Return of the Darkness

by Andrew G. Wood

  “Finley,” he heard his mother say in a much calmer, softer tone than the one she had just been using. “Sorry, for shouting at you. I would like you to meet your little brother Karesh,” she said gesturing towards the orc.

  “What? You are kidding right?”

  His mother chuckled, “No. Well, obviously he is not your biological brother…Perhaps I should explain before the council arrives,” she added walking over and taking a seat beside him. Finley was now even more confused but kept an eye on the orc as it seemed to follow his mother like a lamb followed its own.

  Finley listened as his mother explained the story of how Karesh came to be living with her. The orc was apparently only twelve years old, despite already being well over six feet in height and taller than most human men. The muscles in its arms were already twice the size of his own, and yet the creature’s behaviour did suggest an immaturity.

  Apparently, she had found Karesh when he had been just a few months old, probably discarded by his own mother. While Finley thought that was a bit heartless, technically that was exactly what had happened to him. Orcs, however, supposedly did this sort of thing quite often. If a female orc had young but had changed mate, then she would often abandon them so she could have more with her new partner. Quite often the abandoned youngsters would merely die, especially if they were as young as Karesh had been.

  Finley nodded, before looking over at the orc, who looked kind of sad. “He is very big for a twelve-year-old,” Finley said, not quite sure what else to say. The entire story was so bizarre, he doubted it could be true, yet here he was, sat looking at the creature. His mother continued, explaining how the races of the world were all very different. Orcs grew up much quicker than any of the other races but had a life span of about forty years. Dwarfs, lived to be about sixty, while humans sometimes lived to be seventy or eighty years. Elves were different again in that they sometimes lived to be two hundred or more.

  Just as Leo was thinking, that if elves had such a long lifespan, why weren’t there many more of them than any of the other races? The answer was explained to him, as his mother gave a very good reason as to why that was not the case. Whereas Orcs had many young, sometimes as many as fifteen or twenty in a female’s lifetime, elves could only ever have one child. It was as if nature was levelling the playing field, elves lived longer, orcs had more young, and so the balance of the races was insured. “It is one of the reasons that many do not like the idea of cross-breeding,” she added. “Although I’m not sure if an elf and an orc have ever mated,” she chuckled. Finley kind of understood the point that was being made. If such a hybrid existed, and an average female orc could give birth to as many as twenty babies, imagine how many it could have if it lived as long as an elf?

  With the short lesson over, his mother stood, “Now please apologise to your brother. Finley this is Karesh, my adopted son. Karesh this is Finley, my biological son.” Finley gingerly stood, and approached the orc very slowly, walking right up to it. He glanced over at his mother as if to ask, did he need to be doing this, and watched as she nodded and gestured for him to do as was asked. “Sorry, Karesh. For calling you ugly and trying to kill you,” he said realising how ridiculous that sounded. The orc pulled a face, which Finley assumed was some kind of smile. Finley smiled back and could do nothing when the orc wrapped his powerful arms around him and squeezed. “Wonderful,” he heard his mother say clapping her hands together, “You boys will get along fine,” she added, as Finley struggled for breath, being as his so-called little brother was forcing the air from his lungs.

  Karesh eventually let go, allowing Finley to breathe, “Whoa! Quite some hug you have on you,” he said trying to catch his breath. The orc made another sound, which Finley assumed was some kind of laugh. His mother stepped up between them and placed a hand on each, “Now just remember Finley. Just because something looks different to you or me, does not mean it is bad. Something you will need to learn and quickly,” she added issuing him with a warning.

  Chapter 11.

  Galdrac trotted his horse slowly along the narrow track. Now far west into the elven lands, he was sure he and the fifty or so, strong force riding with him would soon encounter the enemy. Quite what form that enemy would take, was as yet, anybody’s guess. The mixture of magical and non-magical made up of humans and elves, dwarfs and orcs, were to investigate the growing presence of dark forces that had been encroaching onto the elven western lands.

  Having fulfilled his promise to the elf Leyna, in finding her long-lost son, he was now once more returning to the continuing battle against the darkness. With the enemy once more becoming prominent after a long lull and period of little activity, Galdrac needed to find out why the forces of darkness were once more on the move. Had they merely been rebuilding their strength, or was there another reason behind the sharp increase in attacks.

  Nobody quite knew from where the darkness originated, nor how it managed to regenerate its forces. Over two centuries had passed since the last major conflict, whereby an alliance between the races of the world had seen them victorious. The victory, however, had not been without significant cost, both in numbers and the land itself. Although the lost elven lands were tainted with the scourge that was the darkness, they were not as bad as the lands a little further south known as The Wastes.

  The Wastes, as they were now referred to on all maps, had once been rich fertile lands, and home to a race known as trolls. However, since a war long ago, they were now more comparable to a vast barren desert. The race of trolls had been all but extinguished from the face of the earth, although it was rumoured a few still existed, scraping an existence on one or two of the small islands off the west coast.

