Rashnir nodded. The data was vital and would need to reach the ears of his peers as soon as possible. “Thank you, Jaker. This information might save many lives.”
Jaker returned the nod. “There are still those within the city that see through this smokescreen that the Luciferians have put up. There are many of us, but we’re still a vast minority. We will not fight you, but neither can we join you.” He paused for thought. “There is a certain sense of wrongness about the situation and we refuse to be manipulated by the Luciferian Order.” He sighed, “Grinden just isn’t what it used to be.
“I am reaffirming my promise to you; the Rangers won’t enter the battle against your group. We have the memory of our founder to honor. Rogis would never have accepted a mission such as this. His ethics would have prohibited it and so it shall remain under my leadership.”
“Thank you, Jaker.”
They shared a burgeoning moment of silence, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. Kelsa’s memory bound them together. She had been as close as a sister to Jaker and that made him and Rashnir practically brothers. Jaker had long blamed Rashnir for her murder and only recently did any of his former friends and colleagues understand the truth of the fallen warrior’s claims: that the wicked King Harmarty, Rutheir’s predecessor, had engineered her death.
That Jaker had come to warn him meant that those long-held strongholds had finally crumbled. Truth finally took root in the minds and hearts of those Rashnir had once called family.
“I must go before I am missed in the city. Spies are everywhere, and Dyule is just looking for a reason to disband the Rangers—I’ve already angered Rutheir with a refusal.”
Jaker sprinted through the woods on a path that would take him well out of the way of the Christian settlement.
Rashnir left his hunt and returned to his comrades. There were far more important things than target practice that needed doing in this hour.
***
Far below, the rushing ground reached towards the heavens, scraping against the atmosphere and dragging white, cloudy eddies through the sky. From Prock’s sky borne perch, the Mountains of Arnak broke forth from the green carpet.
As the Wyvern Rider approached from the west, he diverted from his direct approach and angled around the tallest spires of the range’s southwest reach. Rukhs had made their eyries in those heights and they were fiercely territorial as a species.
Prock kept a fairly low approach vector as the foothills loomed ahead. He skirted the edge of the giant creatures’ zone and hoped to stay out of sight of the giant raptors. A wyvern would not be an easy prey, but with enough of the birds they certainly might attempt making a tasty meal of wyvern and rider.
He crossed a valley between the mountains and the fetid stench rose to his nostrils. Prock’s wyvern croaked with a note of hungry desire. He glanced downward and spotted the rotting carcasses of whales and giant sea serpents where they had broken upon the jagged stones below—aging prey gathered from the oceans by rukh hunting parties. Only the seas contained the vast amounts of food necessary to sustain a community of behemoth hawks.
The acolyte grimaced and realized the birds were bigger than he remembered. He thought he was skirting the edge of their territory, but they had clearly grown large enough that he’d trespassed over their food bank, and that would certainly be guarded.
Just about to turn aside and attempt a new, wider berth, Prock spotted a glint of reflective light high above. He knew he had been spotted and that an ambusher would be on them in a flash; in the distance, a shrieking battle cry pierced the air. Prock spotted the shadowy swarms buzzing around the eerie spires like angry wasps at an endangered hive.
Prock spurred his beast and the reptile tucked its wings and dove to gather its speed. The wyvern might hold an edge for natural speed, but a wild rukh possessed superior size and strength. The pursuit, however, had elevation enough to angle an intercept course.
More screeches rose in the distance as the acolyte steered his mount towards a jagged system of canyons and rocky breeches. A second later, their pursuit shrieked and snapped into winged lockstep behind them as they plunged into the coulee maze at top speed.
A Rukh roared in high pitched threat, attempting to unnerve its prey. Prock glanced backwards. The massive bird was twice the size of an elephant and had a wingspan to match; it wore a jagged, beaten set of armor to protect its face and breast which looked rusty and archaic, no doubt a remnant of the barding from the old wars when the demons enlisted the Rukhs to their sides and equipped them with dread armaments.
Nearly close enough to attack, the hawk eagerly spread its massive talons. It wore a gauntleted harness over its claws; shiny steel sword-like blades extended for several extra feet beyond the naturally razor sharp nails.
Prock turned his focus back to the stony gully he navigated as the rukh struggled to match his speed. He looped and bent around the sharp curves, forcing his pursuit to pump its wings wildly. The acolyte spotted his opportunity and dove ahead into a pass where the sides narrowed.
The wyvern tilted slightly to zip through the walls, but the rukh arced skyward, not falling for the trickery. It flapped high overhead, gaining the advantage of superior elevation; it was too smart to fall for a distraction.
Remaining within the safety of the confined gorge, the wyvern maintained its altitude. As it hovered, Prock knew he had to act quickly, before the rest of the hunting party came to this rukh’s aid.
Prock reached into a saddlebag and took out a chained caisson and whispered an arming word in the demonic language, waking the box buy uttering its name. He cast a simple enchantment upon the explosive contraption while the circling predator glared down from overhead.
The operation took several seconds longer than he’d hoped. Hovering tired the reptilian mount far more than soaring on the air currents. When the acolyte finally spurred the beast skyward, it hesitated with both fatigue and fear, but it dutifully obeyed.
