The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga)

by Gary F. Vanucci

  Chapter 10

  Thaurion regained consciousness and found he was staring up into the face of Alana, one of his fellow apprentices. She was in a panic. She held him by the front of his robes as she shook him awake.

  “Wake up, Thaurion!” she cried in her anxiety, continuing her firm grasp on his garments.

  Thaurion seized her wrists in an attempt to halt her and finally succeeded.

  “I am awake,” he told her firmly, opening his bright green eyes wide enough to exaggerate his state, and then he scratched the dry scalp beneath his curly blonde locks. “It is good to see you alive and well, Alana.”

  “Where are we?!“ Alana asked him in an agitated tone.

  Thaurion glanced around again and shook his head. “I do not know,” he replied honestly. “We must be in some kind of holding cell…somewhere. The door is sealed shut from the outside.”

  “Therefore, someone has placed us here?”

  “So it would seem,” Thaurion answered her.

  The lack of memory regarding his journey was more than a bit choppy. He remembered being in the temple of The Shimmering One, where he could remember performing his chores and studies. Then he specifically heard Niomir speaking to him about something…then…a voice? It was gnawing at him. Maybe not quite a voice…it was more of an impulse. Something compelled him, he felt no doubt, but he could not verbalize it to Alana, nor did he want to admit anything to her just yet.

  “I do not remember what happened to us. Do you recall anything at all?” Thaurion asked.

  “I…remember Niomir speaking, then a flash of green…something shone brightly in my mind’s eye…then… nothing,” she shrugged as she too shook her head.

  “An emerald light. Yes! I recall that, too!” Thaurion said as if he’d discovered something. But, that thought led to nothing else. Thaurion looked her over as he tried to remember. Alana was dressed in remnants of the garb of The Shimmering One, as Thaurion was, but their garments looked haggard at best. They both had dried blood on their bodies, stains on their robes. After a closer inspection of one another, they discovered that they both had scrapes and bruises. They also realized they had nothing else with them. They were weaponless and without provisions of any kind.

  Thaurion felt bumps and swollen skin almost everywhere on his body beneath his robes. He also made note of specks resembling soot in Alana’s crop of auburn hair.

  Thaurion panicked and clutched his chest, fishing under his cloak for something. “Praise The Shimmering One!” he cried, clutching the silver holy symbol of the sun-god that dangled from a chain around his neck. It was the depiction of the sun—a solid circle— surrounded by stylized, symmetrical waves that encircled it, each ending in tapered points to represent the sun’s rays. That symbol aided them in many of their prayers and rituals. “At least I yet have this.”

  Alana searched and found that she too retained her holy symbol, too. “We need to find out just where we are.” Alana stated the obvious to Thaurion. “And what is that…creature in the corner?!”

  “You are not going to like this when I tell you my theory,” Thaurion warned. “From what I can tell, it is a doppelganger; a creature of legend,” he explained matter-of-factly as he walked closer to the body to inspect it again. “Though they are rare to be seen, they are depicted as foul creatures with eyes toward evil gains. I believe this one was impersonating Niomir.” He looked at Alana to see her reaction. She remained calm for now, but frowned in distaste.

  “I do not know for how long it was impersonating him besides,” he said worriedly.

  “So, he could have been this creature for…weeks? Months?” Alana asked. Thaurion nodded with resignation.

  “It explains, at least to some degree, why we cannot remember anything in the recent past. I am sure that this creature, the doppelganger, had something to do with it, though I know not how,” Thaurion paused briefly, and then pursued a new line of thinking. “Rolf still lives, but is in need of healing and rest. His wounds are serious. He will be of no use to us for a while, I fear. We need to figure out what happened and where we are in order to not only survive, but to save him as well,” Thaurion stated with a worried expression. “It is up to you and me now.”

  “I have exhausted my healing favors already and was only able to mend some of our wounds,” Alana remarked with some resignation.

