《Heirs of Hatred》


 Chapter 1: The Darkling and the Coward

    Act I


    Doubts


    An orc chased another through a land of fire and ash. The chaser''s skin was as dark as the sky full of smoke and his eyes as bright as the fires that spew from the burning mountains at the horizon. Desperate fury laid in these eyes for this chase was for more than a simple victory.


    The chased one however, was green as the distant forests, he missed so dearly, and had eyes that were as dark as those of a wolf he missed even more. Pure fear laid open in those eyes. For his chase was about more than simple survival.


    It was about victory for all the clans from the south. It was about the promise of victory and an end to all the chases.


    His fear became a desperate fury for he knew he was too weak to fight his dark chaser. ¡°Only without honour one would run, only with fear one would die.¡± Words that were spoken by his mother once, and that weighed heavy on his heart as he ran across the ashen plains.


    ¡°Coward!¡± screamed the dark orc that chased him. The echo of his voice was only drowned by the roaring burning mountains.


    His body was painted with blood, most of it fresh, none of it his own. He knew his words were only partly true, for he was unsure how long he could run after the battle. The muscles in his legs burned like the fire he sought to protect, and his breaths became as heavy as the smoke he sought to conquer again. A fight would have been easier. And the green coward knew that. As much as he was a coward, he was no fool to stop running and face the dark chaser''s axe.


    Their rivalry had started before they were born. Enemies in a war not even their Elders remembered how it began, only that they fought. Always one clan against the other, always to live in fire and hatred and to soil their lands with the blood of their enemies. Over the ages too much of it had been spilled for there to ever be peace among their clans. Every family that lost one to the other had sworn for revenge. Had made it their tradition to hand down a weapon that would deliver the final blow of vengeance. But it was never the final blow. Blood was always there to breed more fury, more tears and more hatred until all their kind knew was the way of war. That was the only life an orc knew and even if both hoped for victory. It was not a hope to end the endless bloodshed, but to be the victor of it.


    The green coward knew he could outrun his dark chaser, but he did not know where to hide. The ashen plains were wide and open, only surrounded by a mountain range filled with caves that spew the earth''s boiling blood across the grey land. Some of them filled with red roaring wyverns others with even darker shadows. Maybe he could throw his enemy in a pool of molten earth, maybe he could find a cave to lose him in, or maybe he would just run until one of them was stopped by their own body. A fight not of axe and sword but the muscles in their legs and the air in their lungs. Even then, no matter the option it was all only temporary for he knew his luck so far was to face only one, and only without his mount.


    The dark servants of the dragon were known for their ability to take victory even when alone. Many clans thought it was mainly because of the beasts they rode, but the blood on his dark skin, and the bodies of the cowards'' allies, spoke a different truth.


    ¡°If I can bring him to talk, he might waste his breath into his voice.¡± The coward thought. It was not a grand plan, not one that could ensure victory but for now his legs and voice were the only weapons that gave him hope.


    ¡°Quite bold to fight alone, darkling!¡± The coward almost choked on his own words, because he knew the irony of spewing them while fleeing.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get the bold of my axe! Coward!¡± The dark voice of his even darker chaser bellowed back. His words made no sense but the threat behind them was real.


    But the darkling knew his legs would not be able to run much longer. Usually the servants of the dragon took their victory in mere seconds as they gave their all in every swing of every axe. If that was not enough to kill all foes, there was no point in wasting time with strategy or thought, only death. Still he had to admit that the coward was about to win as his legs burned more with every single step of his chase. Maybe it was the battle before that took most of his strength, maybe it was the heavy black and spiked armour on his legs that slowed him down, no matter what it was, it was about to take his victory.


    ¡°At least the rest of you died with honour!¡±


    His legs were the only part of his body that carried protection, for his clan knew it was unwise to run their lands of fire without such. Not only because of the earthen blood that was spilled from the mountains, but also because of the heat that radiated from the beasts they rode into battle. If he only had his own, none of it would have been a problem. The coward would have died in but a moment and the most final victory for his clan and the dragon would have been a step closer. More than anything, his own name would have been closer to honour once more.


    For his beast was not killed in battle, not taken by spear, axe or sword, but his own Khan. A warning to all who lost control of their families, who did not rule it with the same strength and fire as the dragon itself. His own bloodline had betrayed the clans of fire and the dragon of the north. An unthinkable, unspeakable crime against all they had been fighting for, from their parents'' parents to the yet unborn and their children''s children. So his Khan said. The thought alone was enough to make anger conquer his legs for a moment longer. It was not even about the victory of his clan, but his name, his blood, to set right again. For his legs to surround the back of a beast and to conquer the sky once more. And to hold those he had to protect in his arms again.


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    ¡°Is there no sense of pride in you, Coward?! No shame in dying on the run?!¡± The darkling knew his words were more a plea than a mockery. For to come back to his Khan with yet another failure would mean death for not only him, but all his bloodline.


    The coward did not know the reason why the darkling had attacked them without a winged beast, only that it was the reason he still lived. They had lost so much, even before they encountered the darkling their journey was littered with impossible enemies all for but a promise of victory. The scroll in his hand.


    ¡°I will not die this day, darkling!¡± He spoke more to himself than to his chaser. ¡°I will not die this day¡­I cannot die this day¡±.


    It had taken so much blood to find, so much travel to take. It was from the lands beyond the sea. The lands of not orc but ogres, from buildings they called castles in a land they called kingdom. Even back then he missed the simple tents of his clan, the caves and woods of their hunting grounds and the company of both wolf and orc. Now he feared to never see them again. To die in a land of smoke and ash, where the skin burned by the heat of mountains and the lung was filled with the ash they spew. But he was not allowed to lose. The scroll was their greatest chance of victory, once and for all. So many had died for it. Friends he called brothers and sisters, a band of warriors he had called his pack, all dead for this very scroll. None of them were able to read it, but they knew it was the key to victory. To defeat the dragon and never lose another wolf to dragonfire ever again. That was the Arch Druid''s promise. A promise he gave the clans of the south generations ago and that was so close to be fulfilled. With the scroll he would be able to defeat the dragon of the north, conquer the clans that served him, and finally bring peace back to those that never knew it existed.


    Unlike the darkling he did not feel the burning of his legs, but weight in his lung. He was not used to the lands of ash and fire and he did never imagine they would take that much. He wheezed and panted, knowing it was not a runner''s way, but still his only way to take air.


    With the coaled lungs of the coward, the darkling closed in. Still too far for a swing of his axe, but close enough to at least throw his tomahawk with all the might he could still muster ¡°Stand your ground! Coward!¡±.


    His scream became a warning to the green coward as he glanced over his shoulder. He shifted to the side and avoided the tomahawk, but fell when ash and stone beneath his feet were against him. Once he laid on the ground he felt the burning heat of spewing fire close to him. A memory of home, the tooth of a great brown wolf pierced into his chest as he fell. It was the wolf''s pain that finally made him roar. He was not allowed to lose.


    The darkling answered the roar with his own and followed the coward. He swung his axe down at him, only for it too to be dodged as the coward rolled above the ground. One swing followed the other while both orcs thought of the people they lost to the north. The coward swung desperate and wildly for his pack and the wolf he left behind. The darkling attacked with fury and the desperate hope to set it all right again. Both fighting the fight their ancestors started before the first hut was built, and both fighting for those that were yet to battle.


    The coward could feel the ash conquering his lungs but had not much more to give than to finally take his stand. This was the land of the enemy and no matter how far he would run, there was no victory.


    Every time his two small stonebone tomahawks blocked the darkling¡¯s big obsidian axe it felt like his arms would break. He was surprised they did not but still knew he could not hold another swing and so threw one of his axes at the dark chaser while he screamed.


    ¡°Fire will never take the south! We will never bow to your beast!¡±


    The darkling swung his axe in front of him to block the throw and saw the coward fighting with his own breath.


    ¡°Your south is rotting since the day your Druid has taken hold of it!¡± The chaser blocked the cowards'' other thrown tomahawk with yet another swing. ¡°Our flames will be your Freedom!¡±


    Once the coward continued to run, the dark chaser took his gigantic black axe with both hands and threw it after him.


    The second of hope the coward had felt was broken by an immense pain in his back that brought him down to face the hot ashen ground. ¡°I will not falter darkling!¡± He screamed as he tried to stand up only to fall under the pain and weight of the axe in his back. Not feeling anything but hatred anymore he tried to crawl further, still not giving up. His chest was burning on the ashen ground and his back cracked by the darkling''s black axe. His legs did not answer his calls anymore, still he tried to crawl further and further. There was no thought behind it, just a last act of defiance.


    ¡°Finally!¡± were the last words the coward heard before his skull was simply crushed under the darklings heavy obsidian boot. His brains were splattered and cooked on the ashen ground and the remains of his body twitched in shock.


    This was the land of the enemy and there was no victory here.


    The darkling took a moment to take a few heavy breaths, more from the run than the fight. As it was so often the case a servant of the dragon had taken his prey. Slowly he first took his axe from the cowards back and then the scroll from his belt. It was old and not only precious for what it could mean for the war but the simple old parchment it was written on. Rolled together and held by a simple leather band the darkling slowly opened it. The signs on it were written with dark old ink. Pictures of wings and a mountain of the dead were the only thing he could recognise on them. He wasn¡¯t sure if the runes on it were the same as the shamans wrote on their stones and even those he could not read. Still, even if he did not understand what the scroll would mean for the war, it was a victory for him and a chance to reclaim his name. Maybe even one day to take a beast to the sky once more.


    A dark grunt escaped him with a grin while he rolled it back and found a place on his belt. He then took both his own axe as well as those of the coward before he looked at his remains one last time. ¡°Kag magosh¡± he grunted with respect and then started his long walk back through the ashen plains.


    The war was somewhere else, but its fate was decided between those two that very day.

 Chapter 2: Family

    The darkling without a name took time with his journey through the lands of ash and fire. He was already weakened from the chase and the fight and it would have been unwise to lose all the strength of your legs so close to the burning mountains.


    Now that the battle was over his body allowed him to feel more of the harsh land once more. The burning heat that came with every ashen breeze to his darkened face, the scent of sulphur hidden in the thick smoke and the cutting of tiny corns of obsidian that came with the rising hot wind torching his skin.


    It was done. The scroll was his and soon would be his name. He dared to smile and grunted at the thought for his name was more than but his own legacy. It was a weight on his shoulders that he had to earn again, that he had to prove and carry until those after him would do the same. If she would ever take his name.


    His father was once a man proud of his conquests, a rider of the sky to battles in the south. A proud defender against the Arch Druid and his minions. Some warriors in his clan still whispered his name and told the grand stories. Ara''gash, the mountain on wings. It was said the clans of the south told their children of the evil mountainous shadow from the sky that carried the name Ara''gash. Tales to make sure the children would not leave the tents at night. To fill them with fear for the shadows from the sky, fear for fire that would rain down if they wouldn¡¯t listen and axes that would break their own if they wouldn¡¯t do their chores.


    The darkling without a name, was always proud that the weight of his fathers name now was resting on him. But even greater was the pain when he lost his own. Even more reason why he would not be beaten by the land now that the battles were behind him. If anything his long walk through the ashen plains was his last test to regain his pride. No matter the burning pain of overused muscles or the lack of sleep the last days carried. Because to sleep in these lands was deadly. The lungs would fill with smoke and ash, so most orcs who had closed their eyes here, never woke up again. Sleep going into death, a peaceful end in a burning land. An end he was not allowed to have.


    He looked up as a ball of molten earth crossed the sky. His burning eyes were sharp to pierce through the smoke and make sure no drop would fall in his direction. ¡°The dragon must feel his victory is close¡± he thought as the fire trailed through the black sky. Once it had passed he continued with a more fierce and faster step, knowing that soon he would reach the upward path. It was as treacherous as the rest of their lands, for in the ever growing darkness of the smoke most did not realise that they were walking uphill until the mountain would suddenly become steeper and the obsidian of it sharper.


    Each of his steps was filled with pain, but followed with a grin just as he was taught. ¡°It will betray your senses.¡± He remembered ¡°When your muscles burn, your grin will be the snow.¡± his father had taught him ¡°In time your day will feel wrong without it. Now take my axe and try to swing again¡±.


    If his father had known what kind of pain his son would endure in the weeks to come, he would have chosen his words differently. But only fools and children lived without mistakes and even if the darkling would never allow that thought to fully happen, his fathers mistakes would cast a grand shadow over the clans. Even more so in the weeks to come.


    As much as Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash¡¯s life was a tale of grandior and legend, his end was not. He lost his beast in a great attack against the Arch Druid''s tower deep in the white wastes of the south. His fight was as grand as his life and legend said that he fell an entire clan that day, but the hordes of the south were unending and so, he was captured.


    A shiver ran down the darkling''s spine while he remembered his father¡¯s last return. That legend of their clan was no proud warrior of axe and muscle any longer, but had been turned into a mindless werebeast. The hair on his muscles had grown to fur, his tusk had become even sharper than those of an orc and his axe was now swung wildly in the name of the Arch Druid and not for the dragon any longer. Maybe it was a warning that the Arch Druid had sent this greatest of all warriors back to his own clan to wreak havoc, maybe there was still a slither of his own mind left and he simply wanted to go home, but it did not matter either way. Not for the darkling, so he told himself, and certainly not for the clan. For it was a great battle that day, that had changed the life of many and for some even to the better. But their fate did not change how much he hated his own. How much he hated what his father had turned into. His suffering was ended by him, after both day and night of battle through the snow filled pines of the Frost Song Valley. But many protected their clan that day for his father was not the only beast sent north. The entire valley was filled with fury and bloodshed that day as the ashen orcs of the frostsong fought against the werebeasts sent from the south. And the valley was big, maybe even bigger than the ashen plains.


    His father had fallen in spring but what had become of him was slain in the following winter. The only reason the darkling got the final blow was because of an orc he should know very well in the years to come. As his father was stumbling he lost his axe and the orc that he would start to call brother rushed to take it. He remembered the drums of his heart when he saw another instead of himself take his fathers axe, ready to take his twisted head. But instead that warrior threw that axe over to him and left himself open to attack by the beast with nothing but a grin.


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    ¡°Should always be the son to best him!¡± And so it was his honour to take the head of the beast that once taught him to swing that very axe and his duty to save the man he would call brother first and Khan later.


    He clenched his fist around his axe tighter as the hike slowly started to go up. So many years had passed since. It was before he and the man that he would call brother even were part of the riders. Before they were chosen to fight for the Dragon like their Fathers did and before the darkling had a child of his own.


    The burning mountain rage came closer and the terrible burning heat on his skin greater, but he marched onward. Behind the thick smoke of the mountains ahead he could see the shadow that was the Karn¡¯arak. A structure once made by the dragon generations ago for those that would ride in its name, a towering piece of Obsidian burned right into the mountains. Hundreds of platforms surrounded the impossible structure only to all be towered by the greatest one that made its top. The shamans told the story that Karn¡¯Arak once had been the biggest mountain born by the earth, before the Dragon used it to forge the future of the northern clans.


    With weight on both his soul and his heart he started to take the long walk up the black mountain. Rivers of molten earth ran down from its top, leaving burn marks for days to come, even if they were far. Now the hike became even steeper. It would be almost as long as the march through the ashen plains that lay behind him but feel twice as much. Oftentimes some even went too far up, for the entry to Karn¡¯arak was not even at the top of the mountain, but in caves hidden in the smoke. Those who did not know better would often take the wrong one, and die either because of the earth¡¯s fire or because of the dragon''s untamed spawns.


    As he climbed his mind past generations, from his father down to the treason that had him brought into this moment.


    His sister was almost seven years younger than him and born from a different mother. The weight of their fathers name was shared, even if their youth was certainly not. Or so, he would try to tell himself since her betrayal. In truth he remembered  how he protected her in the snow when she was but a whelp. He remembered how he aided a mother that was not his own to carry her through the snowed filled valley. Not because either of them meant anything, so he told himself, but because it was a duty laid upon him by his father when he flew away to conquer. Mara¡¯gash was the name given to the small thing that was his sister. A name he swore to never speak again, but a name he knew would always fuel his fury. He remembered how she grew fierce and old with every season. How the girl he once protected became a woman that aided him to hunt. How he found a wife through her aid when she was still very young, and she a man through his when she became a woman. Their bond was strong even for siblings, no matter how often they would fight and scream at each other, they both shared a name that carried so much weight, and even if neither of them would ever say it out loud, they were both grateful that someone shared it with them.


    Now however, he was alone. She had betrayed them all and stolen what was most important to him.


    The mountain¡¯s steepness grew to a wall and where it was a hike before now he had to climb. He grunted with pain while he burned his hands against the hot obsidian, time and time again. If he was still a rider and not an exile, his hands would have been protected by black obsidian just like his legs. But only at the top he would regain his proper title and armour. For an exile with his honour was only left with the obsidian on his legs. Not as a meaning to protection, even if it served as much, but as a prison until he could regain his name.


    Every burnmark left on his hands fueled the fury inside him more and more, for he could not bring his mind to anything else but his sister and what she had stolen.


    When he became a rider he wasn¡¯t home at the clan much anymore. Like their father he had tribes to raid and lands to conquer in the dragon''s forgotten name. Still he would always return and be aside his sister for many years to come. Despite the hatred that should brew between them, they were a family, both due to the blood in their veins and through the few battles they had to endure together. Despite how all the land would change and all things were shaken by time, she was there when he would make a name of his own, she was there when he made a family of his own. When he got a child of his own, she aided him and his wife as much as he had aided her mother years before. And when he and his daughter mourned his wife''s death she was there to aid them through the coldest of all winters. Even though she wasn¡¯t a fully adult member of the clan yet, she would carry the axes meant to protect her and became the mother his daughter needed in the years to come.


    As the years went by, he was fighting in the south, while his sister was caring for his daughter like he once cared for her. If he had known what was to come, if he had known the anger that had been brewing in not only his sister but so many of their clan, he could have been there. He could have avoided the split and the loss of their name and maybe even brought his daughter to her senses to not follow his sister to the south.


    It would be time for her Daal¡¯gavek soon to become an adult. He grunted at the thought of her doing it in another clan, but there was no sense in mourning a past that had to be, only in concentrating on the climb ahead. There was still time to bring her back into the dragon''s embrace and away from the Arch Druid''s spawns. Even if his sister was lost, so he had to tell himself, his daughter was yet to be saved. She would grow strong and old, taught by the valley and himself, and one day she would swing his axe and carry the name of the mountain onwards. That was all the hope he allowed himself to have and all that truly mattered.

 Chapter 3: Shadows of KarnArak

    Aru¡¯Gal was not big for an Orc of his clan. Maybe not even the most muscled. Some even said certainly not the smartest. Still he carried the grey dragon leather on his back, the sign of not but one chieftain but the master of the riders and Karn¡¯Arak. The Chieftain of Chieftains. The great Khan.


    The bright grey scale cloak clashed with the black of his obsidian armour that covered all but his face. Even though the smith tried to adorn it with runes and sharp edges most of it seemed more like loosely molten stone. Afterall Obsidian was hard to work on, and so the spikes that remained on his armour were not crafted by a smith but born by dragonfire. He never liked the armour, for him it seemed like weakness if a chieftain wore the greatest protection, but just like the Chieftains of the lesser clans had their ancestors sword or the Horns of the Valley, he was bound to this armour. It was tradition and he would endure it. And he did not deny that it was useful in battle.


    The cave he and his visitor stood in was hot due to the burning lake that roared down the cliff in front of him. As he gazed into its flames below the old voice behind him spoke again.


    ¡°Please my boy¡­if you take it too far even more will leave.¡± The man that spoke was Cra¡¯Gal, one of the shamans back from the Frost Song Valley and a man Aru¡¯Gal shared more than a name with. Yet another father with great weight on his son¡¯s shoulders, but Aru¡¯Gal was never as concerned as the Darkling about lifting it. After all he and his Father never shared a profession, for he never intended to follow footsteps left behind by those before, even though he would be guided by their shadows. But there was still pride in their family. For as he was the Chieftain of Chieftains and his father was more than most shamans achieved. The blindfold over his eyes marked him as one of the greatest, for only the Seers were granted a vision deep enough, by land and ancestors, that their mortal eyes could not bear it any longer. Above his blindfold his remaining white hair contrasted his dark ashen skin that was laid bare for most of his still muscled old body. Like most that visited the ashen plains only his legs were truly protected by a leather robe that was adorned with the same chains of runes and metal that also hung pierced into the flesh of his upper body. He leaned on his staff that was made of the same obsidian that his son wore and adorned with small runestones that were dangling from it.


    A deep and honest sigh escaped Aru¡¯gal before he turned to the blind man before him. ¡°What do you expect me to do, Shaman?¡± He took a few steps further to him. Even though he marched lightly the obsidian on his legs made it sound like a stomp. ¡°The Arch Druid is planning something¡­a man wise as you will have noticed that long before me. More of his beasts that come from his tower, the Ogres are said to prepare armies, and the seasons have become harsher with every year. You know he will make his move soon and whatever it is, the dragon fears it might be final.¡±


    The Shaman shook his head making all the obsidian runes and metal chains pierced into his chest cling against each other like bells. ¡°Nothing is ever truly final¡­¡± He said but before he could continue Aru¡¯Gal took another step towards him ¡°Maybe for the Ancestors that is the case..but that makes us all the more¡­¡± He thought for a word as he held his hand on the shaman''s shoulder.


    ¡°Mortal¡­¡± the shaman said with a warm smile and held Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s hand on his shoulder. ¡°I am just warning you, my boy. If the south attacks, do you really want your own clan to fight you too?¡±


    Now Aru¡¯Gal shook his head ¡°Nothing would hurt me more¡­but if there is truly war¡­¡± he held up his finger as if the old man could see it ¡°Not battles..but war coming for us, then it is my duty to harden our steel and make the north ready for it.¡±


    ¡°Do not break the blade¡­¡± Cra¡¯Gal said while his blind hidden gaze went into the dark.


    Aru¡¯gal grinned and patted his father¡¯s shoulder before he turned to the burning lake once more. ¡°If the mines are too much for one clan, then slaves could be a solution..¡±


    Cra¡¯Gal vehemently shook his head but his son continued ¡°A few raids to the south, and we could bring them to the mines of the Valley..¡±


    His old man stopped him before he continued ¡°I will not see our mountains be tainted by their blood.¡±


    A grin was born on Aru¡¯Gals face ¡°Not all of them are Werebeasts, shaman...and if you had to choose who to lose in the mine, a Druid''s Pawn or a Dragons loyal Servant¡­who would it be?¡±


    ¡°Do not act wise on me, boy¡± The shamans blind gaze seemed to pierce directly at Aru¡¯gal now. ¡°I would rather spill our own blood than be so weak and have others do our honour.¡±


    Aru¡¯gal now pierced back at where the Shaman''s eyes once had been ¡°Then make them!¡± The shaman was taken a few steps back by Aru¡¯gals words and his blind gaze seemed to not look at anything anymore. His lips moved but there were no words to say before Aru¡¯Gal continued.


    ¡°One of my riders can bring you back..¡±


    ¡°Your riders?...¡± Cra¡¯Gal raised a brow.


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    ¡°Go back to the Valley shaman..the clan is your concern¡­let the metal of Karn¡¯Arak be mine.¡±


    ¡°Do not forget that you fight for the Valley not for yours~¡±


    ¡°I fight for the Dragon and the North, do never forget that Fath..¡± he sighed. ¡°Shaman¡­¡±. Even if they still shared a name, their titles forced them to make a difference between a talk of family and one of duty. Yet another tradition Aru¡¯Gal despised. The blind old man took a few steps closer to Aru¡¯gal again. ¡°No one doubts your honour, my boy¡­¡± Now he placed his palm on Aru¡¯Gals shoulder even if his hidden gaze still pierced into the shadows ¡°but we all fear for our clan..¡±.


    Aru¡¯gal nodded and smiled. ¡°Soon¡­the dark days will be over shaman¡­¡± he brought his hand to the Shamans arm ¡°I promise that¡­¡±


    ¡°And we all trust you, great Khan¡­¡±.


    Aru¡¯gal was about to speak again just as he saw the Shadow at the Caves entrance. A man he knew well, a man he shared blood and battle with but a man he was not allowed to greet with his name. It was hard to stop himself from doing such and a moment of silence went by before he walked past the shaman and towards the nameless darkling.


    ¡°Shak Aruk, my rider¡± he said and pressed his armoured fist against his obsidian chest.


    ¡°Shak Aruk, my Khan¡± The darkling answered with a wide grin and returned the greeting, pressing his burned fist against his bare scared chest.


    Aru¡¯gal watched him for a moment. ¡°I know you wouldn¡¯t have returned without a reason¡­¡± The darkling''s grin became wider. ¡°That is true my Khan.¡± he answered and took the scroll from his belt.


    Aru¡¯Gals eyes widened as he saw it, the hint of a smile was born on his face for only a second followed by eyes of disbelief. He knew what it could mean, how much pain was held in the very hands he exiled, and how much the fate of not only the north could change just because of this scroll.


    ¡°How¡­¡± he uttered before Cra¡¯Gal followed him and made a sigh of pain.


    ¡°Whatever you have brought, exile¡­it is evil..¡± Even if the shaman''s eyes layed hidden, his face was painted with pain while he came closer to the two and the scroll.


    Aru¡¯gal ignored him and took the scroll from the man he once saw as a brother. After he unfolded it his smile left.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± The Darklings'' words were like distant echoes as he read the old runes. He saw the pile of corpses, and the wings around it. He read the words, some of them. A promise of spring, but born from fire and suffering. It was a lot to bear, but he slowly brought himself to words. ¡°no¡­no¡­just not what I expected¡­¡±


    Now Cra¡¯gal came close ¡°I hear the fires demand it¡¯s destruction, they scream for it to be destroyed¡­¡±


    The Darklings face grew more worried as he saw the shaman holding his forehead in pain. ¡°There is a taint on it¡­even stronger than the rest of the southern sorcery¡­it is unnatural~¡± ¡°The Dragon will decide.¡± Aru¡¯Gal said. He wanted to fold the scroll again but the runes on it told him more than he ever expected. A greater chance than he had ever imagined possible, but also a greater price than anyone else would ever be able to pay.


    Cra¡¯gal continued ¡°It shouldn¡¯t linger here¡­¡±


    The Darkling¡¯s worries became a frown. ¡°What does it say, my Khan?¡± he asked, but silence was the answer as Aru¡¯Gal searched for words. It was hard to describe but even harder not to tell. He felt his heart drumming like it was in battle, by the promise the runes gave him and fury fuelled him by the price it demanded. ¡°Victory¡­¡± he almost whispered more to himself than the Darkling.


    ¡°Listen to yourself boy!¡± Cra¡¯Gal spoke again ¡°You said yourself the Druid is planning a trickery and now I tell you this carrying the teint of his powers and you say it will be victory?!¡±. The Darkling became more nervous the more the shaman became angry. If an elder, a seer even, saw so much evil in but a tiny piece of parchment it must have been truly a work against the ancestors. ¡°You think I would bring our Khan a ruse?!¡± He defended himself, but doubted his own words.


    ¡°I do not care for you, exile.¡± the shaman shook his head ¡°But I do care when our grand Khan is gifted with something that carries this much vile spewing dark~¡±


    ¡°You are right, shaman..¡± Aru¡¯gal said and folded the scroll again before he took a big breath. ¡°You two will take a few others and fly for the east.¡± He smiled at his old battlebrother. ¡°You shall take your name back, when the mountain sings again.¡±


    The Darkling stood tall and proud and nodded at the promise, just when Cra¡¯Gal disagreed once more ¡°Chieftain I don¡¯t think sending Riders to the valley would be a good message in these troubling times¡­¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be one they like to hear¡± he turned to the elder, while he banded the scroll around leather on his belt ¡°But it will be the one I shall give them.¡± He finished binding the scroll to him and looked back to the Darkling ¡°You two will ride with the others. See how the clan is feeling, make them remember that we are here.¡± He turned to his father ¡°I trust you will make sure no one will misread their stupidity as honour, shaman.¡±


    ¡°I..¡± the shaman''s face had turned from anger to worry ¡°I shall do what I can¡­great Khan¡± ¡°Do more if you have to!¡± Aru¡¯Gals words bellowed back ¡°It would be a shame if yet another family was torn apart¡­¡± He looked back to the Darkling who nodded obediently just as the shaman did now. ¡°In the meantime I shall see the Dragon, and take what it may think about this¡­scroll¡±. The shaman made no effort to hide his disapproval of that but remained silent. Aru¡¯Gal only so slightly shook his head before he smiled at the Darkling. ¡°I am glad you returned Brother¡­¡±


    ¡°I will set things right, my Khan¡­¡± he said proudly while he nodded back. Aru¡¯Gal slowly came closer and put his hand on the Darklings shoulder. ¡°I cannot call you brother again, yet¡­¡± he said and looked into the darklings burning eyes, as his own glared up ¡°But once your sister is dealt with, my life will be better, for then I may again.¡± The darkling looked away at that ¡°The thought of her angers me¡­¡±


    ¡°I know¡­¡± he petted his friend''s shoulder. ¡°Once you''ve earned your name again, I want you to call me by mine as well.¡± The shaman was about to protest but just waved his hand and turned into the cave. ¡°It will be an honour¡­Chieftain of Chieftains¡­¡±

 Chapter 4: Fire and venom

    Aru¡¯Gal watched as his riders mounted their wyverns at the top of Karn¡¯Arak. Most of them had the same dark skin as he, the Darkling and his father did. Orcs from the Frost Song valley. Many of them were his battle brothers before he became the Great Khan and he made sure once he was, that orcs he trusted would become riders.


    Only some, those from the Desert and not the valley, carried a light grey skin instead, but all of them had the Dragons Fire in their eyes and the black spiked Obsidian armour around their legs and fists. Two of the orcs even wore complete black armour, for they were the watchers of their clan. Those that led the riders to their clans and made sure that Karn¡¯Arak got the supplies the riders and their beasts needed. It would have been unwise to make someone a watcher of a clan they were not born in. There had already been enough mistrust among the north, so he knew he needed at least a few from other clans to ensure they all remained loyal to him, and Karn¡¯Arak.


    The beasts his riders mounted were mostly Wyverns from the Burning mountains around the Ashen Plains. They roared and spitted, eager for a fight but kept in check by their riders and the black spiked chains around their neck. Even more than orcs wyverns could differ. While for Orcs it was mainly their skin and their eyes, wyverns even had different tails and heads depending on the mountains they were from. Almost every rider got theirs close to Karn¡¯Arak and so most of them were born of fire, since like Shamans they adapted to the land of their birth.


    Their bodies were protected by dark red scales that grew thicker with age. The oldest beasts of them were not only the biggest but also carried scales so big that a rider could carve his seat inside the biggest one right at the top of their back. Their tail was stinged and stranger beasts carried a poison inside it but those from the ashen plains used all their venom to spit fire from their maw instead. Their tail was clubbed around the sting by their scales and used as such in a fight. Even the smallest ones that a rider could use were as big as one and a half orcs, while the biggest that stood atop Karn¡¯Arak this day would have needed four on top each other to reach its height. And both only when they crawled on their two legs and wings, not when they showed tall their strength and wings.


    The biggest one was one of the few that were not from the ashen plains but a rare mount from the Bladespire Wastes, the cold ashen desert south of the Burning Mountains. Its scales were not red but as grey as the wastes and its head carried far bigger four horns than those of fire. In its biggest scale on its back there was a small cave carved in where its rider could take a seat.


    While the beasts were eager to ride, the riders prepared their saddles and loaded them with bags, most of them empty. The Darkling and Cra¡¯Gal were waiting to be taken by one of the red scales and Arugal knew it must have been the biggest shame for his old friend, to be carried as but a guest on another man''s beast. But after his sister''s betrayal Aru¡¯Gal had no choice but to let him endure. There was much unrest, even among the riders. He could feel it, so an example was needed and in a way it was good that his friend was the one he had to make it on. For now the rest knew their own Punishment might be more than exile and a chance of redemption.


    ¡°My Khan.¡± A female voice reached Aru¡¯gal from behind. As he turned he saw the rider of the great beast from the wastes, Sha¡¯Raph. Her body was completely protected by thick Obsidian and unlike many she even hid her face beneath a mask and a dark hood. Both the mask and the hood were adorned with runes and chains. The same runes and chains the shamans usually carried but the clans of the wastes were said to all carry a connection to their desert and so they all were adorned with parts of it.


    ¡°With your word I am ready to ride.¡± Her voice was muffled under the plain darkness of her mask while the chains and metal trinkets almost almost resembled a face.


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded ¡°Any word from the bladelands yet?¡±.


    She shook her hidden head. ¡°No Chieftain¡­¡±. She had never been a woman of many words but Aru¡¯Gal knew she would have spoken if there was more.


    ¡°Then find out!¡± he barked. ¡°Once you have sent word to your clans, fly west and see why none of them have returned.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my Khan.¡± she said. For a moment it seemed like she wanted to say more and Arugal raised a brow at her. Yet she remained silent and pressed her fist against her chest ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh!¡±


    ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh¡± he answered with both voice and fist. While she ran off to climb her giant beast another voice was ready for goodbye.


    ¡°You think the south did something in the bladelands?¡± the Darkling asked him as he came closer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure Br¡­exile. But there is no point in defending an attack we aren¡¯t even sure is one.¡± Aru¡¯gal sighed but then turned to see the darkling. ¡°I will come after you before the mountain sings but I will take word with the dragon first¡­¡±


    The darkling nodded all so slightly ¡°You think the shaman is right?¡± he almost whispered.


    Aru¡¯Gal made a smile of pain for but a second before he answered ¡°We shall see¡­concentrate on your name and your daughter. Then we can take care of everything else.¡±


    ¡°As you command, my Khan.¡± The darkling said obediently and pressed his fist against his Chest. ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh.¡± He said and was answered by the same words and gestures before he left to take a seat behind another rider.


    His friend''s obedience to his title hurted him as much as the punishment he had to cast upon him. They were battle brothers for years, they shared many stories that would never be told and he missed those they would never have.


    Slowly more and more riders came and said their farewells to Aru¡¯gal, all but his father. ¡°Stubborn as always¡± he thought but Aru¡¯Gal knew he was not wrong, even though he was no shaman he could feel the energy that was casted from the scroll, but he also knew it was more. The unrest that had been growing in the valley was closer to his father, the Seer of the Singing Summit itself, than it could ever be to him here in Karn¡¯Arak. Maybe if they would have known how close they were to victory it would have been different, as long as they wouldn¡¯t know how he planned to achieve such victory.


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    The high platform of Karn¡¯Arak then became a place of twisting winds as all the Wyverns started to take for the sky. Sha¡¯Raph and hers instead walked to the edge and leaped down to then glide faster than all the others, but to the south, and not the east. Slowly the swarm of red wyverns and even the lonely great desert beast became but small dots at the coaled horizon.


    It was unorcish to doubt but he still always felt it in his heart when they took off. Some of them like the Darkling and in a way even Sha¡¯Raph where friends for long and he would hate if they were to never return. Even if they would die in glorious battle. All the more did it hurt when he had to cast his friend out. Not even for a betrayal he committed himself, but the burden of family. He always thought Mara, the Darklings sister, to be as loyal as him. Another sister from the Valley, even if their family rested much further down the singing summit and inside the valley, than his own ever did at the top. There was a time where they could have ended as mates, but duty ripped a cliff between them. Now she had made sure there was no turning back to those times. For her actions had created a greater echo than probably even she might have thought it ever could. Now, that the Darkling was about to reclaim his name, it was her who had to pay next, and nothing but death could ever right her wrong.


    His heart took much weight at the thought alone, but he knew it was the right way. Even if doubt started to blind him over and over again, in the end he knew the way, he always did. That was how he had become the Chieftain of Chieftains and how he became the master of the most dangerous beast that ever rode the top of Karn¡¯Arak. No doubts in his actions, only ever growing fire in his mind. A Dragon would never doubt if it should burn a forest and all that''s hiding in its shadows. To Aru¡¯Gal it was that unhinged conviction of their own actions that made them such beasts of legend. Fire could not doubt anything, it was a force of nature. It could not be convinced, not be halted for but a moment by anything than to fight it. Ever since his father told him and the other whelps the legends of the old dragons, he tried to live after that. Even if sometimes he could feel how all the doubt slowly rotted his heart again.


    Slowly he turned back to the path that led down the platform, because there was another beast he had to seek first. The one they all served, the greatest beast of them all, the father of fire and mother of the land, the Dragon.


    As he walked down the path that like the Rest of Karn¡¯Arak was shaped by the Dragon generations before he was even born he looked down at the burning mountain. Down where the black smoke still glowed, it was breathing, even now. He tried to settle his thoughts. What would he tell the beast of all beasts? How much would be enough, and how much would it know already? The scroll remained on his belt and like his heart it felt like it was weighing him down. All of his thoughts and hopes, rested on it, but so did all his fears. When he became the Khan, he did not believe it would be found during his time. Even though he was still one of the youngest orcs that ever got where he was. He dreamed of it, like a secret that would be cast down to the next Khan, and him to the next until the day it was fulfilled, but now he had it.


    Still he doubted. How did it end here? How did one orc alone bring to him what so many failed at before. He would never doubt the Darklings'' strength, but he knew that while his friend towered most with his muscles his mind was rather simple. Maybe his father was right, and it was but a ruse, be it of the Arch Druid or someone else. The Ogres did carry the scroll for ages, but there was no reason why they would suddenly be interested in the war the orcs fought for generations. At least none Aru¡¯Gal could think of.


    The molten path down the black spire of Karn¡¯Arak came to an entry. A long floor followed it and left and right to it were the doors the orcs had built inside over the years to hide their rooms. Still high enough in the strange structure that they could rest here without fear of dying.


    Like their rooms and sometimes their Wyverns even the doors to their rooms were built differently as some started to use it like a flag of the clans they were from. Be it simply runes drawn in Blood, or trinkets of the land that decorated the usually wooden doors.


    Even if there were no Windows inside there was no torch needed, because some cracks of Karn¡¯Arak still glowed from the Dragonfire that created it all those centuries ago. But Aru¡¯gal had seen how it slowly became darker, a process that usually took Generations so no one notices, but in recent years the spire had become a cold and darkened place.


    It was only one of many reasons why he was looking for an answer and with that the scroll. If they would simply continue as they did for generations, the fires would slowly turn out and all their strength would dwindle in time. Soon they would be weak enough that the south would try to spread the Druid¡¯s vile teint into the north, and soon the ways of the earth and fire would be forgotten. But he would not allow that to happen, even if the sacrifice would be great. He had become the Chieftain of Chieftains, the great Khan, because he was able to count sacrifices to losses and see what would be best for his people, despite any doubts. So, he believed.


    He reached Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s room on one side. She was the only rider that did not build in a door but just a black cloth. From all the blood and bones on the other doors, having none was the greatest show of strength to Aru¡¯gal. Even more so because neither himself nor others ever dared to enter her room even if it was not protected.


    After Sha¡¯Raphs room there were the long spiral stairs down the tower. Over time the orcs did their best to make the Spire into something livable and after they saw stairs in the lands of the Ogres they tried to build some themselves for the molten paths could be tricky to walk down. The glowing parts of the walls were adorned with runes carved inside here, stories written down by those of the riders that had taken the path of a shaman before they joined them. It was unusual because a rider could never give up his eyesight and become a seer but sometimes it still happened. Chieftains before Aru¡¯Gal enjoyed their council, and stories told that one even had a seer beside him, but Aru¡¯Gal did not. He needed warriors not orcs that thought they were wiser because they learned to meditate.


    While he walked down the heat rose. Even if the recent years made it more bearable it was still hot, and his obsidian armour could only protect so much. But the heat helped him concentrate for he needed to harden his thoughts now that he should speak to the dragon.


    The further he went down the louder its breathing became. Slow and deep like the very heartbeat of Karn¡¯Arak itself. Hidden deep beneath the mountains.


    He remembered the first time he went down here, to greet the greatest of all beasts, the beast of legends and the reason the north had survived for such a long time. When he saw it himself, his fear was not because of the great power of the beast, but because even at first sight he thought ¡°We could beat it.¡±

 Chapter 5: Dragond

    Dragons. They were always part of legends and stories, from the ancestors of old to the young and their unborn. The oldest stories told, that there was a time when there were plenty. When they fought across an empty world of rubble and earth, and with their flames that were meant for destruction they created life from the ashes. Mountains were moulded into shape by their flames and oceans born from their blood. Where one Dragon spew fire another spew ice, where one could fly across the stars another would dig its home deep beneath the earth.


    As the first corpses crashed down into the molten land life was born from it. Life some dragons grew fond of over the ages, while others started to despise it. Wars were fought in their names and life from the corpses of the dragons that came before, was burned to ash just for another dragon to rise more again. The stories could not tell how long the wars went on, or how many different forms of life were created from death. Maybe it was more than any orc could count, but they all, even those that were told in the south, had in common that only one of those ancient beasts survived.


    Like all Orcs, Aru¡¯Gal grew up with those stories. He did learn that the elements were only born into the world because of the legendary battles the dragons fought and that in the end only one had proven itself to be the victor. The strongest beast of legend, the father of land and sea, the mother of storm and flame.


    The Dragon. They never dared to give it a name and it never gave one they could speak. Now it was resting, hidden in its lair deep beneath Karn¡¯Arak where it made the orcs of the north its most loyal servants, to rule the land in its name. To Conquer like itself once did and to forge life and meaning in battle. Like itself once did.


    That he did learn. After he became the Chieftain of Chieftains, the ruler of the northern clans and master of the Riders, it was time to meet it. To see it for himself with his own eyes, but what he saw was not a beast of legend.


    It was big, as big as mountains, even its eye alone bigger than even the greatest halls that had ever been carved by orcs, but there was something in that eye that scared him. It was not the might of legends, not the piercing glare of a predator, but pain. A tired eye did greet him and a loud but annoyed growl echoed through its lair as he stood at the platform above its mountain of offerings for the first time, all those years ago. He had seen beasts with that eye before and even if his mind did not allow himself that thought back then, in his heart he knew, every other beast would be taken out of its misery if its gaze was full of such pain.


    As one of the few orcs that could read and write the old tongues, he searched for years in the words left behind by those before him. Journals of other Chieftains, scrolls of shamans from ages ago and even books from sorcerers, stolen in the far west. One of them, more than any other, had clouded his mind ever since. Maybe it was because he knew the man and his children, maybe because as a more recent Chieftain, he could see the picture more clearly than others, but it was a letter left by Ara¡¯Gash, from his time as the great Khan.


    ¡°I do not count the days of our age, but I know the number is far closer to its end than where it began. It angers me, that it will not be myself but those that I leave behind that will have to deal with the cold that befalls our master and his land. Only a question of time before it befalls its orcs as well. We were always able to fight against the cold, my own clan knows that better than any other, but what when the summer never returns? I dare not to think if we would face such a time unprepared, and I am sure it will come to that. Be it that my children will have to fight through it, or their own when the time has come.


    To the Chieftain after me, and the ones after that. You must prepare to guide the North through a time of struggles, more than we who come before, more than me. I will fight, and not just end my legacy as a man lurking in a tower he did not build writing on papers he despises, but you will have to endure and learn what we left behind and I hope whoever will follow in my MASSIVE footsteps will have at least a grain of thought. Too many mistakes have happened to Orcs that became Khans and chieftains by muscle alone, none of them survived for long. Every orc is strong, do not dare to think that will make you a difference. Only your head, and filling the emptiness that lurks inside it, will.


    If our Dragon is truly to die in a cold, to leave his land frozen, then we must face the south. Not in raids, not in skirmishes, but in war! Like the ancient times, like the stories have always told us and like the shamans always remind us.


    Drums will echo through the valleys until they will be drowned by screams and blood. Their Arch Druid, the horned croak as they call him, has always planted the seed of hatred against us among his clans, so it will be time to finally hand them a reason! We will burn every clan if we have to and rip out the croak''s cracked spine!


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    So prepare the clans for it, my heir. I do what I can in my time. Weaken the south, strengthen the north. But I¡¯m afraid I am one of the fools who got into this tower because I could fight, not because I could think. So be better than me, and prepare our people.


    Let fire guide you through the cold mountains, and the age of ice that is upon us.


    Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash, known as the mountain¡±


    Aru¡¯gal had read these words more often than he would ever admit, and they stung out to him more than the prophecies of Shamans or the prediction of Sorcerers. Still the solution he had started to prepare, was more than Khan Ara¡¯Gash the mountain would have ever thought of. Either because Ara¡¯Gash was as simple as his son, or because he was simply too loyal to the Dragon they knew was doomed.


    Even once he walked down the platform over the lair the words did not leave his mind, even when he could hear a loud booming breath in the smoke before him.


    ¡°A R U¡¯G A L¡­¡± the voice boomed through the mountain and made Aru¡¯gal stop his walk, not by fear but its force alone. ¡°Has it not been long enough to wake me again, great Khan?¡±


    He could not simply hear but feel the Dragon move as the mountain shook under its weight. Before he could answer a giant red eye, twice as big as the great desert Beast, opened in the smoke before him. Glaring and burning with fire as it looked down at its visitor.


    ¡°It tries to scare me¡­¡± Aru¡¯Gal thought, still he could see the pain in that eye. Open only by force alone and still it looked tired. Its lids not completely revealing the great round shape but the painful begging of a beast about to live its last days. Before he could answer his voice was drowned by the loud sound of sniffing.


    ¡°Not even fear¡­great Khan¡­I am almost impressed¡­¡±. Words that pierced Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s thought because it was wrong. Of course he was afraid, of course every hair on his neck stood up and of course he had the great black sword on his back ready, yet still it was fooled. ¡°Do you know why I¡¯m here?¡±


    It attempted a roar that sounded more like coughing and moved again to look with both eyes at Aru¡¯Gal. With a deep breath from its nostrils it dispersed the smoke to reveal its full head. Red as the beasts around the Ashenplains and with Horns great enough to build towers out of it. It tried to look angry yet still, the look of pain never left its eyes.


    ¡°Not even a bow?! Great Khan?!¡± Aru¡¯Gal thought long about what to do, how to answer. If he was going to set his plans into motion, he had to be sure if it was truly to die. Without a bow or a fall to his knees, but standing tall and firm he answered ¡°I know you are ill¡±. For but a second something similar to panic was seen in the big glowing eyes before him, it was about to speak but this time Aru¡¯Gal went ahead to drown its words first ¡°I may have a Solution¡­¡±.


    Its nostrils flared with anger and heat, still an answer instead of flame boomed back ¡°Speak¡­¡±. That demand was all the confirmation Aru¡¯Gal needed.


    ¡°There is a scroll, hidden in the Arch Druids tower..¡± he said firmly, loud and without motion ¡°A ritual that can give you back some of your strength, even if it might go at a great cost¡­¡±


    The Dragon breathed a few times, its eyes glaring away in thought for but a moment before they pierced back. ¡°The druid..why would I believe you, oh great Khan?! Plenty before you have tried to lure me into wars they were too weak to fight¡­¡±


    At least some thought still resided in it¡¯s brain, Aru¡¯Gal thought before he answered the same way he would answered an Orc ¡°I am not the one that has to prove he can fight wars.¡±


    Pure anger followed those words of disrespect and a glow was seen at the Dragon''s endless throat.


    Yet unflinching the Khan continued ¡°Your people, my clans. Start to doubt. Even if you would seek to die here in a century or two, to rot away in your own lair, I cannot promise you, it would come to this.¡±


    ¡°YOUR KIND MAY TRY!!¡± it roared and breathed Fire at the roof of the volcano. Heat and light ignited the lair and revealed its full form while its fire burned. A long tail, spiked by scales and a body grand enough to house an entire clan on its back. Its wings were wide grey fields, the part were the Khans cloak was made of. Spikes and claws adorned all of its back and unlike the wyverns it had four legs, not two. After the fire left its throat and coiled up to the entrance far up the big Volcano beneath Karn¡¯Arak, it pierced back at Aru¡¯gal. Yet he still remained a firm charade. If the dragon was about to see through his schemes and if he was to burn here, then it proved him wrong and the clans would continue as they did.  If not, then times were about to change. ¡°I am just telling what you cannot see, master.¡±


    The Dragon breathed from his nostrils a few times before its booming voice echoed its order through the mountain ¡°Gather an Army, Khan of my name and prepare them for my Orders.¡± Aru¡¯Gal could not help himself but form a bitter smile for only a second.


    ¡°As you command.¡± He then turned without a bow and started to leave its lair. He could still feel the Dragon''s gaze and breath behind him but soon the mountain shaked again as it layed down once more like the dying beast Aru¡¯Gal thought it to be. He moved back the spirals of Karn¡¯Arak to take his own beast and follow his riders to the valley in the east. He had set things in motion before that day but now he truly knew that times were about to change and war was ahead.

 Chapter 6: The Prey

    The nights were dark in the bristle pine forest. Only those who knew the paths knew where moonlight would touch the campfire. For only there, guided by moon and stars one would truly find rest. So the old stories told. It did not mean that every night was one where the moon, the lost egg, could bless its children but whenever orcs of the south made camp they hoped that it would be a night where their fire would warm the egg in the sky.


    Three of those who knew the paths through the thickets sat around a fire that was blessed by the egg that very night. They had made camp in a clearing not far from the coast for their prey always lurked near the mists of the eastern shores. They did not plan to take their prey that night, but neither of them knew that another was soon to arrive. It was a holy hunt, a hunt to honour a father and a teacher. A hunt that if the old rites spoke true, would reveal a new path.


    ¡°And then I punched him ahahaha!!¡± one of the three bellowed out. In his hand he held a horn full of liquor made from berries, harsh herbs and honey. His skin was green and full of scars and red paint, while his face carried bigger tusks than most other orcs as they almost reached the place where his nose once had been. No trace of a scar was around those holes that must have been his nose at one point but it was clear it had been cut off a long long time ago. He wore nothing but a long brown pelt that hung above half his legs like a robe while on his head wide and proud black  dreadlocks bellowed with him in the warm night breeze. Making the bones that were adorning them pinch and click together in applause to his story.


    It took a good while of him laughing at his own words and holding his rather thick green belly before another hunter spoke.


    ¡°Of course you did¡± said a smiling light green orc woman who sat opposite of the fire. ¡°As much as I loved him..his face was always pretty punchable.¡±


    She was clad in straps of leather and adorned with pieces of a grey wolf. Its paws were strapped around her hands. Its head and pelt rested on her head and back.


    Next to her rested the third hunter, a giant brown wolf, big enough that she could ride on it and that shared her eyes. It was laying down and gnawing on the remains of a big bone while she held a drinking horn in one hand and rested her other on her big bone and stone made sword next to her. ¡°He tried to start a fight with me when I was still a pup.¡± She said and drank from her horn before an answer bellowed back across the flames. ¡°Ha! Train them early is what we say in the Rots!¡± His eyes carried an amber glow and yet were still far closer to what Humans would see similar to their own.


    ¡°Never let a Stag try to train a wolf is what I say!¡± she yelled back across the bristling campfire and drank from her horn. A wide grin was born on the noseless face across the fire before he spoke ¡°He did quite a good job I say..¡±. His eyes grinned with him as they pierced above the fire to her. She couldn¡¯t help but echo his smile but turned to pet her wolf before he continued ¡°I mean him of course!¡± he pointed at the wolf next to her and laughed again now together with her. Their laughter echoed through the night and into the pines.


    ¡°You should have seen him when his daughter suddenly punched back!¡± she said with a wide toothy grin. He suddenly stopped drinking and spilled some of it before he answered ¡°What do you mean?! I was there!¡±


    Her drunk head tried to remember for but a moment, only for her to shake her head ¡°I thought you came to us later¡­¡± She shrugged her shoulders and drank again.


    ¡°By the oak¡± he said with an overplayed face of melancholy ¡°your tongue cuts deeper than your sword sometimes..¡±


    She smiled at him again ¡°I only remember you when you had already grown to be fat and ugly¡± ¡°Now that''s more what I like to hear hahaha!!¡± Again they both laughed while the wolf happily gnawed on his bone..


    As the laughter faded she stared into the flame for a moment longer before her eyes moved back to him ¡°Do you regret it sometimes?¡±


    As her question reached his mind he slowly lost his smile and got another big gulp from his horn ¡°Ahhh¡­sometimes..¡± he said as he looked up at the moon ¡°Life was easier when he showed me how..¡± The wolf woman nodded and looked up herself. ¡°He was strong.¡± The noseless man said and looked back over the flames to her. As she looked back down and their eyes met, she answered ¡°I know his heir is too.¡± A proud deep giggle escaped him before he gulped down the last bit of his horn. They drank quite a lot that night and he knew that the last horn would be the one too much. It was always the last. Still it could never be wrong to drink under the moon. To warm the egg with fire and tales. Their day had been long but their night would be longer for not only the stars were watching them.


    The wolf woman was about to take a last gulp herself as she realised that her wolf had stopped gnawing on his bone. He stood up while the hairs on his neck were rising. She made a small whistle sound that got the attention of the noseless man. Once he saw the wolf his amber eyes widened. Quickly he stood up and grabbed his big bone made axe. He struggled to keep standing for but a moment, as the insides of his drinking horn showed their effect.


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    The wolf woman however stood up slowly and readied her sword. She stood straight, but needed to blink a few times to look through the dizzy fog of liquor. Her big brown wolf slowly started walking to the edge of the clearing. Both orcs followed him with their big drawn weapons.


    ¡°Do you smell that?..¡± the noseless man asked after the holes on his face flared a few times. She sniffed the air before she nodded. ¡°Fear..¡±


    ¡°And blood..¡± he continued and slowly followed the wolf towards the edge, where fire and moonlight lost against shadow and where they now heard the cracking of pine and branches.


    The wolf woman started to growl as she stared at the shadow of noise and scent. Her wolf quickly followed her example. It raised one paw and stood still while its face pointed at the direction of the shadow.


    ¡°Stop hiding!¡± the noseless man grunted. No answer but silence was given as even the sound of branches stopped while the scent of fear only became stronger. The two hunters glared at each other for but a moment before the noseless man shook his head. ¡°Enough of this!¡± he yelled and stomped forward to the shadow. Just before he could reach it a girl jumped out of the shadows. She carried the dark grey skin of the north and the dragons fire in her eyes. She was bulkier than most of her people and three big scars adorned her round face, only so slightly hidden by the black hair hanging before her eyes. While she tried to stand proud and tall it was clear that pain made it difficult. But even if she would have managed to stand she would have remained slightly smaller than the hunters because she was young. Almost a child but old enough to learn to battle.


    ¡°Don¡¯t dare to come closer!¡± She screamed back and held two rune axes ready ¡°Just hand me some¡­something against poison¡­herbs¡­and water¡­¡± It was clear she tried her best to be threatening but even clearer that she felt immense fear, even more so as her eyes caught the big brown growling wolf that showed its teeth and barked at every move.


    The two hunters looked at each other for a small moment again, now both a question on their drunk faces. After the wolf woman shrugged her shoulder the noseless man snorted deep and angry before he yelled again ¡°Is the north sending their young now?!¡± The girl remained silent ¡°Must be because we have slain all their actual warriors hehahaaha!¡± He continued just for the girl to scream and swing her axe at him. He avoided a hit as he moved backwards and before either of the drunk hunters could react the wolf tackled the girl down. She tried to move and fight at first just for the wolf to bark and then growl with fletching teeths right above her face. Every trace of bravery she pretended to have was gone now and had made place for pure panic.


    ¡°Easy boy¡­¡± the approaching wolf woman whispered as she came closer to kneel down next to the girl ¡°Now do not lie to us¡­are there more of you?¡± The darkling girl did not take her burning eyes from the wolf and remained in shock until the wolf woman pinched her ear ¡°I asked you something and do not lie¡­Branak does not like lies¡­¡± she said while brustling her wolf''s neck fur..


    The dark girl fought with tears not because of her own doom but because those that would share her demise. She took the most bravery she still had and answered plain and honest ¡°My¡­my aunt¡­she is dying..¡± a tear started to find its way outside of her eyes ¡°We were attacked by a¡­Wyvern¡­I don¡¯t know what kind but not one we have at home..!¡±


    ¡°That..that must be a trick!¡± the noseless man yelled ¡°They send a child to trick us into a warband!¡±


    ¡°Look at her, Kazok!¡± the wolf woman replied with a mixture of anger and pleading in her voice. As Kazok the noseless man looked over the girl he saw her many scars. Few from battle and most from the wrong paths in the bristle pines. ¡°By the ancestors¡­¡± he said, annoyed and lowered his axe and himself next to her. ¡°Where is your aunt, girl?! I will at least see what trickery you think will work in our own pines!¡±


    ¡°Will you help or kill her?!¡± she yelled with renewed bravery just for big wolf Branak to bark at her face again. Kazok came closer to her and snorted deeply and angry from the holes that once carried his nose ¡°We shall see¡­¡±


    ¡°Tell us girl..¡± the wolf woman cut him short, far more relaxed ¡°If you are honest there is nothing to fear¡­¡± she ended with a small drunk hiccup.


    The girl remained silent a moment too long as Kazok the noseless man yelled again ¡°And you have no other choice!¡± He saw the fear and tears of the girl and almost regretted his harsh words before he forced himself to continue his hate ¡°Darkspawn!!¡±. The wolf woman sighed but remained silent otherwise. She moved the girl''s head to watch her instead of Branak and Kazok. ¡°He is right¡­but so am I. If you tell the truth there is nothing to fear.¡±


    The girl''s face showed that she had given up before her words could. ¡°I hid her next to a river that leads to the coast..¡± The hunters glared at each other again for a small second before the girl continued ¡°We were travelling the coast¡­it seemed easier than the forest..safer¡­¡±


    ¡°That was a mistake..¡± Kazok almost whispered.


    The girl nodded, ¡°We were attacked by a Wyvern from the waves¡­I think it had fins¡­but it was dark and I¡¯m not sure¡­¡±


    The wolf woman looked back to Kazok ¡°If anything that means a fresh trail¡­¡± No words but a slow nod where the noseless man¡¯s reply before the girl yelled again ¡°She is dying!¡±.


    Ignoring the girl, the wolf woman continued to look at Kazok and whispered ¡°Your choice druid¡­¡± His face spoke of many thoughts that circled through his drunk head ¡°But make it quick¡­¡± she said a little louder to drag him out of his thoughts and into a choice.


    He grunted and saw up to the great egg for but a moment before he nodded ¡°Take the girl and ride with her. I will prepare an antidote¡­¡± ¡°Can you heal her?!¡± the girl interrupted ¡°If she deserves it girl!¡± he snorted ¡°But we shall see..¡±

 Chapter 7: Drums of Fury

    Kara¡¯Gash was the daughter of an Exile, granddaughter of Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash the mountain and niece of Mara¡¯Gash who at least she knew as the brave.


    Yet she had failed her name. At least so she felt as she was riding on the back of a stranger''s wolf while a drunk smelling woman held her in place from behind her. ¡°It is not that far¡­a small river, near a cliff at the coast!¡± she told the woman and her wolf as he ran through the pines. ¡°I know the river girl..¡± The wolf woman replied with a light hiccup ¡°don¡¯t worry..¡±.


    Hearing the drunk woman hiccup made Kara shiver in fear for her aunt. Maybe if the noseless man, the healer and druid it seemed, was that drunk too she could steal whatever he presented as medicine and flee for her aunt. Still she would need to find out how to properly use it. She had seen her aunt heal and care for some clan members from the mines before but never truly aided her. She was not a healer, nor a warrior, not even a hunter or a herder or craftsmen as her fate was yet to be chosen, unclear what future she would hold in the clan, if they were ever to return. Thoughts that brought her fear in so many ways. An unease that was to be crushed by the pure panic about her aunt''s life as a screech echoed over the forest. ¡°That¡¯s the wyvern!¡± she screamed at the drunk woman who replied calmly and cold ¡°It has followed the trail of blood¡­only a question of time until it finds its prey again..¡±


    Kara only answered with an angered frustrated growl that made the drunk woman smile. ¡°We will reach her in time girl, hick¡­don¡¯t worry..¡±


    They reached the small river that ran down the ever growing hills of the forest. Branak the wolf stood still for but a moment to find the scent before he quickly followed it uphill. ¡°We must hurry!¡± Kara said with a mixture of plead and determination. ¡°Just be ready, girl..¡± the drunk wolf woman replied just before a big shadow flew above them towards their goal.


    As it landed uphill it crushed the smaller trees nearby.


    The wolf woman took a tomahawk from her belt and whispered to Kara ¡°Is your aunt here¡± ¡°in the bushes right there!¡± Neither the drunk wolf woman nor Branak needed an answer as they both saw the sea wyvern sniff and walk towards the same bush. Its greyish blue scales seemed to reflect the moonlight in parts while its wings ended with fins in the end. Not great for flying, other wyverns would always do it better, but great for it was able to both dive and fly the same. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid, you hear?..¡± The wolf woman whispered as she slowly, drunk and shaking, stood up on the back of her wolf. Kara almost couldn¡¯t hear her over the drums that her heartbeat had become. It was pounding from inside her chest and flowing over her entire body.


    She felt how the wolf woman almost fell off Branaks back behind her as she threw the tomahawk at the beast, just as it sniffed the bushes where her aunt was hidden, and slowly dying. Before she could even scream for her aunt the Wyvern screeched in pain as the wolf woman¡¯s tomahawk had landed in its cheek. It turned around only to face its thrower. She jumped over Kara towards it with her big blade in two hands. ¡°Death and Glor~ Hick¡­¡± Even her scream was intruded by a hiccup.


    Too fast for Kara to realise all things that were happening Branak threw her off next to her aunt before he ran after his fellow hunter.


    Kara would take a quick glance at the hidden body in the bush, covered by a bed of leaves and earth. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was still moving. Whatever the wyverns poison had done, it did not kill her yet. It was hard to see the woman that raised her like this. She was only seven years older than Kara and far memories crossed her mind. How a girl cared for her when she could not even properly walk, how that girl carried her up the mountain to hear its song for the first time, how that girl cried when she got her scars and how that girl became a woman when little Kara was still so far away from that.


    But for now, she was safe and there was no time to dwell. Reassured about her safety Kara looked back to the fight that had ensued behind her. Even with her lack of experience she could see that the drunk wolf woman was struggling to even stand properly with her big sword and drunk head.


    The wyvern was about to snap its maw at her only for it to be answered by wild open swings at its snout and Branak at its throat. It screeched again and tried to snap down at Branak before it stood back on its feet and spread its colourful blue wings in the moonlight to shake him off.


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    Kara was frozen, she could still feel the drums of her heart but her body was not moving and just staring in shock. She didn¡¯t have any fights before, for the other children always feared her bloodline and its wrath. As granddaughter of the great Khan, and daughter of one of the strongest riders it was expected that she would do something great as well, still here she was. Frozen, in fear, weak and angry.


    As Branak did crash into the ground the wolf woman had taken the time to rise again and rush in with an attempt to stab the wyvern in its chest only to be met by one of its wings and be launched backwards down hill and into the dark.


    Branak barked in fear for his fellow hunter while the hair on his neck stood up. He rushed in and bit the beast''s short knees just to be sent away as well.


    Hate was rising inside Kara, not even at the beast but herself as she, the Heir of such great Orcs could do nothing but cover in fear. Her Grandfather had slain hundreds of wyverns, her father too and even her aunt had been part of battles to defend the valley before, yet here she was. Only a shadow of the fury that were her ancestors, only a lifeless dull motivation in their stories. She grinded her teeth as tears ran down her face, fueling her anger even more.


    The wyvern was turning and aiming for Branak again, just as a swarm of birds crashed into its face, followed by Kazok who jumped from a tree nearby his axe risen above him. ¡°Death and Glory!! AHAHAHAH!¡± He yelled into the night but before he could reach the blue Wyvern''s head it turned and smacked him down with its pointy tail. Unlike it did with her aunt, without stabbing him with its spike. His axe fell down and away, closer to Kara and her aunt.


    The wolf woman then came stumbling back from the forests she was thrown in. Bruised, hurt and still as drunk as Kazok. She screamed and made another attempt to cut at the wyvern, so did her wolf with its teeth and her druid with his knife while birds circled its head, but it was all in vain. Maybe without the alcohol the battle would have been different, maybe if they would have actually trapped it or maybe, Kara thought, if she wasn¡¯t but dead weight to strangers who fought her battle.


    Anger swelled more and more inside her while the drums in her chest became louder and louder until she could swear to hear them echo across the forest. She grinded her teeth until she growled. It was too much to keep sitting and doing nothing, for her blood felt like it would burn her if she did. She grabbed Kazoks axe that had landed so close to them. It was heavy, but she was the heir of the mountain and daughter of the beast so she gathered will and muscle, both fueled by her fury.


    Kazok had started to use a big bone knife from his belt, Branak barked and tried to get his teeth into the wyvern whenever there was an opening and the Wolf woman despite how often she was thrown into the dark stumbled back time and time again with her big sword ready to finally hit. As she did this time she could almost not hold herself on her feet and Kara saw how the wyvern was about to use that moment of weakness. Just as it was about to snap she rose the big axe above her with a roar. It was almost too heavy for her to lift and just as the big wyvern turned to her she had to bring it down by its own weight with a roar of all her fury.


    She missed and the beast now stared at her. ¡°That axe is meant for muscle, little darkspawn! Hahahaha!¡± Kazok laughed with bloodied teeth over the battlefield. His laugh made even Kara smile into the great Wyvern¡¯s maw before her. Fury and fire were pumping through her veins and her burning eyes brightened a little more as she roared right at its ugly face.


    The wolf woman saw the girl and knew she was about to get snapped if she would not strike now. She then used the moment and climbed the beasts back. Rushing over its tail and onto its back where she finally brought her sword down inside its neck just in time.


    As it roared in pain Branak came in to snap at its neck from the other side again and a gurgling screech escaped the winged beast while the wolf got covered in blood. Kazok, who struggled to even stand himself, whispered to something inside his hand just to suddenly open it towards the beast. A bird was flying from it to the others that started to pick at its eyes now. It unleashed another gurgling scream just before Kara brought down the too big axe again and again, now hitting its snout and spraying herself with hot blood. Meanwhile the wolf woman and Branak did the same. All until the wyvern fell down and soon stopped moving, short before its head was cut off completely by the wolf woman.


    Kara still smashed it a few times with the axe just before Kazok arrived and simply took it from her. ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh..¡± he said and petted her shoulder with a dark giggling smile of bloodied teeth. He then walked past her and towards her aunt.


