The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series) (25 page)

“Surrender.”

King Manasseh remained to watch from his high tower as the unresolved battle below continued to challenge his defenses. A second powerful fireball hit, smashing into the protective shielding that Vevrin had just put in place, shattering the burning rock on impact. He took in a deep breath and exhaled in frustration; Vevrin had mistakenly underestimated an enemy, again.

“Yes, use your magic, Mystic, while you can, because soon your feeble attacks will end,” he spoke softly and confidently to himself. He briskly exited the tower.

Minutes later, Manasseh was inside the familiar circular room, where blood stains covered the stone bed, laced with etchings of the ancient tree. Torches and candles adorned and outlined the chamber. Vevrin placed the deep red colored orb onto the tablet, a place normally reserved for the living, rather than a simple object.

“Good, I see that we are ready.”

“Yes, everything is in place, my liege.”

Vevrin pulled forth an ornate dagger made from the same obsidian rock as the castle.

“A dagger? How am I supposed to destroy a round, two-inch object with a dagger, Vevrin?”

“My apologies, Lord.”

The King flipped the blade and the sharp end landed flat in his palm. He stepped toward the Orb and struck it squarely with the bludgeoning hilt. The stone handle cracked and then crumbled. Frustrated, he grabbed the blood-red sphere and tried to crush it with both hands. Vevrin had seen his master crush the skull of a human with his power, but now, with gritted teeth and veins bulging in his neck, he labored for several seconds until finally releasing his grip. He slammed it down onto the stone slab and then turned sharply to Vevrin, “Your turn.”

The mystic bowed slightly and turned to face the Orb. He hesitated a moment, then pointed his skull-topped staff at the innocent item and uttered a command word, “Zanthumbeh!” A tight beam of intense energy flared out, but the Orb absorbed the magical heat force. He was amazed at the resiliency.

“Is that it? That’s your best?” Manasseh bellowed. “Get a hammer! We need to crush this thing!”

“Yes, my Lord.” Vevrin quickly exited.

Manasseh stared at it for a brief moment, then felt the pull of the Tree directly below him. The sacrifice chamber was not built above it by coincidence. He snapped his fingers and magically teleported to the Tree. From atop the pyramid he surveyed the chamber. Things had changed since he was last here—the Guardian was destroyed, rock shards from the walls were scattered everywhere, and the dust from the struggle lingered as it continued to settle. Barawbyss had told him the Halfling was alone, but a solitary Ordakian couldn’t possibly have done all of this on his own. Manasseh pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and knelt at the base of the twisted stock.

“Help my army. Let the defilers see your true power.”

The bluish glowing mist cascading down from the Tree began to intensify with sparks of light.

Bridazak was thrown into an enclosed, damp cell. The claustrophobic space, not much larger than he, smelled of feces and rotting flesh.

“Enjoy, sunshine,” one of the guards mocked.

“You must not know anything about Ordakians,” Bridazak sputtered as he stood back up.

“We know enough of your kind,” the guard responded as he started to close the door.

“Then you would know it would be unwise to leave without tying me up,” Bridazak said hastily.

“And why would we do that?”

“Nevermind. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Hey Ghent, the King has the other one tied up,” one of the guards chimed in.

Ghent smacked him, “Shut up. This one is just messing with us and will probably try something as soon as we go in with rope. No one said anything about tying him up.” He slammed the heavy door shut.

Bridazak heard the sound of multiple keys locking him inside the dungeon cell. It was pitch black, but it didn’t matter. He’d confirmed Spilf was here, and most likely still alive.

Thousands of men remained barricaded inside the heart of the castle. Raina addressed the army of dwarves while she hovered above them.

“Our fight is not yet over. It is time to deliver the final blow!”

A cheer erupted from the eight hundred dwarves, the handful of humans, and elves.

“Be swift, strike true, and make them pay!” Another cheer went up, but Raina’s attention was caught by something out in the gruesome battlefield. An eerie blue mist seeped from the ground and hovered over the dead.

The dwarves turned to follow her gaze, and spotted movement.

“Undead!” Someone yelled, while more of Raina’s men confirmed the sightings. King Manasseh’s fallen army was rising.

.

17

Inch by Inch

“L
ester, what is going on?”

“I’m not sure Ross. We are in a dungeon, from what I can tell.”

“Where is Bridazak?”

“I don’t know Ross. The humans are going through his belongings on the table above us.”

“He abandoned us, Lester. We are doomed,”
Ross squawked in his high-pitched voice.

“Stop it Ross. No one abandoned us.”

“How do you know that? We are certainly doomed. It was a nice thousand years, Lester,”
he began to cry.

“Stop being so melodramatic, Ross. I can hear the humans talking. Just shut up and listen.”

“Why are you being so mean to me?”

