Arforth: Hope and Betrayal

By LM Quilliam

The ethereal form of The Shining Light of Ennendreal came as a shock to Rory and his companions, now he must find a way to return to Arforth and save the people of the continent of Ennendreal with Shaaxia Elen Tithiag in tow.

Many unexpected twists plague his journey, and betrayals both real and imagined threaten to bring him to his knees. However, hope is found in friends made in the most unlikely of places. The mysterious Finualla, the beauty who lived in the most dangerous land in Ennendreal with an obvious painful past may offer the guidance to hold his mind and morality together, and the unbreakable spirit and belief of a young dragon may just give him the spark he needs when it seems the fate of the entire world is relying upon him.

Arforth: Hope and Betrayal, the second book of the Rory Crystalblade series is a fast-paced fun, violent and erotic fantasy ride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922409102

Book preview

Boudger

Prologue (The past, not in Ennendreal)

A TERRIFYING WAIL echoed morbidly through the bleak stone halls of the great citadel, a cacophony of pain, a requiem born from the sins of the impure.

The master did not look up from his dinner, the screaming did not disturb him, it never did. Carefully slicing a slither of meat from the bloody pulp before him, he scrutinised it with his utmost attention, uncaring of the blood dripping down the silver handle of his fork onto the fleshy part of his thumb.

Kill me, whimpered the pitiful creature shackled to the table before him, the fact she remained alive, breathtaking.

Smiling in his twisted lopsided manner he looked to her, his food half way to his mouth as the heavy whip cracked back down on her back once more, blood spattering like rain with her skin now ripped to shreds.

Will you help me? spoke the Human sitting nervously at the far end of the long table, trying in vain to hold his emotions in check.

The master turned his attention to the Human. He could smell the fear emanating from the man as easily as he could see the repulsion on his face at the display in front of him, sentiments he had become use to when others basked in his presence. I sshall aid your causse if you offer me ssingular worship.

Agreed, replied the Human all too easily.

The master smirked as he sliced another piece of meat from his feast. Smiling, he chewed slowly and deliberately with his sharp teeth, a dribble of blood running down his silver chin as he stared at the Human, waiting for more.

I want him to suffer, to feel helpless. I want those that aid his cause to feel my wrath, your wrath my lord, added the Human.

The master laid down his utensils. Picking up a napkin he patted his blood smeared blue lips dry, his eyes intent staring at the girl on the table.

I would have them turn on each other, finished the Human.

Tell me of this man’s weaknesses, tell me of his strengths?

He cares, family and friends alike. He tries to protect everyone and is overly trusting of those close. It will be his undoing. As for his strength, he is an exceptional warrior, the best I have ever seen, and he never forgets, anything or anyone. He can recall locations, names, details of castles, even if he just sees them once.

If you think to betray me, said the master looking up at the Human, this! the master poignantly looked at the naked woman lying face down on the table, will be you.

The girl’s soul wrenching scream rang out pure and rich as the master performed an atrocity, cruel enough to force the Human to look away.

I…I would never, my lord! quivered the Human.

This man for whom you hold much fear, what iss hiss name? hissed the master licking blood from his lithe fingers.

His name is Blaine, replied Kaldor.

Chapter 1

VELNA RAN THE WORN WHETSTONE against the edge of her axe, the same motion she had been doing for the last hour, staring into nothing.

Her left leg bounced nervously, though she remained largely unaware. She had been unable to dislodge the anxiety that had been consuming her. This feeling, exacerbated by incessant rain and always being damp, made her think she may actually be going mad. It was not how a seasoned warrior should feel.

It had been two days since Rory and Folisha had vanished inside the cave at the base of Skellman’s Bluff and not for the first time she wondered if she would see them again.

Her thoughts turned to Fernshaw. He had received a wicked wound when the Farngahl had launched an unexpected attack. Coming up hard and fast the Farngahl had caught them completely unaware. It had been too soon following the cave collapse to set a sentry to spy impending danger and it had been Nathly’s quick reflexes, and not a small amount of chance, that had saved Fernshaw from being torn in half. Even still he had lost half an arm. Walter’s quick actions managed to stem the flow of blood enough to stop him bleeding to death as he, with Nathly and Rehanna, raced to make it to the Treod village in the hope they could save his life.

The sound of someone whistling drew her attention to Nameroc who sat on a rock not far away whittling a piece of cuttlefish and looking completely at ease. Velna knew he had saved their lives by dealing with the Flyders when they had attacked and had again proved invaluable when the Farngahl had attacked, but what game was he playing? There had to be something in this venture for him, something more than just his reputation. Not even a narcissistic fool would wish to spend time in the Badlands for such a thing. Velna had a sneaky suspicion he intended on stealing the Shining Light of Ennendreal once it was recovered, a thought she felt certain everybody shared.

Moldrent paced back and forth behind him. Stopping intermittingly the dragon would stare at the collapsed cave mouth before moving off again. Now that the roof had collapsed there was no way to get inside. More than anybody Moldrent desired the return of Shaaxia Elen Tithiag and the opening of Arforth. It wreaked havoc upon his nerves, but for what purpose? Maybe even more so than Nameroc, Moldrent remained a closed book.

Velna turned her attention to the collapsed entrance herself. Maishan sniffed at the fallen rocks seeking a way through. With the cave sealed shut the noise emanating from within had ceased. The moment this occurred the giant crab like creatures had dispersed, submersing themselves below the bubbling waters of the ocean, hopefully for good.

