The Adventures of Brandar Odaron
Book 1: The Hidden Continent
Chapter 32 Strabos Comes To The Castle
Verily, the first four Wars of the New Frontier were intended as mere tests of the strength of the Sereghran. And with each apparent invasion from the West the Demon Lord sent forces seeming great, but which were only a part of what he held in hiding in the Mountains and in the Darkness. Thus, by the Fifth War he could send armies full-knowing that they would be defeated, but large enough for the Frontier to be weakened, whereupon all of his remaining forces would sweep through the Forest. And while the Sereghran surprised him by mustering upon the Grasslands so soon after their victory, he smiled to himself all the more pleased that his victims should come to him instead. And he called for his forces to gather in the Mountains north and behind the Deel so that those regions were bursting with Durwolc, other monsters, and every wicked and horrible creature imaginable, when the Sereghran came forth. As a result, this last conflagration would be a decisive contest; bringing a close to centuries of conflict between Modeus and the Sereghran. And he was eager to get on with it.
Modeus held superiority in numbers and had captured the Sereghran’s Warlord, whom he now regarded as his utmost opponent. And as much by what Brandar would not say as what was revealed in the tortured Northron’s delusional ramblings the Demon learned a great deal about the Sereghran from him, and knew from spies the strength and composition of the forces of the Crusade, though Brandar would never knowingly expose any true secrets, deluded or no. Yet, what he did say became a deep source of regret to Brandar in later days, as he could not have known that the Sereghran’s Royals would launch such a full-fledged assault into the Darkness.
During the year in which the Sereghran were mustering upon land and sea, Modus would torture Brandar upon his body and his mind. And once, the Demon had deceived Brandar with a dream in the form of a vision from the Gods, in which an Angel spoke to him and prophesied falsely, saying: “Look! The day shall come when the UnderLords, defeating the Enia shall rule over all of Esuriah and shall give to Modeus rule of Esaereh,” and so on and on. But due to the surpassing power of the Demon’s glamory Brandar found it difficult to dismiss the dream, and at times came to believe it, when, in his torments, such crooked lies overcame his ability to deny them. Yet, in his heart of hearts, Brandar kept a small spark of reason which the Demon found that he could not extinguish; not by torture nor magic, nor any trick that may be played upon the Northron’s mind. And while that small bit of hope came at length to be all that Brandar had left, it was enough to keep him going.
In those days, the Loremasters knew very little about Modeus; not from whence he had come nor his age, nor what sort of spirit was his true form, for he was already the Demon Lord when the Sereghran’s Founders had come through the Mists and seized for themselves portions of the northeastern coasts of the Hidden Continent, naming their holdings “Arzultaur”. But Modeus seems not to have been concerned with the Founders until they took the Jungle Lands away from him, at which he began to wage war against them. And that is when the Sereghran built Towers upon their borders facing west, which lands they named “Frontiers”. But when the Seven returned to Andaria the Elves of Eastwold showed them ancient scrolls that spoke of Modeus by another name. Thus did it appear that Modeus was a rather ancient Demon, one of the most dastardly ever to enter into the World.
Long ago, ere the end of the Age of the Gods, the Elves served in armies led by the deities they named Ghieveh, but which the Sereghran, and later the Northrons, name Tainhezar. And the Gods defeated their foe Asgahan, whom the Elves named as “Isqanari”, which is “Evil Great-One”. But while that enemy was shut away into the Outer Voids by Eiowaeh himself, never to return, some of his followers escaped into deep places of the world. Yet, all of Asgahan’s chief servants were later found and captured, whereupon the Gods formed that magical fog the Eld call the “Enchanted Mists”; created for the purpose of preventing the evil within from ruining the world without, thus preserving Esaereh for the Children of Eiowaeh, who are the Faerie-Folk and the Elves, and Dwarves and Men. For the Mists indeed shift the time of those who pass through, but also destroy all creatures of evil, and slay the fleshly forms of every sort of evil spirit.
The most vile Demon imprisoned therein was named Aeftan, who was Asgahan’s Lord over all the Demons who had taken physical forms in Esaereh ere Asgahan was removed. And he ruled also over the abominable Durwolc, which Asgahan had obtained from captured Children by mating them with Demons and Devils, to give rise to offspring as such blasphemous abominations; bred for naught but wicked intent. This Aeftan was therefore most certainly that very Demon whom the Sereghran called Modeus the Cruel, though this was not understood in Weyilendeh until the Eld of Eastwold had studied the copies of the Lore of the Sereghran that Brandar brought to Andaria, while the Sereghran themselves would only learn the name from the Good Dragon, Raudrogos the Red, upon the demise of Modeus, at the end of the Defender’s Crusade.
In Elden Days could Modeus, high in the service of Asgahan, take on forms fair seeming, in which he would spy upon the Gods and the Elves. But the Gods placed in their Sphere of Abatement, which we know as the Enchanted Mists, a power that exposes at length the foulness in all evil creatures of flesh, while ever else preserving people who are noble of heart. This is why Modeus and his Minions, and any swayed by his will within the Sphere, cannot help but do evil, regardless of what earthly raiment they may don, or what disguises they adopt. And this is the reason the Sereghran are given long lives, while all spies Modeus sent amonst them would always be revealed, and must then escape or be imprisoned, or they were slain. Thus, while the Demon believed he knew more about the Sereghran than they knew of themselves, in this he was but deceiving himself.
Through the years, however, Modeus developed new powers by his morbid arts, of which the Darkness within the Deel was merely one manifestation. And he had so gained the praise of the UnderLords, bretheren of Asgahan, and whom the Gods have also forbidden from returning in flesh to Esaereh, that they promised him lordship over the world should he aid them in their desire to dethrone those Gods. Thus had the UnderLords given to Modeus mystical secrets to enhance his power, so that none among the Children of Eioweh may stand against him lest the Gods themselves intervene. Hence has Modeus given to himself a great purpose; very much larger than holding the Hidden Continent as his worldly domain -- for he desired to capture and offer up in sacrifice no less than all of the Sereghran of Arzultaur; most especially the youth. Then would he receive that power by which he may escape the Sphere. And by the dark mana gained in such sacrifice, even should it require the slaying of all of the Children of Eioweh upon the face of Esaereh, this he would do in service to the will of the UnderLords. For, though he deemed himself wise, he was in fact quite mad. Nevertheless, he came close to achieving that goal; as his armies were defeated by a slim margin and at an extremely high cost to the Sereghran.
