The Gems of EL - Convergence

By Bill Mays

The sacred gems of lore are awakening. They want to be found, to be held, and to be used. Perhaps, they want even more. The call has been sounded and the ripples of that call are resounding across the continent. A danger the likes of which only the originators can imagine looms on the horizon. The ancients can feel the threat growing as the champions are chosen from among the new races of EL. What does it all mean? Where do Tark and his allies fit into the equation? The stakes are raised ten-fold as wars erupt across the civilized lands of Pangias. The Dark Lord's reach seems limitless. Meiron's power is increasing and his ultimate goal becomes more apparent. Now it is a race to see who will discover the true secrets of the gems and who will do what must be done to control their power before it grows out of control. EL rests on the verge of a new age, but what exactly will that new age hold for the people of Pangias?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Mays III
• Release date: Nov 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311224644

Bill Mays

I currently live in Commerce City Colorado with my husband two dogs, and two cats, though my work carries me all across the country and beyond the borders as a flight attendant and an instructor for other flight attendants. I have a degree in studio art, have been an actor and professional artist, as well as many other things, but I have found my love for writing which stems from my love of role-playing games and reading. Fantasy adventure is my absolute favorite, though science fiction follows at a close second. I have learned that writing is good for my soul. I plan to continue writing fantasy books for many years to come! Feel free to contact me at [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

On silvery transparent wings, the elder descended from his hovering throne-like seat. The seat hung in the air on spiraling currents of glistening magical energy. Long silvery-white robes fluttered about the elder’s slender body. He glided to the reflective, crystalline floor of the summit hall of the spire. His swift movements were agitated and exaggerated. His long, pointed ears twitched back and forth as he paced.

"The red, the blue, the amber, and the green, four of the sacred gems rest in the hands of the lesser beings. They are no longer hidden and no longer sleeping. Three have already had their mystical energies tapped, and one of those has called upon the forbidden power… repeatedly. The Orbec, leader of the verinion race, shook his head from side to side. His long, thin beard and braids of white hair swung about his silvery robes. You are so like the other elders in your ignorance, Quithine. Why must everything be such a debate with you? You see only nuisance and personal hardship in these events. I would have expected more from you. Was your father’s sacrifice so meaningless? Why are our people so blind to the dangers we face? Why do we remain so ignorant of the potential for catastrophe that we created?" The last part of the statement was whispered to himself.

He used his transparent wings to flit back to his seat of prominence. It hovered ten feet from the floor in the circular chamber that was his audience hall. The smoothly curved white walls were covered in many oval crystal windows that looked down on the cloud city from the top of the spire. Golden rays of sunlight shone through the windows and cast their light on the reflective surfaces of the grand chamber. It was all very pretty and very distracting. The Orbec took his seat in the floating chair and glared down on the speaker. His tall, slender ears twitched angrily, but the regal man held his composure in check.

Since you fail to recognize the potential danger in this situation, I assign you the daunting task of locating this lesser warrior who handles the blue gem known as Aralue. You will secretly help guide him to the focal point. There, fate will take its course. Better to be done with what is to come and salvage what we can from there. It seems inevitable now. Perhaps, this delicate task will open your eyes. The elder sighed in frustration. You will do so with all the champions chosen, save for the dark wizard. That one is dangerous. Perhaps, by leading the others forward that one will be left behind. We can only hope our task will be much easier without that one in the way. He has become a serious threat. Let another take the lead.

Quithine’s head snapped up in surprise. Orbec, you cannot truly believe such a thing? she gasped in shock. "How could any of those below be a threat to us? The wizard is a… a lesser."

Ignorance, pure ignorance! the old verinion hissed. He seeks to conquer all the stones! Isn’t that much obvious? He knows of the crown created to house them. He knows too much! What kind of power would this lesser wield then, Quithine? He would wield the power of the Ancients combined! The last such lesser of his kind rocked the world, including the clouds! We have seen that he is clever enough to harness their secrets! He has called upon the sacred power. He has accessed the hue storms! You take too much pride in your heritage and give too little credit to the world below! Were you sleeping during the catastrophe last time, or just hiding your eyes with fanciful masks like the rest of the council?

Quithine stuttered. She shifted from one foot to the other and her wings fluttered in agitation. She was trying to come up with a suitable response. She just could not accept that these lesser beings could pose the Ancients, especially the verinions, any real threat. The past events were a fluke. They could never be duplicated. They had survived the last occurrence with few inconveniences and would surely do so again. As far as she and most of her kind were concerned, the clouds were safe from the troubles of the world below. Who cared how much they polluted their filthy tainted lands anyway?

There are still two gems unaccounted for, she whispered calmly, trying to salvage some small fraction of her dignity. Plus, the two banished from this world.

"Words carried on the winds speak of the call of one such gem already. How long will it be before the last gem is found? You know as well as I that they are awake! They are all awake!" he snapped back angrily.

But two gems were lost to EL, she replied meekly. Past events cannot be duplicated.

For a thousand years they have been gone, lost. But we both know the power contained within them. Who is to say that they too will not return somehow if the others are united? The Orbec stared her down. Can you assure that?

She knew he could be right. Quithine, like most of her people, just did not want to get involved. The verinions were a purist, self-centered people. They considered themselves righteous and above others in every aspect. They were content to live apart from the new world below and enjoy the lavish life they had created for themselves over the centuries. The haughty beings pretended not to recall the clash of the Ancients. They persisted in forgetting their part in the creation of the Stones of Power, and they ignored the troubles inherent in that act. They even tried to ignore the existence of the other originators altogether.

Do as I have commanded and waste no time, I fear our peace grows short-lived, the old man sighed.

What of the agreement, the ancient pact? We are not allowed to get involved, she dared to speak back.

