Lords of Kronos

Prologue

The cave entrance loomed ominous before Rorz. He shuddered and tried not to think about what lurked inside. A smell that reminded him of a swamp, like rotten eggs or an old man’s flatulence, wafted out of the dark hole along with white smoke that poured upward. A yellow powder covered everything nearby from skeletons of dead bushes to boulders the size of huts.

 “You can’t go. The creature will kill you,” a voice said behind him.

 Rorz spun around. Milug. How did he follow? He cursed under his breath. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his friend now. “You know the prophecy. The firstborn must go.”

 Milug pounded the end of his staff into the ground. Ample jowls bounced on his round, green face. “Bugger the prophecy. Tis a curse on our race.” The past year had brought a thickness to his neck and arms that gave him a height that almost reached Rorz’s.

 “I would sooner die than deny my fathers.” Rorz turned away from Milug. His words sounded stupid and hollow in his ears.

 “Your fathers?” Milug snorted. “Your fathers are all second born—their older brothers as dead as you will be if you’ll not listen to reason.”

 “Do not talk of my fathers.”

 “Your father prepares the oil for Grog’s anointing. He doesn’t even see you.” Milug spat. “Second born, Grog claims your place already. To your clan you’re already dead—”

 “Enough!” Rorz pointed his spear at Milug. His green fingers turned white at the knuckles and his arms shook. It didn’t matter that his friend spoke the truth. No one talked of his father that way.

 Milug stepped forward until the spear point was an inch from his neck. “They’d never know if you traveled east. One could make coin beyond the White Valley. Tis said the human cities have buildings higher than trees, and streets of stone. The adventures you could have—I heard tell of wizards and—”

 Rorz lowered his spear and breathed in deeply. “I am of the line of Olaf, first father. By the sacred prophecy I go.” It didn’t matter that none of his uncles before him had returned. Along with his father’s high cheeks and red birthmark on the back of his hand, Rorz had inherited his stubbornness. “It is my destiny.”

 “How do you know the prophecy speaks true?”

 "Do not speak blasphemy. You know the prophecy to be from Olaf himself, straight from the mouth of the gods.”

 “Don’t make no sense.” Milug scratched his head. “What exactly does the prophecy mean by the worm?”

 “The only way to stop the goblins.”

 “The worm is a goblin?”

 “No, someone must stop the goblins. They will attack soon. If the tribes aren’t united, we will fall.”

 Milug snorted. “Tribes united? My arse’ll play a tune for the elf queen before that happens.”

 “Not with the backing of the prophecy and a part of the worm’s hide in my hand.” Rorz stepped toward the cave. How long was this conversation going to last?

 “You got a hole in your head. Forget this foolishness.”

 “The time for talking is done. You can wait here. I’m going in.”

 At the cave entrance Rorz struggled not to gag at the acrid smell. The corridor remained wide inside but darkened quickly.

 “Wait…” Milug’s protests quickly faded.

 Rorz felt along the damp, slimy wall, and moved forward as quietly as he could make his steps. When he had decided he would have to give up stealth for a torch, he detected a dim lightening in front of him.

 The light grew into a strange bluish glow, and soon he saw his hands again. The passage widened and turned sharply to the right. Rorz slowed and crept forward. Around the turn, the tunnel ended in a cavern lit with the soft blue light that reminded him of moonlight.

 Rorz went to his belly and crawled forward. The cavern was huge, with a ceiling that went beyond sight. Rocks on the wall glowed with the soft light as if they were alive. Four massive glowing columns, thick at the bottom and tapering as they went up split the floor with uncanny symmetry. The cavern had to be three hundred paces across at least. The sounds of dripping echoed along with something deeper, lower, and more ominous. Breathing.

 Rorz fought the urge to run and forced his leaping heart down. The breathing came from the far side of the cavern. A black mass huddled there, but he could not make it out. He crawled to the nearest column, putting it between himself and the breathing mass. The ground was smooth and flat, unlike any cave he had experienced before, and without the creeping insects that would typically inhabit such a place.  He stood behind the column and peeked around. He could still not see what breathed other than to tell its size as huge. This has to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

 The next column stood within twenty feet of the mass. Rorz’s crawled across the floor to position the column between himself and the breathing mass. He crouched and walked forward, each step an agony, each scuffle of his feet a terror. He reached the column and waited. When the breathing stayed the same, he stood and peered around.

