The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (52 page)

Most of the force had survived the attack, but some had been devoured by the flesh-eating insects, including the newly promoted Overlord Nsobak.

 “I know now the source of the bones among the treasure. Based on the unlike age of each sample I inspected, they were all results from previous victims of the swarm, which lay dormant in wait for new prey,” Shaman Tukk concluded, tapping one such bone with his staff as he spoke.

“Indeed,” Grubb responded as one of the large ograthi informed him of Overlord Nsobak’s death. His features betrayed no emotion and he continued to move about, searching the area to ensure that they were free of any further danger. “He died a warrior’s death,” Grubb remarked, removing his helm and continuing to survey their surroundings.

“I’ve done all I can do for the wounded,” Tukk declared to the commander. “Most the orcs and goblins injured were consumed, together with one of the ograthi.”

“Very well, Tukk. I am sure you did all you could,” the commander acknowledged. Grubb continued to peer around the room, looking out for more threats as the non-wounded resumed sorting through the treasure once more, slowly at first, obviously shaken by the flesh-eating insects.

Something occurred to Grubb just then. As Shaman Tukk explained the remains of past victims scattered about the room, he also mentioned that this place had once been be a temple of the demon lord, Thanatos. Tukk summoned several more spirits from the area, forcing them to converse with him.

Moments later, he confirmed what he had suspected. This chamber was an area in which to dispose of bodies—a primeval burial ground for the cultists of Thanatos.  It made perfect sense to place victims in a room with swarms of flesh-eating insects to purge the flesh and bone, leaving behind only their possessions. It also explained why the room had accumulated so much wealth that remained intact. It all made sense now, he realized as Tukk continued to share his findings with Grubb.

“Clever,” Grubb admitted at the shrewdness of Tukk, for realizing it, and the cultists, for devising this horrifying burial chamber in the first place. Grubb sat on a smoothed section of rock near the far end of the room and allowed the shaman to tend his wound as he observed the goblinoids sort the treasure
.

 How nice it will be to finally leave this temple
, he thought.

Orngoth had escaped the orcs, but lost track of where he was in the maze of corridors. He effectively knew that he’d gotten to the lower level of the temple for sure. He tried moving quietly through the halls, which was nearly impossible, even in his hides and furs, as his sheer size and weight burdened that effort. Nevertheless, he tried to stay to the shadows as much as possible. As far as he knew, they weren’t actively searching for him.

He did manage to avoid the patrols of goblinoids that wandered the halls occasionally as they spoke loudly and freely, warning him of their presence. The corridors were wide and most of the doors weren’t barred, and so he merely had to step inside of a room until they passed before emerging again.

After hours of searching, he’d found a group of goblinoids that had mentioned the name of Grubb—the orc commander who had his gem—which he wanted back! He decided to follow far behind the group, barely keeping them in sight, hoping that they could lead him to the commander.

 A group of goblins that had lagged behind the main force, were whispering to each other, heading back toward him. Orngoth suspected they’d heard him, but was not sure.  He moved his massive frame as quietly as he could to the nearest door, opened it and entered, almost crushing the rusted handle in his haste.

His darkvision, which allowed him to see clear shapes without much detail, uncovered nothing in the room other than a few rats scurrying along the outskirts of the floor. There was a bed that he could make out and a small alcove near it too, but he could not make out much other than that in the dark.

The two goblin voices grew louder as they drew closer to him. They were speaking in the goblin language, which was similar to the ogrish language he’d learned while with the Ironskulls.

“In here,” Orngoth heard distinctly in the goblin tongue on the other side of the door as it opened, allowing some light from the wall torches to creep in. He was behind the door, hiding as best he could and forcing the goblins to enter completely in order to see him.

Then he noticed the hefty form of a wolf-like creature enter the room and sniff about, growling in his direction. Its red eyes penetrated the darkness of the room quite markedly.

Worg!

The goblins brandished tiny swords in their hands and slammed the door shut in an attempt to trap whatever the worg had found in the room with them. One of them had an oil lamp dimly lit which it placed on the floor. Turning the key higher to brighten the room, the goblin revealed the massive bulk of the half-ogre. They gazed upon him, standing only as tall as his waist, and their expressions immediately displayed regret at slamming the door shut.

