***
"Gestorn." Vargor, holding a warrior by the throat, his feet dangling uselessly in the air, looked at the goblin from the corner of his eye. "There is a village down the hill. Go, make it yours."
Gestorn's eyes lit with glee, and a wicked grin split his vile green face in two. "At once master." Turning he ran from the castle, his hands burning red with rage.
Vargor turned his attention toward his captive and breathed gently into his face. His breath hung around the warrior's bluing face, a cloying spirit tugged at his soul. The warrior tensed and shuddered violently, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as his life was sucked from him. Vargor sighed deeply, a drunkard staggering out from an inn into the night air. "I much prefer the sweet taste of mana to the rough sinews of muscle.” Smiling wickedly, Vargor dropped the dead warrior to the floor.
Strengthened by absorbing many souls, Vargor stalked the corridors of the castle, an addict searching for another fix. His lust for power would not be sated until he sat in the throne of the council at the University of Elements.
"It has been a good day for souls, has it not?" Barramon said entering the room where Vargor was extracting the soul of the last living mage.
"Oh, indeed it has," Vargor replied, euphoric from drinking in the sweet mana-enriched soul. "Nothing can stop us from taking Alzear for our own, nothing." He cast the body of the mage aside.
"This arrangement works well for us both; you get to feast, we get to increase our forces." Barramon lifted the discarded corpse and raised it up to his face. He opened his mouth, allowing a black vaporous spirit to come out and enter the deceased mage. "We have gained many mages into our ranks and some very adept warriors, thanks to you not allowing your goblins to tear them to pieces." Barramon laughed. "They are much more useful when undamaged. We will be able to send them into Belgor as part of the Brotherhood there."
"Into the city! How so?" Vargor spun around. This was unexpected.
"The Brotherhood, as most people know it, inhabits the sewers. They have access to the entire city. It is how we dispose of our clients' objectives." Barramon swung himself into an ornately decorated high-backed chair, gesturing to Vargor to do likewise. "The Brotherhood were originally necromancers. For a fee, we would consult the dead on behalf of a client. In the process, we would get to know things about these clients, the fools. Oftentimes the dead were merely the minions of Accuson who had hung around the living most of their lives. But you only learn these things when you cross over as we do."
"So you have free reign of Belgor? Does no one keep a check on you?" Vargor picked up a cup from a small font between the chairs. Filling it with a deep red liquor, he sniffed it and swilled it gently around the cup before drinking from it.
"We have Brotherhoods in most of the larger towns and cities throughout Meregith and Mor. We even have one in Salzear and one in Luz." Barramon beckoned the newly resurrected mage to come to him. "Is there any way to get from here to Mor? Are any portals still functioning?"
"All of the portals were destroyed when the prayer chamber was violated. But the caverns give us access to a secluded cove with ships kept at the ready."
"Caverns?" Barramon grasped the collar of the mage's robe pulling him close. "What caverns?"
"The castle has extensive caverns. Some extend down to the bottom of The Reach and others lead to the Cove of Hope. A fleet of six vessels is kept in readiness there. Would you have me check them to ensure that no harm has befallen them during the siege?"
"Take us there." Barramon looked across at Vargor. "We can talk more on the way." Barramon's guard fell in behind.
"Indeed." Vargor emptied his glass and followed the others out of the room.
"Who are you, elf?" Barramon asked the mage.
"I am Dolomire," he swallowed. "I have been an instructor at the castle for more than fifty years and know all of its deeper secrets."
He shook his head, involuntarily. He also knew what to expect from the different factions of the horde, it had been his duty to teach the mages in their ways.
"What were your responsibilities?" Barramon smiled at Dolomire. "Do not worry, the spirit that now dwells within you will loosen your tongue. It is futile to resist it."
With a heavy sigh, Dolomire continued, "I have on many occasions taken trainee mages deep into horde territory for reconnaissance and surveillance. I have observed the Brotherhood on many such sorties. I have learned much of your origins and operations. Many years have I tried to warn the Council of Twelve about the goings on in Drakeshire, but they would have none of it. The Council could not be swayed to believe in old wives' tales; they had trusted sources of their own. They saw me as some kind of obsessive fool when it came to the Brotherhood, especially after the death of my mother and sisters had been attributed to you. As you will undoubtedly be aware, The Council of Twelve have, in fact, become totally aloof when it came to matters of authority. If they do not believe something to be so, then it is not so. This is where the caverns divide. This route will take you to The Reach and this one to the Cove of Hope. There is nothing in The Reach other than briars and thorns. The cove is where the treasure is."
