Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

  Karg was swinging his hammer down on a tiger that had sliced a gash down his leg, and was shocked when it connected to a human head instead. Scanning quickly about him, he did not see a single Were in animal form. They had all become human once again and had stopped moving. Every face he looked upon turned from feral rage to confusion and finally, to fear. Karg’s yellow face split in a wicked grin, and he bellowed once more, swinging his war hammer in huge arcs. The Weres not hit by the massive hammer began to run. Karg and his warriors pressed forward killing every one that was within reach.

  The knights and infantry fought as one now, as every horse had been slain. King Brose and Captain Hamil fought back to back. It had come down to them. All of the men that had helped Hamil reach the king had already fallen. King Brose’s once shining armor was mud and blood-spattered and bore many dents and creases. He was exhausted from constantly swinging his sword. If it were not for Captain Hamil at his back, Brose might have fallen and not gotten back up.

  Captain Hamil’s great sword seemed to grow heavier with every cut he made. He held off every attack that had come at him and, other than a rip in the left sleeve of this chainmail, he was miraculously unharmed.

  Both men were panting when the Weres changed suddenly to human form. So stunned were they that both men allowed their sword arms to hang at their sides motionless. They watched as the now human Weres began to run in panic.

  “My liege, what is happening?” Hamil asked between gasps.

  “I would say our friends from Kantwell have figured a way to draw the Were’s fangs,” King Brose replied, barely managing to stay standing.

  Hamil looked around and saw, with relief, Salic running after the fleeing Weres. He was swinging wildly and killing any naked body in sight. All around were similar sights. The allies were taking the fight to the hobbled Weres.

  King Brose took a deep breath and shouted for a regrouping. He and Captain Hamil began to walk toward the pass, followed by more and more as the command was spread. Neither man had the stomach to look down. They had to walk over bodies, and many of those bodies were armored men. The field was covered in corpses. If King Brose were not so tired, he would have cried at the cost in lives this war had already extracted.

  The Avari had fared better than their allies. When the Weres turned human and began fleeing, they simply began to withdraw from the battlefield. There was no honor in killing unarmed men and women, even if they were Weres. Of the four hundred plus Avari that had taken to the field, over three hundred and fifty remained. Instead, as they withdrew, they began searching for wounded and helping those they could.

  King Westan and his men retained their animal form, but they, too, ceased their attack when their cousins changed form. King Westan heard the human king shout to regroup. He roared out for his men to follow, and they began to lope back to The Slot. He was joined by Prince Rein as they ran though he was no longer white. Rein's gleaming coat had turned red with blood. King Westan imagined he must look much the same.

  Ralk and Bran held their ground as the suddenly human Weres started to flee. Their small group had gotten smaller. Bran searched for Dain and found him tending a fallen dwarf. He found Kale leaning over, panting, close by. Counting, Ralk's heart sank. There were only twenty three dwarves left. His race was disappearing and nothing he did seemed to be able to change that fact. At least Gant and the others would have a chance if they stayed within the mountain.

  Bran noticed the humans were pulling back. He nudged Ralk and pointed. Ralk nodded, neither had the breath to speak. Rounding up what was left of their kindred, they walked tiredly to the pass entrance.

  Pace, Attis and Mardak remained with Dain. All three bore wounds, though not life threatening, which would need tending. Mardak's size had shielded the other three from the lightning blast. He'd been scorched and momentarily stunned by the bolt, but it had done far more damage to the three Weres who were directly in its path. Of them, nothing remained except a charred crater.

  All of the allies gathered at the entrance to The Slot. Their numbers now much less than when the battle began. The ogres and the Avari were the only groups that had not sustained high casualties. The dwarves had lost nearly three fourths of their people. The King's army had lost every horse and, of the fifteen hundred knights, only a little over six hundred remained. His infantry now numbered under four thousand. Of the two thousand ogres, nearly seventeen hundred had survived. The Avari had lost only thirteen men and women.