And would you stand in the path of a great vortex because you agreed not to move? he screamed. She was silent. It is one and the same here! Be discreet. You can manage that much, can’t you? We will attempt not to anger the sath or the nar. The quethu have thrown their allegiance to the blue stone, as would be expected. He paused and seemed to consider his last statement. As much as it pains me to say, I am beginning to believe they are the wisest of all our kind. At least they have always chosen to act, while the rest of us sit idly by and pretend not to notice, with our ridiculous pacts and separatist ways. The slender, white-haired man slammed his delicate fist down on the arm of his floating chair. The action seemed completely out of character.

Quithine thought to say more but held her tongue. The Orbec was angrier than she had ever seen him. Yes Orbec, she conceded with a dip of her head.

She left the spire and flew away quickly on her transparent wings to gather her team. The four other verinions waited impatiently. None of them envied their lot, Quithine least of all. What verinion in her right mind would choose to leave the clouds and venture to the world below for any reason? She briefed them on what little they knew of each of the active gems’ whereabouts. She also decided who was to locate each stone and guide its champion to the focal point. What good this would do, she could not say. Why were they guiding the stones where they wanted to go? In the past, they had hoped the gems would not reach the focal point. It did not matter. The Orbec had commanded it, and so it would be done. How they were going to accomplish this task while staying removed from the lesser beings she did not know. One from her team was to watch over the wizard’s progress. Another would seek out the unclaimed, clear gem. They would worry about the violet one, when and if it surfaced. She would pursue the warrior of the blue gem herself, as was instructed. He was the only champion to challenge the wizard of the red gem as of yet, and he had managed to survive the conflict. He held potential, for a lesser, even if the quethu were aiding him.

- Chapter 1 -

Indo Clubfoot

Birds chirped loudly as the sun’s rays filtered in through the thick canopy of greenery that constituted Larl’s forests. Animals of all types and sizes scampered through the lush undergrowth and bounced along the tree branches. The inhabitants of the forests were on edge. Something was not right, and they could sense it. The thick emerald forests of the country of Larl were usually quite peaceful. It was a remote and reclusive region, lying far to the west of Kandair on the other side of Paseth, through a large expanse of the rugged and unclaimed wilds. It was a center of extraordinary beauty and a concentration of fey energies. Most of its inhabitants were content to go about their routines without ever setting foot outside the protective forests. Menyane, Master of Nature, was the foremost god of the lands, and was worshipped and revered by most who called the old forests home. Many other gods and goddesses were welcome in these lands as well. Common ones included Zuvack, Lord of Animals, the sister goddesses Trinid, Filisedess, and Learianna who ruled the seasons, weather, and the waters respectively, and Sahearis, Goddess of All Plant Life plus Danuuba, Goddess of Earthly Magic and the Fey. Together these deities constituted what was known as The Green, a special faith that revered nature above all else. All in all, the country was very much in touch with its surroundings.

It was not always peaceful here, though. Other things, creatures of great evil, moved among the gentler beings on occasion. One such group of creatures was known as the vrae, or one-eyed demons. They were a sadistic group of monsters that came in many shapes and sizes. They were all thought to originate from the same world or dimension, a terrible place that was rumored to be ruled mercilessly by their kind. The various vrae were very different, but all shared one basic trait, a single large central eye dominated their faces. They were said to have appeared after The Great War some thousand years past, when a gate was opened that allowed an army of the demons to enter EL. Of course, it was all hearsay and rumor, little if any recorded history remained of that time. The world was believed to be on the verge of destruction after that war. They supposedly came at the same time as many other powerful beings, including the reivers, and the Idosians. Their collective presence shifted the dynamics of the land ever since.

The vrae claimed a small region just south of Larl called Iamonie. They forced the former inhabitants from the area, enslaving any who dared remain. It was once a land of rolling green hills and beautiful crystal waterfalls. Their land was renamed Bagoth. The rulers of Bagoth were the terrible great eyes, the most powerful of their kind. These great eyes were known to all for the incredible sorcery they possessed. They were cruel creatures who slew or enslaved any who got in their way. It was at the command of one of these great eye-tyrants that several groups of the lesser vrae came to stalk the emerald forests. They were sent to cause trouble, spread fear, and warn all not to aid the enemies of Drackmoore. They were also sent to gather any information they could on the whereabouts of the legendary Gems of Power.

Most of the communities in Larl were solitary and small. The primary inhabitants of the forests were the elves and the woodlings, though a few scattered tribes of centaurs, menagerie folk, and other wilderness creatures were present. Many other fey and woodland beings lived among the trees, too, though not in any communities of note. They shared their homes with the animals and the other more exotic creatures of the wilderness. The emerald forests were old. There were many legends and stories of lore surrounding them. Most hinted at the possibility of a portal to the fey realms opening here and influencing the path of Larl’s growth. When the vrae entered, the balance of the land was disrupted. Most everyone took shelter when the eye tyrants came around. Only the elves and their allies moved against them in force.

Through powerful divinations, known only to the one-eyed demons, a rumor had been uncovered. It spoke of an amber stone with a light of power. The rumor placed the artifact somewhere in the forests of central Larl, where it was lost after The Great War of Ascension. The vrae sorcerer who discovered the rumor led his troop to the place where the rumor seemed to originate. What he found there was not what he expected. There was no mystic altar or sacred tomb, but only a small village of woodlings. That was disappointing.

His troop showed no mercy. Aided by his magic, they overtook the tiny people easily. Woodlings were like chubby little gnomes with pleasant dispositions and the coloring of humans. Their plump, cheery faces and slightly pointed ears gave them the look of elfin children who had eaten far too much. They were a peaceful race, for the most part, and lived lives of farming and gathering, with a little fishing thrown in for good measure. They were friends with the animals and other woodland beings. The miniature humanoids did their best to keep a balance and harmony with the nature around them.

Woodlings made poor warriors, but skilled scouts and druids. One such druid had evaded the vrae troop. His name was Indo Piff. As the vrae attacked and lit their tiny village aflame, the elder of the community entrusted their statue of fortune to him for protection. It was the totem of good luck the elders of the village had passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years. As the lone druid of the village, Indo was the most capable guardian for their most sacred of items.

