Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Read online

  Two days after leaving the caves, the companions approached the valley of Morhalk. All morning they had seen the scavengers flying through the sky, the heralds of Lord Death. The two had become closer during the march. Mearead entertained Donal with a never ending catalogue of elven jokes. But there were no jokes this day.

  They walked into the battlefield and Donal choked back his breakfast at the sight. The dwarves had died to a man. The valley floor was covered with poles displaying dwarven heads. The bodies had been torn and shredded until they were unrecognizable lumps. Mearead said nothing, but trod resolutely forward. They noticed at the top of the hill where the dwarves had made their stand were several large, dark shapes. When they reached the top, Donal lost his breakfast, for, nailed to great poles were the bodies of Colin and Flann. They were naked and mutilated. Mearead moved closer and examined their bodies.

  "They died fighting," he said, his voice more tired than anything. "It took a lot to bring these two down. They died fighting."

  The field was also full of the enemy dead. The dwarves had taken a terrific toll of their enemies. Mixed among the men, elves, and brown elves, were grotesque and evil-looking creatures which Donal now knew had hidden in the sorcerous mist. Neither said a thing as they took down the crucified dwarves, and working the afternoon away made a mound of stones and laid them to rest.

  Donal stood shaking with his betrayal. His whole life and his family before him for a thousand years had served the Ead.

  'And it all led to this,' he thought. He went back to the pole and with a mixture of water and dried blood made a thin red fluid. This he mixed with dirt from Colin's mound and smeared it on his face. He no longer cared for the whys or how comes, the Ead must die and that's all he knew.

  "She must die!" his voice rose among the scavengers, causing them to flap into the air. Mearead said nothing. He withdrew six crystals, and juggling them in his hand walked the edge of the battlefield depositing them equidistant from each other. He came back to Donal and pulled him along with him. They moved to a higher ridge.

  "You'll see some true dwarven magic now, lad!" Mearead spoke quietly. He held another crystal in his hand. He opened his mouth and from it issued a deep sound. Donal thought it sounded like 'Molin,' which means 'dwarf,' but he could not be sure.

  For fifteen minutes the sound continued, and then the crystal began to glow. It sent out rays of different colored light to each of the other crystals. They in turn began to glow a red-orange, perfectly matching the sinking sun. The glow stretched from each crystal to a band of quivering light surrounding the battlefield.

  "Blood price," whispered Mearead and his fist closed on the crystal. Instantly, the others flared and the whole field was covered in a fiery nimbus. The bodies took fire and burned away in minutes. When all that would bum was consumed and wispy grey smoke rose to the twilit sky, Mearead turned to the half-elf. Donal froze at the other's face.

  It was totally unlined and held no emotion. The eyes were pure black with a speck of red, as if Donal were looking down a very deep tunnel with a small fire at the end.

  "Her blood is mine," came the monotone chant and then Mearead walked away toward Aes Lugh. Donal hitched up his pack and followed. He began to think the dwarf might succeed in his quest.

  C H A P T E R

  Thirteen

  Eight nights after the battle with the Fomarian, the elf host rode into the plain before the capital of the empire. They had been joined by human warriors from Tinnafar and Teffit numbering about two thousand. The whole plain was covered with all the warriors of the realm that Tolath could field, their fires the glowing eyes of the beast in the night. The elves were picketed quickly and Lonnlarcan, Cucullin, Ceallac, Teague, and Bairbre with the commanders from the humans went into the city. There they met with Tolath's high command.

  The meeting was adjourned in the same room that the alliance had met three long months ago. The emperor's place was conspicuously empty, and Lonnlarcan's heart ached when he saw no Dammuth. On the right hand of Trell'dem's empty seat stood Fin, elected Warlord of the West. His red beard bristling out from his chin, he shifted his great form uncomfortably in his chair.

  Ernet, General of the armies, introduced everyone and began the conversation calling each to give their tales of the last weeks. Niall, Mathwei, and Oidean all sat together at one end, Niall looking sullen and angry, while Mathwei did the talking for these three.

  "My lords and ladies," the whiplike Ernet bowed to Bairbre, "I will make no speeches. The enemy will move against us tomorrow." His intelligent eye was bright. "I suppose it's clear we need to win this one?"

