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Eloy considered briefly whether to try and get away with hiding the body and pretending Omina had disappeared, but he'd tangled with the Law in many places, and Skufruss' operation was as good as any he'd ever seen. He'd expended a lot of effort to 'get official' in Tarlanor, and didn't want to throw it all away.
He opened the door and yelled for the guard.
An hour later, the corpse had been removed, the captain of the palace guard had requested he remain in the city while the investigation was completed, and the Mageguild had been contacted to inform them of the magical accident that had taken place. This didn't cause the stir Eloy had feared; magic, after all, was a dangerous business - especially here - and accidents were known to happen. Eloy was left to reflect on the results of his day's work.
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The Elf Hammer strode interminably across the sea of dust and ash that had once been the beautiful elvish homeland of Sildor, trailing a mighty cloud of dust in its' wake. Gorfang hung in his rope harness, tending to his wounds as the sun began to set. The fight at the elves' ambush had been tough, even for him, and he was battered, bloodied and most of all burned. The last of Bog's Boom Boom eased some of the worst of it, but after that it was down to his indomitable orcish vitality.
From his high vantage, he had a view of the Desolation afforded to few, and it was a grim sight. As far as he could see, nothing grew and little lived. Occasional crumbling ruins dotted the bleak landscape. After an hour or so, a hasty encampment came into view, swarming with the slitheren ratmen he'd encountered from time to time. These swarmed around the feet of the Hammer as it passed, chittering and pointing, keenly interested in the giant construct but unable to do antything about it. A couple looked speculatively at the rope Gorfang had left dangling down the back, but the orc hefted his great bow meaningfully and they wisely backed off. In ten minutes, they were out of sight behind him.
As the light failed, he saw something else moving, on the limit of his vision. The dim bulk was hard to make out, but whatever it was, it was vast, dwarfing even the Elf Hammer. Slowly it slid into and out of sight, its' curving movement very like that of a whale, though the orc didn't know this, never having seen one. It came no nearer.
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Two hours later, the sun was down and dark had fallen. Gorfang settled for the night, but the Desolation was not finished with him yet. His eye was caught by flickers of light here and there around the walking behemoth. Slowly, the silver slivers of writhing light formed themselves into transparent, ghostly shapes, and he saw around him the figures of elves, apparently going about their daily lives, walking, singing, dancing, making. As he watched, though, a horrific transformation slowly worked itself on them; gradually, their faces and forms grew gaunt, their expressions sliding from joy and content through fear to terror and horror. In moments, their flesh sloughed off, leaving ragged, tattered phantoms, writhing and twisting in eternal agony, horror and torment as they swirled around the ankles of the Elf Hammer. This was the Dance of the Damned, the trap wherin the souls of the elves killed in the creation of the Desolation were imprisoned and tortured forever.
Even the hardened orc had to fight off a shudder of visceral discomfort at this dreadful manfestation, but eons of racial instinct and bloody hatred of the elvish race won out, and he watched with grim relish as the ghastly pantomine played itself out below him. Eventually, it faded, and the orc slept.
Gorfang stood braced and ready, already invisible courtesy of Maedar's Ring, as the border of New Tellare approached. From a considerable distance he had been aware that a welcoming comittee was there to meet him, and there was plenty of potential for trouble.
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Five thousand soldiers of the Sledgehammer - New Tellare's army - were drawn up in ordered ranks, steel armour and weapons glittering in the sunshine. They were split into two groups, placed left and right of where the Hammer could reasonably be expected to pass. A small body of horsemen waited calmly in the centre, and one in particular drew his eye. A tall, slender man in his early sixties, with a neatly-trimmed beard, unarmoured and with no obvious weapons, richly dressed in kingly robes that nevertheless left his limbs free for action if needed. Even without using his spirit stance power, Gorfang could sense the controlled power and strength of this man, for all his slender build and unmartial appearance.
