Storm and Stone Ch. 04

It was a bright afternoon two days later, when Arawn Stonebrook once again surveyed the home of the coming battle. The appearance had changed quite a bit; the huge war camp of the orcs and elves was complete and it blocked off the only clear passage into the Northern Oaks entirely. Between the camp and the battlefield lay five staggered rows of chevaux de frise that had been constructed from jagged beams of orcish blacksteel which cut off any notion the enemy might have of a cavalry charge against the defenders' camp. From the smoke plumes he observed off in the distance, he guessed that the Vaszul must have struck camp. Arawn had hoped that they would continue their forced march straight here, but it mattered little in the end; whether the battle was an all-out assault or a protracted siege, the Vaszul would not win... the newly christened Lord Arawn Stonebrook, Warden of Lake Home, would not allow it to happen even if he had to fight the battle alone and with his bare hands.

It surprised him a little to realize just how much he had come to care for this world in the short time he had actually spent free and conscious on its surface. He had come to truly love Amevina and did not bat an eyelash when she informed him that upon sharing her choice of husband and his acceptance with a Matron of Lake Home, they were married. He let himself drift back to the memory of the night he came home from his first time at Lorup's workshop a little over a month ago...

*********

Arawn laughed while Amevina looked on in consternation.

"Arawn, I have just informed you that we are husband and wife. I fail to understand why you find it humorous," she intoned in her rich, sultry voice, with more than a hint of irritation.

He shook his head and calmed his laughter to a chuckle.

"No baby, it's not like that. I love you with all my heart, and I have no problem with our marriage or the fact that it happened that way. It is how you said it that's cracking me up. You really thought that I wouldn't expect a completely different humanoid race to have drastically different cultural practices? ... Honey, we have arranged marriages on my world. Making a marriage official just by declaring it to a community leader is simple by comparison."

He reached out and took her hand, "C'mere," then pulled her gently into his arms and held her close.

"Listen, Vina, I love you and I am thrilled that we are married. In the culture of my home country, we have big ceremonies in which vows are made before priests. Once the wife-to-be is led down to the altar by her father, she is ceremonially given away to the future husband after he has joined them at the altar. The husband-to-be then lifts the veil that she wears with her wedding gown, she is given away, and vows are exchanged. Afterward, we have a celebration for the marriage that we call a reception, and there is music, dancing, food, and drink."

She pouted up at him, "Then what was so funny?"

"The simplicity of things here. I've told you before, I think, that people on my world have a difficult time taking simple seriously. I swear, sometimes we overcomplicate for sport."

Finally, Amevina laughed with him, "I think that I understand now. Thank you for explaining, that felt hurtful at first."

He smiled and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. "Then I apologize. That was not what I wanted at all."

*********

They had decided together that a honeymoon was definitely in order once this battle was over. The lovers sorely needed some time alone together.

His thoughts turned to the others; Grok, Nudjik, Dakkrig, Kem'erra, Ke'line, Vorsah, Bronnigut, Lorup,... and even his crew. It pleased him to learn that he had come to see them all as family; brothers and sisters to the last. There might even be an addition made to that number soon, it seemed. Arawn laughed to himself as he remembered yesterday, when the contingent of shamen arrived from the Orc Dominion, or the Arkhul Dominion, as he learned yesterday when corrected by the young neophyte orcess that seemed quite taken with his friend, Captain Grokan. Igga nug-Shabrat was her name, and she was solicitous with his friend almost to the point of fawning.

Arawn thought about Dakkrig, and how he wished that he could have known him better. The captain was a good orc, noble and honorable to the end. The human made a note to himself, to inquire if he could be allowed to speak at Dakkrig's funeral. He would like to honor his fallen friend.

The man turned back to the camp and smiled at the sight of his collection of tarps. Two dozen small tarps covered something that looked to be about the height of a dwarf, and beside them stood a massive, vaguely humanoid figure that was easily head and shoulders above the mighty Kord, figure covered in an equally massive canvas tarp of its own. His smile widened and he traced a finger over his new piece of headwear that lay concealed beneath the hood of his armor. It was a simple elven circlet, constructed of gold and crafted in the men's style, adorned with a single ruby cabochon that rested over his third eye. The figure under the tarp shifted slightly and the twelve guards that had been posted to ensure secrecy became nervous. Their unease was warranted since the human had not allowed anyone to set eyes on it yet. Arawn laughed softly and murmured to the figure through the ruby in the circlet.

