They had traveled to the Subterrane to confer with the Aspect Nahemia of the Sine brood of succubi, who was Phaera’s mother. She was also the current queen of her kin within Ulthon, the succubi community located deep below the Dragon Fangs Mountains. Nahemia was one of the honored of Lilith, the Demon Queen herself.
As they neared the succubi city, Phaera felt slightly on edge about the forthcoming meeting between her mother and Zabalas.
Rounding a corner, two bloated ogres with spears in their hands stepped forward to bar their path. The ogres had a blank stare and bore vacant expressions, indicating them to be thralls of the succubi, dominated by their ability to charm mortals. These particular ogres were ordered to stand here guarding the outer entryway into Ulthon proper.
“You may show yourselves,” Zabalas announced boldly to the open air. “I see all.”
Several succubi appeared as if from nowhere within the darkened corridor’s shadows. First one appeared, then a second and a third, all in the demonic form that the succubi could assume.
“The human must be powerful,” one of the succubi whispered to Phaera. “His will is indomitable.”
“Indeed, he is extraordinary,” Phaera said aloud, shooing them all back and away from the tunnel entrance.
The undead collective, Megnus, Prishnack and Zabalas remained behind Phaera as she consulted with the sentries. The succubi did not invite outsiders into their enclave and this was an unusual event for her sisters to comprehend. Ulthon’s business was always just that—Ulthon’s business.
After a short conference, Phaera headed back toward them and bade them to follow through the secret passageways they would use to enter into her mother’s home, where Zabalas would meet directly with the Aspect Nahemia.
Orngoth escaped his captors, but had no idea where he was or what he intended to do, other than to recover his gem. He knew only that he was free. He had been wandering around now for quite some time, or so it seemed, and found himself currently in a room with a bedside table, a bed and a footlocker at its base. It seemed to have once been a private bedchamber, he reasoned, judging by the size of the room and its belongings.
He was tired and was tempted to lie down and rest, but fought the urge and decided instead to look in the footlocker to see if there was anything useful. He was tired and hungry, too.
His wounds from the fight with the ghouls had already started to close, leaving more scars on his already disfigured flesh. His arms, back and legs bore more scarred flesh than not as he scanned them. Seeing them reminded him of the beatings that his ogre guardians had routinely given him. Sometimes they simply beat him because he wasn’t a pure ogre. But mostly they beat him because they were ogres—a spiteful and avaricious sort, that needed no reason to inflict pain and suffering upon an individual, including their own.
Orngoth pulled his mind from those unpleasant memories and went about inspecting the lock on the footlocker. It was rusted and, as he held it and tugged, it opened with ease. Inside, he found some personal effects from perhaps decades ago. Inside were the dusty remains of various garments, a pouch full of coins, and a few full vials of liquid that Orngoth figured to be either poisons or magical elixirs. There was a book and a few rolled up parchments with words that were unrecognizable to him. There was also a pair of scroll cases, a robe, cloak and a pair of boots that were in better shape than the rest. He also found a rucksack, which he retrieved, inspected, and then slung over his back.
He then inspected the table next to the bed. Upon further inspection, as he held the rotted wood in his hands, he found a hidden space under the top of it that held a map. It looked to be an ancient map of what he believed to be Wothlondia. He was unsure of the map’s purpose, so he decided to roll it up, place it inside of a scroll case for safekeeping, and then place that in his newly acquired rucksack, along with the pouch of coins.
Orngoth slumped down to the ground, leaning against the bed. He heard the footsteps of what he believed to be a patrol in the hallway and remained still until the sound of their footsteps faded. His only thoughts now were on regaining his lost gem and he had an idea now of how to find it.
Barguth arrived in the main hall once more and dismounted from his worg. Shaman Tukk stood leaning on his bone staff while the overlords were all sitting and chatting amongst themselves as they ate. Grubb gave instructions to several orcs who were no doubt reporting their findings on either level of the abandoned temple. Grubb saw Barguth enter and moved to speak with him just as the goblin raced toward him, meeting him halfway.
