The Dark Lord of Oklahoma

by Ethan Richards

  "A challenge, bait Elden into a fight against Gorgon Bartok. In tribal tradition, the second-in-command can challenge the leader in a fight for the mantle of the chief. That's where we have to get them to go."

  Chance nodded in his head in acknowledgment, and it caught the eye of the Son. The stockbroker realized the Son was watching him nod his head, so he began to exaggerate the motion as if to show it was an uncontrollable motion.

  "All you Ragnog slobs are always tripping on Zeta."

  "Are you saying that the Sons never mess with Zeta?"

  The Son laughed at him.

  "If you think that Elden can take Gorgon Bartok, then why doesn't he?"

  The Son stopped and stared at him, to Chance it appeared he had more to say, but held back. More information buzzed into Chance's earpiece.

  "Well, Elden is downstairs," said Chance. "Why don't we settle this now?

  CHAPTER 20: PORTE COCHERE

  Asher Cries-For-War - Ponca City, Ok

  “Alright!” screamed Asher into his radio, “let’s get these vehicles in the fight!”

  “Dwarfish engineering ain’t gonna let you down, Walking-Man!” cried Zorin into the radio.

  A convoy of three Nomad vehicles came up Monument road and towards the Marland Mansion.

  The three vehicles spaced themselves out. One was a rat-rod type of car with different types it was hard to identify just one. Another was a garbage truck with a Gaitlin gun attached to the top, and finally the last was a Volkswagen Beetle with a mini-gun attached running through the passenger side window.

  On top of the rat rod, it had what looked like a Victorian-era crossbow. The bow held an industrial size projectile that was approximately four feet in circumference. The vehicle had stopped about one hundred feet away from the gate. Witnesses from the surrounding neighborhoods stated that they heard of what they called a "hot-ride-like engine," but no one mentioned the small, faint buzz of the drone that hovered over the gate. The drone hung in the air until it recognized there were no friendly forces in the vicinity of the entrance, and then it flew off, back to the Mansion.

  As the drone flew from the gate, the steampunk-projectile flew over the gate, and landed inside the grass. Its sharp end penetrated the soft grass.

  BOOM!

  The wire detonated and the redwood wall blew into smithereens. Brown smoke filled the sky as debris went up and out. The trash turned circles as it came back down to the ground.

  Instantly, the two smaller vehicles blew through the gate.

  The Nomads were going into battle.

  The two vehicles split and each drove on either side of the Marland Mansion. They locked down the western and southern walls, while the drone flew above the outside of the north and east.

  Below the drone, gunfire peppered the sides of the mansion. Orcs in specific places raised their heads and fired back

  Finally, the garbage truck entered. The two vehicles had secured the site and now, the big boy was coming through. Its back was partially opened and two elves, secured with carabineers, had climbed inside, one on either side of the truck.

  The elves fired at the orcs that had raised their weapons to shoot back at the rat-rods. They shot the orcs with long-rifles and killed both of them instantly. Two more elves burst from the truck and both were armed with bows and arrows. The elf with the best visibility of the western wall drew back his bow and put an arrow to string. The arrow looked odd, almost cartoonish. Its shaft was thick, with padding around the center. Both the bow and the arrow had been designed by Dorin.

  The elf carried a compound bow that had dimensions large enough to shoot the cartoonish arrow.

  It released the arrow which soared before penetrating the downstairs door of the mansion.

  BOOM

  The door exploded, blowing the debris from the explosion inside.

  Eight assault-rifle-wielding Nomads emerged from the garbage truck, four on each side.

  The Nomads were taking the battle to the Sons.

  CHAPTER 21: THE INNER LOUNGE,

  PART II

  Marion - Ponca City, Ok

  Marion: I know this will sound strange, the fact that a mythological creature kidnapped me, but when I was around Elden Orkenkind I felt...

  Reporter: You felt what?

  Marion: I felt... safe.

  Reporter: Safe?

  Marion: Yes, he made it known that no harm would come to us. But whatever safety I felt in him, my stomach burned with hate at this new creature that came down to our location. His name was Gorgon Bartok. He came down to the bottom floor, that large area where we do the prom.

  Reporter: Gorgon Bartok?

  Marion: Yes, Gorgon Bartok. He wore a mask, a rough burlap bag, and I could not see his face, but I could see one yellow eye, and in that small portion I could feel the malice that came from his glare.

  Gorgon Bartok stared at Elden, pointed his finger, and screamed that Elden was trying to undermine him.

  Then, Elden told him to get out of his war room. He was directing a battle. While Gorgon was heated, Elden remained calm.

  Then Gorgon Bartok screamed at him again.

  Elden continued to speak through his microphone ignoring him. Finally, when he was finished speaking, Elden calmly looked at Bartok. "Are you talking to me?" he asked him.

  Gorgon Bartok screamed and bellowed. The monster terrified me, but in some ways, it seemed like he was throwing a hissy fit. He yelled about Elden's insubordination and said that he did not recognize Elden's challenge.

