Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

“It’s not. It was a ritual, nothing more; but we believed it to be true. In those times, superstition and ritual were all we had,” Micah explained.

  Michael shook his head slightly and remembered the Garolith. “Micah, did the Grove Wolves kill the Garolith?”

  “No. I killed it and another about half a mile that way off in the forest,” Micah said pointing to the northeast.

  “How? How did you kill it?” Michael asked excitedly stepping closer to Micah.

  “The way I killed them will not help you. I did it with my bare hands. I saw Rafe and Jewl lying on the ground, and I felt the darkness within rise up once more. The Garoliths thought they were dealing with a normal man. They realized, too late, that it was not a man before them; but something vastly more evil than even themselves,” Micah recounted and his eyes began to burn and glow with a red fire.

  Michael forced himself to step forward and laid his hand flat against Micah’s chest. “Alcedonia,” Michael said, willing calm into the Avari Lord.

  Micah closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he felt a soothing tranquility spread throughout his mind and body. When he opened them once again they were his normal gray color. “Thank you, Michael…for everything.”

  “Losing a friend is never easy. It does not matter that the friend had four legs instead of two. You are welcome,” Michael replied.

  “How did you come to be here?” Micah asked suddenly realizing his good fortune in Michael’s appearance.

  “I felt your desperation. I did not know the circumstance, but knew I had to come.”

  “How could you know?”

  Michael shrugged. “I have given up trying to figure out or explain the things I can do and feel. I felt it. Let’s just leave it at that,” Michael said.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Are you going to be alright?” Michael asked with concern.

  “I will be fine. This is not the first time I have lost someone close to me and, unfortunately, it will not be the last. Go. I know you must be busy. I will come to The Slot tonight after I have tended to Rafe.”

  “Ok. Tonight then,” Michael said turning to Reek and Branik.

  Seeing that their conversation was apparently at an end, the two Avari approached.

  “My lord, we are truly sorry for your loss. Though we did not know the wolf, we can see how much he meant to you. If you have need of us for anything, you have but to ask,” Reek offered.

  Branik nodded indicating that Reek spoke for them both.

  "I appreciate your offer, but I will handle the rites. You two continue to look after Michael for me. That is how you can best help me right now."

  “Aye, my lord,” the two Avari said in unison.

  Michael clasped Micah on the shoulder in parting and spoke the words of transport.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mortow heard the approach of heavy booted feet and stepped from his tent. Several trolls and one ogre along with two weres were being led by Hagan. Mortow let them come in close then dismissed Hagan.

  “We will begin this war in earnest tomorrow. We shall camp here until a few hours before dusk then begin our final leg of the march. That should put our arrival at The Slot a couple of hours before sunrise, a time when attentions will be wandering toward sleep and those already asleep will be deeply so. With no more than Kantwell and King Brose can bring to bear, by this time two days hence, we shall have our victory,” Mortow assured them.

  As he was speaking, a small black haired man approached and waited at a respectful distance. Upon seeing him, Mortow waved him forward.

  “What have you to report, Ellis?”

  “I have just returned from The Slot, Magika. The humans bring in reinforcements; elves, Forest guard by their insignia, and Weres,” Ellis told him with a twinge of fear in his voice.

  “Weres? Are you certain?” Mortow asked.

  “Aye, Magika. They are High Caste. I saw King Westan with my own eyes."

  “Ah, the High Caste has finally come out of hiding. Excellent,” Mortow said smiling broadly.

  “Magika?” Ellis asked in confusion.

  “I had been hoping they, too, would join with Kantwell. My father always spoke so highly of King Westan, you would have thought the man could walk through fire and come out unscathed. Fear not, Ellis. We need them to be there. A total defeat of our adversaries cannot be realized without the High Castes’ defeat as well,” Mortow explained.

  “As you say, Magika, but they have others as well. Ogres. I counted nearly two thousand,” Ellis replied.

  Oreg the ogre chieftain growled. “That would be Karg and his weakling brother. He fancies himself a chieftain just because he has won a few fights. Leave them to us, Magika. I will personally bring you Karg’s head at the end of the battle,” Oreg said with contempt.

  “You will get your chance, Oreg. What do their defenses look like?” Mortow asked, turning once again to Ellis.

  “The elves take up positions on the rock walls. The humans and dwarves huddle in the pass hoping to hold us with its narrowness, but the ogres form up outside the pass,” Ellis replied.

  Oreg gave a grudging grunt of approval at hearing the ogre's choice of location. Mortow looked at Oreg questioningly.

  “Though he is a pretender, Karg will gain the respect of many by that move. He has chosen to meet the battle head on and in the advanced position,” Oreg explained.

  “Respect will not protect him. He and his men will be overrun by our forces,” Mortow said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  As they were conversing, they heard the piercing call of a hawk. Looking to the darkness above, Mortow could just make out a shape as it dove down and landed beside Ellis. As they all watched, the hawk morphed into a shapely woman with short reddish brown hair. As she stood up, Mortow could see her eyes were gold in color. She stood before them all, unashamed and unconcerned by her nakedness.

  “Magika,” she spoke boldly.

