Steam rose from the pool’s heated water. The sun had only begun to rise over the Felucian Mountains to the east. The mountains were still draped in their winter snows. The mornings still cool, but filled with the smell of the coming spring. Lady Rianna moved gracefully through the water, her body hidden in its depth, to the marbled edge that over-looked the entire city of Durhamfeld. It had been two days since the courier had arrived with news of Mufaun’s victory. Mufaun had found the Seer and would be returning today before the sun set. Grand Marshall Rohn would be with him. Her father had all but declared the day a day of feast and rest.
The princess closed her eyes, took a deep, engaging breath of the lavender scented water, and then slipped completely into its depths. When she broke the water’s surface a few seconds later, she was no longer alone.
Grand Marshall Rohn stood at the pool’s edge, watching the princess swim. “Good morning, my lady.”
“This is a private chamber, Grand Marshall, you are not welcome here.”
“But if I were Mufaun…”
“No man is welcome in the bedchamber of the princess, Grand Marshall, or have you been gone so long that you’ve forgotten the very laws you bare arms to protect and uphold?”
“Don’t trifle with me, girl.” He caught himself in the biting tone, cooled his stung pride, and softened the gaze he cast at the princess. “Forgive me, princess, I forget my place. The journey has been long and fraught with unexpected dangers that have cost my army dearly.”
The Grand Marshall turned to leave.
“Wait.” He stopped but did not turn to look at the princess. “How is it that you have managed to return before you were expected?”
The man turned, kneeling at the pool’s side and dipping his right hand into the water. After pulling it out, filled with water, he cupped the handful of the scented wetness and lifted it to his nose where he breathed in the refreshing aroma. Then he let the water fall from his hand.
“I have come for you, baring news I felt you should hear only from me.”
She struggled desperately to hide her look of concern.
Her heart raced in her chest. Her long, golden hair hung wet and straight down her head and across her shoulders. Her blue eyes watched the Grand Marshall as he drew himself to his full height. He looked at her and she could feel her lips begin to tremble.
“The night after the courier left Mufaun’s camp, they were attacked by a savage warrior tribe of cave trolls from the Eastern Tambors.”
Rianna turned and swam to the ledge, looking out once again at the city as it awoke to the new day, the sun’s first rays of light spreading across the tiled rooftops of the city’s cottages near the outer wall.
Rohn moved around the edge of the pool, his eyes on her. “The battle must have been a fierce one. It surely must have lasted most of the night, but when I arrived in the morning with my army, the damage was done, and could not be undone.”
Tears streaked Rianna’s face, she fought to control the tremble spreading through her body at what she knew would come next.
“Mufaun is dead, my lady. Slain in battle, protecting the very thing your father sent him to find and bring to him.” He paused, watched her tremble in the water, staring at the city of her birthright.
“So it is you, then, that shall present the Seer to my Father?”
“Yes, my lady, in humble memory of my fallen Lieutenant Marshall, I will bring this woman to your Father’s court.” Rohn stared at the princess, the lies spilling from his lips like the tears from her eyes.
“Will that humble memory keep you from taking me to your bed, Grand Marshall? Will you honor me, will you honor my heart in the same way you honor the man who served you so faithfully?” Tears still running freely from her eyes, she stared at the Grand Marshall.
“I beg your forgiveness for the plague this news is on your heart, my lady, but your fate is not mine to decide.”
The Grand Marshall turned to leave but was stopped again by the princess. “Where is his body, Grand Marshall? Where has Roz Mufaun been laid to rest? Where is his body being prepared for the burial he has earned?”
“Far from here, my lady, on a hill overlooking the giant oak forest at the foot of the Tambor Mountains where he and his captains died defending your Father’s dream. That is where you will find the body of Roz Mufaun. I’ve already dispatched a host of masons and carpenters to erect a tomb and monument fit to house the greatest of my men. I will take you there myself when it is completed.”
Grand Marshall Rohn left the bedchamber of the princess without further comment, leaving her in the steaming bath without a word of comfort, without hope of love, leaving her shattered and fallen.
The end…for now, but to be continued in Taken.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Chapter Fourteen
Ruk Stonetoes entered the Grand Marshall’s tent, dragging the Seer behind him in a great burlap sack. Grand Marshall Rohn stood, staring at the massive troll as Stonetoes threw the sack at his feet. Boneshard stood with his leader, battle worn and tense.
The bag twisted and writhed but made no sound.
“There is the seer you so desperately sought. I have kept my end of our bargain, at great cost to my people.”
“So you have…” Rohn knelt at the side of the sack, watching it writhe and twist, then he stood and moved toward Stonetoes and Boneshard. “Unfortunately…”
Darts hit the two trolls without warning. The poison worked quick, bringing both creatures to their knees and sending them toward a dark slumber.
Stonetoes’ last sight was Rohn’s face, “…I cannot keep the promise I made you. When I sit on the throne of Eros-Sur, I will have my land wiped clean of your filth, troll. That is my promise to you. That is your reward for this service.”
The darkness was heavy, suffocating, but Stonetoes fought to keep hold of his mind. His hands were bound with cold, hard steel, but he could not will his arms to strike at his captors.
His legs were jailed in the same cold shackles.
Fate had played him cruel.
How could he have fallen to this man?
The bag twisted and writhed but made no sound.
“There is the seer you so desperately sought. I have kept my end of our bargain, at great cost to my people.”
“So you have…” Rohn knelt at the side of the sack, watching it writhe and twist, then he stood and moved toward Stonetoes and Boneshard. “Unfortunately…”
Darts hit the two trolls without warning. The poison worked quick, bringing both creatures to their knees and sending them toward a dark slumber.
Stonetoes’ last sight was Rohn’s face, “…I cannot keep the promise I made you. When I sit on the throne of Eros-Sur, I will have my land wiped clean of your filth, troll. That is my promise to you. That is your reward for this service.”
The darkness was heavy, suffocating, but Stonetoes fought to keep hold of his mind. His hands were bound with cold, hard steel, but he could not will his arms to strike at his captors.
His legs were jailed in the same cold shackles.
Fate had played him cruel.
How could he have fallen to this man?
Chapter Thirteen
The search of the cavernous stronghold went quickly, Mufaun leading the small squad through the tunnels and rooms as if following a map only he could see. Rolen moved quietly at his side, his bow strung with an arrow ready to fly at whatever enemy presented itself. The rear guard lingered only a few feet behind, making sure the unsearched areas left behind in the flickering light of the torches lining the stone walls didn’t have a chance to sling surprises at them as they moved deeper into the stronghold.
There were signs of battle everywhere, destroyed equipment and wares, blood smeared on floor, ceiling, and walls. But there were no bodies. Stains on the floor showed where bodies should have been found, but the bodies were gone.
“Where are the bodies?” Rolen’s question was the first sound they’d made since entering the stronghold. The emptiness had him unsettled, uncharacteristic of his disciplined mind.
“Taken, I would guess, by the trolls who survived the battle here. Back to their firepits and their young.”
There was nothing comforting in Mufaun’s response. Nevertheless, Rolen had his answer and they moved on in silence through two more tunnels and into what looked like a supply room where Mufaun stopped. The room was empty but the hard banging coming from somewhere not far away shook the very walls. A throaty, hard voice filled the silence between the bangs.
“Put your backs into it you yellow-skinned slug eaters. There’s fresh meat behind that door.”
And then a second voice, “And the boy. Ruk wants the boy alive.”
There was a growl followed by a snarl and the clash of metal. The fight was short, followed by the first troll’s voice, “Are there any other fools here who want to express their support of our misguided leader?”
After a short silence, the pounding began again. Mufaun stared at each of the three doors exiting the storeroom, and without saying anything, moved for the center door. His hands gripped the hilts of his short swords, pulling them effortlessly from their sheaths, and with a swift, powerful kick, smashed the door open.
The trolls on the other side were taken by surprise, the first two falling immediately to the floor with arrows from Rolen’s bow. Then the door the trolls had been working on burst under the beating, flying from its hinges, splintered wood and steel falling to the floor. Four of the trolls came at Mufaun and his squad while the remainder flooded the room beyond the destroyed door.
Mufaun’s blades cut through the first of the beasts, leaving him a lifeless mess on the floor. Rolen and the others continued the fight, while Mufaun followed the rest of the trolls through the doorway.
The fight was fierce, violent and Mufaun was in the thick of it as soon as he entered the room. Blades clashed while stone hammers smashed great holes in the floor and made the walls tremble. Trolls fell quickly. Blood spilled across the floor. Mufaun hacked and sliced his way through the hoard of smelly-fleshed animals, dancing through the path of destruction left by the trolls as they used whatever they could to overcome their foe. The trolls were no match for these warriors, their swords quick, the strokes deadly each time.
Then a fierce yell brought the battle to a halt, “I, Gurp Longfall, have the prize!” The troll had the boy by his neck, raising him into the air. At his feet, lifeless, was one of the boy’s guards.
Thunk. Thunk.
Two arrows sunk deep into the troll’s face. Gurp Longfall’s body slumped to the floor, his hold on the boy defeated.
Mufaun turned to the see Rolen and the rest of the squad entering the room. Arrows flew freely from the bows of the two scouts while the man-at-arms with them hacked at whatever enemy came within range of the wicked sharp battle-axe he wielded. The trolls left standing and still fighting were forced into a corner.
Only three remained, injured, but very much alive.
Mufaun stood at the front of the battle, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. He sheathed his swords, knowing somewhere nearby Rolen had him covered. “Your lives do not have to end like this.”
“How would you have us die, human?”
The trolls were crouched, the muscles in their legs taught, ready to fling their massive bodies at their captors. Their huge, clawed hands still gripped weapons smeared with blood.
“I would have you live, free to return to your own lands, your families, or stay and fight with us against the tyrant who brought you to this place, who has put you in that corner. Fight us and you will surely die, and if death is what you seek, so be it. We will give it to you.”
“Your words are bold, human, but how can you promise me and my comrades any such freedom?”
“Sal! He cannot make this promise. It’s a lie, a vicious maltruth to catch us unguarded.”
The troll, Sal Unbroken, glanced quickly at the troll standing next to him, then turned his gaze back to Mufaun.
“I stand before you unarmed.”
“But not unguarded.”
“I’m no fool. I offer you a chance to live free or fight with us, and ask for nothing more but peace in return.” Man and beast stared hard at each other. Mufaun watched Unbroken closely, saw the muscles in his legs relax, witnessed the bulging muscles in his arms flatten.
“You would let us leave this place, free and unchecked?”
“This battle is no longer yours, leave this place in peace and you shall be given it without condition. And should our paths cross again, think back on this moment when your lives were spared.” Mufaun held out his hand to Unbroken and the troll took it.
“If our paths cross again, I will remember your words. Pray your kind does the same.” Mufaun sent two of his squad with the trolls to assure their safe passage, then he and Rolen turned to the warriors once again surrounding the boy.
They looked no less fierce with the trolls now gone.
Then the boy came forward, through the protective care of his guard, and walked up to Mufaun, taking Mufaun’s hands in his own.
“Welcome to the Beginning, Roz Mufaun, Fallen Son of Eros-Sur. It is time to take back what is rightfully yours.”
There were signs of battle everywhere, destroyed equipment and wares, blood smeared on floor, ceiling, and walls. But there were no bodies. Stains on the floor showed where bodies should have been found, but the bodies were gone.
“Where are the bodies?” Rolen’s question was the first sound they’d made since entering the stronghold. The emptiness had him unsettled, uncharacteristic of his disciplined mind.
“Taken, I would guess, by the trolls who survived the battle here. Back to their firepits and their young.”
