Chapter 57 -- Disappearance and Plotting

Sean watched the men practice. He had managed to get nearly eighteen hundred men to join the ranks and had started training weeks before. Slowly the troops were starting to perform at their trainer's levels of skill. Less maces missed, more riders atop war clads horses were able to bring their swords effectively against an enemy, and more arrows plunked directly in their targets. All was well until their true test of skill. He sighed, turned his back, and walked towards the mage tower his cape floating behind him.

"How goes research Carcid?" Sean asked. "Excellent Lord Sean. We have nearly our entire library done. And considering the meager spells our mages knew before, I feel it is an improvement." Carcid said. "Then all is well. Thank you for your time." said Sean, and he proceeded to the door. Behind him many mages were still researching the age old spells.

Sean walked towards the Thieves' Guild with uncanny calmness. He saw shadowed forms all around him. "Teaching a class, Burke?" Sean asked. The shadow phazed into view. It wasn't Burke. "Excuse me, Irin." Sean said, coughing. It had been awhile since someone could fool him like that. "Tis alright Sean. Anyone could make the mistake." Irin said, with a grin. "How goes the troops?" Sean asked. "They have all greatly improved. Soon we shall be ready for war." answered Irin. Sean only nodded and proceeded back to the capitol.

"Reisz....are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Krystin asked calmly. He nodded and replied "It's the only thing I can do. I feel it is my most important task to this point." Krystin sighed. "But you'll be killed!" she exclaimed. "If that's the cost, that's the cost," Reisz said. "I feel a duty to make sure we're informed properly, and YOU...," Reisz looked her sternly in the eyes. "Must be the one to see through my eyes, tell the others what is planned." Krystin nodded in defeat and watched as Reisz disappeared into the shadows.

Krystin was crying by the time Sean returned. She looked up at him. "He's dead." she whispered. Sean held her close in a comforting embrace. "Who is, Krystin?" Sean asked. Krystin closed her eyes. "Reisz...he's dead." she answered. Sean looked at her eyes and saw that she was serious. "How...," Sean asked, a bulge in his throat. "He was off to do spy on Death...he insisted on doing it himself. But he never even made it. He was lynched by a group of Death assassins." Krystin said, the tears pouring out even more. Sean sighed and let her go, letting his back lean against the table. It was time for revenge.

Sean stood by the balcony, waiting for Krystin to calm herself down. Krystin and him had agreed not to consider Reisz dead until they saw everything. Something had stopped her from seeing what happened and Reisz might have gotten out of there. They needed to get a message out. Finally after several minutes she looked up and nodded, gesturing with her hands. "People of Order...the Lady Krystin and I have dire and grave news." Sean said, his voice echoing out throughout their lands. The crowds silenced quickly. "While out on a mission to improve intelligence...Lord Reisz is missing," he continued, as the crowds gasped. "All we know is that he was mobbed by a group of assassins and were able not to see what happened next." "In his absence Krystin and myself will command, while Burke our Master Thief goes out and searchs for Reisz. We are hopeful that more is well...thank you all." Sean dropped back from the balcony, sighing to himself. He looked at Krystin despirately. "We can only hope Burke does find something." Outside the angered people were all talking. Something would happen if Reisz didn't return....very soon.

Sean and Krystin sat and watched silently as Burke rode off to search for Reisz. Krystin fell into Sean's arms and he held her while they watched Burke's form disappear into the distance.


Chapter 58 -- Split Chaos

Wyrdaxe once again used his link with Orkus to draw on the powers that would let him see through the eyes of cats, in hopes of catching Balkoth’s minion in action. As each day passed, he spent more and more time in the trance, hoping to catch the action.

His luck was in on this day. After nearly four hours of mind-linking with cat after cat in Halcyon, he caught himself looking though a cats eyes at a shadowy figure in a dark alley. Recognizing the dark thief sent to him by Balkoth, he commanded the cat to follow the figure. After hours of rest, the figure took off in a jog after a particularly leggy amazon. Suitably intrigued, Wyrdaxe strengthened his hold and followed along.