Upon land within the Deel, and in the northern reaches of the Mountains, Modeus had assembled enormous hordes of Durwolc and other dreadful monsters. But upon the shores within the Darkness, and all along the far Western Coasts, he had bred vast gatherings of Korligen, and most especially the ravenous Holgygros. And in the waters were Sea-Serpents and many-legged monsters and all manner of the creatures of the Deep which the Sereghran had encountered in the New-Frontier Wars. Likewise did he give succor to the Leviathan of the North and to all of its brood and following. Yet, leading these forces were his Minions; Demons scarce less powerful than he. But such Demons came in many forms, all horrible and fell, and exceedingly blood-thirsty.
Stepping through the Deel holding a bright lamp, Strabos found that he could not see more than a few paces before him despite the lamp. And ere his full Company had come in behind him he was attacked by wolves and wargu, then many slavering Durwolc. And while he and his Company managed to carve their way through, the fighting lasted so long, days it seemed, that he came to believe that there was no end to the enemy’s ranks within the Darkness.
Here were various breeds of Trogo and Bugo, and Changelings and Beasties, and all manner of mutilated beasts and flying creatures, even vermin and insects, and scaly reptiles. And there were animated skeletons of all these monsters, and other things besides. Then came Minotaurs and Ghouls, and Werebeasts and Harpies, and also Gryphon and Chimera, and amazing Elementals, including Mud-Mounds and Stone-Warts, and Fire-Whirls. But next came Wights and Gangyn, and Abbadon Spirits, along with Alphyn and Bannacon, and Calopus monsters. And later there were Giants of many clans, and Dragons and Drakes, and Devils and Demons, among whom were the Minions of Modeus, tall and foreboding. Thus did Strabos come to rue the crossing of the Deel, and said aloud that if only he had known he would never have consented to the Sereghran entering into the Darkness, Full Muster or no, and regardless of all of his magicks. Yet, at last was he victorious, with the four Defenders and the Kith by his side, backed by his Wizards and Guardsmen and by the Sereghran’s armies marching faithfully behind. And even after sustaining great losses in that battle, he rode far into the Darkness with no further hindrance for what he kenned must have been several days more. Then he became wary of the respite; hating the predicament in which he found himself, not knowing what monsters would come at him next, nor when.
Aetas would have similar misgivings, as he found the Darkness upon water as wan as a moonless night. And while he had brought many a large lamp, the Darkness was as some stifling stuff with substance, not smoke nor mist, which quenched the light of the brightest of the lamps within a very short distance. Neither was there wind to fill the sails so that he must row his ships forwards with his Captains trying their best to keep the Fleets together by trying to remain close enough to see the lamplight from nearby vessels, as though it were torchlight seen from afar.
Needless to say, the Fleets began to drift apart, despite even the magical arts of the Mages and the magic of the devices used by the Captains to aid them in remaining on course. And so, the Fleets found themselves isolated in the midst of the foul Darkness, and with no true sense of direction. But it seemed also that the sound of their voices, even horn-calls and the ringing of bells, were muffled and got no farther than the lamplight, so that all of the ships within each Fleet also began to drift apart. Thus did most of the Captains order that ropes must be used to keep them together.
When now Aetas had come to what he believed was thirty leagues from the Deel, his ships were attacked by Sea-Serpents and other creatures. And while he won that fight, he lost half the ships in his Royal Fleet, but knew not the fates of the other Fleets.
To the north of Aetas, though he could not see them, was the Fleet of Sunthakis, which suffered the same sort of assault as the Fleet of Baerakis. And yet farther north was the Fleet of Berdhereh, which was nigh completely destroyed when numerous and very huge many-legged monsters took to reaching up and dragging hapless Mariners under the surface of the sea, never to be seen again. Then would the creatures act together to pull a ship whole beneath the waves. But in the south, as the Fleet of Torquere had approached the shore, those ships were beset by Korligen which swarmed upon the ships like ants upon a carcass. Dire thererfore were those battles within the Darkness upon water. And Aetas was barely saved in time by the coming of the Elven Fleet from behind. But the Elven Mariners were so magical that they won that fight, though they also lost many ships. And while the Elves see farther in darkness than do Men, they could not see far into the depths beneath their ships and thus could not tell when a many-legged monster would come suddenly from the fathoms below to assail their ships.
Now, the Fleet of Sunthakis was kept from utter decimation by the coming of the Fleet of Quiesos, although two-thirds of the ships of Sunthakis and a forth of those of Quiesos were sunk ere the enemy was defeated there. And the Fleet of Berdherah, which had drifted to ten leagues away, was met by the Leviathan and its following and therefore lost all but three ships, which were saved only because of the unexpected arrival of a Good Sea-Serpent whose name is Naudilikos, and who strove with the Leviathan and its brood, defeating them, and chasing them away to the north, though the men in those ships rowed as swift as could be from the fight, fearing that the tumult of that battle may surely destroy them. But the Mariners of those ships learned not of the fate of Naudilikos until many years later, when the creature was reported to have been sighted in the seas far from shore to the east, while the Leviathan was seen no more.
As it happens, the Fleet of Torquere lost no ships, but so many men aboard them had been killed by Korligen that a large number of them were left empty and pilotless, though bloodied from stem to stern, and therefore went drifting off into the Darkness unmanned. But the same fate would befall the Fisher’s Fleet when those men arrived and came close enough to behold the fighting upon the ships of Torquere, at which they attempted to lend aid to their friends. Thus, sadly, these were also whelmed, so that twelve only of their vessels were to flee by their men rowing as hard and fast as they possibly could. Yet, even while using lamps and bells, four of those became separated in the Darkness and were lost in the gloom, never to be seen again.
