Chapter Two: The Barbarians

Thomas plodded along even his speed enhanced boots, it was still slow going. He had left the elven resistance when their numbers reached two hundred and fifty. He had taught them the art of camouflage. They moved like the wind, and were practically invisible in the forest. He had left with promises to return. Now he was on the outskirts of a huge barbarian camp. As he entered the camp all manner of people menaced him with all manner of weapons. The chief came out of his tent. He was a huge half-orc. His muscles stood out even in the ceremonial pelts he wore. The two stood face to face and for a moment the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then the chieftain stepped forward and embraced him.

"Thomas, my friend it has been far too long." He shouted.

"Grot, it has been likewise long." Thomas said. "And look at you, chieftain!"

Grot pulled Thomas to one side, and said in an undertone. "Well you see, technically in not chieftain yet, because I haven't proven myself in the eyes of the horde."

"And how exactly would you do that?" Replied Thomas, who had a very nervous feeling that he knew exactly where this was going.

"Hey come on man, have a little faith in me, I've got it all worked out. There's an ax, in this cave, in Kern, that used to belong to some hero or something, so if I go get it, they'll love me!" He said happily.

"Oh and I'm sure we can just stroll on into Kern and ask the ogres real nicely and they just give it to us!" said Thomas who was very angry at being asked to walk into the land on the ogres and get an ax that he knew nothing about, and he also knew nothing about what might be guarding it.

"Relax, we've been into Kern before, you and I, and we've come out alive. There's nothing to worry about." Grot said, still not losing his jovial air. Thomas felt his stomach sink. This was going to be one hell of a journey.

They departed in the morning. They were sent off with promises to send people along in a couple of months if they didn't come back. And so they set off. They could reach the cave in less than a day. Since Grot had taken the liberty of moving the camp to the outskirts. But they still had a fair amount of walking to do. They walked in silence. Every now and then Grot would study the landscape nod, or grunt, and move on. Eventually they reached it, a gaping mouth in a rocky outcrop.

They walked toward the cave. They were about to enter the cave when Thomas froze. Grot coked his head. Thomas shook his in return, and mouthed "nothing". They entered the cave. The darkness inside was heavy so Grot lit a torch. The flickering flames cast an odd glare amongst the gloom. Their boots crunched as they walked along the tunnel. They came to a sharp bend, and Thomas cast Grot a warning look. They rounded the bend slowly, and came face to face with an ogre.

The darkness in the room was total. There was not one slip of light, and it seemed so thick you could cut it. The lone occupant of the room was clad in armor, and grasped a mace in its right hand. It spoke to the darkness. "I will not let the heretics take your empire." No you will not. A door opened and light poured into the room. A Minotaur stood in silhouetted in the doorway. As the figure turned to face the newcomer, he dipped his horns in respect.

"General Kolina, the runner arrived from the west, he says that there are two hundred hiding there."

Kolina did some quick calculations in her head and then smiled. With the reinforcements from the islands, and from the forts, she would have three thousand, every protector that had ever worshipped. She had a thousand already in hiding in and around the city. Tonight they would attack and take the city, from the inside. The foolish general Bokka had sent most of the legions north to comb the forest for the elven resistance, so the capital of Silvanost was almost unguarded, oh it was defensible, but not if the attack came from the inside. The protectors had built passages that not even the great general Bokka knew about. Kolina had only two regrets, one, that Pyras had died, and that general Bokka had ridden out of the city the day before and would not be here to witness his failure. Though her god had been bested by Sargonnas he had not abandoned her, and she would fight to the death to see his empire restored. Tonight was the night!

The ogre did not bellow of scream a war cry as a normal one would've, it just charged, Thomas knew that ogres stank but his one topped it all off, it stank as though it was rotting. But still, no time for thinking time for action, his scimitars were out in a flash, and he deflected the beast's ax, but it came again, and the blow sent vibrations all the way up his arm. Ogres were strong, but not that strong! Then Grot crashed into the beast putting the all of his strength into one blow of his mighty warhammer. The ogres breastplate shattered, literally shattered, pieces of shrapnel flew everywhere. But the ogre fought on unabated. Thomas blocked an ax thrust and with a skillful twist of his body sent one of his feet crashing into the ogre's face while at the same time slicing off his left arm. Thomas flipped upright, using the ogre's face as leverage. Its face was shattered, and a black fluid ran from it, and the same fluid ran from the stump of its left arm. Through all of this it let out not a grunt, nor a scream, not a sound.

"What the hell is this thing?" bellowed Grot, while parrying another ax blow.

"I have no idea!" Thomas shouted back. Finally after much fighting and parrying, grot finished the beast by turning its head into mush with a powerful stroke. They both took a moment, still dazed from the fight.

"That was a helluva beastie!" Grot grunted. Thomas made no reply. He simply nodded. Grot turned around. Then he saw what the undead ogre had been guarding. A door, a firmly locked and bolted door, Thomas tried to force it, and failed.

"Lad, you don't know much about forcing doors do ya?" Grot said, smiling.

"Well master, why don't you give me a little lesson before some other terrible beast come along and tries to kill us?" Thomas said sarcastically. Grot nodded, took a short run and swung at the door with such force that it ripped of its hinges and was flung into the room. In the room was a simple dais. Thomas almost laughed, it was so barbarian, build a dais put the ax on it, and leave, Grot moved forward and stepped up to the dais. He bent down reverently, and picked up a rune encrusted ax. Even though Thomas had a vast knowledge of magical items and powers, he had never heard of this ax, yet it radiated power. Grot strapped it to his back. They made a hasty exit. When they reached the mouth of the cave they stepped out into the sunlight and Thomas had the misfortune to look left. What he saw was a full ogre raiding party, at least thirty. Even with all their enchantments and magicks, they stood no chance. Grot looked right, and he also had the lapse of good fortune to see a full complement of Minotaur legionaries, at least fifty. Both Thomas and Grot realized a few seconds later that they were dead for sure, crushed between the hammer of the Minotaurs, and the anvil of the ogres.