"Easy now, Vulkan. Your time will come, that's a promise. This is your home, after all."

"Is that the name you've given him, M'lord? Vulkan?"

Arawn started at the voice. He turned to find Lorup beside him, he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard the little gnome approach. He laughed and let a hand rest on the tiny man's shoulder.

"Hey Lorup! You scared the crap out of me. Yup, that's his name. Vulcan is another name for Hephaestus, a semi-god that was once worshipped on my world as the patron god of smiths and the forge. The real Hephaestus has a bad foot. Our Vulkan won't have that problem."

The gnome laughed with him, "Indeed he won't, sir. I hope he is not needed, but I also cannot wait to see him fight."

"Nor can I, buddy. How are you guys coming along with the studies?"

Lorup's eyes went so wide in excitement that they threatened once again to roll from their sockets.

"The knowledge of your world is astounding, Lord Rawn! Lady Amevina taught us some simple spells long ago, that she uses for study. They have really come in handy. I've learned so much since you gave me those books that I can scarcely believe it. Algebra, Calculus, Physics, Geometry, Trigonometry,... and your computers...!" The little fellow trailed off in astonishment for a moment, then came back to his senses, "How did you get those books from your phone anyway, sir?"

"Well, since you're on the computer literature already, I assume you have at least covered binary code and basic electronics?"

Lorup nodded, "Yes sir. I understand now that the phone just retrieves the data stored on the memory card, but how did you turn the electronic copy into a physical one using your magic?"

Arawn smiled at the question, "That actually wasn't difficult. I understand binary code too, and the magic was no more than a basic translation spell that I adjusted to produce a physical book as the output, instead of sound for your ears."

"That's brilliant, sir!"

"Eh, not so much, but thank you, Lorup."

"... but, sir... I don't understand. You did that, you created the spell."

"Ah, but that's the catch. I didn't create the spell, the spell itself already existed. I only altered it using added knowledge from my world."

"Yes, Lord Arawn. Knowledge that you earned through study on your world."

"I see what you're saying, and that much is true. However, my knowledge of magic was not earned at all, it was part of the gift of the Nithraksi when they gave up their consciousness so that I might wield their power. Part of the meaning of true humility, is understanding the difference, and not being too prideful in one's own accomplishments. It also comes with the responsibility of gratitude for the gifts and never taking the fact that they are gifts for granted. I'm watchful because I tend to get ahead of myself at times and forget my beginnings."

Lorup smiled and gave Arawn a slow nod of comprehension, "I think I understand now, sir. Thank you for your wisdom."

The human patted the gnome on the back and chuckled softly, "No thanks necessary, my tiny friend. It was my pleasure."

The pair stood together in silence for a few minutes, then the human's stomach rumbled.

"Lorup, I'm feeling a bit peckish. What say we go find some supper?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, sir. I concur."

*********

The next morning brought news that the enemy marched east from camp and would arrive just before midday. The reports the scouts brought back from the enemy camp were not good; the Vaszul were estimated to have brought a damned field army, at least one hundred thousand strong. Arawn took the opportunity to look over the battlefield once more and go over the preparations in his mind. In his opinion, the east-west orientation of the battlefield's length would work to their advantage; it would prevent the Vaszul from brining the strength of their massive numbers fully to bear against the defenders of Lake Home. They would find a bottleneck which would prevent them from forming up more than one-half company wide before they could fight for open ground against the defenders. From there, they had to contend with Arawn and his surprises. Yes, he felt good about the battle, it was the inevitable funerals to come that troubled him. Arawn could only hope that the mourning would be bearable.

*********

The time had finally arrived. Ranks of Vaszul appeared on the horizon and were greeted by the jeers and taunts of over forty thousand defenders. They were all massed in their ranks behind Arawn, Amevina, and Kem'erra. Grok walked up to speak with the trio.

