The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (27 page)

A tracker stepped into the pavilion and bowed.

“The Chosen await you, my master,” rumbled the tracker.

“Excellent,” grinned Sulgor. “I will see them momentarily.”

The Magnificent waited within his pavilion. It would not suit him to appear at his servants’ beck and call. He made them wait.

The Chosen grew restless. They had not been in such proximity to one another in ages. Enmity and jealousy ruled their hearts. Fear could also be found there.

Sulgor stepped from his pavilion and faced them. All eyes rose to meet those of their leader. The Chosen lined the space before his quarters in silence. The Magnificent noted how Nagret positioned himself as far from Woil as possible. This pleased the Malveel king.

“We are Amird’s Chosen,” snapped Sulgor. “We are the hunters, the rulers of this world.”

As he scanned the brethren, the reality of their circumstances washed over him. The thirteen reduced to eight, Drengel having ignored the call. He could never have foreseen this scenario. The lesser of the Chosen dominated the number. Second tier Malveel controlled fully two thirds of the Ulrog army.

“The return of our master draws near,” stated Sulgor. “Unity assures victory. However, some of us choose to ignore the hierarchy that ruled our brotherhood for centuries. Some of us grab for power. An action that might easily lead to disaster.”

Both Woil and Nagret averted their eyes. Sulgor noticed their discomfort and forged on.

“Some of us scheme a greater role within the battle to come. Some of us hope to divert Amird’s eyes in order to claim greater glory.”

Woil’s lips quivered and the Malveel appeared ready to dispute the charge. Sulgor filled with pleasure. He pulled them to the brink, but now released them.

“Drengel the Conjuror camps to the north with an army the likes of which we have never seen. His Memnod are creatures of Darkness and their destructive power nearly limitless.”

The Lamentation slowly exhaled and averted his eyes again. Sulgor read the signs in both Woil and Nagret. They felt relieved not to face a challenge by the Magnificent.

“Lord Drengel believes his creations will bring about the destruction of the humans. He feels we are unnecessary, perhaps even expendable.”

Growls of protest erupted amongst the Chosen.

“The Conjuror can himself be removed,” snarled Strang. “He has never been a threat!”

“For now the challenge is delayed,” stated Sulgor. “I ordered him to halt in the north and wait for a signal. Thus far, he complies.”

Strang retreated to the group, but his agitation continued. He uttered threats against Drengel if the Conjuror dare cross Sulgor and the remainder of the thirteen. Sulgor studied his brethren, Woil and Nagret in particular.

“Of course,” continued the Malveel king. “The events which led to the loss of Lord Vespewl and the near disaster with the army of Mnim cannot be overlooked.”

The heads of both his challengers snapped upward.

“Your Highness! Vespewl’s death was not my ....” began Nagret.

“Fault!” barked Sulgor as he threw his massive weight forward.

Fire sparked in the Magnificent’s eyes and he towered over the brotherhood.

“Who should be blamed?” roared Sulgor. “Vespewl himself, for being improperly supported?”

Nagret backed away.

“I was called away,” snapped Nagret, turning an accusing eye toward Woil. “Others use their new found power frivolously and detract from the business at hand.”

Sulgor’s eyes roamed toward Woil. The Lamentation trembled with rage.

“My own situation would not have grown so dire if this imbecile could understand the simplest of tactics, my lord,” barked Woil. “The Eru were ripe for destruction if he simply maintained his position. Instead, he chose to commandeer half of my forces and snatch defeat from victory!”

Sulgor kept his features expressionless. He turned on Nagret and his eyes narrowed.

“Is this true?” questioned the Malveel coldly.

Nagret’s eyes darted across his brethren. What might the Magnificent do? Certainly the brethren needed Nagret for the battle to come. Certainly the Army of Amird would destroy all and plunge this world into Chaos, but would Sulgor actually destroy one of his most valuable assets before the violence to come.

The king of the Malveel stood motionless before Nagret, his eyes tinted in the red glow of Chaos. His thoughts remained a mystery to the Shadow and his next action an even murkier puzzle. Nagret weighed his options. Could he remove the Magnificent and step into the role of leadership? Did Nagret, tenth of the Chosen possess the power to dethrone Sulgor?

The Shadow drew in a deep breath, expanding his chest and flexing his muscles. The power of Chaos played on the edges of his mind and he collected it.

