Chapter Twenty-seven
There was great turmoil on the ground below her window. She could hear the commotion all around her, from within the fortress and from without. Massive clouds of billowing black smoke rose from the deep tunnel domes into the air, darkening it and making the early morning seem like dusk. The underground air vents were spewing out all manner of pollution, for underneath them the engines of war were working at a mind blurring speed. The very stones of Sedahar vibrated incessantly, pulsing with power as if alive.
Peering out of the small window, Trialla was able to see row upon row of the Dark Lord’s minions gathering in the fields beneath her tower room. Something serious was happening and she wanted to know what. She stuck her crooked nose through the slats covering the single opening in the side of the wall, and then she peered down to the left as far as she was able to see. Everywhere her vision could reach she saw the troops assembling. There were thousands of Orcs; great, hairless animals with black, beady eyes and dark scaly skin, all fronted by fat bellies that made them appear as if they were leaning forward as they walked. Marching to the beat of a heavy drum, shaking the ground with each step, they gathered behind a group of at least twenty, one-eyed giants the height of each being four times that of the Orcs. The monstrous creatures carried clubs tipped with metal spikes, and giant war hammers hung from belts that looked like raw animal entrails. Craning her neck to look to the right, she was astonished at how far the hordes of fighters stretched. The grounds surrounding Sedahar were teeming with activity in every direction. The ground looked like a seething mass of black insects, swarming purposefully toward their queen.
Trialla screeched with glee and she jumped up and down with excitement at the assembly below. “Let me out of here! Let me go with you! I can help too. Please, someone, release me!”
Although she screamed as loud as she could, her words were drowned out by the din created by the activity below. A heavy pounding on the earth that actually sent vibrations up even to her prison cell, caused her to look toward the far side of the plain. A massive group of Trolls, ugly and huge, beat upon the ground with their clubs, chanting something in a cryptic, guttural language she could not understand. There must have been five hundred of them, each carrying a large stick as big as the trunk of a small tree with a spiked ball attached to the end of a chain hanging from it. Some had knives in their belts, while others had axes and hammers.
Ogres, covered with studded black hides and even larger than the Orcs, converged behind them, occasionally thrashing their hated cousins with their clubs, making sure the smaller and weaker Orcs kept their distance. They snorted and belched, laughing uncontrollably at times, with their hideous faces contorted in grotesque smiles, unable to control their excitement. Every once in a while one would strike another unsuspecting companion a serious blow and then lean back upon his fat heels and cackle in glee.
The troops were working themselves into a blood frenzy and they had not even departed for the north. If not for the presence of their master, they would have turned upon one another soon enough, and an unstoppable slaughter would have ensued. But, amidst all of the groups rose Colton’s banner, a fiery red sun on a stark, black background, unifying all the disparate combatants and binding them with fear and hideous promises.
There were other creatures Trialla could not identify: Green, slimy human-like things with bulging eyes and packs strapped to their backs which caused them to bend over under the weight. For every fifty of these, there was one guard atop a horse-like animal, though the beast was stouter than a common horse and hairless. The riders smacked their whips and kept their captives in line, riding up and down their ranks, not hesitating to mete out punishment for sluggishness or reluctance.
Great pig-like beasts pulled wagons full of supplies, each ridden by a grotesque aberration of nature, a being with three arms, one protruding from the middle of its chest allowing it to hold the reins and still have two arms free. Battalions of tall, thin archers, more human than the rest, lined up behind an even taller leader, thin as a rail, skeletal even, who carried a long bow across his back, and a satchel filled with arrows tipped in black.
Trialla’s one remaining hawk-like eye gleefully took in everyone and everything. Horns were sounding and drums were beating in a tumultuous cacophony of sounds, and in the midst of the seeming turmoil sat Colton dar Agonthea, Lord of Darkness, Emperor of Evil, Death Bringer and Vanguard of Dissolution, atop his prancing, silver steed Necro, majestically gazing from left to right and turning his horse in a tight circle, observing with satisfaction all the aspects of the assemblage. The seeming chaos was evolving into an organized machine, clearly capable of wreaking havoc upon whatever stood in its path, and it was not even nearly complete! Additional groups were forming all around the main entourage, raising banners and chanting in various tongues.
As Colton’s cold, black eyes looked upon specific groups of fighters, they would immediately fall to the ground and bow down prostrate, foreheads to earth, in total silence until he lifted his red gloved hand. They would then let out a resounding cheer, weapons banging into the hard earth or clashing against one another, in an effort to make the loudest noise and salute their master with their frenzied support. Colton let his regal and domineering gaze move from company to company, thus honoring each and every unit and receiving their homage in return.
The reverence which the masses of warriors heaped upon their leader was total, and each and every participant, whether man or beast, was prepared and eager to begin its march toward total annihilation if that was what was in store. Their mindless energy was being focused upon one objective, and Colton was directing it with the precision of the master that he was.