 The huge black beast lay before him, curled up with its head and tail rapped around each other like a cat asleep beneath its master’s fire. The worm from the prophecy, a striking likeness to the dragons so often present in tales told to children. Its huge body rose and fell, hundreds of ebony scales reflecting the blue light. It was twenty paces long, and that did not count its tail which looked as long as its body.

 Rorz slumped down behind the column and sighed. What kind of idiot errand was this? He had hoped that somehow such a beast did not exist. What was he supposed to do with a spear and a knife? His spear was as fine as any in Red Hand Clan, but he could never kill such a beast with it or any other weapon he knew of. What had his predecessors tried? In his deliberations he remembered the prophecy.

 The prophecy didn’t say he had to kill the beast, it only said that he had to return with a part of the worm’s hide. But what did that mean? The worm didn’t have a hide like a cow or a goat, it was more like a snake or a fish. Would a scale count?

 Rorz looked back at the worm. Would it have shed any scales in its den? A snake would shed scales and even its entire skin. If it did shed, maybe he could locate something to take back. If he was quiet enough.

 The trick would be to not wake the beast. How much sound would it take to rouse it? Rorz thanked the gods for his oxhide shoes, whispered a prayer of protection, and stepped around the column.

 He had only moved three steps forward before his lungs began to burn. A brief moment of panic rose up before he realized he was holding his breath. By Olaf he was a fool. He inhaled and the burning ceased. He crept forward scanning the ground and listening for the slightest change in the breathing. Each unseen drip within the cavern seemed like a splash loud enough to wake the dead. At least the dripping was louder than his footfalls.

 Rorz slowly circled the worm taking care with each step. The cave floor was smooth here as well, covered with only few small pebbles and a layer of dust. The worm must have been a meticulous cleaner. And where was the waste and the smell of waste? Most caves smelled of refuse, but the only smell here was a faint lingering of the rotten eggs so overpowering at the entrance. The other item noticeably absent were bones. Surely the worm would have left a few bones from its meals, but Rorz saw nothing. No bones, no waste, and most importantly, no scales.

 A search of the rest of the cave proved no more fruitful. Rorz experienced a brief moment of terror when he kicked a pebble and sent it skidding across the floor. In the cave’s echoes, it sounded as loud as a blacksmith at the forge. The gods were with him and the worm didn’t stir.

 Rorz sat back behind the column. The beast was still asleep. In all the stories worms possessed magical perception. Perhaps it rested as other great beasts rested in winter. It was mid-spring, but who could know the habits of such a strange creature?

 Rorz’s options were limited. He could try to kill the worm, but considering its size, that choice was laughable. No doubt the beast would awake when poked with a spear. No matter how hard he thought it always came back to those two options, death or dishonor. By walking into the cave he had chosen death and would not change his mind now. He was tired of waiting. He rose and crept back to the worm.

 Rorz considered his options. He only had one chance, and a strike to the heart might not penetrate deeply enough. The eyes were out of reach without climbing on the beast’s foot. It would have to be the neck. If he could breach the breathing tube, it might work. He crept forward, located a spot on the snakelike neck where it rested on the crook of a leg, took a deep breath, and drew back his spear.

 He noticed a strange pattern to the scales and hesitated. The individual scales appeared to be five sided, the size of his hand. When he looked closer, he noticed that some of the lines between scales were faint, and others were dark. He had expected each small scale to overlap each other to allow for movement, but what he found was that only the dark lines overlapped. Each scale was actually the size of a small buckler, composed of six of the smaller five-sided patterns, all bent intricately to the shape of whatever piece of the worm they covered. He would need to pierce between the dark lines or his spear would likely bounce off harmlessly.

 In a moment of inspiration, Rorz reached out and touched a scale with his fingertip. He drew his hand back in surprise. The scale was neither hot nor cold, slimy nor metallic. It was not like a rock, a tree, or even a tortoise. The closest thing Rorz could think of was a clay pot. He touched it again. He pushed gently, and to his surprise the scale shifted  slightly. What if one of these was loose? Could he pry it off? He looked at the dark line between scales and saw the pattern of another scale underneath. He thought again of stabbing the worm with his spear. Even if he could hit the joint with force, was there any room for the spear to push through? He doubted it. As ridiculous as it felt, prying a scale loose seemed like a better idea.

 He figured the tail had the smallest scales and would probably be the easiest to pry loose. The only problem was that the tail was precariously close to the jaws. Still, it held the smallest scales, so it would have to do.

