack and bedding to find nothing. Then they felt around his clothes until discovering the lump in his pocket, finally producing the Orb. No longer was it gold, but instead a blood red. Bridazak’s eyes widened at the unexpected change of the voice of God, and silently waited for it to reveal its true power and nature, but nothing happened. The King took it and inspected it closely. It was warm to the touch, and he could feel a slight pulse like the beating of a heart.

  “What is it?” He looked over to Vevrin for the answer, knowing that Bridazak wasn’t going to divulge any information.

  The wizard held it and then cast another spell. “I don’t know. It is certainly magical, but I’m unable to identify it.”

  “Perhaps it’s the source of this dwarven army’s power. I had thought that I might try to wield this myself, but I think if we destroy this orb…”

  “No!” Bridazak cried out.

  “So, it is the power of your army.” Dripping in hypocritical grace, he continued, “This little trinket, this is what was contained inside the coveted box? Well, thank you for answering all my questions. Vevrin, prepare this orb to be sacrificed, and get this halfling out of my sight.”

  The Wild Dwarf brigade waited at the gate after receiving the telepathic message from their brothers. Several giants stepped out of the smoke-filled, destroyed entrance. Each towered at the height of a village building, with muscles bulging, and wore only a loin cloth. Sounds of battle echoed all around them. Manasseh’s men backed away from the dwarves when the giants came into view.

  “Saddle up, boys! Time to change some diapers!” One of the dwarves yelled.

  They tumbled together and a few climbed on top, forming a dwarven pyramid. A chant began in unison.

  “Kaba teekseh bo!”

  “Kaba teekseh bo!”

  “Kaba teekseh bo!”

  Their skin began to meld together as the spell was released, and soon the group of dwarves became one and continued to expand. Popping of bone sounded along with the stretching of skin, like rope tightening. Within a minute, there stood before the giants a fifteen-foot-tall mega-Dwarf. The new creation laughed heartily and then smacked their hands together. As they pulled their hands apart a shaft of a weapon materialized: an enormous war hammer was birthed.

  The giants hesitated a moment, confused, but then charged. Immediately, one of them was launched back as the hammer swung and connected. The others came in and began to grapple and pummel the Dwarf monster. Fire suddenly encompassed the monstrous humanoids as the colossal, bearded being released the power they received from the broken curse of the Burning Forest. Several giants fell to the ground ablaze, writhing in pain. The mighty hammer came down and was buried into their skulls one by one. Flesh smoldered, and the blood flowing from the cracked skulls bubbled from the intense heat emitting from the blazing Dwarf creature. King Manasseh’s men ran from the scene and stayed away from the hulking fire Dwarf.

  Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck from above. The hood of a crimson-robed mystic flew into view. A magical rune tattooed on his forehead glowed under the shadow of its cowl. The wild dwarves pointed their hand at the mage, shooting forth a jet of flames. A second mystic, under summoned magical power, flew in and protected the other with a spell. The fire splayed around the target as it hit the invisible shield now in place. Lightning hit the dwarves again from a third source. Pain wracked the gigantic body. A fourth bolt struck. There were too many of the mystics.

  The stormy sky opened once again and another huge meteorite streaked down. Screaming out of the heavens, it shattered upon impact on the magically shielded tower. The embers of rock fell like a firework, causing only minor damage to the castle structure surrounding the tower. Raina’s eyes narrowed as she thought, “Manasseh’s mystic acted more quickly than I expected.”

  “My lady, several mystics have engaged us at the front gate,” Geetock said, after receiving a telepathic message.

  “It is time that I personally introduce myself.”

  The tower swayed once again, but Vevrin’s protective spell saved it from the mighty blast. Bridazak was being directed toward the staircase by two guards. Another soldier carried the Ordakian’s weapons and belongings in front of him. Bridazak noticed a faint aura coming from the quiver he’d found in Everwood—some of his magical arrows were glowing.

  “Make sure this one is isolated. Give him our best suite,” Vevrin said.

  “Yes sir,” one of the guards responded with an evil grin.

  Vevrin then tapped his staff on the stone floor and suddenly disappeared. The arrows’ telltale glow faded away.

  “It’s barred from the other side,” Dulgin announced.

  “Anyone have a way to get through barred doors?” Xan asked, looking at each of them. No answer came.

  “Great, we can handle the most powerful monsters in all the land, and yet we can’t open one damn door!” Dulgin scoffed.

  “Rondee has an ability to meld himself into stone, but it is dangerous,” El’Korr finally chimed in.

  “I can summon a rock elemental, but it will make quite a bit of noise bashing the door down.”