The worg leapt at Orngoth and he backhanded it with a ferocious swing, sending it tumbling across the room after catching it solidly in the face. The two goblins attempted to turn the knob to the door, but Orngoth leaned hard against it, slamming it shut again, and positioned himself between the door and the two frightened creatures. He also had the advantageous position of having them between him and the worg that was slowly getting back up.

The goblins swung their swords viciously and wildly at him, scoring a few minor cuts each. Orngoth grabbed one of the two goblins in his massive hand, squeezed its limbs together as he clenched his fist tightly, and tossed it hard into the onrushing worg, knocking them both to the floor. He then removed his club from upon his back and swung it at the goblin that had just opened another cut upon his left thigh.

Orngoth barely noticed as he connected with the club. Its bones were crushed loudly under the impact of that blow. The collision sent the goblin hurling through the air to land limply in a corner of the room, unconscious or worse.

The second goblin was still lying on the ground when the worg leapt at Orngoth, its teeth piercing the half-ogre’s skin on the right arm. He winced as it clamped down firmly. His left fist, however, came down on top of the worg’s back with a loud crack and with enough force to shatter bones. He continued with a series of powerful strikes with his free arm for good measure, over and over, until the beast no longer moved.

The remaining goblin made it to its feet, realizing it must fight past the half-ogre to get out. In a heroic if not futile attempt, it ran headlong at Orngoth with its sword out in what it must have construed as a ferocious attack. Orngoth snarled and waited for the goblin to get within reach, slapped the point of its weapon aside, grabbed it by its tiny neck, and with a simple flick of his wrist, snapped it in two.

Orngoth quickly flung the door open, tossed the limp goblin onto the ground behind him and headed off to where he had first encountered the goblinoid patrol in an attempt to catch up with them, but the sounds of heavy booted footsteps were no more.

He had lost them—for now.

“It would be wise to leave the undead creatures outside of Ulthon, Zabalas,” Phaera advised. They had just gotten within sight of the entrance to Ulthon, the hidden and mythical city of the succubi, and Phaera was attempting to prepare them for their meeting with her mother. “We will be summoned to the Aspect’s chambers momentarily and these undead abominations will not be welcome.”

“As you wish,” Zabalas replied simply, appearing very ominous in his black plated armor. His helmet completely covered his face with no flesh visible beneath it. There was a pair of long, curving horns affixed to the top of the helm and another pair coming out of the left and right sides, thinner though, but shorter and with no curves.

Zabalas withdrew his sword and whispered something, causing violet flames to dance upon its wickedly shaped length. The outer edge had curves, depressions and sharp serrations all along it, even near the hilt, making the blade appear extremely vicious.

He spoke in a language that Megnus did not understand. The undead all around him fell to the ground one by one as if whatever impetus that guided them had left their bodies. Zabalas held his sword out in front of him and the blade seemed to utter a horrible wail. It was clear to the slagfell prince now that somehow, Zabalas’s weapon was quite probably absorbing that force.

Megnus Bloodstone involuntarily flinched at seeing the weapon and rubbed his jaw once more where he’d been struck by the mighty warlord. He breathed deeply, averting his eyes from the scene, and awaiting instructions as to what to do next. He was not even sure if they were invited to the chambers of Aspect Nahemia to join Zabalas. He looked about and noticed the djinni, Prishnack, floating nearby, seemingly apathetic about everything taking place, as he always did. Megnus could only glimpse specks of red blinking in and out of sight that indicated where the djinni was.

Zabalas allowed the fire to dwindle and finally go out upon his wicked sword. He sheathed it and then turned to Megnus as if responding to his unspoken thoughts.

“You will all accompany me inside the chamber of the Sine enclave,” Zabalas stated flatly. Phaera was about to protest, but held her tongue, to Megnus’s delight. And so, he simply stood at the ready, waiting for Zabalas’s next instructions.

 Phaera did not appreciate Megnus much on a personal level, and was not sure what her mother would think of the slagfell or the djinni, entering her chambers.

She was about to find out.

Phaera walked over to one of the Sine thralls, a strappingly built human male, who awaited her commands in the tunnel. “Tell Maldagan to open the portal,” she ordered the slave. He immediately moved off to deliver the message.

Any of Aspect Nahemia’s ‘daughters’ were able to control the thralls as they all used the same basic talent, which lasted over time the longer the victims were exposed to the succubus pheromone. There were several slaves mulling about the entrance and Phaera deliberately eyed an elven male.

