The reflective liquid turned black then opened on a scene of pure fury. He saw Maklin, his face twisted with a grin, hurling great globes of fire into the ranks of dwarves. Charred body pieces were scattered over a wide area. The ogres were in their element as well. There were several lying slain, but most were up and engaged with the dwarves in close combat. Their massive hammers and giant swords were scything a bloody swath through the ranks of their smaller enemies. Portions of the city in the background were ablaze and lightning was striking building after building, reducing the stone dwellings to rubble. Megan was doing her job well. With the majority of the dwarven warriors engaged with the ogres, the citizens of the city were naked before her magic.
Mortow had studied the dwarven realm for a long time, scouting to find a place of seclusion where the ogres could be transported in groups. A place large enough to hold the kind of numbers he would need to accomplish his goal, but not so far out of the way as to pose a strategic problem. He had found such a place right off the shores of Delven Lake, less than a league from the city itself. Mortow himself had taken large groups of ogres to this place, aiding Maklin and Megan in the transport. Once he had two thousand settled there, he ordered them to attack.
The attack had commenced in the early morning hours when most were still asleep. He knew the dwarven guard would see them coming but, by that time, it would be too late. The best of the dwarven warriors would be guarding the pass and the East and West Gates. They would still have nearly three thousand Forgers and close to the same number of Delvers. With the ogres outnumbered three to one, Megan and Maklin would be needed if his plan was to succeed.
The dwarves had to be eliminated because from them came the majority of the healers. If Mortow was to have a chance, he needed to make sure that every enemy he put down stayed down. Granted, the elves had healers among them, but they were few and probably still within the borders of Trelom. Dascus and his clan would take care of them. No, the dwarven Delvers were the real problem.
Naturally, all of the squads stationed in the pass and at the gates would have their own healers. If Mortow could foreclose any chance of replenishment from the city, well then, battle healers had as short a life span as the warriors around them. Before the sun rose on another day, the dwarves would be decimated in their ranks. Mortow would stop short of genocide. Dwarven healers may be a problem for him in the war, but they had their uses in everyday life. Once he had control of Thelona, Mortow would have control of them as well.
Mortow shifted his focus and the liquid again became black. It cleared slowly as several ships began to take shape in its depths. Slowly, the scene resolved to a gently rolling ocean with ten ships all headed in the same direction. None of the ships bore any kind of standard, and all of the crews appeared to be normal sailors. The only marked differences were that they traveled together on the same heading and that their size was of the largest sailing vessels ever seen on the Thelonian oceans.
In truth, most of the Weres under Mortow’s command manned these ships. They would beach southwest of Kantwell and hit Branna from behind. In four days, they would make land. With the trolls and remaining ogres hitting Branna from the east, Mortow would smite the men of Branna between his forces.
With Micah’s man from the other world safely confined in Gratton, the Avari would not be an issue, unless the Avari Lord decided that the life of his man was not worth as much as Mortow had bargained. No matter; the Garoliths would be able to handle the Avari. Avari swords would be useless against them. Merric, however, was another story.
"I know I am stronger than he, both physically and magically, but the man is damnably devious. I was sure I had him when we fought before, and he still nearly killed me. This time it will be different. Then, I was only an eighth key. Now, I have surpassed him. This time, father, no little trick is going to save you."
Michael, on the other hand, represented more of an unknown than the Avari Lord. The boy had surprising abilities and even more unsettling was his magical strength. If half of what Mieka had told him was true, then Mortow was truly impressed. He would have to tread carefully where Michael was concerned.
"I am going to have to come up with a way to separate him from everyone else. Once he's alone, with Maklin, Megan and Mieka beside me, not to mention a few of the Garoliths, it should be over before he knows what hit him. It will be such a shame to have to kill him. There is much I could learn from him," Mortow pondered. "No matter, somewhere the knowledge contained within him is recorded. It just needs finding. Once I have settled everything else, I will seek it out."
With many things yet to do before leaving Gratton on the morrow, Mortow loosed his concentration on the basin and rose from his chair. He needed to check in on his new guest. Mortow spoke the words of transport and materialized in a spacious living area.
The room was about twenty feet in length and almost thirty in width. There was a large fireplace on the wall Mortow was facing with a nice fire burning. Behind him was a door, barred from the outside, leading out into Gratton proper. A large blue, green, and black area rug occupied the floor in the immediate vicinity of the hearth with a medium sized square table and four high backed utilitarian chairs around it. Arranged around this table were a russet colored couch and two matching overstuffed chairs. Being an interior room, there were no windows. Another door, in the middle of the right hand wall, led to the bedroom.
Even though Mortow had come unannounced into the room, neither occupant stirred. The blonde haired man seated at the table continued to rest his head in his hands, elbows braced on the table. His clothes were still in disarray and torn from his struggles with the Weres. His guard, a large man with white hair and wearing only a white loin cloth, stood at the far left wall. Even though his hair was white, he seemed to be only about thirty years old. He was lean and well-muscled with piercing green eyes that remained fixed on the room’s other occupant.
Mortow looked to the white haired man. "Would you excuse us for a time, Rein? I would like to have a chat with our guest."
