Chapter 5

Chapter 5




    Across the Black mountains to the east, a lone rock jutted straight towards the heavens.  Desolate and blackened with ash, the barren monolith stood apart from the rest of the mountains.  It was not a mere rock, nor was it just a mountain or large jagged stone cut from the earth, no; this abomination to nature was a volcano.  A volcano called Mt. Demoria, for the very reason that its wrath defied even the gods.
    A thousand years ago, a great city, Demoria, thrived at the base of the volcano.  An ancient and forgotten race flourished there.  It is said that they and they alone were able to make the volcano sleep.  One day, humans with their lust for land, their thirst for power -wealth, and their selfish ways moved in on the peaceful citizens.  They brought with them the worst enemy ever, Law.
    With this law, a form of rules, restrictions…control perverted by their own concepts; they tried to conform the peaceful inhabitants.  The city of Demoria and its people resisted.  They now faced the threat to be conquered by means of force, the way of men.  The leaders knew many would die those who did not would be sold as slaves.  Their decision was clear.  By the next day, the city was empty.  The people vanished with out a trace.  They took nothing, they left no tracks, and they were never seen again.
    The humans laid claim to the great city and all of its splendor and riches.  It was then that Mt. Demoria awoke.  The entire city was destroyed and all its human settlers killed with out warning.  Years later, the humans built a new city and it too was named for the mountain.  At the peak of its glory, the volcano claimed it, swept it a way with fire and ash.  Over the years, the stubborn humans built cities near the volcano, and each time the volcano laid waste to them and their people.  Finally, the humans gave up and left leaving the ruins for the jungle to claim and envelope with thick growth.
    Three hundred years ago, the demon freed by Aleron, fled to Mt. Demoria.  With dark magic it tamed the volcano in search of an ancient temple built for its dark queen of the abyss, and within its fiery walls it found a mighty temple created by her disciples.  For two thousand years, the temple remained untouched by the volcano’s anger until war arose then began the devastating campaign known as the demon war, now known as the great catalyst.
    Now, Braxon Reinhold found himself and his men guests in the temple-fortress by its new master, the death knight.  An ally he was coming to wish he had never formed an alliance with.  At the time however, her offer to make him king, and the power she had at her disposal was enticing.  She had the plan, the warriors, mages of the black arts even the demon that claimed king Brightblade’s life and identity.  They were all her pawns, ignorant of her true plans.  Braxon was the only one truly in league with the death knight.  He traded his services for kingship.
    Dra'nel sat patiently awaiting Reinhold’s arrival on her throne carved of bone.  She had summoned him not long after his arrival and apparently, he was in no hurry to face her.  The room she had designated her throne room, was brightly lit with torches set in iron hangers along the wall.  Pillars, decorated with numerous carvings of nudity, sadomasochistic rituals and sacrifices supported the high ceiling.   
    Finally, he was there, still wearing the clothes from weeks earlier, with the exception of the shirt she had cut.  Braxon emerged from the dimly lit corridor and casually made his way towards her.  He could feel the anger emanating from her, making the very air heavy and still.  He could sense her patience was thin as she waited for an answer to what had transpired.  Why Narsh-Turath was lost?
    “So, Braxon tell me this story of how I underestimated the wretched demons worth and it let fall the tower.”  Sinicism sharpened her tone.
    Braxon came closer; her appearance on the throne was terrifying.  The throne had the face of a dragon carved high in the back over looking her like a guard.  However, it was more skull like with black gems for eyes.  The sides of her throne flared out, resembling the decaying wings of a dragon.  The armrests were thick smoothly carved bone that ended in the fashion of a dragon skull.  The legs were thick as well, carved in a spiral that turned into a dragon clawed hand clutching a human skull.
    He shook the estranged horror from his spine, and regained his confident composure.  “As I said before, Hauken and his men attacked unexpectedly.  An Elven army joined him first, and just when we thought battle was in our favor...Dragons came.  Platinum dragons.  The forces scattered, chaos broke the battlefield.  When I returned to the tower, I discovered it had been infiltrated by a small group... and the crystals taken.  It was hopeless; the tower could not be saved.  So my men and I fled to the mountains to join you.”
