Overlords

by Matthew M Pyke

  King Pallan finished roasting a small berry at the end of a stick. “Good.” He placed the stick on the ground, after carefully removing the cooked fruit. “Have you been able to decipher the writings within the structures?”

  Frustrated, Jaegar answered, “No, My Lord. We have not. The inscriptions remain obscure.”

  “A pity, but no matter. Let us rejoice that, for the first time in some while, we have shelter from the elements.” He rose from his seat, dusting his hands off. “You have your orders.”

  Jaegar snapped to. “Aye, My Lord.”

  Garan and Jardarah bowed their heads to King Pallan.

  The three men went off, heading for the base camp’s squad (a group of soldiers tasked with the protection of the camp, as the others were away), who were examining their weapons.

  King Pallan ran his hand over his moustache, engrossed in his thoughts.

  Toward evening, the Paladians broke camp and headed for the abandoned structures. The journey took the group only about an hour. As they were approaching the low-lying stone buildings, Garan caught sight of something.

  King Pallan raised his hand slowly as he watched the mercenary swivel in various directions. The regiment stopped. King Pallan asked, “What is it, Garan? What do you see?”

  The Kae’lem warrior scanned the trees anxiously.

  Jardarah came to him and said, “Speak, Kae’lemer. My Lord has asked you a question.”

  King Pallan insisted as he came alongside them, “It is all right.” He looked at Garan and then the trees, and then back at Garan. “What is it?”

  Garan soon broke his silence. “I saw something, My Lord. Something like a large shadow; it was there a moment and then it was not. If my eyes can be trusted, it almost seemed to dart between the trees. Like a figure of sorts … a large man.”

  King Pallan glanced at Jardarah with an expression of confusion. He then returned his gaze to where Garan was staring unyieldingly.

  Jaegar came walking up. “What is the matter?” He nodded firmly to King Pallan. “My Lord.” He tried to identify what was captivating the soldier-for-hire and his king. “What is it you are looking at?”

  Garan swallowed very gradually. He stood perfectly still.

  Jaegar glanced at Garan, then at King Pallan. “What is the matter with him?”

  “He saw something …”

  Jaegar’s curiosity was aroused. “Oh, like what?”

  Garan answered, “Like a black mass, moving swiftly in that direction—toward those rocks.” He pointed.

  The three men—Jaegar, Jardarah, and King Pallan—surveyed the boulders and mosses for several seconds.

  Jaegar remarked, just above a whisper, “I see nothing …”

  Jardarah came up to Garan and quipped, “Your eyes play tricks on you; there is nothing there.” He returned to the head of the column.

  Garan paid little attention to him but continued to interrogate the trees—the terrain—with his shadowy eyes.

  Jaegar became unstuck from where he stood and left for the Forward Vanguard, where Jardarah was falling behind.

  Garan persisted in his interrogation of the mountain.

  King Pallan placed his hand on Garan’s shoulder and gave it a light push. “Come; perhaps your alertness has gotten the better of you. There is nothing there.”

  Garan complained, “I have come to trust my instincts, My Lord. When you have seen as many a battle as I have, travelled alone in secluded woods, you come to perceive things beyond your regular senses. No, there was something there … something.”

  “But none of my men—” King Pallan observed Garan for a moment, then looked back at the trees, trying to discover what alarmed the mercenary so greatly. He then declared, with mixed vexation and hurry, “Come. Let us go. It will be dark soon, and we need to get the people to shelter.”

  Garan yielded only after a time, but even then, his eyes stayed fixed on the boulders.

  King Pallan and his followers entered the stone buildings, which were connected, loosely, along a ridge. The buildings were of a white fused stone, seemingly without edge, and followed the uneven ground seamlessly at their bases. The structures’ roofs were of the same white stone, and from certain perspectives, the ruins gave the impression that they grew out of the landscape somehow, as if lava had flowed down the mountain and cooled eons past, leaving hollow spaces for habitation—entranceways shaped like sharp cliffs.

