Magic of Ruyn

by RG Long

  A simple loincloth was all it wore for clothes, though some tree trunks had been fashioned into crude armor to protect its gigantic arms and chest. A large rock was tied to the end of a giant log that the troll swung over its head as it raced towards them.

  Jurgon stumbled and fell over a loose paving stone. He cried out as he fell and Gorplin turned on his heel. At the same moment, a monumental crash sounded behind Ealrin. He spun around to see that the huge iron gate had slammed closed, sending up a dust cloud.

  "I said defend the gate you fools! Don't close it yet!" Lote was yelling even louder and threateningly.

  "Watch out behind you!" one of the guards yelled back, pointing at the troll.

  As if they needed the warning.

  Ealrin drew his blade as he turned to face the oncoming monster.

  "I suppose there won't be reinforcements," he said as Lote ran to his side, drawing her bow.

  "Doubtfully," she replied. "Trolls are supposed to have thick hides, almost like armor."

  "So what do we do?" Ealrin asked as they began to trot back to their friends.

  Gorplin had drawn his axe with one hand, and with the other he was helping Jurgon to his feet along with Jurrin. It looked as if the halfling had twisted his ankle. They carried him beyond Bertrom, Gaflion, and Tory, who had drawn their weapons and turned to face the beast.

  "Aim for the eyes," Lote answered, and let an arrow fly. The beast was swinging its club back and forth in front of it. More from luck than skill, the arrow bounced off the weapon harmlessly.

  Lote cursed.

  "Come on, you!" Tory yelled as the thing swung its club in a high arc, denting the stone as it crashed to the earth. Tory had only just jumped out of the way. Gaflion began to hack away at the creature's hand and arm, doing little damage. Bertrom seemed rooted to the spot. The troll had noticed the unmoving and easy to grab target. The troll's hand reached out for Bertrom. Ealrin rushed next to him and slammed his own body into the young recruit, barely dodging the massive troll's grab. Bertrom's sword fell from his hand and clanged to the ground.

  The two rolled behind the troll in a pile. Ealrin looked up in time to see Lote fire another arrow at the creature's face. This one found its mark. The troll let out a long bellow and grabbed its head with one hand, taking a few steps back. Ealrin forced Bertrom to roll over several times to avoid being stepped on. They hit a stone column that was on the side of the road and towered above even the troll. It shook and rocked precariously.

  "Get up, Bertrom! Quick!" Ealrin yelled at him as he scrambled to his feet.

  He saw that Gorplin had returned to the fight and was trying to cut off the troll's foot with his axe. He was having very little success.

  "Gray skinned foul creature!" the dwarf yelled as he twirled his axe this way and that. The troll continued to dance around the dwarf, howling in pain at the arrow in its eye.

  "Gorplin!" Ealrin yelled as he got behind the pillar and shoved with all his might. "Over here!"

  The dwarf looked up and ran towards the column. Gaflion ran beside him. The troll chased after the two, swinging his club wildly with one arm and clutching his face with the other.

  Lote was continuing to fire arrow after arrow at the beast, but to no effect.

  Bertrom was on his feet and pushing the column with Ealrin now. The stones were beginning to shift.

  "Over here, beastie!" Gorplin yelled as he planted himself on the other side of the pillar that Ealrin and Bertrom were pushing. The dwarf swung his axe into the pillar as if it were a tree. A great chunk of rock flew out.

  Gaflion turned and made a jump off of a large stone in the path. He pointed his sword right at the neck of the beast, just as the pillar began to fall in the direction Ealrin and Bertrom pushed it. Gaflion’s blade managed to pierce the skin of the troll and plunge into its neck. As it did, however, the troll swatted at the old soldier with its massive arms and sent him flying.

  In a rage, the troll grabbed at the sword. A sickly gurgling mixed with a howl as it clawed at the blade.

  Then the stone pillar fell and the beast fell with it. A stark silence hung in the air.

  As the dust cleared around them, Ealrin took stock of their condition. Jurgon and Jurrin were close to the gate. Jurgon was clutching his ankle and Jurrin was attempting to identify what was wrong with it.

  Lote had run over to Gaflion. The older soldier was breathing, but it was very labored. He had landed beside a tree. Ealrin wasn't sure if he had hit it before falling to the ground.

  Gorplin was standing over the head of the troll, ensuring that the thing was dead. The dwarf drew out Gaflion's blade with some effort. The thing came free, but was covered in the black blood of the gray skinned races.

  "Bah," he said, as he went to wipe the blade clean on the grass. "Smells like death already."

  Ealrin was about to turn and check on Gaflion as well when he realized Bertrom still hadn't moved.

  He just stood still and looked down at the fallen creature with wide eyes.

  "It's alright, Bertrom," Ealrin said as he walked back to him. "It's dead."

  Bertrom didn't move. His hands trembled slightly and a sweat bead ran down his cheek.

  "Hey!" Ealrin said, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him a bit. "You okay?"

  He blinked a few times, shook his head, and then looked at Ealrin as if he had only just realized he was standing there.

