Chapter Twenty: The Battle of Snake Clan Hold
"That, my dear Thorian, is what we call brokering an accord," Jeremiah grimaced as he wound a bandage about his arm, struggling to pull it tight. Nobody was offering to help him with it and it did not seem as if his puppets understood the instructions for such work. He resorted to using his teeth to get hold of the end of the bandage and pull it tight.
"Shame you killed one of your best helpers," Kaelin muttered as she cleaned her face. Jeremiah glared at her.
"It means," he continued as if Kaelin had not spoken, "That they will not try to gut us and we are not to try to remove their heads in return, unless of course they break the pact first." He smiled at the nearest Ash Elf, a not nice smile that spoke volumes. The look he got back said plainly that as far as the Ash Elf was concerned then Jeremiah was less than something he had found stuck to the sole of his boot.
"Dispose of the bodies," the Ash Elf Noble snapped in a clipped tone, "We dare not bring the vermin here."
With murmurs of acquiescence, her body guards cleaned and returned their weapons to their scabbards. With disgusted looks they bent to the task of moving the bodies of the fallen to a shallow pit hidden in the shadows of the room. After a moment Thorian shrugged and bent to help, Kaelin falling in beside him to lift the bodies of the goblins. Her warning glare put the Ash Elves off touching the small green corpses but her eyes were wet as she laid the mortal remains of Stink of the Midden and his fellows down in a neat row in the confines of the pit.
"Sleep well," she murmured as she brushed Stink of the Midden's eyes closed, "Sleep in peace. They'll never kick you ever again. And if I get the chance I'll kick him for you."
When the last of the fallen had been placed in the pit, one of the Ash Elves lifted the lid of an urn that stood to one side of the pit and scattered handfuls of a fine white powder over the bodies. The other Ash Elves backed up as the corpses turned pale under the shifting snow of what looked like ash and Kaelin took her cue from them, ushering Thorian back, a slight frown on her face as she watched these silent administrations. The Ash Elf carefully dusted the powder off of his hands and recapped the urn before he lifted a fire stick and light it.
The fire sprang up with a coughing bark as it engulfed the bodies, its flames bright white and smokeless, the heat making Kaelin's eyes water and curling the hairs inside her nose. She held the sneeze until the Ash elves had turned away and gone back to their lady's side. Kaelin wasn't sure what the protocols for an Ash Elf funeral was and she had no wish to be the dwarf with the shaved face. This alliance was far too new for that. She had the feeling from the sneering looks that they were getting that Ash Elves were not used to having to make alliances with any body, much less do menial labor themselves. The air was thick with tension.
"I have to admit that the inhabitants of this realm have given us quite a hard time," Ulrich was quietly speaking to the Ash Elf Noble as she crouched over one of the eggs in the pile in the center of the room, "But I must confess myself ignorant of the purpose of this room. I would have thought that such places of reverence would be more deeply embedded within the walls of say, one of your grand citadels?"
"And what do you know of our citadels?" her brief flick of a side look said that she was trying to disguise how interested she was in the answer to that question.
"I have spoken with someone who had spent some time within the society of the Underworld," Ulrich admitted carefully in return, "When our King sent us to discover what was the matter in this corner of the world, this person was very informative as to what we could expect, though I have to say that even then we were still not prepared for how exceptionally challenging and protective the wildlife down here would be."
She considered it, her hands stilling on the shell of the egg for a moment.
"I see," she said with a tilt of her head and then her eyes widened. A second later Ulrich saw the egg quiver under her hand. Quiet murmurs ran around the room, the Ash Elves stirring in time with the egg but instead of staying near it the noble rose and back a couple of steps away. However, she didn't look away from it and she began murmuring a string of words that sounded either like a welcome or an attempt to bind the mind of the creature within the egg.
Ulrich frowned as he watched the now rocking egg. It wasn't so much as cracking as slowing tearing , the shell more fibrous than the crunchy, almost bony shell of a bird egg or the soft, leathery eggs of some reptiles. A black nose jabbed at the opening it had created and the nostrils drew in several flaring breathes before their owner went back to work of breaking out of the confines of its birthing prison. Claws scrabbled at the edges of the opening.
Thorian frowned at that one. The claws didn't look like the dragon claws he remember Amelia, the coral dragon of the Wizard's Tower, having. Instead they reminded him more of pincers. The egg humped up slowly as the youngster inside it braced its back against the roof above it and heaved with its shoulders. Then with a sudden ripping the egg broke clean down the middle and with a flick of its head and its residual wing stumps the youngster flipped open its home of the last few months. It stretched out its long neck and blinked its many, many onyx eyes at the bipeds staring it. It opened its mouth to mew, very, very mobile fangs swinging out of the basal segments on either side of the front of its mouth. It yawned, wiggling its jaw experimentally and eventually worked out how to retract its fangs. Its residual wing stumps fluttered, despite there being no wing membrane attached. It mewed again.
The Ash Elf Noble put her face in her hands and sobbed, just the once but it was most definitely a sob. Ulrich looked at her and realized just how young she was. Even by human standards she looked like she'd not long hit her second decade, for an elf she was positively still a child and what ever this creature was, it was obviously important to not just her but also her people. In that unguarded moment of emotion he saw that she had been saddled with a duty that she really wasn't ready for but pride and survival had dictated that she couldn't turn it down. Either the Ash Elves really were desperate or this was a move of their internal politics, trying to black mark her that badly she'd never recover to be a threat to more powerful members of the clan.
The Ash Elf Noble drew herself up and cast a glance over her people, her moment of emotion completely absent from her face. Her body guards immediately dropped their gazes, heads bowed in submission. Her scrutiny zeroed in on one who bore the marks of the fight they had with Ulrich and his people. She snapped a string of words and flicked a finger at him. He jerked like a puppet that suddenly feels the hand upon its strings. Blank eyed, he tottered forward and knelt before the hatchling. It squeaked... And struck!
