Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  In the Wylder’s thinking, Jeaf looked truly relaxed for the first time since he had escaped Chylgroyd’s Keep. Bowing his head, since he had already unfolded his arms when Dolfon approached, Vald’Aeroth said, “I’m honored My Lady to meet both you and Dolfon.”

  ****

  Targyn grew up in Bridgewater that was nestled in the rolling farmland bordering the Thrall Mountains’ lower foothills in the south. When word came that the men of Bridgewater were going to be conscripted into the army the King of Storch was gathering to deal with the threat coming out of Nyeg Warl, he left the village to keep from being scooped up with the others. Alarmed by the way his neighbors were being changed into whiteskins, he had no desire to be a part of a war effort that would protect the hideous practice. In fact, he planned to do everything in his power to stop the plague of dark magic that was sweeping over Ar Warl now that he knew options were available. Since his father perished in a drowning accident in the Teal River the past summer and his mother died trying to give birth to his stillborn sister, who was given the name Merida so it could be inscribed on his mother’s headstone, Targyn had no other relatives that could be used to force him into service. So, he ran. But he didn’t run to save himself. He ran off to find the rebels he had heard rumors about, even though doing so could bring him into direct conflict with Bridgewater’s militia and men like Jayk and Peyt who he admired so much.

  Targyn had fought well the past night. He had helped bring so many monsters down, his clothes were coated in the strange fluids that gushed out of the mutants as they were felled. In fact, he had slain a scorpion-like cretchym all by himself after it had stung Bradly, a man from Sylvaton who had become his friend in the short time he had been with the rebels. Sadly enough, Bradly wasn’t the only friend he lost. And by the way the hunchman-humans were sacrificing themselves to create breaches in the Candle Wielders wall of defense, he was sure others would soon perish.

  When two of the mutants got past the fiery-shields that burned up so many of their kind and rushed at him, Targyn was afraid he would be one of these. The only hope he had in fighting off two of the savage creatures was seen in the burnt arm one of them held close to his body, for the Neflin who flanked him were engaged in their own deadly struggle. Even if he was going to die, he was determined to give a good account of himself at the time of his passing. Being a well-fed farmhand that was no stranger to a hard day’s work, his bulk and muscles would see that this happened.

  Swinging the sword he was given like it was an ax used to chop firewood, Targyn drove the wounded cretchym back with two quick blows before he stepped into the hunchman-human who had launched itself into the air to attack the young man. Getting inside the space where the beast-man planned to swing the sword he had drawn back as flew along, Targyn hit the surprised mutant with a shoulder as big as its own. Bowling the savage creature over, Targyn swung around and hacked at the wounded cretchym that had regained its footing and was moving towards him again. With the manic way he swung his sword, Targyn over-powered the compromised beast-man and cut its good arm off at the shoulder.

  That’s when Targyn should have left well-enough alone; but his desire to exact tangible revenge for Bradly’s death was too great. By the time he finished cutting the dangerous creatures gut open with an arching sweep of his sword, the hunchman-human he had bowled over was back on its feet where it punched the tip of its jagged-edged sword into Tragyn’s exposed back. Luckily, the young man’s torso, rotating as it delivered the killing blow to the wounded cretchym, swung away from the jagged-edged sword before it did more than pierce his flesh and break the ribs it struck.

  Continuing to rotate, Targyn was soon facing the cretchym who was positioning its sword for another thrust. Turning the jagged-edge blade aside with a two-handed blow of his own weapon left the young man open to the beast-man’s claws that racked across his neck and shoulders. Reaching for his wound, blood oozed between his fingers as he fell to one knee and lifted his sword to block the jagged-edged sword that flew at his face.

  Once, twice he blocked the sword that was trying to cut him in half if it could. Crouching lower as each powerful blow fell on him, Targyn yelled as pain shot through his sword arm, pain that another sweep of the hunchman-human’s sharp claws had created.

  Feeling a light-headed sensation sweeping over him, Targyn steadied himself for the killing blow he could no longer block with his wounded arm. That’s when the beast-man yelped as a fiery-lance punched through its thick chest. Amoment later, its corpse was knocked aside by a fiery-shield before it had time to hit the ground.