The little woodling easily escaped the attack with the statue in tow. Unfortunately, he was also the clumsiest druid in all Larl. Indo was even known as Indo Clubfoot among his peers in the secretive druidic sect. He tripped soon after escaping the clutches of the vrae and broke the sacred statue. After a few curses and several tears, he tried to collect the pieces and see what could be done to repair the totem. Despite his accident, or more likely because of it, he found that there was more to the totem statue than the elders knew. Indo discovered that the statue housed a wondrous treasure. Now he understood why it was the village’s most prized item. Inside was a gem, an amber colored stone so large he could not quite close his fingers over it. It glowed and pulsed with an inner light that radiated power. As he lifted the beautiful stone its energy washed up his arm and through his body. He felt a strength surge through him. It was then that the amber stone of power had not only resurfaced, but also chosen its unlikely champion.

Indo fled for the guidance and assistance of his fellow druids. Their faith was large and extensive throughout the emerald forests and across the continent. The artifact held a power that was immense. It was a power he knew was far beyond him. He called together a council of his peers. All types of elves, monochs, other menagerie creatures, centaurs, woodlings and less common fey gathered in a meeting to discuss this new revelation. They were The Council of The Vine, the closest thing to a governing force that existed in the emerald forests. Formed primarily of the druidic Order of the Vine, they led the debates for the betterment of their secluded nation. They debated long and hard over what was to be done. Though they were unsure as to the actual meaning of the stone’s appearance, or its origin, they knew the vrae sought its power. They recognized its power as well. That was enough to bring them to action. They decided on a course that would be best for Larl. Indo was to leave the forests with the artifact in search of King Airos of Kandair. The vrae were in league with Drackmoore, and Kandair currently opposed Drackmoore. Who better to give the stone to than the kingdom that stood against their enemies? They wanted to carry the conflict far from their leafy borders and be done with it.

The tiny woodling druid had been given a team of guardians representing each of the major species of the council. Together they were to reach the distant Kandairian lands. The other part of the druid council’s plan was even more dangerous for little Indo. They intended to leak word of this mission to the vrae, thus sending the enemy troops from the forests as well to pursue them. Preservation of Larl was their main concern. The wars and desires of the other lands came in a very distant second.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had been over a week since this crazy incident shoved Indo onto the path from his homeland of Larl. The woodling did not look forward to his journey. Unfortunately for him, the witches and seers of the council named him as the one selected by the gem to carry it. Destiny was a cruel mistress. His appointed guardians had been helpful, but still he wondered if he would ever complete his quest. Five lesser vrae ambushed him early on. Without the others at his side, he never would have survived the encounter.

Where Indo was short and pudgy, standing barely three feet tall with his little pot belly and ash brown hair, Aben was slender and just over six feet in height, tall for his kind. The monoch ranger was agile and skilled. His fur and hair were a shiny deep brown, and his eyes were a stark orange. The ranger had a strong prehensile tail and was a master at traveling through the treetops and scouting the areas below. Aben’s people were an animated group of monkey-like humanoids, one of the most prominent of the menagerie races. The monoch proved to be a potent warrior against the vrae. Indo’s other two guardians were Currin, a mighty centaur archer, and Airimis, a tall sun elf warrior-mage. All three impressed the little woodling with their prowess. They were each respected members of their communities and renowned warriors of Larl.

Indo and Airimis rode along on Currin’s strong back. The centaur traveled much more swiftly than either of them could hope to match with his powerful equine body. A screech from above signaled that Aben was coming down from the treetops again to join them. The ranger was an invaluable resource in the thick forests. The monoch sprang from the branches to land deftly on his bare feet at their side.

What have you learned? Airimis asked sternly. The golden-haired, golden-eyed elf seemed always to carry a scowl.

Aben shifted his weight steadily from foot to foot. His tail was constantly moving to accent his speech, as were his hands, and sometimes his hand-like feet. The monoch were very expressive in most everything they did.

There is a troop of vrae close on our tails. That stone must be important to them. I’ve never seen those one-eyes move with such determination, the monkey-man exclaimed.

Indo clutched the large, multifaceted amber tightly. He normally carried the gem in a secure pouch at his waist. Well, they won’t get it! the little woodling announced fiercely. Over the last few days, he had grown more attached to the pulsing stone. Its touch was comforting and empowering. The gem made him feel strong and important.

His green eyes shone brightly as he clenched his free hand into a fist and raised it to the sky. Unfortunately, that left him no hands with which to hold onto the centaur’s back. If not for Currin’s strong arm, long reach, and quick reflexes, the woodling would have fallen to the dirt.

Oops! Indo giggled for the hundredth time since they had begun the journey.

Airimis let his flowing, golden hair fall across his face as he shook his head from side to side. He had grown so tired of that word. This had to be the clumsiest woodling he had ever met. Currin only chuckled. The light-hearted centaur enjoyed the little man’s bumbling antics. It broke up the seriousness of their situation.

The dour elf turned his attention back to the monkey-ranger. How many are in the troop?

I spotted at least six of the little legged vrae, and their leader is a small-eye. They move alongside a large human warrior and a handful of his soldiers, Aben answered.

Humans and a small-eye working together, isn’t that strange? Currin shook his long mane of chestnut hair in frustration. His lean muscular torso flexed as he moved, and his tail swept from side to side. He pawed at the ground with one hoofed foot. Do you think you can deal with that small-eye, Airimis? the centaur asked seriously. Aben and I can handle the lesser vrae and the humans.

Airimis sighed inwardly. The small-eyes were skilled sorcerers, not as powerful as their rulers but dangerous in their own right. What choice do I have? he grumbled sourly.

What about me? Indo piped up. Where should I help? His cherubic face spread into an excited grin.

