Demoweir's Rise (Great War Chronicles Book 2)

by Michael Benningfield

  “I am no ordinary elf, Blodbarg. I come with a proposal of an alliance.” Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, it appeared that many colors danced within her pupils.

  Blodbarg snickered and wiped his brow. His gaze never left the face of the demon woman.

  “Be glad you are still living, elf. Go on then, give me the reason this dwarf should not be killed.”

  He stood tall, purposely showing off the size difference between himself and the Demoweir. It was meant as a silent form of intimidation – it meant nothing at all to her.

  “You should release her so she can run to Hegh Thurim and let them know of the impending attack. You wish to know who operates the royal army now that Snardeck and Praghock are dead. I can give you that information, and all I ask in return is that you hear my proposal for an alliance.”

  Blodbarg signaled for the ogre to release his grip on the dwarf. The beast murmured his disappointment, and the contempt was obvious as he frowned and let go of the dwarf’s neck.

  “Keep her chain in hand,” Blodbarg said.

  He turned his attention back to the elven woman and signaled for her to continue.

  “I have an army of men like none you have ever seen before, Blodbarg. I am the goddess of the elven people, and the elves have failed my command repeatedly. I sought the dwarves to overthrow their kingdom by possessing their king, Kulok Greybrew. When he resisted me, I turned my attention to Praghock Yulgrunli, and as you know, he took the dwarven throne soon afterward. I only sought to instill my own power to rule – but those plans were thwarted by a spell caster named Sharp. Now, I have sent for my men to join me here and wipe out the dwarves.”

  “If your army is as powerful as you claim, woman, you should not have need of my men.”

  The Demoweir smiled, “they are powerful, yes, but I seek not only the dwarven throne but the elven one as well. They can defeat one army or the other, but not both – not at the same time, and the elves still hold an alliance with the dwarves. My proposal is simple: we help one another, and when this is finished, you take one throne, and I will take the other.”

  Blodbarg looked at his men – a smirk across his face. “We are enough in numbers to take both without your help, elf. I should dispatch your body now and hear no more of your vile words.”

  The giants and ogres laughed as Blodbarg ran his finger across his throat before sticking out his tongue and feigning death.

  “Shall I make the offer that I know a beast of your stature cannot refuse?” she asked.

  Blodbarg stopped his mockery and nodded.

  “A fight to the death. I will present my best warrior, and you present yours. My warrior wins, you accept the terms of my proposal for an alliance. My hero loses, and I will board the nearest ship and never return to this land, leaving it all to you for the reaping.”

  Blodbarg mulled over the idea for a bit. “Margoor, come forth.” He said at last.

  A giant, almost the size of Blodbarg, stepped forward and out a growl.

  “Margoor, you are my second in command and rightful heir to lead the people. If I die here today, you are in charge. Is that understood?”

  Margoor shook his head in agreement with his commander.

  “Is that understood, all of you?” Blodbarg said in a loud voice. The men and women echoed their agreement to the terms. Blodbarg stepped forward: “I am the best warrior in this land. I hereby accept your proposal for a fight. Present your beast that he may die.”

  The ogres and giants raised their arms into the air and cheered. Their fervor was stopped moments later when the Demoweir raised her hand for silence so she could respond.

  “Margoor – do I have your word that if your commander dies, you will uphold the terms of our agreement?”

  Margoor stepped forward and looked down at the Demoweir with his one good eye:

  “You have my affirmation, elf. I will uphold the terms of the agreement if need be.”

  “Good. By nightfall, my men shall have arrived and touched down on the shores of Zowgant Kregork. I will send for them, and at first light tomorrow, we shall witness a battle.”

  Everyone laughed and cheered – the beasts of Zowgant Kregork loved any reason to fight. For the rest of the evening the Demoweir joined in the festivities of the beasts while inside she reveled in the fact that tomorrow, Blodbarg would be dead.

  The anchors dropped with a thud, and the ship came to rest on the embankment of Zowgant Kregork. Metakon ordered the cyclops nearest the gangway to lower the large ramp so he could exit the ship.