 Rorz started feeling just above the wicked spiked end of the tail, searching for something loose. Many scales were loose, but he wanted one that was on the verge of coming off. Moving up the tail, he found an especially loose piece that was about the size of his hand. He took out his knife and worked it under the scale as gently as possible, all the way around. Was it looser? He wiggled. It moved. His heart leapt. This might work. The beast’s breathing stayed the same.

 Rorz repeated his maneuver with the knife and the scale loosened further. He almost had it. The knife went almost halfway under. He pried up.

 A dim red light crossed Rorz’s hands. He heard a soft whirring sound and looked up.

 The worm’s amber eyes were open and seemed to be looking directly at him.

 Rorz pulled his knife away and slowly stepped backward. The Column was five steps behind him.

 The worm raised its massive head as if to stretch its neck. The whirring was louder, along with a low rumbling that seemed to come from its belly.

 The column was four steps away.

 The worm unfurled long leathery wings, more like a bat than a bird.

 The column was three steps away.

 The worm stood to its feet and shook its head.

 The column was two steps away.

 The worm focused its attention back on Rorz. It opened its mouth to reveal a double row of dagger-sized teeth. The smell of burning filled the air.

 Rorz took one more step and dove behind the column. Flames engulfed the spot where he had stood, heat rolling across him in a wave.

 The worm bellowed, like the sound of a thousand bears, griffins, hydra, and minotaur crying out in the same voice.

 Rorz scrambled upright and placed his back against the column. It took all his will to keep from bolting for the entrance. The energy in his legs told him he could run so fast he would fly, but he knew the worm would be faster.

 The burning smell strengthened and the worm’s black lizard-like head snaked around the column accompanied by the whirring sound.

 Rorz stayed close to the column and shuffled as fast as he could the other direction until the hind quarters of the beast were an arm’s length away. The spiked end of the worm’s tail twitched and its head came into view around the other side of the column.

 Massive jaws snapped at Rorz, but jerked to a stop five feet away. A pillar of flame shot from the mouth, but instead of hitting Rorz, the fire struck the worm’s backside above its haunches. The worm roared in high pitched frustration and struggled forward. The column trembled and showered the floor in a rain of pebbles.

 Rorz had lost his eyebrows, but thought if he kept this placement with the worm’s head wrapped around the column he could stay one step away from being cooked alive. The worm stepped forward and he kept away from its head by shuffling around the column at the same speed. He made a full rotation before the beast stopped and roared again, its fiery breath flaming up to the ceiling.

 The worm remained still for a moment. Rorz looked up just in time to see the spiked club tail moving toward him. He dove to the floor.

 The tail struck the column above Rorz, recoiled back and came forward again like the end of a whip.

 Rorz lunged sideways and crouched beside the back foot of the worm. He hoped it could not kick sideways, but there was no where else to go. He had a feeling the beast would only miss high once.

 The tail looped in an arc, scraping the column and sailing over Rorz’s head. The whirring sounded. The head was coming back.

 Rorz grabbed his spear with both hands and thrust it at the side of the worm. It struck a scale with a dull thud and bounced backward. The vibration of the impact was so strong that he dropped the spear. As he leaned down to pick it up, the beast’s head came around the column. It had finally gotten smart and unwrapped its neck.

 The worm moved sideways and its head turned so that it faced Rorz. It opened its mouth.

 So this is it. Even as this thought struck him, Rorz saw a two foot opening beneath the beast’s belly. He grabbed his spear and dove. White hot pain struck the back of his legs.

 The worm bellowed and moved forward on its stubby legs.

 Rorz crawled frantically to stay underneath its body, aware that his pants were on fire, but with no time put them out. It was only moments before the creature sat on him and ended this crazy chase. He had to try something, anything. He reached into his belt, and pulled out his knife. Remembering the dark and light lines of the scale patterns, he lay on his back and drove the knife into one of the dark gaps with all his force. Half the length of the foot-long knife disappeared into the beast.

 The roars the worm made before were a whisper compared to the deafening shrieks it made now. Instead of squashing Rorz, it reared up on its hind legs. It reached its head forward and spewed a cone of flame that shot halfway across the cavern, lighting the dim like the noonday sun. It hung upright on its back legs for a moment, towering above Rorz, its head and neck outstretched, its wings spread.

