The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1)

by David L. McDaniel

  Absolute ridiculousness, she thought to herself. How much more of this must she put up with? Ra-Corsh must be an absolute idiot to align himself with this low intelligence monster.

  She waited and waited while Pencog paced around her.

  Eventually he found himself bored and had calmed down his fighting urge enough to sit and listen.

  “If you would’ve finished your drink, my ugly friend, you would’ve found that the properties in the drink would’ve made you more susceptive to us wrestling around, shall we say. You know this is what we do. You must’ve forgotten.”

  “Then I am fine with not drinking. I have grown tired of your extra protocols to communicate.”

  “You truly are a boring race,” Pencog said, admitting defeat. Well, if you are going to be so boring, tell me what you have to say so I can get back to sleep.”

  “It is about Fyaa. I am not sure she is on the same page as we are.”

  Pencog laughed again and did not stop for another few minutes. When he did, he looked at Fyaa seriously, not smiling. “I don’t think you are truly with us either, so what does that matter?”

  “It is more serious than that. I believe she intents to betray us.”

  Pencog spoke after laughing through his sharp-toothed grin. “You are a strange man. Everyone wants to betray the goblin race. We deal with this even among our own people. And you are just now figuring this out?”

  Fyaa was beginning to get frustrated with the whole conversation. She began to realize that she could not have any semblance of an intelligent conversation with this creature and she decided she would quicken the pace of it, if she could, and get to the point.

  “All she wants is to find her birds,” she said

  Again, Pencog laughed and this time did not stop.

  Finally, he stood up and when he did, Fyaa stood too and braced herself to be tackled again.

  “Are you slow?” Pencog said in between his bursts of laughter. “Everyone knows that! That’s why she foolishly accepts helping out people she doesn’t want to help. But none of that matters because she is not going to find those birds.”

  “How do you know that? No one knows where they are hiding. No one has seen them for years,” Fyaa said.

  “I know because I am a goblin. Only goblins know where they are. This is too much fun. I love watching Fyaa squirm. Ra-Corsh, do you know where the Grimshaeds live?”

  “Yes, I know Grimshaeds and I know where they live. They have overrun Mervyyx. I have been there and I have seen it.”

  “Ra-Corsh, The Boring, has been to Mervyyx? There may be hope for you yet,” he said.

  Fyaa watched him grinning in the dark shadows cast by the firelight.

  “Her birds are in Mervyyx?” she asked.

  “Yes, Ra-Corsh. You are a bit slow, but yes, that is what I am telling you. They are imprisoned by the Grimshaeds.”

  Fyaa was not sure what she should do next. All she wanted to do was kill Pencog and snuff out his arrogant goblin attitude. If Pencog were telling the truth, though, she realized, finding her birds in Mervyyx would be harder than anything she could ever have imagined.

  The Grimshaeds were a creation from a hideous and terrifying event that had happened over two hundred years ago. Mervyyx was once a populous human and dwarf port city north of the Dwarven Har-Ron kingdom. The two races had lived in peace and had worked together mining the rich minerals out of the dangerous goblin infested Goblin Ridge Mountains. An outright goblin attack had always been anticipated, but when the last attack occurred, the humans and dwarves found that they were poorly equipped to manage the attack during the Markenhirth Grimshaed.

  The goblins had attacked in massive numbers and destroyed all the mines, burned the village and killed most of its inhabitants. Very few escaped. The goblins also dragged away a few of the human and dwarf females and took them deep into the Goblin Tribes Forest where they tortured and raped them for pleasure. The goblins noticed, to their surprise, that their playthings’ bellies began to swell.

  All of the dwarf women died in childbirth and half of the human women died, as well, but what those women who survived produced were children that no mother could love. These creatures became to be known as Grimshaeds. Fyaa had been told that no one knew exactly how many existed, but it was believed to be somewhere over twenty, but less than fifty.

  She had once stumbled upon these creatures during her travels. They had come upon her and encircled her. She thought at first they were men completely covered in cloaks, but once they had surrounded her, they shed their cloaks and revealed their identity. Their skins appeared to be the hide of a human, but burned so badly that it seemed to have melted and then dried in place. Their ruptured skin oozed out at various parts of their bodies and their heads were completely bald except for a few patches of hair growing out at random. Their teeth were ferocious and sharp and their noses were long and curled out of their faces, protruding from between their deeply socketed eyeballs, which looked like black marbles.

  Fyaa had never seen any creature that terrifying before, and they had her doubting her confidence to defeat them. She took flight immediately and left the Grimshaeds standing and scratching their bald, grotesque heads.

  They too wondered what they had stumbled upon.

  Fyaa now started to walk away from Pencog, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “What is wrong?” he asked her. “Are you so weak in the stomach that you can’t even talk about them?”

  “No, I am just tired. I am going to rest.”

  “But I haven’t told you the best part.”

  Fyaa had no interest in hearing what else this scum was about to tell her, but she waited a few seconds to see what he had to say. Maybe it would help her figure out how to rescue her birds, but right now she had no desire but to leave and fly away to somehow retrieve her birds from captivity.