  "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine," he said as he stumbled towards Gaflion and Lote and away from the troll.

  Ealrin watched him walk away for a bit. Gorplin returned with a clean blade.

  "Still a kid, that one," he said low enough for Bertrom not to hear.

  "I suppose so," Ealrin replied as he wondered how wise it was to have Bertrom come on this journey.

  More perilous battles surely lay ahead of them.

  15: The Greater Good

  Androlion walked among the prisoners in the lower chambers of the dungeon. Elves, dwarves, and even a handful of halflings were on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. Several torches along the wall were the only source of light in this dank place. The smell of decay and rats filled the air. Cool air that had not seen daylight in a hundred years settled on the smooth, damp stones of the floor.

  Thirty guards dressed in Androlion's personal color stood behind them. Each had a sword resting on the neck of the prisoner in front of them. All they needed was a command from their leader.

  Androlion looked in the face of each prisoner. He had seen so many over the past month. So many had been in this very dungeon, dug out of the ground below the Capital Tower in Conny. In previous times, these dark stone walls housed goblins and trolls. Above them the more civilized prisoners were kept: murderers and thieves. The ceiling was low and would discourage any who feared tight spaces.

  The room was wide and square shaped. Barred doors that led to small cells lined every available space in the walls, save for two doors. One had a staircase leading upwards to other chambers. The other led further down. As Androlion walked down the line of those bound and gagged on the floor, he stopped and considered the second staircase.

  He dreaded it.

  Yet he knew that all too soon, necessity would drive him deeper underground. The catacombs would call to him. And the secrets held within them would be unearthed.

  But now, there was a much more present threat to handle.

  "Rayg," he said to the man who stood at the other end of the room. "Do you understand why Ruyn must be cleansed?"

  He turned to face the man that had been his general since the beginning of his pursuit of power and salvation. His huge frame was wrapped in black armor. His sword was much too large for any normal man to wield.

  But Rayg was no normal man.

  He was power and battle lust incarnate. Of all his leadership, Rayg was the one whom he knew would lead armies to victory. No matter the odds.

  But it was also why he distrusted him.

  Any man who could wield mor
e power than he was a threat to his vision of a pure continent. One that would be spared the coming darkness.

  "We cleanse to save man, my Lord," was Rayg's calm reply as he idly picked at his nails. His hands and face were the only parts of him not covered in his famed and feared armor. Many small interwoven pieces of shaped metal allowed him to move with frightening agility. He was a master soldier.

  One whom, Androlion knew, would have to meet his end before long.

  He smiled, knowing Rayg would fall before the glory of the cleansing was complete.

  "The age of man is upon us," Androlion said. The prisoners shifted as they listened.

  They knew what this speech would mean.

  "I have seen the future, and it is one without dwarves, elves, or other filth," Androlion said as he walked back up the line. "If man is to thrive and avoid destruction, other races must be eliminated."

  He stopped at an elf who was glaring at him. Anger and rage was in the prisoner's eyes.

  Androlion smiled. He removed the cloth that gagged his mouth.

  "What's your name, elf?"

  Disgust filled the elf's face.

  "Feran of the House Carail," he said, loathing dripping from his lips. "From Ingur."

  This only fueled the excitement growing in Androlion's chest.

  "You and your kind have lived on Ruyn for a thousand years without hindrance or pain. Man struggled from the first. We have built for ourselves a nation that will grow into an empire. Man will reign supreme here. Your race's time is spent."

  "You're a coward and a fool," the elf said, fully aware what speaking meant. "I hope you rot and die a slow, torturous death at the hands of an elf someday."

  Androlion was quick. His hand had been on the dagger even as the elf had looked at him. He let the dagger stay where it landed: the elf's throat.

  Any who threatened mankind would meet a similar fate.

  Such atrocities were warranted if it meant the survival of his kind. Androlion knew that this was the only way. It was what had been shown to him in his vision. It was the future.

  The other prisoners struggled against their bonds. Androlion stepped over the now dead elf towards Rayg and the staircase that led upwards. Now was not the time to descend.

  As he came to the door, Rayg bowed low to him.

  "See to this," Androlion ordered as he put a foot on the stair and nodded back to the prisoners.

  Giving orders and having them obeyed was what gave Androlion his power. As long as Rayg followed his commands, all would go well.

  Your time will come soon, Androlion thought.

  Rayg turned to him and nodded once again in salute.

  As he climbed the stairs, he heard the sound of threescore blades make quick and fatal cuts. Muffled screams. Several thuds as bodies hit the stones.

  It was all for the greater good.

  HE ROSE OUT OF THE prison chamber into one hall and then past another. Before long, they had entered the rotunda that served as an entrance hall to the great Capital Tower.

  Waiting there, on Androlion's orders, were three men.

  All were newly instated generals in his forces as he had yet to find any that could dependably do his work.

  Except for Rayg, Androlion noted, annoyed at the fact.

  "Very good," he said as he approached the three. "You've come."

  He nodded for them to follow him as he ascended the stairs of the tower up to the war room. It was the place where once the ideals of unity and peace had been discussed. It brought Androlion great joy to plan war on the races on that large wooden table.