    For just this moment the thought of her aunt did not come to her mind. Too much fury was still drumming through her veins. She breathed heavy fire in her lungs while her body was shaking. The wolf woman stumbled and fisted her shoulder, walking past her too. ¡°Good hick hunting, little one¡­¡± she said and walked behind a tree where her hiccups finally forced her mouth to lose the liquor of the night again.


    Branak did bite and tug on the remains of the Wyvern for a while more as Kara¡¯s drums slowly faded again. Her first serious fight was over and even if she would still struggle, even if she did not know what her clan was now or where her future was leading, she knew she was an orc.

 Chapter 8: The Shaman and the Druid

    Mara¡¯gash, daughter of Kara¡¯gash the great Khan who they called the mountain, sister of an exile who they once called a beast and aunt of a girl that was like a daughter to her, was about to abandon her name.


    Her head was ringing and her stomach in battle with itself. Slowly she gained consciousness and opened her eyes to a dimly lit hut. It was not simply made of wood but seemed like a tree just had grown perfectly with this small wooden cave inside. Its walls were decorated with skulls of both animal and orc and very few that even seemed like a combination of both. Bones of each hung above her, adorned with feathers and small bushy tails, banded together like a web that watched over her. It was all lit by what she did not know were called candles. Made of beeswax they covered the room in a sweet scent that was clashing with the fresh smell of leaf and grass in the warm breeze that came through a small entrance hole. Even the pelts she was laying on and under were carrying a scent of leaf and oak rather than beast.


    Time was turning in her head as much as the room. She did not know how long she was staring and blinking at her surroundings and its scent but it was too long for her to flee before a fat green orc without a nose slowly stomped back into the room. The entrance behind him gave a short glare at a rising sun and trees below them, while they were resting far up on the greatest of them all. Its leaves sang in the breeze and the sun slowly started to aid the candles.


    He snorted deep from his cut nostrils before he sat down at the end of the pelts and raised a word. ¡°Know where you are?...what your name is¡­anything?¡± Mara blinked a few times and slowly sat herself up against the wooden wall. ¡°That is a lot of questions¡­¡± she said while her headache carried her voice.


    ¡°Heh! Well there is a lot to talk¡­¡± he said after a small giggle before his voice became darker again. After she thought about the answers to his questions her burning eyes suddenly widened in panic ¡°Kara!...¡± she said more loudly and was about to stand up ¡°A girl..was she with me?! I need to~¡± Kazok waved his hand up and down in a motion to ease her ¡°She is fine..¡± he said which at least kept Mara sitting ¡°Even did good for herself I say. Strong for her age..¡± he stopped for a second and pierced his eyes directly into Mara¡¯s gaze ¡°Even for a darkling..¡±. Slowly Mara realised her situation as she saw his green skin and amber eyes more clearly. They had finally arrived in the land of their old enemy. The tribes of the south, those who did not listen to the elements and the Dragon, but to the spirits of beasts and trees. Those who had a pact with the Horned Croak, the arch druid.


    The noseless man before her did not carry chains and metal in his skin like the shamans of the north, like her, but was adorned with symbols. A red colour made from the trees that were stitched into his skin. Some showing ancient hunts. Of wolf and boar. Others a great stag that watched over them. His cut off nose and bristling dreadlocks made him look more boar than orc. Even more so as his tusks seemed longer than most. He was a druid, she realised and spoke her fears ¡°If you did anything to her..'''' she started slowly but angry before Kazok interrupted her angry himself ¡°I just spent an entire night of headaches mending you, you ungrateful piece of dung! Of course she is fine!¡± It took another long moment for Mara to realise what his words meant. She looked down herself and beneath the pelts where she now remembered the Wyvern had stung her. Dark Leaves she did not know layed pressed on it and she could feel a salve itching beneath them. Slowly she bowed her ringing head all so slightly at the noseless stranger. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± it was clear she was still not at ease ¡°but where is she?¡±. Kazok grunted annoyedly before he answered ¡°A friend took her to gather the spoils of our victory¡­just something to get her mind off you until you are safe again.¡± ¡°I am safe.¡± She quickly replied before he shook his head ¡°You are awake..¡± There was a threat in his voice but before her spinning mind could come up with an answer he continued ¡°She told us much¡­but I want to hear it from you, Darkling. Don¡¯t think I simply trust you because you were stupid enough to run into a wyvern.¡± ¡°Why save me then?¡± her question widened his eyes for but a moment before he shook his head yet again and more aggressively ¡°Well¡­she asked¡­¡± ¡°Kara?¡± it was clear her words made him struggle to keep his aggressive pose. After a short moment he straightened himself again ¡°I ask the questions!¡± even her spinning head could notice his aggressive wall shatter a moment there.


    His amber glowing eyes pierced the fire in her¡¯s ¡°Why?...¡±. The longest pause yet followed his question as many thoughts, memories and times circled her head. Finally she nodded and sat herself straighter up again to properly sit the same as he did. The shaman chains and stones that were pierced into the dark grey of her face and body ringed in response to her movement. There was one on each side of her face that went from a ring on each of her noses to other rings on her ears and tusks. A part of the mountain she carried with her, like all shamans of the valley.


    ¡°There are many answers to that one word..¡± she started slowly and looked at him. He nodded in return and took a leather bag from his belt. Slowly he reached over the pelts and to her as he offered it. She took it and realised it was a waterbag. Before she drank she raised an eyebrow at him. He grunted, annoyed. ¡°By the oak¡­If you dare to think I''m trying to poison you I¡¯ll throw you and your spawn off this tree!¡±. She nodded realising how stupid the thought was and drank quite a lot of the water inside the bag. ¡°Thank you..¡± she said again before she handed it back and sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure where to start..¡± she almost whispered more to herself as her mind went far only to be brought back by Kazoks snorting voice ¡°Why are you here, and not with your clan?¡±


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    She thought for a while what she could tell an outsider from the south, but soon it was clear she had no choice but to be honest if she and Kara were meant to have a future. ¡°Our clan¡­the entire valley¡­maybe the entire north..is boiling with turmoil.¡± She looked at the orc skulls hanging on the walls and above her and asked herself if they were his or her ancestors. ¡°The clans are turning on each other. Some because they are loyal to the Dragon and the Great Khan, others because they see him as a snake without honour¡­¡±


    Kazok laughed ¡°Ha! Bored warmongers! Of course they tear each other''s throat if they can¡¯t reach ours!! Hehahaha!¡± Mara¡¯s flaming eyes pierced with anger at him and she started to doubt telling him anything before he looked back at her.


    With widened eyes he seemed to realise that it was not the way to get answers. ¡°Continue..¡± he said again in an act of pretended old wisdom.


    She slowly nodded ¡°Aru¡¯Gal...the great Khan¡­chieftain of chieftains, master of the riders and speaker of the dragon''s tongue.¡± There was something vile in her expression as she started to talk about him. ¡°Some seers already called him the snake¡­his own father..my teacher..was one of those who saw a dark path with him¡­nothing but blood and pain, not just for him, but all the clans¡­.¡± As she took a while to find more words Kazok spoke first ¡°Visions¡­¡± he grunted ¡°Nothing good has ever come from old orcs praying dark omen¡­¡± She nodded slowly and had her gaze locked on thoughts and candles. Kazok followed her gaze and saw into the candle fire. It stuttered for a small second without any breeze. ¡°And you trusted their words?¡±.


    She looked down at the pelts and then back into his gaze ¡°It was not just the seers who saw darkness in him¡­he¡± she struggled for words but this time was fast enough to speak her own again ¡°He tries to change the clans..and our ways. Where before our mines were holy. Only ever visited together with a shaman and only ever when a craft was important. When a child was to become an orc we went inside, sought metal and crafted a weapon.¡± She made a motion towards the chains that were pierced into her body and face ¡°When a shaman took the path to answer the mountain. To sing the first song to snow, wind and summit¡­then their teacher chose the metal there with them.¡± She shook her head and made the chains sing for but a moment ¡°But Aru¡¯Gal¡­he says he does not want battles¡­but victory¡­¡± ¡°Against us?¡± Kazok asked with an angry gaze. She nodded and continued to be locked with his gaze ¡°All of the south¡­and for that he wants all of us to wear armour like the riders. To learn to ride the beasts like them¡­and sooner or later to raid¡­no¡­conquer the south.¡±


    Now Kazok took a while. As much as he liked to mock them as weaklings, even one rider was dangerous enough. If the north would gather more there was indeed a danger. Before he could speak she continued ¡°Kara and I fled because I couldn¡¯t keep my mouth shut¡­I told him he was unworthy of his titles¡­that he was a snake¡­and even more that sooner or later the clans would rise against him¡­maybe even that the time of the great Khans is over..¡± Kazok made a grin ¡°Hehehe¡­sounds like the type of man who does not like that¡­¡± A smile formed on Mara¡¯s face before she answered ¡°Not at all..¡± both had a small giggle only to end with Kazok ¡°what a weakling¡­¡±. Kara nodded with an honest smile before it slowly turned away again. ¡°Well..I also took blame for what happened to the mines¡­¡±


    He raised a brow and was about to ask before she once again spoke sooner than him ¡°My teacher¡­his father, the great Seer of the Singing Summit, he called upon the earth and closed most of the old mines, just enough so they could be part of the old rites again and not to arm a clan of herders and smiths to conquer¡± She made a long sigh ¡°I took the blame instead of him, because I knew the clan might listen to him..but never to me..maybe there is even a chance that his son will..¡± She took a deep breath and continued as she glared back into his orange eyes ¡°But Aru¡¯Gal wanted my head¡­I did not let him take it¡­so he..¡± her words stumbled ¡°He forced my brother¡­one of the riders to take it¡­¡± A disappointed grunt came from Kazok as she continued ¡°But he..he could not¡­I am not sure if for me or because Kara jumped in¡­but he let me go..the only reason I took Kara with me was because I know she has an even loser mouth than I do¡­and I will not see that snake take her life only because he thinks his name should be an excuse for his size¡­¡±


    They both remained silent for a good while until a warm breeze made Kazok speak again. ¡°I believe you¡­darkling.¡± She bowed all so slightly with a hint of a smile. ¡°I am Kazok Drak Nu¡¯Arok, Druid of the great Boar and caretaker of the Bristling Pines. Tell me your name, and you shall be welcome in my forest.¡± She smiled with her answer ¡°I am Mara¡¯Gash. Shaman of the summit and the Valley, singer of the two winds and daughter of the mountain.¡± They both made a small bow in respect to the other orc and their titles. Both connected to the spirits, both healers and both carrying words with weight for their people.


    But if Kazok had known that daughter of the mountain meant the Great Khan that slaughtered so many, and not a title he did not know, destiny would have followed a different path these days.

 Chapter 9: Pathways

    When Mara left the tiny wooden cave she was greeted by a warm summer breeze. Her eyes had to blink a few times as she saw the rising sun over the forest. The tree they were on was thrice as high as the rest below them and granted a look far over the horizons. She squinted her eyes and could see the distant savannah behind the trees of the west while south to them the great mists of the sea were hiding the hidden lands beyond.


    Only after a few moments did she realise the height and danger, for even up here there were no things built or carved in. All just as it was grown naturally. So no protection but the quite big circling branch she stood on was given.


    Kazzok laughed as she stumbled backwards at her realisation but soon showed her the way down the circling roots and branches towards the ground. Some of them were like bridges between other parts of the tree, others were circling it like a path down. The only things that were made by orc and not the tree, were all the trinkets and trophies that were hung around it and the runes that were carved inside its bark. Many trophies of hunt and battles. Heads of great beasts, many of them wyverns. Sometimes an entire old leathery wing was hung in a web of vines. Mara wondered if they were war or hunting trophies but there was no point to ask and stir something inside the druid''s head. She knew as much as him that she only lived through luck and his aid. A thought that made her heart sting with shame. Not because she could have died down here. There were times when she thought she deserved exactly that, but because her death could mean Kara¡¯s demise as well. Of all the things she regretted, that she had taken her niece down south with her stung the most. Then again, who would have protected her if she had stayed at the mountain.


    Her worries were crushed once they reached the forest floor. Her niece sat next to a woman adorned with wolf parts and was carving the shore wyvern with her.


    A relieved smile was their greeting. Soon her small warrior rushed to her and finally they could hold each other again. Quickly a frown followed Mara¡¯s excitement as she saw the cuts and wounds on the girl that saved her life. ¡°Did you fight?...¡± she asked and checked her for greater wounds. A wicked grin was her first answer as she nodded back at the remains of the wyvern ¡°Can¡¯t you see it? We avenged you!¡±


    ¡°Hahaha, one fight and they start to act like warriors¡­¡± Kazzoks voice bellowed from behind Mara ¡°it''s always the same, but she did good for her age..¡±.


    Mara smiled now as well, proud of her niece ¡°Did you shop its head off?¡± ¡°No, but I smashed it!¡± Her smile was one of pumping fury, one all orcs carried after their first fight for death. Mara had known that the day would come during their venture south. Even though she wasn¡¯t there for it, it made her proud.


    ¡°Tell me everything¡± she said, answering the grin with her own.


    While Kara shared the story with her aunt, Kazok walked over to the big blue wyvern carcass. They did skin it quite a lot already, enough that half its body was nothing but light red flesh. He got his knife and kneeled next to the wolf woman to take the Wyverns scales with her. Next to her was the pile of light blue leather and dark blue scales. She looked at him waiting for words. ¡°And?..¡± she asked after a while. He nodded and spoke far more silently as he usually did ¡°Exiles..¡± he struggled for words as he placed his knife behind a big blue scale ¡°If what she spoke is true, I need to call the chieftains¡­¡±. The wolf woman made a face and just assumed she heard wrong ¡°You need to talk to him anyway if you want them to stay¡­¡± ¡°No Rika..¡± he said and removed the scale before he looked at her with quite serious piercing eyes ¡°not just him¡­all of them¡­¡±. She frowned and looked back at where Kara told her aunt the story of their fight with big gestures, then back to noseless Kazok ¡°What could she tell that scares you this much?..¡± He shook his head and started with the next scale. ¡°Scare is a harsh word¡­¡± ¡°Stop pretending Kazok, it''s me.¡± she interrupted him before he nodded and sighed ¡°Do you remember the scroll your brother and the striders were meant to retrieve?...¡± her eyes widened ¡°She knows of it?...¡± he shook his head ¡°no..but their chieftain seeks war.¡± ¡°So did all before hi~¡± now he interrupted her ¡°no raids or battles Rika, war¡­¡± he looked back at the two darklings and removed the next scale ¡°If her story rings true¡­there will be more like them..and it will be for the chieftains to decide if they are our or the enemies axes..¡± Rika thought for a while before her words returned ¡°I do not see how the scrolls plays into it all¡­¡± He stopped at her words and struggled for some of his own ¡°I just hope your brother returns soon..¡± he said with a hint of fear in his voice before he concentrated on another big scale while Rika looked back at the two darklings. Shortly after that she continued as well.


    They remained silent until their two guests returned and aided them. Even if they didn¡¯t know the forest well, they both knew how to take the remains of a wyvern, even if for different reasons.


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    It took them most of the day, as they piled its flesh, bones, scales and leather. They then carried the flesh inside a lower cave of the tree where Kazok smeared salt from the shores over it all as he sang words in the ancient tongue. They came from deep in his throat and echoed through the tree, to its roots into the land. Both of the Darklings were surprised that the druids of the south sang the same as the shamans of the north and for both it was a harsh reminder that they might never see their valley again.


    No one but Mara understood the words that were sung. It was a song in gratitude to its flesh and bones, and even the new orcs that it brought to them. She smiled at the line as for but a small moment she felt hope.


    Once the sun started to go down again they aimed for another cave inside the oak. It was quite warm even if the night brought a cold wind from the north. It was lit by wyvern horns that still glowed with the fire of Karn¡¯Arak. Both the darklings knew it was their ancestor¡¯s beasts, slain in battle, that now hung around the cave in a web of vines. Mara wondered if it was a threat to them or if Kazok simply did not think about it.


    Rika however knew really well and shared but a small glance with him before they all sat down around a pile of those horns that warmed them like a grim campfire. They did bring pelts with them and now laid it around, ready to sleep, but all knew there were more words before the day could end.


    It was Kazok who spoke first just as big wolf Branak was laying down next to Rika. ¡°There will be greater threats than wyvern on your way¡­¡± ¡°Let them come!¡± Kara screamed making everyone smile, for they all remembered the fire of a young orc after battle. ¡°Hehe¡­I wish it would be that easy little one..¡± he turned his gaze to Rika for a small moment before his eyes sought Mara¡¯s. ¡°You aided us this day, do it for a week and I say your debt is repaid.¡± He chugged from his waterskin and gave it over to Rika, who gave it along until it was with him again. ¡°But what do you plan to do after that?¡±.


    Kara was looking up to her aunt who had to think for a moment before she admitted ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She shook her head ¡°We simply had to run or cause far more blood among our own clan¡­our own family, than I want to think about. Bad blood at that.¡±


    Every hint of a smile her niece still had vanished at Mara¡¯s words, for she knew who would spill that blood inside their family. She shrunk into herself at the thought.


    Kazok however nodded ¡°Times change¡­¡± he said before he repeated himself ¡°Times change¡­¡± he pointed at Rika ¡°Her father¡­my teacher and the last great Druid that cared for the Pines said that he felt a change in the north¡­a cold that touched land and orc alike he said..¡±. Rika nodded before she spoke herself ¡°The clans will not accept you as easily as we do¡­¡± ¡°I did accept nothing yet¡± Kazok interrupted her ¡°They are welcome in my forest, nothing more.¡± He sighed ¡°Nothing less.¡±


    Mara nodded before she returned her eyes to his ¡°Is there a place in your forests where we can live? Hidden somewhere from both your and our people?¡±


    Kazoks face made a question as he eagerly shook his head ¡°Pfff what kind of life would that be? You want the little one to grow up without butting heads with others of her age?¡±


    Mara sighed ¡°Well what else is there other than to survive?¡± ¡°Living, you coward!¡± he bellowed back before he sighed. He tapped his fingers on his thick green scarred belly as he thought.


    Rika took word as she looked at Mara ¡°If what you told him is true¡­and your clan is turmoil¡­¡± she then looked back to Kazok ¡°and even more if what my father felt is true¡­then over long you won¡¯t be the only ones seeking shelter in our pines¡­¡±


    Kazok grunted as he nodded, now stroking his beard instead of his belly. ¡°Your chieftain seeks war¡­¡±


    Kara shook her head now and spoke before her aunt could ¡°Not our chieftain..our Khan.¡± ¡°The chieftain of chieftains¡­¡± Mara continued so the two greenskins would understand the difference. A moment of silence filled the room as Rika and Kazok now truly started to understand.


    ¡°Whatever you plan to do¡­¡± Kazok started again ¡°We need to talk to the clans. Many will not listen to you..¡± ¡°Not to you either..¡± Rika interrupted him which was answered with an annoyed deep snort from his missing nostrils. ¡°They will listen to strength if that is needed..but no matter what the clans decide, you must make your choice until tomorrow.¡± His amber glowing eyes were quite serious as they glanced into Mara¡¯s ¡°Either you let me show you a place where you can hide and survive. You can make your roots and be passive but living like a tree¡­¡± he felt the wood under his hand as he said those words ¡°Or you come with us to the clan, you aim not to survive but strife. Not like a tree, but like an orc!¡± Kara answered by showing her teeth with a wicked smile, meanwhile her aunt nodded. ¡°The night will bring wisdom..¡± she said and was answered with silence for a while.


    Few more words were spoken, for after a night of fighting and healing, and a day of work, they all soon slept. Some of them easier than others for they all knew the following day would bring answers they might not wish to hear.


    Yet the egg watched over them inside the great oak. For now they were save in the pines.


    But they knew it would change, once the beast would regain his name.

 Chapter 10: The Ashen Dagger

    All orcs knew that the end of their lives was only another part in the grand battle of their kind. The south knew that their death would feed nature, have trees grow from their lifeless bodies until it''s leafs would spawn more again. An endless cycle that started with the dragons of yore and would go on until the entire world was full of trees and life.


    The North however, believed that even a dead orc was still a conqueror. Their ashes would be carried with the wind and sooner or later all would find their way to the last of all battles. The grand grey ash of the Bladespire wastes. The place where all would one day end, as after generations of war and death it would engulf all the land, drown the seas and maybe even, one far day if their kind lived long enough, mount to the stars, until the orcs conquered all there was, and nothing but ash would remain.


    Those clans that travelled the wastes, nomads aligned to the dragon and his riders, saw themselves as protectors of the dead. As those who remembered all their stories and their suffering. Inscribed on the great obsidian spires that had always been risen from the grey wastes, the stories were told. Some in runes of ancient times that reflected the fires they served, others in pictures painted from blood and fruit to colour the spires with the lives that once had lingered. Too many of those stories had been forgotten and even more would be lost to time, but they all painted the black spires in the grey dunes and shared the colours of life in the land of the dead.


    An old man climbed one of the spires. His dark cloth protected him from the strong ashen wind. A wind that even darkened the sun that day. There was a rope around the spire and around his back protecting him from falling. It was the strength of his old legs that held him up there, pressed against the spire. Still he seemed relaxed as he painted it with his hands. It was not pictures he painted but simply forms that felt right to him, for his eyes were hidden beneath a blindfold and his hood. On both were chains and trinkets. Melted and flattened rocks of different minerals that loosely hang from both and made their clinking sound in the winds. The chains of a shaman, and the eyes of a seer.


    He sang as he painted, an old song that would be carried with the desert wind while he continued to paint different shapes and colours onto the spire. Some red, some blue, some yellow and often enough a mixture of plenty. Most of the shapes he drew were but simple circles. Yet he knew they painted the story of the life that had been. The paints were from bags on his belt and whenever he took a new one, he saw to remove every remains of the last from his hand with the other with wide motions, almost like a dance. It made one of his hands as colourful as the spire he painted, while the other always carried out the task.


    He stopped his song and work as he felt a shift beneath the ashen dunes. Holding both his hands at the spire he felt, listened and then nodded as his blind gaze went over the distant grey dunes. He knew the tremor was from a sandwyvern but it took his blinded hidden sight a moment longer to know it had a rider.


    He smiled and removed the remaining paint from his right hand to then make a print of his coloured left on the spire. With a wide grin he used his arms to hold the rope even tighter to slowly let it glide lower while he took careful steps with its height until he had climbed down again.


    Down at the grey dunes he took his staff that was still leaning against the big black spire. Now with his bare feet on the ashen desert ground he felt the tremor even clearer until the big sand wyvern sprang out from the ground and landed quite close to him. Even without eyes, he knew how big the beast was, from both the big vibrations it made in the wastes and simple old memories.


    It sniffed the old man who simply smiled and layed the coloured hand on its horn. ¡°It has been long, old friend¡­¡± he said to the beast before its rider jumped down from a saddle that was carved inside its giant grey scales. The beast remembered the old man''s scent and made a small but loud movement with its twin tongue.


    ¡°Ahhh¡­Sha¡¯Raph..¡± he said as the rider came closer ¡°Too long that you brought my friend to see me again!¡± he continued to pet the big wyverns snout with a wide grin that showed his broken and missing teeth. Even one of his tusks was broken, hidden under his decorated hood.


    Sha¡¯raph however was completely covered in black Obsidian, even her hood and mantle were black. Only the silver and golden coins on her mask shared a different colour. As she spoke her voice was muffled from the mask ¡°Master Kru¡¯Gan.¡± ¡°Watcher of my desert..¡± the shaman answered in response. Both made a little bow to the other. As much as Sha¡¯Raph tried her usual cold demeanour she knew his blind gaze could always see through her mask. She suddenly stood more relaxed and sighed before she spoke ¡°He found it¡­¡± The old man''s smile vanished and his voice turned darker. ¡°Are you certain of it?¡± She nodded as if he could see ¡°I doubt he thought any rider would recognise it¡­but he walked it proudly around Karn¡¯Arak..and I could hear him say he wanted a word with the dragon.¡±


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    ¡°Then the snake is about to unleash its poison¡­¡± he said as the ashen winds grew stronger.


    She shook her head ¡°After all I hear from the valley his poison is already in play..¡± fear was in her voice, the old man knew that well. The young girl he trained in these very dunes still lingered beneath the mask and she knew very well, she was their own poison.


    He made a bitter smile at her fear before he forced himself to a brighter one again ¡°Let us ride, Sha¡¯Raph.¡± He laid a hand on her shoulder while his blind gaze went into the distant ashen dunes ¡°Let us return to the clan¡­and you tell me about the snake..¡±


    She sighed but smiled. ¡°Do you want to ride him again, master?¡± ¡°Oh no¡­¡± he said while his face spoke of melancholy as he laid a hand on the great beast ¡°I am but a humble guest now..¡±.


    They then climbed the big grey desert beast and hid inside the great hollowed scale. Once they started to fly Sha¡¯Raph closed it with the thick remains of the same scale that hung above. It was Almost like a tent. Only tiny holes remained that were meant for the spiked chain that was going through it.


    She swung the chains that lashed into the thick scales of the beast. It roared and started to move. First it jumped underground. Even if its two riders were protected by the grand scale they hid inside, some dust always came in. She whispered something in the ancient tongue. It should have been too low for the beast to hear yet still it did rise from the ash and to the grey sky again. It crossed one of the painted spires only barely before Sha¡¯Raph opened the scale again.


    Old man Kru¡¯Gan made a wide almost toothless grin at the wind in his face ¡°Oh I missed you my friends..¡± His smile carried over to Sha¡¯Raph under her mask. ¡°It is good to be back, master..¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t always call me that, Sha¡¯Raph..¡± he said as the trinkets on his hood and blindfold clinked together ¡°You are the watcher of the clan, of the living¡± he laid a hand on her shoulder ¡°I only have to care for the dead.¡± Her smile vanished. It was already strange to be a rider for Karn¡¯Arak but even stranger since she had become the watcher of her clan.


    ¡°Now tell me about the boy that calls himself Khan now¡­¡± there was poison in the old man''s words but still she trusted him more than any other orc she knew. He raised her, trained her and made her the warrior she was now.


    ¡°He is small in body, but big in ambition.¡± she said and was answered with a deep ¡°dangerous..¡±.


    She nodded as her beast took to the south where behind the dusty storm a hint of the sun was seen. ¡°I think..¡± she started but stuck on her words for a moment ¡°I think he is a great leader¡­fair to his riders, and I have no doubt he only wishes the best for the clans¡­¡± ¡°You think the scroll is the best?¡± her master''s words pierced back.


    ¡°It depends what he will use it for doesn¡¯t it?¡± she was surprised about her own words yet could feel his smile.


    ¡°Is it more than trust, you share with him?¡± his words became sharper and pierced deeper with each question. She said nothing as her mind went back to times she and Aru¡¯Gal had together. Some in battle, others in drink and joy, yet she remained silent.


    ¡°Oh¡­a Dagger that feels for its prey is just as dangerous as a small orc with great ambition..¡± there was disappointment in his words that made her sigh under her mask.


    ¡°My heart will always be within the wastes..¡± she answered with determination in her masked eyes.


    He smiled as he spoke ¡°Oh I know, Sha¡¯Raph..I know¡±


    They took a few moments of silence as nothing but the ashen wind surrounded them. It was Sha¡¯Raph who spoke again after her mind went to many uncertain futures ¡°The scroll..what will it do?¡±


    Kru¡¯Gan answered with a long disappointed grunt ¡°pain, Sha¡¯Raph..¡± he said ¡°Nothing but pain¡­¡±


    Clearly not satisfied with the answer she continued more vehemently, ¡°If your dagger has to strike, it must know all about its prey.¡±


    Taken back by her sudden disobedience he smiled and spilled his poisoned words ¡°Ohhh¡­you know your prey better than anyone could have ever wished for.¡±


    Losing every bit of courage she had before she stayed silent for a while again until Kru¡¯Gan took yet another word ¡°You will learn all you have to¡­but know that it is the oldest secrets of the clans that care about magic like this..¡±


    She raised a masked brow ¡°I thought it was stolen from the Ogres in the west¡­¡±


    His blind gaze pierced the more and more visible sun ¡°History is a circle¡­¡± he nodded ¡°Legends are path..¡±

 Chapter 11: Melody of the mountain

    Even in age, Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s heart raised its beat whenever he felt the summit¡¯s distant song. Hidden behind the Horizon and deep within the mountains it watched over the valley below. A crown of the earth that their Clan filled with song.


    Many holes were inside, many of them as an entrance to the mountain and the great halls that their ancestors had carved in. Others were made by the Dragon millenia ago, as it made the mountain hollow, for them to be filled with the voices of Orc and wind again.


    Even when he was a child and could still see with his own eyes he felt the awe of the mountain and like many in the clan he remembered the day of his first song clearly.


    People had gathered in the great cave at the top. There was an entrance to all four ways of the winds and a big stone bridge in its centre. In the centre of the bridge was a big gong. Made from the mountains silver, gold and copper blood. And below the bridge and the gong was the big black hollow. The longest fall down to whatever was resting beneath the mountain. A giant pit of darkness and song. Many had their home caves around the pit on its long way down, so even those that did not take the walk to the top, could sing into the void, for their voices to echo to the rest of the clan and the mountain itself.


    When there was reason to sing the clan gathered in the top hall, most that came there and did not stay in their caves were from down in the Valley. A Shaman then started to sing deep from his throat. Once he hit the gong the clan would sing with him and together their voices would travel through the hollow mountain and turn it into the Singing Summit. Their voices would travel all over and through the earth, with the wind and through caves they would reach all lands of their big clan. From the Frost Song Valley south of the mountain all the way to the last edge at the boiling Sea in the highest north.


    When there was no song, it was still the wind that made a melody. It touched the chimes they had hung on all the cave entrances and made it clear that the mountain was watched by Father Sky and mother earth. Like the gong the chimes were made from the mountain''s veins, while some very few were even made with the dragon''s blessing. The same way a shaman''s staff was made to cling and clang even louder. Leaders, in the song, and guides through the harsh snowy storms of their home.


    When Cra¡¯Gal heard the Chimes in the distance, it was the first day he did not feel awe or happiness, but fear. ¡°We are almost there, Seer.¡± the rider he sat behind, told him. Cra¡¯Gal slowly nodded ¡°I know..¡±.


    The man in front of him was Ur¡¯Gak, the new Watcher of the Frost Song clan since the Darkling had become an exile. Old Cra¡¯Gal knew it was an honour for him to fly the great Seer but he felt the constant fear in him. A man that knew he was not worth his title and that had to do right now that a chance was given.


    ¡°Then hold tight elder, we fly steep and fast now.¡± Before Cra¡¯Gal could answer they already had taken their steep flight down. As they pierced through the wind the old Shaman knew how it would seem for the clan. Many had spoken against his Son, the Great Khan, and now a Swarm of riders was heading right for them. His only hope remained that no one thought this to be their moment of honour, to jump into battle or attempt to spear a Wyvern out of the Sky. There was still a chance things could go back to the old ways. To the clans to honour their Khan again, and for his Son to have a great future as brave Conqueror not a scheming snake seeking scrolls of tainted evil.


    His hope was shattered as he felt a quick shift in the winds once they came close enough for spears. He sighed as he felt one flying right at the Riders. Ur¡¯Gak turned the Wyvern quickly to avoid the hit. For but a moment he dared to hope, for an attempted attack could still be mended, but it was crushed as the swarm of riders passed them. Piercing steeper and faster through the sky and towards the caves.


    Ur¡¯Gak was about to reach for his horn but was stopped by the blind man behind him ¡°This is your own clan, you fool!¡± Cra¡¯Gal told him ¡°Stop the others if you have to! I will not see the mountain burn by pure foolishness!¡±. The Watcher struggled for words until he simply nodded ¡°Yes seer..¡±. They then quickly followed the rest of the riders down to the mountain. There was a big entrance carved just for them where most riders had landed. Screams and curses were filling the mountain instead of song and loudest of all between them the darklings barks were carried with the winds. Cra¡¯Gal grunted with disgust ¡°Once down, make sure that fool knows that he is not even a rider, let alone Watcher.¡± Ur¡¯Gak was taken back by getting orders from the Elder instead of the Khan but was not one to argue. If anything, a reason to get at his former watcher was a chance to show strength.


    The fact the watcher did not even attempt to argue only showed Cra¡¯Gal his weakness and he knew well why his son had chosen a man like this. Mindless, loyal and strong. He was disgusted more and more, by both the thought of foolish unhonorable Orcs who simply followed Orders, and the fight that was about to break out at the mountain because of them.


    Once they crashed down at the great stone platform weapon¡¯s were already drawn and the Darklings Voice echoed through the hollow caves: ¡°Who was it Chieftain?! Who threw that spear!¡±


    Opposite of him an Orc with a long black greying beard showed his teeth. He wore a kilt of thick pelts while on his head he carried the horned white head of a yack that turned into the pelt on his back. On the Yaks head Shaman trinkets were hung, but their runes were different. Most of them were but simple pictures of hammer, axe, tusk and mountain instead of the old primal tongue. A big shaman chain was dangling between the yak¡¯s horns yet only the Yak carried those trinkets for the man who wore it was no Shaman, but the Chieftain of the Frost Song. Nar¡¯Ruuk the Ire.


    He held a hand proudly on the big Mountain Horn on his belt as he snarled back ¡°Aren¡¯t you exiled Bru~¡± ¡°You will not speak his name!¡± Cra¡¯Gal interrupted him and climbed down from the Wyvern. Many riders, including the Watcher quickly came to his aid but he waved them away and slowly but determined walked to the Chieftain and the Darkling as if he could see. ¡°None of you will Spoil blood this day!¡± His voice now echoed through the Mountain and over the Valley, as all listened to the Elder¡¯s commands. ¡°Whatever fool threw that thing may pray the ancestors forgive his foolishness! For I would not!¡± Whispers were the answers. Some from the riders at the big Platform, others from the caves inside the mountain. ¡°We are all sons and daughters of the Valley! Orcs of the Dragons fire and flesh! I shall not allow that you spill each other¡¯s blood when winter is so close!¡±. Cra¡¯Gal took a few deep breaths before he took his blind hidden gaze to the Darkling ¡°And you!...¡± he walked at him with eager and angry steps ¡°Do not forget that you are lucky to even carry your head still, Exile!¡± Before the Darkling could answer Cra¡¯Gal already had turned to Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk ¡°And we, Chieftain, need to talk.¡± After a short glance back to the Darkling the Chieftain made a slight bow and answered with his deep rasping voice ¡°Of course, Elder.¡±


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    Cra¡¯gal grunted and turned to the Watcher ¡°You.¡± he pointed his staff directly at him even though his hidden eyes faced to nothing ¡°You will see that there is no bloodshed here. Do you understand?!¡± A hint of anger was seen in Ur¡¯Gak¡¯s face before he simply nodded ¡°I shall keep watch¡­Elder..¡±.


    ¡°Finally some sense..¡± Cra¡¯Gal mumbled and walked past the Chieftain and into the big mountain cave. It was wide enough for a few Wyverns to walk by each other, and high enough that up to three living caves were carved atop each other. Many of them had big holes to the great cave he walked through, adorned with their own chimes and trinkets, and all of them watching the turmoil the rider¡¯s arrival had made that day. Families of smiths, hunters, herders and gatherers. The fact that so many were here meant that somebody had raised the alarm when the Riders came across the Horizon. Now they all looked down from their caves as the old Seer walked through the big mountain tunnel. And all of them felt the same thing. Fear.


    Cra¡¯Gal did not need eyes to feel it linger in the air. Things had gone too far and it was his duty to stop the rockfall his clan was having. Maybe if he could talk to his son again, maybe if he would see and feel the pain with his own eyes he would understand. But even Cra¡¯Gal doubted that.


    With a sigh he arrived at the great dark pit. They were quite far down so only a hint of light was seen all the endless way at the top, where the bridge and gong of the great wind hall were resting. Around the pit hundreds of family caves were lit with glowing Dragonstones. The most holy of all things the mountain granted them. They flickered like candles and gave warmth like a fire. By now most families called one, or two their own and handed it over the generations. Yet Cra¡¯Gal could feel how many of them had become darker with time, and he knew better than anybody that even those new ones they found were weaker than before. Even though he could not see, he felt their fiery eyes on him, all watching from the dark. Waiting for what would happen to their clan now.


    He felt in his feed how the Watcher and the Chieftain followed him, while most riders started to unpack their beasts.


    Once the Chieftain arrived next to him Cra¡¯Gal whispered to not have it echo through the pit ¡°They fear the beasts and their riders, when they should welcome them home.¡±


    Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk sighed before he answered with a whisper himself ¡°They know that one of them is already marked to die, of course they do.¡±


    ¡°Mara¡­¡± Cra¡¯Gal whispered almost more to himself as guilt flooded him ¡°Have you heard anything?¡±


    The Chieftain looked at him with a raised brow just before the Watcher arrived next to them. ¡°The riders will demand a head if there is nothing to change their mood.¡±


    ¡°It is not only them that will do so¡­¡± Cra¡¯Gal whispered as melancholy made his voice even lower. Both the Chieftain and the Watcher stared at him, both with a mix of fear and anger at the Shamans honest words. ¡°Listen to them..¡± he continued and shook his head.


    As they did they could hear the hints of many whispers that echoed from the eyes in the shadows and through the mountain. All too low to understand but enough in number to fill the hollowed halls with the same fear and anger that laid in every whisper around it. The watcher turned his fiery gaze to the chieftain ¡°Is there enough for a feast?¡±. Nar¡¯Ruuk looked above his shoulder back to where the riders were handling the empty supply backs they had brought. ¡°That depends on how much you will take..¡± he answered as his eyes returned to Watcher Ur¡¯Gak.


    Cra¡¯gal grunted before he could answer ¡°They can take from the south if need be, we need something grand to show them they are of the same clan again..¡±. The watcher was not happy about the Shaman answering before him and even less as the Chieftain could not help but smile at it for but a moment. ¡°The exile will retake his name, and then riders and clan will feast together like in the days of his father..¡± Cra¡¯Gal whispered and nodded.


    Ur¡¯gak folded his arms as he looked up towards the windhall ¡°I am surprised you deem him worthy of that, Seer.¡±


    ¡°I do not. He is as much a fool as his father was¡± he said more loudly than he had planned as parts of his voice echoed. When he continued it was much lower again ¡°But it will show them that the great Khan knows justice and that he has not forgotten his clan.¡±


    Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk looked down at the hunching old blind man ¡°That would be good to see, I agree..¡±. Cra¡¯Gal simply grunted deeply before he took a few deep breaths.


    The watcher was about to say something as Cra¡¯Gal suddenly stopped whispering and yelled into the echoing hall with open arms ¡°Children of the mountain, wanderers of the valley, shorewalkers of the boiling north¡± he took a deep breath and continued even louder ¡°Orcs of the Frost Song, do you hear me?!¡±. His voice echoed through the mountain and drowned the whispers. At first silence was the answer. The worst one he could have gotten until Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk yelled into the darkness ¡°We hear you Seer!!¡± it echoed, and soon more and more answered the same. Cra¡¯gal nodded at the chieftain and then tipped the stone below him two times with his Obsidian staff. Its sound made a loud echoing ¡°TING TING¡± that slowly made the clan go silent again. Cra¡¯Gal took another deep breath before he yelled again ¡°A son of the mountain, has lost his name, but shall take it again. Feast and song will be had, like in the days of summer¡¯s end!¡± He hated to make the Darkling retake his honour this grand ¡°Will you sing for your brother when the sun goes dark? Will you lend him your voice when the night grows black? And will you share drink and meat with him until the sun rises again?!¡± The clan''s answer now was quicker than before as many from their family caves started to cheer at the promise of a feast, yet still there were some that remained silent.


    One of them, far behind the three men at the pit, was the Darkling. His face was not happy but darkened with hidden anger, for he knew well that his name and honour was simply used to brighten the clan''s mood. Still he remained silent.


    For now.

 Chapter 12: The Khans

    Even when the other riders went to their families, most of the clan was still covered in frightened whispers. Some of them even flew off again, few to the boiling edge in the north, others to the valley just below the mountain. Since Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s riders were made mostly of old friends from when he was a boy, only very few had their families outside of the mountain and the Darkling was one of them.


    He had grown up down in the snowy valley, being the guardian for a young sister first, and then absent father for his own daughter, later. Now, while the others went to see their loved ones, there was no one left for him. The woman he loved, mother of his daughter, had died seven years ago in one of the coldest winters yet. The beast his father had become was killed by him even further back, just before Kara was born.


    And then there was his sister. Even though she was still alive, he knew that would change. Had to change. And he knew to make sure it was done with honour it had to be him. He would make it quick. That would have been what father had wanted. And only then he could bring his daughter back to the safety of the mountain. Only then things could be right again. For all that truly mattered was her. Kara. To make sure she could come back home, grow up in the valley and to make sure she could choose whatever path she deemed right. Even if his sister had to die for this to happen.


    So he told himself as he stood in front of Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash¡¯s grave down at the steep valley that lay east of the mountain. Hundreds of graves, most made up of simple round rocks placed on top of each other, painted the steep cold valley here. Often enough made to be tiny dolmen that had chimes hanging in their centre, while few belongings of the dead were gathered around, if they weren''t already taken by time.


    On the stones the stories of the dead were written. Carved in by a shaman as a memory to the life that had been. Yet still no one was buried here. It was all just monuments to the dead whose ashes had been released from the great wind hall, to find their way to the Bladespire Wastes and become one with their ancestors in the last of all battles. The chimes were meant as a guide, so their souls would remember the mountain even when they moved on. So one day the ashes of the dead could come back and conquer the valley, and the fill hollowed mountain with their ash in one final song.


    As great Khan his fathers dolmen was of proper height, big enough to walk through, were it not for all the chimes and trophies dangling there from ropes that made a web between the stones. The story on those old stones spoke of his grand battles against the south, of his many wives, and finally his two children.


    The darkling grunted at the cold breeze as he desperately tried to think what his father would have done. How he would have made sure the clan was carrying one voice again. Even though it was not on him to have those thoughts. He was no Khan, not even a rider or proper clan member until he would retake his name, yet still he felt the burden of time and the need to act.


    Before his mind could take him further back a shadow arrived over the mountains in the west. A single rider, who carried a grey scale cloak and whose wyvern was one of the few that wasn¡¯t from the ashen plains. Aru¡¯gal.


    The darkling smiled when he saw him rush for the mountain. His beast carried dark green scales and even darker cyan wings. Its Neck was far longer than other wyverns while its whole body seemed much sleeker. The scales around its head made it look more like a snake from the twisted south, while instead of one it had two tails that mirrored its twisted tongue. Like its tongue, both ended with a spike and despite its sleek and ugly nature, it was said to be the most dangerous beast a rider called his own in generations.


    The darkling saw the important Orcs, Watcher Ur¡¯gak, Chieftain Nar¡¯ruuk and Seer Cra¡¯gal all rush to the edge of the plattform to greet their Khan. Other riders did as well, even very few members of the clan, despite the unrest among them. Though even from down here the Darkling saw that the clan members were not in joy of the return of their Khan, but followed Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk, ready for a battle that no one dared to start.


    Yet instead of making his way to the riders platform Aru¡¯gal made his twisted Wyvern turn and rushed down to the graves and the darkling. Surprised but happy he took a few steps closer to his fathers grave, to make room for Aru¡¯gal to land. Only seconds after, with twisting winds as the wyverns cyan wings flapped he landed. Before Aru¡¯gal spoke to the darkling he pressed his fist against his chest as if he would greet the dolmen ¡°Honour, my Khan.¡± he said and then turned his gaze down at the Darkling ¡°Asking the old man for aid?¡± he asked and pressed his fist against his chest as a greeting yet again.


    A grin followed the darkling as he mirrored the same greeting before he turned back to his fathers big dolmen. ¡°Sometimes I simply wonder what he would have done. How he would have handled his daughter and grandchild..maybe even the entire clan..¡± he said and returned his eyes to Aru¡¯Gal who needed a moment of thought before he spoke again ¡°No one can answer for the dead.¡± he said and looked back up the plattform full of disappointed orcs before he returned his eyes to his friend yet again ¡°but he left words for the Khans after him¡­¡± he said making the Darklings face peak up with excitement, maybe even hope ¡°As it happens, I will explain his words to the clan..¡± he made a very bitter smile once he spotted his own father up at the Plattform ¡°Things are about to change my friend..¡± he nodded again, more to himself before now his fiery gaze returned to the Darkling, who raised a brow in return. ¡°You come with plans, my Khan?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A grin was Aru¡¯Gals first answer before he nodded ¡°Things are in motion and I will need all the brothers I have up there.¡±


    ¡°My Axe is always yours.¡± the darkling answered with pride.


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded at the grave ¡°You need more time? I will not take you from the dead.¡±


    The darkling held his hand and gaze on the dolmen for but a moment longer before he nodded. ¡°Won¡¯t be long until the feast..the dead can wait¡± he said before he saddled behind Aru¡¯Gal on his twisted wyvern.


    While Aru¡¯Gal made his wyvern take for the sky he spoke to the Darkling behind him ¡°Gor¡¯Mash flew back to me and told me about the spear.¡± he sighed ¡°I am not happy that our clan might need the wip¡­¡± The Darkling could not help but form a dark grin at these words, for they carried the promise of violence. A promise all riders who still had family here would have dreaded, but he had nothing to lose anymore and was eager for battle.


    After a grinning  grunt he answered ¡°Point my axe where you need it, my Chieftain.¡± Aru¡¯gal formed a bitter but honest smile yet said nothing more before they arrived at the riders plattform and landed while the wyvern made a noise that was a mixture of a hiss and a bark.


    Seer Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s blind gaze was the most easy to read. Disappointment and anger brewed in him while many others simply rushed to their Khan. Watcher Ur¡¯Gak was the first to greet him with fist on his chest ¡°Honour and glory my Chieftain.¡± Slowly Cra¡¯Gal jumped down from his Wyvern and casually held onto its chains. ¡°Honour, my watcher.¡± He answered without much voice as his gaze went to Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk instead. Slowly the orcs realised the two Chieftains staring at each other and silence filled the plattform, the tunnel and then the entire mountain. Only the wind still howled through its hollowed halls. It took seconds that felt like an eternity until Aru¡¯Gals Wyvern screeched, answered by other wyverns who were chained further down already. Nar¡¯ruuk the Ire lost his face in melancholy for only a moment as he was reminded of the Wyverns, and then all so slightly bowed his head ¡°Chieftain of Chieftains..¡± he said before he stood straight again to press a fist against his chest ¡°The mountain greets you home.¡± The slightest hint of a smile was formed on Aru¡¯gals face before he returned the fist on his chest ¡°Nar¡¯Ruuk..¡± he said with a wider and less honest smile as he walked towards him.


    Every Orc around the two was silent, and most had their hands on their weapons. The simple clan men on their tomahawks and spears, and the riders on their big black Obsidian tools of war. All while the Darkling followed Aru¡¯Gal like a big protecting shadow, towering over almost all of the gathered Orcs.


    ¡°I heard that my riders were greeted with a spear.¡± Aru¡¯Gal stopped right before Nar¡¯Ruuk who like most orcs was bigger than him, even more so with the Yak on his head.


    The ire had his name written on his face but answered plain and honest ¡°They are afraid.¡± he made a little pause ¡°My chieftain..¡±.


    ¡°Why?¡± Aru¡¯gal quickly responded with spite as all hints of a smile had left his face.


    More and more the ire was painted on the chieftains face yet he remained calm in his voice. ¡°The mines were holy once. Now they are closed. The winters were cold once, now they are freezing. We have not forgotten that you want to make us march the south and many, even if they seek honour in battle, fear that we might lose our way. And all that while a sister of the mountain is marked for death.¡± The Darkling flinched at his last words. Aru¡¯Gal noticed but didn¡¯t turn, only his eye shifted back to his friend for only a moment before he stared right into the Ire again. ¡°I understand.¡± he said, making Nar¡¯Ruuk lose the ire on his face and instead made room for a question in his eyes.


    ¡°You are all afraid.¡± Aru¡¯Gal continued loud enough that his voice would echo into the tunnel. ¡°So am I. Trust me brothers and sisters, so am I. But I shall explain once the feast commences.¡± He turned to the darkling and grabbed his arm for it to raise ¡°And once your old watcher takes his name again!¡±. Both clanmen and riders cheered. All of them just glad that there was any reason for joy. ¡°Grand me just this day for our brother to return to his clan. Tomorrow we can raise our fists again but tonight we sing! Tonight we feast!¡± More cheers answered the Khan, both from the plattform and the tunnel, few even echoed up from deeper down in the mountain.


    Meanwhile, watcher Ur¡¯Gak was lost in the crowd of cheers. His face covered in terror as he slowly realised what would happen once the darkling had his name again. He had taken the title of watcher as a chance to gain honour for his family, but now that the Darkling returned it could mean doom.


    Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s raspy old voice took him out of his thoughts ¡°You should ready yourself, Watcher..¡±. Ur¡¯Gak nodded and tried to conquer his own face and emotions again ¡°I do not need your farsight to know that, Seer..¡± ¡°Cheat if you must.¡± the old man''s whispers were lower yet again, almost completely drowned by cheers. As Ur¡¯Gak looked at him with anger and unbelieve the old man spoke again ¡°I do not care for anyone''s honour, least of all yours, but the clan¡¯s survival and this man..this fool.¡± He nodded towards the darkling as if he could see ¡°He might have taken my son¡¯s friendship but we need one who has the strength to speak against him. Not a mindless fool who does as he is commanded.¡±


    ¡°I do not like your words Seer¡±


    ¡°Yet you know them to be true..¡± Cra¡¯Gal whispered louder as he meant to, yet it was still drowned in the clans cheers. ¡°Just be ready..I fear it is your life the clan depends on.¡± He said and slowly walked to greet his son.

 Chapter 13: Song of the beast

    Drums and throats filled the hollowed mountain with rhythm and song as the sun went down over the ashen west. The clan was gathered in the great wind hall at the very top. The crown of their frozen land. Those that called a cave inside the mountain their home had stayed there, but the fishermen from the last edge at the boiling sea in the north, and the Yak herders from the Frost Song valley just below, were all gathered up there. Yet it seemed even more filled than usual when things like this happened, for the whole clan felt that change was carried with the wind.


    The darkling was sitting with crossed legs on the edge of the great bridge across the dark pit. His face spoke of determination and his hand rested on his father¡¯s obsidian axe next to him. Three Shamans painted runes on him. An old master and two rather young apprentices, a boy and a girl. He did not know any of them, yet still they had to paint the story of his life, his ancestors and promises of his future on him. The paint carried a sweet scent, made from flowers and honey far down in the valley. With a calm and dark voice he told the shaman and his apprentices of his life, of his father, his sister and his daughter, and they painted.


    ¡°You know him..¡± he said about his father ¡°He was a great Orc, and even greater Khan..a father to be proud of.¡± About his sister he spoke a little darker, and needed more time to find the right words ¡°She carried his pride, and far more of his face than I do.¡± he paused ¡°Now she betrayed the Mountain. And will die.¡± The shamans did not speak, and even the clan listened. ¡°And Kara, my Daughter. Her path might be in vain¡­but I will take her home. If I dare ask the mountain''s strength for anything it is that. The strength to return her home.¡± Some cheered and grunted to that, pressing their fist against their chests. A child of the mountain, would always come back home. The clan knew, the mountain knew, and the darkling hoped, with all his being. Still the shaman and his apprentices painted. They painted and painted until his whole body was covered in runes and pictures of red and blue.


    Even if they did not know him, their runes would still carry the ancestors'' attention to him, so his fathers spirit would watch, he knew that. Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash would bear witness to whatever was to happen that day and maybe even in the days to come. His spirit would follow the wind to his mountain home.


    While drums were already hit, songs from throats already echoed through the mountain, it was not the great ritual song yet. Just some that readied their throats for the moment to come.


    In the most northern edge of the hall two big stone seats were carved into the mountain. Big enough that in the far west they would have been called thrones. Here they were just the seat of the Chieftains. Aru¡¯Gal was sitting on the bigger one, waiting and smiling for he felt pride about his old friend and once watcher. Next to him on a slightly smaller yet more decorated stone throne, Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk sat tall and proud with folded arms on a bunch of big white Yak pelts. Even though his throne was smaller, he and Aru¡¯Gal were of the same height now.


    In the centre of the big bridge at the great Gong, Seer Cra¡¯Gal waited with his staff ready and a face that still spoke of disgust. That he dared to carry that face even now angered the darkling, yet he remained his calm and dark breathing.


    Soon the shamans finished and he stood up. Tall and proud, he rested his hand on his gigantic black axe next to him and stared at Seer Cra¡¯Gals blind hidden gaze. Both carried hatred in their eyes, hidden or not, yet before either of them could speak a word Aru¡¯Gal stood up and took the clan''s attention. ¡°Frost Song! Are we ready to greet our brother back into the mountain! Back to the valley that gave him birth and to the edge that made him a man?!¡± A chorus of cheers, deep and high were the answer and made the darkling smile for a short moment. Aru¡¯gal nodded with a grand smile of his own and continued while Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk instead continued his ire pose. ¡°Then let me start with words that were not meant for him.¡± He took a scroll from his belt, but both the Darkling and the Seer knew immediately it was not the one. ¡°These words were left by his father, Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash the mountain. He who fell in the south and returned as a beast, he who brought fear to the south and hope to the north.¡± Every other voice in the mountain had become silent again. Even the wind seemed to listen as nothing but a small breeze touched the torches of the hall. ¡°He carried a warning to us. A dark promise he left deep inside of Karn¡¯Arak for all the Khans after him. And it is that promise that makes me the Khan I am.¡±


    The ire looked now up to him with a raised brow while Watcher Ur¡¯Gak hidden in the crowd felt his fear rise and rise. The Seers'' words still lingered in him, and despite his anger, he did know them to be true.


    Aru¡¯gal continued as he folded the old paper in front of him ¡°And I hope it will make you the warriors you will need to be.¡± The Darklings fiery eyes sparked up with excitement. If there were any words that could give him purpose it was those left by his father. So he not just told himself but believed to the core.


    Slowly with all eyes and ears on him Aru¡¯gal started to read the words he had read so many many times. ¡°I do not count the days of our age, but I know the number is far closer to its end than where it began.¡± whispers were the answer, an unease that already settled among the listening orcs. ¡°It angers me, that it will not be myself but those that I leave behind that will have to deal with the cold that befalls our master and his land.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Cra¡¯gal interfered ¡°Does¡­he cannot mean the Dragon?¡±


    ¡°He does, Seer.¡± Aru¡¯Gal answered his father in a dark voice before he attempted to continue, yet the Seer spoke again ¡°Are you sure this is made for everyone''s ears, son?!¡± The fact that he called him son and not by his title showed everyone how desperate he was, yet Aru¡¯Gals face answered with anger before his voice spoke the same ¡°Unlike you, father, I rule with honour, not schemes.¡± The old seer was taken back by his son''s words but could not answer before he spoke faster again ¡°I am not the one that thinks a feast will fix any fears or that only ever whispers his truest words!¡± Cra¡¯Gal took a deep embarrassed breath as he realised their fight echoed through the mountain for all of the clan to hear.


    The darkling had a wicked grin on his face as he saw him being put into place by his Khan, even more so as his old voice spoke far more obedient and silent ¡°You should continue¡­great Khan..¡± Aru¡¯Gal made a last bitter smile at his fathers words before he did


    ¡°Only a question of time before it..he means the cold..befalls its orcs as well.¡± He stared at his father again before he continued with a dishonest smile ¡°We were always able to fight against the cold, my own clan knows that better than any other¡± a proud and honest chuckle escaped the darkling and a few others at these words ¡°but what when the summer never returns? I dare not to think if we would face such a time unprepared, and I am sure it will come to that. Be it that my children will have to fight through it, or their own when the time has come.¡± with that the darklings smile vanished again, yet his purpose grew. He did not need his fathers words, spoken by his Khan, to remind him that his daughter was his quest now. Yet still, to hear them it encouraged him that absolutely all that mattered was her. And be it so she could carry on whatever fight was given to them. She was the future, the warrior for the wars to come.


    Aru¡¯gal took a deep breath before he continued to read ¡°To the Chieftain after me, and the ones after that. You must prepare to guide the North through a time of struggles, more than we who come before, more than me.¡± Nar¡¯Ruuk grunted at these words and even Watcher Ur¡¯gak seemed to find purpose in what was said. But neither did in the ways Aru¡¯Gal had hoped.


    ¡°I will fight, and not just end my legacy as a man lurking in a tower he did not build writing on papers he despises¡± A deep chuckle escaped the darkling again, for even though he would never doubt Aru¡¯gal, now he absolutely knew, those were words written by his father.


    ¡°but you will have to endure and learn what we left behind and I hope whoever will follow in my MASSIVE footsteps will have at least a grain of thought¡­well I try, my Khan¡± said Aru¡¯gal made a few orcs chuckle just before he continued ¡°Too many mistakes have happened to Orcs that became chieftains by Muscle alone, none of them survived for long. Every orc is strong, do not dare to think that will make you a difference. Only your head, and filling the emptiness that lurks inside it, will.¡± Words that cutted like a knife at the darklings pride. For he knew he was not a big thinker like Aru¡¯Gal or the Seer, but big brainless muscle, an axe to be thrown at the enemy if he needed to die. Not a man of thought or strategy. At least, so he told himself and usually it was a pleasing thought.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°If our Dragon is truly to die in a cold¡±


    ¡°No..¡± Cra¡¯gal said but was ignored by his son who continued ¡°to leave his land frozen, then we must face the south.¡± Whispers filled the mountain again, fear and disbelief that someone would even suggest the dragon could die. Yet still Aru¡¯gal simply continued with a raised voice to drown theirs again ¡°Not in raids, not in skirmishes, but in war! Like the ancient times, like the stories have always told us and like the shamans always remind us.¡±


    For a second Aru¡¯Gal stared into his fathers blind hidden gaze with a hint of melancholy, for he remembered the old stories of war he was told by him. Yet he still continued on and on ¡°Drums will echo through the valleys until they will be drowned by screams and blood.¡± The darklings'' doubts vanished and he grunted with a wide wicked grin as he held his axe tighter. This was a quest for a none thinker like him.


    ¡°Their Arch Druid, the horned croak as they call him, has always planted the seed of hatred against us among his clans, so it will be time to finally hand them a reason!¡± More and more warriors followed the Darklings example while their Khan read those words, even more so as he raised his own voice too ¡°We will burn every clan if we have to and rip out the croak''s cracked spine!¡± ¡°And burn every last beast that remains down there!¡± the darkling yelled as he raised his axe. Many riders answered his call and raised their weapons as well. Like they did back in the days when they followed him as their watcher.


    Only very few, and all around Ur¡¯Gak remained silent, far more uneasy than the others.


    ¡°So prepare the clans for it, my follower. I do what I can in my time. Weaken the south, strengthen the north. But I¡¯m afraid I am one of the fools who got into this tower because I could fight, not because I could think. So be better than me, and prepare our people.


    Let fire guide you through the cold mountains, and the age of ice that is upon us.


    Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash, known as the mountain¡±


    Aru¡¯gal folded the old paper again while the Darkling stood there painted with red and blue runes, ready to take his name and feeling the drums in his heart sparked again by the fury in his fathers words.


    ¡°This..¡± Aru¡¯Gal continued and looked around the grand hall, seeking the Clans eyes one after the other ¡°This is why I need you to be warriors. For I fear we have to leave the mountain.¡± The clan kept silent, some even birthed tears at the thought of leaving their and the possibility of the dragon''s death. Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk shook his head ¡°No my Khan.¡± A stare was Aru¡¯Gals answer but the Ire continued ¡°I¡­and many here. Would rather live through a thousand winters, than to leave our ancestors home.¡± His voice echoed through the mountain and got answers from both the hall and the caves in the pit. Aru¡¯Gal nodded, more to himself for he felt the same.


    Despite all he had to tell his clan, he felt the same and all he did was to ensure they could stay. Yet they would not understand the sacrifices to be made. Even the Darkling would question him if he was to answer with honesty. Before he spoke he felt his fathers blind gaze on him and like a boy knew that the old man knew he was dishonest ¡°Maybe you do, Chieftain. Maybe even your children and theirs do. But what comes after that? What will happen when even the Sea stops boiling? What will happen when the summer does not return?¡± He again looked around all of the clan before his gaze stopped at the Darkling ¡°I think..no, I know. That the answer lies hidden deep in the south.¡± Nar¡¯Ruuk shook his head vehemently yet Aru¡¯Gal continued ¡°You will, march the south. We will clean the mine again and take every vein our pickaxes can reach to clad every Orc and every Wyvern in armour.¡±


    Ur¡¯Gak sighed but walked up from the crowd and towards the Khan''s throne. ¡°My Chieftain..¡± he kneeled, uncommon for orcs unless they had to speak in the absolute greatest respect, ¡°You cannot forge the clan into warriors. The mines are holy, and Yaks will provide us even in the harshest winters, and even if mountain and valley get frozen, we could still move north to the boiling edge. There is no need to fly for the south other than vengeance.¡±


    The darkling barked and marched from the bridge through the crowd next to the Watcher ¡°And what other reason do you need?!¡± He looked around ¡°When did our clan become such cowards.¡±


    Cra¡¯Gal answered from the great Gong ¡°When was it to you, to ask, exile?!¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Aru¡¯Gal barked. ¡°The choice is not my own any longer.¡± Many faces bore a question at his words before he could continue ¡°Our master wants an army. And shall do all I can to grant him the greatest our kind has ever seen!¡±


    ¡°Now it is the Dragons choice¡­¡± Cra¡¯Gal shook his head before the Darkling barked at him now ¡°What are you saying, old man?!¡± The seer was about to spit his answer but Aru¡¯Gal now louder than ever screamed again ¡°ENOUGH!!¡± His voice echoed far and long, almost as loud as a wyverns screech ¡°The Dragon will come here¡­¡± gasps and disbelief were the clan''s answer, and even Nar¡¯Ruuk lost the Ire. Slowly he stood up and almost whispered in disbelieve to his Khan ¡°It..it will come to the mountain?¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded and looked the other Chieftain in the eyes. ¡°Times are changing, Chieftain.¡± He laid an arm on his shoulder and made dishonest pleading eyes ¡°Our clan must too.¡± The ire breathed heavy but could not give himself a voice. Too much was going through his mind and before any thought took hold Aru¡¯Gal returned to the crowd. ¡°But we are not here for plans.¡± He pointed at the Darkling ¡°We are here to greet our brother home. To grant him a name, and a place among my riders yet again.¡± The Darkling smiled, while Ur¡¯Gak looked at the gazing blind Seer. Despite the old man''s blindfold he could feel that they shared a look and both knew he had to prepare for a fight.


    ¡°Seer.¡± Aru¡¯Gal turned to his father in the centre of the great bridge ¡°Don¡¯t you think it''s time?¡± Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s face painted a picture of barely hidden disappointment yet he nodded ¡°Of course..my Khan.¡± his words sounded like a man giving up. Yet he spread his arms and took a deep breath to finally start the ritual.


    He let his staff ting against the bridge. It made a high metallic sound that echoed through the mountain and finally drew the clans attention to the bridge and ritual. ¡°Come here Son of Ara¡¯Gash the Mountain and Bru¡¯Karesh the boiled.¡±


    It had been long since the Darkling had heard his mothers name, even longer since someone dared to call her the boiled. Yet it was a name given to her, and he was not to argue. Not now, not anymore.


    Slowly he walked onto the bridge and towards its centre, the Seer and the great Gong. As he stood right in front of Cra¡¯Gal the Seer made his staff sing through the mountain again. Just after the long high sound of metal faded he filled the mountain with his own old raspy voice ¡°Ancestors, far beyond in the Ashen Dunes.¡± The winds rose a little and howled through the mountain ¡°Storm above and Mountain below..¡± Now the winds seemed to seek all the places that had chimes hanging on them as the howling started to be accompanied by all the chimes ¡°Sea of the North, and flames of Karn¡¯Arak.¡± The torches and braziers around the mountain lit up at the Seer¡¯s words. They crackled and burned louder than before while snow filled the winds outside ¡°Hear us, heed us, listen to us. For a son returns to his mountain home.¡± Followed by his words Cra¡¯Gal let his staff sing two times again, answered by the clan. No word but deep voices, a tone deep from their throats roared through the mountain, from both hall and pit and to echo far and wide across their hollowed lands. ¡°Now, tell us your name. Tell us the Family you got from your Father, and the Name that was chosen by your Mother!¡±


    The Darkling took a deep breath while the clan¡¯s voice still echoed deep through the mountain ¡°Gash, is the name my father has left for me.¡± another deep breath for finally he could speak his own name again. ¡°And Bruna is the name given by my mother.¡±


    ¡°Then speak your name child of the mountain! Your Fathers, your mothers, and what life has chosen for you!¡±


    One last deep breath and the Darkling spoke his full name ¡°I am Bruna¡¯Gash, Son of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain, father of Kara¡¯Gash who will get her lifename once she returns home. And he, who they call the beast!¡±


    Cra¡¯Gal then hit the great gong with his staff making it ring through the mountain and giving the clan the sign to sing the spoken name. Deep from all their throats the orcs of the Frost Song sang the name Bruna¡¯Gash in one long drawn melody, while Bruna spoke his lifename ¡°I shall be called the beast, for they turned my father to one and sent him to destroy us. Now I shall be the beast that we send back! I shall be the north''s vengeance for their Khan! I shall be the beast who slays even more!! The heir to the hatred they sowed in the north!¡±


    Cra¡¯Gal hit the gong again, and made the clan stop the long song of Bruna¡¯Gash¡¯s name before he started to sing himself deep from his throat and in the ancient tongue of the elements and the dragon. Wind and fire answered, and so did the clan whenever Bruna¡¯s name was sung.


    Far in the north the Sea answered as boiling salty waves clashed against the steaming shore to their song. The winds answered by storming and howling with their melody. The earth answered as stones fell and cracked far beyond the mountain to their rhythm. And behind the western mountains, deep inside the Ashen Plains, the fires of Karn¡¯Arak roared at the clan¡¯s fury.


    Soon drums were hit louder and louder to the song and other Shamans answered the Seer to make a Choir in the ancient voice while the clan and riders sang whenever the name Bruna¡¯Gash was spoken.


    It was far from done, but at least a part of the damage he was told his sister had caused was cured. He carried their name again, and he would carry it south like their father did.


    Bruna¡¯Gash the beast would show the south that a true beast needed no fur and become the fire to spark the greatest war of orckind.