  “Hold on Son,” a tall woman that looked like a goddess dressed in a white robe as far as Targyn was concerned said. “Elamor’s here to help you.”

  That’s when another woman stepped forward and escorted him away from the front line, a woman’s whose soothing words, along with the warmth that came from the candle she held and the flame that burned on top of it, brought succor to his weakening body. “I come from Eagle’s Vale in Nyeg Warl. Where might you be from?” Strangely enough the timber of the woman’s voice sounded like his own mother’s. Was this because of the magic she wielded, he wondered? Such kindness had never been reported coming from the Hag.

  “Bridgewater, My Lady.” Yes it had to be magic, he decided. “I come from Bridgewater. We’re famous for the wine we make.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’ll have to visit your home after the war. Good wine is hard to find you know,” Elamor quietly replied before she handed Targyn off to another Candle Maker.

  Targyn smiled at Elamor before he turned to look at the young woman who was taking hold of his arm. She’s pretty, he thought as his smile broadened.

  ****

  Using the pretense of having to help Dolfon position the Candle Warriors, Vlad’Aeroth followed the Master Candle Warrior as close as he could in hopes of being sucked up into the conflict, hopes that were not disappointed. Soon the Blades of Death, as his twin swords had been named by the Brie’Shen, were humming through the air as the Wylder went to work on the cretchym’s hair-covered bodies. Smiling over finally having a say in the outcome of the fight, the Fane J’Shrym Wylder wasn’t surprised when his warriors joined him. And why shouldn’t they, since the Oakenfels were standing in the midst of the conflict swinging their magical swords with a quickness that rivaled his own? Weren’t the four of them Fane J’Shrym too?

  “Burn it to ashes, Vlad’Aeroth,” Ay’Roan bellowed after he turned from a cretchym he had rammed his sword through and saw the Wylder fighting nearby. “How do you expect your warriors to obey orders if you can’t.”

  “Orders?” Vald’Aeroth didn’t slow his busy blades down as he spoke. “Who gave me orders? You?”

  “Well now that you’re here, just shut up and fight.”

  “I could say the same to you.”

  “You don’t have to. What I said was aimed at both of us. By the way, I can’t say I’m unhappy that you’ve joined us.”

  Ay’Roan said what he did after considering the loses they were already suffering; and the Hag were yet to get involved. When another swarm of hunchman-human’s broke out of the forest east of where the first had come from, Ay’roan shouted, “Burn it to ashes,” again and regripped his sword knowing it would be a very long time before he could resheathe it.

  The Hag had been moving at a deliberately slow pace to allow the hunchman-human cretchym the time they needed to depelete the rebel’s energies and numbers. They picked up their pace once they caught sight of the beast-men that were crossing the ground separating them from the rebels at a speed that was so fast they had to be in an all-out sprint.

  “Brothers,” Jaryl shouted. “It’s time to prove your mettle. The wizards are coming, and they have more hounds with them.”

  “Those aren’t Hag hounds,” Ilya’Gar shouted from where he fought standing beside Travyn who was covering Lamarik’s left flank as she fought with a savagery that surpassed the mutants’ own. “The Broyn’Dar are coming a
nd that fire-blasted Arga’Dyne is leading them.” Ilya’Gar smiled a toothey smile as he watched his friend run.

  “That’s not Arga’Dyne,” Lamarik chimed in. “The old male still can’t keep up with his mate.”

  “Ayyyy!” Ilya’Gar replied in surprise. “You’re right, that’s Shala’Dyne out front,” Ilya’Gar added before he took a moment to wonder if he’ll ever find a female like her. A younger one. Preferably a Bro’Noon, though Shala’Dyne had weakened his position on the matter.

  True enough, the Broyn’Dar were coming, the blue and red colors painted on their muzzle-like mouths proved this. And at the rate they were coming, they’d reach the mutant beast-men before the Hag could intervene.

  The sky began to blacken behind the Hag as they picked up speed, looking like its mood was darkening along with the foul wizards’ as the fringes of their robes barely brushed against the ground they were passing over. But it wasn’t the skies mood that had gone sour, it was the Sorcerer’s. Ever keeping his eye on the Hammer Bearer and the Fane J’Shrym, the Nameless Evil wasn’t about to let the mutant beast-men fail to complete their work; so, the dreadful thing drew another arrow out of his quiver and fired it. This time that arrow was comprised of all the winged cretchym he had at his disposal. All of them.

