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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
The morning sun rose over the lowland forests, its rays burnt away
the mist rising from the damp valleys and steamed the fields around the
Steading dry. Smoke drifted lazily from the open gaps above the
great hall, the smell of roasted meat wafted across the hill. Outside
a pck of dire wolves ran free, then a trio of giants rounded the far
corner wall, one stopped and called to the wolves. They bounded and
frolicked, joyful in the warmth of the cloudless day.
* * *
Inside the hall the feast was done, the tables cleared, old
sawdust and debris swept up and dragged away. A score of orcs, skeleton
thin, and showing signs of recent wounds, tossed a fresh layer of
sawdust across the floor. Those giants who had not been conscripted for
patrols or forced to help with morning chores had quickly fled. Most
slept but others readied weapons, dragged out bits of armor, rough
hammered grieves, chain shirts, and brightly colored shields.
The entrance hall had been washed clean, but up the stairs the
dried black pool of Huon's blood was left, a grim reminder for unwatchful
guards. Each gaping tower window contained attentive eyes, for now at
least, unblinking in the morning light.
* * *
"Ver-find-ingan," Engenulf began his chant, crosslegged,
upon the feasting table. Beside him Huon's body lay, one last service
to perform. "Ver! Ver!" the magician-priest called forth. He drew
a cryptic sign in Huon's blood, first on the dead giants head, then
another on his chest. "Sprek-ver!" the command came harsh and clear.
" I slept" the sepulcher voice exclaimed. It came from Huon's
bloodless lips, no muscle stirred, no breath, just a distant speech
summoned at the witans call.
"Ver!" demanded Engenulf.
"I drank, I did not watch. They came...small, children...humans,
olven, dwarf...two, three...two,then two, they came...the pain, pain,
can't breath,....cold, dark,....Ogiva,Ogiva...." the voice gave one last
plaintive moan and then was silent.
"Rest now." Engenulf kindly said, and closed the staring eyes.
"You heard." he asked but did not turn.
"I heard." Nosnra replied. "Its as I thought. The human scum,
olves, those foul dwarves from down below. They have killed us in our
own hall. Our dead are dishonored."
"No, they died. That is all." Engenulf moved to face his old
friend and looked him in the eye. "They are not dishonored in this death."
"I feel it here" the chief pounded on his chest. "The foulness
of these creatures, its washed over them. Their deaths were bad."
"Do not do this..." pleaded Engenulf.
"They cannot rest, they did not watch in life, the will keep
guard in death. We will bury them just beyond the outer doors. Come,"
Nosnra yelled and several warriors appeared. "Take them to the entrance
hall, bring picks, and Engenulf prepare yourself, they will earn
their rest, but you must wake them first."
"I obey. No pyre for them yet." Engenulf replied.
* * *
(To Be Continued)