Swamp of Death - Chapter 51

 DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH

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CHAPTER 51

 

 

Vards decided to split up, as soon as they reached the outskirts of Vallsynk. Individually, they had a much better chance to reach their targets unnoticed. And with the recent return of the army, the streets were almost empty. From the loud noise coming out of numerous taverns, it wasn’t hard to realize where all of the townsfolk ended.

Vlaazh Niykav moved swiftly through the dark and narrow alleys, passing through the  residential district, and towards the business quarter. Uniformed rows of four story buildings were stretching on both sides of the street. With the same brown, bland facades, and identical sets of windows. Each could house up to a hundred people, and with its low maintenance costs, they were affordable for practically everyone. One patrol made him stop for a couple of moments, but the guards were just passing by. Vlaazh had no need to worry.

Twenty odd minutes later, he reached the business district, in whose exact center was a tall building of the main mercantile guild. Two soldiers were leaning on the fence surrounding the estate, supposedly guarding the entrance. They seemed to have a rather amusing conversation, not minding their duties. Vard could not have hoped for a better opportunity. It was practically an invitation. He sneaked by them with ease, shortly stopping under a small, ground floor window. The room was dark, but he had to be sure it was empty, before climbing inside.

Vlaazh did not shy from a fight, but he wanted to finish the task with the least effort. Vards were patient and cautious by nature, approaching everything meticulously. Giving them a great advantage, in these kinds of situations. Small office of some merchant’s secretary was empty. Vlaazh was in luck once more, as he found the doors opened. Clerk must have forgotten to lock them.

Small, lit, oil lamp was hanging in the far end of the corridor. Vard bent almost to the crawl, heading towards the staircase. His steps were careful and quiet. Narrow stairs led all the way up to the last, sixth floor of the building. He was nearing the source of the voices, coming from behind the large, wooden doors. Vlaazh waited for a moment, just to be sure there’s no one else on this floor. Quickly removing his hood, vard stepped inside the office.

“Ah it’s you, Xavnier. Excellent.” Gaunt, tall merchant, almost jumped out of his armchair “Pay up Panmorn, you’ve lost fair and square.”

“Damned elf had to be late today.” another, rather fat, bald merchant retorted angrily, taking out a small, leather pouch from his pocket “I think you’ll find ten gold coins inside.”

“I believe you.” Fletcher said, cheering with the mug of red wine.

Panmorn tossed the wallet in the merchant's lap, turning towards the fireplace. He grunted and moaned, lifting one of the logs, throwing it carefully on the small fire. Thousands of sparks flew up the sooty chimney, rekindling the flames in a tiny cloud of smoke and ashes. Fat merchant coughed loudly, wiping his eyes.

“Pour me some mead Fletcher, I need to wash down my throat. This damn smoke nearly cho…”

Panmorn’s words disappeared in a silent groan, as the sharp dagger pierced through his chest. Blade stopped just below his heart. Fat merchant could feel its coolness.

“B…but Xavnier, what is the meaning of this?” Panmorn still had the strength to say a few words.

His terrified eyes searched for Fletcher, but the lanky merchant could not have helped anymore. He was dead. Horror appeared on his face, once Panmorn realized his fate was no different. He tried to push the attacker, but was too weak, and too slow. Second dagger plunged just underneath his left arm. Blade scraped loudly, slitting in between the ribs, making the fat merchant jerk aside in pain.

“Xavnier, why are you doing this?” Panmorn coughed a little bit of blood, stumbling to his knees “You can stop…”

Vlaazh pushed him away, letting him fall. Supine, flat on his back, Panmorn hectically rolled his eyes, not able to move.

“Eilonna sends you her regards.” Vlaazh whispered in the merchant's ear.

Councilor tried to speak, but vard pushed both of his blades deeper into his torso. Small trace of energy transferred from Vlaazh’s palms, through the daggers and into the heart. Sudden change of pressure, doubled its size. Blood flow rushed through the heart at an enormous rate, at the exact moment as blades punctured it. Vlaazh could hear the merchant’s ticker exploding. Panmorn was dead.

Vard wasn’t wasting any time, picking up the bodies, and placing them in their chairs. He saw a lot of bottles and jugs of various alcoholic beverages, stored inside a rather large cabinet, to the left of the fireplace. And it gave him the idea. Couple of minutes later, he was rushing over the square, a few streets away.

Top floor of the mercantile guild’s building was already engulfed in flames, as Vlaazh headed towards the mansion of the third councilor. Others were without a shadow of a doubt already in there. He decided to go and meet with them, but at that moment he saw a barely noticeable shadow, moving to the right of him. Figure was very quiet, and moving quickly. It was luck, he even spotted him.

Vard took a turn in the nearest alleyway. Large, wooden barrel standing against the wall of the house provided a nice cover. His tail soon peaked behind the corner, but seeing he lost the vard, stood there for a couple of seconds, thinking. In several tiny, nervous steps, a figure neared the barrel, unaware of a hidden assassin. Vlaazh suddenly walked out of the shadows, right behind the figure. Short, worrisome moment passed quickly, when vard realized it was halfling Xavnier Gloir, standing in front of him.

“What are you doing outside, here, you crazy halfling?” vard whispered, refraining to scream “You could have died, just now.”

“Just wanted to see if everything is going according to the plan.” Xavnier retorted “Once you missed to show up, back at the docks, I feared something bad had happened.”

