Divide And Conquer

Chapter 7

In the gloom of the Second Ring's tangled forests, the Owlkin Jiran perched motionless upon an ancient oak. His large eyes were shut in concentration as he sent out psychic tendrils, listening for signs of activity beyond his wooded domain.

Jiran's mind touched upon those of his brethren, patrolling the night skies on silent wings. From their aerial vantage points, Jiran saw through their eyes the massing forces in the countryside below.

Rank upon rank of Bornian warriors mobilized, rallying to Prince Voraz's banner with thunderous war cries. Jiran tasted their craving for bloodshed and violence. Voraz was marshaling his legions to stamp out the brewing rebellion.

Jiran's consciousness drifted further, skimming above fetid swamps and rocky peaks. In each domain, he found the races making their own preparations, honing weapons and practicing battle magic. For too long, fear of Voraz had kept them divided and subjugated. But no longer. From the minds of Imps, Red Tews, Elfs and all others, Jiran sensed the shared longing for freedom and vengeance. The time had come for them to unite against their oppressor.

Satisfied with the information gleaned from his psychic reconnaissance, Jiran withdrew his mind back to his own body. He spread his wings, leaving the branch with two powerful beats. Catching an updraft, he rose above the mist-shrouded forest.

As the trees dropped away below, Jiran sounded a warbling cry into the night - the signal for his Owlkin brethren to gather. Answering screeches echoed back from all directions as shadowy forms converged in the moonlight.

When all had arrived, Jiran addressed the parliament. "Brothers! Sisters! Our longWait is at an end. Even now, Voraz rallies his Bornian hounds to snuff out our rebellion. But the races have found unity in their desire to resist him. This is our time to strike!"

Fierce hooting resounded among the assembled Owlkin. Jiran pressed on. "We shall fight with fang and talon alongside all who oppose the overlord. Take wing, my kin! Spread word that the revolution begins at sunrise!"

With echoing cries that rang for miles across the night sky, the parliament of Owlkin dispersed in all directions, winging swiftly toward their rendezvous with destiny.

Far below in the fetid swamplands of the Sixth Ring, the Sea-kin prepared for battle in their own manner. Their shamans gathered in a hidden grotto, adorning themselves with necklaces of bones. Wielding polished driftwood staffs, they began to chant and sway in unison, calling upon the ancient powers.

The murky waters responded to their summons. An unnatural fog arose, billowing forth from the grotto to blanket the swamps. Strange lights flickered through the mist as it crept toward the borders of the Sixth Ring.

At the lead shaman Goljat's command, warriors slipped into the enchanted miasma, their forms vanishing amidst the roiling vapor. The mist would serve as cover for the Sea-kin to emerge and wage aquatic warfare against their enemies.

In the desolate Fifth Ring, bands of Red Tews daubed their skin with ash-patterns to symbolize their resistance. Their leader, Gell, addressed the grim warriors.

"No longer shall we live as Voraz's chattel and beasts of burden! The time has come to break our chains, with blood if need be. Our allies have called - we march at dawn!"

The Red Tews raised poleaxes and spears in guttural cries of approval. Across the land, the downtrodden races stirred, united by a groundswell of defiance generations in the making. Through fear and oppression, Voraz had sown the seeds of his own destruction, and now the harvest was at hand.

In the Fourth Ring, Elf warlocks made final preparations of a different sort. Kovil, Maya and their ilk would not meet the enemy in open battle. Instead they would counter the Embodiments' magic and sow illusion and confusion in the ranks of Bornian soldiers.

Maya lifted her arms, weaving an incantation to stir up vile vapors from the Ring's toxic fens. The sickly smog would choke and bewilder anyone who inhaled it. Kovil summoned swarms of spectral ravens, whose pecking and distractions would harry spellcasters attempting to target the rebels with harmful magic.

And so it went throughout Xiuri's domains. On the eve of revolution, each race brought its own strengths to bear against the forces of Prince Voraz. Truly for the first time, they were united in purpose. The downtrodden had found common cause to fight back against their oppressor. The land held its breath, poised on the knife's edge of destiny.

In the Imperial Capital of Xanthus, Voraz strode the parapets of his citadel, surveying the mustering of his Bornian army in the squares and streets below. His claws clenched the obsidian ramparts in anticipation. At long last, the hour had come to scourge the land of the defiant wretches who thought to oppose his reign.

Voraz threw back his head and bellowed to the roiling firmament above. "Let them come! No matter the powers or magic they wield, my mind and will shall dominate all! Xiuri' will be purified in blood!"

At their overlord's command, the Embodiments and generals began issuing orders. Like a slumbering beast rousing to prey, the imperial war machine prepared to march forth and devour any who dared resist Voraz's supremacy.

Yet even as Voraz projected outward zeal and confidence, internally he nursed a growing seed of doubt. The Imp Rax's betrayal had shaken him, making Voraz suddenly aware of his own vulnerability. Fear was an unfamiliar sensation, and Voraz hated it.

He pushed down his misgivings through sheer force of will, clamping ruthlessly onto his anger instead. The Impudent rebels would pay for causing any weakness or uncertainty in their master. Voraz would reaffirm his dominion, no matter the cost.

"To war!" he thundered, raising his fist toward the seething sky. "We shall paint the land red!"

All through that night, Voraz's legions continued massing by torchlight. But the overlord found no sleep. For the first time since seizing Xiuri' centuries ago, he felt the icy touch of Fate upon his shoulders. It whispered that a reckoning was at hand.