Not for the first time she asked herself if she was worthy of the company she kept. Always she had been the strongest of those around her but lately this felt far from the truth. Nameroc, Moldrent and Nathly could tear her limb from limb without even blinking an eye. Then there was Folisha, who she had been asked to protect. What could she possibly do to protect someone so powerful? Friendship she could offer, which she treasured given she had never had a lot of friends. As for Rory and Maishan, well, Rory often acted like a child and he definitely had his issues mentally. Velna knew he wanted everyone to like him but most people seemed to hate him, and why would he take a Shala mate if he got jealous? But for all his faults he would be the most dangerous individual she had ever met, and yet he was only half an equation. Maishan was the other half of him. There was something not of this world about the giant Nightcat. It had saved them all more than once and no doubt would again.

Chapter 2

‘I AM NOT GOING TO ENJOY THIS,’ thought Rory. He had expected Shaaxia Elen Tithiag to be an object, an ornament, perhaps another orb, but not the eerie ghost that now hovered behind him.

But an ethereal life form she was. Looking to be little more than mist she floated a full half metre above the ground, emanating a slightly whitish glow. At times she appeared to be a young, beautiful woman, at other times an old toothless hag. He realised that by looking at her at a different angle, her appearance would change. The only consistency with her form was the long flowing gown that swished in some unseen breeze as she moved.

A decision to offer us aid have you yet made? asked Folisha for what must have been the fifth time since they had met.

I will accompany you on your endeavour. Perchance you survive to reach the gates of Arforth I shall then decide if the people of Ennendreal are worthy of entrance into my world, replied Shaaxia Elen Tithiag in a mystical, other worldly voice.

Many people will die if you don’t, said Rory. Evil ravages the land and Arforth will be their only hope of sanctuary.

It is your presence Rory Crystalblade which occasions me to question if Arforth may once again come alive. You are chaos for you are not foretold to be with this girl.

You do not belong here, he echoed. He had heard this speech many times already. What difference does it make?

You could never fathom the depth of the disruption your presence begets. You are not ordained to be with Folisha. It is not your destiny. If you have thwarted this path then what other matters have you set awry by your deeds?

He gritted his teeth. He had been through this same argument for a day now and still made no ground with it. It only brought bile to his throat at the jealousy he felt towards this other man that Folisha had been destined to be with.

Rory think not on it, together we are and have that which we had been seeking. Let us find our way from here and be content in that, said Folisha.

Very well. It would just be nice if somebody would tell us how to get out of here though, both of us, preferably alive.

She dipped her head in acknowledgement as Shaaxia Elen Tithiag floated along behind them, unbothered and arrogant.

Shaaxia Elen Tithiag had advised him, rather blatantly, that if he wanted her to return to Arforth with him he must find the way alone and that should he come to peril she would ensure Folisha’s safe passage from the Badlands before returning herself to await Folisha’s return with her ordained soul mate once order had been restored. She had told him she fully expected him to die and for the good of Ennendreal, and the world of Gardway, it would be best sooner rather than later.

Coincidentally, shortly after locating Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, his water supply had completely dried up. Folisha offered him water from her skin, however when he tried to take a drink from her ever-replenishing supply it would turn to dust in his mouth. As a result Folisha now refused to drink, no matter how much he pleaded with her. She would not listen. She said she did not believe this prophecy and should he die then so would she.

He fervently hoped it would not come to that.

At least the confines of the cave did not prove a hindrance to her. It seemed Shaaxia Elen Tithiag provided some help, easing her mind in some manner.

Likewise, light did not prove to be a problem. Illuminated rocks, Maric stones such as those in the mines of Buckston Proper, sat in niches placed at regular intervals along the tunnel walls giving of enough light to cast all but the darkest shadows away. Unlike the stones in Buckston Proper the stones here had been carved into delicate figures of such intricacy one could almost feel they were alive. Furthermore, they shone more brilliantly than those in Buckston. The people that had crafted these stones had been manifestly gifted but were no doubt long gone, swept away into history as the Badlands consumed their homes.

Without thinking he picked two of the carved lights at random. The first, which he held in his left hand, had been carved in the shape of a dragon sitting at attention. There was no way to tell if it were Verdant or Obnox due to the white-yellow glow emanating from the surface. The carving felt surprisingly light given its constitution and held a warm cosy feel, almost as if it held the good that had been lost from this evil land.

The other figure, which he held in his right hand, looked like an old castle. It reminded him of something he could not put his mind to, a place he had once known perhaps? Without asking permission of Shaaxia Elen Tithiag he placed both into pockets.

You do understand that is thievery? she said.

From who? You said nobody lives here anymore, or do you lay claim?

Shaaxia Elen Tithiag ignored him.

Tell me Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, how many people have come this far?

Three did discover my location.

Ismaleesha?

The Queen of the Verdant amongst them. It lay not in her destiny to find me and she suffers now for her labours.

Suffers! She is still alive then?

Yes.

Where is she?

You witnessed a visage of Ismaleesha on your approach.

I thought the visions were from the past. Are you telling me it is the present?

Time is irrelevant.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Then, the scene with Sharna, then that is also happening now?

Existence is a loop Rory Crystalblade. All things are now, or in the future or in the past, or at least they had been. The only true history you beheld were visions belonging to yourself. There is no future for you in Ennendreal.

He fell silent, thinking.

