C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 5

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.69T)

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.

<>

Deathstalkers were rightfully feared throughout Bemachhorak. Many of the greatest Fellspawn had met their end pierced by the arrows or blades of the battle man elven warriors. They spent lifetimes perfecting their skills.

Retaak watched as another arrow blossomed from his ‘corpse’. So far the elf seemed to be fooled, but the tangle of branches wearing his armour would not fool the Deathstalker when they closed. It had been difficult to get out of the garment and drape it across the limbs of his hiding place, but it had saved him. The elf had found a tree or a rise nearby, an angle from which they could fire arrows into his hiding place.

The Ogre hid nearby in the tree, ready to drop on his enemy when they came to check on the body. He was hoping the elf’s arrogance would bring them close. Deathstalkers were fearless and were known to throw themselves into battle with abandon. That kind of confidence could be turned against them.

Retaak smiled at the thought. He, too, could be overconfident. But he could not avoid this fight and if he got his hands on the elf, his superior strength would ensure victory.

No more arrows came. He waited. The sun moved slowly overhead. Birds chirped in the distance. He heard movement. Saw nothing. Wondered if his quarry was not coming. Then he felt the impact of an arrow right through his side. He lost his balance and fell from the tree. His landing was merciful at least, soft earth and pine needles.

Retaak stood keenly aware that there was nowhere to hide within easy reach. He expected death to come in the form of more arrows, but none came. The arrow in his side throbbed.

“I won’t waste any more on you, souzoej,” said a voice in nearly perfect Diguti.

Retaak turned. Before him stood a tall elf, dressed in the black leathers of a Deathstalker. A quiver hung hung on his shoulder, plenty of arrows still showing.

“Surprised that en elf knows your language?” the elf smiled, perfect teeth flashing. Retaak wondered for a moment if he was delirious. “I study my enemies, both their fighting techniques and their culture. That knowledge helps me to kill, souzoej.”

“Then why not finish me?” he asked.

“A runt like you could never challenge me,” said the Deathstalker, drawing a long blade. “I have killed full grown ogres without a scratch. Why waste another arrow on you?”

Retaak shook his head. Perhaps fortune had smiled on him after all.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.68T)

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.

<>

Retaak stared at the arrow in surprise for just a heartbeat. In that time a second pierced his shoulder armour and into the flesh underneath with a discernible ‘thwak’. This spurred him to seek cover behind the closest tree thick enough to hide his bulk. As he moved he felt the wind of another arrow just behind his neck. Heart pounding, he slid last few feet along the rough ground, slamming into the tree.

Breathing hard, Retaak took stock of his wounds. The arrow in his arm had penetrated right through, but did not seem to have hit any blood vessels. The one in his shoulder was close enough that had it gone deeper it might have his his heart. an elf.

The shafts were black and cut perfectly straight with burgundy fletching and sharp, cutting heads. They were not barbed, but they were no hunting arrows. He was being tracked by a warrior. The size of the arrow as well as the craftsmanship indicated an elvish foe. A thrill went up Retaak’s spine as he realized that only one type of elf would have been able to track them through The Desolation of Karniloth: A Deathseeker!

Deadliest of the Elven warriors, Deathseekers were feared for their skill with bow and blade. Ushochhushi had first come to the Dread Lord’s notice by besting one in single combat; a feat that few Fellspawn could boast of. Retaak would gain considerable fame if he survived.

Looking around, he saw that his hiding place was well protected from side shots. Retaak had no idea how close the elf was, even. The attack had caught him entirely by surprise. He did not have a shield and only bore his falchion; the axe was still on the outcropping where he had dropped it. It may as well have been a hundred paces away with death waiting for his every move.

He needed a way to escape or make the elf come to him. If he remained here, as sheltered as it was, the Deathseeker would find a way to strike. It was best not to let his foe take their time.

The terrain was not to his advantage. Trees might block some of the elf’s shots, but the underbrush made stealth impossible for Retaak. There was no sneaking out of this. What could he do? Hiding seemed unlikely. The elf would not fall for false trails or decoys. Deathseekers were cunning hunters.

And then it came to him. There was a way that he could make the elf come to him. It was risky, but better than waiting to be picked off.

<>

Thralls moved to Friday

Title says it all. Ended up talking to Dan late late

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.67T)

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.

