Before Gulgarin could reach him, the man dropped seven warriors. Tendrils of fire streaked through the air, catching others that the wolf wasn’t able to bring down. Gulgarin lifted his hammer to strike and cried out for Khullan’s blessing.
He swung, but the man dodged underneath and came up with a hard shoulder, knocking Gulgarin backward three paces. The spikes on the man’s armor poked into the mithril and dented it, but they did not manage to pierce Gulgarin. The orc looked down for a moment, shocked that the mithril had nearly failed. The man lashed out with a stab. Gulgarin moved to parry, but the man retracted and then spun around backward, gathering momentum to put into a horizontal swipe at Gulgarin’s neck. The orc ducked and then struck out with a jab of his hammer. The man kicked the hammer to the side and then came down hard with an overhead chop.
A flash of burning pain ripped through Gulgarin. He stumbled back and looked down his arms at two stubs. His hammer now lay upon the ground, with both hands and forearms still clutching the weapon. The sword, made of the same hardy metal as the man’s armor, had cut clean through the chainmail sleeves and severed Gulgarin’s arms just above the elbows.
“You haven’t seen the last me of,” Gulgarin snarled.
“Then let me tell you my name, so we can dance again,” the man replied as he stepped in slowly. “I am Lepkin, and the orcs stop here.”
Gulgarin felt a rush of ripping run through the front of his neck, piercing downward through his body. He convulsed and choked as his life force left him. As his last breath escaped, he whispered Lepkin’s name over his lips and looked into the man’s eyes.
Everything went dark.
Gulgarin twitched. His eyes opened some time later. No one was near him. He sat up and looked around. The field was nearly still. His heart sank when he saw a number of humans combing through the dead, tallying the numbers. Where were the other orcs? Why had they left him there to die?
Then he looked to his hands. As he saw his arms intact, that is when he realized the truth of it. He turned around and looked down. He saw his own face, twisted in a grotesque display of pain and horror. No one had left him for dead. He was dead.
He rose to his feet and looked around again. If he was dead, then why couldn’t he see other fallen orcs?
Gulgarin froze as a black hole ripped through the air only three yards away from him. Through the hole stepped an immensely large figure. His feet were shod with burning coals. Ash fell from his feet as he walked, but the being showed no sign of pain whatsoever. His legs were massive, muscular limbs that were each as thick around as Gulgarin’s waist had been in life. A decaying left hand reached through and grabbed onto the edge of the hole. Skin hung loosely from the exposed finger bones. The arm itself was still encased in skin, but it was pale and gray. A hooded vest covered the creature’s head and torso.
The orc knew who it was. “Khefir,” he said in a whisper. “Son of Khullan and collector of the damned and accursed.”
“I have come for your soul, Gulgarin,” Khefir announced in a clicking voice. Khefir reached up with his rotting hand and pulled back his hood. Black orbs looked out from Khefir’s yellowy skull as long, coarse white hair hung around the sides. The jaw bone moved when Khefir spoke, but it hitched and clicked with each word. “Hatmul, my brother, will judge your deeds and see whether you have earned your place among our army in Hammenfein. If not, then you shall spend eternity in torment along with every other cursed soul that I collect.”
“I have fought valiantly,” Gulgarin whispered.
Khefir laughed. “You have betrayed your own kin in order to advance your position in life. You used subterfuge and magic to gain the advantage over others. You sent two chiefs to die and be sacrificed for a weapon.”
At that moment, several black tendrils came through the hole and stretched out for Gulgarin. The orc panicked. The tendrils snaked around him and started to constrict. He didn’t bother struggling. There was nothing he could do about it.
A spark of lightning streaked in from the west and shot through the black tendrils. The appendages shriveled away into nothingness and Khefir turned to face a pillar of silvery lightning that seemed to stand still as though it were a tree. Then a voice came out from the lightning.
“Khefir, I have need of this orc,” a large, very deep voice said. “I cannot let you claim him.”
Khefir waved a bony hand and dispelled the lightning. “Show me who dares interfere with my duties.”
