The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series)

by Wyckoff, Brae

  “We are in your debt,” El’Korr addressed the heroes who had freed them, “and we are ready to take on this King Manasseh.”

  Xan stood and spoke to the gathered, “We believe the Tree resides at Black Rock, and is the power source for the King and his army.”

  “We did not realize the Tree was the source when we gathered years ago,” El’Korr interjected.

  “Bridazak’s father, Hills Baiulus, suspected it was, and went off alone. He has not been heard of since,” Xan continued.

  Bridazak looked down to the ground, trying to avoid their stares. His father had died trying to undertake the mission it seemed they were about to attempt.

  “The prophecy alludes to the Truth being the foundation of life. The words ‘life’ and ‘the tree’, translating from the forgotten language, are interchangeable. It is possible that the Orb of Truth will be the key in destroying the Tree.” The Elf paused so everyone could absorb this new revelation.

  “Can we see the Orb, Master Bridazak?” El’Korr asked.

  Bridazak was lost in his thoughts, recalling the dream he had endured for centuries, picturing an Ordakian family he had conjured and longed for his entire life. He heard someone call his name and peered up at the meeting attendee’s stares.

  “The Orb? Can we see it?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” he fumbled to get his hand into his pocket, but it wasn’t necessary, as the Orb appeared before them all. They stood in awe of the beauty and power that emanated from it, and the sense of peace that penetrated each of them. The flames of their fire flickered high as ever, but they seemed to dim in contrast to the bright glow of the golden sphere, as it spoke in the same booming and authoritative voice.

  “I am the Spirit of Truth. He that has ears, let him hear what I am saying. The cities of Ruauck-El have become like harlots. They once were full of my justice, but now murderers abound! Their silver and gold have become dross, their choice wine diluted with water. The rulers are now rebels, companions of thieves; they love bribes and chase after gifts. They do not defend the cause of those without fathers, and the widows in need do not come before them. I have turned my hand against them and will restore the days of old. The City of Righteousness, the Faithful City, will be redeemed with justice, and my penitent ones will rise again. The self-proclaimed mighty men will become tinder, and their work a spark; both will burn together, with no one to quench the fire.

  Behold, the day has come to fight for Truth. Strengthen your feeble hands, steady your knees that give way, and say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God, the true God, will come.” You will be my hands and feet and through you, the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. The Way of Holiness will shine once again and the redeemed will return and walk out the destiny that rightfully belonged to them. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will be no more.”

  The Orb fell silent, and El’Korr dropped to his knees, stretching out hands toward it. “I have heard the voice of God this night, and vow my allegiance.”

  It disappeared and Bridazak could feel the Orb back in his pocket. Could El’Korr be right, and this entire time he had actually held the voice of God?

  “Where is this God, El’Korr?” Bridazak broke the silence of the reverent moment.

  The Dwarf stood, “I met him, Bridazak, and that is his voice. I entered the temple at the Holy City early on my path as a cleric, and had a vision during my initiation. He came to me in the form of a Dwarf; one that I cannot describe to this day. In that vision, he told me many things and brought to my memory lost dreams. I continued to hear his voice, until the time of Separation; until the silent years fell upon us. There is no doubt, you hold the voice of God in the Orb of Truth.”

  Rondee the Wild slammed his gauntleted fist and forearm into his armored chest, “El’Korr spoke tiente beh-moshu death.” His randomness snapped everyone out of the heavy conversation. His right leg spasmed like a dog having a nightmare.

  “What did he say?” Bridazak whispered to Dulgin.

  His dwarven friend shook his head and answered, “El’Korr spoke truth, kiss of death. That Dwarf is one strange individual.”

  El’Korr smiled and then looked at everyone around him, “It is time to make our plan of attack. The Tree must be destroyed in order to bring this rebel King down. We will have the element of surprise. Our army will march to Black Rock and bust through their front door. They will not know what hit them!”