Thorian put a hand over his mouth as, without a sound, the hatchling's fangs sank deep into the side of the Elf's neck and he jolted. Within seconds the elf collapsed into himself, skin transforming into a loose, empty bag that the hatchling shook and thrashed before it stopped sucking it dry. It's black tongue ran over its fangs and it gave a hiccuping burp.
"Welcome Ceann Mor," the Noble pressed her open left palm to her right shoulder as she bowed to the hatching. It wiggled its way out of what was left of its egg, hide still glistening with hatchling fluid, eight legs delicately tapping over the flagstones as its tail, tipping with some sort of double barbed stinger flicked in the air behind it. Trilling, it butted its head against the side of her knee and then gaped in ecstasy as she scratched its eyebrow ridges and the base of its still soft horns, uttering high pitched gulping sounds of pleasure.
"We are honored to be present at your birth, mighty one," Ulrich coped the gesture the Noble had done when the hatchling turned its face full of eyes towards him.
"Indeed," Jeremiah smiled unctuously, "You do us a great honor to allow us to witness such a momentous occasion."
An Ash Elf guard turned to him with a sneer, apparently not bound by the diffidence with which he had to treat his mistress and her chosen toy.
"Hold your tongue," he barked, "It is only by the Lady Zilvra's will you still breath, Surface dweller! If she choices you will feed the Ceann Mor. It would be best for us if you do, such of your bulk would satisfy him for a long time."
"I wouldn't," Thorian observed, "That would be an early heart attack for the little one." Said many eyed little one tilted its head, observing Thorian with interest and a chirp.
"He's not wrong," Kaelin agreed as the Ash Elf rounded on Thorian.
The Lady Zilvra's silvery laugh cut through the air and the Ash Elf immediately subsided.
"Your pets really are entertaining," she said to Ulrich, earning her Kaelin's flat, unfriendly stare, "The green one may even have a point, the large one might not be the healthiest option for Ceann Mor's breakfast." It was Jeremiah's turn to bristle.
"Correct me if I am incorrect but I believe that the Mighty One is very important to your people," Ulrich smiled, "And I mean no disrespect when I say this, but it appears to me that the clan had left you with fewer numbers than they should have done if my pets have left so many of your people hurting to protect him."
Lady Zilvra's mouth went thin but Ulrich didn't look away, even as the other Ash Elves ducked their heads. Ulrich's apparent show of either strength or defiance made Zilvra narrow her eyes but as Ulrich still didn't cower, she let it drop after a moment, a look of intrigue entering her eyes.
"You are right," she admitted at last, "We have found ourselves short of warriors in these latest times and as such our position among the clans has become... delicate. They are so short sighted that we were given this duty in the belief that we would fail and prove that we had not the power to defend ourselves any longer."
"Well, I would say that you have risen to the challenge magnificently..." Ulrich flattered.
"Only just," she interrupted, waving a hand around the room, "Despite our every effort, so many of the eggs have perished. Be it by vermin or disease they have wasted. Some have even muttered about the endeavor being cursed." Her gaze swept around her own warriors again, picking out a few for special attention.
"She's right, Ulrich," Kaelin called out from where she was crouched sniffing at other pile of the eggs, "I'm not picking up any trace of something alive in this lot. Lots of rot but nothing alive." She stood and backed away, "Looks like they had only one good one in the whole batch."
"But now Ceann Mor has blessed us with his life then, if we keep him alive, the other clans will have to eat dirt for their doubts," Lady Zilvra smiled as she looked down at the Hatchling butting up against her leg, "As for you, if you wish to have the permission of the Matriarchs to live now that you have witnessed him then your greatest chance of obtaining that will be by making sure he stays alive."
"Then I take it that we will be accompanying you to the citadel of your clan?" Ulrich asked.
"That will be correct," she smiled and there was something slightly puzzled in it, "I do hope that you can convince the Matriarch that you are worthy of life, I think I rather like you, Comradai Ulrich."
"I am flattered, Lady Zilvra," he bowed to her and she preened a little. Turning to her warriors, she snapped something in that lilting yet penetrating tongue that had them formed up around her and the Hatchling. Ulrich whistled up his centipede and swung on to it, the Ash Elves looking at him with distrust. Kaelin and Thorian waited until Jeremiah had called all his pets to heel and then pointedly stepped to the other side of the main block of their allies but Jeremiah seemed oblivious to their censorship.
Lady Zilvra bent down and lifted the Hatchling up in her arms. It chirruped and wrapped all eight legs about her as far as they could go before yawning hugely and letting its head flop over her shoulder. She turned and stepped out, her body guards stepping with her and the companions following along as best they could.
There were certain advantages to traveling with the foremost masters of the Underworld, creatures that would have tried to take a bite out of them if they had been on their own picked up the scent of living Ash Elves and thought better of it. Even Lashers only watched them out of slit eyes as they marched past and Kaelin doubted that they would have even found the path they were following if they had been on their own. Considering that they had managed to waste enough time going in a circle the day before, she suspected that they would have been months about finding a way to make contact with those who could change what was happening down here if they had stuck to their usual routine of simply killing everything in their path.
As they went deeper they gradually passed into larger and larger caves, some boarding on caverns. In some forests of gigantic mushrooms caused Kaelin pull her shirt up over her nose and Hat to buzz uneasily on Jeremiah's Miter. The Ash Elves seemed to be amused by her reaction but she didn't care, she'd had quite enough of having a headache that she could see digging its pointed little chin into the top of her head. She kept an eye on Jeremiah to make sure that he wasn't going to go runny at the edges again and start denouncing breathing without his god's permission.
