The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (106 page)

“We are to go to Norgeld?” Orngoth asked them again. “I was born there.”

“Aye,” Elec nodded. “We are to escort Princess Amara back home to her mother and her people. Tiyarnon and the Council believe that the roads grow more dangerous with the increasing number of goblinoid tribes turning their backs on our peaceful ways.”

“All the more reason to split their skulls,” Saeunn said with no pity in her tone. Orngoth could relate to the anger she felt. He had been beaten mercilessly, and quite often. But after the physical pain subsided, the pain within remained. He wondered what other losses and pain the barbarian from Chansuk had endured to make her rage so boundless. Orngoth recalled on many occasions suppressing his own bloodlust after the beatings, but it was difficult.

It seemed that Saeunn did not try to hold it back at all.

When Orngoth, Saeunn and Elec arrived at the Hall of the High Council, they were greeted at the doors by a servant who bid them to enter. Once inside, they were met within the antechamber by Garius, adorned in his full regalia and magnificent armor. His black cloak was draped across his back. His icons and trinkets representing each of the gods, as well as the Faceless Knights, hung freely from his pauldrons and armor, and his tabard hung loosely from below his waist, proudly decorated with the skull symbol of his Order, matching the much smaller one on the left side of his chest.

“We must take our leave,” Garius said firmly, his helm under the crook of his arm. As he spun, he noted the distinct absence of one person in particular. A hint of disappointment flashed upon his features for just a heartbeat before he quickly repressed it.

“Amara must arrive safely within the walls of Citadel Pridemoon. And we must confer with Rolin once we arrive on a plan of attack against the ever-growing goblinoid threat to the south.” He glanced at Saeunn and noted her jaw tighten as she gritted her teeth.

“Rose will not be joining us,” Elec mentioned to Garius.

He spun away from them so as to hide any further betrayals his expression may have shown. He quickly donned his helm and turned toward them again, his face veiled in the shadow beneath the red steel.

“Did she say why not?”

“She had business to attend,” Saeunn answered.

“That is unfortunate…”

“She mentioned joining us in Norgeld once her business was settled, though,” Elec added.

“Gather the princess and we shall be on our way,” Garius called to a servant in the hall who nodded and scurried away. His peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Tiyarnon who stood in the doorway to an adjacent room.

“May the light of the sun guide you and return you to us soon,” Tiyarnon declared as he leaned upon his staff.

“And give the dwarf a kick for me,” called a light-hearted feminine voice from behind the priest.

Garius smiled beneath his helm as he noted the beautiful Nimaira Silvershade walk past them and outside to finish the preparations with the construct that would be navigating the caravan east to Norgeld.

He seemed to notice for the first time the true beauty of the half-elven woman—her shape, her lithe and sensuous gait, and her symmetrical face with eyes of the softest blue. She’d been given gifts from both her human and elven heritage, the two combining to make one extraordinarily stunning woman. But, she was not Rose, he lamented.

“Are we ready, my lord?” called the voice of Amara who was more than eager to go home, drawing Garius from his current reverie. He was thankful for the interruption and set his mind back to the task at hand, as he retrieved
The Repentant
from his back and felt its reassuring weight once more. Things suddenly felt normal as he strode from the Hall of the High Council and into the courtyard. Orngoth, Saeunn, Elec and Amara followed.

Servants were packing the caravan once more with provisions for the journey, which would take only a few weeks. This was due in part to the absence of snowfall as well as an improved spell that Nimaira claimed would speed the caravan’s progress. She’d mentioned having a spell that she could apply to a horse or a person to allow them to hasten their movement in short bursts, and was simply testing it out on the magical steeds responsible for hauling her wagon, as they were not of this plane. Only those able to manipulate the powers of Arcana could see them on the ethereal plane.

Once Nimaira was finished, Garius watched as the others entered the vehicle one by one, including the Princess Amara, who turned and smiled half-heartedly to the Inquisitor, as if she knew what was on his mind.

Curious
, he thought and began to make his way toward her, when he felt a hand turn him about.

“The caravan will be able to travel much more swiftly in short spurts, but be careful when to use it,” warned the lovely Nimaira. “It will minimize your bumps to a certain level, so make sure to employ its gift when you are certain of open road ahead. It should expedite your journey. May the gods be with you, Garius.” Nimaira bowed low to him and he nodded politely to her.

“We will have more information and a better plan in the coming weeks,” spoke a confident voice from over his shoulder, where. Tiyarnon stood. “Word will come to you by way of Nimaira’s magic once we have designed a strategy. Right now, we need only return the princess safely to her home and her mother.”

“You think this will sate Lynessa’s anger?”

“Aye,” nodded Tiyarnon in affirmation. “How could it not? I must think and act from a position of politics first nowadays, my friend. It is always in the forefront of my dealings.” There was a brief pause as they held one another’s gaze.

