Born To Hail

Chapter 9

"Who is this man?" Zarric asked himself out loud, his voice calm despite the anger growing in his chest. "And who does he think he is killing my orcs and stealing my queen?"

He had been keeping a close eye, through his scrying mirror, on the small pack of orcs that had captured B'naire. When he first spotted the three travelers attack his orcs he had though to be in for a good show. He was wrong. The fight was over quickly, the stupid grey skinned savages never had a chance against the skilled travelers.

A small touch of residual fear from his past life sent a chill down his spine when he saw the barbarian. He pushed that feeling away and let the anger begin when he saw an elf, a female one at that, drop a couple orcs with well placed arrows. The man with the sword brought confusion to Zarric, which seemed to only add to his growing rage. Zarric was raised in a small village south of Rausdow and spent four years in the human capital studying at the magic school. He had seen the ragged dress of humble farmers, elegant flowing robes of powerful mages and sorceresses, and the regal attire of nobles but none of those matched the strange attire this man wore. And his sword, the only thing more beautiful than its looks was the power that emanated from the blade, which he could feel through the scrying mirror.

"He is obviously not from around here." He said, still talking to himself. "But where could he be from? And how did you gain such a powerful weapon?" He pondered on those questions for a moment, sitting on his dragon's maw throne running his hand across his clean shaven face.

He was hit by a sudden flashback of the day he gained his power and raised his palace from the skeleton of its former glory. Resting on this very throne waiting for him was a curious note telling him to gather an army. He will come; the words rang in his head. Could this be Him? How did whoever left that note know he would? Who left the note? And if this is the man spoken of how much of a threat to Zarric was he? All these questions and more rushed through his mind like water bursting through a dam. The unanswered questions are what angered him the most.

One thing Zarric knew for certain is that he couldn't let this transgression go unpunished. He would try to get B'naire back, and if he could acquire a new sword. Given the presence of the elf he assumed they were headed east to the forest to the home of the elves within. They had three or four days of travel left before they reached the elves camp hidden in those trees. He had to strike fast and hard before the companions made it there. Taking a deep calming breath he neutralized his anger so he could focus on what needed to be done.

"Find Ixam and send him to me immediately." He ordered one of his goblin slaves. He let the scrying mirror drift to a table where he kept it then used his ability to pour himself a glass of wine which hovered through the air to his waiting hand. He downed half the glass in a single drink and waited impatiently for his general to arrive.

An hour later the large black marble doors swung open bringing Zarric out from his quite contemplation.

"You summoned me." Ixam said as he stepped through the threshold. His deep voice carried power, authority, and an intelligence for beyond that of a normal orc. But he was no normal orc, he was a shadoworc, he was king of the shadoworcs and the lesser of their race.

Zarric looked the man up and down, taking in his features. Ixam the Eviscerater is what his kin called him. That name coming from his prowess and efficiency in the use of his weapons of choice. He wielded two identical sickles wickedly sharp, the butt of their handles connected by a thin chain a couple few long. He was taller than Zarric by a head, his body slender with well toned muscles. This was a creature built for speed and stealth not brute strength. The color of his skin a deep dark grey, nearly black, the sides of his head shaved clean and a line of white hair ran down the middle and was pulled up in a ponytail at the back. His facial features were more akin to an elves, he had a small sharp nose and chin and his ears came to a point at the top. He would be a handsome creature except there was a white scar starting above his left eye and ran diagonally across his face to end on his right cheek. Zarric couldn't help but feel uneasy when looking into Ixam's deep set piercing eyes the same color of a setting sun.