“What news have you for me?” the commander asked the goblin, staring into his red eyes and waiting for an answer.
“I found the remains of a search party, my liege!” Barguth exclaimed in his shrill voice. “They looked to have been attacked by the undead! Ghouls killed them!”
Grubb’s face filled with anger and frustration. Then his expression calmed a moment later and he rubbed his hairy face.
“Ghouls? And where are these ghouls now?”
“They are dead too, my lord,” Barguth explained, as if that were obvious.
“Well, what killed them?” Grubb asked, leveling an inquisitive look upon the goblin.
“I thought they killed each other,” Barguth remarked, his own face wrinkled up. Grubb turned away from him.
“Doubtful,” Grubb muttered under his breath before turning back to face the goblin, stooping to be eye level with the goblins. “And the half-breed? Was there any sign of…the half-ogre?” Grubb asked as he removed a gem from his belt pouch and rolled it over in his hand absently.
“No, my lord,” the goblin said. “I only saw the remains of the undead and our search party. No ogre.”
“I see,” Grubb nodded and stood to his full height. He tried and failed to hide his seething anger.
Just then, two orcs and two ograthi entered the room, appearing agitated.
“Commander, we have found something of note. You will want to see!” exclaimed one of the orcs. “It is on the lower level behind a hidden tunnel.”
“And what is that?” Grubb asked them evenly, trying to remain calm and unconsciously stroking his goatee.
“We have located a secret chamber. It looks to be big enough for us to sleep the whole force in one room,” another orc interjected, implicating himself as the founder of that idea.
“And there are treasures! Many treasures!” exclaimed one of the ograthi.
Grubb perked up a bit at the mention of that. “What kind of treasure?” he asked flatly, completely forgetting about the missing half-ogre for the moment.
“All kinds,” one orc stated. “There were gems, trinkets, baubles and coins…lots of coins!”
“Very shiny!” interrupted a goblin. “Shiny treasures!”
“It will be wise to camp there,” uttered Tukk suddenly, adjusting his antlered helmet and moving out from behind Grubb. “Draft in this room is unwelcome. The spirits have no word on the messengers…they have not made it to Chansuk. They have not told Chieftain Kelgarek yet,” Tukk added. “We should go to a warmer area.”
“Aye,” agreed all three of the remaining overlords, one after the other, agreeing with the logic of the shaman.
“So be it,” Grubb announced in an authoritative voice. “Gather our things and we will head for this hidden chamber that is warm and full of treasure. Barguth, you are to find the other search party on this level and inform the sentries guarding the acolytes. Alert them to these changes...and the dangers of the wandering undead.”
And so, Grubb watched as the goblinoids went about following his orders and he watched Barguth hop into the saddle of his dire wolf and disappear around the corner.
A treasure chamber more than intrigued the orc commander.
Thaurion and Alana continued their prayers to The Shimmering One in hopes that he may find favor upon them and show them a way out of this prison cell of Thanatos, the demon lord.
The orcs remained stationed outside their cell door, making it m
uch more difficult for them to make any escape attempts that way. Still, they pondered their situation quietly and attempted to come up with a way to get free.
Alana began chanting a prayer to The Shimmering One, for she had found a sack under a carcass that happened to have a bit of salted meats that the two of them could share for the day. She also was able to summon small amounts of water as a gift from The Shimmering One, as any priest could do to refill an empty water-skin. Thaurion did the same as he tugged away a piece of the dried beef.
“We need to get Rolf some aid and proper healing,” Thaurion stated, frowning the whole time.
“Aye,” Alana sadly agreed, between bites.
“I would only hope for that much,” Thaurion agreed evenly.
“I wish I could remember how we arrived here…and what we were transporting,” Thaurion sighed, rubbing his hair and seeing flashes of a beautiful woman’s face, as if recalling something deep within his subconscious, but then it disappeared again.
