by M. K. Gibson
Randy led me up a long narrow staircase that opened up onto an overlook tower. From the open cylindrical design, I could see in every direction. Far below, war was being waged throughout the entire city of Al’ Garrad and within the castle’s grounds. My allies had come through exceedingly well.
In the distance, I could see the green and gold of marching forces. Hawker had called in his favor and rallied the elves of the Whispering Woods. The elves had marshaled their forces and marched on Grimskull’s capital.
Within the city, I saw combat forces fighting against Grimskull’s army of men and shadow races. This combat force wore a white hammer on a field of blue and red as their herald. If I was correct, then Wren had convinced the remaining soldiers of General Anders on Fyrheim to convert to the ways of Vammar. This new group would most definitely take glee in attacking their former emperor, who had never paid them.
To the north, I saw a line of warriors riding, dressed in gray. The Twilight Guard moved on Al’ Garrad with speed and ferocity. I was sure that Carina would gain their support once it was known that she carried with her the blessing of Lord Protector Talisarian’de.
The main force of soldiers, the ones that surrounded the city and occupied the majority of the battlefield, was courtesy of Zachariah and Countess Skullgrim. I knew the Countess would like nothing more than to return to these lands if for no other reason than to cause her ex-husband misery.
Last, there was Lydia. Her role in this was slightly less extravagant, but equally important. Her job was to free any remaining loyal members of the Bastards from prison, along with whomever else she deemed worthy, and get the majority of the civilian staff and populace to safety.
Civilian casualties were inevitable. But it would go a very long way for whomever I put on the throne to have the backing of the people. Once word got out that the usurper of my choice ensured the smallfolk were safe, they would have the people’s blessing. It made it so much easier to rob them blind in the chaos. Which I was sure Lydia was doing regardless. Looting and war profiteering go hand in hand. And that woman had an appetite to take whatever she wanted when she wanted.
The thought made my asshole shudder.
Lydia’s deviance aside, I watched the battle play out before me with satisfaction and more than a touch of pride. This was a testament to my mind. With little prep and using the natural talents and connections of people, I was able to bring together a battle of seven armies.
Seven! Two more than Tolkien! I am the champion!
Sure, I was counting Grimskull’s forces twice. But in my numerical defense, Grimskull’s standing internal army was completely separate from the shadow race auxiliaries, or orcs, goblins, and the like. Those monsters would no doubt turn on Grimskull the moment it suited them, so they definitely counted as an independent army.
And yes, Lydia’s force of escaped prisoners and slaves weren’t exactly an army. But the civilians who chose to fight instead of hide would join up with her. So I counted them.
Yes sir, seven armies. Suck it, Ronny-Rule.
The battle unfolded, a grand overture to my own personal symphony of destruction. The thrums of bowstrings and siege engines were the driving beat, reverberating deeply and powerfully. Steel clanging against steel provided an atonal melody. The war cries and screams floating above the clash of battle served as lead vocals, accentuating the overall composition.
I almost felt like dancing. I wanted nothing more than to hold my arms above my head and gently sway to the beautiful noise of battle and blood. This was my song, my opus of carnage. Not too bad for a man with only a cell phone and his wits.
If Randy hadn’t been there with me, I would have dropped my pants and conducted this overture with my erection. As it were, I kept my pants on and simply soaked in the product of my own beautiful mind.
“Are you OK, dude?” Randy asked as I stood there with my eyes closed.
“Yes, Randy. I am absolutely perfect.”
“Aren’t you gonna go and throw down with Grimskull?”
“Patience, Randy,” I said, not letting his questions ruin my mood.
“What are you waiting for?”
