Battle of Nyeg Warl

by Rex Hazelton

  When Laviathon's huge head finally burst above the river's surface, rising high above the bridge, only a few warriors could be found, and these were running as fast as they could, either back into the fortress or out into the field of battle. Calling up his incendiary might, only three unfortunate men were bowled over by the rampaging fireball that followed.

  Already frustrated by his lack of success, as the Zhimbweah cleared the bridge and entered the field of battle, the sea serpent roared when he saw more Bjork and a fresh shipment of Hadram warriors suddenly stepping out from the cloak of invisibility that surrounded their longboats and onto the riverbank north of the fortress.

  Seeing what the serpent had seen, Koyer howled as the battle turned against him. Looking toward the eastern skies, he knew the hope of victory was being carried on cruel cretchym wings. Rubbing his hands together to stir up his magic, the Lord of Regret called for his brethren to hurry to his aid. Soon, a vast, fast moving cloud could be seen in the distance, one that covered the horizon. In time, the storm arrived and the sun's light was, once again, dimmed until it looked like twilight had already come.

  The noise, the ominous winged-armada made as it flew, was deafening. Clattering, buzzing, flapping, screeching sounds melded into a single nerve wracking clamor. Some of the creatures found in the cloud looked like huge, weird raptors; others looked like mutated bats much like Koyer; most had an insect-like appearance. Though as different from one another as the kinds of flying creatures inhabiting the Warls, they all had an eerie similitude that came from their common parent. Each, in its own twisted way had taken on some of Ab'Don's features. This gave them their human appearance and size.

  Gathering above the Lord of Regret, looking like a swirling hurricane of carrion seeking vultures, the cretchym awaited orders.

  “Brothers! You're arrival is most fortunate. The Nyeg Warlers are putting up a good fight that must be blunted as quickly as possible.” Koyer greeted his macabre family, those few who had landed on the field of battle, as he gave his instructions. “Fly up and position yourselves for an attack. Show no mercy. Give no quarter.”

  Once Koyer sent out a high piercing sound into the vortex of flying death, the winged-demons dove into the battle and the Ar Warlers' retreat was halted. Looking like a hundred tornadoes had been spawned all at once, the spindly fingers filled with cretchym reached down out of the cloud and clutched at the enemy. Deadly tendrils filled with flying death knifed through the acrid air hanging over the battlefield, and when they touched down, Nyeg Warlers were snatched high into the sky only to be dropped upon the heads of their unsuspecting comrades. So many bodies, shields, swords, and spears were flying about that it looked like the debris clouds found at the base of violent whirlwinds, adding to the storm-like imagery.

  One of these tendrils dropped right on top of Jubalamor's head.

  The first cretchym to face him violently snapped his mandible-like lips; a disgusting squealing sound erupted from its throat as it did.

  “Watch out!” one of Forest People cried out, trying to warn his captain. But it was he who needed to be warned. For unbeknownst to the man, a raptor-like creature was swooping down at him. Catching the man from behind, it snatched him high up into the air.

  Seeing what was happening, Jubulamor thrust his sword into the squealy-mouthed thing's head just as its thorny arms were reaching out for him. His gauntlet blocked the cretchym's sword that was swung haphazardly, almost as a fading afterthought coming from a mind being turned off by the steel that had been rammed through it. The next instant, the chief of the Forest People was grabbed from behind and jerked off his mount. But before he had gone far, his sword cut through the rust-colored arms of what looked like a giant dragonfly. The head of a man covered with long flowing blond hair sat on the short neck that jutted out of the winged monster's sloped shoulders.

  After falling back into his saddle, dismembered arms flailing about him, Jubalamor cut into another straw-colored cretchym that thrust its lance-like tongue into the neck of one of the Forest People fighting by his side. Red blood gushed forth, blood that had been drained out of the unfortunate man's lifeless body.

  The aerial assault that was turning the tide of battle, spread Ar Warl's horror across the plains. So numerous were the cretchym, when one was felled, with either arrow or sword, ten would immediately take its place and renew the attack.

