The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga)

by Gary F. Vanucci

  “Quite possibly,” Elec agreed.

  Saeunn and Garius came into view and slowly moved to their position after Rose signaled them. Garius mentioned a bit too loudly that there were icons and symbols along the corridors that indicated that this place was once a temple for cultists of the demon lord, Thanatos.

  Rose and Elec both studied the dagger’s hilt for as long as it took Garius to explan a great deal about the demon lord in question, but neither of them could decipher its purpose. There was no other reason for it to be there other than as a trigger for something, and it was obvious to them both that it was not very well constructed. Neither of them could find a seam on any of the cave walls, either.

  Rose was looking at it from many angles. Her scarlet hair dangled in front of her eyes and draped over the hilt of the embedded dagger while she studied it from above. Elec looked from underneath its position and then they exchanged places.

  Finally, they both backed away from it.

  “I think that we need to decide whether to leave it or use it,” Elec stated as he tied his black mane in a ponytail.

  “So… we leave it?” Rose asked.

  “We don’t know where the priests are. And if that is so, we need to uncover every stone and explore every twist and turn of this place,” Garius reasoned, and then proceeded with a silent prayer. Once the ritual concluded, he nodded. “The priests are indeed nearer…But I cannot determine their location,” he admitted with more than a hint of frustration. “I sense the holy symbol’s aura within this wretched place still and it grows stronger as we progress.

  “I probably should have asked this before, but what if the priests had their holy symbols removed from their person?” Rose asked with sarcasm evident in her tone.

  “They are affixed by a spell that holds them in place. Only that spell can remove them. It does not guarantee they are alive….”

  “Ah” she said, as she spun on him. “I was just—“

  “I know,” he interjected, and then nodded toward the dagger again. “If the lever there opens a hidden chamber where they are being held, then we need to deactivate it.”

  “Back up,” Elec instructed as he nodded to Garius in agreement, grasping the dagger hilt. He pulled, then tugged and then pushed up on it as the others sidled away from him. Suddenly he heard Rose call out, “Wait!”

  The dagger hilt released in an upward fashion with a hissing sound, which was followed by the loud sound of gears cranking from somewhere nearby.

  And nothing happened.

  “Anything?!” Elec asked.

  “I can see grooves in the stone below now,” Rose stated. “They were not there when last I looked!”

  “It doesn’t seem—“ Elec began, but he was interrupted by the sounds of moving stonework. He heard the distinct sound of the ground dipping as he stood atop what he could only guess to be a pressure plate. He had not seen it there previously. He silently cursed his failure as he heard Rose yell.

  “The walls!”

  The once-firm walls of the corridor quickly slid back and forth along the grooves on the ground and Elec suddenly stared at a wall where once there had been an open corridor. It wasn’t a lever for a secret door as he had thought initially, but was instead a mechanism that evidently set a trap. More stonework moved, this time underneath him, as he attempted to ready himself for whatever was about to happen.

  “Elec!”

  He heard the muffled calls of his name from behind the wall.

  Then there was a gust of wind whipping in his ears as he no longer stood upon solid ground.

  Thaurion came across an interesting item of value and began formulating a plan based on the snoring he’d heard earlier.

  “I found something,” Thaurion announced as he raised his hand, holding up a rather large stone with a reflective and shiny coating. “We will need to draw at least one of the guards into the room….”

  He explained his idea in great detail to Alana. She nodded her agreement and then moved slowly to the door. Looking back for confirmation, she knocked and waited for the peephole to slide open.

  “We have found a valuable piece of treasure in here amongst the bodies…if that interests you,” Alana informed the orc sentries behind the door, trying to stir their interest. “Perhaps we can buy our way out?”

  The peephole slowly opened, revealing a pair of dark, intrusive eyes within the opening, staring back at Alana. The intense stare of the orc seemed to bore right through her.

  “Quiet,” whispered an angry voice outside the door. “Gob sleeps. Do not wake him.”

