Logan Marsh: A Thrilling Fantasy Novel (Action Adventure,Mystery, Y/A Book 1) (20 page)

"Your evilness, Smord has arrived," Zed panted as he entered Hubris's room, "and he carries your wounded nephew on his shoulders."

"Then bring them here, you stupid goblin," the grey elf admonished him and rose from his seat. A short time afterwards, Smord appeared at the door of Hubris's room.

"Your wickedness and master of all monsters," Smord bowed, "Smord bring you two presents." He took from his back a young grey elf and a makeshift sack made of a green cloak.

"Narook," Hubris looked at his wounded nephew.

"Smord found him on beach and thought he was dead. But suddenly his young evilness started talking, so Smord takes him," said Smord.

"And what is in the green sack?" asked Hubris in his serpentine tongue.

"I bring you the horn, his evilness," Smord smiled and poured all the horns on the floor. "Smord did not know what is the correct horn, so I bring them all."

A thin smile rose on Hubris's lips. He approached the horn mound and started searching them. He lifted each and examined them, threw aside and took another one, trying to find the real horn.

"Maybe this one…" Smord tried to help and lifted a golden horn.

"Don't touch this, you idiot," Hubris muttered and continued to examine each of the horns. His devilish smile turned slowly into a horrible frown.

"You have brought me the horn, eh?" Hubris turned to Smord and examined the last remaining horns, "you have brought me nothing, you fat and stupid monster."

"What, the horn is not here?" wondered Smord.

"No," Hubris slapped Smord's frightened face, "this is what happens when I send stupid creatures on an important mission."

Hubris walked from one corner of the room to another. His body shook in anger and he gnashed his teeth.

"His wickedness," Zed appeared at the doorstep.

"Not now," screamed Hubris to the horrified goblin. The goblin retreated and climbed down the stairs.

"And you," Hubris turned to the wounded Narook, lying on the ground, where Smord left him, "I have sent you so that everything will go according to plan, and you return wounded and humiliated. Look at yourself, this is how a member of our family is supposed to look like? What will Klaxes say about that? What do you think he will do when you tell him that you returned without the horn?"

"I tell him?" asked Narook in fear.

"Yes, you," yelled Hubris. "Do I think I will tell him that little fact? Do you want me to explain to him your failure?"

Narook lowered his head. "Do not anger so much, my young brother," a voice echoed from the other side of the room.

"Father," Narook lifted his head.

A tall and older grey elf stood at the door. He had a long white hair and coarse skin. A dark and long cloak covered him and a black cape rested on his shoulders. "I am horrified that you even thought that I will let the horn slip away from us. You know I am a sour loser."

"Sernin." Hubris looked at the figure and a smile appeared on his face when he saw the conch in his brother's hand.

"So, can we start the victory celebrations," Hubris smiled to Sernin.

"Slow, brother," said Sernin, "we need to tie up some loose ends."

Sernin muttered some words in a strange language: Narook's wounds closed and healed, and his bruises disappeared.

"Rise, my son," Sernin said to Narook. "Go and tell our draconic master of your success."

"Yes, father," said Narook in obedience.

After Narook had disappeared, Sernin took a newspaper from underneath his cloak. The name Tigertief was written in big and bold letters on the cover page.

"I have told you that Achtisanor has returned," said Hubris.

"Yes, you did – and that was nothing new," Sernin frowned suddenly. "And worse, you did not discover the rest of the news." He threw the newspaper to Hubris, who read the article from top to bottom.

"Logan Marsh," whispered Hubris.

"Logan Marsh," repeated Sernin. "I hope our prisoner is still alive."

"Yes," said Hubris, "he is at Evildon camp."

"What are you waiting for," asked Sernin, "fetch him at once and make sure that his whereabouts are known in Nivron Junction. I believe that Tigertief will arrive here soon enough, and then I will fulfil all my purpose." His evil laugh filled the room. "Gather them all at the dragon's lair."

A terrible noise pounding my mind,

But others hear only silence and echoes

As if they were earless,

And not one of them can listen to the fever raging within me,

Eating everything, burning in my veins.

There is no use for screaming, they are barren as the land,

Like abandoned dogs scattering in the rain,

Barking and yelping of their dears and pain,

But suddenly savage, and useless and vain.

No gate and no window will give me recourse,

Black grates and bars obscuring my course,

Cold steel enclosing, darkness enforced,

Death approached without guilt or remorse.

Kiril Marsh,

Captivity Darkness

The sounds of screams and metal scraping echoed all around him. A wave of fatigue shook the golden elf body. The pain in his muscles hurt like a thousand daggers stabbing him, and the blood in his veins boiled with hot fury, helplessness, and a fever.

"Kiriliosmaris," the call echoed between the underground labyrinthine tunnels of Evildon camp. He heard this call many times before they took him to a painful interrogation or the arena to combat other prisoners to the laughter of his jailors.