With a victorious squawk, the rukh streaked toward them. Prock spun the caisson on its iron chain and then released it towards the armored hawk. The bird fell for the enchantment and mistook the caisson for mounted wyvern which appeared to be flying right at it. The rukh greedily snatched it up.
The beast went for the kill and snapped its sharp beak over the caisson before it could realize the trickery. Prock shouted the word of power and the box exploded in alchemical fury. Shrapnel and actinic flame erupted from the predator’s face, ripping it open with a satisfying, echoing report.
Chunks of smoldering bird plummeted to the jagged peaks far below and broke upon them as Prock urged the tired wyvern ahead. If he could put enough distance between them, the remaining rukhs would not locate them even though he did not plan to leave the mountain range for the task.
Prock grinned through the adrenaline. There would be plenty of time to accomplish Absinthium’s will.
Chapter 9
The tolling of bells rang through the air. Luciferians filled the church, and welcomed each other. Loyal followers of the Order flocked to their temple in Grinden, first passing through the streets which were lined with tables and carts offering flasks of ‘ãbêdâh serum.
Inside the temple, little room remained to sit. Many of the seats had been cordoned off and reserved for certain parties which arrived alongside the influx of the crowd. Most of those who attended had to stand along the sides, the back, even in the hallway.
This was a special service. Both King Rutheir and Absinthium pledged to attend it. The two guests of honor were already seated upon the platform; Dyule joined them there as well. Most people found places to sit or stand during the procession. Once the crowds had quieted, but before the first mantra was recited, Zilke entered the temple. The goblin held his head high and noble; his students trailed after him.
The Luciferian led his fellow ekthro, clad as monks, to the section reserved for them. A murmur ran through the crowd. Absinthium grinned broadly as he recognized
the murmur as one of approval and agreement. The Jandish people embraced this new teaching.
Commencing the service with much pomp and ceremony, Frinnig reminded the crowds of their indebtedness to the arch-mage, for his efforts at protecting them, and he also reminded them that they could see Jandul after the service to acquire protection potions for their own weapons.
After a brief, unnecessary introduction, Absinthium took over the service.
“My people, my friends, fellow children of Lucifer, the Light Bearer,” he said, looking directly at the goblin initiates to make his point, “I bring news to you all: good tidings. I bear words that so many of you have craved.
“I have had a dream,” He said. Noticing how Frinnig’s ears perked up, the mage clarified, not wanting the temple lapdog to later come vying for more of his precious time. “It is not quite a revelation, but I do believe that it is in accord with the will of our beloved Angel of Light. Let me tell you what I dreamt.”
Absinthium stiffened and closed his eyes, acting as if he’d vividly conjured up the powerful memory. “I was sleeping fitfully when my spirit was whisked away to the throne room of the Angel of Light, our Lord Lucifer. Oh, the beautiful and glorious things that I saw,” the mage described in great detail many things that would interest his people, feeding them back their own self perceived notions of what might be present in the throne room of a deity.
“In the center of that throne room was a large gazing pool and an immense candelabrum. Lucifer took me over to the water and seized the base of the candle stand. He held it over the water and cast a powerful ceroscopy. Melted wax dripped into the water, with each drop that fell, the water’s surface revealed more and more of the ever-moving tapestry that is the life and future of this realm he created.
“I watched this moving picture and divined the future: a future where the krist-chins had spread their influence clear across this realm. They pillaged and tormented all of those faithful to our Champion. They amassed great wealth and used alliances to brainwash victims and create the very outcome that they desire. They became powerful enough to manipulate the world so that their truth became reality. Finally, this world burned, just as they claim it will.”
The speaker paused. Every eye remained fixed on him and every mouth was silent. “Many of you know what they preach. They claim that after seven years this entire realm will be destroyed in flames. That is not prophecy: it is their agenda. They want this to happen and will make it come to pass if they are not stopped.
“I wept openly before our Champion and my tears fell in the pool. ‘What can we do?’ I asked him.
“He replied to me that we should strike against them. We have given them every leniency; we have allowed them enough time in hopes that they would recant but they are all so firmly lost. They have made their own beds of destruction and we must prevent them from destroying our very reality.
“The Angel of Light told me that I should send spies to discern their plans. I promptly did this on the morning I awoke. I have discovered that their plans align with my dream. They are, even now, planning to fan their movement across the lands, leaving this place and moving on to ensnare others, hoping to corrupt new cities as they rise to power. What will we do about this?” he asked rhetorically.
“WE WILL FIGHT!” shouted a man in the back. He stood with fists defiantly, jostling his peers whom he’d barely squeezed in between.
Absinthium smiled, “Yes, we will. If you have not already done so, I urge you to join the local militia under Dyule’s charge. The Narsh Barbarians have done an excellent job in training them and preparing it to repel any attack that the krist-chins might choose to launch on our fair city.
“Let me invite your king to say a few words.”
Rutheir stood to the applause of his people. He approached the front of the platform as the floorboards creaked beneath his immense form as he walked. The massive warrior king stood next to the head of the entire Luciferian Order.