The visualization you witnessed of your lover attaining gratification from other partners, much of this lies in her future path. Scores of both men and women will find pleasure in and upon Folisha’s body at her own bequest. As you are Human this will tear you apart, devour your very soul. Only another of her own kind may be at peace with this.

An icy wave of jealousy worked its way along his spine. Flickering images of men taking pleasure with Folisha once again took life as the scenes played on the rock walls beside them.

Do you now understand the consequence of your life choice, even should you survive Rory?

Stop it! shouted Folisha, visibly upset.

The images ceased. He took a deep breath and stalked away. He honestly did not think he could handle such a future if it were true. Clouds of dust kicked up at his heels as he moved. Behind him Folisha called his name. It echoed against the cavern walls loud and concerned but gave him no inclination to stop.

He walked some distance ahead. He needed space to think, to be alone and harness his thoughts. Yes, he knew what she was. He thought he had come to terms with it, but this, this was in his face. He knew he would never forget many of the faces of the men from the visions. What would he do if he ever saw one of them, when he saw one of them?

Rory, wait, please! pleaded Folisha jogging to catch up. He stopped and stood still waiting for her to speak again. He did not face her. He knew his feelings would be written upon his visage.

Discussed this we have, how Shala display their affections to the one they love. You know it is you I shall always love, none other. She placed an arm on his back before stepping around to see his face. Coalesced with another I was not, nor ever will I be.

You will coalesce with another Folisha, far sooner than you think, interrupted Shaaxia Elen Tithiag as visions of her with another man appeared on the walls. And from this liaison you shall bear a child.

She turned on Shaaxia Elen Tithiag. Her eyes blazed cold fury. How can you do this? How this cruel can you be?

Is to know the truth of what will pass more painful than facing the consequence of remaining oblivious? A Human cannot be your chosen mate, replied Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, not unkindly. It will fill you with much sorrow and heartache and while your own love will fail with the Human’s age, his own fixation upon you will never lessen, his jealous rage will consume him and his base barbaric nature will seek to destroy you.

Well I am with her now. Angrily turning to face Shaaxia Elen Tithiag his words gained volume as he spoke, his nostrils flaring as his blood began boiling in his veins, and she is mine at this point in time.

I am, agreed Folisha, and no longer so certain is my path if witness Rory as part of it you cannot. You are flawed Shaaxia Elen Tithiag and scares you this does. You do not know what the future holds any more than we do.

I know only that your current thoughts seek to destroy you being the mother of a child you would love more than any partner you would ever have Folisha, and I cannot sanction such a path. The life of a child is worth more than a burst of lust.

Chapter 3

THERE MUST BE A WAY IN, said Velna to herself. She had climbed down the far side of Skellman’s Bluff risking life and limb on the scarcely grassed steep slope to search, and apart from bleak feldspar rich granite and the occasional crack containing pitiful amounts of mud and wispy demon grass, there was nothing to see.

The sea boiled dangerously close beneath her and she could not help but think about the waves that had unexpectedly swamped Folisha, Rory and Fernshaw just a few days earlier. She sat only ten feet above the level of the water and a wave of any description would just about have her going for a swim.

‘If only Jelm had not been killed, she thought to herself. He could have gone into the bluff and helped lead Rory and Folisha to safety. She did not much care if they had found Shaaxia Elen Tithiag or not, she just wanted her friends back and to leave this horrid land.

Maishan stood at the top of the bluff looking down at her. The big Nightcat appeared jittery which gave her concern. He had a strong bond with Rory and appeared to know how his friend was faring at any given point in time and at any distance. If Maishan had evident nervous tension then there was good reason to worry. Grudgingly accepting there was nothing to be found down the side of the bluff, and with the sound of water loud in her ears, she began the long irksome climb back to the top.

******

Rory sat on the hard, unforgiving surface of the tunnel with his back against the smooth stone wall of the cave and stared at the ceiling. The caves had been manually engineered as part of some greater complex, maybe an ancient city, this much was obvious. But if this was a city then where was the way out? There had to be a way out other than the one they came in through, at least if not for traffic then to supply fresh air.

How are you feeling? he said to Folisha looking back down at her.

Tired and hungry, she replied.

You will need to coalesce soon.

It would be nice to coalesce. However, the confines are not as they were in Buckston Proper. Survive a while longer I can with the aid of Artheon’s ring.

He stared at her. Though she looked pale and dirty, her eyes still retained their lustre. Even the dim light of the tunnels could not dampen their glory, the hope they held, the love. Even stuck underground, dirty, tired thirsty and hungry, she looked exquisite. Nothing could diminish her natural beauty, though tell-tale bags lay beneath her eyes displaying her weariness and her skin looked slightly drawn.

He knew he had been staring too long at her when the wall behind her moved of its own accord, rippling like a small wave on a calm ocean. He closed his eyes a moment to give his eyelids a good rub hoping to dissolve their weariness through touch. They could not fail him, not now. Opening his eyes again he looked back at Folisha and witnessed the phenomena again. Folisha, noticing his awkwardness, sat forward. Alright are you?

He rubbed his eyes once more. Things were not good if he were hallucinating. It meant his life were draining away more quickly than he had imagined. I’m fine.

No, you are not, something bothers you?

Nothing, I’m ok, I just thought I saw a ghost.

I am no ghost Rory! came a disembodied voice from the wall behind Folisha, startling her enough that she gave a small shriek before leaping into his arms. Well, not entirely.

What is this, am I already dead? he replied getting to his feet after steadying Folisha.