"No more," he murmured, "I rather die. This time I will bite them and try to escape, they will surely kill me then."

"Kiriliosmaris," the call continued to torture him.

Kiril walked restlessly in his cell. He reached the wall and fell, turned again, and another wall met him. His hair was filthy with mud. His eyes were swollen from torture and sleep deprivation, his legs shook and his head hurt. The shadows of the jailors in front of his cell door were vague and blurry.

"You are coming with us, sweety," the soldja said in a rough voice.

"If you will just say it twice, I think I'll fall madly in love with you," said Kiril and sat at the cell's corner.

A scraping of metal screeched in the room, and the cell door opened. Two soldjas entered, took his arms and lifted him. Kiril tried to fight with his meagre strength, jumped and managed to slip his arms free. He kicked the stomach of one soldja and hit the second one with his fist. Then a heavy sword hilt landed on Kiril's face and caused him to fall on the floor. A grey elf held the sword.

"This was not polite…" said the stone.

The two soldjas took Kiril again, who hovered at the edge of consciousness.

"A message from below orders me to keep you alive, cousin," said the grey elf, "and you have been cordially invited to attend our master at Kolchis."

Achtisanor's wounds were completely healed thanks to Broncolina's priests, who treated him with dedication during the ten days that passed since he returned with his friends to the city. Tigertief members were requested to stay in the city to attend the king's council session.

De-Stik passed the days leading up to the council by writing new songs at the room he rented with Krunch in the inn. Krunch passed his time by shopping; too much time had passed since he had last done it. He bought several magic tomes and new tricks, and strange concoctions from the alchemist shop.

Logan just sat most of the time in the three dimensions bar and pondered on the recent events.

At the day of the council, the four were reunited and walked the corridors of the royal abode to the royal operations room. Logan was impressed by the wonder and beauty of the place. De-Stik and Krunch walked briskly after Achtisanor and nodded to each servant and guard that passed them.

"How did we not recognize Domarwink?" Krunch hastened to follow his friends."I should have guessed when I saw his red eyes."

"I would have never thought that the long nose was our king," added De-Stik. "Since you came to the city he tried to hamper everything."

"Everything he did was to make me compete in the mission. If you did not act so surprised, I would have wagered that all three of you were involved," said Achtisanor. "He threw me into the jail so I would meet Alystus. He made me angry at the bar to rekindle my fighting spirit. He made sure that the handkerchief and the parchment with the dark tongue will find their way to me so that I will want to avenge, and I must say – he succeeded."

"And who was the lutin that Domarwink met at the stables?" asked Krunch, the corridor led them to a big and opulent room. A big table stood at its centre and maps covered its walls.

"I don't know," said Achtisanor, "but you can ask him yourself." And he pointed at a lutin standing near Domarwink, holding a tray in his hands.

"Ho, Tigertief," said the king when he saw them, "hurry and sit down. Allow me to introduce my personal assistant, Glatz."

The lutin bowed and served them drinks.

"I think we have already met," said Achtisanor.

A slight smile appeared on the lutin's face. He bowed again and left the room.

Noises drifted from the corridor and the council members entered one after another to the room. First came Genghis, lord of the bistons from the southern mines. His long nose protruded from the thick beard that covered his face. He wore intricate dwarven armour and worn and mud-spattered leather boots. Four small axes were tied to his belt, two in front and two at his back.

After his came Alystus, the minister for special affairs, his azure ribbon tied to his arm and a frown on his face, and sat next to Achtisanor.

Belsis, the high priest of the nature temples order, who was a very old man, entered in, leaning on a mahogany staff, his red cloak trailing at his back.

Next appeared Silas, the elven sage, also old and distinguished, hold a sceptre in his hand.

"Are we late?" a reedy voice was heard from the door.

"Have we arrived on time?" a little voice called.

"Have they already started?" called two other voices.

These were the four squibs, members of Mind over Matter, who were also summoned to the important meeting. Along with them came another squib, a bonnet on his head and askew glasses on his nose. It was Tambolin, the head scientist of Nessit.

"Friends," Domarwink said, "we all know why we have gathered here today. It is no secret that the promise of desolation threatens our kingdom and the universe. We must plan our next steps and dedicate our lives to stop the dark prophecy."

"Prophecy?" wondered the attendants.

"The prophecy that you, Achtisanor, brought to my attention," said Domarwink.

All eyes turned toward Achtisanor.

"I… I do not understand, my king," said Achtisanor.

"I believe that the scroll containing the dark language is still in your belt," said Domarwink.

"The scroll… yes, it is here," muttered Achtisanor and took it from his belt.

"Since you have given me the parchment that you found at Patrickiomaris's murder scene, I have sent my heralds to my contacts in neighbouring kingdoms and even beyond. Many years have passed until this dark language was fully translated."

"And what does it say?" said Achtisanor, his heart pounding.

"The dark language says: 'On the second call, the evil monster shall fall to the bloodstone…'" Domarwink said.