As he approached, a voice suddenly spoke out of the air next to him. He recognized the spell - Méabh had used it before. "Good morning," said a level voice packed with authority. "I would like to speak with you. May I come aboard?" As the voice spoke, the kingly figure below moved a hand in an inquiring gesture, making it clear who was speaking. Gorfang's eyebrows rose, but he replied that the speaker might, taking off his ring as he did so, and a second later the man vanished from his horse and appeared on the opposite shoulder to Gorfang. The orc recognized the tact of this, but it made conversation hard, so he casually clambered around the oblivious head of the Hammer to join him.
"I am Cuitech, Crown Prince of New Tellare" said the man, "and I do not want any unpleasantness today; it's a nice day. Forgive me asking, but am I correct in believing that you are... shall we say, along for the ride, rather than directing the Elf Hammer?" Gorfang nodded. "Good," said Cuitech. "This then becomes a simple matter of a representative of a friendly power passing through my lands, a safe-conduct issue. For the sake of diplomaticformality, then; do you intend to harm any of my subjects or damage any of my property on your journey through New Tellare?" Gorfang shook his head. "Not if they don't attack me," he said. "Excellent." beamed Cuitech. "Then I am pleased to grant you and ... your conveyance ... safe passage through my realm."
It seemed there would be no fight, and part of Gorfang was rather disappointed. "I had heard New Tellare was ruled by a mighty warrior king," he said. Cuitech nodded. "My father, Surya Wyrmslayer, is King of New Tellare. I rule as Crown Prince in his absence." His tone hinted at many arguments in the past as to this decision. "So - the throne's vacant, then?" said Gorfang brightly. Cuitech's eyes glittered. "Not at all," he answered pleasantly. "I rule as Crown Prince and I care for my Kingdom." Gorfang smiled back. "I like the place," he said, "I may come back one day." Cuitech's expression and voice were iron, and for a moment, he bore a strong resemblance to his mighty sire. "I will be ready."
"I will leave you to your journey," said Cuitech. "My regards to Lord Skufruss." He teleported back onto his horse - a feat of some skill - and the soldiers wheeled and began to march away.
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Eloy and Lynien stood on the walls of Vorsand - where other heroes had also stood and gazed outward, on a time - each with a mug of something warming, and waited for the arrival of the Elf Hammer. Gradually, citizens began to gather, drawn by rumour and the gradually swelling thunderous footfalls.
Eloy's eye was caught by a movement at the doors of the Dark Tower, and Skufruss emerged, surrounded by courtiers, wizards, kin and a squad of Dragonarmy guards. Striding down the central road and out through the gates, he took up position facing the rapidly expanding cloud of dust that was the Elf Hammer.
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Slowly it grew, and the steady crash of its steps shook the walls. All could clearly see the comparitively tiny figure of Gorfang perched on its neck. As it came up to Skufruss, the Lord of Dragons raised his hand with a single finger extended imperatively. "Stop." he said quietly, and it did.
Gorfang shinned down the rope into the expanding, settling dust cloud, and stepped around the motionless monster as Eloy and Lynien hurried down off the walls to meet him. The orc's stentorian voice rolled through the air, audible to all. "Lay down your weapons," he boomed, "and surrender your city!" There was a moment's startled silence, and then the orc grinned, and cheering and laughter erupted along the walls as the citizens of Vorsand celebrated the return of this mighty weapon to the defence of their realm.
Lynien and Eloy hurried up, and Gorfang indicated them with an expression of mock affront. "I have brough this back to you, unlike these idle ones," he commented. "They fled the scene, and abandoned me to break free on my own!" Lynien folded her arms. "I'll have my ring back now, then," she returned. Eloy glanced at her in turn. "And I'll have mine back too," he added. Lynien returned a loot full of innocence. "What ring?" she inquired. Skufruss smiled slightly. "So good to see old friends happily reunited," he observed dryly. Lynien quietly pocketed Maedar's Ring; Gorfang had never even noticed her slip it off his rough hand. Then she finally took pity on Eloy and returned his own invisibility ring.
Skufruss turned to face the people, and gestured to the Elf Hammer and then the three adventurers. A roar of approval went up, and an outbreak of hugs, handshakes and sudden intense conversation occurred among the courtiers. Many showed a distinct desire to hug Lynien - at least - and she allowed them to, while quietly relieving several of their valuables. Then Skufruss gestured to the Elf Hammer, and it squeezed itself into the gate and headed through the city towards the Dark Tower. Skufruss turned towards the gates, and the group began to break up.
