C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 10

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.25T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Up the mountain they flew, chased by the distant howling of bargheist hounds and the war-horns of the Bloodaxe clan. Grass and Conifers gave way to snow and slate. As the drifts deepened, Retaak took the lead, using his bulk to plow through for the rest of his band. Only Uyage kept to her own path, as nimble as a goat.

“We need to throw them off our trail,” shouted Uyage, pacing alongside Retaak.

“Can you shoot the hounds?” asked Uyaashie, loping behind them, her breath steaming in the cold.

“A waste of arrows,” proclaimed Ashoktyaar, using his long arms to help keep up with the faster members of the band. “Bargheist hounds take a lot of killin’ and wounding them only encourages them.”

“They’re a lot like trolls in that regard,” quipped Kuzat.

“That they are,” agreed Ashoktyaar with a grin.

“Make for the narrows,” said Retaak.

Uyage, loyal as ever, sped off across the snow, barely leaving a trace on the powder. Retaak kept running, but controlled his pace. The air was thinner here.

“Conserve your energy, in case we have to fight,” said Retaak.

“Fighting would be madness,” said Uyaashie.

“True,” agreed Retaak. “But surrendering to the Blood Axes would be much worse. Whoever is paying them will wipe us from the face of Bemachhorak. I doubt even Wechegak could save you from them. Better to rot in the maggot pits than disappear and be forgotten. If we have to fight, at least we stand some chance if we still have strength to lift a blade.”

“We could paint this mountain red and be remembered for that!” growled Ashoktyaar.

“I would rather be remembered as being rich and crafty and dying in the arms of a beautiful woman,” laughed Kuzat.

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They ran and ran, stopping only briefly to let the slower Ashoktyaar catch up. The air grew colder and thinner, but they endured and kept moving, keeping ahead of the Bloodaxes.

After what seemed like a very long time, Retaak spotted the narrows, a deep series of crevasses that served as a passage through this part of the mountains. The sight of the wedge that led into them was so welcome that it lifted his thoughts. It was dangerous, but the terrain was perfect for fighting when outnumbered and, with cunning, for escaping their pursuers.

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“You want to cause an avalanche in here? on purpose?” asked Uyage.

Avalanches in the narrows were greatly feared by those venturing through them. Ice build up, snow, mud, and even unstable eroded rock contributed to the chances. Fortunately they tended to be fairly self contained due to the terrain.

“How would we control it?” asked Ashoktyaar.

“I was thinking of climbing to the top and starting it somehow,” said Retaak, trying to sound confident.

“Maybe the sounds of the hounds howling will bring the place down,” said Kuzat, looking around the sides of the crevasse, honeycombed with tunnels, big and small. As if in answer, a howl echoed through the rocks.

“Too late,” muttered Ashoktyaar. “Time to get our blades wet.”

“Wait, I have something that could work,” said Uyaashie, holding up a sphere the size of an apple that swirled with blue and orange liquid.

“A dwarven mining charge,” said Kuzat, whistling.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.24T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Retaak peered across the fire at Uyaashie. Like most Hobs she was sharp-featured, almost elf-like in some ways. The large round glasses that she wore, however, gave her a bookish, almost disarming look.

“Ask,” he said, simply, knowing that it was better to satisfy her curiosity than risk ruining what little cohesion the band had already gained.

“I have heard about you, read about you… is it really true that you have been broken more than any living Spawn?”

“It is,” said Retaak. “At least that is what Waachear tells me.”

“Did you know that Waachear has been offered the position of Master of Pain twice, and refused both times?”

“I have not. What does that have to do with me?”

“Some say that as a new Master of Pain he would have to leave the Great Warrens, and thus lose his chance to break you further…”

“… or finish me when that Dread Lord allows it.”

“Maybe so,” said Uyaashie, smiling. “You fascinate me, Retaak Wildborn. Even now, you rebel against the Dread Lord’s way. He created us. Why would you reject his way?”