Finally, all of the enemy upon the water were vanquished after what must have been days of fighting. And, by some quirk of fate, the survivors came together at the place where Aetas and the Elves were resting from the ordeal. But it was there where Aetas discovered that the Darkness negated the magic of his Aefarin, so that he could not get news of his victory to Strabos by that means, nor receive news from him. Then did Aetas regret deeply his coming through the Deel but willed himself to press on. And so, counting up what vessels were left to him and stringing them all together with ropes, he had them row to what he guessed was southward in search of land.
A good sense of direction he must have had, or was directed by the grace of the Gods, for he came to the North Shore in the Darkness but one day later. Yet, as he came ashore, he was assailed by Korligen in seemingly unending numbers. Then did he believe that the creatures must even have been knowingly waiting for him there.
The Korligen assailed violently all the Mariners and Soldiers who came ashore, while Sea-Serpents suddenly also arrived; attacking the ships anchored thereabouts. And in this battle several more ships were lost ere the Elves killed so many of the evil serpents that the remaining creatures fled fearfully away to the west. Yet, the Korligen were crowding upon the beaches to get at the Sereghran ashore, who must fight like madmen in attempts to make runs for it inland -- for stepping foot upon the beach, they must fight and move or be slain and then eaten, else they were eaten alive. But having heard of the Korligen from Tells of the Southlands in the New-Frontier Wars they knew that the creatures would not go far upon dry land, and thus the way forward was to fight a way through and make it as far inland as could be done.
Then Aetas ordered that the ships must be abandoned while he and his great Company made a narrow but safe place upon the beach for those aboard to disembark. And in this way he and his forces came ashore. Then did he quickly lead them south, with many losses, until at last breaking free of the Korligen. But then was he attacked by masses of Duwolc from the east. And after what seemed like days of fighting, he was slowly driven west until at last making a desperate stand upon a great hill, which he knew not lay but ten furlongs from the shore. Then, just as he believed that he may barely, by some miracle, turn the tide, his forces were attacked by yet another army of Durwolc from the west. And with that did Aetas see the approach of his doom.
Hard pressed was he now, standing upon the self-same hill from which Brandar and Alak had spied the Demon’s Castle a hundred years past. But the Castle could not now be seen in the Darkness. Neither were there living things but for blood-sucking insects, other than the combatants, in that once fertile land; not a blade of grass, nor flowers, nor birds, nor varmints, though there were many winged insects who must be surviving only by feeding on dead things. The land itself had died over the years in which the Darkness kept the light of the Suns from reaching the ground, so that there remained only dust and dirt, and the Demon Lord’s wicked servants, and those troublesome biting insects.
While Aetas had lost most of the forces which had sailed through the Deel, he yet commanded the equivalent of one small army, though highly magical, for only users of potent magic could have survived thus far. And among those who stood upon the hill were the Men of Agereis, who had proved the fiercest fighters of all, for it was primarily by their valor that the hill had not been overrun, though it came to be surrounded upon all sides. Then three wingless Dragons came upon them from the south and slew many a Sereghran. And one of them slew Aetas as he was himself slaying another, but had let loose the hilt of his magical sword and was therefore made vulnerable.
With that, all of those upon the hill became enraged. And the Men of Agereis slew the offending Dragon while the Elves there slew the third. Then was the tide of the battle turned, although the Sereghran were yet outnumbered. But as the enemy were using no magic, the surviving Sereghran were able to drive them off, as the Durwolc came to learn that no number of their own could stand against the wide-eyed Men of Agereis, nor the agile Elves of Linguonon, nor the Mages who remained upon the hill. And so did the Sereghran win a sad victory that day.
Now, the survivors remained on the hill for a time and burried their King in the Darkness, after which they buried their many friends who had fallen there then must bandage wounds and do what healing could be done. And as the Admiral of the Elven Fleet was there, he became the leader of those forces. That Lord’s name was Lindheron. And he appointed the last High Captain of the Men of Agereis as his Second. That one’s name was Ardour of Kombros, who was also kin to Duke Flaven. And while Lindheron held the highest rank, he listened to the counsel of Ardour; for in him the Elf Lord kenned wisdom not often seen in such a formidable fighter.
It was then decided between them, while hope waned, that they must continue upon the Crusade lest all the deaths be in vain. And after but a few hours of rest the Elf Lord led the survivors to the southeast while Ardour and his men guarded the rear. Yet, ere they had covered no more than a furlong over the dusty ground by the light of the now few lanterns they had brought with them they were attacked again by heavily armored Durwolc, so that another great battle ensued. Even so, the survivors had by then become dauntless and fearsome, and wholly determined. And they routed the enemy with but few additional losses to their own, and took to marching triumphantly to what they believed was the south, though they were not rightly sure of their true direction, nor even that they were approaching the Castle grounds. But that they were, and at length came upon it.
How many days and nights the fighting took place within the Darkness could not be guessed by the Crusaders within, though it seemed that many days had passed. Yet, it was later determined that a mere few days had passed outside of the Deel, by which it was surmised that Modeus had imbued the Darkness with his own shift of time, in mockery of the God’s Enchanted Mists, so that time was shrunken within the Darkness, rather than stretched as with the Mists. So, time was gained not.
*****
Strabos found the deadness of the land insufferable. But he furthermore kenned that no magic, not even that of his Aefarin, could penetrate the Darkness. And he cursed the Demon Lord many times while making his way north, or to what he believed was the north, upon the hard-packed and lifeless earth. But due to the absence of wind, not even a stirring of air, the Sereghran behind were being choked and blinded by the dust kicked up by those in front of them. And this was a nauseating dust, like the cold soot of an ancient pyre, or the suffocating ashes of a long abandoned field of battle.
Horses they possessed still, though many had fallen, along with many a rider in the fighting near the Deel. Thus did Strabos come with significantly reduced strength. And the remaining horses had grown afraid of the Darkness, often bucking and straining at their bits, and trying always to turn back, which some of them did despite their rider’s efforts to turn them about or bring them to a halt. So Strabos was at length forced to order a dismount and have his forces continue afoot, leading their horses. And they found that no magical light would pierce the Darkness any better than their ordinary lanterns. Nevertheless, Strabos came forth even in fear of the Darkness, yet convinced that his cause was righteous -- for certain was he that should not all of the Sereghran rise up to defeat Modeus, then the Demon Lord would win in the end.
