Invasion

by B. N. Crandell

  “I have to go rescue Jeff,” said Gerard as he and Major Isak came up beside Thirak.

  “Ay, I thought ye’d be sayin’ that,” replied Thirak. “Ye want help?”

  “Perhaps ten of our best fighters — a mix of dwarves and men in case we encounter magic — but otherwise I want speed and stealth. I think you and the Major need to keep leading these people. Head for Black Rock Canyon which should be directly south from here and I’ll catch up to you.”

  “Right, ye’ll be wantin’ Jerzy then and some o’ his fighters . . .”

  “And Captain Riyad with some of his. There’s not a man left among us that wouldn’t risk life or limb for Jeff, or for you Gerard,” added Major Isak.

  “And I’m coming with you.” Sarai had crept up close behind them.

  “No, I think it best you go with Major Isak and Thirak,” replied Gerard.

  “It wasn’t a request, and besides, I know the Palace better than you. I can show you where they likely have him held.” Sarai folded her arms and stood defiant.

  “Ye certainly got ya hands full with that one, Gerry.” Thirak chuckled. Gerard shot him a warning glance but then his eyes were drawn to a crossbow on the ground beside a dead orc. He went over to retrieve it and walked back to Sarai.

  “You take this then. Here, I’ll show you how to load it.” Gerard demonstrated how to pull back the string and hook it onto the trigger and then place the bolt in the correct way. Thankfully it was of very basic design, not like the crank handled ones he normally used which take longer to load but were much more powerful. “You see an orc, you point this at him like so and pull this trigger, then reload immediately.” He handed her the crossbow and rushed off to organise his small team.

  Sylestra was relieved to see the Palace on the horizon. She had flown all the way to the Black Skull’s northern border after hearing reports of the Red Axe attacking Quinik. With the aid of her mighty wyvern Zaydok, she helped throw the invading army into disarray, giving her defending warriors the upper hand they needed to complete the job.

  Both her and Zaydok were heavily fatigued and she eagerly anticipated a nice relaxing bath and collapsing into her oversized bed. As she neared the Palace though, it appeared obvious she wasn’t going to have that luxury.

  A throng of slaves rushed out of the wide open compound gates like a rapidly flowing river. There was no sign of her guards so she assumed they had all been slain.

  She took a chance and flew directly at the fleeing slaves, swooping at the last minute to allow Zaydok to pick a few of them up and drop them from a height. A few crossbow bolts were fired at her and one actually struck Zaydok in the side. The thick scales of the wyvern prevented it from penetrating but she could not tarry here any longer. They were far too fatigued to prevail against so many. She needed to replenish her strength and the quickest way to achieve that would be with a few strong sacrifices and she knew which one of them would be first.

  She unstrapped herself before Zaydok had even landed, dismounted the second he touched the ground and rushed off as fast as her tired legs would carry her to find out what happened.

  A sheepish orc guard stood outside her personal quarters as she opened the door.

  “What have you fools done?” She almost shook with anger.

  “There was a revolt, Supreme Mistress. We were simply far too outnumbered to hold them back.” The orc lowered his eyes and his legs shook.

  “They are slaves. They don’t know how to fight and you’re telling me you could not stand against them?” She kept hurrying along the hallway as she spoke with the orc struggling to keep up with her gliding strides.

  “They were led by the recently captured warriors.”

  “Were they just? And what are you doing about the problem now?”

  “We are gathering all the off-duty guard together and any necromancer or necrolyte we can find, but as you know most of them are out of the city right now.”

  She turned and glared at him. “Yes they are. Are you blaming me for that?”

  “No, Supreme Mistress. Of course not. I was only—”

  “Mentioning the obvious and wasting my time,” she cut in. “There should still be sufficient numbers to control this mob. Kill as few as you can but as many as you need.” With a dismissive wave of her hand the orc scurried off. She was nearing the dungeons by this point and the Dungeon Master came out to meet her.