I sighed. “A coward like Grimskull is currently sitting in his throne room directing his orders via his magic, rather than stepping foot on the field of battle. With war on all sides, he is at his limits—mentally, physically, and magically. This is more than a battle for him. This is an affront to his will and the whole of the Eastern Empire, especially since his ex-wife herself is leading one of the prongs of the attack. Grimskull is taking this very personally, and anyone who turns a fight into a personal matter gets sloppy. There is no reason to confront him while he has even an iota of strength. No, young Randy, time is my ally. So I will wait until he has pushed past his limits. Then I will move. And then I will destroy him.”
“You’re a cold motherfucker, Uncle Jack.”
“Yes, yes I am,” I agreed. “Now please, do me a favor and find me a glass of wine. I would very much enjoy a nice drink while I watch my favorite show.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Where I Question Whether or Not I Possess Guilt
The Battle of Grimskull’s Fall, as it came to be known, lasted for a full day.
Through the night and into the following morning, the war continued. When night descended, the burning city provided enough flickering light for the combatants to continue the slaughter. Destruction and death were found in the shadows that night.
Both the beautiful and the ugly died together, their life’s blood mingling in the gutters with all the grace and dignity of an emptied chamber pot.
Yes, all seven armies bled rivers of blood that day.
All for me, whether they knew it or not.
Perhaps the death toll was too high? In the pursuit of salvaging my wounded pride, I’d knowingly put these warriors into harm’s way. This was not the first massive battle I’d orchestrated. But those were all business-related. This was the first war I’d put together for personal reasons. Did that make me . . . evil? I’d always prided myself of being a villain who didn’t take delight in the slaughter of others.
Hmm, perhaps a quick recap.
The elves of the Whispering Woods? Like all elves, they were xenophobic, aristocratic assholes who allowed the deaths of anyone who they considered lower than themselves or who held no political advantage. So, no guilt from me for their demise.
The Twilight Guard? They followed the same principles as the elves. Plus, their treatment of Carina could not be forgiven. So, let them burn.
The remainder of Grimskull’s men whom Wren organized? They were just recently trying to kill me and my allies. Fair is fair.
Countess Skullgrim and the army of the Western Empire? That one was tricky. She was a former client. Her presence here meant she agreed to battle her ex-husband of her own accord. And her warriors chose to follow her, so they knew the risks. The bonus for me was this: As a former client who terminated our business relationship, she would most likely need assistance in rebuilding her forces when this was over. So this was in fact a guilt-free positive for me.
The remnants of the Forgotten Bastards and the city’s civilian population? Well, the Bastards did try and kill me. And the civilians who die will die as martyrs. So, win-win there.
Grimskull’s army? Well, again, they were actively trying to kill me. Some of them even smiled at me before I was captured. They must have known the betrayal was coming.
The shadow race auxiliary of goblins and orcs? Come on now. Not to sound like an asshole, but I am almost completely sure that Khasil and other dark gods breed them just to die in battles like these. They are fantasy-realm filler. The equivalent of the generic blue-suited Cobra trooper from GI Joe or the no-named Star Trek redshirt. I am certain they are happiest when they are fighting and dying.
Based on that reasoning, the answer was simple: no guilt for me.
I kicked my feet up on the banister of the overlook tower and continued enjoying the s
how all through the night.
Come morning, when the sun crept over the horizon, what was left of Grimskull’s forces had rallied to the gates of the castle in a desperate attempt to protect their lord and home.
Smoke from the long-dead fires wafted upwards while the morning breeze brought the stink of death, fires, and human waste to my nose. Battles were truly a disgusting medley of olfactory sensations.
As I watched the last-ditch attempt of Grimskull’s forces try to hold out, I knew that their master must be pushed to his breaking point. Without General Anders leading the defense, Grimskull ineptly tried to serve as the leader. I was sure Chaud had a hand in some of the battle. But the crafty mage knew a sinking ship. So, most likely, Chaud only did the bare minimum to obey his lord’s commands.
That meant it was time to pay Viktor a visit.
“Come, Randy,” I said, nudging the sleeping young man in the ribs with my foot.
“What?”
“It’s time.”
“To do what?” Randy asked.
