The Hordes of Rage

By J.E. Ellis

Ubilas, Lord of the Abyss, God of the Dead, is loosed. Bound for a thousand years for his rebellion against his father Alu, Ubilas chafed, his anger burning; he now releases his dark army on an unsuspecting land. The future of the world rests on a pessimistic and unexceptional thief, and a bitter, conflicted half-breed youth who is also the most powerful magicker ever known. If each of them cannot become something he is not, and overcome something he might become, the Hordes of Rage will annihilate them all.

95,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Feral Child Publishing
• Release date: Jun 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223669968

J.E. Ellis

A native to Northern California, I moved to Reno, Nevada in 1985. I was a truck driver for 34 years (recently retired, whoop! whoop!), married for 30, and have a 16 year old granddaughter who has me wrapped around her fingers (and knows it). In 1994, I began writing professionally (pen name J.E. Ellis), from magazine articles to technical brochures to TV pilots. I’ve written several short stories (available soon on my Patreon), a 2006 award-winning fantasy book, "The Hordes of Rage.” "The Essence of Humanity," a Starfall prequel novel, was released in 2014. I written, produced or have worked on several short and feature films, as well as TV pilots. I recently returned to TTRPGs where I run games out of the local game store, Nerdvana. And go to as many sci-fi or gaming cons as I can afford.

Book preview

As it is written in the Maeran Book of Alu:

Alu, Great Giver, wandered the universe of his own creation. He found a place that suited him, gathered dust from his clothes and the sweat of his brow and formed the world and all its living things. He spat fire and made the sun, then dipped a finger into its blaze and set the moon on its course. He saw how wondrous it was and said, I must have companions to share my work, to rejoice with me at what I have done.

He scooped stars together and made the gods, his Children, into whom he breathed a little of himself. Thus he created the Five Who Tended: Gertruda of the Earth, Esungi of the Air, Jo’ok of the Fire and Adastenya of the Water. And Ubilas, the Keeper of the Dead.

Each of the Five had dominion over a part of the world, both the real and the spiritual. But Alu kept for himself the power of creation, of Life, for he deemed none of his Children had the wisdom for that great power.

They all dwelt in joy and companionship with their Father and brought to him their designs for enhancing the world. Gertruda presented to Alu a clay doll, saying, I would have this brought to life, my Father, so I would have children of my own to cherish and guide. And so Alu touched the clay and it lived. Gertruda called them Grimin and gave them the secrets of stone and metal. The other gods, too, brought forth their shapings for Alu to enliven. For Esungi, there was the Sungar, with Esungi’s gift of magick. For Jo’ok, Alu created the Jokli. Jo’ok gave them cleverness with their hands, with which to build all manner of devices. Adastenya’s children, the Maerans, made their home in and under the great waters, and from him gained lives as eternal as the sea. To all this Alu added wondrous things: the seasons for planting and harvest, tall Kargen who dwelt far to the East and could grind stones into jewels, Bles Duani the Great Trees, the livingness that dwelt within all things.

And so the world became full of the People and Alu’s light. And all was joyous and peaceful.

Ubilas, though, in his realm of the dead called the Abyss, brooded. He brought a statue for Alu to touch. But Alu refused, seeing the figure was malformed. He told Ubilas, You have no need for children, for all the People become yours once you claim them in death and bring them to the Abyss. There you can make a paradise for them and they will worship you, while they await the fullness of my design. Ubilas burned with anger at Alu and stalked his Pit. With fire he scorched its walls and, instead of a paradise, the Abyss became a Pit of torment.

Then Ubilas began to eat the dead. Death is only Life turned inside out, he reasoned. And with each soul he consumed, his strength grew. As his power grew, so did his arrogance. He rose up out of the Abyss and haunted the world. No longer did he wait for the souls of the dead to reach him. He went forth and took them where he found them. Burned the flesh off the People and ate their spirits. And his power and madness grew.

