The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (31 page)

“Yes, Solagh needs longer to do his part,” Zabalas added. “The magic of his amulet requires time to work, though, which was why he was chosen for that particular task.”

Phaera did not know what that amulet did exactly, but she knew it could simulate the effects of their influential powers. But, it was a gradual effect, unlike her own unique talents.

The door to the throne room opened, pulling Phaera from her thoughts and preventing Zabalas from commenting further. In walked a male dwarf. At least he looked like a dwarf at first, until one could make out the coloration of his face, which was very pale, along a few other minor distinctions.

He was a slagfell—which was how all others referred to his kin. Their greed was legendary and surpassed even those of their kin, the dwarves, who are renowned for their own love of gems. The slagfell were once a clan of dwarves, until greed drove them ever further into the Subterrane to excavate more and more treasures.

This particular slagfell was covered head to toe with plate armor. He stood approximately four feet in height and his head was bereft of hair. On that head were strange brandings that Phaera was told, meant something to their people. He sported a long gray beard that was braided into sections that hung beside one another.

“Megnus, we are busy,” teased the succubus as the slagfell strode closer to them, attempting to emasculate him and minimize his rank in their organization, as she always did.

“I carry news for ye, Zabalas,” Megnus declared as he banged a fist off of his massive breastplate in an apparent salute.

“Go on,” Zabalas gestured with a nod, obviously not thrilled about being interrupted, but wanting to hear the news.

“The barbarian village to the south, Chansuk, has been broken by yer legion, me lord,” Megnus calmly reported. “Yer waves of goblinoid forces be devastatin’ to the structured Races of Order, I be thinkin’. Goblinoids o’ all kinds be joinin’ yer mighty forces an’ so will the ogres and trolls, if they be knowin’ what’s good for ‘em!” Megnus again pounded a salute to Zabalas. “And of course, ye have the full support o’ Shadowmere.”

Zabalas spun to face the warrior. “I have not yet begun to piece this legion together,” he explained forcefully. “That much is obvious. And the ogres, trolls and giants will join with us or be crushed beneath my army.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Megnus saw the succubus snicker, as if she enjoyed seeing the incensed warlord focused on him and not her. Megnus noticed and let it go without causing a confrontation. After all, she was an offspring of Lilith, the Demon Queen, and he did not want to begin what would surely be an irreversible scar amongst the two races. Especially since Zabalas had recently begun his recruitment of the succubi into his legion.

“That undead wretch that ye acquired should be gettin’ his strength back soon too, as ye suggested,” Megnus announced in congratulation, drawing a sadistic smile and nod from the obsidian-clad warlord, who abruptly stood.

“That ‘
wretch’
of which you speak, was once a very powerful mage.  Leave me for now. I have much to ponder,” he instructed in a curt manner, agitated at how the slagfell regarded his other guest.

“My plans require even more power than we have already assembled. If I can unite even one brood of succubi and their thralls with an entire city of slagfell, the surface creatures will become much less of a concern,” Zabalas spoke aloud, slamming a gauntleted fist into his open palm and staring at the undead figure beside him. “Soon I will convince all of the surface brutes to join me, but for now the lich and the succubi families are my main focus.” Phaera peeked back over her shoulder as she walked away and he appeared to be speaking to himself more than anyone else.

As Megnus and Phaera exited, the slagfell leaned in to her.

“Ye’ll never replace his Nydiri,” he whispered to her as a thinly veiled threat. “In doin’ so, ye tempt the hand o’ demons even ye can’t imagine.”

Without warning or even a sound, and before the succubus could respond, the slagfell warrior was launched from his boots by a mighty hand. He was sent spinning through the air to land unceremoniously on his back. Megnus rolled to a stop and wiped his bleeding lip, all the while looking up in shock at the dark figure towering over him, glaring at him with contempt and rage, the likes of which he had never seen before. It shook the warrior to his core.

Zabalas’s face appeared distorted and the rage set upon it was immeasurable. His expression was cold and vicious, with a look of unholy power in his black eyes that seemed not to register any pupils at present—he looked truly fiendish, thought Phaera.

