Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Read online

  The blot headed straight for the Warlord. He swung with his sword and staggered as the thing hit him full in the brow. Instantly, the general's body was covered by a black shadow surrounding him on all sides. There was a tearing noise and the general dwindled inside the black shadow as if he was falling down a hole. Then the shadow was sucked inside itself. The shadow was gone and so was the Warlord. The officers stared at the place their leader had stood and wondered what black magic the enemy had employed.

  "No!" cried Ernet. "Oh, no," he moaned, "not him, too."

  It seemed to Crane that he had simply closed his eyes, for all he could see was darkness and little dots whirling around him. 'As if,' he thought, 'I was closing my eyes to sleep.'

  Then he felt the firm earth beneath his legs and found himself facing three horrors.

  "Welcome, Lord Crane," said the imp. "I'm glad we finally got the chance to meet."

  Crane looked them over, the skeleton, the pale hermaphrodite, and the fat little imp. The rat still writhed in agony, the maggots burrowing deeper and deeper.

  "You," Crane's voice was fierce, "are the leader?"

  "Oh, allow us to introduce ourselves. This is Roella, the Fire Lord." The imp made a gesture toward the hermaphrodite, whose attention was still on his salamander. "This is Apkieran, Lord of the Undead." The skeleton's larva eyes just stared. "And you may call me Dubh, if you like, my lord." The imp sketched a satiric bow. Crane noticed it sought to hide the fact that it was missing a hand.

  He drew himself up and stared down at the imp. "Well, halfhand, it's a good day to die, eh?" With that, Crane brought his sword down with full fury on the imp's head. With a clang, it shivered apart in his hand.

  The imp smiled and looked straight into the Warlord's eyes. Crane fell to his knees, the pure evil in that stare overcoming him.

  "You shall pay for that, my little warlord," said the imp. "And you shall rue the halfhand remark for all eternity." He touched the Warlord's brow, and Crane cried out once and passed out into merciful unconsciousness.

  He did not feel the pain as his body shivered and contracted. Bone, muscle, and flesh spewed from knees that separated from the legs. The dark mess fused into hooves even as the hands contracted and went hard doing the same.

  "A new mount indeed," laughed the Demon Prince. Just then Roella shouted as his salamander was pierced by Fin's lance. Roella turned to the others, his eyes erupting in flame.

  "How?" he shouted. The imp just shrugged, petting the still convulsing form of what was once Lord Crane, Warlord of the Empire.

  Apkieran made no sign, standing silent. He was close, close to figuring out 'Something,' he told himself, 'something more here.'

  A grey shadow watched the three demon princes. And He laughed...

  C H A P T E R

  Seven

  Fire flew from the hooves and mouths of the two black stallions that pulled Death's golden chariot, their eyes burning with a pale blue light. He guided them across the pathways of the world, where no god or man could see his passage.

  He veered them toward a dark cave, the grey stone of the opening covered with green lichen. They galloped through at the speed of the wind, following a long winding tunnel. Cries and howls and glowing red eyes followed them down, but Lord Death never slowed his pace. Finally, the passage ended in an ancient cavern, and Death reared his steeds to a halt. They screamed with human voices, their hooves pounding the ground.

  A shadow lifted itself from the corner of the cave, its form human except for the two staglike horns that sprung from its brow. Red eyes burned beneath.

  "Ah, grey man," it approached the chariot, "you always were dramatic."

  Death laughed; a hollow sound. "I have come looking for allies, brother."

  "And does Death make war?"

  "He does." The two faced one another, the air cold about them.

  "Why do you come to me?"

  "Of all the gods," Death hissed, "only you are like me, and you are the only one who would dare to take sides in this war."

  "And which side do you take?"

  "Don't insult me, scavenger!" He leaped from his chariot to stand face to face with the other. "If you have betrayed yourself and joined the Dark One, then this day you shall feel my touch!" Neither moved, the only sound the fire snorting from the steeds. Then the second shadow laughed, the harsh sound of the god's voice echoing about them.

  "Dear brother," it said, still laughing, "it is long, long till your cold touch shall reach me." It held one hand up, the form wavered, sometimes a paw, sometimes a human hand. "But do not doubt me. I have chosen my side, and I have chosen ere now."