“To confront Baron Grimskull.”
“Good luck, Uncle Jack,” Randy said, rolling over. “His throne room is downstairs.”
I considered kicking my nephew in the ribs. Hard. But I stopped myself. My sister’s slacker son would most likely find a way to screw up my triumph. An amazing feat for sure, considering his primary mode of existence was apathy. So I left the young man sleeping on the stone. He would no doubt find his way into events. It seemed to be his superpower. The gods must have blessed the idiot in utero. He was not gifted with a sharp mind, drive, or desire, yet he was always able to be in the right place at the right time despite having no idea how he got there. Randy was a millennial Forrest Gump or Candide.
I cast one last look over my shoulder on the ruin of Al’ Garrad and smiled. Where some may have seen a field of horror, death, and loss, I saw more. I saw promise and a hopeful future.
For me, that is. Not for those poor dead schlubs.
When this was all over, perhaps I’d keep Grimskull’s helmet as a trophy as well as a reminder. To never let my guard down again when dealing with anyone I saw as weaker.
Well, it was time.
Time to put down my wayward sheep and skin him alive while he bleats.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Where I Witness Grimskull’s Tantrum and I Learn a Bit More About My Conspirators
“We will never surrender!” Grimskull screamed from his throne.
“My lord,” Chaud pleaded. “Viktor. If you stay, you will die. The empire has fallen.”
“No!” Grimskull roared as he leaped from his throne. “Tell the men to fight harder! I will infuse more of them with my powers and push back these invaders!”
“There are almost no warriors left.”
“Because they refuse to fight to their full potential!” Grimskull yelled. “I will not be defeated due to the ineptness of others! The empire—my empire—will endure. We—I—will not be beaten by a coalition of elves, mercenaries, and traitors.”
“You’ve neglected to mention the vastly superior and better-trained forces of your ex-wife,” Chaud said before he sarcastically added “My lord.”
Grimskull stood and grabbed the archmage by the front of his robes. He pulled Chaud close so they were face to face. “You are walking a very thin line, mage.”
Chaud rolled his eyes. Clearly, he had had enough of Grimskull’s excuses and grandstanding. The archmage brought his hands up and concentric circles of orange light erupted from his palms. In a flash of power, Chaud launched the unsuspecting Grimskull backwards, down his dais and onto the marble floor.
I peered out from my vantage point, just outside the archway leading into the great hall, to get a better look. Grimskull scrambled to get to his knees after taking the fall.
“Guards! Apprehend him!” Grimskull commanded his personal guard. The twenty men and women in the ornate armor and visored helms represented the last remnants of Grimskull’s personal forces.
“You forget yourself, Viktor,” Chaud said. With an arcane gesture, lightning burst forth from Chaud’s hands. The electricity crackled and snapped as it arced from guard to guard. In seconds, all twenty guards had fallen to the floor, dead. The air smelled of ozone and cooked meat.
Chaud then sat on Grimskull’s throne with a defiant look. “I was there when you were born, boy. I watched you come screaming into the world, take your first breath, and piss on your mother. And I think it best you know that half the castle enjoyed pissing on her as well. Your mother had strange . . . appetites.”
Grimskull snarled like an animal.
Chaud ignored Grimskull as he continued. “I watched you grow from a spoiled, barbaric child into a spoiled, barbaric adult. You have only ever succeeded because I allowed it. Now, at the end, you still refuse to accept that it was your own folly that brought your empire down.”
“Get off my throne.”
Chaud rubbed the bridge of his nose with his slender fingers. “Oh, blow it out your ass, Marty.”
“What did you call me?!” Grimskull said, his body practically shaking with rage.
“Your birth name. Martin Viktor Grimskull. Martin apparently means ‘powerful warrior.’ But in this case, you are simply Marty, the giant child.”
“Get off my throne,” Grimskull repeated.
