Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) (38 page)

“No
, but there is a minor spell on it that will only function once.  Do not, under any circumstance, try to engage the Garoliths.  If you see them, run,” Micah said emphatically.

“What are they?”

“If I told you, you would not believe me.  Hell, I didn’t believe it until I saw them.”

“My lord, if you say it is so
, I will believe you.  All know the Avari reputation and, from what we heard tonight, I think that reputation has been vastly under rated,” Sergeant Bale replied.

“
Very well.  They are undead creatures; cloaked skeletons from the waist up, rotting snake carcasses from the waist down.  They are big, maybe fifteen feet tall with half again that much tail.  As I said, you will know them if you see them.  Pray to the Great One that you never do, Sergeant.”

“You were right
.  It is hard to believe, but I’ll not doubt your word.  It is a sad day when nightmares become real,” Sergeant Bale admitted, shaking his head.

“
Aye.  Now I must be off.  I should meet with Commander Salic and tell him of what has happened here,” Micah said and began to walk forward.

“My lord?”

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“You said there were two Garoliths in Branna.  Do you know where they may have gone?”

“I sent them both to Hell,” Micah said quietly.

Sergeant Bale’s eyes widened and his face lit with a smile.
  “You killed two of those beasts?”

“Aye
, but not before they had killed a dear friend of mine and injured another.  Both were exceptional warriors, but they never stood a chance.  Remember the coin, Sergeant.  Leave the Garoliths to me,” Micah cautioned.

“As you say, my lord.  It is hearteni
ng to know they can be defeated.”

“Stay vigilant
, Sergeant.  May the Great One watch over you and your men,” Micah said, then walked through the men, who parted respectfully before him.

Once Micah was out of sight he passed his hand over his clothing a
nd spoke the words of a spell that he'd used countless times.  As his hand passed over a spot, the clothing and skin underneath emerged clean and unstained.  “I should have had the presence of mind to do that before I came to the camp,” Micah muttered, chastising himself.  He shrugged and spoke the words of transport that would take him to where he sensed Michael was currently located.

Pace saw the Avari Lord just slightly after Branik and Reek had
sprung to their feet.  Drawing his axe, Pace leaped in front of Dain, startling him from sleep.  Michael came to his feet more slowly.  Somehow, he knew who was behind him even as he slept near the fire.  It had been a deep and rejuvenating sleep.  Something he could not recall having enjoyed for a long time; not since Karin was alive.

Pace saw the two Avari bow deeply and saw Michael do the same after he had risen.  All sense of danger seemed to fade
, but he did not relax his stance.

“The young healer is quite safe in my presence, Master
Dwarf.  I assure you.  Dain knows me,” Micah spoke as he inclined his head to his Avari.  Stepping forward he greeted Michael with a hand on his shoulder.

Michael reached up and clasped the hand, holding it in place
he stared into Micah’s eyes.  “Micah, I am sorry.”

Micah squeezed Michael’s shoulder once more then moved to take a seat in front of the fire.

Dain blinked his eyes, fearing they were still sleep addled; yet the image did not go away.  He walked around the fire even as Pace tried to stop him.  Dain came to a stop before Micah, his face an almost comical mask of confusion.

“What is it that baffles you, Dain
?” Micah asked softly.

“You have an aura, my lord,” Dain blurted in surprise.

Micah merely nodded his head.  “And what color do you see?”  Micah asked curious.

“Purple, my lord,” Dain replied in shock.

“Ah yes, that would make sense,” Micah nodded once again.

“I have never seen
purple, my lord.  How can it make sense?”  Dain asked.

“What two colors make purple?”  Micah asked simply.

“My lord?”

“Red and blue combined make purple,” Michael offered as he sat down next to Micah.

“What you see is a melding of two colors, two emotions if you will, so completely that you cannot discern them individually,” Micah explained.

“Auras do not work that way, my lord,” Dain replied.

“And I do not work the way most men do; is that not true young healer?”  Micah commented alluding to their previous conversation.

Dain gulped audibly and nodded.

“Master Dwarf,” Micah turned his attention to Pace.  “Would you be so kind as to report my presence to Commander Salic and Wizard Merric?  Inform them that I will be joining them shortly.”

“Begging your pardon, my lord
, but I am responsible for Dain’s safety,” Pace said though there was no apology in his tone.

