A few units who had taken in the remnants of the supply staff roared in approval. Individual soldiers slapped one another on the back, excited by the chance to wash away their sin.
The Borz remained silent, but every last man or woman felt the shame of the treachery perpetrated against them. Their hands tightened on daggers and their muscles grew taut.
“Know this,” continued Manfir. “I judge every man or woman who stands here today to be absolved of any and all transgression. The fact that you stand with us now, as we face the hordes of Amird, proves your bravery and resolve.”
The Zodrian king turned the Black and the army moved forward toward the gates of Delvi.
“Nostr 6:5; I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider held judgment over those before him,” stated Yully.
Nostr’s teeth ground against one another.
“It is too early,” growled the prelate. “When He arrives the balance of power shall be decided. Only then is victory within our grasp.”
“Perhaps He does not possess the power?” questioned Samot.
Nostr’s face relaxed and the Ulrog calmed.
“No,” he said slowly. “He holds the power. He always held the power. We will soon see all of what He can accomplish in this world.”
Sprig listened from his hiding place on the tower’s rooftop. The little man frowned as he opened the sack tied to his waist and peered inside. A half dozen Reas darts rested within the protective satchel. What danger lie ahead? How effective would his Reas be on the enemy he intended to face? Only time would tell.
“Do you intend on joining us in our afternoon ride today, Keltaran?”
Granu’s eyes rose from the preparation of his mount and he grinned as Eidyn and countless Grey Elves trotted past his position.
“I do, prince of Elves,” smiled Granu. “Or should I call you, King Eidyn? An Almar wreath adorns your brow.”
The young Elf smiled.
“My father thinks these others wish to follow me into battle,” laughed Eidyn. “But like them, I will always call Leinor my king. An Almar wreath will never change that.”
The Elven prince moved along.
“Be quick about your task, giant.,” laughed Eidyn, “or you will miss the fun.”
Eidyn neared the gates of Delvi then reined in his stallion. The entire Sprite contingent stood before him outfitted in meld cloaks, armed with daggers and sporting tubes of Rimshar. Lilywynn stood at the front. Chimbre and Jenpry flanked the young woman.
“Grey Elves of Luxlor,” called Lilywynn. “Look well upon the force before you. We give you this look so you do not mistake us for creations of Amird upon the battlefield. We will be amongst you. Sometimes seen. Sometimes unseen. Aim your arrows with certainty. Make sure the stone man whom you loose a bolt at does not have a child of Sprite upon him, slitting his throat.”
Silence fell as the two forces regarded one another. Finally, Lilywynn of the Toxkri strode forward to stand beside Eidyn of Luxlor. She motioned and the Elven prince leaned low from the back of his mount. The girl pressed her head close beside his and whispered in his ear.
Immediately, she turned and walked toward the gates of Delvi. Her force followed. She crossed the threshold and dashed into the grasslands of the southern Erutre. The Sprite army followed, scattering this way and that, disappearing from view.
CHAPTER 20: THE CHOSEN
SULGOR RESTED WITHIN his pavilion contemplating his command. There were so many possibilities, so many pitfalls. One poor decision by the Malveel king and centuries of manipulation and servitude might end in disaster if another stole his place of glory. A deep rumble formed in Sulgor’s chest. He could not let that happen. He would not let that happen.
First, he must regain control over the Malveel. That control came easily when the original six remained united. Greeb and Vespewl knew their place, carefully deferring to Sulgor’s power. Now they were dead, joining Methra in the mists of Chaos. The Six became three. Only he, Drengel and Strang the Storm remained from Amird’s first pack of hunters.
Sulgor clenched his jaws in anger. Drengel always loomed as a question mark over Sulgor’s control. Amird created Drengel to fill this world with creatures of Chaos. The Conjuror taught the others how to breathe life into the stone men. He unleashed nightmares from the halls of Irdricht. Now the Conjuror led an army and Sulgor knew little of the power Drengel controlled. It left the Malveel king uneasy.