"You three, check that way." Barramon sent two of his men together with a goblin to investigate The Reach. "I trust no one on first sight. Lead on elf."
The cove was remarkably intact, as was the fleet of six supply ships.
"We will need to protect this cove from any possible attack," Vargor said, inspecting the cavern entrance. "Tharon," he called. The belkin appeared on command. "You are to guard this cove against our enemies. This cavern will be your nest." Tharon walked around inside the cavern before settling on a nesting site. "Good, that should deter anyone from entering here. I am surprised that no one tried to board the ships or scupper them."
"The ships always sail on the full moon. The crews are all in Meregith. You will be able to identify them by the guild tattoo on the back of their right hands. Try not to waste too many. Skilled sailors who know these coastal waters are rare indeed," Dolomire said watching Tharon warily.
"We will post guards on the rocks and in the ocean, also on the hulls of the vessels," Barramon added. "We have plenty of available bodies with which to protect the harbor mouth and the surrounding waters. This has indeed been a delightful day for us. The Dark Mistress has smiled upon us this day."
"How soon will you be ready to invade Meregith?" Vargor asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"Within the month we will have enough of our armies available to launch an offensive alongside your people. I would like the time for the new recruits to become accustomed to their new… life. That will give us a chance to find out just what we have acquired for ourselves and train up your men with some field tactics."
"So soon? You impress me more with every passing day. This was indeed a Divine-inspired relationship." Vargor turned round. "I must go and thank Ariklon for his generosity."
"Yes, the god of all dark magic," Barramon mused. "I am more for the Dark Mistress.”
"Ah, the Lady of the Cavern," Vargor nodded approvingly. "Never has such beauty seen the light of day.
"No man could look upon her and remain faithful to his cause."
"Or his wife!" The two leaders looked at each other, guffawing loudly.
"Master," the goblin from the exploratory party cowered before his king as he interrupted the jollities. "We have explored the cave and The Reach. It is true what the mage said,” the goblin nodded at Dolomire, “the whole valley is nothing more than a mass of briars and thorns. An effective barrier from potential attackers."
"Good," Barramon turned to Dolomire. "It would seem your information is trustworthy. We will have to see how you manage when it comes to dealing with your own kind. I want you to go to the University of Elements and give them a true and accurate record of all that has happened here. Leave no detail unreported, is that clear?"
"It is. I shall go at once, my lord," Dolomire turned to leave. "I shall go by way of the N
eedles, as that is still the easiest way to pass through the Dragon's Teeth from Meregith. I will take a horse from the stables and send it back once I reach the mountains." He turned to face Barramon. "What would you have me do when I am done at the University, my lord?"
"You will not have much time once you get there before death starts to taint your skin. I would suggest that you take this into the sewers and join the Brotherhood there. Once they see this, they will not question who sent you." Barramon searched Dolomire's eyes for any sign of betrayal. Satisfied the mage's transformation was complete he twisted the ring into Dolomire's palm, drawing a small amount of blood. Barramon waved him away.
Without further word, Dolomire slipped out of sight and was soon riding hard across the open fields of Meregith, desperate to rid himself of the stench of death.
Among the mire
Jinpo froze. "More visitors are outside."
"I sense death and yet not dead." Dekor stepped out on the veranda, closely followed by Jinpo and Icthus, whilst the remaining members of the family continued their meal.
"Undead," Jinpo licking at the air with his forked tongue, "two bodies, male and female."
"Beware of that which does not die," Icthus said under his breath, knowing those he spoke of were close by.
"You may approach, dead ones, we know you are there." Jinpo hopping down from the veranda scuttled away behind the hut, reappearing moments later with the visitors in tow. "They look for you, Dekor." Jinpo stepped aside gesturing to their guests to enter the hut.
"What do you want?" Icthus asked.
"You must be the consort," Taarl answered, looking towards the source of the voice. "We came to speak with the warlock, Dekor."
"I am Dekor. What do you want?" The temperature in the hut began to rise, but it was not of Dekor's doing.