Micah smiled genuinely at the dwarf.
  “You have a stout heart and a strong sense of duty, master dwarf, but Dain is completely safe in his present company.  There is no one here that wishes him harm,” Micah informed him.

“It is ok, Pace.  I know Lord Micah
. He is a, a friend,” Dain stumbled.

Pace heard the shudder in Dain’s voice and gripped his axe tighter.
  “I am sorry, my lord, but I cannot leave my post,” Pace said with finality.

Micah laughed loudly and held his hands up as in surrender.
  “Master Pace, you do your race, any race for that matter, proud,” Micah said rising to his feet.  “I will inform them myself.”

Michael stood up as Micah did.
  “Let me try something before you go,” Michael offered.

“What do you wish to try?”

“Just something I have been thinking about, but haven’t had the time to experiment with.  It will only take a moment,” Michael explained.

“Very well.  It is the only way to learn.”

Michael closed his eyes and thought about Merric, summoning a mental picture of him in his mind.  When he had the image sharply focused, he sent a thought at the image.  A few seconds passed and then he heard Merric’s voice next to him.  Michael opened his eyes to see the Headmaster staring at him wearing a scrutinizing gaze with which he had become very familiar.

“What in the world did you just do, Michael?”  Merric asked still eyeing him.

“I wanted to try to communicate with you over a distance.  Micah wanted you to know he was here, so I figured this was as good a time as any to try,” Michael explained.

“You could have accomplished the same thing telepathically.  I was not that far away,” Merric informed him.

“Then I guess this was not a good test,” Michael said shrugging.

“I think it was an exceptional test
, given that I saw and heard you as if you were standing in front of me as you are now.  Telepathically, I would have only heard your thoughts.  Still, I'm curious about your abilities with such communication. I would be quite interested to know if you could do that over a greater distance.”

“When time and opportunity permit, I will try again,” Michael assured him.

Merric turned his focus on Micah.  “I am glad you were able to join us, Micah.  Your presence does much to settle the nerves,” Merric said sincerely.

“It seems not everyone is calmed by my appearance,” Micah informed Merric, gesturing to Dain and Pace.

“They only know the legend and not the man,” Merric replied.  “Be at ease, Master Pace.  Lord Micah is one of the good guys,” Merric assured him.

Pace eyed the Avari Lord one more time then slung his axe at his side.
  “I apologize, my lord, but Dain’s safety takes precedent over civility,” Pace offered.

“As well it should.  Dain is a very important man.  Empathic healers are extremely rare
, and one of Dain’s ability is even rarer still.  I take no offense, Master Pace.  You have acted no different than I would have expected,” Micah replied.

“Well
? What news have you that warrants such an unexpected summons?”  Merric asked Micah.

“Earlier this day two Garoliths paid a visit to my home,” Micah began.

“Where are they headed?” Merric interrupted worriedly.

“I would assume their journey to Hell is complete by now.  Fear not for your students, Merric.  Both are dead
.  More importantly and closer at hand was the troll contingent that was marching on your rear position,” Micah said ominously.

“Your use of the past tense suggests we no longer need worry about them either,” Merric said tightly.

“You are correct.  Oh, and Mortow has one less wizard,” Micah stated matter-of-factly.

“
To which wizard do you refer?”  Merric asked anxiously.

“It was not Mieka, my friend.  I would not have killed her.  However, Maklin will no longer be a problem.”

Merric shuddered in relief.  “So you took out Maklin and some trolls as well as two Garoliths?  Seems you have had a busy day,” Merric said in disbelief.

As they were talking, Mardak came striding up
to join them.  His interest was piqued when he heard mention of the trolls.  “My lord, how many trolls were you able to dispatch?”  Mardak interjected into the conversation.

Micah turned to the shaman
.  “Far too many, and I fear not nearly enough,” Micah answered cryptically.

Mardak cocked his head and looked at Micah with a puzzled expression.
  “I am sorry, Shaman Mardak. I did not keep track.  I just killed until there were none left.”

“When you walk from the battlefield and the enemy does not
, that is a good number,” Mardak grinned.

“I did not realize that ogres kept
count.  I thought only dwarves did that,” Micah commented.

“We take great pride in battle.  Kills are tracked so we can judge a warrior
's skill.  One who departs a battlefield with twenty or more kills is considered a great warrior among my people,” Mardak explained.

“It is the same with my people,” Pace grudgingly acknowledged.

