Dagger of Souls
*** Chapter 1 ***
The barrel-chested body guard knocked thrice on the oak door, inlaid into the dark limestone alcove. His scarred, pallid skin glistened with sweat in the dim torchlight of the dark corridor. He pulled the circular bronze handle with his meaty hand, and cracked the door just enough to speak through it. "Lord Deveron, you have a visitor. War Chief Grog'Tur has requested an audience with you." The muscular guard awaited his leader's response with trepidation. The man in dark robes sitting in the chamber was not as strong as he, nor could he wield a weapon like the serrated axe at the powerful guard's belt, but his magic was feared by all who have ever witnessed it and lived to tell the tale. The fact that this thin, pale man could tap in to the underworld, the realm of the dead, and wield enormous power struck well-justified fear into the hearts of allies and foe alike. He himself had witnessed a guard who complained to Deveron about the dingy quarters he was forced to share. The dark wizard grabbed the man's scrawny throat with one hand which turned bright red as it drained the life out of the guard, who shriveled into a lifeless shell. He would never forget the shocked, black gaze from the sunken eye sockets of the man's corpse.
Behind the burly bodyguard, a huge orc chieftain waited for admittance to speak with the dark leader. The humanoid was even more muscular than the burly bodyguard at the door. His bulging bicep muscles showed prominently through the sleeveless padding underneath his dark chain mail armor and crude bear skin tunic. The dark greenish skin made his chiseled features seem even more massive. Grog'Tur's wide nostrils flared as he picked absently at one of the two vertical, yellowed teeth that stuck up from his large, black lower lip. He remained silent as he waited, though he tapped his huge boot on the rough stone floor impatiently. The chieftain was smart enough not risk raising the ire of Deveron by interrupting him before he was given permission to enter, though it irked him to have to wait.
"Go ahead, Durken, and tell him he may enter and speak with me briefly," the smooth voice came from within the room, after a long minute or two. The burly, bald guard pushed the solid oak door open and stood to the side to allow the orc's massive form to pass by and enter the chamber. The body guard followed behind and stood inside the door as he closed it. He watched every movement of the orc carefully as his hand rested dutifully on his razor sharp axe. The necromancer could dispatch of the orc quickly if there was need, but his job was to keep the cult leader from having to bother. He knew very well the dire consequences of even the slightest failure to follow his orders. The large orc was forced to relinquish his double bladed axe before entering the underground compound, so there was little chance of an incident. Orcs were very similar to humans in body shape, though usually much more broad shouldered and slightly taller. Their skin color varied from yellow-green to dark green and their hair was usually jet black. Their noses were very wide and slightly upturned giving them a swine-like appearance. They had two tusk-like teeth on their lower jaw where human canine teeth were that protruded up past their lips giving them a sinister looking visage. They preferred to live in the wilds, often in harsh conditions and prided themselves on being fierce warriors. They constructed only tents or very rudimentary wood structures for quarters and rarely stayed in one place for any great length of time.
The war chief stepped over the wide, bearskin rug covering the stone floor and stopped across the desk from the dark wizard. The orc gave the pale human a slight bow and then sat on the wooden bench facing the desk, which creaked loudly at the massive weight, as if the dead wood was crying out in pain from the excess load. Deveron looked up with a vague expression as he smoothed back the dark, wavy tresses of hair covering his pale, but handsome face. "Why are you here, Grog'Tur? I told you not to come unless there is trouble."
"Lord Deveron, some of the other war chiefs have been restless and wish to begin the attack. They grow tired of waiting in camps, and sharpening their blades. There is bad blood between some of the clans and fights begin to break out among them."
The man's pale face twisted into a sneer as he interrupted the chieftain's report, "Your clan leaders had better learn to control their warriors. The timing of the attack is critical to our success. Send them a message that if I hear of any clan member attacking another warrior before the battle begins, I will have their throats slit, and their war chief's heart cut out and fed to the maggots. A new one can be chosen to take his place, one that knows how to keep control of his men. That includes you, Grog'Tur."