When next Strabos made to stop for a rest his forces were attacked from all sides at once. But again, he beat back that enemy, though with great loss, as wingless Dragons of exceptional mightiness came upon him and which could not be slain but by magic. And because his closest Divisions behind him were severely depleted he sent messengers back to order the rest of his forces to come to him as best they could. Yet, all but one of those messengers were lost in the Darkness. Thus, just as the Fleets upon the water were separated, so were the Divisions upon land. And some would be totally destroyed, to the very last Soldier. Then, once again, ere a few hours had passed, Strabos was attacked and again beat back the enemy, but with even greater loss. But this happened again and again, for what must have been days upon days of fighting. And with each renewed assault, the monsters seemed that much more fell and ravenous. As a result, his forces steadily dwindled, until, at the last, he was left with but one and one-half Divisions and a tithe of the Royal Company. Indeed, so many died upon that march and upon the sea that Arzultaur would be drastically reduced for many years to come.
The Wizard Palphus was slain while fighting Dragons, of which three he slew ere being caught from behind by another and bitten in half. But that Dragon was felled by Strabos, while many others were killed or driven off by Flaven and Calaren, along with the Last Three Northrons and the Kith. Yet, in that fight, one of Khalen’s sons was slain, as was Brandar’s youngest daughter.
Gruesome and raw were those battles. And Strabos came to believe that no end would come to the carnage as he sought for the Demon’s Castle. But though he fought for what seemed weeks of bloody warfare without hope of seeing it in the Darkness, he stood at length before the Castle Gate war-stained and weary, and beheld there pits and ravines full of flame, and pools of unknown liquids, and heaps of slag and bones and excrement all around the Castle. And if he had imagined a place brought up from the UnderRealms to defile the face of the world, he had not dreamt of the reality of it.
Here, while the light of the flames there were somewhat stifled by the Darkness, they were enough to illuminate the Castle with an eerie crimson glow.
The stronghold was large and intricate, surrounded by high walls with many watchtowers and walls topped with row upon row of long, needle-sharp, black-iron spikes. And at the footing of the wall was a mote filled not with water but with flaming orange magma; bubbling and plopping and steaming, and emitting spires of poisonous vapors. But in the towers were hundreds of openings, like so many tiny black eyes, all peering into the Darkness. Yet, there appeared to be no living thing in those windows, nor upon the walls, nor anywhere else about the Castle or upon its grounds.
There was but one great gate, with a mighty archway above two massive doors of rusted iron beset with spikes, like to those atop the walls. But there was no handle nor lock, nor any other means of opening the doors, nor a mechanism for knocking. And across the mote was a stone bridge leading up to the gate, opposite of which were stone guard-houses, one each on either side. Yet, there were no guards to be seen. And standing between the guard-houses, gazing across the bridge, Strabos was at first at a loss as to why the place was not guarded. Then it occurred to him that he had walked into a Trap, for surely the Castle was full of monsters, and the enemy must be all around, waiting in the Darknesss for some signal from the Demon Lord, safe within his Castle. Thus did Strabos order his forces to take battle stances there, and to be ready for anything.
Be it known that the Last Three Northrons played a major role in that dire march to the Demon’s Castle, often saving from ruin the King and many of his Company, assailed by the most fearsome monsters that have ever been. Giants of many kinds, Dragons and Drakes, Devilkin and Demonics, and Durwolc by the score, among many other creatures and beasts. And so terrible were the foes arrayed against the Crusaders that were it not for the Three wielding their marvelous magical swords, sometimes back-to-back, and had Strabos no such Champions, then his strength would not have been enough, regardless of his valor and that of his Guardsmen, nor the great magicks of Flaven and Calaren, nor the legendary prowess of the Lords Medhyos and Turlin; for the Northrons, with the Kith behind them, carved the way through the enemy, and thus brought Strabos alive to that place.
Thus did these Heroes make it possible for Strabos to stand at that bridge ready to challenge the Demon Lord. Yet, worse even than the nightmarish sight of the Castle and its grounds -- where many white bones were sticking out from Sereghran gear on the mounds thereabouts -- was the horrid stench of the place, as the stink would make the odor of a rotting corpse seem like the scent of roses in bloom. And some even of the most hardy Warriors could not help but wretch upon the ground when first coming upon the Castle, as the fumes there made all of the Sereghran sick to their stomachs. Waiting a long while then, but seeing no sign of attack, Strabos ordered Flaven, Medhyos, and Turlin to move the remaining army outside the stench and make camp as best could be done in the dust and blackness, and to establish a defensive perimeter about the encampment. But Strabos remained at the bridge with the Three and the Kith, together with Calaren and the Herald Farus, with his old friend Brugjo, now a Knight of the King’s Guardsmen. And those two Strabos ordered to go upon the bridge and before the gate and there declare the arrival of the High King of the Sereghran. But they were also to call for Modeus to come out and surrender himself to Strabos.
Of course, none believed that the Demon would do any such thing, but a King must do as tradition demands. Thus did Strabos send his Herald with orders to shout at the Castle where they were sure the Demon must be listening from behind his walls, and was likely now gazing upon them from the blackness of some high window. And while Farus and Brugjo felt as if they had been given a death sentence, they took the King’s order as a command of the utmost urgency and made to ride resolutely toward the gate. Yet, ere they had gone half-way across the bridge horn-calls were sounded from watchmen in the encampment’s eastern flank, at which the two halted, waiting to see what was happening. And Strabos sent riders, scared out of their wits, to discover the reason for the sounding of the horns. But the riders soon returned, saying: “Mariners of Aetas have come from the north led by the Elf-Lord Lindheron and the Hero Ardour. And the Lord begs that the King await his arrival, at which he intends to give report concerning events upon the water and upon the lands to the north.” But when Strabos asked about Aetas the rider said: “The Lord said only to request your patience in waiting for his arrival, when everything shall be revealed.” Then did Strabos know that Aetas had fallen. And he was so aggrieved by this news that he began to think of foregoing the Crusade, even at this late hour, and after the deaths of so many.
