The Dark Citadel Trilogy - The Emerald Shard
The Emerald Shard
Prelude
Orcs and Arrows
The day was just rising in the world of Telon. The creatures of the night crawling, flying, or slithering back into their cold dark holes, hiding from the coming dawn and the light that it would bring with it. The animals of day opened tired eyes, greeting the new morning with a yawn or a stretch, ready to continue the natural cycle of life, and of survival.
An eagle unraveled its wings to its fullest extent, basking in the morning sun, enjoying its warmth and the message of renewal that each new sunrise brings. It gently cleaned itself over with its large sharp beak, then with a lazy flap of its wings, fell out of its nest deep within the Kojani mountains and glided on gentle currents.
All the world soared beneath it, speeding by in a blur of color of scent. With its superior vision not a single detail was unnoticed, not a single leaf or rock unscanned as it searched for its morning meal. It rode the currents lower and lower through the mountains, catching drifts to slow its descent as it made its way to the favorite hunting spot. It came down around a mountain spur gathering speed as it flew over open meadows dotted by clusters of bamboo trees, and spotted a tiger already finishing its morning meal, a wild boar.
It sensed it was close to the field by the coastal village where the mice that lived under the small huts dotting the beach went to forage each morning. The bird anticipating the meal to come picked up its pace, its majestic wings nearly 8 feet across powerfully propelling it through the air.
Suddenly the bird slowed its flight sensing something wrong in the air. At first it could not recognize the foreign scent until it caught a strong smell - the smell of death and fire. A strong breeze took it over a thin road winding like a snake far below leading directly to the small fishing village. The eagle pulled up short, flapping its large wings to keep it in place as it viewed the scene before it.
Smoke rose in the northern sky billowing into a great cloud that marred it’s clear beauty. Large forms made their was through the charred remains of houses and over the burnt remains of the people who had once lived there.
The eagle dipped to the east, flying over the bay and taking in more of the grisly images of bodies piled together to be communally burned and destroyed. It circled high up once, then twice watching forlornly as the creatures on the ground laughed and showed off the spoils to one another, prompting several small arguments to break out over who would get what of the booty. The eagle, disheartened at the destruction of the village, and realizing only death could be found here was about to depart when it caught a slight movement next to one of the burnt huts dotting the beach.
It swooped lower trying to discern the movement it had seen for very little can escape the eyes of an eagle. Finding nothing after a moment of search it thought perhaps it was mistaken when…there! A small flash of silver in the light, hidden in a shadowy crook behind one of the larger huts. The eagle recognizing the creature suddenly, a friend it knew well, holding the silvery object swooped in closer and closer settling itself on a nearby tree, waiting patiently for the situation to unravel before it.
“That mines!” The large and ugly orc Ulag exclaimed pointing his stubby fingers to the small sack his companion Brug held tightly by his side. Brug a smaller but smarter orc than his dimwitted friend Ulag looked to the bag innocently and then back to Brug, a somewhat hurt look on his brutal face. “Buts Ulag, surely ones as mighty as you does not needs a small treasures such as this?”
Ulag stood back somewhat with a dumbfounded look on his face as he considered Brug’s reasoning knowing that the small orc often changed Ulag’s mind - a fact the large orc did not appreciate. Brug knowing that he had to keep the the slower Ulag’s mind thinking ( with whatever little power it possessed!) pressed the issue. “Surely Ulag with his big axe and armses easily killed the weakling fisherman.” Brug gave a look of awe at the larger orc’s muscles.” And doesn’t needs this small loots when he is already so big and strong!.”
Ulag a vain and easy orc to win over with flattery puffed out his chest After a moments thought, he agreed with Brug, after all he was Ulag Bloodaxe and the puny fisherman were no match for a warrior such as him! Accepting Brug’s logic Ulag turned around and went off around the side of the hut in look of more treasures. Brug silently congratulated himself on his wit and hefted the small bag filled with baubles from the hut.