There was nothing comforting in Mufaun’s response. Nevertheless, Rolen had his answer and they moved on in silence through two more tunnels and into what looked like a supply room where Mufaun stopped. The room was empty but the hard banging coming from somewhere not far away shook the very walls. A throaty, hard voice filled the silence between the bangs.
“Put your backs into it you yellow-skinned slug eaters. There’s fresh meat behind that door.”
And then a second voice, “And the boy. Ruk wants the boy alive.”
There was a growl followed by a snarl and the clash of metal. The fight was short, followed by the first troll’s voice, “Are there any other fools here who want to express their support of our misguided leader?”
After a short silence, the pounding began again. Mufaun stared at each of the three doors exiting the storeroom, and without saying anything, moved for the center door. His hands gripped the hilts of his short swords, pulling them effortlessly from their sheaths, and with a swift, powerful kick, smashed the door open.
The trolls on the other side were taken by surprise, the first two falling immediately to the floor with arrows from Rolen’s bow. Then the door the trolls had been working on burst under the beating, flying from its hinges, splintered wood and steel falling to the floor. Four of the trolls came at Mufaun and his squad while the remainder flooded the room beyond the destroyed door.
Mufaun’s blades cut through the first of the beasts, leaving him a lifeless mess on the floor. Rolen and the others continued the fight, while Mufaun followed the rest of the trolls through the doorway.
The fight was fierce, violent and Mufaun was in the thick of it as soon as he entered the room. Blades clashed while stone hammers smashed great holes in the floor and made the walls tremble. Trolls fell quickly. Blood spilled across the floor. Mufaun hacked and sliced his way through the hoard of smelly-fleshed animals, dancing through the path of destruction left by the trolls as they used whatever they could to overcome their foe. The trolls were no match for these warriors, their swords quick, the strokes deadly each time.
Then a fierce yell brought the battle to a halt, “I, Gurp Longfall, have the prize!” The troll had the boy by his neck, raising him into the air. At his feet, lifeless, was one of the boy’s guards.
Thunk. Thunk.
Two arrows sunk deep into the troll’s face. Gurp Longfall’s body slumped to the floor, his hold on the boy defeated.
Mufaun turned to the see Rolen and the rest of the squad entering the room. Arrows flew freely from the bows of the two scouts while the man-at-arms with them hacked at whatever enemy came within range of the wicked sharp battle-axe he wielded. The trolls left standing and still fighting were forced into a corner.
Only three remained, injured, but very much alive.
Mufaun stood at the front of the battle, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. He sheathed his swords, knowing somewhere nearby Rolen had him covered. “Your lives do not have to end like this.”
“How would you have us die, human?”
The trolls were crouched, the muscles in their legs taught, ready to fling their massive bodies at their captors. Their huge, clawed hands still gripped weapons smeared with blood.
“I would have you live, free to return to your own lands, your families, or stay and fight with us against the tyrant who brought you to this place, who has put you in that corner. Fight us and you will surely die, and if death is what you seek, so be it. We will give it to you.”
“Your words are bold, human, but how can you promise me and my comrades any such freedom?”
“Sal! He cannot make this promise. It’s a lie, a vicious maltruth to catch us unguarded.”
The troll, Sal Unbroken, glanced quickly at the troll standing next to him, then turned his gaze back to Mufaun.
“I stand before you unarmed.”
“But not unguarded.”
“I’m no fool. I offer you a chance to live free or fight with us, and ask for nothing more but peace in return.” Man and beast stared hard at each other. Mufaun watched Unbroken closely, saw the muscles in his legs relax, witnessed the bulging muscles in his arms flatten.
“You would let us leave this place, free and unchecked?”
“This battle is no longer yours, leave this place in peace and you shall be given it without condition. And should our paths cross again, think back on this moment when your lives were spared.” Mufaun held out his hand to Unbroken and the troll took it.
“If our paths cross again, I will remember your words. Pray your kind does the same.” Mufaun sent two of his squad with the trolls to assure their safe passage, then he and Rolen turned to the warriors once again surrounding the boy.
They looked no less fierce with the trolls now gone.
Then the boy came forward, through the protective care of his guard, and walked up to Mufaun, taking Mufaun’s hands in his own.
“Welcome to the Beginning, Roz Mufaun, Fallen Son of Eros-Sur. It is time to take back what is rightfully yours.”
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Chapter Twelve
Mufaun stared at the scene of destruction before him. The Dungheap was in ruins, the stronghold dug into the mountain was no more than a shadow of what it once might have been. It was all too apparent the attacking troll army had had only one goal in mind, find the Seer and destroy everything else.
“Sergeant Rolen, you and two others are with me. Captain Steed, man the perimeter and track the monsters responsible for this. I want to know where they’re headed, how fast they’re moving, and how many prisoners they may have taken, and I want to be ready to move before I get back.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Both men responded at the same time and moved without further question. The time for questions was at an end.
Rolen was quick to return with two soldiers: one a scout, the other a man-at-arms. Steed had the battalion moving quickly to positions throughout the forest area surrounding the stronghold while he prepped what was left of his elite squad of scouts.
With Rolen at his side, Mufaun went to where the Battalion medic was treating the injured Chameleon. He knelt at her side. Her face was pale, sickly, bloodless. He glanced at the medic.
“Her injuries are internal and fairly minor as far as I can tell. Her jaw was dislocated, but I was able to reset it. The pain that must have caused I couldn’t imagine but she didn’t even stir. I’ve tried everything I know to wake her, sir.”
Mufaun looked the woman over another time. “Keep at it, Malone. Do what you can.”
“Of course, Lieutenant.”
As Mufaun turned to walked away, the Chameleon’s hand shot out and latched onto his ankle. He grabbed the thin wrist of the woman, but as he did so, his mind was suddenly assaulted with a barrage of images, caves, tunnels, rooms, stairways, and then seven faces. Three of the faces were men, the other three of women. At the center of the small group of warriors was a boy of no more than eight years. All around this boy, there was fear, the warriors surrounding him splattered with the blood of the enemy as well as their friends and comrades. But this boy, his eyes, vibrant, blue like Anduvian violets of the Southern prairie country. There was hope in these eyes.
“Find the boy. He is your only hope.”
The Chameleon’s words broke Mufaun from his trance and left him stunned, staring at the woman as she died before him. He still held the woman’s wrist in his hand, and a tingling there brought his eyes to gaze on blue tattoo that spread across his skin on the back of his hand and wrist. Mufaun recognized the intricately woven pattern even before it finished marking him. It was the Bastion Weave, a tattoo worn only by the Temple Knights of that ancient brotherhood of warriors Mufaun had idolized from boyhood. He touched the medallion hanging around his neck.
“What boy?” The words slipped from his mouth as he tightened his grip on the dead woman’s wrist, as if trying to coax her spirit back into her body long enough to get the answer.
There was no answer. Not now. But the images he’d seen, the boy and his guard were somewhere in the stronghold, trapped, and he had to find them.
Mufaun released his hold on the woman and bolted for the Dugheap’s only entrance. Rolen was at his heels, as were the two men going with them into the stronghold. Whatever lie ahead in the dark tunnels beyond the entrance they would face alone.
“Sergeant Rolen, you and two others are with me. Captain Steed, man the perimeter and track the monsters responsible for this. I want to know where they’re headed, how fast they’re moving, and how many prisoners they may have taken, and I want to be ready to move before I get back.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Both men responded at the same time and moved without further question. The time for questions was at an end.
Rolen was quick to return with two soldiers: one a scout, the other a man-at-arms. Steed had the battalion moving quickly to positions throughout the forest area surrounding the stronghold while he prepped what was left of his elite squad of scouts.
With Rolen at his side, Mufaun went to where the Battalion medic was treating the injured Chameleon. He knelt at her side. Her face was pale, sickly, bloodless. He glanced at the medic.
“Her injuries are internal and fairly minor as far as I can tell. Her jaw was dislocated, but I was able to reset it. The pain that must have caused I couldn’t imagine but she didn’t even stir. I’ve tried everything I know to wake her, sir.”
Mufaun looked the woman over another time. “Keep at it, Malone. Do what you can.”
“Of course, Lieutenant.”
As Mufaun turned to walked away, the Chameleon’s hand shot out and latched onto his ankle. He grabbed the thin wrist of the woman, but as he did so, his mind was suddenly assaulted with a barrage of images, caves, tunnels, rooms, stairways, and then seven faces. Three of the faces were men, the other three of women. At the center of the small group of warriors was a boy of no more than eight years. All around this boy, there was fear, the warriors surrounding him splattered with the blood of the enemy as well as their friends and comrades. But this boy, his eyes, vibrant, blue like Anduvian violets of the Southern prairie country. There was hope in these eyes.
“Find the boy. He is your only hope.”
The Chameleon’s words broke Mufaun from his trance and left him stunned, staring at the woman as she died before him. He still held the woman’s wrist in his hand, and a tingling there brought his eyes to gaze on blue tattoo that spread across his skin on the back of his hand and wrist. Mufaun recognized the intricately woven pattern even before it finished marking him. It was the Bastion Weave, a tattoo worn only by the Temple Knights of that ancient brotherhood of warriors Mufaun had idolized from boyhood. He touched the medallion hanging around his neck.
“What boy?” The words slipped from his mouth as he tightened his grip on the dead woman’s wrist, as if trying to coax her spirit back into her body long enough to get the answer.
There was no answer. Not now. But the images he’d seen, the boy and his guard were somewhere in the stronghold, trapped, and he had to find them.
Mufaun released his hold on the woman and bolted for the Dugheap’s only entrance. Rolen was at his heels, as were the two men going with them into the stronghold. Whatever lie ahead in the dark tunnels beyond the entrance they would face alone.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Chapter Eleven
Arrows flew from Rolen’s bow, but the trolls kept coming. They were everywhere, coming at them hard from every side. Rolen and his small little band raced up a streambed, the high banks giving them some cover from the return volley of arrows coming from the pursuing trolls.
One of his men took an arrow in the thigh but was immediately scooped up by the troll running with them. He had no idea how much further they had to go, but everything in him said it didn’t matter. They were going to die in this streambed.
Then it happened. Two massive trolls dropped into the streambed in front of them, knocking aside the arrows fired at them with the massive steel shields they were wielding. The fleeing party came to a sudden stop.
The arrows stopped. Three more trolls dropped into the streambed behind them. Trolls lined the high banks, some of them still plucking arrows from their hides. “You’re finished, humans. Surrender and you will be killed quickly.”
Rolen glared at the troll speaking to them, a brutish green and black skinned animal with a thick silver mane. “Surrendering is not an option.”
Harok Boneshard descended the streambed’s bank like a cat, agile and poised, pulling himself upright in front of Rolen. He drew in his breath, smelling Rolen. “You don’t stink of fear like so many of your comrades who have fallen today.” Then Boneshard saw the troll behind Rolen. His lips parted in a fierce growl just before he hurled himself at the Chameleon.
The Chameleon dropped the two bodies he carried as Boneshard struck him full in the chest. The two tumbled backward into the water, the fight fierce but short lived as Boneshard quickly overpowered the Chameleon, drowning him in the shallow stream. He stared at the lifeless human man now underneath him. “Your tricks will harm no more of my brothers, Shapeshifter.” Boneshard turned his gaze back to Rolen. “Kill them all.”
Rolen and his men reacted with trained experience, arrows flying at multiple targets on the banks above them, but the trolls descended on them with a fierce vengeance. Swords and knives were drawn as the trolls closed in on the small band, but just as the trolls closed the gap, a boulder crashed into one of the trolls, crushing it to a sputtering mound of flesh.