Micah looked from the small dwarf warrior to the tall ogre shaman.  “I consider one a great warrior if they leave the battlefield alive.  When you have lived as long as I have and seen the number of wars I have seen, the number of dead by your hand becomes a thing to mourn, not to celebrate,” Micah said sadly as he turned away.

Merric shot a stern look in Micah’s direction and followed after him.

Michael sat down once again and gestured for the others to do the same.  He could see by the looks on Pace’s and Mardak’s faces that they both felt ashamed.  “I hope you will forgive Lord Micah.  He lost someone close today,” Michael explained.

“It was not my intention to offend the Avari Lord,” Mardak replied sullenly.

“Nor mine,” Pace added.

“You have not offended Lord Micah.  He is simply saddened by the necessity of all the killing that has been done and is yet to come.  He does value valor on the battlefield,” Reek said in an attempt to put them at ease.

All of them watched the Avari Lord walk away.  Merric seemed to be giving him an earful, judging by the gesticulation of his hands as he kept pace beside Micah.

“His sadness is greater than any I have ever seen.  I hope one day he finds peace,” Dain whispered quietly as he watched Micah and Merric round a corner.

“That was not what they needed to hear before a battle, Micah!  Especially not from the legendary Avari Lord!”  Merric said hotly.

“Should I have lied to them, Merric?  Should I have said that the more you kill the greater you become?  You know as well as I that is not the case,” Micah replied in an even tone.

“You know what I meant,” Merric snapped.

“I know that when this war is over a lot of the faces we see now will no longer be among the living.  They throw their lives away
on some misguided ideal of greatness.  All are given only one life and to lose it on the point of a sword is the greatest tragedy.”

“Damn
it, Micah, I don’t like the killing any more than you do; but we have been given little choice in the matter.”

“I know
, old friend.  That only makes it more disheartening.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mortow had
returned to his tent, but sleep was impossible after the dragon attack.  The number of dead had been higher than first thought.  The Weres were the hardest hit.  He still wasn’t sure of the exact number killed, but last count was over three thousand.  The trolls and ogres had only lost a couple of hundred each, which Mortow counted as a blessing considering they were the real warriors.  The Weres had done their job before the battle had even begun by taking the brunt of the attack.

All night was spent putting things
in the camp back in order and rounding up those that had fled during the attack.

It was near midday
when Mortow realized he was hungry.  “Hagan,” Mortow called to the troll.

Hagan came running out of Mortow’s tent where he
'd been packing things away.  There wasn't much to pack, but Hagan was meticulous about making sure nothing was left behind or broken on the march.  “Yes, Magika?”

“Bring me some food,” Mortow instructed
, then turned to watch a large group coming toward him.

Hagan bowed and took off for the cooking tents.

Mortow frowned as he observed the group.  He did not know the troll walking in front, but he had seen him before.

The group stopped a respectful distance away
, and the leader bowed before coming nearer.  “Magika, we have heard rumors that the enemy is in control of the dragons that attacked us last night.  Is this true?” The troll asked.

Mortow regarded him with a displeased look and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.
  “It is impossible to say.  Does the prospect that it is true disturb you?”  Mortow asked.

“I am not afraid to say it does, Magika.  I have seen one of those beasts destroy an entire village.  How can we fight such a thing?”

“The same way you fight any flying thing; you bring it down to the ground and inflict damage upon it until it no longer moves.”

“
We have no means to bring one to the ground.  Our arrows and spears cannot pierce their hides nor their wings. Even if we could bring one down, it would kill countless numbers before we could even chip a scale.”

“Fear not
. I have plans for the dragons, if the need arises,” Mortow said, his voice heavy with condescension as he waved a dismissive hand at the group.

The troll bowed and backed away, clearly unsatisfied with the discussion
, yet unwilling to question Mortow further.

As the group left
, Hagan came back with a plate in one hand and a cup in the other.  He paused until Mortow looked his way.  “You wish to eat in your tent, Magika?”

“Yes
, just set it on the table then bring Oreg to me,” Mortow commanded.  He then turned to survey the army once more.

Hagan bowed and entered the tent
.  A few moments later, he emerged and walked off to find the ogre chieftain.  He, like any troll, was loath to be around an ogre, let alone talk with one; but Hagan had found Oreg to be interesting.  Since Mortow had chosen him and his brother to aid the wizard, Hagan had to deal with ogres, humans and Weres.  Hagan had discovered that many of the values his people held in high regard were likewise regarded by the humans and ogres.

