by Rex Hazelton
Soon, the erratic sound of cretchym wings, thrashing in the air, followed behind Ab'Don's cruel ambassadors. Excited by the passing evil, Ab'Don's winged progeny pursued the scent of fraethym iniquity until something else caught their fleeting attention.
Realizing the Lord of Regret was not in G'Lude, Bolkar and his gang swept downward into the lava tubes running beneath the fortress and out towards the heart of the volcano. After passing multitudes of Nyeg Warlers, who walked mindlessly about, the foul spirits struck pay dirt once they flew into a large subterranean chamber.
Koyer used this room for his games, games that were fun only for himself and not for those who were forced to play along. When the fraethym's presence finally distracted the Lord of Regret, a group of grime-covered children fled off into holes that led away from the odious chamber.
“Arghhhh! What do you think you are doing?” Koyer shouted.
Startled by their lord's angry voice, the few cretchym still following the evil spirits turned around and, like a swarm of mindless insects, flew back down the lava tube.
Once Koyer's caught sight of Ab'Don's emissaries, he calmed down. With a voice filled with resignation, he added, “Why has my master sent you?”
The six evil spirits quickly surrounded their prey and began to undulate as they changed forms from vapor, to fire, to glowing lights and then back to vapor, once more.
They continued this ritual as Bolkar spoke. “What does he have to say?” The fraethym's distant voice spoke through wisps of vapor, hanging like fangs from his mouth. “He has sent us to relay his displeasure in your performance of late. Why, I'd say he's livid with anger at your incompetence in failing to apprehend his enemy. You know who I'm talking about,” Bolkar hissed out his words before getting to the punch line, “the Hammer Bearer. I'd say he's even more furious than mere words can convey, so let me try explaining his point of view this way.”
Koyer's lips curled back, his dagger-like teeth suddenly showing, as he fell onto his knees screaming, for Bolkar, and his companions, had slipped into his body through his nostrils, mouth, and ears. Instantly, the Lord of Regret began salivating uncontrollably. His spittle, sliding out of his lolling mouth, fell on the ground in bubbling clumps of black goo. His speech slurred, garbling his cries for help. “Blast it! Somebody, help me!” he screamed.
Then, forced against his will, Koyer pulled out his serpentine dagger and began mutilating himself, slashing his thighs and upper arms as he openly wept out his woe. Once his dagger fell to the ground, he began rolling about the floor, screaming as if he were trying to put out a fire that was consuming his flesh. Drenched in perspiration and blood, the fraethym forced the Lord of Regret to climb onto his hands and knees and begin howling like a dog. Finally, the dark lord toppled over, slumping to the ground, when Bolkar and the others triumphantly emerged out of the same orifices they had used to enter their victim's body.
“Well now, wasn't that fun?” Bolkar wistfully concluded. Looking down on Koyer's quivering shape, he added, “Are we going to be a good doggy now and obey your master's commands?”
Lifting his upper body up off the ground and onto bleeding palms, the disheveled lord pled his cause. “How was I to know that Aryl Oakenfel's son could be the Hammer Bearer. I wasn't even certain whether he was Fane J'Shrym or not.”
“Oh, do we defend ourselves?” Bolkar nodded to one of the other spirits who immediately reentered Koyer through his mouth, causing him to gag as it passed down his throat. Instantly, his huge cloak began flapping wildly about as his body quaked under the emotional stress the evil spirit imposed upon him. It was like a bolt of lightning had struck him.
Satisfied that Koyer was now feeling the proper affects of the foul spirit's magic, Bolkar spoke. “Now you listen to me you insect… excuses are not accepted! Either you succeed, or you fail… and you failed, you miserable vermin!”
Bolkar pointed a vaporous finger towards the pitiful Lord of Regret, adding his powers to those Falkar was already unleashing in his hapless victim's body: lifting his vibrating bulk up off the cave's floor, suspending him in midair, increasing his torment to a feverish pitch. A moment later, the foul spirit lowered his hand and withdrew his magic's searing pain, letting Koyer fall once more upon the stone floor's unforgiving hardness.
