Realm of Druids

by Mark Hogenelst

  Brawlers from the house of the Danes started baying in rage. This set off all the Wildpack, and soon, all several thousand hounds were baying for blood. The front lines of brawlers were almost insane with rage. They jumped on the spot as if tethered by invisible ropes, scratching and pawing the ground sending up clouds of dust. Their cries could be heard echoing through the Great Rift almost to Aledran Mountain itself. Just visible in the low cloudy skies five or six skyriders flew behind their horde surrounded by 1,000 encircling Ravens. They stopped above the Wildpack army, their black garb barely visible against the dark sky. Princess Eylon watched on horrified as the mass of Ravens resembled a thick swarm of flying insects. She could just make out Strala giving orders to goblin mages below. Some distant shouting and King Boorag, who had hung back in his wooden contraption, turned it and moved further back. The wretched ponies tethered to his cart almost collapsed from the numerous beatings they had endured over the last week. Strala was seen to place a horn to her lips. The distant booming sound of the horn reverberated through the still air.

  Defenders called out warnings to one another; they knew the purpose of the horn and the Daemons it summoned. As the last blast of the horn faded, the voices of goblin speech were heard from the mages reciting conjuring curses. The elf clerics readied themselves as the bears called out defiant battle cries to the brawlers. Pale bluish shapes could be seen zigzagging through the hounds further back in their ranks. The front line of the Wildpack parted in numerous places as a dozen Diabolus Wraiths and Night Specters drifted into the open. They floated towards the defenders, their pale glow a bleak contrast to the dark surroundings. They slowly spread out with ghoul-like appearances, teeth-gnashing, tendrils and claws reaching for the wolves and elves. The elves yelled to each other, and those wielding the Druid weapons stepped forward, for these were the most effective weapons against the Daemons from the dark place between the realms. Rune swords leapt from their scabbards with a chorus of joyous hums as the elf rangers wielding them felt an invigorating rush of power. Many bears nearby stepped back as the enchanted blades unnerved them somewhat. They were answered by unholy wails and hissing as six Rust-Serpents flapped long leathery wings, carried their armoured bodies past the hounds to the defender’s front lines. The Rust-Serpents were fixated on the bears and flew towards them with purpose. Long powerful jaws opened wide to show wicked yellow teeth, some with rotten flesh stuck in there from their last victims.

  Now the battle for Aledran had begun. Bears leapt forward to meet the Rust-Serpents with swinging blades, and others clawing and tearing with mighty paws. Karvu joined in, and the mighty muntjac charged a Rust-Serpent that had just killed two bears. He drove the Rust-Serpent hard into the ground, pinning it with his antlers while other bears around him roared and tore at it until it croaked and died. Each of the Rust-Serpents had managed to kill several bears before being dragged to the ground and hacked to pieces. They were difficult to defeat with their scaled hides, but the bears also had amour, their great strength, and weapons. These elements combined destroyed the first wave of Rust-Serpents.

  Along the front line for a mile, Diabolus wraiths had stolen the life essence from many wolves and elves. A grinning apparition bore down on a group of elves near Princess Eylon; two of the elves froze as white protuberances flickering with blue energy wrapped around their bodies to draw out their life essence. The Princess yelled the words to a striking curse and held outstretched hands towards the wraith. A bolt of white light arced from the Ruby gem at her throat to the head of the apparition causing it to release its grip on the two elves. It floated backwards screaming with its tendrils flailing about. An elf ranger who had just killed a nearby Night Spectre ran up behind the wraith and leapt into the air to drive his double-headed black axe into its body. Blue veins glowed brightly in the axe head as the weapon of light sent the wraith screaming back to its dark hell.

  59.

  FALCON AND THE WHITE RAPTOR

  The last Night Specters and Diabolus disappeared but had littered the defender’s line with several victims. Six Rust-Serpents lay dead; some hacked completely to pieces by the enraged bears. Lady Strala was pleased, she was just warming up. She intended to attack their morale first with a show of black craft. She had the added bonus of killing a few of them along the way. She called more orders down to the goblins mages below her then she looked to the clouds and signalled to Skraww. The great white raptor screeched loudly and flew forward with his army of 1,000 Ravens.

