Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 4

  Not far from the camp, another goblin was amusing himself by breaking the wings of a bird he had managed to bag. The bird was making pitiful attempts to escape but the goblin had tied one foot with a small piece of leather.

  "Going somewhere, my pretty?" he asked the bird. "Maybe to tell those vile elves where Noga and his mates are, eh?" With that he tugged the tether hard and the bird fell to its side. The goblin chuckled, showing its yellowed fangs.

  Suddenly, two booted feet stood over the bird, and a powerful hand grabbed the goblin's neck and thrust him against a tree.

  "So, having a little fun, eh, Noga?" hissed Margawt. "Sentry duty and a little bored. Well, if I didn't have to talk with your 'mates,' I'd show you a little 'vile' elvish fun." Margawt thrust a knife through the goblin's chain mail into its stomach.

  The goblin stared into the elf's black eyes. Noga knew who he was looking at. Instinctively, he recognized the Morigunamachamain. No goblin had described that face since any that had seen it never lived to tell about it. Terrified by fear and pain, the goblin stood frozen. He tried to scream but the air couldn't get past the iron hand around his throat.

  Margawt tore the knife up the goblin's chest.

  "Missed your heart," he whispered. "Wonder if you'll die before I find it?"

  Back at the camp, the others were cleaning their weapons and contentedly fighting with one another. Their weapons consisted mainly of stabbing swords, spears, a few long swords, one mace, and a couple of two-handed axes, along with the various daggers and knives that so delighted their kind. The weapons were tended carefully and were all razor sharp.

  One goblin screamed and fell back, clawing at a knife sprouting from his left eye. Another fell into the fire, a small throwing ax protruding from his shoulders. The remaining goblins leapt to their feet, brandishing their weapons. The Morigu was among them.

  "Kill!" the earth cried to Margawt. He flew into the camp, the pointed boss of his shield catching one goblin in its face as his sword neatly chopped the arm off another. Three of the goblins kept the fire between them and the Morigu. A fourth lunged with his stabbing sword at his thigh. In a blur of speed the elf's sword parried the blade and the warrior stepped inside his opponent's guard. Margawt slashed the goblin across the waist and disemboweled him. Following through with his motion, the elf bowled over the goblin, who was desperately trying to place his intestines inside his stomach. In two steps Margawt reached the goblin whose face he had smashed with the shield. The shield flashed down and its sharp edge decapitated the creature.

  The Morigunamachamain faced the three survivors across the fire. He smiled. The goblins huddled together. In less than two minutes the elf had killed or incapacitated five of them.

  "No bird am I . I am your death," he said.

  The goblins stared into his dark eyes. Tuk and another began to hyperventilate. Foam flecked their lips and with two howls of terror they leaped across the fire at their antagonist. Tuk reached the elf first and swung a mighty blow with his long sword at the warrior's head. Smoothly, Margawt caught the blade on his shield. The shield was at such an angle that it didn't catch the blow with full force but neatly deflected and diverted it so that it whispered harmlessly over his head. Even as the chief's blade hit the shield, Margawt's sword caught the goblin. It hit with terrible force and cut through the bottom half of Tuk's shield. The sword continued until it sunk deep in his thigh.

  Margawt withdrew his sword in a fluid motion. His other attacker had reached him and swung an ax toward the elf's head. He took a step forward with his left foot and went into a crouch. The weapon missed his back by mere centimeters, as he knew it would. The goblin's ax was driven into the earth.

  As the creature tried to regain his balance and weapon, he saw a blur to his left. Margawt had come out of his crouch doing a complete turn to his right. The sword which he now held two-handed cut through the goblin's elbow and completely through his body. Pinkish blood sprayed into the air as the bisected body fell to the ground.

  The last of the raiders had had enough and turned and ran. Briefly, Margawt entertained the thought of chasing the goblin and cutting him apart piece by piece as it tried to escape him. But the earth cried for its vengeance and the goblin was going in the opposite direction that the Morigu needed to go. With five strides he caught the panic-stricken goblin and with one swift stroke removed its head in mid-flight.

  Margawt strode back into the camp. He took out a rag and began wiping the thick, pink-green blood off his sword. He listened to the dying moans of those still left alive.