The other Children of Alu came together and opposed their brother. East of the Spiny Mountains they stood against him in all their might. They used horrendous powers to drive him back toward the Abyss. The battle forever destroyed the lands in that part of the world. At the very edge of the Pit, Ubilas turned. He at last unleashed his power, a harnessing of all the souls he had devoured. And the Children of Alu fell under the onslaught. First was Adastenya, withering in green flame, his essence sucked away. Then Gertruda succumbed, Ubilas adding her might to his. With the death of each god, the Keeper of the Dead grew stronger. Jo’ok and Esungi joined in a hopeless attempt to stop their brother, but were consumed as well.

Ubilas roared in triumph. Come, Father! What you have made, I will destroy, to remake in my own image! He strode toward Alorithon, the home of Alu in the far north, each step leaving behind a ruin of smoking earth.

But Alu caused a great Citadel to rise, in the midst of the Valkor Pass, and spoke from its height. Ubilas, my son. I beseech you to stop. Put aside your rage and madness and I will again welcome you into my heart. But the Keeper of the Dead only snarled and launched himself at the Citadel. He spat flame at the tower where his Father stood. He pounded on its stoneworks until quakes tossed the land. He clawed and chewed. And still the Citadel stood.

At last, even Ubilas’ terrible power began to wane. Then Alu came forth and Bound his Child with unbreakable chains. Tenderly he carried Ubilas back to the Abyss. Tears marked his path. Tears for the loss of his other Children, the desolation, the madness of Ubilas. He chained his last offspring to the wall at the bottom of the Abyss. And crying, he plucked out Ubilas’ right eye.

Then Alu turned to the People of Adastenya, the ageless, sea-dwelling Maerans who stood there with him. "Record all that has happened, all that you have witnessed, from this time on. And know there will come a time when Ubilas will recover his Eye and be Unbound. He will seek his vengeance on me, and, with an army born of his fury, on the world.

Fear not, for one will come forward, the Jor-mu y’Vath. And though he will be sorely tested and the price to be paid is high, he will rescue the world from the horde of Ubilas’ rage.

Chapter One

The clear, moonless night offered little illumination as Kaan sprinted over the uneven cobbles of the street. He scowled into the gloom and managed not to turn an ankle. The street sloped down a little and curved to the right: away from where they needed to go. The sheathed sword across his back thumped him in rhythm with his steps. Until things had fallen apart, they had planned to escape by the eastern gate. They now headed south between looming storefronts and their chances of getting away – and his mood – worsened with each step. I’m not going to lose a hand over this, Kaan said to himself. Even friendship had its limits.

The way ended at a wider boulevard that stretched left and right. Kaan reached the corner and paused to look back at the target of his foul mood.

Some distance yet behind, massive Boli plunged. Each step jarred a breathy grunt from his eighteen-stone girth, but the pace kept him from pitching onto his face. He wore wine-red canvas trousers tucked into calf-high rawhide boots and a sleeved, indigo linen tunic; similar to though much larger than what Kaan wore. Boli’s round, bald head glistened with sweat in the early morning starlight. In one fist he gripped a large leather satchel, the object of their thievery.

He and Kaan had been friends since childhood, grown up in the same town, kissed the same girls, but sometimes Boli was more trouble than he was worth. I’m the experienced one, Kaan reminded himself. For all his learning, Boli had little common sense and no dexterity. I should have done this alone. I am not going to lose a hand.

What should have been an easy in-and-out, a job Kaan had done countless times in his career, turned into a complete balls-up. Boli tripped in the dark, crashed into a shelf of Maeran blown glass and roused the household. While Kaan fended off the servants, Boli retrieved the satchel. Then they had fled.

Up the street behind his rotund comrade, torchlight on the unbroken façade lining the street painted fantastic the shadows of the city watch in pursuit. Kaan heard their slap and clatter; he cursed and turned his attention forward once more.

He turned left, still hoping to make their way back to the east, but stopped after just a few steps.

Ahead, the thoroughfare stretched into obscurity, bordered on both sides by the murky hulks of warehouses, with nary a side street in sight. By Alu. Twists and turns evaded pursuit – not running down a long straight street. He brushed back the pale hair that clung to his face and looked around. Boli churned around the corner, head down, huffing, and passed him.

Ssst! Kaan hissed. He darted across the street, toward a tall stack of crates and barrels. Between a tanner’s shop and the first warehouse, partially blocked by the freight, a black alley beckoned. If they could just slip in unnoticed...