  “There is another way,” Xan broke in.

  El’Korr’s speech to bolster his leaders seemed to dissipate at the interjection from the Sheldeen Elf. “Share your thoughts with us Xandahar. What other way?”

  “The Dragon Caves. They lead underneath the castle.”

  “Impossible for our army to get inside. We will be slaughtered.”

  “No, but a small group can go, while the main force distracts the enemies above. If we can get to the Tree and destroy it, we will weaken Manasseh’s forces enough for the main force to launch their attack.”

  The proposal lingered in the air and the Dwarf leader looked at everyone for a long moment.

  “I think this might work Xandahar. Who do you have in mind for this small group?”

  “Hills Baiulus suggested that the caves would lead him to the Tree so it would be best to have Bridazak take the Orb. I cannot force anyone to go. It is only my suggestion.”

  “What say you, Bridazak?” El’Korr asked.

  “I’ll go,” he said, standing up.

  “Where Master Bridazak goes, I follow,” Abawken responded.

  “This blundering fool can’t go anywhere without me,” Dulgin came to the Ordakian’s side and brought a smile to his face.

  “I wish to accompany the Orb,” Xan added himself to the group.

  El’Korr studied each of them intently. “I am appointing Rondee to this group as well.”

  The Wild Dwarf leapt into the air where he stood, waving his arms around frantically, as though a bee was attacking him. He was saying something but no one could understand him. El’Korr grabbed his shoulders to settle him down. Words were finally discernible as he spoke with loss of breath, “We cannde separate. Chicken banshee!”

  El’Korr paused, “You speak truth, te chaver.”

  As odd as it was to wonder about the erratic tongue of Rondee, they all understood the main point; El’Korr would be joining them.

  “Who do you place in charge of the army, then?” Raina finally spoke.

  “You will lead,” El’Korr stepped closer to her and gave her a smile.

  “It will be an honor,” she bowed. Everyone seemed to approve the dwarven leader’s choice, except Xan, Bridazak noticed. The Ordakian was adept at reading people and there was definitely a disconnect between these two Sheldeen Elves, not worth bringing up to anyone, but something to make note of moving forward. “Perhaps they were once lovers,” he thought to himself.

  The dozen leaders disbanded with El’Korr’s instructions to rest and be ready at first light to start their journey. Bridazak intercepted El’Korr in private.

  “Sir, I wanted to let you know personally that I intend to rescue my friend Spilf, who is being held captive.”

  “I heard from the others that you might. Bridazak, you can’t be sure that he is still alive. Manasseh could have just planted that information to bait you and draw you out.”

  “I know, but I have to find out for sure. I’m hoping to have your support.”

  “Of course you have it, but our main goal is to destroy the Tree, and then afterward we can set a rescue in motion. Agreed?”

  Bridazak hesitated a moment, and then nodded his agreement. He knew if the opportunity presented itself, he would find his friend first, with or without anyone’s help. El’Korr strode into the darkness while Bridazak lingered by the campfire for several minutes, contemplating the future, and the words that Xan had said to him; “I tend to think of risk as faith.”

 
On the move, the army marched through the barren volcanic rock with resolve and determination. Bleak surroundings of dead terrain were ignored by the men; being locked up for hundreds of years had only strengthened this fearsome medley of troops. Their steady movement resounded like the thundering of horse’s hooves—the cacophony of different colors shimmered like a cascading rainbow as they marched, each warrior so individual in appearance but all moving as united. Lines of ten Dwarfs walked in perfect unison, and were only a day away from their goal. Their quest of battle was halted a few centuries ago, but now the leash of bondage was broken and they moved with a righteous fury.

  Over the course of their march, the wild dwarves discovered an added bonus that each member of the infantry now possessed—due to the curse they had endured, they were now immune to fire, and could summon it at will.

