The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (11 page)

Avra blessed the Borz with the plant. They used it in nearly every aspect of their lives. The hollow shafts provided material for the numerous baskets the desert people wove and used to transport their possessions. Lightweight and sturdy, rimshar perfectly suited the task. The segmented stalks could be divided and their individual compartments used for water storage. Rimshar supported the tents of the Borz. Even in the harshest of sand storms, Borz tents held strong.

Of course, the warriors of the Borz also used rimshar to ride the wind. This last, amazing attribute of the plant blessed Rada’s people the most. The rimshar turned the Borz into a force to be reckoned with. Even now they prepared for the greatest of all their tasks, the formation of the Army of Avra.

Rada grinned and continued his work. Those about him idly chatted and collected their own bundles of rimshar. Even with such dire tasks ahead of them, laughter resounded through the air about the clan. The harvest of rimshar always filled the Borz with joy and once started, worries over the future washed away. 

A runner raced over the last of the dunes to the south and headed toward Rada. The Borz chieftain stabbed his machete into the sandy loam and removed a square of cloth from the folds of his robes. The runner approached and bowed low. Rada returned the bow and wiped the sweat and grime of the day’s work from his forehead.

“What have you to report, Hamid?” asked the clan leader.

“An Elf approaches from the west,” replied the runner. “I did not detect him until he nearly encountered the harvest. He appears to be unarmed, no bow or blade. Should I allow him to continue?”

Rada pursed his lips and thought a moment.

“I see no reason to deny him access to our presence,” stated Rada. “We shall soon discover his intentions. Take three others and scour the edge of the Toxkri. Insure that he travels alone.”

Hamid nodded, motioned to a few of the cutters and the three dashed into the swamp. Rada sat on the sand and beckoned a young girl with a goat skin to his side. The girl complied and soon the Borz chieftain took deep draughts on the contents of the skin.

Within moments a figure appeared on the dune crest directly to the clan’s west. The Elf did not hesitate upon the discovery of so many. Instead, he confidently strode down the massive dune and moved toward the sitting figure surrounded by two dozen standing Borz.

“Greetings, Rada Shan.”

Rada eyed the Elf and lifted the goat skin to his lips.

“The Counselor bids you greetings as well, “ continued the Elf. “He offers his apologies for sending another in his stead.”

Rada stood and replaced the cork within the skin. He tossed it to the girl who bowed and backed from his presence.

“I do not know these things of which you speak, Elf,” stated the Borz leader. “However, you are correct in assuming that I am Rada Shan. If there is some matter which concerns you, please be brief in your explanation. It is the time of our harvest and the affairs of other nations mean little to us during high holidays.”

Rada leaned forward and pulled the machete from the earth. He moved toward the grove of rimshar, completely dismissing the Elf’s presence.

“I add my own apologies to this awkward situation, Rada Shan, but I have my orders and regardless of the consequences inflicted upon me I will see them through.”

Rada spun toward the Elf, machete clutched tightly in his hand. The Elf glanced between the weapon and the man then continued.

“Your daughter’s failure to eliminate the vessel leaves the way open for the Deceiver. Had she been successful, those of the faithful would be protected from his return, but alas she was not.”

Rada’s face clouded with anger.

“Plans have been made and they must be carried out,” continued the Elf. “First, the Counselor checks on the commitment of the Borz.”

Rada could carry on the ruse no longer. This Elf knew far too much.

“The Counselor is well aware of the commitment of my people,” snarled Rada. “My daughter’s death attests to that commitment. The Borz will do their part in the struggle.”

The Elf raised an eyebrow in surprise and bowed in reverence.

“My condolences on your loss, Rada Shan,” returned the Elf. “The Counselor did not inform me of your daughter’s death, only her failure. He does not confide all he knows to such as me.”

Rada nodded.

“He is wise. Information has value,” stated Rada. “You accomplished your first task, Master Elf. Our commitment is unwavering. We cut the rimshar in preparation of battle. What other task has the Counselor set before you at this late hour? Our plans are set and all is prepared.“

“True,” replied the Elf. “But the situation changed. The Counselor must remain at the palace. He plays the role of his office and simultaneously monitors the progress of deceit. His position is too sensitive to abandon at this late hour.