The lightning morphed into a dragon’s head. There was no body, but the head spoke as though the whole dragon were there. “You know me, Khefir,” the voice said. “I mean you no harm.”
Khefir cackled and pointed at the image. “Tu’luh the Red,” he said. “I thought it was you. Tell me, what does a dead dragon need with a dead orc?”
The dragon snarled and hissed. “That is for me to know!” Tu’luh’s voice was so forceful that Khefir winced and shied away. “I have claim on him, and that is all you need to know.”
Khefir snapped his fingers and a trio of burning, black dogs appeared next to Gulgarin. “Icadion has not given you dominion over the dead. Your claim is void.”
Tu’luh turned around and appeared to say something, but Gulgarin didn’t hear any words.
In the next moment, a small imp appeared in the air, preceded by a ball of yellow fire.
“My master has sent me as an emissary,” the imp snarled. “There is a wizard who works with Tu’luh and Gulgarin. This wizard has the power to resurrect Gulgarin and restore his body.”
“I forbid it,” Khefir said. “The orc is mine.”
The imp smiled wickedly and flew closer to Khefir’s face. “The power is facilitated by a powerful artifact. Whether you take him now or not, the wizard can raise him again. You could burn the body and throw him into Vishnull with your father, and he would still be raised up to life.”
“If that is so, then let me take him, and prove your power,” Khefir replied.
“Take this imp,” Tu’luh cut in. “He will make a great addition to your collection.”
“You wish to trade me the soul of an imp for the soul of an orc?” Khefir asked. “Hardly an equal trade.”
A bolt of lightning struck out and froze the imp in the air. “Take the imp. Use him as a familiar, or destroy his soul, whatever you wish. Consider it not a trade, but a payment for additional time. When the orc has run his natural course, I will forfeit his soul back to you.”
Khefir reached out and touched the imp. A black spark leapt from the imp’s head to Khefir’s finger. Khefir waved the imp away and the still body floated back toward Tu’luh’s head of lightning. “Tell me what you want with the orc, or else I will destroy his soul.”
Tu’luh laughed. “You have not the power to destroy a soul such as his. Lesser demons and animals perhaps, but nothing so large as an orc. It isn’t a power you can possess unless Icadion were to grant it to you. Still, so that you may know I strike an honest bargain with you, listen to the words I will say next. This orc leads the united tribes. I am using them to cleanse this land in an effort to keep the four horsemen at bay. You would not wish for your world to be destroyed as mine was, would you?”
Khefir cackled again. “I am a god,” he said. “Whether Terramyr remains or passes away, I shall live on so long as I fulfill my duties to Icadion.”
“So there is nothing I can offer you then?” Tu’luh asked.
Khefir moved to Gulgarin and bent down to look at the orc’s soul and body. “I have already collected the other orcs,” he said. “Do you seek to raise them as well?”
“I am only asking for Gulgarin,” Tu’luh said. “He has reinforcements coming. If I resurrect him, he will be hailed as a true hero, and the orcish tribes will unify in a way that has not been known upon this land. Think of Khullan. Imagine his pride if he knew that one of the races he created had finally set up a kingdom of their own that would last indefinitely. They would even be responsible for protecting Terramyr. Perhaps Icadion
would allow the cursed races to earn their way into Volganor.” Tu’luh paused and then smiled with his crackling lightning-like face. “Maybe I could even convince him to release Khullan from his prison.”
Khefir stopped and looked back to Tu’luh.
Tu’luh smiled wider. “I have your attention now, do I not?”
“Do you jest?” Tu’luh asked. “If you betray me, I will collect your soul and feed it to the leviathan. I may not have the power to destroy souls, but I could bind even one such as you.”
“Leave me this orc, and I will fly to Icadion and ask for Khullan’s release just as soon as I have fended off the threat of the four horsemen.”
Khefir reached out and a black spark leapt out from his bony index finger to seal itself into the space between Tu’luh’s lightning eyes. “So it is agreed.” Khefir turned and walked through his portal again, but not before he grabbed the frozen imp as a prize. Then the black hole resealed.