“Thank you, my friend,” Rutheir said, putting on his public face. The King of Jand put in another plug for his military scheme. Rutheir reaffirmed that his military intelligence confirmed that their mutual enemies were preparing for a departure. He briefly outlined the structure and benefits of joining the military and spoke of how they would play a key role in the fight against these would-be oppressors. They had even worked closely with their underground allies to form a battle plan that would completely annihilate this rogue cult. He chuckled darkly, “We realistically expect negligible military losses for our campaign—if any at all.”
Before wrapping up his comments, Rutheir looked at his puppet-master, Absinthium. The mage nodded his head and urged him to proceed.
Rutheir mustered all the spite within him and spewed it out upon the former ranger named Rashnir. The king spoke sharply about Rashnir’s association with the cultic group and detailed the warrior’s blemished history. “This announcement is final and my word is binding. I, King of Jand, publicly declare war on this dangerous, seditious faction.
Let there be no survivors and no memory of their existence!” he shouted with a raised, clenched fist. His shout charged the huzzahs of a crowd that already decided it wanted bloodshed.
***
The wyvern rider was pressed for time. He’d felt the stinging mental pain of his master’s supernatural call sent out through the ether of the leylines. That had been the signal for urgency. Prock knew without needing direct contact from Absinthium that the battle drew near.
The distant shrieks of the exasperated rukhs indicated they remained on edge, but had largely given up on the search. The fading squawks pinpointed their location and signaled that they had largely returned to guard the more intimate parts of their aerie.
Prock piloted his wyvern towards the location that the demon lord beh’-tsah had provided him with. The reptilian mount perched on the slope near the ancient stone figure. Every traveler in the region knew that the landmark was the petrified form of Dragon Impervious and where he’d long ago slumped—energy spent during a battle against the first Gathering.
He dismounted from his tired beast and approached the stony form which looked very little like a dragon. Prock circled around the massive boulder; dried magic reagents crunched underfoot as he scuffed the blackened marks of magic circles and disrupted any potentially latent spells that might have been successfully cast by any number of mad hedge wizards who’d tried to awaken the beast over the last few centuries.
Up close, without the odd lighting and long shadows, it looks like a generic boulder, Prock mused, and then wandered away. Probably because it is not the Dragon Impervious.
The acolyte’s heels clicked over the parched, weather-beaten shale and he located an odd ridge protruding up from the stone. Prock walked out and into the open; he sank to his knees and removed his satchel and pouch of reagents, preparing his workspace. Checking the sky for avian hunters, he pushed their far-off caterwauling far from of his mind. Spell craft required concentration and he had to trust that he’d put enough distance between he and the rukhs to safely focus on the tasks at hand.
***
Dri’bu had made all haste to the trading village of Jakhku. The elf stroked the glistening neck of his horse as it stumbled tiredly on the loose and rocky ground that was the hallmark of most soil in Lol’s lands. He knew he’d need to purchase a new animal for the return trip—he’d pushed this one so hard that any more exertion might kill the animal by exhaustion.
He deviated from the main trail and guided the animal into a dense copse of scrub brush as they drew closer to the town. Jakhku had exactly what he needed and it was the closest town where the elf felt confident he could obtain the birds he’d promised to acquire, but the place was fiercely xenophobic—especially against elves.
An hour ago he’d spotted the first crudely fashioned sign warning elves to keep clear or die. Dri’bu was a historian; he knew the reasons. Jakhku was subjected to a string of murders by
a serial killer long ago—another of the First Elves, which technically made the insane murderer a brother of Dri’bu’s.
He tethered his horse and quickly set up a workstation just beyond the visibility of the city outskirts. The elf fed his animal another handful of special herbs which would keep energized long enough for him to hatch his plan.
But Dri’bu was more than a historian. He’d been able to survive since the dawning days because of his talent and mastery of disguise. Dri’bu unrolled a blanket and emptied the contents of his travel sack onto it so the elf could put together the right mixture of prosthetics to pass for human.
His ears twitched with the distinct cries of someone in the distance. Dri’bu snatched up a cloak made of camouflaging material and clambered up a tall, dead tree which had long towered above the reeds and thorny copses where he’d set up his station.
With a thirty-foot vantage point he pulled out a telescoping eyeglass and spotted the source of distress. One of the city guards had wandered a significant distance from his post at the town gate. The eyepiece improved Dri’bu’s already impressive eyesight and he watched the balding, pudgy bully assault and rob a woman whom the elf guessed to be in her sixties. Something inside Dri’bu bristled as the man laughed after the crime was committed and the wounded woman staggered off into the distance.
Chuckling as he returned, the brute drained the contents of a liquor bottle into his mouth and tossed the bottle into the distance as he returned to his post beneath a large sign which clearly read No Elves – You were Warned, followed by a crude drawing of a noose. Dri’bu collapsed his telescope and put it away as he snatched up a flask and put away the spyglass. He quickly applied his disguise, complete with long beard and pointy hat, and mounted the horse.
A few minutes later, he approached the main gate while appearing as a trader. The guard came out to meet him, presumably to demand a bribe for entry as was often common with his sort.
The Kakos Realm Collection Page 47