“I must apologize for that.” Vlaazh nodded “As I was coming here, I saw my old friend, Saekul.” vard looked down the alley, wanting to be sure they were alone “Curiosity took over me, I had to find out what’s his take on all of this.”

“About what? Assassinations?” halfling became pale “What madness made you do that?”

“I had to know where his loyalty lies.”

“And?”

“He does not care.” Vlaazh smiled, “Which is very good for you.”

“I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

“You can count on his support and assistance, once the events of this night come up for questioning.” vard looked Xavnier straight into his eyes “Or you think no one will ask, how come you are the only one surviving this ordeal?”

In all truth, halfling never even thought about it. But now, hearing these words, he became petrified in fear. Councilors had a lot of powerful allies. If any one of them decides to ordain the extensive inquiry, it could backfire and lead straight to him. Suddenly, Xavnier felt more vulnerable than ever. Why didn’t he think of this? Everything now seemed like a huge mistake, and an ill conceived idea. Why did he let Eilonna coax him? Yes, she was very good, skilful and sly with her promises. She played him. He now understood why she needed him. She was going to blame him, accuse him. She was going to make him the one responsible. Guilty. His paranoid fear reached its peak, but was interrupted with a silent noise coming from the far end of the street.

“Sir, we have a problem.” one of the vard assassins appeared from the dark “One of the councilors managed to escape.”

“Run straight to your home.” Vlaazh ordered sharply, pushing the halfling away “Let’s go soldier.”

Xavnier wasn’t to be told twice, as he dashed across the alley. Small and swift, he was fast gone in the darkened streets of Vallsynk. At the same time, Vlaazh was rushing towards the elven councilor’s mansion. In just a couple of minutes, four of the assassins met not far from it. One of the vards was holding his abdomen, barely managing to stand on his feet. Deep stab wound, presumably made with some sort of a dagger, bled heavily. Vard needed help immediately.

Commotion, a ruckus, coming several streets away from them, left them with no choice. They had to flee the city, and fast. The fires spread over the entire last floor of the merchant’s guild building, drawing a lot of townsfolk out from their homes, and into the streets. Couple of guardsmen tried to organize the extinguishing attempt, but the height of the building presented an insurmountable obstacle. And no one wanted to volunteer, and try to do it from the inside. Powerless, they were watching silent in defeat, as the flames engulfed the guild’s building.

Hidden behind the drawn curtains, Xavnier peeped through the window, interested in happenings at the main square. The building was lost. There was no time, nor way, to try and safely extinguish the fire. Halfling sighed, walking away from the window. Couple of valuables he kept inside of his office were also lost forever. He liked going there. Spending time, surrounded with money, dealing with different transactions, business propositions and contracts. That job was his life, and he loved it.

But those days were now over, Xavnier was to become Lord. Or perhaps not. Apparently, Zanveen’s escaped, and he could turn out to be a huge problem. Halfling had to think, and think fast. Sudden, loud sounds of crashing, rumbling and shattering, followed by several terrified screams, made halfling run back, towards the window. The guild's building toppled down, once the wooden beams burned away, giving under the weight of stone blocks. Ruin was still in flames. Smoke and dust covered half of the square.

               People will still want to know the reason for this accident. Zanveen’s escape could turn out to be useful after all. Halfling smiled slyly, he had a perfect opportunity to frame the elf. Rubbing his hands in content, Xavnier turned towards his bedroom. There was quite a lot of work to be done, from very early in the morning, and he had to be rested, and fresh for it. His reign was about to begin.

Prisoner of the Amulet - Chapter 15

 DORULL STORIES - PRISONER OF THE AMULET

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CHAPTER 15

 

Sanomis was fortunate he was already kneeling, otherwise he knew he’d find it hard to stay on his feet. He felt deflated. He felt defeated. They found him, when he was so close to his destination. And just as he started to feel he made it. Where did it go wrong? Was this even his mistake? He was careful. How did they manage to find him?

“Vagyr?” Sanomis whispered “But how?"

“How what?” the lieutenant asked.

“How did you find me?” Sanomis asked.

“With a bit of luck.” Vagyr answered “And with a little bit of help from my module. I managed to finish the upgrades even without you.”

“I knew you would.” Sanomis said.

“Sure you did.” Vagyr muttered “What are we doing here, Sanomis?”

“Funny that, I was about to ask you the same.” the geologist answered.

“We are here to find you. To help you.” Vagyr said “And if needed, save you.”

“You want to help me?” Sanomis asked “Does that mean I am free to leave?”

“Well no.” Vagyr answered, “We are to escort you back to Shteint. You have to explain your actions.”

“You could let me go. report back you haven't found me.” Sanomis begged “Please let me go.”

“What is the matter with you?” Vagyr found it hard even to recognize the geologist “Why are you like this? What is happening?”

“If you really don’t know, then let me go.” Sanomis retorted.

“Don’t know what?” Vagyr asked.

Sanomis let out a loud sigh. He had to decide whether to trust the lieutenant or not.

“The real reason for our arrival here.” Sanomis said a few seconds later.

If Vagyr was also involved in this filthy, criminal undertaking, this meant the end of the road. But if he was also kept in the dark, like many others, perhaps there was a chance he was willing to help him. Sanomis knew he had to risk it by exposing himself. He was out of moves either way. He might as well use this to try and find out if the lieutenant could be trusted.

