The Black Sword Trilogy: The Four Nations (35 page)

             
Their first task was to destroy the remnants of the Morgril Empire.  They manipulated the Kings of Walechia to drive out the wise and sophisticated creatures from their homes and destroy the cities and knowledge they possessed.  Through their further manipulations, they led the city states of the mountains to unite and create the nation of Masallah.  Then the Masallans drove the Morgrils into the great “Tree of Life” to scratch out a living in the swamps and along the thousands of streams and rivers in its branches.

             
The Masallans took the Morgrils as slaves and then at the beginning of what would be forever known as “The Dark Times” they helped the Morgrils form armies that exacted a terrible vengeance against their former slave masters.  They then turned slave masters themselves and brought a brutality among those people that they the world had never known.  The first task of their plan was complete.

             
Next, they used their dark sorcery to create the beasts that would mark the Dark Times throughout history.  Using foul craft, they molded humans and wolves to create the terrible Wolfen.  They took the sick and the freshly dead and turned them into the mindless Silther whose only desire was wanton death and destruction.  These horrible creatures swept south from the Badlands into Walechia killing without pity and destroying without hesitation.  Meanwhile, the Masallans exacted their own revenge on the Morgrils, killing all but four of them; leaving their great cities in ruin and their centuries of wisdom destroyed forever.

             
Then the four Great Weapons were given to the world and a war was waged that set women and men back in control of the known world.  The Wolfen and Silther that weren’t slaughtered were forced into the Badlands.

             
The first of the Dark Lords to fall was Dreylock.  An arrow from the Blackwood Bow sent a tornado through the ten thousand Silther protecting his “Black Castle”, killing most of them.  The Lady of the Woods then brought an entire forest out of the ground that tore the rest to pieces.  She entered the Black Castle and sent a flaming arrow into his heart; blasting him to pieces and burning the castle to ashes.

             
Atlock was the next to die as he was pursued by the wielder of the Silver Axe across the plain.  He was found hiding in a farmer’s barn and hacked to pieces.

             
Bleylock was then chased into the Badlands with his Wolfen army.  Only a legend survives of what happened; but the story tells of him turning into a terrible, raging beast with the body of a giant bear and the head of a serpent that was pushed to the top of a mountain and then cast down into the bottomless pit along with thousands of his foul creatures.

             
With the Dark Lords gone and the evil beasts believed to have all been destroyed, the Dark Times were over.  The legend says that Bleylock swore he would return as he fell into the pit, but over the centuries such an oath was believed only to be part of the story that was told merely as a warning.

Chapter Forty

             
Kenner and Terri were led out of the temple and through a narrow tunnel that looked as if it had been dug out of the ground.  There were stairs formed out of the soft, but firm soil and it was dark except for the torches of the Morgrils leading the way.  They descended through the tunnel for several minutes until they saw light coming from the bottom like sunlight.  Emerging from the tunnel, Kenner found himself smiling and held back a laugh at the image before him.

             
The tunnel opened up to a city buried underneath the ground.  It was a humongous cave of soil and rock.  Along the walls of the cave were hundreds of small, door like openings.  They lined the walls up and down in dozens of levels and stretched around in almost a vast and perfect circle.  Many had firelight coming from inside, but many more were dark.  There were pathways in front of the doors that looked as if coming straight out of the face of the cave and were wide enough for at least three Morgrils to walk along and pass one another.  There was also a network of wooden bridges stretched across the walls to their opposite sides.  Wooden beams connected each bridge to other bridges above and below and they all crossed each other and connected like a giant spider web.

             
The cave was filled with hundreds of voices speaking to each other and all in very friendly voices.  On many of the levels that could see, there were platforms coming out of the walls people stood with each other.

There were wooden rails alongside the edges of the pathways on the walls.  Leaning over the railing in front of him, Kenner looked down and saw that hundreds of feet below was a huge underground
lake.  Hundreds of ropes descended from the ceiling and were going up and down into the lake.  He would see some of them being pulled up and still others falling freely and he heard them splashing when they hit the water.  He could barely see the ceiling of the cave above him, but did see pulleys and tackle hung from it.  And all of this was bathed in the same silvery light he remembered from the Blackwoods.

“Impressed?” One of the Morgrils asked him.

“Oh yeah,” Kenner giggled. 

Terri was equally awed by t
he sight in front of her and also found herself laughing.  She found herself wondering what her father might say if she even tried to describe the sights she’d seen in the last two years; the battles, the awesome Blackwoods, the magnificent palace in Sheyron.  What would he say?  Or would he just call her a liar and send her to bed early again.

“Please don’t ask me how this was built,” Their Morgril guide told them.  “The knowledge has been lost for centuries.”

“Can you at least tell me where that light is coming from?” Terri asked.

The Morgril looked at her and smirked.

              “Ancient Morgril secret,” He answered.

             
As they were guided along one of the paths, Kenner couldn’t help but notice how friendly and courteous the Morgrils were to him, Terri and each other.  They smiled, greeted one another, nodded and bowed slightly.  They curiously, yet happily noticed Shela and often commented about her being so “pretty”, “beautiful” and how nice it was to see a Battle Cat again.  Kenner could sense from her that, at first she was suspicious and defensive.  However, she seemed to be growing more accustomed to the friendly attention she was getting and even allowed one Morgril that looked like a child to touch her.

