Dark Lord Pt 2
Dark Lord
Part 2: Dark Lord
by Greywolf the Wanderer
Email: greywolf@ufl.edu
Greywolf had not lied to the man who now lay quite dead in the dunes
behind him. He had served with a human named Falgar during the Kaldarin
Wars, but that man had been called 'Falgar the Furious' and it had taken
place more than a hundred years ago. The man he had known had been in
his twenties age wise at the time, so he would surely be long dead by
now. Humans rarely lived over sixty years and those that did so usually
were aided by magic. Falgar had been a great warrior, but he had not
been a wizard, so the name of this new potential menace and the name of
his old friend must be a coincidence he thought. Nothing more. Ahead of
him the camp that was a city or vice-versus, was bustling with a din of
noise and feverish activity.
It was ringed by twenty foot tall siege towers, each containing
a heavy catapult and a variety of lesser artillery pieces scattered
about on the upper platforms. Ballistae and arrow machines littered the
lower platforms which stood at the height of twelve feet. Men moved
about on the towers like ants crawling over a dead grasshopper. He was
impressed with the engineering that had gone into the tower's design.
Had he not known better he would have sworn that they had been designed
by the Dwarves.
His cape was dusty and faded looking and he pulled his hood up
to hide his ears, a dead give-away of his race. With his face also
partially hidden he neared a group of soldiers milling around one of the
camps entrances and blended with them. Listening to their small talk he
entered with them into the camp that was a city.
Greywolf's head swam at the size of the encampment. There were
thousands of soldiers working about in plain view. He walked and he
watched. He made notes. After several hours he had put together a fairly
good estimate of the numbers bivouacked in this forsaken place. Fifteen
thousand plus men!
Then he stumbled upon the pens.
Slave Pens! Six huge slave pens, filled with thousands of human
slaves. Males, females, old, young……. children even. Naked and starving
they were being forced to perform unspeakable acts with some of the
soldiers. He wanted to wretch. Elves like all Faye, hated slavery with a
fiery passion. It was considered the scourge of the human race. Greywolf
vowed to himself then and there to dozens of gods and goddesses that
regardless of the intent of this 'Falgar', he would do what he could to
free these folks.
Suddenly a dull ache in his right shoulder, the pangs of his old
war wound, struck him as the hairs on his neck stood at attention. Evil
Magic! And very close by he thought. Instinctively he reached over his
shoulder for Demon Slayer, then checked his movement, remembering that
he had left it in safe keeping in Selenor. Spinning around he saw a
sight that made his blood run cold. Twelve Death Knights stood around a
single man who appeared to be in his early thirties. A man who looked
exactly like 'Falgar the Furious'!
"Hello, old friend", Falgar smiled, "You look as if you have
just seen a ghost."
"It is the company you keep. It can not be you", Greywolf
marveled, "You should be long dead".
"Oh I assure you Wolf, I am quite alive. But come…. I have much
to tell you and it has been as we say… too long".
Falgar motioned for Greywolf to follow. The Death Knights parted their
ranks as Greywolf approached, and with a shudder he entered their
circle. The Death Knights shuffled slightly to close the gap and the
circle began moving. As they walked Falgar told his tale.
He spoke about how after his service in the Kaldarin Wars he had
gone to wandering. In his travels he had strayed across the borders into
Shadow Walk. There he had found an artifact in the ruins and
accidentally triggered one of its functions. The device had opened a
gateway to the Abyss, and allowed wondrous demons to come through to the
prime material plane. The grateful demons had bestowed powers of magic
upon him as a reward. With the help of his demon friends he had rebuilt
Shadow Walk. But the demons had told him that Shadow Walk would not be
big enough to house comfortably the hosts of the Abyss, so with their
help he began building an army. He ended his tale with the matter of
fact statement that he would of course, have to take over the world. It
appeared that he was quite mad from his associations with demons. Or
maybe he had stayed in the sun too long. Some tale, Wolf thought.
They came to a huge lozenge-shaped tent located in the
approximate center of the camp. It was surrounded by a guard of skeleton
warriors, which by this time did little to ease Greywolf's discomfort.
The guards parted the flaps silently, and Falgar and Greywolf entered
the tent, the Death Knights following close in their wake. The air was
thick with Dark Magic. It stank of rot, decay, and death. Greywolf
fought hard to keep his composure and the contents of his stomach. It
was difficult but somehow he managed.
"So… Falgar", Greywolf asked, fishing, "Whatever happened to
this artifact?"
Falgar grinned a maniacal grin that Greywolf felt he would come to hate.
"Oh it is quite safe. I have hidden it in a place where no one would
ever think to look. But hey, enough about me. Tell me old great Wolf,
what of you? Have you come here to join me ? No......I think not.