“You shall
never
speak that name again!” Zabalas threatened as he withdrew a wicked blade from its scabbard, the tip drawing ever closer to Megnus’s face. A flame burst forth from it, ranging in hue from pink to a deep purple that flickered along its length. He drew it nearer to eventually touch the pale skin of Megnus’ face. The slagfell warrior flinched in response.

Phaera was told once by a servant that though there were flames that danced upon the steel of his blade, it was a cold sensation that would overrun you when the blade touched your skin. She did not want to put that rumor to the test anytime soon.

“If you do you will feel the cold taste of my blade as it drains your very life…slowly and agonizingly,” Zabalas finished the threat calmly in a whisper to the fallen warrior.

Phaera could have sworn she saw a smiling face within the flames of the sword. She had never before witnessed anything like the power that this man possessed.

If indeed he
was
a man.

How‘d he cross twenty paces so durned quickly in that heavy armor and not even make a sound?
Megnus wondered, his face stinging from the heavy blow.

The blackened armor that the warlord bore was so polished that he could witness his own horrified reflection within its shiny, mirrored sheen. As if noticing for the first time, Megnus observed that Zabalas’s armor was completely pristine, whereas his own armor was dull and marked with numerous battle scars.

Zabalas was the most powerful creature Megnus Bloodstone had ever seen and he felt it wise to remain on his good side. The slagfell was a general within his clan’s military structure, a prince, and heir to the throne of Shadowmere. He was above all else, a seasoned warrior who battled everything the Subterrane and the surface folk could muster. But this individual before him triggered an unparalleled and irrational fear that was very alien to him.

Whatever…thing …gave Zabalas his power, it be a ruinous creature fer sure, I be thinkin’,
Megnus considered. He sat amidst the piles of bones on the floor of Zabalas’s throne room in humiliation and watched as the warlord walked away.

Zabalas was back on his throne when Megnus got to his feet once more. Phaera snickered again as she watched the proud slagfell right himself and exit the throne room. The ire in the warlord’s expression and the ferocity of that backhand strike told her exactly what his legendary bride-to-be meant to him.

What a woman you must have been, Nydiri
, Phaera supposed,
to elicit such rage!

Legend also had it that Zabalas had once been a Templar, a paladin, or some type of holy warrior, and that his beloved was killed while he was off fighting a war.

She looked up from where the slagfell had landed, noticing the small smattering of blood on the floor, and then back to the man sitting upon the throne. She thought of how he seemed to transform a little more each day into something more…fierce…more nefarious…and wondered if it really was her imagination or not.

Yes,
this
version of Zabalas has the potential to lead the very forces of Pandemonium into war,
she contemplated as she continued toward her chambers.
Aspect Nahemia would be wise in choosing this one as her champion!

Once in her room, Phaera gazed into the larger mirror on her wall and willed her natural demonic side to show through, revealing a more ferocious and distorted type of beauty as her amber eyes glowed bright in the mirror’s reflection.

Curved, ivory horns jutted from her forehead. Her ears sharpened at the tips, looking somewhat elven in that regard. The claws on her fingers elongated and hardened. A set of bat-like wings sprung from her back and a tail sprouted from her backside. She smiled, revealing a sharp pair of fangs. Then she quickly willed that form to fade and ran a hand through her thick, white hair. She fell onto her bed comfortably and reflected upon recent events.

Zabalas took a seat upon his throne once more.

“My influence is growing with each day, isn’t it father?” Zabalas directed toward the undead creature at his side. The thing looked at Zabalas as if to say something, but instead merely gargled something instead before looking away from him. This was, of course, due to the fact that the creature was lacking a tongue

“I employ one large contingent of orcs and goblin tribes, who are completely under my command and there is more to come,” Zabalas boasted as he stood and folded his arms over his chest. “Now, I must once more confer with the lich and make sure we are working toward regaining the item that holds his soul—the key to his unbridled and glorious return to power,” Zabalas continued explaining to the undead creature.