by Brad Clark
“Decision?” the captain repeated.
“Captain,” Elissa said. “These are my friends Conner and Glaerion. We are in need of your help.”
The captain narrowed his eyes and looked at Elissa closely. “Go on.”
“We need you to take us to Glaerion’s homeland.”
“It’s not my homeland,” Glaerion retorted. “It is our land of exile.”
Captain Gorge looked from Glaerion to Conner, and then back to Glaerion. After a moment, he said, “The land of the Elven exile is protected by sea monsters that devour any who would come close.”
Glaerion’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “You have heard of our land?”
Captain Gorge replied, “I have been across the world many times and have seen and heard many things. Tall tales of myth and legend are told in every port of every city. The seedier the port, the crazier the tale.” He paused to smile and chuckle. “I guess some tall tales aren’t really tales.”
“Then you’ll take us?” Elissa asked.
“You are a stranger who hijacks my boat and asks me to travel to a far-off land that is protected by monsters that can swallow ships whole?”
“There are no sea monsters,” Glaerion replied with annoyance.
A sudden large splash erupted from the river. The spray of water drenched the starboard side of the ship, the side that faced the burning city of South Karmon. All eyes turned towards the river to see what struck it.
“What was that?” someone asked, but no one could answer.
Conner turned toward the captain and said, “I think it came from the city.”
“What came from the city?” Captain Gorge asked.
Glaerion pointed into the sky. “One of those.”
A moment later, a whizzing sound rushed over their heads, and a large object crashed into the river, sending up another torrent of water.
Captain Gorge didn’t wait for an explanation. He knew his ship was under attack. He didn’t know who, or what, but something was throwing large objects at his ship. He had witnessed large siege engines tossing rocks onto city walls, but he had never seen them try and attack a ship. With a voice that was on the verge of panic, he screamed for his crew to raise the sails. If one was short, a second was long; surely the third would be right on target. He would need to move in an unpredictable pattern and speed to avoid being hit.
The cool pre-dawn wind was blowing out towards the ocean. The moment the sails were up the wind filled them and the ship lurched forward, picking up speed. The rest of the crew raced to the lower deck to man the oars. When the third rock came, the crew was pulling as hard as they could.
The rock landed just behind the ship, drenching the pilot manning the tiller. If not for the raised sails, the ship would have taken the rock directly in the middle of the deck. It would not have taken long for the ship to sink to the bottom of the river.
The ship suddenly lurched to the left as the pilot tried to keep from sailing in a straight line. If a siege engine was indeed launching the rocks in the distance, they should be able to keep them from locking onto their position. The captain squinted his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness for the siege engines that were attacking him.
“I do not see them,” the captain said. “Where are they firing from?”
“Incoming,” Glaerion said. Then he shouted, “Hard right!”
The pilot pushed the tiller to the left, and the ship lurched to the right. Several heartbeats later, another rock flew overhead, missing them by thirty yards.
“They are coming from the city,” Glaerion said.
“What?” Captain Gorge exclaimed. “There is no siege engine that can toss rocks that big over a mile!”
Conner had moved over to stand between Elissa and the captain. “They are not siege engines,” he said. “They are called Stone Ogres. Large creatures that are strong enough to throw rocks from the city.”
“What? Why?” It took a moment for the words to fully register. “Stone Ogres?” he asked. “What silliness are you talking about?”
Conner pointed to the ground between the river and the city. “What do you see there?”
Captain Gorge did not understand the question, but he answered, “I see only blackness.”
“Look closer.”
The captain was about to protest when his eyes caught movement. The longer he stared, the more movement he saw. “The ground,” he said. “It moves like the waves of the ocean.”
“Those are goblins. Creatures brought by the Deceiver to wage war against us.”
Captain Gorge’s voice became soft. “There must be hundreds. Thousands. Many thousands.”
“War has come not only to Karmon but to the whole world,” Conner said. “Taran Centurions attacked the city, but it was not them that destroyed it. It was the creatures of the Deceiver that burned the city. And they will move on from here and destroy the world as we know it. That is why we must get to Glaerion’s people. They can help us fight these creatures.”
Captain Gorge looked from Conner to Elissa, and then to Glaerion. “You three? And a bunch of Elves?”
Glaerion glared back and said between clenched teeth, “You would be surprised what we can do when we’re properly motivated. The end of the world will surely motivate us to action.”
The swift river and the strong wind had pushed the ship to the mouth of the river. A grove of tall trees blocked them from seeing the city but also blocked the Stone Ogres from seeing them. No more rocks fell into the river. Everyone took a deep breath while the ship continued silently towards the open sea.
The ship suddenly lurched as they left the calm waters of the river and met the rolling waves of the Gulf of Taran. Elissa fell into Conner’s arms, and the captain saw a smile on their faces. He also noticed Glaerion watching the young couple. A flash of something crossed the Elf’s face. If the captain didn’t know better, he’d thought it was envy.
