The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (6 page)

“Keep up Glurk or I’ll gut ya!” shouted a course Ulrog voice.

A grunt issued in reply.

“Lord Sulgor sent three of us on this job to insure ‘is messages get through,” continued the voice. “He reasons the Mnim won’t take all of us.”

“Buried in the Mnim or skewered by a horseman,” came the deep reply. “Either way I enter the Chaos.”

“Keep laggin’ and you’ll enter it sooner than later!” snapped the first voice.

Kael watched three bulky figures emerge from the shadows near the base of the hill. They lumbered in the direction of the Mnim. The first two kept focused on their path, the third lagged and searched the lands about them.  The last Ulrog suddenly stopped and bent low. He searched the ground.

“Tracks,” he mumbled and glanced up the hill to the cluster of boulders.

The lead pair halted and spun to face him.

“What are ya goin’ on about?” questioned the first.

Glurk edged toward the base of the hill and his hand moved over the crude wooden handle of the rusty cleaver cinched to his waist.

“Human tracks,” repeated Glurk.

Kael tensed and felt the power flow into his consciousness. A light blue shimmer surrounded his hands. Ader restrained the boy. Kael looked up to see the Seraph shaking his head.

“No,” whispered Ader. “The leader is vulnerable.”

A light green aura surrounded Ader’s hands. Glurk slowly crept up the hill. The Ulrog’s eyes shifted between the stunted grasses at his feet and the cluster of boulders. Kael’s hand moved to the blade in his belt.

THUNK!

“AAARRRRR!” roared Glurk from beyond the boulders. “If there’s ta be any guttin’ here, Crag, it’ll be your black bile spilled across these hills!”

Kael ducked his head low in the grasses and peered around the boulders. Glurk stood rubbing the back of his stony head and glared down the hill at his comrades. One of the Ulrog stood hefting a fair sized fieldstone, freshly clawed from the hills.

“Get down here and get movin’,” snarled Crag as he raised the stone. “Or I’ll give you more n’ just stones. I’ll not be cooked by Lord Woil for deliverin’ our message too late ‘cause you want to chase the phantoms of long dead Astelans.”

Glurk spun back toward the boulders and Kael quickly ducked back behind the wall of stone.

“I’m tellin’ ya!” bellowed Glurk as he raised a rocky claw to Kael’s location. “Somethin’ used those rocks for cover recently.”

Crag growled and Kael heard the unmistakable rasp of a cleaver being ripped from its iron scabbard.

“Ya got but a moment to stop playin’ tracker and fall in line Glurk, or Brutok and I end this and move on.”

Kael heard a grunt and another cleaver drawn. A moment of tense silence followed then Kael heard heavy footfalls retreat.

“Now get to the front where I can keep an eye on ya,” commanded Crag. “And pick up the pace.”

A few moments later the hillside sat in silence.

“Well, what now?” asked Ader.

Kael hesitated.

“I am going to the palace,” replied the boy. “I intend to stand before the Amethyst throne.”

Ader simply frowned and shook his head.

”I gathered as much,” mumbled the old man. “Now, or do you want to give the Shadow Men time to clear the area?”

“Now is as good a time as any,” replied Kael. “As Izgra’s armies depart there will be confusion. I’ll use it to enter the palace if I can.”

“We,” returned Ader.

Kael gave the Seraph a confused look.

“ ‘We’ will use it to enter the palace,” repeated the Seraph.

“No, I’m not asking .... “ began Kael’s protest.

“And neither am I,” snapped Ader. “I will accompany you because the road leads in that direction.”

The old man hesitated and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“It is ordained,” he whispered and turned to collect his things.

Kael remained rooted to his spot and raced through arguments to dissuade Ader. He quickly concluded the Seraph would agree with none of them. A smile broke across the old Seraph’s face.

“Besides,” laughed Ader. “I’m the only one who knows a way in that will not be guarded.”

He winked an eye, slung his pack over a shoulder and strode from the hilltop.               

Eidyn could not help but delight in their task. Certainly they courted danger. Certainly discovery meant death. However, he always enjoyed covert activity and he simply marveled at the abilities of the young woman he accompanied.