The woodling fumbled with the artifact trying to slip it fully back into his pouch. It bounced from one hand to the other and the little druid almost dropped it. Again, Currin caught the woodling and kept him from tumbling to the ground.

You stay hidden! the stern elf snapped. Indo looked hurt.

It is you that they seek, my little friend. If that stone is claimed, our mission is a failure. You have the most important job of us all. You must keep the artifact and yourself safe so that it may reach the human king, Currin explained gently. The large centaur had a kind soul and a easy way with words. Indo nodded his understanding, though he was still disappointed to be left out of their plans.

There is no more time to talk, Aben screeched as he leapt into the trees to take cover. I will start the fight, be prepared. They’ll never see me coming, the monkey-man grinned excitedly as he dangled from a branch by his tail.

Airimis began an incantation. When he finished, a swirling mist twisted around Indo. The little druid was suddenly visible as little more than a faint warped outline. He was nearly transparent and moved with almost total silence. He was like a shifting blade of grass in a wide-open glade.

Wow! the woodling gasped as he marveled over his transformation. His own prayer spells were not nearly as potent.

Airimis leapt to the ground from the centaur’s back and lifted the camouflaged druid down as well. Go and hide, woodling, the stern elf ordered. It is about to grow dangerous here.

Indo’s shoulders slumped and his head hung low. Currin nodded in his direction. We’ll return soon, little one, the centaur whispered as he drew his mighty bow and prepared a pair of crystal-tipped arrows. As the two guardians walked away, the elf released another spell and his long-bladed sword took on a shimmering glow.

Indo hid, but he did not like it. He wanted to help. With the numbers Aben reported, he knew they needed him. The druid sat in the underbrush for a moment in deep thought. What good was he if all he did was hide from everything? He hid when they raided his village and that would stay with him forever. No, he could not become a hero by hiding in the bushes. He then scurried after his companions. He could at least watch, and if the need arose, lend a helping hand. How far would he make it without the others anyway? The last thought sealed his decision.

As his head crested the shrubbery, he could see his guardians lying in wait. It sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. The anticipation was so invigorating. The guardians were all amazing warriors. How he wished he were a warrior, too. Indo flexed his little arm and lifted his small sickle. One day he too would be known throughout Larl for his skill and bravery.

* * * * * * * * * *

The six lesser one-eyes were the first to pass into the small clearing. They were vaguely humanoid in shape and size, with two short legs and two short arms, each ending in three or four fingers or toes. Their mottled skin was covered in patches and blemishes. They each carried a heavy axe as a weapon. They had large, hairless, rounded heads sporting a jagged-toothed mouth and one large central eye that dominated their faces. Their necks were nonexistent with the bulbous heads just blending into the stocky bodies. Behind them were the ten dark-clad human soldiers. The humans bore the symbol of a twisting black dragon on their shields. Indo was not familiar with the emblem. He could only assume they were from Drackmoore. The troop was oblivious to the small party’s presence.

With a loud screeching cry, Aben swung down from the branches above the enemy. Attack! the monkey-man shouted wildly. The battle began.

The wild ranger carried a small-arced blade in each hand and used his hand-like feet to grapple one human soldier to the ground. His prehensile tail was adorned with a bladed brace, which he used as a third weapon. He slashed the pinned man with each hand-blade and then lashed out to strike another soldier with his tail-blade. The pinned human was quickly dead. As the other nine humans drew their swords, a hail of crystal-tipped arrows rained down, taking the life from three more enemies. Two humans and one of the hunched vrae soldiers fell, pierced by the razor-sharp missiles. The monoch ranger lashed out during the arrow storm to send another two men to join their fallen comrades. He then used the distraction to spring away, back into the trees. The five human soldiers and the five lesser vrae charged the bow-wielding centaur that was tearing through their ranks.

Currin let out a cry of excitement as he reared up on his hind legs to invite the challenge. We’ll teach you to invade our lands! The centaur laughed in a deep burly voice. He enjoyed the thrill of battle, maybe a little too much.

Currin fired two more arrows simultaneously, taking another human down. He then laid into the axe toting one-eyes with his powerful front hooves. Indo sat watching the whole scene intently. He was amazed at how skilled his guardians were. The one-eyes tried to surround their target with little luck. They swung wildly at the centaur, but he was too quick, and his hooves held too far of a reach. He kept at a distance as he pranced around, kicking the creatures with the strength of a well-muscled stallion. Every now and then, he would release another arrow into their ranks with devastating effects.

The remaining humans quickly pulled back from the centaur and drew bows of their own, crossbows. Aben swung down from the treetops again to engage the men and keep them from firing on his companion. The woodland guardians worked well together. They made an excellent team. Aben’s hand-blades and tail-blade spun in a manic whirl to strike out at each of the four men. The monoch looked like he was involved in some sort of bizarre and sporadic dance of death. His incredible agility made it almost impossible for the soldiers to hit him. The leaders of the enemy troop finally entered the clearing to survey the commotion. The large human warrior came first, followed by the small-eye sorcerer. The human was demonic in appearance, with a horned helm, black plate armor and a cloak of black scales trailing behind him. He carried a sword that was nearly as tall as he was and riddled with notches. The small-eye was nothing more than a floating sphere about two feet in diameter. It had no arms or legs. It did have a large mouth, though, full of sharp teeth. It also had a huge eye that dominated its face and four small tentacles that sprouted from the top of its head. The floating vrae did not look like much, but they were known for their strong magical abilities. The spherical sorcerer began an odd clicking chant as it focused its eye on the centaur archer. Seemingly out of nowhere, the vrae leader was struck by a series of four magical globes. Each blue sphere hit the creature and exploded into sparks. The assault sent the small-eye spiraling into the brush in a daze with a howl of pain. She did not rise again but lay in the grass in a daze. From the tree line stepped Airimis. He had been waiting for the right time to make himself known. The elf held his long, slim, glimmering sword out before him. For once, his scowl transformed into a wry grin.