  And that's when it got interesting.

  Reporter: Interesting?

  Marion: Yes, Elden remained calmed and spoke. He said he had the right to take Command. Then he talked about some process to take command and that it was one of the oldest traditions. Then I remember it, bright as day: "Yes, Gorgon Bartok, I will challenge you for the leadership. Right here, right now."

  CHAPTER 22: EW MARLAND’S BATH, PART II

  CHANCE - PONCA CITY, OK

  "Alright, Chance, you're good," Chance could hear Byron through the headphones. "Now find her! Go get Elena, and get her out of there!"

  Byron's words became muddled, and Chance ignored them. There was something new that caught his attention. It didn't just catch his attention it felt like a hand grabbing his heart.

  He could hear a woman's voice. Her voice was soft but firm and he recognized it. It was Elena. Just a few minutes before, the box had drained him so hard he couldn't run but now, he sprinted to the sound.

  He felt his heart sink from his chest as he came close to the box. But then life jumped back into him. His eyes darted to the middle of the room. There she was in the middle of it. There was life, there was hope. Chance felt the energy come back into him.

  He had seen Elena, but his eyes had not taken in the entire picture. What he had seen was seated, and he saw her profile, but he did not identify the cello that rested against her chest. Nor did he see the three Ragnog goblins that stood in front of her. Unlike Gorgon Bartok, they stood with their faces exposed, unashamed of their presence. They smiled at her as if taking an aroma. Their excitement was not because of the beautiful elf that stood in the room. It appeared to be because of the particular energy she brought to them.

  Elena brought her fingers to the neck and the bow of the beautiful instrument. She put the weight of the bow against the strings and began to bring life into the violoncello. She did no warm-up with arpeggios or scales but immediately started into the music she had memorized.

  Memories of Ragnog and other incursions rocked Chance's hippocampus. It was his thoughts that hurt him the most. But with Elena, he learned that all memories of the past were not bad. For Freeborne, he had had to focus on keeping his mind out of his past nightmare, but now he felt he could go back into the past, with her. He wished he could go back in time and make himself stronger.

  How could he overcome the thoughts of Ragnog?

  He could overcome the thoughts of Ragnog with his feelings for her.r />
  Seeing this beautiful woman play this instrument brought him to the happy memories of the past. Of visiting Elena. Of holding her. He could recall the taste of her lips. He could recall the little things about her that no other human being knew.

  And here she was again, breathing life to him. Blood flowed through his veins. His chest began to rise and fall as the energy ran into his lungs. Chance looked at the orcs, mindless drones enslaved to Ragnog. Enthralled like he once was. He began to laugh. He knew he was free.

  Then, the atmosphere changed.

  Elena took the music and forced into a minor key. It had taken an energetic piece of music and made it sound it displeasing.

  Unnatural chords, unnatural half-steps were hit and Chance shivered as he could feel the pitches in his body. Elena didn't make mistakes. She was doing something to the music. She was doing something dark and perverted to the music.

  The goblins rolled back their heads in ecstasy, and Chance felt the way he had when had touched the box. The former stockbroker fought the urge to vomit.

  His eyes scanned the room, and it seemed the box was growing. When they were dating, Elena had introduced him to the cello. He remembered being moved by the beauty of the instrument, but now, this instrument was communicating terror. And the message was received.

  A hum came from the box. As Elena played, this hum grew stronger. As it grew stronger, Chance grew weaker. He knew it was evil that fought against him, and the darkness was in that box.

  It was the same evil that had transformed Sasha Ferrell from the misguided teenager into the agent of Ragnog. And it was that evil that had seduced him, and while he was responsible for the failure of his relationship with Elena, it was that evil that had provided the incentive. He thought of his shortcomings, and he anger overtook him; he thought of his weakness.

  But then, he turned his head and looked at Elena. She had been his inspiration. She had saved his life and brought new energy into it.

  Chance screamed! He would fight again!

  His voice was all but mute, as no one else seemed to notice, overcome by the power of the box. He shot his hand out, violently grabbing Elena's cello. The orcs woke from their trance. They were Ragnog orcs and lacked the tactical understanding to create space and fire at Chance. They may have been tactically inefficient, but that did not make them weak, and it did not make them any less dangerous.

  All three rushed at him. Chance tried to draw his weapon, but it was too late.

  They were too close. All six rough hands grabbed and tore into him. He violently shook his strong arm free and sunk of booted foot into one of the attackers. As the one orc fell back, Chance saw his opportunity.

  He brought the cello up and down. The instrument smashed into the head of the closest assailant. The assailant slammed unconscious against the floor. The wooden body of the cello exploded upon impact. Pieces of the instrument littered the room.