The ground trembled as Mufaun and his small army of stone giants and soldiers surrounded the trolls and their captives. “You can surrender now, and you’ll live. Fight, and you will die.”
Boneshard looked at Rolen, and Rolen could hear his own words in his mind. Boneshard wasn’t going to surrender. Not now, not ever.
The trolls attacked without warning, focusing their attack on the stone giants, but the trolls were beat down without much effort. Boneshard escaped, killing one of the stone giants and five soldiers before disappearing into the woods with only minor injuries. He made sure no one followed him.
Mufaun and Steed went immediately to Rolen, injured but looking to his men. All were alive, including the woman. Mufaun put his hand on Rolen’s shoulder, “You did well. It was a hard fight, not one you were meant to win.”
“It was my duty.”
“Does it end here? Or will you continue to serve me to the end?”
“I have served you faithfully and shall continue to do so, Commander, but I have a question, if I may speak freely?”
Mufaun had sensed something in Rolen since the beginning of the confrontation, he could have only guessed then, but here was an opportunity to know. “Speak your mind, Rolen. Hold nothing back.”
“The stone giant that killed my Second, Rone, said that I had been chosen to survive this battle by you. He called me by name and told me to serve you well in the battles that have yet to be fought.”
The silence that followed was eerie. Even the trees in the forest surrounding them seemed to be waiting for Mufaun to respond to Rolen’s accusation. Had Mufaun actually given an order condemning certain of his battalion to death? The mixed army of men and giant stared at Mufaun, some with looks of shock, others certain this leader of men would have given no such order. Mufaun knew he hadn’t. Steed knew his commander would never consent to the destruction of his own men. They were his family.
Lorn stepped to Mufaun’s side, opposite Captain Steed, and was about to speak when Mufaun laid a hand on the giant’s great stone elbow. “I chose each of you to serve in this battalion from the very beginning, some of you from your infancy in this army. I have trained you, given you Captains who could teach you how to survive and conquer in any confrontation. I have prepared you for the worst, hoping for the best. Last night, I made a choice, a hard choice, but the only one that promised a chance at saving this empire from the wiles of the Grand Marshall. I agreed to stay behind with a select few to help protect the Seer from the Grand Marshall. Those who would not be staying behind,” and Mufaun gave a look at Lorn, “would return to the Grand Marshall’s army none the wiser to the truth of our defection. That did not happen.”
“For your treachery to go unnoticed, I convinced Lady Julianna there was a need for this Grand Marshall of yours to find bodies, bodies he would recognize. It was by my design that the first of your fellows were taken in battle, but the treachery runs deeper than even your Commander guessed. The trolls were an unexpected enemy. Your Grand Marshall had condemned all of you to death, fearing your loyalty to your own commander.”
Rolen considered all that had been said, knowing time was short for all of them, then he looked at his Commander, “I am at your command.” He knelt himself before Mufaun. Men fell to a knee all around them. Even Lorn bowed himself to Mufaun.
Steed, who still stood at Mufaun’s side, turned to his Commander and said, “It seems we have work to do.”
“It does indeed.” Mufaun clapped the man on the back and moved forward to where Rolen was on his knee, “Rise, Rolen son of Fenn, let us make sure our fallen friends have not died in vain.”
One of his men took an arrow in the thigh but was immediately scooped up by the troll running with them. He had no idea how much further they had to go, but everything in him said it didn’t matter. They were going to die in this streambed.
Then it happened. Two massive trolls dropped into the streambed in front of them, knocking aside the arrows fired at them with the massive steel shields they were wielding. The fleeing party came to a sudden stop.
The arrows stopped. Three more trolls dropped into the streambed behind them. Trolls lined the high banks, some of them still plucking arrows from their hides. “You’re finished, humans. Surrender and you will be killed quickly.”
Rolen glared at the troll speaking to them, a brutish green and black skinned animal with a thick silver mane. “Surrendering is not an option.”
Harok Boneshard descended the streambed’s bank like a cat, agile and poised, pulling himself upright in front of Rolen. He drew in his breath, smelling Rolen. “You don’t stink of fear like so many of your comrades who have fallen today.” Then Boneshard saw the troll behind Rolen. His lips parted in a fierce growl just before he hurled himself at the Chameleon.
The Chameleon dropped the two bodies he carried as Boneshard struck him full in the chest. The two tumbled backward into the water, the fight fierce but short lived as Boneshard quickly overpowered the Chameleon, drowning him in the shallow stream. He stared at the lifeless human man now underneath him. “Your tricks will harm no more of my brothers, Shapeshifter.” Boneshard turned his gaze back to Rolen. “Kill them all.”
Rolen and his men reacted with trained experience, arrows flying at multiple targets on the banks above them, but the trolls descended on them with a fierce vengeance. Swords and knives were drawn as the trolls closed in on the small band, but just as the trolls closed the gap, a boulder crashed into one of the trolls, crushing it to a sputtering mound of flesh.
The ground trembled as Mufaun and his small army of stone giants and soldiers surrounded the trolls and their captives. “You can surrender now, and you’ll live. Fight, and you will die.”
Boneshard looked at Rolen, and Rolen could hear his own words in his mind. Boneshard wasn’t going to surrender. Not now, not ever.
The trolls attacked without warning, focusing their attack on the stone giants, but the trolls were beat down without much effort. Boneshard escaped, killing one of the stone giants and five soldiers before disappearing into the woods with only minor injuries. He made sure no one followed him.
Mufaun and Steed went immediately to Rolen, injured but looking to his men. All were alive, including the woman. Mufaun put his hand on Rolen’s shoulder, “You did well. It was a hard fight, not one you were meant to win.”
“It was my duty.”
“Does it end here? Or will you continue to serve me to the end?”
“I have served you faithfully and shall continue to do so, Commander, but I have a question, if I may speak freely?”
Mufaun had sensed something in Rolen since the beginning of the confrontation, he could have only guessed then, but here was an opportunity to know. “Speak your mind, Rolen. Hold nothing back.”
“The stone giant that killed my Second, Rone, said that I had been chosen to survive this battle by you. He called me by name and told me to serve you well in the battles that have yet to be fought.”
The silence that followed was eerie. Even the trees in the forest surrounding them seemed to be waiting for Mufaun to respond to Rolen’s accusation. Had Mufaun actually given an order condemning certain of his battalion to death? The mixed army of men and giant stared at Mufaun, some with looks of shock, others certain this leader of men would have given no such order. Mufaun knew he hadn’t. Steed knew his commander would never consent to the destruction of his own men. They were his family.
Lorn stepped to Mufaun’s side, opposite Captain Steed, and was about to speak when Mufaun laid a hand on the giant’s great stone elbow. “I chose each of you to serve in this battalion from the very beginning, some of you from your infancy in this army. I have trained you, given you Captains who could teach you how to survive and conquer in any confrontation. I have prepared you for the worst, hoping for the best. Last night, I made a choice, a hard choice, but the only one that promised a chance at saving this empire from the wiles of the Grand Marshall. I agreed to stay behind with a select few to help protect the Seer from the Grand Marshall. Those who would not be staying behind,” and Mufaun gave a look at Lorn, “would return to the Grand Marshall’s army none the wiser to the truth of our defection. That did not happen.”
“For your treachery to go unnoticed, I convinced Lady Julianna there was a need for this Grand Marshall of yours to find bodies, bodies he would recognize. It was by my design that the first of your fellows were taken in battle, but the treachery runs deeper than even your Commander guessed. The trolls were an unexpected enemy. Your Grand Marshall had condemned all of you to death, fearing your loyalty to your own commander.”
Rolen considered all that had been said, knowing time was short for all of them, then he looked at his Commander, “I am at your command.” He knelt himself before Mufaun. Men fell to a knee all around them. Even Lorn bowed himself to Mufaun.
Steed, who still stood at Mufaun’s side, turned to his Commander and said, “It seems we have work to do.”
“It does indeed.” Mufaun clapped the man on the back and moved forward to where Rolen was on his knee, “Rise, Rolen son of Fenn, let us make sure our fallen friends have not died in vain.”
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Chapter Ten
Grand Marshall Rohn rode slowly into the deserted town, his magnificent warhorse like an armored battalion all on its own. A small legion of men strode into the town around. Several small squads shot quickly forward and spread throughout the town, looking for any survivors. There were some but the Grand Marshall apparently had no need of them.
The squads returned without much delay. They were efficient at their jobs. Mufaun had taught them well, too well perhaps.
“Sire, there is no sign of Lieutenant Marshall Mufaun or Captain Steed. Five of his Captains lay dead on the battlefield, many of his men lay with them. There are beasts, great stone giants, among the slain as well.”
The Grand Marshall looked at the scout kneeling before his horse. “And what of the trolls?”
“As yet, nothing. There are also a number of trolls among the dead, but it appears the battle may have gone into the forest. I have three squads searching now.”
“And the villagers?”
“Nothing. There’s not one among the dead.”
Lukus Rohn, Grand Marshall of the Imperial Army, slid from his horse with ease and grace, hitting the ground with a light thud. “Lieutenant Marshall Belfoure.” The man was at his side seconds after his name was uttered. “Take your company with this scout and end this. Bring the troll and the Seer to me.”
Belfoure signaled his company forward then turned to the Grand Marshall, “What of Mufaun?”
“If he’s still alive, kill him and every man that stands with him.”
Friday, October 19, 2007
Chapter Nine
Mufaun's short swords sliced through the pale yellow and brown skin of yet another troll, droplets of the green blood shooting through the air as ripped the blades from the troll's body to parry a strike from another attacker to his left. Steed was still at his side, his shield battered and an ugly gash across his face that nearly took his eye.
The battle was still wicked, but the bodies that fell were mostly those of the enemy. Their stone giant allies seemed more adept to the challenge of fighting these savage beasts than Mufaun could have imagined. There was a fluidness to their engagements that Mufaun guessed had been born in years of conflict between the two races high in the Tambors.
He wished he hadn't put his men right into the middle of it.
Then a battlehorn sounded from deep within the forest. The note was cut short. It hadn't been Rolen's horn. Had he engaged the enemy? If so, why? What had forced him into battle?
The horn's blast had distracted Mufaun's opponent long enough for him to stick his swords deep into the troll's belly, but before he could pull the blades free, he was clubbed from behind.
Mufaun hit the ground hard, grasping at the ribs under his left arm now burning with a piercing pain. When he turned to face his attacker, he found a great, slobbering gray-skinned troll bearing down on him."I think you've spilled enough of my kinsmen's blood this day, human."
The troll raised the killing blow, but just as it fell, Mufaun scrambled out of the way and to his feet.
"Stop squirming around, you puke!"
Mufaun dodged a second swing of the leather-bound bludgeoning device, but the club was caught mid-swing by a mountain-like stone warrior. The giant yanked the troll closer and right into the vice-like grip of his left hand.
The troll released his hold on the club and fought desperately to free himself from the giant's grasp. He failed, and died shortly after the giant crushed his throat. Steed stumbled into the midst, stepping in front of Mufaun and positioning himself to defend his commander.
The giant knelt in front of the two men. "I am Lorn, at your service.""My service?"
But before Mufaun could get any further, Steed called Mufaun's attention to a large group of retreating trolls. They were headed into the forest. So the horn blast had been a troll's call for help.
"Lorn, where are those trolls retreating to?"
The giant turned his great head, just catching a glimpse of the creatures as they disappeared into the forest. "If they keep in that direction, they will find the pathway that leads to Dungheap."