Not yet, not today, said the face of Jelm sticking out like a sculpture of rock from the wall of the cave, small fragments of rock breaking away from the side of his mouth as he spoke.

But you died, you bled to death?

Yes, I bled, but not to death. If I had not submersed myself in the rock, I would be but a memory. As it transpired I made it with scant moments to spare, another few seconds and I would have been truly gone.

You cannot leave the earth, can you? said Folisha. The soil binds your body together. While you are not dead neither truly alive are you.

The rocky features of Jelm gave a small smile as if to offer comfort. As he faced her small rock fragments broke away. That is true dear Folisha. I cannot leave the sanctuary of the soil, though for a Boudger it is not that bad a thing.

We grieved when we lost you, why could you not let us know?

I was weak, I still am, and much like the Shala, Boudger too have their secrets. I must ask you to promise you will not pass on this knowledge to anyone, not even dear Velna.

Then why have you allowed us this knowledge Jelm, it is no small thing?

Jelm smiled poignantly. I learnt from someone far greater than I to recognise when things are more important than the ways of my people.

Folisha understood, appreciating the unsaid compliment.

I can’t tell you how good it is to have you back Jelm, even if it is like this, said Rory.

It is a relief to let you know I am not truly dead. I think I understand how important those close to you are Rory.

Well, I only have a handful of friends, most living things hate me. He shot a look towards Shaaxia Elen Tithiag.

Help us will you Jelm? asked Folisha.

It is why I am here dear Folisha, to lead you out.

Rory kept his eyes on Shaaxia Elen Tithiag. He did not know ghosts well but if he did, he would guess her look was not one of pleasure. He fervently wished at that moment he could submerge himself into rock solely for the purpose of giving Jelm a hug.

Chapter 4

FOLISHA CLAMBERED OUT OF THE CAVE exit first. Feeling on the verge of exhaustion she could not even form spit in her dry mouth as she clambered into the outside world and felt welcome droplets of rain land on her parched skin. Night had begun to show its colours in the Badlands and dense grey clouds would hide the night’s moon. She had no sense of location. It came as no surprise. Even were it light she doubted she would recognise where she had emerged.

Lifting her face to the sky, poking out her tongue and spreading her arms wide, she let the water soak into her, the rain cleansing even if it did have the salty taste of the sea about it.

Taking a deep breath of the damp outside air, filling her lungs near to bursting, she stiffened as a feeling of imminent danger enveloped her. This developed into a stark warning into her mind’s eye; Maishan.

Without the need to strain her eyes she could clearly see a mammoth shadow hurtling at speed directly towards her against the gloomy landscape. Maishan ran like his life depended on it, unwavering in his approach he did not slow as he came closer and closer. Ducking and turning her back at the last moment she let out an involuntary yelp as the giant cat leapt above her, realising as she did that he had saved her life by slamming his body into a beast she had not known had approached her from behind.

Instantly the shady dusk turned completely terrifying as animalistic roars and the unnaturally amplified screech of whatever foe Maishan now faced overshadowed all else.

Spying Rory crouched on hands and knees dry retching, she ran to his side taking his arm as he struggled to his feet. He had undoubtedly been caught unaware and knocked asunder as he stepped into the fresh air.

Ouch! he managed to stifle out between wheezes before she too had the wind knocked from her as Maishan crashed into her like a rag doll. Rolling onto her back she looked up into the face of a beast altogether too familiar and altogether terrifying. A shape noticeable only by its intense lack of colour stood over her, the same creature that had once before confronted them and from which they had barely survived when she had used her magic to wrap the beast in tree branches in an attempt to crush the life from it.

The creature screeched into her face in an alien manner before being physically dragged backward as Maishan pulled one of its legs in his jaws, unbalancing the beast before attempting to pull it into the darkness. They had moved barely two lengths when the beast wrested itself free and with a screech of pain rolled quickly to the side. It backed up a moment, cautious. She thought that maybe it had given up until with lightning speed it charged towards Rory knocking him flat once again before pulling the maroon blade from his scabbard and in the blink of an eye swung the sword in an attempt to decapitate him.

She knew panic. Without thought she charged the beast managing to knock its massive arm aside just enough that the sword hit the dirt beside his head harmlessly. Interrupted, it focused now on her, the intent clear as it raised the blade again. She felt fear until Maishan once again forced the creature away from her, the blade falling harmlessly to the side as the Nightcat and the creature rose to their feet and squared off.

Maishan gave a feint but did not press the attack. The creature did attack and quicker than should be possible clambered up onto the Nightcat’s back to wrap its arms about his neck to choke him. Maishan rolled and tumbled but could not dislodge the thing hanging from him. She worried he could not survive.

The fight brought the combatants towards her forcing her to jump aside. Rory, in turn, stumbled to his feet and, upon seeing his sword lying on the ground, picked it up and with gritted teeth and his blade gripped in both hands he sliced a deep vicious blow across the back of the beast. A sonic hiss issued forth as the beast released its hold on Maishan and turned to confront Rory once again. He sliced his blade across the beast’s chest opening another wound though he clearly struggled with the effort. Hissing hysterically and with its arms spread wide the creature attempted to back away which only brought it into the path of Maishan once again who, instead of biting or clawing, simply knocked it backwards, directly into the path of a stampeding Moldrent who had somehow charged forward unheard in the noise of the fight.