Tu’luh turned to Gulgarin. “Wait here. Gilifan will come shortly.”
“How do you know I have reinforcements coming?” Gulgarin asked.
Tu’luh smiled. “Gilifan placed a few spells over you and your cousin before he left the caves. We have some limited visibility on the events that happen around you. Your cousin is secure back in Ten Forts, and he just received word that the tribes can send another five thousand warriors. I do not know whether the survivors from this battle have regrouped at camp, or run for Ten Forts, but I have sent a messenger to your cousin. He knows that we are going to raise your body again. You will yet lead the orcs in great battle.”
“What do you ask in return?” Gulgarin asked.
Tu’luh chuckled. “Your loyalty. Clear the Middle Kingdom of the humans. They are a troublesome lot that will destroy Terramyr. Destroy them. Take your glory as an orc king, and receive my boon in return for your service to me.”
Gulgarin nodded. “Yet when I die, I am still going back to Hammenfein. You saw Khefir, I was to be judged and found without honor.”
“You knew that when you struck your deal with the necromancer,” Tu’luh said. “But, perhaps there is a way we can preserve your soul after you have lived your natural life. Just, do not disappoint me.”
Gulgarin looked down to his body. “When will Gilifan come?” he asked.
“When the humans have finished their tally and returned to the city. Unlike myself, he cannot come without risking being seen. You only see me because you are also dead, and I choose to show myself to you.”
The orc looked to the north. “How could the humans have won?” he asked. “We should have crushed them.
“Never underestimate the power that comes from fighting for your home.”
“It isn’t their home, it’s ours.”
Tu’luh grinned and started to fade away. “Then I suggest you help the other orcs understand that. Perhaps then they will have more strength to fight. Either way, there are only a few hundred humans and dwarves remaining. Kill the dwarf king, and the dwarves will fall into chaos. Kill Master Lepkin, and many others will lose their will to fight.”
“Lepkin,” Gulgarin repeated. “I know him.” He recalled the image of the man who killed him. “He will die by my hands,” Gulgarin promised.
“Wait for Gilifan, and then make haste for Ten Forts. Your cousin will prepare the forces there to receive you. He will claim he has seen a vision granted by Khullan. When you arrive at Ten Forts, tell the orcs that Khullan sent you back.”
“They will not believe,” Gulgarin said. “How can they believe that he has any power when he is chained to the pillars of hell?”
“Just say it, and everything will fall into place.”
Then Tu’luh was gone.
*****
Tu’luh pulled his mind back into the present, ending his astral projection. Gilifan was standing near him, looking into a scrying bowl and studying the images there. When the dragon moved, the necromancer looked up from his magic and stared at Tu’luh with a confused look on his face.
“Master, why should I waste energy raising Gulgarin from the dead? He has failed his duties. I would not reward him so handsomely. Let Khefir take him.”
Tu’luh breathed out a long, slow wisp of black smoke and emitted a throaty growl. “The orcs are a fickle bunch, they always have been. They speak of honor and brag about their great deeds, yet if you slay their leader, those who follow will scatter. That is how the humans beat them and swept them from the Middle Kingdom to begin with. So it will be once they hear Gulgarin has perished. The tribes have a precarious treaty. If they believe that the last of the chiefs has been slain, they will take it as an ill omen and they will retreat from Ten Forts.”
“But then we can use the spell to subjugate them. It doesn’t matter,” Gilifan pointed out.
“It is a matter of time,” Tu’luh said. There are those that will resist the spell. Do not forget about Hamath Valley. Even with the spell, there will be pockets of rebellion that must be dealt with. If I let the orcs flee, it will take that much longer to gather them again. So go, raise Gulgarin and send him to Ten Forts. After we are done, I will go there and claim my army of orcs with which I will sweep northward. Those who have not fallen to the spell will be slaughtered, until we come to the tower in Drakei Glazei.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gilifan stepped out from the portal and entered the chamber. The hatchling in the transparent shell looked up at him with wide eyes. Gilifan took in a breath and walked toward the altar. There were several new crimson stains running over the side of the stone. The necromancer moved to the chair near the altar and turned to drop himself into the seat. He let his mind drift and closed his eyes, but the peace was not to last.