  Ataum and Alissa came down from the cliffs to meet with the King. His people had only lost two. They had both been slain by the blasts that released the Garoliths from the pass walls.

  King Brose noticed the huge corpse as he got close to the pass. The wizards of Kantwell were gathered with a couple Avari and were conversing.

  Merric looked up at his approach and walked out to meet him. “My liege, the Garoliths attacked after the charge began. Somehow they managed to find passages within the mountains and lie in wait,” Merric informed him.

  Still breathing heavily, King Brose replied, “It would appear you and your wizards had things well in hand.”

  “We cannot take credit. Michael and Lord Micah fended them off. There were four. However, three managed to flee back into the mountains. Lord Micah followed one into that cave, but has not returned, Michael sealed the cave through which the other two fled.”

  The king nodded, too exhausted to speak further. It would not matter that the monsters had escaped. There were still many thousands of troops marching on them. They would not last out the morning. At least the sun was coming up, though the cloud cover blocked the shining disc. Fortunately, they would no longer have to fight in the dark.

  The king turned to Salic, “Have the men ready themselves,” he commanded, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. “We will send many of them to the ether, before we are done.”

  “As you command, my liege,” Salic replied.

  King Brose then noticed Captain Hamil. The big warrior had a pleased smile on his face. “How can you smile at a time such as this?” He asked perplexed and slightly irritated.

  “I am not a man to die old and toothless, rocking by the hearth. I will meet the Great One at my King’s side with my blade in hand and the enemy at my feet, defending my homeland and her people. There is no greater fate a warrior could seek.” Hamil spoke loudly so the troops would hear him.

  A loud cheer rose from the men and women of all races, and King Brose smiled. He had known Hamil most of his life and this speech was comprised of more words than he had ever heard the big man speak.

  “Your words are truly inspiring,” Brose said sincerely. He then raised his voice so all could hear. “There is no greater honor a king could be given than to have each of you at his side. I am proud to fight with you, and I thank each one of you on behalf of Branna and her people.”

  Fists went to chests with loud thumps and the allies reformed. King Brose looked out on the battlefield and could see the advancing troll army; their time was short.

  Michael walked up to the King with Reek and Branik at his sides. “King Brose, I have a plan that could possibly stop all this. It would not have helped against the Weres, but it might against the troll and ogre armies.”

  “Commander Salic and Wizard Merric speak highly of you, Michael. If you think you can end the fighting, I grant you leave to try,” King Brose told him skeptically.

  “If what I have planned works, all we need worry about is Mortow and his wizards. If not, then we will have lost nothing.”

  “What do you require?” King Brose asked.

  “Only that you let me meet the approaching armies alone,” Michael stated firmly.

  King Brose shook his head. “Even a powerful wizard is no match for what lies yonder. You would be throwing your life away.”

  “You are correct, but then, I am not a wizard. If my plan fails, I can at least balance out the sides, if not outright destroy the enemy,” Michael said confidently.


  Merric had heard Michael’s plan. He was unsure if it would work, but if it did, the killing would stop. He did not like the idea of Michael expending his power on the spell he previously used at this very place. Merric was afraid Michael would kill himself in the process. He had reluctantly agreed, knowing if Michael was unsuccessful, none of them would survive anyway.

  Michael bowed to the King. He began walking out onto the field, flanked by the two Avari. Once he reached the battle line, he stopped and waited. Reek and Branik stood before him, hiding him somewhat from view. The trolls were marching like a dark tide toward him. Michael could just now begin to see them as more than an advancing shadow. He would let them get close enough to see him clearly before he revealed himself.

  There were so many, Michael began to wonder if the spell would have any significant effect, if his plan failed; but, then again, Mason had done it. Soon, he began to see facial features and decided it was time. Michael clapped his hands over his head and cried, “Lumen!” A ball of white light shot up over the field making it as bright as midday. He stepped from between Reek and Branik and let the light shine on his robe and sash.