The Survivors of the Fall of Aetas had come from that last battle in the north with no further resistance from the enemy, and made it to the Castle upon its northern side where there was no bridge across the mote. So they went round to the east and then south and came upon the encampment of the forces of Strabos in the Darkness. And at first the men upon both sides believed that they had come across more of the enemy. But ere the delivering of blows they recognized their friends, though their joy was short-lived when they discovered that their combined numbers were now less than a sixth of what had been mustered ere entering into the Deel upon both land and sea.
Farus and Brugjo were confused, not knowing what to do, and therefore returned to Strabos. But seeing his countenance they were afraid to be so bold as to disturb the King with questions. And after Lindheron had come and spoke of Aetas they decided to wait for Strabos to address them directly, for the Elf’s news was grievous.
Strabos bent as one told that his brother has been slain. And he secretly lost hope that this fight would be won, though he tried not to show it. Then he dismounted and rested upon a seat that had been brought for him, and there sat deep in thought, staring blankly at the scoria at his feet. And none there spoke a word for a very long while. But at length, he lifted his face, though no tear marred his dusty cheek, then stood proudly, gazing out into the Darkness as one believing that he is soon to die. Thus, he beheld Farus nearby, and said: “You there, Herald. What news from ‘yon Castle?” At that Farus feared his own King, and bent to one knee, saying: “Pardon, I beg, my Lord. We turned at the sound.” But he knew that Strabos had seen him and Brugjo return. “Forgive me, Highness. But we were not sure of what to do, thinking that things have changed.”
Poor Brugjo had also gone to one knee and was bowing low his head. But the King, seeming surprised by his Herald’s words, let fall a lone tear from his eye. And after wiping it with the back of his hand he stepped over and lifted Farus up, saying to him: “Fear not, good Farus. You have done well. Indeed, all things have changed. But go and do as I bid. Yet, add this to your proclamation; that Modeus the Cruel must stand in judgment for the slaying of the King of Baerakis. Then tarry not, but come straight-away back to me here as swift as you may.”
Farus and Brugjo turned to fulfill their duty, but as they made to mount up Tomas came to them and bid them wait a moment longer. Then he went and had words with the King, after which he and his countrymen returned and said to them: “Mount up, Royal Herald. And you, good Knight. Perform the charge laid upon you. But we go likewise to get a closer look at that Castle, and to view this Demon should he dare show himself whilst we have hands to our hilts. Then shall we discover of what this Demon is made.” So it was that the three Northrons rode bravely with Farus and Brugo up to the dark gate.
*******
Lonely and miserable was Brandar, bound with a neckband by a chain to the slimy wall of a windowless cell. And, just out of reach of the door, which opened inwards, he seemed weak and crippled, as one decrepit by old age. Indeed, his beard and hair had grown long; turned white from his torments, and from the many days of his sunless confinement so deep within the Demon’s dark and odious dungeons. And he had sores and wounds and many scars all about his body. But exactly how long had he been a prisoner he could no longer venture a guess, and viewed any hope of rescue as a dream sent by the Demon to twist his mind. Yet, while he lived he had hope of an escape, someday, somehow -- for he had a secret which gave him that hope. A thing which had not yet, by some miracle, been found by the enemy. And that secret was a small knife hidden in a concealed pocket low in a leg of his trousers.
“Long ago,” whispered Brandar to himself, or was he in another daze? “So very long ago,” when once he was a boy, his father had given him the knife and showed him how to hide it, and instructed him not to reveal it to anyone, even henceforth to wash his own garments, as his father himself always would. So Brandar had done that, as well.
Therefore, through all the days of his captivity, through the beatings and torture and the biting and kicking and pawing and clawing and so much rough handling, none of his captors had discovered the little knife. And in all that time, as though it were a blessing from the Gods, no rent nor hole nor jagged rip in his trousers betrayed the hidden pocket. Yet, he dared not touch the knife. Nay, he dare not speak of it, nor look towards it, nor even think of it as a knife until the most perfect of moments. But how much longer must he wait? How much longer did he believe he could ultimately endure? How much longer could he live under such deplorable conditions?
On many occasions Brandar barely kept from revealing the nature of his secret weapon, when Modeus would send him into the throes of an awful vision. But Brandar spoke only of “my father’s gift.” “The gift shall set me free.” “The gift is my secret.” And the Demon was not able to discover what the “gift” truly was. Yet, it proved to be a grave mistake on his part to come at length to consider it nonsense. For if he had left Brandar naked from the start, and not allowed the return of the Northron’s hastily searched trousers, then Brandar would likely have perished upon the floor of that cell.
As it happens, every few days one of Brandar’s Trollo jailers would open the door to the cell and toss Brandar some spoiled food and also refilled his water-bowl, into which one creature often urinated after giving Brandar a swift kick, just for laughs. And so would Brandar curl up and moan, behaving as if he was old and sickly; defenseless. Yet, Brandar’s cringing and cowering was an act, for he had long since become used to the abuse. And he feigned agedness, all the while taking the food, as unpalatable as it was, and ate any other source of sustenance that happened to crawl into his cell, so that he was not as weak as he seemed. Also did he work himself in the dark, pulling himself up and down by the chain connecting his neck-band to a great ring fastened high upon the cell’s moldy wall. Thus, while he was indeed weakened by his ordeal, he was stronger and less mad than he appeared.
There came a time, therefore, when a long span had passed since the Demon had called for more torture, that Brandar was rather well healed of his most recent wounds. And he wondered why this should be; praying that Modeus had decided to let him rot to death in the dungeons. Then, three days since Brandar’s last meal, that one Trollo, the pudgy sort, who was always drinking too much, came to throw Brandar a hunk of putrid meat and to refill the water-bowl. But this Trollo had the nasty habit of whacking Brandar on the back with the flat of his axe as well as kicking the prisoner in the ribs, ere turning to fill-up then pee into the bowl. And Brandar had marked this one’s traits, as the creature loved the burning liquor which the Kobo brew, though it made him stagger and stumble. But also would he foolishly leave his weapon laying about unwatched.
On this occasion, then, after hitting and kicking Brandar, at which Brandar doubled-up as if truly hurt, the tipsy Trollo turned and left his axe against the wall as he was about to prepare himself to urinate into the water-bowl without first filling it with water. Yet, Brandar, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that the axe, for once, was just within his reach. So he curled as if in pain and took the knife from its secret place just as the Trollo began finding relief in the water-bowl. And as the brute closed his eyes, as always he did when pissing into the bowl, Brandar suddenly leapt up and planted the knife deep into the middle of the monster’s pointed ear.
