The Wizard's Council (16 page)

“We’d have between five hundred and one-thousand angry orcs swarming down upon us. It’d be chaos at first, but they’ve got enough orcs to find us real quick,” Sev answered.

“Is it worth the risk?” Ector asked.

“I would say so, my Rangers are well trained and it presents our best bet at taking them by surprise.”

The others nodded in agreement and took up positions so that they could see if the Rangers would be successful or not. Sev gathered his men and explained the plan. He waited at the edge of the trees while the rest of his men got into position. The
half-elf crept forward with his knives raised up above and in front of his head. His hands dropped down and outward, driving the knives into the necks of the two goblin sentries standing in front of him. They both grabbed at their necks as they crumpled to the floor. Sev whipped his knives around and sliced off the top of the torch that was in between the two orcs, putting it out and causing it to fall to the floor. He looked up to see all the other torches around the camp going out. A grimace came across his face when he noticed the large fire in the center of the camp. Putting it out would be much more difficult than putting out the torches. As he was signaling to his men, he noticed Ector step out of the trees and wave his wand around in the air. A cold wind blew through the camp, putting out the large fire and chilling the Rangers to the bone.

The head Ranger waited, with bow in hand, for any sign of
orcs lighting torches to replace those that had been snuffed. Several of his Rangers slowly made their way closer to the center of camp as the rest readied their bows and joined Sev in looking for any sign of movement from the orcs. The half-elf took in a deep breath as the first of his men began cutting the rope that tied down one of outer tents. He took a few steps closer as the tent collapsed. Within seconds, five more tents collapsed just as the first one had. Sev moved in toward the tents, firing an arrow at the first orc to exit a tent. He gave the signal to the others before drawing another arrow and taking down another orc. Solin, Ector, and Caitlyn led the elvish forces in a charge at the mass of confused orcs that were pouring out of the tents. It took several minutes for the orcs to realize what was happening and mount a counterattack. Though slightly outnumbered, the elves did not falter. They pushed back against the orcish surge and defeated the foul creatures handily.

Sev began to inspect the injured as his Rangers mopped up the remainder of the fleeing
orc army. The ambush had been successful, but not without a price. Five of his Rangers had been slain along with thirty of the elven warriors. He shuddered at the thought of how many they would have lost had they not been able to take out the sentries. The amount of losses sustained, while not ideal, was acceptable for the given situation. Sev knew that to deal with the whole of the orcish problem they would have to alter their tactics. As he walked through the battlefield looking for the others, he paused to examine a small group of disfigured orcs. The level of mutilation was beyond that of what could have occurred in the battle. He knelt down and tore open one of their leather jerkins. A symbol had been burned into the orc’s chest.

“What is it?” Caitlyn asked, pointing to the symbol.

“A bird of some kind, possibly a Krator,” Sev answered as he stood up.

“What’s a Krator?” She asked.

“It is similar to a crow, yet much more dangerous. Their beaks are razor sharp. Some even claim to have seen Krator with a wingspan of up to seven feet. Rumor has it that they are some kind of creation of pure evil, but Solin would know more about that than I.”

“Perhaps not pure evil, but evil certainly has had some hand in their creation, if you can even call it that. You see, the Krator are indeed crows, hawks, eagles, vultures, and other such bird or they were at one point in time. Tainted magic was used to spread a sort of disease into the birds, making them stronger in many ways, but also twisting their minds. It is not like the witchcraft and so-called black magic that many people talk about. The true witches and evil mages know tainted magic well. It is not like the alchemy and herbology of the practitioners who use such thing
s to heal or poison. No, it is beyond that. Something the average witch or medicine man wouldn’t dare touch. Even the Necromancers shy away from it for fear of becoming tainted themselves,” Solin spoke as though it were a chore.

“If the Necroma
ncers and the others are not using that evil magic, why is the Holy Order bent on destroying them?” Sev asked.

“It is complicated, my friend. We have not time to discuss it at length, but I will tell you that even magic that is not tainted can be evil.”