Boli’s head came up and turned toward the sound. He began the laborious effort of stopping his headlong flight. He windmilled his thick arms and came around ponderously. With a wheezing thud he collided with the stone wall of the warehouse two ells from Kaan. As Boli lurched toward him, dirt from the building’s eaves dusted their heads and shoulders. Kaan ducked and grimaced, then let his friend go past him into the dim opening.

Once in the shadows, Boli bent over, hands on knees and gulped air. More warning, he gasped, his gentle voice nearly inaudible.

Kaan brushed off the grit. "Sure. The next time we’re runnin’ for our lives, I’ll signal you with a wave and a yoo-hoo. Boli furrowed his thin brows at Kaan, a chevron above brown saucer eyes, and his mouth worked like a fish out of water. He looked so wretched that Kaan could only smile and shake his head. Now get back. Maybe we’ll yet give ’em the slip."

Down the street Kaan and Boli had fled came a corporal and five watchmen, wearing sword-belts and saffron surcoats over various personal clothing, cudgels in hand. Three held up torches that streamed sparks as they trotted. Kaan watched from the inky recess of the stacked crates as they reached the intersection and paused. The corporal looked both ways, then led his men to the east, the way Kaan and Boli had almost gone.

Kaan watched their pursuers recede, then looked back at his friend. Come on. It won’t take ’em long to start backtrackin’. Are you ready?

Boli groaned. His breath still came in deep draughts and he rubbed the shoulder that had struck the warehouse. Not more running. You know how I loathe physical endeavors.

We wouldn’t be running at all if you hadn’t woken the household with your great lumb’rin’ about, breakin’ things. You should’ve let me go in alone. As it is, we’ll be lucky to escape the city.

Boli shook his head. You wouldn’t have known which parchments to take. You needed me to find the right ones.

You still should’ve let me do it by myself. Kaan slipped around the edge of the building. He eyed their pursuers; the distant, black lump with several orange eyes appeared to have stopped. Enough jabberin’. Time to move. He ran in the opposite direction, speed more important now than stealth.

Boli grumbled again and slowly stomped his way up to speed.

They neared an intersection. Another wide street cut across the boulevard. Right would take them deeper into the city, left toward the southern gate. Not the eastern gate, closest to the stable where they had quartered their horses and gear, but at least they would be out of Solek. They could circle back to the east once outside the walls. Kaan took the left turn at a run, Boli close behind.

And ran into a wall of leather and hair.

The wall grunted. Stunned, Kaan rebounded. Then bounced forward again as Boli slammed him from behind, driving the air from Kaan’s chest. As one they struck the barrier again, which cursed and collapsed.

The confusion of bodies and limbs landed on the cobblestones hard. Kaan, crushed again, struggled to take a breath. Starry blackness danced in his vision and roaring filled his brain as Boli managed to roll away.

By Gertruda’s hair. Get offa me, barked the figure on the bottom, and pushed Kaan bodily through the air.

Kaan landed sharply on his bum, which sent jagged pains up his spine, but started his lungs working again.

Blinking and gasping, Kaan tried to focus on their attacker. The stranger, flat on his back, could not get to his feet. Jokli scum. He then turned over and pushed himself up by main strength of his arms, his knees oddly unbending. With a voice full of gravel and stone he rumbled, Whaddaya, think ya own the streets?

A Grimin. No more than an ell tall, the dwarf nonetheless girthed as much as Boli through the body. A sleeveless tunic reached below the Grimin’s knees, but left bare long arms covered in black hair as thick as fur. Short legs – also grossly hairy – ended in low, heavy boots. The belt about the Grimin’s waist held purses and a sword only a bit longer than Kaan’s eating knife. Over one shoulder the haft of some other weapon protruded. A long beard and mustaches covered most of the dwarf’s face, exposing only a bit of forehead above beetle brows, almond-shaped ebony eyes and ruddy cheeks. A deep green, wide-brimmed, conical hat sat askew on an unruly mass of black hair.

The Grimin straightened his hat with one hand and stared back. Boli, though taller by five or six spans, stepped away sheepishly. On the ground with his legs splayed out and pain shooting through his backside, Kaan managed to glare a challenge at their hirsute impediment.

