by Unknown
"Lay him over there and fetch me some blankets from the cabins."
Riddick put the boy on the table and ran out in search of the blankets. When he returned, the old man was bent over Shaz, whispering words he didn’t understand. A light rust colored glow surrounded the wound. Ole Baggins held his hands barely above the wound. His palms faced down and gently glided above the surface. The blood dried and formed a long scab like surface.
Riddick wrapped the blankets around William, who was freezing cold and pulled him tightly to him. He cradled the boy and watched the horrific scene replay in his mind. He swayed with the rocking and tossing of the ship. Shouts came from above mingled with cries of pain and anguish. Several more loud echoing shudders rippled through the hull.
With a horrendous crack the heavy main mast shattered into thousands of wooden shards and sprayed across the deck. Three more crew members were taken into the sea. Cries faded into the dark sky. Only the raging winds and torrents of rain slamming into the battered wood were heard. Tears stained his pale freckled face.
"Are you doing some kind of magic?" Riddick asked.
"No, not magic. Healing of the soul," he replied. "I see with my heart, not my eyes. When the beast took my sight, I turned to my heart for healing, and when I saw again, it was through different eyes. I see the souls of people now, and their courage and strengths. You for instance are a noble leader with a capacity to love. You are destined for important things. You are this one's soul brother,"
Riddick didn't say anything but he knew he was right. Ole Baggins continued his whisperings and checked Shaz’s forehead. Shaz was sweating heavily, his breathing irregular and strained.
"This one," said the old man, "is an important one. The spirits are with him now."
After several more minutes, Shaz's breathing steadied and the color in his face returned. Ole Baggins made his way to William, balancing with the rocking and swaying of the waves. The old man held his hand on William's forehead and whispered the same strange words.
CHAPTER THREE
Treason
Azrak kicked a stone as he padded over the harsh desert floor. Trenches carved into the landscape made for excellent vantage points. He was, however, not on familiar ground. He was in the Ebonhoards territory, a ferocious clan of gryphtons that had little regard for life. The sun was hot and his mouth dry. Several lengths ahead, hid a hoard of gryphton soldiers. His shadow formed over the warriors as he reached where they were hiding.
"What are you doing, Kosaf? You will obey my orders," Azrak said.
"I obey no one," growled Kosaf.
"You think that taking orders from the shadow is better than me?"
"Maybe it's time for a new leader."
A low growl escaped Azrak’s throat as he peered into the black eyes of one of his hoard leaders. The renegade gryphton stared back.
"So you think you're a better leader than me? How long do you think you will last under the protection of the shadow? The shadow doesn't care about you. It will leave you for dead the moment you are of no use, and for what, a trinket of gold or silver?"
"You offer nothing but a lifetime of servitude under a weak and dying king. The shadow offers a good price for my loyalty," Kosaf said banging on his chest.
The gryphtons roared and cheered as they banged on their chests in agreement.
"You have led a raid against the Ebonhoards, and have angered them needlessly. They will attack our prides for revenge," Azrak said.
The soldiers looked from Azrak to Kosaf and back. Their confused looks gave Azrak hope that he could persuade them to return to the armada.
"The raid is past and gone, and cannot be changed. Why should we care about the Ebonhoards? They are no match for the shadow." Kosaf turned to the soldiers and puffed out his chest, slammed his battle ax against his armor and shouted, "Warriors hear my voice!"
The hoard grunted and growled, some jumped, and some raised their weapons high above their heads.
"We are hunters and warriors, not thieves and murderers. Kosaf would have you become slaves to the shadow. I know his heart," Azrack said.
"So, you say," sneered Kosaf.
"Brothers, hear my voice, for honor," Azrack commanded.
He leaped down into the trench. Azrack lifted his chin upward, and walked through the crowd of gryphton warriors, who were garbed in battle armor, and heavy traveling cloaks. Large wings set deep into their backs lifted slightly, ruffling in the gentle breeze, and rubbed against their chain-mail armor. He stopped at Kosaf and stared at him.