    The death Knight shifted in her throne and leaned forward.  Her eyes narrowed as she studied his features.  “You lie…I am no fool. “  She sprang to her feet and walked down the black steps.  “Dragons have not been seen in three hundred years.  They have abandoned this world.” She screamed in outrage.  “And what force of men could pass safely through the doors of Narsh-Turath with not one, but two demons from the abyss with an army of goblins, orcs and men guarding it from with in.”
    “I swear it to be true Dra'nel, you must believe me!”  He said as he fought to maintain his composure and the urge to step back from her threatening advancement.  Suddenly, a creature of the dead, one of her creations, a fallen warrior, entered the room from an entrance somewhere to the side hidden in shadows.  Hastily he made his way to his dark master.  Decaying flesh hung from beneath his blackened plate mail armor.
    “Word from our spies, Moonspur holds the tower with a small band of but a few hundred soldiers.”  He whispered to her in a ghostly voice beyond Braxon’s ability to hear.  She turned her head to face the messenger but left her gaze on Braxon.
    “What of dragons?”  She asked coldly.
    “Some where spotted flying to the north west from the tower.”
    She pursed her lips together frustrated by the news.  She had not anticipated or even entertained the thought that there were still dragons around let alone their willingness to aide in another war.  She took two steps forward and turned her head to face Braxon directly.  “It seems you speak the truth after all my dear Braxon.”  She said almost apologetically but her voice still carried anger in it.
    “To you, I would not otherwise.”  Braxon replied, sucking up to her.
    She was amused by his passive cowardice and how it emerged at his convenience.  “This twist of unfortunate events can be remedied.  What troubles me is who possesses the cunning and skill to plan such a daring intrusion, recover the crystals and succeed?  Any ideas Braxon on who this person might be?”
    “None of my own, only what I’ve heard.”
    “Well, what have you heard?”
    “It’s not so much as whom, but what.  More or less crazy talk, it doesn’t make sense.”
    “I will be the judge of that!”  The death knight snapped tired of Braxon’s game.  
    “Some of the men said it was a group of elves, a woman with magic powers and a Knight of Habbuku.”
    Dra'nel broke into hysterical laughter wicked and shrill.  “A Knight of Habbuku.  Impossible.  The fools are using a long dead figure to inspire a hope that flees from their hearts.”
    Braxon did not find it as amusing as she, but more along the lines of ridiculous.  “The goblins were saying something like ‘druth-na ru~ert gur arn dughh’, whatever that means.”
    Her laughter stopped suddenly as she recognized the words to mean, death from the white demon, words that were from a distant-lost memory that she could not quite recall.  “Hmm, how peculiar.  So where has our conqueror, the menacing demon and his wretched underling gone?  Where did they flee?”
    Braxon hesitated and his hand eased down to clutch his sword.  He had dreaded this very question.  He knew this news would upset her the most, possibly, but he had no idea the extent of the true nature behind the rage that this news would actually bring forth.  In fact, he did not think it was that big of an issue since she was planning on betraying the demon and killing it herself.  Nevertheless, that is what scared him; she wanted to kill the demon and now could not.  Therefore, he thought his best response was to make light of the bad news.                  “They did not flee.  In fact, those two will be of no worry any more.  They were defeated, slain.”
    “What!”  She screamed as her anger began to boil a new rage.  “Impossible!”  Her eyes flared with malice as she snatched him by the scuff of his tunic and stared into his eyes.  Fear completely griped him, burning into his very soul.  Braxon could not move, paralyzed by the sudden fear that emanated from the death knight.  His eyes moistened as her stare tore at his mind in search for the truth.  “No!”  She screamed out shoving him backward to fall to the stone floor.
    Before he could blink, now released from her spell, he watched in dismal horror as she spun on her heel, her blade freed from its sheath like a flash of light and just as quickly through the neck of the messenger.  As she completed the move, she was facing him once more her eyes blazing a defiant red hatred unlike any he had ever seen.  “How can this be?”  She hissed.
    Just then, behind her, the head of her messenger lobbed off and hit the floor with a dull thud, and then the body slumped forward dead.  “You three.”  She shouted at the guards near the door Braxon had entered from earlier.  “Come here!”  She commanded.
