“Here we go,” said Gresham.
Sallow continued. “The Velden Mine has been decimated, and the village of Shara has been overrun. The town of Velden itself is holding with the help of the mages from the Tower of Sorcery, but it doesn’t look good. Fortunately, it seems the dwarves have finally arrived to help, and they are striking at the northwest flank of the ogre army.”
“I wouldn’t write off Velden yet,” said Gresham. “Arch Mage Toele has gone there with a contingent of high ranking mages. He may be a grumpy character, but he’s no slouch either. He has his share of battle experience under his belt. If anyone can hold off the ogres, he can.”
“I hope so,” said Sallow.
“And what of the dragons?” asked Arch Mage Penna. She didn’t have a dragon of her own, but didn’t want one either since she wasn’t fond of heights. Content to stay on the ground, she organized the spell casters in the army. This was not an easy task and demanded most of her attention.
“There are untamed dragons present,” said Sallow, “but our dragon riders have been doing a good job of chasing them away. The dragons seem to be more reluctant to fight against others of their own kind. In fact, some of the untamed dragons have joined our side, but that doesn’t compare to the new arrivals who are drawn to the magic of the numerous spell casters. Sasha and her group are finding little time to do damage to selected ground troops.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” mumbled Gresham. “At best we will be keeping the untamed dragons too busy to involve themselves in the battle. Whether that’s a good thing, remains to be seen.”
A young mage appeared and ran up to Arch Mage Sallow. He whispered into his ear for a few moments and then ran off. Sallow’s expression darkened.
“What is it?” asked Gresham.
“The latest familiars have returned from the north. It appears the minotaurs have gotten involved. A sizeable contingent of the creatures has joined the fray.”
Gresham swore.
General Holden, who was also present, shook his head. “Then all is lost. We cannot fight two large armies on two fronts.” Holden had become the new general since the original one had succumbed to his injuries from the previous battle.
“This is bad, indeed,” said Penna. She looked at Gresham and could see his thoughtful expression. “Gresham?”
“You know,” said Gresham slowly, “that may not be such a bad thing under the circumstances.”
“How so?” asked Penna.
Gresham lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Minotaurs and ogres have been mortal enemies for a long time, long before humans arrived in these lands.”
“What difference does that make?” asked Holden. “They’re everyone’s enemies.”
“True,” said Gresham, “but their appearance may benefit us in that their attention will be on the ogres, at least initially.”
“Maybe,” said Sallow. “And they do have to go through the ogres to get to our forces.”
“Let’s hope the dwarves are smart enough to use the ogres as a buffer as well,” added Penna.
“It’s too bad we can’t get that message across to the dwarves,” said Holden.
“Yes,” said Gresham. “All of our dragons will be busy very soon and we can’t spare any messengers. It would have been a perfect task for a mage with a young dragon under his control, one not big enough to become involved in battle. But we don’t have one, so we’ll have to do without.” He turned to Sallow. “And our region? You said earlier things were in motion?”
Sallow nodded. “The bulk of the warlock’s army has moved a day’s travel east and they’ve set up for the night. They are now a day and a half from here. However, it’s unknown when they will rise and attack, but it certainly looks imminent. I suspect he’s waiting for a small contingent of creatures to circle south of us, but what he hopes to accomplish with such a small force is unknown.”
“Maybe he wants us to think we are surrounded as a ploy to make us assume his army is bigger than we thought,” suggested Penna. “The psychological aspect of a war can be devastating if fear is used to your advantage.”
“Perhaps,” conceded Gresham, “but I think the warlock has something else up his sleeve.”
“One other unconfirmed report from our familiars,” continued Sallow, “is the possible presence of dragons in the warlock’s army. I say unconfirmed because the army has archers as well as magic defending their perimeter. Our aerial familiars can’t break through without being shot down with arrows or magic. Even the eagle familiars are unable to do anything with their keen eyesight and high altitude. The lizardmages have put up some sort of shield that prevents visual contact with certain parts of the army compound.”
“Then how do you know they might have dragons?” asked Penna.
“There were two reports that lead us to suspect the presence of enemy dragons,” said Sallow. “First of all, one familiar - a mouse - has reportedly made it through the enemy lines and caught sight of the beasts. Any sizeable familiar would undoubtedly have been killed for food within minutes in the enemy camp, but being small and scrawny, the mouse was likely not considered worth hunting down for a snack by the orcs or goblins. The only problem is the familiar in question has a habit of embellishing its stories from time to time in order to be taken seriously.”
“Nevertheless,” said Gresham, “if the information is accurate, it could have dire consequences for us if we ignored it. What is the other report?”
“The other one was a report from a raven who spotted a dragon appear out of nowhere just west of our encampment. It told its master the dragon suddenly appeared and two individuals climbed upon its back. Then it flew out of sight to the west at an amazing speed and was gone. It could have been spying on our activities. The fact that it was invisible is a little unnerving, wouldn’t you say?”