Chaud slapped his hands on the throne’s armrests and stood. “Your throne? That’s a laugh. Your parents were also idiots. The pair of them. The only reason they, or you, ever kept the throne is because of me behind the scenes, running the empire. Do you even know how trade, taxes, and tariffs work?”
“Lower your voice when speaking to me.”
“You are not threatening, Marty,” Chaud taunted the warlord. “This chair, this uncomfortable monstrosity, should belong to me for all the work I’ve done for the empire. But here you and your moronic family have sat, while loyal Chaud shuts his mouth and does the real work. No wonder Jackson Blackwell wants to place your brother or your son on the throne. Either one of them could do an infinitely better job than—”
Chaud’s speech was cut off, on account of his no longer existing.
Where the archmage once stood was now a smoldering empty space with the residue of spectral green energy. The same energy glowed from Grimskull’s outstretched right hand. His left was clasping the Amulet of the Ember Soul.
Grimskull had used the most powerful and most forbidden magic in all the Never Realm: The Curse of Unmaking. The Curse of Unmaking was exactly as it sounded, a spell that caused its victim to cease to be, erasing him completely. Even the gods of their respective realms feared using the curse. The ripples it sent into the great flow of existence caused unknown and terrifying events to happen. Everything Chaud could potentially do, in any possible timeline, was gone.
The curse messed with potential futures, and the universe did not care for that.
I stepped out into the open from my hiding spot and walked down the great hall towards the throne.
“Hello, Viktor. You have looked better.”
“You! You did all this!” Grimskull yelled.
“Yes, yes I did,” I yelled back.
“I have lost everything!”
I stopped and looked at him for a moment before continuing. “Can you wait a moment, please? The banter isn’t nearly as good while we are this far away! Yelling to your opponent isn’t all that menacing! Plus, the acoustics in here are not very good!”
“I know! Yes, please, just hurry up!” Grimskull shouted back while making a hurry-up motion with his hand.
I closed the distance until Grimskull and I were in normal speaking range. “Better. Now, where were we?”
Grimskull sighed and repeated himself. “I’ve lost everything . . . ”
Ah yes.
I laughed. “Yes. And do you know why?” I asked, slipping back into my villainous tones.
“Because—”
“Shut up,” I said. “The question was rhetorical.”
/> “Oh.”
“You lost it all because you chose to try and take me on.”
“I had you beaten!”
I shook my head. “No, you had me disadvantaged. And I will give you credit for that. Very few ever have. Between you and my sister, I am humbly surprised. How long had that been going on, may I ask?”
“From the first time I entered your realm, coming to you for your advice. I was in that horrible waiting room of yours, being bored to death sitting next to your nephew Randy. You sister was there, leaving a meeting she had with you. She was upset and I offered her my handkerchief. She was so incredibly charming and beautiful. The attraction was immediate between us. We struck up a very interesting conversation. It was like fate had brought us together. She was the one who first suggested that we rise up against you. And to be honest, I said no. All the legends of you were daunting. But after meeting you and being in your arrogant presence for only seconds, I knew I wanted to see you removed and your sister placed in power.”
“Then why go through with our meetings and consultations?” I asked.
“Because they worked,” Grimskull replied. “You are an insufferable man. But your methods and outcomes work. Thanks to you, I expanded my empire into the Middle Lands and the through several of the island chains. You are a horse’s ass, but you get results.”
I nodded. “Then why betray me?”
“Because I learned all I needed from you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Grimskull said. Behind his skull helmet, I saw his eyes narrow. “I learned you would always keep me coming back, taking more of my gold for yourself. I learned that I would never be rid of you. I learned that your appetite for power and status is equal to your ego. And I learned that if I made your sister my wife, then all your power could belong to me.”
At that moment, I was honestly not mad at him. I was impressed.
But he still had to go.
Reputation and all that.
“I thank you, Baron, for your honesty. But it is time. Surrender to me now, swear your life to me, and you may live.”