  300 hundred of Ayah’s Falcons from Aledran whistled to one another as they flew forward to meet the Ravens over the canopy of Aledran forest. The Falcons were outnumbered three to one; however, they were the faster and stronger of the flying orders. Many Falcons went down dead or dying to fall to the earth, but many more Ravens died as well. The Falcons used their leg spikes to dive into the Ravens and tear and stab where they could. Skraww, the giant white raptor appeared unbeatable, however, using his powerful beak and strength; he attacked Falcon after Falcon sending them to the ground dead or horribly wounded. The Falcons had lost a third of their number, with the remaining fighters beginning to tire while waves of fresh Raven reinforcements seemed to keep appearing out of the clouds.

  A silver and brown Falcon with wings spread wide, had hold of a Raven by the neck while he kicked out hard with his leg spikes to break this Raven’s wing. An unseen Skraww then descended from above and smashed into the Falcon, causing him to break his hold on the screeching Raven. The Raven spun in abnormal circles as it fell to the ground, unable to fly with a broken wing. With a loud screech of surprise, the Falcon curled his wings trying to turn in the air and face his attacker, but couldn’t. Skraww had a firm hold of the back of the Falcon between his wings with one enormous claw and with a powerful blow drove his long sharp beak into the back of the Falcon’s head, killing him instantly. Skraaw let go and hovered as the Falcon’s wings went limp and he plummeted towards the ground behind the Raven. Skraaw rose again to look for his next target. He didn’t see the large silver Falcon until it was too late. Ayah Cloudchaser with his wings folded tightly around his body drove down on an angle from a great height with considerable speed and purpose.

  At the last second, he extended his legs and hit the white raptor like a heavy falling rock. With a rush of wind, Ayah opened his great wings to slow down. He then quickly rose to meet Skraww who was screeching out curses with a severely injured wing and a gash in his side from Ayah’s combat spikes. Neither opponent spoke as they hovered and faced off. Suddenly with great effort, Skraww darted forward his long beak aiming for Ayah’s chest. But Ayah was faster; he had been watching Skraww from the clouds and studied his tactics. Ayah arched his wings high and pulled his body up out of the way. As Skraww went past with a mighty flap of his wings, Ayah extended his legs into his path. The combat spikes found their mark.

  Skraaw’s wings folded and he crumpled lifeless, falling into the treetops. The leader of the Unkindness, the great white raptor was dead. Killed in combat by Ayah Cloudchaser, defender of Aledran. The witnessing Falcon’s whistled victory cries to one another. A unified angry cry rose from the Ravens who now seemed to have their morale broken. They came together in a black mass, milling about uncertainly, though they still greatly outnumbered the Falcons. They panicked at Skraaw’s death and flew back towards the distant witches’. Strala was furious when she sensed Skraaw’s death; she would no longer play games. The jewel in her sweep shone like a green beacon in the sky. Thunder rumbled loudly in the boiling clouds above as the Wildpack and goblin army marched forward. The higher numbered breed houses of the hounds were the Master Staffs led by Lieutenant Brawnfur and the Danes led by Lieutenant Falix. They both barked orders to their brawlers to show no mercy.

  The other house lieutenants were dead, so Shum himself led his own house hybrids and the Shepherd and Rottweil houses. Brawlers jumped with jaws wide and attacked the defenders. Goblins swung swords and clubs. Elves shot arrow after arrow into the enemy whose numbe
rs seemed endless. Wolves and bears savagely attacked the Wildpack brawlers all around them. Fur, hair and blood flew through the air. The stench of death and savage sound of fighting drowned out all other noise. Karvu won the admiration of many witnesses as he charged continually, plucking many hounds upon his antlers and throwing them into the air. A detachment of boars and warthogs led by Mudblade charged into a pocket of Shepherds killing many before being torn to pieces themselves by the more significant numbers.