Retaak regarded Uyaashie for a moment; her tone was conversational but the way that she cut to the heart of his thinking put him on edge. He had no way of knowing what she knew, and understood less about her character than she did his. After all, she was Wechegak’s agent, wasn’t she?

“I was born in the wild,” said Retaak, looking her in the eye. “I knew my father and my mother at a young age in a way that many spawn never do. When this Dread Lord arose, we were compelled by the Kaasukak to come to Bemachorak and join his legions, but I still remember life in the wilds. I knew freedom, Uyaashie. I cannot explain it to you beyond that, any more than I could to Waachear and his blades.”\

“But he created us,” began Uyaashie.

Retaak held up his hand and said, “I have answered your question, friend Uyaashie. I have no desire to debate theology with you. We need to focus on our–”

A trilling whistle, just loud enough for them to hear, signaled an alert. None of the band was asleep yet, and so they all took up defensive positions until Uyage stole into camp. The Orc woman, bow strung and in hand, crossed the camp to Retaak.

“The Bloody Axe has followed us,” she said.  “We must make haste and leave.”

“I thought you said you covered our trail,” accused Uyaashie.

“I covered our physical trail and left a false scent trail,” Uyage snapped back. “They are tracking us by other means.”

“How many are there?” asked Ashoktyaar, running a finger along one of his blades.

“Too many,” said Uyage, “Come look for yourselves, you can see their torches down the slope from the overhang.”

She led them to a rocky outcropping and pointed out into the dark below them. At first Retaak saw nothing, but after a moment he saw tiny sparks of light between them and the distant flames of the Dread Lord’s towers. As he focused on them, Retaak realized what he was seeing.

“There must be hundreds of them,” said Kuzat, ears twitching. “They are using Bargest-hounds to track us. I can hear them now.”

Uyage swore. Bargest-hounds were nearly impossible to foil. They were also rare and hard to control; someone wanted them dead.

“Gather your things,” said Retaak grimly. “We move.”

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.23T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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They left Ushochhushi’s in a daze, still reeling from the Kaasukak oath. Their patron was eager to see them off to Oystkivat; the attack would soon commence and he wanted this prisoner.

Uyaashie led them through another smuggler’s tunnel as they left the Fellspawn warrens, helping them escape the notice of their enemies. Once they were in the mountains, surrounded by trees and rock, Uyage took over the lead; there was no better pathfinder in Bemachhorak.

Through the first day, there was very little talk. Only Ashoktyaar seemed unaffected by the Kaasukak. Retaak was in a foul mood; he hated the compulsion with a burning intensity and bowing to Ushochhushi had taken much from him. he hoped to repay the indignity in blood, one day.

Gradually his temper eased and his mind turned to the mission. What did Ushochhushi want with this elf?  He doubted it was pure lust that motivated the crafty Seneschal, despite the two elf slave women that attended him. There was something very valuable about this Albyursia Pástyamóz; to the spawn value equated to strength as often as it did wealth. Perhaps she knew some kind of magic that Ushochhushi sought.

Part of the mystery surrounding their quarry was why she was imprisoned by her fellow elves; what kind of power or information did she have that would place her at odds with her own kin in a time of war. Knowing Ushochhushi she was likely a traitor or spy of some sort; the Seneschal was good at turning others to his ends. While elves were not subject to Kassukak, their frail bodies were easily broken by the seasoned torturers of Bemachhorak. Retaak’s thoughts took a dark turn at this, remembering his own time under Waachear’s cruel knife.

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They climbed out and away from the Fellspawn Warrens and by nightfall even the great burning fires that illuminated the Iron Towers of the Dread Lord’s palace were distant enough that they were almost lost among the stars.

Retaak and the others made camp with swift efficiency. Uyage built a small fire and kept in shrouded so it would not be visible from far away. Ashoktyaar busied himself gathering wood and wild mushrooms while Uyaashie and Kuzat set up the small tents that would protect them from the wind and cold.