    They did so immediately without hesitation.  “Draw your weapons.”  She said through clenched teeth.  As they did as she ordered they fell quickly.  Her blade flashed out in sheer- controlled violence and precision, taking the first ones sword arm of at the elbow.  The second received two slashes, one across the chest, and the other across the face.  The third had his weapon out just in time to defend one blow.  Her blade slapped his to the side and as she did so, she turned her wrist and brought her blade back up striking him in the waist.  Her blade sliced all the way up just below his armpit, slicing his body in two.  She then spun completely around and sideways which put her face to face with the first one clutching his arm.  His eyes widened as she pulled her blade from his chest, its keen edge scraping against the plate armor that protected his back as it came free.
    She cursed with each strike, which was over as quickly as it started.  “I have planned for three hundred years this vengeance.  The demon was mine to slay.  All of the deceit, the betrayal only to be stolen from me by some…some insolent fool.”  She rolled her head on her shoulders cracking the bones in her neck.  She turned her gaze back to Braxon who was still on the floor horrified and in fear for his life.
    “I want the one who ruined my plans.  He and those who snatched my vengeance from me.”  She said in an even tone.  “Do you hear me?”  She then shouted as her anger slipped in and out of her control.  “We will proceed as planed, and mind you this, no one will so much as have a blade near him or they will suffer my wrath.  He belongs to me…”  Her eyes then flicked to the corridor behind him.
    A dark shadow moved silently in the shadows.  Closer it came, until a hooded figure in black robes emerged a few feet from Braxon.  The death knight snapped her blade down to her side so fiercely, that the tip sent sparks in the air as it struck the stone at her feet.  She then swung around and stomped off in the direction the messenger had came form earlier.
    “I see she has heard your news of Narsh-Turath, and found a dislike for it.”  The robed figure said to Braxon in a raspy voice.  Braxon shivered as he shook the chilling residue of the dread spell from his body.  Hunched over now on his hands and knees he turned his head to look at the new visitor.  
    Beneath the hood, he could see dark yellow eyes set in a pale ivory frame staring down at him empty of emotion.  Tattoos of magic symbols and words scribbled on his face.  They started just below his eyes and curved down his high set cheekbones.  An image of a black spider was sit between his eyes with a pair of legs that ran down the bridge of his sharp nose.  Religious markings curved up his brow less forehead with sharp angles ending in curved points.  His lips were thin and colorless with similar markings that jagged towards the center of his narrow chin.
    “Bargmyre.”  Braxon uttered the man’s name having recognized the long time family friend.  He pulled himself to his feet and the dark robed man watched without offering any assistance.  “You would think she would have been pleased to hear that the demons were banished.”  Braxon said to the mage as he wiped his sleeve across his chin.
    “No- not this one.  Her motives and vengeance go beyond complex.”  Bargmyre replied.
    Braxon slowly worked loose the aches in his back from having been flung to the floor.  “I don’t… understand… she intended…on killing it…anyways.”  He said between the pops and cracks of his spine and spasms of his lower back muscles.
    “No, you wouldn’t.”  The black mage said sarcastically.
    Braxon glared at him in response.  “Enlighten me.”
    Bargmyre’s strange yellow eyes glanced around the room.  Satisfied there were no stray ears among them he decided he could speak freely.  “In my private chambers.”  He answered giving him a nod to follow him.  Braxon eyed him suspiciously for giving away the fact that he frequents here enough to have his own chambers.
    The two men walked down a long corridor crudely lit with hand made torches.  The floor and walls were well cut and smooth, but the ten-foot ceilings were rough and uneven.  They passed five iron doors before coming to a sharp left.  They followed it passing two more iron doors similar to the others.  The hall ended at a set of double doors made of solid oak.  This was at the farthest end of the catacombs, where the deceased of times forgotten lay to rest.
    Once inside the room Braxon noticed symbols of magic were scribed all the war around the doors.  The chamber illuminated with light cast from several glowing orbs floating near the ceiling in the center of the large, round and somewhat empty room.  The furnishings were simple and few.  On one side, there was a large desk, covered with scrolls and books, a small table with a single candle in the center and two chairs.  On the other side was a small bookshelf, another table that was long and narrow and littered with many glass vials, some of which contained colored liquids.  Across the room from the entrance was a small wooden framed bed.  A table set on either side of it.  Next to the one on the left was shelf cut into the wall.  In it was a variety of fruits, breads, cheese, and a small assortment of wine bottles.