Come, human, and realize the mistake you’ve made by entering Larl at the side of the vrae, Airimis challenged the big, demonic warrior.

The large human chuckled as he lifted his great sword into the air with ease. He could hear the ancient sword calling out to his mind for a taste of blood. Elf, you face Rugen, general of the dark land armies, and leader of the Knights of Trakarass. I will splay you open to water these trees with your blood, the knight bellowed back.

"You are a general, really? Airimis smirked. If that is true, then where is your army, where are your knights, and why are you traveling with minor vrae? Where are the eye-dogs? Shouldn’t we see the least of their kind among you, he chuckled. I would expect to see a great eye-tyrant at your command if your claims were truth. You are no general, you are a boastful charlatan!"

The slight infuriated Rugen more than the elf could possibly know. It was as a form of punishment that Rugen found himself here walking beside these underlings, punishment for his previous failures. This mission was his last chance to prove himself worthy to his master, The Dark Lord Meiron. Ardath screamed out in his head once more for the smug elf’s blood, and this time Rugen did not resist the sword’s call. The general rushed forward and slashed with all his might. When the general released himself to the sword it gave him increased strength. Ardath passed through the elf with no resistance. The attack put Rugen into a spin that nearly sent him to the ground. The false image of the elf faded. Airimis’s musical laughter rang out from the trees behind the knight. Rugen spun in time to watch the elf sink his shimmering sword into the dazed small-eye sorcerer, killing her neatly.

"Now that has been taken care of, I’ll deal with you - general, Airimis laughed sarcastically. Though you may want to look around you before accepting my challenge, your army is crumbling," he teased.

Rugen scanned the battlefield briefly. He did not care about the others. They were all expendable. Aben wrestled the two remaining Drackmoorian soldiers to the ground, slashing them to pieces with his hands and tail. Meanwhile, Currin was busy with the two remaining vrae. The other four lesser one-eyes lay strewn about, pulverized by the centaur’s powerful hooves. A stray axe swing clipped the archer’s flank, he responded with a hoof to the offender’s face. Aben leapt to deal with Currin’s second attacker and freed the centaur to finish the first one-eyed demon.

Airimis faced off against the large human knight. He was a sun elf, tall and willowy. The human was taller and much broader. As the two grew near, an aura struck the slim elf like a blow. It twisted his stomach into a ball and caused his head to swim. The elf was quick to react, though. Ardath swung at him in a chopping arc. The magical blade sliced through the air at an unbelievable speed. Rugen’s muscles rippled beneath his enchanted armor with as much strength as he could muster. Airimis threw up his sword to block the blow. A shower of sparks and a sharp snapping sound signaled that his slim, elfin blade could not withstand the great sword. The huge sword cut through the elf’s blade and clove deeply into his shoulder, nearly cutting Airimis in two. Ardath groaned inside Rugen’s head with pleasure as it bathed in the elf’s blood. Airimis cried out in agony with his last breath then slid from the notched blade in pieces. The elf’s tortured scream drew their attention. Aben, Currin, and Indo all watched as the golden-haired elf, Airimis, slumped to the ground in two parts, dead.

No! the woodling cried out from hiding. Tears streaked down his plump cheeks.

Currin and Aben each dealt a killing blow to their respective opponents. They moved in on the human who had butchered their companion. Rugen heard their shouts of rage. He spun about to meet two arrows that struck his enchanted armor and shattered, followed closely by the assault of the crazed monkey-man. Aben sprang forward in an erratic and wild pattern of leaps. His hand blades lashed out repeatedly, as did his tail blade. The monoch ranger used his feet to grab hold of the knight’s arms in an attempt to pin him. Rugen was far stronger than he anticipated. The human’s strength was unnatural. Ardath saw to that. Rugen threw Aben to the ground and planted a foot firmly on the ranger’s tail to keep him from springing away. He raised Ardath high into the air, but he was knocked aside by Currin’s powerful hooves. The centaur bashed into the general with reckless fury. Each hoof blow put another dent in the knight’s shiny black armor. Aben took the chance to roll back to his feet. The monkey-man was slightly dazed.

The centaur had Rugen on the defensive. The equine creature was powerful, but one clip of Ardath changed everything. Currin suddenly found himself with only three legs to stand on. His fourth had been cleaved at the knee, and lay twitching on the ground. The archer shouted in fury and pain and fell back. Rugen came at him without mercy. Squeals of joy filled the general’s head as he hacked away at the flailing centaur. The sentient sword was in ecstasy.

Aben’s prehensile tail twisted around Rugen’s neck from behind. The ranger tried to stop the slaughter, but he was too late for that. The monoch used his feet to pull the horned helm from the general’s head. Two bladed hands reached for the large man’s thick neck. Aben intended to strangle the knight, cut his throat or both. Once his helmet fell free, Rugen bellowed out in rage. The general’s face was badly mutilated. It looked as if a potent acid had been splashed across his once handsome features. His nose was mostly gone, and his bottom lip and right cheek were little more than raw meat. One of the knight’s eyes appeared ready to fall from its socket. Both eyelids were melted away. Meiron had not been merciful in his punishment. Keeping his life was the mercy.

Rugen dropped his sword as he staggered backwards with the ranger clinging to him. Blades bit into his neck and face. He reached backwards over his shoulders as best he could to get a grip on the wild monkey-man. His hands locked onto Aben’s head. He slid his fingers to the ranger’s neck. Both struggled to strangle each other as they toppled to the ground, rolling around in a grunting heap. Indo felt helpless. He could stand by and watch no longer. He could not let his last companion die at the grotesque human’s hands. Airimis and Currin lay nearby, carved into pieces. The sight was too much for the little druid. The woodling ran forward from hiding and called on the aid of his friends, the plants. Bushes and vines snaked forward to entwine both combatants. The plants wrapped around them at Indo’s command, pinning them apart.