“Please let me go.” Sanomis repeated his plea.

“You know I can’t do that.” Vagyr said “I have my orders.”

“Please.” Sanomis said.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s this all about.” Vagyr said honestly “But I promise you I’ll help, once we make our way back to Shteint.”

“That won’t be necessary.” cold, female voice, came from behind their backs.

It caught them all by surprise. But not as much as the fact, the voice belonged to the captain of Khoro, Avena Cinev. Her TEA was not active. She appeared on the surface of the planet not hiding her looks. But not because she was carless. It was to show she had no intentions of staying here long enough to be noticed. And she was standing out a lot, even more so because she was escorted by the two enormous battle vards.

“I’ll take the scientist.” Avena said, as she approached “You are relieved to return to your ship.”

“I apologize, but we haven’t received any such orders from our captain.” Vagyr said.

“How could you?” Avena said “This is coming straight from the Admiral.”

“I see.” Vagyr said, as he glanced towards Sanomis.

The defeated look on the geologist's face told him he had lost every hope. But why was that? Something else was afoot beside the ordinary desertion. Sanomis escaped for reasons only known to the few. Perhaps Sanomis was protecting him by not revealing said reason. Said  secret.

Vagyr thought to dare and ask. But even if he managed to gather the courage to do so, he was out of time. Avena and her entourage already placed four of the PTDs on the ground in front of them. Moments later they disappeared from the field in a blinding flash of the white light. Lieutenant let out a sad sigh, ordering his soldiers to prepare their discs. Not long after, they too left from this field. The field Roshnak Baanar passed through, some twenty minutes later, on his return back to the Vur-Paan.

Swamp of Death - Chapter 50

 DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH

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CHAPTER 50

 

 

Tired, hungry, decimated army, led by commander Saekul Er’ulrath, was slowly approaching Vallsynk, the enormous port city on the northern shores of the lake Kabial. A rather large crowd gathered on the streets, wholeheartedly welcoming the return of soldiers. Their enthusiasm soon subsided, seeing all of those dead and wounded young men. With their heads held low, the morose procession continued its journey in silence, towards the hills to the east of the town. There, surrounded by small hills, stood the town’s cemetery. 

Modest ceremony didn't last long, but every single soldier received an honorable farewell. Steady as a statue, Saekul saluted, watching their bodies being placed into the graves, one by one. Elf showed no emotions. But deep inside of him, there was a battle between the duty he had for the city, his soldiers and the orders that the city councilors gave him. They were the ones sending these boys to die.

Captain Lutir’s presumptions, still rang inside Saekul’s mind. They woke up, a long lost, forgotten feelings. Those principles he was forced to cast aside. Thorin was right, elf knew this much. But would it be wise to even think about venturing this way. Placing everything he worked for to risk. Endangering his reputation, career and probably his life. Saekul was brave, but not stupid. He would have to think about it for a long time, if he was to decide to act.

Funeral procession was about to end, as first of the townsfolk began to leave the cemetery. But the elf was in no hurry. Instead, he went up the nearing hilltop. One look at a graveyard filled Saekul’s heart with pain. So many young lives extinguished, the soldiers he knew. So many died, and always for the same reason.

“It’s good to see you again, my old friend.” a calm voice came from behind the elf.

Saekul turned around quickly, he would have recognized it amongst the thousands. Just a few feet away from him, stood a tall, masked figure.

“Vlaazh? What are you doing here?” elf asked “I thought I’d never see you again, after those unfortunate events back in the south.”

“Oh you know, it’s always business with me. And so it happens to be, my next one is in your little town.”

“You could’ve visited any time.”

“Don’t know if that would be wise, because of our past.” vard said “Besides, as I said, I am always keeping myself occupied with something.”

“Tell me then, what are you doing here?” Saekul nodded, “Perhaps, I could be of help.”

“I see, you are still a soldier.”

“I am a commander now.”

“Well then, I’m in luck.” Vlaazh said “Perhaps you could help me.”

“Where are you going? I’d gladly show you the way.” elf turned around, but vard was not moving.

“It’ll be best if you stay clear.”

“What is that suppose to mean?” Saekul took two steps back “For your own good, I hope I misunderstood you.”

“You heard me just fine, elf.” Vlaazh said calmly “It would be even better, if you’d remove all of your guards from the streets.”

“That’s one dangerous game you are playing, my friend. Please tell me you are not serious, or this could get real ugly.”

“Not a joke, Saekul.” vard suddenly removed the hood off his head “But a very, very important meeting, which I’ll attend, with or without your help.”

Elf startled a bit, seeing a familiar face of councilor Xavnier Gloir. Only difference was in their stature and height, but vard’s body just began to adjust. Transformation, Saekul saw once before, a long time ago, was over in just a couple of seconds.

“What are you up to?” the elf asked “Why did you take the councilor’s appearance?”

“Whole world is changing. Can’t you feel it?” Vlaazh was purposely enigmatic “Tonight it all begins, here in this city.”

“I forgot how tiresome it is, to talk with your kind.” Saekul shook his head “Why did you come to Vallsynk?”

“To terminate the councilors.” vard said without hesitation.

Elf tilted his head, he couldn’t believe Vlaazh just said that. This had to be some strange, twisted joke. Vard must‘ve been mad for even thinking about it. But if this was true, Saekul knew he’d have almost no chance at all to stop them.