  "When?"

  "Ah, thirty or so human years ago did I begin to plan."

  "So," Death's voice was sibilant, "so, do--" but he stopped at the sound of approaching hooves. The Hunter turned to watch the entrance, as another shadow danced into the cave. It was of a great steed, its substance somehow more vibrant than the others. It knelt on one knee before them.

  "Ah, my son," said the Hunter, "I don't believe you have met our guest."

  "Not lately," said the newcomer. "I hope this doesn't mean that unbeknownst to me I have tripped and broken my neck?" All three laughed, though Death's laugh was shrill.

  "So, Trickster, you, too, have joined our little war."

  "War has always been a favorite sport of mine," said the horse-form, though the look from its flashing eyes belied its words. "I fought in the Dark Seign wars, against the dragon kind."

  "Yes," answered Death, "with Dammuth, I believe," but he said no more.

  "If the goblins and their masters tread the world again," said the Hunter, "I wonder can the dragons be far behind?" None had an answer to that.

  "I was hoping you would be here, Trickster," Death turned his pale eyes on the horse-form. "There is one who could use such a mount as you."

  "No offense, but I hope it is not your cold shanks you wish me to carry."

  "No, but the Morigunamachamain."

  "Feh!" he swore. "I have heard the earththings murmur his name, but I thought it was a wish for a defender, just a rumor."

  "No, my son, it is so," answered the Hunter. "I have watched him. He is perilous and wild. The earththings call him the Morigu. As if somehow he embodies all the ones that went before him."

  "You choose a sad partner for me, Lord Death."

  "He needs a directing force," came the answer. "He has been called to the elven war council of Cather-na-nog, but he does not go."

  "He feels the agony of the earth as no other before him," the Hunter added. "The pain in the south is too much for him to bear."

  "Alone," added Death. The Trickster bowed his noble head.

  "I will do what you have asked. I will find him and do what I can." The other two nodded.

  "Good," Death said. "Now, what do either of you know of the elven lords of Cather-na-nog?"

  "The same as you," the Hunter answered, "they plan within the heart of their kingdom. They will ride when they are ready, and when that is, no one can say."

  Death turned to the south. "The humans are hard-pressed. The Dark must be stopped in the empire, or the land will be split and eaten piece by piece."

  "I have been to the Crystal Falls," the Trickster added. "Mearead and his people have been attacked and many have fallen." Death sighed.

  "I know. Have I not freed so many of the valiant in those bright halls?"

  "I have planned," added the Hunter. "I have other allies. They are not as prepared as I had hoped, but they will add their power to the empire." Death said nothing, his hand tapping his sword hilt. The other two waited.

  "I rode with the humans," he said quietly. "I have broken my bounds, but I cannot show my full strength lest I crack the world in two."

  "My allies are my followers, brother," added the Hunter. "They are humans."

  "I did not know humans still prayed to you, scavenger."

  "I had help." A flash of fangs, a rare smile from this god. "A man tur
ned to me on his own. He saw before any others. Ah emperor."

  "Trell'dem," Death's shadow-form turned black. "Even now he mourns in my halls, begging me to let him go back to his land, to fight again."

  "Fen," the Trickster stamped his shadow hooves, "that was no way for such a one to die."

  "I had to take him," came Death's harsh answer, "it was his time. I could not postpone it."

  "You have others." The Hunter's voice was harsh; even a god may grieve.

  "I know, but to let him live would have been no boon to any of us. It would have tipped the balance too far."

  "And your hand too soon," added the Trickster.

  "Yes," the Hunter whispered, "I have kept my involvement unknown, but soon my followers will reveal themselves. And when they do. . . "

  " . . . the Dark One shall turn his thoughts to you," Death finished.

  "If I may, Lord Death," the Trickster said, "why have you chosen to join us?"

  "Join you?" Death laughed again. "I am Death. I join nothing, nobody...." He turned from the other two. "There are reasons, many. And there is the memory of one man I cannot forget." The other two nodded, thinking he spoke of Trell'dem.

  "He was a good man," added the Trickster, "but in truth I thought it was Apkieran that would have forced your decision."

