The Iron Legion

Chapter 1        The first winter snows came early to the Pass of Kelten. The month of Sunsebb had barely begun and already the frigid winds assaulted the ancient keep. If the snows continued at this rate, the mountain pass would soon be impassable, and the traffic between the Archbarony of Ratik and the Bone March would halt until the coming of spring.      Wrapped in a fur cloak, Earl Thondred of Ratik strode on the battlements of the mighty fortress. Would that the raiding cease as well as commerce, he mused. For the foul goblin folk were not perturbed by the freezing flakes, their underground tunnels beneath the Raker mountains facilitated their depredations throughout the year. Even now, the garrison at the Keep of Kelten had been reduced, half their soldiers had been sent back home to fight the growing raids. He had been forced to hire mercenaries to strengthen his own forces throughout the winter.      Earl Thondred warmed his hands by the fire of the torches, already lit in anticipation of the impending dusk. The sentries had not yet returned. This was a bad sign. Perhaps the snows had already blocked the passes. If not, then the dark clouds approaching from the north promised a blizzard to lay the question to rest, and the long wait for spring would begin. That was the worst for them. The endless waiting. Tall tales and strong drink would be the only cheer for the stationed troops. Perhaps the mercenaries had a bard or minstrel among them. Maybe they had some new songs to sing...   -----o-----        Sunder shook the snow from his boots. The roaring fire and the dark tapestries on the stone walls provided some relief from the bitter cold that permeated the chamber. For the hundredth time, he wondered if this had been a mistake. The Company had seen worse times. The prospect of spending the entire winter locked within the stone fortress seemed much worse than when they had discussed it over a raging fire at that tavern in Marner. They should have struck out earlier, and crossed the damn pass to Spinecastle. Only thing was, the Vile Rune orcs held Spinecastle. It would not have been an easy crossing. All the same, maybe they should have taken ship and they could have holed up in Johnsport or Bellport for the winter, instead of being cooped up on this godsforsaken place. He glanced over to Keras, sitting on his pack with a wry expression on his face, as if sharing Sunder's feelings. Gods! They hadn't even unpacked and they already felt trapped in this place.      Keras cursed softly and wrapped himself in his fur cloak. This had seemed like such a good idea at Marner. With the defeat of the goblin races at the pass by the Ratik and Fruztii forces last year, this should have been easy money. Archbaron Lexnol was reputed to be an excellent patron, paying his troops handsomely. If only the place weren't so damned cold! That blasted blizzard had nearly caught them as they approached the keep. If it had struck a few hours before, the pass would have been closed and they would have had to turn back to Ratikhill. Where was the garrison commander, anyway? Night had already fallen and they had no barrack assignments. A hot meal would come in handy by now, and then they could settle in and unpack their gear.   -----o-----        Gorbag licked his chops in anticipation. Even through the howling snow, the smell of manflesh was so strong that his mouth watered and his stomach grumbled with hunger. Grahluk, the packleader, had promised a feast for the pack. The man-things would be alone when the cold came, he said. Use the stolen magic-thing and the man-things' mountain-lair would crumble before them, he said. Soon they would feast. Soon.   -----o-----        Crude, dark arrows sped swiftly through the night. On the keep's towers, the stricken sentries collapsed. Earl Thondred had long since abandoned his lonely vigil, seeking the warmth of the roaring fire at the main hall. The Company of the Raven would be gathered there by now, awaiting their final disposition. He had been lucky to find these men.      He met one of the mercenaries on the stairs, a dark haired man of slender build. His pointed ears and yellow eyes proclaimed his olven blood. Only the heavier set of his shoulders and the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee marked him for a half-breed. Lotheneser was the fellow's name, Thondred remembered with a smile. The half-elf had been of great cheer at the tavern where the Earl had hired the mercenary band. It contrasted sharply with the way in which he conducted himself at his business. The young scout was all business now, leaning on a stout hunting bow, and asking for duty assignments and information on the layout of the keep. Thondred smiled. He was really lucky...   -----o-----        A thunderclap seemed to strike Sunder and Keras. Dust and grit covered the air as the frigid winter wind cut through the room. The fireplace shuddered and was nearly snuffed. Great howling figures poured into the chamber from a large hole in the stone wall. One of the large creatures landed on the table behind Sunder, swinging a wicked looking poleaxe. Foam and spittle drooled from its muzzle. Others struck down the stunned mercenaries with large curved swords. Keras sprang to his feet as two of the hideous furred beasts advanced.      At the top of the stairs, Lotheneser and Thondred watched in horror as the goblin-kin swarmed into the keep, barking and howling, their canine faces contorted into grotesque grins.      Alarm gongs rang on the outside. The Earl's garrison was besieged by the evil horde. The foul beasts were probably swarming over the walls by now. They always attacked in large packs.      "Gnolls," muttered Earl Thondred, his blood turning to ice. "We are under attack... "   -----o-----