“It seems your world has already changed.” the elf said “If I remember correctly, you used to save lives. And now, it seems that you are taking them.”

“Well observed, my friend.” Vlaazh nodded “We were forced to adapt, not that it was hard, considering our particular skill set.”

“Who’s behind this?” the elf was quick to ask “Who’s paying for these, what do you call them, changes?”

“I am tempted to tell you, I am.” vard let barely noticeable sigh “Instead, I’ll give you a small advice. Loyalty is an admirable trait, but you should start thinking for yourself.”

“Is it Eilonna?” Saekul asked nervously.

Vard was silent.

“Why did you tell me all of this?” The elf looked towards Vallsynk.

“Someone thought it would be wise to let you in on it.” Vard smiled “Someone who trusts you.”

Who could it be? Saekul was now completely clueless. Who had the audacity to attack the mighty council? Who had the means? And someone he knew. Perhaps someone from his past.

“You plan to kill all four of them?” Saekul’s face frowned.

“One must remain.” Vlaazh said.

“Xavnier?” the elf whispered, realizing why vard chose the halfling’s appearance.

“It’s time.” Vlaazh nodded “Hope we can meet again, soon, my friend.”

Vard turned around towards the town. Several masked figures soon joined him. Hidden in a nearby grove, they waited patiently for the return of their leader. In mere seconds, they were out of Saekul’s sight. The night was nearing, there was but a few minutes of light left. Gust of wind brought the fresh scent of pine trees and sweet oozing sap. Elf let a barely audible sigh, as he too headed for Vallsynk. It would probably be for the best to sleep this over.

              Saekul was just a few yards away from his doorstep, when he suddenly stopped. Vard’s warning was genuine, telling him not to meddle. To stay away, or die. Elf looked up to the skies, sighing. This was a seemingly very easy decision. It would be, if it weren’t for his brother, Enepel Zaanven. Saekul at least had to try and save the elven councilor. Couple of seconds later, he was running towards the northern district of the town. Towards the  Zanveen’s manor.

Prisoner of the Amulet - Chapter 14

 DORULL STORIES - PRISONER OF THE AMULET

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CHAPTER 14

 

Despite it dawned more than an hour ago, it took almost another one to pass, before the glistening sun rays found their way through the thick canopies of the trees, surrounding the small grove, on which Sanomis Ti’nullaim stumbled the day before. Few of the rays touched the glass-like surface of the pond, formed at the base of a five meter tall, stone formation. Few others played with the dew drenched blades of grass, decorating every drop with a tiny, colorful spectrum.

One of the rays fell straight onto Sanomis' face. Staying there for just a few seconds, but that was more than enough to awake the sleeping vard. It irritated him with its warm glitter, forcing him to move. The geologist spent the entire night in uninterrupted sleep, which would probably have lasted for much longer, if it weren’t for this annoying light.

Sanomis couldn’t remember when he slept better. The grass cover on which he lay down was softer than any bed. And with the complete lack of any outside noise, it wasn’t odd he slept so well. Until now. Geologist jumped stretching, after which he took a stroll towards the spring. Cold, clear water woke him up immediately. He washed his face and neck, took a long drink, and filled two of his field bottles. He placed them on the top of his backpack, after he already packed and secured the rest of the equipment. He was ready to step back into the woods.

Trees, bushes and other various plants growing around the grove, were almost creating an impenetrable wall. He wondered how he even found his way inside. And now it seemed as if it was letting him outside. It seemed as the branches were bending and moving before him, making way. The green wall was some twenty meters wide. It ended abruptly as it began. And when he turned around, he could not see a way he just went through.

Sanomis’ mind immediately tried to find the explanation in this through the work of some magical effect. Lately, he found himself attributing even the slightest of unusual situations to the magic. But how else could he explain the lucky find that was this grove. As a coincidence? Or a fortunate circumstance? That could be true, if he’d stayed on the designated route.

But he knew that for whatever reason, he veered off the way in the direction of that natural hideout. As if something had led him there. As if something wanted to make sure he’d have a safe space to rest. For he needed rest badly. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he had an interrupted sleep. Probably a long time ago, when he was stationed on Khoro.

One thing was for sure, and it became apparent immediately. He was feeling much more rested and fresh than ever before. He was sure of that. This felt special. This felt like magic. He had no doubt about it. How else could he explain the complete and utter transformation of his energy. After the night he spent in that mystical grove, Sanomis not only felt better, stronger and faster. He actually was.

That became much clearer, some two hours later, when he found himself at the edge of the forest. According to his module’s analysis he should’ve still been in it. The projected path saw him leaving the forest at the end of the day. At first he thought this was some kind of mistake. But his module had shown him the distance traveled. By some miracle, Sanomis had moved five times faster than possible. And although he had no clue how that was even possible, he didn’t care. Because he knew what that ultimately meant. He’ll reach Vur-Paan sooner than he anticipated.

Sanomis stepped into a wide, clear field. It appeared before him unexpectedly, seeing he was thinking he’ll be striding through these woods for a majority of the day. And now he wished that was the case. Or if for nothing else, that he knew the clearing was in front of him. Because as soon as he found himself there, he realized he was not alone. Just some hundred meters to the right, he noticed the group of orcs.