Wait...I know…. you are a spy! Sent to see what goes on in Shadow Walk.
Serving your Elven Masters. How lovely! Well,....now that you know
should I kill you? Let you go? Tell me great Wolf who walks through the
mists, what would you do if you were me?" Falgar hissed mockingly.
Greywolf grimaced visibly. " I can not believe you asked me that. First,
I can not begin to imagine being you and second…. you know that I would
kill you… and I will if I get the chance", he replied evenly.
"Right you are, Wolf! I always admired you for you brutal honesty. Of
course I can not let you go back to the Land of Promise and raise the
alarm. I am not quite prepared to invade yet. Ahhh… I see that I have
surprised you. So....you did not realize that my plan was to invade
Tir-na-nog. Tsk, Tsk. You see……… now I have given it all away. But alas
there is this little matter that I must wait for, besides of course the
arrival of the rest of my army from my other fortresses. I must wait for
the arrival of my…… Dragons", he smiled with glee.
"Dragons?" Greywolf gasped, "You have Dragons?".
"Four big red ones", he giggled, "They will be arriving soon. But I
stray. Back to the matter of your death. I could of course just kill you
and be done with it. But alas, I feel that I owe you somewhat more than
that. You did save my life once." He swept his arms about. " I have all
this to thank you for…." He paused momentarily. " You see Wolf, if you
had not done that none of this would have been possible".
"You are such poison Falgar. Do not point the finger of blame at me for
the sickness that sups upon your brain. Nay, do not tempt me to end it
here and now with my sword buried deep in your breast", Greywolf
fingered the hilt of Flame Song, his broadsword.
"My, my, you are entertaining, Wolf. Spoken like a true warrior poet.
Your sense of honor nauseates me.......Wait! I know! I'll give you a
sporting chance. My father always told me if you can not play a sport at
least be one. I will give you an hours head start. Then four of my best
assassins will ride out, hunt you down, and kill you. I like that. It
seems more than fair", Falgar laughed.
"And what, oh powerful Lord Falgar, will stop me from drawing my sword
and killing you here and now? Surely not fear, for you know me better
than that", Greywolf countered.
"Ah… good Wolf of the Faye… I know you much better than you guess. I
stand before you un-armed. To kill me that way would be......." Falgar
smiled, "Dishonorable". He stopped laughing and reached for an hour
glass at the end of a nearby table and turned it over. " This is your
life Oh Great Wolf of the Elves…. flowing like the sands… flowing away.
I suggest you get moving".
"We will meet again, Falgar. Do not think that it is over", he yelled
back over his shoulder as he sprinted away through the tent.
"IT IS OVER, WOLF", Falgar called after him. "YOU ARE JUST A DEAD ELF
RUNNING!"
With that he turned, and called for his assassins.
Greywolf ran through the tent past a large table littered with
plans. Scooping up a map, he never missed a beat until he neared the
tent entrance. Pulling his sword Flame Song, the blade immediately
roared and burst into flame, a sign of evil near. He ran through the
entry flaps, Flame Song swinging. The two skeleton warriors guarding the
tent entrance were relieved of their skulls before bursting into
blue-white flames, falling onto the tent and of course setting it on
fire. "Smoke this Falgar", he hissed as he headed for the slave pens.
The fire behind him had caused a major reaction in the camp. Soldiers
were running past him with little or no concern, heading for the flaming
tent of their 'Lord'. Greywolf reached the pens unchallenged and began
cutting through the locks, showering sparks from the Elven blade. The
camp that was already in pandemonium soon became total chaos. Under the
cover of the din Greywolf ran through the camp towards the main gate,
leaving a bloodied, smoldering trail of death and bloody soldiers behind
him. All of the slaves would probably not escape but he hoped that many
would. And those that died in the attempt would at least die free. He
ran through the gate and exploded out into the desert. Into the Dunes of
Madness he ran, blood lust in his eyes. Past the body of the sentry that
carrions were feasting on. Running like demons were on his cloak tail.
Deep in the dunes he stopped.
Reaching into the pouch winded, he pulled out the Dragonshard. It no
longer contained the power to get him back to Selenor but it would get
him deep into the mountains and give him a head start. Quickly he
thumbed a slot on the shard and vanished.
Falgar cursed as he watched his tent burn to the ground.
Surrounded by four darkly dressed, solemn figures he spoke, making an
obvious attempt to control his rage.
"The Elf-bastard will be heading for the mists in the mountains. If he
reaches them before you catch him he will escape, and you will not be
able to follow him. I want his head! If you fail… do not return". The
four darkly cloaked figures shuffled silently away. Moments later four
dark horse men rode out of the camp, and into the night.
A wolf howled in the distance.
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