“I surely have had strange dealings these past weeks,” Captain Gorge said. To Glaerion he asked, “You really are an Elf?”
Glaerion tried to hold in his frustration and replied, “Yes, I am.”
Captain Gorge glanced back at the castle of South Karmon, which stood in darkness atop the cliffs that overlooked the Gulf of Taran. “I have never been one to turn away from an adventure.”
“Then you will take us?” Elissa asked.
“Just point the way.”
Glaerion turned and pointed almost directly south.
“You know the way without stars to guide you?” Captain Gorge asked.
“I can feel the draw of our people.”
“South it is, then,” Captain Gorge said. To his pilot, he shouted, “Thirty to port! Hold until you see land!”
***
It felt odd to continue to refer to himself as Farrus, but he had no other name to call himself. Or for his minions to call him. It was just a name, and names don’t matter. So he was Farrus.
Just like he was getting used to his new name, he was also getting used to his new body. It wore down and stopped working. He had to remind himself to sleep and to eat, otherwise strange feelings came over him, and his body would stop responding to his commands. It was a bit of an aggravation to remember to do all these things, but it was worth the aggravation. He had finally achieved his goal of getting a foothold in the realm of the Creator.
It seemed like it was just moments ago that the Creator had cast him out of their realm, sending him to an eternity of exile. Time and space meant little to him as those concepts were of the Creator’s creations, not of the gods themselves. But those moments of time were also eons where he had planned and plotted his escape from exile. That time had come, and with the help of Tarcious, the deceased Emperor of Taran, the way to the realm of Humans was opened. For the briefest of moments, he wondered where the man known as Tarcious was. He had been very useful, although his usefulness had come to a quick end. He would need many more like him in the coming days and months. His army would continue t
o grow, and he would need generals to lead his troops.
Eventually, though, as his power grew, his reliance upon Humans would diminish. Once he had attained full use of the Ark of Life, all the creatures he commanded would answer only to him. There would be no need for any Humans to help him, and then he could finally make them the slaves that they were meant to be.
He turned to one of those creatures, a beast with gray, leathery skin that stood more than twice his height and many times his girth. The Humans called it a Stone Ogre, as its skin was as tough as the stone from which it came. There had been a time when these creatures were slaves of Humans, helping them to build cities and the great walls that protected them. But now, these creatures were tearing down those cities and those walls, ripping stone and wood structures apart with ease.
The beast who stood before him had just tossed a large chunk of the wall high into the night sky towards the river that emptied into the ocean nearly a mile away. Farrus had plans for the stone, and he couldn’t have the beasts simply start tossing the stone away. A moment later, the beast picked up another chunk of broken wall and launched it into the darkness.
“Enough!” Farrus shouted. He strode up to the beast, unafraid of its strength.
The beast turned towards him, its eyes glaring down at him. There was a hidden intellect within those eyes, but Farrus would make sure that it never saw the light of day. He no longer needed to think about controlling them. He simply gave them their commands as if he were commanding his own body. In return, he could sense how they felt.
This one had seen a ship on the water and smelled Humans aboard it. Farrus looked into the darkness, but he could see nothing. The creature would not lie, but it could have been mistaken. He knew his powers, and they would have allowed him to see clearly through the night as if it were daytime, and he saw no ship.
But the creature certainly did.
An emotion fell over him. It was a feeling that surprised him, for he didn’t think he could ever feel it. The heart inside his human body responded by pounding hard, which he thought was an odd reaction. It was fear that came over him, and it made him shudder and shiver.
He pulled the Ark of Life from its small leather bag that hung from his neck and held it tightly, feeling its warm power sweep through him. For a brief moment he could see through the black night and see the outline of the ship, but then it was gone. He wasn't sure if it was the ship that was gone, or if he simply could no longer see it.
The Stone Ogre stood next to him, breathing loudly as they always did. In its hand was one more rock and it was waiting to throw it. But Farrus had told it to stop, and it did, even though it knew that he could sink the ship with one more throw.
Farrus was flustered with fear, knowing that the full power that he should have was missing. He could feel the tendrils of the Web of Magic, and he knew he could tap into it any time he needed. The body that he inhabited was a limitation on the use of that power, but he knew he should be feeling more than he was. The Ark of Life was not enough. The power that the Ark of Life brought into him was going to allow him to bring forth armies to assault this world, but it was not going to be enough. He looked down at the deep blackness of the gem and squeezed it, trying to will the answer out of it. Why couldn’t he tap into its full power?
He let out a shout that was strong enough to cause the Stone Ogre to take a step back. With a quick swipe, he yanked the small leather bag off his neck and held it before him. Images suddenly flashed through his mind, snapshots from a time long ago. They were not his memories, but the memories of the man that had last held the Ark of Life. That man had held the Ark just as he had now, but there was no leather bag that was hung around his neck. It was something more.
The fear left him, but the anger did not. At least now he knew what he needed to find.