  “Ready Jeff and three or four other strong men for sacrificing,” she commanded.

  “Right away, Supreme Mistress,” replied the Dungeon Master.

  “And be quick about it. I have a rebellion to quell.”

  “Of course, Supreme Mistress.”

  Her stomach growled so she turned around and set off towards the kitchen, and if all went well she would have a little time to freshen herself up before the sacrifices.

  An orc approached Jeff’s cell and unlocked the barred door. Jeff braced himself for some rough treatment but it didn’t come. The orc merely gestured for him to step out of the cell.

  “Where are we going?” Jeff stood rigid. He had a good idea where the orc meant to take him and was determined to waste time — Gerard had never failed him before.

  “I grow tired of your smell human and so it’s time you took a bath.” The orc stepped into the cell and tried to grab him by the arm. Jeff moved quickly, pulling his arm away and administering a solid kick to the orc’s kneecap. The orc crumpled in a heap and Jeff made a run for the cell door. However, the collapsed guard grabbed his ankle on the way past and tripped him up. Jeff hit the stone floor hard and jarred his elbow.

  The orc yelled out for assistance as Jeff kicked him in the face, forcing him to lose his grasp on Jeff’s ankle. He jumped to his feet and dashed out of the cell. He’d taken not ten paces when three orcs stormed into the dungeon corridor.

  Jeff didn’t hesitate. He charged in at the one on the left, ducked under his wild swing and tackled him to the ground. He jumped to his feet again before the other two had a chance to grab him. The prisoners in the cells cheered him on.

  The orcs all had weapons hanging by their side but did not draw them. Jeff assumed they were under orders to deliver him unharmed and so he would make that job hard.

  As he reached the end of the corridor he knew he was in trouble. The guards had dutifully locked the door behind them on the way in. He turned to face them. The third guard he had tackled was once again on his feet and the one from the cell hobbled toward him.

  “There is nowhere to go, human. Just come peacefully and it’ll go a lot better for you.”

  “I think not. I think either way I’ll end up dead so why not inflict some pain on my captors beforehand?” Jeff started to bounce around to keep the orcs guessing. The orc in the middle laughed evilly.

  “You think death is the worst thing we can do to you? Oh no, there is much, much worse. Even after death you can be enslaved by the Supreme Mistress and a good few others.” The orc gestured for the others to encircle him. Jeff had a strong suspicion the orc was bluffing. He didn’t doubt they were capable of doing what the orc had boasted, but if Gerard had succeeded thus far Sylestra would need him.

  The orc made a hand signal and the others charged in at him. Jeff got in a few good punches but it didn’t take long for them to restrain him. One orc pinned his arms painfully behind his back while another held his legs firmly. Jeff continued to struggle but it proved to no avail. Eventually they shackled his hands and feet together and made him stand. They tried forcing him to walk but he resisted until one shoved him to the ground.

  “We’re gonna have to drag him,” said one of the orcs.

  An orc got on either side of him, picked him up under each arm and started dragging him. They took him up many flights of stairs and along a maze of corridors to a huge, elaborate Bathhouse.

  The smell of bath salts almost overwhelmed him. It sure was a change from the stink of the dungeon and the Slaughterhouse. They took him over to an empty bath where two half-naked
women stood by.

  “He is to remain shackled,” said the orc on his left.

  “That will make it very hard to undress him,” replied the oldest woman.

  The orc stood in front of him, pulled out a large dagger and proceeded to cut all his clothes from him. The two women stared with mouths open.

  “There, done.” The orc faced the women. “He’ll have no further need for them anyway.”

  “He is to be prepared as fast as possible,” added another orc.

  Those words brought a smile to Jeff’s face. It became apparent to him that something major had happened and Sylestra needed his sacrifice in order to deal with it.

  The orcs dragged him and lowered him into the water. The warm water did feel good on his skin with the exception of a little stinging where all his cuts and abrasions were.

