by Greg Ricker
Nysin could not believe what he was seeing, and had no idea what to expect next, from the most frightening creature he had ever laid eyes on.
The shadow drifted next to the dead drow, then paused, before slowly melting into the corpse, and the two became one. Awkwardly, the drow began to move. Bones cracked, and dust fell, as it sat up as straight as it could in the chair, and looked at Nysin. The bright yellow eyes of the shadow now belonged to the dark Elf, and the drow now possessed a life fOrce. Even his decaying chest bones began to expand and contract, as if he breathed the foul air. It seemed to take great effort. It appeared even more difficult for him, as he used both hands on the table to help press himself up to a crooked stance.
Nearly a minute went by, before the Drow, trying tediously to balance himself, began to walk on wobbling legs toward the General. His knees buckled with every step, and he moaned and groaned, as if each of those steps caused him tremendous pain. All the while, his yellow eyes never left the Orc. The drow continued the painful journey, until he was standing only half an arm's length from Nysin, who again, just failed an attempt to free his sword.
"An Orc." The drow's voice was old and weak, like a dying man. Still, the disappointment in his tone was obvious. Even with more than half the flesh rotted away from his face, he appeared as if ready to spit on Nysin. "How is it, that such a vacuous beast, can accomplish what no Elf, Dwarf, or human, ever could?"
Nysin did not dare to speak.
The thought then occurred to him, could he if he tried?
"No one has set foot in my kingdom since those who destroyed it, and left it as you saw it." Said the drow.
The General silently stared into the drow's glowing eyes.
"What brings you to Dragdath, Orc?" Asked the drow.
"My Dy'Shan Lord sent me here on a mission." Nysin's eyes bulged. He had not intended to say a word. Something grabbed a hold of his tongue, and the truth came pouring out against his will. Again, it had to be magic controlling him.
He hated that feeling.
He wanted nothing more than to be free of its hold. Free to draw his sword, and cut the foul creature in half. The drow's decaying structure, would never withstand a blow from the General.
"What would that mission be?" The dark Elf asked.
Nysin was determined to remain silent.
"To find the Ambersham." The General replied suddenly. He felt the magic controlling his lips, as it pulled the answer out of his mouth. Had he any saliva at all, he would have spat on the floor when the aftertaste hit his tongue. It was either a residue left from the magic, or it was something the drow was doing to make Nysin more willing to speak on his own.
That would never happen.
Whatever methods were used, every word from Nysin, would have to be fOrced.
"Yes." The drow seemed to smile, with many of his rotten teeth missing, along with a large portion of his lips. "I did not think such a priceless item, would be forgotten."
The dark Elf lifted his right hand, and displayed the ring on meatless middle finger. It was large, and gold, with the ancient Ayarlyn symbol of shield, bow, and quiver in its center.
It matched the picture Nysin had seen in Sawl's book.
It was the Ambersham! The prize he sought! The reward he deserved!
He, again, failed to free his sword.
"I am Blazekor." Said the drow, but by that time, it did not surprise Nysin. "I have waited here for thousands of years, hoping that one of my people would return home alive. My body died, but my spirit survives, due to the power of the Ambersham."
Blazekor suddenly cringed in pain, and seemed to almost vomit, but there was nothing in the corpse's belly to spill. It had been empty for centuries.
Nysin's eyes never left the ring.
"When I became too weak to leave the mountain for food," Blazekor continued, "I starved to death. The power of the ring allowed me to leave my body, and live on. It will not let me die."
He sounded disappointed.
"However," Blazekor met eyes with Nysin again, and the General did not like what he saw in the drow's, "if someone else were to wear the ring, I could move on from this world. Free myself of this prison. Let go of this life of pain, and the coldness of its shadows."
Blazekor turned from Nysin, then, and leaned on his table. "I can do nothing that the flesh can do, for my flesh can no longer serve me. I can not wear the ring in my spirit form, though I can still control it. The worse of the matter, is that I am pulled back by the ring's power when I try to leave the mountain. It only allows me so much distance."
Nysin knew well how hard the ring's pull was to resist.
It held him, still.
Blazekor was silent for a moment. He looked hard at the Ambersham.
"Tell me of your Dy'Shan Lord, Orc." He insisted.
Nysin did not wish to, but he spilled out everything he knew about Sawl, from early childhood, to now. He told of the Orc's powers, their victory over Bowenn, and of their union with the Gnolls. He even admitted to hating Sawl, and to being jealous of him. He let it slip that he wanted him dead, once Lynnwood was won, placing himself on the Orc throne.
It was odd, to see the horrible creature laugh. It was a mad cackle that filled the room. The drow Dy'Shan Lord understood well, what the General was feeling. He had faced a dozen assassination attempts himself, planned out by his own men.
Not much had changed in eight thousand years.
Except that Sawl had obtained more victory than he, and without the power of the Ambersham.