  "The Undead Lord!?" Death spat. "Did I raise my might against him when he desecrated the world during the Dark Seign war? No! You are young yet, godling. All things have their opposite--even death . . . . "

  "But," insisted the other, "his minions walk the earth in increasing numbers. He flaunts his power and expends it wildly."

  "The last days," added the Hunter. "They strive to destroy the world itself and suck the power of that destruction into themselves."

  "And turn against the Bright World!" shouted Death, and the others shuddered to hear that sound. "But the gods, in all their glory, hide their heads. For fear of the last battle. But I tell you now, if we and the peoples of this world fail, the gods themselves are doomed and the Beast will tread upon the thrones of the mighty." He turned to the Trickster. "Go. Find the Morigu. We need him. Find him and bring him to war." He slammed his hand on the chariot. The sound of the blow reverberated about the cave--Doom! The horse-shadow bowed once and sped out of the cave.

  "We have little time, scavenger," he said to the other. "The gods even now seek our thoughts. We must plan and--"

  "I have a question first," the Hunter interrupted, "a question only you can answer." Death turned to him. "Has Dammuth fallen?" Death said nothing. A glowing dot sprung from his brow landing in the other's paw/hand. From this piece of Death, the god learned of the life and fall of Dammuth, Arch Mage of the land. He held it to his heart.

  "Ah, so rare," he whispered, "so rare." He looked up, facing the pale eyes of Death. "You always were more gentle than I." He sat down, staring up. "Why did you not tell the Trickster? They were friends. He had a right to know."

  "As you say, I am gentler than you, little brother, and I am more used to war." Death squatted down across from the god. "Dammuth was the Morigu's only link to the Light. If he learned of the mage's death he would seek for the demon and ignore all other duties. Even if he overcame that black soul, the enemy would be aware. They would know that only I could have known of Dammuth's death so soon. In one act we could lose the whole war."

  The Hunter reached out, touching his brother on the knee.

  "It grieves me to see you so," he said. Death shook his head.

  "When the whole world cries in agony, who are we to turn away?" He stood up again and entered his chariot. Without looking back, he whipped the horses and raced out of the cave, saying no more.

  The Hunter stared after him, speaking softly.

  "And should not the whole world tremble, my sad brother, when Death himself fears?"

  Margawt stood staring at the south, his mouth twisted in confusion. He let his soul sink and merge with the earth and followed her veins, down one branch after another. Seeking, seeking for the Goddess, but all he felt was the pain of war. He shuddered and returned. His body shook spastically, his mind whirling with needs he could not understand.

  The Goddess had withdrawn her attention from this part of the world. He was unsure where to look for her. Though he felt the elven king's call, he resisted. Each step south was like walking on a lake of fire. He warred within himself, wishing for the balm of the hunt, yet unable to stand the thoughts of the terror ahead.

  Then he felt a new current, cool and soft. His name was wrapped in it. He could detect no deceit, so he followed.

  In less than half an hour, Margawt found himself in a quiet glade. Magic was strong here, earth magic and something more. Though the sky was overcast, the grass and trees gleamed as if washed in moonlight. He felt another tug and stood still, looking around with eyes and power. But nothing registered. He was alone.

  "Margawt," said a voice. He turned quickly, his sword out of the sheath and pointed straight at the intruder. It was a large beast, its dark blue coat turning black where shadows played on its hide. Its mane and tail were a deep earth brown color. The hooves and spiraled horn, jet black. Red horns protruded over its eyes that burned with an orange flame.

  "Unicorn," it was almost a question, "how is it that you can surprise me?"

  "You do not know me?" came the answer. Margawt shook his head trying to detect wrongness in the being, but he could not. 'Though,' he thought, 'perhaps it could hide that from me, as it hid its approach.'

  'Trust," came the earth's answer. He almost shouted to hear the Goddess' voice, but she turned from him again. He looked back in the unicorn's eyes, realizing he had been called here to meet this odd creature.

  "Well met, earth avenger," said the unicorn. Its mouth did not move and Margawt realized that it somehow used its horn to communicate. The horn sent out the proper rhythms in the air but it had a curious effect since the voice Margawt heard had no inflection, timbre, or volume.