    The mage noticed the knights eyes linger on the shelf containing the food.  “Please help yourself.”  Braxon eagerly accepted his offer.  While he grabbed at the fruits, Bargmyre sat in one of the chairs at the small wooden table.  With a flick of his finger, the candle in the middle sparked with flame.
     “Her name is Dra'nel.”
    “Yes, I know what the b***h’s name is.”  Braxon sneered, as he poured rich red elixir into two goblets.
    The mage gave a single nod of his head then continued with his tale.  “She, in her time of glory was a great fighter skilled with her weapons.  She wore her armor with pride and it shined with it as well.  She was the youngest of nine brothers, so to speak.  Nine knights, men born of dragon blood.  They were the Knights of Habbuku, platinum knights, and they had but one purpose…to destroy evil.”
    Braxon’s eyes narrowed, he was familiar with the stories of the knights of Habbuku.  He placed one of the goblets in front of the mage then sat in the chair across from him.  He laid some bread down on the table that he was holding against his belly with his forearm then plucked the apple from his mouth that he held with his teeth.  “A platinum knight? They were all slaughtered by the demon, how can this be?  What happened to her?”  These were indeed very good questions, but not all is ever truly known.
    “I’m not sure, but what I do know is that dead-undead, damned or whatever, she is more powerful as a death knight than she was when she was living.”  The dark mage took a sip of the favored red wine and held the goblet in front of him staring at it.  “She can kill you with a single touch.”  He said, then flicked his lifeless yellow eyes at Braxon.  “Should you die by her hand… in any way, she will curse your soul to the abyss and she will enslave your corpse as one of her minions for eternity.”
    Braxon grew somewhat alarmed as he slowed his chewing, but to kill with one touch, simply ridiculous.  Even if this information came from Bargmyre, whose family has been friends with that of Reinhold’s for generations; he was a mage of the dark arts, not always trustworthy.  Such stories frequently originated by design from magic users to scare off undesired snoopers or looters in search of magical items.  
    Braxon took another bite of the luscious apple and quickly dismissed the idea that anyone could kill another by touch for the simple fact that not even a powerful arch-mage such as Bargmyre possessed such a feat.  The possibility that the death knight was once a revered knight of Habbuku, was more believable, but unlikely.  What did alarm Braxon however, was the fear of Dra'nel hidden in the black mages eyes.  This could not be so readily dismissed nor taken lightly.  Having sensed this, Braxon swallowed hard.
    “Whatever she is”, Braxon said unconvinced.  “She is driven by madness.  She wants me to march my troops to the Valley of despair and wait for her and her foul creatures to join us there.  Then attack all the villages and townships from there to the Ruins of Baldoria.”
    “That has been the plan all along, why should she change it now.  The loss of the tower is just a set back, it changes nothing.”  Bargmyre replied curiously, as he suspected Braxon knew something he was not telling him.
    Braxon was now aware that he had to choose his words wisely.  He could not let Bargmyre know of his arrangement with Dra'nel.  That she had planned from the beginning to betray the demon and kill it and having no real intention on freeing the dark queen from the abyss, the same dark queen that Bargmyre followed so faithfully.  He decided to steer the conversation into another direction.
    “I think she is bent on vengeance for the ones responsible for slaying the demon, the knight, the cleric of Habbuku and their friends.  I’m not sure, but I think Tyrell may-”
    “What?”  Bargmyre snapped suddenly curious.
    “It is just speculation, but a man by the name of Tyrell-”
    “No!  What about the cleric?”  The mage interrupted him again.  Braxon shrugged his shoulders.
    “I don’t know.  I only heard that a woman was with them.  She bore the symbol of Habbuku and it was said that her magic was strong.”  Braxon looked at him confused, “Why?”
    “Fool!  She could ruin everything.  A cleric of Habbuku would have dealings with Platinum dragons not to mention the ability to fight against me and my followers.  Her abilities to heal, alone are threatening enough.  Can you imagine fighting the same soldier over and over having been healed again and again?”
    The possibilities were obvious to Braxon now and were not pleasant.  “What do we do?”
    “We have to eliminate her.  I will go to Dragons Gorge tomorrow.  I am not ready to reveal the draconian to our enemy, but I have no choice.  I will set loose twenty of them on her trail.  They will hunt her down and kill her as well as those who try to protect her.”