  “Desi, what news have you?” Mortow asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “The human king and his men should be arriving at The Slot any time now. There were less than five thousand of them when I first found them, but he was joined by another two thousand northerners. If they kept to the same pace, they should meet up with the rest of the army by morning.”

  “Right on time. Now, with the predictability of the human nature, King Brose is sure to leave a small force behind to cover their flank and to keep the only retreat route open. Time to disappoint the grand monarch. Maklin!” Mortow called out in a booming voice.

  “Yes, Master,” Maklin said as he rushed out of his tent.

  “It is time.”

  “They are within The Slot?”

  “Desi reports they should be there by now if they maintained their pace. You know what to do,” Mortow informed him.

  “Of course, Master,” Maklin replied bowing, then spoke the words of transport and disappeared.

  Mortow nodded to the two Weres and Ellis and Desi walked off. Looking back to the assembled trolls and Oreg, he saw smiles on all their faces.

  “It seems either fortune smiles upon you, Magika, else you hold her prisoner somewhere,” Traug, the troll overlord, said grinning.

  Traug’s generals chuckled at their leader's comment.

  Mortow did not acknowledge the comment, but instead addressed the Weres who had been silent all through the briefing.

  “Dascus, I want you to hold your people back until the ogre line has been breached. Once it is, you and your people are to concentrate on breaking through the mouth of the pass. Push them back and keep pushing them until they retreat, and then hold your position.”

  “As you command, Magika,” Dascus replied.

  “Hirtov, I want you and your men to concentrate on the Forest Guard. Their bows will need to be silenced as quickly as possible.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Magika. The leaf dwellers will be taken care of,” Hirtov said, smiling delightedly.

  “Then go, all of you and get
what rest you can before we depart,” Mortow commanded. Mortow watched all of them turn and go their separate ways back to their camps.

  Almost everything was going as planned. The defection of Mael angered him, but that would soon be remedied. The fact that the High Caste had joined the fight saved him the time of having them hunted down. Victory would be complete. Soon he would rule over them all, and he could begin the process of damage control. A war, any war, causes hatred; and the races had enough of that toward one another before the conflict. It would take some time, but Mortow was confident he could bring the races together. They would need each other to help rebuild. The fact that ogres had joined with humans and dwarves gave him hope for his future plans. If the dwarves and ogres could work together after what the ogres had done to them, then any of the races could get along. With someone as powerful as himself enforcing the laws, he had little doubt it would work out in the long run.

  Smiling and feeling very pleased with what he saw as the future, Mortow turned and strode into his tent. A few moments later, the light inside the tent was extinguished. Hagan stepped out of the shadows and took up position outside his master’s tent. No one was to disturb Mortow while he was sleeping.

  A few hours later, Dascus was dozing by a small fire, his tail slowing thumping against the ground. Suddenly, his keen sense of smell caught the unmistakable odor of dragon. His eyes snapped open and he sat up on his haunches scanning the night sky. The clouds had descended and blocked all of the starlight. Dragons were not uncommon in the marshes and they could be very dangerous if they were on the hunt for food.

  Dascus sniffed at the air more deliberately. He caught the scent of two, a male and a female. He relaxed and laid back down. Dragons did not hunt in pairs, and the presence of both sexes probably meant they were headed to a breeding ground. He was just laying his head down on his paws when he heard the crack of wings. Swiveling his ears around he began to hear a rushing sound. His instincts knew that sound. It was the sound of a winged predator diving.

  Dascus was instantly on his feet and roaring out a warning as the first blast of fire ignited. It was quickly followed by another and another. Screams rang out in the night and his delicate sense of smell was assaulted by smoke and the smell of burning flesh. With every instinct inside him telling him to run away from the fire, Dascus sat still and scanned the sky. He thought he saw a huge shadowy shape climbing toward the west. Trolls and ogres were running everywhere trying to douse the flames, but water had no effect. Dascus waited and watched, but no more strikes of flame came and the scent of dragon lessened with every passing second.

  Mortow’s booming voice could be heard over the shouting din and the roaring of the flames, calling for order and demanding to know what had happened. “Exstinguo!” Mortow bellowed out.

  Immediately the fires died out. Dascus ran over to Mortow’s side and began the shift from tiger to human. Mortow eyed him with an angry expression, but waited until the shift was complete.

  “Magika, it was dragons. Two of them, a male and a female. They struck quickly and headed west,” Dascus informed him.

  “I would not have thought my dear father capable of training a dragon. Could one of the high caste have accomplished this?”

  “I have never heard of one of them attempting to tame a dragon. I did not think it possible. I would be inclined to believe it was a mated pair looking for a breeding ground” Dascus admitted.

  “Obviously, it is possible. I do not believe for a moment that we just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Mortow said quietly, gesturing around at the carnage and scorched earth. “It had to be one of the high caste or the elves. Whichever group did it will find we are now ready for them. They made a grave mistake in showing their hand too early.”

  As Mortow was talking, Oreg walked up. His hair was gone on the left side and his left arm and shoulder looked to be seriously burned, though he seemed not to notice.

  “Magika, that was either extremely bad luck or our enemies know exactly where we are. I think they will be ready for us,” Oreg growled.