  Once they had entered the room, Androlion stopped to consider the large map of Ruyn that had been laid upon the table. This room had once held the elders of the three major races of the Southern Republic. Now only one elder remained, as Androlion had conspired.

  That elder, Tane Silverthread, now lay asleep in his chair at the head of the table.

  Good, Androlion thought. Fewer interruptions from a fool.

  On the map were marked all the major settlements of dwarves, elves, and other races that would be the undoing of the survival of men. In the cities Androlion now controlled were little wooden pegs, painted green. Each signified a thousand troops.

  At the moment, several were placed by each major city in the Southern Republic.

  More were placed in other areas along the map, poised to strike.

  For the other areas, those not yet under his grasp, other pegs of different colors were gathered. An estimate from spies of how many troops defended each.

  "Men," Androlion said as he took up a wooden rod to move the pieces wherever he saw fit. "The time to act is upon us. Yet preparations must still be made."

  He began to move the pieces around the map.

  "I await one of my most trusted generals from the north. In his absence, the three of you," he said motioning to each in turn with his rod, "will see that we are ready for our next move."

  Just then, the doors to the chamber burst open. Tane awoke from his sleep and looked around the room in a daze. His face showed slight agitation at being woken from his nap, but he quickly sat upright at the sight of Androlion and his generals. The elder adjusted his robes around him as he looked at the one who had just entered the circular chamber.

  "Welcome, General Rayg," Tane said in a sleepy voice.

  The large soldier walked into the room followed by four other Mercs at his command.

  Androlion was annoyed at the sight of him. The general was acting less and less like a subordinate and more like a king. Who were these men of his, Androlion wondered.

  No matter. There were more important matters to see to.

  Rayg stopped at the table and made a half bow in Androlion's direction, not bothering to return Tane's greeting.

  "Thank you for your service, Rayg," Androlion said with a slight grimace. At this point, he cared little for how much his most tenured general thought of him.

  "I need you here," he pointed his rod to a gathering of green pegs. "See to their preparations as we have discussed. After that is done, ensure our gray skinned allies aren't killing one another. Put them to better uses."

  Rayg saluted.

  "My Lord," he said. Then he turned and left the chamber, his men in tow.

  It irked him that Rayg had left without being dismissed. He would ignore the disrespect for now.

  Once he had acquired what he desired above all else, Rayg's immense physical strength would mean very little compared to the greater power Androlion would soon control. It was with his new power that he would topple countries and preserve mankind. He would see to the salvation of Ruyn and the subjugation of all.

  But he still lacked one thing.

  Driving the thought from his mind for the time being, he looked down at the table.

  Again, Androlion motioned to an area of the map.

  "As for you two," he continued, pointing to the rather short, robust, brown haired man and the man to his left: a quite slim and tall, black haired individual. "Gather these men here and continue their training for what must be done here."

  They both saluted, knowing better than to talk at the moment.

  "And finally, my newest general," he said.

  He considered the young man.

  What a promising career lies ahead of this one, he thought. If he can continue to deliver, that is.

  "Your information has been most useful, but your purpose in the north is fulfilled. For now. I need you in the south. There, train and recruit the men and ready them for General Rayg's preparations."

  After he finished pointing out where he needed the general, he looked at him again.

  The man had saluted already, yet held his attention.

  How much he looked like his twin, Androlion thought. Save for his brown locks, they could be interchangeable. Save for the glorious fact that Androlion had convinced one of them to defect from his country, betray his friends, and kill his companions.

  A glorious future lay ahead
of him, there was no doubt.

  "Are you prepared to do what is commanded of you, General Cory?"

  The young man glared back at Androlion with a look of resoluteness. His answer echoed throughout the hall, stirring Tane, who had dozed off again.

  "Yes, sir!"

  16: After the Battle

  Teresa walked the walls of her castle with several sergeants and surveyed the damage done by the goblins. It could have been much worse.

  Repairs would need to be made to the main gate as well as the eastern wall. None of the gray-skinned intruders ever got past the wall, but their catapults did significant damage to many buildings and homes that were situated close to the entrance.

  Teresa had to keep herself from inhaling too deeply as the smoke from the fires outside the castle walls blew towards them on a soft breeze.

  Family and friends would give the soldiers of Thoran a proper burial. The mourning for them had already begun. Many had come down from the safety of the castle to check on their sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers who had defended them so bravely. Some had come to find that those who they sought would not return home with them.

  The bodies of the goblins were unceremoniously piled and burned.

  The same would've been done to those who lived inside the walls had they not been able to repel the attackers.

  Teresa was glad the invading goblin force had been so small. Had it been much larger, the fighting would have gone on for several weeks, instead of just a few days. Once the defenders had destroyed all of the goblins war machines, the beasts had seen the futility of continuing the battle and run.

  Thoran's casualties had been light. Those of fighting age had already been called in to serve in their country's army. Far too many had already fallen in other battles. Teresa feared that they could not sustain many more losses and defend their homeland.