After the amazon had broken in to a run and sped ahead, he decided to follow the assassin as he made his way back to her home. He made sure to keep the cat as unobtrusive as possible and he followed the thief as he prepared his trap. In minutes, the amazon returned. Turning the cat’s attention to her, Wyrdaxe found himself aroused as she slipped into a strange contraption that showered her with water. Realizing she was rinsing off in the poisoned water, he shouted in anger, scaring the cat near to death. Unable to control the cat after his outburst, the feline sprang away form the shower and out the door.

With a mighty exertion, Wyrdaxe managed to regain control of the cat, but was still unable to make it re-enter the house. In near-desperation, he urged the cat to a windowsill where it would at least be able to look in through an open window. He watched in fury as the thief covered the amazon with a blanket and sat with her in her final moments of life.

He watched as the dark thief closed the amazon’s lifeless eyes and turned to the suit of armor in the corner of the room. Picking up the armor, the thief moved it to the bed, where he carefully dressed the dead amazon in her armor. Placing her sword in her hands, he rested it on her chest and left the house.

Enraged beyond rational thought, Wyrdaxe drew on his last reserves of dominance to have the cat dash around to the front of the house just as the dark thief was leaving. With a quick leap, he had the cat on the thief’s back, claws scratching at his spine, fangs biting at his neck.

Surprised, but relatively undamaged, the thief reached over his head and grabbed the cat. Holding the furious beast in his hands, he hurled it as hard as he could at the brick wall behind him.

*BOOM*

"WYRDAXE!!!" The old hag shouted as she punched his entranced body hard in the face.

Just a split second before the cat had its skull splattered against the wall, Wyrdaxe broke the link with the cat and returned to his throne room. Finding himself sprawled on the floor with a broken jaw, blood dripping from a socket where a molar had once been.

Spitting the tooth and splatters of blood from his mouth, he turned his attention to the witch. "YOU! What do you want, b#@$%? And why am I bleeding?" he asked suspiciously.

"You fell from your throne during your trance and broke your tooth on the floor. I am here because you cried out in pain when you fell." She lied glibly. "If you spent less time spying on nubile maidens, and more time fighting, you would not have this problem." She scolded.

"What I do with my own time is none of your concern, hag. Begone!"

With the accompanying *BOOM* of displaced air, she returned to her tower, leaving Wyrdaxe to nurse his losses.

"That thief will pay for his actions. He was ordered to kill Coventina, not every comely wench he came across. I will NOT stand for this!" Wyrdaxe ranted, his eyes glazing over in unabated anger.

Situating himself on his throne properly, he called for his servants to bring him food and his messages. The messenger arrived first. "Wyrdaxe, the host of Death’s army approaches our lands. His scouts have already passed through and the main body is just a half-days march outside our border. Shall I rouse the troops?"

Smashing his fist into the messengers face, Wyrdaxe shouted "NO! Never presume my intentions. Get up off the floor and begone! Do not rouse the army, we will wait until I say attack!"

Stunned, the messenger was slow to get up and felt a strong boot kick him in the arse as he turned to leave. Raucus laughter followed his departure. He was quick to tell his friends of what happened and with a smile, he reported that Wyrdaxe was once again in full control of his wits! The good old days of Chaos had returned! Rubbing his backside, he wandered over to the nearest game of dice, where he downed a mug of ale and rejoined the never-ending party that was Chaos at rest.

*****

Shaking her head in amazement, the old hag muttered the counter-spell that caused the waters of her scrying bowl to retain to their normal inert state. "Even when he screws up, Wyrdaxe manages to do right." She muttered, still amazed by the events.

///CHAOS *IS* THE SPICE OF LIFE/// A great voice boomed inside her tower, rattling stones loose and stirring up clouds of dust. Startled, the old hag fell to her knees and began uttering the spell to teleport her elsewhere. Barely into the incantation, she felt her throat tighten, cutting off her spell. Once the spell was broken the pressure ended. ///SOON WYRDAXE WILL BE OF LITTLE USE TO ME, YOU ARE MY NEXT CHOSEN///

"Great Orkus, I am too old. My days will soon be over. Find another." The hag suggested.