This whole raid had been a huge success. The raider lord Grimeye Orceater a ugly brute who was more giant than orc, had sent out two ships with 3 score orcs to this small coastal town led by his second Nagul Headcrusher late in the dark to take what they could from the peaceful fisherman. In the dead of night the orcs sailed in on their ships into the small docks of the town. Although the people of the village where used to orc attacks, they had never dealt with a raid as big as this one and the few night watchers were completely overwhelmed, not even getting a warning to the sleeping fisherman. Taking the rest of the village had been easy, with few casualties and some treasure to show for it. Brug looked forlornly at the small bag in his hands. It didn’t make sense though to the not-stupid orc. Why had they brought so many for an attack on a village so small? Surely the small rewards of the raid didn’t justify the level of attack. Brug just shrugged is small shoulders, he would not worry about the larger picture, and he would not certainly question any orders coming from Grimeye! Or his big ugly orc second Nagul.
A sudden thump made Brug look up from his inner thoughts and curiously eye the direction of the sound. It had come from around the side of the hut, the direction Brug realized that Ulag had walked off in. Walking slowly toward the side of the hut he hefted a small wicked sword and called out Ulag’s name. After a second of silence he made his way to the corner of the house slowly, nervously looking around. He crept up and once again and called out Ulag’s name, to no result. With his back against the burnt remainder of the southern wall of the hut he gingerly peeked around the corner.
He caught a flash of elven eyes, and then he was lying on the ground his windpipe severed. He screamed silently trying to stop the blood from pouring out through his throat. He stopped struggling and looked up helplessly to see a cloaked figure tall and ominous looking down at him. Then he saw those eyes – those horrible eyes!- the color of starlit sky, they showed no mercy as the figure brought his sword over the quivering orc’s chest. Brug closed his eyes and did not see the swift decent of his doom.
Tristrum Shadowstep hid the body with the other orc, behind the west side of the house by the wall that surrounded the village facing the mountains. He wiped his blade on the front of the orc’s leather jerkin, then slid it back into its sheath at his side. His keen eyes surveyed the beach from his perch in the shadow of the hut. Taking note of the many forms moving about, he started off, moving from hut to hut, shadow to shadow, never making more noise than a passing breeze. He came to a cluster of trees by what used to be a communal storage shed, trying to discern his course of action.
Tristrum was a ranger, and a woodland elf. Devoted to protect the wilds, and the animals that inhabited it. He was also charged with the safety of the innocent, and these orcs had crossed a line. Had murdered simple fisherman for the slight wealth they possessed. That was what didn’t make sense to the intelligent ranger. The force was not large by orc standards, but certainly big for such a small village. Nearly 150 orcs milled about the beach, all for the sake of the small rewards the town offered, however easily obtained would not be worth the attention they drew from the Imperial Empire.
Tristrum shrugged his delicate shoulders. He would avenge those innocents, would pay the orcs back one hundred fold for there heinous acts of carnage. He had been traveling the wilds of Kojan, the archipelago of islands, serving his silent vigil and guarding the land for nearly 200 hundred years. He was still very young by elf standards, but possessed a serious demeanor that did not fit his age. He had been traveling late last night, when by chance he had seen the flames from a distance. His long legs had taken him swiftly over the ground, but even had he made it there before the attack he could do nothing to halt it. Easily over a hundred orcs had come in the raid, and Tristrum was simply over matched with too many enemies to face.
He had turned away from the carnage, sprinting 15 miles north to a monastery housing members of the Lotus Fist, a righteous sect of human monks living out in the Kojani wilderness. He told them of the disaster as well as the numbers of the enemy and implored them to help. Monks are peaceful, rather spending time looking inward and unlocking universal mysteries than answering the call of war. But even Tristrum who had known a few monks in his time was surprised at the response of the monks. The elders shouted out orders to get weapons and equipment, and to gather everyone but the initiates at the main hall. Within minutes 50 monks were armed, supplied and ready to go avenge the fallen village, only the youngest stayed behind.
They had ran through the night silent and grim to get back to the village before the next dawn and had spent the morning laying out a plan of attack. Tristrum acted as a scout for the small band, and had walked the entire area finding out where the leader of this raid was located.
