The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (57 page)

“I must stop for a rest,” Phaera commented.

Zabalas stopped and nodded his consent. His helmet dangled upon a hook on his belt and his face revealed no expression of hunger, pain or any other emotion. His cloak moved aside as he spun on her and Phaera noticed a macabre-looking shield strapped to his back with a demonic visage etched into its black surface, which she had never noticed until now.

More surprises,
Phaera supposed, removing her sword from her scabbard and cutting a piece of fruit she had taken from the surface on their journey to the Subterrane. The surface world had only a few delicacies that she enjoyed—other than the taste of a willing thrall giving up his or her life force to her—and fresh fruit was one of them. She enjoyed the feel of it on her lips and her tongue.

She offered a piece to Megnus, who accepted it and ate it voraciously. The djinni refused anything to eat, as was his custom. No one really knew if they even ate anything at all, she mused. Nor did she want to know.

She offered a piece to Zabalas who refused it with a smile and a nod, walking away from the group as they ate. The more she took notice of him, the more he seemed like something not of this world…or something more than human.

After a long pause, they carried on.

As they neared Shadowmere, Megnus stayed ahead of them. He knew where the scouting points of his brethren were stationed and that they would not attack if they saw him first. Zabalas fell back and allowed Megnus to take the lead.

Slagfell were quite adept at hiding within shadows and could kill from a distance if necessary with deadly crossbow bolts, which were more often than not laced in various poisons or toxins. This was a well-known tendency of Megnus’s people, Phaera recalled hearing. It would be the only way of course for them to challenge the succubi in any manner, she thought with a smile.

A hundred paces later, the cavern started to bend and twist repeatedly. It was an extension of the slagfell lifestyle and was exactly a place one would expect to find them.

The Prince of Shadowmere halted the advance of the group at one particular set of tunnels, and after a hundred more paces, had a brief encounter with the gatekeepers that emerged from the shadows of the passageway. There was a verbal exchange before they proceeded again, many more slagfell warriors showing themselves, poised high above on ledges and on shelves carved into the very stone, crossbows in hand. Many gave the succubus a narrow-eyed glare.

She merely smiled at them, knowing she could seduce any or all of them, one by one, including Megnus and King Dolgrath himself. Still, there was a mutual respect between the two races and neither really attempted to war with the other—as of yet.

They strode into the stone city, with faint sounds of metal on metal, or metal on stone, ringing in the distance. The slagfell were renowned weapon smithies, armorers and stoneworkers, just like their counterparts, the dwarves. Structures were carved directly from the natural stone, reshaped if and where necessary, with the familiar gray, black and brown décor of the stone-carved dwellings barely emitting any light from within at all.

The slagfell preferred the darkness most of all.

Shadowmere was reminiscent of Ulthon in structure, but there was no vibrancy or color to their city, Phaera noted. There was the occasional torchlight that could be seen within a dwelling here or there, or the spark of a weapon being forged, as hammer hit anvil. The slagfell favored the anonymity that came with the dullness of the stone, making their already muted and understated housings seem even less grand to Phaera. However, upon closer inspection of the dwellings, Phaera noted a high level of expertise in the shaping of the stone.

The brightest things in the entire city that Phaera could see, were the beautifully colored and variously shaped gems that adorned one of the buildings. It was their king’s bastion, no doubt. It could only be the Stronghold of King Dolgrath ahead of them. It was a magnificently crafted structure that stood out amongst the other modest buildings.

The gems adorning the structure were certainly plucked from the many mines maintained in and around Shadowmere. Slagfell were dwarven kin after all, and this clan
obsessed
over gems and jewels and shiny things, Phaera confirmed.

They only allow the gems to adorn the king’s castle, eh?
Phaera assumed, figuring this to be a reasonable explanation why the other homes were so drab.

The group continued, with Prishnack now in his corporeal form, covered in dark robes that exposed nothing from beneath their silhouette. He still appeared to glide across the surface of the stone. Phaera’s milky-white skin and long white hair gave away her identity to any onlookers, but she did not care in the slightest. And of course, the mighty warlord Zabalas with his plated armor and commanding presence also drew stares from the entire settlement, as well as from the many slagfell warriors and sentries that lined the walkway to the King’s fortress.

The gate to the hall opened and they were brought inside the semi-lit structure that King Dolgrath named his stronghold. They were led into a wide open room where they witnessed the king’s personal guards feasting on some kind of burnt meat, plant fungus and what looked to Phaera to be yeast.

“Come eat with me clan or watch ‘em eat. I don’t be carin’ much either way,” King Dolgrath greeted them, waving a hand toward the table, a piece of dried food stuck in his long gray beard. Megnus immediately greeted his father, removing his helm and placing it on the table. He banged his fist on his chest in salute. Dolgrath returned the salute, eyeing his son up and down as if to inspect him for battle.

None except Megnus shared of the feast, the slagfell prince grabbing and tearing a piece of flesh from the bone, a haunch of what resembled the leg of an animal to Phaera.

Zabalas stood across from the King, who gestured to a pitcher, offering him some wine. Zabalas refused, staring down into the beady eyes of the bald, pale-skinned and heavily bearded king.

 As with Megnus, there were strange markings on Dolgrath’s forehead and neck, more so than on any other of his kin. The tattoos wrapped around to the left in a darkly-colored design. They were brandings that represented the chain of command to the slagfell, similar to what the barbarian tribes did to mark various accomplishments all about their arms and chests. Zabalas watched as Dolgrath retrieved the pitcher of wine and filled a goblet.