Canx the Silent slid across the divide and stood beside Sulgor. Nagret’s eyes flared. Strang the Storm twitched and fidgeted. The wild-eyed Malveel glared at Nagret with a thirst for blood in his eyes.

Nagret needed an ally. He held  great power. If only one or two among the brotherhood stepped to his side. He glanced to those beside him. His eyes met those of Woil. The Lamentation emanated hatred. Nagret released the power and bowed low.

“I ask your forgiveness, my lord.”

Sulgor’s thoughts rejoiced in triumph but his face remained grave. His eyes bore into Nagret and the Shadow slowly dropped toward the ground.

“We do not believe in forgiveness,” growled Sulgor slowly. “Our transgressions are either punished or not punished.That is the only result which matters.”

Nagret tensed.

“Yours will go unpunished .... for now,” stated the Magnificent. “You are useful ... but in need ofsupport.”

Nagret’s eyes rose, full of questions. Finally, Sulgor allowed a grin to play across his face.

“I realize I have been selfish,” stated the Malveel king. “I possess many assets at my disposal, but hoard them. Obviously, those of the brotherhood in leadership positions could use both the military strength as well as the wise counsel of a trusted peer.”

Woil’s eyes widened and once again his lips quivered in anger.

“Therefore,” continued Sulgor. “Canx the Silent will join the Shadow in guiding the packs of the Scythtar to victory.”

Canx smirked as his eyes locked on those of Nagret. The Shadow stayed calm and expressionless. Sulgor turned on Woil the Lamentation.

“And the death of Vespewl leaves the power of the Six a rare and valuable commodity,” said Sulgor. “Both Drengel and I command sizable units, but the power and intellect of Lord Strang must be shared with the remainder of the brethren.”

Strang looked about at the faces of the Malveel. The reference to his name filled him with restless excitement, but he could not conceptualize what happened.

“You cannot be serious. I earned successes. I alone command the tactics of ...” began Woil in a low growl.

Sulgor drown out the protest.

“The Storm will join Lord Woil in captaining the Army of the Mnim to victory!” roared Sulgor.

The Malveel king turned on Strang as Woil rose on his haunches.

“Do you feel up to the challenge Lord Strang?” demanded Sulgor.

Strang’s eyes darted across the brotherhood.

“Yes, my lord,” roared Strang. “I will do as you ask.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Sulgor as he turned to Woil, his eyes sparking with the fire of Chaos. “Strang’s passion forour success will be just what is required amongst the Mnim. The brute force of one of the Six will bolster an army which has so far been successful with tricks and tactics.”

Utecht stood amidst the members of a hammer unit.

“... and these are the fastest among you?” asked the Keltaran sergeant as he eyed a trio of young giants critically.

“Absolutely,” answered the unit’s commander. “You will find none swifter.”

Utecht frowned.

“Aye, then get your things,” commanded the sergeant. “You work for me now.”

Granu sat on the back of the red stained Brodor. He scanned the northern horizon.

“Once again they grow comfortable in their expectations of our plans,” stated the giant. “Let’s shake those expectations a bit.”

Nagret powered through the Ulrog ranks. Hackles scrambled from his path and put distance between themselves and the Shadow.

Nagret’s high priests gathered at his command post. The return of their leader threw them into a flurry of activity as they tried to appear busy.

When Nagret closed within ten yards of the priests, he spun on the lesser Malveel stalking behind him.

“You do not fool me for one minute, Canx,” rumbled the Shadow.

Canx halted and his face remained calm.

“You are not the dumb fool you portrayed all these years,” gnashed Nagret. “Centuries of silence to all so it seems, but we know your trick. We know you are the eyes and ears of Sulgor.”

Canx showed no reaction.

“You are not required here, Silent One,” snapped Nagret. ”And do not think any order you dispense will be carried out by my Hackles.”

Canx remained still.

“You will do as I say, Canx, and when the battle is won, you may find glory in the eyes of Amird,” snarled Nagret. “But one thing is for certain, Sulgor will share none of his glory when this day is done.”

Nagret spun from the Silent and moved toward his priests. Canx pondered the statement for a moment then followed the leader of the Scythtar Army.