  "Quit moaning, pigs. You'll soon join your master in hell and I promise that the pain you feel is nothing compared to what you'll face." Margawt smiled as anguished moans answered him. He was sorry he didn't have time to really make them moan. But there were other raiders in the woods, and the Goddess demanded Her due.

  Unsmiling, he began to methodically relieve the dead and half-dead goblins of their left canine teeth. The cries of his enemies did not faze the warrior. He hated such as these with all his soul. Indeed, it was only because of his hatred that Margawt was alive.

  The goblin that Margawt had hit in the eye with the knife tried to bite him when he went to remove his tooth. The elf pulled his knife out and slit its belly. In between its cries of pain, Margawt tore its canine out.

  "Payment," he smiled in its face, "we all must pay . . . . "

  Margawt knew many would despise his cruelty. He knew he could have killed all the goblins quickly and painlessly, but that wasn't his way.

  He liked his enemies to feel some of the pain they were so quick to inflict upon others. He was the Morigunamachamain. What others thought or felt meant nothing to such as he.

  He stood still among his fallen prey and cleared his heart and mind of the excitement of the hunt. A cool wind came through his legs from the ground, hollowing out his bones. He lost a sense of body and felt himself spread out through the soil like an overflowing lake. Then, contact! The tramp of marching feet. The dismay of the earth as these, her unfavored children, walked across her breast.

  Margawt stood again in his body, a sigh escaping his lips at the power flowing through vein and muscle. The goblin raiders were not far away. He would reach them by nightfall.

  "Goddess!" he cried in love and despair as he ran off into the woods, the hunt calling him again. Behind, the fire slowly went out, as the life left the last of the still steaming corpses of his enemy, their crumbled remains mute testimony to the wrath of the Morigu.

  Far away from the woods of Margawt's hunt the Ard Riegh of Cather-na-nog walked down the corridors of the great citadel of Tolan. The small page in front of him scurried ahead, not daring to talk to the awesome figure of the great elven king. The boy stopped at a thick wooden door, knocked once and scurried away. Lonnlarcan opened the door and walked in.

  It was a small library covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases. The only furniture was a round marble table and two hand-carved chairs. Trell'dem, Emperor of Tolath, stood up to greet his guest.

  "Thank you for coming at such short notice, your majesty." He nodded at the chair across from him. Lonnlarcan lowered himself into it. "I am sorry about the hour, but as soon as the sun rises I must go to the Temple of Fealoth to perform more of the ceremonies." Trell'dem could not hide a look of distaste at the thought.

  Lonnlarcan smiled. "You forget, my lord, that I and my people have no need of sleep as you humans know it. You have not inconvenienced me in the slightest." 'But,' he thought to himself, 'you have certainly intrigued me.'

  "Dammuth tells me your people have a spell that will keep secret anything that is said in a room?" He raised a dark eyebrow at the elf lord, and gazed steadily in Lonnlarcan's silver eyes. The Ard Riegh said nothing, but raised one hand in a casual wave. Trell'dem felt a peculiar tingling on his face and palms. He said nothing.

  A moment later Lonnlarcan closed his eyes and said, "It is secure, my Lord."

  Trell'dem sighed and reached under th
e table, withdrawing a map and placing it on the table before the two. Lonnlarcan said nothing, just examining the map quietly. It was of the empire and covered with tiny flags of blue, green, and white.

  "The blue are representations of my troops that are at full capabilities," the emperor explained. "The green are troops that can be marshaled in one week, the white in one month." Lonnlarcan studied the board carefully.

  He looked the emperor over, taking in the strong hands, the determined chin partially hidden by his neatly trimmed beard. 'In his man eyes,' thought Lonnlarcan, 'you can always see what is in a human by his eyes.' And what the elf king saw pleased him.

  He pointed at the map. "This troop disposition, besides being considerably larger than those shown at the council meeting, are also placed in different parts of your empire."

  The emperor smiled, showing thick white teeth. "Ah, my lord, I don't want you to think I am not a trusting man," he shrugged. "Dangerous times and all that."