Strang, on the other hand, was simple to discern. Amird created the Storm as a useful tool, nothing more. He was a tireless, indefatigable weapon, ready to throw himself at the enemy. However, the Storm behaved as a simpleton, a fool. Among the Malveel he ranked the least of tacticians. Sulgor looked upon Strang as a sharpened cleaver. A powerful weapon thankfully held in the claws of Sulgor, but a useless ally.
The second order of Malveel concerned Sulgor most of all. Of the four, Quirg Firebreather was gone, perishing in the Nagur at the hands of either Ader DeHartstron or Kael Brelgson. That left Woil the Lamentation, Nagret the Shadow and Zard the Shunned. All three of these creatures held no true fealty to Sulgor. The Magnificent spent most of their existence keeping them down and properly cowed. Now that two stepped forward into command and displayed an aptitude for conquest and subterfuge, they poised a serious threat to Sulgor’s control.
The third order of hunters held the key. Amird created Canx, Wulak and Irex as a pack unto themselves. Luckily Sulgor took it upon himself to control their every movement. Canx remained loyal to a fault. Wulak, like Strang acted as a fearless weapon, yet a much more intelligent one. Irex, the last of the Malveel, was all stealth and cunning. He ably undertook any work that might have fallen to Methra.
A tracker stepped into the pavilion and bowed.
“The Chosen await you, my master,” rumbled the tracker.
“Excellent,” grinned Sulgor. “I will see them momentarily.”
The Magnificent waited within his pavilion. It would not suit him to appear at his servants’ beck and call. He made them wait.
The Chosen grew restless. They had not been in such proximity to one another in ages. Enmity and jealousy ruled their hearts. Fear could also be found there.
Sulgor stepped from his pavilion and faced them. All eyes rose to meet those of their leader. The Chosen lined the space before his quarters in silence. The Magnificent noted how Nagret positioned himself as far from Woil as possible. This pleased the Malveel king.
“We are Amird’s Chosen,” snapped Sulgor. “We are the hunters, the rulers of this world.”
As he scanned the brethren, the reality of their circumstances washed over him. The thirteen reduced to eight, Drengel having ignored the call. He could never have foreseen this scenario. The lesser of the Chosen dominated the number. Second tier Malveel controlled fully two thirds of the Ulrog army.
“The return of our master draws near,” stated Sulgor. “Unity assures victory. However, some of us choose to ignore the hierarchy that ruled our brotherhood for centuries. Some of us grab for power. An action that might easily lead to disaster.”
Both Woil and Nagret averted their eyes. Sulgor noticed their discomfort and forged on.
“Some of us scheme a greater role within the battle to come. Some of us hope to divert Amird’s eyes in order to claim greater glory.”
Woil’s lips quivered and the Malveel appeared ready to dispute the charge. Sulgor filled with pleasure. He pulled them to the brink, but now released them.
“Drengel the Conjuror camps to the north with an army the likes of which we have never seen. His Memnod are creatures of Darkness and their destructive power nearly limitless.”
The Lamentation slowly exhaled and averted his eyes again. Sulgor read the signs in both Woil and Nagret. They felt relieved not to face a challenge by the Magnificent.
“Lord Drengel believes his creations will bring about the destruction of the humans. He feels we are unnecessary, perhaps even expendable.”
Growls of protest er
upted amongst the Chosen.
“The Conjuror can himself be removed,” snarled Strang. “He has never been a threat!”
“For now the challenge is delayed,” stated Sulgor. “I ordered him to halt in the north and wait for a signal. Thus far, he complies.”
Strang retreated to the group, but his agitation continued. He uttered threats against Drengel if the Conjuror dare cross Sulgor and the remainder of the thirteen. Sulgor studied his brethren, Woil and Nagret in particular.
“Of course,” continued the Malveel king. “The events which led to the loss of Lord Vespewl and the near disaster with the army of Mnim cannot be overlooked.”
The heads of both his challengers snapped upward.
“Your Highness! Vespewl’s death was not my ....” began Nagret.