Get away from here! Run, Indo! Aben shouted in a panic.

Rugen flexed his arms and easily snapped free of the foliage. He took up Ardath and drove the great sword into the pinned monoch before the druid could react to release him. With a laugh of victory, the general twisted the blade in the dying monkey-man’s gut. Indo was horrified. Because of him, Aben was dead. The spell hiding the woodling remained in effect. Rugen turned on his transparent image with a glare of madness. His one good eye and the eye that looked as if it wanted to fall free of his face searched for the next enemy. Ardath was still hungry. Indo dove back into the forest in a run for his life. Heavy footsteps and crazed shouts signaled that Rugen was not far behind.

- Chapter 2 -

Castaways

The spray of the sea was left far behind, and the salty smell in the air faded as well. After the mages were allowed time to study their spell books or practice their rituals, a day’s trek inland verified a couple of things for the large group. First of all, they were definitely on the island of Gurdail. Second, the dwarf port had indeed come under some form of ill fortune. The rumors were not exaggerated. Kottia led them to the town, or to what was left of it, anyway. It had been a few years, but the pirate captain had docked at the island many times in her past. The dwarves were a practical race and cared not about a paying guest’s personal affairs, pirates or merchants, it made no difference to them. Gurdail was considered to be a neutral community by most outsiders. The port town seemed to have found an enemy, though. Every structure in the small settlement was torn down and battered. Even the docks had been smashed to pieces. There went their chance of catching a ride back to Villinsk on another ship, Tark thought wistfully. The air held a mixed smell of salt and death. Decayed and decaying heads of the stout folk, rested on tall crude spears all about the ruin of the dwarf port town like some form of gruesome warning fence.

Several of the crewmen refused to get near the cursed grounds. They swore it was bad luck. Others were overtaken with grief at the sight. Sarry and Nivit were among the latter group. Sarry had grown to adulthood in Gurdail, and the fairy was an emotional creature by nature. Tark could not find the words or the energy to comfort the tiny girl. The sight of more destruction and death simply weighed him down and caused him to sink inside himself.

What happened here? Kreasha asked with a wrinkle of her pert nose. The lady held a look of disgust as she examined one of the rotting dwarf heads impaled on a large wooden spike. Evidently, she was not the sensitive type.

Rumorsss ssspoke of a wicked sssilence over the port. Now we can sssee why, Sslath hissed. The sssea elvesss were telling the truth.

This was not a curse, nor any other form of magic, Xina announced. Something ripped this town apart with physical force. The woman looked unsure of what that meant exactly.

Something like a big band of ogres perhaps? Ado chimed in. The gremlin directed their eyes to a large, booted footprint in the soft dirt. I’m no expert, but that looks like an ogre print to me.

Ogres, Tark mumbled under his breath. Mention of the large, brutish creatures got his attention. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the scar on his chin. They are strong enough. They could definitely accomplish the feat, but there would have to be many of them, a very large tribe. He made the statement matter-of-factly.

Ogres were known to reside all along the stretches of the Sea Span Mountains. They lived in small bands or tribes throughout the range. Those very peaks rose from the sea to form a wall of rock down the southern expanse of the island. They then disappeared back below the water’s surface.

A huge band of marauding ogres, doesn’t that sound pleasant? Kreasha grumbled as she folded her arms across her waist. The lady noticed her silken dress was covered in wrinkles and tried to straighten some of them out. Should we be sitting here like fools, waiting for them to return? Kreasha looked at the pirate captain for an answer. The lady was quite annoyed at having to appear so frazzled. She blamed everything on the ineptness of pirates in general.

Kottia scanned the area before speaking. They’ve been gone for some time. It’s probably been weeks since this happened, though a few of those heads look a little fresher. Either way, there’s nothing for us here. Grab anything that looks useful, we move out immediately! The captain directed her crew to head for the mountain range in the distance.

Isn’t this an island? Where will we go? Ado squeaked.

The port was just a small extension of Gurdail. It’s a fairly recent addition. The dwarf city-state lies beneath those peaks. Sarry is originally from this place. He can guide us there, Kottia replied with a half-smile half-smirk.

Ado was not so sure. If the ogres came from the mountains, then that sounded dangerous. Tark accepted the explanation without another word. The big man fell into step at the rear of the procession. He appeared lost in his thoughts again.

Meiron is behind this, he mumbled to himself. I can feel it.

Ado and Nivit exchanged quick glances. Their friend was not acting like his normal self, though that had been shifting constantly for months now. The big man remained very reserved and aloof since their arrival on the island. They had grown accustomed to his radical emotional swings, but it was almost unnerving seeing how calm he seemed.

* * * * * * * * * *

It took a half day to reach the mountains from the destroyed port town. The path was easy to follow. There was only one simple road connecting the two. The dwarf people were not much for frills. The road climbed up into the Seaspan peaks to disappear from sight. They encountered no one along the way, nor did they see any signs of recent passage by the dwarves. The once busy path was completely abandoned.

Kottia and Sarry led the procession with the others trickling in behind them. Tark rounded out the large group, bringing up the rear with one tiny companion on each shoulder. Someone pointed out more ogre tracks, so everyone kept their eyes open and their weapons handy. They were a large group, but a handful of the bulky creatures could still wipe them out, especially with the element of surprise on their side. No one was foolish enough to forget that they were in ogre territory now.

How much farther are we going to have to go before we reach this so-called city-state? Kreasha called out with an annoyed tone as she paused to massage her sore feet. The lady was not accustomed to hiking and it showed. She kept close to Tark, but her conversation consisted mostly of whining and complaining.

There are many entrances to Gurdail among these mountains. We’ll find one before long, Sarry replied distractedly. The dwarf was still thinking about the terrible scene at the port.

Find one? Kreasha scoffed. You lived here, didn’t you? Don’t you know where to go? The lady folded her arms across her chest in annoyance.