    “Are you sure the creatures will succeed?”  Braxon questioned doubtfully.
    The dark mage looked at him from beneath his hood.  His eyes were cold, his expression dark and certain.  He was all too familiar with his perverted children and knew well the gruesome, merciless slaughter one of them was capable of, let alone twenty.  It was not much more than that, which lay ruin to the magnificent city of Baldoria long ago.  A city with thousands of people, hundreds of soldiers and guards.  All horribly slaughtered in a single night.  “Oh, they will…With out a doubt…They will.”  He answered coldly in his raspy voice that promised an unthinkable death.
    Having concluded their plans, they cut the night short so Bargmyre could rest well before he saw to his errand.  Braxon checked on his men briefly to insure they had eaten and no mischief had arisen.  He was aware that they, as well as himself, were uneasy with the company that lurked in this dreadful place.   All the men moaned and complained about a burning sensation in their noses and throats.  Even Braxon suffered the irritating discomforts.  
    The gaseous toxins of sulfur, brimstone and ash were very mild; however, the prolonged exposure was slowly taking its toll on his men.  He determined this was a good excuse for him and his men to depart earlier than planned.  However, even this did not give him comfort this night.  He tossed in his sleep through out the night, as strange and unusual sounds floated on the air.  Even though his lodgings were comfortable, his deep sense of mistrust made him uneasy and unable to fall into a deep sleep.
    
    Deep beneath the mountain, fire from long ago forges burned bright with coals.  Anvils chattered with the red-hot ring of hammered steel.  Sparks of yellow and orange flew angrily through the air in a shower of dazzling light as large round wet stones turned viciously against the edges of newly made weapons that would soon be sharp.  Gnolls, creatures similar to goblins but with hyena like features, worked hard and fast at making the weapons.    
     Standing between seven and eight feet tall, they were stronger than the goblins that worked with them.   Their grayish green skin glistened with sweat.  Their eyes, dull black, blazed with hatred for their masters.  Thick manes of reddish gray, dull yellow and yellow black stood bristled on their heads that dripped with sweat. Gnolls were not accustomed to hard labor, nor did they like it, but these gnolls were captured and forced into servitude by the wraiths. From time to time the cracks of whips reminded them of their position as some retaliated.
    As the death knight came into the forge one of the gnolls lashed out with a searing hot blade just pulled from the coals.  Three of the undead soldiers approached it, splitting the air with black leather whips trying to keep it at bay.  The gnoll was angry and vicious as it fought for its freedom.  At the sight of their master, the wraiths backed away slowly.
    The gnoll turned to face the threat behind it.  As Dra'nel approached it, it snarled with rage bearing its long yellow teeth.  Several of the others yelped out sounds of encouragement.  The fierce gnoll lunged at the weaponless death knight with the glowing orange red blade.  With a swipe of her hand, she knocked the blade from its clawed grasp and at the same time snatched it by the throat.  Her eyes blazed and the creature went limp as its snarls faded and eternal dismal darkness seized its soul.
    She released the creature after just a few seconds.  It fell to the ground dead. Its long thick tongue, hanging from its jagged mouth, dripped drool into a puddle on the floor.  The death knight shifted her eyes around the room that was now silent.  The wraiths quickly pushed the slaves back to work and Dra'nel continued on her way.  Her mood was foul and she had no patience for such rebellious attempts.
    She pressed her way down the hallway and emerged in a large underground cavern barely lit by a soft fed glow.  The worn rock walls gleamed with a dull red and orange light that came from the lava that oozed and bubbled far bellow in the center of the cavern.
    “My vengeance has been stripped from me.  The great demon has been slaying by another’s hand.”  She spoke out into the darkness.  “Three hundred years I have schemed.  It was I who manipulated king Brightblade into using the power of the dark mages to free the demon.  I am the one who orchestrated the gathering of the black armies, set things in motion and all the while letting the demon think it was in control.”  She spun in a circle as her eyes searched the darkness.
    “I was the puppet master this time, not that worm of the underdark!  All was going too plan.  I had deceived the demon, misled it, set it up for failure as it had done to us so long ago.  And for what?  For some lucky hero to steal my revenge just as I was about to reveal my treachery, to make it wallow in disgrace that I out smarted it.  Just before I beat it down and plunged my blade through its black heart.”