At last, they exited a tunnel into a cavern so vast Kaelin could feel the air moving with its own weather system, heated by the fiery core of the world, rising, only to cool among the gigantic stalactites and drift slowly back down again with a damp coldness that brushed fairy fingers across her skin. But it was not the size alone that caused her to open her mouth and then snap it shut again at the entertained expressions of the Ash Elves around her. On the fair side of the cavern, stretching from below them on the cavern floor up to a neck cricking height, a mighty bastion reared, the stone of it some how reminding Kaelin of the Wizard's Tower but she wasn't sure why. There where vast sweeping arches, domes that seemed impossibly balanced on their slender stems... Ah, that was it. This building was not something built by dwarfs or humans, with hard geometric shapes and mathematical precision, there was the organic flow that suggested that the stone had grown into this shape to please the beings that lived within it. However, this the Wizard's Tower was a stone tree of impossible size then this citadel was a microcosm of the lower plants, mosses, fungus fibers and mushrooms rite large, stretching across the entire wall of the cavern, twining round the branching roots of the mountains that twisted together to make the cap stones of the arches.
"Behold the Fastness of the Snake Clan," Lady Zalvra paused and stretched out her hand, "The glory of our people, the most ancient and powerful of the clan holds."
"It is impressive," Ulrich praised, "Indeed I was taught eloquence from my cradle but I struggle to find words that do it justice. There may be more massive structures in the word but none can match the flow of form and function here."
"Indeed," Jeremiah smiled unctuously, "It does make the palaces of kings and prince's seem small and dull in comparison. Why the fortresses of gods seem to be mere hovels compared with this."
Lady Zilvra turned a smile on him that said louder than words that she knew that Jeremiah was trying to smarm his way into her favors but for the moment she did not find him annoying... at the moment.
"Shiny," Thorian nodded as he gazed that the monstrous bulwark of the Ash Elves, apparently unconcerned about the fact that once they stepped inside it they may never leave. Lady Zilvra seemed to decide that he was beneath her concern and turned instead to leading them down the road way cut into the cliff face, its span comfortably wide enough for five of them to walk side by side as it descended gently towards the floor of the cavern. Even as they walked Ulrich realized that the distances were deceiving as they stepped on steadily for hours at a time and the citadel seemed to come no closer, merely change its aspect, turning a slightly new face to them, a vast and brooding entity that knew they were coming and with held its welcome, still calibrating their worthiness.
As they continued to walk, Kaelin started noticing that the Ash Elves were casting more and more glances at their home. She had expected their taciturn guides to loosen up a little now that they were within sight of home but their silence began ever deeper and Kaelin's nose started picking up the faint threads of stress scents on the breeze. Even as they keep their stony facade, the Ash Elves were concerned about something. She looked again at the fortress herself. There were lights in various windows but there was something off about the imposing bulk. Her eyes narrowed. One ear flicked. It flicked again, more strenuously. The third time it flicked she lifted a hand to it and rubbed, trying to settle the nervous tick. Then she realized what the problem was. It was too quiet. Even with such a dour people there should have been a murmur, a buzz of lives being lived and work being done. Even if everyone had been struck dumb then the movement from room to room would be making a sound, a resonance that she would hear, even at this distance. Something caught her eye and she peered at it. It appeared that there was a banner draped over the battlements but there was something subtly wrong with it.
Lady Zilvra also seemed to have picked up the fact that something was wrong. She turned her head and said something in that lilting tongue that sent two of the Ash Elves at the front of the column into a trot that soon had them out of view. Jeremiah noted that they had their small, mechanical crossbows in their hands and called his puppeted pets into a tighter circle around him. On Zilvra's shoulder the Hatchling lifted its head and chirruped in her ear. She calmed it with a murmur and a stroking hand.
"Is there something up?" Thorian asked with a frown.
"Anything that is not down, my dear Thorian," Jeremiah smiled, "So at the moment the lowest thing we have around here are your knees."
"And they would still be higher than Jeremiah's morals," Kaelin shot back before Thorian had to think of a reply.
"Morals?" Lady Zilvra frowned, "What are morals?"
Kaelin thought about it for a moment and still managed to jump in before Jeremiah opened his mouth.
"It is the want to do no harm to the society that you live in," she said, "Think of how you would feel if one of your own damaged the clan." Lady Zilvra tensed up. "Yep, well someone who is willing to harm the clan for their own gain is someone of low morals."
After a moment Lady Zilvra nodded.
"I think I see," she said, "However, that begs the question as to why this Jeremiah one is still part of your clan?"
"Not by any choice of ours," Kaelin said shortly and said nothing more. Puzzled Zilvra turned her gaze on Ulrich.
"We were not given much choice about being a clan," he tried to explain, "We were all kicked out of our original clans for not managing to come up to the standard that they wanted us to. Unfortunately, on the surface such things are not allowed by the King, that is the one with the highest authority, so we were told we either became a clan together and acted as guards against the things that were harming the rest of the clans or we, well, the King would have us killed."
She frowned again, that adorable little pout that tilted her nose tip up. Ulrich wondered how much she did, or even could, understand. He had tried to put it on terms that she could understand, glossing over, for instance, the fact that the King was a man. He figured that such an idea would be so alien to her culture that she would reject it out of hand.
"I think I understand," she said at last, "There have been a few that have realized that they are not worth anything to the clans and so have left. They usually provide a fair sport but there have been one or two that have made it to the surface. Undoubtedly the one who told you of the Underworld was one such being."
"Do you not pursue them once they once they reach the surface?" Ulrich asked.
"We do not bother," Lady Zilvra stated, "Let them suffer on the Surface. One Stump on their own is merely easy prey for who ever wishes to kill them and surface people are not as adverse to slavery as they claim. You only seem to object to it when it is you yourselves that are wearing the chains. As long as you can claim that your slaves are some how other to you then you are utterly fine with doing it."
"What a fascinating point of view," Jeremiah smiled but there was something horrible in it.
"You can hardly talk," Kaelin muttered.
Thorian was puzzling over something else.
"Er what's a stump?" he asked.
"I believe that it is the correct name for the dwarven people of the Underworld," Jeremiah didn't lose his smile.
"Oh," Thorian nodded, "I se..." He saw Kaelin's thunderous expression. "Hang on, are you trying to treat me like a bulbo again?"
"Bimbo," Kaelin said, rolling her eyes with disgust, "The word is bimbo and yes he is."
"I was going to say, dear chap, that if you call a deep dwarf a stump to his face he is likely to take you off at the knees," Ulrich called back, "An affair likely to rend you not so useful to me and likely to give said dwarf an inflated opinion of himself."