  The women got into the bath with him and examined him.

  “You will be holding him the entire time?” The older woman clenched her jaw.

  “He is a trouble maker. We dare not let him go. Now begin.”

  The two women set to him with a wet cloth and soap. They cleaned him all over thoroughly. Using a jug they rinsed and washed his hair. If he was to have a final wish this wouldn’t be far from it. Although he would have preferred just the one woman, his Adrianna, be the one washing him. Thinking of her now brought on a pang of guilt, but he forced it down quickly as he had often done since her death.

  All too soon they were done and the orcs lifted him out. As one of the women wrapped a white robe around him another slave came into the Bathhouse kicking and screaming with an orc on either side of him.

  Once again the orcs dragged Jeff as he refused to move his legs. They took him along a short hallway and into a room containing an open fire. After removing his robe they forced him to sit on a chair by the fire while a man and woman — humans dressed in black robes — dried him.

  When they were finished they applied a salve to all his injuries and muttered words Jeff did not understand. One by one his injuries healed until they could barely be seen anymore. He felt renewed.

  The man brushed his scraggly fair hair while the woman applied make-up to his face.

  “Do not spend too much time on him. The Supreme Mistress is in a hurry,” said the orc on his right.

  “Hurry or not she will still judge us on his appearance,” replied the man.

  “It’s his strength she needs, not his beauty,” rebutted the orc.

  “She always likes to get the most out of her sacrifices and that is achieved by timely preparation, now do be quiet or I’ll make you leave the room.” The man’s voice sounded firm and to Jeff’s surprise the orc did as instructed. Whatever rank this human held he had authority over the orc.

  The orcs dragged him from the room some time later, feeling cleaner and more rejuvenated than he ever had. This proved somewhat dulled as they entered a large room.

  A pale moon shone through a dome skylight highlighting the centre of a diamond-shaped guttering on the floor, where steel chains hung from pulleys overhead. Lit, inset braziers were positioned at each point of the diamond with a black clad figure standing one pace behind each.

  “No audience today, ey?” Jeff looked around the empty amphitheatre.

  The orcs didn’t respond. They dragged him over to the centre of the diamond. The black clad figures on each side operated a crank and lowered the chains. They unshackled him and re-shackled him to the hanging ones. Jeff tried to break free as they did so but it was pointless — they had too strong a hold of him. As the chains were raised his arms were forced out wide. They continued to rise until Jeff hung off the floor. The cranks were locked and the black robed men returned to their positions. The orcs who had brought him in smiled wickedly and took up their positions beside the door they had used to enter.

  “I guess I’ll just wait here,” shouted Jeff. He thought he heard a chuckle from one of the robed men but he couldn’t be sure. Humour had always been his way of dealing with extreme situations but this was escalating into a hopeless state of affairs.

  Anytime you’re ready, Gerry.

  The door on the opposite side opened and rather than Gerard like he had hoped, it was Sylestra. She wore a curve-hugging black top with a V neck cut as low as her belly button which had been laced together up to just below her firm breasts. Her tight fitting, black leather pants were half hidden by knee-high boots. A wide leather belt was strapped around her shapely hips and a decorated dagger hung from it.

  She walked over with her usual confident, seductive walk. She stood in front of him and looked him up and down longingly.

  “Well it seems your good friend values his own life above yours. I gave him an opportunity to save your life and he spat it back in my face. I would have liked to spend some quality time with you first but I’m afraid I can’t spare the time.” She placed a hand on his chest and he struggled to steady his beating heart.

  “My friend knows me well and he knows I’d rather die than to spend a lifetime serving an evil witch.”

  “Witch? Ha, my dear boy I am far scarier than any witch.” She removed her hand from his chest, turned her back to him and walked a few paces away.