///I HAVE DECIDED, YOU WILL SUFFICE///

Becoming worried, the old hag thought hard of any way to avoid having her mind scrambled by the direct contact with Orkus. "I cannot lead the armies. They will not follow an old hag like me into battle. You need Wyrdaxe, not some old crone!"

Her words were met with silence. Taking this as a good sign, she continued. "Your influence and contact with mortals destroys our minds. One mortal shell cannot contain the powers and knowledge you give. You must...."

///THEN TWO MORTALS SHALL SHARE MY POWERS ON URAK. WHERE ONE FAILS, TWO WILL SUCCEED///

With that, Orkus, god of Chaos, opened the hag’s mind and "poured" knowledge into it.

Trembling uncontrollably from the mental onslaught, the hag curled into the fetal position and passed out.

*********

Leagues away, Wyrdaxe found his current mental link with a cat watching a comely serving wench and one of his soldiers in a haybarn broken. Try as he might, Wyrdaxe could not re-establish the link. In a fit of anger, he hit his marble throne with his bare fist, shattering it into dozens of small pieces.

Mollified somewhat by the impressive destruction, Wyrdaxe forgot about the wench and stared at his fist. It was not broken, but the throne sure was. Frowning in concentration, Wyrdaxe tried to guess what had happened to the throne. "Poor stonemasonry. I will have the mason in the gladiatorial pits by the morning!" Satisfied with his solution, he called for entertainment.

The jugglers, wrestlers and dancers entered cautiously, amazed at the sight of the shattered throne. Dismissing the dancers and jugglers, Wyrdaxe commanded the wrestlers to begin. Bred especially for wrestling, these brutes stood nine feet tall and weighed nearly 800 pounds. While this made them stand out in any crowd, the most noticeable feature of these beasts was their single eye, centered above their nose. Called beasts by some, these Cyclops were known to make great wrestlers, but were notorious for their independence and their strange religion, practiced only at the great Temple of Orkus. Since Wyrdaxe had reclaimed the Great Temple, the Cyclops had been returning to the surrounding lands and renewing their religious practices. Today was "Strong Day" in their religion. Wrestling matches would be held in honor of Orkus, the winner would become the head of their order until bested by a challenger.

Over the years, many rulers of Chaos had tried to subdue or ally with these creatures, all unsuccessfully. Cyclops respected only strength, and so far, not one mere human had bested even the youngest Cyclops in combat. The wrestling matches among the Cyclops would be very impressive indeed.

Despite his initial excitement over the matches, Wyrdaxe quickly grew impatient with the wrestling, some inner feeling kept him eager for the winner to emerge. After a few more rounds, the final victor stood over his fallen foe and uttered the ritual challenge, signifying victory. "I have won! Are there none better who wish to challenge me? No? Then I...."

"WAIT" Wyrdaxe called, interrupting the formal declaration. "I challenge you."

Shocked by the unusual turn of events, the champion wrestler nodded. "Yet another small two-eyes will learn the folly of challenging us." He thought slowly to himself, smiling for his positiona as first among Cyclops was all but assured.

Knowing he was out-of-shape, Wyrdaxe was almost as amazed himself. It was as if someone else had spoken for him. "Cannot retake my challenge, must go on with it." He thought as he began removing his clothing. Standing only in loincloth, he began circling with the champion wrestler.

With only a moments hesitation, the wrestler came at Wyrdaxe in a bull rush maneuver, attempting to crush Wyrdaxe. Caught off-guard by the speed of the attack, Wyrdaxe was unable to dodge, forcing him to drop into a crouch for better leverage in his attempt to keep the wrestler over his head as he passed. As the wrestler approached, Wyrdaxe began his upward motion. In one smooth step, he picked the giant man up and hurled him 30 cubits across the room, over the heads of the other wrestlers who lined the edge of the circle.

An awed silence fell over the crown, broken only by the solid *thud* that came from the wrestler’s impact with the throne room wall. Breaking their eyes away from their leader, the crowd turned to look at what remained of the wrestler. Tougher than they had given him credit for, the Cyclops did not have his skull crushed, but he was unconscious, drool puddling beneath his body on the floor.