"Nah," Thorian grinned as he shook his head, "One dwarf on his own isn't up to that much, you need a good six or so to have a proper kick around with the clan, two-teen if you want a challenge."
Jeremiah's face gradually changed into the pained expression that said he was fighting not to ask a question and knew he was losing the battle before it began.
"Just what, my dear Thorian, are you talking about?" he queried.
"Dwarven football of course," Thorian looked at Jeremiah as if he couldn't believe that a learned man could be so very thick, "You need at least six of them for a good game. Granted they usually only have black thorn clubs when you are having kick about but my Uncle Big Guff lost a knee cap to one of those little boggers and cousin Gruul had two of them give her a good whacking over the head in one game. She never were quite the same after that, used to wander off in dreams."
"My dear Thorian, dream walking is what most people do when they are asleep," Jeremiah explained as if to a little child.
"In the middle of the day with her eyes wide awake?" Thorian frowned back, not convinced, "She used to say some weird stuff as well. Granted, saying that, all that stuff about the warrior of silver iron with blades of four kinda makes sense now when you think about it. Wonder what she meant about the sorcerer of dark crystals and all that stuff about the melting man poisoning the world. That was some weird stuff."
Kaelin turned her eyes to Ulrich and raised her eyebrows. He, looking back over his shoulder, nodded silently once and then turned to face forward again. It sounded rather like Thorian's cousin Gruul had become something of a seer when she'd had her head battered by two dwarfs. That of course begged the question as to how many of her visions were true and therefore worth listening to. That fact that she had some what rightly described the King's Blade was a little concerning.
Lady Zilvra laughed.
"What an entertaining concept, I was not aware that your kind could conceive of something so amusing," she smiled, "Tell me, what do you do with the stumps once you have finished kicking them around?"
"Oh we usually let them escape," Thorian shrugged, "That way they go back to their people and tell them that they'll have to fight better the next time they want to come stomping into our mountains. Means we get more fun next time round and if we manage to catch any of them the next time they come stomping then we'll have another kick around."
"What a delightful notion," Zilvra went to say something more but closed her mouth with a snap as the scouts she'd sent ahead came back with what was unmistakably a scurry in their strides. They came to a hasty stop in front of her and bobbed short bows that obviously displeased her, causing the Hatchling to swing its many eyed head round as if it caught the whiff of possible snacks but her hand went up to still it as their report came tumbling out.
Kaelin frowned. It more she had listened to the Ash Elves' own language, the more she was sure she understood at least some of the base ideas on emphasis, tone and rhythm alone, rather like a dog understanding what its human master was saying. As much as she hated that likeness she couldn't deny that it was proving to be very useful at that moment in time, the scouts' tone and demeanor revealing a worry, no a fear, if what she was smelling was correct. She was pretty sure that the guards that they had expected to find were not in the best of health and she looked again at the citadel. That flag draped over the battlements was looking less and less flag like.
"Weapons ready," she muttered to Ulrich and Thorian, "We're got trouble ahead."
"What sort of trouble?" Thorian asked, his jaw tightening. As he said it, Lady Zilvra turned, handed the Hatchling to one of her underlings, who went wide eyed as the Hatching gripped on to his clothes and looked at him as if sizing him up. Zilvra uttered a series of instructions in her lilting tongue that were unmistakable even through the language barrier.
"The sort of trouble that makes her worried," Kaelin nodded, patting Haggis before slinging him behind her by her strap.
"Parp!" Haggis uttered miserably.
"Ah, I see," Thorian put a hand to his sword.
"Without a doubt, old girl," Ulrich straightened up even more and started a careful routine of upper arm exercises that were calibrated to loosen up his fighting arm without unsettling his mount. Even still, the centipede lifted its head, antenna questing, tasting the air.
Six of the Ash Elves, including the one now carefully cradling the Hatchling, peeled off the side of the group and made their way to the back of the group, far behind Jeremiah and his pets, while Zilvra's body guard closed ranks around her. When they started cocking their bows and loading in the first bolts, Thorian drew his big two handed sword, while Ulrich remembered to use only one in his right hand, the bandage on his left arm a reminder of the spider bite that had nearly claimed his life. Zilvra narrowed her eyes when she saw what sword Ulrich was holding but said nothing through her pursed lips. Kaelin could smell her anger though as the wolf rose up high within her, claws and teeth lurking just below the surface. Jeremiah smiled and clicked his fingers, his blue eyed elves drawing their swords, receiving dark looks from Zilvra's body guard.
At a quicker pace they set out down the road, the citadel and the bridge that stretched to it, coming ever closer.
By the time they were drawing close to the gate house that stood guard at the end of the bridge on their side of the cavern, Kaelin was sure something was extremely wrong. The oppressive silence had not been broken as they drew closer to the bastions bulk and she was now sure that the 'flag' on the battlements was no flag at all but rather a body that hung head down, white hair cascading towards the ground but never reaching it. Then she smelt them. Even as Lady Zilvra and her body guard were drawing ahead, Kaelin knew what they were going to find in the shadows of the open gate way. She hanged back as Zilvra crouched and lifted the head of one of the now very mortally challenged guards, his white, blood matted hair tangling round her fingers. As Lady Zilvra stood and turned to gaze up at the open bastion doors, Kaelin stepped forward and forced herself to look. She bite her lip until she felt the blood pulse below her fangs.
The guards hadn't been shot or stabbed or even cudgeled to death, no they had been brutally, savagely torn apart, clawed and bitten until they had gone down shredded and tattered to streamers and ribbons, mauled to pieces by something that attacked with a violence that was beyond animal.
"Cack, cack, cack, CACK!" she swore furiously.
"Kaelin?" Ulrich glanced back and saw that her eyes had turned a haunting amber yellow. "Oh," he said and looked back to the grand door of the stronghold. Perversely, he started to grin. This was going to be a nice little fight.