Gresham nodded. “An invisible dragon, you say? Interesting. That may explain some things. We have done experiments with invisibility on our dragons and the magic won’t work. Someone may have found a way around that problem.” He straightened. “With what we now know, I recommend we prepare for the eventuality that the enemy has dragons under their control just as we do. We need to forewarn the other dragon riders and formulate a battle strategy to cope with this.”
“I agree,” said Penna. “After our last few confrontations with this warlock, I wouldn’t ever underestimate his capabilities.”
“We all know what must be done,” said Gresham. “I suggest we get to work at once.”
The others agreed.
Chapter 32
Galado observed his surroundings carefully as he wandered through the warlock’s camp with his entourage of orcs. It was quickly becoming dark and the cool night air was setting in earlier than usual. Tents were set up in clusters and the various races bunched together in groups of their own kind. Bonfires were set up here and there with wood from the surrounding forest. Some of the bonfires had spits set up with unknown carcasses being roasted for the benefit of those nearby. Orcs and their smaller cousins the goblins milled about in small groups. The goblins with their pointed ears and pointy chins hovered near some of the spits in the hopes of snatching pieces of meat from unwary creatures, who weren’t always watching the progress of their supper. One goblin was caught in the act of stealing some meat and ran full tilt from the scene as an angry orc shambled after it, threatening all sorts of nasty things once he got his hands on the thief.
Galado even passed a section of the camp where some human mercenaries were camped. They were settling down for supper as well and were passing around a flask of dwarven ale they had somehow acquired. When they saw Galado, they gave a curt nod, which he returned. These were men and women who had no compunction about fighting their own kind. Their reasons varied, from revenge to financial gain.
The entrance into the camp had gone fairly smoothly. One stepped forward
to report to a lizardmage who was accompanied by several orcs. He informed them the patrol had been ambushed, but had prevailed, and some new information had come to light that had to be reported to the warlock at once.
The lizardmage hissed in a manner that could have indicated fear. “You’ll have to report it yourself.” Obviously no one wanted to face the warlock’s wrath. Even if good news was reported, the warlock was known to become angry if he was interrupted at a bad time.
The lizardmage then inquired about Galado’s presence, and One told him Galado was a defector. He had been instrumental in defeating the ambushers as a sign of his allegiance.
Satisfied, the lizardmage opened the gate and allowed them to enter. He pointed to the large tent in the distance. “The warlock’s tent is over there.”
One grunted like an orc and led them into the camp.
Now they continued toward the warlock’s tent. Galado stepped close to One so he could hear. “We need to take out - or should I say replace - the sentries outside of the warlock’s tent. We need to do so quietly while no one is watching.”
One nodded. “Right, Boss.”
“Once you’re in position as a sentry, I’ll need you to watch closely for any threats. Anything unusual must be reported immediately. If you don’t have time to report, kill first and we’ll deal with them later.”
“Right, Boss.”
“When I’m ready, I’ll give you a signal and I want you to ensure no one enters the warlock’s tent - and I mean no one,” commanded Galado.
“You got it, Boss,” said One.
Galado stopped and turned to his crew. “We can’t all go to the tent or it will look suspicious. I’ll take One, Two, Eight and Ten. The rest of you should go and mingle. Maybe you can find some creatures who are alone and take control of their bodies. It isn’t uncommon that these creatures kill one another from time to time, even if they are on the same side in this war. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a good mix. I’ll need leaders among all the groups. Be particularly careful of the lizardmages. If one of you succeeds in taking the body of one of them, remember that you won’t be able to cast magic. I know that without magic those creatures are pretty useless, but I would like to know what they are up to, and to do that you have to be one of them.”
“Understood,” said several orcs.
Galado nodded. “Good. You can report back to me when you have been successful.”
The orcs turned and left, except the ones Galado had selected.
“You four come with me,” instructed Galado.
They followed him to a spot overlooking the warlock’s tent from the side. Light from the torches filtered out through the entrance highlighting a pair of human guards who looked bored. Galado and his team ducked behind a cart laden with supplies meant strictly for the warlock and his guests. There Galado and his team waited, hidden from view of the sentries, as well as anyone else in the camp.
Nearly an hour passed. Galado yawned and forced himself to stay awake. It had now been several days since Galado had slept. Fatigue was setting in and was much more noticeable when he was at rest. He fervently wished he could get this over with. Fortunately, voices could be heard and the tent’s doorway was pulled aside. The light from within brightened the area as a number of commanders exited. The orc and goblin commanders left first, shambling quickly from the scene to the encampment beyond, where they eventually split up to go to their own command posts. A single human mercenary commander exited next. He was tall but well built. He strode confidently down the path and disappeared.
“It wouldn’t hurt to take control of him,” whispered Galado, “but there’s no real hurry. I’m sure he will do fine for the time being.”
One grunted is response. Orcs didn’t know how to whisper.
Then four lizardmen exited the tent. They were quiet until they were out of earshot of the sentries. Then one of them spoke. “It’s your turn to deal with the cyclops, Friss. They are not a pleasant race to deal with.”
Friss hissed. “I was hoping you’d forget to pass them off to me, Galar.”