Moldrent attempted to capture the beast in his jaws. He missed however the force of his body smashing into the creature sent it catapulting into the surrounding darkness to disappear behind Moldrent’s girth as the giant Verdant continued his charge.

Maishan charged after them also becoming lost to the darkening skies, leaving only the roars and screams which slowly turned eerily silent as the combatants moved further away.

From the corner of her eye Folisha caught sight of Rory. He looked dazed and used his sword to prop himself up. She looked into his eyes and knew his next movement even as it appeared as a thought in his mind. Wait! she said as he went to stumble in the direction of the fight.

I need to help, he replied. He knew the beast that attacked them, knew that he needed to help Maishan best it.

With his blade trailing on the ground behind him he took two steps in the direction of the fight.

Stay with your woman! shouted Nameroc running past.

What? yelled Rory.

You heard me! yelled Nameroc in reply as he loped in the direction of the fight.

Are you ok? said Rory turning to Folisha. He could feel himself shaking, he felt so tired.

What is that thing, why follow us does it?

I don’t know, he replied throwing his left arm about her shoulders as rain, or blood, dripped into his eyes; he hoped it was just rain. But I think someone probably does. He looked to the glowing form of Shaaxia Elen Tithiag floating serenely to the side.

Shaaxia Elen Tithiag made as if not to hear him as she spoke. You remain unhurt Folisha. Do not distress, it shall not cause you injury.

As long as you make it that way you mean! he said. And what if you decide one day you no longer need her for your purposes, then what?

Then what will be, will be, came the reply.

He felt a seed of hatred take root as he stared at Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, though he chose not to voice it. How could the hopes of so many innocent souls rest with something with so little empathy? At least tell us what it was, he asked as he moved gingerly back into the shelter of the cave once more.

It is an Obstrungion, said Nameroc coming from the darkness, and it is gone.

Dead?

No, it survived. It sounded as if he said this last with relief. It is a creature that will hunt anything that it deems to be more powerful than itself. It must have been after Folisha, you should be honoured.

It was after Rory, said Folisha.

No, though he undoubtedly got in the way, replied Nameroc.

How do you know of such a thing for this creature I have never heard of, she replied attempting to side-track Nameroc’s barb towards Rory.

I like to uncover the name of any creature that may present a challenge to me, and then best it. Admittedly I did think the Obstrungion was only a myth.

Well it’s not is it? said Rory.

Obstrungion is a rather crude term for the creature. Nevertheless, this is how it has been identified in this world, said Shaaxia Elen Tithiag.

Why didn’t it go after you? he asked.

That is not your concern.

You’re not as powerful as Folisha are you?

Shaaxia Elen Tithiag ignored him.

At least it can be killed, he added. Maishan wounded the beast and it took pain when my sword bit into it. If it hurts it can die.

You will not kill this creature although it will bring about your own demise eventually, when it does the predestined path will once again be followed. Know that I will see to Folisha’s safety once you are dead Rory.

I fuckin’ hate you, you know that!

Folisha took his hand, feeling his hurt. Her words however were directed at Shaaxia Elen Tithiag. This thing. Where has it come from?

I cannot say.

Ayego once spoke of an opposite and equal magical ability to that which I now hold. She spoke of it coming into existence as I obtained my own, of balance she spoke.

Yes, equilibrium must always be maintained. Shaaxia Elen Tithiag stared at Rory. Again, why Rory must not be present.

Without thinking he let go of Folisha’s hand, picked up a stone and hurled it at Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, but as expected it went through her without effect.

Think not of it Rory. I would rather be dead having met you than lived having not, intoned Folisha.

He smiled as she bent her head to his chest and he put his arms around her neck. Nothing will happen to you, not while I breathe, he said.

Nor I, added Nameroc.

Rory jolted at the Jarling’s words.

Nameroc appeared off guard, surprised by his own words, as if it were a thought said out loud. Well, if Folisha dies I do not get my chance to kill this thing myself, do I?

For a minute there I thought you cared about someone other than yourself Nameroc, he said as Velna puffed up to the entrance of the cave. He felt impressed how they all managed to find their location in the dark as Folisha moved from him and stood to embrace the Boudger.

You need not concern yourself Rory, said Nameroc. Anyway, what is this ‘thing’ you’re now with?

The change of subject was not lost on him, though he let it pass.

This here is Elan, the keeper of Shaaxia Elen Tithiag. Any more information passed to us there has not been, though powerful magic is evident amongst her abilities, replied Folisha.

As for Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rock shaped like a castle, the sudden glow bright in the darkness. Here it is!

He looked up as Moldrent and Maishan walked into view. The rain picked up in intensity at the same moment belting onto them fiercely. He moved to the side of the cave to let Maishan squeeze past.

I expected it to be grander, said Nameroc.

How is it supposed to open Arforth? asked Velna.

Find out we must though we suspect a key it is, replied Folisha.

Why are you not being truthful? sent Moldrent, his eyes catching the glow from the carved rock making them shine like beacons in the wet night.

He had not expected anyone would doubt their word. It had been naive of him.

We do not know what game Nameroc is playing Moldrent, sent Folisha.

And I need something to trade for Cheng. I’m not going to risk a loose tongue, even accidentally, divulging the true nature of Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, added Rory.

As for the first I believe you can trust Nameroc if for no other reason than he would not pass up the opportunity to be one of those to open Arforth. As for saving your friend, I do not know why you waste your time, sent Moldrent.

You wouldn’t, because he’s not powerful or famous or a fucking dragon, replied Rory annoyed.