"We represent the Brotherhood of Drakeshire, and we have come to seek your assistance." Quin licked at the remainder of his lips.
"The Cavern of Souls." Icthus stepped out from the shadows and peered up at the guests. "You need to go there. It is the only thing that would interest the undead this far north."
"Quite." Quin shifted his stance. "We would indeed like to gain access to the Cavern of Souls."
"So what stops you?" Dekor removed his outer cloak revealing the robe of the Archmage. Taarl took a half-step back, but only as far as Jinpo.
"The Cavern of Souls is no place for a human," Jinpo said, looking Taarl up and down. "Unless you want bait."
"Bait?" Dekor's breath turned cold. "For what?"
Stepping close to Quin, close enough to feel his mana rising, he growled, "Do not even try to conjure your pet in here."
"Do not threaten me, warlock," Quin retorted. "You would not last against us."
"There will be no fighting in my house," Jinpo said, calmly stepping between them. "There are but two of you. A conjurer and a leech." Jinpo looked at them in turn as he spoke. "If you have come peaceably then sit and speak, else leave.” He waved a hand at the door.
Reluctantly, stiffly, Quin and Taarl sank to the floor among the remnants of dinner.
"You cannot get into the Cavern of Souls alone, as the halflings will kill you on sight. And if you were to manage to get past the halflings, you would get no further than the first fork before the Dark Mistress killed you," Jinpo sneered. "She has been a prisoner there for longer than time itself." Leaning in close to Quin he warned, "Do not go releasing her. It would not be wise."
"We only wish to see the cavern and leave this there." Quin held out a portal ring with four small circular cups attached to the outside edge. His eyes darted around the room as he quickly hid the ring within his cloak again. He had forgotten what happens when you get into conversation with a tattlejack.
"Quin," Taarl snarled through clenched teeth. "You idiot."
"Opening a portal in the Cavern of Souls is not good," Icthus said. Looking at Dekor, he added, "We'll take them to the cavern. Won't like what they find."
"Have you even been there?" Taarl hissed. "Your kind has no place there."
"All kinds have a place there, unless..."
Icthus raised his hand signaling the conversation ended. "Enough."
"Leave now and you could get there without incident." Jinpo indicated for them to follow him outside.
"We will return as soon as we are done," Dekor said, bowing politely to Jinpo. "I suspect they want more than they say."
"They always do." Jinpo took hold of his hand, leading him aside. "Keep Icthus at your side. He has much experience with the undead. Be wary of the leech."
Dekor nodded, swinging his cloak over his shoulders. He jogged out into the encroaching night after his new travel companions. "Tell me Icthus, is there anything we should know of Northshire?"
"Northshire is a pleasant land, like Mor. Lots of grass with cattle. Flat land, with many small woods. One large town to the west, Nezzar, decidedly unfriendly they are.” Icthus shuddered. “We will only cross farmsteads and mayhap a village or two. Halflings tolerate tattlejacks, we never hide our reasons for trespass.” He cast a glance at the undead. “Humans are another matter. As for the undead," curling his lip as he said it, "they are not welcomed at all."
Quin said with a sneer, "If any mutants come near we will kill them." He pulled his sword from its sheath, the blade glinting in the moonlight.
"With a full night ahead of us we should not encounter anyone. Halflings are creatures of the daytime, preferring to keep the dark hours for times together, and for revelry," retorted Icthus
"How much longer will it take us to reach the cavern?" Quin asked, dreading another day in such quaint surroundings.
"Northshire is relatively small. The Cavern of Souls is on the eastern point where the Everstill River joins the Languid Seas. It will take us two days without a rest, so long as we can keep our current pace," Icthus replied. "Can you not conjure a spirit to carry us?" He could feel Quin's glaring eyes upon him, "You are a conjurer, are you not?"
"I am," Quin conceded, "but I do not have what is required to conjure such a being."
"Then save your griping for another time."
Taarl smiled to herself; the little toad was beginning to grow on her as he had on Dekor.
"Quin, it's about time you came clean about our purpose here. Once we reach the cavern they will go their own way." Taarl stopped, clasping her hand to her side. "I need to slow down. I am not dead as you are."
"We can rest later. There is an old ogre mound up ahead that has been vacant for some time." Icthus tugged at Taarl's cape. "Come, it is not far now. All this running and no food is not good for me either."