Galar hissed in laughter. “Not on your life! One day is enough to last me a lifetime!”
The other lizardmages hissed.
Soon their banter was lost as they moved away. As the tent doors were pulled shut by the goblin-orc, the sentries relaxed again, prepared for another long night of boredom once again.
“This is it,” whispered Galado. “You guys circle around back. I’ll create a diversion and you guys can do your thing. Silence is absolutely imperative!”
The four orcs faded off into the shadows as Galado gave them a head start. Then he rose and approached the sentries.
“Hey guys!” said Galado in a loud whisper, “did you hear?”
The sentries stiffened and peered into the darkness ahead of them. When they saw another human approaching, they relaxed.
“Hear what?” asked one sentry in a partially quiet voice. He did not want to arouse the warlock needlessly. He was acutely aware of the warlock’s wrath as was everyone in the camp.
He got no answer. A powerful green arm suddenly materialized and wrapped itself around his neck, squeezing tightly. The second sentry was not able to help, as his neck was being throttled by a similar arm. Within moments, both sentries were dead, their weapons removed by a third orc as a precaution.
Galado nodded and One and Two exited their bodies to take the new human ones. Then they stood up and resumed their positions in front of the tent. Eight gave them their weapons back.
“Take the bodies away,” Galado instructed Eight and Ten.
Ten suddenly left his body and took over One’s former body. When he rose, he grinned at Galado. “This body is bigger. It will be easier to drag the other body away.”
“Go ahead,” said Galado. Eight and Ten each took a dead orc body, slung it over their bulky shoulders, and left. “Don’t forget to find some other bodies before you come back,” whispered Galado after them. Then he turned to One and Two. “It’s time. Don’t let anyone in. Understand?”
“Yes, Boss,” whispered One and Two together.
Galado nodded in satisfaction. Then he took a deep breath and entered the tent. The conference room was still lit up with torches and a battle map was on the table with markings all over it. There was no one around and it was very quiet. The thick tent walls hid any sounds from outside.
Suddenly, there was a slight noise in the adjacent chamber and Galado remembered the goblin-orc. He stood to the side of the entrance to the antechamber and waited. Murmuring to himself, the goblin-orc came into the conference room to begin cleaning up the mess the commanders had made. With a swift motion, Galado brought the haft of his sword down on Gorc’s head. Gorc went down without a sound. Galado dragged Gorc’s body back into the antechamber and concealed the body behind a cabinet. Then he listened to be sure no one had heard. After several moments of listening to only his own heartbeat, Galado glided into the next chamber. Sitting on a chair facing away from the entrance was the warlock. He appeared to be studying a book by the light of several candles and didn’t notice the intruder.
Galado studied the sparse furnishings in the room and recalled the layout of the rest of the tent. There was nowhere to hide, and anyone entering the tent without permission would be detected by the sentries. The time was near at hand. He was not too late. There his body sat, oblivious to the fact that he would meet an early demise any moment now. But this was going to be different. This was his opportunity to rectify the situation. He would wait until the time had passed. Once that happened, he would not die. Then he could pursue his plans to wipe out the humans from these lands and rule the entire continent with all the creatures serving one ruler - him!
Galado drifted quietly back into the antechamber. He sat his fatigued body down on a chair and prepared to wait. A gap in the curtains allowed him an unobstructed view o
f the warlock. Any ambitious lizardmages who tried to enter the chamber with magic would be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. But Galado knew that wouldn’t be possible. The warlock had cast a spell to prevent such an intrusion. He was too clever for that. He never trusted other spell casters and did what he could to protect himself from them.
Anyone who managed to get past Galado’s sentries would have to go through him if they wanted to get to the warlock. The commotion alone if this happened would alert the warlock and he would intervene with his powerful magic. The plan was foolproof. He would save himself from an untimely demise and rule the land after winning the war!
So the wait began. There was no way he could be stopped now. Galado figured once the threat was over, his spirit should automatically go back into his original body. It was only a matter of time. As he waited, his body relaxed. He yawned. His eyelids became heavy. His mind was filled with plans for the upcoming battle, and plans for the future.
He did not notice as his body stood up. Then it took a step forward. Then another, each step bringing him closer to the warlock, who still did not see or hear him. Finally he was right behind the warlock. His sword arm began to rise, imperceptibly at first, then more deliberately. The Sword of Dead glinted as it righted itself for the kill. With a sudden thrust, it slammed home, piercing the heart of its intended victim.
The warlock half rose in surprise. Then he looked down at the end of the sword protruding from his chest. With nothing more than a gasp, he sagged back into his chair. He was dead.
Right then Galado awoke. Instinctively, he withdrew the sword and staggered backward, falling to the floor in shock. He stared uncomprehendingly at the corpse before him. His corpse. What had he done?
Suddenly laughter filled his head. It was the laughter of the body’s original owner, Sir Wilfred Galado. “Foiled!” cried Wilfred in glee. “You have been foiled! You thought you could prevent your demise, but you failed! You will never be free to accomplish what you have started!”
Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 35
