A Journey of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 9) (21 page)

Evil’s generals bide,

timed release from cave,

the battle turning fork.

Overwhelming tide,

endless gremlin wave,

a tsunami of Oreorc.

                               
-From the Epoch of Enauck

“The enemy releases floods upon us, Mr. Temperance! Look there, at the caves upon the hillsides. Thick black sludge gushes from their entrances. The mad fools! Their own cavalry will be drowned in the wash!”

“The horny black horsies ain’t slowing down! Our pursuing cavalry ain’t slowing down neither!”

“This is horrific, Mr. Temperance! I am happy that you and I share a steed in this titanic battle.”

“Yes, Ma’am. This here deer is so big, it could handle six or eight more like you and me, and not take notice.”

“I only fear that we distract it from its natural battle instincts.”

“Did you see that, Miss Plumtartt? That there wave of goo just opened up and swallowed that there army of mounted elves, like a python swaller’in a mouse, Ma’am.”

“Great Grody Gremlins, they are Oreorcs! It’s an unimaginable horde of the filthy beasts! Our elven army is crashing upon them! Stand by, Mr. Temperance, our mighty stag has his head down and intends to ram the fiends!”

“Augh! Y’all get away! Unh! Unh!”

“Good show, Mr. Temperance; your dwarvish acuity at Oreorcan battle once again makes itself known.”

“Ach! Unh! Unh! Aye, Ma’am!”

“Take
that!”
~foomp!~
“And,
that,
you horrid devil.” ~
foomp!
~ “Hah! On behalf of old
St. Agnes the Sorrowful’s Finishing School for Proper Ladies archery squad for whom I am proud to be their captain, take
that!
”
~foomp!~

“Retreat! Fall back! We cannot resist this horde!”

“Nae! Let me at ‘em!”

“Mr. Temperance, we withdraw in the nick of time sir. We fly back across the Northern Plains for the Ogre’s Mouth.”

“Oh my Goodness, as soon as we break away from battle, the pick no longer controls me. Oh, golly, Miss Plumtartt, this is terrible. What are we gonna do? If we are driven through the pass, we’ll never push through it again.”

“Prince Valiance knows this as well as you or I. He is signaling us, Mr. Temperance. My word, he wishes to turn and meet the enemy again. Good Heavens, Mr. Temperance, we are about to make a desperate stand, against this monstrous horde.”

“Here comes Lord von Stratusbourne! He is making a claw-dragging strafing run against the oncoming Oreorcs!

“Eee-
Aye
-rRoark!!!”

“Jolly good! I say, hear, hear!”

“Here comes Mr. Baron Brimstone!”

“Fire in the hole!”

~PRRRZZZZZSSSS!!!~

~HWAUERRRHRH!!!~

“Good show! Bravo, Red Baron, bravo! Interference on behalf of the Winged Nobility has allowed our forces to wheel about. We form up into ranks, Mr. Temperance. By my elvish boots, these stags are trained and eager for war! Once more, we charge our fearsome foe! I say,
at
you!”

“Oh my Goodness, I ain’t hardly got over our clash from a minute ago; I surely ain’t prepared to jump right back into the thick of it. Oh, golly, why can’t this  overgrown Bambi be timid like other deer? Come on, Mr. Deer, you and me both know this ain’t a good idea. Hang on, Miss Plumtartt, we are crashing into the Oreorcs! Aye, now I have ye in range, me pretties! Ha, ha! Me dwarvish pick says ‘howdy’, to
ye
, and
ye
, and
ye,
ye great ugly brutes.”

“I say, drat it all, an enemy dragon is dropped into a diving, strafing run against our force. Hello, Baron Brimstone is now in an even faster dive just behind this foe. The Red Baron has overtaken our enemy. He has quickly and tightly twirled his tail about that of his synchronized diver.”

“Holy Roly Polies, the Scarlett Avenger done did a wicked barrel roll and flung his tail entwined adversary to the unforgiving ground with a resounding thud!”