Transforming back into a mass of glowing light, at the same time putting on airs as if he were some well-heeled courtier, Bolkar added, “If it weren't for Ab'Don's beneficence, you'd be driven to madness by now and, most likely, would have already taken your life.”
Bolkar sighed as he continued, “Oh my… enough time spent on wishful thinking.”
Metamorphasizing back into a blazing flame of fire, the fraethym continued his reprimand. “First let me remind you that Falkar reported having seen Jeaf Oakenfel and that stinking Elf-Man in the Eyrie of the Eagle's secret passageway. In addition to this tasty morsel of information, Grog told you all he witnessed, things that led him to suspect the Woodswane might be the Hammer Bearer.”
“Ashes! You own Grog's body!” Bolkar's flames increased with his irritation. “You should have seen all that he saw and heard all that he heard. Both of these reports should have been enough for you to conclude that Jeaf Oakenfel was dangerous, you miserable cur! Now, when it may be too late, you finally realize he is a Fane J'Shrym and the one who will inherit the Hammer of Power. You, my mutant friend, are responsible for the successful execution of all the plans Ab'Don has meticulously prepared for Nyeg Warl. So, I suggest you put these plans into motion as soon as possible. Do it before the Hammer Bearer gains the momentum he needs to stop the avalanche of evil Ab'Don has anointed you to loose upon the warl.”
When Bolkar was finished, Falkar exited Koyer's mouth looking like exhaled pipe smoke. His departure left the Lord of Regret standing slumped shouldered and defeated.
“Now, my friends and I will drift over Nyeg Warl to see what we shall see. Once we are done, we'll report our findings to you before we return to Ab'Don,” Bolkar explained before resuming his vaporous form and joining the other evil spirits.
After turning their faces towards Koyer, for one last gratifying look at their evil handiwork, the fraethym abruptly departed back down the lava tube. While on their way out of G'Lude, the fraethym playfully touched some of the Archan. Immediately, they began attacking their brothers. A furious fight ensued, one that ended in death.
In due course, the six of them left the lava tubes and entered a courtyard surrounded by walls that couldn't be scaled. There they found seven Nyeg Warlers who were arrayed in rich apparel. Quickly recognizing these were the king's sons that Koyer had seduced into his lair with the pretense of hosting a Feast of Harmony, the evil spirits took time to examine the prisoners. Among these stood Hartshyll, the Eagle King's son.
Falkar, who was familiar with the Valamor, floated up to Hartshyll, sniffing him to see if the bitterness of his imprisonment had tainted him with the scent of evil. But as he drew near, the aroma of decency began to sting the evil spirit's nostrils. So, he withdrew, knowing the door to both Hartshyll's heart and mind were closed to him.
“Enough playtime!” Bolkar shouted as he transformed back into flame to accentuate his command. “Let's be off to Nyeg Warl.” Then changing back into a mist, he led the unholy cloud out over G'Lude's thick walls.
****
Ashamed of his weakness, Koyer vowed that he would one day make Bolkar and the others pay for all they had done to him. Not wanting his men to see him in his pitiful condition, to do so would only encourage those willing to challenge his leadership, he passed through the lava tubes as fast as his legs would carry him. Finally, arriving at his bed chamber, the surly commander ordered nurses to be sent to tend his wounds.
When they arrived, the dark lord ordered the door shut for privacy's sake, a luxury he didn't afford his minions. Archan nurses, first, removed his crimson breastplate, revealing the black fur covering his chest. Then, they carefully took off his leather pants, revealing his grotesqueness.
While some tended the wounds cutting across the reddish skin covering his thighs, others stretched out his arms. As they did, huge black leathery wings followed, reaching out across the room from multi-jointed appendages extending outward from his shoulders. The wings were what most people mistook for the cloak that the Lord of Regret so compulsively wore. Yet, he wore no cloak, and was not human. On closer inspection, his face had a short black canine, almost fox-like, muzzle. Large ears, rising high above his head, created the appearance of the tall collar people thought was a part of his long flowing cloak.
