The Undying Oracle (The Wizard Slayer Saga Book 2) by Franklin Roberts

Author:Franklin Roberts [Roberts, Franklin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-11T00:00:00+00:00

16

THROUGH THE HOLLOW KINGDOM

Lord Vordroth lay on a table in his fortress. Around the giant's body hustled numerous robed attendants. Fell incense wafted from skull censers, and toad-like chanting came from cracked and tired lips. So mighty was the Oracle’s power that Vordroth was able to coerce Tyrithellian wizards into serving him. This was his secret to harnessing the boons of magick, as the Witch Lord delved little into the complexities of spellcraft himself; that was a mundane matter better left to servants.

Amidst the robed men walked drenoch. These renegade cyborgs carried out the more technical of the ritual’s processes. One of the masked machine-men pulled shards of charcoal from the depths of Vordroth’s eye sockets. As delicate as its movements were, the instruments it used occasionally slipped in its clawed, metal hands. Steel pierced charred flesh, and Vordroth growled in anger.

Reika entered the chamber and dropped to a knee, saying, “My lord, most of the slaves have escaped. We slew many, but it did not deter them. I fear this may lead to slower production from the forges.”

The wizards continued shaking their grim, twisted amulets and chanting while the Kolgathian woman spoke. Slowly, suppressing rage, Vordroth said, “What of the Wizard Slayer?”

After a pause, Reika admitted, “We have not yet found him.”

The giant winced as a sliver of black bone was pulled from within his head. “In time, the Oracle will reveal him to me. You will hunt him down and bring me his head.”

Reika raised her gaze, confused. Her master was obscured by his magick-wielding attendants and could not be seen. She asked, “Do you not want to taste vengeance yourself?”

“The White Lord approaches seeking the Oracle. I will have to face him myself and prepare for his coming.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Urataz will aid you in this task.”

One of the robed wizards turned to Reika and bowed in greeting. As he rose, the woman saw that his eyes were covered by cloth inscribed with a cryptic, flowing script.

“A blind wizard? Against the Wizard Slayer?” she scoffed.

“Your charge is the Hound of Mog Muhtar,” said the short mage. “Mine, however, is the assassin of the Serpent’s Hand. If it were not for him, the Slayer would still be in the dungeons beneath this fortress.”

“Was he not crippled?”

Vordroth growled, “No. He lacks the potions that give the men of his guild their superhuman abilities. He most likely hasn’t found anything of the sort yet, but I refuse to take any more chances. Both must die. Zast is currently hunting for the Wizard Slayer’s elf-blooded companion. I was going to use him as leverage, but now I only wish to drink his blood.”

In a metallic drenoch hand rested a device that seemed like a tadpole in shape. From a metal hemisphere trailed wires coated in a slick pseudo-biological fluid. The chanting of the Tyrithellian wizards swelled. The device's wires began to quiver, and as it was brought closer to Vordroth’s empty eye socket, the wires coiled like a viper and subsequently shot deep within his skull.

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