  Michael had the satisfaction of seeing the trolls immediately in front of him, stumble and begin glancing around uncertainly. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure they could hear it. He held up his hand and shouted, “Hold!” in as commanding a voice as he could muster.

  The entire line instantly stopped at his command. Michael exhaled in relief. A bolt of lightning hit his shield suddenly, and he quickly looked around. He could not see Mortow, but he had made himself known. The ground around him erupted and Reek and Branik were thrown back. Two more bolts of lightning hit his shield, but he ignored them.

  “Mortow! Consider yourself on borrowed time! I will hunt you and your wizards down. Each of you will pay with your lives for Karin’s death,” Michael shouted. He leveled his right hand at the troll army. “You have a choice now. Renounce Mortow and return to your homes or I will fulfill Myrkron Mason’s prophesy and destroy you all!” Michael yelled, his fear now changing into anger. “I will give you ten heartbeats to decide.” He began to count, yelling the numbers for all to hear. “One! Two! Thr…” Before he could get the entire word out, the trolls broke and began to run.

  The trolls had all seen the purple robe and golden sash. They heard the promise the Myrkron delivered to Mortow. They knew, through their legends, what he was capable of doing. As Michael had leveled his hand at them, their blood ran cold. There would be no glory in this fight, only their annihilation. They were frozen in place, until the Myrkron began the count. It took a couple of seconds then several shouted, dropped their gahlns, turned and ran. They practically trampled one another trying to get away from the Myrkron. As they ran through the ogre lines, they shouted ‘Myrkron!’ Many of the ogres broke and ran as well.

  Michael shouted after them, “If I find you taking to the battlefield again, it will be the last time you draw breath.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Mortow watched Michael and the two Avari as they stood alone before his army. It looked as if the boy wanted to treat. Mortow chuckled. The young fool actually thought he could talk his way out of this war? Mortow saw Michael send up a ball of light and the troll line stuttered. He heard Michael cry out ‘Hold!’ and his jaw dropped when the trolls actually obeyed him.

  Frowning, Mortow sent a bolt of lightning at Michael. He knew the boy would be shielded, but seeing him attacked might get the trolls moving again. Michael’s shield absorbed the bolt. Suddenly the ground under Michael erupted, sending the two Avari flying. Both landed on their feet like cats and ran back to Michael. Mortow sent two more bolts at Michael, neither had any more effect than the first.

  Mortow heard Michael shout his name and threaten him. The boy thought a lot of himself if, he thought he could threaten him. As Mortow continued to listen, Michael leveled a hand at the trolls, issued an ultimatum and began to count. Mortow was stunned when the troll ranks broke and began to flee. He could not believe what he was seeing; an entire army running from one man. The word Myrkron rang in his ears. The Garolith had been frightened by something it called ‘Myrkron magic’. Mortow paused and then transported himself and Hagan to Megan’s position.

  “What have you not told me about the boy?” Mortow demanded angrily.

  Megan jumped at the sound of Mortow’s voice. She, too, was unable to believe what she was seeing. “You know all I do, Master. What is a Myrkron?”

  “We obviously need to know the answer to that question.” Mortow transported all of them to the rear of the army. The trolls had disrupted the ogre lines with their fleeing and even those running close by did not stop when they saw him. Mortow turned to Hagan, his hands drawn into fists shaking with rage at his sides. “Your people fear this Myrkron. What is it?!”

  Hagan seemed just as frightened as the rest. He cleared his throat and held his ground. “Magika, the Myrkron is a legend among us. It is told that when we and the ogres were at the height of our wars, a man appeared on the battlefield. He was small and dressed as the man presently on the field. He told us if we would quit the field of battle and return to our homes, he would not destroy us. It was cowardice to leave the field and no one believed he could kill all of us. When the man saw we had no intention of leaving, he cast a spell that caused all those on the field, save two trolls and two ogres, to explode in a red mist. He told those remaining, he had spared their lives solely to tell others of what they had seen and that we would be doomed to fight until the next Myrkron came to destroy us all. It is told this was how the Steppes of Sorrow’s very ground became red. The blood of both of our races changed the color of the soil for all time.”