It was pretty much obvious they also noticed him. First the two, who were by accident looking at his general direction, at the time of his appearance. And then the other two, who turned around at the notice of an approaching stranger. Even if he wanted to, Sanomis knew there was no way of avoiding them now. If nothing else, he knew he at least had to greet them. That was expected from him. Any other action would draw unwanted attention.

“Morning stranger.” one of the orcs spoke, once Sanomis came closer.

“Good morning.” the geologist retorted, carelessly observing all four of them.

“Join us.” the orc said “Are you hungry? Or perhaps thirsty?”

“I’m not. Thank you.” Sanomis answered, although knowing just one glance at the rabbits they were cooking was making him say otherwise.

“Good.” the second orc readily retorted “We don’t have ‘em enough as it is.”

Rest of the orcs loudly laughed at this remark. As well as Sanomis. Unreserved honesty made this entire situation a whole lot funnier than it actually was.

“Are you from these parts, stranger?” the first orc asked.

“I’m coming from the west.” Sanomis answered “I never stayed in one place.”

“I completely understand you.” the orc said “Life in the wilderness is better than the village one for so many reasons.”

“Freedom and peace.” Sanomis nodded.

“Precisely.” the orc agreed “So where is that freedom taking you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all.” Sanomis answered “I thought I might check what’s out there in the east.”

“You’ll find plenty of villages there.” third orc suddenly jumped in the conversation.

“Villages are more to the south-east.” the fourth orc said.

“How would you know that?” the third orc grinned “This is the first time you left the Sh…the village.”

“I’ve been to the east as a kid.” the fourth orc jumped “I’ve seen more of Chaygor than any of you combined.”

“Sure you did.” the third orc replied, tasting the piece of the rabbit “We’ll need more wood. The meat is still on the raw side.”

“Well then go and get them.” the fourth orc snapped.

“Why wouldn’t both of you do that?” the first orc said.

By the way both of them obeyed, Sanomis could conclude this orc was their apparent leader.

“Just like children.” orc let a sly smile, as he poked the embers with rigid, long branch.

He did it more out of a habit, than anything else. But still managing to rekindle a few of the flames. And that should be enough for the fire to survive, until the orcs return with more wood. Two of them continued to argue, all the way to the forest. But Sanomis could not hear them any more.

“So you don’t know where you are going?” the first orc asked him after a few seconds.

“Not really.” Sanomis answered.

“Are you sure?” the voice of one of the orcs, who just went into the forest, came from behind the geologist's back.

At the same time he grabbed his hands, tying a strong rope around the Sanomis’ wrists.

“But what…?” was everything Sanomis managed to say.

“Why did you come here?” the leader of the orc group asked.

“What do you mean? I am just passing by.” Sanomis said.

“Where are you going?” orc asked him.

“W-what?” Sanomis stuttered from fear “I already told you. I am going eastwards.”

“Don’t lie!” the orc who tied him, smacked his back.

“But…I…” Sanomis groaned in pain.

“Tell the lieutenant the truth!” orc growled, hitting him at the exact spot.

“L-lieutenant?” Sanomis faltered, dropping to his knees.

“Tell me, Sanomis.” the leader of the orc group said “Why did you abandon your task?”

Swamp of Death - Chapter 49

 DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH

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CHAPTER 49

 

 

Bagtur climbed fast up the steep stairs of the tall tower, rising above Issurk fort. All the way to the top. To the councilor’s Falkner chambers. The view from up there was incredible to say the least. It stretched from the Laorn mountains to the north, to the wild forests of Amn-oaz in the southwest and great Kabial lake in south. Out of the high lookout, Eilonna could see for miles in every direction, as if it was right there on the palm of her hand. Nothing could escape her all-seeing eyes. And the councilor used that well, in her fast rise to power.

But all of her efforts could come toppling down, because of one vulgar half-orc, degrading her on two occasions. Eilonna couldn’t afford showing even the slightest sign of weakness. Everything she did in the past years was to strengthen her position and image. She crushed every obstacle. She fought or removed everyone daring to question her abilities and stand in her way. So why was she now feeling more vulnerable than ever before? Soon, councilor Falkner’s plan was to become reality. Entire Tanmar could soon be underneath her foot. But at this moment, she felt like an ordinary, weak woman. And out of place for that matter. Loud knocking on the door startled Eilonna for a bit. The long awaited opportunity to even with the half-orc, finally arrived.

“Come in.” she said.

Bagtur marched in the room. But once realizing how different the councilor’s private chambers looked and felt from the rest of this fort, half-orc stopped in his tracks, involuntarily showing his discomfort. Eilonna noticed that. She now knew how to break this brash, insolent man.

“Please sit.” she showed him to the leather chairs adjacent to the white brick fireplace “Do you want something to drink?”

Bagtur shook his head, denying it. He was unsuccessfully trying to make himself comfortable in the chair. But he failed to do so, which was a mystery on its own. The soft leather of the chair he was sitting on was quite pleasant. It was perhaps the surroundings that bothered him. Light, bright room on the top of the tower, decorated with colorful, swaying, silk fabric, did not match with the grayness and gloom of Tanmar.

Bagtur was accustomed to the stone, wood and iron. He seemed out of place in this cozy room. He liked the common things, the simplicity and functionality without excess. There was no place for luxury in this swamp. Collecting the riches, and surrounding themselves with it, was just an attempt to escape and hide from reality.