The moment of appraisal ended with the slap of wood on stone from above. A crone leaned out through open shutters, a lantern in one hand. Hallo! she called. Hallo the guard! Here they are! She waved the light. A thieving Grimin and his two henchmen!

Thieving? the dwarf cried.

Henchmen? Kaan scrambled to his feet.

The Grimin shook his fist at the old woman. Why, I arta come up there and smack that last tooth outta yer head, ya witch!

With a yelp the crone ducked inside. Shouts echoed from down the boulevard. Kaan caught Boli’s eye and they both moved off hurriedly. The Grimin followed at a stiff-legged trot.

Kaan rounded on the dwarf. What d’you think you’re doin’?

Leavin’. What’s it to you? The Grimin pushed his way past. I been in Solek less than an hour and already find m’self unwelcome. That’s a new record, even fer me.

Oh, no. This is our way out. Go find your own way. He caught up to the dwarf and matched his stride easily. Boli came up on the Grimin’s other side.

Up ahead’s the closest gate, the Grimin growled. And I plan on usin’ it.

No! Kaan jumped ahead and put a hand out. He found himself on the ground again, with new pains. The Grimin had not even slowed.

Boli helped him up. Kaan, we don’t have time for this. The watch will catch up any moment. They looked at the dwarf; the blades of a long-handled battleaxe answered the question of what he carried on his back. Do you really want to tangle with a Grimin warrior?

Desperation welled inside Kaan. Things were turning to dung. He had been in tight spots before, however, and knew the solution. Y’know what that means.

Boli sighed and shook his head. More running.

Kaan nodded, clapped Boli on the shoulder and took off.

They passed the dwarf, who had not lessened his dogged pace. Kaan touched fingers to forehead in mock salute as they sped by, which elicited more subterranean rumbles from the Grimin. Soon his squat form blended into the darkness altogether.

After a jog that left Boli wheezing once more, the street took an easy descent to end in a spacious court, big enough for ox trains to pass without crowding. Beyond, barred for the night, stood thick wooden gates set into the high stone-and-mortar wall of the city of Solek. One sentry slouched next to the postern gate and snored in the halo of a damped lantern. On the right side of the court, the barracks stood dark. On the battlements above, their backs to the thieves, two more Jokli leaned against their tall, leaf-bladed halberds and talked quietly.

Kaan angled toward the left side of the court and slowed down to let Boli catch up. They stopped in the shadows in front of the customs house. The big man opened his mouth wide and tried to catch his breath as noiselessly as possible.

We’ll sneak under the ramparts, Kaan whispered. Clobber the guard and slip through the postern without the ones above ever knowin’. Then round to the east to Nert’s to get our things. Boli nodded. They crept toward the sleeping gatekeeper. Kaan reached over his shoulder to slip his sword free and tested the weight of the pommel in his other hand.

Closer they stole, Kaan focused on the gatekeeper. A few more steps and they would be close enough to the wall to be hidden from the sentries above unless they leaned over the railing.

Boli suddenly tugged at Kaan’s sleeve, but he shrugged it off. Boli grabbed him again. Kaan stopped and spun around in irritation, one fist cocked to warn him off, but Boli was not looking. Kaan followed his friend’s gaze. A figure, wide and short with a pointed head, appeared at the top of the grade, outlined by wavering orange light. The dwarf started down the slanting street and Kaan heard a faint but clear shout: Ho! The gate! Ware!

Well, that’s done it, Boli said.

You there! Halt!

Kaan and Boli looked up. Both sentries had come to the railing. One watched the Grimin’s approach and the watchmen not far beyond. The other looked at the two thieves, a hand pointed in warning. The gatekeeper still snored, oblivious to the events unfolding. Kaan dashed at him, reluctantly bringing the edge to bear. The sentry looking up the street reached for the bell mounted on the railing. The other raced for the stairs.