Chapter One
Marik Brownbow missed the birds most of all. Their singing had always brought a sense of comfort and ease to the forest, but now they were silent. And they had been since the war started. Occasionally he would see one fluttering through the trees, but they remained nearly invisible, hiding from the creatures of darkness that hunted Humans in the woods. Fall was on its way out, and winter was just around the corner, which was a quiet time in the forest anyway. However, it wasn’t supposed to be this quiet.
The cold rain certainly didn’t help, either. It also didn’t help his sour mood. This was the third day in a row it rained, and it was starting to wear on him and his men. The canopy of trees kept most of the rain from getting down to them, but they were still soaked through and shivering from the cold. His mind was not in the moment, but drifting to the future when he would be in front of a warm fire, drying out. He shook his head to force himself to focus. A distracted mind would only lead to mistakes and ultimately death. There had been too much of that these days.
There was no way to know how many Karmons had died in the battle of South Karmon. First, from the attacks of the Taran Centurions, then by the inhuman creatures that came after. The flying dragons had done plenty of damage, but he hadn’t seen them since that first night. At least he knew that all of his people weren’t dead, as there were a small number of them struggling to survive back at their camp. He couldn’t think about those that didn't survive as he needed to focus on those that did.
A birdcall echoed through the trees, which caused him to be fully engaged in the moment. It was the shrill call of a sparrow, a bird that he hadn’t seen for some time. He pushed himself up from his hiding place and answered the call from another that was hidden farther into the trees. It wouldn’t be long now, as the signal indicated that their targets were approaching. He stretched his fingers and shook his hands to get the blood flowing back into them. His muscles were stiff and cold from sitting and waiting, which could be a problem in the coming minutes. He needed his body to be fully functional to use his bow with any sort of accuracy.
Movement from within the underbrush caught his attention just before he heard a sharp cry. Ignoring the cold, the wet, and the stiff muscles of his fingers, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow. He tested the tension of his bowstring first, pulling it back as far as he could. Then he slowly released tension on the string as he waited for a target. If he were at full strength, he would have been able to hold the bow fully drawn, but in this weather, there was no way he could hold for more than a few seconds. His fingers were already getting numb, and he had no way of keeping them warm.
More shouting came from the trees, which surprised him. Generally, the creatures, the goblins, as they were called, were small enough that they could march through the trees without making too much noise. If they were even remotely careful about how they walked, or where they walked, they would be virtually undetectable. However, they never shouted, and the voices he heard sounded human.
Marik lifted his bow and pulled back the string as the first of them came running into view. He exhaled and prepared to release the arrow, but the sight of the figure that ran into his line of sight surprised him. It wasn’t the gnarled form of a goblin, but it was a soldier in a dirty, red surcoat. As the soldier ran, he swung his short sword to clear the underbrush away from his path. More soldiers followed him into the clearing. Panic was clear on their faces.
For a brief moment, he thought about releasing the arrow directly into the chest of the soldier. He wore chainmail, but Marik’s longbow should easily be able to penetrate the interlocking chain shirt from this distance. The Taran soldiers had been the enemy. They were the ones who first attacked South Karmon. But they were human, and the other creatures weren’t.
While he processed these thoughts, the first of the goblins raced into the clearing. They ran with a slight hunch, their longer arms hanging down to the ground. Sometimes they’d use those arms to launch themselves forward with a great leap. With a precise aim, Marik judged the speed of the first goblin and loosed his arrow. It struck the goblin directly where a human heart would be. It dropped to the ground, its
momentum carrying it tumbling forward. The next goblin immediately behind went to jump over the first one, but it, too, was felled by an arrow. More arrows followed as goblins broke into the clearing. After the first five had been struck down, the goblins recognized the new threat and turned their focus from pursuing the Centurions to finding the bowmen hidden in the trees.
Marik fired one more arrow before drawing his sword. “To arms!” He shouted, letting the rest of his men know it was time to attack them.
Marik led the charge, his longsword flashing down at the first goblin he came across. They were quick and difficult to hit, but they were weak and easy to kill. He could have dispatched them with just a blunt sword if that was all he had. Goblins did not carry weapons. They fought with their teeth and long, pointed fingernails. They also fought with a fearless ferocity. They did not know what death meant, as they were already creatures of the underworld. With minds only for killing, they attacked to kill. And they attacked in packs. Instead of matching up one-to-one, five or more of the goblins would attack a single opponent, even if that meant leaving all the others alone.
At first, that is what happened. As Marik was the first soldier to attack the goblins, they swarmed at him, leaving the rest of his men alone. Marik only needed to fend them off while his men struck the goblins from behind. But they kept pouring into the clearing. Many more than he had expected.
As he quickly dispatched one after another, he realized that they might be outnumbered ten-to-one. That was too many. Even being weak and unskilled, their ferocity would quickly overcome Marik and his men. He quickly glanced around to order a retreat, but they were surrounded.
A scream rose up from his right. One of his men, a man who had served as a Karmon Knight for many years fell to the ground and was swarmed over by chomping and biting goblins. His screams would echo in Marik’s head for many years.