Retaak made stew, cooking it slowly over the fire, waiting until the others were finished with their tasks. It was a thick, hearty blend of meat, tubers, and mushrooms, made with the kind of spices preferred by those from the low warrens.

A growling from nearby caused Retaak’s hand to fly to his axe, at least until he realized that it was just Uyaashie’s stomach rumbling.

“It smells delicious,” she said, sitting down on a rock beside him.

“It is a recipe that I have perfected on many long journeys,” answered Retaak. “It is thick enough to keep you warm, nourishing enough to keep you going, and light enough for me to carry a good supply.”

Uyaashie smiled. “I have some questions for you before the others return, Retaak.”

…

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.22T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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As the Seneschal of the Dread Lord, Ushochhushi had Kaasukak, which could force obedience in any of The Spawn, or even kill them. Kaasukak was the bane of Retaak’s existence, the chain which bound him eternally to The Spawn even if he had been born free of it.

Among the many used of Kaasukak were oaths. An Oath of this kind could bind a Spawn to silence or force them to commit to a particular course of action. Resisting the oath usually meant pain and death, although there were those who were strong enough to overcome it. Many of the Dread Lord’s favoured servants had broken the bonds of their former masters and taken their place, including some said The Dark Lord himself.

Ushochhushi rose, curved swords scabbarded in easy reach. “Kneel, my… agents,” he intoned, raising his long arms.

They knelt. Retaak last of all.

“I, Ushochhushi, Seneschal of Bemachhorak invoke the power of the Dread Lords,” he said, voice raising. “Witness this oath and bind Retaak, Uyage, Ashoktyaar, Kuzat, and Uyaashie to me.”

Retaak felt it then, a tugging in his mind, as unmistakable as it was repulsive to him. Some spawn welcomed Kaasukak, but Retaak could not accept the invisible leash. He fought against it instinctively, at first, and the familiar burning pain that came with trying to thwart it washed over him.

Ushochhushi grinned and the pain intensified as they locked wills.

But Retaak mastered his own desire to rebel, looking down with feigned meekness and submitting to the Seneschal’s Kaasukak. Ushochhushi, surprised at first, continued, his words resonating in the five spawn kneeling before him.

“You will perform the task that I ask of you. Infiltrate the fortress Greyrock in Elf settlement of Oystkivat . Use Gurgumaar’s attack to hide your passage as you can. Recover the prisoner named Albyursia Pástyamóz, a she-elf who is being held in the dungeons. Bring her to the tower Uzagwaar and deliver her to me alive and unspoiled. Speak nothing of this and accomplish this task at all costs. Do you obey?”

“We obey.” they spoke in unison. The words felt dragged forth from Retaak, like some part of him pulled forth by Waachear’s cruel tongs.

The weight of the oath fell upon them then, tightening like the coils of a serpent and crushing them like an avalanche. Retaak felt the wind driven from him and for a moment he felt nothing else, save for the power of Kaasukak, the doom of his kind, and the struggle to breathe again.

When he could see again, Retaak saw Ushochhushi standing over them, smiling. His elf slaves were at his side again, bearing water for his new agents.

The oath was made.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.21T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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They were ushered into Ushochhushi’s presence by the same elven slave women, dressed to display their flesh and their master’s status. Retaak tried to keep his feelings hidden, but his lip curled.

“Do my pets not please you Retaak?” asked Ushochhushi, dressed in fine armour and flanked by two pairs of armed orcs with steely eyes and many battle scars.

At the Seneschal’s question all of the crew save Ashoktyaar bristled, sensing the tension between the two of them.

Retaak knelt, hating how it felt, and answered: “You know well, Lord, that I believe all thinking beings should be free. Even these elves, who are the enemies of our people. Nothing has changed. But while I serve you, it would be dishonourable to speak ill of you or your slaves and so I… I… beg your mercy to allow this to serve as an answer to your question, Seneschal.”

The guards flanking the Seneschal stared daggers at Retaak. His words amounted to blasphemy in the eyes of most Spawn, going against the direct teachings of the Dread Lords. Uyaashie made a disapproving sound.