  Every weird winged-thing he had made- hidden in thousands of cracks, holes, and caves found in the Thrall Mountains- had been summoned to feast on the flesh of men, elves, giants, and hunchmen alike; for he was convinced that the combined forces of the Hag, cretchym, and the masses it had cast the Spell of the White Hand over would be sufficient to subdue the Hammer Bearer and his foul Fane J’Shrym kin. Once that was done, he could subdue the rest of Nyeg Warl’s armies at his leasure without having to totally empty his armory filled with dark magic. And if the rebels proved to be more of a problem than the fiend expected, the Evil One would flex his might and force the Prophetess to do his will.

  ****

  The warriors from Trynt, Storch, Belem, and Port Crown looked up from the positions they had taken along the road that ran parallel to the Voyd River at the darkening sky they knew was filling up with winged-cretchym. Not much happier about the sight that increased their chances of surviving the battle that was being fought than the Nyeg Warlers were, Ar Warl’s warriors took the seething cloud of winged-demons to be proof that their lot in life was destined to be bad no matter what happened. Only the degree of bad would be determined by the war’s winner. Still, who could argue with surviving a war that so many wouldn’t. Small blessings, after all, was all one could expect living in Ar Warl. So, with grim expressions showing on their faces, they watched their cretchym-benefactors wing their way through the sky. With the seemingly incalculable number of cretchym that filled the swift cloud arresting the Ar Warler’s attention, few of them saw the first of the Nyeg Warlers that emerged from the Cloak of Invisibility hiding the longboats that carried them, Nyeg Warlers that hailed from Eagle’s Vale, Riverkynd, Verdant Deep, Wyneskynd, the Tayn’waeh villages, Cassiakynd, and Thundyrkynd.

  Nyeg Warl’s strategy was devised at the same time the Bjork and Candle Warriors came up with a way to have the Wisdor Stones and Candle Makers’ candles’ magic work together. After hearing the details of the plans, Ballastyn approved its implementation using the heavily armored infantry to take ground that Nyeg Warl’s southern armies could use to exit the river after they made their crossing. Not wanting to strip the Wisdor Stones off the longboats that depended on the Cloak of Invisibility to give them the edge they would need to fight Laviathon and his crocodon brood once they inevitably arrived, the Bjork who disembarked to join the fight carried enough magical stones with them to hide a small vanguard of Candle Warriors who stuck the Ar Warl line at its center before the its flanks knew what happened.

  With the fiery shields that suddenly appeared in front of the warriors who were facing the river as the Field of Invisibilty included them within its parameters, the Ar Warlers were quickly dispatched by the Candle Warriors fiery lances or the Bjork’s indomitable hammers. Seeing their comrades in front of them disappear, and hearing the shouting and screaming that followed, the remaining Ar Warlers slowly retreated not knowing what they were facing. After more of them disappeared, the retreat took on a more deliberate nature. When they finally saw Nyeg Warl’s warriors appearing out of thin air a moment before they landed on the riverbank, they were too far away to cross swords with the invaders before they moved forward to make room for others to follow.

  By the time the Ar Warlers began to grasp the situation and seek a way around the the invisible killing field that had been erected in front of them, hundreds of Nyeg Warlers had disembarked from the invisible longboats that had brought them there. These hundreds then moved forward to erect a wall made of muscle and steel around the place in the Voyd River where the warriors poured out onto the shore. Soon hundreds, turned to thousands.

  Lifting their shields to join the Bjork shieldwall that took on the look of a vast turtle shell, the Nyeg Warlers intercepted the arrows that rained down on them while a return shower of arrows appeared out of nowhere and fell on Ar Warl’s archers. In time, elven thred arrows flew over the river and joined the return shower that came out of the Fields of Invisiblity surrounding the longboats once Forest Deep’s host reached the Voyd River’s opposite shore, arrows that had far greater range than those humans shot, those that added dazzling color to the deadly rain that fell on the Ar Warlers heads.

  Before long, the elves where seen leaping into the river. But before they were halfway to the water they simply vanished, only to reappear after a period of time had passed to finish the leap they had taken by landing on the eastern shore. Once there, they quickly added their shields to the continually expanding turtle shell-shaped shieldwall.

