The Dark King's Wrath / Phoenix Born

  Shard slunk reluctantly down Terremort’s long hallways, toward the Throne chamber of the Dark King. Her slitted reptilian eyes were dull and wide, radiating her complete lack of confidence. Her forked tongue flicked in and out as she crept along, tasting the bitter, stale air. The Sickness was beginning to spread once more. The result of Reuben’s continued experiments and devouring of Magic. She was growing uneasy about the Warlock’s increasing power. She feared that there was more in his motives than he had revealed, but she dared not speak a word of it to anyone, for Reuben heard all, saw all and knew all that her kind experienced.
  She came before the heavy stone doors outside the Throne room. She felt breathing on the back of her neck. She knew what it was: a Wrothgar. It was Reuben’s newest and most vile creation. Shard sensed its material and Magical make-up with a probing spell and she was absolutely positive. It was indeed a Wrothgar. She did not fear them, for they obeyed her commands, but they also obeyed Reuben. That was plenty to frighten her.
  Clearing her throat, Shard looked up at the thin air behind her. “Open the doors. Reuben has requested audience with-” Her words were cut short as the enormous stone doors crashed open.
  Inside, there was a cold, angry voice. “Enter, Shard.”
  Even the invisible monster behind Shard was intimidated by this unusually foul welcome. Shard felt his presence pull away from her. Shard stepped forward quietly, snake’s head bowed. Her talon-like feet dragged on the cold stones beneath her. Inside, she brewed new ideas, hoping that there was some way to sooth her Master’s rage.
  Inside, Reuben, the Dark King, sat in his black onyx throne, gazing down at her with his steely eyes. He was handsome and young-looking, but Shard knew that there was far more behind that pale face. His long, silver hair streamed back over his shoulders and his grey robes flowed onto the floor behind him. But something more said that his was not any natural being. She knew his incredible power was something far beyond what his countenance showed. He was evil, powerful and he was, ultimately, her Master.
  Shard came to a halt thirty feet from the throne before which her Master stood. Shard was an Elthsgok; a lizard-like creature about the height of an average human or Elf. Every Elthsgok had sharp teeth, long claws and superior strength. Her thick, black scales glittered and shined in the dull torchlight and her slitted yellow eyes flashed warily.
  Reuben stepped forward calmly, but Shard sensed his rage. She knew she had failed him. Reuben halted ten paces from where she stood and spoke. “How faired the attack on Madrona?”
  Shard took a deep breath, a rattling hiss escaping her throat. “Sire,” She purred. “SteelClaw was slain in battle and the boy got away. Prince Roan was injured, but he lives also. The Elvin Royal army was near vanquished, but another army came as if from nowhere and drove us from the city. We failed…” She bowed her head at the last of her words.
  Reuben’s face contorted with rage. For the first time in a great many years, he showed great emotion. Anger. “SteelClaw was slain…” He repeated, his eyes narrowing.
  There was never in her life at time when Shard felt true fear until now. She felt a vast quantity of power growing and pulsing within the stone chamber. Her eyes went wide and she backed away nervously. The doors slammed shut behind her, preventing her escape.
  Reuben’s eyes flared from black to bright red. He extended his palm out toward Shard and a mist shrouded his fingertips.
  The Elthsgok threw herself to the ground and crawled backward on all four claws. “Master, no! Spare me, I beg of you!”
  Reuben’s expression did not change. Instead, the power inside the cell grew stronger. The stone walls suddenly began to crack and shift. Some large pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling and tumbled to the floor at the Warlock’s feet. There was the sound of stone rending and grinding together, wailing in a high-pitched screech like the lament of a broken heart. Shard screamed in pain and clasped her head between her claws to stop the noise from getting through, but her shouts and pleas were drowned in the din. The Dark King’s face was impassive, unfazed by the terror and noise that he was causing. His furious display of awesome power rang in Shard’s ears for a long time, punishing her for her failure.
  Then the center of the floor before Reuben’s feet gave way. The stone floor fell apart and fell down into an empty abyss of blackness. The heavy blocks crashed against the walls of the hole, falling down into the earth, never to return. Shard never heard them hit the bottom.
