Demoweir's Rise (Great War Chronicles Book 2)

by Michael Benningfield

  The elder dwarf stood and spoke a few words in a language that Avalore did not understand, though the words felt somehow familiar to him. A moment later, the dwarf was no more and standing in his place was a small, gnome-like creature. His features still looked like the elder dwarf, but he was not even half the size of the dwarf.

  “Avalore, this is what a Skinder looks like. I know, as my brother and I are not dwarves at all. We are part of a specialized mobile army of Skinder called Chaotic. The conglomerate of our military is referred to as The Order of Chaos. We are the very best at what we do. There are those beneath us that are great with gadgets, but none can compare to our skill.”

  Avalore was in shock as he took in this new information. He tried to process everything but it was too much, and he began to feel dizzy once again.

  “They call us the Order of Chaos because our methods do not appear to be traditional by most people’s standards. What is normal to us is considered chaotic to others. We will travel with you to find the Skinder in question, and when we come upon him – he will die.”

  ‘Goddess, if you are listening, I just want to say this is all new to me, so please forgive me if I misstep in the beginning.’ Avalore glanced up as he felt something anew burning within him; he was ready for the task.

  “Now that we are all friends in this cozy abode let me properly introduce my brother and me. My name is Vailir, and my younger brother here is called Naideath – we are now your entourage on your journey. So then, shall we begin?”

  The three left the home that was built inside an enormous tree, and as they exited Avalore noticed the door disappeared. The tree appeared to be nothing more than a tree now. The two Skinder took on their dwarven forms, and together they set out, with the leolf in tow, to find and kill the Skinder known as Sharp.

  As they trudged onward through the forest, they came across various dwarves from differing areas, but their story remained the same when asked what they were doing with an elf:

  “We are merely friends, escorting our elven friend to Vel Boramm, so he does not have to travel alone.”

  No one asked questions, which was good for Avalore – for he was still afraid that someone would notice his eye color and realize he was not their ally. No one did, however, and for the next few days, the trio continued on, stopping at various bastilles along the route to rest or speak in hushed tones in quiet corners about their task.

  13

  She dashed through the forest as the cold air nipped at her heels like hounds from hell. Dizzy and tired, she spurred herself onward out of sheer desperation.

  ‘I cannot believe he knows what I am!’ she thought to herself as she hopped over a few broken tree limbs strewn across the forest floor. ‘I must find passage out of here and back to the Island of Skinder, where they still worship me and give me power!’ Her thoughts were a shamble as she fought to focus on the path ahead while remaining out of sight from the usual thoroughfares traveled in the forest.

  She feared her powers to be benighted, though she reassured herself as her journey prolonged that all wounds she suffered were only temporary. Reassurance came when she most desperately needed it – a simple prayer from a new soul penetrated her thoughts and called out to her:

  ‘Goddess, if you are listening, I just want to say this is all new to me, so please forgive me if I misstep in the beginning.’

  The words pierced her and forced her to stop running for a moment. ‘Could it be?’ she thought to herself as she scouted the immediate perimeter. She dared not move as she waited on her powers to confirm her suspicions. Moments later a smile broke out across her face as she realized her powers had indeed returned.

  She cleared out a spot amongst the leaves to hold her own personal liturgy to her master as she assured him in prayer that she was still more than capable of carrying out her original orders.

  ‘Welcome, Avalore. I have heard your prayer, and it is good. I am jubilant to hear your voice and know that you have chosen to serve your goddess. My brothers and sisters are happy as well. Worry not, mistakes are expected. Now then, hurry along and finish your mission.’

  She took a deep breath as all the tension in her body melted away. To hear the prayer of her slaves after being wounded and alone was an orgasmic feeling. She rose to her feet and prodded further along the trees in the forest. She made her way to the centermost point in the woods as she continued to recoup her powers. Soon, she would reach out and see how many still willingly served her in Umuosmar.