Ushochhushi laughed. “I will have to send my compliments to Waachear; he finally seems to have rasped some of your rougher edges off. How many times have you been broken, old friend?”

“I do not recall,” answered Retaak, struggling to keep his anger in check. The Seneschal was testing him on purpose.

“Of course not,” answered Ushochhushi. “Nine times. If you were to add up all of the days that you had spent in The places of pain here and elsewhere in Bemachhorak it would be over five years of your life Retaak. Five years, lost to your own stubbornness. Tsk tsk tsk. But you have learned and now you are worthy to serve. The Dread Lord will be pleased. Let us see who else you have brought me.”

“Uyage, of course,” he said. Retaak heard her kneel, showing the Seneschal proper deference.  “You are known to be keen of eye and very skilled with the bow, a fine asset who will see you through the wilds swiftly and surely.”

“Thank you, Lord,” said Uyage, voice even. Ushochhushi moved on, his boots clattering on the wood.

“Ashoktyaar…” Ushochhushi paused, examining the Troll. “An instrument with a single purpose.”

“Thanks, Boss,” said Ashoktyaar, interrupting the Seneschal. The guards bristled at such familiarity, but Ushochhushi merely shrugged and moved on.

“Uyaashie… you are known to me as a servant of Wechegak,” said Ushochhushi. “I am surprised that he would loan a prized asset to one such as Retaak.”

“My master was seeking to please someone other than Retaak,” said Uyaashie smoothly.

“Hmmm, he has,” returned the Seneschal. “Your skills breaking into places is without peer and you know a little magic as well. Good. That leaves Kuzat.”

“Ready to serve, Lord,” answered Kuzat.

“Are you able to hide a person’s appearance and true nature, Kuzat?”

“With some help, yes,” answered Kuzat.

“Excellent, that solves some problems,” said Ushochhushi. “This is a good team Retaak, I am pleased. “Before we discuss anything further, it is time for the oaths to be spoken.”

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Teaser Tuesday

It is Tuesday, and time for a teaser. This week, a small taste of my ninth Domains of the Chosen novel, Bloodlust: War!

“NOSGOTH!” Valdarr bellowed with the others as they pushed up the hill. His axe was yet unblooded, and he was eager to win glory in the fray. One could not lead the Nosgoth with a clean weapon. But as the others surged around him, something drew his attention away from the push. With ears as keen as his bond-mate, the great wolf, Moonfang, Valdarr heard the distant shouts and cries of the Deomen, even over the din of the clash ahead of them.

He turned from the fray to see the gleaming ranks of Chosen Giselle’s juggernauts emerging from the forest to the south. They were just forming up, obviously having been discovered by the Deomen. However, with a clear line from their position to the south into the flank of the Nosgoth, any charge by the massive metal automatons would be devastating. A shiver went down his spine as he assessed their numbers.

Ahead of him the Nosgoth surged into and around the Homeguard, retinue of Chosen Sadira. Valdarr respected them and had little desire to waste his men against their glaives until he could maximize his chances. The Homeguard had taken up a circular formation atop the steep hill, intent on preventing the Nosgoth from wrapping around the Krassian lines and hitting them from behind. He could see the Chosen and her Hearthbound among them.

The Nosgoth massively outnumbered the Krassians but the terrain negated much of their advantage. Still, the sheer weight of numbers would tell eventually. Either the Nosgoth would break the Homeguard formation or they would break through around the steep hill and hit the main line from behind.

Except now he saw that the Krassians were at least partially ready for the strategy, with Chosen Giselle planning to hit the Nosgoth from a very ugly angle.

“Thank the gods for Giitan,” he muttered, knowing how a charge by the Juggernauts into a committed flank would have spelled doom to his people.

Moonfang answered his silent call. Her muzzle was red with blood and Diliria sat astride the great wolf, grinning and holding one of her deadly concoctions. For once, Moonfang did not seem to mind Diliria’s presence.