Colton had spent centuries preparing for this moment and now it was finally upon him. He was seething with satisfaction, knowing now where he would strike first by virtue of the witch’s discovery. Once the heir was captured, it was only a matter of time before the entire world would fall to his advances. The end was in sight and he could barely contain himself. He could almost taste the final victory, almost visualize the collapse, the slide into oblivion, the great dissolution. The Lalas were weak already, almost incapable of preventing his onslaught once the boy was under his control. He had come so close one time before, only to watch him slip through his hands at the very last moment. But not this time. Nothing could stop him now!
Sedahar itself had taken on an ominous hue, changing dramatically with its master’s mood. The spires topping the towers appeared more pointed and deadlier, the doorways like hungry, gaping mouths and the foundation stone dripped with a reddish perspiration oozing from its seams under the hot sun.
Trialla had worked herself into a furor, frustrated by her imprisonment and unable to accept being left behind, and she was willing to risk anything at this point to be heard.
“Let me out!” she screeched. “I belong with you! I found the boy! Let me out of here! Please, you cannot leave me behind,” she wailed, but no one could hear.
With what power she could still muster, she conjured a small ball of fire in the corner of her cell, nearest to the opening in the wall. Using her fist, she smashed the stool that was her single piece of furniture and then she tossed the broken bits of wood into the flame.
Someone below will see the smoke, and let me out, she hoped with delirious desperation, her twisted mind carelessly miscalculating the risks and thoroughly misjudging her captor. He has forgotten that lam up here with all that is happening. This will remind him and he will send someone to release me. I will ride to Pardatha by his side! I will be his Queen!
If no one noticed the smoke and flames, she might very well burn in her own fire and die by her own hand. But she could not conceive of the possibility that Colton would let that happen, after all that she had done for him. She was the one who found the heir! Trialla, no one else. At that moment, the chance she took was worth it, for life had no further meaning for her if Colton left her behind. She would rather be dead t
han discarded and forgotten again.
The fire was building quickly as the dry straw burst into flame, and the wood promptly followed suit. She added to the fire her worn blanket and whatever other scraps she could hastily gather that would burn brightly and with as much smoke as possible.
Shortly, the smoke was surging out of the window with considerable velocity, and the flames were licking the sides of the room, leaping from the one opening in bursts of red light.
He will soon see that I am in danger up here and then he will send someone to rescue me. She pressed against the doorway and covered her nose and mouth with her filthy shawl. She was coughing violently now as the room was filling with acrid fumes.
“Any moment now. He will see me,” she spoke aloud as she clasped the bars of the window and burned her hands from the heat. She did not even feel the pain; she was too caught up in her longing and delusions.
Some of them are looking this way. He will be next, she thought expectantly, not realizing that her fingers were scorched and the hem of her gown was smoldering.
The fire could now be clearly observed from below, as the tall turret stood out starkly against the cloudy sky. She watched in anxious anticipation and waited for her Lord to notice her peril. A crooked smile crossed her lips as Colton gazed from his vantage point atop Necro at the high tower window above.
Finally! He will see me now! Her eye was locked upon Colton in rabid expectation of his redeeming glance when he simply bent his head back and laughed a diabolic laugh. He briefly caught her eye with his own and held her gaze for just an instant, and her very being was sundered. She had been betrayed. To Trialla’s outrage and dismay, he spurred his horse slightly and Necro leapt forward, the troops making way for him as quickly as possible.
Colton rode away from the castle, not bothering to even look back, howling with delight as he went to examine the contingent of ebon magicians gathering at the rear of the massed army. His enhanced sense of hearing discerned the pathetic screams of the old woman as she burned to death in her cramped cell, and he enjoyed the harrowing sounds immensely. He particularly relished the moment she realized that he was not interested in her fate, and then the final, deranged howl of recognition the old witch released from the depths of her disfigured soul.
They are all fools, these humans. Even those with power; no matter how strong or meager. I have no more need for you, witch!
Soon, all that was left of Trialla the Sorceress, was a smoldering pile of ashes on a soiled floor in a dismal cell high in the tower of castle Sedahar.
This is shaping up to be a wonderful day, he thought, as he rode to greet the necromancers who had assembled to pay tribute to their father and master.
Colton’s prized possessions, his scarlet sorcerers, all bowed low, prostrating themselves before him, with their crimson capes covering them from head to toe and not daring to look at Colton until he gave them permission. This group of thirteen was his special weapon, trained and nurtured almost from birth by Colton himself. Next to each one stood a Valkor, enormous next to the humans, with its eyes shielded and its body harnessed.
The sorcerers would travel behind the troops atop the beasts, not wasting their power until the back of the enemy was broken and it was time for the final advance. His red mages would enter the castle keep just before he would, preparing all who were left alive inside for Colton’s arrival. It would be a beautiful experience, and he could barely contain his excitement. With these images fresh in his mind he turned away from this group, sat regally atop his horse and addressed the entire mass of warriors surrounding him.
“In one hour, we will ride to Pardatha!” he shouted, his black blade unsheathed now and raised high in the air.
The thousands gathered around him responded by stomping their feet, banging their shields, whistling, yelling, making as much noise as they could muster and causing the very hills around them to echo with the terrifying sound.