  The time spent since the last major battle had seen a few skirmishes, but nothing on the scale it had once been. With a common enemy, the now four races of the world remained united to some extent, although of late the old alliances had been tested somewhat. Orcish tribes had once more sought to gain lands not specifically theirs, encroaching on to what was considered human. However, despite a few minor scraps between the two, a tentative peace remained. Despite being long-time neighbours and generally allies, the elves and dwarfs had also had their moments. The ties that bound them together in centuries past seemed to be loosening, and similar to the human and orc scenario, one or two incidents had occurred in the border regions.

  Galdrac had wondered whether it was these cracks in the alliance that had seen the current increase in activity from the dark forces. Did Abalyon, the mysterious being that commanded the forces of darkness sense a weakness, and seek to gain an advantage while the races bickered amongst themselves? If so, the days and weeks ahead would not be pleasant ones, and the wars of years gone by would likely spread once more.

  It was thought that Abalyon was once some kind of heavenly being, that had fallen from grace. One of five siblings who were alleged to have created the races of the land. Each brother or sister had been responsible for a race, hence them all being very different in their making. Abalyon was apparently the creator and keeper of the trolls, making the reason they had all but vanished from existence a somewhat perplexing one. Why the fallen god and his forces of darkness had felt the need to try to wipe that race from existence nobody was quite sure. After all, religion was a fickle subject that few people really understood, and over the thousands of years since its creation, had probably changed many times. Knowing what was the truth, from that which had been fabricated to suit the needs of those who preached it, was difficult to do, and so nobody really knew for sure what or who Abalyon was.

  One thing that everybody agreed on was the pure evil of the forces at his command. Many bizarre and strange creatures had spewed forth over the centuries intent on the complete annihilation and destruction of the world. Galdrac knew that so long as the existing alliances between the remaining races stayed firm, they had a chance to overcome the enemy. Should the treaties of old start to waiver, then the fight ahead would likely be a difficult o
ne, with an outcome he dared not think about.

  The elves riding at the head of the column, called a halt to the group, as it was suggested they set camp for the night. Reaching the borderlands would take several days, and the nearer they got, the more likely they would find some evidence of the darkness. Galdrac hoped not to find anything of note this far from the border. Indeed, if the forces of darkness had made it this far into elven territories, then things were already far worse than even he had imagined. He hoped the worst he would find this far in, would perhaps be a few enemy scouts, although even that would be bad enough.

  The group he was in was made up of all the four races, and humans, as the most populous made up the bulk of the number, closely followed by the elves. While not having the strength of a dwarf or an orc, and lacking the agility and nimbleness of an elf, humans actually made quite good soldiers in that they could do most things. Orcs, for instance, did not make good archers, as their large three-fingered hands were too cumbersome for such a weapon. Dwarfs made for lousy cavalry as they were not very adept at riding, nor did they have a particular liking for horses, although they did use them rather begrudgingly for travel. Elves made excellent archers, but were not quite so effective in melee combat, when compared to an orc for instance. Yet while humans were not the best at any particular one skill, they were able to carry out all the attributes needed of a soldier with some proficiency.

  Orcs, due to their massive size and strength naturally made fierce warriors. Usually wielding large two-handed axes and swords, they were devastating melee combatants. Similarly, dwarfs, despite being much smaller also made ferocious melee soldiers. With their low centre of gravity, they could stand together interlocking their superbly crafted shields, and make a shield wall that was very difficult to break down.

  All of the four races also had those who were capable of magical abilities, although why so few had these gifts, and many didn’t, nobody knew why. Usually, magical powers were hereditary, passed down from a mother or father to a child, yet which form that magic took was also something of a lottery. This was often referred to as a person’s calling, with the powers usually appearing between their twelfth and eighteenth years, depending on which race. Orcs were generally younger, while elves often nearer to the latter, with dwarfs and humans somewhere in the middle. This first discovery of power was called the awakening, which could sometimes be induced to appear by others proficient in magic.

  Despite all the problems within the alliance, the group with Galdrac seemed fine mixing together in camp. Orcs and Humans, Dwarfs and elves all worked together for a greater cause, knowing that the real enemy was somewhere out there. Camp fires were lit, and a guard detail set for the night, changing every few hours to give everyone some sleep. Those able to wield magic in the group numbered just half a dozen, of which Galdrac was of course one. An elven druid and mage, a dwarf arcanist, and both a human and orc shaman made up the core of this particular group.

  Orcs, as was generally the case, were the most vociferous in the camp, usually challenging each other in tests of strength. However, the dwarfs were usually close behind in terms of noise, but their antics often involved the drinking of copious amounts of ale, which they always carried with them wherever they went. Elves were always the more refined characters in camp and much-preferred peace and quiet to the antics of the other races.