The reality hit Mufaun like the giant club of the troll that lay only feet away from him, this battle had been a diversion. The trolls were after the Seer. He glanced in the direction of the Grand Marshall's camp, then back at the fallen troll. Would Rohn have made a deal with these beasts, a deal that included the slaughter of his men?
"The trolls are after the Seer. We have to move now, or all will be lost."
The battle was still wicked, but the bodies that fell were mostly those of the enemy. Their stone giant allies seemed more adept to the challenge of fighting these savage beasts than Mufaun could have imagined. There was a fluidness to their engagements that Mufaun guessed had been born in years of conflict between the two races high in the Tambors.
He wished he hadn't put his men right into the middle of it.
Then a battlehorn sounded from deep within the forest. The note was cut short. It hadn't been Rolen's horn. Had he engaged the enemy? If so, why? What had forced him into battle?
The horn's blast had distracted Mufaun's opponent long enough for him to stick his swords deep into the troll's belly, but before he could pull the blades free, he was clubbed from behind.
Mufaun hit the ground hard, grasping at the ribs under his left arm now burning with a piercing pain. When he turned to face his attacker, he found a great, slobbering gray-skinned troll bearing down on him."I think you've spilled enough of my kinsmen's blood this day, human."
The troll raised the killing blow, but just as it fell, Mufaun scrambled out of the way and to his feet.
"Stop squirming around, you puke!"
Mufaun dodged a second swing of the leather-bound bludgeoning device, but the club was caught mid-swing by a mountain-like stone warrior. The giant yanked the troll closer and right into the vice-like grip of his left hand.
The troll released his hold on the club and fought desperately to free himself from the giant's grasp. He failed, and died shortly after the giant crushed his throat. Steed stumbled into the midst, stepping in front of Mufaun and positioning himself to defend his commander.
The giant knelt in front of the two men. "I am Lorn, at your service.""My service?"
But before Mufaun could get any further, Steed called Mufaun's attention to a large group of retreating trolls. They were headed into the forest. So the horn blast had been a troll's call for help.
"Lorn, where are those trolls retreating to?"
The giant turned his great head, just catching a glimpse of the creatures as they disappeared into the forest. "If they keep in that direction, they will find the pathway that leads to Dungheap."
The reality hit Mufaun like the giant club of the troll that lay only feet away from him, this battle had been a diversion. The trolls were after the Seer. He glanced in the direction of the Grand Marshall's camp, then back at the fallen troll. Would Rohn have made a deal with these beasts, a deal that included the slaughter of his men?
"The trolls are after the Seer. We have to move now, or all will be lost."
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Chapter Eight
Rolen crept through the thick underbrush as quietly as he could. He wasn't too worried about the dead leaves crunching under his feet or the feet of the soldiers with him because the trolls were making enough noise to cover any sound that might give away their location.
The trolls moved with purpose but stuck to the trail. Their confidence worried Rolen. They didn't try to mask their movements, never checked their rear to see if they were being followed, and only two of the five trolls had weapons in their hands.
Rolen motioned his men forward despite the gut-tightening feeling that something wasn't right.
He had to keep the trolls in sight, had to keep them close until he understand the danger he felt but could not see.
Then, as Rolen quick-stepped through the giant ferns to a fat, ancient looking Oak Tree, he watched as the two armed trolls attacked their own. Rolen moved his men to positions around the unusual scene, prepared to finish off what was left of the feuding warband.
From the center of the formation, the two armed trolls attacked. The smaller, blue-gray skinned troll turned with calculated precision and jabbed its long, curved sword deep into the rear-guard's belly, doubling him over just as knife came slashing across his throat. The death was silent and fast, impressive Rolen thought to himself, not the brutal slayings trolls were known for. But the fight had only just begun.
The sound of the rear-guard's body hitting the ground was enough to get the forward-guards' attention.
"Tanglefoot. It's bad enough..." But the troll's insult was cut short as he was forced to dodge a slashing strike aimed at his head. For as big as the troll was, his quick side-step to avoid the blow and his follow-up punch, were almost intuitive. His fist slammed against the face of his attacker, dropping the troll the ground.
Rolen's mouth fell open as he watched the troll drop. The sheer force of the blow must have shattered the animal's jaw. The predator had now become the prey. Rolen inched closer, while commanding his men to stay hidden where they were. He had to get closer, had to hear what, if anything, was being said. Why the sudden mutiny in the ranks. Trolls were fiercely loyal creatures to their own kind.
"What is this, Fallenstone? Why betray me here? Now?" The troll kicked Fallenstone hard in the stomach and the effect was startling. Fallenstone changed, morphed into the form of a human woman, a beautiful human woman.
Rolen watched as the troll pulled out the massive iron hammer he'd being wearing slung across his back. The troll growled, "Now I understand why I never liked your smell."
The other troll that had attacked with this woman must also be a Chameleon, thought Rolen. They were one of the rare, magical races still found in Eros Sur. Rolen had only ever met one, as the man lay dying on the battlefield with an arrow of Rolen's in his chest. Being able to change your appearance could be a costly mistake. Rolen glanced at the fallen woman's ally. This troll still held its guise and fought a savage battle with the remaining troll-enemy.
As the troll's hammer rose into the air, Rolen stepped from his cover and loosed a volley of arrows at the unsuspecting troll. The arrows struck home, piercing the trolls neck and heart within a second of each other, bringing the beast to its knees without a sound. Its hammer thudded to the ground.
Rolen readied a second volley of arrows and was seconds from loosing these arrows when the enemy troll fell, its head severed from its body. The troll turned to face Rolen as he moved quickly toward the trail where the fight had taken place.
The troll took an aggressive, hunched over stance near the body of the unconscious woman. He clutched a great battleaxe in his hands.
He made no sound, his eyes intent on Rolen as he approached. Then, suddenly aware of the other four scouts ready to fill him with arrows, he placed his axe on the ground and bent himself onto one knee.
Rolen looked at the beast, wondering why he had yet to change to his human form.
"Why are you here, soldier?"
"I was sent here by my commander, to follow and observe the beasts you were traveling with. Where were they headed?"
"To slaughter my people and take the Seer captive, a gift for the Grand Marshall."
"Rohn? Why would he..." Then the reality hit him. The Grand Marshall had allowed Mufaun to do the dirty work so that he, in one swift stroke, could take the prize back to the Emperor and rid himself of the only man who could oppose him.
The troll's form broke, and he was suddenly a human male, strong, lean. He went to the fallen woman's side. "She needs medicine. I cannot treat her here. I must get her back to my people."
A shrill horn blared out from behind them on the trail. The first of the trolls to fall had mustered enough life to blow a single note through his battlehorn, a note that was cut short by four arrows.
But the damage was done. Help would be on the way.
"We will escort you to safety, but we must move now." Rolen gathered his men as the male shifted back to his troll form and hoisted the unconscious woman onto his shoulder.
"Follow me." The troll led the way with Rolen and his men close at his heels, vigilant and wary.
The enemy was coming.
The trolls moved with purpose but stuck to the trail. Their confidence worried Rolen. They didn't try to mask their movements, never checked their rear to see if they were being followed, and only two of the five trolls had weapons in their hands.
Rolen motioned his men forward despite the gut-tightening feeling that something wasn't right.
He had to keep the trolls in sight, had to keep them close until he understand the danger he felt but could not see.
Then, as Rolen quick-stepped through the giant ferns to a fat, ancient looking Oak Tree, he watched as the two armed trolls attacked their own. Rolen moved his men to positions around the unusual scene, prepared to finish off what was left of the feuding warband.
From the center of the formation, the two armed trolls attacked. The smaller, blue-gray skinned troll turned with calculated precision and jabbed its long, curved sword deep into the rear-guard's belly, doubling him over just as knife came slashing across his throat. The death was silent and fast, impressive Rolen thought to himself, not the brutal slayings trolls were known for. But the fight had only just begun.
The sound of the rear-guard's body hitting the ground was enough to get the forward-guards' attention.
"Tanglefoot. It's bad enough..." But the troll's insult was cut short as he was forced to dodge a slashing strike aimed at his head. For as big as the troll was, his quick side-step to avoid the blow and his follow-up punch, were almost intuitive. His fist slammed against the face of his attacker, dropping the troll the ground.
Rolen's mouth fell open as he watched the troll drop. The sheer force of the blow must have shattered the animal's jaw. The predator had now become the prey. Rolen inched closer, while commanding his men to stay hidden where they were. He had to get closer, had to hear what, if anything, was being said. Why the sudden mutiny in the ranks. Trolls were fiercely loyal creatures to their own kind.
"What is this, Fallenstone? Why betray me here? Now?" The troll kicked Fallenstone hard in the stomach and the effect was startling. Fallenstone changed, morphed into the form of a human woman, a beautiful human woman.
Rolen watched as the troll pulled out the massive iron hammer he'd being wearing slung across his back. The troll growled, "Now I understand why I never liked your smell."
The other troll that had attacked with this woman must also be a Chameleon, thought Rolen. They were one of the rare, magical races still found in Eros Sur. Rolen had only ever met one, as the man lay dying on the battlefield with an arrow of Rolen's in his chest. Being able to change your appearance could be a costly mistake. Rolen glanced at the fallen woman's ally. This troll still held its guise and fought a savage battle with the remaining troll-enemy.
As the troll's hammer rose into the air, Rolen stepped from his cover and loosed a volley of arrows at the unsuspecting troll. The arrows struck home, piercing the trolls neck and heart within a second of each other, bringing the beast to its knees without a sound. Its hammer thudded to the ground.
Rolen readied a second volley of arrows and was seconds from loosing these arrows when the enemy troll fell, its head severed from its body. The troll turned to face Rolen as he moved quickly toward the trail where the fight had taken place.
The troll took an aggressive, hunched over stance near the body of the unconscious woman. He clutched a great battleaxe in his hands.
He made no sound, his eyes intent on Rolen as he approached. Then, suddenly aware of the other four scouts ready to fill him with arrows, he placed his axe on the ground and bent himself onto one knee.
Rolen looked at the beast, wondering why he had yet to change to his human form.
"Why are you here, soldier?"
"I was sent here by my commander, to follow and observe the beasts you were traveling with. Where were they headed?"
"To slaughter my people and take the Seer captive, a gift for the Grand Marshall."
"Rohn? Why would he..." Then the reality hit him. The Grand Marshall had allowed Mufaun to do the dirty work so that he, in one swift stroke, could take the prize back to the Emperor and rid himself of the only man who could oppose him.
The troll's form broke, and he was suddenly a human male, strong, lean. He went to the fallen woman's side. "She needs medicine. I cannot treat her here. I must get her back to my people."
A shrill horn blared out from behind them on the trail. The first of the trolls to fall had mustered enough life to blow a single note through his battlehorn, a note that was cut short by four arrows.
But the damage was done. Help would be on the way.
"We will escort you to safety, but we must move now." Rolen gathered his men as the male shifted back to his troll form and hoisted the unconscious woman onto his shoulder.
"Follow me." The troll led the way with Rolen and his men close at his heels, vigilant and wary.
The enemy was coming.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Chapter Seven
Sweat and blood glistened on Mufaun’s face as he stared down the stone monster crouched a mere ten feet from him. The bodies of his men lay strewn about the ground around him but not one of the stone giants had been taken down. Mufaun’s mind was racing. The leather girded hilts of the short swords he held in each hand were damp with his perspiration.
Steed and Rolen stood at Mufaun’s back, facing off with their own stone nightmares, both looked equally worn, equally distressed.
“We can’t keep this up much longer, Mufaun. They must have a weakness.”
Mufaun could feel the despair in Steed’s voice. He’d known the man for years, served with him his entire conscripted life. Despair was not something ever heard in Steed’s voice.