Oreg was highly respected among his kind for his courage and skill in battle.  This was something Hagan could understand
.  Additionally, the big ogre did not look down on him for his size.  It took Hagan over fifteen minutes to find Oreg.  The looks the ogres gave him as he moved through their camp made Hagan smile.  Here, he was viewed with suspicion, not the contempt he saw on the faces of his own people when he walked among them.

Oreg was talking with two other ogres when Hagan finally found him.
  He waited a short distance away until Oreg finished speaking and then cleared his throat.

Oreg turned at the sound and frowned slightly at seeing the troll standing there.
  “Yes, Hagan, what is it?”

“Mortow requests that you meet him at his tent, Chieftain,” Hagan said politely.

Hearing the troll address him in such a respectful way surprised Oreg, and his mouth hung open slightly.

Hagan bowed and gestured for Oreg to follow him.

“Lead on,” Oreg replied.

When they reached Mortow’s tent, Hagan stopped and started to call out
, but was cut short by Mortow.

“Show Oreg in, Hagan.”

Hagan held the tent flap aside and bowed to Oreg.  Even though Mortow’s tent was very tall, Oreg nearly had to fold himself in half to walk through the entrance.  Once inside, he had to drop to one knee and hunch over to keep from hitting his head on the tent roof.

Mortow was standing off to the side with a huge mound of what appeared to be netting.

“Magika?”

“I have a task for you if the dragons make an appearance,” Mortow replied.

Oreg raised an eyebrow at the statement, but remained silent.

Mortow placed his right hand on the netting and continued.
  “These nets have been weighted and I have strengthened the fibers to hold against considerable strain.  If the dragons are indeed under Merric’s command, have your men throw the nets to entangle the dragon’s wings,” Mortow explained.

“Magika, do you expect us to kill these dragons if your netting brings them down?”  Oreg asked trying to hide his surprise.

“Fear not. I am well aware of the difficulty in killing dragons.  Just get them out of the sky so they cannot attack us from above, and I will take care of the rest,” Mortow replied with a wicked grin.

“As you command, Magika,” Oreg said, th
e relief clearly visible in his eyes.

Dragons could snap even his people in half with a single bite.  If they showed up again
, he would be hard pressed to keep even the most stout hearted of his warriors from fleeing.  Knowing Mortow would take care of the dragons should ease their fears.  No one doubted Mortow’s power, and Oreg had never known the wizard to boast.  If he said he would take care of them, then he would.

“Are your men ready to move out?”  Mortow asked as he walked from the tent.

Oreg crawled out behind him and stood up, stretching his back and shoulders.  “Aye, ready and eager.  They know this is the last time we camp.  At the end of the next march, we fight,” Oreg said with a fierce gleam in his eyes.  He was as eager as his men.

“Then break camp.  We march in an hour
.  By this time tomorrow, Kantwell and her allies will be kneeling at our feet.”

Rand had left Fire a good distance
behind.  He had to swing pretty far to the south to keep the wind from giving away his position.  Mortow’s army was massive and, not for the first time, he was glad he was a scout and not part of the infantry.  This time though, he would fight alongside Salic.  The thought made his stomach churn.  He was no warrior, but Salic would require every able body if they were to stand a chance.

Rand shook his head.  He wasn’t sure they actually had a chance against
such vast numbers.  He saw increased movement in the camp and saw the tell-tale signs of camp being broken.  Rand could not believe they were preparing to march this late in the day.  They would only have maybe four or five hours of light before they would have to make camp again.  Or would they?  Rand shivered and began to carefully make his way back to Fire.  Salic needed to know that the attack could come during the night.

There was a loud angry snort from up ahead where Rand had left Fire
.  It was immediately followed by a bellow from Fire.  Rand broke into a run, all thoughts of stealth abandoned in his concern for Fire.  As he topped a small rise, he could see three wolves circling Fire.  Rand did not even slow. He drew his sword and yelled, trying to draw the wolves' attention away from Fire as he raced down the hill.

One of the wolves did look
Rand's way, and it was the last thing it would ever do.  Fire reared and struck out with a steel shod hoof, caving in the side of the wolf’s head.  One of the others, seeing an opening, jumped onto Fire’s back and sank its fangs into the horse's neck.