The Trollo, surprised and in sudden agony, stumbled backwards with a howl, grasping at the handle of the knife. But ere he could withdraw it Brandar snatched up the axe and with it split the Trollo’s skull clean in two. Then, for all of the times the vile Trollo had beaten him and kicked him, and for all the pent-up rage and despair at his captivity, yet, most of all, because the vile Trollo kept pissing, Brandar hacked repeatedly at the monster, screaming curses at it, until the thing finally stopped pissing.
Then Brandar pulled the dead Trollo to the middle of the floor and, with a final almost ceremonial strike, attempted to cut off the creature’s head. Yet, due to his hast and his starved condition his aim was off, so that the axe did not fully cleave the neck completely through but left meat on one side, at which the head did not roll away but merely drooped sidewise with its eyes wide open, split skull and all.
With that, Brandar bent and pulled the knife from the Trollo’s ear, then kissed the bloody little blade, saying softly: “Thank you, Father. Thank you.” But he did not put the knife back into its hiding place. And ere he could do anything else he swooned and fell upon the mutilated body of the Trollo, for he was exhausted from his exertions. And he later remembered dreaming there of his father’s smiling face.
Strange are the twists of fate, and of unforeseen occurrences, and the fortunes of war, or the happenstances of life and nature. But stranger still are things that take place which alone may be some accident, but together must be destiny. And so it was here with Brandar, in this deepest of all prisons, for afterwards would he say that he believes the Gods intended his capture, as everything that happened whence he pierced the Trollo’s ear seemed more than good fortune. Yet, also would he say that he wished the Gods had found another way.
The noise of the incident attracted the attention of another Trollo jailer, who was about to have supper at a table in a nearby guardroom. And while such creatures prefer Elf-meat or Man-meat, or even Dwarf-meat, when they can get it, today it was ham, freshly slaughtered, well cooked and steaming hot, and dripping with tasty grease. Thus did the Trollo angrily throw down the meat upon the table ere taking one bite and went stomping down the hallway to see what the fuss was all about. And this one had a club with which he was not opposed to using even upon his fellows.
Fortunately, the Trollo did not call for help, for he was the bearer of the keys to that portion of the prison and was used to handling things himself. And he had the key to the lock which secured Brandar’s neck-band. There he found Brandar sprawled unconscious upon the dead Trollo’s body, both of them spattered with blood and wet with urine, and lying as if both were dead amidst all the gore on the floor. But since he also had drunk some of the Kobo liquor he checked not for signs of life; assuming that the two had killed each other. What is more, he beheld here a Man ready for gutting and cooking and eating in place of the sorry ham on his table. And he set his club against the wall so as to free up his hands for releasing Brandar’s chain.
Naturally, most prisoners were slain within days of capture, whether Sereghran or errant Durwolc. And it was part of this jailer’s pay to be given the meat, as Durwolc will eat the flesh of their own, if nothing else is available. But this prisoner was special; the precious Sereghran Warlord, whom the jailers had named “Blondie”, and who was to be kept alive and breathing, chained whole in his cell, until further notice; as the Master enjoyed toying with him. Yet, what the dimwitted Trollo could not comprehend was that Modeus wished to get information from the Northron, and would therefore be quite angry at any premature death not of his own making.
Nevertheless, the Trollo selfishly eyed poor Brandar, imagining the feast that could be made of the Northron’s cooked flesh, and made excuses in his mind to justify the meal. “Arr! Blondie is dead,” said the Trollo to himself. “And the Master will have no need of his meat.” Then did he unlock and remove the band from Brandar’s neck. However, as stupid as most Trollo are, this one was not as slow as many of his kindred and suddenly realized that he must first “prove that Blondie is dead,” and how it came about, saying: “… else the Master grows angry and I be thrown in the mote.” So he meant to refasten the neck-band, intending thereafter to fetch a fellow jailer to act as a witness, growling to himself: “Yes, but I will have to share the meat to get them to go along. Does nothing go right for me in this work? I should be living under a bridge happily feasting on travelers.”
Well, the Gods answered his question, though not in the way he would expect, as Brandar suddenly came awake as the Trollo was mumbling to himself. And Brandar yet held the little knife in one hand and that bloody axe in the other. So, he turned in the Trollo’s grasp just as the creature was about to relock the band. Seeing this, the Trollo released the band and went to grab for his club. But Brandar threw the knife so that it stuck in the Trollo’s hand just as the beast was about to sieze his weapon. Then did Brandar rise up and slay the Trollo with three hacking blows of the axe. And so swift was Brandar that neither he nor the Trollo had made enough noise to alert any other jailers. Thus, Brandar calmly took back his knife, wiping it clean upon the creature’s garments ere returning it to its hidden pocket. But naturally he was rather tired, as he had not eaten in three days. Yet, he was of a mind to escape, and went cautiously into the hallway, making his way to the guardroom, where he beheld by candle-light the jailer’s uneaten ham, unleavened bread, a pitcher of clean water, and a large jug of the Kobo liquor. Then his eyes went wide with lust, and forgetting everything else he began to eat. And being intent upon the food, he thought not of jailers nor of Demons, nor of checking if the other door to the room was locked.
When he was finished eating, he lay his head upon his forearms on the table and went swiftly to sleep; sleeping such a deep sleep as he had not been able to sleep since when he could not guess. And how long he rested in that room is not known. Yet, there he dreamed of pleasant things, instead of his usual nightmares. And in one of them he was lying in his very own bed in the House of Odar, which seemed too hard. And he was being disturbed by someone pounding upon the door.
******
Farus shouted his pronouncements as loudly as he could manage, crying out: “Be it known that the Lord Strabos, son of Teukos, and High King of all the Sereghran of Arzultaur, now justly lays claim to this land in payment for hurts to his People! And the one named Modeus, the Demon Lord, must come from this Castle and surrender to the Lord Strabos! Then shall Modeus stand in judgment for the waging of wars upon the Sereghran, the slaying of innocent folk, and for the death of King Aetas of Baerakis!”