“Why am I here?” Bagtur wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“We both know why.” Councilor Falkner said “Your insolence and lack of respect left me with no choice.”

“Lack of respect?” half-orc jeered “I don’t have time for your blathering, woman. With everything…”

“And there it goes again.” Eilonna interrupted him “I am the councilor of Issurk. I deserve respect, especially from the likes of common soldiers.”

She had chosen her words carefully, wanting to insult the half-orc. Wanting to hurt him with every means possible.

“If the councilor issues an order, it’s up to the soldier to obey.” Eilonna stood up from her chair “Your behavior and actions back in Thirel, were serious infringements. Now, as that unfortunate issue with goblins is behind us, I’m contemplating taking certain legal actions against you. I think it’s only fair to inform you, before it happens.”

“Is that all?” Bagtur was indifferent. “Do as you please, you know where to find me.”

“Unbelievable, you still don’t get it boy.” Eilonna scowled.

Half-orc had crossed the line yet again.

“This is not a joke, I’ll send you to the court martial.” Eilonna threatened him.

She could not stand his rudeness, his obnoxious, male views and reasoning. She hated his masculinity, his strength and his smug face. She wanted to punch him across that mouth. To beat him, to make his life miserable. But before she could, Bagtur just stood up and walked away. Eilonna could not believe it, he absolutely did not care. Or perhaps did not take her seriously.

A couple of moments later, a rather tall, brawny soldier entered the councilor’s room. His dark brown, bushy hair reached halfway to his back. From behind his left shoulder protruded thick, beautifully crafted grip of a large broad headed maul. He was wearing heavy leather armor, reinforced with chains, differentiating him from every other soldier in Issurk. And he was no ordinary soldier. He was Eilonna’s personal guard.

“You saw the half-orc?” she asked quickly.

“Yes.” her bodyguard answered.

“Find a way to provoke a brawl, but don’t throw any punches.” Eilonna ordered.

“None whatsoever?” soldier was genuinely disappointed.

“You’ll never change, Breatis.” the councilor smiled gently “Okay, you may. But only a few. But only in self defense.”

“With pleasure, my lady.”

Soon enough, Eilonna was alone again. Although she wasn’t planning on venturing this particular way, half-orc gave her no options. Bagtur had a chance to apologize, but he decided not to. Ultimately, he was the one deciding it for her. He will learn his lesson, and at the same time serve as an example for the rest of them. With the bunch of infringements she tends to pin on him, he will never stand a chance in trial. Councilor knew that well. Sending Breatis, her guard, and the strongest fighter in Issurk, against the half-orc, was just a bonus.

The day was nearing its end. Eilonna glanced eastwards, towards Vallsynk. Vards will soon begin with their mission, and if it turns out to be a success, it would mean a great deal to her. She struggled to remain patient, awaiting to hear the positive news. But she wasn’t worried at all. No one could prove her involvement, even if vards fail. Eilonna poured herself  some vine, laying down on her soft bed. In the next few forthcoming hours, her destiny would become much much clearer. After a very long time of doing all the biddings by herself, she was now dependent on the work of others. Something she’ll have to get accustomed to, and fast.

Swamp of Death - Chapter 48

 DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH

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CHAPTER 48

 

 

Under the dim lights of a small campfire, Moorg was persistently trying to comprehend the secrets of the amulet. Lying reclined on his wolf’s warm body, he was examining every bit of it. Earlier, he noticed a several small slots appeared on it. All empty, except for one, which was now filled with that part, he stumbled upon in the village of the wild orcs. Goblin tried to remove it, but it was permanently fused with the amulet.

 He noticed a small engraved symbol of something quite similar to the mouth. It lit every time he would hear that voice. But no matter how hard he tried, the goblin could not understand it. Medallion was still for some time now, but Moorg was too impatient in his curiosity. He wished the voice would talk to him constantly, that was a sure way to learn the language. True power of the amulet was yet to be unlocked, and Moorg wanted it all. But the first step was to become able to communicate with it.

Goblin tossed a couple of logs onto the fire, lighting the entire den in an instant. Wolf budged in enjoyment, but remained asleep. Moorg smiled, looking at it. Tired animal deserved to rest. A few sips of the ale felt good on the goblin's parched throat, before he returned to inspecting the amulet. There had to be a way to activate it. So far, it seemed that medallion acted mostly on its own behalf. Coming to aid whenever he needed. Saving his life on a few of those occasions. But how would it know? Unless the goblin had the connection with the amulet, he didn’t even know it existed.

Moorg tried to remember what were his doings right before the medallion would activate. What were his thoughts? His feelings. Sometimes it was out of fear. Sometimes, when he was excited, when the adrenaline rush kicked in. It was always followed with a few seconds of memory loss. Goblin’s mind would go blank, once the waves of energy begin rushing through his body. And it was at that moment, the amulet would come to life. Granting him the strength and the power.

Moorg almost jumped out of excitement, surely he was right. He had to be. He was on the track of finding a way of making contact with the medallion. Goblin closed his eyes, slowing the breathing, until it became steady and flat. He remembered being a boy, and all of the lessons his father taught him. It certainly came to aid now, as he managed to empty his mind. Instantly, Moorg felt the tingling sensation spreading through his every nerve. Medallion was awake.