“We will find the phylactery and return Sadreth where he belongs—at the foot of the gods,” Garius promised as he placed a sympathetic hand on Tiyarnon’s shoulder.

“I am hoping to have an idea of where the phylactery is soon enough. At some point or another, we will feel Sadreth’s power grow.”

“How?” asked Garius, not sure exactly what the High Priest was getting at.

“Nimaira and I see…visions…from when Sadreth was corrupted by the power. They are few and far between, but…we sometimes receive visions through his eyes. We are not sure why. We are hoping that they return to give us some clue as to his current whereabouts.”

“And the dwarf? Did Rolin share these visions?”

“He did not. At least he never admitted that he did. And he seemed thankful for that,” Tiyarnon added with a chuckle as he turned away. “Go now and return my lady to her rightful home.”

Garius approached the caravan and entered through the door, climbing the few steps that hung from the foot of the entrance. As the caravan pulled away, a shriek broke the din and Amara wore a look of dread upon her face. Her light brown eyes took on the appearance of a copper coin. Saeunn caught the princess as she fell back into her arms, seeming to faint.

“What is it, my lady?” Garius asked, bending a knee to meet her gaze.

“My mother! Something has happened to her!”

“Mind yer step,” Megnus cited to a handful of the slagfell warriors as they entered the dungeons beneath Norgeld. They stepped through the portal that the Wayfarer’s son had been working on and recently finished, connecting a tunnel through from Shadowmere to here. Their instructions, Megnus reviewed, were for the succubi under Nahemia’s command to lead the way in and to make thralls of any that they could. The slagfell were there in support with small units of half a dozen or so to ensure that any resistance was met and quashed.

“Ye think the demon has got control o’ the queen yet?” asked a warrior with almost no markings on his face or neck. His were the fresh and inexperienced hands of a young slagfell.

“We’ll soon be seein’, eh?” Megnus replied as he moved silently forward. The slagfell had built their armors to withstand a heavy impact, but were tightly jointed so that one plate or section did not clang together with another. Some of the slagfell whispered that their armorers made deals with the demon lords themselves in order to render their mails and breastplate so soundless. Others merely claimed that their smithies were the best at what they did in all of Wothlondia.

“The demons are ta havin’ the Watchmen under their powers afore we were ta be here, so I’m thinkin’ it better be done, or someone be answerin’ to the Dark One,” Megnus added with a sneer, recalling the sting of Zabalas’s gauntlet on one particular occasion.

As they continued through the tunnels below the castle, Megnus made note of more than a few passageways that led outside and several more that seemed to tunnel downward. He intended to explore some of them at a later time, thinking that some of them were marked as hidden and might just lead into the underpasses of the Subterrane itself.

“What is it, me prince?” asked another, more seasoned veteran.

“Get ta steppin’ and never ye mind what I be doin’,” he replied curtly in response as the warrior mumbled something and continued on.

Megnus tugged on his braided beard and felt the reassuring head of his axes on either hip, as well as the smooth cold steel edge of his shield upon his back. He nodded at that as more than a score of slagfell continued down the corridors and toward the steps that would take them above ground. Megnus was beginning to get used to the light, but his kin might find it a challenge to endure the light of day for very long. They would adjust soon enough. Besides, they would mostly be within the confines of the tower and dungeons anyhow.

Either way, they would endure whatever was asked in order to please their king.

“What shall we do next, Heramon?” Lynessa asked her closest advisor and brother-in-law. “That was my daughter in the mirror, was it not?! Or was it some sort of trick?”

“It could have been, my lady,” Heramon stated with concern. “I saw it just as you did. And yet, I cannot believe it myself.”

The sound of steel on steel resonated suddenly from the hall outside and grew in intensity quickly. Without warning, a pair of guardsmen entered the royal chambers, interrupting the two speakers.

“My lord, my lady! We are under attack!” exclaimed a knight, attempting to stem a wound in his side that stained his royal tabard the color of crimson. It looked out of place as it interacted with the golden tabard of the knights of the Norgeld Watch. “We can only hold them back for so long, my lady. You must leave the castle immediately!”

“Who? Who is attacking us?” Heramon asked with great concern.

“That is just it, my lord,” he said through a wince of pain. “Our own men attack each other! It breaches all sanity! You must make your way out of here!”

“That just won’t do,” called a throaty feminine voice as the sound of fighting continued in the distance.  What could only be described as a ladylike demon entered the chamber, with huge wings like that of a bat. Lynessa gulped and her heart raced as Heramon stood before her.

“Come to me, my sweet,” she instructed the knight, who suddenly and obediently moved to heed her commands. His sword and shield clattered loudly against the stone of the castle floor. He strode to her, ignoring the wound that only a moment ago had caused him a great deal of pain. He removed his helm and tossed it aside, like so much debris.