  Sharp had not been in the woods more than a half hour when the voice spoke to him:

  ‘The time is nigh, Sharp. The elf has turned on those who love him most – his penalty shall follow soon.’ Sharp felt a pang as if a thorn had entered his side. He paused briefly to collect his thoughts before he moved further down the wooded path. The days were fast approaching in which alliances would be tested, faiths challenged, and lives lost.

  Sharp knew his role in the matter – though he did not look forward to what was to come. He was unaware of everything that would transpire; only that many people he cared about would be on the brink of a fiery death.

  14

  Two dragons approached Thirndor – one from the east and the other from the south. They dropped from the sky in unison and landed safely in the streets among the myriad of elves and dwarves.

  Skalmaena slipped her feet out of the harness and hopped off the beast as she thanked the dragon for the safe travel. As she walked under the animal’s belly, she rubbed one of the dragon’s front legs. She glanced over at the blue dragon and watched as Fogrolir and the elven king, Vulred Helethorn, disembarked from the beast.

  She smiled as she imagined in her mind the conversation that probably took place as Fogrolir flew about the kingdom with an elf in tow. Several elves rose to their feet, weapons in hand, ready to surround Skalmaena. She kept calm and smiled as a couple advanced toward her, unaware that she was not their enemy.

  “Calm down boys, you do not want to harm yourselves with those shiny, sharp swords. Put them away, please. I am not your enemy.”

  She stepped forward, acutely aware that the elves were still not sure what to make of her. Her intentions were clear as she walked the street: she was headed for Fogrolir.

  “Do not take another step, dwarf!” one of the elves called out.

  “Or what? You going to slice me into tiny little pieces?” she looked at the elf in question and smiled: “Put your sword away – your arm is trembling, and you are just going to embarrass yourself.”

  The elf, angered by her words, took a swing at Skalmaena’s head. Instinctively she moved under the punch and drew her sword. She slammed the butt end of the hilt into the elves jaw; he fell to the ground, unconscious.

  The others drew their weapons once more and readied themselves for an attack – the attack never came, however, as Fogrolir yelled out for the elves to put away their weapons. A few glanced at the Storm Rider but placed their arms away when their king, Vulred, nodded for them to follow Fogrolir’s order.

  “Skalmaena!” he called out with a broad grin on his face. “How nice to see you once again. It has been ages, and though I am happy to see your face in Thirndor on this day – I must ask you, where is the dwarven army?”

  Skalmaena stared at Fogrolir for a moment as she fought within herself to find the right way to inform the honorable dwarf that help would not be coming. Her gaze faltered as she looked upon the ground at the fallen elf, and she chose to turn her attention to him. She knelt over the elf and brought out a small bottle with a scented oil in it. She placed it under his nose for a few precious seconds, and moments later the elf opened his eyes. He was weary, a bit discombobulated, but otherwise excellent.

  “Fogrolir, I am happy to see you as well. We must talk, but I must stress that it needs to be in private. Only those most privy to the innermost workings of our plans shall be granted access to our meeting.”

  Fogrolir knew immediately that the news would not be received well; Ska
lmaena never shied away from speaking in public unless it was necessary to do so. Fogrolir nodded – a sign that he understood and respected her wishes. He motioned for Vulred to accompany himself and Skalmaena, and together the three made their way to his home.

  Once inside, Fogrolir motioned for Skalmaena and Vulred to have a seat at his table. He made his way over to his bed and sat on the edge, as he was out of chairs to sit on.

  “I would offer everyone something to drink, but I have a feeling this is a talk that we will want to be sober during.” He said.

  “Listen, Fogrolir, I do not know how to say this and it not come across horrendously, but – we cannot send any troops to Thirndor to assist in any battle. It just is not possible or even feasible at the moment.”

  Fogrolir nodded and took a deep breath:

  “May I ask why, Skalmaena?”

  “I do not know if you have heard the news or not, but the giants and ogres have invaded our land. They killed Snardeck, took over the Crystalmist Bastille, and appeared – the last time we saw them – to be readying themselves for war.”