 Chapter 14: The Watcher and the Beast

    Bruna¡¯Gash the Darkling, whom they now would call the beast, smiled at his mug. The sweet scent of it filled the room and mixed with the pipesmoke of the elders, while song, drum and laughter filled the whole mountain. Yet, they all still had the hint of fear in their eyes. His fathers words, read by their Khan lingered in them all, for they meant change. Greater than any of them knew. It was not just a very harsh winter that would take many, neither a flu or a rockfall. Not even something like the closing of the mine that he was told was caused by his sister. All that, carried at least the hope that it could be repaired. People would always die, but new orcs would also always be born to carry their voice into the mountain. Winter would always end and even what was destroyed could always be rebuilt. But Aru¡¯Gal told them that the time of the mountain was over. That even their Dragon, was about to die. Bruna was unsure if he would have believed his friend and Khan if those weren¡¯t the words of his own father. Written during his prime, at least Bruna liked to think so.


    Still while everyone drowned their fears in song and feast, he remained calm. He couldn¡¯t drink much, even if it was meant to be his day, for the next would be the one he had to ride for the south. For Kara, and for his sister. He would have taken a Wyvern now, but it was unwise to ride during the night, even less so as a storm still answered the shamans song. Despite all that he needed a Wyvern, and only the absolute most loyal riders would ever give up their own, and only if commanded so by their Khan.


    Technically he wasn¡¯t even a rider himself yet, not until Aru¡¯Gal would make him one again, but he knew it was only a technicality for the both of them. He had regained his name and would regain a wyvern now. All by bringing his Khan the strange scroll that had planted terror in the Seer¡¯s face, back when he returned to Karn¡¯Arak. He wondered what it was, why it was so important to his Khan, for he was no Shaman or Seer, and certainly not something vile like a Sorcerer or even Druid. Yet he could see the spark in his eyes back when he handed it over to him. Only for a moment before it was conquered by panic. Maybe that was when he realised the Dragons state, maybe that was when he started to know of the eternal winter to come. But there was no point in darkening his mind with those thoughts, only with plans. Whose wyvern to take, and how to keep his honour doing so. It would be a fight and it needed to come this night.


    A group of orcs from the valley grabbed him out of his mind as they raised their mug to his name. Even though he planned to not drink much, such could never stay unanswered. ¡°Good to have you back Bruna!¡± one of them shouted over the celebrating hall and was answered by many more mugs raised. Even some of the elders, smoking their pipes in a dark corner, dared to smile and raise theirs in response. Only the drummers continued to hit their rhythm while the rest drank to his name. Bruna¡¯Gash the beast. He could not help but grin and enjoy the evening for at least a moment. Maybe because he knew it should be one of the last times he could ever smile.


    In another corner of the hall Ur¡¯Gak watched the Darkling with fear and weary eyes. He knew Aru¡¯Gal had only made him watcher out of a necessity, and not because he wanted him as his right hand in the clan. Back then when Bruna was exiled he had wondered why seemingly nobody else wanted the title. Maybe it was because they knew the struggle inside their clan would only continue to brew, or maybe they even thought as far to think what would happen if the Darkling, Bruna¡¯Gash the beast, returned. No matter what they had thought they were smarter in that regard then Ur¡¯Gak and he hated himself for that. These times wouldn¡¯t be easy either way, yet at least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about threats from his own fellow riders. So he thought at least.


    ¡°He will need a new Wyvern¡± Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s low hissing raspy voice reached Ur¡¯Gak deep in his mind and he turned to the old blind man. ¡°I am prepared Seer¡± he whispered back before he returned his gaze to Bruna and the celebrating crowd around him. The old man leaned in and despite his blindfold stared directly at Ur¡¯Gak ¡°Are you certain, Watcher?¡±. ¡°I know that I already lost my honour by this¡± he struggled to keep whispering and not yell at the old man ¡°What else should I do, Seer? Break his legs before the fight?!¡± Cra¡¯Gal grunted deeply as if he was thinking about the possibility of that yet he shook his head ¡°He wouldn¡¯t call you to fight if his body was broken..¡±


    Ur¡¯Gak shook his head before he turned to the blind old man ¡°Why do you want me to fight him this badly?¡± His question darkened the old man''s face as his hidden gaze returned to the shadows ¡°You know he will call you out to fight. He needs a wyvern and with his daughter down in the south he has no time to tame one.¡± ¡°Stop pret~¡± Urg¡¯Gak tried to speak yet Cra¡¯Gal continued ¡°Who else would he call then the man who took his title? Is there bad blood with any of his riders?¡± Ur¡¯Gak remained silent to his question until his raspy voice of poison continued ¡°No. If anything they still see him as heir of his father and respect him like they did the Khan.¡± ¡°Yet why do you want me to win?¡± Cra¡¯gal made a bitter smile and shook his head. ¡°Oh no watcher. I do not need you to win.¡± he answered ¡°I need him, to die.¡± Ur¡¯Gak frowned ¡°But why, Seer?¡± Finally the old man had to think and grasp for words before he continued ¡°That shan¡¯t be your interest, Watcher. Just bring me his head and end this charade.¡± With these words Cra¡¯gal vanished back into the crowd. Ur¡¯Gak¡¯s heart raised in the beat of the drums that filled the hall. He knew the Seer was right and that he would be the one that would have to fight his fellow rider. Be it for his title, his wyvern or merely his life. Yet despite his own urge to win, he hated to be used as the Seers pawn. Whatever scheme the old man was hiding, it was without honour. Unworthy of either a Seer or a Watcher and he would not taint his name like this. No matter how many grand words the Seer tried to plant into his mind. No matter if it was for the clans future, or just his own, neither deserved to live if they could only do so without honour.


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    He looked across the room were Bruna was leaning against Aru¡¯Gals throne. They spoke and laughed, shared a drink. Even though one was from the Valley and the other from the mountain, they were like brothers and if their Khan ever had to take a side, it was no question on which one he would stand.


    Drums and songs became distant to Ur¡¯Gak as he tried to think of a path. It was one thing to not dishonour his name, but another to fight a man he knew he could not beat. For Bruna was a mountain of Muscles, just like his father was. A true beast that if he should ever get beaten would take many to do such. Ur¡¯gak told himself he was not afraid, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to be stupid either. He saw Cra¡¯Gal sit and smoke a big pipe among the other Shamans, and he felt his blind gaze upon him. A defiant grunt escaped him and he walked towards the Khan¡¯s throne.


    Aru¡¯Gal and Bruna stopped talking and slowly looked at the Watcher as he arrived. ¡°My Khan¡± he started and made a little bow with his head before he turned to Bruna with a raised mug ¡°To your name, beast!¡± Bruna¡¯s answer was a wicked grin as he raised his own. Aru¡¯Gal looked over to his father at the other side of the hall. Despite the Seers blindfold he knew that he was watching. ¡°Has the Seer sent you?¡± He plainly asked Ur¡¯Gak and made Bruna lose his grin to instead stare at the watcher like a wyvern waiting for its master''s command to feast.


    Ur¡¯gak was taken back by the question but quickly shook his head ¡°No¡­¡± his eyes then returned to his Khan ¡°But he tried..¡±


    Bruna grunted ¡°What does he want then?¡± but Aru¡¯Gal waved his hand and shook his head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter if he is not here on his words.¡± With but a grunt and an obedient nod Bruna stopped his question and drank from his mug.


    The watcher turned his eyes from his Khan to the beast ¡°You will ride for the south tomorrow?¡± ¡°Of course I will.¡± Bruna quickly answered. Ur¡¯gak nodded ¡°If you can spare me my Khan, I would accompany him to the south.¡±


    Both Bruna and Aru¡¯Gal raised a brow. ¡°You will leave your clan alone in times like these, watcher?¡± Aru¡¯Gal asked, almost amused, for he knew why Ur¡¯Gak was offering. Bruna shook his head and grunted back ¡°It is my family, and I will go alone.¡±


    Yet Ur¡¯Gak continued more aggressive ¡°I do care for every family of the clan, Beast. As watcher I have to care for all of them and if our Chieftain deems us to leave the mountain I shall see where we can go.¡± Aru¡¯gal thought long about the watchers words and nodded yet Bruna was the first to speak ¡°Bah! Just before I took my name you pleaded that we don¡¯t leave it!¡±


    ¡°He is right, Bruna.¡± Aru¡¯gal said while he slowly nodded and looked at Ur¡¯gak ¡°If anyone of us should look for a new place to live it is the Watcher.¡± Bruna was about to protest but Aru¡¯Gal continued ¡°And having two riders down there would be better anyway. If either of you dies I want the other to return and tell his tale.¡±


    Bruna and Ur¡¯Gak stared at each other like barking wolves just before the beast¡¯s dark threatening voice broke through their gaze ¡°I still need a Wyvern.¡± his eyes pierced at Ur¡¯Gak and both of them were ready to entertain the hall with a fight.


    ¡°You can take Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s¡± Aru¡¯gal said, making both of the other Darklings raise their brow at him. ¡°He is one of the most loyal, so he will understand and if I have to take anyone on my own beast it is him.¡±


    ¡°Will he just hand it away?¡± Bruna asked in disbelief


    ¡°While we remain at the mountain he has time to tame another. You however have to look for your daughter as soon as you can.¡± Bruna nodded thankfully at Aru¡¯Gals words while Ur¡¯Gak was stunned. ¡°You will fly with the dawn. Prepare for it.¡± Both Bruna and Ur¡¯Gak stared at each other a moment longer before both riders pressed their fists against their chest. Bruna then emptied his Mug, he did drink more than he had planned, before they both walked out of the hall and down the mountain to prepare for their long journey south.

 Chapter 15: The Ashen Dawn

    Sha¡¯Raph stood on the edge of the ashen wastes when she carefully looked around. Before her the ash all so slowly made room for the earthen plains. Almost orange earth, rocks and mesas that were covered in dust, all of them were slowly greying under the ever growing ash of the wastes.


    After she was sure that she was alone she set herself in the shadow of her sand wyverns wing, and took off her mask. Slowly she opened her eyes to the sunlight that was cast over the distant mountains behind her all across the grey wastes. It gave the few parts of the plains before her that still defended themself against the ash a bright colour, and made them almost yellow while its few bushes and leaves cut through the mesas with their emerald shine.


    She could see animals awake in them, and the further she looked the more colour and life got awoken by the sun, away from the ashes. Thornvultures came from their caves at the top of the mesas and started to lurk for prey while down at the ground rabbits, mice and other critters started their day. Far in the distance she saw the river. It had always been the border for the greenskins of the south, while her clan''s own expanding border was the grey of the ash. Across the river she saw two figures. One holding a spear ready to pierce an unlucky fish, while the other seemed to stare back at her.


    She could not see them properly, and they would probably only see her gigantic wyvern. Neither her face or her skin were revealed to them, and even if it would have been, they would still be wise enough to not cross the river when a wyvern stalked the plains beyond.


    As one figure caught a fish the other nudged them and then pointed at her. They talked, maybe they did see her? But she doubted, still she sat her mask back on and made two short whistling sounds. Her wyvern answered with a loud roar that echoed over the earthen plains. Immediately the two figures ducked down and tried to hide in the reeds. Sha¡¯Raph could not help but smile under her mask before she climbed her wyvern again and was ready to ride back into the grey winds of death and ash.


    The night before she met her clan again. Men and women of the wastes, all having their face partly hidden, though no one with a complete mask like her. Most of them had hoods that only had room for their mouth and tusks. Even the eyes were hidden for most, as the cloth was thin enough that they could look through it, while still carrying its protection.


    They had small rings of silver or even gold pierced through their tusks and teeth, so they would shine in the campfire while the stories of the dead were told. She always loved to hear them, even more so when Master Kru¡¯Gan told the grand stories of the oldest times. Of warriors that crossed the sea to find lands unconquered by orc but touched by the most strangest of creatures. Some of them small and weak, with skin like pigs but hair like orcs. Others even smaller but stronger, who lived in mountains not unlike the frostsong. They had towers to watch the stars and entire fields of herbs and crobs. All lined up just to be gathered. The strange lands had no name, neither had the pigskinned creatures, but she always dreamed to one day travel there. One day she would take a boat from the many shores of the Bladelands and travel west, into the unknown.


    But those were the dreams of a child and with age came reality. Master Kru¡¯Gan had taught her enough of the dead that she became one of the very few riders from the waste, only to slowly be the last and with that their watcher. It was strange to try and see for the needs of both her clan and the riders, but even stranger when she started to smile for both. She loved the brotherhood she had learned among the riders, even though she only ever had a few rides to the south and all with the man who would become her Khan. Aru¡¯Gal. They got close during their time in the south, so she thought, but even then he never saw her face, or anything else. Still, unlike her, he knew how to talk well.


    ¡°If you want to sail, why not sail?¡± he asked her at a campfire that warmed the great egg when they were deep inside the bristling pines. At first she didn¡¯t know how to respond but tried to be as plain and simple as she could. ¡°It would be death to travel alone.¡± He laughed and she realised how he could have understood it. Yet her mask hid enough for him to think she was simple plain and brief in her words ¡°I would come with you, Sha¡¯Raph.¡± He said and gazed into the flame ¡°But there are things I have to do first..¡±. Even back then she saw something in his eyes when he watched the flames. A mixture of melancholy and devotion. Something she would still take years to understand. ¡°I will remind you when you are done.¡± she said with an audible smile beneath her mask that made him chuckle. They always flew together when Bruna was not available, usually when he went home to see for his daughter, and Sha¡¯Raph was glad for every moment they got from that. Even the fights they had down there, some against the Orcs of the pines, others against those of the sky. Those that tried to mimic the beasts of the sky, by crafting suits of wings and feathers that made them fall the greatest distances without any harm. Some of the riders laughed at them, but everyone who ever actually encountered them saw the danger they held. For they were sneaky, and their lands full enough of high mesas and deep cliffs, so they would try and land on a wyverns back, to stab both it and its rider.


    Once she was almost caught by two of them, if it had not been for Aru¡¯Gal, who had jumped over to her to kick them of the great beast again. Another time, she did the same for him as she saw three of them jumping down on him. She pierced through the cliff until her beast simply ate them in mid air. It was after that day that Aru¡¯Gal asked its name. ¡°Dustfang, but we usually do not speak its name¡± she said, happy that she could speak it again. ¡°Why not? He is our battlebrother is he not?¡± even back then Aru¡¯Gals voice carried the boldness of a leader. She nodded before she answered ¡°He is, and once he dies his name will be remembered. But because our beasts live so much longer than us it is a tradition¡­to make sure the rider is remembered first, and not the beast.¡± Aru¡¯Gal shook his head ¡°Some traditions will be the end of us.¡± He said and nodded at Dustfang ¡°Thank you both then. Sha¡¯Raph of the wastes and Dustfang of the skies!¡± He raised his mug which gave her a hidden smile under her mask. Yet she could not drink while he was around, neither her mask nor her future would allow such.


    Still he always tried to make her smile, or so she thought, and for that those were good times, but she knew they were over when he became Khan. Sometimes she would still hope that those days could return. That one day after it was all over, they could fly together again and maybe even she could lose her mask. Maybe he would understand, maybe he would still see her, but after this day her hope was lost. Even more so after the story Master Kru¡¯Gan had to tell her.


    He waited for her, close to the cave the clan currently called its home. It was a big one, hidden deep enough under the ash to be save from its dust. At one point Ashants would have lived here, but they were beaten out by the clan. That was how they always survived the ashen wastes. As nomads that conquered the deep caves. Sometimes from ashants, few times from even deeper beings, but always with the whole clan side by side.


    His usual dark smile crossed his face when he felt the ashen winds as she and Dustfang arrived. After she jumped down and made her bow he spoke ¡°Did you eat?¡±. She simply shook her head as if he could see and not getting an answer was enough for him to respond ¡°You should. A dagger, no matter how short it may be, needs to cut even steel for it to be the deadliest weapon.¡± ¡°Yes master, Kru¡¯Gan¡± she answered obediently but muffled by her mask ¡°I shall once I leave for the north again.¡± He nodded ¡°Mhh..¡±. Only the ashen winds gave sound for a moment before he nodded his head towards the entrance. ¡°Come then, and let my boy hunt for his own for a while.¡± She nodded too and made another different whistling sound, a melody of three that was answered by Dustfangs roar before he jumped into the sky again. It always felt strange to her when she had to let him go. He was a great friend, one she knew almost all her life and one that had accompanied her just as long, and aside from Master Kru¡¯Gan the only one that did not care for what was beneath her mask. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Sha¡¯Raph¡± Kru¡¯Gan said unusually softly ¡°nothing out here can harm him.¡± She smiled to his words. ¡°Nothing but us..hehehe..¡± he continued and walked into the cave. It was lit by dragonstones that were rammed into the hard sand walls. They gave a warm light, almost like a torch, and gave colour to the ash. After but a short walk they reached a bigger hall, where the clan followed its daily shores. Still all hidden under their dark hoods and only their ashen mouth and tusks seen beneath it. What little was seen however they always made their own with paint, scars and piercings. Some had their mouth and everything around it painted, others also carried the clans piercings through tusk¡¯s or lips and almost all carried scars. Some made in battle others in vaine. They carried the big bodies of the ashants around and piled them up near the elders who then removed them from their chitin. Some were placed on a pile for new armour, others were useless and thrown away. All while their meat was gathered into a big pot, as big as two orcs, held together by piled up and hardened sand. Three orcs stood on the sand with big metal spoons and stirred it while they sang in the ancient tongue, deep from their throat. ¡°Was it a good battle?¡± she asked as they walked a small circling path at the wall down. ¡°We only lost one¡± Kru¡¯Gan answered plainly. That was indeed a good battle. Usually the ants took more, sometimes literally and there was no greater horror. They carried their prey deep into their nests where their queen would slowly melt them to then feed to her kingdom. It was every clan member''s duty to kill their brothers or sisters if there was no way to save them. Although by now the clans of the wastes knew enough to threaten the ants so much that they could only think about defence and not taking their prey.


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    Sha¡¯Raph missed the days when she could fight side by side with them. It was then they all took off their hoods, for then their eyes were trained for the dark. Still she was the only one that always had to wear her mask. Even when it was still too big, so she had to carry another, it was always her duty to be seen as nothing but the dark face of the ashen clans. From the moment she saw the deserts first dawn, to the day when traditions would fade and it was so much sooner than she could have dreamed for. Be it in dreams or nightmares.


    Kru¡¯Gan led her to a cave that was lit by not only actual torches, but runes that were carved into the wall. They reflected the torch''s light as if they were water and told grim and old tales. Between the runes on three sides of the perfectly round cave were pictures. One of a grand beast with mighty wings that spew fire into the sky. On the opposite side, the silhouette of a giant with antlers and trees that could not reach further but his knees. And finally behind master Kru¡¯Gan a strange mixture of them both. A man with wings and antlers who breathed fire into the sky. Around him bones were drawn as if they would circle him until one finally entered his breathing mouth. Sha¡¯Raph wasn¡¯t sure why, but that picture made her uncomfortable.


    Kru¡¯Gan sat himself down in front of the final picture, but his blindfold facing her instead of the wall. After he did she did settle down as well. ¡°We were in this nest before then?¡± she asked as silence, runes and pictures became too much. He shook his head ¡°No, my dagger. Students of mine did this over the night.¡± He made a bright smile ¡°Only the best for our watcher..hehehe..¡± She hated the thought that it was made only so she could listen to a story. ¡°Oh do not worry¡± he said as if he could see her thoughts ¡°They have to learn the runes and how to paint, so all the better if it actually carries a purpose.¡±


    She simply nodded and looked at the dragon painting, for it was the easiest one to look at. ¡°It scares you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± he asked in a dark tone. She nodded as if he could see. ¡°Something seems vile about it..¡± she said and dared to look past him at the wall again. He smiled, ¡°Mhh..you would have been a great shaman.¡± Words that made her both happy and melancholic at the same time. He even smiled with honesty at her ¡°But we are not here for kind words, my all so precious dagger..aren¡¯t we?¡±


    She smiled and sat herself straight to listen to him. Just like she always had whenever he was about to give her a lecture.


    He started by taking a deep smiling breath while she couldn¡¯t help but be happy. Whenever he lectured her with a story it was one of the few times when they both were just simply master and student again. She hoped this day would be the same, but this story should be different.


    ¡°You remember the tale, how our clan began to wander the wastes?¡± he asked while his smile slowly vanished. ¡°Of course master. You told it often. It was the first Khan wh~¡± she answered proudly but he waved his hand ¡°Good good¡­I know you wouldn¡¯t forget.¡± Something in his face made her uncomfortable even more so as he spoke further ¡°But what about the tale of how our wastes were born?..¡± ¡°You said it was a battle¡± he shook his head ¡°So I did..¡± He clearly struggled to find the words, despite it being a tale the shamans should tell often. Yet they almost never did and only ever as a warning to other shamans, or elders. And only whenever their connection to the elements would reach a height that could make them a danger.


    After another deep breath he started.


    ¡°In a time of fire, when our father below Karn¡¯Arak fought the last of its kind, two sorcerers came from the far west. A man and a woman. They were not orcs and they carried nothing but their robes. No armies, no weapons, just their robes and eager eyes that watched the battle before them. The sky was torn by the fight and the first orcs were burn into the war of the two. The orcs had neither time nor eyes for the sorcerers as their war was never ending, and grand enough that it shaped the land itself. But even that, even a fight between two of the mightiest beasts, ended. And after fire had beaten ice the sorcerers split. The woman went to the north to learn from the elders that had become the first shamans, during the war they had watched. The man went to the south to learn from those that were beaten but adapted and should soon be known as the first of the druids. The woman in the north learned about our connection to land and ancestors. But to her it was merely to the elements and to the forces of dead. She could not hear their voices, for she only saw the power in both.


    The man in the south learned about the spirits and nature, but to him it was merely about the souls and change. He could not see the beauty of life and nature, for he could only imagine the horrors of change.


    Once they met again, after they had deceived the clans and learned from them in their young but now ancient ways they thought of their own twisted path to use what we thought. Instead of caring and guarding the land and the elements they tried to force them, to evoke them from nothing instead of seeking the land''s mighty aid. Instead of seeking the ancestors'' wisdom they dared to defy the dead, to use them as necrotic tortured souls that cried out for aid but were forced to eternal silence when they were used as nothing but ghastly slaves. To make sure they would gather all the dead, the sorceress rammed her claws into our once beautiful desert and our always mighty clans. Claws to lure the dead to her so she could enslave them all, even without battling them herself.


    The man from the south saw his love''s mighty ways of terror and thought he had learned less, he thought he could not twist the mind and souls of the living as easily as the woman could the dead. But once he understood what she had learned he created the most twisted of what they would call magic. He combined the enslavement of the dead and the change of nature, to craft a creature of his own. A new being borne from death that had no mind, no purpose, nothing in its existence but pain. The woman was fascinated, for she knew if they could improve the way those creations of flesh and bone were acting, if they could make it so they would at least battle on their own, then they could build an army and return to their tribes in the far west as rulers. They could be the first to ever wear a crown and rule as sorcerer kings, regarded like gods. After all, the age of dragons was over, so the thrones of the world were empty.


    And so they experimented. Their horrors would soon be known to the young clans but yet they hid themselves on an island west of our lands. They evoked the storms and fog around it to remain hidden and protected on their own grand Isle that they would make the centre of their empire. And there they created what they deemed the perfect army.


    But the man was still not pleased. Even with an unstoppable army they would still die to mere age, and maybe soon for it had taken decades to perfect their craft. So he started to seek ways to craft on his own. To empower himself with the spirits of the dead and to change his form into more than he was. A horror of more than flesh but now with mind. An eternal being that lives through the ages to learn and watch and with enough time truly become something that would rival a true dragon. The woman was horrified and sent parts of her army to cast away her old love. It turned into a battle that casted the entire island in flesh and darkness until it was all washed away by fire. For our great father below Karn¡¯Arak had heard of the horrors done to his people and flew over the now open sea to end it all. They tried to fight back, and for a moment even side by side again, yet their greed ended their love even when danger lurked in the sky. For they finally realised the perfect form was not just a pile of flesh, but the same as it had been since the dawn of the land. Dragons. Yet there was only one and so it should remain for only one could ever use its corps as their own. Be it as their slave, or even more vile.


    The island then was burned and our great father wounded. Yet the sorceress remained. She stayed on that Island to craft a wall of living flesh so that the fury of the east, our fury, would never take vengeance on her or her tribes in the far west. For she knew quite well, that their actions had given birth to pure hatred against their kind.


    The man however, came back to our lands to continue and perfect his craft. He went to the south and was lost in the darkness between the trees. Torn and cut and gulled, he became nothing but a whisper among the leaves.


    Now the man is nothing but a forgotten shadow in the south while the sorceress¡¯s claws still remain cold and gripping into the desert''s flesh and the dead still follow its unending betraying tune.


    It is on us to defend them, and to make good of the evil that remained among our clans. It is us who shall not only listen but protect the ancestors until the day we all walk among them.¡±


    Silence. Kru¡¯Gan seemed exhausted by the tale, as if it had taken years of him, while Sha¡¯Raph just listened in horror. She looked past him at the wall again. The strange drawing of a winged man with antlers. Now she understood the bones and why they went to his mouth. For some reason it took strength of her to speak again ¡°I¡­so the scroll is a remnant of them?¡± ¡°Tell me Sha¡¯Raph¡± he answered in a dark tone ¡°what Island lies to the east?¡± Even though it was an easy question she took a moment to answer ¡°Krognar..the ogres Lands..¡±


    ¡°And where did the exile find the scroll?..¡±

 Chapter 16: Blood of the Mountain

    Endless doubts cursed Aru¡¯gals mind as he was alone in his old room inside the hollow mountain. Trophies of his earliest hunts decorated the walls, just wolf and boar pelts of beasts that took the wrong path north. It was Bruna who actually slaughtered a wyvern in his youth, not him. It was Bruna who was raised by great Khan Ara¡¯Gash, not him. He was just a boy with an ambitious father, not the heir of the greatest Khan since the rise of Karn¡¯Arak. A father and seer that as long as he remembered carried a strange hatred for the Khan and his family, a hatred that he went against as hard as he could. Maybe it was an act of rebellion, maybe he and Bruna actually shared a bond like brothers, but no matter what it was, for now his friend was gone. Off to the south to save his daughter from her aunt''s mistakes.


    A cold breeze started to wash through the mountain and brought the small Khan back to his duty. Slowly he reached for the bag on his belt. It was quite large and he was surprised that no one had noticed, yet maybe they just didn¡¯t deem it worthy to occupy their Khan with such meaner questions. He sat himself on the ground while the dragonstone¡¯s light above him flickered like a torch. Unusual, but he knew why it would. Ironic that the stones granted by their Master realised treason more than itself could these days.


    Carefully as if it could break by touch alone he took the scroll from the back. It was cast in a pipe of leather to carry even more protection. Inside the leather were Dragonstones who stopped to shine. Back in Karn¡¯Arak they still did but it seemed that the scroll''s influence took its toll on them.


    He sat down and rolled it out before him. No matter how often he had gazed upon it, his eyes always widened when he saw it again. Other than most orcs he understood the runes. He had learned to read and write from his father, and later in Karn¡¯Arak by the aid of old man Gor¡¯Mash, even learned the old tongue. More than that, he had travelled far and wide with Sha¡¯Raph back when they were but riders. Not watcher and Khan. They travelled to distant lands in the south, so he would gather if their runes were different. He would try and read, he would listen and lurk like the hunter he was. Once he later read great Khan Ara¡¯Gash¡¯s words he knew he did well. ¡°Every orc is strong, do not dare to think that will make you a difference. Only your head, and filling the emptiness that lurks inside it, will.¡°. And he did. Even before he had read those words and even with knowledge the Khans before him could have never dreamed off.


    Now the last piece of knowledge laid bare before him. A dark promise written in an even darker tongue. Aside from the runes there were the paintings of wings that surrounded a pile of corpses. The promise of a storm that would consume all and grant one the last chance of saving the north from the cold. The birth of a new age, a new father of the clans.


    So Aru¡¯Gal told himself. Yet it was hard to believe. For the runes detailed the horror every creature that was inside the storm had to endure and he knew it would not just be his enemies whose screams would haunt him for the ages to come.


    Behind the few pelts that were an excuse for his door a deep voice came ¡°My Khan.¡± Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s voice came through ¡°The clan is waiting outside.¡±


    ¡°Tell me Gor¡¯Mash..¡± Aru¡¯Gal answered, still lost in the terror of the scroll ¡°Would you give everything to protect the mountain?¡±


    ¡°What kind of question is that?! Are you doubting me!?¡± he answered with anger but then obediently added ¡°My..my Khan.¡±


    ¡°Everything! Gor¡¯Mash. I said everything!¡±


    First Gor¡¯Mash answered with silence until he answered low but confident ¡°I would not call myself a rider if I wouldn¡¯t die for my people.¡± one moment of silence more until he continued proudly ¡°Yet here I am, old and still riding!¡±. A bitter smile formed on Aru¡¯Gals face while he slowly nodded. After one last glance at the scroll he rolled it up again and hid it in both the leather pipe and then the bag that hung from his belt, before he walked out of his room. Gor¡¯Mash was not the only one waiting. A group of four riders then pressed their fist against their chest as he arrived. He quickly answered the same but continued to walk past them. They followed fast and proud while Gor¡¯Mash, an Orc almost as small as Aru¡¯Gal but far more scarred and old enough that parts of his still full and long black hair started missing, talked ¡°They are down at the Mine, as you commanded my Khan.¡±


    ¡°How are they?¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash grunted in a dark tone before he answered quite low as they marched past a few other living caves ¡°Your father is the most openly disobedient but the rest follows the Ire.¡± Aru¡¯Gal shook his head, displeased by his father yet he continued ¡°Do you think the Ire saw reason?¡±


    ¡°I think he is afraid, my Khan.¡±


    Now Aru¡¯Gal smiled ¡°That must be enough for now..¡±


    The other riders remained silent but followed the two and Aru¡¯Gal knew what picture they made in their Obsidian armour and saw its effect as they walked the caves down the mountain. Those few that had remained in their caves glared carefully and from the darkness but all of their glowing eyes spoke of fear, even those that tried to mask it as anger.


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    Once they were down, the tunnel slowly became bigger and made room for the bright white snow of the Valley. The old iron gate was still open and only a few hunters were guarding it while carving piles of leather.


    They looked with a mixture of fear and respect and pressed their fist against their chest as a greeting. Aru¡¯Gal nodded in return while the other riders returned their gesture.


    The gate itself was decorated with many metal chains and the three holy beasts of the Frostsong. A gigantic horn that belonged to a legendary Yack of the valley. One half of a gigantic Sharks maw from the boiling sea in the north. And finally the still glowing piece of Obsidian that was blessed by the Dragon generations ago when it hollowed out the mountain, yet broken in two. One half on each side of the gate.


    Greeted by the cold winds of the valley Aru¡¯Gal stopped ¡°Only Gor¡¯Mash with me. The rest take your Wyverns and land around us.¡±


    The answers were confused looks and then some angered grunting as the four returned to walk back up the mountain ¡°A good climb keeps the fat away, boys! Hahaha!¡± Gor¡¯Mash roared after them and made Aru¡¯Gal smile for but a moment of nostalgia before he walked on towards the mine. It was not far yet still it felt like quite a way. Be if for the cold of the valley or the one from his heart, as the scroll''s sacrifice felt so close. Yet Aru¡¯Gal was used to the heat of Karn¡¯Arak now and even though it was slowly fading it was still burning hot, and not like the snow filled Valley of his home.


    Once the entrance to the mine was a big proud cave at a hill close to the mountain itself. The way towards the cave was already carved into the hill and made a long leading open tunnel that was surrounded by 8 gigantic dolmen. On them the names and stories of those that had gathered their Ore inside was written. The last one was close to being full when it collapsed and if time would have written history differently the clan would have made a grand feast when they placed the next one up on the hill. But then Mara¡¯s betrayal ruined everything. At least that''s what Aru¡¯Gal thought. He thought it was her who collapsed the mine, who took the clan''s chance of weapons and war and who betrayed him more than anybody else in the clan.


    ¡°She will die.¡± he said to himself as they arrived at the collapsed hill and entrance. Two of the Dolmen had fallen down as well and broken in half while the entrance itself was closed by all the rubble. The clan was gathered as Aru¡¯Gal had ordered and some of them were already talking as to how they would fix it. Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk a Shaman and two of the smiths talked eagerly with both their mouths and hands. All full of desperate Ideas, some angry words about Mara, and whispers about their Khan.


    A little outside the crowd, closer to the entrance and alone, stood his father. No word was spoken by the blind man but his face said more than enough. He was unhappy, angry even and would not move a finger to aid the clan in their attempt to free the mine.


    Slowly as Aru¡¯Gal and Gor¡¯Mash stood high next to the open tunnel the clan realised their Khan and the voices stopped. Looking up they waited for his words. Most with fear in their eyes, others with faces that were meant to hide such, but Aru¡¯Gal knew they feared his anger, and rightfully so.


    His father didn¡¯t turn to listen to him but simply remained, facing his blind gaze at the collapsed mine. The biggest act of rebellion he could do by now. It hurted him in ways he didn¡¯t know to see how pathetic his fathers silent act of rebellion against him was.


    ¡°See what she has taken from us!!¡± Aru¡¯gal roared ¡°Look at the Legacy that has been broken and the future that she has taken!¡± He pointed at the broken dolmen ¡°She has taken your right to forge, your right to hand a weapon down to your children and your right for war!!¡±


    Cra¡¯Gal grunted in the distance and shook his head, earning the piercing angry eyes of his son. For a split second Aru¡¯gals face of anger became one of madness but he defeated it as he took a deep breath before he continued. ¡°Her brother will bring her to justice and we shall undo what she has done to us.¡± ¡°But how?!¡± Cra¡¯Gal yelled back and now turned to pierce his blind hidden gaze back at his son ¡°Even if you let them Shovel night and day you will not have enough Ore for your army¡­the old mine could have given you that, but now¡± he shook his head ¡°now your war has to wait¡±


    ¡°They fight with sticks down there!¡± the Khan roared loud and angry ¡°It is your choice if you want to fight with wood or iron but the war will not wait!¡± He took his angry gaze back to the clan and saw that the Ire was about to speak but struggled for words. Before either he or his father could Aru¡¯gal cut them both off ¡°There is a way¡­and it will show you how dire things are, but until it is here, you will shovel and undo what your clansister has done!¡±


    Again the ire was about to speak up just as the four riders landed and made the earth itself tramble under their big beasts. They splitted their landing spots around the open tunnel to watch down at the clan. Even those that tried to look strong shifted their feet under the watchful eyes of his riders and their wyvern and Aru¡¯Gal saw how even the Ire once again understood the situation his clan was in and took a shovel.


    ¡°You want them to think of you as a monster?..¡± Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s voice whispered from behind and made Aru¡¯gal think for a second. It was words like this that made him trust the old rider so much. Some said he even advised Great Khan Ara¡¯Gash back in the day.


    Slowly Aru¡¯Gal walked down to the rest of the clan and took a Shovel as well. He nodded at the Ire and walked through the clan until he reached the rubbled cave. He looked at it for a moment before he commanded ¡°Bring sacks for the stones or we will drown in them.¡± He yelled over his shoulder and started to dig. The Ire followed his example and nodded at the smiths at his side before he took one of those simple iron shovels as well. Soon the clan followed making Gor¡¯Mash smile and nod while Cra¡¯Gal¡¯s desperation only grew.


    ¡°Fools..¡± the old Seer grunted and turned away. If someone could have seen his face, they would have seen more than anger but desperation. Mara¡¯s sacrifice, her exile and now maybe even death, was the price for his destruction of the old mine. And he would not sit still to let it be for nothing.

 Chapter 17: The last summer

    ¡°Either you let me show you a place where you can hide and survive. You can make your roots and be passive but living like a tree, or you come with us to the clan, you aim not to survive but strife. Not like a tree, but like an orc!¡± The Druids words echoed in Mara¡¯s mind yet her answer was clear when she drifted to sleep. For she knew that Kazok was right and her niece couldn¡¯t be left alone for a lifetime. Not only because sooner or later someone would find them, be it his or their clan, but also because she knew after their first battle an Orc would not be under their elders'' control any longer.


    They called it Goblin Fever. The fury that was pumping through a young orcs veins for weeks, sometimes moons, after their first battle. They were aggressive, yearning for more fire in their hearts, always looking for the rush of axe and gore. Some orcs said it never truly ended, while others would feel the tides of battle ebb and flow, but even they knew the flood of rage could always return. Often the way an orc lived through the fever determined how they would be in life. Some would gain another victory, and start a life of drink, joy and fury, others were humbled and often end in a way of servitude. It was on their parents to see what path their young would take during the fever but a Goblin was hard to control.


    Mara¡¯s brother Bruna was humbled by their father. For during his time as a Goblin he dared to challenge the great Khan, his father. It would have been unwise from any child but wisdom was not what the Goblin Fever, and even less what Bruna¡¯Gash the beast was known for. He got beaten down as hard as the great Khan had to. Not even in a way that would make the clan say ¡°it was a good fight¡± but in one that made them fall silent to great Khan Ara¡¯Gash the mountain. Just as it had to be. ¡°Do you understand now, boy?!¡± he asked as his son lay down bleeding in the snow of the valley. Too beaten to even carry the strength to answer. ¡°I asked you something?!¡± Back then Mara was too young to realise the pain in her fathers eyes, but she knew her brother was near to closing his own. She rushed from the cloud of silence to his side. He was the boy then man who raised her, not their father and she would not watch him beat her brother to death. No matter what for, as she was too young to understand. She remembered how the pain in the great Khan''s eyes became more and more visible until even she could see it, just before he turned away. ¡°Bah¡­he has had enough¡­¡±. As they grew older she started to understand. Both why their father had to beat his son this much, and also that the pain was born from more than just his son''s pain. It was the path he was forced to punch into him. For a great Khan could not endure a loss, or be challenged for his life sooner or later. Unbeknownst to her, the one thing the Khan they called the mountain should regret for the rest of his life, was to not endure the challenges, and for his son to rise as a different orc.


    Still, while Bruna was still a boy, many saw him as a future Khan. Big and muscled, even at a young age. Trained by his father and other riders like Gor¡¯Mash. Even if the title of Khan was not to be inherited they all felt that he would be a great choice once he was of age.


    But even if he continued to strengthen his muscles, his days as a Goblin did not end in the fury a Khan would need, but in humbled servitude. More like a Wyvern, than their rider. Stronger in any way, but beaten enough to be enslaved.


    There was a short time they all hoped the fury of the boy would return to the man he had become. When he got a mate, and bore a child of his own. When he became a rider and a threat to the south. A menace from the sky just as his father was before him. But it all changed yet again when he lost the woman that had bared his daughter. All ambition had shifted that day, from the will to be a conqueror, to the duty of being a father. If things had been different he would have ended his time as a rider. Taken it for his daughter, but it was not to be. For soon the winters became colder, and so did the new Khan. A friend he called brother, and a leader he would never dare to disappoint.


    Mara¡¯s mind was flooded with many of those memories as the warmth of the sun woke them inside the tree. It had been a week of work around it and she was surprised that they didn¡¯t encounter more of the greenskins yet. Only Kazook, Rika and great Wolf Branak as they did their best to be very weary but welcoming hosts. She was surprised by the work to be done, despite the usual hunts for wood and dinner, they worked a lot on the slain wyvern. Once Kazok realised that a Shaman knew the old runes as well she and him both carved runes inside the leather of its skin. Even though she didn¡¯t know what it was for, and assumed it would be only one of many trophies at the great Oak, she still felt honoured.


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    ¡°What do you want it to say?¡± She asked him.


    He grinned and looked at the forest around them ¡°Ha! What are shamans even doing up there?¡± he grunted and returned his orange glowing eyes to her ¡°down here, a Druid listens to the world around him.¡± His usually hardened face became a little softer as he waved his hands to his words ¡°To leaf and bird, to branch and boar..¡± He smiled for a second before he realised and returned to his more harsh demeanour as he simply continued to use his knife to carve runes into the blue leather.


    ¡°We listen to the wind and the mountain, the fire and the sea.¡± she said and tried to listen. As both the shaman and the druid listened to the wind brushing the leafs, Kazok smiled and took word again, ¡°My old master said the difference between you shamans and us druids is that you listen to the things that gave birth to all that lives, while we listen to all the life that was born¡±.


    She smiled at the thought for a moment and asked further ¡°Who was he?¡± He looked at her with a raised brow ¡°Your master¡±.


    He nodded and made a small snort from his missing nose ¡°Rakkan Burk Nu Arrok. They called him the Pine Crown. His totem was the Stag. A good leader¡­far wiser than I am.¡± he paused for a moment and smiled to himself ¡°well and Rikas father..¡± Again he paused and looked at the leather before him ¡°Far wiser than me¡­and still a thick head hahaha!¡± He laughed and shook his head ¡°We fought more than once about it ha!¡±. He laughed for a moment before there was a melancholy in his eyes.


    ¡°Fought about Rika or him being a thick head?¡± she asked with a smirk in only her eyes. ¡°Bah!¡± He answered but could not help himself and smiled further ¡°I was young when I became his student¡­so more brother and sister than..anything else..¡± he shook his head and snorted deeply from missing nose as he returned to the leather.


    The reminder of brother and sister washed Mara¡¯s smile away again, for she knew well that her own would be on the hunt for her now. Maybe if he would understand that it wasn¡¯t her who collapsed the mine he could be talked to, but she knew very well that he was Aru¡¯Gals most loyal, and fair to say, strongest slave.


    She took her mind off him again as she closed her eyes and put her hand down on the grass while listening to the wind for answers to her runes. Her eyes closed like Seer Cra¡¯Gal had taught her. She tried to let her mind wander far and be cast to distant shores with the wind. Yet something kept her here, she felt the heaviness of a heart in loss and a burden to be beared. First she thought it was her own feelings, then she was afraid her brother had found them, but finally she realised the scent of leaves instead of the touch of wind. She opened her eyes and looked over to Kazok.


    ¡°You miss him a lot.¡± Mara realised. He shrugged and grunted. ¡±It''s just a few days since he passed..¡± he nodded at the first set of runes on the wyvern and looked over to her again ¡°I think it''s fair to miss him still.¡±


    ¡°It always is.¡± she said and tried to make a reassuring smile at him ¡°And I am sure the ancestors miss us too, in their own distant ways.¡± He nodded with the hint of a smile and continued with the next rune.


    After that she didn¡¯t ask further and used what she had learned to carve into the wyvern. Runes about the wind between the leaves, the strength of the ancestors and the smile of the young. New ages to face, and old ones to hold dear. Her runes sparked her own heart, as she more and more realised there was no coming back to the mountain. Even if Aru¡¯Gal should die, the clan thought it was her who destroyed the mine and it was holy. Especially for a shaman there were few things worse they could do. Few of them, she should see in the weeks to come. But none of that yet while they were at the oak. She would remember that short week for a long time as it was the last time Kara would know peace. An irony and a danger that a young Orc like hers with the fever would encounter war so soon.


    Kara however did not have any thoughts about actual war, just about blood and glory. Eager to prove herself and more than anything to feel the rush of battle and the drums in her heart yet again. During their week at the Oak, she accompanied Rika and great Wolf Branak on their hunts. It had taken a lot to convince her aunt to let Kara go off alone again, but she knew it was only right. There was no reason for the Greenskins to be this nice if they wanted to hurt them and if anything Kara would learn to slow down her bloodlust for a successful hunt.


    Back at the tree she trained with Kazok, even arm wrestled him at one point. She lost to no one''s surprise. The crying girl of just two days earlier had changed a lot with just one victory, and laughter filled the campfires at the oak for a short time. Yet they knew it might change once things would become serious again. Once orcish blood was flowing and once the cold of the north would catch up with them. They should learn how hard it was to change things with but one victory, but how easy for everything to be destroyed with just one loss.

 Chapter 18: Mark of the Beast

    When Kara grew up, other orcs feared her. Even though she wasn¡¯t the child of a Khan, they still knew her father was a legend. A legend that would give every pain done to his daughter back in every mean way possible, and that no matter what he did he would get through with it. Not as a Khan, not even as his heir, just as the beast of the mountain.


    Even despite his muscles, height and brutality, the Khan was his closest friend, a man he called brother, and would never properly punish him. No matter the crime, he would protect him and his family too.


    So the clan thought for the longest of times and Kara¡¯s youth was the price. Instead of fighting with the other children she was left alone to learn with her aunt. Medicine and runes, things she was too young to understand and didn¡¯t care about when she got older. She wanted to travel the valley and run along the grand Yaks. She wanted to play until sundown and return home without breath. She wanted to laugh along with other children and punch them herself at every bad word they would speak about her. Yet there was nothing but following her aunt. A girl that was only twelve when she had to become a mother for her niece and even young Kara understood that it wasn¡¯t easy.


    It had begun only a year after her mother died. Kara was seven and a hunter had taken her along to the northern edge of the pines, just below the Frostsong Valley to show her the ways of the hunt while her father was away with the riders. Her aunt was the one who saw that she would go with him, for the then still young Mara needed some time alone. Day after day she had looked over her niece, despite herself being just a girl on the edge of becoming a woman. She was as old as Kara was when they had to flee, thirteen, and like her niece she was annoyed that there was nothing else. Nothing but to learn from Seer Cragal and look over her old brother''s child. They were aided by some hunters that brought them food, while she and Kara gathered herbs and mushrooms for them. Day by day, as was the way of the Clan. Yet she knew that Kara wanted more, and she admitted that she did as well. So she asked the hunters if they could take her with them, show her their ways instead of those of a shaman. A path that was meant for herself, not her niece. Maybe hunting would be a good fit for the little beast, maybe she would instead end up with the Yak herders of the Valley, or maybe even as a smith. ¡°Just not as a rider..¡± Mara had hoped in silence. She was old enough to understand that they were important but also young enough to hate that both her father and brother were taken by them. Young enough to hate that her father had died for them and that Kara¡¯s mother was killed as an answer to them. No matter what the day would do to Kara, it would at least grant her a piece of freedom. She would see beyond the Valley and start to understand where their meat was coming from day by day. So she had thought.


    But fate had other plans for it was that very day that werebeasts from the south should attack. Snorting and barking, roaring and screeching they came from the trees. All of them a strange mixture of beast and Orc, most of them with fur, one of them with feathers. Their faces were turned into the very beasts they once called their totems. From wolf to boar to bear, and one as a Crow.


    The hunters had to flee, too much was the horde of beasts. Some of them died, one to save Kara. Yet still she would carry a scar. Three scratches across her face that just missed her eyes. Blood ran down and across her eyes as she was carried to the shamans while the mountain''s horn echoed through the valley. The clan gathered to defend and from the furthest distance beyond the mountains of the east, the sky roared its answer.


    Mara came out of their round Tent and rushed to the healers in the mine. Once she saw her niece bloodied, scared and with tears in her eyes guilt filled her own. She fell on her knees next to her and hugged before she took a closer look at her scars. ¡°It hurts¡­¡± little Kara said, filling her young aunt''s guilt even more.


    Shamans and their apprentices were readying the caves of the mines for the healing. Some of them placed totems made of either stone, wood or bones around, others prepared leather straps and healing herbs for those to come.


    One of them, an old man, kneeled next to the two girls. ¡°There is no time to cry, apprentice.¡± Cra''Gal''s words were harsh, yet as he took Mara¡¯s shoulder it was far softer. It was before he carried a blindfold and his burning eyes spoke of reassurance but urgency. Mara nodded ¡°y..yes master..¡±


    He used his other hand to shift little Kara¡¯s face as he took a look at her wounds. ¡°Gather me the burning salve, and some stitches.¡± She had to look at her niece for a moment longer before she left. ¡°Take a deep breath, and don¡¯t spill anything.¡± She heard him echo behind her and it was advice she appreciated for once. The highest and by now drained caves of the mines were filled with many of the clan''s supplies. More than anything those herbs and pelts that were meant for the shamans as the mines were holy and the shamans their watchers. She went to the right cave, across paintings at the wall, runes and yaks and warriors, none of it mattered now. When she came back Cra¡¯gal had sat down properly and already used a piece of now red pelt to clean Kara of her blood. He simply nodded as Mara put down the healing supplies next to him. ¡°This might sting a little¡­¡± he told little kara as he opened the clay pot with the hot glistering salve. It almost looked like the earth¡¯s molten blood and both him and Mara knew it would hurt like it was. ¡°But nothing a brave little warrior cannot handle, right?¡± he said, smiling at her. His smile echoed in little Kara¡¯s face and she nodded, ready for the salve. It made the sound of fire meeting water once the old shaman put it on, yet Kara only breathed out and closed her eyes. Quickly the salve hardened and Cra¡¯gal tapped her shoulder smiling ¡°You did well little one.¡± She opened her eyes and tried to smile yet the salve still stung on her face. ¡°Watch her.¡± he told Mara ¡°And once it has hardened completely, remove it and do it again. We must make sure the beasts teint is burned away.¡± Before she could answer he stood up and was about to prepare the rest of the cave as a warrior came down. Neither Kara nore Mara could hear what they said but the old man rushed out of the mines and into the battle outside without another word.


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    Maybe it was that very day that Mara had to become an adult, maybe caring for Kara was just something that set her mind on course, but still even though the battle outside continued it was that day that should change little Kara¡¯s childhood yet again.


    Wyverns roared outside and cheers were the answers. Kara smiled for she hoped it might be her father, Mara however was afraid for that very reason. Not long after the wyverns roar, the battle was over. A few more wounded were brought into the caves, most of them clawed by the beasts from the south, few with burn marks from their protectors. Among those that entered the cave was the big gigantic shadow of Bruna. He was covered in blood and breathed heavily as he glared around the mine until he saw his girls. He rushed for them and without any word took them both into his bloodied arms. His breathing became a little more easy as they answered his arms with their own. The one family they all had left, embracing for what should be the last time.


    ¡°It stings..¡± little Kara said and made them release each other from their arms. Bruna looked over her face but before he could do anything Mara started to carefully remove the now hardened black salve. ¡°I have to change it..¡± she said rather distantly and started to take it away. As she did she revealed the three scars over her niece and Bruna¡¯s breathing became heavier yet again. ¡°How?¡± he asked and looked over to Mara who got a piece of pelt to carefully remove the last bits of blood and salve from little Kara¡¯s face.


    ¡°They..they jumped the others from the trees¡± little Kara said. ¡°Trees?..¡± Bruna repeated in an increasingly dark tone. Kara nodded a little confused ¡°We..we were hunting..¡±


    Mara closed her eyes and sighed while her brother stared to her ¡°You let her go to the pines?!¡± he asked, low and dark. A sob that she tried to hide as a sigh escaped her before she looked back at him ¡°What else was I meant to do? She..she¡± ¡°She is a child!¡± he roared at her making her sob yet again. As she was about to clean the pelt in a bit of melted snow in a bowl next to her he harshly planted his hand on her shoulder ¡°Look at me!¡± She did as tears ran down ¡°It has not even been a year since her mother was slain from the same beasts!¡± his roar now made the entire mine fall silent aside from groans of pain. ¡°Probably on the same old hunting ground!¡±


    Kara saw her father in anger and her young aunt close to crying yet she knew no words to speak at that moment. Still she wondered what she might have done wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry..¡± Mara almost whispered while her eyes now were completely flooded with guilt flowing down.


    ¡°Be better!!¡± Bruna barked back as a rider''s horn was heard outside. He grunted and stood up. Just before he left he heard both girls sob behind him. A hint of shame was carried through him and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for their ancestors'' strength to protect his family.


    He then turned and leaned back down to them both, holding a hand on each of their shoulders. ¡°I promise you I will return to the valley..¡± he looked from one to the other ¡°and stay in the valley.¡± Kara smiled at his words but he continued ¡°But for now, the Khan needs me.¡± He looked down and took a deep breath before he locked his burning eyes with his sisters burning tears. ¡°Just be careful with her.¡± She sobbed and nodded before he turned his gaze to his daughter. ¡°And you survived..that is always a win, little warrior!¡± he playfully punched her shoulder which birthed a small grin on her face. He was about to embrace them again as the Riders horn was sung another time. He sighed ¡°I¡¯ll leave¡­watch out for each other.¡± he stated and left, leaving both of the girls alone.


    After that day nobody dared to take little Kara with them. Neither to hunt, not even to guard the Yaks. She was sat aside her aunt to learn about runes and medicine while she didn¡¯t care for either. Too young for liquor and too far away from any adult that would grant them a sip as a reward, she instead started to drown her sorrow in food. It was without honour to eat too much and slowly she carried that dishonour with her. Thicker than most of the clan and certainly more than all of her age. Yet still far from what the pigskinned creatures of the farthest east would call fat and far from what some noseless druids of the south had gathered. Yet it was clear for everyone to see and every time her father came home he told them both. ¡°Leave your aunt some of the meat!¡± he said, because he also saw how Mara had become thinner and thinner.


    Years later when little Kara was thirteen and Mara merely 18, they finally left the valley. Neither of them would say it out loud, but both felt like they had to for a while and Aru¡¯gal¡¯s demand of war was just the last wind that pushed them away.


    It was weird for them both after they had been rescued in the south. By greenskins that they both knew could turn into the very beasts that attacked the clan so often, yet they aided them more than their own clan had done for years. Mara felt like the traitor they called her back home, but only for a day. Once she saw her Niece smile when she could go hunt with the wolf woman, she had to echo that smile. Once she learned about druidism from the boar man, she loved to spread the believes of the shaman as well.


    It was the last days of joy they would have and maybe the only days of true joy they ever enjoyed in life to that point.

 Chapter 19: Voice of the Wild

    On the day of their departure, Rika was up before the rest. She rode Branak to the Shore not that far from the Oak and watched the mist above the waves for a moment of goodbye. She wanted to lose herself in them and her thoughts as the sun turned them into a cloud of silver light. Yet she was always dragged back by the pines behind her for she knew she was watched.


    Not by Orc or beast, but him. She felt the hair on Branak¡¯s neck rise and turned to let her hunters gaze go over the forest and for but a moment it was silent. Nothing but the waves down beyond the cliff made sound. Neither tree, nor wind or bird spoke a word in that moment yet they all watched. She saw crows watch her from the trees, staring at her every move. She saw the silhouettes of a doe and her two children standing still in the far distance, having a red glow in their eyes as they stared at her. Not far beyond, ignoring the does a Wolf would stare the same, all of them without movement and all of them waiting in terrible silence. Finally she realised even the smallest beasts. Rabbits, squirrels and mice, just hiding in the shadow as their red eyes watched her.


    Barnak started to growl and was answered by her attempt to reassure the great Wolf ¡°Shhh great hunter¡­¡± she whispered into his big ears ¡°never strike first...¡±. She stroked his fur and he knew they would look out for each other, no matter the shadows between the trees.


    Just when she made him gow silent again the last set of beasts appeared. Spiders. All though small, it was the number that made her skin crawl. More and more of them slowly came from the shadows and watched her from the trees. Some hiding on their bark others gathered in webs between them. Webs that hung like fog between the trees. They grew to so many that it looked more like ants than spiders yet they all stopped moving once she and Branak were in sight.


    Centipedes did the same, all just crawling far enough so she was in sight and staring with their invisible eyes, while the trees were covered in clouds of moths. A few of them were unlucky enough to be caught in the spider''s web yet neither them nor the spiders took a single move but to stare at her.


    Slowly her big wolf took a few steps backwards but soon reached the edge of the cliff. ¡°Pa?...¡± she asked hoping and looked around. The fear in her eyes was no secret any longer when the wind started to slowly blow but only to carry distant whispers.


    Whispers that came from the leaves and carried a thousand different voices, yet they were all silent enough that it felt like the wind just made a sound


    ¡°Your father¡­¡± ¡°does not lie..¡± within nature..¡± ¡°yet..¡±


    Branak whimpered at the strange voices and laid down. His ears set backwards.


    Slowly Rika realised who spoke to her and stood up from Branak. She walked closer to the edge of the forest while all eyes of nature followed her. She drew her bone and stone made sword and looked around the many eyes as she answered.


    ¡°I am here for him. Not you..¡±


    ¡°Yet..¡± ¡°you answered..¡± ¡°my call¡­¡±


    A rebellious grunt escaped her before she shook her head, ¡°I am here to return blood to our prey, not~¡±


    The wind between the leaves grew stronger and the one voice that disrupted her was far more unnatural than the others. A raspy deep sound almost like a frog croaking ¡°How is that different, my dear hunter?¡±


    In the farthest distance of the pines she now saw another silhouette appear. Four arms but two legs. Twice as high as the biggest orc and a head that carried horns. It was slim for its high stature and carried a staff that was the length of a small tree with two of its arms on one side. From that tree not only skulls but corpses hang low. Both beast and orc just dangling lifeless. It moved far too slow for her to know if it was only the wind that made it move or if it actually slowly took its step towards her, yet she held her sword tighter either way.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Why do you come to me?¡± she asked and slowly raised it with both hands while Branak behind her stood up again. Still in pure horror but knowing she might need help. ¡°Why to me and not your druid?¡±


    ¡°He is no druid..¡± the croaking voice answered before a whisper in the leaves continued ¡°Of mine..¡±


    ¡°Neither was my pa.¡± she proudly proclaimed as the distant silhouette finally stopped. Above her a swarm of spiders moved around a cloud of web ready to plunge at her. So she took a few steps back and waited for its answer.


    The whispers answered first now ¡°He was¡­¡± ¡°when he was..¡± ¡°young..¡±. The wind seemed to change yet again and was now loud enough to drown the crushing waves below ¡°He adored¡­¡± ¡°the blood¡­¡± ¡°of the hunt¡­¡± ¡°the prey¡­¡± ¡°of the north¡­¡± ¡°and the rush¡­¡± ¡°of battle¡­¡±


    The wind suddenly stopped before the croaking voice spoke yet again ¡°He was a loyal beast¡­¡± with the last words its voice boomed over the pines, ¡°of the wild hunt¡­¡±


    With that the silhouette suddenly disappeared in the darkness of the trees yet the forest still watched her.


    ¡°Pay the price for your prey¡± the croaking voice now sounded like it was directly behind her.


    Slowly she turned and saw in horror how Branak carried the red eyes of the wild. He twitched under the weight of the voice and it seemed like he wanted to whimper as his jaw moved out of place. ¡°Stop it!¡± She demanded pleading. Her wolf''s red eyes stared at her before his twisted smile spoke in the forest''s voice ¡°Then pay¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I came here f..¡± she stopped talking and moved to the edge of the cliff. Without any hesitation she used her big sword to cut her hand. It was a deep cut and she grunted in pain yet she made a fist above the distant waves below. Slowly thick red drops of her blood fell down into the sea. As they were lost in the waves the voice spoke from Branaks twitching mouth again.


    ¡°You pay the sea, when you should pay the land..¡±


    ¡°It was a beast of sea and sky.¡± she answered with closed eyes while she still held her bleeding fist above the ocean, ¡°Even you can¡¯t deny the old pacts.¡±


    Slowly the whimpers from Branak became more visible beneath the croaking breaths of the voice that possessed him. Yet Rika, despite the tears that answered her companions fate continued to pay until the waves grew louder. Now loud enough to overshadow the sound of the leaves. The mist across the waves slowly turned red, as if the sun behind them had changed colours.


    Branaks head started to turn as if the wolf was about to break his own neck, when the croaking voice boomed from him and across the forest yet again ¡°Your flesh is marked, little hunter. It shall be mine to craft.¡±


    ¡°Not yet..¡± she replied just before a gigantic wave crashed at the cliff and wetted both her and branak in salt. With the crushing of the wave the forest returned to what it was supposed to be. All the animals that carried its eyes before suddenly ran away in fear. Some just shivered in shock. The spiders started to hide again while a few of the month finally realised their horrible fate in the cloud of webs. Yet even the spiders had to shiver and realise what just had happened before they could take on their prey.


    Meanwhile branak laid down and whimpered. His ears looked backwards and he shivered in pain and fear. Rika instantly moved next to him and looked at his face. Despite her fears, nothing was broken. Neither his snout, mouth, or neck. She was relieved and hugged the big wolf while her sword just fell beside her. ¡°Shhh Branak..¡± she whispered to him while the shock inside her still lived on. ¡°It is gone now¡­it won¡¯t do a thing to you.¡± The big wolf looked up and licked her face, thankful that she was there. They both remained for a moment but she knew they had to leave. ¡°Come now boy..¡± she said, petting his side. He then stood up together with her and slowly they started to take their walk back through the pines. It didn¡¯t feel right to ride him now, yet she knew they had to be fast.


    Once she arrived back at the Oak the others were ready to move as Kazzok just rolled the last piece of Wyvern leather. He saw the shock in her eyes while the two darklings went over to look at her hand. They only shared a look, but slowly her fear washed over to Kazzok, for he knew the enemy that sought to guide them and he knew that he was watching.

 Chapter 20: Amber blood

    Maybe it was the wolf hunter''s words that had convinced the Boar Druid, maybe it was the tears of a young darkling girl, or maybe her aunt''s story of the north. No matter what it had been, there was no turning back now as they took their way through the pines towards the big glade of its tribe. Rika walked next to Branak as the great brown wolf carried the remains of the wyvern while the rest closely followed Kazok. He knew the forest well, well enough to be the druid he was meant to be, there was no doubt for him in that.


    But he also knew that it would all be taken at a test. Not only by the tribe now but after Rikas experience with the voice this morning, him as well. Kazok had feared that he would watch them but he thought that he would feel him if he was to enter his pines. The fact that he did not, angered him more than it scared him, yet both feelings were lingering in his heart, even more so as he imagined what master Rakkan would have said. There was a time when they disagreed on the voice, when they fought day by day over it. Kazok as the young brash orc he was, as the man who saw the horrors the voice had brought to the clan, and Rakkan as the old Druid, desperately defending the old ways. The ways that had brought them so much after all. Their fights were loud, and even sometimes ended in the only ways an argument between orcs could ever end. Fists flying, boots kicking, tooth loosing. Yet somehow they still always returned to being master and student and both of them always knew it was because of Rika. She was the one to remind them of their duties, the one who told them that they had to care for the oak and the pines again, and despite their butting heads they always listened. Rakkan to his daughter, Kazok to a girl he always told himself was like a sister.


    Back then the rest of her family was at the Oak as well. A mother that was with the tribe now, and a brother that was sent away by the voice to retrieve the very scroll that scared all of them so much now. When it wasn¡¯t Rakkan he argued and fought with, it was her brother instead. Just orc boys doing their thing. Butting heads, throwing fists and barking their victory into the forest, while the other swore for his revenge. Yet Rikas brother never truly swore for revenge, nor did he truly fight back some days. There was a darkness surrounding him, a melancholy Kazok was too young to understand.


    He always thought of him as a coward, yet when the wolf brother took the voice¡¯s mission that had changed. For the first time in years of growing up together, of snorting and barking at each other, and of arguing about his sister, he respected him. Even though he did have no respect for the voice, he knew what would have happened if the wolf boy didn¡¯t offer the aid himself. For after the old rites, it would have fallen to Kazok instead. Even though he was taken into the family of the Oak by druid Rakkan, there was no one left of his own bloodline. And the voice always chose those that were left alone. Yet when enough orcs offered themselves as striders or sometimes members of the wild hunt, the price to the pines was paid. Like it always had been, paid in both blood and honour, to make sure that summer may return and that fire and flood was kept away from tribe and pine.


    The day the Voice, the Archdruid, the horned Croak, sought for striders, was the last day the three children of the Oak were allowed to be young. They had been adults for more than one cycle that day, yet it was the last time they could pretend that the old times would never die. That they could continue to argue at day, and laugh at the campfire protected by the great egg, at night.


    As he gathered with the other striders that were sent away by the voice, they looked at each other as men for the first time in their short lives. For they knew the other had now taken the path that was meant for them and both were happy about it now. When usually there was hate, or at least a constant competition, now there was only respect. Kazok knew it was him who should stand there, and the wolf boy knew the young druid was needed more in the tribe. His father was old, there was no one else who had taken the path.


    They held each other''s wrists and nodded. No word was spoken, yet all was said. It was the last time they would ever see each other.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    In the years after that, things had changed. When once the voice was respected, more and more started to question, for the land of the druids was slowly dying. Some striders of the tribes had seen the coast at the west, and how rotten it had become. Others feared the ever growing ash that was slowly conquering the savannah. Disease and dangers had spread in the distant south of the western shore. Yet the old pacts still had to be fulfilled. Prey had to be paid with blood and once every cycle the Voice would return and demand more of the tribe. The more time had passed the more often it did not only send striders on a quest, but demanded people for its wild hunt. Orcs that were sent away to conquer the north, only to be never seen again. All the talk of honour only ever went so far, for the young that were left alone soon started to question, where that honour truly went. What it truly was those on the hunt were dying for. There was nothing they brought back to the tribes, for they never returned. There was no victory they ever heard of and it never had stopped the north from sending its riders to raid the tribes of the south.


    Spite and split grew among the tribe, as well as in the family of the oak. But if anything Kazok knew how to handle such. For there was much spite growing up at the oak. Not only as the one student of Master Rakkan, but also as part of their family. The fact that the Druids bloodline took him in meant a lot to the young boar, even more when he grew old enough to understand. He started to see that it was far from the usual and he knew very well he would have had it worse if he had stayed in the tribe. Of course they still were always met by some of them, and went to the tribe on dire days. Days of importance, days of joy, or days of grief. As Rakkan¡¯s student he always went with him, to see how he handled the people. How he acted as the main healer, and the tribe''s connection to their totems and the spirits. To all the beasts of the pines, their ancestors and the forest itself. It was an honour to learn from the druid and even young Kazok knew it meant a lot that he was the only one chosen, despite everything. Over the years he became more than a student to master Rakkan, even though it would take until his death when he spoke it out loud, he was the third child of the oak. Maybe not by blood, but most certainly in spirit.


    When Rakkan died by age and illness, a plague that slowly was befalling all the glades of the south, he whispered his last rasping words in the oldest tongue. ¡°Krag¡¯lugan ach¡¯reighko¡±. My family is yours, my duties fulfilled.


    Kazok knew what it meant. For the only ones left, where the old wolf mother, and her daughter. It had been two years since the brother was sent away with the striders, and since then the tribe''s connection to it had changed so much that they weren¡¯t sure if his quest should ever be succeeded. Too much darkness had surrounded the Voice and its ever growing requests of blood, not only for the land and its prey, but itself. In his last year, even his master started to show doubts, doubts that seemed as if they would age him quicker. Rakkan had aged like others would in the course of ten, maybe even twenty years, in but his last.


    There was simply no other option left for the old druid than to prepare for his death, and so, despite their arguing, despite the fact that he had a son in the far distance that might return one day, he appointed Kazok to protect those that were left. The tribe, the pines and most of all, the amber bloodline of the great oak. It was a lot, but the boar knew he was prepared for it all his whole life and he would not be a disappointment to the dead.


