A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) (31 page)

One of the captains from Wolf Clan opened the door, his face covered in mud and sweat. “Forgive me, Warchief, but I bear a message from Captains Fargon and Sharrog. A great army of the enemy crosses the Lond River. They will meet our breastworks at the Gallond within a week.”

Slar waved the captain away, relief setting into his heart for once, rather than apprehension. “Thank you, Captain. Send word to all commanders. The horde marches with the morning.”

The door closed behind the officer after he bowed his way out.

Slar renewed his grip upon Tealla, who gave herself up to him with vigor. “I want you to come with me,” he whispered into her ear. “I need your words to keep me faithful to our people first.”

Her passion redoubled when they lay down upon the bed.

T
he long, cold shadows of early morning sliced across the mass of orcs and trolls gathered before Slar. He could not avoid their stench. Ninety thousand warriors from six clans marched past his perch on a small knoll, their faces fierce under red and black banners. Their boar skin capes well cleaned and their wounds mostly healed, Brother Ortax and Brother Aern stood nearby. Tealla wore a heavy cloak of fine, green-dyed wool and stood just at the edge of Slar’s coterie.
I’d have her at my shoulder, but the chieftains would scream. At least I was able to convince the dwarf woman to stay behind. Her presence would unnerve them even more.

“I think we’ve done it, Warchief.” Baylax rubbed his jaw, leaving a black smudge when he took his hand away. “Brother Ortax solved the encasement issue, and now he has the lot of ‘em.”

A twinge of excitement crawled up Slar’s spine as he watched another cluster of grunts trot past, a coiled snake stitched in their banner. “Excellent work, forge master. If I can get the rest of my plan to unfold so well, I will be assured of success.” He reviewed a pack of trolls who followed their handlers like excited dogs, eager to be out for a stroll. “You should gather the greater part of your smiths and head for Dragonsclaw. They could use your aid there in building our new citadel. Leave only a few here at Highspur to keep the garrison cared for.”

Baylax slapped his one fist against his heart. “As you command, Warchief. The Fires see your forces to victory.”

Slar pursed his lips.
I fear that the flames of our pyres shall be the only victors.

Two days forced march brought Slar’s horde down into the valley of the Gallond River. The gray-brown grass of the Wastes had been churned to black mud where the advanced orc army prepared a wide array of defenses on the near side of the river. Wooden spikes lined the upward slopes, and the few siege engines salvaged from Highspur lined a wide area behind. Over a hundred thousand orcs had dug thousands of trenches and pits, some covered with fireproofed skins, while more spikes lined others.

“Fargon and my son have been hard at work,” Slar called to Dradlo of the Bear Clan, who marched today at his side.
At least his bluster is easier to stand than Sarinn’s simpering.

“They have done decent work,” the Bear Chieftain allowed. “Now that another thirty thousand Bears have joined them, the work will go much faster.”

Slar held his tongue and watched the cluster of orcs trot up from the command tent of the vast encampment. Soon he picked out Sharrog and Fargon, and a few other faces he would rather not see, especially among the shamans. Ortax and Aern stood close at his shoulder, while Dradlo and Sarinn organized their warriors into camps.

Striding out from the group, even the friction between them could not dampen the smile of pride on Sharrog’s face. “See what we have prepared, Fa…Warchief? We have trenchworks ready for your new arrivals.” He looked at the orcs around him. “Not that Snakes should mind being that close to the ground.”

Harsh laughter rose from even the shamans.

My son has learned to lead as well as fight.

Nodding in approval, Slar clasped his son’s wrist. “You have done well, Sharrog.” He looked to Fargon of Wolf Clan. “And you too, my old friend. Your folk took it worst at Highspur, yet they still stand in front here.”

Fargon bowed his head to Slar, but pointed to the son of the Ram Chieftain. “Bathlor’s people took it hardest at Kirath, may their ashes drift on the Flames.”

The young warrior from Ram Clan dropped to one knee before Slar. “Yet no loss is as great as that of your strong right arm. Radgred Boneshaker was the paragon of a warrior. His leadership is sorely missed.”

Slar ducked his head in recognition. “How did he die?”

Dropping his eyes, Fargon’s voice slipped low. “I held Wolf warriors in reserve, while the Rams moved to sack the city. Radgred led them. He took the mayor and executed him.” He looked up. “Radgred was inspecting the granaries when it began. The first explosion took him.”

Slar spat. “We will burn the wizards back.”

Shouts of agreement sounded from the whole group.

Cupping his hands to be heard, Slar called out to the entire throng of warriors gathered before him. “We brought great stores from Highspur. Full rations for all tonight!”

An even larger shout rose from the orcs.

“Good.” Slar placed his arm about his son’s shoulders. “There are many things we must talk about.”

“I have obtained the beasts, Father.” Sharrog cleared his throat. “They are more difficult to manage than one might think. They dislike us as much as we dislike like them.”

Slar let his son go. “Do you have a team?”

The excitement clear in his voice, Sharrog replied, “I do, and I shall lead them. We will be ready.”

“Good,” Slar whispered. “I have the weapons you will need. Brother Ortax and Forge Master Baylax finished them just before we left.” He tapped his temple. “They are delicate and may be used only once.”

Sharrog laughed. “Then I will just have to aim well.”