  Galdrac wondered around the makeshift defensive ring. As a senior member of the group in both years and experience, he was happy for others to make merriment despite the importance of their task. If indeed the darkness was again encroaching in force, some of those around him might not have another opportunity to enjoy themselves. Happy everything was in order, he wandered over to where the evening meal was being cooked, deciding to opt for the meat option as opposed to another elven meal. Fortunately, orcs and dwarfs favoured meat or poultry for most of their meals, something Galdrac found much more to his own liking.

  As the evening passed by, many of the group settled down to sleep, while the guards remained on patrol around the camp perimeter. Taking turns, at least one person with magical powers would join the regular soldiers on duty for each shift being taken. Fortunately for Galdrac his shift was not for several hours yet, and after finding a good spot beside one of the camp fires settled down between and orc and a dwarf.

  He was awoken by a hand placed upon his shoulder, “Psst your watch,” said the voice of a human soldier looking down at him. The old man felt he had barely been asleep, and yet already many hours had passed. He sat up, and realising the camp fire beside him was all but burned out, he thought it best to add a few more logs for the benefit of the others still sleeping around it, before gathering up his staff and heading for the camp perimeter.

  In the eerie light of the moon, and a clear night sky that was alive with a thousand stars, he took up his position beside an elven archer. Galdrac always preferred to pair up with an elf, not due to the fact they were much more perceptive, but because they were usually much quieter and took their job more seriously.

  The elderly mage looked out into the dark forest surrounding their camp, noticing a thick layer of mist developing and hanging just a foot or so off the ground. Galdrac did not hear anything unusual, but the elf beside him suddenly slipped his bow from his shoulder and almost instantly had an arrow ready to fire. “Something is out there!” the archer said pointing his bow towards a thick clump of trees. Galdrac strained his eyes and ears, but could not see or hear anything untoward, but stood ready just in case.

  Knowing that if there was anything out there, it may well just be a wild animal, perhaps a little curious and just checking them out. However, he was also aware that it could just as well be something much worse, and if the forces of darkness were prowling lands this far into elven territory, then these were indeed worrying times. Aside from a slight breeze that rattled the leaves on the trees, Galdrac could hear nothing, yet his elven friend beside him clearly still thought something was watching them. He knew that with their campfires, they were easy to spot, although there was little he could do about that now.

  Galdrac was merely a bystander as the elf beside him pulled back the string on his bow, and took aim at something he had clearly detected amongst the trees some hundred or so paces off in the distance. The elf fired, and although Galdrac doubted there was anything there, the arrow made a sound as it hit something. There was a strange noise and a thump as if something or someone had fallen to the forest floor.

  With his staff in hand, he created a bright light at the end and stepped out into the unknown, his elven companion, already with another arrow ready, walked at his side. With the mist swirling around them seeing anything even in the magical light provided by the mage, was very difficult. However, once more, the elf knew exactly where he had fired, and located the recipient of his arrow immediately.

  Galdrac crouched down beside the elf, waving his staff just slightly, using a little magic to remove the mist from around them. After recreating his light, he could see a dark shape on the ground with an arrow protruding from it. “Good shot my friend,” Galdrac said in a whisper, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. After a closer inspection, he was unsure as to what it was the elf had killed. The creature was not one of the four races, nor was it any kind of animal he knew of, which left only one other option.

  Intrigued enough by the strange beast, Galdrac asked the elf to help him drag it back to camp. “I need to inspect this ‘thing’ more closely, and I’d rather do it in the safety of camp.” The elf merely nodded and did not need to be asked again as he grabbed one of the creature’s limbs and started dragging it back towards the others.

  Galdrac decided inspection was best left until morning, and so decided to keep the fallen creature tied to a post until then. Not only did he not want a wild animal sneaking in and taking a bite of his specimen, but he knew from previous experience that the forces of darkness were often very different to the norm. He had fought beasts before that he and others had mista
ken for dead, only to see them rise up again; not a mistake he was going to make again.

  After waiting impatiently for the sun to make an appearance, Galdrac was not the only one wanting to inspect the strange creature. One of the druids with him also took an interest, visibly as puzzled by the find as Galdrac had been. Now the daylight made it possible to see exactly what they were looking at, they were even more intrigued. About the size of a man in height, the strange creature was covered in a thick black fur and was clearly no wild animal. It had two legs and arms, but instead of feet it had hooves, and instead of hands, it processed large nasty looking talons. The head was even more surreal. Protruding from the top of the skull were two small horns, while the facial part resembled that of a large rodent, with two large teeth at the front of the wide mouth. They both knew the beast was a creation of the darkness, yet this one appeared smaller than those they usually fought, which led to Galdrac thinking this was perhaps some kind of beast used for scouting.

  “I have never seen such a creature,” the druid said pulling the archer’s arrow from the torso. The blood that oozed out from the beast was something that Galdrac had seen before. The black tar-like blood was always a tell-tale sign that the creature was indeed from the darkness. Having agreed with the druid on that matter, Galdrac now had his answer. The forces of Abalyon were apparently probing much deeper into elven territory than anybody had foreseen, and he knew those in power back at Neylarin needed to know.