  “Your people run from a child’s tale?” Mortow asked in amazement, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Magika, you saw for yourself. Even the Garolith fear the Myrkron. It is more than a child’s tale. If the Myrkron has returned, we are doomed,” Hagan said softly, turned and began to walk off after his people.

  “Hagan!” Mortow shouted after him.

  “I am sorry, Magika, but if I am to die, I wish to be among my people. Fanis is already gone. I felt it the moment he died. I will join him soon,” Hagan said sadly.

  Mortow could see all his plans and ambitions evaporating. Five years of work and twice that in planning, simply brushed away by one impetuous young boy from a non-magic world. He bellowed suddenly and began throwing great balls of orange flame at the fleeing trolls, blasting and burning hundreds as they fled.

  Megan retreated from Mortow. When he was this angry, it was best to be somewhere, anywhere else. Maybe it was time to reveal her true identity to Michael. Megan spoke the words of transport and vanished.

  King Brose, Commander Salic, Axethanes Ralk and Bran, Merric and Karg, all joined Michael and the two Avari. The King laughed heartily and slapped Michael on the shoulder. I don’t know how you managed to scare an entire army, but it was well done.

  Michael could see a small group of ogres still coming their way. The center one towered head and shoulders above the others. It looked as though maybe fifty had remained. He would have to make lessons of them.

  Oreg saw the trolls scatter, their shouts of Myrkron causing his people to turn and flee. Only his personal guards stayed. He had to threaten to kill every one of their families before their eyes, if they abandoned the battlefield. A few had fled anyway. He would make good on his threat when he returned.

  Seeing the man standing there in purple with a golden sash angered him. The Myrkron had already returned and destroyed his people. They were now cowards, who ran from the field of battle screaming. Well, if he were to die, it would be fighting, not hiding under his bed. Oreg saw Karg standing with the Myrkron and bellowed out a challenge. “It is time you died, traitor! I have come to show those foolish enough to have followed you, their mistake.”

  Michael raised his hand and began to speak, but Karg placed a huge hand on his shoulder. “You mu
st not, Myrkron,” Karg said interrupting him. “This challenge was issued to me, personally. It must be fought, one on one, before the eyes of my people. If you kill him, they may come to doubt my leadership.”

  Michael looked up at the big chieftain. “If you win, what happens?”

  “If I win, those with him will join me.”

  “And if you lose?” Michael asked pointedly eyeing the bigger ogre.

  “If I lose, my people will join with Oreg, and you will probably be forced to kill them all because he will not leave the battlefield.”

  “Then if I kill him now, only he and his men will die instead of all of you,” Michael said shaking his head. “I am sorry chieftain, but that is a risk I am not willing to take.”

  Oreg listened to the exchange and taunted Karg. “So the great chieftain hides behind a human? You are no leader. You are a lap dog!”

  Karg looked pleadingly at Michael. “It must be done this way to have the peace we are working for.”

  “I would advise against this, Michael,” Merric commented.

  “No. This is a point of honor for Karg, and if he wins, he could join all the ogre tribes under one rule. I don’t like it, but I will not stand in his way,” Michael finally said placing his hand on Karg’s and speaking softly, “Transfero.”

  Karg’s eyes flew wide as he felt energy pour into him from that touch. He flung his head back and laughed. “Fear not, Myrkron, this will only take a few minutes,” Karg yelled out for all to hear. He removed his war hammer from his back and tossed it to the ground, as he walked out to meet Oreg.

  Oreg sneered at Karg, and tossed his own hammer aside. They met between their respective groups. “Now I will finish what we started as boys,” Oreg said, smiling.