Tristrum narrowed his vision on a large and particularly ugly orc barking orders to his lessers and gathering up the haul from the village. The sun had just crested and Tristrum could see the orc was heavily armored with an enormous hammer strapped across its muscular back. The orc gestured to something one of the lesser orcs had brung to it, and Tristrum could see its approval and excitement even from his distance. Whatever the object was it was small, and the orc quickly put into a small compartment on his armor, congratulating the smaller orc. The lesser orc pleased that he had pleased hit master, bowed his head in a sign of respect, and was caught completely off guard when the larger orc swung his hammer off hit back, and obliterated the orc’s head. Orcs nearby backed away from their master in suprise but the larger orc just laughed and soon so did his evil minions. Such is the way of orcs Tristrum thought from the shadows, knowing that the small object was important and that the big orc probably wanted the glory for itself.
Seeing all he needed to knowing that the time to strike was soon, he crept on his stomach around the edge of the house making his way to a small gap in the surrounding wall and sprinted low across the ground to a small hillock. Waiting on the other side were 15 armed and and patient monks. They watched Tristrum’s approach as he ran up to Tolso the Grandmaster of the monastery.
The wizened old master, no weapon in his hands for the only one he needed were his fists, and indeed they were deadly greeted the ranger.
“Hello master Shadowstep, what have you learned of our enemy?”
Tristrum trotted to a stop in front of the arranged group facing Tolso directly, “ The enemy is preparing to leave, already they have gathered most of the haul, although it doesn’t make sense. This a force is far too large for such small rewards” Tristum glanced over his should as he continued.” I saw the one they call Nagul, a big ugly brute by the shore, ware that one’s hammer for they call him Headcrusher.” Tristrum turned back told Tolso considering telling him about the small object he had seen the orc leader covet, but decided that he did not want to over complicate the already dangerous situation.
Tolso nodded. He was ancient by human standards well into his 80’s with a wrinkled face like beaten leather, but he moved with the agility of an hunting cat and could smash stones with his bare fists.” Nagul Headcrusher? I will see how he stands up to my iron fist,” Tolso clenched his bony hands looking at Tristrum with old weary eyes.”And hopefully we can strike a blow to that unholy war lord Grimeye.”
Tristrum nodded his handsome head.” The rest of the men are set up 15 to the west and 15 to the south, Hennr is already sabotaging the enemies ships with a small force so they can not escape.”
The wise old elder nodded his head knowing and trusting in the ability of the monks he had spent his life training, but then he wore a grim and determined visage. “ These orcs have violated our lands and murdered men, women, and children.” He then turned to the monks assembled behind him and gave each one an approving nod.” Let us destroy these evil beasts so that the souls of those slain can rest, may Loa Jin take them and may he watch over all of us.” Weapons and hands raised as one, and as one the monks cried.” For Loa Jin!”
Tristrum nodded his head but did not join in, for he was not a spiritual being unless that spirit was the land he so loved.
The monks moved out silently, Tristrum at the head, jumping over rocks, running from tree to tree. Similarly in the west and in the south the other small groups moved into position around the walls and huts never being seen by the many orcs milling about and waited for the signal.
Tristrum crept up to a rock and took his bow from his shoulders. He found a pair of orcs just 30 or so paces ahead of his concealed position, grunting and laughing above the burnt corpses of their innocent victims. With a deadly look in his starlit eyes Tristrum decided they would be the first to die.
They waited patiently for minutes, knowing that the time was almost upon them. Not a single monk’s hand trembled, not a single one blinked, these were scholars true, but they were also warriors. Dedicated to a life of discipline and a strict code they sat grim faced and prepared for the task before them.
Suddenly there was yelling orcs running two and fro as small explosions sounded from the docks and fire consumed the two orc ships. Orcs ran around in a panic, some going to try and salvage the burning ships, but most just turned towards the harbor, curious looks on their faces and that is when the monks struck. Tristrum led the charge, firing his bow in rapid succession, the second arrow in flight before the first one ever hit its target. Then he pulled out his enchanted swords and rushed down beside the monks as they hammered into the or ranks. Screaming cries to Lao Jin they hit the orcs hard and many went down in those first few seconds, overwhelmed by the experienced monks.