Turning back to Wyrdaxe, the wrestler who had lost in the final round to the now unconscious Cyclops across the room knelt and completed the ritual answer to the unfinished challenge. "We have seen you strength..." He was joined by the remaining Cyclops, who continued the ritual response. "..You have proven your strength. You are the strongest. You have our loyalty until the day you fall to another."

As surprised as the Cyclops, Wyrdaxe merely nodded at the statement. "Take leave of me now and go celebrate with my troops. Tend to your champion."

As one, the Cyclops responded, "You are our champion."

"Then as your champion, I demand you attend to your unconscious brother and leave me."

Two of the Cyclops picked up their unconscious wrestler and followed the majority of their brothers out of the throne room. Two remained behind, posting themselves on either side of the throne room door.

In resignation, Wyrdaxe snorted and called for the stonemason. He would certainly need a new throne now!

*****

Slowly regaining consciousness, the old witch carefully stood back up, a new understanding of the world around her. Knowledge lost to the ages was hers! "Spells! Spells! All without spending days in tiresome study!" She thought. Giddy with her new powers, she quickly summoned a shaman-in-training from the student’s chambers below. Entering the chamber just as she finished the spell, the shaman found himself suddenly 5 feet closer to the floor.

Squawking in surprise, the student/chicken, "clucked" its way around the room for a few minutes before the magical energies released his normal form. Unfortunately, while he was cowering below the oak table. Rubbing the top of his head, the student fled the room.

"Polymorph. Hmmm. Quite fun, indeed." She thought to herself. "Time to try another." Scanning through her newfound encyclopedic knowledge of spells, she came across one that sounded worth a test. The spell was called "ORK Creation" in the old tongue and carried a warning that so far every attempt had failed.

Admonishing the warning as foolish, she reviewed the spell and reviewed the ingredients and casting procedures. Unlike combat spells, creative spells are quite labor intensive.

"Cask of ale, slug of gold. Shining armor, two days old." "Long preserved elfin ears. Half a dozen slaughtered steers." "Eye of fox, tusk of boar. Bones of giants, numbered four."

"For your target, choose a Chameleon lizard." "Secure him well, for if he escapes, you will be one sad wizard." "Failure should be one of your greatest fears," "For to cast again wait one thousand years!"

Wincing at the bad rhymes found in the old tongue, the hag gathered the components. All was in order when she realized she was missing the chameleon. Turning swiftly, she climbed a ladder to the upper shelf where the lizard cages sat and searched for the chameleon. Opening each cage to peer intently inside, for chameleons were notorious for their ability to hide. Finding one hidden in the back of the newt cage, she pulled it forth and watched in appreciation as the lizards skin changed colors to match that of her clothing, including the stain spots.

Eager to begin the spell, she pushed the cage door closed and returned to the floor, where she tied the chameleon in place with little pieces of leather. Unaware that above her, a curious newt had discovered that she had forgotten to lock the cage door and was now making his merry way across the bookshelf above her with two of his friends.

**Ya hyotyel chto malinki lyudi tozhe samay kak Orkus budyet zdes veh miray.** The old had spoke in the old tongue.

Drawing her power in she made ready for the last utterance of her spell. Above her, the curious newts were headed for danger. After making their way across the dusty shelves, the three newts had reached a book hanging halfway off the shelf and had crawled out on it to look around. Their combined weight was just enough to send the book tumbling over the edge, catapulting them through the air...

*SAYCHAS!* The witch cried, pointing a finger at the chameleon to help focus the power she released, just as the three airborne newts crossed her spell. Taking the full brunt of the spell, the newts were engulfed by a green aura and quickly began convulsing and growing.

As they grew, their forelegs twisted around to become arms, their hindlegs re-aligned so as to support upright posture. Their ears grew from tiny holes into curved and pointy outcroppings. Their tails receded into the body and their heads rounded out. Within four heartbeats, the three newts had become something else entirely, each standing nearly three feet tall, eyes wide in amazement.

