The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (59 page)

Then he headed off, shutting the door behind him.

Elec was falling.

He had been falling for only a heartbeat when he recalled the magical power within his sword. He had no time to attempt to get both hands on the hilt, he knew. He held it aloft and spoke the ancient elven phrase, tightening his grasp on the hilt as the blade suddenly held firmly in place, rebelling against gravity and hovering in midair.

There was an excruciating pain in his right shoulder as it was yanked from its socket. He hung there helplessly in agony.

He peered down, trying to get a peek at what fate he would have suffered. He finally shifted his weight, gripping the hilt with his good left arm, and peered down.

 To his shock and revulsion, there were several spears jutting up from the ground only another ten paces or so below him. There were bones scattered at the bottom of the pit amongst the spikes, including a trio of freshly departed orcs as well as a pair of goblins, who must have fooled with the lever recently. He shuddered and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.

“At least…I wasn’t the only one,” he commented sarcastically, peering down at the most recent of the corpses.

Suddenly, he heard a scream from directly above him. He saw the limp form of a female figure descending upon him, falling freely.

Rose
!

Closer she came and he winced at the anticipation of what he was about to do. He shifted his weight back to his dislocated shoulder and hung there in extraordinary pain, waiting for Rose to close the gap. She fell faster until she was within reach a heartbeat later. He reached out and snatched her with his good arm, timing it perfectly to clutch her around her waist.

He shrieked in agony as he caught her limp form and they both dangled from Elec’s dislocated and rapidly deteriorating shoulder.

“Rose, please…get us…out…of here,” Elec managed, barely maintaining his grip on both her and
Daegnar Giruth
. Rose quickly got her bearings. The shock was evident on her face when she witnessed their situation but she quickly focused on the task of getting them out of there.

She concentrated, and then locked eyes with Elec’s.

“I’ve never taken anyone with me into the shadow realm before,” she mentioned as she concentrated and focused on doing just that.

“You will have to trust me, Elec. Trust me and let go of the sword when I say,” Rose instructed with a most serious look upon her face—something he was unaccustomed to seeing from her. Elec simply nodded. His arm was numb and he was close to blacking out from the agony, so he wouldn’t have much choice in the matter soon enough. Rose looked into his eyes and nodded.

Elec immediately felt what seemed like icy, cold hands clamoring all about him and he likened the experience to what he thought death might be like. All light disappeared, darkness consumed his perception, and then there was nothing.

A constant and profound chill overwhelmed his senses. He might have believed it to be death if he hadn’t been feeling the sharp pain of his shoulder throbbing throughout the surrealistic experience.

Then he squinted as the light suddenly came flooding back around him.

He faded in and out of consciousness as he looked up at Garius, Saeunn and Rose who bent over him. He saw Garius lean down and say something that registered as indecipherable to him, while Rose wore an expression of concern before his eyes closed.

Zabalas swung wide the door to his bed chamber and gazed upon Kaldar, the now disfigured mockery of a man turned mindless undead creature that was at one time, his own father. Zabalas’s quarters were lavish in both space and quality of items. He had a personal study with books that he had collected from all over Wothlondia lining the walls, and exquisitely crafted chairs upon which to sit. There was a bed on the opposite side of the room with ornate carvings and a canopy from which a silky fabric hung loosely along the sides. There was a strongbox at the foot of the huge bed and several ancient, wooden chests.

In the far corner of the room could be seen an ornately carved writing desk and chair. Within that chair could be seen the outline of a robed, wilted figure. Upon closer inspection, that figure’s flesh barely clung to its bones beneath its tattered garments, which appeared both ancient and mystical in origin as the once-vibrant colors danced and shifted along the exterior. Those robes hung loosely upon its noticeably frail frame, and a circlet made of gold inlaid with gems sat atop its hooded head, seeming out of place upon the decrepit thing.

“Have you sensed its approach, Sadreth?” Zabalas asked as he moved to stand behind the lich. The creature turned and spoke in a hollow and unnatural voice.

Sadreth sluggishly stood from the chair, using the desk for support.

“It…eludes…still…,”
the creature managed to croak, standing on unsteady legs.
“No…sign…,”
Sadreth added with his bony, frail hand rising up as if to signal something.
“No…stronger…than before….”

“Then the phylactery remains distant still,” Zabalas reasoned. “We will need to visit Chieftain Kelgarek and learn of the whereabouts of his legion sent to recover it…and soon,” he offered before taking a seat across from where Sadreth now stood. ”Solagh, Phaera and Prishnack have set the plan into motion masterfully and I will not allow it to fail.” After a brief pause, he continued again, “Do not worry.”

Zabalas glanced at the dim, red light within the sunken sockets of the creature’s skull that had once contained Sadreth’s eyes, and continued. “When you once again don the artifact, your rise to power will be swift and deadly. You will regain your strength and vitality and with that, we will show the people of Wothlondia the true meaning of the word fear.” Sadreth’s eyes shone brightly for a heartbeat upon hearing that statement, before darkening once more.

“Strength and vitality are things that Zabalas must maintain as well,” called a sultry, yet sinister voice from the recessed shadows of the room. “We have provided you appropriate sustenance…you must keep up your strength.”

Emerging from the shadows of an adjacent doorway, and opposite the one he’d entered from, was the lithe hint of a female form. She beckoned for him to follow. Zabalas turned to Sadreth once more and addressed the remnants of the formerly great mage.

“I will find this item for you,” Zabalas promised. “I have a portion of what the goblinoids are calling my ‘
Dark Legion’
on its way to collect both the acolytes you’re your precious phylactery. And if
they
fail me, I will send my personal envoys to secure it. One way of the other, all will be made right again. And soon.”

With that, the mighty warlord disappeared into the gloom.