Silent, incomprehensible voice, at first sounded as if it was coming from a distance. Somewhat eerie, almost frightening, but Moorg was now ready for it. There was no way he was going to let it slip, without learning at least something from the amulet. Goblin remained extremely concentrated, to the job ahead. New failure was unacceptable, he was resolute to solve the mystery.

The voice was becoming louder, with every passing second. Moorg realized it was the same message, the same sentence, repeating over and over again. Still, he couldn’t understand the meaning. Voice was now so close. It felt as if the words were coming from within his mind, stabbing him like a dozen tiny daggers. Louder, bit angry now, the voice became impatient. Moorg was in pain, but not giving up.

“I don’t understand.” goblin growled “Speak in my tongue, damn you.”

“Help me master.” Eerie whispers petrified Moorg, but his wish was finally granted.

“Help you with what?” the goblin had to think fast “Who are you? What are you?”

“But it’s me master, why are you not…” voice seemed confused “You are not master Toorg.”

“I am Moorg, his son.” the goblin was quick to say “Before he died, my father entrusted me with the medallion, with you.”

“Yes, I sense master Toorg in you.” amulet said after a couple of seconds “Master Moorg, please help me.”

“How? With what?” goblin asked “I don’t know what to do. It seems we are both in need of help.”

Medallion wasn’t answering. Suspense was painful, almost as much as the transference of magical energy. Moorg was able to maintain the flow, but he knew there had to be a limitation to it. He couldn’t hope to last forever. Besides, he was already getting tired. His muscles were burning, he was feeling stiff and numb. Goblin was afraid to move, fearful to disrupt the connection.

“Save me, master. Come and save me.” the silent voice disappeared in the distance.

Moorg could hear a clear echo. Sound was spreading, as if it came from the depths of some canyon. Surely it was a clue, just like one from his father’s vision. He needed confirmation.

“Where are you?” Moorg yelled.

“In a dark, deep hole.” amulet said painfully “Among the orcs, and death…The dead surrounds me.”

Moorg couldn’t endure the strain any more. Connection with the medallion broke, as he fell exhausted on his back. Goblin was satisfied with the progress, but at the same time worried because of it. It was quite strange, hearing the amulet begging for help, sounding like a person. Strange, and yet not surprising at all, considering the amount of power surrounding it. Medallion was yearning to become the whole again, and Moorg was there to fulfill its wish. Tired, the goblin sat closer to the fire. Before he could head back to the orcish village, Moorg had to take a rest.

               Still, there was lots more to learn from the amulet. Although goblin made significant steps to ameliorate himself, to understand the magic, he was still miles away from mastering the secrets of the medallion. And assembling it back together was a good way to start. Moorg wasn’t thinking of any consequences. He was focused only on the prize. The desire for having and controlling this incredible power, was stronger than anything. A thought which the amulet implanted in the goblin's mind, without him even knowing. Finding every lost piece wasn’t Moorg’s idea. Medallion was the one pulling every string. Goblin was just a tool, a vehicle. A puppet obeying its every wish.

Prisoner of the Amulet - Chapter 13

 DORULL STORIES - PRISONER OF THE AMULET

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CHAPTER 13

 

Existing on the other side of the reality, where natural laws and orders had no significant foothold, was a mystical realm of shadows. The place that existed without the knowledge of the majority of people living on Dorull. This was the place in which the souls of the deceased could find their final rest. And it was the place whose secrets were kept only by the handful of chosen ones. Those who were granted the use of the magical powers. Those who knew that without the access to this dimension, such powers would be nonexistent.

One of those guardians was Roshnak Baanar. Orc shaman out of Vur-Paan, a small village situated at the farthest north of Chaygor. The village in which Roshnak hadn’t stepped in for over a hundred years. Ever since he realized, the encounter with Badzanogh completely changed him. Ever since he figured out he wasn’t aging like every other orc. Like any other humanoid. Ever since he realized he could no longer stay in one place for a longer period of time.

Instead, Roshnak chose to wander around Chaygor. Traveling from village to village. From place to place. Or often deciding just to stay in the wilderness. For most of the time, solitude was what he needed. Perhaps even wanted. Especially if someone would recognize him. This happened less and less as the years went by. Mostly due to the fact that those who once knew him, made their final journey into the realm of the shadows.

And that was one of the reasons, Roshnak now finally decided to head towards Vur-Paan. He knew no one would probably recognize him there anymore. If that turned out to be true, he hoped he could stay there for a longer period of time. He missed that place. He missed his home. He would give anything if once there, he could stay forever.

This condition of his could not last for much longer. Sure, he looked the same as he looked on that day when he managed to defeat Badzanogh. He certainly felt a lot better. The burst of life altering energy he received from that creature bettered him. Changed him. Besides healing him when he was at his end, it left him with an unexpectant present of prolonging his youth. Roshnak had no idea how long this gift would last. But it couldn't last forever. The years which he seemingly had stolen, could soon come up for pay.

He was now just to the south of Novil field. He was so close to home. He could already feel it. In just a week or so, he knew he would be there. Or he should, if he stayed away from the trouble. Just a couple of days ago the trouble found him, when he stumbled upon a group of horse thieves. He interrupted their attempt in trying to catch and control several young stallions.

It reminded him for a moment of the past days, when he alongside the group of youngsters from the village patrolled the field, protecting the horses from similar groups. He remembered they eventually put an end to such groups. It would be a shame to see they had returned. But that would mean his return was also needed. This region perhaps again needed to be put under control and protection of the guardian of the northern pass.

