Lukor lowered his head. He could argue with her no more for he knew she was right.
“I want to go too,” said Debbie. “After all, the drells think I’m already dead.”
“No,” said Lukor, his tone stern. “You must go with me. I seriously doubt that the drells will be looking for you. Anyway you are the focus point of this revolution, the other humans will need you there.”
“They’ll be expecting Kadra too,” objected Debbie.
“I’ll tell them she is sick and refuses to make the journey,” said Lukor. “But they might kill her for that,” objected one of the council members. “I’ll be dead if we fail,” noted Kadra. “Either way I die. If that is to be my fate than I have the right to choose how. But I won’t die. We will succeed.”
“And when do we leave?” asked Lemnock.
“Before the crystals brighten to announce the coming of a new day,” said Lukor. “That is when the caverns are the darkest. It will give them time to accomplish their mission by the time the rest of us arrive at the arena but before the carnage planned by the drells gets too far along.”
“And I have a way of telling you when it is finished,” announced Kadra. She handed Lukor a large white pearl. When this thing turns red you will know the time is at hand.”
“There might be one flaw to your plan,” noted Ezron, the eldest member of the council. He rose to his feet on trembling legs. “I remember the last time this happened. Then too the warriors of Malfacian appeared as a show of force, though not in so great a numbers as now. They guarded the passageways along the route to the arena, escorting and pushing us along. Even now I suspect that they are guarding us, watching us. The passageway of which Kadra speaks is along that route. It would be difficult if not impossible for Lemnock’s warriors to pass that way undetected.”
The group looked among their fellows as if seeking an answer. For a moment it seemed as if there might be none.
“We need a diversion,” noted Abaddon. “Fear not, Lenar and I are well able to create that.”
Lenar broke into a broad smile. “I like the sounds of that, my brother. It has been a long time since the sounds of the battle raged about me. For too long I have had to depend on stealth.”
“A diversion, not a battle,” cautioned Abaddon.
The smile never departed Lenar’s lips. “Of course, my brother, a diversion.”
The meeting went on for hours, and it was a weary Debbie who emerged from it. But she could not rest, not now. She made her way into the cell blocks to speak to the slaves. She could not speak to them of all of the plans but she could bring hope.
For the first day in a very long time they had been well fed, three times as much rations as normal and far better quality as well. There was even meat to be had. The starving slaves did not question its source. It had a consistency not unlike beef so beef it was.
They were made aware of what would be coming on the morning after tomorrow. They would have time to rest until then, learn to use a sword if they had a mind to, and most did. It would be better to die with a sword in their hands than shackles about their legs. By tomorrow, all would wear the shackles that were not shackles. The key was to keep Malfacian’s men from finding out. They could not release themselves prematurely. A sign was agreed upon, a sign that would turn the slaves into warriors.
No one slept very well that night and the following day was full of activity. They had little time to become a fighting force.
Through it all the wulvers kept an eye out for Malfacian’s troops. They were out there in the great caverns alright but they kept clear of the hallway of the wulvers and the cells of the humans. The word was that both the wulvers and humans stank too much for their taste. If odor could be used as a weapon so be it.
By the eve of the journey both the humans and wulvers were ready. They would need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow they would place it all on the line. Debbie remembered the famous saying attributed to Patrick Henry. Give me liberty or give me death. Come tomorrow there would be no other options. They could not back down.
Within the great council chambers of the drells Dre Kon and Lord Fedor Malfacian sat at opposite ends of the table. Malfacian was robed wholy in black. His cold blue eyes and sharp goatee were prominent features of his countenance. He appeared to be a very human man in his late forties though his actual age was most certainly much older.
“I am moved by your loyalty,” said Dre Kon, “You have come to my aid once more, and on indeed short notice.”
“I live to serve,” assured Malfacian, the slightest of smiles coming to his lips. “After all that you have done for me and my cause I could do nothing less.” He hesitated. “But I am indeed troubled by word of the goings on back on Earth. Over the years I have heard the slaves speak of their world and its ways. That is before I used them up. They were weak and ignorant. They knew little of the magical arts passed down by the elder race unto us. What little magic they did practice seemed not to come from within them or within the great crystal but from the instruments they wielded. And as the years have passed that magic has grown. They now speak of carriages that traveled on rails far faster than the fastest horse. They even speak of walking into metal birds that fly through the sky. I remember not what they called them. Now this very same magic has reached across the corridor of the dragon and stolen slaves lawfully procured for us by the Sisterhood of Twilight. I have even heard that it destroyed one of the links that joins their world to ours.”
“And destroyed she to whom it was entrusted,” interjected Dre Kon. “She had served our people for many human generations.”
“Of course,” replied Malfacian, who seemed caught off guard. “That was the greater loss. Nonetheless this new magic is not like the magic we practice.”
“It is not,” confirmed Dre Kon. “They call this new magic technology. It can be quite formidable. However, I’ve been assured that it will be some time before they are able to reach into our world again. Their machine has been destroyed and almost certainly they who created it were destroyed with it. Once I have dealt with the problems here I will see to it that all others with any knowledge of this thing meet a similar fate.”