“I remember something about…a woman…and a piece of jewelry maybe?” he shrugged. “And a pair of penetrating red eyes in the darkness…but, I can’t seem to recall the details,” he growled in frustration.
“Quiet!” they heard through the iron door on the other side, again in the common trade-speak. “Don’t want me to come in there, do ya?” one of the voices threatened.
“we are not looking for trouble,” Alana answered as the peephole opened, revealing a pair of penetrating brown eyes. It was clear to both of the acolytes at this point that the creature was an orc.
“Is that food?” the orc asked, smelling some of the meat, his snout sniffing the air.
“Aye. You want some?” Thaurion asked.
“It would be wise of you to share,” the other voice agreed. “Then we might do you favors.”
Thaurion passed a strip of the dried beef through the peephole. It disappeared quickly and munching sounded on the other side of the door.
“We need to figure a way to get out of this prison and leave this wretched place!” Thaurion whispered on hearing the sounds of the orcs gorging themselves on the meat.
“Aye, and get Rolf powerful healing prayers and proper bed rest,” Alana chimed in with a nod of her head.
“Or we might end up dead ourselves,” Thaurion admitted. “Even if we figure a way out of here, we will need to think of a way to bring Rolf with us.”
After the orcs were finished feasting, Thaurion heard the faint sound of a creature snoring.
“They must have fallen asleep,” Thaurion whispered.
With that Thaurion started poking about the room, searching for any supplies that might help them escape.
Chapter 17
The wagon stalled and moved sluggishly through the mounting storm. The thick snow made travel much more arduous than the group had hoped.
“We may have to seek shelter from the storm,” Rose said with a bit of worry, looking at the snowfall as it accumulated. It was fairly warm in the heavily insulated caravan, but the storm was getting worse and her fear was more of being snowed under.
“Aye,” Elec agreed, nodding and staring directly into Rose’s eyes.
Garius strode toward the front of the wagon and slid the small access panel open behind the driver’s seat where the guardian sat. He gave it a command. The wagon came to a stop and Garius stepped out.
“Be patient,” was all he said as he exited. The contrast was quite vivid as his blood-red armor opposed the pure white snow.
Saeunn, Rose and Elec watched him through the driver-side portal as he strode many paces away from the wagon to begin a very lengthy series of chants and hand movements. It was a spectacle for those who had never seen the mighty Inquisitor invoke the powers of the Gods of Order before.
Long moments passed until finally, he stopped. The sky appeared to alter its hue upon his command.
The snowfall started to slow once he finished. By the time Garius had made his way back to the wagon, the snow had ceased completely.
“I have managed to gain the favor of The Watcher. He has granted us a temporary respite from the snowfall, within a few miles at best,” Garius stated, helmet off and sweating profusely, despite the cold. “It should give us a chance to avoid the worst of the storm.”
Elec and Saeunn displayed looks of shock and awe. Rose showed some subtle indication of being fascinated as her lips were pursed, her eyes wide, and she was nodding absently.
“The Watcher heeds your word?” Rose asked the Inquisitor, still doubting the reality of what was happening.
“See for yourself.” Garius pointed at the horizon.
Garius gave directions to the guardian driver again and the wagon lurched forward once more, slowly at first, then picking up speed now that the snow had stopped.
Rose stood behind him, gazing up at the sky through a window and wondering exactly what limitations this Inquisitor had. Either way, she was impressed with what had just happened.
Perhaps he isn’t the overbearing bore I had thought initially, Rose considered hopefully.
Tiyarnon had received word that Ganthorpe returned after handling the irate Queen of Norgeld. Ganthorpe had always been thought of as the silver-tongued, charming member of the Council, and was therefore used as an asset in negotiations. He had used that gift on many occasions to smooth over many political issues for them in the past, making him the obvious choice for this assignment.