  Fogrolir smiled. He knew about the invasion, as did Vulred. Praghock communicated with Snardeck moments before his death, and they knew that the giants and ogres were going to come. He had no idea, however, that they were already preparing for war.

  “We know that Snardeck is dead, Skalmaena. We also know that the giants and their ogre friends have taken control of Crystalmist Bastille.”

  Skalmaena’s eyebrows rose with surprise, “how did you know about this?”

  Fogrolir looked toward Vulred – he had remained silent thus far in the conversation.

  “When Fogrolir entered my kingdom, he came straight to Omabanise at the behest of one of our best warriors – Kelethoryn. He told me that he had just killed the dwarven king, Kulok Greybrew and that he required our assistance. Naturally, we were apprehensive, as we have not had a dwarf in our country in over a hundred years, easily. While I spoke with Fogrolir, another dwarf arrived in Omabanise, this one on the backside of a yellow dragon. He too claimed to be Fogrolir, which presented myself and the people I govern, with a very odd problem.”

  Skalmaena tried her best to stay patient to listen to Vulred’s story, but she could not wait any longer and spoke forth:

  “Forgive me, king Vulred, but what does this have to do with you two knowing about the attack on the outskirts of our city?”

  Fogrolir intervened:

  “Perhaps I can help shed light here. Skalmaena, king Vulred was about to get to the reason we know what we are aware of at the moment. You see, Praghock used his magic to make him look just like me to gain the trust of the elven people. Therefore, I proposed a way to tell the two of us apart from one another. Vulred and his men agreed, and during our journey back to Thirndor to be tested, Praghock died.”

  “I understand that, but what does this – “

  “As he was dying,” Fogrolir shouted to show that he did not appreciate being interrupted, “he was gripped with fear and trepidation, and he talked to us. He did not say much, but he did say that Snardeck was dead, and the giants were on the attack. He then begged forgiveness for his actions before passing on to the other side from this life.”

  It was now Skalmaena who sat in silence as the truth dawned upon her: Fogrolir knew what was happening, and still asked for the help of the royal army. That could mean only one thing – whatever it was that now inhabited the shores of Megh Borim was more dangerous than an army of giants and ogres was.

  “Is there anything we can do to neutralize the threat in Megh Borim, even if only temporarily? If you knew about the giants and ogres, yet you still asked for help, then that tells me that the situation is most desperate. Even so, I cannot leave the citizens in those cities between the bastille and Hegh Thurim, to die without so much as a defense.”

  Fogrolir began to ponder to himself – his silence spoke volumes to Skalmaena. She knew the leader of the Storm Rider brigade always had a plan. To see him sitting in silence, mulling over endless strategies, made her more nervous than she cared to admit.

  Finally, Fogrolir smiled. His eyes lit up as though he were a child receiving a present. He looked from Vulred to Skalmaena and back again.

  “What is it, Fogrolir?” Skalmaena asked.

  “Well,” he began, “I do recall when I was on the island with the Skinder clansmen – the cyclopses appeared to hate the sight of fire. When we were caged, they waited until it was dark to bring out the cyclopses and they always kept the lanterns far from their eyes. I wonder if there is a way to use this to our advantage.”

  Skalmaena rose to her feet and began to pace the floor:

  “If they were afraid of the fire, but not afraid of the daylight, then I suppose maybe their eyesight is bad, and once it is dark, bright light hurts their eyes.”

  Fogrolir stood as well, “Yes! When we were captured, they kept us inside until it was dark. The cyclopses did not like the daylight at all. They are in the daylight here, but I would bet anything it is only as a show of numbers. If we can set the cliff side on fire, they will not dare try to climb the walls to enter Megh Borim!”

  “You know what else?” Vulred inquired as rubbed his chin. “If you set the cliffs afire, and have your dragons set the shores afire as well, we can trap them on the island and pick them off like an elf hunting deer.”

  For the next hour, the trio sat inside the home of Fogrolir, discussing every variable they could fathom. In the end, however, they concluded there was only one way to do battle with the beasts on the shores: they would have to set their city ablaze.

