Stone of Storms

By Jasper Jolley

A Dwarf named Betwixt was in a terrible fix as the hordes were hunting him down, he had stolen the stone this he did all alone to stop a tyrant from wearing a crown. The Orks and the Trolls gave it their all to be the first to cut off his head, could Betwixt be protected in ways unexpected by Flamehair even though she was dead? Dark Elves and the Witches had him in stitches after tearing his back with the lash, could an Ogre and Snotling help him to bring their tyranny down with a crash? The armies of Brok protected by rock defended the stronghold of Henis, the Orks they did fight with all of their might to repel the vicious Ork menace. Could a sorcerers power defeat and devour with the help of a powerful stone, the murderous intent of a Dark Elf hell-bent on placing himself on the throne? An imaginary friend was there to the end as the sorcerer unleashed his spell, would they find what they craved or maybe enslaved by a tyrant no one could tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jasper Jolley
• Release date: Oct 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301336845

Book preview

Stone of Storms

By

Jasper Jolley

Copyright 2012 Jasper Jolley

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design

By

John Amy

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1-Hunted

Chapter 2-The High Elves

Chapter 3-Flamehair

Chapter 4-Jack and Sarah

Chapter 5-The Witch

Chapter 6-Alwyn and Brok

Chapter 7-The Cave

Chapter 8-Endor and Bogwirt

Chapter 9-Arnach

Chapter 10-Capture

Chapter 11-The Meeting

Chapter 12-Seofra and her Sisters

Chapter 13-The Nightmare

Chapter 14-Escape

Chapter 15-Osborn and Emaron

Chapter 16-Brinvok

Chapter 17-Hemphod arrives in Henis

Chapter 18-The Hordes

Chapter 19-Betwixt seeks Emaron

Chapter 20-The Battle

Chapter 21-Mountain Rest

Chapter 22-The Aftermath

Chapter 23-The Witches of Keskis

Chapter 1

Hunted

Betwixt weakened and slowed to a walk. Running for hours through dense forest he thought he would have lost them by now but still they kept coming, ever nearer. He had tried everything he knew to lose them with no success, and now he desperately needed to rest, but there was no escape from the chasing pack. The screeching sounds of the hunters were getting noticeably louder and he knew they were making ground on him fast. His heart pounded; sweat seeped into his clothes and dripped from his brow. He gasped for air, as his body screamed at him to stop. His eyes darted everywhere around him, panicking, seeking possible hiding places, but they could find none. Betwixt was all too aware of the consequences of his capture, it was not an option, too much depended on his escape.

Stopping at a fallen oak, he eagerly climbed upon the moss-covered trunk and scanned the forest floor looking for any sign of the creatures sent to hunt him down. He could see nothing; the dappled light and slight wisps of wind betrayed his eyes as tall grasses swayed here and there making his imagination race. It would be dark soon, he could use that to his advantage, but for now, he needed to find somewhere safe to hide.

Panting deeply with his hands on his knees, Betwixt tried to compose himself. His mind was confused; terror gripped him as he sought ways to escape his situation. After a few more deep breaths, he stood upright, and again scanned between the trees looking for any movement. He heard their blood chilling screams in the distance but could not see them.

He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a small oval stone, and sighed. He stared at it rubbing his thumb over its smooth black surface wondering what to do with it should he be taken. He had all this power in his hand and did not know how to use it. Why had he put everyone in danger? He thought, for a stone. There were many questions that he asked himself but couldn't answer any of them. The stone started to vibrate gently and began to heat up. The vibrations got stronger and hotter the longer he held it. He did not wait to give it a chance to gain momentum because Flamehair warned him that it could very well kill him so he put it back in his pocket before it had that chance. After replacing the stone Betwixt jumped from the rotting tree and started to run again. His legs were tired and starting to cramp. He made his way through the tall grasses towards a place, he thought, would give him his best, and last chance of escape. Betwixt was familiar with most of this forest, he played here when he was younger and he hoped this knowledge would save him now.

Betwixt looked like your average Dwarf, small in stature but quite brawny. He wore a loose fitting grey jacket that had seen better days and was threadbare. He had a beard light in colour that came to the top of his chest, and his brownish orange hair touched the top of his shoulder. He wore leaf green trousers with holes at the knees, and he carried an axe, which hung down the middle of his back. A leather strap held up a pouch made from goatskin where he kept his bits and pieces. The pockets in his jacket usually bulged with objects he found on his travels but he had discarded most of it to lighten his weight as he ran.