“Another time then. For now, we must decide on a course of action. Our current army is too small to effectively tackle the larger orcish armies, and we cannot afford to wait until nightfall when attacking every enemy we come across. We have a few options to choose from. Ector can raise an army while I wage a guerrilla war, we can all raise an army to strike at the heart of orc territory, or we can raise an army to protect the dwarves.” Sev glanced at the three gathered with him.

“I say we take the fight to our enemy, there is no sense in waiting for them to strike again,” Ector said.

“You all know that I would rather wage a guerrilla war than command an army.” Sev shrugged as if it were wrong of him to feel that way.

“The
dwarves may well need our assistance, we are better off establishing allies than destroying our enemies.” Solin raised his war hammer onto his shoulder.

“That leaves the decision up to you,” Sev said as he turned to Caitlyn.

“I do not know much about the tactics of war, but if the elves were under attack I would hope that the dwarves would come to our aid with as much haste as they could muster,” She said, leaning back from the gathering.

“Well said, my lady, it seems we chose the right person to break the tie,” Sev stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It is settled then, we make for Oakglen first thing in the morning,” Ector said as he turned to face the army.

*

Grand Crusader Gareth raised his shield to catch the blow from the Cursed Warrior. He thrust the shield forward, taking the Cursed One in the chin. The opponent staggered backward, and Gareth whipped his chained mace around and hit his adversary in the side of the head. He turned his attention to the next foe as the other collapsed to the ground. His were men fighting an uphill battle and the Grand Cleric was fairing no better. The Cursed One’s army was significantly larger than any of them had expected. Even with the majority of their forces on the field of battle, the Holy Order was grossly outnumbered. Gareth watched as the Cursed Warriors surrounded Bartholomew. The Grand Cleric was swinging his flail around with reckless abandon. It was doing him little good, but Gareth could do nothing to assist his friend. Gareth continued to fend off the enemy as his troops slowly died out. He had fought his way to the edge of the fray and was able to get himself out of the battle and into the open field.

Grand Cleric Bartholomew slammed his flail against the ground, sending a shockwave outward, knocking down a large number of Cursed Ones. Another group of warriors rushed forward to attack Bartholomew. He thrust his hands forward, shooting a jet of fire out toward the warriors that were almost within range. They fought through the fire and continued to attack the Grand Cleric. Bartholomew shot a lightning bolt at several of the opponents before they were able to cut him down. Gareth kicked down a door and spun around to fight any Cursed Warriors that had followed him. He swung his chained mace as one of the Cursed Ones tried to follow him through the door. The massive spiked ball at the end of Gareth’s chained mace slammed into the opponent and sent him flying back through the doorway. As another Cursed Warrior entered the door, Gareth shoved his shield up against the man. Two more attackers shoved their way past the other man and attacked the Grand Crusader. His armor absorbed the brunt of the blows, but the attacks knocked him backward. Several more Cursed Ones entered the house and surround the Grand Crusader. He shoved a few back with his shield and killed another with his chained mace.

Gareth killed two more adversaries with his mace and shoved another back with his shield. More Cursed Warriors joined the fray, nearly overpowering the Grand Crusader. He fought back with all his strength, but there were too many enemies. They knocked his mace out of his hands, and he was forced onto his knee with only his shield and armor to protect him. A few more blows hit home, and Gareth was too weak to hold the shield. His head dropped down to his chest as the Cursed Ones continued to kick him. Darkness began to close in around him as he slumped to the floor. A strange voice sounded in the distance, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying. The sound got further and further away as the darkness completely surrounded him.

*

Emily pulled her cloak in as it tried to flap in the cold night wind. Paul sat on his horse, several feet from Emily. He seemed unaffected by the chill in the air. She moved her horse a bit closer to his and was about to say something when she noticed a small light in the distance. It danced along the countryside, stopping every now and again before moving around again. Paul looked over at Emily with a raised eyebrow. She pointed toward the light without a word. He nodded and grabbed the reins of his horse. Before Emily could say anything, Paul was already charging forward and calling for the others to follow. The small band of fifty Gloomvale soldiers spurred their mounts onward after Paul. Emily paused for a minute before grabbing her reins and following the group. She hesitated to catch up to the others, the horrors of her last encounter with pirates fresh in her mind. Paul always seemed sure of himself. A trait that Emily knew she lacked on the battlefield. She couldn’t bring herself to charge headlong at an unknown enemy.