“More enemy dragon reinforcement arrives from the North. There are still too many dragons for our Noble pair to contend with. Great Heavens, an enemy dragon is diving at us and there is no one to save us. We are about to be strafed by raking dragon claw! Attention!
Incoming!”

“Aiiee!”

“Oh, no! That assault has thrown down many strong warriors! Our lines are broken, Miss Plumtartt! Ach! Miss Evervixen is knocked to the ground! I moost save the bonnie lass!”

“Mr. Temperance, get back on this steed at once! We are being outflanked! Bring her with you and get aboard, we must prevent our being surrounded!”

“Aye, Ma’am!”

“Thank you for saving me, halflet, but if you tear that dress I’ll eat your heart.”

~gulp.~
“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alas, it is too late. The Oreorcs, in their infinite supply, have encircled our detachment. We are lost.”

Spark of life is easy lost,

her flicker all too fleet,

to risk such treasure, nae bae sane.

Brutal is the battle’s cost,

especially in defeat,

when all your mates are slain.

                               
-From the Epoch of Enauck

“Vicki, Mr. Temperance, dismount! We shall be more effective as ground combatants. Additionally, our stalwart stag shall be all the more able to wreak his own manner of destruction as he releases his antlered fury unbound!”

“Aye, Persephone, I shall intercept this bunch of hatched hooligans!”

“Good show, Miss Evervixen. I shall unfurl a volley of feathered discouragement, thusly, eh hem?”

~foomp!~ ~foomp!~ ~foomp!~

“Attagirl, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am! You and that there bow and arrow are more deadly than a ship full of bubonic plague victims.”

“Quit your sight seeing and get into the fray, halflet!”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Evervixen, Ma’am. Oh golly, I reckon it’s up to me and the crazy old dwarf what haunts this magic pick to stem the tide o’ these maniacal ghoulies, aye. The grotesque hordes wish to eat me mates, but me dwarvish pick, it says nae! Aye! Ho, ho, my green laddies, howdy, howdy,
do!
Howdy,
do!
Howdy,
doo
-dy,
doo
-dy
do!
”

“Good show, Mr. Temperance. I say, what mighty battle prowess you show. The heroic swings of your battle pick are a fearsome vision, my warrior beau, eh hem?”

“Aye, Ma’am!”

“The strident swings and irresistible bloodlust are only slightly dampened by your unfortunate choice in attire.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Persephone, I think the halflet looks cute, running about barefoot and bare-legged in his wee, green dress!”

“Let us attempt to maintain our attention to the task at hand, Miss Evervixen!”

“Ha, ha, right you are, Persephone. First we slay these beastly Oreorcs, and then we flip a coin for firsties with the rabbit!”

“Vicki Evervixen! He is for me, you outdoorsy she-goat!”

“Share some of that red-hot female aggression with our Oreorcan friends, Persephone!”

“We are trapped! The perimeter of our forces slowly shrinks. Be strong my friends.”

“The stags have picked up on something. They are tall enough to see over the Oreorc’s heads. The stags are excited and fight with new enthusiasm! I am taller than you two so I guess that I must tell you that I also see a dust cloud, rising up in the Ogre’s Mouth pass. This dust cloud, one would assume, is being produced by an army. Listen, I hear hoofbeats! I hear bugles and trumpets! We are saved by the cavalry!”

“Whose cavalry, Vicki?”

“Who cares, Persephone? The Oreorcs are falling back!”

“I say, it’s the Equidonians! A mighty centaur army is riding to the rescue! Jolly good, hear, hear!”

“Once again, the tide of battle turns, my friends.”

“I say, the Oreorcan hordes are demoralized and routed before our combined forces.”

“Gee whiz, look at them Oreorcs run, y’all! They don’t want no more of us, hunh?”

“Indeed, Mr. Temperance, nor do they care for any more interludes involving our Winged Nobility, eh hem? Baron Brimstone has burned the ass of many dragons, while Lord Stratusbourne has cast several evil brutes to the ground to rise no more.”

“We’ve done it y’all! We’ve won! We’ve won!”

