A Whisper After Midnight (39 page)

The Goblins broke. Hundreds threw down their weapons and fled back to the east. Rolnir deliberately left the rear open. He wanted word to get back to Badron. He wanted that doubt to spread through the remnants of his supporters. Doubt led to fear and fear was the path to total breakdown. If it went well, the war would be over by spring.

“Commander! We’ve taken the field. Permission to reform the lines and pursue,” shouted a red-faced senior sergeant. His shield was split down the center. Bits of bone were wedged in the crack.

Piper knew the right thing to do was agree. The Goblins were too dangerous to be allowed to regroup. Every advantage was needed to continue the war. The order to attack stuck on the tip of his tongue. Piper made his decision. “No, Sergeant. There’s been enough killing for one day. Order the Men to form ranks and secure the field. I don’t want any surprises. Not now.”

Reluctant to follow orders, the sergeant saluted. “Yes sir.”

“Sergeant,” Piper said as an afterthought. “No prisoners, if you please.”

Grinning savagely, the sergeant spun off and began barking orders. The Wolfsreik responded with zeal, killing every Goblin left on the field. Vultures were already circling by the time night fell. Piper finally allowed himself to relax. The battle was over.

Revenge

Badron smashed the aged glass vase against the nearest wall and bellowed his rage at the top of his lungs. Attendants cringed, some getting slashed by flying glass. One body already lay dead with Badron’s dagger plunged through his right eye. Madness gripped the throne room. Those wise enough backed as far away as possible and even that wasn’t enough. Goblins marched in on Grugnak’s command to line the walls. Anarchy now ruled Rogscroft.

“I want them all dead!” Badron roared.

Grugnak glowered at him, arms folded across his burly chest.

Badron pointed an accusing finger at the Goblin king. “Your army failed me!”

“After yours betrayed you,” Grugnak fired back. The Goblin was unused to being mistreated in front of his army by Humans. It took every ounce of restraint not to kill Badron and be done with it. Only Amar Kit’han’s quiet insistence kept Badron alive.

Badron paused. The Wolfsreik’s loss severely crippled the campaign. Without the weight of his army, his hold on Rogscroft became tenuous. The Goblins were already revolting. He’d seen it while half of the city burned. Grugnak either lacked the ability or desire to keep his forces in check. Lately Badron’s suspicions seemed to turn for the worse. He felt the world slipping through his fingers. All of the pain from having his family ripped apart and his kingdom stolen behind his back by a Man he should have ground under his heel years ago was finally catching up to him. He fumed helplessly, knowing his actions attributed to little more than a child’s temper tantrum.

“I am a king,” he snarled. “Two kingdoms are under my rule and yet I have no power to control either.”

Grugnak cleared his throat and spit a massive wad of phlegm. “Conquering is not about land. You must break the people in order to rule. Humans are too weak. They do not understand the hard truths.”

“Yet we are the dominant race on Malweir while your kind wallows in caves and dreams of glory. A glory you will never achieve.”

Grugnak roared. “My armies…”

“Have been all but destroyed by the Wolfsreik! It seems neither of us have power,” he mused. “A king without an army.”

“I have already sent for reinforcements,” Grugnak snarled. “Fifty thousand Goblins are ready to march west.”

Badron’s stomach clenched. Fifty thousand was an unstoppable-sized force. Not even if all of the northern kingdoms banded together would they be able to defeat the Goblins. Badron didn’t see how so many existed without owning more lands. So much combat power would bury the north in a sea of bones. The death toll would be unparalleled. And Badron lacked the ability to prevent the Goblin force from invading.

He began to pace. Thoughts collided and broke apart as he desperately tried to find a way to salvage his rule. Rolnir’s desertion proved problematic and left Delranan and Rogscroft without a proper military force. Compounding matters was Harnin’s betrayal. Delranan was defended against the Wolfsreik’s return, though Harnin was presumed to know nothing of Rolnir’s actions. Badron knew Rolnir and his force would be trying to return to Delranan as fast as possible, which in turn would deprive Aurec of the majority of his combat power. Rogscroft would be ripe for conquering by the Goblins. A thought blossomed and Badron grinned.

