Page 50 of Warlord’s Plaything
50
HIRA
W e are scattered throughout the tunnels, waiting.
Listening.
The air is too still, too quiet, the kind of silence that only exists before war erupts.
I should be nervous.
I should be afraid.
But I’m not.
I’m ready.
Then I hear the first sound of it.
Shouting.
A clash of steel.
The roar of something breaking.
"It’s begun."
Valis’s voice is low, sharp, edged with satisfaction.
I turn toward Xyron, his eyes glowing like a predator catching the first stench of blood.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
But I see it.
The war inside him.
The fire ready to consume.
This is what we’ve been waiting for.
Kaelith’s house of cards is finally falling.
Now we watch them destroy each other.
We move through the tunnels, emerging at the edges of the battlefield.
The orc encampment is in chaos.
Fire flickers, shadows twisting against the tents.
"You think you can betray us, Kaelith?"
A massive orc, his chest scarred from battles long before this one, stands before the dark elf noble.
His voice is thunder, rolling through the encampment, drawing attention, pulling warriors from their tents.
Kaelith doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t move.
But I see the twitch in his fingers.
The way his jaw tightens.
The way he’s losing control.
"This is nonsense." Kaelith’s voice is smooth, the way poison is smooth before it kills you. "I have done nothing but lead you to victory. You think I would throw that away?"
But the orcs aren’t listening.
The false letters, the whispers in the dark, the doubts planted deep. They’ve done their work.
"You wanted us gone."
Another war chief steps forward, his face twisted in fury.
"You called us pawns."
The words are spat like venom.
Like a death sentence.
Kaelith finally looks unsure.
Finally sees the monster he thought he leashed turning its fangs on him.
He shifts, his eyes flicking toward his guards.
Toward his own people.
And I see it?—
They aren’t with him.
Not fully.
Not enough.
The council has already been divided.
Kaelith has no one left.
This is how he dies.
"You fools."
Kaelith’s voice is no longer smooth.
It’s cold.
Final.
Like a man who knows he has no way out.
"You want war?"
He lifts his hand.
And the first strike falls.
Chaos erupts.
Steel clashes against steel.
Blood splashes across the dirt.
The orcs turn on Kaelith’s men, hacking, slashing, tearing through them like animals.
And Kaelith?
Kaelith fights. Like a man who knows this is his last stand.
Like a man who would rather burn the world than lose it.
I watch as the camp descends into bloodshed.
I watch as the alliance crumbles.
I watch as the war we needed begins.
And Xyron?—
Xyron watches, too.
"This is it." Xyron’s voice is steady. Certain. A king watching the last pieces of his kingdom fall into place. "The next time we move—" His gaze cuts to me. "We end this."
And I nod.
I know.
I’m ready.
This is the moment before the final war.
Kaelith is bleeding.
And soon… He will die.