He made his way to a place known locally as the Talons. It consisted of hundreds of acres of thick twisted thorn bushes impregnable to all but the smallest of creatures, and had a formidable reputation. Some still called it Deathwood but that description had all but died out long ago.

This was the only place, he decided, that he stood any chance of losing the pack. If this failed then he knew all would be lost. He laid a false trail leading straight into the Talons and doubled back again stepping on the imprints in the muddy grass he had just made. From there he carefully made his way down to the river whose high banks would help to conceal him. Betwixt knew of the passage that weaved its way under the Talons, it was the only route through them. He had played there long ago hiding with his friends while they practised their fighting skills, honing their art day after day until approaching darkness forced them to cut short their adventures. They had sworn through shared blood never to tell any other Dwarf about their secret place, it was their place to keep for themselves and now he was the only one left who knew of its existence. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered them. It seemed like only yesterday that they were fencing each other with sticks. They would continually practise year after year readying themselves for the day when they hoped they would earn their very own axes, and a step nearer to that elusive warrior status.

As he nervously made his way along the bank of the river, he came to a large gnarled leafless tree that was grey with age. Carved on the trunk near the bottom were the names of his friends, Endor and Bogwirt, along with his own name. They had carved their names into the tree bark as they laid claim to the forest, this was the seat of their power, and they let everyone know that this tree and this forest was theirs. He touched his friends’ names one at a time remembering them and all the good times they had when they played here together not so long ago. He then squeezed in behind the enormous tree and the bank, and made his way down through the twisted roots. Down he went twisting and turning going deeper and deeper under the roots. He was thankful that the cold moist soil had a cooling effect on him as he again wiped the sweat from his brow. He was careful not to disturb the cobwebs, a dead giveaway that someone had passed, and instead he slowly manoeuvred around them, desperately trying to leave no sign of his presence. Then he started to climb his way further into the bank, upward he went covering over any trace of him until he reached their secret passage. The roots of the thorn bushes above dangled down over a dark passageway that meandered for miles under the Talons, and was just wide and high enough for a Dwarf to walk through. Betwixt sat down and folded his legs drawing his knees to his chin. Fearful, and extremely anxious, he then awaited his fate and looked to his ancestors for protection.

It was not long before he heard them and he started to tremble. He could hear the blood curdling shrieks of the Orks as they sensed blood. He could feel the vibration of the heavy thump that the Trolls feet made as they walked above him causing bits of earth to fall onto his head. He put the stone in an empty pocket so that he would have no problem locating it among the other bits and bobs he usually carried around, ready for him to cast into the river should he be captured. He closed his eyes hardly daring to breathe and waited.

Find him! Find him! A Black Ork commander bawled, hitting an Ork with a swipe from the back of his armoured hand, he's in the thorn forest get in there and find him.

Orks were hideous looking creatures; reptilian in appearance, most stood upright on two legs. Some had skin that hung loose from their bodies as if they were moulting. They looked hideously deformed, every one of them uglier than the next. They were dark green in colour, and most had piercing yellow eyes. They lived for killing; any creature would do, as they loved nothing more than to spill blood. They were always heavily armed, and their piercing yellow eyes had an almost hypnotic effect on their victims.

The Orks were ignorant of the Talons fearful reputation and most did as ordered and charged in. They began to hack away at the branches with their swords and axes determined to be the first to catch and taste the blood of the Dwarf. Instead of Dwarf blood, they got Talons blood as it oozed and dripped from the cut branches and seeped into the soil. Betwixt hoped that all of them would charge into the Talons but some stayed on the outskirts in case he tried to make good his escape.

It was not long before he could hear their agonising screams as the thorns cut and tore at their flesh. Thick sharp branches wrapped around, pierced their bodies, and held them aloft is if they were trophies. They screamed in agony begging for help. As the Orks hacked and tried to make headway the branches of thorns grew in rapidly behind them blocking any possible escape route. The more they chopped the more the branches seemed to retaliate as they fed on the dark blood of their victims. Some were trampled underfoot by their screaming comrades trying to make their way back out but nothing ever came back out of the Talons alive. The more they cut and chopped the faster the branches re-grew tightening their grip around their unsuspecting prey, and energised with new blood they became stronger with bigger sharper thorns, and tangled pointed branches.