At the first clang of the alarm bell, the gatekeeper’s head jerked up. He looked around and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Any chance of Kaan taking him unprepared, however, died in the swift, practiced motion of the man clearing, with a soft rasp, his sword from the scabbard at his waist. His weapon, a narrower, finer blade than Kaan’s simple double-edged broadsword, came around deftly to knock aside Kaan’s clumsy overhand blow. Kaan’s impulsive rush abruptly turned into a frenzied backpedal to avoid the steel seeking his belly. The gatekeeper advanced coolly, inexorably. His sword flicked like the tongue of a deadly snake around Kaan’s graceless parries.

Kaan knew he was overmatched, but fought on. What else could he do? He hoped Boli would have enough sense to slip past him and open the postern gate; in that way, perhaps one of them would escape.

The sentry clumping down the steps would reach the ground in moments; the gatekeeper eased his attack to allow his comrade to join in Kaan’s demise.

The shutters of the barracks burst open and light spilled across the court, the yellow glow partly filled with a man-shaped shadow. To arms! To arms! Thunking and cursing answered the call.

Boli skidded to a stop and spread his arms away from his body, palms out, to show he held no weapons, and Kaan knew it was all over except for the bleeding.

Movement flickered at the edge of Kaan’s sight; then the Grimin hit the gatekeeper with shattering force. He drove the hapless Jokli completely off the ground and crushed him against the gate, his breath and weapon zooming away. When the dwarf stepped back, the man collapsed onto the cobbles. Kaan winced, remembering.

The first sentry reached the bottom of the steps and charged the Grimin, his polearm lowered. By Gertruda’s hair! Open the gate! The dwarf turned to face the new threat.

Boli leaped toward the postern. Kaan’s unexpected reprieve from death lent unusual courage and he spun to help the Grimin.

The dwarf faced the sentry and stood his ground with open arms. Kaan danced at the edge of the combat, waiting to step in. At the last moment the dwarf leaned away and slapped the halberd’s blade aside with his hands. The pole swung outward and the sentry could not stop his charge in time. His eyes widened for an instant before a hairy fist smashed his face. From the barracks came the flat smack of a crossbow and Kaan instinctively ducked. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about the polearm. Agony seared as the falling blade slashed across one thigh.

Kaan staggered. The hand he pressed to his leg came away black with blood in the dim light. He cursed and tottered a step. Shock coursed through his body, but the leg supported his weight. The Grimin turned from the sprawled watchman and looked at Kaan, then turned toward the postern without a word.

Oh, that’s the way of it, then? Kaan mumbled, and looked to his friend for help.

The postern consisted of little more than a tall barrel set in a cut through the main gate, which spun on a post centered inside. Three iron bolts locked it in place with the open side of the barrel facing inward.

Having freed the first pin and with a hand poised on the second, Boli stood motionless. He stared at the crossbow bolt quivering a finger’s length from his face.

What’re ya waitin’ for? shouted a gravel-filled voice. The shout jolted Boli into yanking the rod back as the Grimin reached for the bottom pin.

With a grimace Kaan faced the court. Sweat made his clothing sticky and the grip on his sword slick. Blood oozed from between the fingers of the hand clamped to his thigh. He eyed the soldiers cresting the grade.

Slap! and another crossbow quarrel clanged off metal. Kaan yelled, Go! Get outta here!

Boli’s protests and the dwarf’s imprecations were drowned by the blood-song in Kaan’s ears as he faced the watchmen.

A grinding, creaking thump signaled the postern cage rotating. Kaan backed toward the postern, his focus on the six men who had switched from clubs to swords. He heard the barrel stop and rotate twice more, and knew he was alone. He cursed the fate that left him here trying to be heroic, when all he wanted to do was run and hide.

A crossbow bolt whistled close. The watchmen shouted to cease firing for fear of being struck themselves, then closed on their quarry.

His back almost touching the postern barrel, Kaan parried the swings of the first two watchmen, who lacked any real skill, thank Alu. Then three others stepped in and Kaan saw his lifespan again slip to a handful of heartbeats.

The postern rumbled. Boli shouted, Get in!

Reckless trust launched Kaan backward and out of the reach of his enemies. They tumbled together almost comically, trying to avoid each other’s weapons.

Kaan landed inside the already-rotating barrel. As the gap to the courtyard closed, two swords slipped in and jammed the cage. In the darkness, Kaan pounded at the steel with the pommel of his weapon. One blade shattered. Then fingers slipped in and, berated by their corporal, the watchmen grunted in unison. The postern inexorably opened.