<>

Retaak knew the woods better than most Fellspawn. He still had some memories of his time in the wild. He could not remember the faces of his parents (Damn Waachear for taking that from him!) but he could still recall the words of his father, steady and strong, telling him of the plants and animals. He could also summon the voice of his mother, gentle with a core of iron, speaking of healing herbs and dangerous poisons.

He had taught everything that he knew to young Uyage; who then surpassed him in her own explorations. Infertile females were poorly treated in the Fellspawn Warrens, but once her survival was assured Uyage had used her outcast status to learn fieldcraft that rivaled the best scouts in all of the Dread Lord’s armies. He would have to take risks to catch up to her.

Searching, it did not take Retaak long to find some Shortroot and a few edible grubs. He curled his nose while eating them, even though he could almost hear his father’s voice, naming the characteristics of each. He savored that memory, fragmented as it was, instead of the sensation of crunching carapace.

Then he slung the equipment that he would need for his trek and started off on the path that would take him to the Fellspawn Warrens and Ushochhushi before Uyage could deliver Albyursia to him.

Even that thought brought a lance of pain, like being stabbed below his shoulder blade. Kaasukaak could kill, and it was best not to think of going against Ushochhushi’s will while he was under the man’s compulsion.

Retaak rushed through the woods, careful to keep himself oriented toward the looming peaks. Few forest creatures would pick a fight with an ogre, and almost all of those were easy to avoid. He was taking some risk that he might blunder into a bear with its kill, or catch the attention of a drake, but it was acceptable.

He moved swiftly and without pause, driven by thoughts of Albyursia. She did not deserve whatever grim fate Ushochhushi wanted her for. That though ended with him having to pause, overwhelmed by a sudden migraine. He shook his head, fighting against those invisible shackles until the feeling passed. Then he stood, took a deep breath and began to run again.

The sun was high overhead now, well past midday, but under the trees it was cool. Retaak kept running, trying to focus his thoughts on the task ahead, and keep them from straying to anything that might invoke the sting of his compelling.

He stopped and ate the Shortroot as the sun began to dip in the sky. He was headed up into the mountains and could see the whole of the forest he had run through stretching out below him from his perch on a rocky outcropping flanked by trees. It was a breathtaking sight.

He was taking a last look, getting ready to run until the deep night made it impossible, when he heard a thud and felt a sharp pain in his arm. He saw the shaft of an arrow there…

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.66T)

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.

<>

The sun winked at Retaak through the canopy of needles above. It was now mid-morning and his stomach was rumbling. As he exerted himself he could feel that the ropes were marginally looser than when he had begun. Uyage knew her knots well.

He pulled this way and that, familiarizing himself with which movements met with increasing tightness and which seemed to work against the knots. The he rolled his wrists as much as he could and pulled in the directions that seemed to work best.

Despair was not on Retaak’s mind as he worked his way out of his bonds; if Uyage intended to kill him, she would have slit his throat in his sleep rather than tie him up and leave him to starve. Ultimately he would escape, there was no doubt in his mind.

A rustle in the underbrush drew his attention and he looked up to see a mountain lion staring at him. The cat watched him intently. Retaak met the beast’s eyes. He remembered hearing from Uyage that it was not wise to stare at a predator, but he doubted that the beast wanted to eat him. He was too large and potentially dangerous and it had no way of knowing that he was bound.

The big cat, seemingly satisfied, turned and headed south into the the deeper woods. Retaak got a good look at it then. The cat was of a size that it would outweigh Uyaashie. It looked healthy and well-fed, with vibrant red and black spots on its pelt that would help blend in with certain kinds of underbrush. A beautiful beast, all told.

After the mountain lion left, Retaak pulled on the ropes with his full strength and felt some give,

“Won’t be long now,” he muttered.

He was not certain what he would do, what he could do when he caught up to the others. The Kaasukak would compel him to bring Albyursia to Ushochhushi. Could he fight the seneschal after that? He had many questions and no way of answering them, save through acting upon them and seeing what worked.

The Ogre redoubled his efforts and by noon the ropes were loose enough that he could slip a hand free. Even that little bit of extra freedom was triumphant. A moment later he slipped the other hand out and then quickly untied himself.

His stomach rumbled.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.65T)

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.

<>

He strained against the ropes, but he knew very well that it was hemp woven with spidersilk thread and it would take him some time to break free.