  "Our total force is?" asked Lonnlarcan.

  "Nearly sixteen thousand, lord," answered Ernet, "containing your host."

  "And the enemy?" Ceallac's voice was tired, his handsome face drawn.

  "At least twice ours, maybe three," came the quick reply.

  "It seems to me," stated Fin, "our main problem is can we offset their damnable magic?"

  Lonnlarcan looked over to Bairbre. She stood up, her red hair and eyes looking wilder than ever. "That, my lords, depends upon their leaders." Oh, her voice was silk and steel. "We have five among the elves that may be called mages, myself included. Teague is our most powerful though he could never match the likes of Dammuth. The lords Cucullin, Ceallac, and Cainhill can match powers with nearly anything the enemy can throw against us, though they are mainly warriors. My Lord Lonnlarcan can fairly match magics and weapons against great powers." She sighed. "We have three Shee, but they are unlearned, fresh to their powers. They can do little. That, plus the normal elven magic, well, it adds up but it still depends upon their leaders."

  "And we can safely assume," said Ernet, "that most of their power will be directed against us." He took a sip from his mug. "Dammuth is lost to us. Whatever has happened to him we cannot hope to see him again."

  "And what other magics have you?" asked Lonnlarcan. The humans said nothing and shifted uneasily. Finally Niall leaped up.

  "We have Oidean," he cried. The old man mumbled something and sank low into his chair. "He is a fire master and though he forgets much of his power, has helped us." The elves looked incredulously at the old man.

  "It is true," added Mathwei. "We were ambushed on our way to the city. Though Oidean has no subtle magics, he can command small fire elementals and create fireballs of no little strength." All perked up at this information and Bairbre eyed the old one thoughtfully.

  "Is that the sum of your magic?" she asked.

  "Aye, lady," said Fin, "the rest of our magic is used to heal. There is no great war magic in the empire anymore."

  "Perhaps not," said Lonnlarcan, "but you have had help from some power in killing the salamander, Lord Fin, and perhaps such help will come again. And there is the Morigu and the Unicom. They may return in time to help us."

  "Perhaps," said Ernet, "we should withdraw behind the walls."

  "I counsel against it," said Lonnlarcan.

  "But surely," said Mathwei, "we cannot defeat the enemy on an open field." Lonnlarcan said nothing for a moment, sizing up the leaders in the room. He found he liked what he saw.

  "I have learned one thing in this war, my lords. We must defeat the leaders of our enemies. So, though we may lose in the field, we need to draw out whatever powers the enemy has and seek to destroy them." After more discussion, all agreed on Lonnlarcan's plan and a few hours before daybreak the disposition of the forces were placed and the orders were given. The army waited.

  They were spread across the plain. The main force of elves and human knights held the center led by Lonnlarcan, Cainhill, and Fin. The left flank was held by the rest of the elves and a large force of human cavalry led by Ernet and Cucullin. The right flank was made up of Niall's troops and the knights of the Green Branch. Ceallac was given command of the Green Branch knights.

  Ranged behind the mounted troops were the human foot soldiers bolstered by light cavalry and archers. Many great war machines wer
e dragged from the city. And on a hill in the middle of the host, Teague, Bairbre, the three Shee, and the other mages of elfdom prepared their spells. In silence they awaited the rising of the sun.

  It never came. Great black storm clouds billowed across the field heralding the approach of the Dark army. Their numbers filled the plain and the great army of Tolath seemed a tattered and tarnished sight compared to the black horde.

  Ghastly fumes came from the Dark Ones. Crazy silhouettes danced among the witch lights. Moaning and screams, black chants and terrible war horns filled the air. And then Arianrood rode out.

  She was surrounded by a nimbus of ghastly green light. She wore magnificent golden armor bedecked with jewels, her long black hair flowing free. Next to her walked the great Fomarian, his tread making the ground shudder. And then, riding on a beast of pure flame, the hermaphrodite Fire Lord. Next to him, riding a great bearlike shape, was a being of blackness and fear.

  "The Shadow Lord," murmured Lonnlarcan.