    He snorted deep in those thoughts. ¡°All well?..¡± Mara asked him and ripped him out of his memories. She had started to walk next to him. Rika on the other side just shared a short look with him before he turned to the young shaman. ¡°Just thoughts¡­¡± Another short snort escaped him before he continued ¡°The tribe won¡¯t be easy on you..¡± ¡°on all of us..¡± Rika added while scarred but not so little Kara just walked behind them looking from one to the other as the adults talked.


    Kazok nodded at Rikas words ¡°Ha! Yeah..all of us..¡± Mara raised a brow ¡°Won¡¯t they respect your word as their druid?..¡±


    Rika couldn¡¯t help herself but form a grin at that before she looked away while Kazok answered with a grunt ¡°Bah! Barkheads! The lot of ¡®em!¡±


    Slowly Mara started to doubt their chance of success, ¡°Is there any hope they will even listen to us?¡±


    Kazok waved his hand and shook his head ¡°They are good orcs..great hunters..¡±


    Rika nodded to that as he spoke ¡°They will listen.¡± He sighed ¡°Maybe I have to punch the words into them..but they will listen.¡±


    She almost felt hope until his last words but stopped talking while they continued their long walk through the pines.


    Soon the forest''s eyes were upon them. A crow that flew by and the silhouette of an orc, leaning on its spear while the crow landed on its arm.

 Chapter 21: The Tribe

    No matter what the adults thought, Kara understood their situation well. Of course the south would see herself and her aunt as enemies. They were heirs of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain and even though her aunt was rather thin, to her she was still a danger they should fear. After all, didn¡¯t she collapse the mines? Even if her body lacked the muscle an adult orc should have, she was a shaman. And surely powerful. Kara was sure about that.


    If there was anything to doubt, it was herself, she thought. Yet again she had smashed a Wyvern''s head. How could a Greenskins skull even stand a chance against her.


    So she tried to tell herself, but had to course her wits, for she knew it was far from the truth. As they heard the crow above them her eyes followed it until it was landing close to where the pines seemed to stop and the sun was coming through. She saw the silhouette of the orc standing there on a small hill. First relaxed leaning on its spear and letting the crow land on its arm. A moment further it looked as if the beast was whispering to the orc''s ear before it flew off again and the silhouette readied its spear.


    Kazok sighed ¡°now the entire rot is onto us..¡±


    Once they came closer the silhouette became a green Orc adorned in black feathers. A chain of beaks hung from his chest and his spear carried but one big rune, that looked far more northern than anything the two darklings had seen thus far down here.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite more prey than we were expecting!¡± he yelled over, making Kazok stop with the rest of their group.


    He let his voice bellow back up to the orc on a hillt. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a strange thing to complain about, blood beak?!¡± Kazok smiled after his own words but was quickly cut by Blood-Beak again.


    ¡°Why are they alive, Grunt-Heart?!¡± He roared back without a pause. It was the first time the two darklings heard that name, yet both could see how a man like Kazok would have gotten it.


    After Blood-Beaks roar the crow returned and landed on his arm. Quickly after it the tribe rushed out and gathered around him, weapons ready. All adorned in parts of an animal. Some in pelts of bear, boar or wolf, carrying their heads as cowls, others adorned by bones or horns of deer and doe. Very few like Blood-Beak carried the feathers of birds and only one carried an even bigger prey.


    Before Kazok could answer, he came through. A greenskin who carried the leather of a red Wyvern. The biggest scales rested on his shoulders and the last remains of leathery wings made a cape behind him. Half his face was burned and both an eye as well as one of his tusks was missing on the burned side. His voice did not sound like it was yelling yet was dark and loud enough to reach them. ¡°I hope you bring them as gifts, Druid¡±


    Rika now sighed while scarred Kara could feel her aunt''s fear. ¡°Let them try!¡± she thought, but yet was not dumb enough to speak or even believe those words. She saw the horde that was standing there and knew it would mean certain death if they were to attack.


    ¡°No chieftain¡­¡± Kazok answered and took a moment before he answered further, looking around the whole gathered tribe up on the hill. ¡°There is a lot we need to talk about. And I need them unharmed and with me.¡±


    ¡°You dare to~¡± Blood-Beak started to yell before his chieftain in wyvern leather held an arm before him and shook his head.  ¡°Times change¡­¡± he sighed darkly before he continued far louder again ¡°Give us a reason why we shouldn¡¯t kill them. And maybe we can talk.¡±


    The entire tribe looked down to Kazok. He nodded, gathering his words while Rika next to him nodded at him granting a reassuring look that even Kara understood. The hint of a smile was seen on his face and he spoke back, loud enough to echo over to the tribe. ¡°The scroll..chieftain.¡± Whispers and looks were exchanged in the tribe while Mara made a big question on her face looking over to Kazok, surprised herself. She had not shared anything about it with him, yet here he declared its existence. Even Kara had heard the whispers back in the Valley. About the scroll the Khan was seeking so desperately.


    The chieftain slowly had to gather his own words before he answered ¡°They have it?..¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Kazok immediately replied ¡°But I can feel its Echo in the north. All those things Rakkan felt during his last year became strong enough that even I can¡¯t deny them.¡±


    He pointed at the two darklings behind him as he spoke further ¡°They are exiles from there and if what she told is true then far more will follow her in time.¡± Before he continued he snorted deeply and looked around the tribe. Still their anger was obvious in their faces while some few feared the scrolls echo. ¡°You know I would be the first to shed northern blood, but¡­¡± he shook his head and looked at the chieftain''s remaining eye again ¡°Times change¡­¡±


    Slowly the chieftain nodded ¡°Keep an eye on them..¡± he turned to the tribe ¡°I mean everyone.¡± he then looked back to Kazok and from him over to Kara and her aunt. ¡°Bring them to my tent then. And we may talk.¡±


    ¡°Better than I expected..¡± Rika whispered, making Kazok snort again before all of them slowly walked towards the tribe to follow the chieftain. The Greenskins made room for them yet all held their weapons ready. Unlike the weapons of the north they were not made of metal, but bone and wood. Few of sharp stones. Even their swords and axes, where not of metal, but like those of Kazok and Rika, of hardened bone. Before them a wall of spikes surrounded the Village. Even though they were made of trees and reached quite high, they wouldn¡¯t be enough to fend of the Riders. ¡°Even less so my Father.¡± Kara thought as she started to hear the drums in her chest again. A mixture of fear and excitement was pumping through her veins. Her fear wasn¡¯t about the tribe around them, and their hunters eyes on them. But because she slowly realised that her father was an enemy to them. And because she knew he would slaughter them all just to get her back home. She tried to cast aside the dark thoughts by looking at the village they entered. She tried to enjoy the moment as that was where the excitement in her heart was born. All she ever saw before were the Valley and the mountain. Now she was about to see different tribes and their people, and the fact that they had such fear for them only added to the goblin fever''s fun.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The big glade they were walked into was right at the shore where a lonely tree stood watch. It was on a small hill right at the cliff that went down to the waves. Its roots were sprawling down and throughout the village, where the pointy leather tents were placed around those roots. From the tents few golden veins were sprawlinig into the roots. Often only one or two and Kara wondered what was feeding it. On the tents themselves, trophies of their hunts were proudly shown, while runes of the oldest tongue were drawn in the most different colours on its leather.


    The tree was surrounded by four stones, each with but one big rune inscribed on them. Right before the tree would make the last stand against the edge that would fall down to the sea, an altar made of those stones was resting. On it, wrapped in leather was a body. It seemed like it was far more than withered but more like it had been drained dry. Instead of being bloated like a rotting body should,  it had fallen into itself. The few parts of its arms that were visible didn¡¯t even carry much of its green skin anymore for it looked more like colourless sand by now.


    While Kara¡¯s eyes wandered through the village, all eyes of the tribe rested on her group and not a single word nor whisper was spoken. A few nodded to Rika and Kazok but most had their angry eyes purely on the two darklings. While almost every Orc was adorned in animal parts like Rika and Kazok, only the youngest, younger even than Kara, were adorned in nothing but simple leather, and sometimes a few pelts against the cold. Those of her age had their eyes on her completely. They carried weapons and pelts like the adults and Kara couldn¡¯t help herself but feel jealous about them. One them, a boy with a young bear cowl, tried to stare her down. She answered by showing her teeth and for a moment it seemed like the boy was about to launch himself at her, but the woman next to hold her hand before him and shook her head. Kara grinned wickedly as they walked on to a tent where many of those veins were sprawling into the root from the inside.


    As they reached the Chieftains tent, Kara could feel her aunt''s heart drop and she soon saw why. For his tent was like his adornments, made of wyvern scales. And not the ones they could usually hunt down here in the pines but those of the riders that tried to raid the village before. It was bigger and round, almost like the tents they used in the valley, yet it seemed less sturdy, and supported by the great root it was built against. The amount of golden veins sprawling from it made it seem like there was a campfire inside, yet the fireplace was cold.


    In front of its entry orcish skulls were spiked on sticks and even though their skin was long gone, both the Darklings knew, they carried the mountains grey when they were alive.


    Rika glanced back at the two before she nudged Kazok. ¡°I need to unpack Branak, but I will follow wh~¡±


    The Chieftain turned and interrupted her ¡°Branak knows the tribe. He knows the rites and his place. He will not bite.¡± He waved his hand to which a few warriors of the clan came towards them. ¡°Aid the boy and ready the prey.¡± Their gaze, one of them Blood Beaks, turned to the darklings before the chieftain continued ¡°Not them.¡± He turned and walked into his red scaled tent ¡°Yet¡­¡±


    Rika ruffled Branaks fur and nodded first to him then Blood Beak. The great brown wolf understood. He stood there looking after Rika for a moment close to a whimper, yet he started to follow the warriors to the tree, while the Darklings and their two hosts went into the chieftains tent.


    Despite its outer exterior, inside it was full of pelts and bags. A small fireplace was placed in its centre, just below where its smoke could escape through a small hole. Yet no fire was needed. At the back end of the tent the tree''s big root made a wall. On it the many still glowing wyvern horns were rammed into it. Instead of making it burn, it seemed like the wyverns glow was set into the root¡¯s veins, leading it to the tree outside. Their golden glow granting a warm fiery glow, despite their dark meaning.


    The Chieftain sat himself down right in front of the root on a big black pelt, gesturing his guests to do the same. Slowly they surrounded the cold fireplace.


    ¡°Now then Grunt-Heart, explain why they aren¡¯t to be our bloodprice.¡±


    Kazok looked over to the two darklings then shared another small glance with Rika before he answered ¡°Just after we left for his hunt. We encountered a shore wyvern.¡± ¡°A big one.¡± Rika added.


    ¡°Ha! You would have loved it, Scale-Eye!¡±


    Kara grinned while there was no Emotion on the chieftain''s face. Kazok quickly continued ¡°As we followed it over the day, that little Goblin ran into our camp at night.¡± He pointed to Kara who looked up, her glowing eyes now widened. Kazok now used his hands to explain along with his words forming a hint of a smile on Rikas face. ¡°All in a glade, protected by the Egg. A night where its shine was full, no less.¡±


    ¡°The egg watches every hunt.¡± Chieftain Scale-Eye interrupted, ¡°I care for stories when the village is at ease, Grunt-Heart. Now I ask for reasons.¡±


    Kazok grunted and looked down at the two darklings for a moment. ¡°Their tale will be followed by many of their kind.¡± He continued, his amber eyes now back at the chieftain, their glow not unlike the veins of the tree. ¡°More like them will come, will flee the north. Be it now because of their chieftain or the cold that even our own Pines start to feel.¡±


    ¡°And you want to bring them too? What are you thinking, druid?!¡± Scale-Eyes voice had a hint of anger in it now.


    It was Rika this time who answered first ¡°Once they all come, we must decide if they are our axe or our enemies.¡± ¡°I am no axe.¡± Mara interrupted now, granting her the gaze of everyone in the tent. ¡°But I am a shaman. A healer and I~¡±


    Scale-Eye held up his hand and glared at her. ¡°You speak, when I ask, darkling.¡± His words to her aunt made Kara angry as a small growl escaped her. The Chieftains eye now rested on her before he raised a brow towards Kazok. ¡°You know how weak your words are. Druid.¡± He then pointed at the darklings ¡°You see how weak they are.¡± finally he leaned forward to him ¡°I don¡¯t see why their blood shouldn¡¯t be part of the price.¡± ¡°They aided us.¡± He returned deeply, holding the chieftains gaze as he pointed at Kara ¡°She was our aid as we killed the Wyvern.¡± His finger now wandered to point at Mara ¡°And she inscribed the holy words on its leather with me.¡±


    The Chieftains face darkened ¡°You bought them time¡­¡± he looked at the two darkling girls with pure disgust ¡°After the rite, their part is done, and the tribe has to decide.¡±


    He shook his head and glanced back at Kazok ¡°Is this really how you want to start your age as a druid?¡± ¡°I am.¡± he replied without hesitation, forming a smile on Rika, a grin on Kara and granting hope to Mara.


    ¡°Your words are weak, yet your heart stays true.¡± Chieftain Scale-Eye nodded ¡°I think this is a big mistake old friend, but it¡¯ll be the Tribes choice.¡±


    He stood up again, forcing the rest to do the same. ¡°Ready the rite, druid.¡± He simply said and walked outside. Just before they followed, Kazok stopped holding a hand at his chest and breathing heavily. Rika rushed for him ¡°What is it?¡± she asked her worry more present in her eyes than in her voice.


    ¡°The Oak¡­¡± he slowly replied ¡°I can feel it¡­¡± he slowly nodded and glanced back at her ¡°Someone is there¡­¡±. ¡°Is it him?..¡± she asked but he shook his head.


    His only answer was a glance back at the two darklings.

 Chapter 22: She who was not

    Bruna¡¯s flight to the south had been far slower than it would have been to his liking. Yet he knew that Watcher Ur¡¯Gak was right when he said ¡°If they catch us, beast, no one will save your daughter.¡±


    A wyvern could have reached the pines, even the Savannah behind it, in mere days, yet they took their time. Fast enough that they would catch up with them, even if they were running further and further down, yet careful enough to not gather the pine¡¯s eyes.


    Most of their time wasn¡¯t even spent flying, but strawling the pines while their wyverns tried to find his family''s scent. A few old pelts and clothes that had remained in their tent when the girls fled, were the only lead the wyverns had. It was not much, yet it had to be enough. Usually they split over the day, circling different parts of the pines until they met back at camp when dusk was falling. Everyday Ur¡¯Gak was back before Bruna, and every single day the beast felt the urge to punch the laziness out of him. He was the Watcher, a title he carried himself before his exile, yet here he was preparing fire and food when a daughter of the clan was missing in the pines. The land of the enemy, where there was no victory.


    The only thing that stopped Bruna the beast from Ur¡¯Gak the Watcher¡¯s throat was that he knew, even a lazy aid meant more hope to find her alive. In the few moments where his mind was clear he was even grateful that the Watcher had prepared camp and food. It meant more time for himself to search further. Yet those moments were few, for the more days had passed the more he feared for her life. It had already been so long since he went away to search for the scroll, so now that he could finally search for her the chances were slim and he knew that he would have told everybody else that there wasn¡¯t much hope. There weren¡¯t many things he was afraid of anymore, yet that thought was among them.


    The Wyvern he had gotten from Gor¡¯Mash was just as old as her usual rider. It said a lot that not only did Gor¡¯Mash manage to become this old as one of Karn¡¯Arak¡¯s best, not only did he carry his Wyvern all the way from his first ride, but also that he would just hand it away. Even if it only was for a few weeks. Most riders would see even a mention of a ride on their beast as a challenge. They would fear that their Wyvern would look at the new rider as their new master, yet the old warrior did not and it was clear why. No one, neither beast nor Orc, would ever doubt that he was the master of this old dark red beast and no one would ever dare to challenge him. He was only slightly younger than Bruna¡¯s father would be now and had trained generations of riders. Bruna¡¯Gash, Aru¡¯Gal and Ur¡¯Gak were all trained by the old Warrior and it was the biggest honour for Bruna that he was allowed to ride his Wyvern to find his daughter. The last of Ara¡¯Gash¡¯s bloodline.


    Yet none of it changed how desperate his search had become over the days. Parts of his mind already saw the terror of never finding her or even her body, but to live and die without ever knowing her fate. He would not allow that to happen. He would search the south until his end if he had to and he would find her no matter the cost. ¡°Mara¡±. He thought. She would be the cost. The small thing that was his sister, the tiny lump he had carried up the mountain with pride when she was just born, and he was merely a boy. The girl that had to become a mother for his daughter when her actual mother died by winter''s hand. And the woman that stole her from him.


    It became harder for Bruna to contain his anger, to not destroy beast or tree in his wake. Yet he knew, his mind had to be sharp. Not only for the dangers of the pines but also for whatever Ur¡¯gak was planning. The watcher was the kind of Orc that thought himself smart, when he only lacked muscle to compensate for his simple mind. ¡°If he would embrace it, he could be strong.¡± Bruna had thought, yet the watcher seemed to think differently. He was afraid, Bruna knew that, and he had a fair reason for it. They both knew he carried a title that not only was Bruna¡¯s before, but that their Khan would wish for him to carry again. One evening to Bruna¡¯s surprise he actually spoke aloud what they both were asking.


    ¡°Will you become Watcher again when we are back?¡± he poked the campfire with a stick yet glared over it to Bruna.


    ¡°You think there is room for thoughts like that right now?¡± His dark voice bellowed back loud enough that their two wyverns around the camp looked up.


    ¡°No..¡± Ur¡¯gak mumbled back and escaped the beasts gaze again ¡°But you still know the answer don¡¯t you?¡± Slowly his glare returned while a hint of a threat laid deep and hidden in his voice.


    Instead of bellowing or returning the threat, Bruna sighed and shook his head. ¡°I have given what I can to Karn¡¯Arak..¡± His voice sounded unusually soft ¡°I have to grant the rest to my family..¡±


    Ur¡¯gak seemed surprised and took a moment to gather a question ¡°Are there any more of them left?¡± A question that now surprised the beast. Most in the clan knew his family''s history, even aside from his father. Yet here, the supposed Watcher, did not.


    ¡°No¡­¡± he returned deeply ¡°Her mother died a few Winters ago..¡± his mind went to his sister for a moment before he continued a little lower ¡°There won¡¯t be anyone else left¡­¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    A moment of silence followed. The wyverns eased again and nothing but the campfires crackling remained for a while. It was broken again by Ur¡¯Gak ¡°Who was her mother?¡±


    A question that was rather hard to answer for Bruna. He struggled for words, not even sure why. ¡°She..was a girl from the last Edge..¡± he nodded a few times ¡°The fishers from the boiling Sea.¡± Another moment of silence followed, this time Broken by Bruna ¡°She never much liked the Valley. Far too cold, she said¡­¡± The hint of a smile was born on his face as he looked up at the sky were a dimming Moon shaped the night ¡°We got to know each other through my Daal¡¯Gavek..¡± the hint now became a full on smile ¡°I was foolish enough to seek the Wyverns Isle in the boiling sea, and after I was done, and had the right to become a man, she was foolish enough to be my partner.¡±


    Ur¡¯Gak blew air from his nose with a big grand smile, amused by the beast''s soft demeanour. Yet Bruna didn¡¯t notice and continued ¡°Kara then just..well..happened..¡± He had to laugh at himself before he looked back at Ur¡¯gak and hardened his face again a little. ¡°And then she died when Kara could barely walk.¡±


    ¡°To bare a child with your first love rarely works out¡± Ur¡¯gak said with a smile that made Bruna question if he was just an Idiot or if he tried to provoke him now.


    Still he growled back ¡°I know..¡±


    Either Ur¡¯gak realised his mistake, or that a fight would have meant death, but he stopped his smile and quickly asked further ¡°You think she would have been there for a lifetime?¡±


    Bruna sighed ¡°That I do not know¡­¡± he said as his eyes wandered into the flames ¡°But I would have loved to try..¡±


    After that another silence took hold and this time neither Orc disrupted it. Yet the memories of his love remained into the night and carried him to sleep. He tried to remember the good times they shared, something to ease his mind, yet Kara always dragged him back. And with her the memory of the winter that took her mother away.


    It had been the darkest of winters, yet there was never a time when Bruna was closer to his family, to those two girls that shared his Bloodline. The only orcs remaining that did.


    He remembered how he and little Kara sat in that dark tent. The body of her mother, his love, bared in front of them. Decorated with runes that were meant to burn with her as soon as they would bring her to the field of the dead. Covered in the most beautiful pelts their family still had, that were meant to warm her cold lifeless body until it would be ash. Her hands lay atop each other on her stomach, where no air remained.


    He tried to be strong as his daughter''s tears ran down. She was too young to understand that her mother would never wake up again, yet dragged into that realisation. Now she was drowning in that reality. Her tears and cries never ending, her body shaking from the shock. He laid his arm around her shoulder, trying to hold her near, trying to be the mountain she needed, yet soon his own rivers started to flow. He tried to hide it, tried to be what he thought he had to. After all he never saw his own father cry, too bloodied were his eyes when he did. But now he could not help himself. It was all weighing him down and the weight was pressing out the tears in force. The death of a woman he loved, his absence when it happened and the fact that even now he could not be there and carry his daughter''s tears. It all ran down slowly making him shake just like little Kara. He remembered the shame he felt when she looked up at him crying, yet how his heart was warmed so greatly when she kneeled up to hug him. All he could do was to embrace her and hold her close. Both their tears ran down as they did nothing more but to shake and cry in silence until the moment came when she was meant to burn.


    Mara was already a shaman apprentice by that point, and she stood watch in front of that tent. Being left alone in the cold as she struggled with her own tears. None of them were flowing down, yet she had to fight them while dusk was settling. It was tradition that a shaman was protecting the tent where the dead were laid bare. Yet Bruna wished she could be inside with them. He had carried her like a daughter more than a sister, and he knew she was left alone. A whisper was heard outside, one carried by still seeing Elder Cra¡¯Gal. Shortly after Mara stepped into the tent as slowly and carefully as her trembling bodied allowed her to. Bruna looked up as she entered and then waved an arm to join the two without a word. ¡°Thank you..¡± she whispered as she sat with the two. It took a moment where all three of them simply looked at the dead body before she had gathered the bravery to take a hand from each of them. Not much, yet Bruna was in awe how strong she had become. He answered by holding her hand while little Kara moved in to cry at her shoulder. Mara had closed her eyes and whispered the little prayer she had learned by now. She sobbed as she did, and after she felt that the ancestors allowed her, her own tears silently ran down as well.


    Later that evening, once night had fallen, they burned the woman before them at the field of the dead. They placed a small dolmen as a memory to her and watched how the wind gathered her ash to the last battle at the grey wastes, while the shamans sang her final song. It was the first song Mara had to sing as part of the shamans and Bruna knew it would remain part of her forever.


    It was after that day, when Bruna had told his sister that she had to watch for little Kara now, for his Khan still had need for him. ¡°You have to make sure she is safe, Mara.¡± He said to her, ready to fly off again. She nodded boldly and with determination in her eyes. ¡°I know..¡± she said and suddenly sounded more like a woman than a girl as the weight of her new role forced itself into her mind. Never was it harder to leave the mountain and never should it be again. Yet Aru¡¯Gal was young for a Khan, and he needed all the aid Bruna could give him. ¡°Only a few years.¡± he thought back then. ¡°Then I shall remain with you two.¡± Those years went by and the mine collapsed. Caused by his sister, so he was told, and done in disobedience to the very Khan he had given everything to. Now she had taken it all away. His pride, his honour, his name, his daughter. And she would be the one to pay for it all. Her life for a future with Kara. That was the price he was willing to pay. Here in the land of the enemy, where there was no victory.

 Chapter 23: The Trail

    When Bruna woke the next day memories and hatred lingered with him. He would not bury another member of his bloodline for his sister was none any longer, and no matter what happened, he would raise the child he had abandoned for so long.


    Over the passing day his fury grew, as once again he found nothing. Yet when he returned to camp, Ur¡¯gak had not made a fire but was waiting, ready to ride again. Bruna¡¯s eyes widened and before he spoke Ur¡¯Gak made a dark hunters grin. ¡°I found their trail¡­¡±.


    It was the same evening they flew over. The trail was fresh and strong enough to think that his girls had rested there for far more than a day.


    Once Dusk laid the pines to rest, rain started to pour down. It made it harder to find the place again, yet it crowned over the forest like distant Karn¡¯Arak did over the Ashen Plains. Even in the gloomy darkness of the coming rainy night they could see it from afar. An old gigantic oak, deep in the pines. Decorated with the remains of dead Orcs and Wyverns and roots circling it up like paths.


    Bruna jumped off the old dark red Wyvern and looked around. ¡°No one here¡­¡± Ur¡¯Gak remarked as she jumped down himself, yet still he drew his weapon. A big obsidian warhammer that carried spikes at its round top. Surprising choice for one he thought to be so weak, but the beast had no time or thoughts to waste on the watcher.


    His eyes went up the Oak and to the web of rope where skulls of Orc and Wyvern were dangling like in a spider''s nest. Red scales and leather were caught in those webs as well, a grim display of the south¡¯s past victories.


    ¡°Stay sharp, Watcher¡­¡± he returned deeply and sniffed the air like the wyverns behind him did. Unlike them the only things that were carried to his nose were the usual scents of the Forest and even those quite weak as the rain had grown stronger with the coming night. Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s dark red old wyvern behind Bruna took in the air around them and sniffed loudly. She bit the air a few times, her teeth clutching against each other and then went ahead to the Oak.


    Ur¡¯Gak¡¯s Wyvern was more passive. At first he thought because the old warriors Wyvern understood her duty better but soon that thought changed.


    He felt the wind as the old wyvern rushed by him to glance at the tree and frowned as he saw that she didn¡¯t run to any trail but to the Wyvern remains danling between its branches. As she stood underneath a pile of red scales and leather she unleashed a dark deep wailing that echoed through the rain.


    Both Orcs shared a look before they glanced back at her. Those not of the Riders often thought Wyverns were soulless monsters, chosen as mounts because they were like weapons. Strong, cold and with a heart of Iron. Yet it was moments like these that reminded the riders that the opposite was the truth. They were chosen as mounts because they could feel grief, fear and more than anything, anger.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Ur¡¯Gak asked as he now stopped next to Bruna and looked up to her with him ¡°Family or Battle Brothers?¡±


    Bruna shook his head. Her wailing was something someone like Ur¡¯Gak could only guess, but only a parent could know. ¡°A mothers wailing..¡± he returned darkly, granting him a long dark grunt from Ur¡¯gak as return.


    She started to bite and burn down the rope. The two orc¡¯s eyes widened as they feared her fire could spread further, yet it seemed under control for the moment. After the rope burned down the rain made sure that the sparks that tried to crawl further, snuffed out before they could reach for the oak.


    The remnants of orc and wyvern fell down once the rope was burned and she crawled next to them. Having the pile of scales and leather guarded between her crawled leg and body as if she was protecting an egg again. Her final wailing echoed over the pines and through the rain, making Bruna grunt in compassion before he turned his dark voice into truth ¡°Wherever they are, they have heard that..¡±


    Ur¡¯gak nodded and glanced around the tree. His answer to Bruna carried something hidden that the beast tried to avoid ¡°The trail went further. But the rain will make it hard..¡± he took a moment and looked over to Bruna ¡°This is no place a Daughter of the Mountain would just rest by her own choice...¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I know..¡± he growled back. The thought of his girls, even his sister despite anything, to be taken by Greenskins for whatever rites made his heart pump with fury as memories of the beast his father had become flashed before his eyes.


    ¡°The rain has washed away the trail..¡± He grunted slowly but angry ¡°Let us set up a trap¡­I need one of those greenskinned Bastards alive.¡±


    Ur¡¯Gak clearly did not like to hear orders from an Orc beneath him, yet he knew it would have been death to argue with a father on the hunt. ¡°We need to stop her wailing..¡± he said instead.


    Bruna shook his head ¡°No¡­let them hear it and let them come.¡±


    ¡°We still need her to fight..¡±


    ¡°She will.¡± Bruna quickly responded, feeling more kinship with the Wyvern than with Ur¡¯Gak at that moment. His eyes wandered over the tree. ¡°We¡¯ll see how many may come, but she and I will fly at their backs. Burn most of them..¡± He pointed at the big entrance down at the tree ¡°You and yours, need to catch one so we can ask him about my girls...¡±


    ¡°What if they are with them?¡± Ur¡¯Gak asked, glancing back at Bruna.


    ¡°I..¡± he stuttered now ¡°Why would they?¡±.


    ¡°Because your sister is a traitor without honour and your daughter young enough to believe her lies.¡± There was spite in Ur¡¯gak¡¯s answer but Bruna knew it could be true. His breathing had become more heavy at the prospect of them being so close, yet he tried to calm his hopes. ¡°If they are with them, we will get my Daughter. The rest does not matter¡­¡±


    ¡°Your sister does.¡± Ur¡¯Gak returned darkly but was shocked as Bruna turned and took him by his throat. Despite both the obsidian armour and weapon, they both knew the towering beast could have lifted the Watcher if he had wanted to. He was about to speak but no words came out. He instead grunted and released Ur¡¯Gak again, while the watcher''s young wyvern snapped at him, but was stopped by a hand sign from the watcher.


    After a deep breath Bruna continued ¡°Once my daughter is safe, we can think of vengeance..¡±


    Ur¡¯Gak held his free hand on his throat and coughed a few times. His warhammer had fallen next to him as he had to stop his wyvern and his eyes were staring at Bruna¡¯s back with anger. Yet he only grunted ¡°We¡¯ll save her beast¡­no matter how.¡±


    Bruna took another big breath before he grunted deeply ¡°Thank you, Watcher¡­¡±


    Without another word they went in. Ur¡¯Gak and his Wyvern down at the entry, where the big wooden hall was lit with glowing Wyvern horns. A little deeper he found a wooden cave where Wyvern meat was salted, but he could see that unlike most in the tree, it was none of theirs. The scent of the sea was carried with either salt or meat, probably both. A Shore Wyvern.


    Meanwhile Bruna went up and all so carefully approached the old wailing mother. She snapped her gigantic teeth at him, still protecting the remains of her long dead child. He held up his hands and stood back. Not approaching any further but just standing where he was for a while. Her wailing had become lower, not echoing over the Pines anymore but drowned by the harsh weather. All that was left was a whimper in the rain.


    Neither the riders nor the shamans ever truly knew how much a wyvern could truly understand. Some said they were nothing more but smart beasts, maybe as smart as a well trained Wolf, others, mostly the shamans said that unlike orcs, they were simply smart enough to not speak.


    Bruna had hoped they wouldn¡¯t understand much, so his own mount had died without knowing that it was because of the dishonour his family had brought over him. Yet despite his beliefs there was nothing else to try. Maybe a few words of compassion would be enough, but on the other hand, it was another Orcs wyvern and there was no bond between them.


    ¡°Your child?..¡± he asked and settled down  at the sprawling wooden spiral upwards. She just answered by snapping at his direction again. Without reacting he simply continued ¡°I try to save my own¡­¡±


    She looked at him without a noise while he held his glowing gaze to her big eyes that carried the same fire ¡°But I will need your aid¡­¡±


    She growled at him before she looked back at the pile of leather before her. He searched for more words, yet before he could find any she turned her head towards him. She made a few roars, none of them loud, none of them words, yet Bruna understood. He stood up again and walked towards her. Slowly approaching the grieving mother and the leathery remains of her child. Her growling became a mixture of grief and anger, yet there wasn¡¯t any warning bite or snap. Once he reached the pile, he kneeled next to her. Holding a hand on her leathery cheek and the other at the lifeless pile of red leather before her. ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh¡­¡± he said with closed eyes before he glanced at her. ¡°I can promise you vengeance, but we must save my daughter first.¡±


    Her eyes glowed in the rain and some drops that landed on her turned to steam. She grunted and held her head down. Allowing him to ride her into the coming battle.


    A night that would change the man he was.

 Chapter 24: Hunters

    Rika stared at Kazok for a moment after his words before her eyes glanced over to the two darklings. ¡°We need t~..¡± she started to whisper but stopped. His eyes went from the darklings to her yet he struggled for words himself.


    Mara¡¯s eyes widened and her breathing became faster ¡°It¡¯s him..¡±. All three pairs of eyes went to her.


    Kazok spoke first ¡°Are you sure?..¡±. She closed her eyes for a moment as a small breeze entered the red scaled tent. The torches and campfires outside flickered up for a mere second and the Wyvernhorns glow grew stronger with them as rain began to fall. Her mind was going far, blown away with the wind and through the pines to the oak. She couldn¡¯t see but listen to rain, storm and fire and she knew they all answered her the same. It was not a word, not even a whisper, but a feeling. A scent, a memory. It was years of looking up in the cold, yet years of brewing in fury. She knew it was him.


    Slowly the young shama opened her eyes again. Her breathing had become heavy but she nodded ¡°I can feel his name in the wind¡­¡±


    Scarred Kara¡¯s eyes had widened and no matter how much the adults tried to talk around the fact, she knew very well who it was they were talking about. All the goblin fever¡¯s fury was washed away as she slowly realised, there weren¡¯t many paths to victory for them here.


    Before she could bend her mind completely around it Kazok spoke it aloud ¡°As long as they don¡¯t come closer there is a chance..¡± he started, too tense to even snort ¡°But if the tribe should learn that you are already followed then I~¡±


    The tent''s entry opened again and Chieftain Scale-Eye looked inside ¡°We are waiting, druid.¡± he said before he realised the looks on everybody¡¯s faces. He raised a brow ¡°You really took a liking to them didn¡¯t you, Grunt-Heart?¡±. Kazok tried to smile, and was relieved for a moment. They could still pretend it was merely his heart and not the enemy, yet that hope was shattered as a Wyverns wailing was carried across the pines. Scale-Eye looked to the sky outside, where the rain became stronger with the second, yet he didn¡¯t seem to care. Taking his angry eye back in and to Kazok he asked with a dark angry tone ¡°Where?¡±


    The druid sighed and closed his eyes in defeat yet gave the demanded answer ¡°Tha oak..¡±


    Scale-Eye growled and went outside. Orders were barked and hunters gathered their weapons. Panic started to rise between the four orcs inside and Kazok saw that Rika was about to yell at her Chieftain outside. He held his arm before her in time and shook his head. She grunted with a hint of anger at him, but knew a druid was better suited to disagree with their chieftain. His eyes softened at her angry gaze yet he said nothing and went into the rain outside himself.


    The rain had already turned the village''s centre into mud, making Kazoks feed wet as he followed his Chieftain.


    ¡°Wait!¡± he barked, letting his voice echo over the village. To his surprise the hunters, including Blood-Beak did and gazed at him in disbelief while Scale-Eye slowly and angrily turned to him. He walked towards him quickly and took his arm. His eyes staring into the amber glow of Kazoks. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you want their riders among us too!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a foo~..¡± he stopped himself and shook his head before he started anew ¡°I might be a fool, but I won¡¯t let our hunters die for my foolish hopes of peace!¡±


    Scale-Eye continued to stare at him but waited for more of the druid''s words.


    ¡°They are here, because of the two that I brought. Don¡¯t let me watch while my mistakes take the lives of our brothers and sisters!¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Scale-Eye planted a hand on Kazoks shoulder and came in closer before he spoke. ¡°You are a fool..¡± he said with all the honesty in the world, yet there was a hint of a smile that was infectious to Kazok, letting him grunt with a grin. ¡°But I won¡¯t watch you run into a darklings axe because you are foolish enough to choose so.¡± Kazok sighed again and looked back at the tent where both Darkling girls and Rika stood. Quickly his eyes went back to Scale-Eye ¡°Let us at least come along, maybe there is a chance maybe we can~¡±


    His words were cut by another distant Wyvern wailing that was almost drowned by the rain.


    Scale-Eye turned to the wailings direction before he gazed back at Kazok and spoke again ¡°It¡¯s your home druid. Who am I to say you can¡¯t defend it?.¡±


    Kazok snorted and signalled the darklings and Rika to come along. ¡°But Blood-Beak and his group will come with you..¡±


    Kazok turned back to Scale-Eye, about to protest further but the Chieftain continued ¡°Who are we to not allow them to defend their home as well, right?¡±


    There was nothing more to say and Kazok nodded. He looked up to Blood-Beak and knew they were ready to move as they mounted their wolves. Three hunters, enough for one wyvern, but this wasn¡¯t about a hunt. It was about reaching the enemy first, and avoiding any bloodshed. Be it for the two darkling girls who missed the man they were hunting, or for his own clan to not shred any hopes of a distant peace. That was Rakkan¡¯s wish during his final year. A wish that was shared by his daughter and Kazok would do anything to make it happen.


    He walked back through the mud to his own approaching group while he felt the Tribes eyes on him. They all knew how much this night could change. Yet their gaze was cut short as Scale-Eye started to bark orders and they all went to gather their weapons to defend the village.


    ¡°What are we doing?¡± Rika asked as soon as they stood together in the rain. ¡°What can we even do?¡± Kazok replied desperately.


    Mara shook her head before she said with determination in her voice ¡°I need to face him..maybe there is a heart remaining ins~¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight him¡­¡± scared Kara whispered, her eyes wet. She looked down, trying to hide her tears in the rain.


    Mara kneeled down next to her, making her pelt robe dirty in the mud and even heavier in the rain. ¡°Neither do I¡­¡± she said and tried to smile at her niece.


    ¡°What if he just takes me back?..¡± Kara asked as she looked up, first to her aunt then the other two. ¡°I know you all want to prevent a fight¡­and want to avoid Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s war¡­¡± she shrugged her shoulders ¡°And I know that won¡¯t happen if anyone dies..¡± The adults around her knew that there was no way to avoid the Khan and his war, yet she was right in her own way. If there was to be any hope of more darklings fleeing from Aru¡¯Gal to the pines, this night had to end without a fight.


    Mara struggled and looked down like her niece, and for the same reason. She could not speak, neither did either of the two greenskins, no matter how dire they were on time. ¡°Let me at least speak to him¡­¡± Kara continued. Her aunt tried to gather words why she shouldn¡¯t but was defeated as Kara added a pleading ¡°Please¡­¡±


    Meanwhile Kazok saw Blood-Beak and his two hunters start to ride into the pines. ¡°We need to move, or someone will make a choice for us¡­¡± he grunted and the two darklings nodded. Rika gazed at the leaving hunters as well and made a sharp whistling sound, calling the fifth member of their party. Big Wolf Branak rushed down to her and after she ruffled his hair she mounted him.


    While she spoke to Kazok, there were no emotions in her voice, a fact that made Kazoks heart drop. ¡°Can you carry her?¡± she pointed to Mara ¡°Branak already had the little one on his back, that might be easier in a fight..¡±


    Mara raised a brow while Kazok just nodded. He hated what he had to do, but they were short on time. No more words were spoken and Rika got Kara on Branaks back before her while Kazok and Mara rushed for the gate. He seemed unnaturally fast and as they were almost there he threw his axe over to Rika. She caught it while he started to run on all fours. A few snorting sounds were heard as the hair on his skin grew a little more. Snortings that sounded more like pain than anything else. He shifted, shivered and turned as his muscles, hair and tusks grew. Finally he roared in a weird mixture of grunt and voice before he turned to face Mara. Still an orc, still green, yet far closer to the beasts they knew as attackers of the valley.


    She stood there in shock for a moment, memories of such beasts attacking the valley, flooding her mind. But there was no time for doubts, and she jumped on his back. He grunted loudly and angrily, before they rushed into the pines.

 Chapter 25: Heirs of Hatred

    Too much went on in Mara¡¯s mind as she sat on Grunt-Heart¡¯s back. They rushed through the pines while the rain poured down harder and harder. The shaman in her tried to see it as an omen, a sign that the sky was watching, but the girl, the aunt, the sister only feared the battle ahead. No matter how much she tried, she couldn¡¯t see a good way for this to end. She couldn¡¯t see her brother die, no matter how loyal he was to the Khan she despised so much. She couldn¡¯t see Kazok and Rika die, for even though it was only a week, she knew they were good people and their best hope of preventing a war that could end all clans. And more than anything she couldn¡¯t bear anything that would happen to Kara, yet no matter what would happen that night, she knew the little darkling would carry it with her. Maybe this would be the night that would end her short life as a goblin, and make her a bitter adult, maybe she would see either her aunt or her father die, or maybe she~ Mara couldn¡¯t bare to end that thought and she told herself that it was the least possible, for no matter how different Bruna¡¯s and her opinion were about the Khan and his war, they both feared for Kara, and they both wanted to be there for her. Maybe it actually was arrogance that she had taken her along, maybe she could have trusted Seer Cra¡¯Gal to watch over her, to protect her from Aru¡¯gal, but maybes wouldn¡¯t decide the end of this night. Action, would.


    Here in the land of the enemy, where there was no victory.


    Kazok grunted angrily and with a wild amber glow in his eyes. Both his voice and his grunt sounded far more like an actual boar than an orc now ¡°I¡¯ll bring you close..¡± Another snort cut him off and it seemed like he really struggled to speak ¡°Rika..and me¡­the..hunters..¡±. That was all he could say before he screeched and ran faster. He seemed in pain, as if his entire body struggled to maintain a hint of the orc that even after just a week, Mara knew. The Grunt-Heart.


    Rika and Kara were riding only a few steps before them now while Blood-Beak and his hunters couldn¡¯t be far either. A cold side inside Mara thought what it would even matter if the hunters fought her brother. He would kill them, she knew that. Every Frostsong knew that. Their father might have been called the mountain, but Bruna was the beast. A name he had carried longer than his own and a name Mara hated. For she knew he was more, could be more, but instead decided to lean into the beast. To be nothing more than a big barking hound for Aru¡¯Gal. Ready to kill on his master''s command.


    A thought that was cut short by fire not far from them, right before the Oak. The hunters'' voices arose in the pines but were drowned by the echoing roar of a young wyvern and her rider. Her eyes widened not merely at the prospect of a battle starting without them, of them failing to avoid it, but because she knew it wasn¡¯t him. Even though she only saw silhouettes before the fire, she could see that the rider there was far more careful than her brother would ever be. Even with the prospect of his daughter around.


    Kazok stopped and threw her off, far more harshly than he had meant to as she landed in the mud. Slowly and with pain he stood up to be on two legs again. Far taller than usual and with bestial anger in his eyes. ¡°Axe!¡± he grunted at Rika, who had stopped Branak just after the flames before them appeared. She threw it back over to him and he caught it with but one hand, despite its size.


    He turned to see Mara and was about to aid her up when Rika looked back at the two ¡°Wyvern!!¡± she yelled just before an old big wyvern with dark red scales landed right behind them. Everyone of their group turned to face it, ready for the old winged beast, yet Mara looked up further and saw eyes she feared far more than the Wyverns. Full of anger and fury, full of desperation yet ready to kill. It had been so long since she and her brother had seen each other, and neither of them wanted to meet in battle. They stared into each others eyes in an eternity that was a second before Kara¡¯s voice echoed through the rain ¡°Don¡¯t hurt her!¡± She screamed and rushed from Branaks back and towards the Wyvern. Mara turned and tried to stop her. She caught her hand and held her close. ¡°We will talk to him¡­¡± Mara whispered but couldn¡¯t do anything more before Bruna¡¯s Wyvern rushed through the pines and just next to them. Kazok was screaming with bestial vigor and about to swing his axe at the wyvern, yet had to jump to the side as she breathed fire in his direction. Now surrounded by fire, the mountain¡¯s family was together again. Both of his girls were staring up to him in fear before the old wyvern let out another roaring battle cry.


    ¡°We are going home, little one!¡± Bruna screamed and leaned down to take her other hand. Yet Mara held her close, while scarred little Kara was unable to move. Her body was in shock of the flames around them, her mind in shambles for she didn¡¯t know who to follow. Both were like parents to her and both were the only orcs she truly loved. The last family they all had.


    As Bruna saw his daughter unsure his anger at Mara grew. She had cursed her mind to be like this, she was the one who brought her down here into danger and she was the reason their family had been exiled. ¡°YOU won¡¯t bring her any more scars!!¡± he screamed before his Wyvern used one of its feet to kick her away from Kara and close to the flames. She landed with her face in the mud of the forest while her back felt the heat of the flames, as rain still poured down on her. But neither fire nor rain were of the young shamans'' concern as she heard her niece cry. First in fear and shock, but after Mara moved her head up, only in sadness. Mud was carried by the metal chains that adorned Mara¡¯s face and some even ran down one of her tusks. Slowly her gaze went up further and to Bruna ¡°Do you really think he will just let her live in peace?..¡± she muttered while Kazok and Rika could be heard on the other side of the flames. ¡°He is a monster¡­you just don¡¯t know how much his plan will cost us..¡±


    ¡°He is my brother!¡± His words hurted her more than his axe ever could. ¡°You brought her down here to the monsters and after she is saved you will pay!¡± ¡°no..¡± Kara pleaded her arms around her father looking up. For a second his eyes softened as he saw his daughter''s tears. He didn¡¯t say anything more and just set his Wyvern off to the sky again. ¡°No..¡± mara now pleaded, to no one but the rain and the fire. She still looked after the Shadow that was the Wyvern as it was shot with an Arrow from the fight below the oak. Finally she stood up, her knees and pelt full of mud and her eyes full of shock. A spear now hit the Wyvern just below her Wing and she had to stop and claw at the side of the oak.


    Before Mara could even attempt another thought Rika¡¯s voice echoed behind her ¡°It will fall!¡±. She had ridden Branak around the fire to now get her on his back. ¡°Kara is there!¡± Mara replied as she hopped on the wolves back behind Rika. The huntress grunted and looked around the silhouetted battlefield before them.


    Hunters were jumping around, trying their best to avoid Ur¡¯Gak and his young wyvern. One of them breathing fire, the other swinging his mighty warhammer down at them.  It was hard to find a safe way through it, but there was no time and so she roared, making Branak run and jump through the flames and the battle until they were just before the Oak. On their way she readied a tomahawk with a rope on it. Once they reached the oak the threw it up, where it connected with a big branch. She stood up and started to climb. Behind her Mara looked up again where yet another spear reached the Wyvern, it was close to falling and she could hear Kara cry in the distance.


    While the huntress and the shaman started to climb the Oak Kazok was occupied in aiding the hunters in their battle. They may had tried to end the night without bloodshed, but now that it has started, it was his duty as both druid and keeper of the oak, to see that none of their tribesmen would die here, in their land, where no darkling should ever find victory.


    The rope was drenching from the rain, yet behind the two orcs climbing the tree the fire of battle heated their back. Their muscles burned as much as the fire while they tried to reach the Wyvern and save Kara.


    Up at the tree the old Wyvern seemed to struggle more and more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry..¡± Bruna said to her and jumped off with his daughter in his arms. They landed at the oaks crown. It was a big and round place from where the last four big branches reached upwards. Yet it was almost even and big enough that someone could build their home on it. Down in front of them the fire of battle light up the rainy night and Bruna kneeled down to gaze at the Wyverns eyes again. ¡°Take your vengeance¡­¡± he said making Kara glance up in fear. She didn¡¯t speak a word before he pressed his fist against his chest ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh¡± he said before the Wyvern roared and turned to glide down into battle.


    ¡°No!¡± Kara screamed after ¡°Don¡¯t kill them!¡± Bruna¡¯s heart stung at his daughter''s plea. He could do nothing more than take her into his arms ¡°I am sorry little one¡­¡± he started and despite everything, despite the fear and worry she had for her aunt and their greenskinned allies, she answered his embrace with her own. Only until he spoke further and much darker ¡°But your aunt has chosen her fate¡­¡± she stepped out of their embrace and stared into his eyes. It was a mixture of pleading and anger.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you¡­¡± she stated. There was a fury in her voice that would have made every orcish father proud.


    Bruna had to gather his words until he spoke with a calm voice. His hands on her shoulders his eyes locked with hers ¡°One day¡­¡± he started before both Wyverns down at the tree roared in unison. Kara was about to look down but he carefully brought her face and eyes back to his. ¡°One day, you will fight me over it. You will take your anger, your fury, your hatred and turn it into vengeance. And trust me when I say..¡± he teared up a little himself ¡°Once that day comes, I will be the proudest orc to ever lose a fight..¡±.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to fight you..¡± her words were accompanied by Wyvern fire that crawled up to the sky once more. She wanted to say more but choked on her own words. Slowly she closed her eyes and shook her head before not a crying girl but a woman in tears looked back at him. ¡°But I will beat you¡­¡± She pushed him away. Something her strength couldn¡¯t do but her words already did.


    A mixture of deep sadness and pride was conquering Bruna¡¯s heart yet before he could do anything more his name was shouted from across the tree. ¡°Bruna!¡±


    Both the beast and his scarred daughter turned to see both Mara and Rika stand at the edge of the tree''s crown. Both ready for a fight, both here to take Kara back.


    Bruna slowly stood up facing his sister with anger. Kara looked up to him, was about to plea further, but said nothing. She knew it wouldn¡¯t be of help, instead of words, she needed an axe.


    While the two heirs of the mountain gaze at each other in fury, Rika looked down on him to see two bonestone tomahawks she knew very well. Her breathing became heavier for she knew what it meant. What a fun game it was, destiny played sometimes.


    ¡°I will distract him, you take your niece.¡± She almost whispered cold and calmly.


    Mara still gazed into the fiery eyes of her brother. Years of love and fury lay on both their eyes. It was a gaze only siblings could share, yet one that could only end in bloodshed. Once Rika¡¯s words reached her mind she took herself from his brothers eyes and looked over to the wolf huntress. ¡°He will kill you.¡± she said as not a warning but a fact.


    ¡°Let him try.¡± Her answer sounded almost more like it was to herself than to her shaman ally.


    Mara came over to her and held her arm, their eyes now locked. ¡°I mean it, wolf. You are strong, but he is feared even among the riders.¡±


    For a moment Rika gazed to Bruna looking him up and down. He only waited, maybe because of his daughter, maybe because he readied for the fight like she did. But none of it mattered as she saw the cowards tomahawks hanging from the darklings belt again. She looked back at Mara. ¡°This is my home, Shaman. And I will protect it.¡± she locked her arm with Mara¡¯s ¡°You protect what is left of yours.¡±


    Mara felt her heart pound a different rhythm as the woman who was a stranger just a week ago offered what might as well be a sacrifice. ¡°Thank you.¡± was the only answer she could offer.


    Rika simply nodded but couldn¡¯t help but form the slightest hint of a smile before she freed herself from Mara¡¯s hand and drew her sword from her back.


    On the other side of the crown Bruna stood ready, his gaze on the two orcs sharing a last moment. Once Rika drew her sword he readied his obsidian axe. ¡°After tonight we will go home.¡± He told his daughter behind him while the greenskin and his sister started to slowly approach. ¡°And all will be right again.¡±


    It would not.


    For Kara there was nothing to say anymore.


    ¡°This is my home, Darkling!¡± Rika roared over rain and night. ¡°Leav~¡±


    ¡°And this is my daughter!¡± He roared back before she could continue. His eyes went over to Mara ¡°Is there anything you have to say?! Anything that could excuse what you have done?!¡± ¡°What excuse would even sate you?!¡± she yelled back, her emotions guiding her voice while fire sprawled back up from the battle below.


    ¡°Oh you are right about that, sister!¡± His anger guided his own voice while scarred Kara remained silent in her fury. Her father roared on ¡°You brought dishonour over our family, you disobeyed your Khan!¡±


    ¡°You have become nothing but a slave to him!!¡±


    ¡°You have taken my daughter!¡±


    There was nothing she could reply. Too many doubts had plagued her over that since they left the clan. Maybe it would have been better to leave her at the mountain, but then again, who would have protected her?


    Rika shook her head ¡°You tried to talk.¡± She moved her head making her neck crack while taking both her hands on her sword ¡°Now make her safe.¡±


    After that she roared at him like the wolf she was and rushed towards him. Wanting the battle further away from Kara he rushed for her as soon as he realised. Her sword of hard bone, made from Wyverns above the pines, met his gigantic Obsidian axe. Once wielded by Ara¡¯Gash the mountain, made from stone that was melted by the Dragon itself. The daughter of Rakkan the Crown and the son of great Khan Ara¡¯Gash the mountain began their fight. And so north and south, greenskin and darkling clashed in the crown of the oldest oak.


    As he clenched his teeth his gaze moved over to the crown''s edge where his two girls were running, fleeing. From him, from their home, from their Khan. But before he could react Rika brought in more swings of her sword. One after the other until he had to make sure that she didn¡¯t push him back further and to the crown''s edge. She was fast. ¡°You stand between me, and my family, greenskin!¡±


    She looked down at the tomahawks on his belt, he once gathered from a coward. ¡°Where did you get those?!¡±


    For a moment after their first clash they simply circled each other. He was about to rush after his girls, but after her first flurry of swings he knew he had to treat this fight with respect, or he wouldn¡¯t come home at all.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    He took one of the tomahawks out and threw it at her. She blocked it with a swing of her sword and was about to rush him but had to look at it a moment longer. There was no doubt, it was her brothers. She sighed and gazed back at Bruna with eyes full of fury ¡°I¡¯ll finish his battle..¡± ¡°He was a coward.¡± Bruna replied and readied his axe as he saw the fury in her eyes become more and more visible ¡°Until the very end when he finally faced me.¡± He took the other tomahawk out and looked over it for a second before he gazed back at her ¡°Once he did, he died.¡± He then threw the tomahawk with all his might at her and followed after it ¡°So at least your death will be swifter than his!¡± He swung his axe just after she blocked the Tomahawk. Now that she was in the defence she could feel the force that came with every single of his swings. She was far from weak yet it almost felt like her arms would break whenever she swung to block another of his swings.


    While north and south clashed at the crown, Mara and Kara found their way down the Oak. They heard Rika scream above them and Kara stopped. Mara sighed and tried to grab her arm to bring her further down the sprawling roots. ¡°I won¡¯t let her die for me.¡± She said with something in her burning eyes that Mara hadn¡¯t seen there before. ¡°I won¡¯t let him win.¡±


    Mara was about to kneel down and give her speech as her aunt, yet she saw on her scarred face that was not what she was looking for.


    ¡°This is not just about you.¡± the shaman inside her answered, ¡°It is about a warrior attacking another''s home.¡±


    ¡°Because of me!¡± Kara replied with anger. She needed to gather her words but realised they wouldn¡¯t be better ¡°We can¡¯t let her die for us.¡±


    Mara sighed. She knew her niece was right yet before she could answer Wyvern fire and a hunters scream cut them short. ¡°Find a place to hide and~¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    A moment with her father and she was already just as stubborn as him. Mara thought but tried to remain calm. No matter what she did, she knew Kara wouldn¡¯t just hide in safety. ¡°Then run back through the pines and to the tribe. Tell them there are two Wyverns and not just one. Tell them their hunt needs more arrows.¡± She was afraid of her own words. Either they would bring them further together with the tribe or she just brought her niece into the biggest danger yet. ¡°Can you do that?¡±


    Kara seemed to think for quite a few seconds until another scream echoed from the fire at the bottom of the oak. She nodded. ¡°Stay alive¡­¡± even though there was a hint of tears in her voice, she spoke truly. ¡°and please make sure that he does too..¡±


    ¡°I will do my best..¡± Mara said with more honesty than she wanted.


    After that she embraced her niece in a hug for one last time and watched her storm of the roots while she took her way back up again.


    Up at the crown Rika was forced backwards more and more. Her eyes, even though not glowing, were burning with fury. ¡°You took my brother!¡± she screamed ¡°Yet here I am caring for your sister!¡±


    Words that made Bruna stop his swings for but a second, enough for Rika to start another flurry of her own swings, but by now Bruna knew her tactic and even though he was forced backwards, he soon found an opening. His answer was the same big flurry of big swings that would weaken her arms if she blocked or would give her a position closer to the crowns edge.


    As her arms started to hurt like fire she had to dodge instead of block and forced close to the edge. Right next to a big branch. Her breathing was heavy and her heart pounding as he slowly approached her. She shook her head and screamed her fury away. Followed by an attempt of a final swing.


    He blocked it by kicking her sword with his obsidian boot. After that it was stuck into the big branch. While she tried to get it out he brought his axe down at her arms. She was able to get one away in time yet the other fell down to the ground together with her sword. A silent gasp escaped her and she stumbled backwards while holding the stump where her right arm had been just a moment ago. A few warm drops of her blood sprinkled Bruna¡¯s face, a nice change to the cold rain. Yet the rain quickly washed it away. Her eyes became softer, disappointed more than anything, yet they filled up with fury as she looked back at him. Ready for her warrior''s death.


    ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh.¡± He said with respect and raised his axe.


    As he swung it down the wind suddenly became a storm and just in time he had to turn and block one of his sister''s rune axes. She rushed after it like he would have to deliver another swing and finally their weapons clashed. Their fathers Axe, a rider''s axe, and a shamans iron tomahawks. Inscribed with runes of both the north and the south wind. Fury and protection but now clashed in nothing but hatred. Deep in the same south where their father had lost, the children of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain stood atop the ancient oak clashing with wind and storm. Her small axe was clashing with his yet the wind was at the shamans aid and pushed him back further.


    ¡°Where is she?!¡± He screamed and delivered a blow of his own. But she knew he would not try to hurt her until he knew Kara¡¯s whereabouts.


    ¡°Save!¡± she screamed back through the rain as their fiery eyes were locked through night and storm. ¡°From you! From Aru¡¯Gal! From his war! From everything your Khan wants to throw at the world!¡±


    ¡°I want to protect her!¡± The fury in his voice grew with every drop of rain and every word from her mouth.


    ¡°You never did!!¡± she screamed back and rushed in to attack with all the frustration and anger that had been growing for years. On her way to him she got her other axe back, almost like the wind had thrown it back to her hand and with the sound of distant thunder their weapons clashed once more.


    Her words cut deeper than her axes ever could. Making him feel all the guilt of years come by that he wasn¡¯t there with the two. All the years he sought glory instead of prospering with his family. He was in the defence as she swung both her axes with tears while sparks of fire came from every clash of their axe¡¯s.


    Every swing she delivered carried the fury of the storm and the deep anger of fire and earth while her eyes gave birth to rivers of tears, of all that was unleashed between them. All the years she had lost while protecting his daughter, all the time she tried to be there for both of them and more than anything the brother she would lose if she would win. The brother she still loved and wished would just go back to the mountain. The brother she had looked up to, the brother that was meant to be their fathers heir, yet here he was a slave to his Khan. And she wouldn¡¯t allow him to take victory for that coward. Here in the land of the enemy where no darkling should ever find it.


    ¡°What was I meant to do sister?!¡± He asked as they stopped again for a small moment. Circling each other, gazing for an opportunity to attack while hoping they wouldn¡¯t have to.


    ¡°To stay with us!¡± she yelled back while thunder was heard above the pines yet again ¡°To stay with your daughter, to stay with your family!¡±


    ¡°Our family always did it like this!¡± he roared, while Wyvern fire lit up the night once more ¡°Do not dare to forget who had to raise you! It was not our father, nor your mother! It was me!¡± And back then he loved her with all his heart. ¡°You say I didn¡¯t protect her, sister?! What do you think I did when I was down here?! Slaughtering the same Greenskins you now brought her to?!¡± He pointed at Rika while he said it, making Mara realise her missing arm and the amount of blood that was leaving her stump.


    There were a lot of words she wanted to throw back at him, but again the shaman inside her took hold over the young woman ¡°She needs healing..¡±


    ¡°Healing?!¡± his anger somehow grew ¡°She is a greenskin, Mara! A greenskin!¡± With that he finally realised that she really was the traitor Aru¡¯gal made her out to be. There was no going back for her, not to the Frostsong, nor to any other clan of the north. While he remembered the little girl she once had been, Mara gathered her words. Yet before any more could be spoken he roared all his gone love and born hatred into the sky to rush her yet again.


    She wasn¡¯t nearly as strong as Rika yet the elements were at her side. To fight a shaman was always dangerous, even a young one like her.


    As she realised her brother''s intent to kill her, her emotions took over the shaman inside her as well. The fire inside her eyes turned to lightning and the runes on her axes started to glow like embers. She answered his roar with one of her own. Sparks of fire were escaping her mouth as she did and once again their weapons clashed. Only that now fire answered her left axe. Sparks of fire that tried to find a way over their clashing axes and to his hands and eyes. He was pushed back as she screamed once more. Thunder answered her cry and she threw her right axe with the speed and might of lightning. It was only barely he could dodge. Where her axe landed lightning ignited the branch, bringing the fire of true battle up to the crown.


    ¡°Soon, she will beat him.¡± Rika told herself as her eyes became heavy. The fact that Mara was up here must have meant that the little one was safe. ¡°Good.¡± She thought. A brave little girl was a good reason to die.


    Her body became cold and the rain did its best to worsen it, despite the crawling fire next to her. Maybe she could rest her eyes. And be it only for a second¡­


    Down at the roots, scarred Kara arrived close to the battle. Just as she did, a hunter had his tomahawks inside a Wyverns neck, yet was slammed against the oak. Even though a Wyvern would be on a Darklings side, Kara hid herself until the Wyvern flew off to the rest again. Slowly she looked over and saw the green skinned hunter laying there in pain. He was adorned in the remains of a bear and had a big bone axe laying next to him, yet it looked like he could move no more. She gathered her bravery and rushed to him. He looked up at her with disgust while blood left his mouth. ¡°Where is Kazok?¡± she asked and only got a groan and more blood as an answer. She was too young to ever actually be part of a battle other than the Shore Wyvern, yet she had seen enough wounds of those that did. Something inside him was broken, and he wouldn¡¯t return to battle or hunt anymore. With a look of pity she left him again and rushed further into the flames.


    ¡°Kazok!¡± she screamed. It was the first time she called him by his name. Inside the flames she saw the silhouette of one Wyvern and its rider breathing fire. They were getting circled by hunters before the other and older Wyvern crashed down to aid her allies.


    One of the silhouettes was the big bestial form of Kazok whos swung his axe at the old Wyvern just as he heard his name over the flames. He dodged her tail and ran off to where he thought he heard it. She went further into the fire and closer to the battle until he could see her. Realising she was here made his eyes return to being more of an orc than a boar again. On his way to her at the edge of the Oak he turned back his form entirely. It was painful, but the rush of battle made it easier.


    His breathing was heavy and he snorted a few times as he arrived at her. She didn¡¯t wait until his mind would turn back to an orc before she spoke ¡°I am getting more hunters at your tribe. But I don¡¯t know the way alone!¡± The fire and battle behind them drew close enough that they could feel the heat and he shoved her further away at the Oak before he answered. ¡°If we leave the Wyverns now they will follow us to the tribe, take Branak he~¡± his words were cut short as lightning struck the Oaks crown with the voice of thunder. Both of them looked up in fear of their families up there. ¡°Is Rika still there?¡± He asked and stared back at her.


    She nodded ¡°I think so..¡± another lightning struck followed by the next and the next, all answered by loud echoing thunder. Even the Wyverns and the hunters glanced up for a short moment before they continued their fight while the thunder became their battle drum.


    He snorted and without another word rushed off and up the oak. He had a feeling that something was wrong, but whatever happened he would not lose Rika. It was a promise he had to keep, and a friend he needed to stay.


    Kara was left down and instead tried to look for great wolf Branak. She tried to see the silhouettes of wolves among the fight in the fire. But there were many, and the heat made it hard to look at, even for a darkling. While lightning continued to strike up at the oak, she only imagined what was going on. How both could still live, or if either her aunt or her father would die up there. One killed by the other. Tears tried to force themselves out again, but she shook her head. She had a quest and she would do it. So she went into the flames to look for the great wolf, somewhere on the battlefield.


    Up at the Oak Mara¡¯s mind was conquered by fury. Her burning eyes had turned to lightning and every other hit of her axes was followed by a strike from the skies. If only one of them would hit, her brother would be dead. If it would strike even close, the rain would have done the rest and kill all of them up there. But she couldn¡¯t help herself. All the emotions that had flooded her over the night came to be in the form of the skies fury that struck around them and a few times her axe when she raised them for hit.


    Her brother was on the defence, but he couldn¡¯t allow himself to lose here either. His daughter was here somewhere. And he wouldn¡¯t allow anyone to take her from him. Not any greenskin, not the pines and certainly not his sister. The obsidian of his axe was able to stand against her lightning, yet it still meant that he had to block more than he could attack.


    She screamed and raised both of her axes, after both were struck by lightning she brought them down at him and their fathers axe. Both clenched their teeth and stared over their axes and lightning at each other''s eyes. Where there had been a hint of love before, hidden behind the fury, now it was all conquered. Washed away in the rain like all the blood and tears they had spilled this night. Burned by all the fire that was spitted below and destroyed like every memory they were still holding dear when the night had started. The only thing that remained as they both fought for the rest of their fathers family, for his living legacy and for the last heir to all he left, was ever burning hatred.


    ¡°The mountain will sing to your grave, brother!¡± she screamed as the force of her fury was cursing with the lightning through her axes.


    ¡°It shall forever curse yours, sister!¡± he roared back as his obsidian axe held strong against the elemental fury unleashed at him.


    Neither of them saw how Kazok had reached the crown and rushed to Rika. He was filled with worry instead of fury and without hesitation or care for the fight happening behind him, he took a piece of cloth to tighten the stump where her arm had been. It stopped the bleeding but the dark puddle below her showed how much she had already lost. He held two small fingers at her throat and tried to feel her pulse despite the battle behind him. It was hard to tell, for there wasn¡¯t much to feel.


    Lightning struck around them once more, setting the crown on fire. A hint of fury for the shaman glowed inside the druid''s amber eyes, but Rika was more important than an old tree. He shouldered her and started to rush back down while the heirs of Ara¡¯Gash continued their fight.


    Bruna was close to the edge and quite far up one of the branches that already burned behind them. He roared and attempted to kick at least one of her axes away while he swung his axe at the other. It created an opening that he tried to follow up by a swing when the branch started to crack and fall. Both of them tried to jump back at the crown yet both of them tried to stop the other from doing so. They both fell down. With only a second to think he rammed his axe in the oaks side as they fell, holding him in place just a moment longer. It was quite far down, yet a fall would still at the very least break some bones, if not cost an orcs life.


    His arms hurt from the fight, and now from his own weight. Hanging on his axe he looked over to his sister who instead had landed on a branch a little further up. She climbed on it and stared at him. While a hint of regret laid bare in her furious eyes, a hint of pride was hidden behind his own. She raised one of her iron axes one last time. It was struck by lightning while she screamed, guided by hatred and threw it at him.