  As this was happening, the remnant of Schmar's leach-like children began slipping out of the river. Pulling the Nyeg Warlers down to the ground, scores of the saucer-mouthed fiends affixed themselves to the chests of horrified men, just as Laviathon's magic had earlier prophesied.

  No longer was the outcome of the battle in the balance. Victory was now in Koyer's grasp. In spite of the hammer's magic, doubt knocked at the doors that lead to the kings' hearts. All the while, unrelenting death showered down from above. Archan axes ate a hearty meal of Nyeg Warl flesh. Tall Malamor threw their full might into the conflict. Seizing their opportunity, the White Guard pressed forward to slaughter those who stood in their way as they advanced towards the kings.

  Knowing that the White Guard was the greatest threat, the Company of the Hammer met them head on. Though only a handful in number, the Company, empowered with Vlad'War's Magic, held their own against the teaming, white-skinned horde.

  Wielding Inheritor in one hand, for Aryl's training made him an adept swordsman with either arm, Jeaf used his other hand, the one that had absorbed the Hammer of Power, to dispense his N'Rah. With each blow he dealt, a wave of blue light leapt out of his palm and smashed into the White Guard, crushing the shells housing Koyer's evil essence. Over-and-again, pulsating light heralded the white fiends' deaths.

  “Son,” Aryl shouted out, “above you!”

  Looking up, the Hammer Bearer saw two black, beetle-like monsters descending towards him covered in shells as hard as heavy armor. The clatter they made as they flew sounded like a giant was shaking a barrel half-filled with walnuts.

  Lifting his hand, the young Woodswane aimed it at the cretchym. Gathering his N'Rah, he pushed at the intruders, sending his life force, magnified by the hammer's power, upward. Though both of the monsters were hit, one caught the brunt of the magic. Half of its black casing, acting as both shield and wings, was torn off. The rest of its body twirled off into the sky, looking like a giant stone had been thrown at the offending cretchym cloud, a stone that smashed into six others before it fell to the bloodstained ground.

  Spinning twice in midair, the second beetle corrected its flight and lunged at the Hammer Bearer. Inheritor shot up to greet it. The sword's glancing blow threw bits of black shell about. Spinning once more before correcting its flight for the second time, the beetle was able to clamp its legs onto Jeaf's back, and when it did, a screeching sound of shell scraping across armor filled the air. Vibrating with the exertion it was expending to lift the young Woodswane off of his horse, the cretchym struggled to subdue its prey.

  “AHHHH!” the Hammer Bearer shouted out, and as he shouted, numerous arms of blue light reached out of his body and tore at the monster clinging to his back. A grinding, shredding noise followed as the cretchym was ripped to pieces.

  Having dealt with Brakor and the Cragmar giants who followed him, Bear and his brethren took on the clay giants who moved forward alongside the White Guard. Though Brykle and Brug could only hold the malleable giants at bay, clobbering them with their huge metal-studded clubs, Bear's blows unleashed the portion of Vlad'War's Magic the hammer's touch bequeathed him, a portion that tore the malleable monster's bodies apart.

  Muriel was not able to cast her Spell of Stupor on the White Guard, not like she had upon the Archan. The cataract-covered eyes were simply not moved by her glance. But whenever her sword met one of their blades, the power of the Song of Breaking dwelling in Muriel ran out of her arm, through the conduit of steel she held, and into the guard's body. Instantly, the spell that joined the hapless man to Koyer's will was shattered and he fell to the pl
ain. A wisp of smoke rising up into the cretchym cloud, accompanied by a tremulous cry, marked the thing's death.

  Realizing the futility of attacking the Company of the Hammer, the White Guard tried to go around them, at least, those that could. The griffin' quickness made this a difficult proposition. Eventually, the Company looked like a boulder standing in a river of milk that swept around it, flooding towards the kings.

  Then as defeat began to close its merciless jaws on the beleaguered Nyeg Warlers, for what could one boulder do to stop a mighty flood, or for that matter a storm of flying death, a single sparkling, red arrow flew into the cloud of cretchym and felled a yellow monster. Then another sparkling arrow, this time green in color, followed. Then a gold one, a silver one, an orange one, and then a red one again, all flickering skyward to diminish the hurricane's might.