Malfacian seemed deep in thought. “My lord, this new magic, this technology fascinates me. Surely we could use it to our advantage. Combined with our own magic it could become a very useful tool.”
“No,” insisted Dre Kon, his tone of voice firm, almost angry. “I tell you that this new magic, this technology, is an abomination before both the great god and goddess. It must never find a foothold in our world. It will unravel the work of millennia. Do you not understand? We hold the greatest share of the magic within our world for we hold the crystal. Thus the greatest share of the power is also ours. You allow this new magic to gain any sway here and the balance of power begins to change. No, it cannot be allowed.”
Malfacian shuttered. “If I’ve offended I am deeply sorry.”
Dre Kon’s countenance softened. “No, my friend you have not offended me. I simply wished to impress upon you the danger that this new magic poses to our vision of the future of this world.”
“Of course, my lord, I understand,” assured Malfacian.
“So, is all in readiness for tomorrow’s festivities?” asked Dre Kon, attempting to change the subject.
“It is,” confirmed Malfacian. “I may even have a few surprises for you.” “I look forward to it indeed,” assured Dre Kon. “Be assured, you shall be richly rewarded for your efforts.”
Malfacian bowed his head slightly. “I live to serve.”
Yes, they would both enjoy tomorrow’s festivities, though the humans and the wulvers were not likely to appreciate it so much. This would be the fifth such spectacle for Malfacian. The thrill never grew old. This would be the best one ever.
Chapter 22
The wulver community prepared for their long sojourn to the great arena of the drells. Male and female, the young and old alike, gathered together for the grim pilg
rimage. Boxes of food were packed and loaded onto primitive hand drawn carts, and among them, unbeknownst to most, a multitude of weapons were concealed for the conflict to come.
In the corridor of the slaves, Lukor watched carefully, as the humans were shackled together by their right ankles into a dismal procession. “We shall be departing very soon,” he announced, walking up to Debbie. “Do yer people know what to do?”
“They do,” confirmed Debbie, “they all do.”
“So much there is that can go wrong,” lamented Lukor.
“But it won’t,” assured Debbie.
Lukor nodded but said nothing more.
Lukor stroked her cheek with his furry hand before walking on down the line, to see to the final preparations. He worried about Kadra, her compatriots, and the thousand or so lives that he held in his hands this day. It was not only the lives of his people, not anymore. He had come to value the lives of these humans. He looked back toward Debbie, who stood quietly at the head of the line. Strange how this young courageous human had changed him, touched his heart. Though that heart was heavy, he had to remain stern and confident for the sake of all.
It was but a few minutes before the procession was underway. They stumbled through the seldom traveled corridor, the light of crystals carried by the task wulvers was often their only source of illumination.
After about fifteen minutes they reached the dark vast tunnel. The arching tunnel was better than thirty feet high and nearly twice that wide. Here the humans met the whole of the wulver community.
“This tunnel is huge,” gasped Debbie, looking to Lukor who once more stood by her side. Then she remembered. “Wait a minute. I’ve been here before.”
Lukor nodded. “You have. This is where you entered our world. Tis known by several names, most call it the Corridor of Sorrows. It is a subterranean artery that leads to the very heart of the drell’s empire. Death lies at the end of this corridor. And the corridor itself is haunted, a place of evil spirits. Lukor drew Debbie’s attention to the right, where cut into the wall of the tunnel, were three small cells enclosed by black iron bars. “Do you remember that?”
“Yes,” replied Debbie. “I saw those when I first arrived. There was a young girl in one of them.”
“Yes,” confirmed Lukor, “That is the place to which the human slaves are brought when they can no longer find the strength to labor. It is from here that the drells claim them. We lock them here in these cells at the end of the work day. By the next morning they are gone, carried into oblivion. It is forbidden for us to venture much beyond this point unless we are invited to do so by the drells and we dread that invitation.”
“But wait,” said Debbie. “I remember a huge pit or something at the end of this tunnel. This tunnel ends there.”
“Does it?” replied Lukor.
“I saw it,” confirmed Debbie.
“You shall see,” said Lukor.
Ahead, they were met by scores of warriors dressed in red; Malfacian’s legion who would watch their every move between here and their destination. The soldiers took up positions all around the humans and wulvers. Then, after a few minutes, they were on their way once more.
Ezron, the eldest member of the council of the wulvers, stood at Lukor’s side with the help of two of his grandchildren. He watched as the warriors in red took up their positions. “There are more of Malfacian’s soldiers here than last time. I fear they might anticipate trickery on our part.”
“Abaddon and Lenar will come through for us,” assured Lukor, “I’m sure of it.”
Ezron nodded but said nothing more.
Near the rear of the procession Camron walked several steps behind the other humans. His ankles were shackled together like all of the rest but he was not a part of the human chain. It was a risk. They only hoped that in the dim light this fact would go unnoticed. The other wulvers of the team wandered just behind him, about fifteen rows ahead of the end of the wulver procession. As they suspected, about a dozen of Malfacian’s troops brought up the rear.