The orc let out a throaty growl, but it died out quickly as he stared into the dangerous gaze of the necromancer's dark brown eyes. The guard at the door had his serrated axe at hand in an instant, but saw the green skinned humanoid made no move to stand or advance. He continued to keep the weapon at hand, but stood his ground by the doorway.
The large orc glanced at the guard, and then back to the dark wizard, softening his tone. "The war chiefs will not be happy with your words."
Deveron waved his hand off in a dismissive gesture as he looked back to the orc leader, his patience wearing thin. "I do not care if they are happy. It is too late to back out now. You and your kinsmen have all committed to see this through. This petty bickering has kept orcs from controlling any significant areas in this region. This is a chance for your kind to take some land and carve out your own destinies. Are you afraid to face the humans of Red Larch, chief?"
Grog'Tur's greasy, balding grey and black hair jostled as he shook his wide head, "No, we do not fear the battle, we hunger for it. It is just there are prideful warriors who still have enemies among other clans, and they do not have the wisdom to see our vision of unification. The smaller clans fear they will get edged out of the spoils, and the larger ones fear each other will turn on them. It's a loose alliance, shaky at best. We are constantly working at resolving concerns from every clan without bloodshed. Only action works best at gaining unity among the warriors. I fear if we wait too long I or anyone who would replace would be unable to keep them together."
Deveron's voice returned to a business like tone, although with no less authority in it. "We have no choice, they will have to wait and keep out of trouble. We have gone over this before. I grow tired of repeating it. If you attack now, the forces of Waterdeep will counter attack within a few days and decimate your warriors. Your men may be fierce, but the Waterdhavians can muster many battle-tested troops in a short time, and then follow with reinforcements in the tens of thousands. We must have time to fortify our position and strike at their supply lines for this to succeed. They are weakened, but not without power. Perhaps I should send some of my men to help keep your warriors in line."
It was more of an idle threat than an offer of assistance and the orc chieftain understood that, and knew better than to take the bait. "No, that won't be necessary. We will get it under control. How much longer are we to wait?" The question came out in a softened, respectful tone.
"Soon, Grog'Tur. I have dispatched this morning one of my aids to check the progress Tu'Grol has made on the fortifications. I would suspect that within two ten-days we shall be ready to attack."
The large orc was hoping it would be sooner, but grunted in acknowledgement. "Perhaps another clan could go and assist them to finish more quickly?"
The wizard shook his dark brown hair, and he made no effort to hide the frustration in his voice, "No, there can be no more orcs in the area, or they will discover the fortification and we will lose the element of surprise. A small group of orcs will only elicit a small response, which will be handled by the Two Stone clan. Our success hinges on the fort remaining hidden. If they know of our forward garrison they will attack it first and then roll on to Red Larch, unheeded. It will be ready soon, you must get your people to be patient, or go back to your petty disputes and live in the shadows of human civilization again. Now go, I have more important things to attend than your complaints."
The large, greenish humanoid pulled at the earring made of a thin leather cord with several bear teeth hanging from them, the symbol of the humanoid's clan as he formulated a wise response. He looked up to the dark robed man as he responded, "I will bring your words to the orc chieftains and make them understand, Lord Deveron."
The black robed man pursed his lips together as he nodded, "Very good Grog'Tur. Don't make me regret my choice of head war chief of this orc army."
The massive orc rose up and gave another slight bow before turning and marching out of the room. Two other guards in the hallway dressed in black clad leather and dark chain mail armor escorted the orc leader to the exit tunnel.
Durken clipped the large axe back to his leather belt. He shook his head, after Grog'Tur was out of earshot. "I hope these pig faced bastards don't ruin your plans, your lordship."
"They will do as I have bid them to. It shall go as planned." He gave a little smirk as he remarked, "But, I do have certain contingencies just in case."
The large bodyguard grinned, causing the large scar running from his lower lip to the back of his left jaw to arc. The warrior knew his master was no fool. Though he was not privy to the specifics of the artful schemes the wizard was engaged in, he knew that the orcs were merely a diversion to his true intentions.