The rest turned and stood opened mouthed at the intruders swarming towards them. But these were orcs, fierce and ferocious warriors. Pulling out their weapons they charged the monks kicking up plumes of sand yelling cries of war as battle was joined on the beach.
Tolso hit one orc neck crushing its trachea, another rushed his side, but with perfect balance he dipped swinging his leg around to catch it in the face and sent it spinning to the ground. Tolso turned to see Tristrum engaged with three orcs, but could tell he had the situation well in hand, for few could match his graceful movements. He spun and stabbed and parried, almost a dance it seemed, a dance of death. Tolso looked away and found the target he had been searching for. A big ugly orc hefting a two handed hammer stood behind 4 body guards and shouted at his troops to form some sort of organized attack. Tolso, old and determined sprinted past orcs and monks engaged in mortal combat, making a straight path to the ugly leader. The big orc saw him coming however, and smiling sent his body guards charging at the elder.
Tristrum’s blade rang out clearly as he parried yet another attack from the orc duo, the third lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He slashed left then right with Dawn, his right handed sword, then parried with Dusk his left handed sword. The orc on his right, fell away from twin slashes on his throat and the orc on the left seeing his companion fall rushed forward trying to bury the superior fighter with his weight. Tristrum quick stepped backwards, in perfect balance, falling into a backward roll then springing forward under the orc with both swords leading. The orc surprised by the maneuver looked down to see the blades impaled all the way to the hilt in his chest and limply dropped his sword, the strength gone from his arms as he slipped into the realm of death.
Tristrum pulled his swords free of the orc and the body slid to the ground slowly. He quickly surveyed the battle, seeing were his swords would be of most use. He spied a young monk holding his own against two orcs, but noticed a third behind cranking a crossbow and leveling it at the monk’s back. In one swift movement Tristrum dropped his swords, pulled his bow from his shoulders, and let fly an arrow at the would be assassin. The arrow hit the orc in the eye, knocking it sideways and firing the crossbow far of its mark to hit one of the orcs the monk was fighting. The orc looked down, dumbfounded at the bolt quivering from its chest than crumpled to the ground. The monk not questioning his good luck stabbed ahead with his sword into the other orc’s chest ending the fight.
Tristrum replaced his bow and picked up his swords. It was said that as good as Tristrum was with his blades, that paled compared to what he could do with a bow. Once Tristrum’s mentor, a ranger of no small fame, had joked that Tristrum didn’t so much as fire the bow as tell the arrow where to go. Tristrum turned from the monk just as two orcs charged him from behind. Falling back a step Tristrum summoned his ranger power’s over nature and thick vines erupted from the beach catching hold of the two orcs firmly rooting them in place. He then stalked in and with one swipe of Dusk pushed away their feeble weapons, then followed up with Dawn left to right severing their windpipes and putting them out of the fight. Tristrum was about to finish them when a more immediate problem came into his view - Tolso engaged with four large and skilled orcs! Dancing and spinning, kicking and punching, barely avoiding the swipes of their wicked weapons the old Grandmaster was in a desperate situation indeed.
Tristrum started for him but was intercepted by a large heavily armored orc, with an enormous Axe and had to fall straight down to avoid being cut in half as the orc swiped hard at his elven frame. He then rolled back ward slicing at the orc’s shin with Dusk as he went but doing no real damage against the heavy armor the orc wore. Coming back to a standing position Tristrum realized he would not be able to get to Tolso soon, and had to jump back yet again as the orc waded in axe swinging.
Tolso moved fast one second, slow the next whipping his body and throwing off his enemies by not falling into a predictable rhythm. But he knew he was in trouble, he might be able to defeat these four orcs but Nagul hadn’t even joined in yet, was waiting out side of the circle the four orcs had formed around the ancient monk. He was waiting Tolso knew, waiting for the weary monk to tire, which surely his old bones were! And then taking the glory of the kill for himself.