Farus, however, expected no answer, lest it were arrows shot from the windows in the towers, or from atop the walls. Neither did he believe anyone inside could hear him over the roaring of the fires in the mote beneath the bridge. And so hot it was from the lava below that he was sweating profusely.
“Know you therein,” continued Farus, “that this Castle is under siege! Neither shall you be shown quarter lest you surrender the Castle to the King! These lands are forfeit! And Modeus must come forth to answer the charges against him!”
As ordered, Farus turned then to go back. But first, he stopped to inquire of Tomas: “What ho, General Loksom. Is there more to be said here?” “Nay,” said Tomas. ‘Get you gone to the King. And we shall …” Boom! A loud thunderclap-like sound out of the Darkness above the Castle, cutting Tomas off in mid-sentence. And the horses reared in fright as a great and mighty shaking of the ground occurred. Then more booming sounds went on, one after another, at a slow but steady rate. And while the Northrons, with Farus and Brugjo, would have ridden straight away back to the King, they could not get their mounts under control.
Boom! …
Boom! …
Boom! …
The gate suddenly opened, and out poured heavily armed Trollo, snarling and yowling, and running onto the bridge like rabid-mad animals.
Boom! …
“Ride!” called Tomas, finally getting control of his horse. “Ride like the wind!” But the looked-for rain of arrows indeed came from the windows in the towers, and from Durwolc who now appeared atop the walls just as horn-calls were heard from the direction of the encampment. And by those arrows Brugjo and his horse were slain.
Boom! …
When Tomas had reached the end of the bridge he turned his mount and voiced a word of command to activate the magic of Rosth’s Gem, the Opal of Light, which allowed him to shoot hot beams of sunlight from his eyes. And with these he turned some of the Trollo to stone, which surprised and halted the other Trollo there. “The Opal!” yelled Tomas to the other two Northrons, who had turned about to see what he was about. Then were they thrilled to discover that the magic of the Opal was theirs as well. And together the three then turned each of the remaining Trollo to stone.
Boom! …
With that they turned again to follow the King to the encampment; amazed that the magicks of their necklaces was giving them the power of Rosth’s Gem. And thus did they ken that Rosth’s necklace, if not Rosth himself, must be near within the Castle.
*****
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Brandar awoke, irritated that his sleep was being interrupted. Yet, he felt now not his bed beneath him, but a cold stone floor. And it was dark, for the candle had burned out, though torchlight flowed through the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door upon which someone was pounding.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Whoever was banging upon the door was being violent enough to shake it to its core, and yelled in the enemy’s common speech: “Open this door, Obla, or I will break it down!” Then Brandar realized that it was a Trollo, and that he was not in the House of Odar in Romin. “And if yer’ve drunk all the drink,” said the Trollo, “I’ll skin yer alive, use yer hide for a rug, and give your bleedin’ arse to the mote!” So Brandar jumped up, kenning that he must have fallen to the floor in his sleep. And in the dim light he noticed that the candle was out. Then he found and seized the axe which had also fallen upon the floor.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
“Open this trap, Obla!” bellowed the Trollo from the other side of the door. “And I’ll not say it again!” Brander quickly made his way back into his cell just as he heard the locked door to the guardroom being loudly broken open, whereat torchlight filled the guardroom. “Just as I thought,” said the new Trollo, finding the liquor-bottle empty. “Yer’ve drunk it all up again, yer lout! Where ye be, Obla!” Then the Trollo, looking down the hallway, noticed Brandar’s cell door was open and went stomping forth with a torch in one hand and a large mace in the other. “There ye be,” said he. “Comoe out o’ there, you sluggart! Don’t make me come after yer, cowart!” But arriving to find his two comrades on the floor, not seeing Brandar hiding behind the door, he kenned instantly that something was amiss. And that is why he could, as a matter of instinct, parry Brandar’s attack using the iron haft of his torch. Brandar fought with that creature who proved to be a large and fearsome beast, larger than the other two. And as the monster used both the torch and his mace, Brandar received many burns and bruisings ere he cut off the hand which held the mace, then clove a long and deep gash in the Trollo’s chest, wounding it deeply. Yet, Brandar had not yet killed it, for it sat itself down, dying, with its back against the wall. Watching then the Trollo leak its black blood upon the floor Brandar kenned that the food and rest had given him strength. Then he split this Trollo’s skull as he had done to the pissing jailer, after which he wrenched the torch from the monster’s dead grasp and took the keys from the fallen Obla, then moved into the hallway and went back to the guardroom, intending at first to fight his way to freedom. But seeing the broken door across the room, with the unlit passage beyond, he grasped the folly of such a course and devised another plan. He believed now that he must spy out the dungeons, seeking a way out, if he could do so without being caught. He tossed the torch aside and went down the new passage, cautiously feeling his way in the lightlessness to which he had become so accustomed in his many months of confinement. And while he had often been dragged in chains through many of these passages, he did not yet know a way out, for he was blindfolded when first shoved into his musty cell. Therefore, he would search for ways going upwards, ever upwards, until finding a means of escape. But going about searching for so long that he began to lose all hope of reaching the outside, he decided that he must, at the least, be willing to fall, if nothing else in a desperate attempt to find the Demon Lord and slay him. So it was that Brandar, with great skill and stealth, and by the Gods’ blessing, searched the ways and passages and chambers of that great maze of a dungeon so that he found store-rooms full of food and clean water; cautiously lighting torches he found here and there but snuffing them out with the slightest sound in connecting passages. And while he had been tortured in some of the rooms he came across, numerous other rooms he found replete with the remains of dead Sereghran in various stages of decomposition, but not one living soul. Then once, he came upon the skeleton of a Scout which he had sent to keep watch upon the Deel and that he recognized by its decaying garments. And there the pang of grief he felt at discovering that Warrior was too much for him to bear, so that he bent to his knees and wept for all of the dead of the Sereghran. Then all of his frustrations and anguish and his sorrows and anger poured out in those sad and lonely tears, falling so lightly upon the dusty floor of the chamber. Always Brandar sought the ways upwards. But he found the passages inevitably led to rooms or halls full of the noise and torchlight of Durwolc, or in which dwelt other foul monsters. And thrice was he nearly discovered. Yet, try as he might he could not find an unwatched passage to the outside. And he was so long at searchinig that he became anxious and confused, wondering when his escape from his cell would at last be discovered, whence an alarm should be sounded. But that alarm was not to come.