Eidyn proved himself an extremely talented scout for the Elven army, but Lilywynn put his training to shame. She slipped from spot to spot within the Derol Forest. A cloud passed over the sun and minutely changed the shadows deep within the wood. Lilywynn used the moment to her advantage. She soundlessly ducked , leapt, rolled , dashed and darted from hiding spot to hiding spot. Eidyn stood amazed. His naked eye could scarcely follow her. When he could not,  he would search the forest about him until he discovered her new location. Often she hugged a tree or lay against the mossy surface of the forest floor, nearly invisible to the casual observer.

Eidyn tried to follow in her footsteps but quickly realized he should stick to his own training. It served him in the past and would certainly get him through this dilemma. Their journey from Astel into the mountains proved easier than the Elf prince could have imagined. The Ulrog did not expect enemies moving west with them, nor did they expect anyone to be insane enough to enter lands overrun with the stone men. The pair used this to their advantage, skirting through a gap in the mountains on the high ledges while the Ulrog plodded along the floor of the passage.

The Western Derol proved more difficult. The Ulrog stood on high alert in the realm of their enemies. Trackers searched for signs of the woodsmen, fearing ambush. Lilywynn and Eidyn found their progress impeded on numerous occasions. Their patience grew thin as they backtracked and tested the Ulrog lines for a location to slip through.

Finally, they found a likely spot. Three packs camped about the bed of a forest creek. The low ranking priest in charge of the group returned from conference with his masters.

“On your feet Hackles!” barked the priest.

The stone men readily complied.

“Our forces routed the accursed knights and their woodsmen allies from their forest camp. The Astelans continue a vain struggle against our brothers in the woods, but will soon fall victim to the might of the Ulrog. We will sweep into the plains and cut them off from retreat to the horsemen.”

Mention of the Eru sent eyes shifting amongst the Hackles. Reports of Lord Greeb’s death and the massive losses suffered on the Eru plains filtered amongst the Ulrog. The priest recognized the hesitancy in his force and his broken black teeth shown in a wicked smile.

“Now is our time ya fools,” laughed the priest. “More Hackles sweep over the Mirozert from Astel and Lord Woil will join us as he brings his forces out of the Mnim. By the time the knights disengage from our brethren, they will be in a vise of our design. Then they will bother us no more.”

The Hackles roared and rose to their feet. A flash to Eidyn’s right drew his attention. Lilywynn was on the move. By the time the Elf prince turned to her position, she disappeared. A shadow twenty yards ahead darted between heavy, moss covered trunks. The Ulrog gathered what little belongings they possessed and trudged south from the bed of the creek. Lilywynn kept to the north of the waterway. Eidyn’s eyes followed her path. At times she appeared like filtered sunlight splashing on the leaves of the forest’s ground cover. Other times she resembled shadows from the forest’s canopy, thrown on the floor of the wood.

Eidyn grinned then silently plunged through the forest after her.

A thick dust cloud floated above the advancing Ulrog army. Vespewl reclined beneath the canopy of his massive wooden litter nursing his wounds. He lazed upon pillows and linens pillaged from the Keltaran palace, but the Malveel’s mood grew sour.

His Hackles lost days of pursuit during the search of the tunnel discovered beneath the mountain city. They stormed the tunnel only to find it blocked by a carefully orchestrated cave in. After a day of excavating, the tunnel cleared, but the Ulrog discovered no chamber of safety. Instead, the tunnel ran straight and true beneath the Zorim toward the rolling hills of Zodra. Pursuit proved impossible. Vespewl dare not bottle his massive force within this narrow passage. The evidence forced the Malveel lord to accept the Keltaran’s escape.

Several packs and a minor priest remained to repair the mountain city and defend it, lest by some trickery the giants returned. Vespewl and the remainder of his army exited Hrafnu’s valley through the gorge. His trackers raced ahead to pick up the trail of the Keltaran.

Now they marched through the Zodrian countryside, deeper into the territory of the Guardsmen than any pack previously ventured. This knowledge tempered Vespewl’s anger with an edge of satisfaction. He, “The Great Scourge”,  became the first of the Chosen to stab into the heart of the human domain. Vespewl would be the first of the Malveel to look upon the walls of Zodra and , if Woil could be contained with his tasks to the north, Vespewl would be the first to occupy the city where Amird came to power. No matter the accomplishments of his brethren, Amird must look favorably upon Vespewl’s feat.

A group of trackers rushed toward his location.

“My lord,” bowed the leader.

“Go on,” growled Vespewl.

“The Keltaran refugees race to the east,” continued the tracker. “But we discovered interesting signs to the south.”

“Out with it,” snapped Vespewl.