  “I have expended all of my prayers earlier to heal both of us, and then I passed out, I guess,” Thaurion supposed, recalling the events prior to him being awakened by Alana.

  “I have tried again too, but cannot seem to close his wounds,” Alana sighed. “And it drains me quickly, as you know.”

  “It is because we only have limited access to the plane of reg—” Thaurion began and then noted the look on Alana’s face, causing him to cease his didactic diatribe, for she was very well aware of the facts on how their healing energies worked. And judging by the look on her face, she was in no need of a lecture this day.

  “Let us search this cell and see what we can find,” Thaurion suggested instead, diffusing her frustration toward him. He stood on wobbly legs at first, but after a few moments, he slowly regained his equilibrium.

  “Do you know even what month it is?” Thaurion asked suddenly, not knowing how long they had been gone from Oakhaven or even how long they had been here.

  “I recall clearly the Festival of New Year as the calendar turned to 66 PA,” Alana replied. ”We had at least been around for that. Also, preparations were being made for The Days of Holy Enlightenment festival that would begin in the first week of Winter’s Heart. I can barely remember anything after that, however.”

  “So it may still be Winter’s Bite? Perhaps it is Winter’s Heart, judging by the extreme chill in here,” Thaurion deduced. “Though, it is truly hard to tell in this damp and dark environment where in the sun-god’s name we are.”

  “I am unsure, but it must be winter, based on the chill in the air,” Alana agreed, pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders as if she just remembered the fact that it was freezing. ”Let’s see what we can find in here.”

  Together she and Thaurion wandered around the large area, moving the furs and rubbish around on the ground, trying to uncover any clue as to what transpired or where they were. Thaurion found and lit another torch and found a bracket on the wall to place it.

  “Rays of the sun!” Thaurion exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Alana asked, moving to stand beside him.

  “Look at this foul thing!” Thaurion held up a chain to Alana that had a symbol dangling on it. She gasped audibly.

  “It is the symbol of Thanatos, the devourer of corpses!” Alana exclaimed in a startled manner and stumbled back from it in horror.

  “Yes, it is the symbol of the demon lord of death,” Thaurion admitted grimly as he threw the symbol across the room and into the wall in an attempt to destroy it.

  “That could be…where we are?!” Alana deduced as she a hand through her matted hair. A look of concern crept across her face and Thaurion was immediately concerned that they very well could be trapped within a demonic temple of some kind!

  But who exactly brought us here? Thaurion wondered. Or what? Are we to become sacrifices to the demon lord?

  The implications of the recently found holy symbol were vast and added to the young acolyte’s confusion as he pondered their predicament further.

  The orc clan had stumbled upon the entrance of this cave immediately after they found the young priests they were ordered to find. They had found their targets—three humans and a lone elf that matched the description given to them by Chieftain Kelgarek—barely alive and all unconscious. Shaman Tukk had quickly made contact with the spirit world, confirming that the group of battered individuals they’d found were indeed the ones that they had come seeking.

  As the snow began to fall heavily upon the goblinoid troops, the snow being common for this area near the Oakcrest Mountains, Commander Grubb had decided to use a cave entrance they
found as a temporary shelter.

  Grubb’s orders were to find the group of priests who bore the symbols of The Shimmering One, and bring them back to Kelgarek—alive. He therefore decided that his contingent would remain in the cave until he could trek safely back to his Chieftain with his prized prisoners. The month had just changed, according to Shaman Tukk, and the snowfall was certainly expected during Winter’s Heart, which was generally the worst time for it. And while it made for difficult passing, the coming snow would also hide the tracks of the large force that he had taken with him—over a hundred strong.

  It had been snowing intermittently for the past few days. Storms traditionally could last for weeks at this time of year, making travel impossible. Making the attempt to get his party back to the overrun village of Chansuk in the south under these conditions would be foolish. Chansuk, now occupied by the main force of goblinoids, was at least several weeks’ travel to the south—in good weather. The retinue of overlords and the shaman agreed with their commander that this was the best course of action.