"Could you please remind me what we are doing here, again? For my own sanity, of course..."

"Well my big, green friend, the three of us are about to deliver a beatdown to this little expeditionary force they've sent to intimidate us," Arawn explained.

"Won't that cause them to assault us in full force if we trounce an attack in such a manner?"

"That is exactly what I'm hoping for, Grok. If we wipe this first force out and leave just a few survivors to run back to daddy and cry foul, they might just overcommit, and that will give us a huge advantage. Like I said before, so long as we hold the mouth of this open plain here, we hold the strategic advantage because of the bottleneck. They'll almost be waiting for their turn to die, thanks to our little surprises."

"Then," Grok pressed, "why are we letting them march right into the glade this time, instead of meeting them in combat?"

"Well, first off, because I don't want to incinerate the trees on the roadside if I can avoid it..."

"Incinerate the trees..." Grok interjected. "Why do those words fill me with such dread?"

"I dunno... stage fright, maybe? Anyway, second... for this phase of the battle, only Amevina, Ke'line, and myself are required. They will see your troops watching the battle in complete safety, without any fear for themselves, and once we put on our little show, they will understand why... and they will fear us... or it'll insult the living shit out of them and they'll come at us with everything they've got. Which, as I have said, I would much prefer."

Arawn turned to Ke'line, "It is time, cover the field in ice. Give us about a foot on the ground to work with."

He turned back to his orc friend while his sister-in-law brought down a heavy wave of frozen rain all across the battlefield, and smiled, "Relax, Brigadier General Grokan. You've put your faith and trust in me, I won't fail you. None of us will."

"Bah, I just worry that the only reason they promoted me is due to your arrival. You did not hear the way they praised my foresight and intelligence for befriending such a powerful being. It eludes my understanding that they might actually think that I planned the outcome of our encounter!"

"Ahh, I see now. You're really overthinking the hell out of this, big guy. What you need to do is stop thinking about it, let them draw their own conclusions as long as they advance your career, and just enjoy one of the unspoken benefits of being a good man and orc."

Arawn's eyes darted toward the ranks of approaching Vaszul and cast an invisible dome shield over his chosen engagement zone. It reached roughly twenty meters high, was about a hectare in size, and covered the area directly ahead of the defenders completely, from the northern border of the field to the southern and to the west all the way to the mouth of the road. Anything could pass through it unharmed and unhindered, anything but gases.

He followed it up with the elemental separation spell, and the snow on the ground began to slowly fill the shield with freed oxygen and hydrogen. He was careful to maintain separate layers in the proportions he required. Through the use of pinholes that he willed into the dome, he vented any unwanted gases and brought in any extra he needed.

When the Vaszul marched into the clearing and formed ranks under the invisible dome, the ice was long gone and Arawn learned of a new surprise that the enemy had in store. He looked to Amevina, a question in his eyes.

"Rawn, what's wrong?"

"See that guy standing back there behind the troops," he pointed to a lone figure who made his way behind the ranks of the troops. He had only come into view as the last of them neared the rear threshold of the dome. The only details visible from their distance was his bright blue, hooded robes. "He doesn't feel like the rest of us."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, reluctant to take the new stranger from her field of vision, "I don't understand. What do you mean by feel?"

"Well, we are all vibrant and energetic. We radiate emotion, the energy of life. As an empath, that's what I am able to feel in all of us. He's empty, he's like a... oh shit! Spark it now, Vina! We've got a lich incoming!"

Arawn quickly released an area of the dome at its rear, directly in front of the undead abomination and hardened the shield against everything he could think to include in an effort to contain the blast. At the same time, Amevina launched their opening gambit against the Vazul. Deep in the center, at his wife's direction, a tiny arc of static jumped between two plates of armor and the devastation began.

The flash-fire that blossomed inside the containment dome was near-instant, and spectacular. Arawn had again miscalculated due to his inexperience, and the dome was barely able to contain the blast, even with the vent he opened in order to include the lich in the festivities. While the ground quaked and the defenders were thrown off their feet, the men inside were incinerated in the intense heat. Not even their steel survived; it was turned into molten slag that littered the ground in the aftermath. The numbers would estimate that the Vaszul sent at least ten-thousand men to their deaths, easily a single troop division.