  As they exited Fogrolir’s home, the elves and dwarves alike began to murmur.

  ‘What will we do?’

  ‘Are we going to get help?’

  ‘Is there any hope for us?’

  The questions passed about from one citizen to the other in hushed tones as the trio walked down the street, toward the encampment.

  “Soldiers, gather around!” Vulred called out to his men.

  “Storm Rider’s and citizens of Thirndor who are interested in helping, gather around as well.”

  The cobblestone streets of Thirndor were virtually invisible as men and women, alongside their children, covered the streets to hear what Fogrolir and the others had to say.

  “What we have decided comes as no simple or ordinary task. Our kingdom is under attack, and we are without a king to lead us. That being said, we have never run from a fight to defend our people, and we shall not start doing so today!” A chorus of cheers broke out amongst the dwarves. Fogrolir held his hand up to silence the masses.

  “As I said before, what we have decided to do is not an easy decision. I will reveal to you the plan we have when the time has come to do so. If I say anything beforehand, there is the chance of people panicking, and we cannot afford that.”

  “Just tell us what we need to do for you at this moment, Fogrolir!” one dwarf called out. A few others agreed, and this made Fogrolir smile.

  “Right now, I need you to gather every bit of oil we have, for our plan cannot succeed without oil. This winter is going to be a long one for our people. We will be keeping warm with the use of nothing more than the firewood in our homes and fireplaces. Gather your oil, even in your businesses, and bring it back here.”

  A few dwarves turned away immediately to go and collect the precious commodity as others began to talk amongst themselves about what they thought the oil would be used to accomplish. Some dwarves, however, remained.

  “How will we recover what we give from our businesses, Fogrolir?” one of the remaining dwarves asked.

  “It will be done as it was always done before, Yumard. When we have squelched the intruders’ chances of success and ensured the safety of Umuosmar once again, dwarven businesses will be the first to receive new commodity, free of charge.”

  “Forgive me, Fogrolir, but that is a decision that only the king can make, and as you stated just a moment ago – we have no king!” />
  “Have I ever steered you astray, Yumard. My word is my bond, and my word is good. I will make sure you are repaid in ample fashion.”

  This appeared to satisfy the dwarf as he and the few remaining dwarves with him all turned and walked away, chatting amongst themselves as they disappeared down the road.

  A few hours after the meeting in the encampment, Thirndor looked as though the largest market in history had popped up out of nowhere and took over the streets as dwarves brought oil in anything they could carry.

  “Well, Fogrolir, I am quite happy to see that the dwarven people are not afraid to help the cause.”

  Vulred stood with his arms crossed, watching as pails of oil were dropped off near the center fountain in the city. He was apprehensive about the immediate task, but he trusted the dwarves, and more importantly – he believed Fogrolir.

  “Yes, Vulred, it is a sight to see. We will need more than this, however, if we are to win a war. I have a bigger idea if you are willing to hear me my thoughts.”

  “Absolutely, I am all ears.”

  “Well, instead of risking the lives of our dragons in this endeavor, I think it may be prudent if we have an elf on the backside of every dragon, alongside a dwarf. When the dragons fly over the cliffs, the elves could dip an arrow into an oil sac and fire it. The dragon could light it on fire as it falls, thus stopping the need for our dragons to get so close to the troops. We can have a set of dragons fly ahead of our elven friends, dropping oil all over the sandy shores and their precious boats. Your thoughts would be greatly appreciated on this matter, Vulred.”

  Fogrolir turned and faced the elven king, expecting to see Vulred shaking his head left to right as if to say no. Instead, Vulred smiled and clasped his shoulder:

  “The only problem I foresee is getting my elves on the backside of a dragon. Most are afraid of the beasts’, though I do believe we can find enough men.”

  “There is a reason why a king’s command must be heeded. Perhaps you should not ask your people to do something, but tell them to do so. I see nothing wrong with asking for volunteers, but even under King Kulok Greybrew, we were told what to do when it came to wartime.”