  The Bonemasher clan and Kelgarek had recently joined forces with the Bloody Fang tribe of goblins. Somehow, Chieftain Kelgarek had convinced their leader, the cunning and devious goblin, Kogh, to allow him to lead the combined forces, with Kogh becoming his second in command. Grubb believed that the apprentices must be extremely valuable if Kelgarek wanted them. Why else would the Mighty Chieftain ask for them to be delivered to him? Especially since Kelgarek was asking for them to be brought back alive if possible.

  Grubb did not dare question the chieftain aloud—for to query his judgment would lead to a swift death. Grubb was a massively built orc in his own right and was well versed in the arts of combat and warfare. But even he feared the wrath of mighty Kelgarek, for none matched his prowess or ferocity in combat…especially with that massive axe he wielded.

  Upon their arrival, the commander had immediately sent a small mix of goblin cavalry to take word to Kelgarek. That order had been given several days ago by now. Grubb knew that it would take at least a week or two of continuous travel to reach Chansuk in this weather, even though the goblins traveled on the backs of their dire wolves.

  Shaman Tukk could keep in contact with the cavalry on a daily basis using his gift to commune with spirits. But Grubb could not guarantee the safe transport of the prisoners to Chansuk until the worst of the storm had passed, as they would be traveling on foot and not horseback.

  The cave mouth originated on a slope and was large enough to contain his entire detachment. The cave itself stretched south a small distance, and then west before opening up into a large cavity with a natural pool in it.

  Several giant spider hatchlings had occupied the cavern beyond, making their nests in the many stalagmites and rock formations jutting up from the hard ground and ceiling. The orcs and goblins had cut these hatchlings down quickly so as to suffer no losses to their overall force, using fire and sword to smite them.

  One of the overlords had wandered close to another series of webs, and after burning them down, realized that it masked an opening that wound around for many paces in two different directions. One was a dead end, they discovered, but the other ended in a great—seemingly hand-carved hall—of some type.

  That particular area appeared to have been intentionally shaped by the hands of a sentient creature rather than formed by natural means. Several goblin miners had confirmed that fact. Grubb then ordered the goblins to further explore it as it might lead to warmer areas or perhaps even a food source which they could use rather than use up what little rations they had left. The soldiers, broken up into smaller contingents, soon discovered there were two distinct levels. After a lengthy exploration, it was revealed to have a prison on the lower level, where they unceremoniously dumped the acolytes.

  Shaman Tukk’s spirits discerned that it was once a temple constructed in the worship of Thanatos, the demon lord. This was evidenced further by markings upon the walls and rooms, made by cultists who had inhabited the place, perhaps long ago. On the walls, there were crude carvings depicting Thanatos’s unholy symbol, which was a skull with a sword running through it top to bottom, to symbolize the vanquishing of a life. Most of Thanatos’s cultists were led by necromancers or warlocks—mages and priests offered direct links to Pandemonium—leading any and all down the road toward black magic, despair and eternal damnation. Some were even warriors who wanted nothing but to slaughter in his name.

  They found undead forces scattered about in the caves. They were mindless, foul creatures with no intelligence but voracious appetites for flesh; various ghouls and zombies that wanted only to feed upon flesh.

  Zombies and ghouls attacked Grubb’s forces out of the darkness, swiftly and mercilessly, searching for flesh upon which to feast. If several of them attacked at once, it was a struggle for the goblinoids to overcome them. The ghouls were the most evil of creatures—possessed of unnatural strength and speed, fanged and clawed, and driven by the sole purpose of feeding their insatiable appetites. They were like the zombies, only more ferocious.

  Some of the undead were herded or lured into specific rooms, where the orcs could lock them in or otherwise bar their way out. Doors were spiked and marked so as to remain undisturbed. The rest were destroyed outright by the goblinoids. Several orcs and goblins were lost in the fights to secure the tunnels, but this needed to be done in order to keep a safe environment, since Grubb did not know how long they would need to remain. All he knew for sure was that the more they explored, the more they understood that the complex beneath them was seemingly boundless as they had not yet found its borders.

