Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  A company of Hag was assembling on the grounds where the massive vats sat, twelve in all. With their black candles lit, the dark wizards uttered spells that sent the paraffin talismans twirling about until they took on the shape of fiery shields the Hag used for protection as they advanced on the Broyn'Dar raiders gathered on the slope above them. Eight of the wizards manned the center of the line. Four others came at the raiders from the sides at an angle that would cut off the avenues of retreat. Two to the left and two to the right.

  Not wanting to seek refuge in the building the prisoners had been held in, for the growing fire had turned the other structure into a death trap, the Broyn'Dar got ready to charge two of the Hag that were pinching in on them from the side where the sun, though hidden behind the nearby forest, was rising.

  Lacking supernatural resources of their own, the Broyn'Dar would be annihilated by the deadly magic the Hag wielded if they stayed where they were. So, Arga'Dyne ordered those under his command to rush the Hag that were angling in from the right, expecting an advantage in numbers to overwhelm the wizards before too many Broyn'Dar were killed and before the cretchym hordes, now flooding out of the northern part of the encampment where they had gone to fight an enemy who wasn’t there, could join the fight.

  It was time to run. If they delayed doing so, they would be drowned beneath the wave of hunchman-humans that were being directed their way. The appearance of Malamor warriors, who had taken control of the undisciplined cretchym and brought order into the midst of the chaos Ben'Syne's diversion had created, made this crystal clear.

  With Arga'Dyne's lips lifting to reveal his impressive fangs as he got ready to give his command, the sound of hoof beats joined the din the advancing cretchym were making. At the same time, the Hag the Boyn'Dar were getting ready to rush unexpectedly turned and lifted their fiery shields to catch the long, flaming lances that were thrust at them by the Neflin and Fane J'Shrym Candle Wielders who rode up alongside the Brown Wizard.

  Driven back by the spears and the horsemen who wielded them, the two Hag retreated to the larger group of wizards that kept advancing on their foe. Once things were rearranged, twelve Hag were facing five Candle Wielders on the improvised battlefield. Bacchanor's command had its hands full. When more dark wizards arrived, the Candle Wielders would be clearly out-matched.

  With fiery spears in hand, the Candle Wielders dismounted and took up positions on either side of the man who was leading them. The Fane J’Shrym and Neflin horsemen who had arrived with Poroth and Travyn, took the riderless horses' reins in hand, keeping the animals close by for the moment those wielding the white candles' magic would need them to flee from the heaving throng that hurried to join the black-robed wizards. Five against twelve Hag that were already on the field of battle, Bacchanor's command had its hands full. If more dark wizards were to arrive, so much the worse.

  Standing at the middle of the Candle Wielders, the Brown Wizard stretched out the palms of his hand like he was pushing against the landslide of cretchym that rushed toward him.

  "Bala," Bacchanor shouted as he kept his hands aimed at the swelling throng before him, "take to the air and see what there is to see."

  The diminuitive, green-colored cretchym lept off Dogs back where she had been seated as the huge beast ran beside the Fane J'Shrym and Neflin horseman when they rode into battle. Wings a blur, Bala sped out over the encampment as she undertook her reconnaissance mission.

  The horses that Poroth and the other Fane J'Shrym rode, stamped about as the smell of smoke from the nearby fire filled their flared nostrils. Wild-eyed, the powerful animals refused to bolt, even though the magic being summoned infected the air with an unwarly sensation. Trained as they were, the courageous beasts wouldn't betray their masters' confidence.

  Lamarik, A'Kadar, and the Neflin followed Travyn's lead as he rode back and forth behind the brace of fiery spears the Candle Wielders were transforming into flaming shields that would function as the Broyn’Dar’s rear guard.

  When the shields were fully formed, Bacchanor, waving his hands about in a circular motion he might use to rub down a sweat-soaked steed, took control of the shields and reshaped them into a single unbroken wall of incandescent power that moved along as the company of hunchmen, elves, and humans began to retreat.

  Passing alongside the building where they were held captive, Shala’Dyne and the other prisoners drew on their depleted resources and moved off with those who came to free them.