“Grugnak, when your army arrives we need to sweep across this pathetic kingdom, killing everyone in the way.”

The Goblin cocked his massive head. Drool spilled from the corner of his mouth, splashing down his chest armor. “We will destroy your dreams.”

“Rogscroft is no prize. I’ve lost too much here already, as have you. This kingdom needs to be razed and rebuilt in a better image. Your image.”

Goblins were naturally suspicious creatures. Their hatred and fears pooled in deep wells. It was an old fear. One stemming back from their earliest days when they devolved from the Dwarves. They’d been ostracized, hunted, and exterminated whenever possible for centuries, driving them to oblivion until only darkness remained. Grugnak wanted nothing more than to burn the world to the ground and raise a Goblin empire. Only it wasn’t so easy.

The Dae’shan came to him with gilded promises too impossible to follow through. They offered riches and land, the freedom to move about in daylight without fear of persecution. Grugnak was no fool. He knew as long as other races lived his kind would be feared and hunted. In the end there was no real choice. Grugnak committed his forces to the Dae’shan without so much as a question. They marched from the Deadlands, unwilling servants to the dark gods’ bid to return.

“No Man can be trusted,” Grugnak said. “Why should I believe you?”

Badron help up his hands. “What else is there? You’ve been defeated, handily. Your army wasn’t enough to stop the combined forces of the Wolfsreik and Aurec’s Men. I no longer have an army. Your fifty thousand will turn the tide and together we can crush our enemies under our heels. I am through with Rogscroft. My revenge was against Stelskor. His head is now my trophy. His son is in exile. What little remains of his people will be crushed by your new strength. We have the opportunity to sweep the old rule of the northern kingdoms aside and rebuild the world, Grugnak. All it takes is a spark.”

“What spark?” Grugnak demanded.

“Your army.”

The Goblin barked a horrible laugh. “You mistake me. I do not need you. My army will take this kingdom. You cannot stop me.”

“I don’t want to stop you. I want your help,” Badron said quickly before Grugnak was able to think matters through. He had gone from imposable figure to expendable in the span of a few short months. “Take Rogscroft and do what you will with it. I don’t care. My purpose is complete. What I want, is your army in Delranan.”

“Invade your own kingdom?”

Badron nodded. “Yes. Rolnir will no doubt try to remove Harnin upon his return. The kingdom will be in utter disarray, giving us a small window of opportunity to rush in and destroy both defenders and the Wolfsreik. Not even their vaunted strength will be enough to withstand the weight you bring.”

A cold wind howled through the throne room. Grugnak and Badron glared at each other, trying to determine the conviction of their faiths. Strangely, the king of Delranan already came to view his army as a distinct entity, no longer his to control. The systematic removal of everything he once held dear made it easier to order their destruction. Badron had come to hate his kingdom and everything it stood for. His mind slipped, devolving into a darkened mess. What had once been important was no longer interesting. All he wanted, needed, was death.

“Think about it, Grugnak. I am the last great king in the north and I’m giving you the chance to slaughter entire kingdoms of Men,” he crooned. “What would your ancestors have done if they were faced with the same situation?”

Grugnak’s eyes narrowed, his thick brow furrowed in rugged rows of lined flesh. Thoughts of slitting Badron’s throat entertained him. Their alliance was one forged through the manipulations of the Dae’shan. One in which he harbored no illusions of Badron’s loyalty. The king of Delranan would turn on the Goblins the moment he thought it was to his advantage. Just as Grugnak planned when the time suited him. It was a delicate balance he wasn’t ready to play.

“First Rogscroft. Then we shall see,” he finally said.

Badron smiled inwardly. He couldn’t help but think of turning what remained of the Wolfsreik back to his side once the Goblin army crossed the Murdes Mountains.