  "I suppose since the Lord Mearead is not here, that he has already been informed of this?" The elf cocked his head to one side. Trell'dem shifted in his seat, but no smile came to his lips. He leaned toward Lonnlarcan, his face hard.

  "Do not take this amiss, my lord, but Mearead has known from the beginning of my plans." Lonnlarcan simply nodded. It was as Baibre had thought. The whole scene in the council had been carefully orchestrated by Mearead and the emperor.

  "I understand," he answered, his musical voice giving nothing of his private thoughts away. "I think it has always been easier for dwarf and man to work together than for either races to deal with the elven kind." Trell'dem leaned back, letting his pleasure at Lonnlarcan's responses, spoken and unspoken, show.

  "What are these?" Lonnlarcan pointed to the black circles that were strewn about the map.

  "Caches of weapons, my lord. I have been building them up for twenty years now."

  "Dwarven forged, no doubt."

  "Even so." Trell'dem studied Lonnlarcan. There was no sign of what the enigmatic being was thinking. Lonnlarcan was truly the king of his people; he represented all that was best of the elves. He was tall, way beyond human stature, and though slim, well muscled. His features were of such great beauty that no human could hold the picture of the elf king's appearance in his mind. One was continually surprised when he came into contact with that unearthly beauty.

  'Which,' thought Trell'dem, 'is not to say that there is anything feminine about him. It is like looking at the moving statue of a god, or as if one's flesh could take on the form of his soul.' To a human being alone in a room with one such as Lonnlarcan was nothing short of terrifying, and a bit humbling.

  "Do you really expect to need such forces in the near future?" Lonnlarcan's voice brought Trell'dem out of his contemplation.

  "Honestly?" Trell'dem leaned back in his chair. "No. No, but I do expect something, not this year, not next, but soon, sooner than we imagine."

  The Ard Riegh's eyes swept the map once more. "So," he said, "I know now, and Mearead knows, but I expect few others."

  "Dammuth, my Warlord Crane, the Archduke, Fin, a handful of Green Branch knights, that is all, good king."

  "To hide it from your people, from your commanders, and allies, is no small feat." Trell'dem smiled his pleasure and pride.

  "I've had help."

  "Ah, yes, Dammuth is very resourceful, is he not?"

  "Magic has many uses, my lord."

  "Oh, indeed it does, indeed it does." Lonnlarcan was using his magic to try to grasp the measure of the man across from him, but the emperor was shielded, and the elf could feel the presence of Dammuth in that. So there was more, hidden, and considering Trell'dem's attitude, he doubted any knew the whole truth save the emperor himself.

  "You have two sons, do you not?" he asked.

  "I--yes. And no, they know nothing of what is going on." Lonnlarcan gave him a questioning look.

  "My sons are good lads both. And well trained, but," Trell'dem's voice quivered with something like anger, "I must face the fact if the enemy should strike they would be prime targets. The less they know, the better for all. They must be kept safe for the empire."

  Lonnlarcan did not bring up the obvious that if the sons were in danger surely the father was in more. Such words of caution would be wasted on this one.

  "What does Dammuth say of all this?" Again Trell'dem could not hide his uneasiness. 'So,' thought Lonnlarcan, 'he does hide something even from Dammuth.'

  "Dammuth, my lord, is the rock the empire is built on."

  "But?"

  "But, I do not know how to explain it. Indeed, it is partially for that reason I asked you here." Lonnlarcan just waited.

  "Dammuth is changed. He has not the fire he once possessed."

  "Dammuth," answered the great king, "is old for your kind, very old. But he is Dammuth." Trell'dem just waited. 'Is that all he wants?' the Ard Riegh thought, 'to be reassured?'

  "Dammuth is the greatest wielder of magic with perhaps the exception of Arianrood. More important, though perhaps others have equal or more power, he is the best." Lonnlarcan's silver eyes burned in the dim light of the room. "Of all of us that walk the earth! He is the strongest, the most incorruptible. Every ounce of strength at his command is earned, not given.

  "Your Green Branch knights have a saying in their honor code: 'No evil is powerful enough to corrupt the unconsenting.' Dammuth is incorruptible. He could not be turned. He could not consent for he never learned how.