“Fault!” barked Sulgor as he threw his massive weight forward.
Fire sparked in the Magnificent’s eyes and he towered over the brotherhood.
“Who should be blamed?” roared Sulgor. “Vespewl himself, for being improperly supported?”
Nagret backed away.
“I was called away,” snapped Nagret, turning an accusing eye toward Woil. “Others use their new found power frivolously and detract from the business at hand.”
Sulgor’s eyes roamed toward Woil. The Lamentation trembled with rage.
“My own situation would not have grown so dire if this imbecile could understand the simplest of tactics, my lord,” barked Woil. “The Eru were ripe for destruction if he simply maintained his position. Instead, he chose to commandeer half of my forces and snatch defeat from victory!”
Sulgor kept his features expressionless. He turned on Nagret and his eyes narrowed.
“Is this true?” questioned the Malveel coldly.
Nagret’s eyes darted across his brethren. What might the Magnificent do? Certainly the brethren needed Nagret for the battle to come. Certainly the Army of Amird would destroy all and plunge this world into Chaos, but would Sulgor actually destroy one of his most valuable assets before the violence to come.
The king of the Malveel stood motionless before Nagret, his eyes tinted in the red glow of Chaos. His thoughts remained a mystery to the Shadow and his next action an even murkier puzzle. Nagret weighed his options. Could he remove the Magnificent and step into the role of leadership? Did Nagret, tenth of the Chosen possess the power to dethrone Sulgor?
The Shadow drew in a deep breath, expanding his chest and flexing his muscles. The power of Chaos played on the edges of his mind and he collected it.
Canx the Silent slid across the divide and stood beside Sulgor. Nagret’s eyes flared. Strang the Storm twitched and fidgeted. The wild-eyed Malveel glared at Nagret with a thirst for blood in his eyes.
Nagret needed an ally. He held great power. If only one or two among the brotherhood stepped to his side. He glanced to those beside him. His eyes met those of Woil. The Lamentation emanated hatred. Nagret released the power and bowed low.
“I ask your forgiveness, my lord.”
Sulgor’s thoughts rejoiced in triumph but his face remained grave. His eyes bore into Nagret and the Shadow slowly dropped toward the ground.
“We do not believe in forgiveness,” growled Sulgor slowly. “Our transgressions are either punished or not punished.That is the only result which matters.”
Nagret tensed.
“Yours will go unpunished .... for now,” stated the Magnificent. “You are useful ... but in need ofsupport.”
Nagret’s eyes rose, full of questions. Finally, Sulgor allowed a grin to play across his face.
“I realize I have been selfish,” stated the Malveel king. “I possess many assets at my disposal, but hoard them. Obviously, those of the brotherhood in leadership positions could use both the military strength as well as the wise counsel of a trusted peer.”
Woil’s eyes widened and once again his lips quivered in anger.
“Therefore,” continued Sulgor. “Canx the Silent will join the Shadow in guiding the packs of the Scythtar to victory.”
Canx smirked as his eyes locked on those of Nagret. The Shadow stayed calm and expressionless. Sulgor turned on Woil the Lamentation.
“And the death of Vespewl leaves the power of the Six a rare and valuable commodity,” said Sulgor. “Both Drengel and I command sizable units, but the power and intellect of Lord Strang must be shared with the remainder of the brethren.”
Strang looked about at the faces of the Malveel. The reference to his name filled him with restless excitement, but he could not conceptualize what happened.
“You cannot be serious. I earned successes. I alone command the tactics of ...” began Woil in a low growl.
Sulgor drown out the protest.
“The Storm will join Lord Woil in captaining the Army of the Mnim to victory!” roared Sulgor.
The Malveel king turned on Strang as Woil rose on his haunches.
“Do you feel up to the challenge Lord Strang?” demanded Sulgor.
Strang’s eyes darted across the brotherhood.
“Yes, my lord,” roared Strang. “I will do as you ask.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Sulgor as he turned to Woil, his eyes sparking with the fire of Chaos. “Strang’s passion forour success will be just what is required amongst the Mnim. The brute force of one of the Six will bolster an army which has so far been successful with tricks and tactics.”