“My lord, this is not the day we die.”
Rolen’s voice was confident in the face of their imminent deaths, and Mufaun would have turned to face him if his eyes had not been fastened to his enemy, watching a long, curved steel blade push through the giant’s chest from behind.
The giant let out a teeth-rattling roar, bringing most of the human soldiers to their knees. The blade was yanked from the giant’s body and the great stone beast thundered to the ground, dead.
Mufaun stared at the troll standing over the lifeless body of the giant. Ruk Stonetoes had a pride unlike any dark animal Mufaun had ever known, unfortunately for the troll, Mufaun knew he could make this enemy bleed. And with the fallen giant, it seemed his enemy had now become his ally.
Mufaun flung himself at the troll that had brought the stone giant down only to be turned aside half way to his mark. Intercepted by another troll, one with far less pride than the enemy Mufaun had meant to engage, Mufaun found this beast just as fierce as he expected. The short swords he carried were turned aside by the trolls great curved blade with skill and purpose as Mufaun was forced to face off with this foe. Their steel weapons sang as they whipped through the air and met each other in wicked arcs and thrusts, Mufaun was by far the better swordsman, and within seconds of engaging the beast, it lay at his feet, massive amounts of dark green blood gurgling from the slashing wound opening his throat. Ruk Stonetoes was no longer waiting.
Mufaun quickly scanned the battlefield for his target but was unable to find him. Steed strode to his side, taking a second to catch his breath, as Mufaun took in the scene a little more deeply. For the first time, what was left of his battalion seemed to be succeeding where it had been failing miserably.
“How are we fairing?”
“Better, with the giants fighting alongside our men. But when there are no more trolls…”
The thought was cut short as an arrow raced between them, lodging in the flat face of a troll that had been intent on attacking the two soldiers as they planned their final stand.
Rolen was at the other end of the long bow that had brought the rather obese troll to a timely end. He made his way over to the two men, one his Captain, the other his Commander.
“I have news, sir.” This time he addressed his Captain.
Steed looked at the man before him, waiting. “Well, what is it?”
“A small contingent of the trolls has left the battle and disappeared into the forest. I followed for a short distance before returning to battle, but I was unable to determine the reason for their retreat.”
“It wasn’t a retreat.” Mufaun could tell by the look in the scout’s eyes that he had expected to hear nothing less. “They’re after the villagers.”
“How would they know where the villagers have gone?” Rolen tracked another troll as it raced across the battlefield and dropped the beast with an arrow that must have pierced whatever heart the animal had.
“That I cannot say, but the possibilities fill me with a dread I don’t care to see become a reality. Take four men with you and follow the beasts to their destination. Wait there for us to follow. Sound your horn if your situation turns dire. I will come to you at all costs.”
Rolen stood there for a moment, staring at his commander, then asked, “Which four men do I take with me, sir?”
“You already know which men to take with you. Go quickly. Time is against us.”
And without further, Rolen turned and raced back into the fierce battle. Mufaun turned to Captain Steed, “It wasn’t suppose to be this way.”
“I know. But this moment, right now, this is our moment. Rule it, like you have ruled every moment that brought us to this place.”
Mufaun laid his right hand on Steed’s shoulder. “I will not forget the friendship you have given me.”
“A friendship you have earned.”
“A friendship I cherish.”
“To arms.”
“To war.”
“For country.”
“For love.”
“For God.”
“For God.” Mufaun looked to where the battle had moved, a small garden courtyard a short distance from where they stood. The carnage of the battle littered the ground before them. Through an alley, Mufaun saw Rolen leading his small band of soldiers into the woods, to what end he didn’t know. He had not meant for the blood of his men to be left on the ground in this place. He swore to himself, to his God, their sacrificed lives would not be in vain.
Steed and Rolen stood at Mufaun’s back, facing off with their own stone nightmares, both looked equally worn, equally distressed.
“We can’t keep this up much longer, Mufaun. They must have a weakness.”
Mufaun could feel the despair in Steed’s voice. He’d known the man for years, served with him his entire conscripted life. Despair was not something ever heard in Steed’s voice.
“My lord, this is not the day we die.”
Rolen’s voice was confident in the face of their imminent deaths, and Mufaun would have turned to face him if his eyes had not been fastened to his enemy, watching a long, curved steel blade push through the giant’s chest from behind.
The giant let out a teeth-rattling roar, bringing most of the human soldiers to their knees. The blade was yanked from the giant’s body and the great stone beast thundered to the ground, dead.
Mufaun stared at the troll standing over the lifeless body of the giant. Ruk Stonetoes had a pride unlike any dark animal Mufaun had ever known, unfortunately for the troll, Mufaun knew he could make this enemy bleed. And with the fallen giant, it seemed his enemy had now become his ally.
Mufaun flung himself at the troll that had brought the stone giant down only to be turned aside half way to his mark. Intercepted by another troll, one with far less pride than the enemy Mufaun had meant to engage, Mufaun found this beast just as fierce as he expected. The short swords he carried were turned aside by the trolls great curved blade with skill and purpose as Mufaun was forced to face off with this foe. Their steel weapons sang as they whipped through the air and met each other in wicked arcs and thrusts, Mufaun was by far the better swordsman, and within seconds of engaging the beast, it lay at his feet, massive amounts of dark green blood gurgling from the slashing wound opening his throat. Ruk Stonetoes was no longer waiting.
Mufaun quickly scanned the battlefield for his target but was unable to find him. Steed strode to his side, taking a second to catch his breath, as Mufaun took in the scene a little more deeply. For the first time, what was left of his battalion seemed to be succeeding where it had been failing miserably.
“How are we fairing?”
“Better, with the giants fighting alongside our men. But when there are no more trolls…”
The thought was cut short as an arrow raced between them, lodging in the flat face of a troll that had been intent on attacking the two soldiers as they planned their final stand.
Rolen was at the other end of the long bow that had brought the rather obese troll to a timely end. He made his way over to the two men, one his Captain, the other his Commander.
“I have news, sir.” This time he addressed his Captain.
Steed looked at the man before him, waiting. “Well, what is it?”
“A small contingent of the trolls has left the battle and disappeared into the forest. I followed for a short distance before returning to battle, but I was unable to determine the reason for their retreat.”
“It wasn’t a retreat.” Mufaun could tell by the look in the scout’s eyes that he had expected to hear nothing less. “They’re after the villagers.”
“How would they know where the villagers have gone?” Rolen tracked another troll as it raced across the battlefield and dropped the beast with an arrow that must have pierced whatever heart the animal had.
“That I cannot say, but the possibilities fill me with a dread I don’t care to see become a reality. Take four men with you and follow the beasts to their destination. Wait there for us to follow. Sound your horn if your situation turns dire. I will come to you at all costs.”
Rolen stood there for a moment, staring at his commander, then asked, “Which four men do I take with me, sir?”
“You already know which men to take with you. Go quickly. Time is against us.”
And without further, Rolen turned and raced back into the fierce battle. Mufaun turned to Captain Steed, “It wasn’t suppose to be this way.”
“I know. But this moment, right now, this is our moment. Rule it, like you have ruled every moment that brought us to this place.”
Mufaun laid his right hand on Steed’s shoulder. “I will not forget the friendship you have given me.”
“A friendship you have earned.”
“A friendship I cherish.”
“To arms.”
“To war.”
“For country.”
“For love.”
“For God.”
“For God.” Mufaun looked to where the battle had moved, a small garden courtyard a short distance from where they stood. The carnage of the battle littered the ground before them. Through an alley, Mufaun saw Rolen leading his small band of soldiers into the woods, to what end he didn’t know. He had not meant for the blood of his men to be left on the ground in this place. He swore to himself, to his God, their sacrificed lives would not be in vain.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Chapter Six
Grand Marshall Rhon sat opposite Ruk Stonetoes, leader of the Eastern Tambor Tribe of cave trolls. Ruk’s brown moss agate colored skin was like a natural camoflage. The thick, coarse black hair that fell from his face and ran down the center of his back like a mane was braided in places, the braids knotted at the ends with pieces of bone, the remains of past foes overcome. The Grand Marshall was equally fierce looking where he sat only feet away from the massive troll. Man and beast stared at each other with little respect and no trust.
“What kind of animal betrays his own kind to their deaths?” There was no love lost in Ruk’s question, but the cave troll was there, seated before a human warrior, come to make a deal with the enemy.
“What I do with my own kind is of no concern to you, troll. What should concern you is whether or not you have the necessary resources to defend your mountain highland country against an invasion of the Emperor’s Army. Now, I assume, since you’ve come to this little meeting, you’ve realized an Imperial invasion of your land would virtually wipe out your kind and your way of life in these godforsaken mountains you call a home.”
As cynical and biting as the words were coming from the arrogant human in front of him, Ruk Stonetoes couldn’t deny the truth in them. His people were a dying force in the world. There was still strength in them along with a desire to be a free roaming race, but no cave troll had lived outside the confines of the high granite Tambor peaks since before Ruk could remember. The Tambors were an unforgiving wilderness populated by the fiercest creatures in Eros-Sur, creatures that had preyed on the cave troll for centuries. Ruk was tired of being the prey. If a pact with this human could bring hope of a future to his people, he’d be a fool to forego this opportunity.
“Bring the woman and child. Leave no one else alive.” Ruk’s second, a fierce looking green and black skinned brute with a silver mane, moved quickly away from the two warriors and disappeared from view.
“What child?” Rohn looked at the troll leader with unbridled contempt.
“The woman and the child are one.”
The Grand Marshall wasn’t about to be riddled by the likes of Ruk Stonetoes. Stonetoes. Of all names, where was the honor in that one. “I don’t want the child. The woman is the only one of worth to me.”
Ruk looked at the Grand Marshall for a long moment before speaking. “You want the woman but not the child?”
“Are you hard of hearing, troll? Or is it your nature to make things more difficult than they need to be?”
Ruk swallowed hard, his pride a great lump in his throat, in another place, another time, the cold, curved steel blade strapped to his back would have come free of its harness and lopped the pretty head of this human from its shoulders. Ruk hated this human and hated that he had to perhaps trust the fate of his tribe to the whims of this man. “You are the one not listening, human. But as you wish, have the woman, I will see that the boy is dealt with appropriately with the rest of the lives you’ve sacrificed this day. But make no mistake, do not make me regret this meeting.”
“What kind of animal betrays his own kind to their deaths?” There was no love lost in Ruk’s question, but the cave troll was there, seated before a human warrior, come to make a deal with the enemy.
“What I do with my own kind is of no concern to you, troll. What should concern you is whether or not you have the necessary resources to defend your mountain highland country against an invasion of the Emperor’s Army. Now, I assume, since you’ve come to this little meeting, you’ve realized an Imperial invasion of your land would virtually wipe out your kind and your way of life in these godforsaken mountains you call a home.”
As cynical and biting as the words were coming from the arrogant human in front of him, Ruk Stonetoes couldn’t deny the truth in them. His people were a dying force in the world. There was still strength in them along with a desire to be a free roaming race, but no cave troll had lived outside the confines of the high granite Tambor peaks since before Ruk could remember. The Tambors were an unforgiving wilderness populated by the fiercest creatures in Eros-Sur, creatures that had preyed on the cave troll for centuries. Ruk was tired of being the prey. If a pact with this human could bring hope of a future to his people, he’d be a fool to forego this opportunity.
“Bring the woman and child. Leave no one else alive.” Ruk’s second, a fierce looking green and black skinned brute with a silver mane, moved quickly away from the two warriors and disappeared from view.