The ogre mound was as Icthus promised; not far and free of ogres. Northshire may have looked like Mor, but its wildlife was far more dangerous.
Quin, like all of the undead, was utterly fearless. Taarl, however, was not. She possessed a unique sense of danger. As a soul leech, she was not actually undead so long as there was a ready soul for her to leech. Taarl had chosen to side with the undead because it made such things simpler. In order to continue living, she had to leech souls. If she did not, then all of the years she had extended her life would catch up with her in an instant. No amount of dragon's blood would keep her from turning to dust. So it was either leach souls or find a mate. The Brotherhood harbored many talented individuals, some of whom were assassins with Taarl one of the finest, capable of taking out her objective without leaving any trace. Best of all, the victims appeared to have died from natural causes. With such a talent, only the richest of clients could afford her services. Nothing could have suited her better, as it meant she only had to work when she wanted to.
Taarl grabbed Quin's sleeve, pulling him away from the entrance of the ogre mound with a trembling hand.
"What is it?" Quin asked. Yanking his arm free from Taarl's grasp he strode into the mound.
"Something is in there." Taarl's replied shakily, but it was too late for Quin to hear. "There is one life form." Dekor placed his h
and on Taarl's shoulder, searching for the answer neither of them was seeing. "One very large life form."
Dekor turned to the tattlejack for an answer. "Icthus what ...?"
Just then Quin's headless corpse came flying out of the mound, shattering against a tree and showering them all with pieces of rotting flesh and bone.
Icthus poked at the remains with his stick. "Belkin," he said. "Make a good mount if you can tame it."
"What is it, exactly?" Dekor asked "I've never having heard of a belkin."
"Like a dragon, but without the fire," Taarl replied, trembling uncontrollably
"A dragon!" Brushing off the bits of Quinn from his robe, Dekor stepped closer to the entrance. "So how, exactly, do I tame it, Icthus?".
"Frost and fire rain," Icthus padded along behind Dekor. "Freeze it as best you can, then thaw it fast with fire. Should slow it sufficiently. Then comes the difficult part."
"Difficult?" Dekor stared wide eyed at Icthus with 'what now' written across his face. "Would you mind elaborating?"
"Jump on and hold on," Icthus replied without blinking.
"Are you two mad?" Taarl had overcome her nerves enough to move closer. "A belkin? You're going in there with a belkin? Incredible. It tore Quin's head off and tossed his remains outside," she said, shaking her head smiling. "I'll be travelling alone then. Do you mind telling me which way the Cavern of Souls is?"
Icthus pointed toward the north-east, "There," then he followed Dekor into the mound, leaving Taarl alone outside.
Taarl sifted through Quin's shattered remains, picking out the portal ring. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she searched for more, finding jewelry and a pouch of shards before climbing to the top of the mound where she waited to see who would win between the dragon and the warlock.
Inside the mound it was dank, musty and totally devoid of light. Dekor remembered the ring he had taken from Magnus, so pulling it from his pocket he slipped it over his thumb. Now he could see the belkin but rather wished he could not.
Icthus stepped up behind him tugging gently at Dekor's robe. "If it gets wild I will slow it down." For the first time Icthus revealed his full array of spines to Dekor. "Don't fear, I have done this before," he whispered.
Dekor stared at him wide-eyed with disbelief. He was quite serious about taming this beast.
The belkin turned its head toward them both, sniffing the air with a snort. Its mouth opened slowly with the sound of sticky saliva and a warning rumble.
Dekor began to imagine the belkin covered in an exceptionally heavy, thick frost. It attempted to bolt for the outside, but the frost was already biting hard. It lashed out at Dekor, knocking him from his feet.
Icthus chased after the beast. "Hurry, if it thaws, it will escape."
Taarl stared at the belkin, immobilized with fear as it emerged from the mound.
The belkin was slow; its head and upper neck were layered with a thick cap of ice. Dekor rushed outside, still drawing down the frost sealing up the belkin's mouth. Now it was time for something he had not yet mastered, the rain of fire. Frost and lightning could both be summoned from nature but fire was created by mind power. He had yet to use the fire rain in battle. However, Dekor would not be deterred. He had conquered many foes since leaving the Mage Guild and embarking on his journey; he would master this one too.