Woil barked commands to his priests and trackers. Instantly, his servants rushed the commands to the Army of Mnim and his Hackles carried them out. Woil reveled in his power. The smallest of his commands orchestrated the movements of thousands of Hackles. Even Sulgor did not exercise the type of control on the battlefield that Woil now managed with the Mnim.

“Move those Hackles to the east,” came a roar from Woil’s left.

The Lamentation spun with fire in his eyes. Strang the Storm roamed through his army issuing his own orders and countermanding many of Woil’s instructions. The Lamentation rushed from his position toward the Storm.

“Strang! I command the Army of ...”

A loud clash to the south interrupted Woil. A trio of trackers appeared from the front lines with reports of Elven cavalry and archers on the move. Woil immediately issued a series of commands to counter the Elven strike. As the trackers disappeared back to the south the Lamentation spun on Strang. He charged toward the larger Malveel, his eyes pulsing with the fire of Chaos.

“You are nothing but a fool, Strang,” rumbled a deadly growl from the Lamentation. “Sulgor put you here more to hamper than help me.”

The Storm protested but Woil loomed even larger.

“You are a weapon Strang, nothing more,” barked Woil. “A fool but a formidable weapon nonetheless. In Sulgor’s claws you remained useless. In mine you will exercise the kind of power and violence you dream of, bringing glory to both Amird and yourself.”

Strang’s eyes grew intense, but his mouth remained uncharacteristically closed. He stared at the Lamentation.

“You will strike when I say strike and you will kill when I say kill,” snarled Woil. “Do we both understand the bargain I present?”

Strang took one last moment to eye Woil from claw to crown then nodded his understanding.

“Excellent,” hissed the Lamentation.

The battle raged on and Eidyn lost confidence. He employed every tactic known to carve numbers from the Ulrog Horde, but for every Hackle who fell from the front line, three more took its place. The sheer number of Ulrog reduced the effectiveness of his army. The stone men remained tightly packed together, a force slowly crawling south with no gaps to exploit.

The Sprites proved limited in their effectiveness as well. Their style of attacking and disappearing into the grasses failed miserably. The Ulrog crammed together and the Sprites could only engage the front lines. The Wisps of the swamp found it difficult to avoid Elves in full engagement with the enemy.

Chimbre appeared on the back of Eidyn’s stallion. The Elven prince frowned in frustration.

“These Hackles fight with one mind,” complained Eidyn. “They counter my every move and have far too many resources at their disposal.”

“It is the beast,” called General Chani from Eidyn’s side. “He does not join the fight, but monitors it from a hilltop in the distance, using his trackers to direct the Ulrog.”

Eidyn turned to the little man sitting behind him.

“Perhaps we can remove his control,” smiled Chimbre.

In a flash the Sprite flipped from the white stallion’s back and disappeared into the long grasses.

Sulgor stared from his own command post to the bulk of his army moving southward. Certainly the humans never dealt with such numbers. In all the years of conflict, the Ulrog never amassed such a force. Manfir of Zodra would find his situation hopeless.

Sulgor turned. Unlike Woil, he was content to let his position play out instead of managing every aspect of the battle. The Malveel king moved toward the pavilion of the Half-Dead. The warlock had not been seen since before the meeting of the Chosen. Sulgor felt uneasy.

He approached to within ten feet of the pavilion when a sudden shriek stopped him in his tracks.

“Remain where you are Malveel!”

Sulgor stared at the tent’s flap.

“I will not be interrupted. Not now of all times,” continued Izgra.

Sulgor’s lips tightened in anger.

“As you wish,” snarled the massive creature as he turned and headed toward his command post.

Sulgor’s thoughts grew even more troubled. The prophecies called for Amird’s presence at the final battle. The more this world shredded into disorder, the more power the Deceiver gathered and the more imminent his return. The last several days of fighting pushed this world toward the brink of Amird’s return.

Doubt entered the thoughts of Sulgor the Magnificent. For the first time in his entire existence he questioned the veracity of that concept. Amird declared that he would rest this world from Avra’s control one day. Was it an empty boast?

Sulgor crept up the small hill, continuing to weigh matters in his head. What if it was a lie? What if Amird were incapable of return? Certainly the Deceiver possessed great power. He demonstrated that power during his attack on Ader in the throne room of Astel. However, what if the Fallen Seraph’s power held limits?