“This is for your own good,” said Uyage, kneeling down in front of Retaak as he struggled. “You will try to run off with Albyursia and bring the wrath of Ushochhushi down upon us all. I know your heart Retaak. I know you… like… this elf. But the Kaasukak cares little for your feelings, Wildborn.”

“She does not deserve whatever fate Ushochhushi has in store for her,” growled Retaak. “I’ve seen the way he treats his slaves.”

Uyage shrugged. “It is not the way of thralls to change the world Retaak. You have struggled against the way of the Dread Lord your entire life and it has gained you nothing but pain and misery. Ashoktyaar is dead. Ushochhushi holds us in thrall to him. We must bring her to him.”

“We could choose death,” said Retaak, looking away.

“You are brave enough to face that,” said Kuzat. “But would you ask us to do so as well?”

“I would,” said Uyaashie, wincing as the mere thought of breaking her compulsion caused a drop of blood to drip from her nose. “I would try… at least… I owe Albyursia my life. But I cannot ask others to face death and dishonour for my feelings.”

“They are not wrong,” said Albyursia, her face somber. “All things come to an end Retaak, and I have lived a very long time. It would be a shame for you to die trying to save me when you cannot. If it were in me to kill none of you could hold me, but murdering just to live is unconscionable to me now. Be at peace, mighty one, do not despair of me until I am well and truly gone. Fortune has a way of spoiling the best laid plans.”

She leaned close to him; her eyes, brilliant and bold, fixed his. Her mouth moved, very slightly, but he heard no words.

“Come on,” warned Uyage.

At that, Albyursia leaned in and kissed him. It was deep and warm and wonderful. When their lips parted he was tingling as if intoxicated.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I do,” said Albyursia. “I have closed too many doors, Retaak. There are so few left for me to go through.”

Her words hung silent between them. He did not understand their meaning. She did not explain.

The four of them, Uyage, Kuzat, Uyaashie, and Albyursia left him there, tied to a tree in the remains of their camp. Retaak knew that by the time he pulled free of the ropes he would have no chance of catching them.

But he knew where they were going.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.64T)

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.

<>

As they wound their way up into the mountains, away from the desolation of Karniloth, Retaak frequently found his gaze on Albyursia. Sometimes his gaze would linger, remembering the warmth of her or her earthen scent. Sometimes the elf woman would turn to face him, her face breaking into a guileless smile that set his heart to pounding. As they walked, following goat-paths and deer trails up the still gentle slopes, he fantasized about about escaping with her to some far-off place to live free together. These day-dreams were primarily sexual, but there was a deeper undercurrent as well; a desire to learn and explore and share.

The Kaazukak compelling him to bring her to Ushochhushi always interrupted these musings with a sharp pain in his head, but Retaak could not help himself. Albyursia stirred something in him, something more than primal desire. He did not care that she was an Elf, nor that she wielded magic.

The others noticed, of course. As they walked the next day, one of them was always between Retaak and Albyursia. He could not blame them. The Kaasukak was upon them as well, and failure to bring her to Ushochhushi would lead to death. The remembrance of the Dread Lord’s eyes and terrible tower sobered Retaak more than his pain. He needed to remember his friends. And yet, his eyes and his thoughts always returned to her.

Uyage frequently shot him dark looks. Retaak was sorry now that she had been dragged into this. The Orc scout followed him out of a sense filial loyalty from her younger days, even though her fundamental practicality made a lot of his decisions chafe with her personality.

Kuzat understood Retaak in this, he was certain, but his goblin friend was weary and wanted nothing more than to return to his home on the warrens. The trek through The Desolation had stolen something from him. He did not want the trouble that Retaak was bringing.

Uyaashie was quiet, still pale and a little weak from the poison. Retaak could not tell how she felt. She did owe her life to Albyursia, perhaps he could apply some persuasion there? With her on his side it might be easier to persuade Kuzat and outvote Uyage.

But for what? Deep down Retaak was not certain how he could throw off Ushochhushi’s compelling, not after his taste of the Dread Lord’s presence.

Still, there had to be a way.

<>

That night she came to him again, after the others were asleep. They talked quietly of the lands that Albyursia had traveled, of Ushochhushi and the Dread Lord, until she once again fell asleep curled against him. The blissful moment only came to an end when Uyage cleared her throat and relieved him of watch.

<>

“Do you think that will hold him?” asked Kuzat.

Retaak awoke, his head pounding, and tried to stand. His legs did not move and his arms refused to cooperate. Suddenly he realized that he was bound…

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.63T)

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.

