Brotherhood of the Twisted Iron: Beggars and Gods - Chapter 1

[seymoure]

In Wrang There Was a Wizard

 

Bethel was a formidable foe, of that there could be no doubt.

The battle had gone on for two days and the leader of the raider crew, Maxiyan the SoldSword, was ready to lead the final assault.

The wizard stood between the freebooters and the King’s Treasure Trove. They were going to have that booty that was legendary across the world as being more than any ten men could spend in ten lifetimes.

Maxiyan looked at the survivors of the war. Of his band there were a dozen left. There were also those four who were already halfway up the mountain when they arrived.

He looked at those who had been called “The Freaks” by his men when they let them join the real warriors in this offensive.

First there was the giant called Grath. The mercenary had never in all the times he had crossed the face of the known world came across a man larger than this one. Or uglier. He had seen bigger Giants of the Ice Mountains and the occasional dragon. But even these were easier to look at. Not one feature of the beasts face belonged with the others. His skin shades were inconstant, looking like they might have been sown together from many men of different races. Both eyes were different colors and sizes. His ears looked like someone had attached palm leaves on the sides of his head. There was not a place on his head where two strands of hair grew together. Or of the same color or length. His nose resembled a shell like the Figans used to make sounding horns from. His mouth might be almost normal, if it weren’t for the teeth. These were of different lengths, shapes and colors.

He was, in the kindest words possible, horrible.

But, in battle he was worth the best five warriors Maxiyan had every seen take up the steel.

Beside him was the sorceress. She was not beautiful, but beside the monster she might be taken for it. She was of Sivanian descent, with their almond shaped eyes and pale off color skin. She could not hear or speak. Like the brute, that only would have meant, in any civilized society, she would have been put to death at birth. He knew these four could only come from the outlands, where they didn’t have the same standards. But, he knew, without her he and his men would already have fallen to Bethel’s magicks.

Next was the Malintinain. While Grath was huge, he was tiny. Nearly half the height of most of the fighters around him, but his bow sang a sinister song of death. He was likewise not a thing of beauty. Or even acceptability. The little ebon man was twisted of face and humor. But he could loose three shafts in the time a man could clap his hands once. The large golden ear-ring shone against his black skin, but it didn’t make him any prettier.

Finally perhaps the strangest of all of the quartet. His sightless eyes and tender manner said nothing about a death bringer. But that he was, a swordsman unlike anything that would be seen on any battlefield. His soft words were nothing like the boorish men fighters surround themselves with. He played a number of musical instruments and played them well. One got the feeling that this was what he would rather be doing, but sacking and pillaging paid better.

These four had been the deciding factor that turned the tide against the Wizard. Now he was cornered within the final chamber.

He also knew that he would have to take his men in first if they were to claim the right of the greatest portion of the treasure.

As they prepared for the attack he wondered if these four would still have beaten the aged magician if they had finished their ascent of the mountain before his army had arrived.

He decided he didn’t want to think about that.

“We hit him on the right side,” he said to Yar, his second in command. The Belian nodded in assent.

Maxiyan turned to Grath, “When we have broken through his final defenses you can join in.”

The Ugly Giant looked quizzical and then smiled, “Whatever you think will win the day.”

He turned and took counsel from his fellows.

His three archers brought out their flaming missiles and notched them into their bows.

Maxiyan stood and shouted as he brandished his blade, “Death is our mistress! Let us offer her a Wizard!”

The arrow flew and the warriors shouted.

The advance began.

The battle was short and bloody.

© C. Wayne Owens
Continue on to Chapter 2