Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.80T)
Last week, I released my latest book, Bloodlust: The Reckoning!
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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 fairly grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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Retaak watched the stairs while the Elf that he had just freed set about releasing her fellows. They whispered in their own tongue, casting glances at him and at the bodies left in his wake. Down below the guards were carefully making their way up the stairs. Still, even if they were slow and thorough he would not make his way through the door to Retaak before they were upon him. The stairs at this level were very defensible; he might be able to kill as many as ten of them before he was overwhelmed.
He glared at the door.
“COME OUT WAACHEAR!” he roared. “Face me like a warrior!”
There was no response. The thick door remained closed. Retaak spat.
There was a little noise behind him. He turned to see the elves, six women and one man, staring at him. They were all armed now.
“Go,” he said to them. “You are free now. They will not be expecting you, so you should be able to hide and escape while they come for me.”
Their faces were hard. For a moment Retaak considered that freeing them might have been a mistake. They had every reason to hate Fellspawn after being enslaved by Ushochhushi. After a tense moment, the woman that he had freed, spoke:
“There is another way into the chamber,” she said. “The mast–, that bastard Ushochhushi, does not like his guards to see how often we attend him in his chambers. There is a secret way. It will be locked, but the door is not so strong as this.”
“Thank you,” said Retaak. “Be safe.”
“We will escape or die trying,” said the elf, her eyes glimmering like wetted steel. “But we know this place better than most. Fear not.”
Retaak nodded.
“What do they call you?” asked the male elf as the others began to leave, silent and alert.
“I am Retaak Wildborn,” said Retaak.
“We will remember you,” said the Elf. “You have our thanks.”
“I do what is right,” said Retaak. “No one should be treated as you were, even enemies.”
The elf nodded grimly, and then he was gone. Retaak paused for a moment, before shouts and sounds from the stairs below spurred him into motion. Waachear awaited.
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Retaak’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he made his way through the slave’s passage to the chamber in which Waachear hid. Ushochhushi was so at home with his elven slaves that he allowed them freedom to roam that no free being would ever enjoy. What kind of sick power did he think he had?
The passage was cramped for an ogre, but the elf woman spoke true. The door to the chamber was made of wood, and although it was locked, it took only a grunt and a hard shove for Retaak to break it.
Waachear, caught by surprise, stared at him. It was almost comical. The torturer had a long knife in hand, but it looked pathetically small next to the hefty axe that Retaak lifted, smiling.
“You’ve had this coming for a long time,” snarled Retaak, thinking of all that he, and others had suffered at the hands of this monster.
Waachear, eyes still wide, lifted the knife.
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