Rein turned his gaze to Mortow and bowed his head in acknowledgement. He then walked across the room and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Mortow walked over to the table and stood opposite the blonde man. "Mind if I join you?" Mortow asked, his deep voice held in check at a pleasant level.
The blonde man finally raised his head and looked at Mortow. "As I am your prisoner, I have no say in what you do," The blonde man said sullenly, raising himself to sit straight-backed in the chair.
Mortow pulled the chair out and seated himself across from the blonde man, noticing the bruising on the man’s face. "I regret that your invitation had to be executed with force, but look around you. This is hardly a dungeon cell. Though you are an unwilling guest, there is no reason for you to be uncomfortable. Rein and his brethren have orders to provide for your every need."
"Despite your pleasant attitude, Sir, I know damn well why I'm here. No matter how pleasing the surroundings, this is still a prison cell; and your men, no matter how cordial, are still jailors."
Mortow gave a little shrug. "I had hoped to lessen your confinement with luxury. Be at ease. You are in no danger here. If such had been my intention, we would not, now, be having this conversation. Let us begin this at the beginning like civilized men, shall we? I am Mortow, Headmaster of Gratton."
"I know who you are even though I have never laid eyes upon you. The black robes, the stature and the eyes; you could be no other."
"I am pleased that you have knowledge of me, but I fear that knowledge is one sided. As in any tale, there is always another side."
"The side I know is the only one that matters to me. I have known Uncle Micah all my life. I am inclined to believe his side of things."
"Uncle? Come now, how could you possibly be a blood relative of the Avari Lord?"
"I am not. Uncle Micah took me in as an infant and raised me after my parents were killed. Uncle is simply a title of respect."<
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"I see. Since you know who I am, it only seems fair that I should know your name as well."
"You obviously know more about me than I do about you or I would not be here."
"True. I know a bit about you, but I do not know your name."
"Very well; I am Joshua."
"There, you see, that wasn’t so hard. Well, Joshua, the wizard who brought you here said that your house was full of wondrous paintings. Am I to assume then that you are an artist?"
"Assume what you like. It has a tendency to make asses of those who try."
Mortow raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at Joshua.
Joshua chuckled slightly. "It is a saying from my world."
"I inquire so as to help ease the tedium of your confinement. If you are a painter, I could have supplies brought up to you. There is no telling how long you will be required to remain here. Having a distraction may be helpful. I do not wish your stay to be more unpleasant than need be."
"The unpleasantness is with the situation, not the surroundings. Of course they are a bit more Spartan than that to which I am accustomed. I have always wanted to see this world, and now that I am finally here, all I can see are the stone walls of this room," Joshua said gesturing around the room.
"Perhaps when this business is over I could arrange a tour of my land to make up for the present situation," Mortow offered.
"And perhaps, when this is all over, I shall piss on your grave. You have falsely assumed that my capture would cause Uncle Micah to withhold his Avari from this war. Uncle Micah is a realist. He knows one life is not worth the price to be paid."
Mortow took Joshua’s insult calmly. "Your captivity here will save countless lives." Mortow chuckled at the incredulous look on Joshua’s face. "Think on it a moment. The Avari are excellent swordsmen. By your Uncle keeping them out of the war, their lives will be spared and all the lives they would have taken on behalf of Kantwell will also be spared. Without their aid, this war will be over in no time. The men and elves and dwarves will see how hopelessly outnumbered they are; and if they are smart enough, they will surrender before they have lost too many of their numbers."
"No matter how you try to rationalize the situation, you are still a tyrant killing for personal gain," Joshua told him calmly.
"Tyrant I have been labeled and tyrant I may be, but my intentions are to bring the races together after this whole bloody affair is over. For countless ages, the troll nation and the ogre tribes have been shedding rivers of blood in their race wars. The elves and the Weres have been killing each other at every available opportunity. The same is true with the dwarves and the Weres. The elves have closed their borders and refused contact with the other races. All of this has been going on for a length of time that is inconceivable to our mortal minds. In just three years’ time, this tyrant," Mortow jabbed a thumb at his own chest, "has brought the trolls, ogres and Weres together under one standard. The elves have left their tree-lined homeland and joined with humans once more. Though this war has divided Thelona along a very distinct line, it has brought so much together already. It needs only a few final touches to bring them all together. This world needs a strong leader. One who is powerful enough to stop all the petty squabbles between the races and unite them; one who has vision enough to see what could be once all animosity is banished. Fortunately, I have the power and that vision."
Joshua was so stunned by the blatant preposterousness of Mortow’s statement that he was momentary speechless. Mortow’s satisfied smile caused Joshua’s ears to burn and the blood of rage to color his face. "Oh, spoken like a true crusader! One who believes there is only one way to solve the issue at hand, and that way is his by divine right. You are no different than countless others through the history of the world. You believe you, and you alone, are right; and that belief gives you the right to commit any atrocity to achieve your goal. The only thing you achieve is murder. What is worse is that you turn others into murders as well. If there were no others reasons before me, still I would not believe you, for you have done the one thing I can never forgive. By your hand, you have made a murderer out of me as well. Until you sent your men to kidnap me, I had never so much as struck another living person. Now I have the blood of two lives on my hands. I have murdered, and those two lives I place on your head," Joshua ranted angrily.