    Suddenly a devilish red eye that burned with the fires of hell showed in the darkness.  Dra'nel stopped and met its gaze as it rose high in the air.  “I will lay waste to all the lands, turning every living creature into one of my warriors until the one responsible suffers my vengeance.  We will destroy everything without mercy.”
    Just as she finished her words, the air filled with a terrible screeching roar that came from something neither living nor dead.  It was the unholy roar of a dracolich, a great and powerful dragon that has long sense been dead.  Its flesh rotted from its bones, its entrails devoured by decay and vermin.  However, its magic, its magic was keeping it very much alive as an abomination the world should never know.  
    The lower chambers of the volcano erupted with the echo of the terrible sound.  Even the sounds of the forge did not drown it out.  As the wail was heard, the workers stopped momentarily glancing about at each other.  A goblin froze in its tracks as it listened.  It‘s yellow eyes glanced down at the fallen gnoll killed earlier.  Suddenly it rose to it‘s feet with lifeless orbs in its head.  The horrible sound softened as it found its way through the upper chambers.       
    The morning sun was slow to come, but it did as always and peeked over the horizon.  Its orangish glow painted the sky with cool colors that suggested an early autumn.  Braxon, having pleaded his case with the death knight well, had begun the long journey to the valley of despair.  Now that they all had fresh horses, the cavalry was strong again.
    Bargmyre, the arch mage of the black robes, magically teleported himself to his secret lair in Dragons gorge.  Stepping through the magic portal, which was a large mirror set in a wooden framed carved to resemble lifeless trees with ruins etched deep on three sides.  Twelve other mages of the black robes greeted him.  He did not waste time as he went straight to a round platform containing an object about four feet tall covered in black cloth, “We have a cleric of Habbuku set against our task to free our dark queen”.  He said to the others as he passed.
    He snatched the black silk like material in his hand and flung it to the side to land in the floor.  Three legs of colored gold-pink, yellow and green, carved in the shape of locusts came together four feet from the floor.  On top of them was a circlet of pure gold with the image of an eye, lids half open, protruding all the way around it.  In the center, a black orb ten inches in diameter, floated inches away from the stand.
    Three of the higher ranked mages stepped up to the platform facing the black orb.  With Bargmyre’s lead, they began to chant.  The color of the orb began to swirl like a storm and as it did, it became clear.  As soon as all the black was gone, the chanting stopped and Bargmyre narrowed his eyes as he stared hard into its depths.  “Show me the woman from Edgewood, the cleric of Habbuku.”  He commanded.  
    Colors shifted in the orbs center tiny at first, but then growing as if it were filling with the translucent greens, blues and browns that eventually became an image.  The edge of a forest was clearly visible, and then the image shifted to that of water.  The water splashed and churned as the image changed to what appeared to be wooden planks, and then a boat.  Again, the image shifted and a blurred figure of a woman began to become clear.  She was young and her beauty striking.  Her hair was the color of sunshine and honey.  The image began to rotate from a side view of her to a front view.  
    She turned to look over her right shoulder away from the scrying eyes of the black mages, but the symbol of Habbuku could clearly be seen hanging on a dainty golden chain around her neck.  Suddenly the woman snapped her head around and stared right at them as if she saw those who were spying on her.  Then the orb went black just as quickly.      “She travels down the Misty River in a small boat.”  Bargmyre said as he turned his concentration from the orb to the others.
    “It seems she saw us.”  One of the others replied.
    “Yes.  Her powers are indeed strong.”  Another of the mages added.
    Bargmyre’s lips curled into a hideous sneer, “All the more reason to have her killed now.  Send twenty of the draconians after her.  I want her dead.”  He held his hand out and produced a diamond nearly an inch wide.  Galedian’s image floated clearly in the large facet of the stone. “Burn her image into their brains with this.”  He ordered, holding out a small diamond in the palm of his hand.
 

Reviews

[[untitled]]

"With dark magic it tamed the volcano in search of an ancient temple built for its dark queen of the abyss, and within its fiery walls it found a mighty temple created by her disciples. For two thousand years, the temple remained untouched by the volcano's anger until war arose then began the devastating campaign known as the demon war, now known as the great catalyst." You have surpassed yourself in this chapter. Awesome! Pammy