  Reuben withdrew his hand and glared at his servant. “Shard, you are one of my greatest warriors. When I first created you, I had hoped that you would be of much use to me, but you have failed. If you fail me again, may it be that you be swallowed up in the bowels of the Eltwist.”
  At that moment, a blast of scorching air poured through the great well in the ground. Fed down the volcanic heart of the Eltwist Mountains, ashes and flecks of molten rock poured into the room.
  Shard backed away, more frightened now than ever. Her master never made idle threats. She knew that he would toss her into this bottomless well in he said that she would.
  The King raised his hands again and the blazing furnace grew hotter and more hot air filled the chamber. Shard was being cooked alive by the intense heat. Tears welled in her eyes, reptilian instincts coming into play in an attempt to cool down her heated body. It became difficult to breathe as the volcanic air replaced the clean, damp, cold air that had been here only moments before. Poisonous gases filled the Elthsgok’s lungs and Shard’s mind began to drift away. She knew that she was dying.
  Then it stopped. Rueben’s arms lowered and the furnace stopped it’s raging. Now only the sound of boiling lava and the hiss of hot ashes touching the damp floor filled the room. No more did the roaring and the wailing scream in Shard’s ears. The Elthsgok lay on the ground, quivering in fear and pain. The glowing, hot air rippled gently, caressing by the intense waves of heat.
  “Go,” Shard’s Master ordered. “Get out of my sight and see what troops you can rally. Prepare them to do battle.”
  Shard felt her energy begin to return rapidly, by her Master’s mercy only. She managed to stand up, but hesitated, feeling dizzy and tired.
  “Go!”
  Shard ducked down as a ball of blue fire flashed over her head. Hurriedly, she scurried across the room, feeling the balls of flame erupt behind her, nipping at her heels. Her scrambled up onto the wall and shot out the room like a frightened spider fleeing capture.
  Reuben calmed and sat down in his throne again. The stone walls shifted back into place and the cracks mended themselves. This was one thing that Reuben liked about his fortress: it mended itself, stealing stone from the mountains around it and repairing its wounds. Even the great well in the center of the floor healed itself, filling with soil and then newly-shaped blocks filling the empty space on the ground to make it look natural once more.
  The Warlock leaned back in his throne. “Hisk.” He called mutedly.
Another Elthsgok appeared from thin air, like a cloud uncovering the sun. He wore a black robe, traditional of Elthsgok sorcerers. Then again, Hisk was the only one. He had made it a tradition of himself.
  He looked up at his Master. “Yes, my lord?”
  “Your pupils will be arriving soon. I want you to take the Phoenix spirit that I captured and implant it within the life-source of one of your Children. It will make him a great and gifted beast for you to train. He may well turn out to become the greatest wizard beneath your hand.”
  A black vial slid out of Reuben’s fingers and floated down to Hisk. The sorcerer caught it in his claws and inspected it. At the heart of the vial an orange and red light pulsed like a living being, the spirit remaining of one of their world’s most sacred and rarest beings: The Phoenix.
  Hisk wrapped his claws about it and it vanished into smoke. “Thank you, Sire. I will make good use of it.”
  Then Hisk vanished as well, disintegrating from solid matter into mist. The thin trail of mist then floated across the room and slipped through the solid wall and into the next chamber, to which there was no other way in.
  Reuben thought about Hisk for a time. He was growing powerful and dangerous. Hisk was now in charge of the Ethsgok armies with SteelClaw gone. This gave the sorcerer great ability to revolt. Reuben would have to trouble dispatching him, but to do so would take a large piece of his own power with him. This would not be good. Beyond that, to reveal the full extent of his power would be a risk that he did not wish to take.
  He knew that he could not show himself to the Fairies. He was the most powerful Warlock this world had ever known and the Fairy people would not like that. No one was meant to have that much power. If he showed himself now, they would kill him before he knew what was happening.
Tat is why he knew that he must find the Portal, and leave Lavanna. He knew that he must grow more powerful.

  ~Sethorion~