Elan, said Folisha out loud to circumvent the argument about to ensue. My friends I will introduce to you.

There is no need, cut in Shaaxia Elen Tithiag. The identities of your companions are known to me already. The lack of your sibling’s presence however has escaped your notice Folisha.

What? Folisha looked around as if noticing for the first time, a hint of panic stealing its way into her glowing eyes. Where is he?

And Wal and Nathly? added Rory. He had known they were not there but until that moment had not given it a second thought.

There was a battle, began Velna. Folisha sat still as a stone as Velna told of what had transpired. Outside the rain continued to dampen the spirits of the already dispirited group.

*****

The morning dawned bleak with the promise of more rain lying heavy in the air, yet for the moment things remained relatively dry. Rory had felt a new lease of life steel over him. His body had rehydrated and with it his shaking had dissipated. Furthermore, he had communicated with Nathly who had confirmed Fernshaw lived, although not entirely well, he had gained a terrible fever and lost half an arm, at least she was of the opinion he would survive physically.

Breakfast had brought him down somewhat; supplies were worryingly low and bordering on rotten. Rations of tough, salty meat, mouldy bread and over-ripe fruit were dished out meekly. He had no idea what the Verdant were eating, or if they ate at all.

Where is the Obstrungion now? he asked as they hiked their way back towards Skellman’s Bluff. With the landscape being completely foreign and the inhabitants so dangerous, the only safe passage back to the Treod would be by returning along the same path they had followed to reach the bluff.

It will need to recuperate, said Shaaxia Elen Tithiag.

Recuperate, why?

Shaaxia Elen Tithiag, irritating as always, ignored him.

I would suggest it has burnt a lot of magical energy, replied Nameroc.

Rory gave Shaaxia Elen Tithiag an evil glare before replying. Why?

It faced me… and it did not die.

Yes, it must rest, added Shaaxia Elen Tithiag.

Oh, now she speaks! he replied sarcastically. Anyway, I thought it was only as powerful as Folisha. She has done more than that thing, whatever it did.

That is untrue Rory. Since arrival in the Badlands barely able to access magic am I. This creature had to not only try and eliminate us after first locating our whereabouts, it battled Maishan, Moldrent, Nameroc and yourself and survived. Manage this I could not, she replied. Not here, not anywhere.

Nameroc’s outbreak of ensuing arrogant laughter did not help his mood.

What?

It is just that you did nothing except nearly die. I am sure Folisha did not mean to include you in her assessment.

I didn’t see your blade wound it!

Granted, your sword is exceptional. I mean only question the ability of the one wielding it.

What is your deal Nameroc?

Whatever do you mean?

When did you pick up this sudden angst towards me, have I done something to bother you?

Nameroc did not answer, which irritated Rory further.

If you want to fight me just say the word. I’m fed up with your bullshit and secret agendas, he added.

Of course I do not wish to fight you Rory. We are the best of friends are we not?

Rory involuntarily reached his arm behind his head and grabbed the hilt of his sword. Folisha’s intake of breath had him look to her. She shook her head whispering, no.

Releasing his grip and gritting his teeth he pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders to keep the chill wind out and trudged forward.

Chapter 5

CHENG HELD HIS ARMS OUTSTRETCHED as far as they could reach hoping to catch whatever food dropped down to him this day before it landed in the muck beneath him. He precariously balanced himself on the edge of the small ledge which countless prisoners before him had dug into the side wall of the well with their bare hands and anxiously waited. Even though the meat they garnered to him would be rotten it would still be better than rotten meat covered in shit.

He had no idea how long he had been held prisoner. Barely enough light ever penetrated through the cover at the top of the well even when the sun sat at its apex to let him know if a day had passed, or two, or three. The best glimpse he ever had of the outside world came only when they fed him the scraps and briefly opened the cover at the top of the well to hurl things at him. It could be day or night.

He was not fed every day, or at least he did not think so given the way his stomach protested, only enough to keep him alive for whatever purpose his captors had in mind. Furthermore, he was never afforded anything to drink. Instead he had to suck at a tiny sliver of water seeping through the side of the well almost constantly just to keep himself hydrated. His lips had been rubbed raw, bleeding for the first few days until tough calluses had formed offering some relief from the pain. If the circumstance for his survival were not extreme, he would have chosen to die. He however could not afford such a simple end. He owed it to Rory and the rest of his friends to survive. They had given him purpose in life and dying at the bottom of a disused and befouled well due to an irrational impulsive decision did not fit with that purpose. Sure, he would die eventually, but it would be by his own choosing after repaying the faith he had been shown by his friends.

Bending over with his stiff back giving a resentful crack he caught the offering from above. It felt far heavier than normal with the weight almost sending him off balance to fall into the muck below. Thankfully he caught himself, just. Running his hands over the catch he deduced the meat belonged to no animal he knew. It was the bottom half of a largely skeletal leg he thought may have once belonged to a Giant.

He felt empathy for the one who had lost their life to the tainted monsters above, death by Marag attack always hideous and no doubt part of some theatrical animalistic worship if the victim had been caught alive, typically drawn out and painful. In the back of his mind he also knew that he had perhaps been a little fortunate in his provision of a meal this day.

Over the weeks he had been creating hand and footholds from the bones of his food by wedging them into the side of the well. He had almost managed to retrieve enough bones to support his weight to help him climb to the very top. With the bones of Giants being so strong the part of the leg he now held would do nicely to provide three or four footholds if he could break them into parts, just enough he hoped to help him get over the ledge and to freedom.