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As it did so, a voice - though not an audible one - spoke within the minds of each of the three heroes. #You are in danger# it said, #Skufruss means to kill you - he fears your power now. I am Yadaran Heartmaster. Meet with me in the Dripping Stag this night if you want to live# Glancing around, the three noticed a kin they'd not seen before, standing in the crowd but regarding them with interest. Kin in general were a peculiar-looking lot, but Heartmaster was weird even for a Kin. An elongated, hairless skull held two blank white eyes. There was no nose, and the mouth was hidden among four short tentacles that writhed slowly in front of its face. The skin was moist, rubbery, and a pale mauve in colour. Surely impossible, but this creature looked like a dragon crossed with a mind flayer...! The crowd shifted, and when it parted again Heartmaster was gone.
Gorfang had been sitting on the Elf Hammer for nearly four days and was not in the best of tempers. Snarling, "I'm going to see Skufruss; to have this out right now!", he spun and marched towards the palace. Eloy and Lynien, alarmed, followed, urgently trying to calm the volatile orc down to the point where his words to the Lord of Tarlanor wouldn't get them all killed. "What if it's true?" asked Eloy at one point. "Then we'll kill the bastard," said Gorfang tightly. Lynien rolled her eyes. "Men!" she muttered disgustedly. She was by no means convinced that precipitate action or an assumption that Heartmaster was lying were the right choice. Should she side with Mr Tentacles? Then she remembered the mithril armour slowly taking shape in a forge in Skufruss' city, and sighed. In future years,
it would be said of Lynien; She will let treachery pass through, over and around her - and then she will turn and stab it a hundred-fold in the back.
The audience hall of the Palace was filled with courtiers, talking, laughing, forming knots to discuss who they should invade first. Gorfang crashed through the doors and stormed across towards Skufruss. Lynien desperately siezed a bottle of alcohol from a passing footman and waved it distractingly in front of him, and Eloy hissed urgently, "At least listen to what he has to say!" but Gorfang was not to be deflected.
As he approached the Lord of Dragons, he saw that various courtiers and Kin began to react to his onset. The only one worth noting was Kenric Blackstorm, Skufruss' head bodyguard, who flexed his posture and checked his massive greatsword in readiness, eyes tracking the orc. Gorfang halted in front of Skufruss. "My lord," he said, "I suggest you may want to clear the room; you may not want others to hear what I have to say." Skufruss eyed him for a moment, and then turned to his courtiers. "Meet me in the upper banqueting hall," he instructed, "I would speak with this man. Guards - to your posts. Kenric - attend me."
Instantly, without demur or delay, every one of them gathered their possessions and quit the room. Gorfang, Eloy and Lynien were struck by the total obedience commanded by the Lord of Dragons, even without raising his voice or making a fuss. Moments later, they were all gone, and the door crashed shut behind them. The guards had retreated into their niches between the arches, and Kenric stayed right there just where he was. As the couriers were leaving, Eloy took the opportunity to study Kenric carefully, using his assassin's training to seek out his weak spot for a strike. There weren't many; of all the creatures he'd considered for murder, this was by far the most challenging. Lynien eyed windows, wondering if she could reach one and hurl herself out before something fatal caught up with her if things went wrong.
Gorfang squared his shoulders. "I have spent four days standing on your ...thing... to bring it here, only to be told that you mean me deadly harm!" he rapped. Skufruss blinked, mildly surprised. "That is not correct; I mean you no such thing." he said. Gorfang's temper flared up. "I suggest you keep your courtiers and Kin in line, then!" he demanded. Skufruss' eyes narrowed and the room grew suddenly cold and dangerous. Eloy and Lynien tensed in horror. "Before you instruct me on how to run my realm," Skufruss said, each word clear, precise, and deadly, "let us descend to cases. Whom do you accuse of such a statement?"