Koyer, a man-like being, was a product of Ab'Don's use of black magic. The evil Sorcerer's efforts to unlock the secrets of creation had unleashed a mutated race of winged-vermin into the warl, called cretchym. Each of these were comprised of a combination of Ab'Don's own flesh and blood and that of one of the lesser beasts. The winged-creatures, that had earlier interrupted Koyer's tryst with the children, were of this ilk. These were Koyer's siblings and the secret weapon Ab'Don intended to unleash in the coming war.
Ar Warl's lord eventually gave up his loathsome experiments after creating a race of beasts who sought to take his life, beasts whose existence proved the melding magic was impossible to control. It was during this battle that Koyer gained renown by fighting at his beleaguered father's side, a father devoid of even the smallest shred of paternal instinct. Now, the only cretchym allowed to remain were those who displayed loyalty to Ab'Don by following the Lord of Regret's lead. Still, these represented an innumerable throng of flying death.
****
Later that night, Koyer and a score of his finest officers met in a council chamber made of black volcanic rock. The light of the few torches found in the room were magnified by the glassy stone's reflective properties. Images, of the war council were multiplied, many times over, in the multifaceted mirror-like blocks. A round blood-red table, surrounded by an appropriate number of chairs, stood conspicuously in the middle of the room.
Once the officers had been assembled, Koyer ordered them to be seated. A panoply of light and color splashed about the chamber's walls as man and creature alike moved to their appointed chairs.
Koyer, the only one still standing, swept out his huge leathery wings. Reaching well past the borders of the table, nearly to the walls, he extended his arms to welcome his subjects. Two other cretchym, sitting at the table, turned to look at one another as they nodded their approval of Koyer's impressive display. The size of his wings was large for one of their kind.
Due to the magic's unpredictable nature that the Sorcerer tried to harness, no two of Ab'Don's children looked alike. Thus, one of the other cretchym had a pinkish body, draped with red wings, while the otherone was bright yellow with green fringed wings, mostly transparent, that folded across its back, locust-style.
“Welcome commanders.” Koyer addressed his audience with a snarl. “We gather tonight as a war council. As you may have heard, I was visited by Lord Ab'Don's, shall I say, distasteful emissaries. They gave me instructions to implement our plans, immediately!”
“But are we ready, Sir?” The yellow cretchym spoke out of lips that moved sideways like insect mandibles. “I thought we had agreed to execute the plan next spring.”
“Crom, didn't you hear me! I was given orders to attack now, not next spring!” The power spicing Koyer's voice had the commanders mindlessly shaking their heads in agreement.
Strangely enough, Crom didn't appear to be affected by Koyer's magical speech. So, he presented another question. “My Lord, since we're well into the summer, will we have enough time to carry out the initial phase of our strategy, before winter arrives?”
Brakor, the lone giant who was seated on the floor since the chairs were too small to hold his bulk, responded to the news of war in the polar-opposite way that Crom had. With his enthusiasm for battle overflowing, he pounded one immense fist into his other hand's massive palm, while exclaiming, “Now we're getting somewhere! It's time to knock some heads together and crush some bones!” The red leather bandanna, covering the wiry, black hair that grew like weeds out of the top of his round head, rose with his bushy eyebrows as he asked the question now uppermost in his mind. “I've waited too many winters for this war! When do we get started?”
The Malamor, Archan and cretchym soon joined the giant beating their fists on top of the blood-red table in a show of greedy approval.
“We march in one week!” The reflection of Koyer's dagger-like teeth and glowing eyes flashed across the dark glassy walls.
“Where to, My Lord?” Crom inquired, his mandibles making a clicking noise as he did.
“We'll move on Grogan first, just as we've planned.” Koyer's thick red tongue licked his lips as he spoke. “Ripe for the picking, he's so concerned for his son Dominon, he'll probably let us do whatever we want. Besides, he's so financially dependent upon Ar Warl's wealth, he'll surely think twice before standing up to us. We also have the benefit of the Society of Truth working on our behalf among the Froms. It's is one of the oldest and most effective chapters in all of Nyeg Warl.”