He remembered Ayarlyn burning. The memory was all he had, but it was enough. He also held the memory of the Elves' retaliation, and how they had stolen that victory back. Would it be the same for the Orcs? The humans of Bowenn were allies of the Elves, and Dwarves, of Lynnwood, and they were surely on their way to the Orc kingdom in the Blasky Mountains.
The union with the Gnolls was interesting. Perhaps that union, was what the beasts needed to claim their long sought after conquest. Even the Elves, who were intelligent and magical beings, did not do their fighting alone.
Then there was the taming of the Dragynn. A very smart means of transportation.
These were substantial accomplishments for the Orcs. Blazekor, himself, felt a bit jealous of Sawl, of his power and strength, but he was not fOrced to admit it out loud.
Very interesting, indeed, that this Orc could be the General of the army that destroys the kingdoms of Lynnwood, once and for all.
"Let me tell you of the Ambersham." Blazekor started, and Nysin was all ears. "The Elves created it thousands of years ago, to protect their kings from harm. It is a spell turner. A spell cast on the wearer, would land on the weaver of the spell, himself."
Nysin knew this already, but he continued to listen.
What choice did he have?
"I planned to use it as a defense, should the Elves attack Dragdath." Said Blazekor. He paused then, and returned to meet eyes with Nysin. "The ring did not work that way. Dy'Shan distorted its power. It did not turn their magic back on them. It absorbed it!"
Nysin was staring intently at the ring, then. It absorbed magic? Sawl's book said nothing of that.
"I could use and control every spell they used on me." Blazekor became excited, remembering the strength he had felt that day. "I killed them with the magic they tried to kill me with. Only, I could control it, wield it as my own. I was all-powerful. Until they learned what was happening. They stopped using their spells, and relied on their great numbers, and magical weapons, instead. Then, when defeat was eminent, I brought the ring here, and kept it from being found. The spells it absorbed, still lie within."
Silence followed, with Nysin wandering what to expect from this terrifying encounter.
Suddenly, Blazekor smiled again. "I also wish to join this union."
Nysin's eyes darted from the Ambersham, to Blazekor's.
"I will give you the Ambersham." Said the black Elf, and Nysin almost smiled, himself. "I will continue to f
ight, even after my death!"
Blazekor suddenly grabbed the General's sword, and as he pulled it free of its scabbard, Nysin felt death coming.
The drow inspected the blade, and knew it to be the work of his own kind.
He missed them.
"You have proven yourself to be a great soldier and leader." Said Blazekor. "I can make you more than that. Much more."
Nysin was horrified, but listening.
"I can give you power and strength that no Orc has ever possessed." The drow continued. "Not even, Sawl."
Growling under his breath, Nysin hungered for such a gift. It was everything he sought for in life. Without a word, he could see it in the drow Dy'Shan Lord's eyes, that he had already accepted his offer.
When he received his gift, however, he did not expect what Blazekor gave him.
"General!" An Orc soldier shouted, and the others ran to his side from out of the trees. The sun had been shining through the holes in the apexes of the cavern for the past hour, but the soldiers had been looking for Nysin, for the past three. Ever since the soldier assigned to the third watch awoke.
Nysin walked up to them, and then right passed them. He carried his necklace in his hand, so it did not shine, and headed straight for last night's camp. When the soldiers caught up to him there, they found him eating ravenously, gnawing on the bread and dried meats they still carried, stopping only to take a long draw from his water pouch. They took the opportunity to join him, but he was soon finished, on his feet, and walking. They followed him closely, as he made his way through the bushes and trees, stepping over the bodies in their path.
It was there, standing on a cave floor littered with Drow skeletons, that the Orc General halted their march.
Nysin removed his necklace, and tucked it away, then took a moment to look at the ring on the middle finger of his right hand.
The others had not noticed the Ambersham on his hand, until then.
They also noticed the snarl on Nysin's lips, as well as the glowing, yellow eyes, suddenly burning behind his own.
Ambersham held high, the General called out. ¨Ro´par su tu´mod!¨
Confused, the Orc soldiers just looked at each other, missing at first, the bones about them shaking.
The skeletons of the ancient Drow army began to rise up. They lifted their weapons from the floor as they stood. Some still donned parts of their armor, and many were holding their blades with the only arm they still had. They kept rising, unfolding from their shallow graves, with yellow eyes glowing deep within their empty sockets.
Thousands of them, throughout Dragdath Mountain.
¨Vo´gyn!¨
The soldiers again heard Nysin´s call, and before they knew what was happening, the skeletons impaled them with their weapons. The fastest Orc, at least, managed to die with his sword half drawn.
Blazekor looked upon his ancient army.
His family.
It was going to be amusing, reuniting with the Lords of Lynnwood.
THE END
of
Book One
of
The Lords Of Lynnwood
