The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2

The place was a graveyard of the dead, yet soon it would be transformed into a joyful celebration of the living.

It was a graveyard in that it was the ruins of Ched Nasad. The home for the Jaezred Chaulssin assigned to oversee guarding the satyrs, they were no more now. The houses of the Jaezred Chaulssin stood empty, devoid of food stores, and their steeders and riding lizards were poisoned.

It was a celebration in that the boy finally met his fellow satyrs. They, of course, took no interest in him, for he simply made their numbers two thousand and one. Yet they certainly took an interest in Graybeard’s mead. They first stood in one long line to receive it but that would have taken too long, so Graybeard divided himself up into twenty keepers, each with his own wineskin of mead. Yet even this produced a hundred satyrs (and sometimes a hundred and one) in each line. And, without fail, each one that had his mug filled afterwards promptly returned to the end of the line that he might fill it again as soon as it was empty. The boy happily did the same.

And the boy listened to them all and marveled at the fun they made of everything, especially the Jaezred Chaulssin. Why one would think the Back Dragons were not needed to cut them down at all, for the clever wits and sharp tongues of the satyrs could do it with no trouble at all. The boy wished he had a pen and scroll to write their pointed insults down. They were relentlessly brutal, inconsiderate, heartless, and delivered with the skill of an absolute total villain. It made the boy proud to be one of them.

Yet soon the mead had its desired effect and the women of the Black Dragons became magically beautiful to them all, and the satyrs sought to seduce them. So, of course, the boy tagged along.

And then he listened to the satyrs woo the women; how beautiful their eyes were and how it was obvious to them they were pure as snow by their white hair and that they didn’t dare lie to them or the women’s eyes could see it in them for certain. The boy’s eyes widened. Why the thieves had stolen his lines! Every one of them! Some had even added to them which would have enraged the boy but for the fact he was desperately seeking a pen and scroll to write the best one’s down for future use. Some were really quite good. But, for the most part, it was stolen material, stolen from him. He wondered how they could have possibly learned it from him without ever meeting him. Yet they had all done it, sure as certain.

Yet two thousand satyrs (and sometimes two thousand and one) could not all seduce two hundred Black Dragons. Eventually, the one thousand eight hundred and one losers returned to Graybeard’s drinking line of mead. And then they began to play their homemade flutes, for a satyr could make a flute out of anything. Why a satyr could take a knife to the world’s finest, most expensive, violin and turn it into the world’s cheapest flute and do it in mere minutes.

And once the music was going good and strong, they all danced the sikkinis. The boy jumped right in and pounded hooves with the best of them. Oh! It was just grand! He’d never had such fun.

And when he finally tired, he knew just what he needed. He just needed–uh–just needed–uh…

Oh! Yes! More mead!

My but those Black Dragons were looking awfully good right now. They just got better looking all the time!

He’d drink to that!

In the morning, Sar began to organize the satyrs into two combat regiments and each regiment into three battalions and each battalion into three companies. The satyr keeper had fought drow wars before, knew what he was doing, and knew how to prepare.

Meanwhile, word had arrived from the spies along the road to Orlytlar that Lolth’s army was on its way, marching night and day and that the way out now by the Deep Hai was blocked. Shinayne delivered the news to Graybeard.

“They have cut off the way behind us,” she reported. “We shall have to make for Ridder Mark Cavern and reach the surface by the Three Candles.”

“Will the enemy know we do this?” asked Graybeard of her.

“They will deduce it—yes.”

“How will they try to stop us?”

“Vhaeraun has raised an army under General Ab’shialaa to make war with the dwarves in the Mithril Mountains. He can order them to block the way to Ridder Mark Cavern. I expect they shall take up a position at Thera Pass, which divides our cavern from the Ridder Mark’s.”

“Can they defeat us?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” she said. “But they need only delay us long enough for Lolth’s army to catch up with us from behind.”

“And then they shall catch us between them?”

Shinayne nodded. “Should that happen, they shall utterly destroy us.”

“Can’t you use your light staff?” asked Marroh of the elf keeper. “To blind these orcs so that we can kill them?”

“These are no ordinary under world orcs who can be blinded,” replied Graybeard. “They say they are half men. They will not like the light of my staff but it will not blind them.” He looked at the drow woman instead. “They say you are a clever woman, Shinayne. How do we get past these man-orcs at Thera Pass?”

“Militarily, your best solution is to create a diversion to their front and then attack them from behind.”

“How do we get an army behind them?”

“You can’t,” replied Shinayne. “We have no way to get there before they reach Thera Pass. We can sneak a few by them but only a hand full.”

“But what of your drow armor of Kreel’s?” asked young Joe. “Won’t it stop their weapons as it stopped those of the Jaezred Chaulssin? Can you not cut your way through the man-orcs?”

“The Jaezred Chaulssin were drow and not man-orcs. The man-orcs are bigger and stronger than us. Nor are they cowardly assassins,” she said. “The strength of their blows can fell us, armor or no.”

“She’s right,” said Marroh. “We dwarves do it to drow all the time. The Black Dragons’ armor will not protect them from man-orcs if these man-orcs are strong.”

“And they are led by General Ab’shialaa," she added. "Another of Vhaeraun's creations. He has learned from his mother."

“So only an attack upon their rear will bring about success?” asked Graybeard.