From their backs, they had no time to ponder that, nor whether the lich was their general, and they also missed the fiery eruption that engulfed the enemy undead with an inferno that reached almost to the enemy camp a mile down the road. Rocks, molten metal, and other fiery debris that included a few choice pieces of their former comrades who were closest to the rear of the explosion, were also hurled down the road and actually into the enemy camp. It took a moment for the three to pick themselves up from the ground, and by the time they had dusted themselves off, they were joined by Vorsah, the now-Captains Nudjik and Jezzik, and High Warsmith Togrash. They tried to speak, but Arawn silenced them with a finger to his lips and he focused on the emptiness of the lich.

The creature was gone from the battlefield, but now that he had felt it once, Rawn could still feel it far away. He pushed out with his gift and followed the emptiness back to the enemy camp. They had no knowledge of the nature of his abilities and had erected no defenses against it. His sight followed the trail into a tent where a gilded egg sat inside a padded, silk-lined box. Arawn's eyes widened in recognition.

"Koschei was real!"

The High Warsmith frowned, "Who?"

"Koschei the Deathless, he was a figure in a legend from a human culture of my world that we refer to as the Slavs. He used black magic to seal his soul away in a needle which he then hid in an egg and kept concealed in his private chambers. He was said to be a vibrantly healthy man, but inhumanly thin and gaunt."

"And just how do you know this figure was real, young human," The High Warsmith questioned.

"Because I just found our mystery friend's egg. It is in his tent back at camp. Break that egg and he dies for good."

"I take it that is how this Koschei died in the legend that you mention?"

"Yes. He'll be back, though. His body will regenerate, probably by tomorrow. We'll see him again for sure because I just gave him a score to settle."

The old orc grunted, "Hmm, yes. Indeed you did. Come, let us go back to the camp so that you can tell us all of this power you unleashed that shook the very earth beneath us so hard as to throw us all to the ground."

Arawn could not help it, he howled in laughter. Amevina heard the question and wore a knowing smile. The High Warsmith, however, was confused and slightly perturbed.

"What is so funny, Arawn Stonebrook?"

"That... that big boom...?" He struggled to control the laughter enough to speak, "Oh man... all I did was make water!"

The High Warsmith was not enlightened by that answer at all. Water put out fire... at best, it made steam if you heated the water enough. He could not understand how fire could make water. That the human found this humorous did not endear him to the orc and it showed in Togrash's expression. Amevina had to quickly explain what he meant, which, in turn meant that it wasn't a quick explanation at all. When she finished, everyone wore expressions of awe and she could not resist a laugh.

"That is similar to the reaction I had after he conducted an experiment in a smaller, though no less spectacular fashion back in my laboratory," she told them.

Nudjik spoke up, "What happened?"

She laughed a little harder now, "He blasted himself across the room and nearly knocked me off my feet when he concentrated the mix into a ball about the size of his fist..."

They all had a good laugh at Arawn's expense when he pulled back his hood and lowered the mask to reveal his chagrin.

"Yeah, I just did some math on that. Thanks to the way I contained it in such a tight space, I think I might have set off the equivalent of a medium sized nuke. If I hadn't altered the shield to contain the force of the blast, it would have killed us all and likely burned half the forest. Tell Lake Home that I'm sorry about the earthquake. Hell, for that matter... tell everyone. I'm sure shit flew off shelves all the way into the middle of Lake Home and below. Probably gonna be dwarves and gnomes everywhere, yelling about dirt and rocks falling on their heads, too." He forgot halflings, but no one bothered to enlighten him.

They walked back to camp in awed silence. Once the story spread of the devastating power that had been unleashed by the human, the camp spent the rest of the day that way as well. Duties were still attended, but it was a much more subdued camp that retired that night. With all the covered creations that the human had brought, and only the small ones revealed to the defenders, everyone was left to guess at what new and dangerous revelation the next day might bring, courtesy of their strange and bewildering human.