  The wood creaked and groaned as the ship gently swayed left to right in the wind. Metakon walked down the wooden ramp and stepped onto the sandy shore. The sun was now gone for the day, and the moon came out to begin its nightly dance across the starlit sky.

  “Don your armor and stay sharp out here,” Metakon said as he pulled the hood over his head to block the grains of sand that rode on the wind as it blew without a care across the beach.

  “We do not know what lurks out here, but we will be prepared.”

  The smell of salt permeated the air and mixed with the dry heat. It made Metakon feel as though his body were being sucked dry from the outside.

  The skinders allowed all the cyclopses but one to exit the ship first. They kept the monstrosity named Arlong aboard the ship until all the others were safely on shore. Metakon signaled for the beast to be brought forth, and moments later the telltale sounds of chains grazing the wooden deck could be heard reverberating through the air.

  The moon casts a pale light onto the white sands, illuminating everything well enough for one to walk without the need of a lantern. Metakon stood at the front of the men, waiting for Arlong to disembark the ship.

  A shadow began – first from the bow of the ship, and stretched over the water like a glove reaching out to smother someone. It continued to grow until at last, at the top of the gangway stood Arlong. His shadow, cast silhouette by the gracefulness of the moon, swallowed the men on the shoreline, making their shadows disappear.

  “Come along, Arlong. There is an enemy for you to kill, and they have been gracious enough to volunteer for their own death. It would be petulant and outright rude to keep them waiting.”

  The skinders, Chaotic as they were called, snickered. The Demoweir reached out to Metakon earlier in the evening and gave him the order to follow, and he was all too happy to oblige.

  ‘Be careful as you cross the desert plains, Metakon. The giants are expecting you, but it would not come as a shock if you were attacked during your journey. Wild mammoths and sand lions frequent the dunes looking for a meal. Keep your ears sharp and your instincts at the ready for anything – and I do mean anything.’

  “Release his chains,” Metakon demanded. “Arlong, you will not injure any of my Chaotic – in fact, you will follow my orders, or you will be dealt with accordingly.” Metakon pointed his finger at the beast, and as he spoke, electricity flared in his eyes. It was a message for Arlong – an unwritten letter to comply.

  His chains were unlocked, and he immediately grabbed them and threw them into the sea – some of the skinders were shocked by his actions, but Metakon just smiled.

  “No more chains, skinder,” Arlong spoke in an elongated tongue, thick, slow, and with evil intent.

  “Fine. No more chains.” Metakon replied. “Alright then, pick us up! We must remain out of harm’s way for the journey through the night. Come on, make haste!”

  The cyclopses knelt down, and each one lifted a skinder onto their shoulders where they would remain for the duration of the trip. It was something they were accustomed to, and the skinders were so light that often times the cyclopses forgot they were even there.

  So began their journey through desert sands under the moonlight. Their numbers were great, though they were only a fraction of their regular numbers. Altogether, over a hundred cyclopses set foot on the shores and made the journey to the Crystalmist Bastille.

  The Storm Riders had no idea of their
real numbers, for they saw only a glimpse of the beasts on the island shores of Megh Borim. They thought their numbers to be only twenty or so cyclopses – they failed to realize just how many monsters could be crammed onto one boat the size of a small aircraft carrier.

  The moon sank over the treetops as the sun rose on the other side of the sky. Their dance was a game of tag across the ethereal sky. A game – where neither were ever ‘it.’

  Blodbarg woke from his slumber and took inventory of his men – they were all accounted for. He rubbed his eyes and yawned; saliva fell from his mouth and splattered onto the stone street.

  “Where is the elf?” he inquired to no one in particular.

  None of his men answered for they were still asleep.

  “Where is the bloody elf!” he screamed. His nostrils flared, and the thick black hair covering most of his upper body stood straight.

  An ogre stirred and looked around – “No idea, Lord Blodbarg. Perhaps she realized her folly and sank back into the forest from whence she came.”