Idly fingering the makeshift bone dagger at his waist, he watched the sliver of light slowly disappear above as his captors hurled their usual abuse, spitting down at him. This would be one of his last nights in this fetid hole.

******

The effort of wedging the last few bones of his makeshift ladder into the wall of the well exhausted him to the point he barely had enough energy to climb back down. The walls being a lot harder and dryer towards the surface and wedging the bones in had been difficult. Even so, he had seriously thought about climbing out of the well as soon as the last foothold had been put in place and he could reach the lid covering him, if only to finally breath fresh air. However, in his state he knew if he attempted anything immediately, he would be as good as dead.

Instead he slept and waited using his waking moments sucking moisture from the wall and looking towards the top hoping for any sign it may be night or day outside. His escape must come at night. If he timed things incorrectly, he doubted he would get another chance. Patiently he sat and waited until he could be certain.

He waited until what must have been the next day. Another meal had been thrown to him but this time he let it splash into the filth beneath him. If he did not make it out this night he would die trying. If he did survive, he would eat something decent, something fresh. Making his best estimate as to when night should have fallen, he began his ascent. Clenching the bone blade between his teeth he climbed steadily upwards in the dark, careful as always feeling around so as not to miss a hand hold, cutting himself more than once on the splintered edges of the bones.

Reaching the final rung in his makeshift ladder he carefully balanced and, hugging the wall of the well, he placed his feet on the final rung and crouched, the cover lying mere inches above his head.

Feeling all the nerves in his body tingling with anxiety and trying to keep his breathing regular he steadied himself. Ever so gently he placed the tips of his fingers in a tiny crack in the boards above his head and edged one painstakingly slowly to the side. The scraping sounded like thunder on a quiet night, each creak reminiscent of blazing trumpets ready to bring his enemy catapulting upon his very soul. Clenching his teeth, he waited. No enemy came, no trumpets had sounded. He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding in and continued until the space above his head looked wide enough to fit his shoulders through.

Once satisfied, he carefully straightened his legs to cautiously peer over the rim of the well. Although night had fallen the light of a half-moon provided sufficient light to allow him to take stock of his situation. He knew where he was, he had grown up here. He had once thrown food into the same well for any poor soul unlucky enough to find themselves at the wrong end of Bilj’s wrath. In his time, he did not remember anyone re-emerging. No doubt some of the bones of his ladder would have come from those very same captives.

Encircling the Marag habitat loomed an almost circular small cliff face as if the enclave had been designed by conscious thought rather than carved by nature. The bulk of the horde would be asleep in caves honeycombing the rockface having randomly collapsed wherever they were when tiredness overwhelmed them, only the strongest stayed in the same location night after night. It did not matter. It was the least of them, the youngest, the oldest or the infirm he had to worry about, those who more often than not slept out in the open spaces surrounding the well. They would prove an obstacle he would need to tread around carefully. Lying like so many lost souls in the dark of the night they may be weak as individuals but as a group they were deadly. It would take just a small noise for the entire population to awaken. They sounded like pigs as they slept.

Turning to look behind him he could see a rough cage. Inside it a couple of large irregular shapes were being held prisoner. He guessed they were Giants given the content of his last meal and they were undoubtedly on the breakfast menu.

Giants were given their name by Humans originally and the name had spread throughout the other species given they looked exactly the same in every detail, except they were a minimum eight feet tall, most around nine to ten feet.

Given his way looked clear of any alert Marags, he silently counted to three before, blade in hand, he vaulted to the surface. He need not worry about sentries or lookouts, Marags did not use them.

A rustle behind him made him turn in haste with his knife at the ready fearing discovery. One of the Giants had moved about in the cage and stood on its knees. He could not make out any features but clear as day he could see the Giant staring in his direction, no doubt wondering if the one down the well had been one of their own. By the sound of the whimpering he could tell she was female.

Feeling pity, an emotion other Marag took for weakness, he crept his way towards the cage careful not to step on anything or anybody. The Giant backed up to the rear of the cage at his approach pitifully attempting to wake the second larger Giant held captive by shaking his shoulders, but he would not waken. This Giant had given up the leg that Cheng had eaten, along with both of his arms, the smell emanating from the corpse suggesting he had been dead for more than a week.

Leave me alone, cried the woman a little too noisily, her voice breaking in fear.

Cheng not harm you, he said quietly, reassuringly. Get you out, stay quiet!

Cheng? You will eat me, she whimpered.

No, replied Cheng.

Marag cages were rudimentary at best, a three-sided wooden prison with a thatched roof and animal skin covered floor that was pushed up against a rock wall. Rocks and wedges were placed on and in front of the cage to stop the prisoners pushing themselves free as well as doing away with the need for a door. This made the job of helping any prisoner escape easy, notwithstanding the fact it would most likely be noisy.

He had no option. Pulling the wedges from the ground and removing the rocks from the roof he put his weight against the cage bars, inching it from the wall as slowly and carefully as possible. His feet slipped more than once on the dirt floor so much so that he had to almost go horizontal as he pushed against the cliff face. Painstakingly slow as it was, he eventually opened a gap large enough to allow the woman to squeeze through before a harsh barking grunting speech sounded behind him. To Human ears it sounded like, garsh nash hov narg grang.

To Cheng it was, what are you doing?