Turning to address one of the White Guard, a man who handled political affairs, Koyer's red eyes glowed like fire as he gave his instructions. “Clyntor… send emissaries to Grogan. Tell him that Barden and the Shomeronians are planning to attack his kingdom. Encourage him to ask for our troops to come help him defend his realm. And make certain you steep all you say in the notion that our actions are only aimed at protecting the lucrative trade agreements we have with him.”
“Is that true, Glicknor?” Clyntor leaned over to a fellow member of the White Guard who was G'Lude's intelligence officer, a man Clyntor knew would have the answers he sought after.
“Does it matter?” Glicknor whispered his response. “Whether it is the truth or a lie, I'm sure the information will serve Koyer's purpose.”
Overhearing the verbal exchange taking place between the members of the White Guard, Koyer decided to explain. “Glicknor, though it isn't the truth yet, it soon will look like it is... Once we begin moving troops out of G'Lude, across the Bridge of Despair and into the Blood Canyons, we'll run into Barden's men keeping watch there. Since we won't heed their warnings and turn back, as we have on other occasions, fighting will surely break out. These skirmishes will only help prove that King Barden has evil designs for Verdant Deep and will provide the rationale needed for encouraging Grogan to ask for our military assistance, once we doctor up the reports.”
Tapping the claws of one of his hands on his crimson breastplate, Koyer's eyes shrunk to sinister slits, as he added, “Besides we'll have the king's dear son, Dominon, write a letter that Clyntor will deliver to Grogan, along with one I'll write, one that'll say his son faces danger from Barden's assassins who have been trying to infiltrate G'Lude. We'll make certain the King understands that no one will be safe, either him or his son, until he lets us help. I'm certain he'll catch my meaning.” Koyer turned to look at each member of this gruesome council before adding, “And when the king lets us put our foot in the door... we're going to shove the fire-blasted thing wide open and take control! Verdant Deep will soon be ours!”
Once again, Crom voiced a less than enthusiastic question. “But will Grogan really believe Barden's planning to attack him?”
“CROM!” Koyer's shout was so loud the black glossy walls vibrated when his voice hit them. “It doesn't matter whether he believes it. He has too much to lose to not, at least, humor us. Besides, Grogan's taken chances with us before, take our trade agreements as an example and he's never been bitten, at least not yet. He'll take a chance again. Then, before he knows it, it will be too late. This time we'll bite him for sure!”
The vile Lord of Regret, walking over to stand behind his political officer, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Clyntor, we'll also approach King Nestor in much the same way. His son, Hectyr, will be asked to write a letter similar to Doninon's. Then we'll send it to his father along with another copy of the letter we gave to Grogan and just c
hange the names.”
Releasing Clyntor's shoulders before standing to his full height, Koyer lifted his lips to reveal his fangs as he explained, “Grogan and Nestor are like two peas in a pod. They're whores who've climbed into a bed of wealth with us, and now, we'll undress them and take all we've paid them for.”
Koyer's metaphor was greeted with raucous laughter from the collection of predators sitting around the blood-red table. Shouting, “They're whores, all right!” the commanders began jesting with one another about who would get to be with which king first.
Koyer gave his commanders time to enjoy the prospects that the fortunes of war would bring them before speaking further. “We should be able to secure these two kingdoms in no more than a month or two's time. Then we'll turn our full force on Shomeron, King Barden's fortress, and conquer it by fall's end.”
Kings Grogan, Nestor, and Barden's realms were those closest to the Isle of Regret. Barden's kingdom was the western most realm of the three. Built on the Cragmar River's eastern shores, Shomeron was an ideal place from which to launch the spring offensive. By refusing to join Grogan and Nestor in signing a trade agreement with the Isle of Regret, Barden had created hard feelings between the three kings that Koyer hoped to use in carrying out his schemes.
Since Barden had always detested the Lord of Regret, and more so since the kidnapping of his son, Bardensen, Shomeron's king, posed the greatest threat to the first phase of Ar Warl's plans. It would take nothing short of all out war to dislodge him, and it was this war that Koyer's council was now discussing.