Brandar spent what he guessed was many days sneaking about, trying not to be detected, and avoiding those places darker than the dark of the dungeon, in which he rightly guessed that some awful creature would be waiting to snatch up and devour whoever came near. Yet, ere much longer he grew wrathful and weary of his plight; deciding that he must begin waylaying Durwolc to question them about the way out. Then did a smile cross his lips as he went forth determined to take vengeance upon the Durwolc, and contemplated with a morbid sense of glee the torturing of some stray Trollo.
Verily, Brandar had learned well the horrid speech of the enemy in these days of his imprisonment, more so even than the knowledge given to him by that spell placed upon the Seven long ago. And he could therefore question his captives with a good chance of detecting whatever lies might be told. Thus, he separately caught and then tortured two Trollo and one Kobo, all of whom, sadly, died rather painful deaths ere giving him anything remotely useful. But next he took three Gobba, in turn, though with no better result. Yet, a fourth mistook Brandar for a thief, and tried to bribe the Man for its freedom, saying something about “treasures in the vault.” And going along with the fool, Brandar learned something valuable indeed, though the Gobba did not survive further questioning, at which Brandar said: “Too bad. May his soul find peace. He was such a good lad.”
*******
Boom! …
Now, fighting raged as soon as Tomas and his fellows had gone back to Strabos and must thereupon turn to defend against the Druwolc. But when the enemy were sufficiently dispatched thereabouts to give a moment’s pause to the fighting, the three Northrons guarded the rear as Strabos with Farus and the King’s reduced Company then retreated into the encampment, where Strabos arrayed the Company upon a small mound of slag, at which Tomas went up to speak urgently with Strabos.
“My Lord! As you know,” said Tomas, “we Northrons bear gems upon chains such as this,” and he showed Strabos his necklace. “Gifts from the Wizard of Romin,” said he, “each of which is different from the others in both form and power. I have this jade-stone which gives to me lightening-bolts from my fingertip. But Daram has the Ruby of Fire-Breath, and Khalen carries the Amethyst of Swiftness, and the others have other powers.” “Yes, yes,” said Strabos, “such is known to me.” He was making ready to fight, for he could hear battle taking place all around. “What is that to me now?”
Boom! …
“Just this,” said Tomas. “When sister Gems are close enough together, each also possesses the powers of the others. And as we rode from the Castle gate with your Herald, lo, we made test of the Gems and found that the sunlight of the Opal was in these we hold here. Yet, I was not surprised by this turn, for the Opal was worn by Rosth when he was changed into stone, and then dragged into this Darkness. Thus, Rosth and likely the others of our countrymen must be there within the Castle, mayhap even Brandar, else their necklaces are there, as the Gems we hold here are giving us all the powers of their sisters.”
“I see,” said Strabos, mounting up, at which his Company did likewise. “Perhaps your contrymen, even Brandar, are within the Castle. Yet, three remain stone, hard as statues, and thus have been slain. But Brandar, if he lives, remains a prisoner of Modeus, like as not in the deepest of his unfathomable dungeons.” Then Strabos gestured to his surroundings, saying: “How, then, does that serve us in this place.”
Boom! …
“Hear me,” said Tomas, “then pass judgment as you will. The missing Gems are there, even Brandar’s Pearl of Giant-Strength.” Then Daram and Khalen looked at each other in sudden realization of what Tomas was leading to. “What if we could go into the Castle itself?” he continued. “Verily inside of it, and mayhap retrieve those Gems. Then the powers of the Sereghran shall be so greatly increased that we shall, at the very least, destroy many a foe, though we who enter perish ere the end.” “Into the Castle?” said Strabos. “Are you mad?”
Boom! …
With that, Tomas grew angry and stepped over to hold the reigns of the King’s horse, saying: “Fight and die upon this field we shall do, if that is what the High King demands! But what hope do we have corralled like this? Absolutely none! But yonder, that burning mote stands before a fortress that not even this enemy shall find easy to assail. Think, Sire! After so many have fallen upon both sides that your forces have not slain such of their foes that the Demon has more to throw at us! Nay! He has put forth the last of his strength, just as we. And I would wager all of the Gems that the Castle has now been emptied. Yea, the Castle is empty!
“The Demon means to crush us out here as we bark meaningless words across the bridge at his gate. And therein he watches from some high tower, imagining that he is safe, though having but few guards at the door. The very last thing he would expect is for all of us to leave the field of battle and strike for him there, within the Castle itself!”
Boom! …
Now Strabos caught the wisdom of the Northron’s tactic and agreed, owing that the making of a stand upon the dirt before the Castle, while noble, was to invite defeat. Yet, to attempt the Castle itself, if only out of desperation, offered at the least some chance of survival.
“Right!” said Strabos. “Right you are, my Warlord’s Second.” And he drew his sword while gazing upon the Castle lit by red flames. “To the Castle,” said he to himself, but then turned to address his Officers. “To the Castle! Make ready to strike for the Castle. To the Castle, I say, one and all! We go to the Castle and seek there our foe!” And while the Officers were amazed at this at first, they all soon kenned the wisdom of it and did as they were told; and thus did they prepare to move upon the Castle.
Boom! …
Strabos turned again to Tomas, saying: “Now, good Northron. As so often you have done since we came through the Deel, will you cleave a path for us through this wretched and horrible enemy? Will you lead us to that Castle?” “Indeed, I shall!” said Tomas. “And more than a path! A veritable highway shall I cleave for thee! And all of the Sereghran may follow me to victory!”
Boom! …
Thus did the Last Three Northrons take up one more charge and fought their way to stand upon the bridge, finding there that they possessed all the magicks of the Wizard’s Gifts, and which most definitely made all of the difference. Nevertheless, a terrific battle was to be fought, for here was the remaining strength both of the Sereghran and Modeus, who had indeed emptied his Castle but had also brought all his forces from the Mountains.