It’s been many years since I set foot on the island, Sarry mumbled sadly. The dwarf pirate could not shake the image of the destroyed port town from his thoughts.

The captain noted the dwarf’s sorrow. She also noted the prissy lady’s condescending attitude. Who’s leading this group anyway? Kottia interjected. The two women traded glares.

I just thought we might shed a little light on our direction instead of wandering aimlessly, Kreasha stated smugly. Someone has to get some answers around here.

"If and when you think you can do better, princess, you let me know. Until then, keep quiet and stay out of the way. We wouldn’t want you to break a nail. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if and when you’re needed."

The crewmen all had a chuckle at Kreasha’s expense. The lady in red balled her hands into fists as several spells came to mind. How she wanted to blast the smirk from that sarcastic pirate woman’s face. The captain’s nickname for her was infuriating. She was no princess. If she were, she would have had the captain hanged by now. Kottia had begun calling her that once it became clear the lady was not very useful on the ship. It was obvious that neither of the women really cared for the other’s company. Ado could not suppress a giggle. The name was fitting after all. She did act ridiculously spoiled and she did complain a lot. Tark paid the whole exchange between the women no heed. He was lost in thought. The big man seemed little more than an automaton following basic instructions and keeping up with the group - just barely.

They soon came upon a huge pile of rocks and debris at the end of one side trail along the mountain’s base. Sarry stood before them all in confusion. Captain, we may have a problem, the stout dwarf stated.

What kind of problem? Kottia asked with a sigh. She was tired of hearing about problems. Her ship rested at the bottom of the sea in pieces. She had enough problems.

This used to be an entrance. I’m sure of it. As ye can see, someone’s gone and covered it up.

The ogresss most likely, Sslath hissed as he scanned the overhanging cliffs.

Xina, got anything up your sleeve that can clear this rubble? Kottia called out to the pirate mage.

The tall, flame-haired woman came forward to examine the area. She seemed to mull over the possibilities for a moment, and then shook her head from side to side. I’m afraid I don’t, Captain, she stated bluntly.

Gremlin! Princess! Get over here! Kottia called out again. The woman was growing very impatient. Ado and Kreasha came forward reluctantly. Got any magic you two can think of to get us inside? Now’s your chance to be useful, princess. The pirate woman shot a half-smirk Kreasha’s way. The lady huffed in frustration and stomped off. I’ll take that as a no. She turned her gaze on Ado. Gremlin?

Ado giggled a little and threw up his hands at his sides. The gesture was accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders. Not without knowing how far it is to the actual tunnel, he smiled, "and I’m a tremlin, thank you."

Great, Kottia grumbled. "Three mages and we still can’t do shit about a pile of rocks! What use is magic if it can’t even handle something so simple?" She sighed angrily and ignored Ado’s last comment. She often wondered why the gods created magic in the first place, and why they ever saw fit to create gremlins.

I guess it looks like we keep searching, one of the crewmen whispered with a pat on Sarry’s back.

Nope. Kottia stretched and then squatted to lift a large rock and toss it aside. We do it the hard way, we dig. If we keep wandering around this mountain range, we’re bound to run into those ogres. I for one would like to avoid that little confrontation. Come on men. Put your backs into it.

Tark, Sslath, and Sarry took the lead in clearing the entrance. The dwarf was skilled, by nature, at the process, and the other two offered the strength to shift the larger boulders. Tark was happy to be of use, and work with his hands. It meant he did not need to think. He felt his head constantly pounding from too much thinking. Everyone, save for Kreasha and Ado, joined in. Even Nivit did her best to help, using her fairy levitation magic to move some of the smaller stones. The crew of the Siren worked well into the late day, taking shifts. The excavation was not easy work. Whoever covered the entrance had done a thorough job of it. Hours of determination finally paid off when Tark, aided by Sslath, rolled the last large boulder out of the way. The dank smell of earth spilled forward, and a cavern entrance was visible in the fading light of day.

Captain, we’ve reached the entrance! Sarry cheered.

Several of the exhausted crewmen joined in the verbal celebration. Everyone was more than ready to reach the dwarf city. They had no provisions to speak of and their stomachs were rumbling. Besides the mountain spring of fresh water they stopped to drink at, and a few soggy loaves of bread found in the destroyed port town, they had put nothing in their bellies since before the storm claimed the Siren.

Kottia was at the entrance to the cavern in a flash. Alright people, listen up. We head for Gurdail. Just because we’re in, doesn’t mean we’re safe. There is no telling what may be down there, so keep your guard up and watch each other’s backs.

As the captain finished her speech and moved for the dark cavern, a large spear sailed from above and into the group’s midst. It struck one of the exhausted crewmen in the chest, pinning him to the ground. The sailor did not even have time to cry out before he died.

We’re under attack! Tark yelled as he rushed the rock ledge where the spear had come from. The gladiator took a direct route, climbing up the jagged cliff face. He did not even pause to consider his charge.

Everyone else scrambled to take cover. Several more of the large spears rained down on them. Luckily, no one else was hurt. Some people moved to the cave while others fanned out to hide among the rocks. Kreasha and Ado were the first to enter the dark cavern. They wanted nothing to do with the hail of deadly spears. Kottia shouted out orders to her men and drew forth her cutlass. In response to their captain’s orders, Xina and four crewmen moved around to the left of the outcropping while Sarry, Sslath, and the remaining three crewmen headed for the right side of the rocks. Nivit hovered at Kottia’s side looking for a place to be useful, while Panny examined the pinned sailor for any signs of life. Another spear sailed down at them. It was headed for the crouched healer. Only the fairy’s quick thinking saved him. She wiggled her little fingers and the spear stopped, and hung in the air, surrounded by tiny sparkles. The weapon was only inches from the hunched man’s body.

Not bad, fairy, Kottia grinned. Now, both of you get back to the cavern and tell those cowardly mages to make themselves useful.