Crossbows up and level the Ash Elves pushed their way through the great gates of the citadel and into the courtyard. Even their iron hard conditioning against compassion cracked, suppressed exclamations of horror forcing their way passed unwilling lips. Ulrich's lip twisted with disgust and even Thorian gave vent to an orcish expletive that crawled away into a dark corner to die.
The carnage in the courtyard was complete and total, bodies scattered in pieces across flagstones slicked with red and other, darker fluids, white hair matted and trailing in the stinking pools, scalps flapping from denuded skulls. What is more, the massacre wasn't even finished, the stifling silence broken by the splintering of bone and the tearing of meat.
Zilvra let loose a cry that shook and bounced off the walls, as high and shrill as a sea bird, the sound of desolation give voice.
Red painted and gory, the feasting werewolves looked up from their feeding, fangs dripping with their repast. A few tongues licked fangs as the monsters eyed the squad that had wandered into their midst. Stillness, terribly pregnant with violence filled the space.
Kaelin shouldered her way to the front of the group, fangs sliding out of gum sheaths, claws creaking quietly as they forced their way out of her finger tips, distorting the pads at the end of her digits. Several werewolves flicked their ears forward, as if they recognized her. Others snorted, wondering why this little girl was challenging them. Then the biggest one, straightened from his feeding on the dais in front of the main doors to the citadel. There was something about him, the coloring or the shape of his muzzle that made Ulrich narrow his eyes, recognition tugging at his brain but he couldn't quite place...
"Nice to see you again, pup," the werewolf rumbled from between red fangs, "Seems you'll always come home in the end."
The one that got away in the Dead Swamp, Ulrich nodded to himself, that's were he'd seen this twisted son of a bitch before.
"Hello, green face, you're uglier every time I see you," Kaelin's sneer was impressive, all fang and bile but instead of being angered by that show of defiance the pack leader grinned and licked his fangs.
"I take it that you know this... being," Ulrich had to search for a moment to find a polite term he could use in reference to the grinning, gory soaked thing that was gazing her down.
"Johnson Greely," she snarled, "Grandfather's right hand dog and a fecker that needs to die."
Greely grinned even wider, ears perking forward and a more than interested gleam in his eyes.
"I always said one day you would be worth of a litter and now I'm proved right," the light in his eyes turned Kaelin's guts cold, "Your Grandfather will have to recognize my right to be the first, seeing as I will be the one who'll bring you back to the pack."
"Not on your Nelly!" Thorian shouted, stepping in front of Kaelin and hefting his sword in both hands, "You can keep that sort of talk behind your teeth! Kaelin is mah friend and she ain't going no where and certainly not with you!" Behind his back Kaelin unslung Haggis and started blowing into his bag.
"Oh ho, so the mushroom wants to play," the pack leader turned his grin on Thorian, "Well I suppose dinner first will give me fuel for the fun afterwards."
Haggis let rip with a wall of sound that echoed and leapt off the walls, scorching through the air, howling a challenge to the werewolves that roared its contempt of them. Thorian threw back his head and thundered an answering roar, veins swelling along his arms and up his neck, eyes losing their focus as all he saw before him was enemies.
The werewolves bellowed in return, many of them appearing to swell as their fur stood up on end. Greely snapped at the ones immediately around him but he was too late, four of them bounding forward, snarling and snapping, eyes blood hued as they hurdled towards Kaelin. Thorian swung his double handed sword in a great, glittering circle and ripped the first up the middle in a bloody arch.
Lost completely in their frenzy, the werewolves fell on the front rank of the group, claws and fangs rendering spiders limb from limb with wild abandon. The spiders were not about to accept this treatment as their due and swarmed forward, entangling one of the werewolves in a mass of hairy legs and biting, biting, biting until its bloated corpse was still.
Ulrich crashed into another knot of the beasts, sword whipping a gash across the face of one and the back hand swing taking its head clear off its shoulders, even as his centipede mount buried its venom laden fangs in the abdomen of another, ripping through bulging muscle as if it wasn't there.
With a hateful hiss the bolts of the Ash Elves took flight, smacking home in burly targets, dropping two out right as clawed hands groped for bolts that had smacked home in shaggy throats and another werewolf span on the spot, screaming clutching that the feathered end of the bolt erupting from its eye.
As Jeremiah stepped into the courtyard, surveying the destruction like an Emperor purveying his prize garden, Thorian rammed his sword through the chest of a werewolf and then punched it on the end of its muzzle so hard its skull burst as his fist smashed through it, finishing the move by kicking the offending body off the end of his sword into the faces of its fellows.
Drawing himself up, Jeremiah lead his personal assemblage to the right of the main battle, intercepting the band of werewolves that had resisted both their leaders call and Haggis' challenge to continue their feasting. They looked up at Jeremiah, eyes shining greedily as they looked at his bulk. Jeremiah lifted his chin and started to chant a prayer to his god. A werewolf threw back its head, howled and the group sprang forward as one, teeth bared and claws out stretched. Jeremiah thrust his hand forward and a jet of embers and sparks, nearly white hot, leapt from his palm to meet them.
"Thus are the unworthy judged and condemned," Jeremiah sneered as two of the werewolves writhed at his feet, whimpering and sobbing as the embers and sparks peeled them out of their skins, fur blistering off in a stinking cloud, "May Klu'ga-nath have mercy on your soul." He doubted that through as he felt his god's approval and almost, almost heard a howl of terror as a couple of souls saw what was waiting for them on the other side.
Greely snarled as he saw his own going down like ninepins. Drawing in a breath that swelled out his chest, he threw his head back and unleashed a howl that ripped along the nerve endings of everyone in the courtyard.
A door above them banged and shaggy forms barrelled along the battlement, snarling and barking from red lined throats. The werewolves down on the flagstones slashed at the rank of spiders protecting their Ash Elf masters but the arachnids had the measure of their foes now and became a swirling, flicking mess that flowed around the beasts' attacks, leaving the werewolves growling in frustration as they tried to fight an enemy that was about as easy to hit as punching holes in water.