The Hackle bobbed his head in assent.

“A series of fierce battles took place along a group of hills known as ‘The Bear’s Knuckles’ ,” explained the tracker. “The Keltaran army met a contingent of Guardsmen along these hills and battle raged for nearly two days.”

“The dead?” inquired Vespewl with a leer.

“Not a significant number,” replied the tracker. “The humans hastily erected several barrows and mounds.”

“Not significant?” snarled Vespewl. “Who claimed victory? In which direction does the chase go?”

The tracker’s face betrayed no emotion.

“No chase occurred, my lord ....” he hesitated. “The forces united.”

“UNITED!!!” raged Vespewl. “Impossible! The enmity between these human tribes endures millennia. Fenrel would rather die than unite with the Zodrians.”

The tracker’s eyes locked on the ground beneath Vespewl.

“They erected a single mound on a parcel of scorched battlefield, my lord,” announced the tracker slowly. “The remnants of burnt Ramsskull banners and vestments covered the grave. We believe it to contain the body of Fenrel the Keltaran.”

Vespewl’s eyes narrowed and a hiss escaped from the depths of his chest.

“Then we are to face the combined might of the humans,” whispered the Malveel to himself. “Izgra’s plan collapses.”

Vespewl’s claw shot out and thrust the tracker aside. His head snapped toward the two dozen motionless Hackles chosen to transport him.

“Get to your stations!” roared Vespewl. “We must make ground on the Keltaran filth who escape us.”

The Ulrog jumped to their places and quickly lifted the litter. Vespewl glared at the prone tracker.

“Use half of your assets to track the newly formed human army,” demanded the beast. “I must attack them before they reach the walls of Zodra. Failure is not permissible!”

The tracker leapt to his feet, bowed and sprinted from the presence of the Malveel.

CHAPTER 5: LAMENTATIONS

“CONQUEST REQUIRES SACRIFICE,” thought Nagret the Shadow.

Woil the Lamentation taught him the concept years ago and Nagret took the lesson to heart. He was glad to have listened.

Woil demonstrated simple tactics and used them effectively for years. The Lamentation would bait the Zodrians into a skirmish by presenting Nagret and a small force of Hackles on the wrong side of the Frizgard River. This tactic drew the enemy in close to the Scythtar Mountains. They beheld the opportunity to slay a weakly supported Malveel and attacked. After the enemy fully committed, Woil ordered his own Hackles in from the tree line and inflicted heavy damage.

Nagret winced, remembering a particular incident near the small cataract known as Aquaba. Nagret questioned Woil’s orders during that particular battle. Woil ensured no question of his command in the future. The Lamentation allowed the ruse to go too far. Zodrian cavalry swarmed Nagret and nearly killed him. However, the risky maneuver proved more successful than usual. Woil took great pleasure in reporting heavy losses amongst the Zodrians.

These tactics were certainly not the stuff of genius, but they secured Woil’s place in the Malveel hierarchy. With the One-Eye gone, Woil gained control of the Scythtar and Nagret garnered more power by default. Woil chose to control the Hackles from Greeb’s stronghold in the Mnim. This also suited Nagret. It left him free to enforce his will upon the packs stationed along the Frizgard without the eye of Woil constantly upon him.

Now he stood on a small ledge of the Scythtar high above the Frizgard River. He watched as Zodrian riders cut down his Hackles. The Ulrog fell to both spear and lance as they lumbered north toward a thin tree line screening the Frizgard. The loss of so many stone men angered Nagret. A new enemy created a wrinkle to his plan.

Horsemen beneath the blue banner of a jumping fish hampered his Hackles escape and thus the effectiveness of the plan. The horsemen employed mesh nets that proved surprisingly successful against his Hackles. They heaved the nets over the retreating stone men’s rocky hides then latched the nets onto the pommels of their saddles. Their powerful steeds spun and ripped the Ulrog from their feet. Zodrian lancers trailed closely behind and rushed in to quickly dispatch the prone Hackles.

Only a few dozen Ulrog remained on their feet and moved toward the tree line. Nagret growled. Conquest required sacrifice, but too many of his servants fell.

The Malveel’s mood changed quickly as the enemy closed on his position. A glint of gold and silver indicated the sacrifice of his Hackles would reap significant reward. Centered amongst the enemy rode a pair of men in ornate battle gear. Their mounts displayed the trappings of command, smartly armored and outfitted.