  “Tell me quickly then,” she said.

  “I do not intend on telling that witch where her birds are. In fact, with your help, I plan on killing her and impaling her body on our standard so I can display her rotting corpse on the pole forever as our tribe’s most prized trophy.” Pencog laughed and began again. “Just imagine the fear we can thus spread, not only throughout the tribes, but the human kingdoms as well. We will have awakened Gralanxth, who will fight beside us, and we will have Fyaa, in deathly spirit, chasing away all the weak before every battle! Oh, how glorious that will be!”

  “You are sick. That is a dangerous plan!”

  “Yes, I am, and yes, it is,” he agreed. He stood and put his hands on his hips to display his inflated pride to the imposter in front of him. “Now, go get your rest, my puny little human friend.”

  Without a word Fyaa turned and stormed away. She was eager to get away from this Pencog and even from Ra-Corsh. As soon as she was out of his sight, she changed back into her original shape.

  Now, she thought, she would enact her revenge not only on Ra-Corsh, but on Pencog and his ilk as well. As much as she wanted to flee right now so she could rescue her birds, she thought better of it. She would stay until the battle to enact her revenge and destroy everyone -- even including this so called demon Gralanxth, who had never been part of her plan in the first place.

  Chapter 25

  Morlonn followed the chrok through the many twists and turns of the maze-like catacombs which had him turned around in his head with every turn. They had walked for what seemed like hours, but he was relieved that so far it had been uneventful and they had had no dangerous encounters.

  Since Morlonn was only following the chrok, he allowed himself to think about other things, and he began to wonder if it really had been such a wise idea to separate as the
y had just done. It did not take long for him to conclude that, actually, he just did not care. He knew what he was doing had to be right. He needed to find Alaezdar. That was all that mattered.

  He also decided that he didn’t care that Tharn and Rivlok weren’t up to helping Alaezdar. He strongly believed that they were putting themselves in great peril by abandoning the one person who they really needed in a fight. Sure, Tharn was a veteran, but he was past his prime, and Rivlok, though young and strong, did not have the experience they needed to overcome the great odds they would be facing when and if they met Aaelie’s captors.

  Morlonn contemplated the situation with hesitation and anxiety. He did not know what was going to happen once he found Alaezdar and he considered all of his worries as he followed the chrok without hesitation.

  And, he realized, he truly did not know the motives of these chroks. Were they leading all of them into a trap? Were they servants to these wraeths rather than the hunters of them? Morlonn could only guess, and at this point had no choice but to follow. Besides, he had confidence in his own abilities to handle whatever came his way. Whether it be more ravages or more wraeths, he would fight and give them the fight of his life.

  The chrok stopped and stood still for a few seconds. Morlonn saw that they had come to a triple fork in the maze where the path went in three different directions. Igs began to sniff as if he were a dog that had lost the scent, but Morlonn realized that it wasn’t a scent he had lost, but rather a scent he had gained.

  “What is it, Igs?” Morlonn asked.

  “Wraaaaeth,” he moaned and shivered with excitement.

  “Focus…are these the wraeths that have Alaezdar?”

  “Nooo.”

  Before Morlonn could say anything more to get Igs on track, he saw three elven warriors, each in battle armor, each one blocking one of the three corridors with their sword tip on the ground and both hands resting on top of the pommel. They stood silently looking straight ahead.

  Igs looked to the left and as soon as he did so, one elf raised his sword and took a battle stance. Igs stopped, confused, stepped back and feigned straight ahead. The elf on the left returned to his sentry pose while the one he now faced took a battle stance. Igs jumped up and down twice and then backed off. He watched the elf return to his relaxed pose.

  Igs then turned back to Morlonn smiling from ear to ear.

  “This is a trap,” he said

  “What do you want to do?” Morlonn asked.

  “You must be kidding. I am going to fall for the trap. I always do.”

  “What do you mean?” Morlonn asked, thoroughly confused.

  “We cannot stay in the catacombs too long without them finding us before we find them. If we find them first, we can consume their magic for a short while, but if they find us first, then they’ll use their magic to trick us. We always get tricked.”

  “Well, Igs, don’t get tricked this time.”

  “Ahhhh….yeeess,” he whined. “I can’t help it. I want to chase them and find the real one.”

  “You mean one of them is real? You can’t tell the difference? I thought you could sense their magic.”

  “Well, of course I can, but they are all magic. Only one of them is a wraeth and I cannot tell which one now.”

  “What will happen if I attack one?”

  Igs smiled, jumped up and down and clapped his hands.

  “Oh, would you, would you? That would be sooo much fun!”

  Morlonn wanted nothing more than to take his sword out and smash the chrok’s tiny little ugly skull, but he knew that would solve nothing. He did the next best thing. He withdrew his sword and charged with it over his head at the elf directly in front of them. The elf picked up his sword and effortlessly blocked Morlonn’s overhead strike.