“I have not fed in days,” she mentioned absently as she strode over to the elf, who stared blankly at her. She bent in low and kissed him, revealing her demonic side. She held the kiss for a long while and as she did, the elf seemed to waste away slowly. The longer she kissed, the more decrepit the elf appeared, until finally she pulled away from him and his withered, lifeless body plunged to the stone in a heap.

“Take that to the incineration chamber,” Phaera ordered, directing her instruction to another pair of elven males, who moved to obey her without question.

She was more than a little concerned how her mother, the greatest Aspect of Lilith, would react to this influential and authoritative man.

She dismissed the thought and hoped her mother would understand and appreciate the type of power that this man exercised.

She
certainly did.

Megnus hid a somewhat sickened look from them all by donning his helmet once more. He was a simple warrior who fought with sword and shield and felt what he had been seeing of late was simply incomprehensible and troublesome in nature. He secretly hoped that his father knew what he was getting into with regards to Zabalas. As he considered this, a portal opened up where Phaera stood, and it glowed with mystical energy, pulling Megnus’s thoughts to the circumstances at hand once more.

“Impressive,” Zabalas confessed as Megnus, too, was startled by its appearance. Though, Megnus had been privy to events such as this, with the numerous Wayfarer mages that inhabited his home of Shadowmere.

Phaera bowed almost dutifully, which seemed strange to Megnus to do within the walls of Ulthon where she was born.

The succubi society worshipped the Demon Queen of Pandemonium, Lilith, who Megnus knew to be the first of her kind and the mother of the succubi. Phaera was the eldest daughter of Nahemia Sine, and second in command of the Sine brood, as well as possibly the entire enclave of Ulthon, Megnus considered.

He followed the others as they stepped through the portal and out the other side.

Alana drained the waterskin and then cautiously poured some down Rolf’s throat. He was awake finally, but still in obvious pain.

“You are still in discomfort,” Thaurion observed as he leveled a sorrowful look at his fellow acolyte. His beard was caked with dried food and wet with water now as they tried to nurse him back to health as best they could.

“I am sorry, Rolf. Both Alana and I have tried to heal your wounds, but they are too great.  The necessary power lies beyond our feeble abilities,” Thaurion admitted, brushing a hand through his curly, blonde hair in an attempt to remove some of the sweat and grime. He had been trying to channel healing abilities into Rolf several times now, but had not succeeded beyond simply stabilizing his condition.

“I do not expect to survive this,” Rolf bravely admitted through a cough while clutching his broken right leg. He knew it was painful, but couldn’t determine how bad the break really was. The priests had tied it in a rudimentary splint and let him rest as much as possible now, channeling healing power through and around the wound as often as they could to at least maintain and treat the injury so that it did not become infected.

“Nonsense,” Thaurion started. “I am thinking long and hard, trying to formulate a plan as to how we can escape this…foul place. Admittedly, I haven’t had any convincing ideas as of yet, but I’m sure The Shimmering One will grant me the inspiration when he chooses to do so.”

“Have faith,” Alana spoke to Rolf, reinforcing Thaurion’s words. “We will get out of here. Somehow we will find a way.”

With that, Thaurion moved away from the others and began devising a strategy.

Barguth finally entered the treasure room on the back of his worg and headed straight for Grubb.

“I told all the search parties on both levels that the command post is now here,” Barguth explained as he leapt off the worg and landed firmly in front of the orc commander.

“You are a most useful goblin,” Grubb congratulated. “Now, you may take whatever you can fit on your person as a token of my gratitude. The shiniest of treasures is yours for the taking.” He pointed out all of the treasure in the room. Barguth’s red eyes widened.

“Mine?!” Barguth cried, as he ran off into the treasure chamber and started to go through it all with the glint of greed reflected in his eyes. Grubb actually chuckled as he watched the covetous little goblin sifting through the valuables.

“He is capable for a goblin,” admitted Shaman Tukk as he removed his rather large helm and scratched a spot on top of his bald head. Flakes of his skin fell to the ground as he did so.

“Yes, he is…and a capable warrior for a goblin, too,” Grubb added. He noticed another goblin was standing within earshot and had heard the entire exchange between the two orc leaders. It frowned noticeably at their comments.

The commander shot the goblin a dangerous look. “I would not stand there very much longer if I were you,” Grubb cautioned. With that, the goblin took off toward the treasure pile again, heeding the orc’s advice.