    ¡°She has beaten me.¡± he thought. Yet still tried his best and took his axe out of the oak just in time, to fall and swing at the approaching lightning infused axe. It crashed down long before he did. A familiar voice gasped out in her last ever pain, before the fall made him unconscious for but a moment.


    Fire and tears awoke him just a moment later. Slowly he stood up. For a moment he was ready to face his warriors death, but then he was reminded why he was here.


    His daughter laid before his sister. She wasn¡¯t moving. ¡°Get away from h~¡± he started to scream until he saw the axe inside Kara¡¯s shoulder. Half of her body was burned crisp. From the axes wound down to her feed. Her eyes were open, yet unmoving. Her scarred face frozen in a final empty shock. The fire in her eyes was extinguished. Her life had ended.


    He couldn¡¯t move, for his mind became numb. His eyes saw the body before him, yet he couldn¡¯t allow himself to trust them. Too many emotions arose in him, none of them he understood and none of them mattered. His daughter was dead.


    Mara kneeled beside her in rivers of cries and tears. The fire around them still roared as hunters and wyverns still fought. Neither was enough to take Bruna¡¯s attention away from the lifeless body that had always looked so similar to her mother. Far more than to him.


    Slowly he stumbled forward to the two. Something in his legs was broken, but he couldn¡¯t feel any pain. A hunter approached him with a raised axe. Bruna would have greeted death at this moment, yet his body moved in nothing but a numb reflex and simply snapped the hunters neck. No attempt on his life, no fire, no battle, no Khan and no war, could force his eyes away from his daughter. He fell down next to her. He wanted to hold her hand, to bring her home, to hear her speak, to hear her cry, to see her laugh. But he could not. None of that she would ever do again. There would never be a fight between them, she would never become a warrior of the mountain and never would she beat him. He was too numb to feel his tears. Too distant to hear Ur¡¯Gak call his name, and to hear the greenskins call for his sister.


    There was nothing.


    He was empty.


    And she was dead.

 Chapter 26: Fog and smoke

    Rika opened her eyes with a pounding head. Breathing was hard, and everything around her circled. Slowly she realised that the rain had stopped and the sun was going up again. A morning dew danced with the smoke and flames of her home. She saw a woman with ashen skin and adorned with silver chains, before it. Even though her back was turned to her, Rika knew that she cried.


    Before she could see anything more a hand carefully moved her head forward and gave her water from a wooden bowl. She just realised that she was laying sideways and even though she didn¡¯t see the orc who gave her water, she knew, maybe just hoped, it was Kazok.


    She tried to sit up when his voice reached her ¡°Easy easy..¡± It was good to hear him. ¡°You lost a lot of blood. Your head might still spin..¡±


    ¡°Nothing water can¡¯t handle..¡± she said and moved to sit anyway. As she almost fell he aided her to lean against a tree behind her. Now she saw him and knew something bad had happened. As he saw that she studied his face he turned away to get more water. She moved her arm and wanted to bring his face back to her eyes when she realised it was missing. ¡°Oh..¡± she said. Not truly comprehending it now. He came back with more water he got from a puddle nearby. It was one of the few without blood.


    She drank again before she used her other arm to lock his face with hers. ¡°Where is the girl?¡± He sighed and closed his eyes. It took a moment too long until she tried to move him back again ¡°Kazok, please. Tell me.¡±


    He opened his eyes again but wasn¡¯t able to look into hers as he spoke ¡°The darklings took her body with them..¡± he nodded a few times. ¡°It''s better this way¡­she can be burned by their traditions..¡±


    He moved next to her to get the leather from the stump that had been her arm. Beneath it, leaves that had turned red were pressed against it. Once she saw the red on them, it did reach her mind and started to hurt. He looked at her and waited a moment before she breathed a few times. Finally nodding at him that she was ready for the pain. He removed the leaves and gave her arm fresh ones. It burned once it pressed at her wound. She didn¡¯t even know what kind of leave it was, but it was enough that he did.


    He was about to sit next to her when she looked back at the crying darkling. ¡°She needs someone.¡±


    ¡°So do you.¡± he stated like a simple fact.


    She shook her head ¡°It¡¯s just..¡± she looked down at the stump and further down where his hand touched the ground. She never wanted to hold it more than now. ¡°It¡¯s just an arm..¡± she still said. ¡°Help her.¡± With her last plea she looked into his eyes. Despite all the unspoken things they could read in each other, he just nodded and slowly walked towards the distant darkling.


    She couldn¡¯t hear what they said, only see that he carefully wrapped an arm around her and she fell into him with all the cries she was left with. It stung at Rika¡¯s heart, far more than she wanted to admit to herself. Yet who was she to take his aid, when she only lost an arm? Her way to hold a weapon, her way to hunt, her way to protect her home, her hope to hold his hand.


    Still she lived and so did Kazok. While the girl, Kara, was dead. Her body gone to the north to be burned in her ancestors tradition. Too young for that. Rika sighed and looked down her stump again. While the thought of losing it slowly conquered her mind she looked over the oak. Now she finally realised how much of it had burned. Over generations the druids watched it grow, and now it was almost burned away. At least much of its crown and parts of the spiralling roots upwards. Maybe they could save it. But she wasn¡¯t sure.


    She wasn¡¯t a woman of tears and she didn¡¯t want Kazok to worry for her. Still she felt how her eyes swelled up.


    This was not how things should have gone. When they left to hunt for the Shore Wyvern just more than a week ago, they knew it would change their path. It was a hunt to honour the death of her father, who was still dry and waiting for his burial in the tribe. Hunts to honour a druid''s death always changed the life of those that were left behind. Many in the tribe had whispered if the two would return as a couple, maybe even both of them did for a while. She wasn¡¯t sure if that would have been the right way, yet the choice was taken from her when they had found the scarred girl, who pleaded with them to save her aunt. No clearer sign could have been given and nothing would have been more in line with her fathers dreams. Dreams that had started to haunt him in his last year.


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    Now that girl was dead, and maybe the path of peace with the north was as well. ¡°Let them come.¡± she thought for a second before she was reminded of her missing arm again. She wouldn¡¯t be in the front anymore. Maybe her other arm could still swing a tomahawk, maybe she could train to throw spears instead of using a bow. Many maybe¡¯s that tried to aid the warrior she was just a night before. But now? What would she be?


    Before her thoughts could take any fruit she heard voices behind her. Bloodbeak and Chieftain Scale-Eye, maybe a few others, came to watch the oak. She used her one hand to quickly wash away any sign of tears her eyes could carry, just when Branak arrived next to her. The big wolf was happy, licking her face, making her smile for a second. He whimpered while he did and she ruffled his fur until he laid next to her. Resting his big head on her leg.


    Bloodbeak quickly came by ¡°You are awake!¡±


    ¡°I noticed.¡± She replied with a forced and hardened smile.


    He chuckled ¡°Tough es ever.¡±


    Truly. She thought with a certain bitterness.


    Scale-Eye came by and kneeled next to her. She knew he could look deeper than Bloodbeak ever could. Her eyes held against him, before he carefully took the stump that had been her arm and looked it over. He sighed. ¡°They will pay for this.¡± He said while looking back at the oak.


    Rika wanted to reply. Just anything that could bring them back on the path of peace they thought they had found on their hunt, but there was nothing. She noticed some of the hunters missing. ¡°How many survived?¡±


    Bloodbeak shook his head in sadness ¡°Two died..¡±


    ¡°Not bad for a fight like this.¡± Scale-Eyed added while he continued to study the oak, before his eyes looked onto Kazok and Mara. ¡°Why is he holding that thing instead of you?¡±


    ¡°Because I told him, chieftain.¡± She replied, making him turn to face her.


    He thought for a moment, while his eyes went back to the two in front of the oak and back to Rika. ¡°You are just as stubborn as your father.¡± He said, but got nothing but a forced smirk out of her.


    Branak started to snort. The night was as hard for him as for anybody else and Rika wanted to make sure he would rest well. But the only thing she could do now, was to remain with him, and ruffle the fur of his neck while he drifted to a well deserved sleep.


    Bloodbeak now stood next to the Chieftain. Both of them watching Kazok and Mara, hidden in the dance of nightly smoke and morning dew.


    ¡°What happens to her now?¡± Bloodbeak asked, making Rika¡¯s hunter eyes stare at her Chieftain and his answer.


    He sighed, ¡°Kazok is right.¡± words that made Rika less tense for a moment until he continued ¡°We need to inform the other tribes. If their Khan truly wants war, they won¡¯t just send a couple of riders, but all of them.¡±


    ¡°Until every pine burns..¡± She added, watching her home in slowly dying flames.


    He nodded a few times and looked around the trees as if he was checking if they were burned too. His eyes stayed locked on a nest of spiders. Rika followed his gaze and saw it too. A nest of spiders and birds. None of them moving, all of them starring in unison. ¡°He is watching..¡± Scale-Eye whispered.


    ¡°That piece of wurmdung should be happy for once..¡± Rika said with anger making Branak glance up as well ¡°When was the last time the forest¡¯s thirst for blood was given this much?¡±


    Bloodbeak watched it now as well. He breathed in as if he wanted to say something, but didn¡¯t until a second attempt of words left his mouth ¡°If it comes to war, some might see him as an answer¡­¡±


    ¡°Some might be stupid!¡± Rika replied, now starring at Bloodbeak. She felt a burning in her throat, but Branak growled for her.


    Before any more words could be spoken the birds flew off again, leaving the spiders to flee from their invisible punisher.


    Scale-Eye sighed ¡°The seasons are moving.¡± He said and was about to walk to Kazok.


    ¡°Leave them be.¡± Rika said, making him stop ¡°She will need time..¡± she gulped ¡°And him.¡±


    Clearly her Chieftain didn¡¯t like her commands, but still this wasn¡¯t the village, but her home. He nodded and got her another bowl of water instead. She nodded and used her one arm to hold it herself.


    While she drank he looked over to Bloodbeak ¡°Send your birds. We need to see the tribes.¡±


    ¡°Which?¡± Bloodbeak simply asked. His voice was cracking after the battle as well.


    Rika looked up to her Chieftain. For a moment it seemed like he struggled to say it, but then stated clearly. ¡°All of them.¡±

 Chapter 27: The Bladelands

    Act II


    War


    Far away from the Oak and the pines, Sha¡¯Raph was on her way to the last clan she needed for her Khan. Master Kru¡¯Gan and a few others had agreed to honour their Khans wish in his mountain and were now wandering the wastes for the Frostsong valley behind the eastern range. She however, took her flight to the northwest.


    Her path now went over the blacksky ridge. A volcano filled mountain range that cut the wastes from both the burning valley below Karn¡¯Arak and her current goal. The Bladelands.


    It was a green land of many headlands and few isles. Of stormy sea and even uneasier orcs.


    The headlands went deep into the sea. So much that the horizon was filled with different thin lands that fought against the storms. On the headlands and Isles different villages of the clan rested. Tents made of dragonfish leather, spiked on top of their bones adorned the cliffside shores. Shamans adorned in their usual chains and trinkets sang to the sea at those rifts, while warriors battled below, adorned in the same spiky fishbones. The sea washed blood and bodies from their shores, taking it greedily with the tendrils of its waves, yet in the bladelands there were two kinds of battle.


    Those at the hightide, when the shore was almost drowned by the storm, and those at the low tide. When the sea went that far back that the mudflats took hold between the headlands. Then the villages stormed off to their Wolfseals, to ride over the revealed ocean floor in a grand hunt. Dragonfishes that were caught in their trap, lifeless bodies that were blessed by the sea fungi, and most holy of all, mussels that took hold of the iron pearls. From those pearls their smiths and shamans then crafted the weapons that had given this part of the north its name. Big curved blades that still carried the shine of their pearls. It¡¯s iron hidden inside the earth of the mudflats, eaten by mussels inside the stormy sea and then crafted by fire. Blades blessed with the force of all four of the elements, so their shamans told.


    Sha¡¯Raph always liked the storms of these lands. Full of salt and sea they promised tales of distant lands. Few orcs had ever sailed far, and even less returned to tell the tales of the far west. Of creatures that walked like orcs, yet carried skin like pigs. Of warriors in armour that shone like silver and blue shamans that wore pointy hats. She had always wished to see those lands for herself but her duties would always hold her here. And even if not for them, it had been generations since an orc sailed that far. Since then the Ogres and their master had taken hold over the sea. They had made sure that no one would ever cross the ocean and that no orc would ever set foot on the far west again.


    The low tide had already given room to the mudflats when she crossed the mountain range and saw the battle that was happening on them.


    A small army of ogres was fighting a horde of Bladeland orcs.


    The ogres were big bulks of flesh. Unlike the bladeland orcs who carried the ashen skin and fiery eyes of the north, they carried the pink skin of pigs like the west. Twice as high as an orc and thrice as fat, they were using big blocky shields of bronze. On them were different drawings of lions and other creatures. They moved like a wall, step by step, only swinging their enormous warhammers when truly necessary. Armour was carried by them only where it was truly needed. Their helmets were hiding their faces behind iron bars. Only their weapon arm was protected by armour while the other stayed hidden behind their shields. Their lower body carried nothing more than an iron belt and red linen, while iron boots planted them deep into the mudded sea floor.


    It was the armour of slaves and gladiators. The kind of armour the far west only gave to those that were either disposable or meant to merely entertain.


    On the other side, proud and fierce was a horde of ashen orcs. For once united by defending their sea. All the warriors were adorned in the shining leather of the dragonfishes while spikes of their bones came from different parts of their armour. Even though the orcs had surrounded the wall of shields and ogres they were losing. Too strong were the ogres protecting themselves in that circle. Shield to shield, shoulder to shoulder, while the bladeland warriors were as wild as they had ever been. Throwing spears and axes in hopes to make an opening in the Ogre wall.


    Sha¡¯Raph didn¡¯t wait and pointed Dustfang down towards the battle and into the very centre of the Ogres. As she crashed down she had already buried some of their fat foes below Dustfangs might. While the big Wyvern started to bite and tear some Ogres in front of it apart, she slid down its tail with both of her swords ready and onto the neck of another.


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    She heard a dirty laughter among the orcs ¡°Ahaha! The khan sends us his finest!¡± there was spite in that voice yet his laughter seemed honest.


    The Ogres still tried to turn, yet whenever they did they were cut down by the Bladeland Orcs. Even during the chaos of battle Sha¡¯Raph could spot a few of the famous swords among the warriors. They were white like pearls yet all red from the blood that was spilled. She spotted the laughing warrior. He had lost his blade. While Sha¡¯Raph rushed to defend him, he instead rammed his spiked shoulder into the fat ogre belly before him. Screaming and laughing as he was sprayed with blood ¡°The sea is our witness my brothers! The ancestors smile on us this day! Ahaha!¡± He got his sword back from the Ogre gut it was stuck in and together with Sha¡¯Raph and Dustfang they continued the battle. Like the dervishes of the wastes, Sha¡¯Raph danced with her twin blades from Ogre to Ogre, drowning them in a thousand cuts, while the laughing Warrior and his Pearlblade defended her back where Dustfang could not.


    Soon the Ogres were cut down, and the mudflats red with blood running from their big torn corpses. Sha¡¯Raph put her blades back while Dustfang still tore and ripped an Ogre corpse apart. Looks were changed between the confused Bladeland orcs while the laughing warrior spitted to the side and grinned at Sha¡¯Raph.


    Before anyone could speak lightning struck the horizon. Now Sha¡¯Raph could hear that another, and bigger battle was happening beyond the northern headland as well. Shaman songs were sung and lightning was striking down. Screams echoed over the empty sea and gurgling blood was carried in the fury of their voice.


    Sha¡¯Raph was about to ride off again as a big hand touched her shoulder from behind. When she turned she saw the darkly grinning face of a young but proud orc. It was the one the rest was following, and the one who had defended her back. ¡°If you want to tear more of those fat bastards apart, fly west.¡± he was still breathing heavily between his words. Clearly this wasn¡¯t his first battle today. ¡°The shamans will take care of the north.¡±


    ¡°Why are they here?¡± Sha¡¯Raph replied, plain and cold from beneath her black mask.


    The orc before shook his head ¡°Ha! And I thought your Khan was a smart boy!¡± another warrior gave him a flask that he drank big gulps from before he handed it over to Sha¡¯Raph. She shook her head, and pointed at her mask.


    He shrugged his shoulders and continued after he emptied it ¡°Their master wants back what has been stolen from her..¡±


    For but a second Sha¡¯Raph had to think before her hidden eyes widened ¡°The scroll..¡±


    ¡°Aye..¡± the bladeland warrior replied darkly ¡°That damn scroll..let the ancestors curse it until it withers back to the dung it was stolen from.¡±


    Many thoughts went through Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s head yet she needed some clarity before she could put them forth. ¡°How many?¡± her voice remained cold, and became even colder through the sound of her mask.


    ¡°Ha! Today?¡± he asked while he walked over to a dead Ogre. Using his sword he removed the helmet to reveal the dead face. Despite its pigskin they carried tusks yet eyes that seemed far more similar to what the creatures of the west would call their own. He shook his head as if he was disappointed before he faced Sha¡¯Raph again. His grin was far gone. ¡°Tell you Khan that these Bastards try to invade us!¡± he walked towards her as he spoke and aggressively pointed at her once he continued ¡°His hunt for that thing is what caused my warriors to give their lives! Whatever he might demand now it better come with more aid than you!¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph only stared at him from below her mask. ¡°Your warriors?¡±


    He glared at her showing more teeth than just his tusks as the sea flavoured wind grew stronger. ¡°You are the chieftain then?¡± she added.


    The Chieftain of the Bladeland orcs changed often. A title they battled for when there wasn¡¯t an attack like now, still he seemed so young for such a role.


    He took a few steps back and opened his arms proudly ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious hahaha!¡± his warriors laughed with him while few looked annoyed instead. There was more to the truth she was told, yet she couldn¡¯t ask before she felt water on her feed. ¡°The tide is coming..¡± he said, which made a few warriors run towards the shores in an instant. ¡°Go to your homes my warriors. The battle will continue when dusk falls!¡± A few cheered at the promise of violence before they ran away, yet he remained staring at Sha¡¯Raph despite the quickly flowing water.


    ¡°You are here because of the watcher aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked while staring at her darkly.


    She just nodded.


    ¡°Let me fly with you. With the tide the battles are over anyway.¡±


    She thought for a moment, not liking the thought of a stranger on Dustfangs back. But she knew the kind of orc he was. So she answered ¡°Too lazy to run, oh mighty chieftain?¡± a grin was carried in her voice.


    He laughed ¡°Ha! Who but the mighty chieftain would dare to ride such a beast?!¡±


    His grin confirmed her idea of him. Without an answer she started to climb her Wyvern. Once he followed she finally spoke ¡°Where are we flying then?¡±


    ¡°North..¡± He said as they saddled inside the big carved out scale. ¡°To the shaman..¡±


    Lightning struck behind the northern headland once more and they took to the sky.


    While they dashed through the salty winds her mind finally wrapped around the reality she had found here. War was not coming from the south, but the west. Something she didn¡¯t expect and that her Khan would hate to hear.

 Chapter 28: Storm and Sea

    Their flight to the headland was quick and some warriors cheered as they dashed above them. The prospect of a mighty wyvern like Dustfang at their aid created but sheer joy for the coming battles and bloody swords were raised. Both from those still running on the mudflats below as well as those that waited on the headland for them. Behind the land she saw an even bigger army. Riders on Wolfseals others on small wooden slays carried over the mud by them, were riding back to the land and away from the coming tide. Another wall of ogres followed them yet they were slow. Still moving as a wall of shields while spears and arrows flew at them from the shore. Sha¡¯Raph was about to dash into them yet again but was stopped by the young Chieftain behind her ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± He said and then pointed down at the shore. A group of shamans, adorned in their usual chains and trinkets of metal, were singing together deep from their throats. Aside from the usual shaman metal they also had some pearls hung from their chains. A trinket of not just the land but their sea.


    An old Woman stood at their centre. She seemed old yet Sha¡¯raph wasn¡¯t sure if she was their Seer. For she carried nothing to hide her eyes, yet they were empty. She was blind.


    ¡°Storm above and sea below!¡± she shanted into the sky while the shamans around her continued to sing their deep song. Broken only by roars and orders whenever the warriors threw another valley of spears or shot another rain of arrows.


    ¡°Grand us your aid! Let lightning crush our foes, and let the tide wash their rotten bodies away!¡± Thunder was striking through the clouds above them, and Sha¡¯Raph understood why flying at the Ogres would be a bad Idea. She landed on the island where Dustfangs big crashing of the earth took away some of the shamans concentration.


    The chieftain jumped down Dustfang and immediately rushed for a spear nearby that he threw over the Shore towards the big legion of Ogres. ¡°Let them drown in a rain of blood and violence my warriors!¡± He screamed and was answered by roars and cheers. Many of them who had started to seem weak clenched their teeth and threw yet more spears, while others aimed to shoot their arrows faster. Sha¡¯Raph could see that they had been fighting for a long time. They were in need of tha pause the tide would grand them. Some wounded were laying deeper into the headland and looked over by other shamans, while those at the shore used their last breath to throw and shoot at the legion. Not with much force or aim but it wasn¡¯t about precision anyway.


    ¡°You heard your Chieftain!¡± the old woman screamed with a raspy voice before she raised her arms and sang together with the other shamans from her throat, their attention returned to their ritual. Soon rain started to fall while the cloud above them gave birth to more and more thunder. Flashes of light struck it whenever the sound came as lightning cursed through its dark veins.


    ¡°Storm above and sea below!¡± she repeated again ¡°Power you may bestow!¡±


    The shamans sang louder and deeper, some echoing her words in the ancient tongue.


    ¡°Forced by your own hand¡± The thunder now seemed to sing along the shamans. ¡°Crush down those, who dare our land!¡± with those last words all the shamans at once brought their hands down to the earth.


    Sha¡¯Raph could feel the hidden hair on her arms stand up, as with their motion lightning struck down from the cloud and at the Ogre legion. Not just one but many and all of them wandering from one Ogre to the next. Searing them in place. Even those that were furthest from the lightning were still burned as the tide had risen to their knees. The old woman laughed into the storm they had unleashed, echoing the sound of lightning with her voice. Meanwhile the warriors stopped their throwing and shooting, either because of the shock or just because they knew the fight was over. None did anything but look at the display, few had to cover their eyes at the flashing light, but all knew that the storm had taken its prey.


    Soon the last Ogre attempted to run but was struck down, burned and crushed. It would not take long for the tide to greedily take what remained of their bodies..


    The orcs cheered at the death before them and raised their weapons. Some started to sing old songs, not from their throat like shamans or the Frostsong did, but just their voice. It was an unfamiliar but pleasant sound that made Sha¡¯Raph smile beneath her mask.


    The Chieftain grinned and nodded at their victory. He was walking back to Sha¡¯Raph and Dustfang with sheer pride yet it was short lived.


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    Even further north, on a lone Island the clouds shifted. Slowly they started to circle around a high cliff where the cloud''s colour seemed to shift into an unnatural purple.


    ¡°She is here¡­¡± the old woman said as her empty eyes stared into nothing. The warriors stopped their song and laughter and Sha¡¯Raph could feel an unease among them.


    ¡°Who is she?¡± She asked a warrior nearby. He looked up at her on Dustfang with dismay. ¡°Their master¡± he answered, still panting from the battle ¡°The Sorceress..¡±


    ¡°Or just one of her pawns..¡± The old woman corrected herself.


    Before she could ask more all the clouds were dragged away from the sky, giving birth to a red dusk that settled over the sea. The distant figure that had gathered the clouds unleashed them as dark tendrils towards their shore. Both warriors and shamans took a few steps back in fear yet the cloud tendrils did not seek them but the fresh Ogre corpses that were slowly drowned by the tide. Slowly, as if their dead bodies would breathe in the clouds, the tendrils vanished and to Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s shock the dead rose again. One after the other, despite their dead burned flesh, they stood up until the entire legion of burned corpses stood there in the rising tide and unleashed an unearthy scream into the sky. It was a sound that shouldn¡¯t exist, a sound that felt wrong. Even Dustfang took a few steps back now. Behind their scream Sha¡¯Raph could now hear commands coming from the high cliff beyond the sea. No matter if Sorceress or pawn, it shanted spells into the air which made the army move. That much she understood.


    The Chieftain sighed as his warriors looked at him. ¡°Your orders, Chieftain?¡± before he could answer, Sha¡¯Raph screamed and let Dustfang dash into the sky once more. His rising winds as he started to fly, were a sudden reminder to all that a rider of Karn¡¯Arak was here, and Sha¡¯Raph would show them. If they were meant to be loyal to Aru¡¯Gal they needed to be shown the strength of the riders and no matter what had happened to their Watcher, she would prove to them that the Khan had not forgotten them.


    Dustfang dashed above the slowly rising tide and the dead army of Ogres straight for the cliff. She didn¡¯t know the sorceress yet somehow knew it wasn¡¯t her when she saw another Ogre there casting. He held up a staff made of metal that held a black swirling crystel at its top and unlike the other Ogres, he wore a robe that was hanging from one of his shoulders until it circled his legs, held by a golden highly decorated belt.


    The Ogres around him pointed at Sha¡¯Raph and started to yell orders. They had no simple weapons like spears or arrows but instead pointed what she didn¡¯t know were called ballistas at her and Dustfang. Their names didn¡¯t matter anyway for the crashed down right onto the sorcerer who was kept in a form of trance as he controlled the dead moving bodies below. Without any hesitation Dustfang crunched down at the sorcerers head, making his body fall as twitching and lifeless as the dead legion below.


    The other ogres were about to attack but Sha¡¯Raph jumped from his back and at theirs to bring down her twin blades at their necks in an ashen dance of violence. Dustfang then destroyed a Ballista with his tail and roared, signalling her to come back. After another slice at an Ogres neck she was back on his back. He rose up on his two legs spreading his wings to show the entire gigantic form of his body, while his neck was glowing. While he gathered his breath Sha¡¯Raph was ready to lunch from him again as the Ogres did not stop their attempt to run at them.


    Yet before they could he finally breathed out a big cloud of hot ash at the Ogres. The Waste Wyvern did not breathe fire, yet hot toxic smudge that slowly burned itself inside the flesh until it would cool down and harden. The Ogres screamed in pain, and another ballista started to burn. Seeing that there were more Sha¡¯Raph made a clicking sound with her tongue, signing Dustfang to gather more of his breath again. They then started to fly above the ogre legion that was coming for them and covered them in more hot burning smudge as well. Those that were left untouched had pure panic in their eyes now and tried to hide while some of those that were hit jumped down into the sea. Some hit the cliffs and painted them red while others just splashed down into the still too low tide on the mudflats.


    After they had covered most of the small Island and the legion in Dustfangs breath, they dashed back to the other orcs.


    With a crash she landed again and jumped down to face the Chieftain yet again. Dustfang had to lay down and breathe. Even though their fight was short, so many attacks from his throat had taken a lot of him. She petted his big resting head while he made a loud approving grunting sound.


    Her eyes went back to the Chieftain and finally she realised the complete and utter silence of the gathered Bladeland Orcs. Carefully her hidden eyes wandered over the shores until she saw the Chieftain do nothing but grin and not. Before anyone could say a word they cheered and restarted their songs, dance and laughter. Something Sha¡¯Raph could not help but enjoy, yet she was still here for a reason.


    ¡°Where is your watcher?¡± she asked with a regained coldness in her voice as the chieftain returned to her with a happy grin.


    Hearing her question his face darkened and they shared a cold gaze in the cheering cloud.

 Chapter 29: The Ashen Truth

    While many of the bladeland orcs cheered in the setting sun of the distant sea, others had to rest. Sha¡¯Raph could see it in their tired faces. Days of nothing but battle and loss. They were tired, all of them. Behind a hill she could see pyres, made for those fallen who weren¡¯t claimed by the sea. Both families and warriors were gathered around them and tired shamans spoke their last farewell in the oldest tongue.


    ¡°How long have you battled them?¡± she asked the Chieftain as she followed him and the old Woman through the warrior camp. While many of them put off their spiky armour of fishbones, those two, did not.


    ¡°A week..maybe a little more¡± He answered darkly but smiled at some of the warriors they passed. ¡°Ever since that rotten thing has been stolen from their master..¡± He continued but was stopped by the old woman. She shook her head at him while her blind gaze still went to nothing ¡°Not here¡­¡± she whispered.


    Clearly he wasn¡¯t happy yet they continued. The camp was mainly made of quickly built tents. Like their armour it was made with the aid of gigantic fishbones, one spikier than the other. Campfires were laid all around and lit the camp together with the pyres while the sun settled down further and further over the western sea. Down at it, the tide had risen high enough to leave no room for marching armies. Both the mudflats as well as the Ogre corpses were now taken by the greedy hands of the waves.


    They reached the biggest tent around. Made from the most colourful dragon fish scales and the biggest fishbones. It was big and round and two big and adorned orcs stood at its entrance. One of them was leaning on his big pearlsword when they arrived. He straightened and together with the other placed his fist on his chest. ¡°Hail, Chieftain.¡± One of them said which was answered by him with the same gesture. ¡°Hail, brothers!¡± he said loudly and in an act of joy. ¡°You should seek rest, I can protect my own tent now that the enemy is dead for tonight.¡± One of them grinned, the other nodded with a face of respect, before they went into the camp, to find grog, song and rest.


    The Chieftain opened the tent and let both the old woman as well as Sha¡¯Raph in first. Inside it was far more practical than one could have thought seeing it from the outset. Many many, small leather bags hung on the wall. Some filled with earth and plants, others full of tiny pearls, bones or just simply water. From the roof trinkets were hung. Most of them a circle of bones that were placed around one pearl in their centre. All while the ground was laid full with the biggest and most comfortable pelts one could hope for in these lands. It was quite dark until the old woman started to light a fire in its centre. Wood was already placed there and like most shamans she only needed one spark from the flintstone to light it.


    ¡°Sit down watcher¡­¡± He said and pointed down at a comfortable looking pelt. ¡°I would much rather rest with my warriors but there is much to talk.¡±


    ¡°Much¡­¡± the old woman repeated darkly and set herself next to the fire. Her blind gaze went over it to stare directly at Sha¡¯Raph with a face of mistrust, while the Chieftain sat down.


    Noticing the blind woman''s stare on her mask, Sha''Raph felt unease and spoke before either of them could. ¡°I¡¯d say I earned my right to know your names?¡± she said with an audible grin that was echoed in the Chieftains face.


    ¡°Ha! That much you have!¡± he started. Her words seemed to work on him, yet the old woman remained cold. ¡°I¡¯m Chieftain Lur¡¯Dak and thats my mother~¡± ¡°Seer.¡± she corrected him without letting her blind gaze escape Sha¡¯Raph. With a sigh he continued ¡°Our Seer¡­Mar¡¯Dak.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph pointed at herself ¡°Sha¡¯raph. Watcher of the Bladespire Wastes and the Ash Nomads.¡± She made the hint of a bow after, which was echoed by Chieftain Lur¡¯Dak, but not by his mother.


    ¡°Far more word we gather from the wastes than from the Valley.¡± he said after his bow. ¡°One of your clans sometimes visits the range south of here.¡±


    ¡°I know..¡± she answered and still tried to make her smile echo through her mask. ¡°It¡¯s not my own, but fish from your land has found its way deeper south through them.¡±


    He grinned and looked at his mother ¡°I think it¡¯s uncle''s clan down there isn¡¯t it.¡±


    She simply continued to stare at Sha¡¯Raph. ¡°Enough.¡± she stated and made both orcs grow silent. ¡°We are not here for simple chatter but to see where the Khan¡¯s loyalty lies.¡±


    ¡°The Khan¡¯s loyalty?!¡± Sha¡¯Raph asked in disbelief.


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    Mother Mar¡¯Dak smiled darkly as if she had now found the true orc before her. ¡°You have seen the battles, watcher. And you know what has caused them. Yet no one but you is here to aid us.¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak grunted darkly but remained silent as he looked back at Sha''Raph.


    She sighed. ¡°I do not know the Khan''s plans with this scroll.¡±


    ¡°Pah! So he doesn¡¯t even tell his ow~¡±


    ¡°But.¡± she interrupted the old woman, earning herself a stare from both ¡°But I know him better than most, and I know he would and will do everything to protect the north.¡± She believed her own words. From the deepest parts of her heart she believed in Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°And that includes your clans.¡± She finished.


    Mar¡¯Dak¡¯s blind eyes went to nothing once more while her son looked at her for a moment longer. Before either could say a thing Sha¡¯Raph continued. ¡°So tell me. What happened to your watcher? Was it the Ogres?¡±


    He shook his head slowly and stared into the flames for a moment. ¡°He was¡­¡± he struggled for words before his mother instead answered. ¡°When the Ogres started their Invasion. We quickly lost some of the most western Isles..¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak simply nodded to that, his burning eyes still in the flames. ¡°Aye¡­¡± he added ¡°The only chance they had was for a warrior''s death..¡± His mother shook her head in clear sadness ¡°Entire clans have ceased there¡­¡±


    Anger started to be born in Lur¡¯Daks eyes ¡°They will be born again. Once the Isles are ours, some will take the chance and build a clan of their own.¡± He nodded a few times into the flames before his eyes shifted to his mother again. He brought a hand to her shoulder and leaned in as he spoke ¡°Their tradition will be formed, but they will not be forgotten!¡± he stated in a way only a true Chieftain could. She smiled at him and sighed ¡°Enough need to survive this war, for them to create clans of their own once more..¡±


    He laughed ¡°Ha! You know how the warriors are! Once these fat bastards are beaten they will make sure there are enough young orcs again!¡± he continued to laugh after his words, making his mother just sigh once more.


    Sha¡¯raph waited for them to finish until she asked again. ¡°You haven¡¯t answered, Chieftain. What happened to your Watcher..¡±


    His smile vanished as he looked back at her. He looked at his mother for a moment before with a sigh he started to speak. ¡°He sought the root of this¡­the reason why the Sorceress suddenly started to send her minions to our shores¡­¡±


    Mar¡¯Dak nodded while he spoke before she continued with her blind gaze staring into the flames. ¡°He took his Wyvern, one of the shore, and flew across the angry sea.¡±


    Her son grunted at her words, seemingly happy that she instead of him would tell the story. ¡°Some of our ships accompanied him. Brave warriors, ready to give their life just for the sorceress¡¯s head.¡± ¡°Brave men and women¡­¡± Lur¡¯Dak repeated before she continued. ¡°They came to the Ogres rotten shores. A land of rotting flesh and darkening skies. Unnatural, vile and wrong¡­a shore that should not exist.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph started to feel an unease at her words, reminded of the story she had heard just days ago.


    ¡°They fought against the endless horde, of not just Ogres, but darker beings as well. Those who fell rose again, denied their eternal battle in sea or ash, forced to continue their service with their rotting bodies.¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak shook his head and nervously shifted, seemingly feeling uneasy as well.


    ¡°Our watcher saw that there was no victory on enemy shores and took flight deeper into their land. To the very heart of its corruption.¡±


    ¡°And then he fought her?¡± Sha¡¯Raph asked carefully but the old woman shook her head and the flames in their tent shifted without wind.


    ¡°Worse¡­¡± she answered ¡°So much worse..¡± her whispers darkened the tent and both orcs eyes were set on the seer and her words. ¡°He found the truth¡­he found the knowledge your Khan is seeking. The very power he tries to wield¡­¡±


    The flame almost shortened to nothing but a flicker while the Egg started to shine through the fire hole in the roof. Almost as if it had waited for its moment.


    ¡°Once he told the few surviving men there was unrest between the warriors. Some saw it as treason, others as a chance for us to follow him and conquer.¡±


    ¡°Even now some are split because of that¡­¡± Lur¡¯Dak added.


    Sha¡¯Raph raised a hidden brow as her coldness returned ¡°So all of you here, know what it might do?..¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak starred darkly at Sha¡¯Raph ¡°Is that fear I hear, Watcher?¡± his words as dark as his mothers now ¡°Does our Khan fear that some might know of his dark plans?¡±


    ¡°I told you that I know nothing about the scroll!¡± She answered fiercely. Every act of a smile was now gone. ¡°Only that I trust him to my very core.¡±


    Mar¡¯Dak formed a dark bitter smile before she spoke ¡°Maybe knowledge might change that..¡±


    ¡°Then tell me Seer!¡± she demanded, her voice down to a plea ¡°Tell me his all so dark plans! Does he seek the power to wield the dead? Does he seek to twist the storms?!¡± she became louder and more desperate with every word ¡°What sorcery is it, he seeks?!¡±


    ¡°Worse than the dead¡­¡± Mar¡¯Dak calmly but darkly answered. ¡°Far, far worse..¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?!¡± Sha¡¯Raph demanded one last time while the fire went out completely and nothing but the moonlight remained when the old woman''s voice reached her again. ¡°Ascension¡­¡±

 Chapter 30: Succession

    Aru¡¯gal, was small for an orc of his clan. Some said he wouldn¡¯t even be a great fighter, others whispered that he wasn¡¯t even that smart. Yet there he was. Standing at the top cave of the hollowed mountain. Right at the opening to the south, and looked down upon them all. It was too far to see what was happening down at the mines, but the small glints of campfires told him they were still digging. Above them the moon shone brightly, gazing its eager eyes over the lands of the east and turning the snow of the valley into a bright reflection. It was a cold night. Like many when the egg in the sky showed its full gaze at the Frostsong clan. When the sea of stars shoved its tide above the mountain, bringing fires of battles far beyond anybody''s reach with it, those nights, the nights of distant fires, were the coldest.


    Even further down the horizon, the seemingly endless pines went down more and more. All until they would reach the far distant southern shore. Hidden behind the traitorous woods of their enemy.


    ¡°It will all burn..¡± He thought to himself. ¡°They will all burn¡­¡±. He sighed. Despite his ambition, the doubts still lingered inside him, yet he knew their time had to be over. He had to be sure of it all, no matter the price it would cost. In his mind he could see the scroll''s many promises. Its signs like a whisper scratching into his mind. Dark and ancient they were, maybe older than the runes of druid and shaman. Yet the power they held was a curse. He knew that well. After he had studied it every night, he knew that all too well and he hated that he was doubting him even more now. Now that he knew that he himself would endure immense pain and unlike the brothers and sisters that would turn to his sacrifices, he would need to endure them for ages. But it would be worth it. Would it not?


    After he had made his grand speech at Bruna¡¯s renaming, he had started to believe his own words for a while. Maybe they could just conquer the south instead. And find a new home in a warmer land, once the winters would become too cold for the mountain.


    The thought alone made him shiver in the singing winds. Chimes and cave always gave it a voice in the mountain, that was even louder up at the windhall.


    He shook his head to himself, for he knew it was more than the cold. If the dragon was about to die, sooner or later their enemies, both the current and the forgotten, would use that as a weakness. Sooner or later the fires of Karn¡¯Arak would not just vanish from their land and sea but also themselves and their wyverns. The battles would become greater and they would fall to well deserved vengeance. Every other orc might have said ¡°Let them try!¡± or spitted at the thought that their mighty clan could fall, but he knew reality was born from axe and sword, not screams and roars. Of course they were a mighty clan, but how many battles would have been lost if not for the riders? How many of them would have fallen prey to the werebeasts if not for the strength of wyvern instead of orc. And how many deaths had been avoided just by fear alone?


    The shamans had taught them that it was the dragon''s fire they had to thank for their strength. It was the Dragons fire that lingered in their eyes for his very burning heart was beating in every orc of the north. A fury that was ready to burn all that dared to deny their victory.


    His own father had told that story, and he had listened in awe and fear, like all young orcs of the north. The scroll was a solution. A promise. A path, yet it was the last he should choose.


    Anger filled him at his own weakness, for he felt the weight of his choice weighing down his darkened heart. It shouldn¡¯t be a choice for only one orc to make, yet telling anybody would danger it all and remove the choice altogether.


    He thought of those close to him. Of Bruna, Sha¡¯Raph and maybe even Gor¡¯Mash in a way. Yet he knew, he was alone.


    ¡°Son?...¡± His fathers voice caught him off guard and he turned to face the old man and his blind fold.


    ¡°You are not here as Seer?¡± Aru¡¯gal asked with far more desperation in his voice than he himself realised.


    ¡°No..¡± the old man answered and shook his head. Slowly he came closer, leaning much on his metal staff to walk. ¡°No I am not..¡± he repeated himself as he stood next to him. His blind gaze facing the moon for a few moments before it turned back to the shadows.


    Aru¡¯gal stayed silent for a while. It was weird, for they haven''t spoken as father and son in such a long time. Yet the anger for his demeanour against him as Khan still remained. A fury that was burning constantly, but before he could speak Cra¡¯Gal took word of his own again.


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    ¡°It was a night like this, do you remember?¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal sighed and nodded. ¡°I know..¡± he said close to a whisper.


    His father took a moment until he stepped closer and laid a hand on his son''s shoulder. ¡°They would never dare to admit it..¡± he started with a voice of honesty ¡°But I believe they look up to you..¡± His words wore an honest smile yet his son''s face made one of bitterness.


    ¡°Do they?¡± he asked with an annoyed echo of desperation before he faced his fathers blind gaze. ¡°Do they sing my name when I force them to dig? Do they praise me when I force them to war? Or do they~¡± he realised his voice echoing through the mountain and calmed himself again. While shaking his head he continued more silently ¡°No, father. They do not look up to me. To them I am the same snake I was years ago, and nothing¡­¡± he stumbled over his words and turned from his fathers gaze back to the moon. ¡°Nothing will change that.¡±


    A deep low grunt escaped Cra¡¯Gal and he took yet another step closer, now standing next to his son at the edge of the hall. ¡°If you even believe yourself to be such, how could they ever think differently?¡± his voice was far more harsh now. ¡°Why call yourself that too?¡±


    ¡°Because I am!¡± Aru¡¯Gal replied, his voice now again echoing through the hall and down below. ¡°Because you made me!¡±


    ¡°Because I made you¡­¡± Cra¡¯Gal repeated and shook his head. ¡°I taught you that a boy build as weak as you needs skill and mind. That doesn¡¯t mean he needs poison too.¡±


    ¡°And yet you can do nothing but spew it every day!¡± Aru¡¯gal now aggressively pointed at his blind father and forced the blind man to walk backwards a few steps. ¡°You are the one that rallies them against me! You ar~¡±


    ¡°Rally against you?¡± Cra¡¯Gal angrily asked back ¡°You do that all by yourself! What else do you expect when you tell them that their dragon dies and they need to leave their homes!¡±


    Fury burned in Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes and was echoed in his voice ¡°Yet it was your apprentice who collapsed the mine was it not?!¡± As he talked Aru¡¯Gal had shoved the old man more and more back until he fell down. A short hint of guilt rested on the Khan''s face and he was about to aid him up, yet his father denied and shoved his hand away. Slowly he stood up with but the aid of his metal staff. ¡°No¡­¡± he almost whispered once his face was at Aru¡¯Gals again. ¡°You truly think a mere apprentice could collapse our entire mine?¡±


    All the guilt that had been there for a mere second now made place for nothing but pure anger in Aru¡¯Gals face ¡°You¡­¡± he realised with deep anger in his voice before he demanded to know ¡°Why?..¡±


    ¡°To save my son from a mistake.¡± Cra¡¯Gal now answered more softly, almost a plea in his voice.


    Aru¡¯Gal laid a hand on his fathers shoulder, a mix of anger and desperation in his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t make mistakes father¡­not anymore..¡±


    His father shook his head and laid an arm on the one that rested on his shoulder. ¡°You can and you will..¡± he started as felt the tight grip and almost could feel his son''s agony. A single tear fell down the Khan''s face and Cra¡¯Gal tried to reach him one last time. ¡°Mistakes are what''s making us~¡±


    ¡°Mortal.¡± his son answered and drew a tomahawk with his free hand, to quickly bring it down into the old man''s neck. A gasp was the seers answer while his hidden eyes glared in panic. After Aru¡¯gal pulled the tomahawk out blood sprayed from the wound and the old Seer stumbled back holding it. Unbelieve and pain far deeper than the wound was born on his face. Yet he couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t spill his poison any longer, only gurgle while blood ran down from his neck. Aru¡¯Gal hated to see him like this, hated what he did and had to do. He felt the drums and fury inside his heart that slowly drummed tears to his eyes.


    The fire inside was too much to contain any longer and he followed the stumbling old bleeding man. With a final roar he kicked him into the pit that went down the mountain. A blood gurgling scream echoed from the dead man until he reached the lowest dark and soon the echoes of his final pain drew silent once more.


    Aru¡¯Gal was shaking. His vision blurred from tears that were born from his burning eyes. He removed them quickly as he heard steps.


    Before he could do more, Gor''Mash and some other riders had rushed up to the windhall. They saw their Khan and the bloodied Tomahawk, and they saw the lone staff the seer had left behind in a puddle of blood.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Gor¡¯Mash asked. For the first time in his life Aru¡¯Gal heard genuine fear in the old rider''s voice.


    ¡°Justice..¡± He replied and took a few heavy breaths in an attempt to calm himself.


    Gor''Mash struggled for words yet before he could speak Aru¡¯Gal stared back at him and the riders. ¡°Rile them up!¡± the Khan ordered.


    ¡°But my Khan it''s almost midnight¡­¡±


    ¡°All of them!¡± he continued and now screamed. ¡°I want all of them, the mountaineers, the herders, the fishermen, ALL of them at the mine tomorrow morning!¡± His voice echoed through the mountain and whispers echoed back. They made him angry and he faced the dark pit. ¡°Do you hear that?!¡± the whispers grew silent. ¡°I want all of you to be ready!¡± His screams echoed down to all the living caves and some even further and into the valley and to the boiling sea in the north. ¡°The time of arguing is over!¡± he breathed a few times and nothing but unleashed fury screamed further. ¡°The age of fire has come and you may prey to your ancestors that you not burn alongside them!!¡±

 Chapter 31: A crown of snakes

    Even when Aru¡¯gal was young, he was usually smaller than the other orcs of the mountain. Less muscle. Less brawn. But all the more fire in his eyes. Like all young orcs, he played war with the other children and like all of them it soon became a question who would be the leader. They fought over it, sometimes with sticks as an excuse for axes, oftentimes just with their fists. A friend of his, a young warrior that should die before he became Khan, was beaten to the brink by the kid who declared himself leader and winner. Little Aru¡¯gal knew he could not beat him. He was already beaten enough to know that, and more than anything, the child knew even if he would beat him today, he would try again tomorrow. They would bring him to the ground, mock him the loser, and then beat up his friend once more. It hurted, but he was not going to show. Neither the other children nor his parents. ¡°Train more!¡± his father always demanded.


    ¡°A boy as meek as you has to work twice as hard!¡± his mother complained before it was his father again who told him. ¡°You are my son, you are meant for greatness, do not waste yourself and excuse it with your height!¡±


    And so he tried. He trained and was beaten once again and again. It was pointless anyway. Whoever would win, would need the strength to hold onto his victory. Otherwise they would be beaten once more and harder than before.


    An endless cycle that only a true leader could end, he told himself.


    Most other orc children would have tried anyway, most might have been beaten too but he just went home to their cave. Drowned in a deep sadness that was cast into his own shadow. His father once again told him to grow up. To eat more, and train even harder. His mother echoed the same, just with far more disappointment in her voice.


    But the future Khan had different plans. He knew some ways of the shamans, even though his father had different plans for the boy. And even though he didn¡¯t know much about runes, the elements or the ancestors yet, he did know about salves, bandages, and poison. Even then other children with darkening hearts like his would have just tried to poison the other boy. They would have tried to give themself a victory by cheating and then they would have been caught and carry that shame for their life.


    But the future Khan had different plans. For days he didn¡¯t play with the others. Only his beaten friend followed him. They lurked at the edges of the pines for Aru¡¯Gal knew only there he could hope for his allies.


    After a week they found it. A small hole right at the edge of a tree. Inside it would be far warmer than the valley used to be and still neither would go in. For snowsnakes would rest inside. A danger many children wouldn¡¯t know about, but a son of a shaman had seen their vile strength before. He had been told about their dangerous poison and he had seen his father heal those that were foolish enough to fall to the snakes.


    Aru¡¯gal remembered where the hole was yet still he practised patients.


    They started to play with the other children again, and slowly their playgrounds would extend to the pines. Even more so as their parents told them not to go there. Too dangerous and too close to the enemy.


    They should have known that those words only attracted a young orc but like their own parents before them they thought their words would ring like orders in their children''s ears.


    But no orc child was made for following orders, and less than anyone the future Khan.


    In their time, Aru¡¯gal watched the leading child. Sometimes there were fights again, and often it mocked the others for their losses. More than anything that child reminded them all day by day of their weakness.


    One day, they finally reached the hole and like everything it peaked the children''s interest. They glared inside while Aru¡¯Gal and his friend stood back. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it would be funny if he falls in?..¡± he whispered to his friend with a wide wicked grin.


    His friend nodded and roared over to the others ¡°Hey Bur¡¯rack!¡± he started to run before he shoved him in ¡°Why don¡¯t you take a look inside?!¡± The other children laughed and Bur¡¯rack cursed a few times but laughed himself. Dirty laughter spread among them all, even Bur¡¯rack inside the hole. Yet Aru¡¯gal remained silent.


    Then the hissing started. Then the screams. He was bitten time and time again. Young Aru¡¯gal could not help but smile for a dark second before he got himself again and rushed in. ¡°Get a shaman!¡± he yelled to the other children ¡°Quickly!¡± it was hard for him yet he made his voice sound sincere. ¡°Why?...¡± his friend asked.


    ¡°He will die if not!¡± Aru¡¯gal screamed at the others and reached his arm inside the hole. ¡°Give me your hand!¡± he screamed down to Bur¡¯rack. Between the cries of fear and pain the young orc in the whole heard the future Khan''s voice and reached for his hand.


    While some of the children ran to get a shaman, others still simply stood around, unsure what to do. ¡°Aid me you fools!¡± Aru¡¯Gal screamed at them, and they listened. Soon Bur¡¯rack was outside of the hole. His skin full of bite marks and his body twitching. He rolled over to puke and twitch while the poison took its toll on him. For a mere second Aru¡¯Gal enjoyed his suffering but the more he saw it the more he feared for his death. His quest of saving him became honest and he looked around the other children. ¡°Is someone getting a shaman?!¡± ¡°Y..yes!¡± a girl answered and pointed over the hills to the north.


    A little panic was born in Aru¡¯Gal as he saw Bur¡¯rack convulsively empty his stomach from his mouth and twitch more and more rapidly. The boy''s eyes were of pure and utter pain. Something he had earned, Aru¡¯Gal thought, yet death would be too much for a fellow Frostsong.


    ¡°A yellow flower! It grows beneath trees and has a green centre¡­it almost looks like an eye!¡± they listened intently to him while Bur¡¯Rack starting to cry in his spasmic pain. ¡°get me some! And quickly!¡± Few children started running and blood left Bur¡¯racks mouth instead of his breakfast.


    There were more orders barked by Aru¡¯gal and once they returned with the flowers he did his best to save his victim. It wasn¡¯t much he had learned from his father yet, but he used what he did and with the flowers pressed into the twitching boy''s nose he at least stopped puking, yet his body felt cold and the spasms became less and less.


    Soon after the other children arrived with Cra¡¯Gal. His eyes widened and he started to heal the boy. Partly with salves and tinctures he carried on the leather bags of his belt, partly with prayers to the elements themselves.


    After that day, all the children were told off by their parents. Most of them beaten too. For a young orc had almost died by their foolishness. All but Aru¡¯Gal. He was praised for his bravery. Both by the adults and by the other children.


    Despite his hate for Bur¡¯Rack he made sure to meet him in his recovery. The boy could not help but thank the future Khan, for he knew that he saved his life.


    After that day, there were no fights for a leader in their group anymore. There wasn¡¯t even talk about who it was. There only was, the smallest and weakest of them, Aru¡¯Gal who gave orders. And they all followed. Those that started to disobey were beaten by Bur¡¯Rack after his recovery. In time other children started to have similar stories to Bur¡¯Rack. Some saved in honesty, others with darker truths behind them. Even when the future Khan and his friends became old enough to carry weapons, he continued to get the most loyal of friends. Even though it was often times more than just using them as his servants, but real friendship, few ever came close to the closeness he should feel to the likes of Sha¡¯Raph and Bruna.


    Still, so many of them became part of his riders once he had risen to take the title of Khan. Some of them died, but others became proud followers of their mighty Khan.


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    So did Bur¡¯Rack. A rider that was proud about his position and his Khan, yet many whispered he would have never become one if not for his supposed friendship with that very Khan. To him it did not matter and as Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s orders echoed through the mountain he was excited. A wicked grin was born on his face and he started near his own home cave. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend like you didn¡¯t hear him!¡± the fat rider screamed and knocked his obsidian axe against the wall a few times. Some families looked outside their wooden doors and somewhere a baby started to cry. ¡°It is almost midnight..¡± a man Bur¡¯Rack knew as a smith said ¡°We worked at the mine the whole day w~¡± Bur¡¯Rack shoved him against the wall and showed his teeth. His fat belly aiding his fist in pressing the smith.


    ¡°You heard your Khan didn¡¯t you?!¡±


    The smith nodded with a glare of anger in his face.


    Bur¡¯Rack rammed his axe into the door right next to him. ¡°Then listen you lazy excuse for a hammer!¡± with the sound of wood cracking he got his axe out of the door again and simply punched the smith. ¡°All of you! The Khan demands your presence at the mine! Get moving!¡±


    The smith huffed a few times and was about to throw a punch himself as he heard more riders in the other caves. The sound of their obsidian boots only added to the many screams. Among them, the voice of the old Rider, Gor¡¯Mash. ¡°Hit the drums! Let the mountain know!¡± drums were hit and horns were blown. ¡°Those of you from the villages! Do your work and take flight! The Khan demands all!¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Bur¡¯Rack repeated and stared back at the smith with a wide grin ¡°The Khan demands all!¡± He took his own wyvern warhorn and blew it. Like many others it echoed through the mountain before he continued.


    Even though the mountain endured it first, slowly over the night all villages of the Frostsong were awoken by riders and forced to gather at the mine. No matter if they were of the Frostsong Valley, the last edge at the boiling sea, or the hollow mountain itself. All were awoken by riders, horns and screams. Those that had started to ride their wyverns had started to let them roar through the night and over the villages.


    Those who tried to disobey were punched into submission. Some until tusk or cheeks were broken, others until they spilled blood into the white snow. Few would whisper that some vanished that day, others that the spark of anger was snuffed under obsidian boots. Yet once the sun was rising they were all gathered at the mine.


    None of the Frostsong had ever seen them all in one place like this, and even the elders were surprised by the amount of people their clan did hold. Far far too many to have them all in the pathway down to the mine again, but behind it. Where the valley would go down more and more until it was reaching the distant pines.


    Riders were gathered around the big mass of Darklings and few circled above them all. They were waiting while the cold of the night still lingered on them all, despite the rising sun. Some tried to warm each other. To warm the youngest, the elders, the sick. Many felt fury in their hearts, and some started to scream their anger despite the mighty wyverns around them. But they all stopped when Aru¡¯Gal landed his sleek and winged beasts on one of the gigantic dolmen around the mine. He looked down at them with fury and waited. Proud in his poisonous wyverns saddle he waited. Slowly all their voices vanished and they looked up. Even the Wyverns seemed to silence themselves. Soon all eyes and ears, of both beast and Orc were on him, and once only the wind remained in the valley he added to its voice.


    ¡°The Seer..¡± he raised his fathers obsidian staff ¡°Is dead!¡±


    Whispers were the answer and hidden in the crowd without even the mountain''s crown Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk¡¯s eyes widened. Many eyes formed to panic, others to disbelieve.


    When he spoke again it felt like the staff was vibrating in his hands while his voice was carried even to the most distant clan members.


    ¡°I tried to do it in the old ways! I tried to make us work together! But the time of asking is over and the time for commands has come!¡±


    A few riders grinned at his words. Others like Gor¡¯Mash stared at him anxiously.


    As Aru¡¯Gal looked around them, he still carried the fury and loss in his eyes. Slowly his heart started to be a drum once more and he knew he could not hide his pained face. ¡°I wish it didn¡¯t come to this¡­¡± He continued and breathed heavily as he felt a tear. For a moment he looked down and closed his eyes. After another big breather he sat up straight and proud in his saddle once more. ¡°But treason has befallen our clan!¡±


    Nervous looks were shared among them.


    ¡°Not just disobedience, but cowardly, dishonourable and utter hateable, treason!¡±


    He pointed down at the mine behind him. ¡°The mine was only the beginning and I will not accept a loss of an~¡±


    He stopped his speech as he saw two riders approach over the dawn of the pines.


    ¡°The watcher¡­¡± Gor¡¯Mash uttered silently, just below Aru¡¯Gals dolmen.


    ¡°Bruna¡­¡± Aru¡¯Gal uttered in return.


    Neither could see the riders eyes. But while the Watcher was full of disbelief as he saw the Clan gathered, Brunas was nothing but beathen. A tired husk of the Orc he had been just days ago when he regained his name. For what did it matter anymore? In front of him, loosely wrapped in leather, was his daughter''s corpse. While he guided the Wyvern with one hand. The other never left her cold body. He would bring her home, no matter the cost.


    Slowly they approached the Dolmen and Aru¡¯gal guided his Wyvern down. Some in the clan attempted to go but were reminded by the other gathered riders and their roaring wyverns that it was not the time.


    Once the two landed, Aru¡¯gal was already down. Ur¡¯bak jumped off his Wyvern and approached his Khan. He pressed his fist against against his chest as the usual greeting and asked ¡°What is happening¡­¡± He pointed at their gathered clan.


    Aru¡¯Gal just pushed the watcher to the side and approached Bruna who went down the old Wyvern. All so carefully he then took the wrapped small body from it as well. She was big for her age, yet still far from grown. He held her in his arms before him. Her wrapped body stiffened already.


    Once Aru¡¯Gal arrived at him he held a hand on his shoulder while Bruna struggled to look anywhere. ¡°Brother¡­¡± he said, as it dawned on him who he carried. ¡°Is this¡­is this her?¡±


    Bruna drowned a sob and nodded.


    Carefully Aru¡¯Gal moved a bit of the leather away and took a look at her face. Seeing her empty stare, none of her fire remaining, Bruna clenched his teeth and looked down again. Fighting the tears.


    The Khan took another bit of leather away. His eyes widened as he saw her wound. He looked back at Bruna. ¡°This was her axe..¡± he stated, but there was no reaction. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it?¡± Still Bruna could do nothing but fight his anguish. Aru¡¯Gal tugged his shoulder which finally forced him to look back at him. ¡°Brother¡­a shaman made this wound¡­¡±


    Bruna nodded.


    ¡°Then tell me¡­did that traitor suffer?...¡± Bruna¡¯s breathing became heavy and ended in huffs from his nose. He shook his head. ¡°She lives¡­¡±.


    The fury in Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes was lit anew and he placed the leather back on the wound but not the face before he walked to the edge of the hill the dolmen was standing on. The clan still gathered below him. He pointed at Kara¡¯s corpse behind him. ¡°This! This is what is happening to our clan! A daughter of the mountain, slain by her own blood! By a shaman! A healer! A woman who she trusted like her mother!!¡±


    While Aru¡¯Gal spoke, Bruna held his dead daughter tighter.


    ¡°Kinslayers!...¡± For but a moment Aru¡¯Gal had to think about his words, for he caught the twisted irony in them. ¡°On each side! A father who forces his son''s hand, and a sister who takes her brother''s child of pure spite!¡±


    Bruna wanted to correct him, but he wasn¡¯t sure about reality anymore. There was only one fact that cursed through his mind and he held that in his very arms.


    Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s face was wild with anger and emotions and once he talked spit flew with his words like a barking wolf. ¡°I demand you to unity! I demand you to be ready! I command you to kneel for your Khan!¡±


    Looks were shared at his words, not only among the clan but the riders too.


    Aru¡¯Gal raised his fathers staff and spoke again ¡°I shall be your protector, I shall guide your path to glory once more, but to do that. To show you the warmth of summer once more, I need your loyalty! And I will not see another daughter of the mountain fall to Frostsong hands!¡±


    Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk stood as but one of many in the crowd yet still his eyes caught the Khans. For a moment of defiance he stood there, then Aru¡¯Gal finished his speech.


    ¡°The age of our Dragon comes to an end! And the age of the Orc, shall come to pass!¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal stared down at Nar¡¯Ruuk with clear and utter fury. For but a moment the Chieftain stood proud, then Aru¡¯Gal rammed his fathers staff against the dolmen next to him two times, to let its metal sing like it did for the seer.


    The wyverns all roared in response and most of the riders cheered.


    Closing his eyes defeated, Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk the Ire, kneeled and slowly the rest of the Clan did as well. Even the Riders that stood on the ground did such, while those on the Wyverns made a bow, some even together with their beasts.


    Gor¡¯Mash did not, for he felt nothing but fear.


    Ur¡¯Back did not, for he felt nothing but terror.


    Bruna did not, for he tried to feel nothing.

 Chapter 32: Closing Eyes

    In days of hope, when Bruna was young, he already had been bigger than most other children of the Frostsong. Many had feared him and even more his father, and so he spent his time alone doing what his father had taught him. Even though he wasn¡¯t there often, whenever he was he spent time training with his son, testing his brawn, forging his muscle. And Bruna took it to heart. His days were made of training, of forging the steel of his body and once he got barely old enough, of killing. Hunting what his family needed, for his mother was ill. A curse that should follow their family until his own lifemate would die once she became a mother.


    When he got a sister, the boy was forced to become a man. He would never tell anybody but her, but he was glad that his father had given life to a girl and not another boy. For a boy would have been a constant rival for their fathers honour, while his sister was a family treasure he swore to protect in his absence. He told himself he did so for nothing but their fathers approval, yet her smile should always echo in his eyes. His training was not carrying wood or stone anymore, but running up to the mountain with his sister on his back. Laughing and spurring him on, the little girl became his new reason to train. To make her laugh, to see her smile and to protect her from all the world would throw at them.


    As those years of happiness went by soon, he became old enough to do his Daal¡¯Gavek. His quest to become a proper man of the clan. He was thirteen when he did his and he knew he would have been ready earlier, yet a shaman who should become seer was against the Khans boy doing it early. Bruna had distaste for him even back then, yet it was only another year of training and then he was allowed to hunt for his name.


    Most children went to the pines to hunt for a beast worthy of their blood. But only he was son of the great Khan, so he knew it would not be enough to come back with a grand wolf or even bear. So instead of daring the pines of the south he went up north to the last edge at the boiling sea.


    The most northern place of the Frostsongs influence yet the one with the least snow. For the sea here was blessed by the dragon''s fire generations ago, when it still fought against their enemies. Salty it boiled and crashed against the cliffs in hot storms of thunder. Shamans often sent their apprentices here to meditate on all the elements. The storm, the sea, the cliffs and stone, and finally the echo of fire that boiled deep within the northern tides.


    Bruna however was here for another reason. Some of the Isles deep within the salty boiling waters, carried the nests of wyverns. Entire swarms called it their homes and he knew if there was anything worthy of the Khans son, it would be a Wyverns mighty head.


    He built but a simple floss, and set off into the storms. The fishermen, among them a girl that should become his daughter''s mother, shook their head, for they knew the boy would die.


    Yet by luck and brawn he survived the boiling storms.


    Coughing and with his dark skin being burned by the sea, he crashed ashore the obsidian Isle. Scarred and desperate he crawled up to the dark cliffs when he heard the haunting screech of the beasts he sought. He stood up and pressed himself against the hot black cliff before him. Just a second after he did, two red Wyverns crashed down on the black beach. They were fighting, even though he did not know why he knew it was deadly. Too occupied with each other to see him, the two beasts were biting and clawing at each other. Both protected by their dark red scales, yet both wounding each other with every tooth and every slash. They curled and snapped around like a ball of deadly spikes and the boy was lucky that one already had lost parts of its tale, otherwise he would have been crushed by the same when instead hot blood sprinkled his panting face.


    Suddenly the ball of scale, flesh and teeth became two wyverns again as one made its height and wings shown. It stood on two legs and roared into the sky while fire escaped its maw, the other however wasn¡¯t scared and used that moment to jump at its neck. The boy could see that the bite was deep, maybe a mortal wound already, when the biting wyvern spewed fire with its bite. It ignited the venom inside the other''s throat and made it burst open in a small explosion of flesh, flame and venom.


    Yet still it was not dead. It fell down on its back just before the other climbed on it and roared right into its now scarred face while its own had lost parts of its snout with the explosion. Then it simply flew away as the victor.


    Now the boy was alone with the dying beast. He saw its breathing getting lower and lower and once he could properly look at it he saw the nasty open wound the explosion had made at its throat. He had never heard that a wyverns Venom was the reason for their fire, but this has taught him better than any shaman could.


    He knew this was his chance. Maybe not as honourable as he would have imagined, but at least he would survive. See his sister again, and bring a wyverns head worthy of his fathers name.


    Slowly he got closer to the dying beast. Once it saw him it tried to move but too much blood had left its body already. After he drew his axe, they both shared a look. Every attempt it had of fighting back was gone, and it seemed like it knew it was only a matter of time now that it would die. The boy would never tell how the beast had died, yet those pleading eyes, asking him for a swift death, should never leave his mind.


    If his future had turned out like so many of the clan had predicted he would have seen these again much sooner, in the beast that was their master. Yet by either fate or his own broken pride it was another boy that should see the dragon for himself and make plans to change the fate of all orckind.


    He never understood how something could plead for its death, how something could give up and stop to fight back until its last breath.


    That changed the day he saw his daughter''s lifeless body in front of the burning oak. The day all he had left, all the hopes he was fighting for, had died by a fight that never should have been. By an axe that was crafted to protect her. Blocked by another that was made to defend their bloodline. But what did axes matter, when she was dead?


    What did any of it matter now? His sister was part of the enemy now, and his daughter was dead. So was his father and the woman who had granted life to his daughter thirteen years ago. There was no one and with his daughter''s fire extinguished all hopes that still had burned inside of him were gone.


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    His eyes were tired during Aru¡¯Gals speech, yet his body fought to not cry in front of the crowd. He was beaten. Everything was lost, and he did not care for the poison in his friend¡¯s words. His eyes only resting on her empty face, his mind drawn to the few memories they had shared together. To times she cried, to times she laughed, as few as they may had been. None of them to ever return.