  “I am no boy.” He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

  “When you have lived as long as me, every man is a boy and every woman, a girl.” She turned back to face him. “Oh I could have shown you and Gerry wonderful things but you have both been too long blinded by a system you see as just. Now you will both die by my hands and how fitting it is that you will provide me with the strength I need to kill your friend.” She chuckled.

  “And I thought I had a strange sense of humour.”

  “Enough chatter, my dear Jeff, it is time to join your life essence to mine. You will forever become a part of me — such a romantic end don’t you think?” She approached him once more and softly placed both her hands on his stomach.

  “No dinner or wine first?”

  “A jester to the end is it, Jeff?” She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered words in his ear that he couldn’t understand.

  Suddenly a great calmness overcame him. His hearing became muffled. He could tell Sylestra spoke as her arms were raised high and her lips were moving.

  As his hearing returned, the sound of a low chant assaulted his ears.

  “Nefari, great goddess of darkness,” he heard Sylestra say over the chanting, “show me favour this night. Through death, grant me life. Through death, grant me beauty. Through death, grant me strength. Through death, grant me wisdom.”

  She lowered her arms and placed the tip of her finger against his lips. From there she slid it slowly to his chin and neck and continued down the centre of his body all the way to his pelvis.

  A tingle of excitement ran through him and he became aroused.

  She cupped his hips and crouched to kiss his pelvis.

  His heart skipped a beat and the chanting grew louder.

  She slid her hands up both sides of his body and kissed him below the belly button.

  He grew erect and once again the chanting intensified.

  Her hands moved further up and she gently kissed above his belly button.

  The mantra continued to rise as he lost control.

  Sylestra’s warm hands worked their way up his body and around behind his back as she pulled him against her and tenderly kissed his neck.

  A soft moan escaped his lips.

  Suddenly Sylestra stood back and produced a dagger. As she swung it towards him she jolted to the side and transformed into a black mist.

  Chapter 17

  Palace Fight

  Gerard handed the crossbow back to Sarai to reload while he drew his sword and charged the nearest necrolyte. The black cladded man reached out to point in his direction so Gerard dived to the side. A stream of thick green gas shot out and formed a small cloud.

  “Stay out of the green fog!” Gerard jumped back to his feet and plunged his sword into the Necrolyte’s side. The man s
tared at him with red bloodshot eyes. His lips moved so Gerard withdrew his sword and dived to the side.

  The Necrolyte fell and his body vaporised, leaving behind a black cloak. Gerard looked at it confused — the cloak moved around on the floor.

  “Oh I hate magic.” He huffed. “I like to know once something is dead, it’s dead.”

  A nest of snakes slithered out from under the cloak. There must have been at least twenty of them and they all came after Gerard. He steadily walked backward while keeping an eye on them all. One got ahead of the rest and reared to strike him. With a mighty swing of his sword Gerard beheaded the snake and left its body writhing.

  This spurred the others on as they came at him with even more ferocity, hissing and baring their fangs. Not wanting to run out of room, Gerard took a step toward them and started swinging his sword at any target within reach. He diced some of them to pieces and still the others headed his way.

  Once again he was forced backward as snake after snake struck at him. It took every ounce of his concentration and skill to dodge each strike. He wasn’t sure how poisonous these snakes were but he didn’t want to find out. He chanced a quick glance behind him and wished that he hadn’t. Three more paces and he’d be wedged in the corner of the room. The snakes intensified their strikes.

  Two more lost their heads when he came against the solid wall. Desperation forced him to start swinging wildly and this did manage to keep the snakes at bay for a bit, but then they came for him all at once — a perfect synchronised attack. He couldn’t defeat them all but he swung his sword nonetheless.

  All of a sudden a lifeless corpse landed on top of them giving him the opportunity he needed to get past them.

  “Will ye quit toyin’ with those snakes, laddie?” Jerzy stood erect, arms folded with a large smirk on his face. Two other dwarves, Nuri and Burr, stood beside him. They had thrown the large orc corpse on top of the snakes.