  The cover of darkness fell in behind them, and for the first time since the flight from the castle, all the escapees had a roof to protect them from soaking rains, freezing snows, blasting heat from above, and circling ravenous birds.

  The soldiers coordinated with civilian leaders and the council to arrange the people as best they could, largely following a plan Jaegar and a few of his men had devised to house them securely. To the surprise of almost everyone who had not yet had the opportunity to explore the buildings, there were no windows to be found in any of the ruins’ chambers (puzzlingly, air from outside ventilated the interconnecting passageways and rooms).

  Gradually, but surely, the Paladians moved into their new home, a collection of odd-looking buildings along a ridge, with a higher peak as a backdrop. Due to a near lack of natural light, the structures were almost pitch-black inside, necessitating the use of candles and torches at all times to light corridors and rooms. There was some speculation as to how the original inhabitants had made their way around a set of buildings so dimly lit; there was no evidence that candles or torches had been used. The peculiarity of their new base, for that was what it was in a large sense, as the soldiers had not taken, lightly, the potential of ambush, and of being trapped inside such a fort, began to wear off. Nerves soon began to settle, and apart from the poor lighting, the Paladians began to take to their new surroundings. They set up a nursery and a galley; there was even a sitting room with a wooden shelf for some books.

  The days began to slip past, and other than the spotting of a boarite, a bear-type creature, and an antex, a slender, four-legged creature approximately eight feet in length, with sharp claws and teeth, the mundanity of daily routines took hold once again. One night, this would end dramatically—a night of terror, later to be known as Draka Naktum (Terror Night in Paladian).

  King Pallan, Jaegar, Jardarah, Garan, and a few of his soldiers were in a moderately sized chamber, in the southerly wing of Building One, as it was called. The room was used to store supplies (against the northwest wall) and had a central table made, recently, from cut timbers, and candles on wooden lampstands, with a few being metal, taken from the castle before its fall. King Pallan used the room as a type of planning/briefing chamber, so as not to disturb nearby citizens, and to keep sensitive military matters concealed from unnecessary ears.

  It was toward evening, during a lengthy discussion about seizure of adjacent land and patrol of it with limited resources, that Jaegar heard a loud tick. At first, no one else took notice.

  The tick sounded again.

  Jaegar lifted his head and began to look slowly from side to side.

  King Pallan caught the man’s evident alarm from the corner of his eye and stopped what he was saying. “Jaegar …?”

  Jaegar answered a few seconds afterward. “Do you hear that, My Lord?”

  Intrigued, King Pallan asked, “Hear what?”

  By now, the rest of the men present had fallen silent and were listening to Jaegar and King Pallan’s conversation.

  “A ticking sound, coming from the walls or the ceiling. Or the table … chairs, perhaps.”

  King Pallan glanced around him. “What ticking sound? I hear no—”

  A soldier cut in, “My Lord, I have just heard it.”

  All seated at the table turned to the soldier.

  Then, within moments, all began to hear the sound.

  King Pallan’s expression revealed perplexity. “I can hear it, now. No one move—all stay still.”

  The group became very still.

  At first, the room
was silent—only the faint, intermittent sound of candles burning could be heard, and a neighbour’s light breathing. Then, as unexpectedly as it had first begun to be perceived, the sound returned—now louder and clearer.

  King Pallan remarked thoughtfully, “Interesting …”

  Jardarah asked, “My Lord—what do you think it is? None of us are moving; we are completely still in our chairs.”

  “I do not know, Jardarah.” King Pallan scanned the room warily.

  As yet, Garan had not spoken. His face muscles were relaxed; his eyes shifted by degrees in their sockets. Shortly, he placed his hand gingerly on the hilt of his sword, for he always carried it.

  King Pallan put the question to his men: “Has anyone noticed the sound before?”

  A short interval of murmuring occurred between them as they debated if the ticking had been perceived beforehand, in the days since their arrival. The unanimous answer: no.

  King Pallan’s face turned shades of grey; he let out the faintest groan.