  Mudblade the last survivor and surrounded by tightening circle of howling brawlers spun constantly throwing his head from side to side, inflicting considerable damage with his long ivory. Hampered by the dead and dying around him, he slipped and fell as a dozen hounds pinned him down and finished it. The wolves recalling the fate of Duskfall fought with such ferocity that it unnerved many brawlers. The offensive line faltered for an instant as the brawlers fell back slightly only to be pushed forward again by a wave of fresh hounds behind them. The hounds had the numbers as they eventually rolled over the wolves front ranks killing a significant amount of them. The bears had spread out and never took a backward step as they hewed through the brawlers. Goblins came up through the ranks to stab and club at the front line of bears, slowly thinning their numbers. The dead and wounded from both sides mounted up with many falling into the river to be swept away by the current.

  The Princess stood back from the primary battle and shouted urgently over the noise of battle to her clerics. ‘I can’t hold you back until the witches’ attack, I need you now!’ A cleric answered, ‘Princess if we exhaust our abilities now we will have limited energy for the witches’ curses.’ The Princess yelled back, ‘None of us will be alive to see the witches’ curse! Invoke the spectral army now!’ Two goblin reavers had somehow got through the fighting lines and came upon the group suddenly. They both raised clubs and crushed the skull of the nearest cleric who fell in a heap on the ground. The Princess and the closest cleric raised their staffs and yelled out an elfish word in unison that resembled a howl in the wind.

  A killing curse struck both goblins causing them to immediately stiffen. They staggered backwards, clubs falling from hands that grasped agonizingly at the air. With soft thuds, the reavers toppled to the ground like felled trees. Their bodies immediately blackened and shrivelled until they melted into thick black mucus. The other four clerics had formed a circle and drew intricate runes in the air of which outlines remained in bright blue lines. They performed the cipher to invoke the spectral army, which although a great ally, was costly to their ability. A multitude of roars and barks was now heard over the din of the battle. A light blue glow emitted through the woods behind the defenders as something approached. The summoned army numbering 500 flowed out from between the trees and charged directly for the line of battle. These creatures resembled the swine only slightly larger, with big square protruding teeth, two of which were like tusks. They were hairless, ran on short heavy legs and sported a great horn from the centre of their foreheads. They were white and pure of soul and had once roamed in high numbers until they were wiped out by mankind for reasons unknown a millennium ago. These were the Pigapotumus, formally of the north moorlands and now living peacefully in another realm.

  They galloped into the front line, their spectral form unsettling the defenders as much as it did the Wildpack and goblins. They bellowed a chorus of low honks as they spread out and wreaked havoc in the invaders, charging in spearhead formation deep into the enemy’s front and spearing hound after hound on their longhorns. Brawlers snarled and howled and fought savagely taking high losses as they were pushed back, but managed however to destroy and banish a number of the spectral warriors. The wolves, bears and several boars now cheering followed behind and managed to push the Wildpack back a short distance.

  The swamp trolls came to battle now, forcing their way through the ranks of milling hounds and goblins. Half of the elves’ spectral army remained and still continued to push the attackers back; the swamp trolls swung their tree trunk clubs back and forth like scythes into the spectrals, wolves and bears. Elves with black bows fired enchanted arrows into the swamp trolls and brought two of them to their knees. Bears and wolves finished them off, but a new company of Wildpack now surrounded them and fought hard. The last of the spectral army now vanished but had managed to carve a hole in the number of the attackers. Close to a thousand hounds lay dead and a good amount of goblins as well. However, King Boorag sat back with a large company of fresh goblin reavers, and Shum who still had several thousand hounds in reserve.