“The Krassians come on metal beasts,” Valdarr said, nodding to the Juggernauts in the distance, which would be just barely visible to normal eyes from this vantage. “They will drive into our flank before we can overwhelm these fools at the top of the hill.”

“That’s Chosen Giselle and her retinue,” said Diliria. “We should withdraw before they catch us off guard.”

 “No,” said Valdarr. “I will not leave my kinsmen to bear the brunt of that charge. Not even my own warband would ever trust me after that. How is the spell that you and Milkeye seeded among our allies working?”

“Well enough that I would hate to waste it by activating it early, Valdarr,” said Diliria, eyes gleaming dangerously.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.20T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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“We must ascend to the Twilight Warrens with care, brethren,” said Retaak, assembling his little band in a secluded side passage once they left the confines of The Maze. Uyaashie’s eyes narrowed momentarily at his use of the word ‘brethren’, but the others were used to his mannerisms. “Someone has hired The Bloody Axe clan to kill me, and Gurgumaar’s men might be after me as well.”

Ashoktyaar grinned. “Could we fight our way past them?”

“I think that would irritate our patron,” answered Uyage, although her lips threatened to curl into a smile.

“Well, what about killing a group of them as a warning to the others?” returned the Troll, trying to sound reasonable, even as his finger tapped the handle of one of his cleaver, impatiently. Ashoktyaar was a berserker, and did not fear pain, nor death.

“No, Ashoktyaar-tat, the clans of the upper reaches would drown even you in bodies rather than admit defeat. Unlike the gangs and small clans they can afford to lose warriors. Status means more to them; it is a long fall back to the Lower Warrens.”

“If it is stealth you seek, Retaak, I know of a way,” said Uyaashie. “There is a route the Wachegak used to use for smuggling goods. Few know of it now.”

“Lead on.”

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The smuggler’s route was dark, dusty, and nearly as cramped and winding as the maze. They encountered nothing on their ascent, and spoke little, for Uyaashie counselled them that the walls were thin and close to populous caverns in many places.

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They emerged in a dark cavern. The place smelled of old blood and charred wood.

Uyage sniffed. “This smuggling operation did not end well.”

“The Eyes of Dread do not take kindly to attempts to bribe them,” shrugged Uyaashie. “They gave up trying to watch this route months ago.”

“Can you be sure?” asked Uyage, showing her suspicion.

“Not perfectly certain,” answered Uyaashie dismissively. “But I saw value in having a route like this for my use, and so I checked as often as I could over the last two years. As I said, it has been clear for months, except for a fell-mite or two.”

Fell-mites were creatures the size of an Orcs head that lived in the Warrens. They looked like insects or spiders and had a savage bite.

“Good,” said Retaak, cutting off any further argument. “We need to find an escort to Ushochhushi’s quarters. Wandering up here will get us killed.”

“That is if we are lucky,” said Kuzat dramatically. “The Eyes of Dread will do much worse than kill us, if they lay hands on intruders into their domains. They do not like Wildborn, as I recall.”

“They are hardly alone in that sentiment,” said Retaak. “Good Kuzat, you are swift and subtle, why don’t you see if you can find some of our Patron’s guards.”

“I can do better than that, Retaak,” said Kuzat, slicking back his hair, twisting his shirt and pants, and clapping his shoe together. He appeared now to be a good imitation of a servant wearing the Seneschal’s blue on gold colours and crossed-bladed heraldry.

“I’m not certain–” began Uyaashie.

“Eyes!” hissed Uyage, who was scouting down the corridor.

“It appears we have no choice,” said Retaak. “Lead on Kuzat-tat.”

Kuzat bowed with a flourish and then marched them out of the chamber and into the halls. A patrol of ten robed Eyes of Dread, mostly orcs and hobs with a single Troll towering above them, stopped and regarded them with suspicion.

Kuzat paid them little heed, marching past with supreme confidence. The Eyes of Dread watched them, but stood aside without challenging them. Retaak felt their gaze on his back as he followed. The discomfort lasted until they turned a corner.

