Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  Mazoroth grunted, his eyes only half open as he was on the edge of consciousness, but did nothing else.

  “I want to kill you, Mazoroth,” Eladrid said through a swollen mouth, blood still leaking from his nose. “I want to run my blade through your heart, out your back. I want to put my arrow in your eye and leave you to rot, for the beasts of the forest and the birds of the air to devour...” He paused, looking at the horg as he lay broken in front of him. “Not so... mighty now, are you... Mazoroth of Mazar?”

  The horg only grunted in reply, his head swaying on his shoulders.

  “Your life, though,” he said slowly, blinking tiredly, “is not mine. Instead, the ruler of this land, of the people you have ruined, will decide your fate.”

  He stood up, then, and looked down at the horg one last time. But without another word to him, Eladrid turned and walked away from Mazoroth, the leader of the clan of Mazar, the horg he had been hunting throughout his entire life.

  Not once did he look back.

  *****

  The horgs were in utter disarray as their leader went missing, wildly smashing their way through the forest without any guide to their destination. In this way king Diendor was able to command his troops to move out in separate groups and flank the monsters, evacuating occupants from parts of the forest to be left empty for the horgs’ rampage, only to be ambushed by the woodlanders. In this way the monsters were destroyed one wave at a time, Diendor’s soldiers hunting them down and slaughtering them, even that they were forced to flee the wood.

  All that time, Mazoroth still lay against the hillside. Blood pooled under his legs from his wounds, but he was still alive, and in the most unbearable pain as one could imagine. He heard footsteps approaching from the opposite of the way Eladrid had gone, but could not move his head to see who it was. He saw the hoofs of several horses come round and stop in front of him, and then watched as the feet of the riders dropped to the ground and stood on all sides. He saw enough, though, to recognize them as woodlanders; even the king of the wood himself and his escorts.

  “Well,” spoke the voice of king Diendor, “what have we here? Mazoroth of clan Mazar, I presume? I thought I’d find you somewhere in all this mess you’ve made, but I didn’t think I’d find you in such a state as this.”

  Mazoroth closed his eyes, his only response. The king motioned to his guards to take the horg, and they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away behind the king and his escorts, even to a large tree not too far from where he had been.

  Hanging from one of the lower branches of the tree was a rope, tied into a noose at the end. Mazoroth looked up at this and realized, just as Eladrid had said, that the lands justice would be fulfilled upon his neck.

  He was hung in the outskirts of Stonewood, for the many crimes committed in that region, and left for those to witness who would consider following in his footsteps. And the beasts of the forest and the birds of the air devoured his flesh, even as Eladrid had spoken.

  So ended Mazoroth, clan chieftain of Mazar. This time never to return.

  36

  Closing the Gates

  They backed into one another, their faces turned outward as they held their swords and bows up to those monsters that stalked upon them from all angles. Horgs brandished axes and swords, goblins yelped excitedly as they crawled behind, and the werewolves, perhaps the fiercest of the enemies before them, slobbered and drooled as they looked at their next meal. The dark rangers fell back, raising bows with dark arrows knocked to the strings.

  Vexor Hulmir drew back on his own bow, setting the point of his first of many arrows on the closest of the approaching beasts.

  “Stand together,” Duoreod said, his tone resolute and unafraid of the impending doom before them, “and we might have a fighting chance.”

  Neth’tek stood beside him, his scimitars in his hands. “Fight,” he said, “fight until every last one of them is dead!”

  He cried out, then, rushing forward and slashing the nearest monster across the throat. He turned and deflected a clumsy swing from one of the horgs before running his blade through its abdomen. The others did likewise, ducking under swings and ramming their swords into the bellies of the beasts, Vexor loosing his arrow into an eye of a werewolf as it leaped forward.

  The dark rangers loosed their arrows as well, speeding between the horgs and werewolves, one finding its mark in Hakal’s arm. The hunter cried out, stumbling under the hit and fell helpless beneath the shadow of a lumbering horg. As the monster lifted its axe to end his pain, Jakal leaped in front of it and slashed it across the throat, and the beast fell backwards on top of a goblin.