    As the day continued and the clan was forced to work on the mine, he stumbled through the day. Made preparations for her funeral. She needed a dolmen and he would work on one. Her dolmen needed chimes, and he would make sure it did. When he saw a smith for them, it was the only time that day his mind was truly drawn to the presence. The smith was running low on ore, yet he crafted weapon after weapon. When Bruna requested the chimes, the young smith sighed and looked at the remaining ore. Bruna started to stare at him and huffed angrily from his nose. Before the smith could say no to the beast an older smith came from inside the forge tent. ¡°We shall make sure that her stone will sing.¡± He answered. Words that brought Bruna¡¯s mind closer to reality once more he looked down and tried to fight it all before after a long deep breath he looked back up at the smith.


    ¡°I also need a helmet..¡± he added. ¡°Make sure my face isn¡¯t¡­¡± He stumbled over his words ¡°make sure it is protected.¡±


    Now even the old smith looked at the ore and shook his head. ¡°It depends, what the Khan might say.¡±


    ¡°He will agree.¡± Bruna stated, knowing Aru¡¯Gal would do anything for him in times of need.


    As he left the forge tent he heard the smiths discuss his requests, but it was but a distant echo. They would work on the chimes. And he would rest in the tent with the body of the dead. Like it was tradition. Like he did back when her mother died. Back then he tried to fight his tears in front of his daughter, back when he tried to be strong for her, back when he thought he could remain a rider and still see her protected. Back when his sister came to aid them both in their grief.


    Now he was alone. The tent was dark and no one but him and her body took watch inside. The wind was cold, but he could not feel it. His tears left rivers to freeze, yet he couldn¡¯t feel them either. His mind was tired of fighting the reality of her death and the closer the night of her burning came, the harder it became to fight back.


    Voices echoed from the mine. Screams, roars and finally the lashing of whips. It was enough to drag him out of his sorrow and into fury for but a second. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to them..¡± he told his daughter. ¡°They won¡¯t disturb your journey.¡± He closed his eyes and took her cold stiff hand. ¡°I will make sure of it.¡±


    Yet he remained, neither caring nore doing anything about the clan and neither did anyone dare to disturb him. Over the day he heard how trees down south were cut and how riders ordered commands to the clan. He heard how lashes were answered with screams of pain and he knew, as his fathers son, he should have cared. But what did it matter?


    Dusk came close and soon a shaman he barely knew stood in front of the tent. ¡°Beast?¡± his voice took Bruna out of what could have turned into an uneasy sleep. ¡°It is time.¡±


    He sighed a final time and pressed her cold hand. ¡°We are home.¡± He whispered to her and crumbled in his tears before Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s voice came from outside the tent. ¡°Brother?¡±


    Bruna wiped his tears away and stood up. He took her body once more before he left the tent. The sun was going down and Aru¡¯Gal greeted him with a hand on his big shoulder. ¡°It is time.¡± he repeated the shamans words.


    Bruna nodded ¡°I know.¡± He stated with a voice as cold as the valley that day and then followed the Khan and the shaman to the steep valley of the dead, east of the hollowed mountain. As he saw all the graves, the dolmen old and young, Bruna stopped. ¡°Her Dolmen¡± he said to Aru¡¯Gal ¡°It¡¯s still in the tent.¡±


    Usually one family member carried the dead, and another the Dolmen.


    ¡°I will get it. Carry her further.¡± Aru¡¯Gal said. His voice unusually soft.


    Bruna nodded and carried her further, to finally lay her atop the stones of fire. Wood was gathered around it already, and both shamans and clansmen were gathered. Not many, and few he actually knew. Some of the riders were here as well, gathered around the soon to be pyre. There was silence for quite a while. Nothing but the howling wind of the steep valley until it was broken by the crunching snow of Aru¡¯Gal who carried her dolmen. Bruna could see how the small orc struggled and went to get the stone of him. It was his duty afterall.


    He placed the stone next to her body on the pyre and the old smith came from the crowd to hand Bruna the chimes. Carefully he took them and with much care hung them on the stone. The leather black and made of wyvern, like all chime ropes were, to survive the pyre.


    ¡°You should say something.¡± Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s old voice came low from the crowd.


    Bruna nodded as the eyes of the crowd were on him. It took him a long moment before he could speak. ¡°She is home.¡± he said with a shattered voice. ¡°Her mother wil~¡± he coughed up the tears clouding his eyes again, before he looked straight forward once more. ¡°Her mother will care for her now.¡±


    Another long moment of silence came by, as many expected more to be said. ¡°Torch..¡± he demanded. And was handed one by a shaman. With a last long gaze upon her lifeless empty body he waited. And waited. Not sure why, yet he was unable to take the step.


    Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s hand touched his shoulder once more. ¡°Do it.¡± he softly demanded. ¡°It should be her fathers torch.¡±


    He sighed and stepped closer to finally throw his torch at the gathered wood. Others did as well. Usually it would have been those that knew the dead, yet he wasn¡¯t sure how many even knew his daughter. Some looked young, as if they could have been her age. Others older as if they could be his. The only ones he truly knew were the riders. Gor¡¯Mash, Ur¡¯Bak and Aru¡¯Gal who all threw torches at her pyre.


    Once the torches were thrown, the shamans started to sing in the oldest tongue and the fire answered as it lit up. Soon those few gathered answered as well, all together singing from their throat. While the fire lit up, her name in song echoed through the mountain behind them and into the endless valley of dolmen.


    Bruna was meant to sing. Yet he could do nothing but stare at the flames while night started to cast its shadow over the valley. The fire rose and finally started to take her body. Yet his eyes remained on it. The Dolmen was gathered in flames as well, as it was tradition and stood proudly in the flames next to her body. Its chimes sang with the wind and their voices and soon her entire body was burning.


    Many left the pyre after they had sung her song. Yet the riders remained. Waiting for her ashes to rise and take the journey to the last of all battles.


    No word was spoken. No song was sung anymore. Only the crackling fire and empty wind answered her chimes. This was her last silent goodbye to her father and the mountain. Both of which taken so soon from her.


    They were taken out of their silent prayers to the ancestors when a wyverns roar echoed over the mountain. All their eyes, even Bruna''s, glared up when they saw the big Wasteland beast Dustfang.


    ¡°The ashes are answering it seems.¡± Aru¡¯Gal said and then was the first to walk away.


    Ur¡¯Bak followed next and last of all with a pat on Bruna¡¯s shoulder Gor¡¯Mash the old rider.


    Leaving the beast alone. Finally he could cry. Yet his eyes were empty.


    He remained there for the night, unsure where else to go. Finally spending time with her.

 Chapter 33: The Ashen Mask

    Sha¡¯Raph always wondered how the Frostsong could live in such a cold place. But there were few nights where it felt colder than this. She saw the distant fires around the mine and wondered why they were still working there. Then she saw a pyre down at the valley of dolmen and felt sorrow for the unknown. The lands of her clan would welcome the rising ash, and one day a seer would draw the dead''s story into a dolmen. Without even knowing who it was.


    She landed Dustfang on the riders grand cave entrance and leaned down to whisper. ¡°Soon my friend. Soon you can rest.¡± The grand Wasteland Wyvern had been up for days now. Ever since they had arrived in the Bladelands. Either fighting or dashing through the winds. She could trust him to know the way, so she got some sleep on their way to the Frostsong. Even though a grand Wyvern like him  could stay up for much longer than an Orc, she could feel that he was tired and felt guilty when she felt the same, despite her sleep.


    Around them some Riders stared up to her, while some Wyverns screeched and roared at Dustfang. Yet he remained silent, both because he was tired and because they were all so small compared to him anyway. Sha¡¯Raph did it similar to him and just remained seated, patting a big scale of his while whispering in the oldest tongue.


    After a while the riders straightened and Aru¡¯Gal arrived. His face seemed tired. Hardened and even in the darkness of the Cave and through the hidden view of her Mask, Sha¡¯Raph could see her friend carrying a mix of fury and sadness in his eyes.


    He straightened his back and pressed his fist against his chest ¡°Shak Aruk, my rider.¡± He said as proud as he could still manage.


    The gathered rider¡¯s eyes rested on Sha¡¯Raph when she wasn¡¯t returning his greeting. ¡°We need to talk.¡± She stated with a cold breath, muffled from beneath her mask.


    He huffed and glared around the riders. For a moment Sha¡¯Raph regretted her words but before she could add anything he spoke. ¡°Then come down, watcher of the wastes. Greet your Khan properly and tell of Wastes and shores.¡±


    She knew him enough to know the act, yet not why he was so desperate to keep it. Not able to do anything more, she answered plain and simple. ¡°I will.¡± His glare turned into a squint. ¡°My Khan..¡± she added with a slight hint of a bow. ¡°But not here.¡±


    He raised a brow, his face turning to honest worry while she continued. ¡°My words will not be hushed as whisper nor are they meant to echo through this mountain.¡±


    The gathered riders shared looks with each other and some looked back to their Khan. He was about to speak yet was cut off by Sha¡¯Raph one last time. ¡°Aru¡¯Gal..¡± she pleaded ¡°Please..¡±. There was honesty in her voice, an honest bagging. Despite of what she had learned, despite of him carrying the mantle of Khan, she still remembered their time together as riders over the distant cliffs of the Savannah.


    He caught her voice and his eyes turned from the glare of a Khan to those of a concerned friend, if only for a second. Then he looked down and breathed in. After a moment he looked back up with a cheap grin ¡°Well if she wants me that badly..¡± He played off a laughter that was echoed by some of the gathered riders. Sha¡¯Raph ignored his words for she knew they were an act not meant for her.


    Slowly he approached Dustfang, petted his horn and then started to climb the big beast. Once he was high enough she reached down to give him a hand. Their eyes met, yet only she could see his, while her own remained hidden by her mask.


    ¡°Wish me luck boys!¡± he yelled as he settled behind her and more dirty laughter was the answer. Again she remained silent and simply whispered Dustfang to fly once more. He huffed tired but moved to the platforms edge. Once there he let himself fall down before he spread his wings and made them fly towards the distant range of the west. Where the land of Frostsong were cut from the rest of the north.


    A moment of silence was granted to them as they flew through the cold and clear night.


    He broke the silence with a whisper behind her. ¡°Sorry¡­¡±. He sounded distant.


    ¡°I know.¡± she answered just as plain, yet with a hint of warmth in her voice.


    He sighed. ¡°There were few days when I hated this old piece of leather more than the last two..¡± he tugged on his dragon scale cloak.


    Without looking back at him she knew what he was talking about, yet struggled to find words of comfort. She heard him breath louder and heavier which made her finally turn to him. There she saw him, not the Khan but her friend looking down in tears, finally away from the rest of his riders and his clan. One mask that had slipped.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do it..I..¡± he tried to breathe again and wash the tears away when she grabbed his hand. Her eyes caught his, yet he could only look at her mask.


    ¡°Tell me.¡± she demanded plainly, her warmth far more in her heart than her voice and she hated herself for that.


    He shook his head and stared down to the dolmen below them for a while. ¡°I killed him..¡± he said almost more to himself than her. It took but a moment in his own thoughts that deformed his face into a wicked smile. ¡°I killed him.¡± he repeated.


    Not catching her eyes he looked back at her. His smile had vanished again, hidden by his own kind of mask yet his eyes were pleading for any sign of emotions on her hidden face. She didn¡¯t find any words and he huffed rather distantly as he looked away once more. ¡°I cannot allow regrets anymore..¡± He shocked his head and Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s hidden eyes swelled as she still couldn¡¯t find any words. She looked away herself and turned to take Dustfangs reigns once more. They stayed silent until they landed on a snow filled plateau that belonged to the western mountains.


    Quickly she climbed down and offered him a hand as he did so himself. She was one of the few, if not only people, where he would accept it.


    The plateau was rather empty as they were quite high. Their horizon was painted by the moon and drew a picture of the entirety of the Frostsong lands. From the last edge at the boiling sea in the north east, over the hollowed mountain and the valley of Dolmen before it, and down over the mine and the valley until it reached the distant pines. The moon stood high once more and their shadows were casted over a long way.


    Dustfang laid himself down, ready to rest, even if it should only be for very short.


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    Aru¡¯gal took a few crunching steps on the snow before he turned to face her. He sniffed, his mind clearly still tugged inside his damaged heart. ¡°Now then¡­¡± he said as if to mark the shift to duty ¡°What did you find watcher?¡±


    She looked at him with sorrow. Instead of saying a word she just stepped closer and grabbed his hand again. ¡°Don¡¯t be a Khan yet¡­¡± she pleaded and for once her voice carried her heart.


    His eyes echoed her words and closed. With a heavy breath he closed his gloved hand around hers and slowly looked at her hidden frame once more. It gave him strength. For once in these last days he wasn¡¯t alone and for once he wanted to tell everything. ¡°My father¡­¡± he said, now without tears but a brewing fury in his eyes. ¡°I killed him.¡±


    Her hidden eyes widened before she spoke ¡°He was the Seer¡­¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded as his face turned colder with every word he spoke. ¡°He was.¡± A cold breeze carried white dust of snow to their moonlit bodies. ¡°He was also a traitor..the one who collapsed the mine and the one who blamed his own apprentice for it.¡±


    She could feel how he squeezed her hand stronger with every part of the truth, but she could withstand it. She would endure.


    ¡°Then his death was just.¡± she stated, her words making a cloud in front of her mask.


    ¡°It was¡­¡± he nodded, needing to believe her words. ¡°A son killing his own father..¡± a bitter smile formed on his face as he looked up at the bright moon. ¡°A story as old as the mountain. Yet here I am..the Khan. The one who should symbolize us all, and I shed tears over that traitor..¡±


    ¡°Because you are a good man..¡± she whispered and squeezed his hand.


    He shook his head. ¡°Am I, Sha¡¯Raph?¡±  His eyes were bitter. ¡°Am I?¡±


    Words came to her mind to his question. She wanted to say something about the man that ventured the cliffs with her, yet the truth she learned in the bladelands crushed that thought. There was no point in lying. Not even for comfort.


    She sighed and looked down. Their bodies close, yet surrounded by cold obsidian. ¡°I know what you will do.¡± she slowly said and looked back at him.


    He moved slightly backwards ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The scroll..¡± she said and brought a hint of fire to his eyes. ¡°The Bladelands..they learned what it may do. Their watcher did. And they told me.¡±


    His eyes hardened and he released himself from her hand. He took a few steps backwards. For a moment nothing but the wind and their long moonlight shadows stood between them. Then with a face full of determination and sorrow he drew the big Obsidian sword from his back. It was crudely crafted. Almost more like a black stone on a stick, yet runes were carved into its centre. One for each of the elements and next to them one for the three northern clans and the riders of Karn¡¯Arak.


    She watched him closely. Instinct would have told her to have her hand ready at her own axes as well but she did not. ¡°Just tell me why..¡± she pleaded. ¡°Make me understand..¡±


    His eyes told of mistrust, maybe even a hint of panic, yet his body eased up all so slightly while his hands remained a tight grip on his sword. ¡°You can feel the night, can you not?¡±


    She had felt the cold since she arrived at the Frostsong skies. Before she could answer he just continued. ¡°The Dragon is dying.¡± words that made her nervous while he lowered his sword ¡°Not only will our lands freeze¡­from the boiling sea to the fires of Karn¡¯Arak..but our enemies will know it.¡±


    Heavy breaths formed cold clouds before her mask ¡°They already do¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he demanded to know.


    She looked at him and the boy from the cliffs was gone, only the threatening presence of the Khan remained. ¡°The Ogres..¡± she answered ¡°And their sorceress. They attacked the Bladelands¡±


    He sighed in anger and looked up at the moon again ¡°of course they did..¡±.


    He planted his sword next to him, then she continued ¡°They want to conquer a path to you and take the scroll back.¡±


    His eyes shifted back to her before they went to thoughts ¡°Then she knows it..¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph hated the darkness in his voice and couldn¡¯t help but follow her instinct now. With a hand on her weapon she asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    His eyes pierced into her mask to catch hers. Even though he couldn¡¯t see them, he knew that she would feel his stare. ¡°You said you know what the scroll will do?..¡±


    She slowly nodded.


    ¡°Then you know what price there is to pay¡­¡±


    Again she nodded, yet now with an added whisper ¡°And I cannot believe you are willing to pay it¡­¡±


    A bitter chuckle escaped him ¡°Neither am I..¡± he said before it took him some cold moonlight air to speak again. ¡°But if the Sorceress is making her move, it means she will if I do not.¡±


    ¡°You will sacrifice them all..¡± she said in disbelief and carefully took a crunching step towards him.


    ¡°And what else can we do?!¡± he screamed back. ¡°What else than to pay the price worthy of a new age?!¡±


    ¡°Fighting!¡± She yelled back. ¡°Winning!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t act like the fools down there, you are smarter than that!¡± he exclaimed and he was right. He took his sword and pointed it towards her. It was hard to hold with one hand and no true strike could be made like this, yet the message was clear. ¡°Don¡¯t betray me too Sha¡¯Raph¡­¡± He pleaded. ¡°Not you of all Orcs.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph took a deep breath. She was glad that Dustfang was asleep, otherwise he might have acted on Aru¡¯Gals gesture. A cloud was born from a cold sigh below her mask as she looked up at the moon herself for a second.


    His head shifted as her answer took a while to form, then she looked back to him.


    ¡°She needs to die first.¡± She said, her voice as cold as the night.


    A bitter smile was born by her words and with a sigh of relief he brought the sword down again. Yet he shook his head ¡°Not just the Sorceress..¡± he said and looked down at the Hollowed mountain. ¡°The Druid too..¡± a moment longer until he continued. ¡°And finally the Dragon.¡±


    ¡°But only at last..¡± she added. Her coldness echoed his bitter words. ¡°Or they may use his corpse against us..¡± She moved closer to him once more until she stood next to him. If not for the Obsidian they would have felt the warmth of each other in the cold night.


    He slowly nodded as he looked at the lands of his clan. A hint of sorrow on his bitter face. ¡°This is the worst time to leave them alone..¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t be..¡± she added as she looked down next to him. ¡°Your clan¡¯s watcher is still living is he not?¡±


    ¡°He is.¡± He admitted in thought ¡°But far from a loyal man to me.¡±


    She thought for a moment. ¡°Bruna is loyal to you.¡± she finally said but he shook his head as an answer. ¡°He has lost..a lot.¡±


    Without knowing anything Sha¡¯Raph remained cold. ¡°Then a new quest for his mighty Khan would be exactly what he needs.¡±


    The Khan raised a brow in Agreement. ¡°Maybe..¡±


    They remained for a moment. Close again and looked down over the wide lands of the Frostsong below.


    ¡°We will take some of the less loyal riders and fly for the Bladelands.¡± His voice was cold yet carried the Khans fire. ¡°We will return with the witch''s head and then take care of her companion in the pines.¡±


    ¡°And then the Dragon..¡± she whispered darkly and looked back to him with a bitter smile.


    ¡°And then the Dragon..¡± He repeated as his eyes were drawn to her mask.


    The moon watched them closely that night. For their plans would change the fate of all their kind for the ages to come.


    Neither of them knew the true darkness they would create if they were to succeed and yet both had plans of their own.


    Aru¡¯Gal for once was happy again, as finally there was someone that understood his plans that agreed with him and that he could trust.


    Sha¡¯Raph however, was happy that she wore a mask.

 Chapter 34: Mother

    Krognar was a land of dead hills and mountains of rotting flesh. Once those hills were green and their mountains mesas of earth, lush with trees and bushes that were cousins to those of the savannah. A forgotten clan once lived in these long forgotten lands but both were transformed into the horror that now watched over the western seas.


    Castles made of the once earthy mesa stones were built all around the land yet they all carried more than stone. Under an endlessly black sky, red and grey walls of old flesh supported the ancient castles. Growing up from below like an infestation. Rotting yet supporting them while they drained the once green hills of all their colours. No sun had been seen in these lands for ages, and the sky was bursting in twisted thunder forevermore. A storm that was cast as an eternal wall to surround the land, and to make sure that no orc would ever set foot on the lands of the far west ever again.


    An Ogre stood on an outer wall that faced the western seas. His eyes went sharp under his rusted bronze helmet. It carried old black fathers at its top, while his eyes were hidden behind bars and a trim that went around it all. Like all the other Ogres, he wore an armour humans would not forge for their armies, but their slaves and the arena. Nothing that the forgotten clan of proud smiths would have created.


    Finally his eyes spotted the thing on the distant horizon beyond the storm. Black Sails with golden wings on them. A big ship, decorated with the golden insignias of the western realms. It had been long since the last and he knew their mother would be happy to hear it. ¡°Sails!¡± he yelled and made some of his brethren run up the high outer wall. They all stared at it for a moment longer before one of them yelled the orders. ¡°Inform Third-Fist! And let the stormcallers know! Mother would not approve should they sink!¡±


    More than one Ogre ran off to follow the orders and all to different directions.


    Soon the Stormcallers, apprentices of their Mother, were informed and the storm made one open path. One way of guiding calm sea towards the lands of Krognar, for the distant ship to follow. A tunnel of gigantic waves that seemed frozen in time like one long cave of water to reach the rotten lands. Salty droplets rained down from them, yet the waves remained frozen in place. Both an invitation and a threat while the ship slowly carried on towards the white cliff and its harbour.


    The harbour was once hammered directly into the once white stone and made a circle out of the cliffs that watched down at every ship that dared to make landfall onto the dark lands.


    Ogres started to line up on the longest of the white stone piers. All of them standing proud and tall, their big blue rusted bronze axe just as tall next to them.


    Soon another Ogre arrived. His face was not hidden, but instead shown in pride. His head was bald and would have looked like almost all ogres if not for the many tiny runes that were tattooed over his head and one of his tusks. Ancient signs that once were used when he was crafted into being. Only few of them were hidden by the bushy white beard that went over his cheeks, yet not all the way down to his chin.


    Unlike his warriors, little skin was shown, most of him protected by an armour of black layered leather. Some pieces of it were strengthened with bronze plates, and those were full of old tales and battles. Plates on his shoulders made him even wider and were layered between a silverplate, lamellar leather and grey fur that went into the edges of the old torn red cloak behind his back.


    In the centre of his studded, layered black leather was one big round bronze medallion that showed a symbol of the long forgotten clan. A lion head, that became clouds of fire. Now resting on a man who was meant to forget the roar inside his twisted chest.


    Yet despite how it might have once looked, rust had deformed the ancient colours of his armour, like it did with all the bronze the Ogres carried. Making it a far more twisted blue than the shine it once carried. A fitting adornment for a dead clan.


    He walked past the lined up Ogres, inspecting them all before his eyes turned to the last in line, who wore a blue instead of a red feather on his helmet and a bronze shoulder that looked like a lion. Next to his axe he carried a lit torch just as proud. ¡°Everything is ready, Warlord!¡± He said with a straightened back.


    Warlord Third-Fist just grunted at that. ¡°Mother is informed?¡±


    ¡°Runner Tenth-Foot is on his way to her!¡± The answer came just as quickly and the Warlord nodded. ¡°She probably knows already..¡± He grunted and turned to face the lined up Ogres from the side. He had his hands behind his back and his bronzen legs fairly widespread before he spoke. ¡°Shak Aruk my soldiers!¡± He yelled over the pier and brought one fist to his chest.


    ¡°Shak Aruk, Warlord!¡± They answered all at once and brought their own free fist to their chest in unison while the other remained on their standing axes.


    Third-Fist nodded in appreciation a few times before he spoke once more. ¡°Let us greet our guests properly!¡± Some dark grins were seen under the helmets. ¡°We will make sure that mother can greet them. No blood will be spilled until that!¡± The grins vanished. ¡°Do you understand?!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warlord!¡± they answered in unison and Third-Fist turned to look how close the ship was. Slowly it was finding its way through the tunnel of time frozen gigantic waves yet its sails were wet and heavy from the salty rain casted by them.


    Third-Fist squinted his eyes as he could see some pig skinned faces on that ship. They would be close enough to smell and see the rotting flesh now and he knew that panic might follow. ¡°Make the sign.¡± He grunted to the Ogre with a lion shoulder.


    There was no answer but a nod before waved his torch towards the harbour''s edge. From there another torch waved, and beyond their sight another until the Stormcasters towers were informed. The furthest waves of the sea tunnel started to crush down again and slowly but unstoppable the rest found their way towards the harbour. Now they couldn¡¯t turn around anymore.


    Third-Fist smiled as the distant sound of panic turned to their ears and they entered the harbour. The ship started to take its place next to the pier and its insignias were easier to see. Like its sails it was painted in black yet decorated with a colour that was meant to resemble gold. A sigil of the golden sun was painted between a constantly repeating wave symbol. Its figurehead was the only thing that carried more colours and showed a naked woman with pointy ears. Her lower half turned into a fish. The far west called them Mermaids, the Ogres named them Naga. Her hair was painted in black and her skin in a whitish pink before it turned to silver fish scales that twisted into two tails. Each of them ending with a fin on each side of the ship. Her eyes carried a different silver and Third-Fist hated the look of it. Yet he was not here to hate their decoration, but greet their sailors. Once the contrast of black and gold took hold in the harbour, not even the distant storm seemed to dare a sound.


    On the railing three faces showed up. All of them pigskins and without tusks. All of them ugly beyond Third-Fists belief. And all of them decorated in pure and utter arrogance. There was a word for those creatures, and they had made sure that all but their old clan had forgotten it over the ages.


    Humans.


    The one in the centre was a young woman, almost a child, probably forced to this journey like the last. She was adorned in many things that were meant to impress. And yet the human attire had changed since the last time they were here. Instead of a shining dress she wore the leathers of a sailor, yet far more decorated, as symbols of her house and the distant gods adored the reddish leather of her Jacket. It was open and showed white folded cloth beneath it. An attempt to be pretty. Yet Third-First''s attention rested on the two knights next to her.


    They were protected by dark plate as they had been a hundred years ago, yet their gear had changed as well. Evolved. His eyes went over the sharp edges of their shoulders and he wondered if they were just arrogance or had a purpose in battle. The same thought he had for the long sailor''s coat that they wore over their armour, chained together by a golden chain in their centre.


    All their hairs were wet from the journey below the waves, yet the blond girl in their centre still had tried to turn hers into a fashionable crown of gold that waved over shoulders.


    He huffed a few times and saw the panic in each of their eyes. He smiled over to the torch Ogre before he looked back up. They all had learned that ugly language and so it was his time to speak. ¡°I am Warlord Third-Fist! And I assure you that our Mother wishes no harm but to see you!¡±


    They seemed shocked to hear him speak their tongue and the young women in their centre couldn¡¯t find any answer.


    Third-Fist had seen it a few times over the centuries. Even though their adornments and ships had changed, the creatures they called humans never did. She wasn¡¯t here by choice, but by some stupid plot against her family. Some play to get rid of her in the nastiest way possible. It would have almost been a shame, if they wouldn¡¯t be such ugly beasts.


    One of the knights next to her leaned down and whispered. ¡°I think their so-called ¡®mother¡¯ is the Lady we are meant to see.¡± She nodded and looked around the harbour and what she could see of the dark land and rotten flesh.


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t want to go..¡± she whispered back, pleading with the old knight.


    He sighed and looked down at Third-Fist who simply stared back. From the Warlord he looked back at the sea, which was a wall of storm once more. Panic took hold in his old eyes for a second before he smiled back at the girl. ¡°We shall protect you M¡¯Lady.¡±


    Third-Fist sighed, for he knew what was to come. All the Ogres did for they all had seen it over the ages time and time again.


    ¡°My Lady wishes to greet yours.¡± The old knight yelled over to the Pier.


    ¡°Not me?..¡± Third-Fist joked in orcish and made the Ogres around him laugh darkly before he returned to speak the human tongue ¡°And I guess she is afraid when she looks at my home.¡±


    His words made the knight grow silent, and was echoed by nods of the young lady. ¡°May I come aboard?¡± The knights shared a look yet before either could answer their lady answered and tried to do in pride. ¡°You may!¡±


    With a hint of panic the knight looked between his lady and Third-Fist and once again was cut from his words as Third-Fist answered. ¡°I come alone, if that eases your..brave..brave knights.¡±


    Another round of dark chuckles came over his warriors while the old knight glared in a mix of shame and anger.


    ¡°Bring them close.¡± He ordered with a dark voice in orcish and the Ogres closest to the ship started to take hooks from the pier. As they brought them to the ship to drag them close some cutlasses were drawn on that ship, yet the young lady ordered her sailors and knights to peace. Whatever was promised to her for this journey, she really tried. At least more than so many before her. Yet her fate would remain the same.


    Once the ship was close enough to the pier. Third-Fist waited as he stared over to the young lady.


    ¡°Let him come over!¡± she told her knights and even though their looks spoke of panic, they obeyed and soon a plank made way for Third-Fist.


    He looked at it for a moment. Wooden and thin. He then smiled at the lady and nodded at the Torch Ogre to bring their plank instead. It was made of wide big planks that were strengthened with dark rusted metal. They just threw it over the one the humans had given them and with his hands folded behind his red cloak, the Warlord walked over onto their ship.


    His weight alone made it move for he was twice as high as even the tallest human on board. Far more in the case of the young lady. All of them took a few steps back as he boarded them.


    He jumped from the railing onboard and glanced around the now rocking ship. Time truly had changed the humans of yore. Few swords of ancient past remained among them, and those only carried by the few knights under their leather coats and dark plates. The sailors instead carried what would be known as cuttlasses and few of the knights even had strange mechanical things of gold and wood on their belts. Flintlocks, yet Third-Fist had no Idea what they were or could do.


    His glare ended at the young Lady. He kneeled down before her, and still towered her as twice as high. The knights had their hands at their swords yet she remained brave as he spoke. ¡°I know what effect my home might have on those who come from lands of beauty.¡± He said calmly in his deep dark voice. ¡°So allow me to guide you through it safely, so that your quest may succeed.¡±


    He spoke with a rough accent, and his words were chosen like in days of legend, yet the young lady made a little bow to his words and even offered her hand. Only two of his fingers took her hand, for he was that much taller.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch her!¡± the young knight yelled and got the glare of both the old knight and the young lady, while Third-Fist just smiled darkly at him. Another thing that never changed when they arrived. ¡°I offered it, Sir Kendal!¡± she scolded him and made him look from her stare to the other knight. Then he bowed and put his old decorated sword away once more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, M¡¯Lady.¡±


    Without a word she moved to face Third-Fist again, her hand still in his fingers. ¡°Please, Sir. Tell me your name and lead on.¡±


    ¡°I am Third-Fist. Warlord of these lands, and general over our Mothers Armies.¡± He made the slightest hint of a bow and waited.


    She bowed back once again. ¡°I greet you, mighty Warlord. I am Lady Ariana Marie Portfall and this is my Knight Captain, Sir Raimond the Fair.¡± The old knight made a small bow before she continued. ¡°We were sent by Magister Aurelian to seek word with your Lady mother.¡±


    She was doing so much better than so many of her predecessors, Third-Fist thought and then stood up. He remained a little hunched so he could still hold her hand with his fingers. ¡°Then it is an honour to guide you to her tower, Lady Portfall.¡±


    Slowly he guided her over the railing, the plank and onto the pier where the cold eyes of his man stared down at her. Sir Raimond barked some orders to the rest on the ship and then followed them with a regiment of ten of their plated knights.


    Down at the pier Third-Fist spoke orcish to the Torch Ogre again. ¡°She wants them alive. Bring them to the cauldron as we are gone.¡± The answer was a firm nod and a fist on his chest.


    ¡°Your Language..¡± the young lady spoke as they now slowly walked past the line of Ogres to the end of the pier. ¡°I don¡¯t think it has ever been taught among my people. How come that you speak ours?¡±


    ¡°Our Mother taught us.¡± He said with a smile down to her. ¡°She taught us many things about your people and your land, Lady Portfall.¡±


    ¡°Like Manners.¡± She answered with a smile of her own. ¡°I really appreciate that and to be honest with you, Warlord, I would have not expected that.¡±


    ¡°You are not the first in doing so, Lady Portfall.¡± He spoke as fine as he could, yet still his accent remained. A mixture of both an older version of the human tongue, as well as his old rough orcish coming through. ¡°Many see, and let me speak true, smell our lands, and assume the worst.¡± He smiled the brightest toothy smile down at her. She responded with a far more trained smile of her own. ¡°I admit it has been the same for us. May you excuse our misjudgement.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He replied, his voice as dark as his grin, for their judgement was far from wrong.


    Slowly they walked through the harbour and then up a tunnel that led into the cursed land. As they left the tunnel a wave of stinking rotting flesh caught their noses. Some of the humans were more visibly ill from it, while Lady Portfall took a perfumed piece of pink cloth from her belt and held it in front of her nose. She looked up to Third-Fist, clearly struggling to speak. ¡°You¡­you must excuse us, we are not used to¡­scents like this.¡±


    Some of the Ogres that followed them snickered darkly, earning them an angry stare from Third-Fist before his more friendly gaze returned to the young lady. ¡°A side effect of our Mothers profession.¡± He said, which did not ease up the young lady. ¡°Come, it is not far.¡±


    They continued their path and he walked her to a big carriage. It was as big as a ship and was dragged by four gigantic tusk Rinos. The carriage itself was made of wood, had a strangely curved roof and looked far more human made than anything else. Lady Portfall looked over it intently to see why it made her think of home, yet there was no time to linger as Third-Fist whistled for two of his ogres to open the wide gate into the wagon.


    Sir Raimond seemed more uneasy yet remained silent as they were guided inside and greeted by a festive wooden hall. It was filled with crudely made wooden benches and tables and half of them even made for the human size.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The scent inside the festive wagon was far more acceptable as incense, made from different and strange herbs of the east, filled the room.


    ¡°Please, Lady Portfall.¡± Third-Fist said and guided her to two thrones at the tail end of the hall. One, made for human sizes and quite up, the other made for him, yet low enough that they might even see eye to eye after she would have walked up the many stairs. They were made of wood as well, but decorated with old runes and bones. Not of their clan, but their mother¡¯s craft.


    She smiled at Third-Fist and took the aid of his hand to walk up the many wooden stairs to finally sit down on the throne. Up there she nodded to Sir Raimond to do the same and the knights sat down. Yet still Third-Fist could see many of their hands on their blades and some on those strange technical things he didn¡¯t know were called flintlocks.


    Once they all sat down he nodded his men to do the same and one of them, the Lionshoulder, punched the front wooden wall two times. Slowly they then started to move and an uneasy silence was born inside the room.


    Lady portfalls eyes turned around and met Sir Raimonds once more. His were determined yet uneasy, hers were slowly growing to fear. He smiled at her to reassure her and after a smile back she tried to ease up.


    While the wagon screeched and moved on over a land they couldn¡¯t see, the knight captain closed his eyes for a moment and whispered a silent prayer. The incense glowed brighter for a second as he did yet still they all remained silent.


    Third-Fist eyes darted through the room and over the knights. The way their armour had changed still made him wonder, while the mechanical things on their belts were the true puzzle to him. They would offer a good fight and some of his men would die to them. Then his eyes went over to the young lady and he saw her fear. She did so well and yet it would all be for nothing. If anything it would have been a better death if they had just knocked her out at the pier, but their mother liked the game. Like a Savannah cat she liked to play with her prey. Sometimes to get news from her old lost home, sometimes merely for her twisted fun. This time however, he wasn¡¯t sure. Their mothers feast was long overdue and even without those games and the feast they had enough problems already. He was meant to lead an army to the east and take back that accursed scroll, yet here he was. Wasting time for a game of pleasantries.


    Despite some efforts of Lady Portfall there weren¡¯t many words spoken and soon the rough road outside made room for clean obsidian as the cart drove up the circling big ways inside their mothers grand black tower. Once it had taken its long way up it stopped and after Third-Fist everyone stood up again. The incense was almost burned out by now. Something that usually didn¡¯t happen so fast, but more than one prayer was whispered by the knights on the road.


    ¡°Please, Lady Portfall.¡± Third fist asked and offered his hand to guide her down again. With the same trained smile she accepted and was guided down the throne and to the wagons exit, and her doom.


    As they stepped outside her heart skipped in fear as utter darkness greeted them. Only a few old brazier were lit and reflected their flames on the perfectly cast black walls. Beyond the braziers was a gigantic open gate that led into a dark throne room. It was decorated like the castles of yore, with a long red carpet that led to a throne as obsidian black as the walls themselves. Windows were in that room, yet still almost no light aside from distant lightning flickered inside.


    Lady Portfal squinted her eyes and slowly in terror saw a figure on that throne. It was hard to tell for it was so incredibly thin and completely covered in black robes. Slowly Third-Fist guided her into the room while her knights followed. Ogres stood at the sides of the red carpet. Far more adorned than those outside. All of them adorned with a blue rusted lionshoulder and all of them decorated with the remains of a torn red cloak.


    Next to the throne stood an Ogre adorned almost similar to Third-Fist. As a long dead lion''s pelt went from his head over his shoulders and his back. All above a dark robe that once carried the signs of a shaman and now runes of their mother.


    ¡°Finally!¡± the Ogre under a lion cowl scolded over the dark room. Then he kneeled down next to the throne. ¡°Guests, mother.¡± He glanced at Lady Portfall. ¡°Quite young this time..¡± There was something vile in his whispers and after his words Lady Portfall could feel the sudden dark gaze from the black robe on that throne. She shivered and stopped before a twisted old womens voice echoed through the black hall. ¡°Come and show me your face.¡±


    Together with her knights she walked before the throne, now free of Third-Fists hand as he walked to the other side of the obsidian throne, mirroring the Ogre under the lion cowl on the other side.


    The knights kneeled while Lady Portfall made an elegant bow before she spoke. ¡°I am Lady Ariana Marie Portfall, sent by Magister Aurelian to bring news and seek such of your own.¡±


    Silence followed the proud Lady¡¯s words before the twisted old woman spoke from her black robe. ¡°One hundred years¡­¡± her aching voice echoed through the hall and the tower as thunder and lightning answered her word in pain. ¡°One hundred years¡­¡± she repeated as the boney trail of thin leathery wrinkled fingers tabbed on the armrests of her throne. ¡°Almost to the day¡­is it not?¡± she asked the Lioncowl next to her.


    ¡°So it is mother. One hundred years.¡± He nodded.


    ¡°Almost.¡± Third-Fist added from the other side.


    A dark twisted chuckle came from the black robe on the throne and echoed through the halls once more. The knights rose to their feet again and both Sir Raimond as well as Sir Kendall stood ready next to their Lady.


    ¡°Is there any reason why he lets me wait for ONE HUNDRED YEARS?!¡± The last words were screamed and answered by even the flames in the braziers. As if they feared her anger they darkened at her rising voice.


    Lady Portfall breathed a few times, taking her pride. One of her knights was about to speak yet she stepped forth and took a finely crafted and decorated roll of leather from her belt. She kneeled over and offered it up towards the black throne. ¡°I am sure he explains himself better than I could, but the republic simply has faced a lot in that time.¡±


    Third-Fist stepped forth and took the leather, which made Lady Portfall rise again and smile at him. This time he did not answer with one of his own anymore.


    He took a letter from the rounded leather and was about to hand it over to their mother, but she waved it away. ¡°Later..¡± she hissed, ¡°I am starving¡­¡±. The flames almost went out at her last words and her dark eyes flickered with a silver touch from beneath her robe. Lightning gave the room light for a second and offered a terrible hint of her rotten face.


    Lady Portfall stood up and almost stumbled backwards to her knights. Sir Raimond caught her by the shoulder and held on to it. She spoke again, still hoping this could end well, still not accepting that she was set up for something terrible. ¡°It would be an honour dining with you.¡± She said and tried to bury her fear under a smile. It didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°We have done what we were asked, M''Lady.¡± Sir Raimond said, one hand on her shoulder the other on his Flintlock. ¡°We should leave.¡±


    Lady Portfall nodded. ¡°Let us go.¡± she looked up to him. ¡°Please..¡±. As they turned the Ogres stood before the open gate, yet the big wagon still remained.


    Sir Raimond turned to watch the throne and twisted thunder struck outside once more. ¡°You will let us leave. Now.¡±


    While he demanded, Lady Portfall stared at the wagon. Their hope of an escape if they could get it moving. It looked so humanly crafted unlike anything else here and slowly she started to realise the old signs on its wood. The way some of it was tilted as if crafted for another purpose and finally that it was upside down. ¡°This was a ship¡­¡± she whispered in terror slowly realising the reality behind that. The old knight''s eyes went over his shoulder and to the ship, widening in the same terror before he darted back at the Throne. An old leathery hand pointed from the robe at them. ¡°Bring me the girl¡­¡± the twisted old womens voice ordered with a nasty echo.


    In pure unhidden fear Lady Portfall looked back at the Throne while her knights started to stand around her. ¡°Swords.¡± Sir Raimond commanded in a low voice and all of them drew their old swords. Runes of yore were crafted inside and they seemed to reflect the brazier''s flame even more than other metal did. Especially more than the mirroring obsidian of the tower.


    The Ogres around them all readied their rusted bronze axes while Third-Fist stood duty bound with the hands folded behind his red cloak once more.


    ¡°It is a shame really¡­¡± the twisted woman''s voice echoed from the black robe again. ¡°You would have been so much fun, oh fine lady¡­but I am so..very..hungry.¡± A dark rotten grin was seen beneath the robe. Teeth that were black in many places and skin that was as rotten as the one that was casted over the Isle.


    Tears of panic ran down Lady Portfalls cheeks before Sir Raimond took word. ¡°No fear, M¡¯Lady. She shan¡¯t touch you!¡±


    Third-Fist had lost any hint of a smile and merely stared at the young Lady and her knights. There was no joy in this, yet it was his duty. ¡°On your Command Mother.¡± He coldly stated. Both their Mother and the once Shaman next to her had a wicked rotten smile on their faces.


    She licked her lips, revealing her snake-like tongue. ¡°Just enjoy it my son.¡± She said with a wild pleasure in her voice. ¡°You can almost taste it¡­¡± She continued and stared down with dark gleaming eyes from below her robe. ¡°Their fear¡­¡±


    ¡°We shan¡¯t stand this no longer!¡± Sir Raimond yelled up at the throne as he pointed his flintlock at her.


    The dark hungry rotten mouth grinned all the wider and lightning struck outside the tower. ¡°Oh do not worry¡­¡± Slowly she rose from her throne. Higher and higher until she floated above the throne. ¡°You will not!¡± She screamed and flew right towards the knight captain. He shot at her making her squeal in pain and fall to the ground.


    ¡°Mother!!¡± The once shaman screamed and ran at her side. The other knights unleashed their own flintlocks at the Ogres around them. Flesh and blood spread on the black obsidian floor. More entered the room and still blocked the way out, yet they remained staring at the knights. Part of it was fear of another valley of bullets, not knowing that they only had one shot, the other part was the missing order.


    After they had shot, the knights held their old shimmering swords in front of them. ¡°By the sun and the sea!¡± Sir Raimond started chanting and the brazier''s fire rose brighter. Reflected like golden flames at their swords. ¡°By the stars and the deep!¡± The sun started to pierce through the clouds above the Isle for her first time in centuries. Its shine went through the windows and into the room, colouring it in a gold that was reflected like the brazier''s fire on their shimmering swords. ¡°I shall cast justice upon thee, witch! I shall end this charade of suffering and injustice and you shall wallow in fire and die by my hand!¡±


    Both ¡®Mother¡¯ and the once shaman hissed at the entering sun while Third-Fist and most other ogres simply had to protect their eyes. Some of their flesh turned red by its warmth and light yet Sir Raimond continued. ¡°For justice! For the Republic!¡± He breathed in before he screamed his last words into the now golden hall ¡°And for the Lady!!¡±


    ¡°For the lady!!¡± the other knights repeated and started to rush at the throne room''s entrance, Lady Portfall shivering in fear yet with new found hope among them, protected in their centre. They started to slice through the Ogres, many of them still blinded. A heat radiated from their swords, as did the sun''s golden light. Wounds made by their sword looked like fire had burned through it. More and more they slashed their way through the room while Sir Raimond walked backwards, his sword ready and looking towards the throne.


    ¡°No.¡± The old twisted women''s voice echoed behind them. ¡°There is no escape here. You will not leave my domain!¡± slowly she rose again and started floating. Her long robe the only thing that connected her to the floor.


    ¡°Warlord! Bring me the girl!¡± She screamed while she looked down upon her fleeing guests.


    His eyes tired and half lit at the scene Third-Fist drew an old curved sword from his belt. ¡°As you command, mother.¡± He walked towards the knight captain and looked at his own old sword. Crafted in an age of honour. The sun lion proudly at its hilt. He sighed and brought both hands to it just before Sir Raimond rushed in for a swing from above. Blocked by a swing from below by Third-Fist their swords clashed and lightning struck outside, lighting the room in both its blue and the golden glow of the sun.


    Their mother spread her arms and spoke to the shaman below. ¡°Bring your soldiers back First-Cast!¡±


    ¡°Yes mother¡­¡± he said with a rotten smile before he started to sing a twisted version of the oldest tongue from his throat. Thunder answered outside and slowly parts of the dark clouds entered the room and floated to his risen obsidian staff.


    One half of the room was now casted in complete darkness, by the clouds and the other still glowing in the golden light of the sun. Third-Fist and Sir Raimond clashed at the edge of light and shadow. Both still fast for their age, yet both for different distant reasons. A true dance of swords and duty, of honour lost and hope to gather.


    It was strange that a small beast like a human could even block his big curved black sword. He was close to enjoying the fight as their swords danced through the air. One swing after the other, yet there was no honour in a victory here. Only duty. While Sir Raimond roared with every swing of his sword bathed in sunlight, the old Warlord remained cold and silent, fighting from the darkness.


    Slowly he started realising their mothers dark whispers above them and his eyes widened in panic. He turned ¡°Mother no! We can do it! Trust us!¡± he was stabbed in the back by Sir Raimond. His sword pierced through his old rusted armour. It was far from deep yet the pain was immeasurable. Fire spread through Third-Fists back and he roared in pain as part of the dark half of the room was lit up by the light of fire.


    As he was defeated yet alive the First-Cast pointed his staff into the room and the clouds began to seek the corpses of killed ogres. ¡°Rise my brothers¡­¡± he said as his eyes grew empty and slowly their corpses rose again. Some of them were missing parts of their head, blasted by the flintlocks others had lost limbs by their swords. Those that were cut by the knights gleaming swords started to rise, yet soon burned from their wounds. They fell down again, making First-Cast flinch in surprise.


    Third-Fist, defeated and in pain looked up at their floating mother. He listened to her whispers and knew what it meant. The young Lady¡¯s fate would have been terrible enough if they would have caught her, but now the terror was only growing. He sighed and looked down. Defeated as their mothers voice rose higher and higher. Sir Raimond screamed once more ¡°Justice!!¡± and used Third-Fists kneeling back as a jumping point to launch himself high enough and swing his golden glowing sword through the darkness and at the black robe. Just as he was about to slice through her the last words of her spell had finished and she dashed down into the ground. The old knight instead fell towards the throne and looked around the room.


    It took him a while until he saw a black shadow that looked like her robe, beneath the mirroring obsidian floor. Only a reflection while nothing was there that could have casted it.


    ¡°There is no sun in my realm.¡± Her voice came from everywhere and echoed through it all. Slowly the shadows grew and the dark clouds rose thicker until the sun had vanished from the room once more. ¡°You dare to invoke the stars yet you know not what hides in their shadow.¡± With the sun vanished even the Ogres sliced by the knights swords started to rise until they all unleashed a wailing scream. They launched themselves at the knights without any regard for their dead flesh. Sir Raimond watched in terror as he saw his brothers get slaughtered by the dead mass of Ogres. He was about to run back yet was greeted by Third-Fist¡¯s hand around his neck. Still kneeling from the pain inside his back he stared at the knight, who echoed the Warlord''s eyes with hatred and judgement. Yet he could feel the gigantic hands tightening grip. Air lost his lungs and he could hear the womens voice again. ¡°You invoke the Deep, yet cannot fathom what lurks beyond.¡±


    Lady Portfall stood in utter Terror between her knights as even the last of them fell to a mass of dead Ogres and their eternal service.


    Tears clouded in her eyes and every hint of composure was lost to the horror. Slowly the shadow that was the Ogre''s Mother rose from below her. It circled her legs and made her freeze in place as she could feel its cold touch. Soon it had circled her entire body and a ghastly face stared from the dark cloud at her. It came close and she wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to fight but the dark shadows held her in place. The face came close almost as if it would kiss her and she could smell the rot. Finally she could feel her breath leaving her body just before the face and the cloud vanished once more into the ground to appear behind Third-Fist. ¡°Let him watch.¡± She commanded. Third-Fist turned with the old knight in his grip. He tried to free himself yet struggled as the Ogres wound was healed by the darkness.


    Third-Fist casted him to the ground before the Lady and the wall of dead knights. Empty eyes of dead Ogres stared down at the two remaining humans and slowly Lady Portfall turned. She coughed and changed. Her skin slowly deformed and her bones became weak. She watched her hand become that of an old woman and realised the curse that had been cast on her. Age. Slowly her body turned to an old woman and she screamed as she realised there was no turning back. A lifetime robbed from her. A young soul prisoned inside an old body. ¡°Help me..¡± She pleaded at Sir Raimond before she held a hand against her chest where her heart had stopped moving. ¡°M¡¯lady!¡± the old knight screamed in Terror and kneeled next to her. He held her in his arms, embraced her for the last moments of her short life, for it was all he could do. At first she weakly clung to him, sought support in the terror, then she fell limb in his arms. Tears finally ran down the old knight as all his brothers and his lady laid dead around him. He screamed his defeat into the dark hall before it became a commanding voice. ¡°Show yourself witch and I wi~¡± before he finished the shadow came from the ground once more. It turned and twisted until a woman stood before him. Her old body slowly turned younger. Her rotting flesh slowly returned to one of youth and her entire being changed back to one of prosperous youth. She wasn¡¯t old and twisted any longer but young and once she spoke his heart pounded in fury for it had taken the face, form and voice of his lady ¡°Thank you¡­¡± the Sorceress said with the sweet lady¡¯s voice. ¡°One hundred years was far too long to bear¡­¡± She kneeled before him with a dark grin that would have never been cast by his lady. ¡°You can still be of use, oh fairest of knights.¡± She whispered and licked her newfound lips with a twisted snake''s tongue.


    ¡°I will be your end¡­¡± he screamed as he still held onto the dead old body of his young lady.


    ¡°No.¡± She said with a dark grin. ¡°You will not.¡± She rose to her feet again. Now her robe was revealing far more. Legs to be shown in pride and her chest almost freed from the cloth. A last dishonour to the dead Lady. ¡°Bring him to the Chambers.¡± She commanded and walked back to the Throne.


    He was about to turn and rush at her when Dead Ogres caught him and dragged him away into the darkness of the tower. His screams of loss and anger echoed like the skies pain outside.


    Back at her throne she closed her eyes with a delighted smile. ¡°Now we can finally discuss important things.¡± She said and snapped her fingers before pointing before her. Both Third-Fist and First-Cast kneeled down before her. ¡°What is your wish, mother?¡± they both asked in obedience.


    ¡°Oh my sweet boys.¡± She said with her newfound face and a big dark grin. ¡°You know what needs to be done.¡± Her last sentence sounded far darker than before. ¡°How are our forces doing in the Bladelands, Warlord?¡±


    Third-Fist glanced up and ignored the distant screams of the old knight as he was dragged deeper into the obsidian tower. ¡°The tides are treacherous, mother. I might suggest we take the route through the savannah instead.¡±


    First-Cast glanced in disbelief and anger at him. ¡°That is his domain. It would mean war with him and his tribes.¡±


    ¡°Once he knows the scroll is ready we will have war with him anyway.¡± Third-Fist replied to him and looked back up to their old mother in her new young human body. ¡°We must be smart. He is far closer to the Dragon and his clans than we are. So he must know and if he does then he has prepared for it.¡±


    Their mother listened to his words with a hint of disgust as he was mentioned. ¡°Would that mean we let those beasts of the Bladelands win? What message would that sent?¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± First-Cast agreed and stared back to Third-Fist who shook his head and just concentrated his words on their mother. ¡°What do messages matter when the time of Ascension is upon us?¡±


    Silence filled the throne room after that as only a hint of Sir Raimonds screams remained in the distance until lightning struck once more.


    Their mother nodded. ¡°You speak true my son.¡± she finally said which would have made many other Ogres smile. Not Third-Fist and not that day. ¡°Prepare troops then. Enough that we can rush through the Savannah and into the Dragons realm.¡± She turned from Third-Fist to First-Cast. ¡°And you my dearest boy, prepare the Callers. They will prepare the land for my arrival.¡±


    ¡°You will fight with us?¡± Third-Fist asked, honest surprise in his voice. Even First-Cast¡¯s eyes spoke of disbelief.


    She smiled darkly at them both below her. ¡°You said it yourself did you not?¡± The knight¡¯s screams were silent now and the storm outside struck once more. ¡°The time of ascension is nigh. And I shall not linger and see him or some dirty orc achieve it!¡±


    After that preparations were made. Another invasion on the land of the Orcs was about to be launched. Third-Fist knew there might be no living Lion left after this war was over. But no matter if they would win or lose it, it would be the last.

 Chapter 35: The Promise of Dawn

    It had been days since Mara saw her niece die by her own axe. Maybe even more than a week. She couldn¡¯t tell. Time seemed different after that day and now her eyes were empty.


    She had cried a lot, oftentimes even among the tribe that still saw her as a threat, and yet she followed them. What else was there to do? What purpose could it all still carry?


    Chieftain Scale-Eye and some hunters went with her, Kazzok, Rika and big Wolf Branak to the south east. Days became warmer, but Mara couldn¡¯t feel it, and nights had become clearer, yet Mara couldn¡¯t see it. For her, it was all the same forest where her niece had fallen. The girl she was meant to protect, the future of their family, the one reason to still fight.


    The young shaman¡¯s eyes finally saw some colour again as the green forest slowly gave way for the bright orange of the savanna. She had only ever heard stories of it, from her brother, her father and other riders, but never did she see it before. The vast endless plains of dried grass and small rivers. The distant Mesas to the north and the strange trees that almost looked like big bushes. Animals she had never seen lurked these vast dry plains and sounds she had never heard had caught her ear. Kara would have loved it, she thought. She would have loved to see these lands, and walk along its hunters, no matter their hate. But she could not. She was dead, and by now her ashes was probably long on its way to the wastes, and the last of all battles. No child should ever become part of those, and yet she was. And Mara was at fault. So she thought and told her tears every night.


    One morning as most of the party following Chieftain Scale-Eye and Druid Gruntheart, still rested, Mara left her tent. Two hunters on night watch saw her as she left the leather tent of Rika and Kazzok, yet they said nothing. It had been clear no one wanted a darkling here, so they didn¡¯t stop her as she left the camp. She looked around the savannah, the dry glades as they were called, and walked up a hill to a distant tree. The night was surprisingly cold, but for a Frostsong it was still warmer than any summer day. If anything she greeted the cold. She deserved the cold, to freeze in her sorrow and drown in her grief.


    The sun was very distant and still hid beyond the horizon, leaving most of the sky and the land in stars and darkness still.


    Once up at the tree she started to look for some firewood. It was easy, for the dry glades were true to their name. She placed the yak pelt she had carried since they had left the valley before the tree and started to set up the wood for a campfire. Yet after she was done, she didn¡¯t ignite it. She liked the darkness for now and did not care if the beasts of the glades would come for her. If anything she would have greeted it. There were better ways to die, but she would not deserve a good way. She had brought little Kara down here with her, she was arrogant enough to think she could protect her in the land of the enemy, and in the end, it was her axe.


    Tears were born once again and she swelled up, now alone in the shadows of the tree, while the sun still was nothing but a distant dream of morning dew. It was too much. Too much guilt to bear, too much grief to endure. She got a knife from her belt. It had once been a gift from a Frostsong hunter who tried to impress her, but their love was not meant to be.


    She looked at it with the blurry fog of tears before her eyes. She grabbed it tighter and tried to think of anyone in this world who would care if she sought her end here. Who would cry if she ended herself? Who would weep if she let the sweet pain of a lover''s knife touch her veins?


    Her mind came to Kazzok and Rika and she hated that her thoughts still clung to people. That it still didn¡¯t allow her to die in blood and tears. Right there alone, in the darkness of a tree and the latest silence of night. But those two, the Druid and the huntress, two greenskins and their wolf, did so much for her. They had made sure she was not killed by the rest of the tribe after the battle of the oak. They had aided her in her sorrow as much as they could, and by the ancestors they had paid so much of their own just for trusting her. Their home burned, Rika¡¯s arm cut off and even though she did not understand much, Mara knew that a Druid putting trust in her was costly in its own way. She grabbed the knife tight and had the tears fall down. They were good orcs, and they would be better off without her. Who knows what more her useless life, a traitor''s life, a kinslayers life, would cost them. She opened her eyes and brought the knife into place as a woman''s voice appeared next to her.


    ¡°All alone?¡± Rika asked as she looked down at Mara. She saw the knife and the tears and understood.


    Mara nodded and stopped in her movement. She wanted to say something, anything, but instead broke down, her tears running freely. ¡°I can¡¯t..¡± she uttered in her tears.


    Rika moved around and next to her. She took her remaining hand and closed around the one that held the knife. ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t.¡± she said softly but with a hint of a command in her voice. Stolen story; please report.


    Mara shook her head. ¡°I brought this all over you¡­¡± she said between her sobbing before she was able to force out more words ¡°Over her..¡±


    Rika opened Mara¡¯s hand and took the knife. She planted it in the ground next to the unlit fireplace before she laid her remaining arm around Mara. Mara froze in place by the touch yet didn¡¯t carry the strength to say no. She also couldn¡¯t deny that it was warm amidst the morning cold.


    ¡°Your Khan seeks war.¡± Rika stated. ¡°He will bring it over us.¡± She looked at Mara and tried to catch her tearfilled eyes with her own. ¡°You tried to warn us. Tried to protect your clan and even beyond that your enemies of all things.¡± She tried to make a reassuring smile as Mara looked at her. ¡°You are a good orc. It would be a shame to lose you, shaman.¡±


    Mara couldn¡¯t hold her eyes any longer and looked down. Shame washed over her. She didn¡¯t deserve such words, or a warm arm around her cold shoulders. She deserved death and shame, and for her name to be forgotten and cast out by even the ancestors.


    Yet who was she to disagree?


    ¡°Why are you like this?¡± she asked softly while her raining eyes returned to Rika. ¡°Why do you help me so much? Why¡­¡± she broke down again and shook her head. ¡°Sorry..¡± she stumbled over her words, trying to become more content, yet continued as she looked at the distant horizon. ¡°I should be glad..not question you.¡± Words said more by the shaman in duty than the aunt in grief.


    Rika waited until she had spoken all the words she sought to speak and then thought a while thinking for an answer of her own. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She finally admitted. ¡°At least I can be useful like this.¡± Her last words sounded bitter and she regretted speaking them aloud.


    Mara looked at her as Rika now looked away. The stump that had been her left arm was wrapped in leaf bandages. The wound would still take time, that much she knew. It had been Kazok who was handling it from day to day, despite all the other duties he carried on their journey.


    ¡°Should I take a look?¡± Mara asked carefully, nodding at the stump.


    Rika shook her head. ¡°Kazok will.¡±


    Mara nodded and looked to the horizon once more before Rika sighed. ¡°He will anyway¡­but take a look if you must.¡± With those words Mara freed herself from the once a Warrior¡¯s  arm and moved to her other side. Carefully she removed the leaf bandages and took a look at the wound below. It was as nasty as one would expect. Stitched together by a quite thick thread, almost a rope even. The greenskins might knew well how to aid in grief, yet their ways of healing a body were even harsher than those of the Frostsong.


    Mara washed her tears away with her arm and looked closer. Then she asked in a serious manner. ¡°Does it itch?¡±


    Rika nodded and looked at her. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it?¡± she asked and made Mara smile for but a second.


    ¡°It would be strange if not.¡± she answered and carefully brought her hands to the wound. The Druid had done great work. It was hard enough to keep someone alive after such a wound, yet despite the harsh ways of the south he had managed to keep the wound clean. There was a dry salve of herbs he had smeared into the wound, something Mara didn¡¯t know. She moved her head in and sniffed the wound for rot or infection, but the scent of the druids herb was too strong. She thought for a moment while Rika looked at her with unease.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the ways of your land¡­so I dare not to interfere with what Kazzok has done to it already.¡±


    Rika smiled. ¡°He can explain it later.¡± She said while the sun slowly started to paint the sky in with the promise of a red of morning.


    With great care Mara started to apply the leaf bandages once more. It stung for a second as she had to press them close. ¡°You think he has the time for it?¡±


    Rika huffed and looked down. ¡°Maybe..¡± she answered after a while. ¡°It depends how far we come today. If we meet the other chieftains or not.¡±


    Slowly Mara was done and Rika¡¯s stump was hidden beneath big dried leafs and a tight rope once more. She then looked at the sunrise. ¡°Will I truly be of aid there?¡± She asked and made Rika look at her once more.


    The huntress answered softly while her eyes turned far more serious ¡°You are the one who knows your Khan and his plans best.¡± she said and nodded a few times. She had to think of more words, yet knew the shaman needed to hear them. ¡°And maybe you even know how to turn your own clan on him.¡±


    Mara breathed heavily to that, a sigh that was not ready to be sound. Yet Rika moved while sitting and used her remaining hand to take Mara¡¯s folded hands. ¡°I don¡¯t understand much¡­but the hunt we found you on, was the beginning of a new path..my father always believed it. And no matter what happens I know that both Kazzok and I will fight for it.¡± She smiled into Mara¡¯s eyes.


    The shaman returned the smile in gratitude for she knew how much the huntress tried. Yet her heart only feared for them. For their destiny, for the bloodied path ahead of them. She would not allow her mistakes to cost more life and she would give her own gladly if it meant peace for others.


    She nodded and both started to look at the rising sun, no more word was spoken as they watched it rise. Mara held Rika¡¯s hand as they did. She felt uneasy at first to accept it, as she did with her arm and words. Yet she could not deny that the warm comfort of another orc was soothing. And in the end, who was she to disagree?

 Chapter 36: Warrior

    The tribes of the south had always been strange to the clans of the north. Not just for the green skin, not just for the way their druids were about blood and the hunt, while the shamans were about healing and strength of the land.


    But also because from the outside they seemed so unorganised. The north was led by the three, once four, big clan banners and their Chieftains. The Frostsong Clan, the Bladespire Nomads, and the Bladeland Warriors. Many families, in some cases even small subclans, belonged to each of those and followed their chieftains in days of drought and battle. And their Chieftains, followed the Khan, the Chieftain of Chieftains and his mighty riders of grand Karn¡¯Arak, in the Dragon¡¯s forgotten name.


    The south however, had never been ruled by one, or few. Instead it had always been a land of many tribes. Sure those tribes had their own chieftains and druids, but not only could they change with the day, they also only ever led but one small tribe. One small village.


    To Rika and Kazzok even that village was distant, as their home in the Oak had been quite far from it. Now, it was burned. The village still stood, but they knew if the Khan was to seek war, he would attack the pines first, for the Frostsong and the orcs of the Bristlepine forest had sought each other''s blood even more than other clans. It was the only place where no mountain or ashen waste made a line, between north and south. Just the forest itself and even that was easy to dare for either side. At least now, that they had lost his protection. But the blood price he demanded of them was too high to pay, and what orc would ever allow their enemies to be taken by a different force than themselves?


    The days since they saw their home in flames had been long for many reasons, and Rika had felt every second of them in their terrible endless entirety. She had cursed to herself many times, not only for the battle she lost, but all that was lost alongside it. Her arm, her home and Kara. She went through it all in her mind, how she could have beaten him, the brother of Mara, the darkling who they called the beast. Yet she never came to an answer. And even when she was close to one, what did it matter now? Even if they would fight again, she had lost an arm and lost back when she had both. What hope of victory would there be now?


    The day after the battle of the oak she still tried to tell herself that she could learn to fight with but one hand. She could use a tomahawk instead of her sword, she could throw spears instead of using a bow. But then the days slowly forced the new reality into her. It was hard enough to even bind the leather over her chest together. To even set her pants right without aid, and she was still too proud to ask for it. Once they had started their journey to the savanna she was glad that she rode on Branak, because at least her pants would stay in place despite the band she had to do with but one hand. Her chest she hid behind some of her wolf pelt, just in case the knot would not hold.


    The heat of shame was burning inside her for it all. Shame of losing her home, shame before the rest of their party and her lose attire, and shame before Kazzok and how much he had to aid her now. Every dusk and dawn he made sure to look at her wound, to clean it and refresh the salve and leaf made bandages on it. He always asked if it hurt and she always pretended it was fine, while in reality it felt like a thousand ants would bite at her stump. Over the days of their ride south she often felt an itch in muscles that were now rotting near their oak, muscles she lost and would never feel again. Like the nonexistent ants on her stump it ganwed on her mind with a thousand tiny bites.


    Whenever she settled on Branak she instinctively tried to use both her hands just to realise there was only one, and almost fell, day after day, morning after morning. All of it a constant reminder of her lost fight. A stain on her honour, yet she slowly realised how it was far more than lost honour. She tried to hide it all, to remain the proud warrior and daughter Rakkan and the oak. Yet how could one hide what was lost?


    It didn¡¯t help when they arrived in the savanna, for the shadows of the trees aided her hiding. Still they moved on, and into the warm and dry glades. Other parties started to appear from the forests, other villages from the bristlepines that had been informed by the farstriders. So their party grew more and more, and soon someone questioned her.


    ¡°Why the pelt in these warm lands, huntress?¡± A hunter from another village asked.


    She huffed at the question, huffed away the mortification that question alone brought her. After she regained some composure she laughed it off. ¡°Just to protect the wound. Its still fresh and I want to fight soon again!¡± Her words were spoken in false pride but even that was shattered as she saw Kazzok from afar. His eyes knowing and with a glint of pity in them.


    ¡°I scout ahead.¡± She said and quickly rode ahead, to hide her shame in the big wide open plains of dried grass and distant rivers. Away from their party she huffed a few times, tried to get strength, tried to get the ants out of her head and her arm, but it was no use. She closed her eyes and tried to feel. The warm breeze of these lands gave her mind some rest and the distant sound of bear-lions and bat-hyenas brought memories of long forgotten hunts to her mind.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    She never visited the savanna often but always adored its warmth and far distant horizons. Her father always said you could always see at dawn who you might meet at dusk. When they came here it was for similar meetings as this and in the far distance the mesa that was their goal already shadowed as a single spot over the grand horizon. A cliff right in the centre of the wide openness where the chieftains and druids would meet in times of need.


    She came back to camp late at evening, when the sun was already going down, so no one would see her clearly.