Queen Lynessa had summoned a meeting with the High Council of Oakhaven and several of the other surrounding cities, such as Highport, Safehold and Karn, the halfling village of Merithia, as well as the gnome village of Dhegg and the simple farming town of Oreon. They were all to have representatives of each city or village meet in the elven locale that was Amrel Forest, the home of a major force of forest elves, and a central point to them all. King Dorinthal of Amrel had been more than happy to host the gathering and aid in any way the elves could.
There they would discuss not only the problems within Norgeld and those of Queen Lynessa, but also the topic of lending aid to Oakhaven in the effort to remove the goblinoid forces holed up in Chansuk. And so, he waited in the council chamber for the man to make is return, eager to hear some good news for a change.
Ganthorpe was home again after his recent escapade. He was to make his way to the Hall of the High Council first and foremost. But, he had taken a detour into the Golden Crown, which happened to be the best place to gamble within the Entertainment District of Oakhaven.
Ganthorpe entered the establishment and strode with a purpose toward the rear of the main hall, pulling his cowl tight about his head to hide his identity from any onlookers. He was looking for two men in particular and spotted them. One was dressed in dark leather with a hood loosely covering his head and the other wore a thinly-brimmed, floppy hat. They were both seated at a table along with a barmaid with whom they were chatting.
“Excuse us,” Ganthorpe said standing over the table, startling the barmaid in the process and then shooing her away. The woman began to protest but Ganthorpe shot her a look that was far from friendly. The woman understood the non-verbal threat for what it was and continued on her way.
“I assume things are going well in my absence, Aidan?” Ganthorpe directed at the hooded man, who was running a hand through his long, dark hair under his hood, lowering it in the same motion.
His face was seen clearly now, displaying an eye patch on his left eye with a scar protruding from above and below, indicating that it had done some damage to the eye underneath. There were also a few other scars, not as deep, but making him appear more hard-edged to any onlooker.
“Aye,” responded Aidan. “All is fine…Aye, Zeke?”
“Is that all?” asked Ganthorpe to the man named Zeke, who removed his hat, revealing a head of auburn hair. “Or is there more?”
“Well,” he began telling. “Rose has decided to pursue…other avenues,” Zeke slowly stated to Ganthorpe, who looked visibly perplexed. Zeke feared a verbal t
ongue lashing or worse for having delivered the news at all.
“Meaning what exactly?” leveled Ganthorpe to either one of them, looking back and forth between the two men and visibly growing more upset.
“She applied for an assignment that the High Council had offered. It was the High Council and the Faceless Knights actually, and it required an interview,” Aidan explained.
“The…Inquisition? Is here?” Ganthorpe asked, getting more annoyed by the sentence. “They have eyes everywhere, fools,” he explained tersely, wrapping his cloak about him more tightly.
“She had been getting careless, too,” Aidan added, fumbling with his eye patch.
“I agree with that part, but she will not be permitted to leave the guild, nor can she be permitted to divulge our secrets…to anyone. I will silence her tongue myself if she threatens our operation,” Ganthorpe stated flatly. “If the Faceless Knights and the Inquisition are involved, and she has told them anything about us…or me….” Both men nodded, agreeing with the observation. “Suffice to say, she will pay.”
“I will do some internal snooping and see exactly what she might have divulged to the Council, and more importantly, of the connection to me,” Ganthorpe announced, pointing a finger into his own chest as he spoke. “If she has revealed anything regarding my part in the operations, we may need to silence more than a few tongues,” he finished grimly. “This might get bloody.”
Ganthorpe turned his back on them for a moment, letting the summary sink in. “An interview, eh?” Ganthorpe mused, stroking his immaculately groomed goatee.
“What shall we do?” Aidan asked as Ganthorpe started to walk away.
“Continue your business as usual until I say otherwise, of course,” Ganthorpe instructed, turning back to them and then away once more as he hurried out of the Golden Crown. He headed straight out of the Entertainment District altogether, avoiding any contact with anyone, and into the main courtyard where the Hall of the High Council and its members would be awaiting his return.
The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) Page 35