  On the third and final day of travel, they reached the departure point. The main army would approach the castle at sunset and then begin their assault. El’Korr’s group was ready to split off and head toward the Dragon Caves; it would take them a few hours of travel to reach the opening.

  “Raina, you are now in charge. Rondee has instructed his elite to guard you as if you were me. Let Manasseh and his men pay. Do not hold back and by the grace of God, we will meet you inside.”

  “They will feel it and you will hear our arrival.”

  El’Korr shouted to his men, “It is time!”

  “There it was again,” Bridazak thought. The message he received in his dream those many days ago are now coming to fulfillment.

  A cheer erupted, loud voices thundering in triumph, as weapons clashed against shields and boots stomped the ground. A chant slowly birthed itself amongst them, “Malehk El’Korr! Malehk El’Korr! Malehk El’Korr!” A sign of honor, the remaining Dwarves of Ruauck-El increased in volume, to announce to the world their new king.

  “You ready, young Bridazak?” El’Korr asked while the united chorus continued.

  He sighed, “Ready as I ever will be.”

  El’Korr returned his attention back to his loyal army, but Bridazak stared off into the distance of the arid, volcanic, rocky terrain, and spotted black smoke rising many miles away. The gloomy environment so different from his days of adventuring in cities, towns, and villages while he navigated marked pathways and roads.

  “What have you gotten yourself into?” he thought to himself. He pulled out the Varouche feather to remind him of Spilf. A slight smile came upon his face at the thought of rescuing his lost friend and showing him the Orb of Truth. “Spilf, I was able to open it. It is the voice of God.”

  .

  14

  The Dragon Caves

  They headed toward the rising smoke in the distance. Once they found the source of the grey soot, it was immediately identifiable as the legendary Dragon Caves.

  “We’re going in there?” Bridazak asked in a concerned tone, though he already knew the answer.

  “Were you expecting a warm inn to greet your hairy feet, ya blundering fool?”

  The cave entrance looked menacing and everyone could feel the cold chill of evil in the area. It didn’t faze the fighters in the group, compared with the uneasiness that Bridazak felt. There before them symbolized the ultimate step of faith—entering the mouth of the beast. He was glad his comrades were by his side, until he remembered Billwick’s words—he was told he would have to sacrifice all. He looked around at them and realized each of these friends he had come to love had signed on for this assignment because deep down they all believed in something bigger than themselves. He carried the Orb; they had all seen the power of the voice of God displayed. Everything seemed so surreal, thinking back to the night he received the mysterious box that cradled the then—unknown Orb, and now they steadily marched toward fulfilling an unknown destiny, where each step brought them deeper into danger. Spilf could already be dead, for all he knew, and more of them… he pushed the thought from his mind and instead said a silent prayer, “Oh, God, please help us all.” Warmth cascaded down his arms and then wrapped around his entire body, and a peace beyond understanding infiltrated his heart and mind.

  The cave entrance had the rough appearance of a dragon’s head. Small crags represented the eyes, while the open mouth displayed jagged pieces of obsidian, to reflect the teeth. Smoke slowly wafted out from inside the massive mouth. The band of heroes nestled between the lava rocks in one of the many small crevices throughout the area, waiting to see if there was any movement before heading inside. It was midday when they arrived, and sparse clouds blocked most of the sun’s warming rays.

  “There,” Abawken keenly spotted and pointed it out to the others.

  “Sneaky bastards,” responded Dulgin.

  “Dragon-kind guards. Small reptilian spawn—very well hidden. Look at the rock teeth at the entrance and you will see them move slightly,” El’Korr added.

  Bridazak spotted them next. “How do we sneak past them?”

  “Who said anything about sneaking?” Dulgin retorted.

  “We should try none the less, Master Dulgin,” Abawken responded.

  “I have an idea,” Xan grinned.