  Sensing the energy his mate and others were exerting to keep pace with the departing raiding party, Arga’Dyne’s rough voice shouted out encouragement that other Broyn’Dar warriors soon echoed as they made a concerted bid to escape.

  Not wanting to lose those who had the gall to trespass on the encampment they took pride in building, the Hag reshaped their shields into fiery fists they sent flying into the wall of magic Bacchanor was controlling. With the black-robed wizards quickly following the brilliant fists mercilessly pummeling Bacchanor's handiwork, looking like their feet never touched the ground as they floated along, the Hag looked like they were being carried along by a wave of enraged cretchym so huge it would surely drown the raiders it meant to break upon.

  The smoke pouring out of the slaughterhouse was soon replaced by flames that pushed the roiling cloud forward. Ten heartbeats before the rampaging fire totally engulfed the doorway to the doomed building, a massive triangularly-shaped head, affixed to a huge seprentine body, shot out of the conflagration that surrounded it. With its cavernous mouth opened as wide as possible, the giant snake struck the nearest horse and the Fane J'Shrym that rode it. Sinking its fangs into the powerful mare's flanks, the snake held the screaming horse in place as it wrapped its heavy coils around the animal and squeezed the life out of it so quickly that the startled raiders had a hard time comprehending what had happened. The sounds of breaking bones were heard as the the animal's screams were silenced.

  Unlike serpents usually do, the giant snake didn't take time to unlock its jaws, so it could swallow its prey. If it had done so, the horse's rider would have been spared by the reptile’s need to seek out a dark place where it could lay undisturbed as it digested its meal. But this wasn't an ordinary snake. It too was a cretchym that possessed attributes of the one who had made it. The nearly useless arms and legs that hung limply against its sides showed this. But where the flaxed human appendages were ineffective, the intellect the monster had inherited from its human progenitor was not.

  Far less intelligent than the Sorcerer who created it, the serpent, nevertheless, did not operate on instinct alone. It moved with a purpose that was in keeping with Ab'Don's nature; and the Sorcerer never put his elementary needs ahead of an opportunity to inflict pain on others.

  Not taking time to completely uncoil itself from the horse it had crushed, the snake arched its head back a moment before it flew at the dazed Fane J'Shrym who was stumbling away from the horrifying scene. Sinking its fangs into the man, the giant serpent lifted his flailing body high in the air before it threw its victim into the mass of cretchym that surged toward the raiders.

  Amber rings of light, seen in the shadow Travyn's wide-brimmed hat cast over his face, flared like a blacksmith's billows had sent a blast of wind across his unblinking eyes as he watched the drama unfold. Not waiting to fully consider his actions, Travyn reacted in the way he always did- impulsively. To him, any problem that arose was dealt with quickly. In Travyn's way of thinking, to do otherwise proved one was either slothful, a craven, or both. And he was none of these. So, he kicked his horse's flanks and charged at the slithering monster that was lowering its head after completing its first kill.

  When the snake looked around for another target, it didn't have long to search since Travyn was flying through the air on a trajectory aimed straight at the serpent's head. To accomplish this feat, he stood up on his horse’s back as it ran, using the great beast as a platform to jump from.

  Before the monster had time to open its mouth agai
n, Travyn buried his sword in the snake's snout. Then pulling himself up to his feet, he kept balance on the weaving monster as he withdrew his blade and rammed it back into the snake’s head, closer to where its brain was. With blue light dancing on the blade's razor-sharp edges, the weapon that was made on Vlad'War's Anvil held magic that confused the snake’s thinking once it penetrated the serpent’s hide.

  When Lamarik landed on the massive weaving head and buried her blade beside her mate’s, the massive reptile gathered enough wits to realize it was in mortal danger. The arrival of the massive moan cat that began tearing at the snake's exposed under-belly with claws as sharp as daggers emphasized the reptile's vulnerable state.

  Unwinding its massive body, the slithering giant tried to flee from the human and the Neflin who had skewered its head. But anchored as they were to the massive serpent with the swords they used to maintain their balance, Travyn and Lamarik could not be shaken off.

