Return of the Ancients

Chapter 42 One World, One Race to Rule

Orcalion bowed deeply and crawled forward on his knees. He knew that the queen was still furious for his role in allowing the Man-kind to escape.

He looked up into the golden, slitted eyes. ‘We are ready, almighty Mogahr.’

The eyes didn’t blink. ‘And whaat offf the Wolfen traaaitor? Did heee open the hiddeen gate into the cassstle?’

‘The sign is there. The colours of Grimvaldr have also been taken, as well the Wolfen scouts we captured. They will be put to good use.’

‘And the Lygonsss — can we trussst thossse ssstuumbling bruutesss tooo hold tooogether long enough for the attackkk?’

‘The Lygon want flesh — but as long as we do not bring them up too soon, we may be able to hold them until the charge is sounded. Once they charge, anything in front of them will be destroyed.’

‘And wheeen theeere is no mooore Wolfen flesssh to consssume? Yesss, theen weee will deal with them alssso. One world — one race to rule it, Orcalion.’

Orcalion nodded. ‘As you wish, my queen.’ He tilted his head. ‘I wonder: how exactly does our pet Wolfen imagine he will live to claim his prize?’

Mogahr’s mouth opened, revealing the decayed remnants of her long fangs. ‘We promisssed him that he and the princessss would not be killed. We promisssed him that heee would rule over the remaining Wolfen. The Lygonss will need rationss for the long marccch back to their homeland. Perhapsss our traitor can be king of the prisonersss taken for fooood.’

Orcalion hissed out a laugh and bowed deeply. ‘But they shan’t meet their deaths at our hands. We Panterran always keep our word.’ He laughed again.

Mogahr raised her head and sniffed the air. ‘It will sssoon be the darkessst hour of the night — we attack then.’ Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. ‘If you fail me, Orcalion, at thisss, the most important hour for all Panterran kind, then the Lygonss will have more than Wolfen-kind for their fooood.’

Orcalion, cringing, got to his feet, but remained bent over. ‘King Grimvaldr will fall, and Empress Mogahr will rise and reign supreme over all of this unworthy world.’ He continued bowing as he hurried from the tent.

Once outside, he glided away, pausing only to cast a glare back over his shoulder. ‘You will not be queen forever, old witch.’ He continued muttering to himself as a giant figure emerged from the darkness in front of him.

The Lygon general towered nearly a head above his own kind, and dwarfed the smaller Panterran. With his battle-scarred face and ogreish physique, Goranx was a monstrous devil, to be sure. Orcalion was relieved that the beast fought on their side.

He looked at the newly taken heads hanging from the Lygon’s belt and frowned. ‘Man-kind? There are more?’

Goranx shrugged. ‘Perhaps. They were good… Soft and sweet.’

Orcalion’s eyes narrowed slyly. ‘There is another in the Wolfen castle. The queen wants this one alive, but in battle things become confused… and lost.’

Goranx stared for a moment, as if trying to pull the hidden meaning from the small Panterran’s words. His broad mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

Orcalion knew that the queen would not get everything she wanted this day.