 Best to not make it mad, Rorz thought. He had heard legend of an orc who killed a great tusked bear with a spear. The man had waited for the bear to stand on its hind legs. In that moment, he positioned the spear with its point facing the bear and its end in the ground. When the bear fell back to all fours, the spear impaled the beast, killing it. The orc, who was crushed by the weight of the bear and killed, became a legend.

 As the worm started to come back toward the ground, Rorz anchored the end of his spear on the floor and the point facing the worm’s approaching belly. He held the weapon in place with one hand and crouched.

 The worm crashed down.

 Rorz dove.

 When the spear struck the belly of the worm, the finely forged iron point stuck, and the oak beam bent like a boa. Two cracks sounded almost simultaneously, both loud enough to be heard above the worm’s roars. The spear broke in two. At the same time a three foot wide scale shot from the beast’s belly across the room, skipping like a flat rock on water until it bounced off one of the columns with a thud.

 Rorz hit the floor and rolled, narrowly avoiding the worm’s front foot as it came down. He was weaponless, too tired to run, and his last best trick had failed. His legs burned and his body was covered with cuts. What else could he do? He crawled toward the nearest column, but knew he didn’t have time. He hoped his death would be painless.

 The spear must have caused the worm to twist its body because it landed awkwardly and stumbled away from Rorz. It adjusted quickly and whipped its head around.

 Rorz stood.

 The worm opened its mouth.

 A bright burst of light sparked into the cavern from the direction of the entrance then disappeared.

 “Rorz!” a voice shouted. “Are you there?” Milug.

 Another flash of light, swamp dust thrown into torch fire by Milug.

 The worm turned its gaze to the light.

 Rorz blinked and saw his friend standing before the tunnel holding a burning torch. Rorz didn’t hesitate. He ran with all his might toward the entrance and Milug. Perhaps the worm would have to slow in the tunnel—if he could get there. He looked back.

 The worm was still focused on Milug.

 “Run, Milug!” Rorz shouted.  He was halfway there. Milug was not running, but was staring at something on the cavern wall. “Run!”

 The worm roared.

 Rorz looked over his shoulder. To his horror, the beast was running behind him, gaining fast. When he turned back to Milug, his friend had not moved. The fool didn’t know what he was dealing with. The fool was going to die, and for what? “Run, you fool, run!”

 “What is this?” Milug asked. “This is not like anything—”

 Rorz bowled into his friend, pushing him into the tunnel. In the collision, he stumbled and fell. He could feel the footfalls of the worm approaching and knew it was too late. He rose and turned.

 The worm was fifty paces away, approaching fast.

 Something in the corner of his vision caught Rorz’s eye. On the wall next to him was a strange hand-sized, red mushroom-shaped object about shoulder height. Directly above the mushroom was a perfect eight sided drawing in bright red with white script writing that he didn’t recognize.

 The worm bellowed.

 Rorz turned to see that the beast was only a few paces away.

 The worm opened its mouth.

 “Hey! Over here!” A burning torch flew through the air and struck the worm on its side.

 The beast turned its head.

 Rorz took a step backward. His back met something smooth that gave slightly before it pressed painfully between his shoulder blades. 

 The worm took one step toward Milug and stopped. Its belly lowered to the ground followed by its wings. Its neck slowly bent, accompanied by the strange whirring hum until its head reached the ground. Its red eyes blinked once, twice, then shut.

 A loud voice boomed. “Emergency shutdown initiated. Hungarian Horntail version three-point-zero-alpha. Diagnostic check—”

 Rorz couldn’t tell if the worm spoke or if the voice came from somewhere else. It felt as if it came from everywhere. The words were in common. Many of them were familiar, but he didn’t understand what they meant.

 “Power: ninety-percent. Mechanical: Error! Neck servo malfunction, two-bravo code November-eight-zulu. Physical: Error! Torso armor breach section lima-twenty-two. Error! Torso armor malfunction, section lima-thirty-one, code sierra-nine-tango. Please see manual for error codes. System shut-down complete. Thank you for choosing Fantasy Recreations, where fantasy is reality.”

Well, that's it. Send me an email at www.richardwines.com and tell me what you think. If you think that was intense, wait until you see the novel. Here is the one sentence summary: In a future where fantasy role-playing games are real, an elf unwittingly joins a team of adventurers and discovers he’s a pawn in a game gone awry.

Thanks for Reading! 

Richard