  “I am inclined to agree with the latter. See Master Stevens about those burns. I will send him around,” Mortow added as an afterthought.

  “I will have Ginna look at them after she is done tending to the more seriously injured. She has herbs that will treat all but the most serious burns,” Oreg informed him.

  “As you will. Do we know the extent of the damage?”

  “No, Magika, but they could not have gotten many. We were camped a fair distance apart.”

  “Go then, and report back to me,” Mortow commanded.

  Oreg grunted an affirmative and spun around shouting out commands as he walked off.

  “Magika, if our enemies control dragons, how are we to fight them?” Dascus asked tentatively.

  “Leave the dragons to me and my wizards. You just stick to the original plan.”

  “Yes, Magika,” Dascus said with obvious relief.

  Maklin appeared in a large rocky canyon a short distance south of the western entrance to The Slot. The two trolls standing guard jumped in surprise and drew their weapons. Both lowered them as they realized it was Maklin.

  “Nice to see your reflexes are still sharp,” Maklin said smiling at their jumpiness.

  “Wizard Maklin, is it time, then?” One of them asked clearing his throat.

  “Yes. We move as soon as you can assemble.”

  The other troll nodded and ran further into the canyon.

  Maklin listened to the echo of the troll’s heavy boot strikes fading into the distance. “I trust everything has been quiet,” Maklin inquired.

  “Aye. We have seen nothing but birds since we have been here,” the guard replied.

  “Very good.”

  Maklin could hear marching steps approaching and turned his gaze into the canyon. From around the first bend came armored trolls, marching eight abreast and just behind them came another rank then another. In all, Mortow had encamped fifteen hundred of them here. More than enough to hold this end of The Slot against any possible retreat the allies of Kantwell might attempt. The column came to a halt a few steps from Maklin and stood silently at attention.

  “We march now to The Slot. It will be your responsibility to see to it that none of our enemies are allowed to leave. You are not to pursue them into The Slot, just contain them. Mortow wants them trapped not slaughtered. Kill only those necessary to keep them contained and to preserve your lives; but if they fall back, do not follow. Understood?” Maklin issued Mortow’s orders.

  “AYE!” They all shouted in unison.

  “Let’s be about it,” Maklin shouted, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being in command.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After leaving Micah, Michael teleported back to the elven encampment. Merric was there gathering more men to transport to The Slot. As Michael, Reek and Branik appeared; Merric stopped and motioned for Michael to come over. He walked over and started to explain, but Merric stopped him with a raised hand.

  “I can tell by your face that whatever it was it was important, and I would like nothing more than to hear what you have to say, but first things first. We need to get the rest of these men to Commander Salic. Then, if time permits, you can tell me,” Merric said interrupting him.

  “Ok,” Michael replied. He looked around trying to assess how many men were left to be transported. He was not very good at estimating, but it appeared to be between two and three hundred. “Is everyone ready?” He asked Merric.

  “Yes, but I do not want you to tire yourself. Perhaps we should each take half of them,” Merric suggested.

  “It is better you save your energy; besides, a couple of hundred will not tire me. I brought more than that from the Avari Isle and didn’t feel any negative effects,” Michael commented dismissively. Without waiting for Merric’s reply, he quickly spoke the words of transport and, as Michael blinked his eyes, he and all the men were outside the mouth of The Slo
t. Merric had opened his mouth to say something, but instead, closed it audibly and studied Michael for any sign of weariness.

  “You really should be more conservative with the way you spend your power, Michael,” Merric chided gently.

  “When we are not preparing for a war, I will take that suggestion under advisement,” Michael replied sharply. Seeing the look on Merric’s face, Michael sighed heavily. “I'm sorry, Merric. I am just stressed with the pace of everything recently. I am anxious to begin this war and, at the same time, it scares the hell out of me.”

  Merric smiled and, once again, Michael saw the grandfatherly figure instead of the Headmaster of Kantwell.

  “That’s quite alright, my boy. I understand how you feel. Quite frankly, I would be more worried if you were not terrified. At least that lets me know you are still human. Everyone is anxious for it to begin. The waiting and worrying are almost as bad the battles themselves. Now remember, there are going to be vastly greater numbers in the battles ahead. We cannot afford you incapacitating yourself like you did the last time you were here. Choose your targets carefully. Conserve your powers. The Great One only knows how long this will drag out, and if you spend everything you have in one big blast, there is no telling what might happen,” Merric said, with concern.

  “Point taken. Do you need me to do anything else right now?” Michael asked.

  Merric thought for a moment and shook his head.

  “Then I think I will go look for Dain. I have not yet had a chance to actually talk to him, and I have some questions about his healing ability.”

  “Anything you can learn about healing can only benefit all of us, so by all means. You should find him at the camp a ways back into The Slot,” Merric pointed out.

  Michael smiled faintly at Merric then checked over his shoulder to assure himself that Reek and Branik were close. Seeing they were right behind him, Michael began walking to the pass. As he glanced around at the rock walls, he noticed a slight movement, but when he focused in on the spot where the movement had been he didn’t see anything. Shaking his head, he continued forward.