"Food! Feed!" They chanted in unison. "Long time cage no food.!"

Startled by their speech, the hag quickly cast a small spell that teleported in a veritable banquet of food. Hurrying to the pile of food, the three "newts" gobbled down the food in less than a minute. "Sleep now." They spoke once they ate their fill and fell asleep on the spot, their strengths drained by the magical transformation.

With a calm moment, the hag finally realized that her spell had indeed created something, but not Orks. Orks required Chameleons. "What came from Newts?" She wondered. "Newtonians? Newtites? Newtronium? No, no. Those don’t sound right. What else might work?" She thought as she reflected on their actions. So far they’d gobbled up all her foo.... "Wait.. Gobbled? That’s a start." She said to herself. "Gobbles...goblets, no that’s taken.... Goblits, too close.....Goblin! That good enough for me, so its good enough for you, my Goblins!"

Cleaning up from the nearly disastrous spell, she never noticed that the Chameleon had once again disappeared into its surroundings. As if knowing its chance at glory had passed, the chameleon gave one last baleful glare at the old hag as it wandered off in search of better fly-hunting grounds.

****

Groaning once again in cosmic dismay, the great god Orkus shook his head. For the millionth time, the great spell of Ork creation had again failed. Doomed to wait another thousand years before the spell could be recast, he mollified his dismay with the knowledge that at least one of his plans seemed to work so far.

By splitting his powers among Wyrdaxe and the old hag, it appeared that their minds would be able to handle the touch of a god. Wyrdaxe with his physical strength and the old hag with the mental prowess to control the wild magicks of Chaos. And maybe the Goblins would turn out to be more useful than expected. Each spell would now create a trio of the small creatures, rather than a single Ork.

///AT LEAST IT WAS NEWTS, AND NOT MICE, LIKE THE LAST CYCLE OF URAK. THOSE DARNED GNOMES THAT CAME FROM MICE WERE AN EMBARRASMENT TO THE NAME OF CHAOS/// Orkus "muttered" to himself as he turned his attention once again to the lands of Urak spread below him........


Chapter 59 -- Move, I Have Waited Long Enough

Send forth the troops ten toward Order and Ten toward Chaos March! NOW!

Balkoth paced....bring him in here! Two death assasins appeared with a bedraggled figure between them. "How dare you come into lands under my control and spy on my activities!" I should Kill you now very slowly and send the pieces to your Lord!" IT is well for you that I have no desire to offend the Lord of Order lest you would die a slow and painful death!" As it is the four assasins who captured and dealt roughly with you have perished at my own hand" "You will be returned to the lands of Order as my armies pass through"

"Send forth a Bat with a message for the Lord Of Order." "It shall read that Reisz is well and with me." "He will be returned to you as my armies pass through your lands." The Death Assasins who fell on him have been killed by my own hand this day." Balkoth Glared at the soldier before him..."well?" "MOVE YOU IDIOT!" "GO!"

Balkoth turned to Reisz speaking more softly "You are brave, I will give you that. Your decision to come here was a foolhardy one but I respect your bravery and loyalty." "No further harm will come to you and you will be returned to your Lord."

"URAB!" The adjutant rushed in looking aprehensive.. "Take Reisz and see that he is bathed and fed." Have our people clean and dress his wounds." "He rides the bat with me to the head of the armies marching toward Order."

Turning again to Reisz Balkoth said "Waste no time the bat is fast but we must not waste time or the army will reach order before we catch up" "Go now"

Balkoth resumed pacing. Things were just not going well at all. He was suspicious of the quick response from Chaos. It seems somehow too agreeable. No warnings about retribution if the armies pillaged on the way through. It was just too agreeable. Balkoth stopped pacing and again summoned his beleagered Adjutant.

"Send a bat with a message to the armies marching toward Chaos." "Tell the commander to hold two units in reserve just past the Lands of Chaos and just short of the Lands of Air." "Tell him I am suspicious of the reply from Lord Ork of Chaos"

Balkoth resumed pacing as Urab hurried out on his latest mission. Things were just not going at all well.

Part 15