“Unless you know of some magic by which to make them disappear,” replied Shinayne.

“Then attack them from the rear we shall,” said Graybeard. “We shall have to delay Lolth’s army first. That should not be too difficult. Unlike Vhaeraun’s half-orcs, Lolth’s drow army can be blinded. Even a single dazzle will disorganize them enough to delay them by a day. Several blasts shall easily rout them. The rest of us shall use that time gained to slip through Thera Pass and get behind the man-orcs. Two days later, Shinayne, you shall see my light behind the enemy. That will be the signal for you and the satyrs to attack the half orcs from the front.”

Shinayne nodded.

The boy wondered with what army Graybeard planned to attack them from behind with. Surely, he did not mean just the seven of them? And why wait two days to signal them?

So far, the only enemy their company had bested was mere goblins or blinded orcs and drow. These half-orcs were bigger, stronger, and not be so easily blinded. Even Leradien, their most terrifying weapon, could be killed by their arrows. Common sense said they would quickly lose and the man-orcs would easily win.

Yet Shinayne nodded in acceptance and understanding and without any question of how the seven of them were to attack the enemy’s rear or why wait two days to do so.

Six other pairs of eyes were on Graybeard though, each wondering how he hoped to accomplish that. But the Elf’s keeper offered no explanation and, instead, began leading them in the opposite direction.

“Let us first interfere with Lolth,” he said. “Shinayne! Take your Black Dragons and Sar with his satyrs and march ahead to Thera Pass. We shall join you there.”

They followed Graybeard back the way they had come and up the road that had brought them to the city, using their elf gems to guide them. When they reached the top, the ancient keeper raised his light staff and pointed it down the road and it let forth a blinding blast of light, lighting up the cavern as if it were day. Its radiant glow pierced the darkness like a beacon of hope, illuminating the what lay ahead with a brilliance that drove back the encroaching shadows.

By its light, they could see a great plain extending before them of gray rock and, in the distance, a black river flowing towards them. Yet the boy remembered no river there. They had left the river several days’ march back. That wide, winding black 'river' approaching them was actually a solid mass of marching bodies—Lolth’s troops!

From this distance, they looked like an immense army of ants. The road was absolutely black with them. There must have been ten anthills of them! Their column was wide and endlessly long.

Only then, something went wrong with the light of Graybeard’s light staff. Although it blazed just as brightly, the cavern returned to such utter blackness they could not see each other’s faces, even with Graybeard’s light staff blazing before them. Its light revealed nothing.

“It is Lolth,” he said of it. “She has cast a spell of darkness to counter my light staff. She must be close by.”

“She’s here?” gasped the boy in fear.

“She is and she is not far. I fear she is at that army’s front.”

“Will you have dazzled them?” asked Amien.

“For now, yes,” answered Graybeard. “But I have only delayed them for a day and Lolth will keep her spell of darkness in place. I will not be able to dazzle them again.”

“They are still a day’s march to this city,” noted Amien. “Your having dazzled them will slow them by another day. So they are two days behind us. But did you not say you needed two days to attack the orcs at Thera Pass from behind? For these orcs and drow shall arrive then. Between Lolth’s army and Vhaeraun’s at Thera Pass; the satyrs and the Black Dragons shall be crushed.”

“Then we must find another way to delay them for an extra day,” concluded Graybeard.

“Can we somehow block the road?” suggested the boy.

“I have no such power,” said Graybeard. “I cannot order rocks to move.”

“Perhaps we can start an avalanche ourselves to block the road?” offered Amien.

“On this plain, there is not enough loose rock here to block a creek, let alone an army!” complained Marroh. “Blocking the way can’t be done!”

“I shall stop them,” said Leradien.

“You?!” gasped the boy in surprise that Leradien should volunteer. “What can you do?”

“I can meet Lolth,” she said.

“Are you mad?” the boy countered wide-eyed. “Meet Lolth? She’ll destroy you!”

“I can buy you a day.”

“You’ll be killed!”

“Do not underestimate a drider,” Leradien replied. “They don’t die easily or feel pain. Remember the drider you put your arrow through? She barely even felt it. She fought as if it wasn’t even there—and you hit her deep! I have a drow woman’s strength and a demon’s blood and I am no ordinary drider. I shall be a match for her. You will have your extra day.”

“I can’t let you!” exclaimed the boy. “You’ll die!”

“Trust me! No one wants to volunteer less than I do,” she said. “But if we do not delay her army an extra day, then all seven of us will die, including me. This way, only one of us does. I’m the only one who can do it.”

“I hate to admit it,” said Marroh, “but the drider is right.”

Graybeard nodded.

“I’m afraid she is,” he said.

There was a long pause between them.

“I won’t leave Leradien,” said the boy.

“And I won’t leave the boy,” added Ronthiel.

“Both of you must go on without me,” said Leradien. “You will only die if you stay.”

“I promised I would never leave you,” the boy answered.

“I release you of that promise. Now go, both of you!”

Graybeard motioned the others to obey Leradien and then spoke to her alone.

“You realize I am your keeper?” he asked.

“I know,” she said, head down. “I’ve always known.”

With a grave nod, he turned away to join the others who, of heavy hearts, now left behind a dear comrade to confront their greatest foe alone. For none dared to take her place.