“Just listen!”

“Okay, okay, I’m listening.”

The human guards were rummaging through Bridazak’s backpack.

“Halfling’s don’t carry anything worth a damn!” One said, while throwing down a child sized tunic.

“Ghent, what about the arrows and bow?” Another gruff raspy voice asked.

“Vevrin told me we can have anything
but
those.”

“Of course he did. He knew there was crap in this halfling’s bag.”

“Well, we have a couple items to divvy up. Who wants the flint and steel?” Ghent asked, trying to divert his men’s frustration.

“I’ll take it,” one said with a resigned sigh.

“Okay, how about the dagger?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“About time you replaced that old knife of yours, Bosh!”

“It’s still good enough to run you through, Rudd!”

“Knock it off you two! I guess I’m stuck with the whetstone.”

The others chuckled. None of them had made out with anything great. “You can always take the feather, Ghent,” they laughed as Bosh waved it in his face.

“Real nice, guys, but I will stick with the whetstone.”

“Whoa, what do we have here,” Rudd discovered a small leather pouch hidden inside Bridazak’s pack. He untied the wrapped string around the top and then poured the contents into his open palm. The beautiful diamond ring, formerly belonging to Lady Birmham, was revealed. Their bedazzled eyes were held captive by the sparkling bauble.

“Now we’re talking,” Ghent whispered. He took it from Rudd’s hand and inspected it closely.

“Yeah, I hope the boss-man brings us more Ordakians now.”

“We will have to sell it when we are off duty and then split it,” Ghent suggested. “I will hold on to it for the time being.”

“What about the coin bag he had?” Bosh asked.

“We will put the coin up at our next card session as the prize money, but right now we all need to do our rounds.”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison.

“I’ll check on the Ordakian,” Rudd proposed, taking a step towards a barred door.

“No, Rudd. Vevrin was very clear, no one goes inside,” Ghent responded.

The humans in their black leather garb went through another door. The room was now empty. Crackling flames from torches hanging on the wall were the only sound remaining.

“He didn’t abandon us after all, Lester!”

“Our master needs our help, Ross.”

“What can we do?”

“You know.”

“Know what? I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“C’mon, search inside that thick pick-head of yours and figure it out.”

There was a pause as it dawned on Ross what his brother was referring to,
“No, Lester. You know that I hate doing it.”

“It’s important, Ross—and it’s only a short distance to the door. Our master is right behind it and once he is freed, he will take us out of here.”

“You promise, Lester?”

“I promise.”

The magical thieves’ tools began to vibrate on the stone floor. The tinkle of metal on rock intensified, and within seconds they morphed into a pair of vibrant green worms. Inch by inch, they made their way to the barred portal.

“Just a little further, my brother.”

“I’m tired, Lester. I don’t think I can make it. Go on without me.”

“Oh stop it, Ross! The lock is just a foot away, now suck it up, soldier.”

“Why do you continue to torture me?”
He began to cry again.

“Ross.”

“What?”

“Look!”

Looking up, he saw that they had arrived.
“We made it, Lester! We didn’t die!”

“I know. Now let’s get to work and set our master free.”

“Thank you for believing in me, Lester. You saved my life.”

“I’ll remember you said that, for next time we have to do this.”

“Oh god, I hope there isn’t a next time.”

“Calm down, Ross. I’m sorry I said that. Let’s just focus on getting this door open.”

The brothers morphed back and forth between worm form and pick form in order to unlock the multiple contraptions. The last obstacle was the door that was still barred; they were too small and weak to push something that heavy.

“Well, it is all up to you now, Lester.”

“Yep, our creator was so clever to think of everything. Now inch back, my brother.”

Ross clung on the wall and watched Lester work. The bar began to rattle, then jerk an inch, as Lester mentally pushed, then another inch, then another, until finally it fell to the ground with a loud clank, and the door popped open slightly. They eagerly waited for their master to burst through the threshold and embrace them tightly. Seconds elapsed, and their joyful faces began to sag back to disappointment.

“Where is he?”
Ross asked.

“Perhaps he is tied up and can’t get to us.”

“You promised, Lester!”

“I did, and that promise is still intact. We need to go in and help him.”

“You go first. It’s dark in there.”

They worked their way down, inching into the gloomy chamber. There were several stone steps and an open room beyond. A faint blue aura was the only light source; it emanated from a glass vial on top of a wooden table just to the right of the stairs. It was damp, cold, and moldy. A slight rustle of chains echoed from further back in the dark recesses.

“Based off the looks, I believe it smells in here.”

“Ross, we can’t smell. We don’t have that sensory ability.”

“That is what I said; based off the looks, get it?”

“Oh, yeah, I get it now and I agree. It looks like it smells bad in here.”

“I think I am going to cry, Lester.”