  The witches’ had yet to call up the Deadbite Canines and the Grey Reapers, leaving them for a show of force. Princess Eylon was concerned. The spectral army had bought them a bit of time and a small victory, but they were finished. The chaos legion had lost high numbers, but so had the Aledran defenders leading up to this point. The number of bears and wolves had halved, and only a few hundred Falcons remained. The swine had fought bravely, but their ranks were now decimated and Karvu suffering from several wounds was the only muntjac left in this area of the battlefield that she could see. There were no swine or hogs left in this area of the battlefield, their champion Mudblade lay on the bank of the river surrounded by a dozen dead Shepherds he had taken with him in his last few moments. The majority of her elves still stood, but they were near exhaustion and a great many injured. All the Druid weapons were accounted for, and they had performed well so far.

  Numerous messages had been sent to Bragus, but he required what fighters he had for the last defence. Gron stood tall, still commanding his sleuth of 300 bears and yelling further encouragements. They were all covered in gore and looked tired and battle weary. The wolves still fought in small pockets here and there along the front line, Regus of Silent Ridge fought two hounds at once until an elf ranger put a sword through the second hound. Darnet of Duskfall was on the ground in the distance, not moving and presumed dead. Karvu was seen to run at a group of hounds surrounding a bear that was down one knee and swinging a club in each hand wildly about him.

  The muntjac charged into the hounds with his head down and within and matter of seconds four hounds had been speared on the huge antlers and thrown into the air in all directions. No more reinforcements from the chaos legion came to the front as the main Wildpack army appeared to be hanging back for some reason. The Princess looked to the half a mile either side of her to the valley edges. She spied several gaps now in the defender’s lines and was concerned that a detachment of Wildpack and goblins would get through and outflank them. She faced the sky as her Ruby gem sent a beam of orange light upwards indicating the defenders to retreat into the forest of the Great Rift. Lady Strala’s form was now of a plump middle-aged woman. She smiled, and a fat little tongue poked out of her mouth and licked her bottom lip.

  A nearby skyrider yelled to her ‘See how they retreat towards Aledran my Lady!’ Strala’s eyes shone a brighter green and then rolled back to reveal white. The clouds parted, and a lightning bolt struck the earth where the two armies had met. The force of the bolt killed some straggling wolf retreaters and a number of her own warriors as well, but she didn’t mind. A considerable number of her warriors were now cut off from the main force which had fallen back to a safe distance. They milled about the battlefield in a dazed condition with a number of defenders after the mysterious lightning bolt and massive explosion. A large smoking crater was now exposed in the open ground, and a dreadful yowling came out of the impenetrable blackness within. The unearthly screams reverberated closer to the surface, and a few moments later they poured out in hundreds, like ants escaping a flooded mound.

  60.

  THE FIRE DAEMON

  With great effort, the elves managed to hold their line, firing arrow after arrow into the milling detachment of goblins and brawlers. 200 elf rangers created a wall of steel as their swords swung in unison at the remaining goblins and brawlers in front of them. They were unable to fall back initially as the gaping hole in the ground behind them w
as spewing out a multitude of creatures that did not appear to discriminate what they attacked. The witches laughed as the creatures, moving forward pounced and rendered several hounds and a goblin, still caught out in the open. The wolves and bears had retreated back into the forest under Princess Eylon’s orders. Her elf clerics were also concealed in the forest waiting for her guidance with a powerful enchantment.

  The rangers seeing an opportunity retreated to the Oak trees to join the rest of the defenders. They formed up again as best they could and readied themselves for the next attack. The defenders wiped away the grime of battle from their eyes and peered through the drizzle falling from the black sky. A wall of smoking figures advanced towards them. Snarling and hissing they sounded feline in nature. As they came into view, several elves muttered in disbelief. ‘The werecats!’ Also known as the ‘Daemon’s Pets’, they roamed the Dread-Realm and were born of ash and fire. They dwelt within the realm fringes, generally timid despite their appearance and preyed on weak and lost souls. Most Daemons could control them, and powerful summoning could bring them forth to do the bidders calling, at considerable cost. They were only half the size of the hounds and had short black wiry coats with smouldering crimson stripes.