Tolso dipped as two orcs in front slashed at him with heavy swords then rolled as the two behind attacked. One with a one handed axe chopped down while the other with a flail swung low trying to give the old man no where to go. Tolso however was as limber as a reed, and with startling agility twisted under the axe then halted his momentum and rolled back over it as the flail came in. Tolso landed on his feet the orcs around him amazed, but determined and knowing he could not keep up the defensive actions forever. Tolso knew that they knew also, and wondered how he was going to break free of this ring of death when his salvation came in the form of three flying monks hitting three of the body guards in unison.
Tolso counting his good fortune, recognizing the Elder Hannr, and the rest of the sabotage team concentrated all his focus into his hand, gathering his inner essence- jin – for his fighting technique - the iron hand. He suddenly punched out at the one orc not currently engaged with a monk hitting him square in his chest sending him flying 30 feet to land in a heap, his ribs completely shattered and caved in. Tolso then turned towards Nagul, who had taken his hammer in his huge hand and confidentially stalked in.
Hannr and the two surviving monks from the sabotage team attacked the body guards with fury, trying to end the fight quickly and aid Grandmaster Tolso in his fight. But these orcs were warriors, strong and well equipped and Hannr knew that the fight would be a long one. He twirled his wind blade in a dizzy display coming out in a straight thrust aimed for the kill. The orc no novice to battle turned with the hit, and the blade slid off his thick armor, then followed up with a surprising overhead chop of his own. Hannr a small and compact man could not hope to parry that heavy swing, so instead him rolled forward into his enemy and kicked straight up into the chin of the surprised orc. The brute stumbled back but kept his footing although he seemed to be swaying uncontrollable now. Hannr knowing he had to press his advantage swiping swiftly moving with graceful slashing motions, his every move an attack, keeping the orc defensive. The orc tried to parry, tried to match that display, but the world was spinning and it could not keep its baring on the quick monk.
Hannr came around with a sudden swipe throwing his hips down then up. The orc dipped his sword down caught in the trick, but could not get it up in time to stop the swipe, and paid for it as his head rolled across the sand landing twenty feet away on the beach. Hannr hadn’t even watched though for he saw Tolso fighting Nagul with everything the old man had. He saw the grandmaster set up his opponent for the iron hand. Saw Tolso’s hand shoot forward and hit the enchanted armor – for it had to be enchanted! - with the sound of a gong. Tolso so close to Nagul looked up as though his body had betrayed him. The big orc smiled as he brought his hammer across in a sudden devastating sweep, that crushed the ancient man’s skull and and sent him to Lao Jin.
Hannr felt his legs weaken, felt the world slow around him. Tolso was defeated, the man who had trained every monk in the monastery, the man who had found Hannr as a child, who had raised him, and taught him the way to peace and enlightenment was dead and now he was Grandmaster. Hannr felt a rage welling inside, a deep hate that boiled to a crescendo as if he would simply explode! All his training and discipline flew away replaced with angry emotion. Hannr fixed his gaze on Nagul, standing over Tolso’s body, gore adorning his hammer and armor, and with a scream he charged wanting nothing more in all the world than to sink his wind blade deep into the ugly orcs face. Nagul smiled his ugly face goading the monk on and whipped his hammer across at Hannr’s body. Hannr jumped aside then came in furiously hacking away with his blade, trading graceful attacks for pure fury. But Nagul was second only to the great Grimeye, a veteran of a hundred battles, and he paced the monk taking few hits and attacking with his huge hammer, laughing all the while knowing that soon this monk’s blood would adorn his armor as well.