  “It's the elves!” Jeaf shouted as he recognized the flaming thread-arrows he had been taught to shoot in his stay in Mystlkynd. Sparkling like embers flying up from a campfire, a reverse rain shower struck at the winged-hordes, diminishing their numbers.

  Sparkling thread-arrows was not the only thing that showed up on the field of battle.

  A distant roar, swooping down from the direction of Thangmor's dizzying heights, wafted overhead. Grour Blood, after sniffing the air, arched his back as he lifted his head and sent out a deafening reply.

  “The griffin are coming!” The Eagle King, shouted out in joy. Soon, the legendary name was being repeated all over the plains.

  Leaping lightly out of the sylvan woods, the elves of Mystlkynd came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the humans as they watched the mighty griffin come snarling into view. Three-hundred flying fortresses- armed with muscles, claws, fangs, and the magic that created their kind on Stromane's distant shores- thundered overhead. Each was filled with fury and joy: fury over Ab'Don's minions who would throw goodness into the trash heap of extinction as easily as a person tosses away a crust of moldy bread; and joy over being able to fight a battle that the Warl's Magic had created them to fight.

  Though vastly outnumbered, the highly intelligent griffin mixed their speed and might with a battle strategy the cretchym had no answer for.

  “Follow me!” Seym Blood roared out directions as he intercepted a sword's blade with the thick callouses covering his massive paw. The next instant he batted the raptor-like cretchym into its brothers, killing two, incapacitating a third. And just as quickly, he bit into another cretchym, tearing out a chunk of its chest as he did.

  In this way, an indomitable phalanx of muscle and fang smashed holes into the vast cloud of death. Fragments of insects, birds and bats fell on the warriors who fought below.

  Mystlkynd assisted the griffin's assault. Firing more sparkling thread-arrows whose unerring accuracy bit at the parts of the cloud the griffin could not reach, the elves' magic decimated the mutant flock. In time, the cretchym's power was broken and they fled in spite of Koyer's ranting protests.

  Breaking ranks, the griffin chased the retreating cretchym down, choosing their targets at will.

  Once the dangerous winged horde had been removed, the Forest People were free to turn their might against the river-children. So fierce was the Forest People's recompense for the horrible things the black monsters had perpetrated against them in the days of their captivity, few of Schmar's children escaped their wrath to return to the safety the river's depths provided them.

  The ebb-and-flow of battle had eaten up the much of the daylight and true twilight slipped into the sky, not the one the sea serpent's smoke had created, nor the one the cretchym cloud's shadow had cast upon the ground. As evening arrived, the elves turned their attention to Laviathon and his children who were busy feeding on the Nyeg Warlers, who, looking like blazing bales of hay, had jumped into the cold water to put out the fire that burned them. But instead of gaining reprieve from the tormenting flames, the unfortunate men meet the crocodon's reptilian stare and were torn to ribbons in the frothing mayhem that followed.

  Repulsed by the carnage filling the bloodstained river, the elves' thread-arrows rained down on Laviathon's brood. Unleashing a hailstorm of riveting colors, Mystlkynd's warriors made the screaming crocodon look like iridescent pin cushions. The fight didn't last long. Lazily bouncing and rolling about in the river's current, the crocodon's glowing carcasses were soon carried out to sea.

  Laviathon, seeing his children being butchered, blew a thick smoke screen about himself, one in which he could hide. The heat of his bereavement, having been stoked by the deaths of the last of his children, turned into a raging inferno that drove the terrible lizard to seek for revenge. Peering out from the cloud that enveloped him, Laviathon knew the elves couldn't see through the magic that covered him. So, he sought out the closest target. Confident he could outwit his adversaries in the relative safety his fortress of smoke had created, he began his counter assault.

  The nimble elves avoided the first stream of incendiary Laviathon spewed their way. But a second blast that quickly poured out from an unsuspected part of the cloud of smoke, swept over the elves positioned there, burning whatever flesh it touched. Sadly, Shalamor was numbered among those the flames kissed.