“I can still count on the complete support of Clan Shadowmere in the upcoming months?” Zabalas asked, not removing his eyes from the King’s, as Dolgrath took a large swig of the wine and wiped his bearded face. “Especially with regards to the more clandestine tasks?”

“Of course, Zabalas,” King Dolgrath answered, stepping away from his feasting guards toward his throne. “Me kin already be in place, waitin’ fer yer instructions,” he offered, planting himself in the seat. “Yer promise of treasure an’ a chance fer a reckonin’ with the dwarves
and
the humans…it be too much for me and me kin to turn down!” King Dolgrath finished, raising his goblet and downing its contents. “There’ll be payback o’ plenty.”

Phaera laughed at that comment, but stifled it quickly before drawing attention to herself. She’d heard various rumors as to how the slagfell broke off from the dwarves. Reports had it that the slagfell pursued gems and treasures deep within the bowels of Wothlondia at the expense of everything else. She believed that tale to ring truest.

“Very well,” Zabalas confirmed. “I have had counsel with Aspect Nahemia earlier this day and am thinking that she will be joining us. But, I must be getting home,” Zabalas admitted. “There are more preparations and plans that need be executed.” Zabalas stared directly into Phaera’s amber eyes and then dropped his gaze to the floor. “Besides, I don’t want to keep my ‘
visitor’
waiting long.”

“What visi—,” King Dolgrath began to ask, but was interrupted by a slagfell guard who entered the room, gasping for breath and doubled over.

“Speak!” Dolgrath commanded, slamming his fist on the arm of his throne.

“Me liege, we got a pair of succubi demons held at the city gates,” the slagfell mentioned, catching his breath. “Me best bowmen managed to plunk ‘em both with poisons, but that won’t be lastin’ much longer.”

“
Succubi
, eh!?” Dolgrath cast an accusatory gaze at Phaera.

“I know nothing of this!” Phaera responded curtly.

The King of Shadowmere and his loyal guardsmen—six of them in all—stopped their feasting immediately and followed their king, heading down the path to the city’s entrance. They arrived there soon after.

The path that wound this way and that ended in a straightaway passage where several slagfell stood around two succubi, hands bound behind their backs. More slagfell had crossbows leveled on them from above.

The succubi stood frozen by the poison coursing through their half-demon veins, fearing that the slagfell might torture them or worse. Never before had any of the succubi attempted to enter Shadowmere, nor had they even traveled near it, until now, Phaera knew

“What be this treachery!?” King Dolgrath demanded from the succubi. “What brought ye here to Shadowmere? Ye can speak, the poison just won’t let ye move…or use yer’ demon-born influences!”

Phaera did not recognize the succubi as members of the Sine brood and listened intently as they answered.

“We were tracking a tyrantian worm when your guards attacked us,” the first claimed, speaking for the two succubi as the other stood silently.

“Not durned likely,” Dolgrath scowled, walking around the two captured succubi. “Pull those bolts outta their hides,” Dolgrath ordered. The guards looked at him as if he were an imposter. “Now!”

One of the guards tried to protest.  “They tried to use their wiles to—“

“
Now
, I said,” Dolgrath stated firmly and calmly.

“Do as me
father
—and yer
king
—says.” Megnus stepped forward, axe in hand, as if to ensure the orders were obeyed.

The slagfell did as they were told.  The succubi both rubbed their limbs as the feeling began to return. Then they looked at Phaera with pleading eyes, and then back to the slagfell, perhaps expecting some kind of aid from her, Phaera supposed.

Then she happened to glimpse the symbol carved into a ring upon one of their fingers. Phaera suddenly recognized them as daughters of Aspect Risa Cheronea, a brood of the Daughters of Leviathan, the demon lord of envy. Of course it would be Leviathan’s own daughters who tried to usurp the Sine brood—they were jealous. They had been trying to gain the upper hand in Ulthon for years now. Each brood had its own responsibility and Phaera would make sure that Nahemia’s brood would not be held responsible for this.

Phaera quickly moved to Zabalas’s side and whispered counsel to him. He had been standing and observing from the back with Prishnack, seeing how the slagfell would handle this intrusion. Megnus, King Dolgrath and the king’s guard were handling the situation so far. He stepped forward and stood before King Dolgrath, bending low.

“May I?” Zabalas asked Dolgrath, gesturing to the two succubi. King Dolgrath reluctantly, but eventually, nodded his approval.

Zabalas strode right to the female who initially spoke, knowing she was in charge.

“First and foremost, keep your wiles in check, demoness…for they shall have no effect on me,” Zabalas warned evenly.

“So, you know nothing of Phaera, or the goings-on of Aspect Nahemia in Ulthon?” Zabalas continued in an attempt to catch them in a lie, perhaps, Phaera mused.

“You know that not to be true, I can see,” answered one Cheronea daughter, obviously frustrated to be caught in her lie. “I do what I must for Aspect Risa! The Daughters of Leviathan will soon have more thralls than even the Sine brood and will rule Ulthon, as is our rightful place!”

“I see…but that will not matter soon enough,” Zabalas answered. “You may return to Ulthon with a message to your Aspect,” Zabalas said calmly as he withdrew his wicked sword. The familiar violet flames immediately engulfed the blade.

Faster than the eye could follow, he cleanly severed the head of one of the two succubi, sending it airborne down the tunnel to disappear into the shadowed recesses. Most onlookers near the sight of the gruesome beheading jumped back or gasped, hands on their weapons as they expected retaliation.