Kaelin, shaking with the effort, carefully set Haggis down but the moment he was safely on the cobble stones, she gave in. The smell of blood, the battle cries, the screams of the wounded, all of it and instinct banged together inside her head and thought had to jump out of the way as the beast forcibly took control. She threw back her head and let loose a howl that was more scream as her bones snapped into a new form and then she smashed into one of the werewolves trying to flank Thorian. The bigger beast yelped with surprise as it was force back, Kaelin's claws raking over and over again across its chest and belly, ripping burning red lines of pain through its flesh as her fangs snapped and clacked a mere hairs berth from its face. But her brute force attack had carried them to the bottom edge of the stairs and with a grin that was all sickness, Greely bounded down, seizing her round the waist from behind and lifting her from her feet. Even as she wriggled and writhed in his grip, he was licking behind her ears.
Thorian roared and bowled the two werewolves in front of him apart. Greely smashed Kaelin on to the floor, driving the breath from her lungs and rounded on Thorian, a snarl twisting his face. Thorian's blade smashed the expression off his face, raking through no only him but two others as well.
"No one touches mah friend!" Thorian bellowed, rounding on the rest of the pack as they swarmed towards Ulrich as he was the nearest threat.
With a calculating expression, Jeremiah started chanting another prayer, this one aimed at Ulrich as the beasts closed in on him. Even as Ulrich grinned and laughed at the mounting odds, he felt the strange pressure he'd perceived when he was reading Jeremiah's book return and suddenly his sword arm was twisting and turning almost of its own will, keeping the werewolves at bay as Thorian strode forward, bawling an orchish battle chant that seemed to fill his friend's veins with fire. Even Lady Zilvra lifted her voice, fingers twisting in the prayer gestures of the snake clan, silvery power wrapping around Ulrich and his mount.
Once she was sure her favorite was safe, Zilvra turned her attention to the rest of the vermin swarming in her home, her eyes darkening as she view the wreckage of her people. Her silver voice grew an edge of venom as her fingers traced a new pattern and then she held out her right palm flat and the spectral form of a snake lifted from that hand and flared its hood open wide, baring pearly fangs that dripped with smoky venom. It lunged, lashing across the werewolf pack and the one Kaelin had wounded screamed and dropped, already stiffening, face twisted with horror, while the one that had the bolt embedded in its eye simply crumpled to the floor, twitched a couple of times and then laid still.
Roaring, the werewolves lining the battlements leapt into the fray, heedless of the drop, an oversight that snapped the leg bones of two of them but the rest charged forward.
Zilvra snapped the words of another prayer as her fingers flicked through the twisting moves of prayer gestures.
"For you my lady!" Ulrich yelled as her power buzzed through him and a werewolf lost its head, quite literally; it went bouncing and bumping over the cobble stones. A buzzing thrum of elvish bolts whistled through the air and another werewolf span and dropped, turned into a pin cushion of fletched needles.
The werewolves rallied, howling in unison. One lashed out and raked its claws down Kaelin's back. She twisted and screamed. As Thorian turned towards her a werewolf lunged, jaws clamping down over his wrist.
"Oi! Get off!" Thorian shouted and punched the werewolf in the throat, crushing its windpipe and leaving it choking to death at his feet.
Jeremiah yelled a prayer to his god as the pack that had leaped from the battlements bounded towards him. The blue eyed centipedes reared up, clicking and snapping their jaws, even as the puppeted Ash Elves shuffled into place. These werewolves however, hadn't completely lost themselves to the blood rage and worked as a pack of wolves should, several members concentrating on one target and working together to bring them down. With brittle cracks two of the centipedes were savagely dissected, mouth parts ripped from their heads and antenna snapped off, while two werewolves clawed at their mouths and spat black blood, the torn remains of a puppeted Ash Elves at their feet. The whole pack took a step back as light threaded shadows writhed free of the corpses and billowed through the air back to Jeremiah, the eldritch glow pooling in his eyes, making them glow a ghastly blue for a moment before they settled back into their usual brown. Jeremiah smiled at them and something about his smile made all their fur stand up a stiff as needles.
It didn't slow the rest of werewolves, their blood up so high they didn't count the number of dead they were leaving their wake. Two bounded towards, drooling and blood slicked. They leapt, claws outstretched. Thorian span like a hammer thrower and the pair of them came apart in the middle, tumbling and skidding across the flagstones, leaving a red wake behind them.
One loomed over Kaelin, intent on taking advantage of her injury.
"PAAAARRRRP!" Haggis bellowed, notes rippling up and down the scale even as he lay unlooked for near Zilvra's feet. The werewolf flinched back, shaking his head and pawing at his ears as Haggis' music thundered in his ears.
However, not all the werewolves were distracted by Haggis somehow singing even though no one was playing him. As Jeremiah lift his hands to gesture, the werewolves facing him rallied and pounced on another centipede, yanking it apart by main strength. Ulrich turned one more time to grin at Zilrva... and the werewolf hit him in the small of the back so hard that he flew off his mount's back, ribs crunching as he landed. Before he could think of rolling, his attacker leapt clean over the living centipede's back and landed on him, ribs shattering under the weight. Zilvra opened her mouth and screamed.
Jeremiah hissed words of condemnation as two more of him puppeted Ash Elves went down, pulled apart and trampled under foot. Flicking his fingers, he called the two blue eyed centipedes that had been hanging back up to plug the gap but their pincers missed the mark.
The last two pet spiders of the Ash Elves scuttled forward, fangs clicking and clacking. The werewolf standing on Ulrich, turned, grinning to face the eight legged snacks... and then one of them bunched its legs and jumped. The werewolf screamed as it got a face full of palps and fangs, the second spider locking on to leg and pumping venom in. The werewolf went down, gurgling and choking as its face swelled up and its leg went mushy.
At a barked word from Zilvra an Ash Elf darted towards Ulrich's prone form, lifting something from a small pouch. It looked like a small, bronze spider, at least until the Ash Elf pressed it to the top of Ulrich's left arm and tapped its back. It promptly flicked out metal fangs and bit Ulrich, sinking its fangs in deep. Ulrich bucked and gasped, a tracery of blood vessels lighting up under his skin as his eyes rolled back in his head but various creaking and cracking noises sounded from his chest as it seemed to reinflate.