*****

Amar Kit’han listened to the shrill screams pouring out of his latest victim as the flesh was burned from his bones. Blood, super heated from the unseen energy, evaporated the moment it touched the air, leaving a thin, red mist in the room. He enjoyed flaying people. Their screams satisfied his carnal need for pain as well as soothed his worries.

“Why must you waste our time in this endeavor?” Kodan Bak scolded from his place against the far wall. He bore no love for any of the races on Malweir but saw little point in killing for no other reason.

Amar didn’t bother looking up. “It amuses me. Our kind has been given ultimate power yet we remain part of this pathetic world, dwelling with these insignificant creatures. It’s hard to believe we were once Human.”

“That Humanity should be a strength, not weakness,” Kodan countered. “You turn your energies in the wrong direction.”

“What else would you have me do? I am sick of this Human guise. Aren’t you ready to ascend, Kodan Bak? How much longer will the gods casually disregard us while we do their bidding here on Malweir? I am tired of being a pawn.”

“What are you saying?”

Amar Kit’han had never been satisfied with his station. Not as a Man, and certainly not as the head of the Dae’shan. He wanted more. The days when his order remained neutral, serving the best interests of the world rather than a single faction, were barely memories. He could hardly contain his blind ambitions. Amar Kit’han wanted what the gods offered. He wanted to become a god and forget the trappings of everything that had come before.

“We were meant for greater purpose,” Amar said after slicing one of his victim’s chest muscles apart.

Kodan couldn’t believe his ears. Ever the reluctant agent of evil, he struggled with their previous lives and what the gods originally intended them to be. “We do as the gods instruct.”

He was careful not to incite Amar further by accusing him of leading the Dae’shan away from the grey and into the deepest heart of the black. There was a time when white and black stood on opposite shoulders, the Dae’shan walking a narrow path. Amar changed that with ruthlessness and cunning. The Dae’shan fell from grace and had been servants of the dark gods ever since.

“As we always have, but aren’t you curious?”

He wasn’t. “Towards what? We have experienced everything Malweir has to offer. This has been our world since the creation. What more do we need?”

“To be free, Kodan. Do you recall the taste of freedom? I almost cannot.” He removed the victim’s heart and squeezed, relishing the feel of blood and gore spilling from his fingers. “For centuries we have obeyed without question, doing what the dark gods demand. But the gods are not here, nor have they been for a very long time. Perhaps our lives would be better off without them.”

“Without them? You speak of sedition.”

Amar finally turned and faced him. “Sedition? We are not vassals ruled by mere lords. I am speaking of deicide.”

Kodan Bak recoiled at the waves of hatred pulsing off of Amar. Cold and calculating, the Dae’shan were the ultimate powers on Malweir. Removing the dark gods was logical. They were a shadow presence; an abstract working against the natural progression of life. Who better to take the dark gods’ place in the long, empty pantheon than their willful servants? While self-serving, the idea wasn’t without merit.

Deviant intent flickering in his nightmarish eyes, Amar Kit’han folded his hands within his robes. “You begin to understand. I am tired of being a pawn. Join me and we will rule the world.”

“How can we defeat gods?” Kodan protested.

“Any way we must. I have already set plans in motion that cannot be stopped. Whether you are with me or not doesn’t matter. We shall conquer or be destroyed.”

“You’ve damned us all.”

Amar lifted higher off the floor. “We’ve been damned for a very long time.”

Maleela’s Descent

Maleela shivered. Cold winds drove down from the coast, following the track of the Fern River as it wound deeper into the heart of Malweir. She stared out at the seemingly endless snow-covered plains wondering how any land would be warm this time of year. Once, she almost couldn’t remember when, she enjoyed the deep winter cold. The strange combination of the war and their unexpected quest convinced her otherwise. She despised the snow and what it represented. Instead of serenity she found hatred, emptiness. Boen and Rekka spun impossible tales of distant southern lands. Her heart tugged, conflicted between her unending love for Aurec and the impossible desire to flee to better kingdoms.