  "Whatever worries you have for that one, put them at rest," he continued. "Did not Dammuth destroy the most powerful of the dragons, Sessthon? I do not think any but the Dark Lord himself could conquer Dammuth, and even then only in death."

  Trell'dem relaxed again, leaning back, placing his booted feet up on the corner of the table. "And if the enemy were to invade, what forces would you bring to bear, my lord?"

  'Time, my good emperor, time is my enemy." The elf lord sighed. "It takes a great deal of effort to get a majority of my people in the same subjective time frame. And truly I can only do that if there is an apparent threat. I always have a thousand of my personal guard ready, but," he shrugged, "perhaps in first hosting I have say, two of your months, I can have 8,000 elven riders ready. All depending of course where the enemy strikes, and with what force."

  Trell'dem started to speak but the Ard Riegh interrupted. "No promises from me, my lord. We will help where and when we can. Prepare yourself as best you may. We are true to the Alliance, as we have ever been. We will not fail in our duties."

  "Believe me, my lord, I never doubted the elves of Cather-na-nog." He did not need to speak of his distrust of Arianrood, and Lonnlarcan did not wish to pursue that thought.

  "There are many powers in the world, Trell'dem," Lonnlarcan said. "I do not believe we shall ever again face such a trial as we did in the Dark Siegn wars. Whatever failings Fealoth had with predicting the future, none can argue that he did bind the Dark One. Creation and destruction must ever be in conflict, in whatever form. But without the Beast, the enemy can never wield such a power again."

  "To your eyes, my lord, I am sure this might seem an overreaction on my part, but," Trell'dem sat up straight, "there are many powers in the world, and some are more than a little troubled." Again the elf wondered what secret ally the emperor had made. There was no point in trying to figure it out, the man's heart was true, and, frankly, the thought that the emperor had a hidden weapon in his cloak was a comfort.

  "I am not unaware of such concerns, Trell'dem." 'Should I tell him of the Morigu?' he thought. 'But, no, if Dammuth keeps it from him, then I will follow the wizard's lead.' Still it troubled him. 'So many secrets amongst allies. What fear was it that shook them all?'

  "And I think," he continued aloud, "we both realize there are other powers that will hear the horn cry of war if need be." Trell'dem smiled. 'So,' he thought, 'Lonnlarcan had his surprises, too. Good! Perhaps I'm being overanxious, but treachery had ever been the enemy's greates
t weapon!'

  There was a muffled knock on the door. Lonnlarcan looked at it for a moment as if he could see who was on the other side. He nodded and made a brisk gesture with his left hand. Trell'dem hid the map once more. He felt the strange tingling as the spell was dismissed.

  "Come in!" he cried. The door opened. A young knight in armor stood there and bowed.

  "It is time, sire. The priests await you."

  The emperor made his apologies to the Ard Riegh and left, following the knight.

  Lonnlarcan sat there a moment, his mind slowly replaying the conversation. 'An odd man,' he thought, 'so confident, yet so cautious. What nightmares had plagued this emperor that he should fear so? The mortals were so confusing. For all that the other peoples of the world wield greater power, yet ever the humans proved to be the pivotal piece.'

  He looked up at the ceiling, feeling the oppressive weight of the city about him. Angles and straight lines, the humans were ever enamored of them. But Lonnlarcan did not trust them. They sought to inflict rules and logic alien to the world. They sought to defeat chaos by measuring and defining everything about them. Even time. 'What a sad lot,' he thought, 'to be of the race of men. Children trapped in a world they cannot truly see.'

  With that the elf king left the room, his thoughts on the tragedy and folly of the human race. Two guards stood on either side of the door, closing it behind the Ard Riegh and remaining on guard there. They both followed the strange elf with their eyes, both wondering how any being could move with such fluidity and power.

  Neither of the guards saw the shadow, that was not a shadow, flit across the torchlit hall, or feel its presence as it slid beneath the door they guarded. Once in the room the shadow coalesced on itself, sick from the residue of the elf king's magic. Then it expanded and lay across the table, as if something humanoid bent over to examine what lie beneath.

  It remained for a few moments in that position. Then with a sharp bark of victory, unheard by the guards without, slipped away. Through the door and into the freedom of the winds, to bring its masters its newfound knowledge.