  "Another fomarian," Cainhill added, drawing his sword.

  Then, last of all, striding behind the others, dripping horror and evil, Apkieran, the Lord of the Undead.

  At the sight of him, Cucullin gave a great cry, but was restrained by Ernet. "Wait, lord," he said. "You'll have your chance." The story of the elf lord's hatred of Apkieran was legendary.

  The five horrors stood midway and the Fire Lord continued after a few words with Arianrood.

  Lonnlarcan turned to Fin. "They seek to parlay." He shook his head. "Gods, the powers they bear against us."

  Cainhill spoke, his voice tightly controlled. "Allow me, my lord."

  Before Lonnlarcan could answer, the small figure of Dorrenlassarslany appeared.

  "Great elf master," he said. "My choice, for honor of my people." He looked at the Ard Riegh imploringly.

  "I had not thought your people would join battle," said the king.

  "I am here. Choice is mine."

  "Go, then," answered Lonnlarcan. The pyridin made to leave. "It is a good choice, a right choice you make, Dorrenlassarslany." The pyridin turned and whistled his pleasure and then was gone.

  He appeared in front of the demon prince. The Fire Lord's mount had a human face that continually screamed in agony. It was the face of Crane, general of Tolath.

  "Well," the demon's voice was sibilant, "they have honored me by sending their greatest to talk, eh?" He smiled wickedly.

  "Not impressed, unthing," answered the pyridin, for once standing straight and tall. "Talk fast before I decide eyeballs good choice for next meal." Dorrenlassarslany bared an impressive pair of fangs.

  "Your time is up, little pig. Your people will be ground into the slime they are," answered the enraged demon.

  "Bad choice to insult pyridin, unthing, say words." He just glared at the hermaphrodite.

  "Tell your masters," Dorrenlassarslany hissed at that, "they may give themselves up. We will allow them to rule their people, under our guidance, of course. All they must do is deliver Lonnlarcan and his gang of cutthroats and their pathetic little Morigu."

  The pyridin's form shivered for a minute. "Unmaker will mark you. You are undone, tell your masters," he spat out the words, "choice is stupid. You have chosen to be unmade. Leave, or all your choices will be taken from you by my hand!"

  The Fire Lord felt a thrill of fear, not from the pyridin, but from his promise of the Morigu's wrath. He contemptuously spurred his mount, which cried in a horrible voice.

  Dorrenlassarslany returned and told Lonnlarcan of the conversation. Then before anything else could be said, the little creature announced in a pout it would find a way to make the unthing pay. It appeared in front of Cucullin minutes later.

  The pyridin bowed low. "Great maker, choice you had, god killer, you chose to be, no choice, understand need, for my people great one, kill that Nullack (freak), make the choice."

  Cucullin stared down at the little creature who showed none of the fear its kind was continually subjected to. He realized it was an honor he was given, for Dorrenlassarslany had admitted he could not kill the Fire Lord. It was a choice he could not make; now he was asking Cucullin to make it. The elf lord knew if he did not try the little one would pine and die, not being able to face that a choice was denied to it.

  "You know of my pledge and my word is given for the life of the undead lord." He looked out at the battlefield seeking his quarry, but the leaders had been swallowed up by their army. He looked down at the pyridin, his eyes hard. "If I can meet the Fire Lord before Apkieran faces my wrath, rest assured, little one, I will kill him."

  "Praise, good choice," the little creature danced. "Take its choices and pyridin will always choose one to help elf lords. It is fairly done, a good choice," and he was gone.

  Ernet cleared his throat to catch Cucullin's attention. "My lord," he said, "can you kill the demon?"

  "I can," came the grim answer.

  "Then I urge you to restrain your vengeance. You have for long years. Kill the Fire Lord, Lord Cucullin, for the help of the pyridin is not something we can afford to give up."

  Cucullin's green eyes filled with a pain the other could never understand.

  "It will be done," he said. How could a mortal understand the pain in that choice? A quest of a hundred years, at last the chance of its fruition and the elf lord postponing it for the good of others? Such is the heart of the noblest of elven kind.