They wove back and forth for minutes trading blows and attacks, two skilled contestants where the only prize was victory and to lose was to lie. Hannr movements began to slow as he went through his furious attacks. Nagul waited patiently, fighting defensively and grinning wickedly all the while, spurring the monk on in his furious assault. Finally Hannr spun to a stop, his anger played out, and the monk breathed heavily facing the ugly brute. Nagul grinned wickedly and stalked in confident of his impending victory, with this monk dead he could then organize his troops and rout the remaining enemies, all the glory to him! Hannr realized his error then, realized he had let his emotion get the best of him. Nagul swiped viciously with his hammer and Hannr now purely defensive dodged left, rolling hard and coming up to a stand. Nagul however had anticipated the move and had reversed his attack landing a square hit on Hannr’s left shin, shattering the bone. Hannr cried out dropping his sword to the ground grabbing at his crushed limb. He found his focus though banishing the pain even though he knew he was finished. He looked up and Nagul, great and ugly lined him up for the killing blow.
“ Now you die monk” the evil orc said.” As will the rest of your order here today.” Hannr looked at the orc with a grim visage, wanting to face his death with courage knowing he would soon be with Lao Jin, and Tolso he showed no fear.
All of the sudden Nagul fell back an arrow producing from a tiny slit in his shoulder armor, angrily he looked over to the source of his pain and saw a wood elf standing calmly, bow in hand. Nagul snarled and ripped the bolt out deciding that this one would pay for his pain first and stalked in toward the archer. Tristrum let fly another arrow, then another, each one finding small opening’s in the orcs thick armor. Nagul growled the forth arrow away then the fifth and the sixth after also.
Tristrum realizing the beast was almost upon him changed tactics, calling on his innate energy, he channeled power he collected into his arrow. Imagining the shaft as a hollow container filling with the energy he possessed, he held the energy contained until he felt it could hold no more and the next shot rang out with a thunderous clap. The arrow sliced forward hitting the orc’s armor but going all the way through, collapsing a lung and rocketing out the back. The orc caught completely by suprise wheezed and leaned heavily on it’s hammer. Tristrum was shocked when Nagul stood straight and defiant and snarled openly at the cursed attacker.
Nagul was furious, never had his pride been more insulted! To be hurt so by a frail elf, and a wood elf at that! He knew he could still get the elf, that he was still far from finished, but looking around he realized that the monks had routed the orc invaders and that he would soon be standing alone. Still he wanted to stay and finish the archer, but he knew that the real objective for the orc raiders was complete and that Grimeye would extract terrible vengeance on him in this life (or indeed the next!) if he did not return.
Reluctantly he took a small wand out of his pocket and spoke a command word. Suddenly his form seamed translucent, less substantial. As the mystic energy gathered him up he simply faded into nothing traveling far away from the battle.
Tristrum slung his bow, angry that the orc had fled and looked around at the carnage. Three score orcs lay dead, a great victory, but looking at the burnt village, and the greatly diminished monk ranks, many of them wounded, he wondered how much of a “Victory” it had really been. He made his way over to Hannr and helped the poor monk to his feet. The new Grandmaster leaned on him heavily and stared at the corpse of Tolso as two monks came to carry his the body away, handling it with respect and care.
Tristrum as a ranger accepted death as a part of life, and hadn’t known Tolso well, but still felt a deep sadness for his passing. Hannr, disciplined though he was sobbed silently, tears rolling unabated down his cheeks as he considered all that had been lost today. Tristrum looked to the burning orc ships his thoughts whirling. This whole raid didn’t make sense to the sharp ranger, and Tristrum believed was just a part of a larger puzzle. The object the orc had taken was a piece of that puzzle and it worried the ranger, worried him greatly that so many orcs had been willingly sacrificed for something from the unassuming village. True the monks had struck with full surprise and had won against the larger force, but Tristrum knew enough of Grimeye to believe that the Warlord would assume retaliation from the near monastery.
He needed to find some one with information he decided, some one who could help him find his answers. That however meant he would have to go somewhere to get those answers, a place he despised with all his wood land heart. Looking up at the sky, and spotting a eagle the ranger knew well, Tristrum realized he had no choice, his duty demanded that he take action. Still as the remaining monks gathered their wounded and starting counting the dead, and preparing to clear the field of bodies, Tristrum could not help but look forlornly to the north, towards the city he hated so much. Towards Tanvu, the Imperial Capital.
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