Screaming in pain, Fire reared again
.  Rand could tell that was what the last wolf had been waiting for as it lunged at Fire’s exposed throat.  Time seemed to come to a halt.  Fire was up on his hind legs, front hooves moving, painfully slow, to strike.  The lunging wolf hung in mid-air.  It was as if they had all turned to statues.

T
hen Rand’s vision exploded in red.  He was unsure how it happened, but suddenly, he was between the lunging wolf and Fire.  His sword was already descending from an overhand swing.  The blade hit the wolf’s head so hard it shattered on impact.  Rand barely noticed as he turned and grabbed the last wolf’s tail, though it maintained its hold on Fire’s neck.  As Fire slowly came back down, Rand yanked the wolf’s tail and pulled himself up, grabbing a handful of skin and fur at the wolf’s throat.  Rand twisted his fist full of skin and landed a hammer blow, with the hilt of his shattered sword, on the base of the wolf’s skull.

His vision swam and something heavy was lying on his chest.  Rand blinked his eyes several times trying to clear the red haze that obscured his vision.
  He wiped across his eyes with the back of his hand.  While his vision cleared a bit, Rand noticed his hand was covered in blood.  He also noticed the hilt of his sword still clasped in his right hand.  The blade had been broken a couple inches from the cross guard.

The weight on his chest was making it hard to draw a breath.  He looked and saw a naked man draped across him.  Rand rolled the body off and climbed shakily to his feet.  He staggered
, but Fire moved in front of him, allowing him to grab the saddle and steady himself.

Rand took a deep breath and turned his attention to Fire.  The bite on the back of Fire’s neck looked bad.  Grabbing his water skin
, he poured a good amount on the wound and carefully wiped around it.  Once the blood was cleaned away, the wound turned out not to be as bad as it had seemed.  The bite was deep, but there was no tearing and the blood flowing from it was not extreme.  Rand patted the horses neck then reached around and took a hold of the bridle.  He coaxed Fire to raise his head and lower it then moved from left to right.  The muscle seemed surprisingly intact.  Rand pulled Fire’s head down and placed his forehead against his friends.

“I thought I had lost you
, boy.”

Fire nickered and nudged Rand away
, raising his head once again.

“Yes, I should know better.  It will take more than a couple of wolves to best the mighty Fire,” Rand said
, chuckling as he poured water once again on the bite.

He had let the blood flow to help clean out the wound
, but now he needed to bind it. Rand pulled down his saddle bags and quickly selected a few herbs from one of the pouches.  He rubbed one of them on to the bite and held the other one out for Fire to eat.  Fire sniffed the leaves then took them and began to chew.  Rand cut a strip from his blanket and wrapped it around Fire’s neck, covering the wound, and tied it snugly.  He then cut a few smaller pieces and folded them into squares and slid them under the wrap directly over the bite on both sides of Fire’s neck.

“I’m afraid that is the best I can do for now.”
  Rand stowed his broken sword in his saddle bag and pulled out a small hatchet used for cutting firewood.  He looked distastefully at the three bodies and then started the grisly task of severing their heads and he wretched as he swung several times at the nearest one.  It took what seemed like an hour to decapitate the three corpses, though in reality it was no more than a few minutes.  Rand rose from the last one and averted his eyes from the grizzly scene, trying not to let his stomach rebel.

He
took Fire’s reigns and began leading him in the direction of the pass at a steady jog.  “This is not going to be fast enough, boy.  I am sorry, but we are going to have to run.”

Rand raised himself into the saddle, careful not to disturb the binding and shook the reigns.  Fire didn’t seem to need any coaxing to leave the place of the attack
.  He took off at a dead run so abruptly, Rand almost lost his seat.  Rand recovered and leaned over Fire’s neck as the horse lengthened its stride.  For a few moments, he smiled, thinking of how lucky they were to have survived the attack.  Rand’s smile faded as he tried to recall the actual fight.  He remembered nothing except the color red.

Karg was walking among his men giving a nod here or a grunt there, making his presence known.  His people viewed leadership differently than the humans.  Ogre leaders were expected to do more than the average ogre.  They were expected to lead not
only by command, but also by action.  Karg would be the first into battle and, the Great One willing, the last to leave it.  Chieftains were not figureheads.  They were examples to follow.

Karg smiled at the thought of the coming battle.  He had been born to war and in battle he found
the calm center within himself.  Still smiling, Karg looked out onto the swamp.  The sun had set behind the mountains, however, it was still light enough to see.  The sight of a horseman coming at full speed caught his eye.