Azrack moved into Kosaf's space and sniffed around him, tasting the air with his beak. The stink of betrayal sank into his nostrils and he knew Kosaf had chosen to serve the shadow. Kosaf rose to his full stature threatening Azrak, who rose to his.
"The few answer your call, Azrak," Kosaf said. "The many follow me now."
Azrack found himself in the middle of a herd of warriors that no longer answered to him. His dark black eyes shifted, rapidly searching them. Their helmets covered their eagle heads and their half-human-half-lion bodies were covered with heavy leather and steel armor. For an instant his heart raced with fear, but then sadness. Many of the warriors he had once commanded now succumbed to the greed of their kind and the empty promises of evil.
"This is not many, but a few misguided cubs. I still command the armada of the king."
"This hoard is mine," Kosaf snarled, banged his paw against his chest and ruffled his feathers. The hoard echoed back with grunting and growling salutes. "All mine! Try and take them from me."
Kosaf was angry because he should have become the General of the King’s Armada. It was against their laws for him to challenge his leader, but as the evil crept in, the once-held with honor rules were no more important.
"Whoever is loyal to me, follow me," Azrak said.
Not one warrior moved. Before Kosaf could launch an attack, Azrack leaped into the air. Shouts of victory rang through the air.
*************************
Azrak hunched over several maps scattered over a large table.
"If we move our forces here, we can secure the east borders." Ralti said.
"Kosaf has taken a hoard and now serves the shadow," Azrak said.
"What? That low life sc-"
"It is what it is, but we must guard against him taking any more. Tell the armada that his hoards are now dissenters and that if found they are to be killed on sight."
"Azrak, are you sure? That’s not our way."
"We can't afford to go easy. The shadow is growing more and more powerful. It already has hold of the Ebonhoards and Kronos Hoards."
"Yes, sir."
Ralti knew it was true and understood why the punishment needed to be so tough, but he didn't like it. He knew that Azrak didn't either. Azrak wouldn't get to that extreme if there wasn't anything he hadn't already tried. Azrak rolled a map and made his way to the king’s quarters. The dampness from the persistent rain hung heavily in the air. This part of the land was once fields of grasses where wild steer and elk roamed. Now it was covered with battle barracks, trodden down by the constant trudging of soldiers. He moved briskly into the tent.
“Sir, sorry to interrupt, but I have an urgent matter,” Azrak said.
“What is it?” asked the old and feeble gryphton king.
“Kosaf has attacked the Ebonhoards. I fear he will make alliances with Kronos.”
“Why is this pressing?”
“Because sir, didn’t you put him in charge of the prisoner exchange?”
The King’s face drained of color and his knees wobbled. He sat down and ran his paw over his face. He took in a deep breath.
"Azrack we need to mobilize forces toward the south border. We need to be ready to withstand Kronos."
"Sir, what about the peace talks?"
"I fear there won’t be any now."
Azrak's stomach turned.
"Yes, sir."
Azrak left the barracks.
"Lahonti, take a
letter."
Lahonti pulled out a parchment and ink, and sat on a small stool next to a table.
Kronos,
I write unto you concerning this war which your brother has waged against my nation, in which you are still determined to carry on even after his death. If you do not withdraw your armies back into your own lands, which are the land we are willing to let you keep, you will draw our full wrath upon you. We will not show mercy to those who surrender. We will wipe you off the face of this land. I would offer you quarter if it were at all possible that you would live by our law, but as you are so past feeling, I fear you would be incapable. I will not honor any deals made by Kosaf on my behalf, for he has dissented to the shadow. I will not exchange prisoners, save it be on conditions that you deliver up a gryphton and his wife and his children, for one prisoner. If you agree, I will exchange. If you do not agree it shall be blood for blood, life for life, and I will give you battle until you are destroyed off the face of this land.