The other Ash Elves steadied their hands and slowly squeezed the triggers. Kaelin ducked instinctively as a bolt slashed through the air above her head and thudded home between the eyes of her assailant. One of the werewolves, crawling forward on broken legs, panting and snarling, gagged on the barbed shaft in his gullet and rolled over, never to get up again.
Kaelin straightened, nodded to the Ash Elves and bounded towards the knot of werewolves closing in on where Ulrich lay. Thorian charged beside her and Kaelin had to skew sideways to avoid the massive over hand blow he started. Warned by her move, the first werewolf successfully ducked, the other two... the second splattered under the impact of the blow, the third simply lost his head, neck and left arm.
Jeremiah spat the words of a prayer, only nothing happened. A werewolf grinned at him and strode forward. Jeremiah muttered again and clicked his fingers. Nothing happened. He clicked his fingers again and then again as nothing happened. The werewolf drew back a hand to slap Jeremiah's head off his shoulders. Jeremiah grabbed his symbol of office, yanked it up and over his head and threw it at the werewolf. The werewolf blinked, startled at this move and then it yelped as the silver chain settled about its neck. Screaming and yelling, it span on the spot, clawing at the silver charm that now rested on its chest.
Zilvra took a deep breath and twisted her fingers in a new pattern. Ulrich yelled as hot fire poured through the marrow of his bones but then the tidal wave receded and he was able to breath with something that felt close to comfort. He rolled over and fought to get his knees under him.
Jeremiah's centipedes reared up beside him and lunged at the spinning, squealing werewolf and it went down as their pincers snipped and snipped and snipped again. Ulrich struggled to his feet as his mount span and span again, keeping the werewolves at bay but having to move to quick to land a solid blow on any of them. Ulrich swung but his head was still spinning and the blow went wide of the mark.
Kaelin span back into the fight and a werewolf with ash grey fur and a white mane knuckle slapped her so hard that her teeth clicked together and she span on the spot, star bursts scattering before her eyes and her ears ringing.
The last werewolf still facing down Jeremiah's body guard roared and leapt straight up, to come down feet first on a centipede. Reaching down it, seized the bug's head and wrenched it upwards. With a creaking, tearing sound the centipedes segments parted and the werewolf heaved its head aloft with a guttural cry of victory.
This display did not seem to impress the group of Ash Elves that were walking in through the gates with the Hatchling in their midst. The Hatchling swung its head from side to side and the scurried quicksilver fast across the flag stones to start trying to chew at the werewolf with a broken leg. The shaggy beast screamed as it tried to lurch out of the way and twisted its leg at a truly painful looking angle.
Zilvra's fingers left patterns of light in the air behind their movements and Ulrich yelped as his head seemed to be seized in a vice. For a second the pressure built towards skull bursting and then it released. Ulrich straightened with a grin and whoop, feeling better than he had done since that morning. Even his injured arm no longer felt a sore as it had done. Kaelin yelled as white lightning licked up her spine from her tail bone to slam with blinding force into the base of her skull, then her vision cleared and growl rose in her throat as new fire filled her belly. She turned on the last members of the werewolf pack. Finally the werewolves realized that they had taken on a enemy that was too much for them to handle, stepping back a couple of paces, except for the idiot who was still howling his victory over Jeremiah's centipede.
Jeremiah rolled his eyes and felt in his pocket. With a smile, he pulled his fist out and as the werewolf turned its gaping maw towards him, he threw what was clenched in his fingers.
The werewolves hands flew to its throat as it coughed and choked, eyes bulging in their sockets, its eyelids turning purple, purple and swelling. It gagged, fingers scrabbling at its neck as its flesh balloon, tongue bloating in its mouth, lips puffing up so greatly that they rolled outwards. Its breath whistled in its gullet as it fought to breath round the silver coin lodged in its throat. With one final wheeze it rolled over at Jeremiah's feet.
"For Klu'ga-nath," Jeremiah smirked.
Zilvra's fingers traced the pattern of another healing spell but her tongue tripped on the words of the prayer and before she could recover it, the chant disintegrated and snapped back in her face, her goddess giving her a brutal slap for her moment of inattention. She reeled.
Jeremiah looked amused and then uttered a pray to his god as smooth as butter. Thorian grunted as his muscles swelled under his skin. The werewolves facing him finally had enough and turned to run. Thorian lashed out and caught one of them a cracking blow with the flat of his sword that sent them stumbling.
The one with the broken leg kicked out at the Hatchling with his good foot and then crawled away to the base of the wall, scrambling up it by main upper body strength. Jeremiah's last centipede lashed after it, crawling up the wall as if it was normal flat ground until it was above the werewolf and could swing its head down and snap at the offending flea bag. While a yelp the werewolf lost his grip and tumbled off the wall, screaming as his broken leg took the impact.
Zilvra's body guard leveled their crossbows one last time and squeezed the triggers. The two werewolves fleeing towards the inside of the citadel collapsed on the steps, backs studded with bolts. One of the only two that were still holding their ground screamed, yanking at the bolts studding his arm. Thorian saved him the hassle, blade cleaving through both of them in one swing.
"It's a real bother, isn't it?" Kaelin laughed at broken-leg, "When you don't have a leg to stand on!"
The werewolf rolled towards her, teeth bared in a snarl. It was a mistake. The Hatchling pounced, fangs flicking out successfully. The werewolf screamed as the Hatchling latched on to its shoulder and tried to tear the Hatchling off but its arm was turning floppy and loose even as it lifted its hand. The Hatchling thrashed the bag of skin up and down before shaking it from side to side, growling faintly as it sucked its dinner dry. Only when it was utterly sure that said bag was empty did it let go and wander back towards its protectors with a happy little burp and a yawn.
Thorian lowered his sword and rested the tip against the floor, bending over to breath heavily for several minutes.