             
“These folks aren’t so bad after all, are they?” Kenner asked her.

             
“Not bad at all,” He thought he heard her answer.

             
Eventually, they were led into one of the lit openings and into a single long room with a single wooden table stretching across the room.  A bar stretched across the side of the room and it too looked as if it had grown out of the claylike wall.  At the far end of the room was another door and just after the company entered, a round and fat female Morgril stepped out with a huge smile on her face.

             
“Come in, come in!” She cheerfully said from the door.  “I was starting to think you would never arrive.”  She motioned to the table.  “Please make yourself comfortable.  I hope you brought your appetites.”

             
The Morgrils all took places around the table and looked ready to sit.  However, they were all staring and smiling at Kenner and Terri, but had expressions that appeared as if they were waiting for something.

             
“They won’t sit down until you do, Dearies.” The woman said to Kenner and Terri.

Kenner and Terri sat and the Morgrils followed.  Just af
ter they sat, the Morgril woman brought a huge clay bowl from the room beyond the door filled with meat and placed in front of Shela.  Shela then looked to Kenner and he heard her, now familiar voice say, “I approve.” 

Moments later, several Morgril men a
nd women came pouring out from the door and filling the table with food, ceramic plates and cups and ceramic pots.  Terri noticed that the Morgrils were passing the pots around and filling the cups of the person seated next to them with water.  When the Morgril next to her filled her cup, she jokingly asked, “Don’t you have anything stronger?”

Kenner was slightly put off by the question, but didn’t say anything.

              “I’m afraid not,” The Morgril answered her.  “We don’t drink alcohol.”

             
“Really,” Kenner asked?  “Not at all?”

             
“Nope…not a drop.” Another answered.

             
“Is it some kind of religious thing?” Terri joked.

             
“No,” The Morgril next to her answered.  “It’s some kind of not wanting to die a horrible death thing.  Alcohol is poisonous to us.”

             
“Is it really?” Kenner asked.

             
“I’m afraid so.”

             
“It does really nasty things.” Another Morgril answered.  “Our faces turn blue.  Our bodies become bloated.  We lose all control of our bodily functions and eventually our guts burst out of our bellies.  It’s really quite dramatic.”

He was suddenly hit on the back of the head by the woman Morgril with a ceramic spoon.

              “What’s the matter with you?  Speaking like that at the table?”

             
“Sorry, mom.”

             
Most of the meats being served were familiar to Kenner and Terri, although they tasted a little different.  They were sweeter and a little tangier.  But there were strange fruits that neither Kenner nor Terri had ever seen before.  They were, what looked like apples, but they were a strange, red color and had much thinner skin.  They were sweet, but with a bolder flavor, almost like meat.  There were oranges and pears that Kenner and Terri knew.  However, there were fruits that were long, yellow and slightly curved.  The skin had to be peeled before the white fruit inside could be eaten.  Although unfamiliar, Kenner and Terri both tried the strange looking food and liked it very much.

             
“Where do you get these?” Kenner asked holding up one of the red fruit.

             
“We breed them like cattle.” A Morgril answered.  The woman hit him on the back of the head with her spoon.

             
“They grow on vines dear and we call them tomatoes.” She told Kenner.

             
“Why have I never seen one before?”

             
“They are sacred to us,” Another Morgril said in a very serious voice.  “We have a festival of them every year where we dress up as tomatoes, paint our faces in their juices, rub them all over our bodies during incredible orgies and then sacrifice one blonde human woman to the holy tomato from which all others were born.  As a matter of fact, I believe it’s that time of year now, isn’t it?”

             
“Yes, I believe it is.” Another answered and they all started laughing.

             
“I can not believe what I am hearing!” The woman shouted.  “Telling such stories in front of guests.”

             
“Oh come on, mother.  We can’t let our guests get bored now can we?  That would be rude.”

Every one including Terri and Kenner laughed.  Kenner thought he heard Shela laugh as well and didn’t think it strange.  The woman then struck another Morgril on the head.

              “Tell him the real story or you’ll be washing all the pots and pans yourself tonight.”

             
“Alright, alright,” He said holding his arms up as if surrendering.  “The real story is that we don’t share them with the rest of the world because the Father says that the world has taken everything else from us.  He says we should have one thing that is completely our own and nobody else’s.”

             
“That makes sense.” Terri noted.

             
“Yes it does.” The woman answered.  “If you knew even half of our history, you’d never give a single tomato to anyone outside this room.”

             
“If he took just one tomato outside this room, he could sell it to Sheyron for more money than he’d ever see in ten of his lifetimes.” A Morgril with tan fur said.

The room then went silent.  Some were looking at him angrily, while others were looking away.  Th
e one they were calling “Mother,” appeared to have a hateful glare in her eyes.

             
“That’s right,” She said with daggers coming out of her eyes, “He’d make a lot of money.  Then the Lords of Masallah would come pouring into our forest, taking everything we have and killing every Morgril they saw again.  Just like they did a hundred times before when we had something they wanted.”