“What child?” Rohn looked at the troll leader with unbridled contempt.
“The woman and the child are one.”
The Grand Marshall wasn’t about to be riddled by the likes of Ruk Stonetoes. Stonetoes. Of all names, where was the honor in that one. “I don’t want the child. The woman is the only one of worth to me.”
Ruk looked at the Grand Marshall for a long moment before speaking. “You want the woman but not the child?”
“Are you hard of hearing, troll? Or is it your nature to make things more difficult than they need to be?”
Ruk swallowed hard, his pride a great lump in his throat, in another place, another time, the cold, curved steel blade strapped to his back would have come free of its harness and lopped the pretty head of this human from its shoulders. Ruk hated this human and hated that he had to perhaps trust the fate of his tribe to the whims of this man. “You are the one not listening, human. But as you wish, have the woman, I will see that the boy is dealt with appropriately with the rest of the lives you’ve sacrificed this day. But make no mistake, do not make me regret this meeting.”
Monday, October 1, 2007
Chapter Five
Mufaun had given Steed the very best men under his control. He’d even ordered the transfer of men from other legions at Steed’s request. Steed’s unit answered only to him. They were fast, proficient, and well-trained. Steed prided himself on the discipline of his elite scout unit. But after an hour of waiting, and still no reports from any of the ten scouts, the soldiers began to get restless.
Steed stole a look at his commander to find him looking back at him. Mufaun saw the uncertainty in his captain’s eyes, felt the pending doom that was creeping into his heart. Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. The silence seemed to grow heavier, as if it would strike down the first to break it. Swords began to slide from sheaths. The archers held arrows notched and ready to fly at the first enemy to show its ugly face. And as the tension mounted, Mufaun began to doubt he had influenced the disappearance of the villagers at all.
That had been his plan, arrive in a deserted town with just enough evidence to suggest the villagers had the foresight to leave town during the night. Wouldn’t be a hard story to sell given the reason they had come to this otherwise forgotten part of the realm. But if this woman was a seer, as powerful as the one described to him by Emperor Hotek, then perhaps he had underestimated her. He had pledged an oath to protect her and those with her so long as she was in danger. There had been an uneasy agreement reached in which the villagers would seek refuge in a mountain stronghold they affectionately referred to as the Dungheap. Once he had proven his word and the soldiers had left the land, they would consider the arrangement Mufaun had proposed.
Still, the unsettling feeling permeating this village was growing steadily, and Mufaun had seen enough battles to know they were in a bad position, a position he had put them in out of over-confidence, not a mistake he made often. Nor would he ever make again. Mufaun turned in his saddle about to shout an order for his captains to retreat, when his heart sank into his stomach. Something had been launched at the army from behind one of the nearby buildings. Mufaun knew what it was even before it crashed against the shields of the men to his left.
It was Rone, one of Steed’s scouts. The body rolled off the shields of the soldiers it struck, falling lifeless to the ground. What foe had the ability to kill a man, a powerful man, and leave no evidence of the instrument use to take his life? Whatever or whoever it was promised to hurt them dearly. Mufaun looked at the corpse as his men backed slowly away. Fate had crashed down on him like a blacksmith’s hammer. He had taken his men to their deaths. Pride had made him sloppy and Fate would be unforgiving it seemed. The other scouts must have come to a similar if not more gruesome end. He hoped angels had carried them on their way.
“Sir.”
Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, sat silent on his warhorse. He heard Steed addressing him but he was at a serious loss for words, far from being ready to give any order that might bring more suffering upon them than he already had doomed each of them to.
What had he done?
Mufaun’s eyes rose to the towering granite peaks that enclosed the valley. The Tambor Mountains were home to some of the most feared creatures in Eros-Sur. There were few men or women who braved their wilderness. The most feared of these beasts was the stone giant. It was rumored that they possessed an intelligence equal to most men, and rivaled even some of the wisest. They lived high in the granite peaks of the mountain range where they burrowed into the ancient mountains with their bare hands. This ancient, wise and dangerous creature was surely what lurked in the unseen alleys of the village, planning its slaughter of Mufaun’s battalion.
“Sir. Prepare us for battle.”
The simple request awoke the warrior leader inside Mufaun once again. He slid easily from his warhorse and looked at his men. Within seconds Mufaun was surrounded by his captains, issuing orders as fast as they came into his mind. Yet, even as his men carried out his plan, the enemy showed its ugly face.
Now, seeing one of these fell beasts in the road before his very eyes, Mufaun had to give some credence to the rumors. The animal was massive, like a piece of the mountain itself ripped out and tossed in their path.
Its skin was the color of smoky quartz, with black splotches spread over the entire 10-foot, 800-pound frame of the animal. The arms were abnormally long, with hands balled into fists like great stone hammers. When it moved, the knuckles of each fist would leave deep gouges in the hardened earth. Its large, round face was a hairless boulder set on massive shoulders with black coal-like eyes. There was nothing dumb, or clumsy looking about this animal. It was king of the mountain, come down to feed on human flesh. Suddenly, the unnerving disappearance of the villagers wasn’t so difficult to understand. Or so Mufaun thought.
But why the stone giants? Like something from one of the childhood stories he had listened to by the light of his father's fire, these ancient creatures seldom ventured into the inhabited regions of men. Stone giants hadn’t been seen in the lowlands for over a hundred years, not since the time of the elf and ogre wars. Why now? Why this village?
And even as the Mufaun squared off with his formidable foe, filling his hands with the leather bound hilts of his two shortswords, the unthinkable happened. Fifteen more equally impressive giants surrounded the army, heaving the bodies of five more scouts at them.
There would be no escape for Mufaun or his men.
Steed stole a look at his commander to find him looking back at him. Mufaun saw the uncertainty in his captain’s eyes, felt the pending doom that was creeping into his heart. Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. The silence seemed to grow heavier, as if it would strike down the first to break it. Swords began to slide from sheaths. The archers held arrows notched and ready to fly at the first enemy to show its ugly face. And as the tension mounted, Mufaun began to doubt he had influenced the disappearance of the villagers at all.
That had been his plan, arrive in a deserted town with just enough evidence to suggest the villagers had the foresight to leave town during the night. Wouldn’t be a hard story to sell given the reason they had come to this otherwise forgotten part of the realm. But if this woman was a seer, as powerful as the one described to him by Emperor Hotek, then perhaps he had underestimated her. He had pledged an oath to protect her and those with her so long as she was in danger. There had been an uneasy agreement reached in which the villagers would seek refuge in a mountain stronghold they affectionately referred to as the Dungheap. Once he had proven his word and the soldiers had left the land, they would consider the arrangement Mufaun had proposed.
Still, the unsettling feeling permeating this village was growing steadily, and Mufaun had seen enough battles to know they were in a bad position, a position he had put them in out of over-confidence, not a mistake he made often. Nor would he ever make again. Mufaun turned in his saddle about to shout an order for his captains to retreat, when his heart sank into his stomach. Something had been launched at the army from behind one of the nearby buildings. Mufaun knew what it was even before it crashed against the shields of the men to his left.
It was Rone, one of Steed’s scouts. The body rolled off the shields of the soldiers it struck, falling lifeless to the ground. What foe had the ability to kill a man, a powerful man, and leave no evidence of the instrument use to take his life? Whatever or whoever it was promised to hurt them dearly. Mufaun looked at the corpse as his men backed slowly away. Fate had crashed down on him like a blacksmith’s hammer. He had taken his men to their deaths. Pride had made him sloppy and Fate would be unforgiving it seemed. The other scouts must have come to a similar if not more gruesome end. He hoped angels had carried them on their way.
“Sir.”
Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, sat silent on his warhorse. He heard Steed addressing him but he was at a serious loss for words, far from being ready to give any order that might bring more suffering upon them than he already had doomed each of them to.
What had he done?
Mufaun’s eyes rose to the towering granite peaks that enclosed the valley. The Tambor Mountains were home to some of the most feared creatures in Eros-Sur. There were few men or women who braved their wilderness. The most feared of these beasts was the stone giant. It was rumored that they possessed an intelligence equal to most men, and rivaled even some of the wisest. They lived high in the granite peaks of the mountain range where they burrowed into the ancient mountains with their bare hands. This ancient, wise and dangerous creature was surely what lurked in the unseen alleys of the village, planning its slaughter of Mufaun’s battalion.
“Sir. Prepare us for battle.”
The simple request awoke the warrior leader inside Mufaun once again. He slid easily from his warhorse and looked at his men. Within seconds Mufaun was surrounded by his captains, issuing orders as fast as they came into his mind. Yet, even as his men carried out his plan, the enemy showed its ugly face.
Now, seeing one of these fell beasts in the road before his very eyes, Mufaun had to give some credence to the rumors. The animal was massive, like a piece of the mountain itself ripped out and tossed in their path.
Its skin was the color of smoky quartz, with black splotches spread over the entire 10-foot, 800-pound frame of the animal. The arms were abnormally long, with hands balled into fists like great stone hammers. When it moved, the knuckles of each fist would leave deep gouges in the hardened earth. Its large, round face was a hairless boulder set on massive shoulders with black coal-like eyes. There was nothing dumb, or clumsy looking about this animal. It was king of the mountain, come down to feed on human flesh. Suddenly, the unnerving disappearance of the villagers wasn’t so difficult to understand. Or so Mufaun thought.
But why the stone giants? Like something from one of the childhood stories he had listened to by the light of his father's fire, these ancient creatures seldom ventured into the inhabited regions of men. Stone giants hadn’t been seen in the lowlands for over a hundred years, not since the time of the elf and ogre wars. Why now? Why this village?
And even as the Mufaun squared off with his formidable foe, filling his hands with the leather bound hilts of his two shortswords, the unthinkable happened. Fifteen more equally impressive giants surrounded the army, heaving the bodies of five more scouts at them.
There would be no escape for Mufaun or his men.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Chapter Four
Rolen knelt to earth on a small unpaved roadway at the southern end of the village. His eyes played skillfully over the scene before him, two lines of giant footprints mashed heavily into the earth. The prints were unlike anything Rolen had seen, but he had no doubt what creature had left them there. Rolen raised his gaze finally to the granite mountain peaks that guarded the valley village. Stone giants were a force to reckon with, especially in the numbers Rolen guessed had entered the village. But where had they gone?
Rolen stood, looking up the winding path that disappeared into the dense forest. The giant stone boulders lining the path, as well as the village border as far as Rolen could see in either direction, must have taken a great effort to put in place. Surely the villagers had exerted such energy as a line of defense against the creatures of the forest. But there were no gates, and the spaces between the boulders were wide enough to let any enemy through the line created by the lumps of stone. This was no kind of fortification for a village that felt threatened by the wilderness surrounding it. So why line the pathway and the village's border with these boulders?
Rone stood at Rolen's back, an arrow notched to the taut bowstring of the longbow he carried. His stomach churned within him. Whether it was bellyrot from the kettlefire breakfast the company cook had prepared, or the uneasiness settling on him, he didn't know. His palms were sweating. He wished Rolen would get them both out of the middle of the road. They were exposed and he had a feeling they weren't alone.
"We shouldn't be here." Rolen's eyes were still on the boulders. Suddenly there was something very unnatural about them, something...
"I know. We've been away too long. The others must have reported in already."
Rolen turned to see Rone slipping an arrow back into the quiver slung across his back.
"Rone!" But the warning came too late. The giant boulder to Rone's left suddenly sprang to life, transforming into a huge Stone Giant and exposing itself to the enemy so deftly Rone hadn't had a chance to react before being yanked off his feet in the vice-like grip of the killer freak of nature.