  The goblins ran at their feet with short but lean daggers, cutting at their legs and hands. Neth’tek kicked one of the creatures away, sweeping his swords down as he slashed them into pieces on the ground. Their small limbs and large heads rolling down the steps from the upper courtyard, blood beginning to drain down like a crimson fountain. He punched his scimitar into the face of a horg, dropped low as he swept across the line of goblins at his knees, and then turned in time to cross his blades in front of a charging werewolf.

  The monster snapped as he head, but was held back by his swords crossed under its throat, and he quickly snapped his wrists and severed the head from its shoulders. He turned around, cutting the knees of a horg stumbling by, and the beast fell onto its knees for him to run his sword through the back of its skull.

  Vexor backed away from the fighting, his arm moving in harmony with the string of his bow. He grabbed an arrow, stuck it the string and pulled back, firing without having to set an aim point for his arrow to hit one of the many monsters crowding around them.

  Hakal snapped the arrow from his arm and rushed back into the battle, his short sword in one hand and a hatchet in the other. He watched as Mope dealt with the monsters, one sword gripped in both hands as he danced between them like an expert swordsman.

  “There is more about that man than we know!” he said to Jakal, both of them going back to back as they faced off against the onslaught.

  “If there’s one thing we know about him now,” replied Jakal, “he’s an excellent swordsman!”

  Hakal nodded, and they dove into the battle with full force.

  Duoreod fought his way to Neth’tek, surprised that The Fallen had enough fight left in him after his contest with Alastra. “We need to fight our way to the gate,” he said, “and shut it to stop the flow of monsters coming in!”

  Neth’tek, too engaged in his current battle to hear the words of the king, kept fighting the monsters in front of him without turning to see Duoreod next to him. But he noticed suddenly when Duoreod’s sword cut through his combatant and the werewolf fell to the ground, bleeding from a dozen mortal wounds.

  “I’m sorry, Duoreod, but I don’t know what good that’ll do us now!” he cried over the sound of battle. “We are six men, engaging an army of thousands! They’ll outflank us in time, and there’ll be nothing left for us to do but fall and die before them!”

  “No!” cried Duoreod, “We will win this day! See the gate, and how the majority of the enemy comes through? If we can shut those doors we will have our chance! Fight with me!”

  Neth’tek looked to where he pointed down the courtyard at the wide open doors with his bloody sword, and saw the werewolves and horgs pouring through with every one that they cut down. He knew Duoreod was right, but he also knew that the tunnels leading into the mountain were filled with the monsters as well, and they’d have to abandon the gate eventually to fight them off. It was risky, but when was battle not?

  “Fine,” he said, breathing heavily, “I’m with you!”

  Duoreod turned and cut his way through the monsters toward the gate, and he called for the others to do likewise. Vexor turned his bow from the cluster of monsters and began shooting those who came through the gate, dropping them even as they stepped onto the courtyard. However, he was running low on arrows.

  He had nearly a dozen left, inc
luding the black arrow he had plucked from his back during his escape from the dark ranger nearly a week ago. But he was saving that arrow, hoping he’d cross paths with that ranger somewhere in this battle, and stick him with his own shaft. He was there, he knew. He had seen him.

  “Hakal!” cried Neth’tek, pulling the mans attention from his battle, “You and Jakal have to get the gate closed! We’ll deal with the monsters!”

  The man nodded, running his blade through the already wounded goblin, and dashed down the steps toward the crank that activated the gate. He waved his sword at Jakal, motioning for the hunter to follow him. They met at the gate, Neth’tek and Duoreod fighting off the monsters coming down the courtyard after them, caught suddenly between their dancing swords and Vexor’s fleeting arrows.

  But the dark rangers suddenly turned their arrows toward The Fallen archer, and Vexor was forced to dodge for cover. He ran into an alcove in one of the stone walls, what appeared to have been used as a storage room when the fortress was occupied. Large sacks lay in the corners, several dozen of them ripped open so that the contents spilled out across the floor, the grain frozen and covered in snow and packs of ice.