    Her sleep was uneasy as it often was since the battle and she had planned to leave just as early and in the shadow of early morning when she saw how Mara left the tent. She followed her with a hunters step and decided to stay silent until she saw the knife the shaman was about to set to her veins.


    Then she spoke and did her best. She never felt as if words were her strength but she had learned from her father what she could. It was hard to remain her composure, for every word the darkling shaman said filled her with both sorrow and anger. The thought of dying had crossed her mind too, yet if she would it was in battle. And even then she knew what it would do to Kazzok. She had to live. For him and for the tribe.


    Now they watched the sunrise together. Her remaining hand closed around Mara¡¯s. It was hard to hide her uneasiness, but she smiled when she realised the shaman at least stopped crying.


    Soon voices were heard down at the camp and they knew they had to move. Rika looked at her eyes. ¡°Ready to go?¡±


    Mara sighed and nodded, for a second a smile was born on her face. ¡°Thank you.¡± she said in the honesty of sorrow.


    Rika huffed with a smile and couldn¡¯t stand her gaze anymore. She nodded as she looked down. After a deep breath her eyes returned to Mara and she spoke once more. ¡°You are not alone, shaman.¡± That was all she could say and all the truth that was needed.


    Still in shame and sorrow but without tears they returned to the camp. Rika awkwardly held her pants in place. The knot was lose once again and her pants were close to slipping down. She sighed. Mara turned and saw it. The heat of shame was burning inside Rika once more as the Darkling simply approached and made a new knot to hold her pants tight. The once warrior wanted to stay silent yet she forced out some words. ¡°I need to learn how to do it now..¡±


    ¡°You will.¡± Mara answered and looked her over. She saw how lose the leather around Rika¡¯s chest was. ¡°That too?¡±


    Rika nodded. Finally she was close to tears, but openly shedding them would have only fueled the fires of shame and even there, even after she saw the shaman at her worst, she wouldn¡¯t allow it. But slowly they started to blur her vision. Once Mara was done making a knot at the leather bands around her chest as well she saw the birth of rain in Rika¡¯s eyes and felt how her own heart answered aching at the sight. She brought her hand to the warrior''s shoulder and her forehead to hers. ¡°You will learn.¡± She stated. Rika breathed out a few times and then brought her remaining arm to Mara¡¯s shoulder. She looked at her. There was nothing to say but to nod at the shaman¡¯s reassuring smile.


    They continued to walk back and for the first time after the battle of the oak, Rika could walk with a hint of pride. She washed her face from tears, while Mara seemed far more fine in carrying them. After they entered the tent they met Kazzok inside. He was sitting on a pelt, before him a plank of wood. With trained movement he cutted dried pieces of meat and mushrooms.. Supplies they had taken from the pines.


    ¡°Took a walk?¡± He asked them with a grand smile, yet Rika knew him enough to see the concern in his amber eyes.


    She nodded yet Mara answered. ¡°Even the nights here are warmer than the summers at home.¡± She sat down next to him and took the knife she wanted to use moments ago, to now aid him in slicing the meat into snacks for the day.


    He shared a look with Rika for it was the first time since the battle of the Oak that Mara sounded like this. Rika smiled at him and he returned it for a moment before he talked further. ¡°You should visit the white wastes even south from here. No matter the season, the heat there can kill an orc.¡± A mixture of laughter and a grunt escaped him and she smiled.


    Rika sat down next to them. She took a knife herself and a big piece of meat. She cutted pieces of it too. It wasn¡¯t easy, but she had taken a big piece so it was staying in place on its own as she cutted.


    ¡°You should tell her about the salve on my arm.¡± She said distant while concentrating on cutting.


    He looked at her with a raised brow, almost ready to protest for reasons unspoken, yet Rika continued as she stopped for a moment to look back at him. ¡°Once we arrive you will be occupied. Let her help, Kazzok.¡±


    His gaze went over to Mara who shared a look with him and he nodded. ¡°I will once we are done.¡± He said and ate one of the pieces he had cut off. ¡°We will arrive today..¡± he continued while eating and munching. ¡°So not a day too late ha!¡±


    Mara smiled to that before her mind went to the big meeting of the tribes. ¡°Will I be a problem there?¡±


    Kazzok stopped the cutting and gathered words for a moment before he nodded. ¡°As much as one of our people would be in your clan.¡± He answered seriously after he had gulped down the dried meat. ¡°But they will listen if you tell them about your Khan and his plans.¡±


    ¡°So you hope.¡± Rika added.


    He sighed and nodded sideways. ¡°So I hope.¡±

 Chapter 37: The Ashen Heart

    Aru¡¯Gal had always been like a brother to Bruna. From the day he had to kill his father, to the day they mourned his daughter. Together they promised they would raid and conquer all of the continent if the Khan would let them and so they became menaces to the south.


    They raided and they slaughtered, they pillaged and they burned. Like their fathers before them and like they hoped their children would one day.


    Back then many whispered that Bruna would follow his fathers footsteps and become the Khan the changing north needed. And he was a mountain on wings, a beast in battle, a true heir of their hatred, but the new approaching age would demand more than muscle and fate had different plans. Once his love died, the mother of his only child, he became a different man. Aru¡¯Gal had promised him to become Khan in his sake and so he did. Now his daughter had died and his sister was an enemy. The only thing that was left for the Khan to promise the beast, was vengeance.


    They had taken flight together with Sha¡¯Raph and a horde of riders. The most loyal to their Khan remained in the Frostsong lands. Ur¡¯bak, Gor¡¯Mash and Bur¡¯rack were among those that were left behind. Even though Aru¡¯Gal wasn¡¯t sure about the watcher¡¯s loyalties, he would still show a harsh hand and force the Khan¡¯s will upon them. That much Aru¡¯Gal knew, for the old rider however he wasn¡¯t that sure, so he cut his wings.


    Bruna was set on Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s old Wyvern again, all though this time he could feel the old rider''s weariness when he had to let go of his old companion. Together with Sha¡¯Raph and Dunefang, they made the spear behind Aru¡¯Gal and his twisted twin tongued wyvern.


    Their flight was swift for they had to show the Bladelands the Khans true might. The force that was Karn¡¯Arak. But Aru¡¯Gal had more in his mind than just the riders. He knew the loyalties of the north were running thin. His own clan only held together by wip and leash, the Bladelands knowing of his plans, and who could even imagine what the nomad¡¯s plans could be.


    ¡°We will rest in Karn¡¯Arak and then fly until we crush the ogres beneath our wings!¡± he had told the riders when they set off from the hollowed mountain. Their many wings made a storm that howled through the silent caves. Many eyes followed them in anger, yet with the remaining riders still no one would dare to raise a word or a spear. Bur¡¯rack and other remaining riders cheered as their brothers and sisters left with the Khan, some of them jealous for the honour they were offered. Yet they trusted their Khan and knew times were forced to change by him. Yet none of them knew how he would force that change.


    The rest flew on, fast and high to the clouds and over the western mountains. After they dashed over their peaks, snow made room for black obsidian and soon they arrived in the heat of the ashen plains, the land of their dragon. After snow had pierced their faces, shards of obsidian in the storms started to do the same before they landed on the high platform of Karn¡¯Arak. The ashen winds were harsh that day yet the fires of the dragon''s hoard seemed rather silent, but the Khan was about to change that. The most distant burning mountains weren¡¯t agreeing with the hoard¡¯s silence and answered their arrival as they spewed fire into the far plains.


    After Aru¡¯Gal had jumped down from his beast he instantly waved for some riders to hold its reins in his sake. Then he turned to Bruna and Sha¡¯Raph, who were just coming down from their own beasts. Both had their eyes hidden now, she behind her mask as always, and he behind a helmet the frostsong smiths had crafted for him. It was simple yet carried the horns of a yak calf on its sides. An addition made for the man they called the beast. More than anything, it hid his eyes in shadow.


    ¡°Come.¡± Aru¡¯Gal commanded them both.


    Sha¡¯Raph was petting Dunefang before her hidden brow raised to his words. ¡°I thought you wanted to seek word with the Dragon again?¡±


    ¡°We will.¡± He answered and started to turn and walk.


    She and Bruna shared a look with their hidden eyes, as did many other riders. It was only for the Khan to see the Dragon but times were forced to change. She whispered something to Dunefang in the oldest tongue before she followed. Bruna handed the old rider¡¯s reins to another rider for the moment and followed without any words but obedience.


    Aru¡¯Gal was walking with quick determined steps and they almost had to run to catch up with him. Down the stairs that went from the plattform, down through the tunnel and the many riders¡¯ tiny caves. Their doors still decorated with signs of their clans. Down further the many steps inside while they could hear the constant breathing down below. The heat was rising the further down they went and finally Sha¡¯raph found the strength to speak as they followed their Khan. ¡°Why do you want us with you?¡±


    ¡°To understand.¡± He replied quite coldly, his words almost a chill in the heat of the beating heart of Karn¡¯Arak.


    She glanced over to Bruna, but the beast remained silent. There was a time where he would have questioned his friend, no matter his title. But now as he was destined to kill his sister, and after holding the corpse of his daughter, he was broken. All he did was continue to follow. Once he had hoped for a brighter future, after the last battle was done, now he only wished for a grand warrior''s death.


    She glanced back at Aru¡¯Gal, more nervous the deeper into the structure and towards the dragon''s hoard they went, but there was nothing to protest anymore. Maybe she would understand him once she saw it. Maybe her doubts about him would vanish and her words could be true once more, yet for now, they remained as hidden as her face.


    They reached the lowest steps and Aru¡¯Gal turned to them, behind him the grand tunnel, that led to the long way above the dragon''s hoard, breathed. It was slow and heavy, and filled the air with thick smoke and the stench of sulphur.


    ¡°If I¡­¡± Aru¡¯Gal started but stumbled over his words. It took him time to gather them once more as he looked down. Once he glanced back at them he had composed himself and for once that day spoke as the man, not the Khan. ¡°If you see it, and still think I am wrong¡­¡± He breathed in a final time his eyes weary yet honest ¡°Beat me.¡± His words sounded like a mixture of a command and a pleading.


    Sha¡¯Raph nodded, almost not visible with her mask, she knew of Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s plans and the price they would demand. He had to show a lot to make it worth that price.


    Bruna however just huffed with a stuttered breath. His daughter''s last words echoed through his mind, rumbling like the thunder of his sister¡¯s axe. ¡°But I will beat you.¡± She had said before the fight started that ended with the axe in her shoulder. Words that seemed distant yet so heavy, echoing through his mind and into the obsidian halls of Karn¡¯Arak. His answer to his friend was nothing more than a deep audible huffing from below his helmet. His sorrowed eyes remained hidden as the helmet did what it was made for.


    Neither was the answer Aru¡¯Gal wanted to hear yet both the ones he expected. ¡°Come.¡± he said and started his walk into the tunnel and soon the long way above the Dragon¡¯s hoard.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Both followed him with slow steps. First into the cloud of smoke then to the long bridge above the lair. Fire and pools of melted metal, offerings to the greatest of all beasts, shone through the mountain hall while the heat of its very breath shimmered in the air. It was deep and heavy while it echoed through the fiery mountain, yet it did not stop the Khan, neither the beast, nor the ashen mask.


    Once at the last edge above the layer Aru¡¯Gal waited, his two companions behind him. After they stopped, Sha¡¯raph was the first to dare a whisper. ¡°Is it sleeping?¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal shook his head and waited but a moment longer before the mountain started shaking. First only with a booming voice, then with the weight of the moving Dragon hidden inside the red burning smoke. ¡°A R U¡¯ G A~¡± It stopped in his words once its gigantic big glowing eye appeared before them in the smoke. All three orcs stared up to it. They saw how its eyelids were held open by nothing but sheer strength alone and even then they were not completely revealing the orange glowing eye. Its pupils widened with what all of them could read as utter panic. ¡°What is the meaning of this, Khan?! Has tradition made room for~¡±


    ¡°We are not here for Tradition.¡± Aru¡¯Gal shouted and interrupted the greatest of all beasts. Sha¡¯Raph looked at him in hidden shock before her eyes returned to the Dragon. Bruna formed the hint of a smile and tightened the grip on his fathers axe. This was a beast worthy of death, he thought yet soon it vanished once more. Its half lid eyes and panic were far from the greatness they had been promised. It was big, gigantic even, greater than any beast could ever be, yet he saw those eyes and knew. His mind went back to the dying Wyvern of his Daal¡¯Gavek. To the beast that had given up, its throat open and bleeding. Those eyes were the same. This dragon was not a beast of legend, but a corpse that still drew breath.


    The Dragon¡¯s pupils grew wider once again, now even followed by his eyelids if only slightly. It moved more and more and made the mountain shake under its weight. Its eyes darted around the volcano, up to every little rock that could hide more orcs.


    ¡°It''s afraid..¡± Bruna whispered, more to himself yet Aru¡¯Gal nodded to that. Sha¡¯Raph was lost for words. After another moment when the Dragon could not find any other orcs hiding it breathed out. A wave of heat almost shoved the Khan and his companions away yet they stood tall. With its breath the red smoke vanished and the entirety of its gigantic body shown. It filled the Volcano while molten metal dripped down from its wings where it had rested in them before. Its throat started to glow while it stared down at the three.


    Bruna once again grinned, if it was to attack he would jump it. Maybe his axe would hit it before he was turned to ash. A true warrior¡¯s death, worthy of his fathers name. So he told himself, yet his mind could not bring himself to think the same for his daughter''s life. No warrior''s death would make worth the life she was robbed of.


    Sha¡¯Raph was far from grinning, she breathed heavily below her mask. Bruna brought his shadowed eyes to her. His grin vanished and a hint of anger brewed in its stead. Aru¡¯Gal had chosen to be here, and he, the beast, had nothing more to live for, but she was a proud warrior still. She had reasons to fight, not to die. He glanced back over his shoulder and behind them, down the long bridge and into the tunnel. If the Dragon would breathe somewhere else than directly at them she could have time to run. A jump at its side, towards its wing would force it for such, but it was quite the jump. Still it would be worth it. At least his life could be the price for another.


    Before he could do such, Aru¡¯Gals voice echoed through the hoard once more. ¡°We are not here for a hunt¡­¡± he bowed his head all so slightly. ¡°Master¡­¡±


    Bruna grunted and lowered his axe. The Dragon¡¯s throat lost its glow and Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s breath seemed more at ease once more. Its head lowered itself right before the bridge yet it remained enormous. Just its eyes alone were twice as big as Dunefang. But now it was close enough for a hit, thought Bruna, yet he was not to risk their lives for his death.


    ¡°Then what is the meaning of this?!¡± the Dragon¡¯s voice demanded. Pools of molten silver bubbled over his voice echoing through the mountain.


    ¡°You demanded an army.¡± Aru¡¯Gal answered without flinching. ¡°Yet my clan has seen trouble. Treason and strife among the cla~¡±


    ¡°Why would the struggle of your clan be of my concern, oh great Khan?!¡± Its voice was vile, defensive and its eyes layered with an anger that was hard to spot.


    Bruna huffed in anger at those words and Aru¡¯gal looked over his shoulder to meet his friend¡¯s angry gaze. At least one of the two understood. He looked over to Sha¡¯Raph and felt her eyes looking into his, yet as always she was hard to read.


    The Dragon looked back and forth between them but said nothing until Aru¡¯Gal returned his gaze and words to it. ¡°Those who dared to wound you are on the move.¡± It breathed out at his words, bringing another wave of heat at them. After the wave Aru¡¯gal continued. ¡°We will defeat them. But if the clan saw you themselves, if they were to see you, to see what they are fighting for, then~¡± ¡°I will show them a fight myself!¡± The Dragon answered, its voice booming once more. Now Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes widened in shock and he quickly spoke again. ¡°Let us fight this fight¡­we~¡± ¡°You think I cannot fight my own battles anymore, young Khan. I know that well and you are far from the first to think such.¡± Aru¡¯Gal took a step back at those words. ¡°I will show you¡­show all of you why your ancestors feared me!¡±


    A moment of silence was born in the mountain, only disrupted by the bubbling metal down below. ¡°By defeating your old enemies?..¡± Aru¡¯Gal asked after a moment, his voice far from the Khan he had been a moment ago.


    A growl was heard inside the Dragon¡¯s throat until it turned to a loud laughter that was echoed by the fires of Karn¡¯Arak. They spew and roared while their master laughed into the hidden sky above the hoard. ¡°Do I finally hear fear, great Khan?!¡± it asked with a wide grin that showed its rotting teeth.


    Shame and anger mixed in Aru¡¯gal and he huffed to compose himself as the Khan once more. ¡°Wait for us at the mountain.¡± He commanded the dragon. ¡°Master¡­¡± he added and got an angry glance from Bruna. ¡°The nomads are on their way and we shall gather the Bladelands, so all may see you..¡± He said. His words a untrue, yet spoken with proud honesty. Bruna and Sha¡¯Raph shared a hidden glance at his lie before they looked back up to the Dragon once again.


    ¡°As you say, oh great Khan. Gather them. Let them come. Let them watch!¡± It started to spread its wings again. ¡°It has been too long since I have felt my winds¡­¡± Its last words sounded more like a longing than a thread and it started to spread its wings. Once it took flight a storm of fire was born beneath it. They were pushed back by the force of its mighty wings and the hot glaring fire that followed. Sha¡¯Raph almost fell down into the hoard but was aided by the beast and the Khan. They aided her up once more and stood back close towards the tunnel. Their gaze followed the Dragon as it flew up and outside the Volcano that was its hoard. Sha¡¯Raph in shock, Bruna in anger and Aru¡¯Gal with a slowly forming smile. Once it was up at the edges of the volcano and free from its hoard it roared into the sky. A roar that echoed far over the distant burning horizons and was answered by all the burning mountains that granted it colour. Wyverns and riders at the top of Karn¡¯Arak were shocked and all forced to kneel as the beast of their worship showed its face. Red lightning echoed over the red smoke of the ashen plains until the dragon''s roar was complete. As it took flight for the east, the lands of their clan they could still feel the storms made by its wings.


    Bruna¡¯s angry shadowed gaze turned to Aru¡¯Gal once they couldn¡¯t see the dragon anymore. ¡°Why do you lie to it?..¡± He asked with fury in his voice.


    Aru¡¯Gal slowly shook his head before he faced his friend''s hidden eyes. ¡°If the sorceress or the Arch-Druid get their hands on it, we are lost.¡± he nodded into the distance as he continued. ¡°If they do, we have lost everything¡­¡±


    Bruna already did, yet this was not the place to state such and he continued to question ¡°Then why even lure it away from here?!¡± Anger turned his voice into a roar, yet Aru¡¯Gal remained calm now that the grand beast was on its way to the hollowed mountain. He brought his hand to his friend''s shoulder. ¡°You shall see my brother.¡± It did not ease the beast so he repeated. ¡°Trust me, and you shall see.¡± The Khan''s face was one of victory. Bruna did not understand why, yet Sha¡¯Raph had her hidden gaze on him. Terror went over her body. A mixture of disbelief and utter horror at the reality they had set in motion. She knew so well what would happen, what the Khan¡¯s plans would be. He would break them all. At least, if she was to break first.

 Chapter 38: The Frostsong

    A terrible silence had befallen the nights over the Frostsong Valley.Too tired were the orcs to make any noise at night, too tired to sing or dance, too tired for tales of hunts and yore, too tired to fight back. Only the howling wind remained as a distant echo through the hollowed mountain. A constant reminder that the ancestors were watching.


    Gor¡¯Mash had seen many nights over the valley of his clan but never had they been this silent. Even in times of tragedy some campfires would remain and try to ease the mood again. But not anymore. The Khan had decided to rule with whip and leash instead of strength and wisdom, and the old rider hated it. There had been Khans before that were harsh, Ara¡¯Gash who they called the mountain chief among them. But no one had ever sent his riders, all of them, against their own clan. There were those who fought against chieftains before, those who beheaded their watchers for the wrong word, but never did they force their will over an entire clan. Over fishermen and smiths, over herders and shamans. Every orc would always proudly answer a battle, but it was without honour to challenge those who were weak. Children were used in the mines now and even the elders were forced to dig.


    Gor¡¯Mash had become a rider for he saw honour in protecting those that could not themself anymore, to hunt down the strongest warriors of the south and take what was meant for the north, not to prey on the weakest of his own people. He had trained those that were still weak, those that wanted to become riders or those that were merely lost. When the man they called the beast lost his father he took it on him to train both him and the future Khan. They were good boys, proud as they should be and as stubborn as their fathers. Yet one was broken by the death of love and the other rotten by the very lack of it. He knew the boys well, yet once the goblin fever had them it was not on him to hold them any longer. Maybe he could have, maybe he should have tried and reign them in. But they were strong. One of them had the strength of the mountain and the other the mind of a wolf. And both the will of a Khan, even though it might have been lost on them over the years.


    Gor¡¯Mash sighed in a deep grunt at the old memory while he stood in front of the mine. The gigantic dolmen loomed around him and the entrance was cleared for use before him. It¡¯s tunnels deep enough to be called a mine once more. Yet it was not enough for the Khan. He had left them plans on how and where to dig more tunnels. A madman''s plans. Everyone who had taken a look at those plans knew that, yet still no one dared to speak. Such weakness, Gor¡¯Mash thought.


    He was awake while the sun was still far from rising and the night still without stars. Some would say he was taking watch, but he knew better. His thoughts were running thin and his fury was boiling hotter than it had in years. It was a fine deed to raid, to pillage and conquer but without honour to do such at your own clan. The dragon''s fire in his eyes glared as he watched the mine. The damnable mine.


    Aru¡¯Gal had been wise to give Bruna his of all Wyverns, otherwise he would have acted even sooner.


    A few riders flew above him. They had started to fly patrols and make sure no one was fleeing for the pines. One of the riders must have seen him, and pointed his beast down towards the mine. Whoever it was, he was wise enough to not land directly in the tunnel but nearby, and soon steps were crunching through the snow. As Gor¡¯Mash turned he saw watcher Ur¡¯Barck coming down into the half tunnel that made way to the mine. His eyes returned back to it and he huffed. His anger burning mind was not set to deal with the Watcher¡¯s games.


    ¡°The nights are silent, almost at peace.¡± The watcher said. Gor¡¯Mash was never sure if Ur¡¯Back was truly a fool or smart enough to act like one. Still he responded in honesty and a deep old voice. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°The nights or the days?¡± Ur¡¯Back asked in a bold tone that forced the old rider''s eyes on him.


    ¡°Careful Watcher. Our Khan wouldn¡¯t like the meaning of such words.¡± He said and finally offered him attention. His eyes were eying him up and down and his mind was judging if his words could be spoken in truth.


    Ur¡¯Back returned the gaze just as seriously. His eyes were younger than those of the greying rider, yet they spoke the same tongue. ¡°Yet you do¡­do you not?¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash considered his words and looked back at the mine. ¡°I trained the boy that calls himself Khan now¡­I trained the beast that travels with him and fought alongside both of their fathers.¡± he started calm but fueled by fury. ¡°This is not what either me or the rotting corpses that brought them into this world have taught them..¡± He shook his head. ¡°At least for the Khan, I am unsure about the beast.¡±


    Ur¡¯Backs face became one of sorrow. But he said nothing. Gor¡¯Mash looked at him again. ¡°You were there with him when she died.¡±


    Ur¡¯Back nodded and still took a moment to speak. ¡°No man should see their child fall.¡± He said.


    Gor¡¯Mash shook his head in agreement. ¡°It is the way of war.¡± He answered. ¡°And our Khan seeks more of it.¡±


    Ur¡¯Back sighed. ¡°It was not the Khan''s war that brought that girl''s death.¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash had nothing to say. It was hard to see a man break but harder if you once trained that man. Everybody knew how much the beast was hiding his tears and only the grandest fools would have tried to use them against him.


    ¡°What do you think, Watcher?¡± he asked softly and nodded at the mine. ¡°Will it truly be worth the effort?¡±


    Ur¡¯Back shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the tunnels he wants us to dig¡­¡±


    ¡°No one does!¡± Gor¡¯Mash quickly continued, the fury in his old voice louder than he meant to. He shook his head and stared back at the cold open entrance. ¡°Some of them do not even hold the mountain''s blood! What point is there?! Does he think we need to hide underground when we have the mountain?!¡±


    The old rider''s fury had become louder and Ur¡¯Back came a step closer to him. ¡°Careful Gor¡¯Mash¡­our Khan wouldn¡¯t like the meaning of such words.¡±


    The only answer he got was a huff in anger as the old rider''s eyes returned to him.


    Gor¡¯Mash was tired of pretending, they both knew what they truly thought about their Khan so he continued. ¡°That boy will be the end of us¡­¡± He said with a deep grunt.


    Ur¡¯Back remained silent. Maybe he was wiser than he seemed, but Gor¡¯Mash was too far into fury to stop. ¡°The other day he asked if I was willing to sacrifice everything for the clan..¡± he sighed and continued. ¡°I thought it wasn¡¯t much more than a young Khan doubting his men, but now..¡± He shook his head in thought before his burning eyes sought those of Ur¡¯Back ¡°Now I am not so sure anymore..¡±


    The watcher glanced back as seriously as he could without a hint of emotion and a long silence was born between the two men.


    Gor¡¯Mash wasn¡¯t sure if the Watcher was on his or the Khan''s side, only that he had underestimated him. Their silence was broken as a voice echoed down the tunnel. ¡°Watcher!¡± a young rider screamed down ¡°You need to come, the shamans they..you need to come!¡± Without hesitation the old rider and the watcher ran back up the half tunnel and followed the young rider to nearby tents. An old man''s wailing echoed from there over the valley while their heavy obsidian boots crunched through the snow. Tired faces came from their tents and looked around. Some of them filled with anger at the slowly gathering riders, others in fear of the old man''s cries.


    The watcher and Gor¡¯Mash followed the young rider into a tent and found an old shaman gasping in fear while his eyes seemed distant. ¡°Fire..¡± he whispered, shaking and twitching.


    Ur¡¯back was lost while Gor¡¯Mash kneeled down. He knew the old man and put a hand on his arm. ¡°Speak clearly elder.¡± ¡°FIRE!!¡± the old man screamed once more.


    Behind them Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk came into the tent too. He looked strange without the clans yakcrown yet his concern was real. Before anyone could say another world another wail came from a nearby tent. This time a woman, just as old. After a moment a rider looked inside once more to report ¡°Another shaman¡­she seems just as lost as him.¡±


    All the gathered orc¡¯s eyes became one of worry and Gor¡¯Mash once again tried to take the old man''s attention. ¡°Elder! Please speak to us!¡± For a moment the old shaman''s eyes locked with the old rider¡¯s. He took his hand pierced into his eyes as they glared up more brightly than a darklings fire should. ¡°The world is shifting¡­the fire has left its nest..¡± he gasped and leaned back as if he was in utter pain before he looked at Gor¡¯Mash one last time. ¡°It¡¯s here..¡± Panic was seen in the old man¡¯s eyes and soon echoed by fear of Gor¡¯Mash.


    Ur¡¯Back commanded the young rider. ¡°Gather the other shamans, maybe one of them can speak clearly!¡±


    Without waiting for the watcher or the Chieftain Gor¡¯Mash walked past them, left the tent and marched quickly through the snow to the other tent. Before he arrived there another cry of pain echoed from the distance. Another tent, and yet another shaman. He continued but stopped as they heard echoes of painfull cries from the mountain too. He stood in the centre of the small village of leather tents and slowly more and more cries and wailings echoed through the night. A young rider, Bur¡¯Rack was leaving his own tent and rushed next to the old rider. ¡°What is happening?!¡± he asked, clearly lost. Gor¡¯Mash had to shake his head while listening to the many shamans pain as they echoed over the valley, gathered further while the wind screamed through the hollowed mountain alongside them.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Thunder could be heard, yet no blue light shifted the night, instead a red glow appeared in the western skies. Ur¡¯Back and Nar¡¯ruuk left the tent and looked up once they were next to Gor¡¯Mash.


    ¡°What is that?..¡± Ur¡¯Back asked the Chieftain and Gor¡¯Mash next to him. Neither had an answer. Clouds lightened by red lightning thundered above the west and all so painfully slowly came closer. More and more orcs gathered outside their tents. Soon more wailing was heard. More shamans in pain, not just the elders, but even apprentices. A song of pain that was sung for the arrival of fire.


    Panic started to spread among the orcs and was forced even more into the Frostsong as a roar echoed over the clouds and the mountains. Deep and loud enough to make the earth shake. Even the riders ducked down by its sheer force alone.


    Gor¡¯Mash looked up in fear and awe as a dark gigantic shadow of wings appeared between the red lightning above the distant mountains.


    Ur¡¯Back surprised him for once as he commanded the riders around them ¡°Bring the clan inside! Let them hide in the mountain!¡± He yelled and brought some of the riders back into their minds. ¡°And try to ease the shamans once you are in there!¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t make it in time¡­¡± Gor¡¯Mash almost whispered. His words gathered him a look of sorrow from the watcher. Ur¡¯Back turned to face Nar¡¯Ruuk with that realization. ¡°Chieftain, let me ride you inside! At least you should be safe.¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash turned to face his Chieftain and old friend too. For a moment he thought he would obey and follow but soon the Ire became true to his name once more. ¡°No.¡± He said calmly and looked up at the shadow in the sky once more. ¡°If anyone should be here it is me.¡± He huffed, shook his head and stood proudly as he gazed up. Gor¡¯Mashed smiled at the Chieftains words and looked up himself. The Shadow had crossed the edge of the west and was coming closer. He sighed. ¡°We need to make sure that it comes to us and not the rest.¡± Gor¡¯Mash said and looked at the Chieftain and the Watcher.


    Nar¡¯Ruuk nodded. ¡°My horn.¡± He stated.


    Ur¡¯Back shook his head. ¡°Will it truly be loud enough, Chieftain?¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash looked up again before his gaze returned to the two. ¡°Not here, but up in the hall!¡±


    Ur¡¯Back furyiously shook his head ¡°I just commanded them to bring the clan there!¡±


    ¡°Then they will have the right to stand with us.¡± The ire said with proud.


    Gor¡¯Mash nodded and looked back to Ur¡¯Back. ¡°Where is your Wyvern, watcher?¡±


    Without hesitation Ur¡¯Back got a horn from his belt and blew it. A wyverns roar was the answer. It was hard to make out between the other beasts roars yet it quickly came its way from the mine.


    ¡°You will come with us Gor¡¯Mash.¡± Ur¡¯Back commanded, surprising the old rider once again.


    While they waited for the watcher¡¯s Wyvern many other riders brought the Orcs of the Valley into the mountain. All though by now Gor¡¯Mash wasn¡¯t sure if it was truly a grand plan anymore. At least they would be witness to their Chieftains bravery.


    Nar¡¯Ruuk quickly gathered his yakcrown and the Frostsong horn from his tent, before Ur¡¯Backs beast finally arrived. Quickly all three of them settled on it. A red Wyvern like any other, but a strong beast nonetheless.


    While they flew upwards, the Shadow in the sky came closer and the clouds of red lightning struck dangerously close to the mountain now. As the shadow roared over the land again, the Wyvern almost went back into hiding. Only forced by Ur¡¯Back¡¯s will and the spiky chains around its neck.


    Other riders used their beasts to gather the clan from the Valley and the last edge at the boiling sea. Yet all struggled to keep their beasts at bay. Some couldn¡¯t ride them at all, for they freed themselves to dash up to the shadow. Lost in the red clouds once they came close.


    As they arrived up at the mountain hall a lightning crashed the mountain top. Only avoiding them slightly. Fire spreaded where it crashed for a second and melted the snow. They could see how the western mountains were full of avalanches crushing down after enduring the same fate as the hollow mountain did now.


    Still they flew inside through the big cave entrances. Once they jumped down Ur¡¯Back couldn¡¯t hold its reins any longer and his Wyvern flew outside and towards the shadow too. Now Gor¡¯Mash was glad that his old girl was away with the beast.


    Ur¡¯Back looked after his Wyvern in sorrow before it was hidden inside the red clouds. Many of their mounts roared and screeched inside of it before the gigantic roar echoed over their lands once more. A few riders and orcs came up through the caves and to the mountain hall. All of them ready to fight. Despite everything, the Frostsong were ready to stand, fight and die as one.


    Ur¡¯Back held a hand towards the entrance and yelled at the riders there. ¡°No one is attacking until we do!¡± They nodded and rushed and yelled below. The orders quickly echoed through the mountain and the clan was ready to follow.


    Gor¡¯Mash stood next to the chieftain and looked outside the grand opening with him. The big shadow inside the red cloud of smoke and lightning came closer and towards them. ¡°You act with honour, my friend.¡± He said to him and they shared one last smile before the Chieftain got the horn from his belt. It was made of a grand Yaks remains and meant to carry the Frostsong over their lands. After a last breath he blew it as loud as a horn could be blown. Its deep roar echoed through the mountain and into their lands. The cold winds answered and stood proudly against the hot smoke that was coming. Some of the shaman¡¯s stopped their wailing as the horn¡¯s sound was heard and few of the elders even started to sing alongside it. A song of defiance, a song of wind and fury. A song of orcs and strength deep from their throats in the most ancient of tongues. A song that forced the ancestors to listen and the winds to answer. The Frostsong.


    Pride was born inside the orcs once more. Both those gathered at the mountain hall as well as those down below in the caves.


    Yet the approaching creature roared again. Its own song of thunder and roars answered by the Wyverns that started to follow its call. Red lightning struck and started to fight with blue strikes in the clouds above the mountain. The sky screamed as it answered both songs while the land was shaking under both of their might.


    Finally the creature came close enough that its heat was felt even inside the mountain. Snow started to melt and the cold winds struggled against the hint of fire that was born from the giant before them. The orcs remained tense, many grabbed their weapons tighter, many swore on their fathers that they would soon earn their place among them. Some of the youngest, the children hid behind their parents and were promised it would be all over soon. And some of the elders smiled at the last chance of a warrior''s death.


    Finally more than shape was seen inside the redded smoke. Red scales and burning eyes that glared with anger yet they were answered by the orcs that stood in the hall.


    The Chieftain, the Watcher and the old rider in front of them, they glared back. Ready for whatever doom may come.


    Finally and with a weight that shook the mountain the Dragon landed, clawing its side. The stone next to its claws was melting together with the snow. Its gigantic eye glared into the mountain hall while its nostrils huffed smoke and sulphor into the caves. Before anyone could act it roared into the sky until it breathed a pillar of swirling flames into the fighting sky, ending the battle.


    Its eyes returned and its booming voice started to shake the land while it drowned the song in the mountain. ¡°Frostsong!¡± Many eyes widened as they heard its words. Some shamans started to pray while some riders started to kneel. ¡°Your Khan tells me you struggle! That you fight among yourself!¡± It breathed a few times and for a second Gor¡¯Mash felt hope inside his heart. Maybe the Khan and the Dragon cared, maybe this was the aid they needed to end this charade of power. Yet his hope was crushed as the creature continued. ¡°That you have forgotten who allows you to exist!!¡± It roared once more and the wyverns that now made a cloud of red scaled around the mountain answered.


    After its word its eye glared around the hall. Yet despite the might it had shown, despite the earth shattering power it commanded there was something in it Gor¡¯Mash could not deny. Fear. It looked old. Its eyelids tired and half open, its pupils wide and darting for any attacker in what could only be panic. ¡°We could beat it¡­¡± he thought and glanced over to Ur¡¯Back. The watcher looked back. As always he was hard to read, but when he nodded he knew he saw the same. The riders eyes returned to the beast and Chieftain Nar¡¯Ruuk, still standing tall right in front of them all answered the greatest of all beasts. ¡°We heard that you want an army. The Khan said you needed it fast! That we need it fast. Our struggle it~¡±


    ¡°I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR STRUGGLE, ORC!¡± it roared back. Gor¡¯Mash was ready to take his axe into its eye. Yet if they would fight it, not here. ¡°I do not care if you don¡¯t obey your Khan but you will obey me!!¡±


    Nar¡¯Ruuk took a few deep breaths. Tired of being commanded despite his position he remained standing tall. ¡°The Khan also told us you are ill.¡±


    It was then that even the last orcs in the hall saw its eye widened. The beast huffed a few times, struggling for an answer like a child trying to explain, but Nar¡¯Ruuk continued. ¡°If that is so, we may grant you aid. You have carved this mountain and our land. It is only fair if we try to repay a debt our ancestors left open.¡± He made a bow but did not fall to his knees.


    ¡°Aid?¡± it asked in a mix of fury and fear. ¡°AID?!¡± It huffed faster and a glow was born on its gigantic throat. ¡°And here I thought only your Khan had forgotten who his master is!¡±


    Smoke came from its mouth and it was ready to end the clan.


    Ur¡¯Back took a step closer to stand next to Nar¡¯Ruuk. ¡°And we shall prove that we are deserving!¡± He screamed, his words a plea. He kneeled down before he spoke further. ¡°We know your old enemies are on the move, master. Let us take that honour for you and earn back our right to be!¡± His words were a dishonour to the clan and for a second Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s fury was cast on the watcher, then he saw that even while kneeling, Ur¡¯back held his weapon tight and ready next to him. He understood and kneeled himself. Slowly the orcs up in the hall followed. Only their Chieftain remained standing.


    ¡°My riders seem wiser than their leaders!¡± The dragon roared into the mountain. Nar¡¯ruuk sighed and kneeled down himself. The dragon smiled, showing its rotting teeth and letting the stench of its rot inside the mountain. It was the last proof to them all. Even if they would not fight it that day, not with the children and elders there, it''s time was running thin.


    The following days a new master was watching over them and the fury towards their Khan made way for fear towards the Dragon. But even though they kneeled, none of their hands left their weapons. Even if the Dragon would roar, the frostsong, would sing louder and drown its echo over their land.


    Whatever words of truth their Khan might have twisted one thing remained true. One way or the other, the Dragon would die.

 Chapter 39: The Ashen Song

    Mara¡¯s mind was swimming through memories. Wave after wave they crashed over the shores of her sleep. Crunching snow and cold winds. Her brother''s voice when they were young. Kara¡¯s voice when they couldn¡¯t be any longer.


    She saw those that aided them, those that held their fathers legacy high. Faces of laughter, faces of battle and of a love that was not meant to be. A knife that still sought purpose and a mountain who never stopped to sing. Who still casted its shadow over the most distant of valleys. Over boiling shores and cozy tents. Home.


    Then a fever was born inside her. A heat that brought her dreams to flame. First her thoughts tried to flee to the boiling sea but the heat was different. It was fire. Her mind tried to force her back to the burning oak and dying little Kara. She shook and wailed in her sleep, first at the memory of her niece, the child that wasn¡¯t hers, the daughter she was meant to protect, but then her mind awoke and she realized this wasn¡¯t hers. Her body was still asleep yet crying and wailing as if in pain, while her mind felt the distant lands of her home. She felt the cold fading and saw a fire turning its gaze on the mountain. The world was shifting and what had been a constant north in Karn¡¯Arak before now had taken flight and arrived at the mountain. She felt as if she burned and cried out in utter pain. Her body was twitching and kicking and turning while her mind still rested on her burning home. She saw a shadow that rivaled the mountain, yet the mountain stood strong. Fire crashed at its side like waves at a cliff. Yet unlike the tides it didn¡¯t return to the sea. Not yet. She felt how it desperately clung to the mountain, as if it could fall any second and drown in the very fire that gave birth to it.


    As her mind gazed deep into the flames that gave birth she saw the great windhall and the long dark below the mountain. And she was falling. First into the dark, then into the sky. She saw the sun and the moon and she tried to swim. The deep and the stars were approaching her yet she knew this was not her time for them yet. And finally, just before she reached the darkest shadow of the most distant deep, she woke.


    Her breathing was heavy and she was sweating as if in fever. After she took some air, she blinked and finally realised Kazzok and Rika next to her. Both were holding one of her hands, Kazzok even prayed with whispers in the oldest tongue until Rika spoke ¡°Kazzok! She is awake!¡±


    His amber eyes shot open and he pierced at the shaman. He brought a hand to her forehead and felt it again. ¡°I think you might have caught a fever shaman, it happens often to those that aren¡¯t used to these lands.¡±


    Weakly as if she was in battle before she shook her head. ¡°No..¡± She slowly stated and looked at them both, glad that they were here. ¡°Not a fever but a¡­vision..¡± She closed her eyes for a moment again and tried to think.


    Kazzok raised a brow in deep concern and glanced over to Rika who shared a look with him before both of their eyes returned to their darkling friend. With care in his voice he asked. ¡°Are you certain, Shaman? A fever can bring visions as well. I have seen sick warriors think they became druids because they were bitten by a scorpion! Ha!¡± He started to laugh but was cut off by Rika ¡°Bitten by a scorpion?¡± she asked with a raised brow. His laugh faded and he only moved his mouth desperate for an explanation.


    Mara smiled at them both. It was good to hear their voices but still she shook her head. ¡°I am certain.¡± She stated and caught his amber eyes with the fire in hers once more.


    Rika leaned closer and squeezed the hand she was still holding. ¡°Then what did you see?¡±


    Mara looked over and now saw the wolf eyes in both Rika and Branak who sat watching next to her. Her heart was filled with warmth despite the horror she saw in her dreams, for at least she was not alone. She couldn¡¯t help but smile further which was echoed in Rika¡¯s face. Then she thought for a second longer before she answered. ¡°Fire.¡± she stated distantly. ¡°The mountain, the valley, my home burning. Drowning in flames.¡± Her smile was lost more and more with every other word she spoke. ¡°Karn¡¯Arak¡­¡± she finally whispered. ¡°I think the Khan is making his move. Either he started whatever ritual he is planning with the scroll or the Dragon was forced out of its hoard.¡±


    Kazzok grunted at that and thought for a second. ¡°We are not far from the grand mesa. There you will tell the chieftains.¡± He finally said quite seriously.


    ¡°It seems they want to hear more from me every day..¡± she said with a weak smile that was answered by a grin from Rika and big laughter from Kazzok.


    ¡°Hehahaha! No they won¡¯t but we will make them!¡± He stated proudly and snorted.


    After that they made ready for the day. As they started to fold down their tent, Mara was met with weary eyes from the rest of their party. Chieftain Scale-Eye¡¯s one remaining was the most intense as he stared at her from a distance. She had felt their stares before, ever since they first saw her in the night of the burning oak. The night of Kara¡¯s death.


    Yet they had never been like this. ¡°Did I make noise while dreaming?¡± She asked the other two while she folded the big leather tent together with Kazzok.


    Rika glanced at him and he glanced over to the rest of their party. He nodded, yet Rika answered. ¡°It sounded like pain.¡± She said bluntly while gathering the sticks that had held their tent. It was Mara and Kazzok who folded the tent itself. Rika couldn¡¯t do it anymore. Not yet.


    Even after they were done more preparations were made than usual and Mara noticed how much the hunters and even Kazzok and Rika made sure to be dressed in garbs of tradition. He painted himself with fresh red dots and stripes around his face and body. His big belly became the place of a big drawn boar, right below the stitched signs of wolf, boar and stag.


    Rika cleaned Branak¡¯s fur. She ruffled the sand out of it. Something she was still much able to do, and something her loyal companion clearly liked as the big wolf leaned into her touch and into her, almost pushing her down by his weight. She held onto him and smiled.


    The rest did similar things. Fur was cleaned, paints refreshed and Scale-Eye oiled his wyverncowl.


    Mara didn¡¯t need to ask why. They would arrive at the grand mesa and meet the other tribes that day. The Frostsong never truly met with other clans of the north, but she imagined if they did, they would make sure to look their best as well. To represent the ancestors and the honour of their clan. Thus she made sure herself. She knew she would be met with anger and mistrust anyway, but she would do so while carrying the mountain''s distant song within her. She cleaned her attire of the Savannah dust, used some of Kazzoks berry and blood made paint on herself, and carefully polished the shaman chains in her face and her hair. Once they all were done they started their last walk to the grand mesa and Mara felt her heart pounding in a distant drum. The ancestor¡¯s eyes were upon her, and she knew Kara¡¯s were among them.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    While they walked through the savannah the Mesa started to conquer the horizon, yet she noticed how Kazzok¡¯s amber eyes wandered around them instead. Mara tried to realise anything, but only felt the warm breezes. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked, walking next to him.


    ¡°Look at the beasts..¡± he said distantly and pointed at the river they were following. It took her a moment before she realised, they all had but one direction. Fishes that were hiding in the river all tried their best to swim upstream. Birds above followed the wind, and even some of the distant predators, a group of lions, only knew one way. To the east, all of them to the east. ¡°Is it because of the season?¡± she asked him. He slowly shook his head. His weary eyes thinking and trying to catch at least some beast that seemed as clueless as them.


    Mara looked over to Branak and Rika on him. ¡°Did he notice anything?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± The one armed warrior stated. ¡°Maybe the season just comes early this year.¡± She said with but the slightest hint of worry as she glanced down to Kazzok. He just grunted.


    A group of rhinos on the other side of the river seemed as clueless as them. Kazzok huffed again. ¡°They come from the coast.¡± He said thinking, yet continued to walk.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± Mara asked with a raised brow and pointed to the lions. They were ignoring the nervous rhinos and ran further to the east.


    He looked at them. ¡°They are the only ones I see that could be from everywhere, but the fishes and the birds. Are beasts of the sea.¡± He nodded distantly and looked over to Chieftain Scale-Eye. He was weary and surrounded by wolfriders like Rika. Finally he uttered some words from beneath his wyverncowl. ¡°I doubt we are the only grim news.¡±


    Kazzok nodded and looked ahead at the Mesa again. By now it became more and more clear. Despite its name it was more than one mesa, and seemed more like a cliff that suddenly went up in the wide open savannah. Between the many mesa¡¯s ropes clung to the rock and held decorations of bone and coloured pelts. Some from beasts of these lands, lions, hyenas and cougars, others from distant plains. Boars, wolves and even some that seemed far stranger. Red pelts, blue pelts and different coloured leathers that must have belonged to different Wyverns. The biggest and clearest parts of the mesas were painted with red and blue colours. Many runes of the ancient tongue, many animals and many hands. Above the cliff between the two highest mesas a gigantic wyvern¡¯s skull hung in many ropes. What must have been its wings were hung around it, almost like it was caught in a spider''s web.


    Mara saw other orcs lurking the cliffs and felt their angry eyes and pointing fingers once they came close. ¡°Will they even allow me in?¡± She asked Kazzok yet Scale-Eye answered from the other side. ¡°They won¡¯t show you any more love than we do, Darkling.¡± He said and huffed, his own eye glaring at her. Kazzok huffed audibly and stared back at their Chieftain before the wyvernorc continued. ¡°But you came to our hunting grounds. If I see it fit to do you harm, it will be done by us. Orcs of the pines, not them.¡± He stated and was done talking.


    Mara remained weary and looked ahead at the entrance until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rika was leaning down from Branak to hold it there. She needed to lean on her shoulder like that to not fall down and did so until their eyes locked. Once Mara caught her eyes she smiled and nodded. After they shared a warriors smile, Rika pressed herself up again to hold onto Branak once more. Mara was still hearing the pounding drums in her heart, but their rhythm had changed. She still felt the ancestors gaze, but felt pride at their challenge. Kara always came to her mind, and the image of her lifeless body always stung at her soul. But for the following days, she needed to be the proud shaman, not the grieving aunt.


    Their party arrived at the edges of the cliffs and she could see the greenskins guarding it. Their attire was similar to those of the pines, only their totem animals were different. Instead of wolf cowls like Rika, they wore the pelts and cowls of the savannah. A big towering warrior, jumped down from a lower cliff where he had taken watch. He was followed by others and walked in front of the entrance and gazed over their party. It was hard to tell how old he was, yet he was the first orc big and muscled enough to remind Mara of her brother.


    On his head the skull of a Rhino rested, its horn pointing at the sky, while its leather cloaked his back. As expected his eyes remained staring at Mara, so did the ones of his warriors behind him. Spears and axes where gribbed tight, she could see it and feel the breeze shift in their united anger.


    ¡°Why is your slave dressed as if she is allowed to speak?¡± His voice boomed over to them. It was deep and clear, and birthed deep and angry huffs from the warriors around.


    Kazzok glanced over to Scale-Eye and the Chieftain back at him. His eyes telling how much he despised what they were doing yet he stepped forward. ¡°She is no slave. But a guest of our Druid.¡± He stated.


    Widening eyes, and growls of disbelief were the answer from the cliff. The rhino warrior huffed a few times. The bone ring in his nose shaking with the heavy air. ¡°You can¡¯t speak true!¡± He shouted before he somewhat composed himself and stepped closer to Scale-Eye. ¡°Scale-Eye..my brother. Why are you making a fool of your tribe?¡±


    Scale-Eye looked back at the Rhino with an eye that wished to not be there yet Kazzok stepped forth and spoke. ¡°It was not his choice, Thick-Skin.¡± He stated loud enough for the mesa to hear. ¡°It was mine.¡±


    Thick-Skin turned to Kazzok and started smiling. ¡°Ohhh, Gruntheart¡­I did not think you a fool, old friend.¡±


    ¡°Always have been..¡± He answered and grinned back before he spoke more serious once more ¡°But this choice, foolish or not, I stand by.¡±


    Thick-Skin shook his head and walked closer to Kazzok. ¡°No no no, my friend. I would have not expected you to be one of those druids.¡± Once he was close he leaned down to gaze into Kazzoks eye. ¡°Just getting your title and already trying to make a change, mhh? You are far from the first to make a fool of yourself like this. It is almost tradition now.¡± He laughed a low dirty laughter that was stopped once he glanced at Mara once more. His eyes wandered up and down her form with visible disgust.


    The shaman just steeled herself. She knew it was not her time to speak yet.


    ¡°Tell me, Gruntheart..¡± He spoke far more low and even deeper now. ¡°Is it truly wisdom you follow or was it just a woman''s smile?¡±


    Mare started to feel fury pound through her at every single word Thick-Skin spoke. Yet still she remained silent for now. It was the druids time to speak wisdom.


    ¡°Well eat dung, Shit-Skin!!¡± Kazzok shouted in anger, which was quickly echoed by more shouts from the warriors around. None of them, neither their party nor the mesa warriors, in their favour.


    Thick-Skin just nodded with the most wicked grin ¡°Oh that much? I thought you better, Gruntheart. I thought you so much better!¡± Their conversation turned into yells and was echoed with angry pointing and rude gestures.


    A sharp whistle ended it. They looked up to Rika on growling Branak after she had done so. She didn¡¯t say anything but nodded down at Mara, who then finally took steps forward to Thick-Skin.


    She eyed him up and down the same way he did and ended with her glowing eyes locked with his of brown. ¡°I am an exile of my own clan. I have been there when my master destroyed our holy mines. I have witnessed a girl that was like a daughter to me die for my treason.¡± She said, unable to contain the fury in her burning heart. ¡°Let the Dragon be my witness, I shall say the words your Chieftains need to hear. I will tell them what the man who calls himself the Khan is planning and I will not stop only because you are afraid of my eyes.¡±


    Silence was born after her words. Some of the mesa warriors looked as if a ghost had spoken to them. Even Thick-Skin finally struggled for words. Rika couldn¡¯t help but grin while Kazzok slowly with a dark smile looked back up to Thick-Skin.


    He huffed deeply and audibly, not unsimilar to rhino and turned. ¡°Fools¡­¡± he uttered but waved his hand for their party to follow.


    Kazzok shared a glance with Mara and nodded with respect before they all followed into the dark cliffs of the mesa.


    Once inside the shadows, Mara¡¯s eyes were the only ones that glowed in the dark. The dragon''s fire might have wandered, but it still burned in her eyes.

 Chapter 40: The Goreflats

    Waves crashed ashore as the high tide returned to the bladelands. Corpses of both ogre and orc were littered among the slowly drowning mudflats and like many days their blood granted the sea a red tint. The scent of the salty deeps mixed with a taste of iron in the air, while Chieftain Lur¡¯Dak huffed deeply. Battered and exhausted, yet standing. His blade in but one hand and touching the ground. Before him on the cliff was a group of four Ogres. Three legionnaires and one of their accursed sorcerers. Seagull¡¯s flew above him and towards the feast of corpses below. Even though the battle of orc and ogre was almost over the fight for their remains of crow and gull would be soon at hand. Yet Lur¡¯Dak swore he wouldn¡¯t be among them, and if so, he would take those fat bastards with him to embrace the hungry deep.


    He spitted a red glob of blood to the side and down to the waves, a first taste of what they might get of him. The grip around his big, curved and bloodied pearl-blade became tighter and he grabbed it with both hands once more. ¡°Come now you ugly cowards! What are you waiting for?!¡± The legionnaires huffed back and angry, their faces mostly hidden by their helmets. They were just as wounded as Lur¡¯Dak, if not more. Cuts and bruises littered their big bodies, one of them even had the remains of a spear in his shoulder, yet they remained, starring with the same fury as Lur¡¯Dak, the young Chieftain of the Bladelands. And like a Chieftain he would take his stand. Finally their sorcerer hissed in a raspy voice that was torn by the darkness he wielded. ¡°Get him, boys! Mother wants us home but we shall still bring her victory!¡±


    Thunder cracked above the shore and Lur¡¯Dak smiled at the distant sound of deep singing.


    ¡°Blood and glory!!¡± he screamed and launched himself at the Legionnaires, for a second the sky was gracious enough to be his wardrum. Accompanied by the distant song of shamans he carved into the first ogre¡¯s shoulder, deep enough that the fat bastard ended up screeching like a pig. As soon as he got his blade out of him the ogre started to paint the cliff with thick red blood. His face was sprinkled with the hot red yet couldn¡¯t allow his eyes to close for the other legionnaires didn¡¯t wait. Quickly he swung his blade upwards to meet the axe of the next Ogre. Its weight was more than his blade so it was dragged down with it, yet at least it slowed the impact and allowed him to dodge. He moved to the side snarling and with the dragon''s fire burning brightly in his eyes.


    The sorcerer took a few steps backwards and raised his staff of rusted bronze. Orcskulls were dangling on black chains from it and once raised he started to sing alongside their wailing ghosts. It was a twisted version of the oldest tongue, yet his voice and the distant shaman clashed like the clouds above them.


    Meanwhile Lur¡¯Dak aimed his blade for the head of the next legionnaire as his face was punched from the side. The legionnaires punch was hard enough to break his tusk and he fell down. Gasping and looking up he saw both of their axes coming for him. He rolled over the ground and through a puddle of blood, only to end up at the legs of the Ogre that made it. Even though the bleeding one still tried to stop the blood from escaping him he roared at Lur¡¯Dak and tried to stomp his face. The young chieftain''s eyes widened as he saw the rusted iron boot coming. He was only saved as a bola suddenly surrounded the Ogres neck.


    One of his few left warriors had arrived and screamed from across the cliff. ¡°Chieftain! The mountains they~¡± that was the last Lur¡¯Dak heard of him as screeching dead started to chop and claw the warrior down. All of the moving corpses aided by Tendrils from the clouds. Lur¡¯Dak looked up. For a moment he thought the shaman had lost the battle as the clouds were conquered completely by the sorcerer. Black tendrils of smoke were moving down from the clouds and to the corpses of the field and the sea. Then he realised the heat surrounding him. It was enough that the air started to shimmer with waves. The shaman didn¡¯t lose, she had just shifted her attention. He huffed for he knew she would let him know later yet stood up quickly. While the two other Ogres were slowly moving away from the heat, the bleeding one now tried to get the bola of his neck. Lur¡¯Dak stood up behind him, kicked him towards his comrades with a grunt, then turned.


    The sorcerer stood frozen in trance while chanting to the clouds. Yet his army of the dead rose from the corpses of the wide battlefield of the shore.


    ¡°Where are you shama~¡± the Sorcerer started to scream before his head was removed from his shoulders by Lur¡¯Dak behind him. That certainly ended his trance. The tendrils vanished back to the clouds and the dead were lifeless once more.


    Lur¡¯Dak, young chieftain of the bladelands, caught his head and turned to face the legionnaires. Holding it towards them he roared while the sky was now conquered by one long lightning. He roared at them and the sky screamed for his victory. The wind blew the scent of his dead brothers from the sea to him and into his cloak of big fishscales. Both of the remaining legionnaires took a few steps backwards while the bleeding one had finally freed himself from the bola and stood up. He stood were Lur¡¯Dak had stood before and now that one spitted blood to the side, half his body was painted in red already. Yet he had the strength to gather his axe and to waste breath on his last words. ¡°Tell mother of my victory..¡± With those words he rushed into Lur¡¯Dak ready to end the orcs life. Lur¡¯Dak however roared and threw the sorcerer''s head against the legionnaires head. His helmet was enough to protect him from the impact yet it gave the chieftain enough time to earn another kill.


    Even after another head fell to the side his two brothers followed him. One axe was blocked before the other¡¯s furthest far edge hit Lur¡¯Daks chest. He snarled in pain and returned an angry swing to the Ogres belly, spilling his stinking guts over the cliff and the shore below. Huffing deeply and in pain Lur¡¯Dak was unable to turn for the last Ogre standing, yet before he could bring down his axe at the chieftain his feet were suddenly starting to roast on the stone. The heat was more palpable around the Ogre than even before and parts of the Iron he wore started to glow. The shaman¡¯s distant fury and song was loud that day.


    Slowly Lur¡¯Dak turned to see how the ogre desperately tried to remove his armor. Without any more hesitation he brought his sword down to the Ogres neck and ended his life as well.


    After the last legionnaire lay down twitching in death, the shaman¡¯s song was ended and the heat vanished with the wind. Soon his mother Mar¡¯Dak stumbled to him from a nearby hill. ¡°Fool!¡± She told him while he only grinned at the victory and gore around him. ¡°You could have avoided that wound if you weren¡¯t so hungry for blood!¡±


    ¡°I am alive am I not?¡± He said with a weak smile while his mother¡¯s empty eyes scolded him. She brought her hand to his chest and quickly pressed the wound. It was deep and dangerously close to his heart.


    ¡°Because your mother is foolish enough to protect you, boy!¡± She was as angry as always before her voice calmed a little. ¡°Sit down.¡± She said yet he remained standing. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me?!¡±


    He still remained standing while his smile quickly vanished. She raised a brow and her ears twitched. ¡°There is a shift in the winds¡­¡± she said while her own empty eyes widened. Above the eastern mountains a cloud of wyvern riders appeared. Leading them was the small man that carried the dragonscale cloak and title of the Khan.


    ¡°He is here.¡± Lur¡¯Dak said darkly.


    She didn¡¯t need eyes to understand and nodded. Her voice carried a hint of softness in her command now. ¡°Let me close the wound, it will not be pretty but I will be fast.¡±


    ¡°You know how much I care for pretty.¡± He said and finally sat down on a nearby stone. His hand rested on his sword in the ground next to him. He was not admitting it but he knew he could not stand another fight, even if the Khan would not have the aid of his wyvern and riders.


    She raised a brow. ¡°Not caring for pretty he says¡­¡± she huffed amused. ¡°Your father never wore a cloak like that..¡±


    His smile vanished with a hint of shame. The blind woman had caught him again. ¡°Traditions change¡­¡± he defended himself and sat as tall and proud as ever, despite the pain.


    She started to quickly clean and stitch the wound on his chest. Some of it with whispered prayers of the old tongue. A hint of worry was in her blind eyes the more she worked on the wound. ¡°This will be a nasty scar.¡± she said and continued to do her best until it finally stopped bleeding.


    ¡°Good.¡± He answered. If she still had eyes she would have rolled them. Thick cloth was pressed on his wound as she made quick bandages out of them around his chest. She was about to ask if he could remove the fishbones from his shoulders or the scalecloak from his back, but knew the answer. And for once, while the Khan was coming, she shared his thoughts.


    A horn was heard in the wyvern cloud and the riders started to spread out. Some to villages burned by the Ogres, others to battles that were still ongoing.


    ¡°He suspects me with an army.¡± Lur¡¯Dak uttered while his gaze remained on the Khan.


    ¡°And he greets you with one..¡± His mother continued.


    He grunted and snarled his teeth. ¡°We can¡¯t defend ourselves against him.¡± He said thinking while his hatred boiled his blood. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Who says he is here to fight you?¡± she asked him with a bitterness in her voice. ¡°The Ogres want his pressues little scroll. He may be glad that we are a wall against them.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No mother..¡± His voice was unusually dark even for him. ¡°He knows that we know what the scroll is.¡± For his last words he turned to gaze into her empty eyes. ¡°Who do you think is a greater danger for him?¡± A proud but bitter smile was born on his face and with an effort he stood up once more. His mother protested but he couldn¡¯t hear her. He took the old shellhorn from his belt and blew it with all the breath that was left inside his lungs.


    The sea answered as it crashed against the cliffs. The hightide had risen enough to drown the remaining corpses of the mudflats and the high song of the horn echoed back from the eastern mountains.


    No matter if it was one of his warriors, one of the Khan¡¯s riders or an Ogre, the eyes of the Bladelands were drawn to its Chieftain. Three of the riders turned to him, and some of his own warriors used the last strength they had to run for him. The rest of the riders flew to the few places of battle that were left. If times had been different, this would have been a moment of joy. A moment of the true union of the northern clans and Karn¡¯Arak, yet Lur¡¯Dak remained full of fury. Who could say if the riders would leave, or if the Khan came to end what the sorceress had started. Both of them wanted the same, and both would demand the same sacrifice. By now all of the Bladelands knew that, yet despite the accursed darkness that came from the sorceress and her minions, their hatred still lingered on the Khan. For an orc to even consider such dark sorcery, was beyond dishonour.


    Among the three riders that turned for him was Dustfang. ¡°She is with him.¡± He said to his mother behind him. ¡°The masked rider.¡±


    ¡°Do you truly think her loyalty lies anywhere but the Khan?¡± His mother held her staff tight. Shells, pearls and fishbones were dangling from it, and she was ready to show them to the sky once more.


    He grinned. ¡°You know my charme, mother!¡±


    She sighed and even he stopped joking as the three came closer and closer. A few of his own warriors surrounded him. All of them in a similar state as he was. They greeted him with a fist on their chest. Some of them reported how the battles on other headlands were going, but most started to stare at the riders with him. None of them was foolish enough to feel joy at the sudden aid.


    Finally with a crash the three Wyverns landed. The great desert beast Dustfang on one side, an old dark red Wyvern on the other, and in its centre a slick beast with a long neck and a twisted tongue. Almost like a serpent in the sky if not for its wide wings. A beast of poison.


    On it the Khan looked down at the young bladeland chieftain, his few gathered warriors, and his mother. For a long moment no words were spoken and nothing but the distant sounds of battle were heard.


    Lur¡¯Dak nodded up to Sha¡¯Raph on Dustfang and she greeted him with a fist on her chest. It granted her the eyes of the Khan before he returned to look at Lur¡¯Dak. A smile of poison was born on Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s face before he spoke. ¡°Shak¡¯Aruk honorable chieftain! I heard you are in need of aid!¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak grunted back and slowly shook his head. ¡°Is that truly all you heard?¡± He answered and glanced back to Sha¡¯Raph for a second, her face and thoughts hidden behind her mask.


    Aru¡¯Gal needed a moment to think before he looked down with a smile only a caught thief could make. Once his burning eyes caught the burning fury inside Lur¡¯Dak¡¯s again. ¡°I have heard plenty, oh mighty Chieftain..¡± He replied deeply. ¡°Still I only seek to~¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t talk to a Wyvern but a man. If you seek to speak more before you slaughter us come down here!¡± Lur¡¯Dak interrupted him. His warriors nodded and grunted, while his mother couldn¡¯t hide the pride for her son.


    A hint of anger was Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s answer before he nodded as his two companions and all three of them jumped down their Wyverns.


    Lur¡¯Dak looked them over. Both Sha¡¯Raph and Aru¡¯Gal were quite small for orcs of any kind, but the third one, the son of the mountain, was big and wide enough to make up for it. And even if he wouldn¡¯t have, he had seen Sha¡¯Raph fight on distant shores. Her height was not an issue but part of her prowess. At least against the Ogres.


    With heavy steps by their Obsidian boots the three riders came closer. He saw how his warriors were ready to take their blades high but he waved his hand to ease them.


    Before they arrived at them his mother whispered over his shoulder. ¡°His words are poison.¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak only nodded and continued his gaze at the Khan. It hurted him to even stand, but by the ancestors and the corpses that were swimming below, he would stand as tall as any orc ever did in front of that little man.


    Aru¡¯Gal came close enough that their weapons could meet, yet not a single step further. A smart little man. While both of his riders nodded and greeted the warriors and him with a fist to their chest, the Khan did nothing but stare at Lur¡¯Dak.


    It was the Khan that broke the silence again. ¡°Speak your mind, Chieftain.¡±


    Lur¡¯Dak grunted and grinned darkly. ¡°My mind?¡± he asked amused. ¡°It is not my mind that should be questioned!¡± He roared and for a moment struggled to stand. The battle before weighing heavy on him.


    Aru¡¯Gal eyed him up and down, glancing at his wounds and bruises. Once his eyes returned to meet Lur¡¯Dak¡¯s there was a dark smile in them. ¡°Your watcher must have had quite the words to share, while he lived.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare question his truth or honour!¡± Lur¡¯Dak¡¯s replies became louder with every moment and his face more of fury as well. He was nudged in the back slightly by his mother. He huffed and looked down before his gaze went to the distant headlands. Wyverns breathed fire there, hopefully only at the Ogres. ¡°You are such a smart man to send your warriors away from the truth.¡± His burning eyes glared over to Bruna hidden behind his horned helmet. ¡°Does he know?¡± He asked and pointed at him.


    Nothing but deep huffs were the answer from that helmet.


    Aru¡¯Gal turned slightly to glance at Bruna and back to Lur¡¯Dak he nodded knowing. ¡°I thought as much! Why would you tell your sacrifices that there are but meat for your own new form! Nothing but wood for the fire of your forge!¡±


    Now even his mother raised a word from behind him. ¡°You already started the process did you not, young Khan?¡± She hissed, with judgement in her words and age in her voice ¡°So many of us felt the fire moving away from Karn¡¯Arak.¡± She shook her head while her blind gaze went into nothing. ¡°You are on dark path, oh mighty Khan.¡± She pointed her wrinkled ashen hand at him. ¡°A dark path!¡± She repeated and finally birthed a fire in Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°Shut it, woman!¡± He yelled at her, making Lur¡¯Dak and his warriors readying their weapons.


    The Bladeland chieftain spoke deeply but full of anger ¡°You will address our Seer as she deserves.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes caught Lur¡¯Dak¡¯s again and the fire in both of them burned as bright as the horizon did in the battle of Ogre, Wyvern and Bladeland warriors.