  “Can’t it just open the barred door instead of breaking it down?” Xan asked.

  “It is not able to grab things like that. It is a creature formed from rock.”

  “Well, it looks like Rondee is the only way,” the dwarven king said while looking at his bodyguard.

  Rondee nodded, and everyone backed away from the reinforced door. The Wild Dwarf pl
aced the palms of his hands against the wall just next to the entrance. He braced his legs and began to push on the rock. His muscles bulged and then he whispered a chant with his face up against the rough cut stone. Rondee’s eyes were shut and his neck veins strained as he continued to push.

  “Nothin’s happening,” Dulgin whispered to his brother.

  “Shhhhh. Let him concentrate.”

  Several more moments went by until finally Rondee’s hands began to meld into the rock. Each push with his legs sent him deeper within. He was now consumed by the wall and the heroes could no longer see him. They waited in anticipation of Rondee opening the barred entry. A minute elapsed with no indication from the Wild Dwarf.

  “He should be on the other side by now,” Xan surmised.

  Abawken moved to the door and tried to listen. “I don’t hear anything, but it might be too thick.”

  “Something’s wrong. I can feel it,” Dulgin said.

  “Abawken, summon your creature,” El’Korr commanded in haste.

  Before he could pull out his magical scimitar, everyone heard a thud on the other side. Then it was silent again. Seconds ticked slowly by, and then the door popped open to reveal Rondee, smiling. Just beyond him were several human guards lying dead on the ground.

  “I coombre stop chenko for directions.” Rondee said.

  Another thunderbolt just barely missed the dwarven giant as it dodged out of the way. There were now five red-robed mystics shuffling about in the air. The Wild Dwarf fired several blasts of flame at the mages, but they were all protected, and beyond the reach of the massive war hammer. Five glowing missiles made of magical energy slammed into their back and knocked them to one knee. The other wizards began to cast more spells to finish off the Dwarf.

  A dark bolt of energy suddenly erupted and blasted one of the evil mystics back into the castle wall with tremendous force. The human fell to the ground dead—robes ablaze. They all looked up to see a female Elf hovering in the air before them.

  “Kill the wench!” one mystic commanded.

  “What amazing manners your King has taught you,” she responded playfully.

  Two mages launched more force missiles. All ten of them soared in, but dissipated once they hit the protective shield that Raina had in place around her. The energy dispersed harmlessly. Another wizard shot lightning from his ornate ivory rod. It sizzled in with a bright flash of light only to be absorbed into Raina’s wooden staff.

  “I think this belongs to you,” she said. The same bolt re-launched with a thunderous crack and hit the dark mystic in the chest. He flipped over in the air and then slowly descended to the ground, blue sparks arcing sporadically over his lifeless body.

  The fifth mystic conjured a large ball of fire, and rocketed it into Raina. Fire engulfed her. The mystic smiled in triumph until he saw her come out of it unharmed. Raina released another incantation that instantly dispelled the mages flying power. He fell to the ground but was able to land softly after releasing a quickened spell before impact. The last thing he saw was an enormous war hammer coming down on his head.

  Two wizards remained.

  “Who are you?” one asked.

  “I’m the Sheldeen Elf mystic,” she announced.

  “Impossible! She has not been seen for centuries.”

  “And yet, here I am. Look around you. King Manasseh’s reign ends today.”

  They took a moment to look at the battle field. The dwarves had decimated the King’s men. Ten thousand lay dead, and yet the bearded clan pressed further in, and were now amassing at the front of the castle with minimal losses.

  “Surrender.”

  King Manasseh remained to watch from his high tower as the unresolved battle below continued to challenge his defenses. A second powerful fireball hit, smashing into the protective shielding that Vevrin had just put in place, shattering the burning rock on impact. He took in a deep breath and exhaled in frustration; Vevrin had mistakenly underestimated an enemy, again.

  “Yes, use your magic, Mystic, while you can, because soon your feeble attacks will end,” he spoke softly and confidently to himself. He briskly exited the tower.

  Minutes later, Manasseh was inside the familiar circular room, where blood stains covered the stone bed, laced with etchings of the ancient tree. Torches and candles adorned and outlined the chamber. Vevrin placed the deep red colored orb onto the tablet, a place normally reserved for the living, rather than a simple object.

  “Good, I see that we are ready.”

  “Yes, everything is in place, my liege.”

  Vevrin pulled forth an ornate dagger made from the same obsidian rock as the castle.

  “A dagger? How am I supposed to destroy a round, two-inch object with a dagger, Vevrin?”

  “My apologies, Lord.”

