The Easel Chronicles; The Burning Hands

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven

The South

The dark citadel of Turmigk was one of his favorite places to be. He enjoyed looking at the dark fumes coming out of the ground, almost enveloping the whole valley up to the foot hills of the left Doros Paevil mountains.

Somehow this time round, the dark lord did not want to sit in his black city of Ulan Bator. The capital of the southern empire was a dull and ugly place to Sarzgat. Apart from the few things his magic had brought him, the city was just a crowd of orc tents and hovels, the only thing being the great palace he slept in from time to time.

He had decided to come to his citadel to watch his vanguard assemble. The first wave of his ultimate revenge was about to begin. He knew a weak steward ruled in the name of Altair's descendants in the white flame of Elliyon. He would have to take Gatesbeh before he could send his first wave to attack Ardon, city of kings.

The elves and the rest of the north would not have time to react once Elliyon fell. From there his main force would arrive in Elasia under his command.

Sarzgat picked up a small mouse that lay in the cage next to the window. He held its small tail between his thumb and index finger, before lowering it into the small jar of acid near the cage.

He laughed mirthlessly, having enjoyed laughter for so long. Sarzgat had lived since the time of Ebill. It was by chance he landed on the forsaken prince of that land, Fefnor. It was that very prince who showed him how he could live for eternity.

Eldon had not known that when he led the allied forces of Elasia south to do battle with him. They had thought they had won, but alas he still lived. He had waited for so long, only interfering at times but now it was time for him to rule his empire.

The dark lord went to the mirror in his dimly lit chambers and looked at himself. His hollow eyes gave him a look of deep sorrow whenever he looked at any one. He smiled to himself, appreciating how he had maintained his youthfulness by entwining his essence with the edelsteins.

He remembered the dark prince who had found refuge in Novorgord all those years ago. So far away from his memory and yet so near. He had learnt everything from Fefnor, who had no sons of his own. He had hated what the Ebillonians had done to the prince. That was where it all started. When Fefnor was dying he had him swear to crush Ebill until nothing of its people remained.

That was how he had managed to steal his way into the heart of Ebill. He fooled them into believing he was a prisoner, and he managed to combine his essence with that of the edelsteins unafraid of destruction. He knew they would never destroy heirlooms.

Drowning Ebill was easy. He smiled at that memory...

There was a slight knock at the door, and his most trusted servant entered, the chief of the Sarubel He had never removed his cowl and neither had his companions. The thin menacing voice greeted Sarzgat.

"What is it?"

"My lord," Valefor said, "Abbadon has heard from the orcs we sent to Ebrithia. The Grendels failed us."

Sarzgat turned to face his general. That piece of news was annoying and not satisfactory. He had wanted the Grendels to win over the Ebrithia before he attacked Elliyon. It would have made the taking of Cair Sandor easier.

"Siras must have failed us," Valefor said.

"Just like Sedrannor."

"Yes my emperor."