  “Travyn,” Lamarik shouted. “Let it go!”

  “I won’t let it the fire-blasted thing go! It has to die!” Rings of amber light, as bright as molten gold, looked right through the Neflin

  “You agreed to help Arga’Dyne and his kin; and an agreement is an agreement.” Lamarik didn’t flinch a lick before the fierce light burning in her mate’s eyes. “How does killing this monster do that?”

  “Ahhhhh!” Travyn groaned. “Don’t vex me woman. Let me slay this abomination.”

  “Do as you like, you… you horse’s ass. But I’m not a woman as you well know. I’m leaving.” With that said, Lamarik pulled her sword out of the snake’s head and whistled for A’Kadar to follow her as she ran down the serpent’s back and jumped on her horse. With a huff, she turned away from Travyn after taking one last look and apologized to her mount for using its rump to insult him as the powerful beast carried her away.

  “Ashes, Lamarik!” Travyn shouted as he lifted his sword above his head and struck the serpent one last time with the blade that was infused with both Vlad’War and Andara’s Magic.

  While the serpent’s head was driven into the ground like it was a huge, triangular-shaped plow, Travyn withdrew his sword and ran along the serpent’s back just like Lamarik had done. A string of profanity, birthed out of frustration, was heard as he jumped back into the saddle and followed his mate.

  Resigned to having little to no control over Lamarik, Travyn shook his head in disbelief. How had he got hooked up with someone like the fascinating Neflin who rode before him? Living alone in the Lorn Fast Swamp's dreaded environs for as long as she had and now leaping on the head of a giant snake, what else was Lamarik capable of doing? Lucky for me, I love her. If I didn't, she'd scare me witless.

  Despite his anger, Travyn had to smile. He had always found danger alluring, and Lamarik was both things- dangerous and alluring.

  But before he and Lamarik had time to get away, the Thrall Giant burst out from the flames closing in on the barn-sized building's doorway. With his exposed skin blistered by the raging fire he ran through now that the snake was leaving, the giant didn't allow the pain he endured keep him from getting revenge on those who were responsible for his condition. Lifting his metal-studded club that was blackened by the fire that licked at it as he fled from the burning slaughterhouse, the giant took aim at the pair that were racing past him.

  That's when a rock bear appeared. Two-thirds the size of the Thrall Giant, it threw its bulk against the badly-burned behemoth. Shooving the giant off balance, the beast had given Travyn and Lamarik time to escape the metal-studded club’s reach. After a flurry of swatting blows that kept the Thrall Giant reeling, the rock bear shoved the behemoth at the approaching Hag and the cretchym who swarmed behind them.

  Pleased that the giant’s massive bulk disrupted the Hag’s advance by making them use their magic to ward off a body that was larger than most horses, the hulking bruin rose to its full height and bellowed out a threat before it retreated to the cadre of Candle Wielders. There the beast morphed back into the wizard, who resumed the job of keeping the incandescent barrier that was protecting the fleeing raiders in place.

  Having followed Bacchanor after he changed into a rock bear, Dog remained behind when the Brown Wizard turned away from the Hag and the hunchman-human warriors that swarmed behind them. Smaller than a rock bear, the huge wire-haired hound was still an imposing creature. Armed with magic his father, the renowned wizard Andara, had placed in him at the time he was made, Dog's weapons included more than the teeth and the lean, well-muscled frame he was given. The Hag were quick to recognize that. The ambient magic that surrounded Dog told the black-robed wizards that they needed to keep an eye on him. Though the cretchym didn't know what they were sensing like their Hag masters did, they too viewed him as being a threat that exceeded his daunting physical appearance.

  The ability to shapeshift was one of Bacchanor's many abilities. The Magic of Friendship enabled him to take the shape of any creature that he had the opportunity to befriend. It just so happened, he had used his Healing Magic, back when he was a young man, to help a rock bear recover from the wounds it had sustained in a battle with one of its own kind. Because of this act of compassion, not only did that particular rock bear become his friend, Bacchanor found that other bruins were willing to accept his presence among them, though with less enthusiasm than the rock bear he had healed.