  Blodbarg, enraged, took a full stride and kicked the ogre in his gut. The force lifted the warrior off the ground – Blodbarg slammed his fist into the ogre’s backside, forcing him back to the ground below.

  “No one challenges me to a fight and then runs off! Find that traitorous bitch – now!”

  By this time his men were fully awake and on their feet. They did not wish to incur the wrath of Blodbarg the terrible. He was capable of crushing any of them with a single blow. The men scrambled about, doing anything in their power to avoid making eye contact with their leader.

  “Well, you are certainly an impatient leader, Blodbarg. Did you really think I was going to leave under cover of night? Come now, I told you before – I am no typical elf.”

  The Demoweir took a bite of an apple she picked from a tree just inside the forest. She giggled and shook her head in disbelief.

  “Where is your beast, elf? I am ready for battle, and I shall not wait!” he bellowed. His eyes shone with sinister intentions and an anxious excitement for action.

  “I told you they would be here this morning, and be here they will. Have you no patience at all?”

  Instead of answering, Blodbarg reached out, snared the Demoweir within his grasp, spun in a semi-circle, and released her. She toppled end over end like a ball – her momentum carried her over the last bit of stone roadway and into the sands of the desert. In less than a half-mile, the luscious greens and browns of the bastille faded out – replaced with sparse vegetation and hot air from the wilderness. Blodbarg’s power was impressive, as the demon aptly named Demoweir traversed the half-mile through the air before slamming into the desert sands.

  Incensed, the Demoweir was ready to kill the giant by her own hand, but she held back her anger as she picked herself off the sandy floor and stared at Blodbarg.

  “If your beast is too much of a coward to show himself and face me, then I must kill you instead!”

  The ogres jeered at the Demoweir as the giants began to laugh. Blodbarg grabbed his armored helmet and affixed it atop his head, strapping the leather clasp below his chin. He grabbed his club and roared before running full-speed at the demon.

  His gait was long, and in just a few steps he barreled down on her position. He lifted his spiked club to smash the devil – before he reached her, a resounding roar filled the air and Arlong flew over the top of a dune hill and slammed shoulder first into him. He toppled backward, and before he had a chance to recover, he found the cyclops standing over him with his fist wrapped around his throat.

  Arlong roared once more and reared back to slam his fist into Blodbarg’s face – Blodbarg raised his foot and kicked him in the groin. His grip loosened on the giant just a tiny bit, but it was all Blodbarg needed. He lifted both legs and rolled back to get his knees to his chest. He kicked with all his might – his feet connected square with the cyclops chest and launched him off his feet.

  Arlong slammed into the ground and rolled once. He went back and planted his feet in the sand. As he stood, his eyes fixed on Blodbarg – the giant lowered his head and ran headlong at his enemy, intending to ram him into the sand dune. Arlong stepped sideways and grabbed Blodbarg’s helmet at the base of his neck and flung him backside first into the dune. The force of the throw ripped the helmet from Blodbarg’s head as his body broke through the dune and sent sand flying in every direction.

  Blodbarg was dizzied by the throw but shook the cobwebs and stood to his feet. He turned to get his first good look at the fierce competitor he would fight to the death. His eyes looked upward and met the gaze of the cyclops, and for the first time in his life – he was scared.

  Blodbarg, the terrible – leader of the giants, was as ferocious as they came and bigger than any other non-winged beast in the kingdom. That is until Arlong set foot on the shores of the land. His momentary fear gone, he began to stalk forward at a methodical pace to face the cyclops.

  Arlong smiled, grabbed the iron helmet with both hands, and crushed it like paper. He tossed it at the feet of Blodbarg.

  “Arlong does not need armor for such easy prey.” He said as a wicked smile flashed across his face. He reached up to his neck and unclasped the fur jack that adorned his upper body, and tossed it to the side – his own helmet followed suit.

  “Come forth, giant, and meet your demise.” He chuckled.

  The ogres and giants began grabbing their weapons – they did not intend to allow Blodbarg to be killed. Margoor held up his hands and commanded the soldiers to stay out of the battle.