  Apkieran took up a position at the center of the host. The Fomarian took the left flank and the Fire Lord led the right. Arianrood and the Shadow Lord retreated to the rear to send spells against the humans and elves. A cry of a single horn was heard, and then, with growls, oaths, and battle cries from a thousand throats, the dark host moved toward the waiting allies.

  The war machines of the empire fired as one. Great holes of destruction appeared in the enemy's front ranks, but it didn't slow them. In answer, fire and lightning hit the center of Tolan's line, but it did little damage to the elves there.

  Lonnlarcan caught one bolt of lightning in Kianbearac and contemptuously flung it back. As the evil horde reached halfway, the human and elf horses charged. In the gloom of the storm clouds, the elves were easily picked out, for whenever one rode, a silver, clear light shimmered.

  The war machines, enhanced with the elf magic, offset the enemy's usual advantage of battle magic. The air became full of smoke and fire, the smell of ozone and brimstone, blood and burnt flesh. Like two great leviathans the armies crashed together, howling their hate of one another.

  For hours the two armies crashed while the onlookers in the city watched in fear. The horses and cavalry of the elves and men charged and reformed time after time, but each charge was lessened by empty saddles.

  Fin pushed his way to the rear and climbed the hill where the elves slung their spells. The earth was scorched and torn and two of the elven mages had fallen. Of the twenty war machines, eight were totally destroyed and still destruction was hurled through the skies.

  The elvish and human leaders tried desperately to engage the enemy leaders in personal combat but the three avoided every attempt. Step by step the army was pushed back toward the city.

  Oidean cut a path to the Fomarian with a salamander of five foot height, but neither Ceallac nor Niall could reach the demigod to fight it. It threw a wall of earth to barricade itself, for it had its orders.

  Fin led all the reinforcements to the left flank where Cucullin and Ernet were making some progress. The added manpower was enough for a counteroffensive to start.

  Ernet and Cucullin rode at the front. All the elves charged as one and the enemy's line in front of them collapsed. Into the breach rode the two commanders, their warriors following. A great wall of fire appeared in front of them. Ernet was in the lead and was caught in it. His horse burst into flame even as he threw himself forward. He rose with drawn sword to face the Fire Lord. As the goblins moved to take Ernet, the demon's voice rang sharply.

  "Leave this one to me." Ernet
braced himself as the dark prince rode toward him.

  The right flank of Tolan's host was completely stopped by the Fomarian's earth power. They stood firm but could not advance a single step.

  The center was likewise caught. Facing them were hordes of undead and though the elves could not die by the hands of vampire or zombie, not so their allies. Lonnlarcan shouted encouragement and, with Cainhill on his right, wreaked mayhem upon the enemy. A deep cry of "Feth" was heard and a large wedge of trolls rammed into the center. With an audible groan the line held, but elf and man fell in huge numbers.

  Cucullin's horse reared from the flames, but the elf lord encased the two in a golden aura, and unharmed they rode through to help the human general, but it was too late.

  Ernet held his ground where many brave hearts would have given up. He heard a shriek of agony, and looking at its source was horrified to see Fintan's face wreathed in flames. In that moment the Fire Lord's blue-flamed sword took off the General's head.

  Cucullin's cry of rage rose from the wall of fire, and, before the demon could retreat, Cucullin charged him.

  Lonnlarcan spurred his horse at his adversary's. An explosion of silver fire from Kianbearac devastated the trolls. Cainhill followed, his violet eyes burning. He rode at Apkieran.

  The right flank began to crumble as the Fomarian added his earth things to the goblin attack. Fighting every step, Niall kept his troops orderly, but he had no choice but to retreat. Mathwei, having lost his shield, fought at his side with a long dagger and a parrying knife. But his weapons did no harm to the creature that knocked Niall off his horse with a smack of its trunk. Two warriors grabbed the General up and pulled his unconscious body to the rear.

  The firewall collapsed as the Fire Lord turned all his attention to the naked elf. The elves rode to support their lord and kept the goblins away from the fight. As Cucullin and his foe met, their sword and unseen ax sang as they clashed together. But Cu dived off his saddle and pulled the Demon Prince to the ground. The Fire Lord rolled away and stood facing the elf. Cu cried to his men.