  Barguth now entered the main chamber they used as their meeting room. Seeing the goblin riding in atop his worg drew Grubb’s focus back to the current situation. The orc overlords and Shaman Tukk were conferring with one another beside him as he eyed the little goblin, watching him closely as he approached.

  “Barguth,” he called, in gruff and forceful tone, forcing Barguth’s attention on him. “What news do you have?”

  Barguth dismounted from his worg and turned to face the commander. Grubb wore a suit of enchanted mail that he had ‘acquired’ from one of his many victims. It was light, but its chains seemed more powerful than most, turning away many a blade, or so Barguth had been told. The commander also owned a horned helm that he actually wore, but only when fighting. Over his enchanted armor, Grubb wore a tabard with the symbol of a crudely drawn bone crossing over an axe—the symbol of the Bonemasher clan. He was the only one who bore the symbol on his tabard as it represented a noteworthy position within his own tribe.

  Some of the orcs also bore the symbol on their shields. Barguth’s own meager suit of armor was partially covered by a tabard, too, bearing a symbol of a bloody fang on it.

  Grubb locked gazes with his deep golden eyes staring back at Barguth. They indicated an unusual intelligence for the savage orcs. Grubb had long, dark hair on his head and his skin was a mix between gray and green. That same dark hair was cropped in a tight goatee on his face and was scattered all about his hands and forearms, only visible where the mail armor did not cover. Grubb was certainly an impressive specimen and it was hard for Barguth to comprehend that Kelgarek was even larger than this one!

  “Well?” Grubb asked, drawing the goblin’s focus to him once more.

  “I have looked into the cells and the prisoners were not moving,” the goblin reported in his shrill, somewhat high-pitched voice. “I don’t know if they live,” he admitted, “but a torch burned within the cell.” Barguth shifted back and forth nervously as he awaited Commander Grubb’s response. He had hoped it would be favorable.

  “A torch burns within the cell? How was it lit?”

  “Apologies!” Barguth shrieked, backing away from Grubb as to avoid a strike. But, nothing came. ”What will the master have me do next?”

  “I thought I told you to check on the prisoners. If anything happens to them…,” Grubb warned, narrowing his eyes. He drew in a deep
breath and crossed his arms over his chest.“I meant for you to make sure that at least one of them lives, Barguth. Behind the door!”

  The smaller creature frowned, knowing he had made a mistake.

  “Take Zodeban and Gob here to the prison entrance. Make sure that at least one of the prisoners is alive and post these two there until further notice,” Grubb ordered. Then he suddenly swooped down on Barguth and leaned in close.

  “And if the prisoners are already dead, don’t bother returning,” Grubb snarled in a threatening whisper to the goblin, and then backed away from him, standing up straight once more. “I am wondering if there are others better suited to heed my commands.”

  “I shall not fail you again,” Barguth offered in a hushed tone.

  “Let us hope not.”

  The two orcs moved forward and saluted Barguth, not out of respect for him, but instead out of respect for their commander, Barguth knew. Most orcs felt that goblins were inferior to them in every way, especially with regards to martial prowess. That was mostly true. Barguth, however, was one of the best warriors that the Bloody Fang tribe had to offer and he could certainly handle himself in combat. And the fact that Grubb often used Barguth over some of his own orcs was all the more reason the orc soldiers did not like him.

  “Aye,” replied Barguth finally as he saluted the commander. “Your word is my will.”

  Barguth handled the hilt of his magical dagger as a not-so subtle warning to the two orc soldiers as he spoke. Gob and Zodeban glanced at one another and chuckled loudly as they made their way from both the room and the tiny goblin.

  Barguth mounted his worg, rushed out the door and past the two orcs, giving the worg a kick to indicate for it to pad slowly so that the orcs could keep pace. He guided them all down the appropriate halls again toward the prisoners.

  Chapter 11