For I am King Ruadan
Lahonti finished the last of the script and blew on the ink. He rolled it up and dripped hot wax on the edge. Placed the King’s stamp and held it until the wax cooled. He slipped out of the tent and made his way to the carrier’s tent. He gave the messenger the note and returned.
Ralti, Brigdon and Helios were in the war room discussing possible moves when Azrak entered.
“The king has stopped all peace talks with Kronos and we must be prepared to take the south borders.”
Ralti, Helios, and Brigdon stared at Azrak. Helios’ searched for a logical reason but came up empty.
“Why did the peace talks end? It’s clearly the logical thing to do,” Helios asked.
“Logical, yes, but nothing about this senseless war has been logical,” Ralti said.
Brigdon grunted. Helios opened his mouth but shut it.
“There will be no prisoner exchange either.”
“That leaves us at a sizable disadvantage,” Helios said.
Azrak nodded, and unrolled his map onto the table.
“Brigdon, take your forces here,” Azrak pointed to the only pass on the south border. “Helios, you take yours here,” and pointed to the peaks. “Ralti, yours go here.” He pointed to the grasslands on the farthest side.
“Sir, what happened to Kosaf?” Helios asked.
“The shadow.”
Helios sank onto his haunches and ruffled his feathers as a chill ran down his back.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Ebonhoards
The sun was now far from the world, leaving the sting of winter hanging over the once bright and delightful land.
“Lahonti, send in my son,” King Ruadan said.
"Yes, my sire," Lahonti replied.
He pulled in his wings tight so he could pass through the narrow opening of the war tent. Lahonti hopped a few feet and leapt into the air. His large wings thrust against the ground. He flew over the embattled tents and worn out warriors. The conflict took many years to escalate, but as of late the reckless Kronos had made its objection to the king's rule manifest. The King Ruadan fell wounded during the last battle. Lahonti spent most of his time caring for him. His health was not improving, which left uneasiness linger over the armada.
"Groargoth, your father the King wishes to speak to you," Lahonti declared.
Groargoth peered up from his plate of roasted meat and glared down his nose.
"I know my father is the King, stupid."
His shiny black eyes penetrated Lahonti’s. He bowed deeply and backed away. Groargoth put his plate down on the stool next to him and stood slowly. Long, black feathers ruffled at the back of his head, and down his neck. Instead of flying, he strode through the camp making sure every warrior saw him.
The gryphton's tried not to make eye contact with him, which angered him. One choked on his ale, and another nearly stumbled as he passed through their camp. Groargoth was an accomplished warrior. However, he lacked the greatest skill to lead a troop of his own, compassion. Groargoth struck his chest plate with his fist as he walked by, enlisting respect.
Groargoth approached the king's tent and gazed into the night sky. The heat of his breath penetrated the cold as he breathed out heavily. A star shot across the three purple moons. He took that as an omen, threw out his chest, pulled his wings in tightly and entered the tent.
"Father, you sent for me?"
"Son, I have a special mission for you, come."
Groargoth bowed his head and knelt before his father's nest. His heart pounded. It was about time that his father saw him for what he was.
"Yes, father."
"Kronos is moving his hoards to the south lands. Take a small hoard and intercept the communication. Find out what he is planning."
"But father, that's a task for a new recruit. Surely you need me for more important matters."
"I have Azrak and his command for that. This is a task befitting to you."
Groargoth lowered his head, the words sank deep into his heart and sliced the very shred of desire he once had for his father’s acceptance. His mind raced through the years of disappointments he felt from his father. The countless times he favored Azrak over him. His anger deepened in his chest and he felt only red hot fury.
"Yes, father."
For an instant the thought echoed through his mind that it would be so easy to kill the old gryphton. The King rested with his eyes closed, on the large padded headboard of his nest like bed. Groargoth jumped as Lahonti nudged through the opening. Groargoth left the tent in a hurry, huffing and pouting as he threw the flap open.