<>

The night after the Dread Lord’s Kaasukak was troubled. Retaak woke fitfully several times. His dreams were filled with fiery eyes, and the terrible reminder of that Dread Presence. He hated the way it made him feel; weak and helpless, nothing more than quirky fodder for a master who care for nothing but his own power.

After the fifth time he started out of his sleep and he saw that Dawn was still far off, he moved to relieve Uyage of her watch. The Orc woman did not protest, which was a sign of her distress. It weighed heavily on all of them.

The forest around them was abuzz with night activity. Frogs sang a chorus from some distance away, indicating a pond or swamp nearby. Owls hunted mice while bats chased moths. He caught sight of a small forest drake taking flight, silhouette against the moon alarming him for a moment and he mistook it for a dragon. The night was peaceful and yet the Desolation to the East and the memory of the Dread Lord pressed on Retaak, filling him with self-loathing and fears that all his plans and dreams were as nothing before the cruel reality of what it was to be a Thrall of the Dread Lord.

When she came to him, appearing almost soundlessly, it somehow drove those thoughts away. The way she moved, letting her see him before she approached, the scent of her as she moved close. Something primal, pure and vital welled up in him, and he smiled as she sat down beside him. She did not laugh or mock him, or press him for what he was not ready to give. He felt her body against his as they watched the stars above and the opera of the forest at night unfold around them. He put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder, hair flowing over him.

It was perfect. The best kind of magic. When dawn came Retaak was refreshed, even if he had to endure hard looks from Uyage and Uyaashie.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.62T)

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.

<>

They did not have long to wait. As the last echoes of Karniloth’s wail died away in distant clefts, Retaak felt a pressure in his mind. A dread presence both familiar and yet chillingly alien seemed to envelop him, although the trees still swayed and the stars in the night sky still shone above. Like a tidal wave poised above a candle, that terrible soul could snuff them out in a heartbeat Even Retaak knew better than to struggle; now was not the time for him to test his will against the master of Bemechhorak, The Dread Lord himself.

As the Dread Lord turned his attention to them, Retaak could see that the others, save for Albyursia, were similarly afflicted. He caught flashes of their grimacing faces. Kuzat, Uyagi, even Uyasshie in her sleep. The rest of his mind’s eye was filled with images of the great iron tower where the Dread Lord resided and a pair of eyes floating in a field of fire. Those eyes scoured his soul, searching, weighing.

This was the Dread Lord, seventh to bear that name. His compelling, Kaasukak, was upon them. He could kill them. Few could resist. Retaak had always thought himself equal to the task, but the pressure of that terrible presence was like a mountain crushing his skull.

Retaak could hear the others moaning and he struggled. If the Dread Lord killed them… he felt helpless then, truly helpless in the face of a tyranny beyond his comprehension or ability to resist. Albyursia was saying something, chanting, but he could not hear the words.

The Dread Lord, those burning eyes, that tower that impaled the sky, sifted through Retaak’s mind, opening doors that had long since been shut to him. Almost casually, like he was browsing a book looking for interesting pictures, he sorted until he found what he was looking for. Images of Uyaashie, poisoned. Images of Albyursia, using magic to heal her. Retaak found himself choking, unable to breath.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the Dread Lord’s Kaasukak was gone. That Retaak felt the world come rushing back, filling the void that the Dread Lord had occupied. He was on his knees. Kuzak was curled into a ball and Uyagi had her head between her knees. Both of them breathed. Retaak looked to Uyaashie and, seeing the ashen pallor of her skin, feared the worst. But she breathed as he watched.

“Retaak, drink this,” said Albyursia, her sparkling eyes full of concern.

Water, clean and pure, and a hint of something else. It soothed his throat, calmed him.

“We’re alive,” muttered Kuzat.

“That was merely his curiosity,” answered Retaak. “He wondered how we riled Karniloth, and what it meant to him. He saw our actions through our own eyes. He saw our thoughts.”

“I’m surprised he let you live,” said Uyagi, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Retaak laughed, the others joined him. It banished the feeling, the remembrance of those dread eyes, for a time.

<>

Happy Birthday Isaac/Vacation

Thralls will return next week!

I am on vacation this week, trying to pound out the last Domains book before the end of the year.

meanwhile, happy Birthday to my darling, Isaac who turned two today. He is a grand little man and I love him.

[image error]