He thought hard, concentrating on the image of fire in his mind. Tiny balls of fire began falling from the air above the belkin. The creature was now clambering up the embankment toward an open space where it could extend its wings. Fireballs the size of hen’s eggs began falling on the belkin, hissing on the ice. More and more fireballs rapidly appeared, raining down on the hapless belkin as it swung its head from side to side, unable to defend itself. The belkin's glowing red eyes glared out through the thawing ice. Water ran down the animal's flanks, reflecting the fire rain as it fell, scorching the grass around it. The belkin tossed its head back, and breaking the ice bonds from its jaw it bellowed with rage. Swinging around to face Dekor, it smacked its head against a small rock. Using it as an anvil it shattered the last remnants of the ice bonds, tearing the flesh from its lips as it opened its mouth in a rage-fueled roar. It was warming up, fast, the heat changing the animal's color from black to a deep jungle green. Dekor stepped back, trying to keep his mind focused while dodging the claws of the belkin as they scythed through the air.
Icthus, seeing the change in the belkin's color, yelped, "Now,"
Dekor rushed forward, ducking under the belkin's head as its jaws snapped shut beside his ear. He jumped, swinging himself up onto the belkin's back, then clambered across to the top of its wings as they opened out. The belkin reared up onto its hind legs, its head emerging above the tree tops. Dekor clung there for a moment, not sure what to do next, then he instinctively closed his legs around the animal's neck and locked his ankles together. Grabbing hold of two large plate-like scales he clung on as the belkin hauled itself into the air.
The creature swung itself from left to right, shaking and twisting its neck, trying to loosen the parasite from its back. Climbing high in the air, the belkin looped over, plunging toward the tree tops. Dekor imagined more ice coating the animal's neck to keep those slavering jaws as far from him as possible. Fire rained down, burning through the forest canopy in flashes of brilliant red and orange. Taarl covered her head with her arms and ran screaming for the sanctuary of the ogre mound.
Dekor dug his heels into the dragon's chest, tightening his grasp on the flight scales until his knuckles felt as though they would burst. He prayed to the One that the scales would hold fast.
The belkin was tiring, its breathing becoming labored. It plummeted, tumbling, twisting, free-falling toward the forest canopy. Dekor loosened his feet. Sitting upright, he heaved on the scales as though he were pulling on the reins of his horse. The belkin responded by opening its wings to glide over the forest, dragging its feet through the tree tops and showering the ground with sticks and leaves.
Dekor leaned to the left, pulling on the opposing scale. The belkin turned around, now fully under his control. He whooped with joy and the belkin responded with a chastened growl. Dekor patted the animal's neck firmly, bringing it in to land atop the mound. He slid down from the creature's back and stood staring up at it, his face filled with wonder and excitement.
“I did it!” Dekor laughed throwing his arms out wide. “I... did it.”
"Give her this and name her, then will she never leave you." Icthus snapped off one of his quills and handed it to Dekor. "Push it into your hand, draw some of your blood into it and then feed it to her."
Dekor took the tube and hesitantly twisted it into his palm, filling the small phial with blood. He walked around the belkin until they were standing face to face. The belkin peered down at him, her eyes watching his hand. Tossing the small phial up for the belkin, who snatched it from the air, Dekor said, "I name you Zillah."
Zillah mulled over her treat, then lowering her head for his attention, purred contentedly. The taming of the belkin was complete.
"That's incredible," breathed Taarl, "totally mad, but incredible."
"Like her?" Dekor asked, summoning a fireball to light the area. "Be careful, she eats the undead." For the first time, he noticed how Taarl's green eyes had no pupils and that her skin was flawless and pale. "You're not one of them, are you?"
"She's a soul leech, not dead at all." Icthus hopped up onto the mound, then onto Zillah. "A thing of beauty."
"Thank you," Taarl replied.
"I meant the dragon," Icthus said, stifling a chuckle as he took up the riding position on Zillah. "She will respond only to you. I will teach you how to call her and send her away. But now we sleep. Zillah will need rest also."
"She seems to like you, Icthus," Dekor said scratching Zillah behind her ear.
One by one they entered the mound. Dekor ignited a heap of sticks. Using his fire he dried out the inside of the mound so they could all lie down to sleep without the
fear of something burrowing into their flesh.