  The King flipped the blade and the sharp end landed flat in his palm. He stepped toward the Orb and struck it squarely with the bludgeoning hilt. The stone handle cracked and then crumbled. Frustrated, he grabbed the blood-red sphere and tried to crush it with both hands. Vevrin had seen his master crush the skull of a human with his power, but now, with gritted teeth and veins bulging in his neck, he labored for several seconds until finally releasing his grip. He slammed it down onto the stone slab and then turned sharply to Vevrin, “Your turn.”

  The mystic bowed slightly and turned to face the Orb. He hesitated a moment, then pointed his skull-topped staff at the innocent item and uttered a command word, “Zanthumbeh!” A tight beam of intense energy flared out, but the Orb absorbed the magical heat force. He was amazed at the resiliency.

  “Is that it? That’s your best?” Manasseh bellowed. “Get a hammer! We need to crush this thing!”

  “Yes, my Lord.” Vevrin quickly exited.

  Manasseh stared at it for a brief moment, then felt the pull of the Tree directly below him. The sacrifice chamber was not built above it by coincidence. He snapped his fingers and magically teleported to the Tree. From atop the pyramid he surveyed the chamber. Things had changed since he was last here—the Guardian was destroyed, rock shards from the walls were scattered everywhere, and the dust from the struggle lingered as it continued to settle. Barawbyss had told him the Halfling was alone, but a solitary Ordakian couldn’t possibly have done all of this on his own. Manasseh pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and knelt at the base of the twisted stock.

  “Help my army. Let the defilers see your true power.”

  The bluish glowing mist cascading down from the Tree began to intensify with sparks of light.

  Bridazak was thrown into an enclosed, damp cell. The claustrophobic space, not much larger than he, smelled of feces and rotting flesh.

  “Enjoy, sunshine,” one of the guards mocked.

  “You must not know anything about Ordakians,” Bridazak sputtered as he stood back up.

  “We know enough of your kind,” the guard responded as he started to close the door.

  “Then you would know it would be unwise to leave without tying me up,” Bridazak said hastily.

  “And why would we do that?”

  “Nevermind. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Hey Ghent, the King has the other one tied up,” one of the guards chimed in.

  Ghent smacked him, “Shut up. This one is just messing with us and will probably try something as soon as we go in with rope. No one said anything about tying him up.” He slammed the heavy door shut.

  Bridazak heard the sound of multiple keys locking him inside the dungeon cell. It was pitch black, but it didn’t matter. He’d confirmed Spilf was here, and most likely still alive.

  Thousands of men remained barricaded inside the heart of the castle. Raina addressed the army of dwarves while she hovered above them.

  “Our fight is not yet over. It is time to deliver the final blow!”

  A cheer erupted from the eight hundred dwarves, the handful of humans, and elves.

  “Be swift, strike true, and make them pay!” Another cheer went
up, but Raina’s attention was caught by something out in the gruesome battlefield. An eerie blue mist seeped from the ground and hovered over the dead.

  The dwarves turned to follow her gaze, and spotted movement.

  “Undead!” Someone yelled, while more of Raina’s men confirmed the sightings. King Manasseh’s fallen army was rising.

  .

  17

  Inch by Inch

  “Lester, what is going on?”

  “I’m not sure Ross. We are in a dungeon, from what I can tell.”

  “Where is Bridazak?”

  “I don’t know Ross. The humans are going through his belongings on the table above us.”

  “He abandoned us, Lester. We are doomed,” Ross squawked in his high-pitched voice.

  “Stop it Ross. No one abandoned us.”

  “How do you know that? We are certainly doomed. It was a nice thousand years, Lester,” he began to cry.

  “Stop being so melodramatic, Ross. I can hear the humans talking. Just shut up and listen.”

  “Why are you being so mean to me?”

  “Just listen!”

  “Okay, okay, I’m listening.”

  The human guards were rummaging through Bridazak’s backpack.

  “Halfling’s don’t carry anything worth a damn!” One said, while throwing down a child sized tunic.

  “Ghent, what about the arrows and bow?” Another gruff raspy voice asked.

  “Vevrin told me we can have anything but those.”

  “Of course he did. He knew there was crap in this halfling’s bag.”

  “Well, we have a couple items to divvy up. Who wants the flint and steel?” Ghent asked, trying to divert his men’s frustration.

  “I’ll take it,” one said with a resigned sigh.

  “Okay, how about the dagger?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  “About time you replaced that old knife of yours, Bosh!”

  “It’s still good enough to run you through, Rudd!”

  “Knock it off you two! I guess I’m stuck with the whetstone.”