Rolen heard the sickening crunch of Rone's spine and ribs as the giant squeezed the life from his body. Slowly Rolen moved away from the giant, pulling the knife-blades carried by all scouts from their leather sheaths. He knew there was no chance of winning this fight, but he'd fight just the same.
The giant looked hard at Rolen, Rone's body hanging limp in its clenched hand. Then, in unison, the boulders all around Rolen sprang quietly to life and disappeared into the village.
Rolen slipped into a fighting stance, waiting for the giant to strike him down. He didn't even know if his steel blades could penetrate the thick, stony hide of the giant, but he'd snap both blades on the creature trying. He watched as the giant's right hand closed into a fist and knew his death was only seconds away. Suddenly the forest was alive, he could smell everything, the trees, flowers, the very earth under his feet. Sweat raced down his temples on either side of his head. Then the giant placed the stone fist on the ground in front of Rolen, lowering itself to peer into Rolen's eyes.
"Your commander has chosen you, Rolen son of Fenn. Others have not been so lucky. Today is not your day to die, live and fight the battles you have been spared for with honor. Serve your commander well."
Rolen felt the blades he had held in tight fists falling from his hands. He could reach for the bull's horn hanging at his side, send the warning, but then the giant turned and hurled Rone's lifeless body through the air in the direction of Mufaun's waiting battalion.
The alarm had been sent.
Rolen stood, looking up the winding path that disappeared into the dense forest. The giant stone boulders lining the path, as well as the village border as far as Rolen could see in either direction, must have taken a great effort to put in place. Surely the villagers had exerted such energy as a line of defense against the creatures of the forest. But there were no gates, and the spaces between the boulders were wide enough to let any enemy through the line created by the lumps of stone. This was no kind of fortification for a village that felt threatened by the wilderness surrounding it. So why line the pathway and the village's border with these boulders?
Rone stood at Rolen's back, an arrow notched to the taut bowstring of the longbow he carried. His stomach churned within him. Whether it was bellyrot from the kettlefire breakfast the company cook had prepared, or the uneasiness settling on him, he didn't know. His palms were sweating. He wished Rolen would get them both out of the middle of the road. They were exposed and he had a feeling they weren't alone.
"We shouldn't be here." Rolen's eyes were still on the boulders. Suddenly there was something very unnatural about them, something...
"I know. We've been away too long. The others must have reported in already."
Rolen turned to see Rone slipping an arrow back into the quiver slung across his back.
"Rone!" But the warning came too late. The giant boulder to Rone's left suddenly sprang to life, transforming into a huge Stone Giant and exposing itself to the enemy so deftly Rone hadn't had a chance to react before being yanked off his feet in the vice-like grip of the killer freak of nature.
Rolen heard the sickening crunch of Rone's spine and ribs as the giant squeezed the life from his body. Slowly Rolen moved away from the giant, pulling the knife-blades carried by all scouts from their leather sheaths. He knew there was no chance of winning this fight, but he'd fight just the same.
The giant looked hard at Rolen, Rone's body hanging limp in its clenched hand. Then, in unison, the boulders all around Rolen sprang quietly to life and disappeared into the village.
Rolen slipped into a fighting stance, waiting for the giant to strike him down. He didn't even know if his steel blades could penetrate the thick, stony hide of the giant, but he'd snap both blades on the creature trying. He watched as the giant's right hand closed into a fist and knew his death was only seconds away. Suddenly the forest was alive, he could smell everything, the trees, flowers, the very earth under his feet. Sweat raced down his temples on either side of his head. Then the giant placed the stone fist on the ground in front of Rolen, lowering itself to peer into Rolen's eyes.
"Your commander has chosen you, Rolen son of Fenn. Others have not been so lucky. Today is not your day to die, live and fight the battles you have been spared for with honor. Serve your commander well."
Rolen felt the blades he had held in tight fists falling from his hands. He could reach for the bull's horn hanging at his side, send the warning, but then the giant turned and hurled Rone's lifeless body through the air in the direction of Mufaun's waiting battalion.
The alarm had been sent.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Chapter Three
Mufaun rode down the hill and into the forest. Oakhaven would be deserted, he knew that, its people had been warned of the pending destruction at the hands of the Emperor’s Grand Marshall. Hopefully, hopefully they had done as he had suggested. As he entered the village, he found exactly what he had hoped: an army with no one to fight.
The soldiers stood dumbfounded in the streets of the village. How could the villagers possibly have been fooled by a handful of common folk? Some sorcery was at work here, some magic the soldiers had not yet faced. Many had been serving under Mufaun for many years. They were no stranger to battles, no child to the mysteries of the uncivilized world. But this, this vanishing act perpetrated by a whole village without a trace of their flight was something none of them, even the most seasoned, had seen. So they turned to their leader, the man they trusted above all others.
Mufaun brought his horse to standstill amidst his soldiers and sat quietly, listening. The village was silent. Silent in a way that was unsettling, not as though the inhabitants had abandoned it willingly, but as something evil had driven them from it. The men began to get restless, shifting about, turning to keep their backs away from the unsettling darkness in each of the buildings.
“Captain Steed.”
A Knight stepped to his commander’s side. A battle horn hung at his side. A visible relief ran through the silent battalion at the sound of their leader. Mufaun's voice was calm, soothing in its confidence. And suddenly, everything was business as usual.
“Yes, my lord.” Steed was a man larger than most, partly because of the Orrish blood that ran through his veins, but mostly just because he was. The Orres were a fiercely loyal people. And Steed served only one master.
“Have your scouts scour the village. I want to know where the villagers have gone, then have them gather what supplies they can.”
“They’re already hard at it, my lord.”
Steed was Mufaun’s only friend. There were no secrets between them. Not one. And it made Steed all the more fiercely loyal to his commander. Mufaun was counting on Steed, not only as a friend but as a soldier as well. Even if they made it through the day, by nightfall, there would be few who would stand with them, not for lack of loyalty, but for fear of the Emperor. He couldn’t expect his soldiers to follow him to an end that surely lead to nothing more than a cold soulless tomb. Many of them had homes, wives, children. He didn’t. Steed didn’t. And the four other captains who had sworn fealty to Mufaun, had little they feared to lose when, if they succeeded in their endeavor, what they might gain was beyond their wildest dreams.
The soldiers began to relax. They were all familiar with how Mufaun set about securing a city of any size. He was thorough, ordered, and well-practiced at taking control of a strange new land, be it city or wilderness. He’d been taught well, and his men trusted him above all other commanders. All they had to do for the moment was wait for the scouts to report in. Once the reports were in, the real work would begin.
The soldiers stood dumbfounded in the streets of the village. How could the villagers possibly have been fooled by a handful of common folk? Some sorcery was at work here, some magic the soldiers had not yet faced. Many had been serving under Mufaun for many years. They were no stranger to battles, no child to the mysteries of the uncivilized world. But this, this vanishing act perpetrated by a whole village without a trace of their flight was something none of them, even the most seasoned, had seen. So they turned to their leader, the man they trusted above all others.
Mufaun brought his horse to standstill amidst his soldiers and sat quietly, listening. The village was silent. Silent in a way that was unsettling, not as though the inhabitants had abandoned it willingly, but as something evil had driven them from it. The men began to get restless, shifting about, turning to keep their backs away from the unsettling darkness in each of the buildings.
“Captain Steed.”
A Knight stepped to his commander’s side. A battle horn hung at his side. A visible relief ran through the silent battalion at the sound of their leader. Mufaun's voice was calm, soothing in its confidence. And suddenly, everything was business as usual.
“Yes, my lord.” Steed was a man larger than most, partly because of the Orrish blood that ran through his veins, but mostly just because he was. The Orres were a fiercely loyal people. And Steed served only one master.
“Have your scouts scour the village. I want to know where the villagers have gone, then have them gather what supplies they can.”
“They’re already hard at it, my lord.”
Steed was Mufaun’s only friend. There were no secrets between them. Not one. And it made Steed all the more fiercely loyal to his commander. Mufaun was counting on Steed, not only as a friend but as a soldier as well. Even if they made it through the day, by nightfall, there would be few who would stand with them, not for lack of loyalty, but for fear of the Emperor. He couldn’t expect his soldiers to follow him to an end that surely lead to nothing more than a cold soulless tomb. Many of them had homes, wives, children. He didn’t. Steed didn’t. And the four other captains who had sworn fealty to Mufaun, had little they feared to lose when, if they succeeded in their endeavor, what they might gain was beyond their wildest dreams.
The soldiers began to relax. They were all familiar with how Mufaun set about securing a city of any size. He was thorough, ordered, and well-practiced at taking control of a strange new land, be it city or wilderness. He’d been taught well, and his men trusted him above all other commanders. All they had to do for the moment was wait for the scouts to report in. Once the reports were in, the real work would begin.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Chapter Two
Oakhaven was a quiet town that had existed in this lush valley of giant, leafy oaks for hundreds of years. Its size grew very little. Its people were of the best kind. Although most were quiet, hard-working farmers of all varieties, the town had an ancient histroy seldom talked of outside the village lodgehouse.
The children of Oakhaven had always been its legacy. In the three hundred years of the town's history, two thousand of the young ones had served in the Emperor's Royal Guard during times of conflict. Not one had ever been last in combat. Not one had ever been wounded. They always came home.
Oakhaven was, without question, the single greatest fighting force Eros-Sur had never discovered. And despite the many years of service its residents had given during the Emipre's times of conflict, once the conflict was over, Oakhaven became the quiet farm community no one ever gave a second thought to.
To the residents of Oakhaven, the answer to this peculiar existence was all but self-evident. Within their own numbers was an ancient soul that had existed since perhaps the beginning of time.
She'd had many names, more than even the town historians could even remember, but to this generation of Oakhaven residents, she was known as Julianna.
As Seer, Prophet, and Revelator, Julianna was the very heart of the community, their guide in all things spiritual, the guardian of their souls. The farmland in Oakhaven produced only the finest crops, enough to sustain its people in any season, be there drought or famine, Oakhaven never wanted. And whatever stock or produce was taken to market always faired better than any other. The people of Oakhaven were not blind to their good fortune. They knew they were a blessed and fortunate people, so it was no miracle to them that their God had raised and hidden an army of the finest soldiers within the city to protect His vessel.
So, when Mufaun appeared before the Elders of Oakhaven, alone on the night of their arrival in the valley, with a plan to protect and preserve their secret, he had been surprised to see smiles on so many of the faces gathered for the meeting. It seemed there was no fear from the army gathering just a short distance from the village. It was Julianna who had asked to hear Mufaun's plan, despite an uproar of protest from the Elders. And though Mufaun had stood solemn, listening intently to the debate, he could not believe this people actually believed they had the means to thwart his battalion of soldiers which would shortly be joined by the Grand Marshall's own host of brutal warriors. Yet, it was the desire of Julianna that won out and Mufaun laid his plan before them. When he was done, there was no discussion. Julianna stood, her eyes intent on Mufaun, and quietly gave him her blessing, saying "Although you have surely brought war to our humble land, you, Roz Mufaun, son of Haim Mufaun, whose grandfather was once counted a friend among our number, will be the leader of our leaderless army. Your heart is pure, your mind sound, and your soul is not unlike your great-grandfather who once served me as an Elder in this village so long ago. Make your plan, but choose your captains well for though your heart and mind are strong, your faith in this, your decision, will be tested as it has never been tested before."
Mufaun watched Julianna leave the meeting hall under the quiet, watchful gaze of the Elders and chosen men of the meeting. She was intoxicating of spirit. Never had his soul been moved in the presence of anything or anyone, like it had been touched by this woman. Surely she was a vessel of the living God whom he had sought to serve his whole life.