  “Gob sleeps…but you do not. You can have it all to yourself,” whispered Alana in response.

  After a long bout of silence in which the two acolytes believed their plan foiled, they heard him speak again. “What is it?” the voice whispered through the door.

  “We have a gem,” Thaurion said quietly as he held the large, shining gem up to the peephole.

  “Pass it through,” commanded the voice on the other side of the door, this time a bit more determined.

  “It is too big to pass through such a tiny slot,” Thaurion reasoned, in an attempt to persuade the creature on the other side of the barred door to enter.

  Another bout of lengthy silence followed and finally, the sound of wood sliding against wood was heard on the other side of the door, followed by the click of a lock. The door quietly opened and a rather large orc appeared in the doorway, brandishing a spiked club and shield.

  “Make no move or you will die,” warned the hairy goblinoid creature. “Toss me the gem!”

  Thaurion tossed the gem in the air and rushed in after it, knocking the creature prone.

  “Halt!” Alana commanded as she uttered a prayer, invoking a paralyzing effect upon the creature. Upon command, the orc simply remained frozen in place where he lay.

  “Gob!” yelled the orc from the ground. It was a muffled call due to the position the orc was in currently when he landed, with his face firmly against the ground. He could not move his limbs, but he could move his mouth somewhat.

  “Quickly now, bind his hands, Alana!” Thaurion cried, following their plan exactly as they had laid it out so far, knowing that the orc outside the cell would be awake at any point. Alana quickly bound the orc’s hands and feet with strips of fabric they fashioned from the debris in the room before the enchantment wore off.

  “Gob!” the orc yelled again, drawing a smack on the head from Thaurion.

  “This’ll shut you up!” Thaurion threatened as he shoved a balled up portion of animal hide he’d found on the ground into the orc’s mouth. Then they heard a groan from outside the door and realized they had to act quickly in order to maintain the element of surprise.

  Rolf’s symptoms were worsening…they were trapped in an evil temple and hadn’t known how they arrived here or where they were. Thaurion was frustrated and knew he only had one chance to get his fellow acolytes out of here alive. He seized the opportunity.

  “Patron, forgive me,” Thaurion implored his deity as he quickly grabbed the spiked club of the first orc and ran with it into the corridor. The other orc, Gob, had been stirring but hadn’t quite opened his eyes yet.

  Thaurion thanked his luck and desperately swung the spiked club as hard as he could in a downward arc with both hands, spiked side out, onto the orc’s exposed skull. He turned his head and averted his eyes from the gruesome sight he expected next. He felt the warm and sickening splash of the creature’s blood splatter him as the blow landed.

  Thaurion was not a violent man and felt shameful at having to perform such a heinous act. He fell to his knees in resignation, ashamed at what he had done, as Alana rushed to his side in an attempt to comfort him.

  “You did what had to be done, Thaurion,” Alana reassured him sympathetically, feeling horrified for him. She wiped the blood and sweat from his blonde locks and face as best as possible and then doused him with the remaining water from her water-skin to help cleanse him.

&nb
sp; Finally, Thaurion stood and straightened himself.

  “I will go and see what I can find out,” he told Alana. He pointed to Rolf and the orc. “Take care of them and I will be back as soon as I figure a way out of wherever we are. I will close but not lock the door from the outside in case anyone comes looking for you.”

  “Ye’ll be cut down in no time!” the orc threatened, after spitting the gag from his mouth and struggling against his ties. A loud crack followed that threat and then silence.

  Thaurion stared at Alana in disbelief and stunned surprise. She hovered menacingly over the orc, having struck him hard with the blunt end of the spiked club.

  “That’ll keep him quiet…” Alana said with a certain satisfaction, a hint of a smile on her face. “What?! He deserved it!”

  “Remind me not to cross you,” he quipped as he smiled back at her, truly finding irony in that scenario.

  Then he headed off, shutting the door behind him.

  Elec was falling.

