|
|
| |
|
| ||
|
|
|
|
The Valley of Meeting was the largest valley in the entire mountain range. It was there that the annual Convocation of the Tribes would
occur, in a month's time. And there, Tormoth the Destroyer, warlord of
the Bloody Peak tribe, could convince all the multitudes of tribes in
the Mountains of Shiraz to join him in his quest for ultimate power.
Key to his bid for domination over the tribes was Gnorrbb, the Orc shaman he had recruited two years ago. Gnorrbb had immediately signed on
as Grand Shaman Lord of the great army Tormoth had raised, primarily to
get the artifacts he needed to learn the art of black magic. Gnorrbb
proved to be very useful in the assault on Azak-Kaghk-K'korr, where he
eliminated the fortress's best magicians. The evil shaman had also begun
dabbling in blue and white magic, from spellbooks he took from the
citadel.
The astounding success of the operation to destroy Azak-Kaghk-K'korr was Tormoth's primary reason behind his grab for power, but if tribal
leaders wouldn't bow to him for that reason alone, he would invoke the
rites of the duel and use the Runesword he had taken as spoils of war to
slay the dissident chieftans.
Already, the warlord was plotting ahead, planning both the
reconstruction of the fortress he had destroyed only two days ago, and
the details of the assault on Northkeep. He was certain that the
eventual attack on the largest fortress complex known to exist in
Ulgrotha would require the utmost attention to detail.
"Master," a small voice cried out, seeking Gnorrbb.
"What is it," the shaman asked impatiently. It was his familiar,
Kakraalk, a Nettling Imp of the ugliest appearance and sharpest tongue.
"Master, I checked out the castle we sacked, like you asked, and I found a secret chamber in the room where you got your Disk. People were
in it!"
"What people?" Tormoth and Gnorrbb both asked angrily.
"They were in the castle when I looked around for them, but they left a day ago. They were humans, master, humans..." the Imp stopped to catch
his breath. "Two young'uns with swords and shields and a young white
mage, master."
"They must have been in the hidden chamber," Gnorrbb said. "They cannot be allowed to get to Northkeep, or our plans will be in ruin."
"Gholkk!" Tormoth bellowed. A large, burly Orc lieutenant swiftly
marched over. "Take your regiment back to the fortress and then search
the mountains around them. We think three humans hid in a secret
chamber. They've been walking for about a day."
"Yes, master," the Orc said, saluting.
"And Gholkk," Tormoth said, quietly but evilly. "You had better not let them get to Northkeep, or your life will be the price."
The lieutenant nodded acknowledgement and left to get his troops.
Thunderclouds descended upon the valley overlooked by Castle Sengir. A flash of lightning and the boom of thunder announced one of the yearly
summer storms. People fled into their homes as the rain began to pour
upon the villages that made up the barony ruled by the vampire lord.
In the Castle, the Baron was standing in his tower chamber, taking in the view of the clouds as they enveloped the valley. Dark shadows
stretched across the ground until the valley was no longer visible from
the heights of the castle.
"Veldrane," he spoke softly, to the figure standing behind him.
"Yes, liege," came the reply.
"Make your way to the Orc encampment in the Mountains of Shiraz. More specifically, the prison of Tormoth's camp. Liberate the prisoners you
find there and bring them here. Two of my Vampires will assist you."
"Yes, liege." Silence reigned for a minute, then Veldrane asked: "What of the three wandering south from Azak-Kaghk-K'korr?"
"Some of the Bats are keeping an eye on them. They will let me know if anything unusual happens."
"Of course, my lord," the servant of the Baron said, then departed as lightning flashed and thunder boomed, briefly enveloping the room with
bright light.
The vampire who was the Baron later swept down into the lower sections of the castle, and commanded some Vampires to go with Veldrane to the
Valley of Meeting.
Then the Baron and his vampires leapt from the heights of the castle, for the nightly hunt.
At this point, three others would have given their legs to be able to fly. Talen, Gerrold and Turth fitfully slept in the small, uninhabited
notch in a mountain that was too small to be considered a cave. They had
been travelling along mountain passes and less-traveled trade routes,
ever since they had discovered that the route normally taken to get from
Azak-Kaghk-K'korr was infested with Orcs and Goblins. Almost definitely
Tormoth's.
The next morning, they departed, always on the lookout for streams (water) and mountain goats (food), as well as any evil humanoids that
might prefer that they be dead.
Though it was summer in the flatlands and deep valleys, along the
higher mountain areas, light snow would often fall.
A week later, the trio stumbled along: tired, hungry and frightened of the prospects of getting slain by random beasts along the small
cliffside trail they were following southwards that day.
Suddenly there was the sound of bootheels crunching on loose rocks. Talen and Gerrold quietly drew their swords and moved to protect Turth,
who began concentrating on what little white magic he knew.
Five Orcs, carrying a mishmash of hand weapons and all snarling
ferally, rushed upon Talen, who was facing the north side of the
passage. Gerrold quickly spun around the mage as Talen parried three
blows. His sword flashed in the sunlight then an Orc, his chest slashed
and ribs crushed, toppled over the side, screaming. A sickening thud
announced his arrival at the bottom.
Next came Talen's strike. He lunged, barely missing a sword swung at his head, and speared and Orc, who slid off the blade and over the edge,
but, already dead, made no sound until he too, hit the escarpment far
below.
Three Orcs fighting two warriors and a mage. Seemingly easy, except two more Orcs tried rushing Turth from behind, but a Mtenda Lion
materialized out of nowhere and crushed an Orc against the side of the
mountain. And both paladins struck home again, leaving an Orc crumpled
up on the mountainside and another pitched over the cliff.
The Mtenda lion finished off the last Orc on its side of the battle, then winked out of existance. One sweep by Talen, and the last Orc was
also felled.
Immediately, the three began marching a little faster, all too aware that more such encounters were to come. Indeed, for the next two weeks,
they were harrassed by Orc and Goblin patrols, twice daily at least.
Once, Talen was nearly killed, except a Healing Salve spell cast by
Turth kept him alive. But they were exhausted.
However, three days, and zero battles later, they began to believe they had gotten close to the end of the mountain range, and that the Orcs had
lost their scent.
They were wrong.
End of Chapter Two
Don't miss Chapter Three of Enlightenment: The Convocation.