He was determined to show his father he could lead an army, even if that meant he had to take it by force. He kicked a pot of grub over as he stormed by. The warrior jumped to get in his face but Groargoth roared at him. The warrior realized who it was and stopped, glaring at him as he left.
"Lahonti, send Azrak in," the King said.
"Yes sire," Lahonti replied.
Lahonti found Azrak tending his supper.
"Azrak, the King requests your company," Lahonti said.
His brilliant green feathers reflected the fire light as he bowed deeply. Azrak turned and put down the large spoon.
"You don't need to bow to me, Lahonti," Azrak said, picking up his helmet and tucking it under his arm.
"Yes sir," Lahonti replied again, still in a bow.
Azrak knew Lahonti would never stop being a servant. It's in his nature. Azrak walked through the camp of battered, bleeding and broken warriors. They'd attempted to take the north border against the Ebonhoards. Azrak lead his team through the tall grasses. Jaxton and Pontos swarmed in from the east side. They didn’t expect the Ebonhoards to have large weapons that flung fireballs long distances. Helios has seen them in an ancient text that explained the history of their world but had never seen them in real life. The launchers shot fire toward Azrak engulfing the trees and covering the land with smoke. It was hard for them to breath, so they had to move closer to the Ebonhoards.
Azrak tried to make his way to the west. The Ebonhoards had strung woven twine together making a barrier over them. They couldn’t fly away and retreat. Azrak sent warriors to cut through the twine. They had to fight through the oncoming Ebonhoards first. Helios studied the launchers and about mid-day understood how they worked and what it would take to bring them down. He sent several attacks to distract them while, a small group, made their way close enough to hit them with their slings.
Aiming at the line that was strung through the center pole and attached to the bucket, they slung sharpened rocks. The rocks sliced through the rope. The rope gave way half way through the swing and the bucket of flaming tar landed on the Ebonhoards. Fire quickly engulfed the camp. Azrak instructed his armies to flap their wings and make wind to feed the fire. The fire however didn’t seem to take hold. A human figure wearing a bright red cloak, in the back of the camp stood on a tall stand.
Azrak knew about the mages from legend but had never seen one, until toda
y. Azrak sent Brigdon down the center straight for the mage, while he slipped through the burning trees. He covered his beak with cloth as he made his way so that he was behind the stand. He took out his sling and loaded it. He swung with one fast flick and released the stone. It hit the mage in the back. The mage crumpled to the ground. The smoke and fire died down quickly and Azrak retreated his left over forces. They didn’t gain any ground and had suffered much loss.
Warriors bowed or nodded and ruffled their feathers as he walked by. His stern command lead for obedient warriors, but his compassion for them evoked their devotion to him.
Groargoth turned and peered at Azrak. He slipped into the shadows and followed Azrak until he reached his father's tent and went around to the back. Groargoth put his ear on the rear tent wall to listen. Azrak pulled open the tent, and slipped through the door.
"I am here sire," Azrak said, bowing to one knee.
"Come," the King replied.
Azrak stood and walked to the side of his bed. The king lifted his shaky paw and Azrak took it in his.
"It is soon that I must die," the King said softly. Azrak began to interrupt but instead silenced himself. "Azrak, you are the only one I trust with my kingdom. We must not let our people fall into destruction," he said through labored breaths. "I will declare it when you return."
"No, sire, not me." He paused. "What about your son?"
"He is no ruler. He is selfish and cruel. He seeks only to profit himself. He is greedy and is no different than the lesser hoards, seeking only riches. He will destroy our people."
Groargoth stood back, hot anger rose from his chest. He put his ear back to the canvas wall.
“Perhaps a competition, like when there is no heir to select from.”
“Very well then. But first I need you to take your best men and go into the valley of Baymoor. You must find the orb at the Ruins of Basete. It will help us defeat the mages the Ebonhoards now have. I know I can trust only you," the king said slowly coughing weakly.