Orngoth had been wandering in circles and found himself in a familiar place. He’d entered what they called the game room that also contained the adjoining ghoul lair. A flickering torch still hung on the wall, threatening to go out. The chamber did have a lingering, revolting smell, which he figured might also help deter unwanted guests. Not long after though, he was made nauseous by the odor, and so he forced that once-hidden door shut again.

He was hungry and removed a bit of dried meat that he had found earlier from a pair of dead goblins, and began to partake. He quickly devoured that, and yet the rumbling in his belly continued. He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything for several days prior and found his hunger to be insatiable. Fueled by that renewed hunger, he reopened the portal and went in to investigate the dead orcs in there, ignoring the foul stench within. After a long and sickening search, he discovered there was nothing of much use.

He made his way back out of the hidden chamber, shut the concealed door once more, and looked around for anything. There was a small cooking pot in here already that the orcs had used. They’d placed it in one of the alcoves where a shaft above carried away the smoke from the fire, presumably outside somewhere. Inside the pot was some kind of raw meat. And it was fresh, he recognized with elation. The orcs must have placed it there during one of his many bouts of sleepiness, with the intent to cook it!

Now he needed kindling.

Orngoth noted a barrel that he knew contained ale. He shook the keg and found it to be only half full. He struck it hard with his club and splintered a large piece off of the main body, spilling even more ale and causing a leak, but he did not care. He stopped suddenly and looked about, noting the many splintered sections of tables scattered about the floor and scolded himself.

He then used the dried pieces of wood from the tables to add to the burnt tinder already there beneath the pot. He carefully removed the still flickering torch that hung on a sconce, and carefully lit the kindling, replacing the torch on the wall. It did not take very long before the food was cooked, the smoke drawn neatly into the shaft above. He removed a newly acquired waterskin and nearly swallowed it all in one gulp.

With his hunger finally sated, Orngoth began exploring again. He was nearing frustration after another bout of searching came up empty. But then suddenly, he once more heard the sound of footsteps in the passage beyond. He recovered his club from the floor, doused the fire with the remainder of his waterskin, and headed quietly down the corridor.

Visions of laying waste to the orc commander were at the forefront of his mind.

Elec opened his eyes and his vision began to clear. He stared up at the most intense set of brown eyes he had ever witnessed.

“I’ve managed to reset your shoulder,” Garius explained. “It will still be sore for a while. You will have to carry on in some pain.”

“Wha—what happened?!” Elec asked, not quite remembering what had occurred and feeling more than a bit groggy.

“You were separated from us! The very walls came to life and blocked our path to you!” Saeunn excitedly explained. “We tried to force the walls back into place, but they would not budge. Rose followed after you,” she continued and then stepped back, extended her hand, and helped Elec to his feet slowly.

“Where is she?” Elec asked, wincing in pain. His shoulder was indeed very sore, he confirmed.

“I am here,” called Rose from behind them, as she stared at the newly placed wall that proved an obstacle still. “I am trying to decipher a way to reverse the mechanism.”

“I noticed a lever on the side of the wall as I hung there,” Elec continued, testing the amount of movement in his arm, and grimacing in discomfort. “And
Daegnar Giruth
remains hanging in midair,” he mentioned, drawing a look of confusion from the barbarian. “My sword. I want my blade back,” he clarified as he reached into his bandolier and removed a flask, uncorked it and downed the contents. He immediately downed another elixir, and another, before replacing the empty flasks within the proper compartments.

“A little something to dull the pain?” Rose asked.

“I have an idea, assuming that it sounds reasonable,” Elec said, ignoring the question. “When I pulled the lever that was disguised as the dagger’s hilt, it
armed
the trap. I know now that I accidentally stepped on a pressure plate that appeared on the ground behind me when I backed away from the mechanism, which I believe
activated
the trap.
That
was what triggered the wall movement,” he explained in detail.

Rose in particular, Elec noted, looked at him with a bit more admiration, nodding in agreement with his assessment. “Sounds about right.”

“Trust me on this. I am quite sure that I can reverse this trap…
and
I want my blade back,” he reiterated. The three of them watched as Elec stood and spoke a low-sounding incoherent phrase, activating the enchantment in a particular ring, and then promptly disappeared.

Elec was falling again.

He had teleported directly beside where
Daegnar Giruth
still
hung frozen in midair. He quickly managed to grab it by the hilt, holding on with both hands, only dropping a very short distance this time. His shoulder still ached, but it was certainly manageable, especially with the particular combination of elixirs coursing through his veins.

From this vantage point, he confirmed that there was a lever, and he confirmed that he had seen the spot correctly. It was an apparatus he’d happened to spot as he hung there with Rose in his arm before he had passed out.

He swung from the sword and launched himself, speaking the ancient elven word to release the sword from where it hung as he did. He landed softly upon the ledge and approached the lever protruding from the wall, sword in hand now. It seemed to Elec as an odd place to put a control panel. He stared closely at the wall, and then recognized something. It
wasn’t
in an odd position after all, he realized as he sheathed his magical blade.

Upon closer inspection, he could see that there were hand-holds in the wall where the average climber could actually make it back and forth to the switch. The impressions in the stone were not easily spotted and had been covered with dust and overgrown with vegetation, as clearly no one had used them for quite some time, Elec gathered.

“Ancient Ancestors,” Elec muttered under his breath, appreciating the design of it all. He admired the intricacy of the design and the effort taken to implement it. “Of course there had to be a way up and down!”

He reached over and pulled the lever, which held firm and did not move. He sat and hung there on the rod for a moment, disbelieving his bad luck, and then sifted through the bandolier that was strapped across his chest.

“This ought to do it,” he told himself after finding the right oil which he poured on the lever’s mechanism. He waited a few moments as it seeped deeply into the cracks and crevices.