"Well, that was something else," he straightened and cleaned off the blade. Lifting to return it to his over shoulder scabbard he winced. "Oh frek!" he yelled as he really noticed the bite mark in his wrist. "Oh frek! Oh help! I don't want to turn all hairy!"
"Oh calm down!" Kaelin snapped marching across, "Let me have a sniff."
"Er wot?" Thorian frowned as Kaelin took hold of his wrist and bent her nose over it. She sniffed deeply for several moments.
"As I thought, you're good," she nodded and dropped his wrist, "Grandfather still hasn't worked out how to over come the fact you're part plant so you're safe. Just keep it clean so it doesn't go rotten and you should be fine."
"Er what do you mean I'm part plant?" Thorian scratched his head again.
"It's why you're green," Kaelin shrugged, "I heard a couple of sages talking about it once. Apparently you have a type of plant living in your skin, which is why your people can't be infected by the werewolf curse or vampire infection but it means you really don't do well in deserts. Grandfather..." She stopped as a scorching buzz assaulted her ears and a sickly yellowish glow light up the courtyard.
Greely, bleeding and gasping, one clawed hand holding his belly together, was crawling towards a swirling portal that hovered above the dais, casting its sickly acid glow across the stones. Kaelin snarled and snatched a dagger from her belt.
"He's too close!" Ulrich yelled as he swung on to his centipede mount, intending to grab Kaelin and haul her out of the portal before it could snap shut and cut her in half but it turned out that Kaelin had no intention of trying to follow Greely through. With a hop and skip run up she hurled the dagger, flicking it end over end as Greely pulled himself into the portal. There was a scream and the lower, still visible half of his body jerked.
"This pup already has a pack! And it isn't yours!" Kaelin yelled as Greely's legs disappeared and the portal closed with a snap, leaving the runes that had activated it and held it stable sizzling on the flagstones.
"Well said," Ulrich nodded as Kaelin turned back to them. Kaelin gave him a wan smile and then turned to the bodies scattered around the courtyard. Drawing her sword she lift one of the bodies by the ear and set about sawing through the neck column with the edge of her weapon.
"I don't mean to be rude," Ulrich said after a moment, "But why are you doing that?"
"Because somethings are too damn dangerous to be brought back, even if you think you have them on a leash," Kaelin grunted as she jabbed to point of her sword between two of the vertebra and pried until they came apart with a crack, "After all, you pet lizard was supposed to stay dead in the Dead Swamp but its now guarding the ship back at Nether Wallop. Personally, I don't give a flying fig about these but I am not running the risk of our zealous friend bring some of them back by mistake!"
"My dear Kaelin," Jeremiah smarmed, "Anyone would think you don't trust me."
"No that's the problem," Kaelin snorted as she heaved up another body and sliced, "I trust you to try and build yourself an undead army that you are more than likely intending to try on the lot of us without a moments notice so, sorry and all that, but I'm going to make sure that it is made of creatures I might have a chance of beating back into the ground. This time you are not having these as your play things."
Lady Zilvra looked at Kaelin with a level gaze, truly seeing her for the first time. Her gaze turned to the depleted ranks of Jeremiah's body guard, particularly the blue eyed, silent Ash Elves, or at least the three of them that were left standing and she came to her decision.
"Do as she is," her voice snapped, sharp as a bull whip, her finger indicating three of her body guard while her other hand beckoned the Hatchling and the other Ash Elves over to her, "Dispose of the bodies... all the bodies." Her breath actually caught on that last phrase and Ulrich realized again just how young she was. Her stoic expression hide it but this was hardly the welcome she would have expected upon her triumphant return home.
As if to bare out his suspicions, the elves she had chosen started on the work without even a flicker of disgust, one holding up the body while a second hewed the head off and the third started dragging the pieces out of the main gates to fling them over the balustrade of the bridge into the chasm below, faces dull with exhaustion and distress. The Ash Elves may have discouraged any form of compassion or connection of a more personal level but this was their clan members that they were have to dismember and dispose of on mass, with too many of them for even a few words of goodbye.
"Bloody hell," Thorian muttered, looking round himself again as if seeing the extent of the debris for the first time, "This weren't a fight, it was a bloody war."
"That would certainly describe it fairly accurately," Jeremiah sat down on a piece of the wreckage and took a count of his little pets. One centipede and only three Ash Elves left. Maybe he had been a little hasty in joining the fight when he did and keeping the goblins on side for longer might have been more sensible but he'd surely find some more recruits soon enough. After all, the Ash Elves were known slave takers, some where in this citadel would be the pens and then he could pick and choice who he offered up to Klu'na-gath so he could have the use of their bodies afterwards.
"Oh well, clean up time," Thorian bent down and unceremoniously twisted a werewolf's head off, "Do you think I could have one of their skins as cloak though? I think that would be right shiny and give your Grandfather a turn if we ever meet him."
"Please yourself," Kaelin's reply was gruff but she almost smiled.
"You could always have the skin that Ceann Mor has finished with," Jeremiah pointed to were the werewolf skin lay crumpled at the base of the wall, "I do believe that he has ever cleaned the inside of it for you."
"Really? Cool," Thorian replied, though what the temperature had to do with anything Kaelin wasn't sure of. He walked over to it, pausing to kick some bits and pieces into a pile on the way.
Ulrich nudged his centipede in the side and steered it towards Lady Zilvra. He was thinking of naming it Pete, after his elder brother, if nothing else just for the look on said brother's face if he ever rode it up to the front door of his father's estates but now was not the time for such pleasant thoughts.
Lady Zilvra frowned as he held his hand out to her. Ulrich smiled and patted the centipede's shell behind him. Zilvra frowned and then her expression cleared. She hesitated for a second and then she sat down on the centipede's back and wrapped her arms around his waist. That was most definitely a step on the right direction. Ulrich smiled, even as her body guards frowned in censor. He jabbed the centipede with his heels and swung its head towards the doors of the get hall but as they rode up the steps of the dais before those doors he felt her arms suddenly tense around his middle.
"The Matriarch!"