There had been little to do to prepare the village for what was to come. Their resolve was unique. Their path had been chosen and they walked it without question. Mufaun had left after only a few short hours with the villagers, returning to his camp where he chose the five Knight Captains who had been loyal to him for as long as he had been a soldier.
The children of Oakhaven had always been its legacy. In the three hundred years of the town's history, two thousand of the young ones had served in the Emperor's Royal Guard during times of conflict. Not one had ever been last in combat. Not one had ever been wounded. They always came home.
Oakhaven was, without question, the single greatest fighting force Eros-Sur had never discovered. And despite the many years of service its residents had given during the Emipre's times of conflict, once the conflict was over, Oakhaven became the quiet farm community no one ever gave a second thought to.
To the residents of Oakhaven, the answer to this peculiar existence was all but self-evident. Within their own numbers was an ancient soul that had existed since perhaps the beginning of time.
She'd had many names, more than even the town historians could even remember, but to this generation of Oakhaven residents, she was known as Julianna.
As Seer, Prophet, and Revelator, Julianna was the very heart of the community, their guide in all things spiritual, the guardian of their souls. The farmland in Oakhaven produced only the finest crops, enough to sustain its people in any season, be there drought or famine, Oakhaven never wanted. And whatever stock or produce was taken to market always faired better than any other. The people of Oakhaven were not blind to their good fortune. They knew they were a blessed and fortunate people, so it was no miracle to them that their God had raised and hidden an army of the finest soldiers within the city to protect His vessel.
So, when Mufaun appeared before the Elders of Oakhaven, alone on the night of their arrival in the valley, with a plan to protect and preserve their secret, he had been surprised to see smiles on so many of the faces gathered for the meeting. It seemed there was no fear from the army gathering just a short distance from the village. It was Julianna who had asked to hear Mufaun's plan, despite an uproar of protest from the Elders. And though Mufaun had stood solemn, listening intently to the debate, he could not believe this people actually believed they had the means to thwart his battalion of soldiers which would shortly be joined by the Grand Marshall's own host of brutal warriors. Yet, it was the desire of Julianna that won out and Mufaun laid his plan before them. When he was done, there was no discussion. Julianna stood, her eyes intent on Mufaun, and quietly gave him her blessing, saying "Although you have surely brought war to our humble land, you, Roz Mufaun, son of Haim Mufaun, whose grandfather was once counted a friend among our number, will be the leader of our leaderless army. Your heart is pure, your mind sound, and your soul is not unlike your great-grandfather who once served me as an Elder in this village so long ago. Make your plan, but choose your captains well for though your heart and mind are strong, your faith in this, your decision, will be tested as it has never been tested before."
Mufaun watched Julianna leave the meeting hall under the quiet, watchful gaze of the Elders and chosen men of the meeting. She was intoxicating of spirit. Never had his soul been moved in the presence of anything or anyone, like it had been touched by this woman. Surely she was a vessel of the living God whom he had sought to serve his whole life.
There had been little to do to prepare the village for what was to come. Their resolve was unique. Their path had been chosen and they walked it without question. Mufaun had left after only a few short hours with the villagers, returning to his camp where he chose the five Knight Captains who had been loyal to him for as long as he had been a soldier.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Fallen - Chapter One
Roz Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, stood at the crest of a small hill dotted with ancient giant oak trees ablaze with the color of autumn. Though it was hidden from view at the moment, in the forest of giant oaks before him, he knew he had finally located the village that sheltered the key to all he had ever dreamed. This village, Oakhaven the old man had called it, harbored a secret Emperor Hotek had spared no expense to locate: a woman who could see the future. The old man had died in the same breath he’d used to utter the name of the village, despite Mufaun’s attempt to save his life. But he’d gotten the name and all it had cost him was a small mug of Orrish ale.
Emperor Hotek had made his commanders a promise not one of them would be able to easily ignore. “The man who brings me this Seer, shall on that day be given the hand of my daughter, Rianna, in marriage, and become the sole heir of this mighty empire.” The hush that had fallen over those present in the royal hall at Durhamfeld on that occasion would never be forgotten. Mufaun did not long for the throne of Eros-Sur, or aspire to such a place of power, nor did he crave the riches of a kingdom. What Mufaun desired, and had since he first gazed upon her, was Rianna.
The promise made by Emperor Hotek had given hope to a cause Mufaun had never hoped to realize. Rianna knew of his secret love for her, and she had given him only one reason not to pursue her: her heart was not hers to give.
“Prepare the assault. Kill any who resist, enslave the rest but bring the woman to me.” The harsh, cruel command snapped Mufaun from his momentary departure from reality and reminded him of the unfortunate circumstance in which he now found himself.
For months, Mufaun had led his small battalion south through Eros-Sur in search of this seer, turning over every rock and unraveling every tale of this mystic woman, following every lead to this point. Yesterday, he was on the verge of the ultimate discovery. This morning, he woke to the face of his only enemy, Grand Marshall Lukus Rohn, as if he should be glad to see him. Fortunately, his scouts had alerted him to the approaching ally host and its commander, giving him just enough time to prepare for his arrival.
The Grand Marshall’s words pierced Mufaun to the core. He was grateful to be standing with his back to the Grand Marshall. The hatred that burned in his eyes would have been impossible to hide. He hated the man. Hated him like no other. And knowing the snake had followed him in secret to arrive now and claim victory, tortured Mufaun in so many ways. He would not let the wickedness of this man become the future of this empire and all of Eros-Sur. And he would never see him stand next to Rianna. Not today. Not ever.
Mufaun knew the punishment for treason well. Punishment was death after excommunication from the faith. Death. Excommunication. What Emperor Hotek promised for anyone convicted of the crime of treason was an end to life on this world and no chance at a life in the next. He’d seen it served out enough times under the rule of Hotek. But what choice did he have. To let Grand Marshall Rohn return to Durhamfeld with the Seer…Mufaun couldn’t bare to think of all that single act would destroy. He simply couldn’t let that happen. But would the cost of his treason be worth it? Even if he triumphed today, how could he best the greatest army to ever walk Eros-Sur? Mufaun didn’t have the answers, not yet. But in this village, Oakhaven, was a woman who might. He had done what he needed to do, whatever the cost might be.
Mufaun drew his helmet over his head, the tail of golden horse’s hair settling on his shoulders. He slipped the mouthpiece of an ornate battle horn between his lips and sounded the attack.
Five horns answered in turn, their crisp, clear notes slicing through the silent fall morning like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. Mufaun knew each of the horns and the Knight Captain sounding the note through it.
Armies are good at destruction. Under the Grand Marshall, they were superb. One more thing Mufaun hated about the man.
Mufaun kissed the silver medallion hanging around his neck, the Flor de Bastion. Given to him by his mother when he was just a boy, fourteen maybe. Fourteen years old. The army picked its soldiers young, easy to train, easy to mold into whatever the army needed them to become. Mufaun had taken to the life with relative ease. He reveled in the strict discipline, excelled at combat, and made every waking moment a quest for perfection until one spring day in the royal gardens when he came face to face with Rianna. She’d asked him about the medallion then, and he’d told her about the ancient Temple of the Knights Bastion and how he hoped to one day restore the knighthood to its once glorious home. He tucked the medallion into his tunic and climbed onto his horse, a powerful black mare that stood tall and proud, a warrior not unlike her master.
Mufaun knew the Grand Marshall would not trouble himself with the details of the raid. Instead, he trusted his lieutenant and ten knight captains to bring him his glory, as they always had in the past. The Grand Marshall would never suspect Mufaun, along with five of his knight captains, capable of any treachery like what was about to befall him. His pride made him weak. Mufaun knew this and took the advantage it gave him.
Emperor Hotek had made his commanders a promise not one of them would be able to easily ignore. “The man who brings me this Seer, shall on that day be given the hand of my daughter, Rianna, in marriage, and become the sole heir of this mighty empire.” The hush that had fallen over those present in the royal hall at Durhamfeld on that occasion would never be forgotten. Mufaun did not long for the throne of Eros-Sur, or aspire to such a place of power, nor did he crave the riches of a kingdom. What Mufaun desired, and had since he first gazed upon her, was Rianna.
The promise made by Emperor Hotek had given hope to a cause Mufaun had never hoped to realize. Rianna knew of his secret love for her, and she had given him only one reason not to pursue her: her heart was not hers to give.
“Prepare the assault. Kill any who resist, enslave the rest but bring the woman to me.” The harsh, cruel command snapped Mufaun from his momentary departure from reality and reminded him of the unfortunate circumstance in which he now found himself.
For months, Mufaun had led his small battalion south through Eros-Sur in search of this seer, turning over every rock and unraveling every tale of this mystic woman, following every lead to this point. Yesterday, he was on the verge of the ultimate discovery. This morning, he woke to the face of his only enemy, Grand Marshall Lukus Rohn, as if he should be glad to see him. Fortunately, his scouts had alerted him to the approaching ally host and its commander, giving him just enough time to prepare for his arrival.
The Grand Marshall’s words pierced Mufaun to the core. He was grateful to be standing with his back to the Grand Marshall. The hatred that burned in his eyes would have been impossible to hide. He hated the man. Hated him like no other. And knowing the snake had followed him in secret to arrive now and claim victory, tortured Mufaun in so many ways. He would not let the wickedness of this man become the future of this empire and all of Eros-Sur. And he would never see him stand next to Rianna. Not today. Not ever.
Mufaun knew the punishment for treason well. Punishment was death after excommunication from the faith. Death. Excommunication. What Emperor Hotek promised for anyone convicted of the crime of treason was an end to life on this world and no chance at a life in the next. He’d seen it served out enough times under the rule of Hotek. But what choice did he have. To let Grand Marshall Rohn return to Durhamfeld with the Seer…Mufaun couldn’t bare to think of all that single act would destroy. He simply couldn’t let that happen. But would the cost of his treason be worth it? Even if he triumphed today, how could he best the greatest army to ever walk Eros-Sur? Mufaun didn’t have the answers, not yet. But in this village, Oakhaven, was a woman who might. He had done what he needed to do, whatever the cost might be.
Mufaun drew his helmet over his head, the tail of golden horse’s hair settling on his shoulders. He slipped the mouthpiece of an ornate battle horn between his lips and sounded the attack.
Five horns answered in turn, their crisp, clear notes slicing through the silent fall morning like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. Mufaun knew each of the horns and the Knight Captain sounding the note through it.
Armies are good at destruction. Under the Grand Marshall, they were superb. One more thing Mufaun hated about the man.
Mufaun kissed the silver medallion hanging around his neck, the Flor de Bastion. Given to him by his mother when he was just a boy, fourteen maybe. Fourteen years old. The army picked its soldiers young, easy to train, easy to mold into whatever the army needed them to become. Mufaun had taken to the life with relative ease. He reveled in the strict discipline, excelled at combat, and made every waking moment a quest for perfection until one spring day in the royal gardens when he came face to face with Rianna. She’d asked him about the medallion then, and he’d told her about the ancient Temple of the Knights Bastion and how he hoped to one day restore the knighthood to its once glorious home. He tucked the medallion into his tunic and climbed onto his horse, a powerful black mare that stood tall and proud, a warrior not unlike her master.
Mufaun knew the Grand Marshall would not trouble himself with the details of the raid. Instead, he trusted his lieutenant and ten knight captains to bring him his glory, as they always had in the past. The Grand Marshall would never suspect Mufaun, along with five of his knight captains, capable of any treachery like what was about to befall him. His pride made him weak. Mufaun knew this and took the advantage it gave him.
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