Ever linked with treachery,

history holds in disdain,

he who defiles the Kings of Hostility.

Double-dosed in tragedy,

betrayal soaked stain,

wicked curse of Winged Nobility.

                               
-From the Epoch of Enauck

“How is it that they have dragons? You told me that they had no dragons! Never mind, my superior numbers shall make short work of those two. Ha, ha! Your counsel was wise to prepare for war. My elvish eyes are old, but from this high precipice, I can still see over the several miles to battle. The Oreorcan hordes are in the last stages of overrunning the Sylvan Glade elf army. Wait, what’s this? There is a cloud of dust in the pass. It’s an army. It is moving toward the battle! The Oreorcs are retreating! Centaurs! The Equidonians are riding on the Plains! What is happening with my dragons? One of the brutes has thrown one of my New Nobility to the ground! The other breathes fire! He burns my dragons and chases them from battle! The other one, the big green one, he throws another of my New Nobility to the ground. Wait: two of my noble predators swoop upon the fire breather simultaneously. No! He spins aside, allowing them to crash together and fall to the ground! What is this! This cannot be happening! Is this really the beginning of the Second Great Northern Plains Battle? You who claim to be so smart, do something, wizard!”

“Verily, Prince Gahrrienkzjch, my Master, I am vexed at the sight of these dragons. The fire-breather can only be Baron Reginald Brimstone. No other was such a master in flight. Who would have thought that he survived the Cataclysm, so long ago. The big green one looks like Lord von Stratusbourne! I can’t believe it! I slew that dragon myself!”

“Obviously, not, Legolamb. Tell, me, is this the final battle or not?”

“No, my Master, it cannot be. They have not made it even halfway across the Northern plains. It is not too late to disqualify this insolent attempt to hurry prophecy!”

“The Oreorcans run before the elvish and centaur cavalries! They are coming to take the
Shard
from me! Baron Brimstone, he turns to me. I think he heard me. I think he sees me! Protect me, Legolamb; the fire breather means to kill me!”

Dragon Scarlett,

with visage frightening,

begone you harlot,

die by lightning!

~wah-kah-pissshh-
Z
Z
Z
ZAP!!!
~

“By the Cursed Darkness, you did it, Legolamb! That old bird is being throttled by your unerring lightning bolt! The fossil now flops about the sky, desperately trying to stay airbourne. No, it is obviously mortally wounded. The broken beast makes a pathetic effort to keep flying but its wretched attempts are a mockery of his species.”

~POP!~

“Oh! He hit the ground hard! That was a bad landing! He broke his wing! I knew it! Even at this distance I know I heard a bone ‘pop’. Look at how the limb hangs at the wrong angle. The relic flops about in agony as he suffers his death throes.”

“Verily, he landed right in front of our routed Oreorcan army. They now attack and swarm all over the fallen beast. He cannot get away! He has lost his ability to use fire! He is trying to use fire to get the Oreorcans off, but no flames are being produced! He is helpless! The Oreorcans attack him at will! Baron Brimstone is as a mouse, trapped on an anthill. He tries to crawl away, but he drowns in the Oreorcan tide. Oh, blast it, the elves are coming to his rescue. They drive our Oreorcs from the beast, but that Winged Nobility is finished. Broken, wounded, with no fire and a broken wing, he is just a liability. The centaurs are returning to assist the elves in defending the dragon! The fools! They are letting victory escape them! Ha, ha! Our Oreorcs turn! Our tide of Oreorcs is running to outflank the invaders. Once more, we have them surrounded! There are more than enough remaining dragons to keep Lord von Stratusbourne at bay.”

“My Master, my cavalries are restocked. We are ready to return to battle and take part in the annihilation of these invaders.”

“Patience, Lady Destructica, you will have your turn. That dragon is down but he is still alive. There is nothing so dangerous as a wounded animal, so much more so in this fellow’s case. No, this is the moment for which I was waiting. General Bewilderbeast, send in the trolls! Once the battle trolls have slain the dragon, then by all means, my dear, you are free to mop up the remains.”