When they settled down, he said, “Our victory there will mark the beginning of the war that will bring us salvation!”
Again, the troops burst into cheers.
“Once we have begun our advance, let no creature stand in our way! Tomorrow belongs to us!” Colton proclaimed with supreme confidence, though what he really meant was that soon tomorrow would come no more.
He slid his sword back into the jeweled scabbard on his belt, pulled hard on Necro’s reins causing the silver stallion to rear up and kick his front hooves in the air, and then he cantered off to the front of the savage multitude, more ready than ever before to lead his army northward.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Cairn propelled the raft through the placid water, still amazed at how calm the night was. The breeze barely ruffled his clothing and the water they were sailing upon was as still as if it was a small pond. The full moon lit up the sky, glaring off of the water and illuminating the dark, flowing liquid to the point of transparency. Voluminous, gloomy clouds hung overhead, barely moving but still obscuring the light at times, casting shadows of blackness over the entire landscape, only to have the reflected light burst through once again, shocking them with its intensity. Cairn was cautious all the while, trusting Tomas’ intuition yet maintaining a vigilant watch nevertheless.
They had more than enough time to cross the lake, which would leave them at a point just south of Pardatha, situated on the other side of the narrow crest of the Thorndar mountains, just before the sun was due to rise. It would not take them more than another day’s travel to reach the outskirts of the city once the threat of the water was behind them. Lake Tamaran was usually a formidable obstacle and it had protected the southern approach to Pardatha for centuries. Cairn was not yet ready to accept that their journey across would not be fraught with danger and difficulty. He was calmer than before and he had time to contemplate what lay ahead, but he remained alert nonetheless.
Certainly, his new found friend would be an unexpected surprise to Baladar, but once they met one another he was convinced that he would see the same goodness and power in the young man that Cairn perceived. He knew without a doubt that Tomas was meant to be with him when he entered Pardatha.
“Do you see the shoreline ahead?” he asked the boy after an unusually bright streak of moonlight defined the coast before them.
“Yes, I do. Is that where we are headed?” he responded.
“If we land near that spot, we will be within a few hundred yards of the entrance to the pass. When the sun rises, we should have no difficulty finding it,” he commented.
A shrill sound pierced the silence of the evening, followed immediately by another and then another. The sky was splattered with shadows now, moving in circles above them, and the bright moonlight traced their images across the raft and across the water all around them. The Selgays were awake despite the darkness and they were aware of the travelers’ presence upon the lake. Calyx growled defensively to himself and crouched low in the corner of the raft. Tomas looked up with a calm and unconcerned air. Cairn’s skin prickled with fear and his mind quickly reviewed their options, few as they were.
“We must hurry. The birds are upon us!” he said as he urgently rowed the small craft ahead, the water being far too deep now to pole the transport forward. “It does not forebode well for us that they travel in a group. The Selgays are solitary hunters,” he worriedly reasoned. “What evil purpose could have united them now?” Cairn questioned grimly.
“They will not attack. They will only watch us until we are gone from their territory,” the boy remarked, so sure of himself.
Cairn drew some comfort from Tomas’ words, as they issued so confidently from his mouth.
“I hope you are correct, young man. I do not really know what we can do to defend ourselves if they should behave other than you predict,” Cairn replied cautiously. “Why are they roused at all with the sun still hours from the horizon? I was led to believe that they never flew during the evening hours, and never in a group!” he said, not expecting an answe
r.
“They are chaperoning us across,” the boy said with a strange certainty. “Did you not hear me before when I said that they feasted upon a battalion of Trolls just yesterday? Although they are ugly beasts and extremely dangerous, the Selgays do not serve the Dark Lord. They preserve the balance, they do not upset it. The Selgays will let us pass. They understand the necessity,” he concluded.
“I have studied all of my life. The masters have taught me much,” Cairn began. “But you have just made me realize something that no teacher was ever able to,” he said seriously. “I should know better than to assume that all predators dangerous to man are evil as well. They protect their own realm as we do ours. I just never thought that they could distinguish between one trespasser and the next,” he remarked, humbled by the boy’s simple statements.
“They are not unlike all the rest of the beasts. Unless they are forced, compelled by threat of starvation or pain, they perceive in their own way what endangers the well being of the planet. They feel things much as we do, they just cannot reason,” Tomas explained.
“Your wisdom is beyond your years, Tomas,” Cairn said with respect, his eyes never leaving the circling birds. “Ormachon has taught you well,” Cairn commented respectfully.
“He has been a great friend and I am grateful to him for much,” the boy said modestly. “Watch, Cairn. You will see. The birds will be our escort to the other shore,” he concluded, and he continued to calmly observe the great Selgays as they soared in swooping circles overhead, seemingly directing them with his focused stare as they flew.
Cairn followed their guidance, not being able to ascertain exactly where they were heading now as the clouds were continuously thickening overhead. He hoped and prayed that Tomas was correct about the big birds and that they were not leading them to a place nearer to their own homes only to save them the trouble of carrying them in their talons this entire distance.
The Twins Page 25