  While the scorched bodies were carried out of the fray, the elves decided on measures to counter the evil reptile's strategy. Though as large as a Bjork longboat, Laviathon was swifter then a dolphin and would not remain in the same place for more than a moment or two. Once he attacked, he'd be gone before his fiery kisses touched the cheeks of those he wanted to shower his bitter affection upon. The strategy they finally came up with called for courage. For it would inevitably incur casualties.

  Lining the river's bank, the green-clad elf-warriors, led by Silvamor, waited for Laviathon's next attack. They didn't have long to tarry since a moment later, the terrible lizard's fire lit up the cloud. Instantly, the elves who didn't have to dodge the incoming bolt of incendiary, fired their glowing thread-arrows into the superheated mist. But instead of firing at the point from which the flame originated, they shot on either side hoping to hit the fleeing monster.

  Using their keen sense of hearing to pick up the swirling, swishing noises the huge reptilian torso produced as it slid through the river, the archers tried to anticipate Laviathon's movements. But it was to no avail, hundreds of thread-arrows fell harmlessly into the cold water while unending volleys of flame leapt after the heroic elves, catching any that stumbled or hesitated.

  On-and-on they fought as twilight deepened on the battlefield.

  A score of elves were burned before one lone thread-arrow struck Laviathon's scaly side and stuck. But that was enough. The foul serpent had been marked by the sparkling arrow's flickering light. Though other arrows, having missed their target, were still visible, Mystylkynd's children could distinguish between the one that moved with purpose from those jostling about in the river's current. As expected, the fleet-footed elves ran alongside the glowing marker, sending a shower of thread-arrows into the reptile's thick scaly hide. Laviathon angrily screamed, realizing the elves were somehow able to spot him. But even with more arrows stuck in him than all those that proved enough to kill his children, Laviathon would not be stopped.

  Swimming to the bottom of the river, the terrible lizard rubbed his bulbous torso against the gravel in an effort to dislodge the darts, twirling as he did. Then, after attending to the splinters that irritated his flesh, Laviathon burst through the river's smooth surface and sent out a ball of fire from the midst of the froth and spray that accompanied his return.

  Loud roaring, sounding overhead, announced that griffin might would now join Mystlkynd's skill. Without hesitating, Stromane's children folded up their majestic wings and dove toward the remnant of sparkling light that stubbornly marked Laviathon's location. The elves cheered as bolts of tawny-colored lightning slashed through the air and the magical vapors hiding Laviathon before they crashed upon the serpent. They cheered even more when the light of the remaining thread-arrows displayed the
griffin's cloud-shrouded silhouettes ripping and tearing at the monster's heavy scales. Though Laviathon's size dwarfed the winged-lions, the great cats relentlessly tore at the reptile's hide, seeking out the vertebrae guarding the reptile's spinal cord.

  Weakened by the magic the elves blessed their arrows with, the evil sea serpent was not able to throw the griffin off his back. Even his efforts to dislodge the winged-lions by using the river's rock-strewn bottom proved fruitless. At home in the water and nearly as fast as a fish, the Blood were quick to make the adjustments needed to stay atop their prey. Frustrated by the thrashing griffin resilient assault, Laviathon fled down the river and out towards the open sea. Repeatedly plunging beneath the water's surface, only to rise and repeat the same movement again, the monster raced for safety.

  In time, the elves, whose keen senses allowed them to hear the griffin' snarling and growling beyond human capabilities, watched the light from their glittering thread-arrows disappear into the Nour Sea's dark green waters

  Seym Blood would later tell how he and the others tore at Laviathon's scaly flesh until they were forced to release the sea serpent once he dove into deep waters and stayed thereSince he could still see the great lizard's form in the dark green depths, marked by the unquenchable elf-arrows as it was, the mighty griffin trailed the evil reptile until the projectiles burned themselves out. The last that Seym Blood saw was Laviathon heading towards Ar Warl and back Ab'Don.

  Having defeated the evil sea serpent, Mystlkynd's children rushed to help the kings fight off the White Guard's assault.