  The ticking, which repeated at nonregular intervals, stopped suddenly. The men turned and looked at each other.

  All at once, the candles went out; a single torch remained lit. There were several gasps and a flash.

  “The candles went out!” most exclaimed.

  “Sire! A shadow just darted across the room.” Jaegar stood up from his chair.

  “What did you say?”

  “Like that of a figure—a man—but very dark.” Jaegar drew his sword.

  This was the cue for all the men to take out their swords.

  King Pallan barked, “Everyone remain calm!”

  The men began backing into each other, heading for the doorway.

  Garan stood a few feet from the table, his hand gripping his sword, the polished metal of its blade glimmering from the indirect light of the sole torch still burning in the room; his countenance displayed expectancy but not fear. He did not appear to be afraid at all. This could not be said of the rest of the men, some of whom were cowering near their king.

  Shortly after the advent of some whispering, its source unknown, the distinct form of an ogre appeared. The large creature, nine feet tall and with stooped head, revealed itself near the doorway. It began to growl. Covered in dark-brown fur, the being had powerful claws and sharp, jagged teeth.

  The men began panicking. “Sho’tev! Sho’tev!” This was the shortened version of sho’tevhass, which in Paladian meant brutish man (man brutish) (sho: brute, tevhass: manlike); tev: of man or man, depending on context.

  Another ogre appeared at the end of the table, some eight feet from Garan, who by now was all alone. The creature growled deeply at the unfazed warrior, who took a mighty swing at it with his sword, the being simply vanishing as his sword met empty air.

  Some began calling to Garan to join the group of frightened men, but the Kae’lem mercenary rejected their entreaties.

  The sho’tev near the doorway lunged at King Pallan and his soldiers but was forced off by a bolting Garan and the pointed edge of his hardened sword.

  The room returned to stillness; no signs of either of the ogres were present. The men began mumbling in terror as Garan came back to the place where he had originally stood.

  The candles relit without warning. There was an eeriness to the air, to the room, that was just perceptible, as if it had taken on a new, subtle quality that portended menace.

  The men scanned the room uneasily.

  Faster than the blink of an eye as a streak of blackness manifesting form, concurrently, the traces of a figure could just be made out from the right (from Garan’s perspective), near the entrance to the chamber. The suddenness of its revelation took the men’s breath away. In less than a moment, the details of the figure had taken shape. The figure (appearing as a man) was dressed in a black robe. Taking a swipe at Garan with its claw-like nails, the man retracted his long, slender fingers in seemingly the same motion. As Garan, grunting, swung his sword with all his strength at the man’s torso, the two of them looked momentarily into each other’s eyes.

  At the same moment, there was a cry from the other side of the chamber: “Vodaan!”

  The man vanished into thin air as the edge of Garan’s sword met the space where the phantasm’s torso had just been. Garan’s sword cleaved the air mightily, making a pronounced ripping sound. As his sword reached the terminal point of its swing, he grunted, “Ugh!”

  An instant afterward, an ogre reappeared near King Pallan and his petrified men, effectively trapping them in the corner of the room.

  In seconds, the vodaan or warlock intruder appeared near a lampstand, a few feet from Garan. The phantasm’s chalk-like complexion and faded blue eyes, with just enough tinge of blue to be called blue, gave the suggestion of form, of substance—of material reality. The being or man’s head was devoid of hair, being bald altogether. As it took another lunge at the Kae’lem soldier of fortune with its sharp, semitranslucent yellow nails, its prominent, pointy ears flexed outward a degree.

  Garan struck at the warlock with his sword, the spectre moving with such stunning speed that the blade missed the creature and slammed into the lampstand instead. The edge of Garan’s sword hit the lampstand with such precision and ferocity that it split in two, jumping a little into the air; the candles remained lit.

  The seeming noncorporeal/corporeal adversary disappeared as the part of the lampstand with the candles attached to it crashed to the floor.

  All the candles in the room blew out; the torch stopped burning, but its flame returned unexpectedly. After three or four more cycles of the candles switching on and off, as it were, somehow there followed several growls, and then silence.