Help me, Boli implored, his voice muted by the wood.

Why should I? answered the Grimin. What’s in it fer me?

Oh, me and the dwarf are going to have some words, Kaan thought. He looked at the widening gap. I hope.

The cage lurched back the other way; Kaan staggered and banged his head on the rough inner wall. Fingers disappeared before they could be severed. The remaining sword’s blade broke with a twang. Now all the watch could do to open the postern would be to find what purchase they could on the outside of the cage. The drum rotated toward the outside slowly.

A full span opened and Kaan pressed his face close to the gap. Curse you, you big lump! Kaan yelled. Do I have to do all the work? He tossed out his sword, then pressed both palms against the rim of the gate and pushed.

Boli looked in, grinning, and grabbed the lip with both hands. You know how I hate these strenuous activities. He pulled.

The gap widened. As the space increased, Boli braced one foot on the edge of the gate. The barrel opened more. The exertion drained Kaan’s pale face of color and sweat plastered his hair to his scalp. They heard grunts and barked commands. They looked at each other and strained harder.

The Grimin looked on impassively.

The opening widened enough for Boli to wedge his shoulder and other leg into the gap. With a long groan, Boli pushed with both legs. The cage lurched fully open and screams erupted from the other side. Kaan stumbled out past his seated comrade, but his wounded leg buckled and he splashed face first in the mud and Alu-knew-what-else of the road.

The dwarf stepped around as Kaan raised himself, sputtering, from the muck. The dwarf reached back with one hand and untied the strap holding his weapon. It slid down and he grabbed the haft just before the blade touched the ground. The Grimin scuttled forward, gripped the battleaxe with both hands and brought it over his shoulder.

Boli, Kaan cried. Still wedged halfway in the barrel, his friend looked up and had time to squeeze his eyes shut as the axe whistled down.

In a perfect, precise blow, the dwarf’s blade arched over Boli’s crouched form and severed the center post of the postern gate. The barrel shuddered as the steeply cut ends of the thick pole shifted and jammed. Boli opened one eye, then the other. His gaze flicked back and forth between the broken post and the dwarf, who stepped back and appraised his handiwork. That oughta hold ’em fer a while. He settled the battleaxe over his shoulder, tying the strap back in place.

Kaan blew out the breath he had been holding while Boli eased himself out of the gap. The drum shifted a little then stopped, the ends of the post lodged off-center against each other. Shakily, Boli helped Kaan to stand, one meaty arm around his lean friend’s shoulders.

What’ll keep ’em from openin’ the gates and chasin’ us? the Grimin asked.

Boli shook his head. The city watch has no sway outside the gates. They’ll have to rouse the King’s Guard to chase us outside the walls.

Kaan jabbed a finger at the dwarf. Us? There’s no ‘us’! You’ve been nothing but trouble! Find your own way! Get lost!

Twern’t fer me, you’d be on yer way to the gibbet right about now.

If it weren’t for you, we’d be long gone from here by now.

The Grimin sneered. And you were doin’ so well, runnin’ through the streets like curs.

Shut up, both of you, Boli shouted. We need to— A distant slap echoed and something ripped the dwarf’s hat off his head. —get out of crossbow range! He and Kaan moved as quickly as they could down the muddy road.

Arrgh! That was me best cap! The dwarf snatched up his dripping headgear and trotted after the two Jokli. He pulled the bolt free and tossed it aside.

Unlike the uniform three-story brick buildings and paved streets of the city, the village outside the gates spread haphazardly across the slopes upon which Solek stood. Meandering tracks of mud and slop separated a confusion of mud huts, stone shops and wooden barns.

At their first opportunity, Kaan and Boli ducked off the main road onto a narrower path between hovels. They paused, both breathing hard. Kaan tore off a strip of his tunic and tied it tightly around his wound.

We’re, um, on the wrong side of the city, Boli pointed out.

I know. Kaan muttered. With half the city roused... He glared at the Grimin, who glared right back. It’ll be too risky to go around. We’ll just have to steal some horses from nearby. He shook his head. I hate leaving all our stuff to that thieving stablemaster, Nert.