  "You may call me Anlon, if you like," it continued.

  Margawt put his sword away and approached the beast.

  "You are here to help me in my battles?" he asked.

  The unicorn nodded once. "You're a serious one, aren't you?" Margawt ignored him.

  "Am I to ride you?"

  "Feh, no, I ride you." He stamped his hoof in irritation.

  "We leave now, then." As Margawt approached to mount, the unicorn shied away.

  "We leave when I say, Kondo-s," which means 'intelligent.' "I am no beast of burden. I am here to fight and to teach. Lesson one," he moved closer, staring in Margawt's dark eyes, "where do you plan to go?"

  "I, I have to go," he pointed to the south. "I must. . . " but he made no move to mount the unicorn.

  "What do you fear most, Morigu? The pain of the war, or the pain of being with other creatures?" He got no answer.

  "Dammuth said you were a tough one," 'but,' he added to himself, 'Dammuth never told you of me. Does that mean he doesn't trust you?'

  "You know Dammuth?" asked Margawt, for the first time emotion touching his voice.

  "Ah, so you do care for the old man. Yes, I know Dammuth, and he and I talked long about you. We both had the feeling that I would come to you one day."

  "Come to me?" said Margawt. "I thought the earth sent you?"

  "Sent me?" Anlon snorted. "Not likely. You were sent. I decided to come."

  "The Goddess, She. . . " Margawt lost his thoughts.

  "She wars, too, little one," the unicorn said gently. "The dwarves of the Crystal Falls are hard-pressed, their own mountains turn against them. She is there, because--"

  "I will go there," Margawt interrupted.

  "What doom sense keeps you from the south, avenger?" asked the unicorn. "There is where your destiny lies. You and I must await the first hosting of the elves and then we must ride with them. Come, mount me." He moved to Margawt, who unhesitatingly leaped upon the unicorn's back.

  "We have some time. I will help you," the unicor
n said. But his thoughts were dark. Could this one already be insane? "The Light has need of you," he said aloud.

  "But the dwarves, the Goddess. . . " Margawt's voice got stronger. Somehow, on the back of the unicorn, the pain from the south did not reach him in such strength.

  "The dwarves and the Goddess will take care of themselves. You and I must learn more about one another so that we, too, can play our role."

  Margawt marveled to feel the unicorn's strength, and his heart lightened now with Anlon's words.

  "The enemy does not know you, Avenger," Anlon said. "The Ard Riegh hopes others of the Shee will be chosen to become Morigunamachamain, but Dammuth is convinced that even though you were bom in blood instead of service to the earth, that you could be trusted and that much hinges on you. So do not wonder why I am here. After all, someone must keep an eye out on you, Kondo-s." The unicorn reared to his full height, and with an incredible burst, galloped in toward the south. The wind roared by Margawt and he marveled how the unicorn could possibly move so fast and yet not touch a branch or bend a blade of grass.

  "You and me, Margawt, we are a spear aimed at the Dark One's heart!"

  With that they moved even faster so all was a blur to the Morigu. He could hardly believe that any creature could move faster than he, but the unicorn left him no doubt. They flew off into the night, and the enemy did not know that they were coming.

  Colin signaled to the waiting troops behind him. He heard the other dwarves mutter under their breath as, with a clang of armor, they took what comfort they could from the cold floor of the cavern. Counting Colin there were sixty-four warriors, all from his clan. They had been trooping through the lower halls, seeking their enemy for over two hours, with no success.

  One of the warriors slid over to sit next to his leader. He lifted his helmet mask off his face, his armor echoing weirdly in the small chamber.

  "Anything?" he asked. His face was unlined, but a pure white beard hung to his waist.

  "Nay, Math." Colin pulled his wolf mask from his head, dropping it at his feet. "My powers have grown in the last weeks, but whatever force attacks the caves blocks my clairvoyance." The other nodded gravely. It was not a good sign. Colin, as sister-son of Mearead and heir to the throne, should be able to search through all the caves and caverns of the Crystal Falls with his magic, detecting any wrongness in the rhythm of life in the dwarven kingdom. Math reached up and patted the younger dwarf on his mail-clad shoulder.