Mortow rose from his chair and sighed heavily. "I see that I have upset you. I am sorry you cannot see things as I can. The taking of life can sometimes blur the mind's vision with guilt. I regret that you have been put in that situation. I see that my continued presence further angers you. I will leave you now. I will have painting supplies sent up in the event that you wish the distraction. I bid you good day, Joshua."
Mortow walked to the bedroom door and, opening it, gestured for Rein to come back to the living room. Rein walked in and stationed himself along the wall near the bedroom door. Mortow turned to Joshua and bowed slightly. He then spoke the words of transport and vanished from the room.
Joshua tried to let his anger go. It would do him no good. He breathed deeply a few times, stretched his neck side to side, and then he let his eyes lite on Rein. He had not known the man’s name before Mortow spoke it. He was an odd looking fellow, what with his stark white hair and bright green eyes. Rein was looking at Joshua impassively. Joshua thought he detected a spark of intelligence in those eyes that he did not recall seeing in any of the ones he had encountered before.
"I take it you are a Were. If we are to be roommates for a time, I guess we ought to get to know one another. Since you obviously know about me, why not tell me something of yourself?"
Rein continued to stare at Joshua.
"Surely you can talk. I saw you move, so I know you are no statue."
Rein glanced at the door then returned his eyes to Joshua. "What is it you would know, human?" Rein inquired in a surprisingly melodic voice.
"See there, I knew you could speak. Hmm, where to begin…I know, what other form can you take?"
Rein stepped from the wall and leaned forward. His body stretched and his legs grew shorter and more heavily muscled. His face widened and his nose and mouth bulged forward. The shock of white hair on his head spread rapidly over his body as he touched, what a moment ago were hands, now massive clawed paws, to the floor. Faint ghosting of stripes appeared along the length of his body, barely discernible from the rest of his fur. Moving a couple of graceful steps closer to Joshua, Rein sat back on his haunches, a long tail swished lazily behind him. Joshua beheld a solid white tiger, bigger than any Bengal he had ever seen in the zoo. The front paws of the animal would have covered a dinner plate and his head would not have fit into the open end of a barrel. The bright green eyes had acquired slitted pupils. Sitting as he was on his haunches, his eyes were on a level with Joshua’s even as he sat at the table.
"I dare say you are a much more handsome beast than any of those that came after me. Can you still talk in this form?"
Rein gave a deep purring growl and shook his great head from side to side like a dog shaking water from its ears.
"I’ll take that as a no. Does it hurt when you change forms?"
Instead of answering, Rein began the shift back to human form. It seemed only to take about thirty seconds for the transformation. When he was once again a white haired man, he stood and cinched the drooping loin cloth snuggly about his waist. "The change does not hurt as long as I take my time. If I have to change rapidly, there is a certain amount of discomfort involved," Rein replied rather stiffly.
"Can you assume any other form?"
Rein raised an eyebrow in irritation.
"Forgive me if I overstep the bounds of propriety, but you are the first of your kind that has spoken to me. If I tread into restricted areas, just let me know," Joshua said sincerely.
"My kind, have only two forms, our human form and the animal form of our family."
"So your family are white tigers, all the way back to the beginning of your line?"
> "No. They are tigers, but I am the only white one that has been born in over five generations. I am the pride of my Pride, if you will forgive the pun."
Joshua chuckled lightly. "Ah, a sense of humor even. We are not as different as I had first thought. Do you enjoy art?"
"It depends on the art."
"I am a painter, and not a bad one at that. Perhaps you would model for me, there being little else around worthy of canvas." Joshua looked down at himself and sighed. "I don’t suppose there is a shower near at hand and some fresh clothes?"
Rein looked at Joshua quizzically. "I am not familiar with that word. There are plenty of clothes in the wardrobe in the bedroom."
"Ah yes, well, a shower is kind of like a standing bath. Water falls upon you from above so that dirt is washed away."
"There is a wash basin and soap in the other room as well."
"Seeing as how I can smell myself, I can’t possibly see how you can stand to be in the same room with me if your sense of smell is as acute as your alternate form would suggest," Joshua exclaimed after sniffing at himself.
Rein actually smiled. "I would not be opposed to your bathing. I could then stop taking such shallow breaths."
Joshua struck the table with his fist. "I knew there had to be a reason for your standoffishness. What man could be civil in the presence of such a malodorous stench?" Rising from his seat, Joshua headed toward the bedroom. Turning at the door, Joshua bowed to Rein. "I shall return, less offensive, to continue our conversation." He then entered the bedroom and closed the door.
Chapter Thirteen
"Merric, we need to talk. I looked for you at Kantwell, but Martin said you had come down here with Micah. Where is he, by the way?" Michael asked looking around.
Looking Michael up and down, Merric asked a question of his own in reply.
"Michael, why are you dressed like that? Where is your robe and sash?"
Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) Page 10