  “He agreed to this battle, and he alone will partake in it.”

  Margoor had waited for many years for the day to come in which Blodbarg would meet his end. He longed to be the leader of the giants, and he foresaw that his dream was close to becoming a reality.

  Blodbarg looked over his shoulder – he would run if it were necessary, but he would not die if he could avoid it. His thoughts of escaping were squashed as he saw an entire army of cyclopses, fully clad in their armor, approaching through the desert.

  He looked at his enemy once more – if his fate was death, he would not go without a fight. He charged his enemy – the battle would be settled here and now.

  Arlong dashed forward as well and extended his arm to clothesline the giant – Blodbarg ducked under it and spun around – grabbing the cyclops under both arms into a full nelson wrestling hold. He lifted Arlong off his feet slammed him to the ground head first, releasing his hold. Dust engulfed the two as the earth shook from the impact. Blodbarg raised his foot and with all his power and brought it down – letting loose a howl of rage.

  Arlong rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet. He ran headlong into Blodbarg’s stomach, wrapped his arms around the giant’s waist in a bear hug, and returned the favor with his own slam. The two hit the ground once again, and Arlong began swinging his fists like hammers, hitting the giant in the face repeatedly.

  Blodbarg was not finished fighting, however, and dodged one of the cyclops swings – he grabbed the cyclops by the throat and began choking him. As Arlong stopped hitting the giant so he could free himself of the chokehold, Blodbarg took the opportunity to rock from one side to the other, throwing the cyclops off him once more.

  Climbing to their feet again, the two stared at one another as they began to walk in a circle. One would thrust forward and feign an attack – then the other would do the same – each looking for the right moment to attack.

  Blodbarg faked an attack with his right hand – the action caused Arlong to step forward for a counter-attack. Blodbarg moved to his left and threw a vicious uppercut with his right hand. It ran right under the cyclops arm and landed smoothly on his chin, staggering the beast. Blodbarg followed through with a left hook that connected soundly, rocking the cyclops, and then a right cross that hit home when it slammed into his enemy’s eye. He roared as the adrenaline flowed through his body. Saliva flew from his mouth as his jagged teeth shone and the realization hit home
that even this beast could be killed by a giant.

  Arlong – unable to see for the moment, stumbled backward and lost his footing. He fell to the ground and blinked a few times in hopes of getting his eyesight back. Blodbarg rushed forward and grabbed him by the ankles and, like a huge swing, threw him through the air once more.

  He landed hard and tumbled until a large dune stopped his momentum. As he slowly climbed to his feet, he fought to catch his breath. His vision was blurred and the swirling sand hitting him in the face did nothing to help. He felt around and realized the hard surface behind him was a large sand dune.

  Using the dune for support, Arlong managed to stand. He blinked several times and cried out in frustration as his vision had not returned. He listened in anticipation – he would have to dodge the giant's attacks until he could see once again.

  The ground shook and sand plumed into the air with each step Blodbarg took as he seized the opportunity at hand.

  Arlong heard the footsteps grow louder as his nemesis approached. He placed his foot upon the arched base of the dune and prepared to jump over his enemy. Dodging to the left or right was out of the question as accidentally smashing into another dune could fatally injure him.

  Blodbarg saw the foot move into place and knew he would attempt to out maneuver him. His enemy pushed off the hard surface and took flight. Blodbarg looked up and ran under the beast and caught him in midair. Blodbarg wrapped his arms around the cyclops’ legs and jumped into the air – he power-bombed Arlong into the top of the dune – the force snapped the cyclops’ spine.

  “Aaargh! Aargh!” Arlong screamed in agony.

  Blodbarg glanced toward the Demoweir and smiled as he huffed to catch his breath. He sat over the cyclops, watching his body twitch involuntarily. Arlong continued to cry out in pain, but it was only for a moment as Blodbarg placed one hand over the cyclops mouth to stifle his cries. He grabbed his head from the backside with his other hand and in one smooth motion, he yanked the beasts’ head to the right and upward, snapping his neck.