T Lain - The Bloody Eye

When the priest saw Vurrgh nod in general understanding, he continued the lecture with all the fervency he had once shown in the pulpit.

“We will unleash the full power of Gruumsh from within the mountains. The southerners and their weak, civilizing ways will face the full, ferocious power of Gruumsh for the first time. Gruumsh will empower a new army of orcs, troglodytes, and half-orcs and we will conquer all-even the southern lands.”

“Conquer all?” asked the guard.

“Yes,” answered the priest, “we will conquer all. Your people lost to the southerners because they wandered from the old ways, the true ways. Gruumsh removed his power from the weak leaders and the southerners took control. This time, there will be no weak leaders!”

“Cull the weak!” responded Vurrgh with the ritual phrase, but the priest looked into his eyes with a hypnotic stare that instantly silenced him.

Calmet leaned over the table and said to the orc in the most malevolent whisper imaginable, “We must finish this tunnel on time, if we do nothing else.” He pointed to the passage on the map and looked back at Vurrgh. “If we don’t finish this tunnel on time,” he continued, “it will serve as your grave.”

Calmet didn’t express the next thought to pierce his own mind: If the tunnel wasn’t finished on time, it would be his grave, too.

Yddith needed to convince the three experienced warriors to let her join them. She didn’t want to admit out loud that she simply felt safer near the half-orc since he had dramatically rescued them from the orc slavers. After the most recent attack on Pergue, she felt like the only safe place was within reach of Krusk’s great axe.

Close to tears, she listened as the experienced fighters, none of whom really approved of taking a non-fighter, much less an inexperienced girl, in tow, voiced a thousand and one objections to Yddith accompanying them. She swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to stare determinedly into each warrior’s face. She looked deeply into Alhandra’s eyes and realized that there was a softening in the paladin’s resolve. She sensed Alhandra reading her intent as easily as one might read a tavern sign.

“It’ll be all right,” Alhandra assured the serving girl. “I needed someone to trust once, too.” Yet even as Yddith sensed that she had an ally in the paladin, the two men continued to raise their voices in objection. Then something strange happened. The paladin turned to the males and spat out her explanation. “In my case,” stated the paladin, “he wasn’t there when I needed him. I wouldn’t want this woman to experience the same sense of loss.” With a grateful smile, Yddith responded to the paladin’s firm expression of resolve, “If she wants to go with us, she’ll go with us!”

The debate ended. None of the men wanted to take up the paladin’s challenge. They were completely disarmed by the unspoken story combined with the determined glare shining from Alhandra’s eyes.

“Don’t gawk!” she commanded, “I don’t want to talk about it. At least, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

The men shrugged and started off into the forest, but Yddith couldn’t help but wonder what the paladin’s secret might be.

Not being an experienced rider, Yddith was pleased when Krusk insisted that the group could make better time through the dense forest without their mounts. Alhandra hated to leave her horse behind, but even she agreed that they would be stealthier on foot. Yddith’s solitary eye glistened with admiration as she watched Krusk follow the trail of paw prints, broken brush, wolf dung, and occasional pieces of hair torn by prickly thorns. She fairly gleamed with pride when Krusk announced that the druid had resumed human form near the edges of the swamp, and she listened with rapturous attention when Krusk indicated the signs of an orc encampment.

The quartet stopped. In the eerie silence, even Yddith knew that a fight was inevitable. She fingered the sliced piece of curtain she had brought with her from the tavern and felt power building within her. She wondered if there was anything else the sorceress might have unwittingly taught her, and her mind began to wander through the catacombs of memory.

Her meditation was disrupted when Krusk snorted. She saw the half-orc look into a deep stretch of swamp and bare his fangs like an angry dog. She was also acutely aware that Alhandra had drawn her sword from its scabbard so quietly and effortlessly that some observers might have taken it for a spiritual weapon, a sword conjured by divine power alone. Though it was spiritual in a sense, dedicated to Heironeous, Yddith suspected that there was nothing supernatural about the blade. She had seen it in the tavern, as finely crafted as its bearer’s skills were honed. Then, as Jozan raised his mace in quiet defiance, Yddith side-stepped in order to be able to see the threat that the rest of the party was expecting to come into view.

She glanced at Krusk and followed the line of his gaze. She didn’t know what to think when the fins first broke the water’s surface. Five sets of fins sliced ominously toward the edge of the putrid pond where the heroes stood.

Before she could comprehend their significance, Yddith heard Krusk loudly proclaim, “Five heads!”

Immediately she understood as she saw the monstrous creature breach the scum-filled water.

Indeed, there were five heads on five long necks. Yddith had heard of hydras, as had the others, but hearing stories and seeing with your own eye were quite different.

Yddith impulsively reached for the wool and wondered what ghost sound she might use against the beast. At first, she thought she might create an eagle’s cry behind one of the heads. She felt inspired as she watched Jozan remove a candle from his pouch and immediately raise his voice in a psalm of Pelor. She heard his voice dance along the wind and it seemed as if the wind sang in harmony. She saw a small streak of alluvial lightning and, as it dissipated, a celestial eagle appeared.

Yddith failed to act. She was mesmerized by the frenzy of battle around her. She watched Alhandra slash out with her sword, miss the writhing hydra head nearest to her, and hastily retreat. The leftmost head of the hydra sank its teeth into Alhandra’s gauntleted left hand and tore the gauntlet off, scraping and slicing open the flesh with both the tortured metal from the gauntlet itself and the beast’s knifelike incisors. A rivulet of blood flowed from Alhandra’s wrist to her fingers, but it didn’t deter the paladin from stepping up to the writhing heads once again.

This time, as one of the heads plunged toward Alhandra in violent imitation of its fellow, it was intercepted by a bright flash of light that not only distracted the beast but astounded both it and the originator of the beam. Yddith was stunned. The flash had come from her. She realized with regret that her unexpected trick had failed to faze more than one head. Another fanged maw struck at Alhandra and its teeth raked the paladin’s armor, sending a painful screech through the air like fingernails on hardened slate.

Yddith couldn’t help but wonder how it had happened. She had once seen the sorceress discourage a drunkard by blinding him with a flash of light. As the hydra lunged toward Alhandra, Yddith had wished she remembered the power word used by the sorceress to activate her flare. When the celestial word for “brilliance” entered her mind, she’d spoken it without thinking of its meaning. Energy swelled inside her and shot from her empty eye socket, focusing through the emerald and flaring near the monster’s head.

As astounding as the spell was to Yddith, she realized that that moment was no time to dwell on it. The hydra’s center head snapped uselessly at Krusk, and its neighbor bit at Jozan without connecting. Another head, however, engulfed the body of the eagle. Feathers flew like a whirlwind from the bird before it shimmered and disappeared into the dimension from which Jozan had summoned it.