Utecht stood amidst the members of a hammer unit.
“... and these are the fastest among you?” asked the Keltaran sergeant as he eyed a trio of young giants critically.
“Absolutely,” answered the unit’s commander. “You will find none swifter.”
Utecht frowned.
“Aye, then get your things,” commanded the sergeant. “You work for me now.”
Granu sat on the back of the red stained Brodor. He scanned the northern horizon.
“Once again they grow comfortable in their expectations of our plans,” stated the giant. “Let’s shake those expectations a bit.”
Nagret powered through the Ulrog ranks. Hackles scrambled from his path and put distance between themselves and the Shadow.
Nagret’s high priests gathered at his command post. The return of their leader threw them into a flurry of activity as they tried to appear busy.
When Nagret closed within ten yards of the priests, he spun on the lesser Malveel stalking behind him.
“You do not fool me for one minute, Canx,” rumbled the Shadow.
Canx halted and his face remained calm.
“You are not the dumb fool you portrayed all these years,” gnashed Nagret. “Centuries of silence to all so it seems, but we know your trick. We know you are the eyes and ears of Sulgor.”
Canx showed no reaction.
“You are not required here, Silent One,” snapped Nagret. ”And do not think any order you dispense will be carried out by my Hackles.”
Canx remained still.
“You will do as I say, Canx, and when the battle is won, you may find glory in the eyes of Amird,” snarled Nagret. “But one thing is for certain, Sulgor will share none of his glory when this day is done.”
Nagret spun from the Silent and moved toward his priests. Canx pondered the statement for a moment then followed the leader of the Scythtar Army.
Woil barked commands to his priests and trackers. Instantly, his servants rushed the commands to the Army of Mnim and his Hackles carried them out. Woil reveled in his power. The smallest of his commands orchestrated the movements of thousands of Hackles. Even Sulgor did not exercise the type of control on the battlefield that Woil now managed with the Mnim.
“Move those Hackles to the east,” came a roar from Woil’s left.
The Lamentation spun with fire in his eyes. Strang the Storm roamed through his army issuing his own orders and countermanding many of Woil’s instructions. The Lamentation rushed from his position toward the Storm.
“Strang! I command the Army of ...”
A loud clash to the south interrupted Woil. A trio of trackers appeared from the front lines with reports of Elven cavalry and archers on the move. Woil immediately issued a series of commands to counter the Elven strike. As the trackers disappeared back to the south the Lamentation spun on Strang. He charged toward the larger Malveel, his eyes pulsing with the fire of Chaos.
“You are nothing but a fool, Strang,” rumbled a deadly growl from the Lamentation. “Sulgor put you here more to hamper than help me.”
The Storm protested but Woil loomed even larger.
“You are a weapon Strang, nothing more,” barked Woil. “A fool but a formidable weapon nonetheless. In Sulgor’s claws you remained useless. In mine you will exercise the kind of power and violence you dream of, bringing glory to both Amird and yourself.”
Strang’s eyes grew intense, but his mouth remained uncharacteristically closed. He stared at the Lamentation.
“You will strike when I say strike and you will kill when I say kill,” snarled Woil. “Do we both understand the bargain I present?”
Strang took one last moment to eye Woil from claw to crown then nodded his understanding.
“Excellent,” hissed the Lamentation.
The battle raged on and Eidyn lost confidence. He employed every tactic known to carve numbers from the Ulrog Horde, but for every Hackle who fell from the front line, three more took its place. The sheer number of Ulrog reduced the effectiveness of his army. The stone men remained tightly packed together, a force slowly crawling south with no gaps to exploit.
The Sprites proved limited in their effectiveness as well. Their style of attacking and disappearing into the grasses failed miserably. The Ulrog crammed together and the Sprites could only engage the front lines. The Wisps of the swamp found it difficult to avoid Elves in full engagement with the enemy.
The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Page 21