- Chapter 6 -

Previously...

Once the task-force was fully assembled, and five of the Murgands had been equipped with modified versions of the larger lightning-guns, the order was given to move out. Brossganth Cinderbeard led the way, maps of the colony committed to memory, with two bodyguards on his heels and Strides-Tall, with half a squad of the Reclamationist soldiers following close behind.

Strides-Tall had been wondering how professional Bresquet's troops were, and the leader of the squad that were with her had been glad to explain. "We're the best our world has to offer", Warrior First Class Tanan Biradda had said, with visible pride. "The Governing Council of Esechapan actively supports the Reclamationists, in return for the best deal possible on whatever discoveries are made public. If it wasn't for Lord Bresquet and his organisation, we'd be going into battle with swords and crossbows."

"Lord Bresquet?", queried the elf.

"The people of Esechapan are generous to their friends", the warrior told her. "The Reclamationists are the best friends my world has had since The Rage, and friends are very hard to come by these days. His full title is 'Nadal Bresquet, Lord of The Isles of Dreams, Master of The Fifth Court of The South'."

So there's a reason for him prancing around like a lord, in the finest riding garb, the adventuress had thought, a repressed giggle nearly choking her at the time. He acts like a lord because he is one!

Another thought came to mind just before the force was about to move off into the darkness. I hope your faith is justified, she said to herself, glancing over at Biradda, and the rest of 'Falcon Squad'. I hope that faith's recognised by your Reclamationist "friends", and respected, too.

More pressing matters dominated the elf's mind now, as she checked off each turn and every chamber on her own mental map of Jaglundar's Rock. The Hall of Welcomes, the First Forge, the Chamber of Gathering…yep, it's all here, and not a pebble looks to be out of place, she told herself, but she knew well that how something looked was not always the same as how it was. For her own peace of mind, she frequently stopped to feel her surroundings with her mind, resting her hands on the wall and opening her "magic sense" to any and all psychic impressions around her.

So far, all she had felt were lingering traces left in the wake of that long-ago flight from an unknown enemy. Powerful feelings indeed, to leave a mark even I can feel, she thought. Maybe the Murgands are more closely tied to the rock - the living rock - than people imagine…

The Esechapan soldiers were just starting to relax, and Brossganth's guardsmen were also showing signs of shedding the tension they had brought with them from the ship, when the audio receiver in the helmet of the lead soldier of the detachment crackled, and a tinny, distant voice started to shout. "All squads, all squads, this is Eagle Prime - we have contact. Repeat, we have contact!"

Eagle Squad, with almost a third of the Murgand war-band with them, had headed to the north at a major junction just before the First Forge, the spiritual centre of the colony, with another group and Hawk Squad taking the southern branch. Brossganth had not wanted to split his force to begin with, but now that battle had been joined, and so soon, his reservations were forgotten. "Let the Fallen Heroes cheer us as we face their murderers!", growled the Cinderbeard heir, and the Murgands turned around, hammer-axes at the ready.

The advance party quickly caught up with the rest of Falcon Squad and most of the other Murgand warriors at the junction. "Eagle Squad have cornered something at Deepscar Bridge", Biradda told Brossganth. "It's wounded, but still fighting. From what Eagle Prime told me, its some kind of giant lizard, running around on its back legs."

"It matters not what the monster is, or how it runs", barked the young Murgand noble, barrelling past the Esechapan soldiers and his own men. "The colour of its blood is all I'm interested in!"

Strides-Tall and Falcon Squad gave chase as the Murgands broke into a loping run, a vengeful, rumbling chant, like the echoes of a far-off rock-fall, rising in every throat. The elf saw Broxka running with them, the beads on her braids clattering on the shoulder-plates of her armour, and the Murgand woman looked completely overjoyed. For the earth-dwellers, Strides-Tall realised, this was the verge of destiny, the prologue to legend - some of these warriors had been raised on the story of the fall of Jaglundar's Rock, and many had been preparing for this moment all their lives.

"…some kind of giant lizard, running around on its back legs", was hardly sufficient to describe the creature Strides-Tall saw, hemmed in against a wall of raw, unworked rock by the blue-white flashes of lighting guns. It was certainly big, although nowhere near as tall as a Shr'Ganti, but its vast webbed wings made it seem quite huge, even bigger when the lightning barrage lessened, and the black-scaled beast appeared to merge with its own shadow.

The creature was wounded - patches of its scales were either burnt dull by artificial lightning or glistened even more than normal with a liberal coating of dark blood - but it was still able to fight. Six Murgands lay dead, their heads whipped off their bodies by the serpent-monster's long powerful tail or crushed under the creature's wickedly-taloned feet, and two of Eagle Squad's men were also down, one painting a particularly gruesome portrait of death with his blood and innards against one of the walls, but the remaining warriors stood firm, the lightning guns keeping the monster from fleeing as the descendants of the refugees of Jaglundar's Rock met fang and claw with their hammer-axes.

"For Jaglundar!", roared Brossganth, charging into the chamber, a long cavern cut into two by a deep gorge, over which stretched a narrow bridge of huge, expertly arranged stone blocks.

"May the gods grant you wings, Son of Cinderbeard!", exclaimed Ballenk the battle-priest, and he knelt, just behind the ranks of the lightning-gun-wielding Reclamationist soldiers, facing the monster. To the amazement of everyone who saw it, Brossganth leapt onto the priest's armoured back, then vaulted high into the air, over the heads of his fellow Murgands - right into the lap of the trapped reptilian monster.

Brossganth's hammer-axe struck first, before the winged horror realised what was happening. In mid-flight, the Son of Cinderbeard had flipped the head of his weapon around, switching from hammer to half-moon-bladed axe, and that glittering arc of Murgand metal split the draconian invader's head in two, from the tip of its narrow snout to a point right between its watery pale green eyes. Monster and Murgand fell, but only Brossganth rose again.