  Seeing the shapeshifter transform into an imposing rock bear, confronted by a company of Candle Wielders that possessed magic the Hag had forbidden all but themselves to own, and feeling the power emminating from the sword, edged with shimmering blue light, that Travyn carried, the black-robed wizards slowed their advance. Continuing to take turns assaulting the raiders' incandescent barrier with fiery fists intent on tearing it apart, the Hag paused to consider the constellation of new factors they were facing, things they didn't expect to confront. How had the Broyn'Dar got others to help them? Who were these others? Were there more like them?

  After conversing with each other by means of Mind Ciphering, two Hag dropped back to protect the vats used to grow the human-hunchman cretchym. The prospect of gathering more Broyn'Dar to use as catalysts in the birthing process seemed a vanishing prospect. The hubris needed to mount an assault on the Hag encampment was surely predicated on the beast-men making prior arrangements to ensure their kin were safe from reprisals. With Nyeg Warl's armies moving toward the Ar as the Breach Sea continued to shrink, there wouldn't be the time or opportunity to ferret the Broyn'Dar out of their hiding places and properly punish them. So, the Hag had to entertain the thought that they might have to make do with the ingredients they had already gathered if they weren't able to stop those who were trying to escape. That's why the two Hag kept guard over the vats full of cretchym brew.

  This left the remaining dark wizards to do everything in their power, short of unduly exposing themselves to the unfamiliar magic, to keep the prisoners from escaping. The plan they devised to manage the situation centered on the throng of enraged cretchym they controlled. The Hag's part in the strategy was to slow the raiders' progress down enough to give the hunchman-humans the time they needed to bury the trespassers beneath an overwhelming mass of muscle and steel.

  With the Malamor commanders directing the cretchym, the massive of snarling, shouting warriors parted and swept around the burning buildings as it got ready to break upon the offenders that dared to enter the Hag encampment. All the while the black-robe wizards continued their fiery bombardment on the iridescent barrier that contorted with each blow it absorbed.

  Having reached the back of the building the prisoners were housed in, Arga'Dyne ordered the Broyn'Dar to make a run for it before the converging waves of cretchym collapsed on top of the raiders and drowned them beneath their vast numbers.

  As the bizarre battle was playing out, for how could any fight that had so many mutants engaged in it be anything but strange, it was clear the cretchym would win the day. How could they not? Hag magic was successfully inhibiting the
raiders' movements, making the attempted exodus painstakingly slow, while the hunchman-humans sped along with no other problem to solve but covering the distance separating them from the prize they longed to embrace with the jagged-edged blades they waved about in anticipation of the moment that would happen.

  The narrowing gap, separating the waves that were angling toward each other, made Arga'Dyne's command a desperate one. They needed to muster all the speed they could to escape the approaching doom.

  Bacchanor released the magic he used to make the incandescent barrier that had protected them thus far, so the Candle Wielders could mount-up and take positions flanking the fleeing Broyn'Dar. Even though speed was now more important than strength, the fiery shields they carried took the edge off the hunchman-humans’ enthusiasm for engaging their adversaries.

  Blue and red paint, covering the Broyn'Dar's snout-like noses, scrunched up with their snarling mouths as they sped through the encampment. Growling and shouting as they went, the beast-men clashed with the remnant of cretchym that were unfortunate enough to be standing in their way. These were the few who had not been drawn away by Ben'Syne’s diversion.

  The hunchmen's attack was so brutal, they went through the cretchym like a red-hot iron thrust through dry cloth. A giant, wire-haired hound ran at the red-hot iron’s tip, tearing the throats out of any who had the temerity to confront him.

  As the abominations fell before them, the Broyn'Dar regretted not having time to cut trophies out of their foes' mouths, those they would have proudly added to the tooth-filled necklaces hanging from their thick necks, given the nature and importance of the raid they were on.

  Travyn called out to Ilya'Gar, who ran beside him using the long, loping strides that enabled the hunchmen to reach deceptively fast speeds, and to the Fane J'Shrym. "Keep the cretchym off me," he commanded as he reined his horse in and turned the proud beast around to face the burning building.