  Morlonn was surprised that the collision of the two blades felt so real. He had not expected a solid figure to respond. He had assumed they were ghosts with no solid form. The elf recovered from the blow and without hesitation fought back with a thrust towards Morlonn’s body.

  Morlonn did not have a shield to block the thrust so he spun around to the left, just missing the elf’s stabbing sword, and he was knocked off balance enough to see that another attack was coming his way from the elf on the left who had now been awakened by Morlonn inadvertently crossing into his view.

  Morlonn lifted up his sword just in time to block the elf’s blow.

  He was now fighting two elves at once, and he began to worry. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Igs smiling ecstatically, his head turning back and forth toward each elf as he tried to spot the real one.

  “Keep fighting! This is good!” Igs shouted amongst the noise of the blades clanging in the corridor at every block, attack and counter attack. “How long can you do this...you are very good!” he exclaimed and jumped up and down clapping.

  “Shut up, you furry runt!” Morlonn said, out of breath.

  He blocked another blow from one elf, and the force of his movement pushed him back into the third corridor, activating the third elf. Morlonn realized he was now in deeper trouble than he could handle and he found himself backing up toward the center corridor. He held his sword up and, sliding his feet along the dirt, backed up and prepared to launch a counter assault if they attacked him again.

  Instead, they walked towards him and inserted themselves between him and Igs.

  He was about to take the initiative and attack instead of waiting to see what they would do when he noticed that once all three elves had entered the corridor, two of them had begun to shimmer. These lost their solid figures, turned into a bluish haze, and then combined all into one like a vacuum sucking into the third elf.

  Igs screamed.

  Morlonn could not tell if it was a scream of fear or delight. All he really knew was that it was loud.

  Igs went to all fours and his hair stood on end as if each strand was a twisted wooden thorn, and he then leaped up onto the lone wraeth, still holding its solid form. The wraeth fell to his back and the horn on Igs’ head glowed bright orange as Igs lifted his head to show a massive row of teeth that also glowed and crackled in orange flame. He buried his mouth into the throat of the wraeth and began sucking until the elf returned to a bluish misty form and became totally consumed by Igs.

  Igs stood up, but fell back into a sitting position and smiled at Morlonn.

  “Can we do that again?” he asked. “I can’t wait to tell Smack about that. He will be sooo jealous!”

  Igs fell fully onto his back and laughed hysterically.

  “Yes, yes! That was sooo much fun!” he kept repeating until Morlonn kicked him in his ribs.

  “Get up and focus, your freakish rat!” Morlonn told him.

  Igs stopped laughing and rolled over, stood up, and without further word walked down into the left corridor.

  Igs led Morlonn for another hour before they came to long flight of stairs that led up a steep incline. Igs stopped and started sniffing again. He had found the scent of another wraeth.

  “They don’t recognize me,” Igs muttered in a low growl.

  “What should we do?” Morlonn asked and he took a knee next to Igs.

  “Your friend is up there, as well, but now he is in trouble. He is with one of them.”

  “What do you mean by one of them, Igs?”

  “Those that rule here. Those that are powerful in Wrae too powerful for me to steal. Those that are angry to be here, but yet can control their Wrae in ways that I cannot fathom.”

  “Can we chase them away? How many of them are there?”

  “There is only one, but you can chase him away if you want,” he
said and turned to look at Morlonn. He was smiling again from ear to ear. “Yes, you can chase him away, just like you did the last one. This one is much more powerful, but ohhh, that would be so much fun to watch you do this. Where is Smack when I need him? He is going to be sooo mad to have missed this.”

  Morlonn ran his hand through his hair, grabbed a handful and pulled hard. Why must I put up with this ridiculous creature, he thought to himself and grabbed Igs by the scruff of the neck and picking him up off his feet.

  “How powerful is this wraeth?”

  “Oh…one of the most powerful he is…yes he is.” Igs pointed up the stairs. “He needs you. Your friend is in trouble. He can only be saved by you.”

  “Can you help me?”

  “Me? How can I help? I have never faced those that rule here.”

  “I don’t know, Igs. You can’t just watch and wait for me to do something before you attack. We have to think of something.”

  Igs shook his head as he started to walk backwards away from Morlonn.

  “No, no. It is time that I leave.”

  “But don’t you want to watch to tell Smack all about it?”

  “No, not anymore,” he said and took a few more steps backward.

  Morlonn walked towards him.

  “But Smack will be so jealous. Just you wait. You will have so much fun telling him all about this adventure, especially if you help me defeat this wraeth.”

  “Oh, no, I lied to you. You cannot defeat this one,” he said. He was almost crying in fear now.

  “Igs, we have to, and together we will. Now, imagine that. Smack will have nothing on you that can beat this. Together we can do this, trust me.”

  “I..I..I…can’t,” he said, his head shaking uncontrollably.

  Morlonn grabbed him by the scruff of his chest again and pushed him down He pointed his sword at Igs’ neck.

  “You must. And you will!” he shouted.

  Igs closed his eyes, froze, and stayed in that position as if Morlonn had already killed him.