The Murgands, even those who had been injured, and leaked alarming quantities of blood, raised their voices in an ear-splitting, cavern-shaking roar as the Cinderbeard heir picked himself up, wiped bloody hands on his beard, and limped into the arms of his companions. "It is done", he declared, his words strangely subdued after such a stunning and legend-worthy victory. "The dark enemy, bringer of our greatest shame, has proven himself no match for the steel of the Murgands, speeded on its way by justice and destiny…"

This was too easy, Strides-Tall could only think. This can't be the monster that slew hundreds of the finest warriors the Murgand race had to offer - there were barely forty men here, before we showed up, and those forty had all but won by themselves...

The elf looked around for someone she could share her fears with, but just about everyone was already drunk on the sweet wine of supposed victory. Only WC1 Biradda looked anything but jubilant - his hands were cupped against the sides of his helmet as he tried to hear what someone was trying to tell him over the audio-link. Where are Hawk Squad, and their part of the war-band?, the adventuress wondered. They must have heard about the battle, and they should be here by now.

Biradda, frustrated beyond the limits of his own self-control, raised his lightning gun and fired at the ceiling. The sizzling roar of the weapon was the only sound that could possibly be heard over the cheers and singing, and most of the warriors went quiet as the discharge of the weapon sent an echo tumbling down into the gorge, wondering what could have come over the Esechapan soldier…

It was then that they heard the voices from Biradda's helmet receiver, the volume turned up as far as it would go. "Voices" was hardly the proper term to describe the tangle of screams and shouted orders, instructions ever heard by those they were meant for as weapons blazed and roars of primal, inhuman rage echoed around the narrow passages to the south.

The last few voices raised in triumphant song were stilled, and the sounds of battle could be heard almost immediately, coming from the south, loud enough not to require transmission by Reclamationist technology. Strides-Tall, knowing she could only get in the way, dived for cover, seeking what she prayed would be the safety of the shadows…

…just as three more of the dragon-like monsters bounded into the chamber, spitting streams of inky blackness that billowed out like flames around whatever they struck. Ten Murgands and most of Falcon Squad died in an instant, their screams all but blotted out by the enraged roars of the frightful creatures, but the cries of indescribable pain ceased quickly as the black fire ate the flesh from their bones.

The elf cowered in the darkness, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had been right to feel wary - the source of the negative psychic aura she had thought she might be sensing was right here, concentrated into three living singularities of hatefulness and evil, with more on the way. One was far, far larger than the others, and its darkness was so great that the adventuress had to draw her thoughts back within herself, or be lost in that void forever.

Her thoughts focussed inward, Strides-Tall happened upon something that could just be the means of her salvation. The plan, once the initial sweep had been completed, was for her to use the web-like network of narrow cooling tunnels to gain access to other parts of the colony where a heavily-armed force could not go. Those tunnels opened out into Deepscar Rift, the cold air in the chasm drawing waste heat away from other parts of the mining and metal-refining complex - and Deepscar Rift was but a few tens of feet away.

I'm dead if I stay, and there's nothing I can do that'll have any effect on the battle, she told herself. If I can get to the cooling ducts, I can get back to the harbour…

Cruel fate delivered escape right into the elf's hands. A Murgand armed with a lightning gun was cut down, his legs burned down to the bone, at the very edge of the Rift, and his weapon dropped into the chasm itself. Its fall was stopped short by the heavily-insulated power cable, surprisingly long once the curl was stretched out of it. Picking her moment carefully, knowing that that moment could well be her last, Strides-Tall dashed across the cavern and dived over the now-lifeless Murgand's body.

The elf only fell a few feet before grabbing hold of the power cable, but it was one of the most frightening experiences of her centuries-long life. For just a brief moment, her descent into the Rift was like falling into the jagged-toothed maw of some unimaginable monster, maybe the guardian of the underworld itself, and she momentarily forgot that she possessed limited powers of telekinetic flight, which had saved her from nasty falls in the past.

Strides-Tall's grip, aided by the special fabric on the palms of her gloves, held, even though the power cable was coated with a thick layer of slick rubber, and she allowed herself one deep, thankful breath before starting to climb down into the gorge. Luck was with her, it seemed, for about halfway down the stretched cable, and a couple of feet to the right, there was an opening into one of the cooling tunnels.

About a foot or so inside the tunnel, there's a locked grille, Strides-Tall recalled. I should be able to handle that…

The cable jerked upwards suddenly, and the adventuress froze. The cable moved again, and she looked up - and watery, pale green eyes were gazing down at her. These eyes were far bigger than those of the slain dragon-creature, suggesting that this monster was truly gigantic, maybe thirty feet tall compared to the twelve to fifteen foot height of the dead monster. There was something else in its bone-chilling stare - a malevolent intelligence the fallen creature had lacked.

"This time, no-one flees", said a wicked, hissing voice as the monster lifted Strides-Tall clear out of the Rift, and raised her to its own eye-level. The adventuress saw the jaws open, baring terrible swords of teeth…

On a dark, cruel world, in a dark, hidden place, a pale spectre of a woman watched with growing displeasure as, far, far away, something she had claimed as her own was snatched away from her.

"No", Mashilahantradar, Dyal sorceress and Mistress of the Second Circle of the High Cabal, said to herself adamantly. "This simply will not do..."

With a wave of a glossy-gloved hand, the winged spell-caster dispelled the image projected before her on the surface of a huge black pearl, and began casting a different spell...

"I brought her here, for my pleasure", hissed the Dyal, using the stored magic of her private sanctuary to briefly contact a distant, sleeping mind. "She is mine..."

 This page hosted by - Get your own Free Home Page