They were practically at the narrow side tunnel where they would have to part with the group when the sound of flapping wings echoed from the cavern. It all happened so fast. In an instant one of the soldiers bringing up the rear was carried away by Lenar. He let out a scream that brought the attention of the others. The abduction had occurred so quickly and the light was so poor that initially his comrades had no idea where he had gone. His cries seemed to be coming from everywhere.
Then they looked up to see the dark silhouette of a great flying creature. They were practically in a panic. Never had they encountered such a thing in the depths. There were orders and counter-orders in a language that the humans and even most of the wulvers did not understand.
Then another of the soldiers was carried away. The pandemonium only increased. Several spears were thrown and arrows shot, only to ricochet off the walls and ceiling of the tunnel. The soldiers spun around in an attempt to determine the direction from which the next attack might come. Another one of Malfacian’s soldiers was cast violently to the ground by an enemy he didn’t even see amidst the now total chaos.
In that moment of confusion, the four wulvers slipped away into the side passageway. Camron followed, but still in his shackles his progress was being hampered. In desperation he knelt down to spring the lock. In the poor light the procedure did not go as smoothly as he had planned.
A moment later he stumbled to his feet only to be cast back to the ground by one of Malfacian’s guards who seemed amazed to discover an unshackled human. His solution to this discrepancy seemed to be to execute him on the spot. He drew his sword even as his throat was cut by Lemnock.
“Quickly,” said Lemnock, as he dragged the warrior into the side tunnel. Camron rose to his feet and quickly followed. Then he turned back to grab up the shackles left behind. They quickly vanished into the darkness of the narrow passageway. They moved through the almost total darkness of the passageway for the better part of a minute before Lemnock dropped the body.
“What were you thinking?” scolded Lemnock.
“I couldn’t leave the chains behind,” said Camron in a whispery voice. “They would have raised suspicions.”
Kadra directed a narrow beam of light from her crystal toward Lemnock and the butchered warrior. “And you left a trail of blood all the way here,” she observed. “They will probably go searching for this one. I hope that it is not soon. We need to move on now before anything else goes wrong.”
They quickened their pace using just enough crystal light to see their way. They only hoped that they weren’t being pursued.
Word of the events that had transpired at the rear of the procession did not take long to reach the front. Every escort that they could spare was dispatched to the rear. The entire procession came to a halt.
For half an hour the procession remained in place. The two warriors who had been carried off were soon found bruised but alive several hundred yards back the passageway. But another one was still missing and now the search was on for him. To Lukor this was good and bad news. The good news was that it would delay their arrival at the arena and that would in turn delay the beginning of the games giving their strike force additional time to reach their objective. The bad news was that it had alerted Malfacian’s warriors, made them more suspicious, more cautious. Suppose they were searched? Suppose their weapons were found? His hopes were fading.
More time passed as a systematic search was made for the missing warrior. Then they found blood. They followed it down a side passage to discover the body left by Lemnock. And still there was a delay. The lieutenant in charge of the detail needed instructions from his superior before proceeding.
Lukor was questioned. Yet in feigned indignation he demanded why they thought he should know. In the end it was deduced that a creature, or creatures, unknown had attacked the party, dragging away and killing the unfortunate warrior. It was noted that even two wulvers had been slightly injured in the confusion. A
lthough somewhat suspicious in its timing it was deemed unlikely that the wulvers had anything to do with the attack. After all, how could the wulvers possible have acquired allies such as these dark winged beings? What could they possibly have had to offer them?
In the end, the delay cost them well over an hour and they still had far to go. They were once more on the more. There would likely be no more excitement to be had during the long journey.
Lukor drew Debbie’s attention to a shimmering vein of rock that seemed to run the entire way around the great tunnel. It was like a band of gold.
“Do you remember this?” asked Lukor.
“No,” said Debbie. “It wasn’t here last time I was here.” Then she thought again. “This was where the darkness began. I thought it was some sort of huge dark pit.”
“Often it is a great abyss that none may cross,” said Lukor. “It keeps our world and the world of the drells apart. In my grandfather’s time they somehow managed to bridge this gulf. How they did it died with them. So much of what happened then was lost. Most of us only know about the punishment that followed. Lukor hesitated. “I’m sorry that you must be made so uncomfortable during this journey. Tis not fair that you and the others should be restrained as you are.”
“It’s alright,” assured Debbie. “I’ve gotten sort of used to it over the past seven months.”
Lukor looked about at his people. He shook his head sadly. “After all that my people have been through they don’t deserve this either.”
“I wonder what they’re thinking about now,” said Debbie, almost under her breath.
“It depends,” replied Lukor. “The wulver children know almost nothing of where they are going this day or what will happen there. They only knew that they are traveling further from home than ever before and that they will finally see the drells of whom they had heard so much about. They will have nightmares of this day for a very long time. My grandfather did to the day of his death. The young and middle aged adults know only what their parents and grandparents have told them. There are no written records among my people, such things are strictly forbidden as ya know. To them this journey holds a certain foreboding, a nameless fear that will soon crystallize into reality. Only a few of the older wulvers realized the nature of the ordeal to come. They have faced this ordeal once, seen friends, neighbors, and even family die before them. Now they are unfortunate enough to face it again. One way or another this must be the last time.”
The Realm of the Drells Page 32