  Garan, wide-eyed and with moistened brow, anxiously surveyed all around him, both his hands gripping his sword for life.

  After a minute, King Pallan and his servants began to disperse, very cautiously, from the corner they were in. Garan, with sword extended and chest heaving, pivoted around, evidently awaiting the warlock’s return. But it was not to happen, thankfully.

  Amazed at Garan’s stamina and unflinching bravery, King Pallan placed his trembling hand upon the Kae’lem warrior’s stiff shoulder. “That was incredible; you showed no signs of fear. Only anger and uncanny alertness.”

  Seeming not to hear him, Garan challenged different areas of the room with the fine edge of his sword.

  King Pallan urged him most graciously, “Stand down. Stand down; it is alright. The creatures have gone.”

  Garan returned his sword to its scabbard very gradually. He then stepped on the candles on the floor, extinguishing their flames.

  Jardarah remarked to Jaegar in a hushed tone, “He flew at them without fear—without hesitation!”

  Jaegar regarded Garan with astonishment. He nodded thoughtfully to Jardarah.

  Garan’s breathing returned to normal. Save for some perspiration on his forehead and arms, he gave little other sign of his forceful movements.

  King Pallan asked Garan, “What were they?”

  Garan responded stoically, “You know the answer, My Lord. They were ogres and a warlock …”

  King Pallan made a light protest. “But they are only the things of folklore—warlocks.”

  Garan replied steadily, “Even some of the elements in folklore are true—they exist. Although quite rare, they are known to be accompanied, at times, by ogres.”

  “Ogres I know of … but not these intruders. How is it that they entered this chamber without our knowing? I never heard of ogres behaving in such a way—disappearing and reappearing at will.”

  By now, the rest of King Pallan’s servants had come by his side as he conversed with Garan.

  Garan replied thoughtfully, “I have battled ogres before; they are usually somewhat timid. However, when paired with a warlock, they exhibit some of the former’s unnatural abilities. Together, they are extremely dangerous …”

  Jaegar protested, “How is it that ogres accompany such a creature—man?”
/>   Garan answered, “The ogres protect the warlock; it can lend some of its powers to them. Fortunately, they appear very infrequently.”

  King Pallan pressed, “Together?”

  Garan made a slow dip of his head. “Yes.”

  King Pallan looked around the room with evident uneasiness. He soon asked, “But why here—in these ruins?”

  Garan’s answer came several seconds later. “Unknown. Perhaps”—he briefly surveyed the ceiling—“whoever built these ruins had practiced dark arts, forbidden magic. It is said such things can attract them …”

  King Pallan retorted, “But what if not? But what if the builders of these ruins did no such forbidden thing?”

  Garan hesitated. He reemphasized, “They are seen together very infrequently.”

  King Pallan’s eyebrows lowered.

  Garan then said, “To see them, My Lord … that is not a good sign.” He shook his head.

  King Pallan looked to Garan with worry; he scanned the room with dismay and disappointment.

  The warlock intruder was called a vodaan by the Paladian people: vo to stalk in Paladian tongue, daan of the night. Creature or figure was implied, as vo was taken to mean a stalker. Therefore, the word collectively meant stalker (stalking creature) of the night. The appearance of such a frightening and elusive being gave great alarm to all. So great was the alarm that, after a session with the counsel, it was decided unanimously that they should vacate the ruins at once, lest the ogres and their warlock master return to terrorize the unsuspecting.

  Thus, began the evacuation of the ruins and the return to the outdoors, with its own perils and miseries.

  IX

  King Pallan watched the ruins burn. His people had set fire to them upon leaving. The stone exterior of the buildings turned only a charcoal colour in certain areas; the inside was a whirlwind of blaze. Smoke from the buildings rose into the air, rising above the trees as birds took flight to escape the burning cinders and noxious smoke.

  Amidst the cracking and hissing of the flames, Jaegar informed his king, “My Lord, the buildings are ablaze. We have set fire to them, as you commanded.”