Paul was already far ahead of his men. He showed no sign of fear as he drew his sword and descended upon the enemy. His sword glistened in the moonlight as he clashed with the nearest pirate. Emily watched as the pirates surrounded Paul. Her voice was caught in her throat as she attempted to cry out. The Gloomvale soldiers crashed into the pirates just as they knocked Paul off of his horse. They immediately engaged their enemy in an effort to save Paul. Emily spurred her horse forward in hope of getting there in time to help Paul. Her heart pounded as she closed in on the two groups. She arrived on the scene to find Paul and his men chasing off the remainder of the pirates.

“What’s the rush?” Paul asked as Emily came rushing in.

“I thought you were done for,” Emily said as she dismounted.

“It’ll take more than a band of Pirates to keep me down.”

“You can’t just run off like that.” Emily lightly shoved him.

“What does it matter to you?” Paul asked, holding back a smile.

“I, uh, we can’t stand to lose you,” Emily turned a light shade of pink as she spoke.

Paul nodded and showed no sign whether or not he caught Emily’s true intentions. She wanted to pull him aside and force him to talk about their relationship, but she didn’t know if he thought of her as so.
Please say something
, she thought as she looked at him. He was staring off into the distance as if lost in thought. She wanted to nudge him or say something to him, but the others were now watching them both intently. They didn’t seem to care that she was annoyed by their presence, in fact, it only seemed to make them laugh. Paul sighed and looked around at those gathered. It seemed as though he was about to address Emily, but then he stopped. She rolled her eyes and slowly mounted her horse.
We’ve got more important things to worry about,
she thought as she shook her head. Paul had a pained look on his face as he watched her slowly start to move toward their next target.

“Listen, this was more than likely just a raiding party. We’ve got more important things to focus on. They’ve more than likely got more men than that. Let’s move out,” Paul said, seeming somewhat unsure of himself.

*

Cormac opened his eyes, but the darkness remained. He lost track of how much time had passed since the last
goblin scream. His magic had sustained him for as long as he could muster. The pressure he felt from the rocks and debris was gone. He closed his eyes and focused on a spell to loosen the rubble around him. Several small shockwaves emanated out of his staff, sending debris flying in every direction. The air that rushed into his lungs was significantly less stagnant than what he had been used to. He began to regain feeling in his body as his stasis spell began to wear off. The amount of pain that rushed into his body nearly caused him to lose consciousness. He pushed the pain away and did what little he could to move toward the fresher air. With a thrust of his staff, he knocked another chunk of rubble out of his way. Cormac sighed as he climbed over the corpses of several goblins. He had heard stories of mages of old using stasis spells to keep themselves safe in such situations, but he had never thought he’d have to use one. The cavern was littered with rubble and dead goblins, but there was no sign of a way out.

Cormac rested his staff against the wall of the tunnel and closed his eyes. He searched his memory desperately for a spell that could get him out of the situation he was in. Without knowing his own exact location, the Archwizard would have a hard time contacting any other mages. His staff lit up as he used it to send a shock through the rock wall. A crack formed in the wall
, and Cormac used it to create a small tunnel that he could crawl through. He stumbled out of his magically created tunnel into a larger cave, one that looked somewhat familiar. His head was beginning to spin as he made his way through the cave. He could hear voices in the distance and was unsure whether to move toward them or not. If those speaking were dwarves, he would be saved, otherwise it was highly likely he would be killed. He leaned up against his staff and began to head for the voices. The Archwizard was comforted by the fact that the voices didn’t sound harsh like those of goblins. However, they did not sound like those of dwarves either.