  He had been falling for only a heartbeat when he recalled the magical power within his sword. He had no time to attempt to get both hands on the hilt, he knew. He held it aloft and spoke the ancient elven phrase, tightening his grasp on the hilt as the blade suddenly held firmly in place, rebelling against gravity and hovering in midair.

  There was an excruciating pain in his right shoulder as it was yanked from its socket. He hung there helplessly in agony.

  He peered down, trying to get a peek at what fate he would have suffered. He finally shifted his weight, gripping the hilt with his good left arm, and peered down.

  To his shock and revulsion, there were several spears jutting up from the ground only another ten paces or so below him. There were bones scattered at the bottom of the pit amongst the spikes, including a trio of freshly departed orcs as well as a pair of goblins, who must have fooled with the lever recently. He shuddered and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.

  “At least…I wasn’t the only one,” he commented sarcastically, peering down at the most recent of the corpses.

  Suddenly, he heard a scream from directly above him. He saw the limp form of a female figure descending upon him, falling freely.

  Rose!

  Closer she came and he winced at the anticipation of what he was about to do. He shifted his weight back to his dislocated shoulder and hung there in extraordinary pain, waiting for Rose to close the gap. She fell faster until she was within reach a heartbeat later. He reached out and snatched her with his good arm, timing it perfectly to clutch her around her waist.

  He shrieked in agony as he caught her limp form and they both dangled from Elec’s dislocated and rapidly deteriorating shoulder.

  “Rose, please…get us…out…of here,” Elec managed, barely maintaining his grip on both her and Daegnar Giruth. Rose quickly got her bearings. The shock was evident on her face when she witnessed their situation but she quickly focused on the task of getting them out of there.

  She concentrated, and then locked eyes with Elec’s.

  “I’ve never taken anyone with me into the shadow realm before,” she mentioned as she concentrated and focused on doing just that.

  “You will have to trust me, Elec. Trust me and let go of the sword when I say,” Rose instructed with a most serious look upon her face—something he was unaccustomed to seeing from her. Elec simply nodded. His arm was numb and he was close to blacking out from the agony, so he wouldn’t have much choice in the matter soon enough. Rose looked into his eyes and nodded.

  Elec immediately felt what seemed like icy, cold hands clamoring all about him and he likened the experience to what he thought death might be like. All light disappeared, darkness consumed his perception, and then there was nothing.

  A constant and profound chill overwhelmed his senses. He might have believed it to be death if he hadn’t been feeling the sharp pain of his shoulder throbbing throughout the surrealistic experience.

  Then he squinted as the light suddenly came flooding back around him.

  He faded in and out of consciousness as he looked up at Garius, Saeunn and Rose who bent over him. He saw Garius lean down and say something that registered as indecipherable to him, while Rose wore an expression of concern before his eyes closed.

  Chapter 25

  Zabalas swung wide the door to his bed chamber and gazed upon Kaldar, the now disfigured mockery of a man turned mindless undead creature that was at one time, his own father. Zabalas’s quarters were lavish in both space and quality of items. He had a personal study with books that he had collected from all over Wothlondia lining the walls, and exquisitely crafted chairs upon which to sit. There was a bed on the opposite side of the room with ornate carvings and a canopy from which a silky fabric hung loosely along the sides. There was a strongbox at the foot of the huge bed and several ancient, wooden chests.

  In the far corner of the room could be seen an ornately carved writing desk and chair. Within that chair could be seen the outline of a robed, wilted figure. Upon closer inspection, that figure’s flesh barely clung to its bones beneath its tattered garments, which appeared both ancient and mystical in origin as the once-vibrant colors danced and shifted along the exterior. Those robes hung loosely upon its noticeably frail frame, and a circlet made of gold inlaid with gems sat atop its hooded head, seeming out of place upon the decrepit thing.

  “Have you sensed its approach, Sadreth?” Zabalas asked as he moved to stand behind the lich. The creature turned and spoke in a hollow and unnatural voice.