“You impress me again,” said Uyaashie, smiling at Kuzat.

“I’ll try to make a habit of it,” said Kuzat, running a finger along a fine mustache that he had donned as part of his disguise.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.19T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Uyaashie watched intently as Kuzat the goblin told his tales, weaving a tapestry of shadows playing out on the chamber wall. He used only a small brass oil lamp and yet his umbral creations had a surprising texture and life to them. Soon even the cynical Hob who served Wachegak was entranced along with everyone watching. Only Uyage seemed unmoved.

Retaak knew that Kuzat had spotted him long before he and his crew came to stand at the back of the little crowd washing the Goblin. Ogres were rare in the Wormspiral and Retaak was a curiosity beyond even that. He had no doubt that even as they watched, runners would be bringing news of his whereabouts to the powerful and interested. Information was the currency of the truly powerful in warrens.

As they watched, Kuzat ended his shadow-puppet play to riotous applause. Smiling, he continued his performance, calling each of the children watching to him. As they arrived he produced small copper bits from behind their ears, out of their pockets, and even from the shoe of one laughing orc girl who ran back to her mother. Retaak nodded approvingly at the sight of this. In the Lower Warrens male and female mixed more freely and often kept their offspring with them; this seemed more natural to him, even if the Eyes of Dread and other cults insisted that only those raised Tuchoraayurusha would rise to their full glory in the eyes of the Dread Lord.

After the money was given out and the crowd dispersed, Kuzat made his way to Retaak.

“Dread Lord’s blessings on you, Retaak,” said the Goblin, looking up. His voice was rich and melodious, a well-honed instrument.

“Blessings on you as well,” said Retaak, rolling his eyes. Kuzat knew well that Retaak hated the religious observances of the Dread Lord.

“Uyage, it is good to see you,” Kuzat said to the Markswoman.

“I do see you,” said Uyage.

“You have not yet forgiven me, I see,” said Kuzat, seeming to droop with sadness.

“I do not forget,” said Uyage. “Were it not for Retaak, I would sell your hide to recoup my losses.”

“They started a alehouse together,” said Retaak to Ashoktyaar and Uyaashie. The troll shrugged and the Hob nodded sagely.

Kuzat nodded to Ashoktyaar who nodded back; the almost bow that was the most common way that spawn showed respect to their peers.

“And who is this?” asked Kuzat, looking up at Uyaashie.

“This is Uyaashie, one of Wechegak’s most skilled agents,” said Retaak. “Uyaashie, this is Kuzat, the Chaos weaver.”

Kuzat bowed deeply to Uyaashie. Uyage snorted.

“Chaos Weaver? what an interesting monicker,” said Uyaashie. “I must admit your shadow tricks were impressive, but what can yo do that that is–“

Uyaashie stopped. Retaak noticed that they were now speaking with a simulacrum, a doll that looked like it’s master and given a semblance of life through simple magic and misdirection.

“Now do you see why we need his help?” asked Retaak.

Uyaashie, eyes roaming the room until Kuzat appeared from behind a large clay pot, nodded. “Someone well versed in deception and distraction, I approve.”

“Good, let us hope that Ushochhushi feels the same when we report to him,” said Retaak.

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Tuesday Teaser

My new book, Bloodlust: War has been out for just over a month now, but this is the first teaser. Enjoy!

Beside them was a large contingent of Xernish Thrall-Warriors. These brutes had been chemically altered by the Xernish alchemists to have great strength and resistance to injury. They were ferocious in battle and utterly fearless, Noctinia knew from briefings, but they were also almost mindless. She shivered, hoping that the tactics that they thought them to use to gain an advantage over these brutes would be effective.

Within each band of Thrall-Warriors lurked a Thrall-Master in command. Not as physically imposing as most of their troops, many of them wore fantastically crafted and imposing plate armour with oversized pauldrons, spikes, and beastly helms.