However, he also must see you. Information came to light that he will only deliver directly to the Chieftain of the Borz. He calls on you to come to him. I am to guide and secret you into his presence. Only then will he give you further instructions.”

“But the plan is underway and none may countermand it,” said Rada. “The Borz are on the move and vengeance reigns on the morrow. Do you ask us to abandon the plan?”

Rada stepped forward and eyed the Elf suspiciously. The messenger remained calm and poised.

“The Counselor demands that you not deviate from the plan,” stated the Elf emphatically. “Nothing else has changed. Only one man will be removed from the Borz force at the Counselor’s request.”

Rada pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. The plan progressed as the Counselor ordered. Once underway, it would be carried out with no interruption. Rada was but one man. The battle would go on without him.

“I will do as you say,” replied Rada motioning to a Windrider on his right. “The clan received instructions concerning their task. Viday will lead the Windriders in my stead. The Almar Ring will fall.  I am but one and the needs of the Counselor compel me to obey.”

Viday Shan stepped forward and bowed. The Elf returned the gesture. Rada turned to his people.

“I must go amongst the Grey Elves. It is urgent,” called out Rada. “Viday leads in my place. You will follow the plan. I will join you when I receive further instruction from the Counselor.”

“May the wind keep the sands from you eyes,” said Viday.

“And you,” returned Rada smiling.

The leader of the Shan tribe spun back to the Elf messenger.

“I will gather those things that I need and we will depart,” stated Rada.

“I will await you.”

Rada turned and strode toward his tent.

The Elf remained stone-faced and awaited the chieftain’s return.

“THALL!” bellowed the Ulrog priest in charge of Vespewl’s litter.

The Scourge’s eyes slowly opened and he cocked his head sideways to see the path ahead. The transport lurched to a halt. A hundred yards past his position, the Ulrog army gathered beneath a pennant staked into the hard packed earth. Trackers kept the fighting Hackles clear of the pennant and their leader trudged slowly toward Vespewl.

“What is it?” grumbled the Malveel.

“A message, my lord,” returned the tracker grimly.

Vespewl leaned further out of the litter and stared toward the pennant.

“From whom?” replied the Malveel.

“Olith of Keltar, my lord,” stated the tracker. “He asks how you enjoyed your swim, and whether you intend to partake in the festivities his newly formed army prepares for you on the Eru plains.”

Vespewl’s eyes flared.

“He prompts you to make haste. For if you do not ... “  again the tracker hesitated. “ ... the vision of Lord Sulgor’s head on a pike might alarm you.” 

Vespewl’s teeth flashed and a wicked growl formed deep within his chest.

“There is other news, my lord,” continued the tracker quickly. “The main force of humans headed east. A smaller contingent of refugees and soldiers struck south toward the Zodrian capital.”

“It seems Olith believes he can goad me into pursuit,” hissed Vespewl. “He is a fool.”

“Orders to attack the capital, my lord?” inquired the High Priest Rtem from beside his master’s litter.

Vespewl’s eyes locked on the priest.

“Absolutely not!” snarled the beast. “We follow the fighting men.”

The priest’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Not because Olith desires it, but because it was our intention all along,” barked the Malveel. “Let the women and children cower in fear within their city walls. There will be time enough to attend to them after the great victory of Amird is complete. For now, we must stop the Zodrians and giants from uniting with the horsemen. Alone, these armies are an insignificant foe. Combined they create difficulties we do not wish to face.”

The tracker bowed and turned to go.

“And send word to the Ulrog of the Frizgard,” added Vespewl. “They are to break off pursuit toward the Zodrian capital and rendezvous with us on our journey to the Erutre!”

Sulgor slid past the long black drape covering the opening to Izgra’s pavilion. It was dimly lit and contained few furnishings but the traveling throne of the Half-Dead. Izgra sat in it now, talking in whispers to the muscled Malveel at his feet.  The beast’s hindquarters faced Sulgor, but there was no mistaking Woil the Lamentation.

“Ah, Sulgor,” sang Izgra. “While you ran your errand to retrieve whatever you left in Kel Izgra, Woil wreaked havoc upon the forces of Avra.”

Woil slowly turned, head low, evil grin playing across his face.

“The loss of Greeb appears a boon to my forces,” continued Izgra. “It allowed a true tactician to step forward from amongst the beasts and bring victory to the Ulrog of the Mnim.”