She locked eyes with Lynessa as the demoness bent low, kissing the obedient knight on the lips. She held the kiss for a long moment as Lynessa and Heramon both stared in morbid silence at the spectacle. The knight’s skin became gaunt about his bones, shrinking and growing pale. His dark hair turned to gray before their very eyes. When she finished, she released her hold on the knight and he fell to the floor, a husk of what he had once been only a moment ago. His face was wrinkled, his eyes wide, frozen in a state of absolute terror, and his hair was as white as the unblemished snow that sits atop the highest of summits.

Her wings unfolded to their full size, extending several feet from either side.  Ivory horns stretched around the base of her skull and ended in points at the back of her head. Those horns protruded from beneath a mane of fiery red hair that matched the color of both her lips and her eyes. As she strode forward, she smiled so widely that Lynessa could see fangs beneath her lips. They were a duller hue than the white of her skin was, she noted, as the demoness cackled audibly, clearly taking pleasure in the knight’s demise.

“What is it that you want of me?” Lynessa whispered as the demoness neared.

“What do I
want
?” she repeated with a chuckle that escalated. The laughter reverberated from the stone walls in the spacious chamber. After a moment, her amusement faded.

 “All I
want
is to rule Wothlondia, my lady,” she said as her wings wrapped about her figure, “starting with Norgeld.”

As her wings drew in, Lynessa witnessed several more of the succubi creatures emerging from the shadows behind them, though they were smaller than this one.

There were a dozen or so of the demons. A pair of them shifted into pale-skinned women resembling humans, but with features of ash, with white hair and pale skin, presenting with pupils of amber.

“I will never allow you to—”

Lynessa stopped in mid-sentence and felt a wave of acquiescence wash over her. She felt like she was falling within her own mind and there was no end in sight. She felt a presence overwhelm her. It bid her to turn around and take a seat upon the throne. And she did so, helplessly. She clenched her teeth and tried to push against the force that dominated her will and sense of purpose, but there was a wall that instilled a sense of hopelessness. It was a solid wall that was as high as any mountain she’d ever seen and just as wide.

Heramon sat frozen in place, too, as if the same thing was happening to him. All thoughts of her daughter’s safe return suddenly meant nothing to her. The adoration, respect and love of her people seemed as an afterthought.

She pushed again, less forcefully this time, and again, nothing happened. Panic ensued next and she collapsed within her own mind.

This was followed quickly by a sudden calm that washed over her and she thought it a good idea to hand the demoness her crown. And so she removed it and placed it in the outstretched, clawed hand of the succubus.

Nahemia was her name, she discerned, and she accepted that it was pointless to resist her. She watched the creature place the crown atop her head, lying loosely above her horns, and the demoness cackled. Lynessa joined her in her laughter.

Why was I trying to fight against her anyway?
Lynessa mused.
It was only giving in to a grander idea…a superior way of life! Of course, why did I not see this before
?

“Now you see our purpose, my lady,” Nahemia said, refitting the crown gently atop the queen’s head, her palms pressing against the exterior of the crown so as to not accidentally scratch the queen’s skin with her claws. “And soon enough, all of your knights of the Norgeld Watch will see it our way, too. Or they will die trying.”

Laughter ensued briefly again from both the queen and the demoness.

She heard the succubus giving orders to her…brood. Yes,
brood
, she understood, telling them to subdue and control as many guardsmen as possible and not to shed any more blood if they could help it.

It seemed like a dream, Lynessa considered, her eyes darting to and fro and landing upon Heramon, who smiled back at her, though he seemed a caricature of the man she knew.

“We have much work to do, my lady,” Nahemia called to her and instructed her to follow them out of the throne room and up several more flights to her private chambers, where, she was informed, she’d have many letters to write.

“He is here,” called a voice from below to Xorgram who stared into the horizon. He’d watched Krewel’s group return from their trip east as he scoured the areas to the north and west for signs of the others.

Xorgram looked down to witness the arrival of the assassin known as Grogo in the courtyard of Hollow Hill just below him. Xorgram Eboneye climbed down the watchtower’s ladder with haste and met Grogo at the bottom, smiling from ear to ear upon seeing the weapon in the man’s hand.

 “I be hopin’ yer trip was agreeable,” Xorgram said, slapping the tiny man on the back.

“Yes, it was…manageable. I was able to coerce a group of merchants to grant me a ride west.”

“And what of the one who delivered ye the hammer?”

Grogo waved his hand dismissively at first and then looked up to catch Xorgram holding his gaze, cueing the assassin that he wanted to know.

“Let me simply say that he is in no condition to follow me...
or
anyone else for that matter.” A sly smile crept across Grogo’s face. Xorgram remained stoic and made a move to grasp the magnificent hammer, but Grogo moved it behind his own back and out of the dwarf’s grasp. “There is the matter of payment.”