  The dark shapes of the Dragoons, as they are called, stepped out from their hidden positions sooner than Xan expected. There were six of them in all—three on each side of the entrance. Abawken, in shackles, walked next to him as they approached, with El’Korr and Dulgin to the right and left of them and Bridazak and Rondee bringing up the rear. The illusion spell was working perfectly as the Elf had designed. The dwarves and Bridazak were magically transformed to look like the dragonkin, while Xan and Abawken were shackled as their prisoners. They just needed to get close enough for the element of surprise.

  Now twenty feet away, the guards called out to them in their native tongue; a slithering hiss sound. The heroes couldn’t understand the dialect and did not respond, nor did they stop, but continued to march closer. Bridazak heard scratching noises and glanced over to Rondee. The Wild Dwarf’s hand was shaking violently across his chest, distorting the illusion. One of the Dragoons brought up his spear, quizzically watching the unannounced party arriving, slightly bending his head in bewilderment. The spell could no longer cloak Rondee’s spastic movements—the guard quickly advanced as the illusion dissipated and the Wild Dwarf’s true appearance was suddenly revealed. The remaining disguises vanished as the group sprang to action to respond, though for the rest of the dragonkin, the surprise was mostly intact.

  El’Korr’s hammer whirled through the air and hit the alert sentry, still fifteen feet away. The creature’s chest caved in at the impact, like a wicker basket at the mercy of a rock. The mighty hammer flew magically back into his ruddy hands, where he unleashed it once more—another fell as it smashed into its skull.

  Dulgin charged the one in front of him, quickly cleaving its leg off, and continued to sprint, slamming his head into the next Dragoon’s gut. It fell to its knees with a grunt and loss of breath. Dulgin’s one-limbed victim was barely able to let out a scream as Abawken’s scimitar beheaded it. Brownish-red blood spewed out of the separated head and leg.

  “Xan!” Bridazak yelled.

  Xan realized very quickly Bridazak had an arrow ready to launch, and released it just as the Elf dodged out of the way. It zipped by his head, and he watched the tip and shaft bury itself into one of the remaining creatures. Bridazak reached into his quiver when he saw Rondee hit the ground on his stomach and reach out with his hands. He aimed his next arrow in search of the attacker, but realized the Dwarf’s body stretched out three times his usual length. This small, bulky mass of a Dwarf miraculously thinned the further he stretched. Rondee grappled the Dragoon’s legs and brought him down to the ground.

  There were two remaining enemies—one with the air knocked out and the other entangled in Rondee’s grasp. Between Dulgin, El’Korr and Abawken, it didn’t take long to dispatch them. The last gurgle of life expelled from their bodies and then all was quiet.

  Rondee remained
in his thin, elongated form on the ground. El’Korr looked down at his proclaimed bodyguard, “How are you supposed to guard me like that?”

  Rondee looked up, “Ruffled feathers dankosh biesto?”

  “Come on. Let’s pick him up and bring him inside. We don’t want any flying dragons to spot us,” El’Korr commanded as he helped Rondee up.

  Having pulled the Dragoons inside, they hid them among the rocks, and began to move into the considerably cooler caves, each booted step echoing down the immense passageway. The occasional sound of steam pockets releasing pressurized vapor from deep in the darkness gave them a hint of the danger before them. Black, shiny rock lined the cave walls and path as it twisted beyond their vision.

  Ten minutes had passed when finally Rondee’s body reverted back to his normal size. The group was now ready to traverse the Dragon Caves in search of the Tree. A burst of flame was produced as El’Korr raised his war hammer up like a torch. “This fire trick is pretty handy,” he mused, beginning to descend.

  “We have five to six hours before Raina and the army reach the castle. The Tree should be directly underneath, and once it is destroyed, we will make our way to the surface and meet up with everyone to finish the battle,” El’Korr laid out the plan as he walked, “and,” he emphasized, “we will be rescuing Spilf.” That brought a smile to Bridazak’s face, but it was quickly wiped away when they all heard a large roar echoing down the fifty-foot-wide cave. There was no telling how close it was.