  Sadreth sluggishly stood from the chair, using the desk for support.

  “It…eludes…still…,” the creature managed to croak, standing on unsteady legs. “No…sign…,” Sadreth added with his bony, frail hand rising up as if to signal something. “No…stronger…than before….”

  “Then the phylactery remains distant still,” Zabalas reasoned. “We will need to visit Chieftain Kelgarek and learn of the whereabouts of his legion sent to recover it…and soon,” he offered before taking a seat across from where Sadreth now stood. ”Solagh, Phaera and Prishnack have set the plan into motion masterfully and I will not allow it to fail.” After a brief pause, he continued again, “Do not worry.”

  Zabalas glanced at the dim, red light within the sunken sockets of the creature’s skull that had once contained Sadreth’s eyes, and continued. “When you once again don the artifact, your rise to power will be swift and deadly. You will regain your strength and vitality and with that, we will show the people of Wothlondia the true meaning of the word fear.” Sadreth’s eyes shone brightly for a heartbeat upon hearing that statement, before darkening once more.

  “Strength and vitality are things that Zabalas must maintain as well,” called a sultry, yet sinister voice from the recessed shadows of the room. “We have provided you appropriate sustenance…you must keep up your strength.”

  Emerging from the shadows of an adjacent doorway, and opposite the one he’d entered from, was the lithe hint of a female form. She beckoned for him to follow. Zabalas turned to Sadreth once more and addressed the remnants of the formerly great mage.

  “I will find this item for you,” Zabalas promised. “I have a portion of what the goblinoids are calling my ‘Dark Legion’ on its way to collect both the acolytes you’re your precious phylactery. And if they fail me, I will send my personal envoys to secure it. One way of the other, all will be made right again. And soon.”

  With that, the mighty warlord disappeared into the gloom.

  Orngoth had been wandering in circles and found himself in a familiar place. He’d entered what they called the game room that also contained the adjoining ghoul lair. A flickering torch still hung on the wall, threatening to go out. The chamber did have a lingering, revolting smell, which he figured might also help deter unwanted guests. Not long after though, he was made nauseous by the odor, and so he forced that once-hidden door shut again.

  He was hungry and removed a bit of dried meat that he had found earlier from a p
air of dead goblins, and began to partake. He quickly devoured that, and yet the rumbling in his belly continued. He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything for several days prior and found his hunger to be insatiable. Fueled by that renewed hunger, he reopened the portal and went in to investigate the dead orcs in there, ignoring the foul stench within. After a long and sickening search, he discovered there was nothing of much use.

  He made his way back out of the hidden chamber, shut the concealed door once more, and looked around for anything. There was a small cooking pot in here already that the orcs had used. They’d placed it in one of the alcoves where a shaft above carried away the smoke from the fire, presumably outside somewhere. Inside the pot was some kind of raw meat. And it was fresh, he recognized with elation. The orcs must have placed it there during one of his many bouts of sleepiness, with the intent to cook it!

  Now he needed kindling.

  Orngoth noted a barrel that he knew contained ale. He shook the keg and found it to be only half full. He struck it hard with his club and splintered a large piece off of the main body, spilling even more ale and causing a leak, but he did not care. He stopped suddenly and looked about, noting the many splintered sections of tables scattered about the floor and scolded himself.

  He then used the dried pieces of wood from the tables to add to the burnt tinder already there beneath the pot. He carefully removed the still flickering torch that hung on a sconce, and carefully lit the kindling, replacing the torch on the wall. It did not take very long before the food was cooked, the smoke drawn neatly into the shaft above. He removed a newly acquired waterskin and nearly swallowed it all in one gulp.

  With his hunger finally sated, Orngoth began exploring again. He was nearing frustration after another bout of searching came up empty. But then suddenly, he once more heard the sound of footsteps in the passage beyond. He recovered his club from the floor, doused the fire with the remainder of his waterskin, and headed quietly down the corridor.