  As expected, aid finally arrived to help the Ar Warlers arrest what they considered to be an expanding patch of mold that was securing a place for itself in the middle of their line.

  Laviathon had bided his time waiting for the Bjork to sail their longboats into the Voyd River in an act of misguided heroism. A tributary of the Malamor River, the Voyd River was neither as wide nor as deep as the waterway that nearly ran the width of Ar Warl’s vast expanse. This made it a place where the seafarer’s longboats could be bottled up until they were destroyed one at a time. The narrowness of river’s channel nullified much of the advantage the Magic of Invisibility gave the Bjork. On the other hand, it also limited the space the crocodon could use to attack the longboats, making them nearly as vulnerable as the Bjork.

  But Laviathon was alright with this. It was time his blood-feud with the Bjork was brought to an end. Suffering loses to see the seafarers were done away with was perfectly acceptable. And what better place to settle the issue than in the river that wrapped around the Hall of Voyd as it descended out of the Thrall Mountains’ heights, a citadel that housed the School of the Hag and served as a roost for the massive swarm of winged-cretchym the dark wizards living there had a hand in creating. Here the crocodon would not lack lethal resources, the greatest of these being Ab’Don himself, the Sorcerer who gave Laviathon the ability to speak and to spew fire on his enemies, along with an intellect that was the equal to any the Hag had.

  The pillars of fire that shot across the river’s distant surface and the frothing mayhem that followed let the Ar Warler’s know their scaly ally and his swarming brood were coming.

  “There they are,” Laviathon’s laughter rumbled out of his throat when smoke followed a discharge of flame marking the place where a longboat was now on burning.

  With all the fire Lavaithan spewed, the longboats’ sails took the brunt of the sea serpent’s fury. Hidden within a Cloak of Invisibility, the burning canvas’ smoke was all that could be seen as it rose above the magic’s upper reaches, providing a marker the crocodon could use to find their prey.

  With the fire repellent crocodon skins draped over the vessels, Laviathon’s incendiaries struggled to gain purchase of the Bjork long
boats they washed over. Despite this, crocodon muscles and fangs made up for the flames’ ineffectiveness. In time, swimming to a place directly below the rising smoke, Laviathon’s hungry children moved upward until they entered the Fields of Invisibility surrounding the boats. Whereupon, they attacked the longboats’ keels and summarily rent the wood with their dagger-like teeth, opening up jagged holes that let the river water in. Longboats were scuttled. The seafarer’s who struggled to escape drowning were crushed by the crocodon jaws that closed on them if they couldn’t reach the shore in time.

  With the sky darkening beneath the massive swarm of cretchym that flew out of the Thrall Mountains’ heights, Laviathon was emboldened to spring the trap he set for the Bjork, knowing the winged-demons would help him do his work. As expected, a tendril of fast flying cretchym was sent down stream with boulders and leafy branches torn from the thorn bushes that grew near the Hall of Voyd held in their mutant arms. The boulders were dropped on the places where smoke rose above the Wisdor Stones’ magic to both speed up the destruction of the longboat that had to be below and to kill the Bjork that scrambled across the longboats’ unsteady decks.

  Other boulders were dropped wherever the fluttering branches disappeared after they entered a Field of Invisibility once they were cast forth to do this very thing. Cretchym followed the boulders once enough of them were dropped in a given location, and disappeared inside the Wisdor Stone’s magical influence where they grabbed hold of the Bjork and lifted them into the air before dropping them in the river where the hungry crocodon waited or on top of Nyeg Warl’s expanding shieldwall.

  More and more smoke appeared above the river’s surface as Laviathon dispensed his super-heated flames with maniacal fury, a surface frothing with crocodon and the Bjork that were trying to escape their snapping jaws.

  The cretchym continued their assault. Elven sparkling thred arrows reached up into the sky and struck the winged-mutants. Ar Warl’s army attacked the expanding shieldwall with renewed fury. The shieldwall retracted but didn’t buckle. Then it parted letting the company of Cragmar Giants that had just landed on the riverbank pass through them. One hundred heavily armored behemoths were soon breaking the Ar Warl ranks apart.