Mind own business, me hungry, he replied in a typical angry tone one would expect of a Marag.

Giant for tribe to ea…

The Marag never finished its sentence as Cheng’s bone blade pierced an artery below its chin, the dying Marag convulsing as he guided it gently down to rest on the dirt as if asleep.

Holding his breath, he looked around as a couple of nearby Marag rustled. The nervous anticipation making him sweat slightly until they lay still once more, exhaling a sigh of relief he turned back to the Giant. She had disappeared by escaping through a narrow gap where the opposing cliffs nearly came together. He fervently hoped she would make it to safety.

Leaving further thoughts of the Giant from his mind he steeled himself for what must now be done. Rory had handed over Isald’s orb in exchange for a child’s life, an option he had no choice but to make. Cheng knew he could not leave without the orb, for Bilj, the Marag chief, had already shown a propensity towards magic no Marag had shown before and with the orb in his possession Cheng feared the damage he may bestow on the innocent.

He knew where Bilj would be resting. He had lived amongst this horde as a child long enough to know every nook and cranny. He wondered if his mother may be nearby. He guessed she probably would be however it would do no good to locate her. Steadying his focus, he carefully made his way between the multitude of sleeping Marag around him heading in a direct line towards the largest cave, one at the very back of the enclosure that he knew penetrated more than two hundred metres into the rock wall and had but one way in, and out.

Though he did not need to he crouched as he followed the slight curve of the cave around to the left running his hand along the coarse rock of the wall to feel the way. The roofline he knew sat at least three feet above his head for the most part and reduced to around two feet in the section where Bilj would be sleeping. It was nerves that made him crouch. An eerie glow from a fire almost starved of fuel cast creepy shadows on the wall as he approached the end cavern. The shadows danced like flickering images of souls destroyed by this horde seeking to gain vengeance on the living. The smoke from the fire disappeared into tiny natural fissures in the cavern roof but even so the air felt heavy and starved of oxygen.

Pressing himself against the wall he peered around the final corner of the cave to peer into where he knew Bilj would lie sleeping.

The Marag chief slumbered noisily on a bed of discarded cloth. Lying on and around him slept three females. Cheng’s own mother would once have been found there, fornicating and feasting like an animal. The place was filthy and smelt of things gone to waste. It made him once again feel shameful of his roots.

The orb sat clearly visible amongst the mess strewn about. Lying on the floor unwanted and unchecked Bilj had obviously underestimated its value, treating as if it were a flippancy.

Nervously inching away from the relative cover of the wall he tippy toed towards it, careful not to disturb any items left wantonly lying on the floor. He could feel his chest muscles tightening up with nerves. He barely even breathed as he stopped briefly to pick up some cloth from the floor before finally making it to his destination. Crouching down he hurriedly wrapped the orb then proceeded to tuck it inside his vest. It was an uncomfortable bulge but necessary.

Welcome home boy, came a harsh voice from behind him.

His blood froze as he turned to face his father.

Chapter 6

FOLISHA PLACED ONE HAND on Rory’s right thigh while the fingertips of her left hand gently brushed his stomach as she levered her hips up and down. He opened his eyes and stared at her pearly white pink tipped breasts as they bounced rhythmically, dislodging the sweat beading upon them to run down onto her tight stomach. Every now and then she would stop while he was at his deepest within her and circle her hips. Without fail he watched her groin circulate upon him then felt mesmerized as she again began to bounce.

After what seemed several minutes, she gave a small whimper and closed her eyes. Immediately the serene green glow cast over his body dimmed to nothing in the early morning light seeping into the cave. He placed his hands on her hips and moved his pelvis slightly in unison with her. This made her whimper turn more to a moan. Her obvious enrapture took him and he pushed himself faster into her wetness going past her own movement onto him, her moans turned almost to a cry before she removed her hand from behind her back, placed it beside the one on his stomach, and bent her head over him so the tips of her hair fell either side of his body. He parted her hair where it fell on his chest so he could watch himself go in and out of her; he liked watching as he filled her.

Her cries became desperate and he knew she would climax shortly. Taking control, he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her in tight against his own sweaty torso. His chest heaved as he sucked in air. Feeling ravenous he pulled her hair hard yanking her head backwards to lick the sweat from her throat and chin, then with one final thrust he let go inside her, an involuntary groan escaping from the depths of his throat as his tension released with a feeling of ecstasy. She held her breath, lost in her own climax, as he emptied himself while hugging her tight and pumping vigorously. By the time she returned to lucidity he had nearly lost all erectness.

Hmmm, she murmured dropping her head to his chest.

He was about to speak when an unwanted voice interrupted his thoughts. I thought you would never finish!

What the! he said accidently spilling Folisha as he hastily sat up.

In front of them Nameroc casually leaned against the rock wall at the entrance to the cave, a black shadow against the brightness without. Folisha made a vain attempt to cover herself with her discarded clothing before moving to crouch behind Rory who in turn placed his hands over his crotch. You were watching? Are you some kind of pervert?

He had walked some distance from the group to be alone with her and although dangerous, it was the first opportunity they had received since re-uniting with the group to spend intimate time together, the risk had been worth taking. Finding a small cave at the base of the cliff they had set themselves the task of making up for lost time.

I did not wish to stop your mating ritual, would you have preferred I had? replied Nameroc, unbothered.

"I’d prefer you not fucking watch you freak. Courtesy is not that hard to figure out, even for a dimwit like you. Why are