The Blue Knights warned against our plan. They felt there were too many uncertainties in trapping the Dragonsouls away from our world. They had the right of it there. But they were also the ones who called for creation of the great shield to protect us from the Cataclysm. Little did we know how wrong that idea would be. – “The Spirit Trap” by Leolan “Lastking” Calais

E
lyl Falana took a deep breath to steady himself before he pushed against the long-grayed lifewood. Within his mother’s dining room, most of the family already gathered. Celedra herself sat in a tall, carved chair draped in purple velvet. She gathered a fox pelt cape closer about her thin frame.

“Welcome, my second eldest son,” the ancient woman called. “You are, as always, immediately on time… never a moment early.”

Elyl bowed his head. “I always endeavor to be punctual, Mother.” He looked across the table at Garon. “Greetings, Brother. Glad to see you and your knights have returned safely.”

Though Garon only nodded in his direction, Elyl knew he wanted to embrace.
I understand brother…propriety.

Placing his hands on the back of his seat, Elyl looked down to the end of the table. “Stepfather. It is pleasing to see you again,” he lied. “I trust the coffers are full.”

Sarzon bowed his dark-locked head. “Stepson.”

Elyl looked to Sarzon’s right at the young elf who sipped at a warm broth. “Sadron, my younger brother. How goes Telagier?”

His black eyes first darting to those of his father, Sadron laid down his spoon. “Well. The port operates again, but we still remain in secret.”

Catching Garon’s attention for a split second, Elyl gave Sadron a near sardonic look. “I’m sure that’s due to your diligence.”

At his stepfather’s left hand sat the first child Sarzon had birthed with his mother. It was her presence that had slowed Elyl’s steps when he first entered the room. “Sarzine. It has been longest since I’ve seen you at the family table. I would...hope to hear a story of where you have been these last few years.”

Steepling her thin fingers, Sarzine bowed her head almost imperceptibly. “I have been searching for answers to great questions, dear brother. I would hope you would have respect for the sorceresses’ ways our mother and I share.”

Elyl forced a thin smile. “Did you find any answers?”

Sarzine squinted. “I found many things.”

Celedra’s rings clinked as she slapped her hand upon the carved bloodwood table. “Enough, Elyl. Be seated.”

Taking his seat, Elyl offered a greeting to his next half-sister, seated across the table between Sarzine and Garon. “Greetings, Sarcasta. It is good to see you too.”

The young Woodsinger’s face remained blank.

Removing the silk napkin from his plate and dropping it onto his lap, Elyl peered at Sarcasta. “I heard Azura gave us another blessing last night. Do you know where the seed is to be placed?”

Sarcasta stared at her empty plate. “The north ridge. It will be sung into a watchtower.” Even when speaking her voice carried a melodious rhythm. “I’m sure your rangers will lead us there in the morning.”

Elyl dipped his head. “It was great wisdom, Mother, to begin planning where to plant the seeds before they appear. Especially since Azura’s gifts have become so rare these days.”

Granting him a disdainful wave, Celedra reached for her wine. “We both know it was your idea, and it was done a century ago, so no need to remind me of my own wisdom, which I know quite well.” She shifted in her seat. “The fact that it was chosen as a watchtower also reflects your influence within the council. I will not have my son--”

The door opened and in swept the baby of the family, and the one half-sibling Elyl felt closest to. “Greetings, everyone. I apologize for my lateness. I was learning to use Water in a fascinating way.”

“Of course,” Elyl heard his mother whisper.

Sarina plopped herself down between Elyl and her full brother Sadron. “There is hope this new technique may encourage Azura to produce more blossoms.”

Elyl patted her shoulder, and Sarina turned it into a hug.

“So glad you have returned.” She leaned back and met his eyes with violet ones like their mother’s. “Have your new rangers worked out as well as you hoped?”

He gave her a warm smile. “I believe so. They did well on this excursion.” He avoided looking at his mother, but lifted the volume of his voice one notch. “I can only hope they do well when I take them out next time.”

Shifting her cape again, Celedra snapped her fingers. Servants swirled into the room with bread and exotic fruit salads. Elyl immediately broke a loaf and dipped it into the bright green olive oil on the table.

“Where do you plan on leading your men this time, my son.” Celedra ignored the food before her. “I have read your preliminary report. I do not know that ranging to the Lond is safe any longer.”

Elyl pointedly looked at his brother across the table. “I hope to lead this team all the way to the Bloodwood. Garon could use some of that timber for spear staves.”

Pushing his food around on his plate, Garon did not look up at their mother. “That is true.”

A cynical twist to her lips, Celedra scoffed. “You will slip through the greatest battle lines drawn in this age to gather sticks?”

At the far end of the table Sarzon swallowed his fruit and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “We know what is about to happen out there in the Wastes. The two greatest threats to the secrecy of our existence are about to batter the living sense out of each other.” He picked up his fork again. “Better we stay in shelter and let this problem sort itself out.”

Sadron tapped the table in agreement with his father.

Prepared for this argument, Elyl turned to his mother. “Did you read the final report? The one that mentioned our interrogation of an orc scout? Did you not read what it said?”

His mother pursed her lips. “I did indeed, my son. I have been reading rangers’ reports for almost two thousand years. I know how to be thorough.” She picked up a goblet of dark red wine and took a fastidious sip. “I also know how to read the mumblings of a scared fool.”

A flash of anger shooting through him, Elyl cleared his throat. “Am I that fool, Mother?”

Celedra looked shocked. “I was referring to the orc you captured.” She sipped her wine again, this time taking a deeper gulp. “Galdreth is gone from this world. Your father and the entire kingdom he helped to rule died to ensure that. The dark one cannot return.”