  The black arrows cracked against the wall beside him as he fled, and putting his back to the inside wall of the alcove he knocked one of four arrows to his bow. Leaping into the clear he fired his arrow into the chest of one of the rangers, the cloaked figure tipping backwards off of the steps and falling into the lower courtyard, and then dashed sideways as he whipped the next arrow from his quiver.

  He saw Minarch black bow, the ranger he recognized had been onboard the Sea Snake, but when he set his beam toward him and the rangers who stood by, he shot the one just beside him. Minarch took out his own bow, grabbing the quiver from the dead ranger at his feet, and stepped forward as the others fired upon Vexor.

  The Fallen dropped to the ground, sliding across the icy stones and off the first steps. He landed midway down the stairs, turned with his arrow drawn to his head, and shot at another of the rangers.

  His arrow shattered midflight, splitting in two and flying in opposite directions, as the black arrow from Minarch’s bow cut across its path. The ranger was quick, pulling another arrow to his head even as the first hit its mark, and shot at Vexor, who took the shaft in the side of his arm and fell sideways down the rest of the stairs.

  Vexor rolled onto his feet in time to see the rangers coming upon him, and dropping his bow to the ice he grabbed his sword and whipped it from its sheath, brandishing it in the cold air between them. The first ranger charged, the others moving around to flank him. He blocked the jab as he danced to the side, pulling his sword around to hit the blade of the ranger moving around that side of him, and then ducked under the arm of the first as it cut outward for his head.

  He stabbed the ranger in the gut, turned and cut the leg of the other. As he dropped onto his knees to stop the blood flow, Vexor was given just enough time to spin around and knock the swords of the other two rangers as they swung almost in unison for his head and arms. He parried and danced backwards, spinning round and whacking the swords to the side.

  His own came back, cutting the throat of one of the rangers, and then ducked below the first as he cut at his neck. Vexor’s blade came up and stabbed the ranger in the back as he arose, piercing his heart from behind.

  The first ranger got to his feet and thrust his sword for Vexor’s chest. Hwoever, Vexor parried the strike and kicked the ranger in the stomach, weakening his defense, and then brought his sword back and stabbed the ranger in the heart through his chest. An arrow cracked into Vexor’s left leg, and he fell to the ground over the dead ranger.

  Minarch brought his bow and arrow up again as he set his point for Vexor’s head, but The Fallen rolled over and the arrow hit the dead body instead. He grabbed his bow as he flipped onto his knees, ignoring the arrow sticking from his thigh, and pulled the black arrow from his quiver and drew it to his head as he set his point on Minarch.

  The dark rangers’ next shot went through Vexor’s bow, cracking the shaft and snapping the string. Vexor felt it cut across his face, a thin line of blood left on his cheek under his eye.

  He rolled sideways as the next arrow whistled passed, and throwing his broken bow to the side, Vexor came onto his feet with the black arrow in his hand. Dropping low as he whipped it forward in his hand, he threw it into Minarch’s stomach even as the ranger released his next arrow.

  The ranger stumbled backwards, falling through a doorway into an alcove in the wall, his shot falling short of The Fallen. But Vexor limped forward, the blood on his arm and leg freezing in the icy wind that ripped through the mountains, and moved toward the doorway to check on the ranger.

  He wanted to make certain that his aim had been true.

  *****

  Hakal and Jakal fell on the crank as Neth’tek and Duoreod kept the monsters at bay, Mope jumping in beside them and cutting down whatever came close to him or his companions. A group of horgs came through the gate, and Duoreod and Mope struggled to fight them off as Neth’tek focused his blades on the werewolves and goblins inside the fortress. One of the horgs charged by Hakal, the blade of its axe falling just short of his head, although the butt-end of it hit him in the face. He rolled onto his back, dazed by the hit.