“Is it done?” Tu’luh’s voice called out from the void.
Gilifan opened his eyes but didn’t rise from his chair. “The orc lives again. His body is repaired and he is on his way to Ten Forts now. Everything has been saved.”
A throaty growl of pleasure was the only response Gilifan heard. A few moments of silence ensued and then the dragon spirit spoke again. “The hatchling is ready,” Tu’luh said. “He is not as large as a fully mature dragon, but he is large enough to survive the fusion.”
Gilifan glanced over to the dragon and studied the hatchling. It was true. In the time since he was hatched, the new dragon’s growth was accelerated by the constant sacrifices provided from Pinkt’Hu. The white, leathery skin had formed silvery scales over the top, creating formidable armor. Great horns grew out like a mane around the dragon’s head, and its fangs were exceedingly sharp and strong. Instead of the small hatchling he had seen the day he trapped it, the dragon was nearly sixty feet in length from snout to tip of the tail. It would be three or four times that at full maturity, but that would take too long. Tu’luh grew restless, and so did Gilifan for that matter.
Having the orcs beaten in the valley south of Stonebrook was an unforeseen event that begged Gilifan to hurry as much as he could. Procrastination now could tip the entire effort so that the enemy would have the upper hand.
“Very well,” Gilifan said. “I will need to prepare another sacrifice. The ritual will take hours, maybe even a day to complete. Let me gather a few things so that I am sure to keep up my strength.”
“Go, make the preparations.”
Gilifan left the chamber and found Bergarax.
The brawny man turned and regarded the wizard with a sharp eye. “More sacrifices?” he asked.
Gilifan nodded. “This will be the last one,” the necromancer said. “This is the night we have been working toward.”
Bergarax seemed to take heart at those words. A ghost of a smile crept onto his features. “How many do you need?”
“We will need to make sure there are ample in reserve. There is no way for me to know exactly how many I need, and it will not be possible for anyone to enter once I begin. So, better to have more than less.”
“So, a hundred?” Bergarax asked. “That would be double t
he last few orders.”
Gilifan shook his head. “Double that,” he said. “Make sure they are chained, unconscious, or both. I don’t care how you get them, just get them. Bring them in and place them around the altar. I will also need ten or so of your strongest men. They will help me walk the sacrifices to the altar.”
“Will you need anyone for cleanup?” Bergarax asked.
Gilifan shook his head. “This time, the corpses that remain will be used as food once the ritual is done. I will need their souls for the ritual, and the Master will need their flesh once he is reborn.”
Bergarax turned away and walked off. “Glad this is the last one,” the man grumbled to himself.
Gilifan smiled. If only the fool realized that all of the Middle Kingdom was about to be under Tu’luh’s rule. I bet he wouldn’t rejoice then.
Gilifan turned back into the chamber and went to sleep. He would need his rest.
Several hours later, after all of the sacrificial victims had been captured and hauled into the chamber, Bergarax woke Gilifan.
“It is done,” the big man said.
“Good,” Gilifan said. “I will begin.”
Bergarax pointed to a dozen large mercenaries. “They will do whatever you need them to do.”
“You aren’t staying?” Gilifan asked.
Bergarax shook his head. “I have my limits,” he said. “I think I am going to go for a walk.”
Gilifan sneered and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
As soon as Bergarax had exited the chamber, Gilifan wove a powerful ward spell over the opening. He was not about to let anyone in or out.
He pointed to the altar and the mercenaries tied down the first victim, a young woman no more than twenty with golden hair and fair, smooth skin. Gilifan pulled his amulet out and moved it to a small socket in the altar. For this ritual, he would divert most of the energy collected from harvesting the souls into the amulet. The part that remained he would use to strengthen the hatchling’s body in preparation for the fusion with Tu’luh’s spirit.
Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) Page 19