The pirate woman took up the same path Tark had taken, climbing the cliff wall. The gladiator looked like he was determined to find the action and she wanted to join him. No one killed a member of her crew without paying for it.

Yes captain, Panny nodded.

Nivit was torn. She wanted to help Tark, but the pirate captain lady had just given her an order. She decided it would probably be best to deliver the message, and then return to aid her friend. Mr. Ado and Miss Kreasha’s magic would be very useful. Off she darted for the cavern entrance.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tark climbed the rocks quickly. He moved straight at the precipitous outcropping moving from small ledge to small ledge. His trident was out and spinning above him in one hand. The gladiator knocked two more spears aside as he charged. Finally, he reached the ridge and hoisted himself over it to confront their assailants. He came face to face with a party of eight huge ogres. They were surprised to see a lone human leap into their midst. Three of the brutes lifted their heavy clubs and charged the man. More would have joined in, but three was all that could get at him at one time. Tark knew not to become too reckless in this fight. Ogres were not an opponent to be taken lightly. He fell into one of his favorite techniques, dodge, feint, strike. His magical gloves were a blessing. He needed the extra edge to keep up with the three powerful creatures. His trident was little more than a silvery blur as he danced about among the ogre trio. Clubs smashed down around him at every step, but Tark was no easy target. He sliced each ogre in turn as the opportunity presented itself. Every strike left his signature mark of three bloody lines across their bodies. He realized how much his prowess had grown since leaving the arena. In the past, he never would have challenged an ogre on his own, let alone three of them. Then again, maybe that was just another part of losing his mind, he mused.

Noises sounded around the combat. The rest of the ogre party stopped cheering and grunting. They took up battle cries of their own. Others joined the fight. The remaining creatures launched themselves into the battle with glee. They had not encountered any dwarves in weeks, and they were all anxious to smash something soft. Humans would do just as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sslath and Sarry met the first ogre. The dwarf went low, and the lizard man went high. Sarry sliced his short blade across the brute’s shins and then rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the heavy club that followed him. Sslath took a much more direct approach. Though he was no ogre, the reptilian sailor was exceptionally strong. He carried the Siren’s large harpoon as his weapon. He had awoken with the dangerous item at his side, minus its cord. He took that as a good sign and kept it as his weapon. The huge barb sank into the ogre’s gut with all the force Sslath could muster. He then spun and slapped the doubled-over creature hard across the face with his thick tail. They made a good team. Together, the dwarf and lizard man were tearing their hefty opponent down quickly.

The three crewmen, who had arrived at their side, were not faring quite as well. The trio engaged the second ogre. They each lashed out in turn with their hooks and swords, and though they hit, the damage seemed minimal. When the brute swung his heavy weapon, the blow was devastating. One of the sailors’ heads cracked wide open. They tried to protect their fallen comrade, but it was too late for the fatally wounded man.

* * * * * * * * * *

Four more crewmen, led by Xina, joined the battle from the opposing side. They moved quickly to engage the three remaining ogres. None of them felt so sure of their odds. A mumbled word from the Xifanion mage and the three brutes tripped over their own feet to tumble face down on the ground. This gave the sailors a slight advantage and a free first blow as the creatures crawled back to their stooped stance. The crewmen let out a shout of thanks to Xina, as they sank their weapons into the fallen enemies. The mage was at their side ready to add her whip and her magic to the fray.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tark took a glancing blow to the shoulder as he pried his trident free of the first dead opponent. He rolled with the hit and returned one of his own. Both ogres he fought bled heavily, but they were determined to kill the gladiator at any cost. He kicked one of them in the kneecap, sending it stumbling away with a loud cracking sound. He then leapt from the kick, to plant his weapon deep in the other ogre’s chest. The creature refused to die easily. It reached out and grabbed Tark’s head with its huge hands. It was attempting to crush his skull. The big man released his weapon and used his own hands to try and pry the powerful grip loose. Tark’s muscles strained, but the ogre was too strong. He kicked wildly into the thing’s stomach and chest with no result. He felt as if his head would implode from the pressure. Suddenly, the big hands fell away from him, and the brute tumbled to the ground. Kottia stood behind it with thick ogre blood dripping from her cutlass.

You looked like you could use a hand, Drackmoorian, she smirked as she wiped her blade clean on the fallen creature’s carcass.

Tark shook his head to clear his mind. There were red imprints on his face from the creature’s large fingers. Thanks, I guess I got a little sloppy. Next time I’ll stick to battling two ogres at a time, he grinned back. The ogre with the busted kneecap came limping at them, interrupting the exchange. The gladiator and the pirate spread out to gain a flanking advantage over their new foe.

* * * * * * * * * *

Nivit arrived at the cavern entrance in a terrible rush. The sound of fighting was beginning to ring out from above. She could hear men screaming and it did not sound good. Mr. Ado, Miss Kreasha, Miss Kottia wants you both to join the battle with your magic. They really need our help, she huffed. It looks like ogres are attacking.

Ogres! Is she crazy? Ado squeaked, as he turned invisible. I think I’ll sit this one out. Besides, there are plenty of pirates to throw at them.

Kreasha thought to give the same response but reconsidered at the last moment. Why of course, my dear. Lead me to them, the lady smiled coolly.

Panny arrived at the entrance huffing and puffing from the run. The healer was ready to relay the captain’s message when he spotted the fairy. Kreasha and Nivit were just leaving to join the battle. Wait for me! he huffed, half out of breath as he hobbled to keep up.

Nivit had to continue doubling back. She flew over the rocky terrain much quicker than Kreasha or Panny navigated it by foot, and she did not want to leave them behind. When they reached the ridge, three of the sailors were down, as were three of the ogres. Tark fought one injured brute, while Sarry and Sslath joined another crewman to engage his enemy. Two more sailors nearby were fighting a losing battle against another large ogre. Xina and the remaining sailor challenged a fourth creature. The last