As the Xernish took their positions a ripple went through the Legions. Noctinia saw that some of the Thrall-Warriors wore the same lorica that her comrades did; were the unfortunate remnants of the border Legions, forced to serve their enemies? She did not know if being a Xernish thrall was any worse than being animated by an enemy necromancer, but the men feared it greatly.

By contrast the other large contingent of the Wirn army, the Nosgoth, were loud and boisterous, hurling insults across the distance even though their words were drowned out by the din of more Wirn arriving. Noctinia was not as worried about the Nosgoth as the other two forces. Although they loved to fight, they were not as effective as any of their allies against fortifications. The beasts among their ranks were deadly but made for easy targets for the cannons on the wall behind them.

“Stand fast, Legionnaires!” at least her voice was still strong.

The enemy kept coming, their ranks seemingly without end. For the first time her young life, Noctinia diHortusdell saw an obstacle that she could not overcome by will or wile. As they poured into the open space beyond the river in their uncounted thousands, her excitement at joining her illustrious ancestors in glorious battle began to wane, replaced by cold calculation and bowel twisting fear.

And then the giants appeared on the horizon. At first Noctinia thought that her eyes were deceiving her and that she was just seeing some strange formation or war-machine, or magic. But the giants became clearer as she looked at them. Shouts from men on the palisades north and west heralded their arrival, their spears taller than trees.

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.18T)

My little man, Ronan, had his first day of junior kindergarten today. I am very proud of him.

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Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

“She’s skilled, I’ll give her that,” said Uyage as Uyaashie demonstrated her talents on a locked chest, swiftly opening and closing the mechanism with a tiny metal device that she inserted into the keyhole and twisted. The device made no noise, and left no mark that any of them could see. It took the nimble fingered Hob woman less than a three count to open the lock, every time.

For her part, Uyaashie ignored the other two, turning up her nose at both Ashoktyaar and Uyage. Retaak did not think it was racial animosity, even though Hobs often looked down on Orcs and Trolls, but rather a more personal kind of arrogance. Uyaashie knew that she was highly skilled and looked down on the others as her inferiors. He judged that she would come to appreciate the others once she saw them in action.

Uyage turned to Retaak. “Who is next on your list?”

“We have both fighting and infiltration,” he answered. “Even a little magic, it seems. I can think of only one being who would truly perfect the team.”

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With Wechegak’s blessing, travel in the Lower warrens was now relatively safe for them. Retaak was still wary that The Bloody Axe or some other group of mercenaries might try to kill him, but he was confident in his ability to evade them down here, in the place where he had grown up. He knew the Lower Warrens well, and enough of the people here respected him that he would know if large groups of armed spawn sought him out.

Retaak led his little band past the Brownswamp and into a a honeycomb of tunnels called the Maze. The tunnels were cramped and he often had to stoop, making him feel unpleasantly closed in. There were many side passages, and of these over half Retaak would not fit in. The Maze gained its name for the difficulty of navigating here.

The Maze was not entirely unpleasant though, Retaak’s heard laughter and singing, and his nose caught the scent of delicious spiced meat. The cuisine in The Maze was the spiciest in all of the Fellspawn Warrens. 

“Who are we looking for?” asked Uyaashie.

“A goblin friend of mine,” said Retaak. “Kuzat”

Uyage grunted disapprovingly, as was her way. She was not quick to trust at the best of times, and Kuzat was too strange for her liking.

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Kuazt lurked in a part of The Maze called the Wormspiral where the tunnels twested around leading to a wide open area that acted as a gathering place for the local spawn. Retaak smelled the place before he found his way to it; like most of the Lower Warrens, the rare public spaces in The Maze were dominated by gardens of carefully tended fungi and deepflowers that thrived in sunless areas.

Kuzat was easy enough to find. He was putting on a show for a small crowd, creating shadows that danced and cavorted on the wall.

“What good is he?” asked Uyaashie, raising a brow.

“You’ll see soon enough,” answered Retaak.

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