The Black Ork commander could only watch helplessly as his warriors succumbed one by one to the butchery. It made no difference to him that his screaming soldiers pleaded for help, they were replaceable. As time went by the agonising screams became fainter as most of the Orks succumbed one by one to the inevitable, until their bloodied bodies lay strewn across the canopy, food for any scavenger that dared to go in and get them.

The sun was setting and the Black Ork commander ordered the Trolls to get some of the bodies they could reach and start cooking, but some of the Orks had already started to feast, impatient to wait for the meat to be cooked. They began to eat their fallen comrades whether they were dead or not.

The Black Orks were larger and more intelligent than the lowly Orks they commanded. Standing about seven feet tall and heavily built they were formidable fighters. Their leathery skin was darker than the smaller Orks, hence their name, and woe betide any Ork that crossed them.

Do you think he has escaped us, asked another Black Ork as he approached his commander.

He's here I can smell him, it’s the only way he could have come, the commander replied.

You had better be right for all our sakes, I for one do not want to go back and face Osborn without the stone it would be a certain death sentence.

He's here I tell you, continue searching, look under every leaf if you have to he can’t be far. Bring the Trogs here now he won’t stay hidden for long.

The Troglodytes are reptilian creatures who have yellow green leathery skin and could walk on two legs if needed. About the size of large dogs with a powerful serrated tail, their jaws of dagger sharp teeth would make short work of anything that got in the way of their bite. They were renowned hunters with a taste for flesh. Their noses could smell out any creature especially when they were hungry and that was most of the time. They went quickly to work searching in areas difficult for other creatures to access. It is the one creature that Betwixt was wary of the most. He knew they could blend in to their environment like a chameleon, and he knew of their legendary hunting skills. You would not even know they were there until their crushing jaws ripped the flesh from your bones.

It wasn't long before Betwixt could hear them, snorting and grunting beside the entrance to his hideout squealing at each other as they got in each other’s way. They sniffed around the base of the tree trying to pick up a scent, burying their snouts in the earth, peering between the roots and scratching away small stones looking for any sign of their prey. They crawled between the roots lifting their noses to smell the air, but they could detect nothing. Betwixt trembled, he was aware that if any creature could find him then these were it. They stayed there much longer than was comfortable for him, shrieking to each other as if it was a sign to move on, and he was relieved when they eventually crawled further along the bank. They continued their hunt for some time but they could not find him.

He must have gone a different way he isn't here even the Trogs can’t find him, said a Black Ork as he straddled a fallen tree with a worried look on his face.

What are we going to do, we can’t return without the stone?

The commander stared at his comrade as if daring him to question his methods and tried a different tactic.

Dwarf, Dwarf! he bawled repeatedly, clasping his hands around his mouth that housed rotting pointed yellow teeth.

I know you can hear me, all we want is the stone there is no need to die, hand it over and you can go on your way in peace. Osborn means you no ill all he wants is the stone.

The commander waited in stony silence, clenching his fists with impatience, but there was no reply. Again, he tried to reason with the Dwarf but again only silence. The only sound he could hear was the remaining Orks munching through flesh and bone completely oblivious to their commanders concerns.

He can hear me alright I'm sure of it. If he is somehow managing to hide somewhere in the thorn forest then he won't be coming out ever.

In a fit of rage, the commander then screamed out orders to burn the Talons to the ground, destroy it all, he screamed, everything.

Within seconds, flaming arrows pierced the early evening sky raining fire down upon the Talons; it burned like dried grass to the cheers of the sneering Orks. Smoke rose and the smell of burning flesh began to pervade the air. Dead Orks crackled and cooked in the intense heat and so did those that were not quite dead yet, as the fire forced out another whimper of pain from some of them. The faces of the Orks lit up as they looked at the fire, which held them in its hypnotic power. Some time passed before the fire began to recede leaving nothing but crackling embers as far as the eye could see, glowing in the evening half-light.

Nothing bars your way now, bawled the commander, and ordered them to find the Dwarf quickly. The rest of the Orks and the others started to make their way through the remnants of the thorn forest, sampling some roasted Ork as they passed, onward they went