"So this is the prophecy?" interrupted Genghis, lord of the bistons, "it sounds like a good prophecy, so why do we want to counter it?"

"'On the third call,'" Domarwink continued to recite from his memory, "'the caller shall rule as Lucifer reigns over the chaos'."

The people sitting around the table looked distraught. A slight shiver shook each and every one of them.

"The eternal notime…" muttered Belsis, the old priest.

"What…" Fitz said. "What does it mean?"

"The bloodstone?" asked Sai.

"Orostone," answered Silas, the elven sage.

"Orostone?" repeated the squibs.

"An offspring of golden and grey elves," explained Silas, "stone blood mixed with elven blood. How can such a creature exist? A long and vast distance as the stars differs between the golden and grey elves. A deeper hatred than the Zooloo chasm divides us."

"We do not know that the Orostone actually exists," Domarwink calmed them, "but we cannot wait any longer because he will be born someday. The only way is to get the horn back – so that the second and the third calls will not be heard."

"So according to the Orostone prophecy, the monster shall be defeated after the second call of the horn," said Silas, "it could be that Klaxes is not interested putting the horn into play, and keeps it close to guard himself from being destroyed."

"Nice thinking, Silas," said Domarwink. "But what if he is not aware of the prophecy?"

All eyes turned toward him.

"When we have started this meeting we thought that Klaxes is our biggest threat," summarized Achtisanor, "but now we know that the black dragon is just the shadow of the evil one."

"Well said, Achtisanor," said Domarwink.

"Week before the competition commenced," the king said, "I have ordered Genghis, lord of the bistons, to start our preparations for war. I have ordered it if we would not be able to secure the horn."

"And it is done, your highness," said Genghis. "My men work day and night without rest or pause. The sound of hammers is heard incessantly from the factories, the heat of metals and their smelting is not forgotten and the sound of songs still rings from the mine tunnels. Their laborious work has provided us with all we need: hundreds of swords and axes of intricate alloys. Armour, arrowheads and spears were sharpened and the oil cauldrons are intact. With the help of Nessit engineers, we built hundreds of ballistae that threw fire rocks. Bows are straightened and war carts are ready to roll.

"All the weapons are ready, my king, and wait at the underground warehouses of the mines. Our best fighters guard them and await your orders."

"Well done, Genghis," Domarwink said.

"Your highness," Tambolin, the head scientist of Nessit, suddenly rose and stood in his chair. "I am sorry to interrupt, but… last week your delegation arrived at Nessit with an order of evacuation."

"Yes, Tambolin," Domarwink said.

"Why?" Tambolin asked. "Why should we leave our houses if you have weapons and a great army? Why should we not fight it for the squibs?"

"The first gate to Nature kingdom is Nessit, which is the place the Ashon forces will attack," Domarwink said. "It is true, that is the reason we should hold our stand there, but we cannot forget that our enemy has a new weapon, and that a dragon leads them. We cannot imagine the power of the horn or the result of its attack. We are not sure what the result of such an attack will be."

"Why shouldn't we summon dragons of our own?!" asked Tambolin.

"It is impossible, and you know that," Silas said. "The inter-dimensional passage is blocked and monitored by the gods. Since Klaxes passage to this dimension and due to the horrors and destruction he caused, only a few people can use that passage, certainly no dragons. And if you managed to pass this bridge, why should they join you? They are only interested in peace in their dimensions."

"I am sorry, Tambolin," the king comforted. "It is impossible. And for our victory, we should take a step back in order to move two steps forward. We must test the Ashon forces and their new fighting tactics.

"Nevertheless, three divisions were already deployed as a line of defence for Nessit. They will block the enemy and slow their progress until our preparations at the dwarven mines line are complete.

"As our friend Genghis already said, the squibs that were evacuated from Nessit helped immensely with providing the weapons for eliminating the first Ashon forces.

"Alystus," the king turned to his warlord, "what is the current size of our army?"

"After drafting the reserves, your highness, and after the arrival of the shire knights and the elven warriors, forest rangers and the northern bowman – about a hundred and seventy thousand men and youth. Elves, bistons, lutins, and squibs," answered Alystus. "All of them wait at the south gate, waiting for their king to lead them on."

"Good," Domarwink said. "We should prepare a makeshift hospital near the Hob plains at our rear. Also, we should open a line of defence against the undead that are expected to join the dark army. You were summoned here to oversee these important missions," he turned to Belsis, the high priest.

"Letters were already sent to the temples all around the kingdom, your highness," said the high priest, "to the rain guardians order, sunrise and sunset orders, and also to the river and forest temples. They pray without a break to the gods, and our young advocates are already heading for the mines, ready to give their lives in battle, heal, and save any living soul."

Heavy and hurried footsteps were heard from the corridor outside the operations room. At the doorway stood a redheaded and stocky biston. She wore a battered leather armour and worn boots.