Even Gorfang was aware of the potentials of the situation, though unlike the others he felt no fear. "Yadaran Heartmaster," he stated bluntly. Skufruss nodded, not seeming especially surprised. "Heartmaster is one of my late unlamented sire's less advisable experiments," he explained. "A mix of dragon and mind flayer, he is untrustworthy, unstable and unreliable - he has what the humans term 'a chip on his shoulder'." Eloy piped up, glad of a subject to lead them away from Gorfang's raging at the paramount practicioner of the art magic in Known Alair. "So why do you keep him around, then?" he asked. Skufruss nodded to acknowledge a good question. "He is, like his ancestors, psionic," he answered. "Not overwhelmingly so, and as I have said, unreliably. He provided a weak option should I get the chance to try and pierce the energy shield around the Elf Hammer - which was itself a psionic manifestation."
Gorfang whirled and drew his blades, marching towards the doors, his intent obvious. Skufruss' voice nailed him between the shoulders as he walked; "Please take him alive if you can manage it," he said, "I would like to talk to him one last time." Then Gorfang was gone. Eloy paused long enough to say, "Apologies for Gorfang, my Lord. With your permission?" Skufruss nodded, and Eloy and Lynien hared off after the orc.
Rather to their surprise, the Dripping Stag turned out to be quite a well-run inn with tables both inside and on the street outside, attracting a mixture of customers from the midrange of society; merchants, mercenary captains, lower Dragonarmy officers and so on. Many of their women were well-dressed and goodlooking, and Eloy's interest was drawn. While Lynien and Gorfang secured them a table in an unoverlooked corner from which to watch for Heartmaster, he had unpacked his flute and begun to play. When pretty girls looked his way, he made eye contact and grinned at them around the flute. One or two appeared to respond.
Gorfang had other problems. As they'd entered the inn, customers had begun pointing him out - not uncommon, this - and calling to him in greeting or approval, which was less within his experience. His arrival in Vorsand had been anything but un-noticed and he was now recognizable to a large percentage of the population. So much for lying quietly in wait for their prey. They ordered drinks, and sat for a while, but Heartmaster had said #meet me this night# and they didn't want to spend all day here. None the less, it was pleasant to relax for a while. Lynien flicked grapes playfully at Eloy as he played, Eloy continued fishing for women, and Gorfang nursed a roiling anger; each enjoying their leisure activity in his or her way.
The three left. Eloy tried to walk close to the woman he'd been eying up so as to whisper to her as she stood next to her oblivious mercenary escort, but Lynien hissed from one side, "Come along, dear!" and Gorfang murmured to the girl, "He's got the pox, you know - look what it did to me." and the moment was lost. Grumbling, he followed them out.
#I am disappointed#, came the mocking pseudovoice in their minds, #You didn't even bother to come and speak with me before rushing to betray me to the tyrant# All three glanced around the seating area outside the front of the Dripping Stag to try and locate the unbalanced Kin, but he wasn't visible. Gorfang went into his 'big dumb orc' act, thumping the side of his head and shaking it to 'get the voice out' while acutely searching for their tormentor. Spirit Stance showed only a tough-looking mercenary captain, sitting at a table, as a threat.
Eloy spoke under his breath, fairly sure the Kin could hear him. "You're a gonving idiot," he said, "you misread the situation and misunderstood us - "
Gorfang exploded into a run across the road, scattering customers right and left. He'd seen a section of the wall of the opposite building where a wooden pillar didn't quite look right, a strange distortion blurring where it fitted to the wall.
"- and now you're dead." finished Eloy
Lynien whipped up her pistol crossbow and fired twice. Gorfang heard the bolts buzz past his ear and saw them vanish through what looked like a solid pillar, to thunk unseen into some wooden object. A moment later he arrived, and discovered what the bolts had hinted at - an illusionary pillar on the front of a solid wall, a decoy or a taunt.
#So predictable,# taunted Heartmaster. "You lied to us," grated Gorfang. #What proof do you have that he told you the truth# riposted Heartmaster. #Together, we could have toppled him and ruled this land; but you betrayed me. We will meet again# The pseudovoice went silent and they knew he had gone.
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