  Now in Chance's hands was the neck of the cello and the endpin, with long, loose strings, hanging around the destroyed bridge. Striking out like a fencer, Chance jabbed at the next orc. The orc had never trained with a cello before, so he was taken aback by Chance's deadly creativity. Before he could respond, the end penetrated his chest. The creature's mouth gaped open in shock. It looked down at the instrument. The endpin stabbed in the thoracic cavity, through the rib cage, straight into the heart, and out through the orc's back.

  The third orc ran towards Chance, screaming.

  In one fluid motion, Chance kicked the closest orc back, ripping the end-pin from its heart. Black blood flew from the goblin's mouth as its heart exploded. Clutching the wound in its chest, the orc fell to his knees. His mouth gaped as he tried to take in the fact that he had just been killed by a cello. Finally, the orc fell prostrate in death.

  It crashed into Chance and both fell to the ground. The goblin was on top, and Chance was on the ground. Adrenaline had not worn off, and he still had a death grip on the neck bridge of the cello. He landed hard on his back. The orc had him pinned on the ground and began to ground and pound, throwing heavy, but uncoordinated strikes at Chance's face.

  Asher's training took over.

  Chance instinctively kicked his legs out, wrapping them around his waist. Now controlling his attacker's weight, he began shifting to his side, and off of his back. The orc threw clawed fists down at Chance. Chance covered up his head with his hand. Blood spilled from his forearms, as he felt the nails tear his skin. He was fully committed to the fight, but even then, his mind started to wonder, he thought of Elena, then he thought of Asher's training and his insistence on the fundamentals.

  "Stick with the basics, and then you can get creative," the ghost vision of Asher ran through his head.

  He was in a good position, and now he could get creative.

  Somehow in the melee, Chance had never let go of the cello.

  "Get creative," he whispered to himself.

  He pushed with his legs, and in response, the orc pushed forward.

  Now was his opportunity.

  From the ground, Chance threw his upper body up, towards his attacker. It was an awkward motion because the goblin was still pushing against Chance's waist. As Chance shot up, he wrapped the broken strings around the orc's neck. He tightened his legs around the creature and, with a scream, pulled back. With all his remaining strength, he pushed with legs and pulled the strings tight around the assailant's throat. The orc continued to strike, a hammer fist landed on his face, but Chance caught it on his forehead. He bellowed out as he pulled back harder on the strings.

  Another wild hammer fist slammed into Chance's cheekbone and, for a second, he lost his grip. The orc struck again. Its hand landed on the crown of Chance's head. Again, it struck. Again, Chance continued to hold. The strikes grew weaker. One more time, Chance pulled on the strings.

  The orc threw up another hammer fist and this one landed on Chance’s face. The fist didn't move. Chance felt the weight of the orc fall against him. Its dead body slumped forward.

  Chance heaved and rolled to his side. He arched his back and vomited onto the floor. He panted as he tried to recover from the fight. Finally, he got onto his knees and slowly stood up.

  Elena, are you okay?" he cried out in a hoarse voice.

  "I must say I'm impressed," said a feminine voice. "That was quite a show."

  "I know that voice," said Chance, as he weakly turned his head around.

  It was Sasha Ferrell.

  Before she was Elena Doolin on her knees facing Chance with Sasha standing before her.

  With Sasha untattooed, she grabbed a wad of Elena’s hair. With the other hand, she held a Desert Eagle to the side of Elena's skull.

  "The Witch-Queen shall have her day!" cried Sasha. "The Dark Lord shall return!"

  CHAPTER 23: THE INNER LOUNGE,

  PART III

  Chance - Ponca City, Ok

  Reporter: So there was an internal struggle with the Sons?

  Marion: Yes, definitely. It was huge, and apparent. Elden was the more competent one, and Gorgon Bartok sucked as a boss.

  Reporter: And on that day it finally came to a head?

  Marion: Yes.

  Reporter: Can you tell us how this fight went down between Gorgon Bartok and Elden?

  Marion: Yes. The smaller orc bull rushed forward swinging his arms wildly. The big orc did this weird thing, I am not really sure if I saw it, it happened so fast. Elden kicked out his front kind of like a jab, right on top of the creature's knee. As soon as Gorgon Bartok began to fall forward, Elden kicked again, same foot but this time instead of straight on, it was like a round-house type kick. Gorgon Bartok sensed the strike coming, and he covered his head with his arm.

  Gorgon Bartok may have blocked the kick to his head, but it didn't prevent the kick's power. The boot jerked his upper body, and he fell to the ground. There was an audible impact when Elden's leg landed against Bartok’s arm and another sound when he hit the ground. For some reason, Elden kept his spac
e. He did not rush forward to close the gap. Ponca City is known for its grappling, and while I may not understand fighting, we do know wrestling around here, and I thought it was weird that he didn't make a wrestling move on him.

  Gorgon Bartok stumbled up and revealed a poorly kept blade from his waist and rushed forward. As the improvised knife came down, Elden threw his elbow up to block the make-shift weapon from coming down. Elden cried out as the blade sank into his shoulder. Despite the pain, his eyes never left his nemesis.