“Twas nothing, my lord,” growled Woil as he eyed his king. “The Eru war circle appears complex but is easily breeched if one is willing to sacrifice numbers to its maelstrom.”

“Numbers we possess aplenty,” laughed Izgra. “Victories had been few. Perhaps we need to allow the young blood amongst the Malveel to step forward and demonstrate what they are capable of.”

Woil rose higher on his haunches. His grin grew broader.

“Whatever responsibilities you afford me will be carried out with the utmost fervor, my lord,” stated Woil. “I am yours to command.”

“You prove yourself admirably, Woil,” stated the Half-Dead.

Izgra’s eyes narrowed at Sulgor. His bony hand stroked the beast’s scaly head and he continued his fawning praise.

“Perhaps the battle to comes needs a commander worthy ....”

“I eliminated the Light-Wielder and the new Seraph fell,” interrupted Sulgor.

The hand upon Woil froze in mid stroke.

“You what?” muttered a stunned Izgra.

Sulgor confidently stalked forward.

“You mean to say you do not know?” asked the Malveel king.

“I felt ... something .....” hissed the warlock.

His hand slowly withdrew from Woil. Sulgor advanced upon the pair. Woil the Lamentation dropped low and backed away. Izgra hurriedly spun and climbed the small platform supporting his throne.

“How is it you do not know?” questioned Sulgor.

He brushed past Woil who slunk from his path.

“Lord Amird appeared. He played a hand in the death of the Seraph. If you are so deeply connected,how could you not know?”

Izgra reached the top of the platform and spun on the Malveel king. Fire raged in his eyes, illuminating the rotting skull hidden beneath the black cowl.

“DO NOT DARE QUESTION ME, SULGOR!” raged the Half-Dead.  “I answer to none but Lord Amird.”

“When you answer, does he reply?” growled Sulgor.

The light flared within Izgra’s eyes then faded.

“When he is required to use his power elsewhere, our connection becomes ...  tenuous,” replied Izgra. “It is so now.”

“Then you are unaware of the events which transpired within the tower of Astel?”

“The tower of Kel Izgra remains hidden from my sight, yes,”  snapped Izgra in return. “What do you report?”

Sulgor delayed and his eyes shifted toward Woil. Izgra followed his gaze.

“Woil, leave us!” commanded Izgra.

The Malveel bowed low and crept from the enclosure. When the tent flap fell back into place, Sulgor continued.

“I discovered Ader De Hartstron and the boy in the tower. They faced Lord Amird’s image within the black mirror. I attacked from behind and Lord Amird, from in front.”

“My lord used force against the Light-Wielder?” exclaimed Izgra.

“He manipulated the mirror and brought the fire of Chaos upon Ader.”

Izgra clasped his bony hands before him and paced across the platform.

“Excellent,” chortled the Half-Dead. “Lord Amird grows in power. The time draws near.”

“When the protective wall of the Light-Wielder fell, I personally sank my claws and teeth into his body. He is no more.”

“A major victory,” laughed Izgra. “The death of the Light-Wielder fulfills the sign. This world crumbles beneath us!”

He stopped.

“What of the boy? What did my lord do to the boy?”

Sulgor remained silent, staring at Izgra.

“What of the boy, Sulgor?”

“The boy is gone,” stated the beast.

“How?”

“He drew the Needle of Ader and attacked the mirror. He vanished within it.”

Izgra froze. The pair faced one another for a long moment. Finally, Sulgor broke the silence.

“Do you feel our master?” asked the Malveel king, his eyes studying Izgra intently. “Or is the connection stilltenuous?”

The embers within the cowl of Izgra reddened and he stepped forward leaning over the massive creature.

“Do not mistake my lord’s silence for catastrophe, Sulgor,” snapped Izgra. “Lord Amird grows in power and soon will return. The attack by the boy accomplished nothing save the demise of Kael Brelgson. Lord Amird will contact me shortly.”

Sulgor stepped forward onto the platform. His bulk forced Izgra backward and the Half-Dead tumbled into the throne behind him. The Malveel hunched over his prone master. His jaws widened and the fangs of his maw lay inches from the face of Izgra.

“Do not mistake fealty to my creator as loyalty to his puppet,” hissed the Malveel king. “If the boy accomplished the unimaginable, your transgressions against the first of the Chosen seal your fate, warlock.”