What became apparent almost immediately, was that this group of thieves had no idea who he was. Nor what his protection meant to this region. So Roshnak made sure they found exactly that. He offered them a short and expensive lesson. One they paid with their lives. Not that they didn’t deserve it. He caught them red handed. He knew they couldn’t let him pass by. He was a witness of their crime. He had to be dealt with, before he could tell others what he saw.

And they would deal with him, if he was an ordinary orc. Even the most skillful warrior stood no chance against their numbers. These thieves probably found themselves in a similar situation before. Where they had to deal with some unfortunate passersby. Only this time, the thieves were the unfortunate ones. In their ignorance, they decided to attack one of the most powerful individuals in the entire Dorull. Once they realized that, it was far too late to reconsider their choice. But they had the eternity of thinking about it, as they found themselves in the shadow lands.

Roshnak knew this battle would cost him a day or two, which he would have to spend in the realm of shadows, regaining the lost energy. But it was a small price to pay, seeing he learned a long time ago it was better to be prepared for the worst. Another troubling encounter could very well be around the corner. This group of thieves perhaps weren’t the only one around these parts. They could’ve had allies nearby. If they’re to find the bodies of their friend, they could be after him.

Because of that, Roshnak found a safe looking spot, in one of the groves, not even the six hours of walk from the field he fought those thieves. He firstly ate and drink, to prepare his body for the short, light meditation. He did it, because he knew he mustn’t allow a complete transfer of energy. One part of his soul had to be left tied to this plane. In case someone or something stumbled upon him, he’d have no way to know he’s in danger.

The first day of the mediation went without any troubles. But as the second day commenced, the fascination of this magical dimension began to grow inside of him. From personal experience, Roshnak knew how intoxicating it really was. Especially after a longer, sustained stay. The tranquility which the soul, especially the alive one, would begin to feel, could not be compared to anything. The temptation of staying there forever was a danger, which every young spellcaster had to learn to resist.

But Roshnak wasn’t new. Nor he was young. He already knew the exact moment in which he’ll return to his body. But still, as that moment approached, the shaman wanted to prolong it at least for a bit. Not just because this place looked beautiful. With its translucent trees and vibrant bushes and grass surrounding him. But because as he was walking around this small field, he stumbled upon the soul of his former master, Gogron.

Roshnak knew he had to keep his distance. Every contact with the souls of the deceased could present a catastrophe. Just a moment of negligence could lead to it. The slightest of touches was enough to disrupt the auras. The soul of the deceased would momentarily attach itself to the living one, beginning to drain the energy. Depending on the length of the process, it could very well end up fatal. For those who were unfortunate to survive the experience, there remains the hope, the suffering wouldn’t last too long.

Roshnak also knew that hope was futile. Once touched, the soul would be incomplete. And as such it would return into the body. The separation of the soul in between these two dimensions, would momentarily begin wrecking the physical and mental health. This would last, until the body could no longer endure the strains. Whether it was just one day, or in some cases several years.

In any way, either option would end with the same result. In death. From several dozen cases, known to Roshnak, only a few of them managed to recover. Mainly due to the fact they weren’t alone in the shadow plain. And because they were fortunate enough to find and successfully return the stolen part of the soul, before their body was weakened beyond repair.

But Roshnak was here alone. Therefore he wasn’t going to risk any contacts. He instead satisfied his curiosity by observing his former mentor from far away. And he was glad he did it. He missed his old teacher. His company, his stories, his lessons and his bright look on life as a whole. Even now, in his death, he seemed the same.

Gogron carelessly wandered through the field, leisurely collecting various plants and herbs. Almost identical as he used to do when he was alive. With the difference he wasn’t exactly doing that now. Those weren’t herbs, nor plants of any kind. Gogron was picking shadows. And he surely knew that. But he didn’t care. He was doing what he loved. And he enjoyed it.

Another reason for Roshnak not to disturb him. This was a place in which his former teacher found his peace. The place in which he was happy. And Gogron deserved it. There was no doubt about it. Roshnak could only hope he’d be of similar luck, once his time comes. To make sure it is not today, he knew it was time to head back.

As he casted one last glance at his old master, Roshnak turned around towards the spot where he made the entrance. His body was calling him back, as a clear sign he restored the energy. Straight towards the south. Exactly five hundred and five steps away. A journey that will last no more than a minute and twenty seconds. But Roshnak only managed to make only three steps, when he was stopped by the sudden gush of the cold wind. With it, came a recognizable voice. The voice he hadn’t heard for over a century.

“Ah there you are Roshnak Baanar of Vur-Paan. I finally found you.”

“Ch’ybal?” Roshnak was surprised “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I couldn’t find you in Vur-Paan.” the ice maiden said “Nor in the nearby villages. Why was that?”

“Due to my unusual predicament.” Roshnak answered “I can’t remain in one place.”

“So you’ve decided on solitude?” Ch’ybal observed “Perhaps that’s for the best. If you indeed received the gift of eternal youth.”

“Tell me, what trouble is upon us now?” Roshnak asked “Who do I need to stop now?”

“I’ll probably ask you to do so someday, in the future.” Ch’ybal answered “But not today.”

“What then?” Roshnak asked.

             “You have to return to Vur-Paan.” Ch’ybal said “I’ve sent someone there. Someone who needs our help.”