  Jakal pulled on the crank as hard as he could, drawing the doors closer together, even hitting some of the monsters. He grabbed his sword as a werewolf ran at Hakal lying on the ground, and drove the blade through its open mouth and out the back of its head. Twisting the blade, Jakal pulled free from its snout and spun beneath a swing of a horgs’ axe. He chopped the legs of the monster below it, leaving it on the ground for Duoreod or Mope to finish off, and then charged the monsters coming across the causeway.

  “Jakal, what do you think you’re doing?” Hakal cried out, sitting up on the floor with a hand pressed against his bleeding forehead.

  He watched as his brother ducked under a wide swing of an axe, driving his sword into the horgs stomach and pushing it off of the side of the bridge. His sword came out and whipped around, slashing across the face of a werewolf, and then pivoting back the other way to knock a swinging sword from its path toward his neck.

  Hakal climbed onto his feet and started out the gate for him, but Duoreod grabbed him and forced the man back to the crank. “Hakal, you have to close the doors!” Duoreod commanded him, his eyes red and nose running with blood.

  “Not while he’s out there, I won’t!” Hakal replied, and he pushed back on Duoreod.

  “Jakal knows what he’s doing!” said Duoreod, and he shoved Hakal into the crank and grabbed it, jerking on the handles to pull the doors shut. “Please, Hakal, do this for him! Do this for Jakal!”

  But Hakal only looked after his brother, standing on the bridge with monsters charging upon him, their dead slowly piling around him or sliding off the edge and into the icy abyss, the red blood steaming in the snow. He staggered forward, cutting down another horg as it charged him, and kicked a goblin off the side of the bridge, letting it fall screaming into the frozen river. All this was slowly being cut off from sight as the doors were pulled closed, and he knew that Jakal would be able to fight them off just long enough for them to shut the doors completely, if he helped Duoreod.

  He grabbed the crank with Duoreod and turned it as fast and as hard as he could, and the doors were closed, trapping the monsters inside to be chased down and slain by Neth’tek and Mope, leaving the fortress to them. A moment later, though, they heard the monsters banging on the gates outside the walls, and it was then that Hakal and Duoreod knew Jakal had fallen.

  But it had been done, the doors shut and the monsters slain inside the stone keep, those outside unable to get in.

  The voice of the Shadow Queen came back, laughing, and they saw lightning streak across the dark heavens above as the day began to blacken.

  “We have to get to the top of the mountains,” said Neth’tek, looking upwards into the black sky, every now
and then the peaks of the mountains revealed as lightning flashed. “We have to finish this.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Duoreod.

  “The rest of you wait here,” Neth’tek called out to them, Hakal sitting with his back to the stone gates, staring upwards at the sky as he felt the vibrations of the horgs hammering against the stone doors. Neth’tek looked around but and saw no sign of Vexor. “Vexor must’ve gone after the dark rangers,” he said, and then looking at Hakal he added, “You and Mope keep the fortress clear of monsters. I’m not sure how this is going to end, but only that I have to end it. I’m sorry, Hakal. I’m very sorry.”

  Hakal nodded and sat up, leaning on his sword. “They’ll pay,” he said to Neth’tek. “In whatever way you must, pay them back.”

  “I will,” Neth’tek replied, “and that’s a promise I can keep.”

  He turned around and headed into the deeper parts of the fortress, the narrow stairways that ascended into the towers and hidden passages of the mountain. One of them were bound to lead to the top, or near enough for him to climb the rest of the way. All Neth’tek knew was that he had to face the Shadow Queen and end the terror before it began.

  Or had it already begun?

  37

  The Doors of Oblivion

  Vexor stood in the doorway of the stone room, looking down a long stairwell that vanished out of sight into the darkness, his infrared vision revealing the passage below and the heat signature of the ranger at the base thereof. He took out his dagger, stepping carefully onto the first step so not to slip on the icy surface and tumble down like the dark ranger. Once at the bottom, he stood over the man, dagger in hand, as he leaned against the wall, and waited for Minarch to look up at him. The arrow still stuck from his stomach, warm blood glowing on his black tunic in the infrared spectrum, but the ranger was well alive. Hee sat there, eyes open, though not seeming to take notice of Vexor being there.