The Maelstroms Eye Read Online Free PDF

are no visible doors or openings. It has four triangular sides and a square bottom, which it keeps facing the ground as it flies.”
    Fate was being too generous. The description fit the design of the pyramid ships used by certain undead human wizards, the sort that brought nothing but trouble. General Vorr abruptly shoved back his chair and stood to his full eight-foot height; Sergeant Hagroth barely reached past his chest. He carefully sorted and put away his papers, his well-oiled armor making no sound.
    “Sergeant Hagroth,” he said, “tell my staff to bring all the marines to full alert, but in secret. Show no outward sign of our preparations. I want the Fifth Leg Battalion in assault gear at once, war priests in the lead. Attach two wall-breaker ogres to each company.” He paused, considering. “Battle bonuses and honors to the first company to get inside the pyramid, if it comes to that. No attacks are to be made unless I give the order. Death to anyone who fires before then. Inform Admiral Halker of my plans. Anything more?”
    Sergeant Hagroth’s face twitched as he fought to contain his excitement. He, too, must have felt the lash of boredom for far too long. “Sir, nothing more,” he said, then stepped back one pace and raised his black-gloved fist in a final salute. “Vengeance is ours!” he shouted in Elvish.
    “Get on it,” returned the general in Elvish, looking down again at the stacks of paper on his desk. He heard the door shut and the faint sounds of someone hurrying away, then silence. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what was wrong. Oh, he thought, no screaming. The elf must have died already. That was odd because they usually lasted much longer than that. Vorr wondered what the elves thought when the scro administering the ritual tortures spoke to them in fluent Elvish; it must be torture all the more. The orcs and scro had remembered the victors of the Unhuman War too well for the victors’ own good.
    General Vorr had just finished stacking his reports and was preparing to leave when another knock sounded. He looked up, wondering what Fate could possibly be cooking up for him now. His hand again fell below the desktop and clutched the weapon’s grip. “Enter!” he barked.
    One of the steel-and-oak doors across the room opened gently. An emaciated Oriental human in flowery silken robes stepped through, a serene smile half hidden behind wisps of a white beard. A withered hand covered by paper-thin skin carelessly pushed the weighty door shut behind him. The old man appeared relaxed and calm.
    “Greetings, General,” said the old man in a strong voice, bowing once. His dark, almond-shaped eyes gleamed. “I pray that I am not disturbing your work.”
    Vorr eyed the intruder speculatively as his hands relaxed and let go of the weapon’s grip. “We have visitors, Usso. I trust you’ve heard.”
    “Yes. When the gates open, the flood comes through.” Without explaining the remark, the old man approached and raised his right hand as he reached the desk. Where his hand had been empty, a sheaf of papers now soundlessly appeared as if by magic – which, of course, it was.
    “My spies have been busy,” Usso said, almost cheerfully, setting the papers in a neat stack on the desk and turning them around to face the general. “I trust their reports will make entertaining reading.” The old man’s hands pulled back, then began to fingerspell words rapidly against the desk’s surface. The general appeared to study the new reports while reading Usso’s message.
    Elf and human guerrillas here. Three groups. I have waned unit commanders. Some seek you.
    General Vorr considered the news soberly. “Nothing interesting here,” he growled, thumbing a report page absently. He kept up the charade in case the guerrillas had the ability to scry on their meeting with spells, magical mirrors, or crystal balls. “Any other news?”
    “The pyramid ship has halted two miles outside the base’s