    ¡°Ours recently died¡­¡± Aru¡¯Gal said with a grim softness in his voice and slowly drew the big obsidian sword from his back. ¡°It was such a tragic.¡± A dark snicker followed his words. A laughter of a mad man. Lur¡¯Dak attempted to raise his blade but had to bring it to the ground once more, to not fall. While he leaned on it he glared back at Aru¡¯Gal and glanced around his warriors. ¡°None of you, make a move. No matter what he does.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal raised a brow while holding his sword ready with but one hand.


    Now Lur¡¯Dak laughed with a proud bitterness in his voice. ¡°If you want to strike a man already beaten. Do so. Show the clans the kind of man you are!¡±


    His mother¡¯s blind eyes widened ¡°No..¡± she whispered, yet loud enough to be heard by all around.


    Aru¡¯Gal grinded his teeth ¡°What else am I supposed to do with a Chieftain who has forgotten his place?!¡±


    ¡°I have forgotten nothing! It is you, little Khan, who has to remember that he is an Orc and no dark sorcerer of the west!¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal roared and raised his blade. Behind Lur¡¯Dak his mother screamed but was held back by his warriors. The Chieftain of the Bladelands was ready to die standing, unmasking the Khan for what he was. Yet before the Khan¡¯s blade could hit Lur¡¯Dak it was answered by a gigantic obsidian axe. His and Bruna¡¯s weaponed clashed and for a moment it seemed as if sky and sea wanted to answer once more.


    The two stared at each other before Bruna used his muscle and forced Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s blade down. Fury mixed with disbelief in Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes as they met the hidden glow of Bruna¡¯s.


    Behind Bruna, Lur¡¯Dak¡¯s mother made a sigh of relief and held a hand on her son¡¯s shoulder.


    Aru¡¯Gal roared at his friend ¡°What are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°Beating you, if I have to.¡± Bruna replied quite calmly.


    Lur¡¯Dak made a big grin of amusement yet said nothing.


    Bruna stepped closer and held a hand on Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I will follow you as far as I can brother but I will not watch you lose your honour.¡±


    ¡°Oh my honour?!¡± Aru¡¯Gal spitted back, his words bitter and his eyes burning. ¡°There was a time when you would have done the same! He begged for death!¡± He stared back at Lur¡¯Dak and his mother. ¡°You simply see a mother and get weak!¡±


    Bruna¡¯s hidden eyes started to glow with unfathomable fury.


    ¡°Silence.¡± Sha¡¯Raph demanded and finally took a step forward herself. ¡°Kill each other once only orcs are left.¡± She glanced at both of her companions before her gaze went over to Lur¡¯Dak. ¡°Has the sorceress been seen among them?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Never.¡±


    She nodded knowingly and came back to Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°Do not forget why we are here. Let us fly and beat that witch.¡±


    She said and settled back on Dustfang again, yet didn¡¯t start to fly. The great desert beast huffed deeply and audibly, glaring at every orc in front of it.


    Aru¡¯Gal huffed a few times until he took a deep breath and sheathed the sword on his back once more. Yet he pointed at Lur¡¯Dak behind Bruna. ¡°Karn¡¯Arak will return and you will be reminded of your place.¡± He said and turned to settle his own wyvern again. ¡°All of you will!¡± He didn¡¯t wait and flew off, Sha¡¯Raph punched her chest towards the chieftain again and followed.


    Bruna slowly turned to look at Lur¡¯Dak and his mother. He had no chance for a word before Lur¡¯Dak spoke. ¡°He needs to be stopped.¡± His mother next to him nodded eagerly to that.


    Bruna said nothing but grunted in his deep booming voice. ¡°Kag¡¯Magosh.¡± He finally said and punched his chest before he climbed Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s wyvern again.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± The seer whispered, yet her voice was carried to Bruna¡¯s ears.


    He needed to leave, for he knew his helmet could not hide his .

 Chapter 41: Burning Shores

    The ashen waste and their nomads had always been a home to Sha¡¯Raph. They had been all she could remember until the day she was chosen to take the role of a rider. It was unusual that it was chosen for her, even back then. Yet Master Kru¡¯Gan had made the choice, and his word was fate. It was already to most of their clan, yet even more when it was in regards to her, for he was all the family she had left and all she ever knew.


    Like all of her clan she had always been wearing her mask, yet unlike any of them hers showed nothing. While they showed their tusks and their decorations in pride, she remained hidden. Not just her face, but all of her. When she was young she had asked Master Kru¡¯Gan why? Why did she have to hide herself? Why couldn¡¯t she feel the ashen winds on her skin like so many others? What about her was so horrible that it had to be hidden?


    ¡°Horrible?¡± he asked back then and shook his head. ¡°No, no my little dagger. You are the perfect tiny weapon.¡±


    She never understood that either, yet always had to smile when she remembered his words. Since her last visit, memories of home were carried to her mind often. Memories of simpler times. Times of warmth and campfires in the ashen dunes, of feasts and song inside the ashen winds and under a grey moon. Yet even towards the man who should become Khan. The man who rode with her to the south, who showed her the ways of the riders and the long battle they carried.


    For that man she felt, was dying. Less and less she could see of him in Aru¡¯Gal. And more and more the man Master Kru¡¯Gan always had promised would come one day. The man who would dare the clans and all of orckind. The man who would be willing to sacrifice it all for the promise of the same strength he was lacking for all his life. And the man, she was the promised dagger for.


    Since her last visit home, she was more glad than ever that she wore a mask.


    ¡°Are the isles secured?!¡± Aru¡¯Gal shouted at the surrounded riders. Many of them carried mistrust in their eyes, and everyone there knew they must have heard the remaining Bladelanders talk about their Khan¡¯s grand plan. The last plan and big sacrifice to end all of their wars. Ascension.


    Yet still they answered in obedience. "Yes, my Khan!" one of them finally shouted after the pause went on for far too long. He pressed his fist on his chest while the other remained on his wyvern¡¯s reins. ¡°No ogre remains on the mainland, but I cannot speak for all the Isles.¡±


    ¡°Let the Bladelands have some pride in claiming those.¡± Aru¡¯Gal answered distantly and looked around. The horizon was burning. The battle of Wyvern and Ogre had been fast but greedy. He shook his head. ¡°Why are there so few?..¡± He asked almost more to himself and turned to face Sha¡¯Raph. ¡°They were more when you were here right?¡±


    She nodded, ¡°Many must have died..¡± ¡°I mean the Ogres.¡± He interrupted her and stared through her mask and into her heart. She glanced around but had to nod as well. ¡°Legions.¡± She answered. ¡°Entire legions, led by their Sorcerers.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal huffed and shook his head.


    Another rider took word from the crowd. ¡°Maybe the Bladelanders actually killed them all.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so dim. It will never be that simple!¡± Aru¡¯Gal replied back, his eyes darting the distant sea.


    The rider grunted at the answer yet before he could say a thing Bruna landed next to them.


    Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes returned to his friend and they stared at each other while wind and tide rose all so lightly.


    This time Sha¡¯Raph broke the silence. ¡°She must have sent them somewhere else then.¡± After but a moment longer Aru¡¯Gal took his eyes from Bruna and back to Sha¡¯Raph.


    ¡°But why..?¡± he asked himself more than her again.


    She thought a moment as well before she answered. ¡°Maybe she has a ritual planned for them..¡± she struggled to continue and had to control her voice to be cold as she did. ¡°Or maybe she needs them for one..¡±


    His eyes widened before he shook his head. ¡°She can¡¯t..¡± he said distantly, his eyes racing back and forth, mirroring his mind. ¡°She needs..him..¡± Finally his eyes widened.


    The riders shared some concerned looks before their eyes returned to their Khan as he spoke to Bruna. ¡°You have been in the Ogres lands haven¡¯t you?¡±


    He nodded slowly and answered coldly while his face remained hidden beneath his horned helmet. ¡°It is an arduous journey. The storms around their land are leashed by their Sorcerers and the land itself stinks of death and rot.¡±


    ¡°How did you get there last time?¡± Aru¡¯Gals words were as cold as Bruna¡¯s and their eyes fought the battle Sha¡¯Raph had stopped before.


    ¡°I did not.¡± He answered plainly. Aru¡¯Gal raised a brow yet Bruna continued. ¡°Not alone¡­their Watcher. The Bladelands watcher took me with him. And paid the price.¡±


    A bitter smile followed by a slight chuckle was born in Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s face.


    Sha¡¯Raph raised a brow. ¡°I thought he only went there because the Ogres attacked and not before that?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure when they attacked, but I know it was before we got the scroll.¡± He answered and finally Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes widened again.


    ¡°She knows it''s time..¡± He whispered. ¡°She doesn¡¯t want the scroll¡­but the Dragon..¡±


    Concern started to plague the gathered riders and many shared wide eyed glances. The Dragons fire and worry in all of their eyes.


    Aru¡¯Gal huffed a few times before he roared his orders. ¡°We shall stop her before she can even set foot on the mainland!¡± He glanced at them all and tried to look full of anger and determination. It worked on some but Sha¡¯Raph knew the look he was hiding. He studied them all, trying to see who was still an ally and who should be sent to the highest danger. ¡°Once we cut off her head, the Ogres will run and scatter, maybe even fight among themselves if they can even live without their so called mother!¡±


    One of the riders shook his head. ¡°The Wyverns need rest, my Khan.¡±


    ¡°We are at war!¡± He shouted back. ¡°There is no rest until we have won!¡±


    He turned to Bruna again. ¡°Do you remember a way through the storm?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It was not a path, it was a battle of storm and wing.¡±


    ¡°Then we shall fight it!¡± Aru¡¯Gal roared again and held up his sword. ¡°Follow me brothers and sisters! I will not rest until the witch is dead!¡± Without waiting for an answer, maybe because he knew there would be none, he brought his Wyvern to the cliff and started flying for the west. For a moment, no rider moved, yet Sha¡¯Raph knew no matter if they were on Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s side or not, the Sorceress needed to be stopped as well. She roared and brought Dustfang to the cliff to follow him, and soon the other riders did as well.


    Bruna was among the last that did, as his gaze followed Aru¡¯Gal for the longest while.


    The wind grew stronger and the tides were rising.

 Chapter 42: Cold breeze and warm hands

    The nights remained uneasy for Mara and soon the days turned to the same. The more of the tribes gathered the more furious eyes followed her. All filled with ancient anger, and inherited hatred. Some of them were fueled by battles against the riders from years prior, others merely by stories about the so called slaves of the dragon. None of them saw a shaman, they all saw a darkling. A monster that was there to bring doom upon them and whose mere presence was a disgrace to this holy meeting ground.


    For once they had entered she started to understand that the mesa was much more than a common ground. It was full of life and colour. The tribes had painted the high cliffs and decorated it with trophies of their greatest hunts. From pelts, to horns, to skulls, they all hung high between the cliffs. Similar to how the oak was decorated, the ropes made a spider¡¯s net and the trophies were caught in them. The huts and tents all were made from the most different of leathers so even them coloured the shadowy cliffs inside. Like the walls, hands were painted on them, sometimes stories too. Pictures of long accomplished hunts, and memories of the highest ancestors.


    Their party had made camp near the end of the cliffs between the Mesas, one of the few where the sun could touch the ground, and where the campfires could heat the egg in the sky. Mara knew her eyes were the only that made light of their own, so at night she felt the greenskins glares even more. Kazzok, Rika and Branak were always around her, making sure no one would dare to harm her. Even Chieftain Scale-Eye made sure none would dare, all though she knew his reasons were less of friendship, and more of pride.


    One night a few children, roughly around little Kara¡¯s age, came to their campfire. Kazzok turned to them. ¡°Off to trouble?!¡± He asked with a dooming voice but a grand smile.


    One of the boys starret at Mara and pointed at her. ¡°Can it..can it speak?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± She answered with a smile and made the children chuckle in awe.


    ¡°Ha! See?! I told you she can!¡± a girl yelled at the boys. She was truly Kara¡¯s age.


    Before more could be said the children ran away again. Mara sighed and closed her eyes. She had started to understand that she would always carry the scar her niece''s death had left, and no matter what happened it would always remain a part of her.


    Rika touched her arm and made her open her eyes again. ¡°Everything alright?¡± she asked.


    Mara forced a smile and nodded. ¡°Just tired..¡± she said and felt ill. It didn¡¯t seem fair to lie to them. Both of them had seen her cry. Both had been there for her when she did. But how much more effort could she take off them? When would it be enough? She didn¡¯t deserve any aid and here she was still hoping for more. She hated herself. Hated the Khan and by now even her brother.


    ¡°Soon the last tribes will be gathered.¡± Kazzok started and took her burning eyes off the fire and to him instead. ¡°Are you ready, shaman?¡±


    He asked her in a serious tone and she took a deep breath. ¡°I am.¡±


    Rika still had care in her eyes. ¡°What will you tell them?¡±


    ¡°The same that I told you, right?¡± She asked and looked over to her and back to Kazzok. ¡°That¡¯s why we are here.¡±


    He nodded with a grunt and threw more wood into the fire. ¡°It is.¡± His own ember eyes reflected the fire as he glared into it. ¡°But was that truly all you knew?¡±


    Her eyes remained locked with his before she looked into Rika¡¯s next to her. She sighed and nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t trust you fully when we met¡­so there might be more.¡±


    She feared their reaction, felt a sting in her heart as she had to admit such, yet was relieved when Kazzok barked out laughter. ¡°AHAHAH! Oh trust me, Shaman, we didn¡¯t trust you either!¡±


    Rika smiled. ¡°When your girl came to our campfire we saw her as prey¡± ¡°Or a trap!¡± Kazzok added. ¡°Or a trap!¡± Rika repeated and smiled before she saw how the mention of Kara was robbing her aunt of her smile. She looked at Kazzok for aid. He shook his head with worry, then she took Mara¡¯s hand into the one she had left. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Mara just shook her head. She wouldn¡¯t allow herself to cry again, wouldn¡¯t take their kindness anymore.


    After a long moment only filled by the crackling campfire she spoke, huffing away her tears as she did. ¡°I should have never taken her along..¡± Her voice was cracking and she felt the losing battle over her eyes. She shook her head and stood up, ready to leave for solitude. It did not matter where, just somewhere hidden and alone. Just after she freed her hand from Rika''s, it was grabbed again. She turned around to see Kazzok. ¡°Sit down.¡± he said, his voice a combination of a command and an offer.


    She huffed and closed her eyes where the battle was lost and tears ran down. It was tiring. How many nights of tears could she force on them? How often would she feel the guilt for doing such? Night after night, until she would be old and wrinkled and her eyes drenched and empty.


    She sat down once more and felt Rika¡¯s arm around her shoulders and soon big wolf Branak¡¯s head on her legs. In the distance of her mind she even heard her words and smiled at them yet it was all far away. She told them before, but it was never often enough. ¡°Thank you.¡± She stated and looked at Kazzok first before she smiled at Rika next to her. It took the longest second before her eyes could free them from Rika¡¯s and she looked down at Branak. She ruffled his ears, forcing the big wolf to make pleased deep sounds of relaxation.


    The way they were estranged by her sudden words at first must have meant she had cut them short of theirs, but they smiled. It was fine.


    Soon their talk went back to simpler tasks. To old hunts that made Kazzok laugh and to fights that made Rika echo his laughter in with a loud voice and bright smile. Slowly Mara laughed and smiled with them and once the night was over she checked Rika¡¯s wound together with Kazzok again.


    Her sleep remained uneasy. Part of her thought it might had been because of the dragon, another part because of Kara, but she knew there was something else. Something in the wind that felt strange. Wrong in some ways while it blew from the west. It gave her a headache yet she moved on. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The next day she rode out with Rika and Branak, for the warrior started to train and throw spears once more. Over the weeks Mara had her eyes on her. To be there when aid was needed. In the morning she aided her to knot her leathers properly, until her aid was needed less and less. One day she woke up and saw Rika try it again and again, until she huffed with the tightest knot that had ever been made, a grand grin of victory on her face.


    Now she was throwing spears at a tree just outside the mesa. She huffed a few times, threw it with all her might and almost fell, not used to the lack of weight her big missing arm had left. Mara held her in place and made sure her big friend wouldn¡¯t fall. It still almost wasn¡¯t enough, for the muscled one armed warrior carried quite the weight.


    ¡°Maybe try it with less force at first.¡± She advised, which gave Rika a face of anger for the first time since she saw her battle. ¡°Just to train your balance, first.¡± She continued with the voice of a shaman and made Rika nod a few times. Branak looked with a wagging tail before he quickly settled down in the warm grass of the savannah.


    ¡°Think you can¡¯t catch me after a long day?¡± Rika asked with a wide grin.


    Mara smiled, ¡°You are quite heavy.¡±


    Rika never had a big laugh like Kazzok, at least when he wasn¡¯t around. Instead she huffed through her nose and hinted at a chuckle with a wide grin. ¡°Imagine how much harder it would have been when there were two of these!¡± She replied and flexed her one arm.


    Mara rolled her burning eyes but smiled warmly and continued to stand ready with her.


    The next throw was softer but indeed made Rika fall less. She tried a lot over the day. How to settle her feed properly. How to still put as much force as possible into the throw, and finally how to aim. It was all far from doing well, yet Mara was impressed.


    ¡°Let me try without aid.¡± Rika said after a while.


    Mara¡¯s eyes looked with hers. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Even if I fall, some dirt won¡¯t kill me.¡± She answered with a mix of pride and determination.


    Mara nodded. For the first few throws she remained close and offered Rika a hand when she fell. ¡°No.¡± Rika said and stood up alone. Even that seemed like a struggle at first.


    After half the day Mara was sitting on the warm ground of the Savannah while Rika continued. She had her eyes closed and tried to meditate. Something she did not dare for a long time. Too much a storm was in her mind, yet Rika¡¯s presence gave her some ease, so did Branak who quickly laid down next to her. She felt the warm sun of the dry glades. Heard the distant sound of beasts she never knew, and from time to time Rika throwing and cursing. She couldn¡¯t help but smile at the curses and the way her feet stomped away to gather the spears again. Yet soon she once more felt a different song in the wind. Something that echoed far from the west. It felt like the wind itself was in pain, fleeing in agony.


    It felt wrong, so incredibly wrong.


    Just as she felt Rika¡¯s footsteps return she realised another pair of feet approached from the Mesa.


    Branak raised his head and barked once. She stood up and turned together with Rika to see Thickskin walk at them. His eyes glared at Mara from below the Rhino on his head. Rika glared at him, and Branak stood up and growled. Looking at the two, he decided to ignore the Darkling for now and looked at Rika.


    ¡°How long?¡± He nodded at the missing arm.


    ¡°Few weeks.¡± Rika answered and readied a spear again.


    He remained motionless but spoke with the same deep booming voice that he used to greet them. ¡°Impressive.¡± He said and watched her throw the next spear, his eye glancing at Mara from time to time. ¡°I have seen many warriors before that would lose their will to fight once they had lost theirs.¡±


    Mara raised a brow. ¡°You make it sound like there have been plenty.¡±


    He glared at her and only stopped when Rika glared at him huffing. Then he answered, ¡°He has been greedy over the years.¡±


    Rika was about to throw a spear again but looked at him with a question on her face as well. ¡°But not anymore.¡± She stated and glanced at him with a warrior''s demand for answers. ¡°Right?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I never saw reason in paying something with our blood so it could fight our battles.¡± His gaze became a warriors as well. ¡°Let us bleed ourselves.¡±


    Rika smiled with a hint of respect while Mara remained uneasy. ¡°What is..he?¡± she finally asked plainly, granting her the look of both warriors.


    Thickskin made a look of disgust ¡°no wonder a darkling doesn¡¯t underst~¡± ¡°Shut it.¡± Rika barked at him with both her voice and eyes before she returned her gaze to Mara¡¯s, struggling for words.


    The western winds rose over the Savannah from the west, before she found any. ¡°The voice of the wild, the druids called him.¡± ¡°The master of the hunt.¡± Thickskin continued only to be cut by Rika again. ¡°A thief!¡± she roared. ¡°He took our blood and our warriors to be send at your home, with the promise of a good summer and an easy winter.¡±


    Branak whimpered and sat down, granting him Rika¡¯s eyes and pats.


    ¡°But winter still became hard.¡± Thickskin continued. ¡°Even here.¡±


    Rika nodded and looked at him with agreement. ¡°A cold wind that came from the west, seasons ago. For a while it seemed as if the west and east wind were fighting over control, and if he truly was master of the warmth and the east, he lost. And finally more and more of our tribes stopped to pay him.¡±


    ¡°Only the oldest pact needed to be upheld, or he would take it by himself.¡± Thickskin ended their story, which made Rika huff in anger.


    ¡°Greedy bastard!" she roared, grabbed a spear again and threw it with all the might and anger she could offer. It flew far and wide, and couldn¡¯t even be stopped by the wind before it planted itself deep into the tree. She nodded with a wide grin and shook her sore hand.


    Mara¡¯s concerned stare at their story was stopped by the spear hitting its goal. She smiled at Rika and her success before Thickskin spoke again. ¡°Shame for the spear.¡± He said with a teasing grin. ¡°You will never get it out in one piece.¡±


    Rika just took the next spear and readied herself once more. ¡°Bah! Take that tree and make plenty more.¡± ¡°Trees aren¡¯t as common here as they are in your home, Bloodspine.¡± he answered and made Mara¡¯s brow raise once more, though this time with a smile. ¡°Bloodspine?¡± she asked Rika. The huntress rolled her eyes and Thickskin looked in angry disbelief ¡°You gave her your true name?!¡± After she threw another spear, this time missing, she glared back at him. ¡°The names were only a tradition by him and his hunt. I won¡¯t be held by him.¡±


    Thickskin shook his head. ¡°I thought Gruntheart was a man of tradition..¡±


    ¡°Oh you don¡¯t know him well enough then.¡± Rika replied with a wide wicked grin that ended once she realised the growing wind.


    Mara noticed the wind too, as wrong as it felt before. ¡°We should get back.¡±


    Rika saw the concern in Mara¡¯s burning eyes and brought her hand to her arm. ¡°What is it?¡± She asked plainly.


    Thickskin raised a brow before Mara could answer, distantly. ¡°Something feels wrong¡­¡±


    When Thickskin readied himself to speak Rika was ready to cut him off, yet his words for once were not doubting the Darkling. ¡°Some of the druids felt it too¡­¡± He uttered as he watched a few distant trees and the dry grass of the Savannah twist in the growing cold breeze.


    Both Mara and Rika glanced at him with unease. ¡°With the morrow we will hear your words, Darkling. I am tired of waiting for the last tribes.¡± He said and was about to walk back to the Mesa as Rika asked. ¡°Who is still missing?¡±


    ¡°The coast tribes.¡± He answered as he continued to walk back. ¡°Of the west¡­¡±

 Chapter 43: The Tribes

    Once morning arrived the shaman and the druid were up before their Warrior. They had not spoken about the strange shift in the wind, yet when they woke up tired they shared a simple glance, and knew.


    Being up that early for once was no reason for doom but of aid, as like the day when they arrived in the Mesa, they all prepared to look the grandest they could.


    Once more Kazzok refreshed the paint on his skin, its scent sweet and iron while it mixed with his own. He offered Mara some of it without a word and so the shaman and the druid painted their skins. She, the shaman, to feel the land and the wind, to take the ancestor¡¯s gaze on her and to speak in their name. He, the druid, to answer the blood of the earth, and to show that the old pacts were no more. Defiance was on both of their eyes, hers burning with the Dragons distant fire, his reflecting the morning dew inside the amber of his eyes.


    Once Rika woke up she rolled her shoulder and grinned as the two looked at her with concern. ¡°Far too long since I felt my muscles burn like this.¡± She grinned with pride. Her smile was echoed by both.


    Kazzok even laughed but before she could say more he threw her the wolfcowl.


    She ruffled its fur, which made Branak come to her for the same attention. She gave him some ruffles as well, once again getting the Savannah sand of his fur. After she was done cleaning the furs she took one of the spears from the days prior and adorned it with a small tuft of fur she had carried on her belt. Her hands and feet were adorned by wolfpaws once more and even Kazzok for once took on a cloak made from the bristles of boar and pines.


    Once they left the tent, other warriors of the Bristle-Pine tribe were gathered and ready. Their eyes met them and Mara. All were adorned in paint and parts of their totem beasts. Scale-Eye wore his Wyvern cowl again and had his face painted in red. As if the maw of the beast he had slain was glaring from below.


    Slowly they parted to give their Druid and the darkling shaman room to move up to Scale-Eye.


    ¡°I trust your words ring true, darkling.¡± He said once they stood next to him.


    ¡°So the ancestors will.¡± She answered. Her voice of the shaman, not the woman.


    They started to walk through the Mesa and to its very centre between all the cliffs. A gigantic tent was built there. Leather and bones from a beast big enough that it could have rivaled the Dragon were used for it. Yet no scales were seen on that leather and no heat was radiating from the gigantic bones that were planted deep into the earth. The most outer parts of the tent were held with wood as well, though it made clear that bones were far easier to come by in the Savannah then wood.


    All though it was like the rest of the Mesa adorned with colours and trophies, here they seemed to carry more purpose. Runes, that Mara recognised were the same the shamans used, were carved into the bones. And the trophies were not merely of the hunt but of war. She recognized obsidian armour and weapons, taken off Karn¡¯Arak¡¯s riders long ago, dangling in a rope net around the tent. Skulls and bones of orcs, horns and leathers of wyvern, remains of her own people.


    They entered through a big open space of hanging bones. Inside it was round and open like an arena. Hundreds of greenskins watched them enter from the outer parts. Some standing on the wooden outskirts, others in caves that were dug into the very mesas around.


    In its centre stood a gigantic old stone. A menhir high enough to hold the leather atop. It stood on a platform that was carved into the very earth and seemed unusually clean. If she hadn¡¯t known better she would have thought it to be obsidian. On it more runes were seen, all of them adorned with a hand that was not just painted but carved into the stone. Meanwhile the Menhir carried five gigantic runes. They were easy to recognise because they were the first every shaman apprentice would learn. One for each element, and the one for blood in their centre.


    On the platform Thickskin and other highly decorated figures waited, while around it their warriors watched. Some of them rode a beast like Rika was riding Branak. Though more than wolves. Some rode Rhinos, others a big Waran, and even a spider as big as a boar was there. Most of them were held close by their riders, for the different beasts made them all uneasy. That and something else.


    It was hard to tell the tribes apart, at least for Mara. While the northern clans all had such big differences in their traditions that it was easy to spot one from the other, here they all wore paint and parts of their totem animals. The best she could guess was the difference between the beasts they wore. Many came from the savannah and wore beasts she had never seen. Thickskin and his Rhino. Some with lion- or cougar cowls. Others with a zebra¡¯s cloak or a crocodile¡¯s leather.


    Those that came with them from the pines wore those beasts she knew. Wolf, bear, and boar cowls. Feathers of eagles and in one case even a bunch of small rabbit pelts, strung together like a chain.


    Some tribes, those from the most distant south, even wore remains of what looked like monstrous beatles. Creatures of the harsh lands close to the white wastes where he was said to have this tower.


    At last, there were those from the swamps and jungles of the rot-ire in the south west. A land of warm shadows and poisonous smoke. A woman on the plattform wore what must have been a big bat once as her cloak. Her eyes were pale, yet reflected the light. Others from there wore the many hundred teeth of worms or just a cloak of snake leather.


    As they came closer some of the different beasts barked and Branak answered with a low growl. Rika couldn¡¯t pet him for reassurance, for she had to hold her spear proudly next to her as she rode him. Only kept in place by her legs alone.


    Silence went over the room and the warriors from their tribe stopped outside of the plattform. Kazzok held a hand before Mara, urging her to do the same, before he and Scale-Eye took steps up.


    Nothing but the distant breeze brushed through the cliffs as the tribes waited for their words.


    Kazzok and Scale-Eye greeted the other druids and Chieftains on the platform with a fist to their bare chests before Scale-Eye took word. ¡°Shak¡¯Aruk, fellow hunters! It was us who sought word and now we are here to share it!¡± His voice echoed through the cliffs unnaturally loud, and Mara wondered if the runes did their part in that.


    Thick-Skin answered with the same loud booming voice. ¡°I hope you will, fellow hunters! For you bring more than words to this place!¡± He glared down at Mara, who still waited before the plattform.


    Scale-Eye raised his brow and looked over to Kazzok who now started to speak, loud and echoing. ¡°The signs have been grim for long my friends! Everyone here knows that¡­¡± some of the distant watchers nodded and whispered while everyone standing in and around the centre kept silent. ¡°No matter where you hail from, no matter how much blood you have paid in recent years, you know that he has left us. That we made him do so!¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Some agreed with roars, others nodded and grunted at his words, yet again he once more continued. ¡°But is it not strange? Why would he change his thirst this much?¡± He let his words linger for a moment before he answered. ¡°Because he knows that time is at hand.¡± And one more time he did let his words reach the furthest places before he looked over to Thik-Skin. ¡°We do not bring dark omen, we bring a truth from the north. And I dare you to let her speak for herself.¡±


    Gasps and roars answered him now, some distant voices threw curses in his direction. Rika grunted at the words yet remained silent below her wolfcowl.


    Thick-Skin huffed and raised a hand to at least silence the voices around the menhir before he took word himself. ¡°You DARE to ask a darkling to give word in this of all places?!¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± he answered plain and loud. ¡°And I DARE you to listen.¡±


    Silence answered him. The western wind had grown a lot over night and howled more and more, only broken whenever words were taken again.


    After he took a long deep breath, Thick-Skin did. ¡°Let her come then.¡±


    Mumours roused in the crowd, and once again curses were thrown towards the centre. Before Mara could even react Thick-Skin turned to their audience and roared ¡°Be quiet! Let her speak then we shall see if her life is worth as much as the rest of her kind!¡±


    Mara could hear both Rika and Branak growl at those words, then Kazzok reached down to take her hand and aid her up the plattform. Slowly she took those steps and felt the cold clean stone beneath her feet. It was so clean it reflected the distant dawn through the tent.


    She nodded at Thick-Skin as proud as a Shaman could to his words before she was taking one last breath, and finally took word of her own.


    ¡°I am Mara¡¯Gash daughter of the mountain and shaman of the Frostsong.¡± Her own voice echoed through the cliffs now and drowned those that were still cursing her very existence. ¡°I am an exile of my clan, and protector of a niece fallen to fault.¡± Some laughed at her and she felt anger burning inside her, yet the shaman remained control. ¡°I did not leave my home by any wrongdoing, not by any a fault of tradition or disbelief in our ways.¡±


    None of her words were doing her favour and she knew that well.


    ¡°I left my home, because of one man and his fowl attempts for godhood.¡±


    Finally some of the voices were silenced. ¡°I left because of the man who leads the north, the man who commands the riders of Karn¡¯Arak, the Chieftain of Chieftains, the all so mighty Khan.¡± She could not hide the distaste in her voice, but it seemed it finally brought her some agreement. ¡°A man who seeks more than war with you, a man who will do more than raid and fight you, but who will doom us all!¡± Her words became louder as she spoke. ¡°I left because even his own father feared the power that man is seeking and I pray to the very ancestors that he might reach his son and my words remain no more than dark omen.¡± She glared at Thick-Skin with her last words.


    ¡°Then what omen do you even speak of, girl?!¡± The woman and chieftain in bat leathers asked. Her rasping voice echoed yet mingled with the winds.


    Mara looked at her and gathered her words. Long had she taken the truth by herself, but the winds would aid her spreading them now. They rose from two sides into the mesa now, circling around them as she spoke. A breeze from the east, and a growing wind from the west.


    "Ascension. He seeks Ascension.¡± She wanted to continue but had to gather her words once more and the breeze from the east grew with her determined heartbeat. ¡°My master and teacher, our Khan¡¯s very father, told me the story. An ancient tale the shamans do not like to tell.¡± She could feel the eyes of both the tribes and her very own ancestors on her now. Kara among them. ¡°It is a tale of two beings from the far west. Ugly beings with pink pig like skin and no tusk. Beings that thought to rule us and for that sought the power of our very Dragon.¡± She looked over to Kazzok and then to Rika, a hint of shame in her eyes for she never told them before. Yet both nodded at her reassuring. Even Branak seemed to do the same. ¡°Yet they only hurted the beast that rests below Karn¡¯Arak now, cursed his very flesh in hopes he would weaken and die over the ages to come. And our very Khan believes he did.¡± Some eyebrows on the platform were raised yet Mara continued without hesitation, too long had the words lingered inside her. ¡°There is a scroll those pigskin sorcerers had left. Something only they know to use, yet our Khan seeks its power and should he get it, our Dragon will fall.¡± Some laughed at that, as if it was a good thing, yet stopped as the shaman continued. ¡°And when it does, Aru¡¯Gal, the small man that calls himself the great Khan, will take its place. He will attempt what the sorcerers did generations ago and take the dragon''s power for himself, and once he does, no Orc will be able to harm him.¡±


    Silence and wind were the first to answer before Thick-Skin took word again. Yet it seemed far less booming than before. ¡°A problem of the north I say.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft!¡± Kazzok roared at him. ¡°Do you truly think a man that cannot be harmed by any orc will keep himself happy with nothing but the northern cold?!¡± He grinned. ¡°Our places are warm and pretty, of course he would want them!¡± he was close to laughing yet the meaning in his own words stopped that. He turned back to Mara. ¡°Do you know how to stop him, Shaman?¡±


    She shook her head and for once the eastern breeze grew to a storm before she spoke. ¡°Find the scroll before he does, and burn it.¡±


    Suddenly every beast around the Menhir started to bark and scream, pain coursing through their very skin and bones.


    ¡°You. Will. Not.¡± A different voice echoed from the shadows of every cliff nearby. Orcs drew their weapons and finally Rika jumped down from Branak and lost the spear to try and calm him. Yet the wolf like so many other mounts howled at the strange presence. They glanced around and some Druids spoke what they all knew. ¡°He is here!¡±


    Mara looked into the shadows of one of the nearby cliffs. The longer she starred the more she could see the giant silhouette. A dark figure high as the trees and using one as its walking stick. From it, the corpses of many orcs and beasts dangled down. Once it spoke again the beast''s howls of pain became louder. ¡°You. Need. Me.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t! Begone pest!¡± Kazzok roared at it and suddenly the winds stopped.


    His last words grew more silent with every word and once Mara could look down the cliff again the silhouette was gone once more. ¡°You. Will. See¡­¡±


    After that it was suddenly gone. Utter silence filled the mesa, only broken by hunters calming their pets. Branak regained himself quite fast, yet pressed him against Rika for support, seeking her protection. Mara looked around with a question on her face. ¡°Why does h~¡± Suddenly the western wind returned and now as a storm. It was filled with pain and made her scream in such. She fell to her knees, gasping for air because her body did not dare to drink on the wrong winds around her. She felt more go to their knees around her and saw Kazzok being one of them. Rika stood, so did Thick-Skin and slowly she realised it was only herself and the Druids that felt the utter pain in the winds. She crept closer to Kazzok and held a hand on his arm while the pain slowly subsided again. He looked over to her and then the other druids around. ¡°Was that him?..¡± she asked, gasping for air. He shook his head and looked up to Scale-Eye and Thick-Skin. ¡°No..something else is close..¡±


    The sound of thunder echoed in the very far distant, yet even that seemed wrong. A song sung in the wrong tone. A strange echo of what it was meant to be.


    ¡°Chieftain! You need to see this!¡± A warrior yelled up at Thick-Skin, yet everyone and Mara started to follow him. They had to run for a while, through the cliffs and up a way onto the most western Mesa. Once they arrived at its edge and watched the eastern Savannah their eyes widened.


    Nobody dared a word now, as they stood in disbelief.


    Before them the Horizon showed not the Savannah, but a tide of nothing but flesh and armour. Ogres, adorned for war. Far back behind them a storm was cast into the sky and a dark figure was surrounded by even darker clouds as it hovered between sky and earth.


    ¡°What do they even want?¡± a distant voice asked in the crowd. Mara knew the answer yet almost did not dare to speak it allowed.


    ¡°The same¡­¡± Kazzok slowly said it instead and locked his eyes with Mara¡¯s.


    She nodded slowly and in terror before her eyes returned to the ancient sorcery at the horizon. ¡°Ascension¡­¡±

 Chapter 44: The Last sons of Krognar

    Third-Fist stared ahead and right into First-Casts melting eyes. They had looked twisted from the day they agreed to the pact all those many hundreds of years ago. Yet today was one of the few times he actually had to look into the once shaman¡¯s eyes for so long and this deeply. It was a grim sight. He once had been a man of honour, a man who carried the ancestors wisdom, but now all that was left was the rotting flesh he called his body, and the eternal duty to their mother.


    They stood on two different sides of a black corridor. Next to them was an opening to the grand balcony and around them the dark obsidian of their mothers tower. A few torches flickered around them in a dark twisting light. The only kind of light their home knew these days.


    Sometimes the warlord was jealous of his warriors. At least they saw the sun before their end. A real light, real fires. They could feel the real wind and untouched earth. At least they could die with honour. He quickly casted away that thought. No one would ever die in honour if it was in their mothers name.


    First-Cast licked the molded flesh of his lips before he spoke. Deep, raspy and wrong. ¡°You should show more gratitude, Warlord.¡± He grinned and showed the obsidian chains that went from his almost green tusks to his grey teeth. ¡°The end is nigh.¡±


    Third-Fist formed a formal smile. From all the things their mother had taught them, courtesy of all things was the one most useful. ¡°My mind merely goes ahead of itself, high caller.¡± He answered with quite neutral friendliness. ¡°Plans for the war. Organisation of the boats.¡± He played off a chuckle to show his own big tusk and teeth. His were far more intact than First-Casts. ¡°It truly is a curse.¡± The warlord finally added.


    First cast''s smile slowly vanished. ¡°You should allow yourself to enjoy the moment. It will never come back.¡±


    ¡°I will be able to enjoy it when it is all over.¡± It took strength to keep up the face.


    ¡°You could be dead by then.¡± First-Cast¡¯s words sounded like a mixture of a jest and a threat.


    Third-Fist nodded. ¡°I count on it.¡± Only the cold remained on his face now and the two favourite sons, once leaders and brothers of a mighty clan, stared at each other once more.


    After a while the battle of their glares was ended when the sound of boots echoed through the corridor and their mother arrived, followed by a group of royal guards. Ogres in the most decorated of armours, yet even that was rusting away like everything else.


    She stopped right before the two favoured sons and smiled all so darkly and brightly with a face that was not her own but stolen from that poor pig skin girl. Like always when she had fueled her age again, when she had stolen a young body once more, she started to reveal more and more of her body. She was only wearing the slightest hint of cloth and the only parts of her body that were protected were those that would look grander in mind than in flesh. Her golden locks waited to be aided by the wind, yet in here they reflected the brightening torches.


    The warlord and the high-caller bowed when she arrived.


    Third-Fist spoke first, granting him an angry look from First-Cast ¡°They are gathered Mother.¡± He stopped his bow and looked back up. She was really tiny in her new form, even more next to all the ogres.


    First-Cast added. ¡°They are desperately awaiting your words, mother.¡± His smile was grand and honest and still somehow managed to look like bootlicking.


    She smiled and licked her lips as she walked past them onto the balcony. ¡°Of course they do.¡±


    First-Cast nodded in agreement as he always did, while Third-Fist remained silent. Yet both of them followed her onto the balcony to be met with a cold twisted wind on their decaying faces. Dark clouds loomed above the black tower and their rotten land, while below a tide of Ogres, all that was left of their clan roared and shouted at the balcony. They raised their weapons, ready for what and wherever they would be sent.


    As she stood in front of them the wind started to blow right up to them. It sprawled her locks and made the few bits of black cloth she wore even more revealing. Surely she would have counted as pretty among her own kind. Yet here, she was the only one who revelled in her new found youth.


    ¡°How long has it been my boys?!¡± she asked down to the crowd below. Her arms were wide open, an invitation for most, a mockery for Third-Fist. ¡°Far too long was I forced to dry out in age and to linger in the shadows!¡± She looked down at the crowd with soft eyes, and Third-Fist knew how her gaze would craft her image into the mind of her sons. ¡°But you were there to protect me, oh my sweetest boys! All of you were there to defend me and fight wars to take what is mine!¡± A wild flicker was echoed from her words into her eyes and up to the sky where thunder cracked. She always loved the theatrics, and many of her foolish sons did the same.


    ¡°Long ago I ascended you to what you are now!¡± If he weren¡¯t used to her mockery Third-Fist would have grunted at her words but he remained cold. Still he felt First-Cast¡¯s gaze on him for only a moment, before the once shaman returned to cheer at her twisting rotten words. ¡°Now, after I cared for you for so very long my sweetest boys, I ask you to aid me and do the same!¡± Her voice echoed over the rotten lands of Krognar and far beyond her sons to the agonizing sea. ¡°I ask of you, to follow me through the land of the orcs! Through the land of the druids and right to the Dragon''s lair!¡± Her voice trembled with wicked fury, echoing the hag''s decaying mind. And yet when Third-Fist glanced down even his last hopes were destroyed. Cheers. The fools still cheered for her. Maybe it was fear, maybe they had forgotten what was taken from them all those many years ago. But they cheered. She spread her arms with the widest and most wicked smile. Her black attire was so loose that it almost revealed herself fully as she did.


    Back in the earliest days when there was still a flicker of resistance he thought she chose such attires to appeal to the clansmen. Back when there were no humans sent to her to feast but when she instead robbed them of their wives and daughters. Sisters and mothers.


    ¡°Ohh! I love you too my dears! And my love will only heighten once we kill that beast of a dragon, that fool of a druid and every single orc that stands in our path! Those that will lay down their weapons will be granted the same chance as you, they will know ascension after my own is done!¡± She said it with the joy of a parent revealing a gift, and once again the fools cheered for her. Loud and wide they cheered. The last warriors of their clan. The last that should remember the days of tusk and axe.


    Third-Fists eyes widened at her promise, her threat. Yet he knew better than to speak. He had known better for a long time.


    Her wicked smile widened even more and the winds around her black tower rose. The rotten flesh of their land and the stench of their ascended bodies circled all around and made her quiver in joy. Revelling in the response of her creation. ¡°And once we are done my boys! Once the east is ours! I will show you the west! I will give you plenty to take and conquer!¡± She looked down with a glare in her eye that spoke of both joy and pain while spit was cast from her words like a wild beast barking. ¡°And you will do it for ME! You will take it all, for your joy and MY pleasure! You will aid your mighty mother and you will be the sweetest boys to ever be cast into existence!!¡± Her words were echoed by drums of lightning above. Yet they all sounded wrong, as wrong as they had ever sounded when they were made by her. And yet once again, the warriors cheered. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    She laughed quietly and more to herself. Yet First-Cast echoed her dark laughter until she spoke again. ¡°How long have we waited for the day, my sons?! How long have we waited for the dragon to rot away enough that we could take it for ourselves?!¡± Some of the fools fell silent as if they tried to count the years. Even if their minds were kept intact, Third-Fist doubted they could have counted that far. ¡°It does not matter now for the day has come, where ascension is upon us¡­upon ME!!¡± She shouted down to the cheering ogres and raised her hands to let lightning crash and turn by her whim. She revelled at the display in the sky and spoke up to it as false rain was falling from the black clouds. ¡°One last war to end them all my sons! One last battle to turn your beauty of a mother to the goddess she was always meant to be!!¡± She listened as the cheers echoed the lightning above, all of her creation applauding her desire while she licked her newfound lips at the strange taste of the forced rain. After a moment that felt like days she slowly let her arms fall again. She looked down with a wide grin before she turned back to the tower and to Third-Fist. ¡°Bring them to the shore.¡± She commanded and started to walk by. As she did she let a finger touch his chin while she spoke further. ¡°And make it quick. I will not wait.¡±


    He punched his chest with a fist at her command and went to the balcony himself.


    Hatred was burning inside him for his own forming words, yet what was left of him, if not a man of duty. ¡°You heard what mother desires! Now let us grant her that wish!!¡± He shouted down and felt First-Cast¡¯s wicked smile behind him, before the once shaman started to follow their mother into the tower like the dog he was.


    ¡°Prepare the boats! All of them! We shall sail this hour! And we will not return until the moment of Ascension is upon us!!¡± His dried excuse for eyes almost cried when they cheered at him again and started to rush for the boats at the eastern shore. This was all that was left of his clan. Their land rotten by dark sorcery, their flesh deformed and decaying over the ages, and their honour long lost to a pact with but the most wicked of witches. Even though the rain was a forced display, for once he was glad for it.


    During the next hour, the tide of Ogres moved to the shores. The boats were saddled and twisted warchants were sung. Not in the oldest tongue, the tongue of druid and shaman, but in words taught by their mother. Words that forced the winds to their side while they started to sail for the Savannah and its shores. Most boats weren¡¯t even crafted by themselves but put together or fixed by those stolen from the republic, whenever more fuel for their mothers youth was sent. Yet Third-Fist demanded to ride a boat made by their own craft. If he would lead the last of his clan to die, he would do so in their own old forgotten glory at least.


    The boat was crudely crafted from wood that was stolen from other ships as well, yet he saw the old forgotten sign of the sun-lion painted at its side. He didn¡¯t know how old the sign was, yet it was a reminder of better days. This was the right ship, for the wrong war.


    And soon they sailed, a legion of different ships from different times, yet all of them having their sails ready to be drafted along by their mothers enslaved storms.


    The callers were spread among the ships and all of them started to sing the twisted tongue of sorcery as they gathered the dark clouds above Krognar. Soon their mother joined in. Her voice took the awe of many warriors, yet Third-Fist looked past her and the clouds she gathered. Back on their shores, his home, the now rotten lands became smaller. Yet for once, as the clouds were dragged elsewhere, the sun was shining upon its shores once more. For a moment he remembered the days when it wasn¡¯t so much different than the Savannah they were sailing for now. Back when he rode a Tusk-Lion over the hills and around the shores. Back when he was an orc and his flesh and muscle were his own. Back when there was honour. Back when he had a family. Back when there was hope.


    His attention was forced back to mother once again, as she started to float with the clouds. The darkness made a gigantic dress that hid her inside like a black promise and soon she was high enough to float between sea and sky. This was the truest her form has ever been, he thought. A monster that darkens the horizon. A mountain of darkness that loomed over the skies. Yet no goddess¡­yet.


    Her words became louder and she pushed the winds forward. They sailed now, and fast.


    It had not even taken a day until they arrived at the Savannah shores, and the first clans of the druid had fallen to their blades. To Third-Fists gratitude most of them were wise enough to not lay down their weapons but die in honour.


    Once ashore himself he was called to take a look at the prisoners they had made. Old people that could not even lift an arm anymore. Ill that were defeated before they arrived. Children that could be easily held, and becoming mothers that thought they did the best to protect the future inside them.


    ¡°Shall we bring them to mother, Warlord?¡± A high ranking legionnaire asked him. It was a long line of prisoners still, that went on for what seemed all of the continent''s shores. At least as long as Third-Fists decaying eyes could see. Behind all of them ogres stood ready to let their axes fall for their necks.


    He saw a becoming mother before him. Defiant in her gaze, yet the hint of fear for her unborn was there. He kneeled before her. Still his twisted body towered her and he had to look down. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as she spatted into his face. He closed his eyes and slowly washed his face to stare back at her again. He looked down at her round belly and sighed. Honour was lost long before, but finally he understood that it would never return and he would never cross blades with the ancestors in the afterlife.


    After he stood up again he took a step back and folded his hands behind his back. ¡°We need warriors. Not the ill.¡± He declared coldly and the legionnaire nodded before he brought his order further. He raised his axe and shouted. ¡°Death!¡± As his axe was brought down so were the weapons of the ogres standing behind the prisoners. Countless greenskin heads rolled when blood was spilled at the shores and the sea painted in red. Third-Fist gazed into the pregnant woman¡¯s eyes for as long as they were open. Her defiance slowly gave in to the fear of her unborn yet finally they were forced shut, and the future taken.


    His mind started to shut after that, and with folded hands behind his back he walked along the shores where more and more of their legions gathered. Mother was still floating and chanting while the tendrils of dark clouds started to take the sky for themselves while the army gathered around the Savannah, only to march at his command. After he had done the long walk to the front and got the reports of their centurions, he commanded them forth.


    Even on land they marched fast. Their boots were walking in unison, like it was the human way. They trampled over the savannah and its dry grass, and took every village they could find. Third-Fist stopped to look at their prisoners. He just ordered their death. It was the better fate he decided.


    Just before they were to turn north the prisoner¡¯s tongues started to slip. There was a gathering of the clans in the grand mesa ahead. As Third-Fist brought word to their mother he for once didn¡¯t even know how to approach her as she was still floating in trance between black clouds and darkening earth. Instead First-Cast glared at him, just below her. ¡°What is it warlord?!¡± He spatted.


    ¡°We are lucky. It seems the clans are all gathered in the Mesa ahead. If we turn north we can avoid them and reach for the dragon without anymore losses to our legions.¡± He answered cold but loud.


    First-Cast slowly started to smile. ¡°Oh¡­don¡¯t fear the battle ahead, Warlord. If they are gathered, we shall take them.¡±


    Third-Fist face and voice started to crack ¡°Why?!¡± he asked. ¡°Our goal is the Dragon, if we attack them now we only risk for him to appear!¡±


    Suddenly their mothers words shouted down. All of her sons ducked down as she did. ¡°Let him!¡± She said with a big smile. ¡°Hasn¡¯t it been too long since I saw him?!¡±


    ¡°But mother~¡± Third-Fist started to argue before First-Cast took his shoulder and glared at him. ¡°You heard her!¡±


    Defeated and without another word Third-Fist moved ahead of the legions again. Not even a day later and the Mesa appeared before them and soon they could hear warhorns and drums as figures on the outer edges spotted them. It would take till night until they were close enough for a fight. Yet he knew it would be a bigger one than the villages they had taken before. And somehow even less fought with honour.


    For now he started to understand. He was not only guiding his army to end their own clan, but all of them.

 Chapter 45: The Edge of Defiance

    Gor¡¯mash readied his bow as he saw the deer before him in the woods. It was not their season to be this far north, yet the dragon¡¯s warmth drew them closer to the mountain. He released the arrow hit the deer just in the neck. It made a few jumps before it fell. With the bristling of the leaves around him and a cold wind from the west he took his knife and started to empty the beast. Liver and lounge were the only guts of interest to the clan, the rest would feed the forest. Soon he carried the now empty beast over his shoulder and took his way back to the valley.


    Never had winter been so warm, yet the clan so restless. The Dragon had forced them to the same duties as their Khan did. It wanted an army. It wanted the mines to be free, and the forges to be lit. Yet unlike Aru¡¯gal it had the means to achieve it all in the time that it needed.


    After the night of its arrival the leaders, Nar¡¯Ruuk, Ur¡¯Back, some elder Shamans and Gor¡¯Mash himself, told it of the dire state of the mines. It was not amused, had shouted at them for all the clan to hear, continuing its display of rotting power. Yet he knew, he was far from the only orc thinking about its defeat. Every hunter must have seen it, and even those that only herded the yaks, even those that only healed and gathered, even those that never truly left the mountain must have seen the fear in its eyes. The very effort it needed to have them open.


    It didn¡¯t even wait for the morning when it tried to convince them otherwise, for it freed the rest of the mines by itself. The clan stood far away, even though it wouldn¡¯t have waited for that to be, and it positioned its gigantic form in front of the entrance. The last standing dolmen, once holy to them, were brought down by its sheer weight like a tent by a bear. It gathered its strength, breathed and huffed until its throat was glowing more and more and finally it breathed into the entrance. The valley was shaking, and the horizon, where mine and ground were close, was set aflame from below. Some swore even all the way up to the mountain its heat could be felt and others said the boiling sea was hot enough to turn to fog that day. Snow melted for far distances to leave the ground wet and the rivers full.


    The Dragon smiled after its deed was done, for it knew the clan would fear it. Yet when its eyes turned to the crowd they still darted around like a hurt doe about to die. It checked every orc and axe, every sword and spear and hammer. No one was raising it. Not yet. But many grabbed their weapons tight, and even more countered its gaze with their own. It huffed and settled down in front of the now free mines and waited. As much as it tried to do so in pride, it was easy to see how even one breath of fire had taken a lot of strength from it. Its breathing was heavy and smoke was leaving its nostrils and mouth for days to come.


    Old legends had told them how it took years until the mountain was cold enough to move in, once the dragon had hollowed it out. Yet now, the mine didn¡¯t even take a day. It remained hot, but they could enter the next day, and the beast demanded so. It had melted the rubble that once had made its tunnels. Most of it was dried but hot, and formed many places of the once painted mines with black obsidian. Some of the sidetunnels were not usable yet, for instead of obsidian they were still filled with thick globs of molten stone. But it was enough for them to take the mountain¡¯s blood once more. And with that ore, once holy and only taken when in need, was gathered in mountains, and forges, once places of song and tradition, were lit day and night, to arm them all.


    Gor¡¯Mash was afraid during it all. Not for his own life, he was fine if it should end, but for what their clan would become. They were proud and would fight, as every orc ever would. But a rider knew an orc only fought well with reason, and a threat would never be answered by following it. Only by a challenge. Such commanded the drum in every orcs chest.


    He had assumed the day would come when some fool would try their luck. One spear, one axe, just one wrong word and the dragon would end half of their people in one breath. But no one dared, and still they all knew the same truth their Khan had learned so many years ago. We can beat it.


    He returned from his hunt like every other day with a deer on his back. Even though he was meant to scout the forests instead, yet left that to the riders that actually had their wyverns again. The dragon had released them from its control after they had pledged their loyalty to it. All with grinding teeth.


    Now the clan needed every bow for food when so many were forced to the mines and the forges. The craft done by such force was as expected. Crudely made, dull and brittle. Weapons and armours any apprentice smith would have been scorn for, yet the Dragon only demanded more.


    Once the old rider was back at the tents he started to prepare the deer while watching the dragon slumber next to the mine. A mountain of red scales to rival the one they called home. He took his knife and started to remove its pelt and head. Nearby a fire was ready for the meat and next to it Nar¡¯Ruuk stood watch, glaring at the Dragon with all the Ire the old Chieftain could still muster.


    ¡°Not at the mine, Chieftain?¡± Gor¡¯Mash asked with a dark glint in his burning eyes. The ire turned his name worthy gaze to him and huffed. He shook his head, before slowly crunched through the snow. Once next to him he settled down across the deer and nodded at it. ¡°Fat for the season.¡± He said approvingly. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Gor¡¯Mash only nodded to that and continued to remove its pelt. Nar¡¯Ruuk looked over his shoulder and to the slumbering Dragon before he returned his gaze to the old rider. ¡°Do you think it can hear us?¡± he asked with a whisper.


    Gor¡¯Mash looked over the Chieftain and to the mountain of red scales. He shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Who can say?¡± he answered and ripped at part of the pelt to get it off. While he used his knife to remove more of it, Nar¡¯Ruuk continued to stare at him. ¡°I don¡¯t care anymore if it does.¡±


    Slowly Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s eyes met his. ¡°You won¡¯t be the only death if it does, Chieftain.¡±


    ¡°You have seen their faces.¡± The ire answered with such. ¡°Do you truly think anyone would rather serve it longer?¡±


    The slumbering Dragon stirred far behind the Chieftain yet not even a flinch was echoed in him. Gor¡¯Mash made a sad smile. ¡°Is this how you would have your clan end, old friend? Fighting the dragon that carved our home?¡±


    Nar¡¯Ruuk sighed. ¡°A fitting end, I say.¡±


    Fire was born inside Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s heart. ¡°Would they say that too?¡± He asked far louder than he meant to. ¡°The mothers and children, the elders and sick?!¡±


    Nar¡¯Ruuk remained cold in his gaze. ¡°Look at the mine, and tell me.¡± He said, with far more warmth than his gaze had promised. ¡°Old friend.¡± He finally added which calmed some of the fires inside Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s heart.


    After a while of gazing at the Dragon his eyes returned to the Ire. ¡°Do you have a plan, Chieftain?¡± He asked cold and quietly.


    The wind slowly started to rise from the west again before his Chieftain could answer. ¡°There is a wound below on its right chest¡­¡± He whispered. ¡°You have seen it too Gor¡¯Mash, I know you have.¡±


    The old rider nodded. ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°Sword and axe could pierce it there.¡± His Chieftain said but Gor¡¯Mash shook his head. ¡°Sword and axe are too short for it to even feel them.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not alone but with the shamans¡¯ aid it could be struck by more than orc.¡± The Chieftains eyes widened with his own words while the winds from the west grew stronger.


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Gor¡¯Mash answered while he stared at the distant slumbering mountain of scales.


    Both remained silent for a while. Only the rising breeze from the west made sound as it touched the distant trees at the edge of the valley. ¡°A weapon needs to be struck right there¡­maybe then it takes its course through its body..¡±


    Nar¡¯Ruuk turned around and watched the dragon. With a slow nod he returned his gaze and answered. ¡°Even if it may not kill it, it will hurt it.¡±


    Gor¡¯Mash started to grin and for a second it was echoed by the ire. This was the reason he had been one of the longest serving chieftains their clan had. While the picture of the beast¡¯s pain blessed his mind he still tried to think it through. ¡°The weapon needs to be big enough¡­made of Iron..not obsidian. I have seen how it can protect against the forces of the sky.¡±


    Nar¡¯Ruuk nodded and thought ahead himself. ¡°And not an axe, or spear¡­surely not a hammer. A wooden handle would certainly break.¡±


    ¡°A sword¡­¡± Gor¡¯Mash continued with a nod while the breeze slowly grew to harsher winds that brought the remaining cold from the western mountains.


    ¡°A sword.¡± Nar¡¯Ruuk echoed with a distant smile. ¡°Imagine if we live through our fight¡­¡± He said and for a rare sight smiled brightly at his old friend. ¡°It would become a weapon of legend..¡±


    ¡°The Dragonslayer..¡± Nar¡¯Ruuk answered with a grin and a nod.


    Suddenly they both ducked down as the Dragons voice roared behind them. ¡°No¡­¡±. The western wind was slowly rising to a storm while the dragon slowly came to its feet.


    Nar¡¯Ruuk lowered his head towards Gor¡¯Mash. ¡°It was a good plan..¡± He said and stood up to face the dragon. Yet to both of their surprise it did not look for them but rather raised its nostrils into the wind with widened eyes. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t dare¡­¡± pure panic was laid bare in its eyes. Once it composed itself again it darted around the clan. ¡°Riders!¡± it roared and had Ur¡¯Back fly by to talk with it. The watcher was too distant for the two old men to hear.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this¡­¡± the Ire said. Gor¡¯Mash only nodded and tried to hear the Dragons voice instead. ¡°Gather your warriors, and follow me! We end this war today!¡± It looked like Ur¡¯Back tried to argue but was cut short by the Dragons roar. ¡°Gather them, Watcher! Or I will take your Wyverns instead!¡±


    With that Ur¡¯Back grabbed his horn and let it sing through the valley for all the Frostsong to hear. Even though it was meant for the riders, all of them rose and were ready to answer the call, yet none of them for the Dragon. Some riders quickly dashed back from the pines, making tree and snow follow the harsh wind of their wings. Others came from the caves of the hollowed mountain. With widened eyes Gor¡¯Mash saw how some of the warriors down at the mine and the forges started to ready their weapons. Yet before anyone could act stupid the dragon started to fly itself. Many on the ground were sent away by the cheer force of its wings. ¡°Follow me, my riders! Protect me! And I will end it all!!¡± It roared and started to fly for the western mountains. Quickly the riders formed a cloud around it while its roars gathered red lightning in the distant skies once more.


    ¡°What is it doing?¡± Nar¡¯Ruuk asked.


    Gor¡¯Mash was left bare for an answer as for a moment he could only think about his own Wyvern and where the boy they called the beast might have led it. ¡°War, Chieftain.¡± He finally answered. ¡°It is going to war.¡±

 Chapter 46: Hollow

    Bruna watched the sundown over the western shore as they flew across the sea.


    The journey to Krognar was unusually quiet. No shouts, no roars, neither of Wyvern nor from Orc. Only the waves that crushed and danced below and the constant wind that was coming from the west while they had to fly south. Over the sea and to the rotten isle beyond the horizon.


    Bruna had been there, not that long ago. When he stole the very scroll that was now in the centre of so many minds. He had ridden there along with the Bladelands Watcher. A quiet and older man that paid many respects to the shamans and the waves. He liked him. And still he returned alone. Not because ogres had taken the watcher¡¯s life, but because he started to question the signs on that very scroll. The plans any good orc could have with them. So he died by the beast¡¯s cold hand once they had returned. So did its wyvern. A good mount and like so often in the Bladelands a Wyvern of the sea. One that could both dive and borrow into the mudflats. Yet it needed to end.


    Now Bruna started to understand the old man and his warnings, yet his mind still tried to fight it. For without Aru¡¯Gal, who was left?


    He thought of his girls. Of the sister he had to raise like a father, and the daughter that had none. It was no use, for whenever his mind tried to escape the memory of his daughters lifeless body, it also went back up the oak. To his sister''s words. To the strike of her axes. And her tears during it all. His heart was aching to see her again, to just continue the quest their father had given him. Protecting her, yet how could he hope to do such, when he couldn¡¯t for his very own daughter? She should have grown old enough to beat him. They should have had a fight on top of the mountain, once he was old and grey and she the fierce young woman he saw her to be. He deserved to be beaten by her and nothing would have made him happier than to lose to her. One distant day, that was never meant to be.


    Maybe Aru¡¯Gal was right and it was all his sister''s fault, maybe all the anger for her would be just. But all he could see was the girl that had to act like a mother because he wasn¡¯t there. And now he never would be.


    Once the rotten Island of Ogres was cast among the Horizon he looked up. There was no storm. No rain, no giant waves that were threatening to crush them down. The rain would have been a great excuse for his eyes, yet with the missing threat his mind was forced back to reality. He saw Aru¡¯Gal in front of the riders on his sleek beast of poison. For a moment he wanted to blow his horn for attack but the closer the land came, the emptier it seemed. Last time there had been legions. There was scarcely a single spot on this land of rotten flesh that was not filled with Ogre. But now. It was all empty. Even a flicker of the sun was casted through the clouds above and reflected the darkness of the tower in its centre.


    Despite the anger the Khan still must have felt for Brunas disobedience, he turned to him with a raised brow. Bruna just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. This was not how their arrival here was meant to be.


    Aru¡¯gal landed on an old stone tower at the edge of the high cliffs around that land. While some riders dashed by to scout the land ahead Bruna and Sha¡¯Raph took their places on the wall next to him.


    ¡°This is not how it was last time.¡± Bruna said, which made Aru¡¯gal nod. The Khan''s eyes darted the land while his mind went through their options.


    Sha¡¯Raph looked up to Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°They must have left for the mainland.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± He barked back. His mouth twitched at the thought. ¡°We need to follow and quickly.¡± He commanded.


    Bruna looked over to a huffing Dustfang. The great desert beast had been on the flight for days now, longer than the rest of their wyverns who had their rest at the mountain. Before Sha¡¯Raph could say anything he did. ¡°We can¡¯t beat an army when the beasts are barely able to cross the sea.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gals angry burning eyes darted at his friend before Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s voice cut him short. ¡°Aru¡¯Gal¡­he is right.¡±


    He looked down at her mask and huffed a few times. ¡°Let the beasts rest for a moment then. We will watch what her tower has to offer.¡± He ordered and flew ahead to find an entrance into the obsidian tower in the Islands centre.


    It stood at the top of a very small mountain and had entrances both down to caves as well as up where the actual tower began. They went with the entrance at its top while others were ordered to take to the dungeons below.


    Once inside they needed torches for the tower seemed to drown any hint of light that was granted by the hint of the sun outside. Even though it had no signs of the rotten flesh that was infesting the land, the stench of it was even worse inside.


    ¡°What are we looking for?¡± Bruna asked cold and plainly.


    Aru¡¯Gal was leading the way through a gigantic gate that was protected by statues of beasts they didn¡¯t know as Gargoyles and spikes that grew from the Obsidian like hair. ¡°Artifacts, weapons¡­¡± The Khan answered distantly while raising his torch high. ¡°Scrolls¡­¡± He said with a wicked grin and turned to his two companions. It vanished again as both just stared motionless from their hidden faces.


    Not far inside and the tower turned to an open space of winding upward paths that circled the inner tower wall. Both up and down was free to gaze while spikes of obsidian made an unpleasant protection against falling from the paths. The walls itself were the most clean obsidian they had ever seen and casted their reflections in a twisted fog of darkness. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it here¡­¡± Sha¡¯Raph stated.


    An amused huff escaped Aru¡¯gal to that. ¡°And you live in caves of ash..¡±


    She remained silent, instead Bruna spoke. ¡°I fear this is far from the worst here.¡± His gaze had turned to some entrances along the circling upward paths.


    Aru¡¯Gal turned to him. ¡°Where did you find the Scroll last time?¡± All the amusement was gone from his words and his fiery eyes demanded an answer.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t.¡± His words took Aru¡¯gal back and for a mere second panic was seen in his eyes. ¡°Greenskin striders had snuck into this tower and stolen it before we could. Ancestors know how they escaped¡­¡±


    Sha¡¯raph took word behind them. ¡°If they can turn into beasts they might be able to turn into fish..¡± She said but regretted her words, they sounded stupid herself.


    Bruna shook his head. ¡°That''s not how their beastforms work~¡± ¡°Unless they had the utmost aid from their own master..¡± Aru¡¯Gal cut him short and was gazing up the inner tower now. ¡°Come.¡± He ordered and they started to take their way up the tower. Many of the rooms were far more simple than they had expected. Barracks for Legionnaires, a big kitchen with food from far places, and a throne room. None of it to Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s interest and soon Bruna could see him grow more and more restless. Finally as they reached the higher places the rooms carried more than caves.


    There was one full of maps, some of their continent and home, others from places they didn¡¯t know and written with languages only one of them spoke. That same room¡¯s roof carried shaman chains and was adorned with totems as it was tradition by the clans. Bruna found an old bronzen coin, long rotten with green rust. A sun lion was carved into it. A long forgotten beast from the Savannah and its isles. ¡°Is this a mockery?¡± He asked with barely contained anger. Aru¡¯Gal shook his head as he gazed at one of the totems that were placed around the room. It had the height of a cat and was made of bone. At its very top was a bronzen bowl held by bones, for oils and fires to be lit. ¡°Only one who believes takes such effort.¡± Aru¡¯gal answered and then looked over to Sha¡¯Raph. She was standing over the old maps. As he walked next to her looked down at them himself. His brow raised. He shoved away a map of their own continent to gaze properly at another. Bruna followed and looked down at the map. The words were written in runes he had never seen and it was drawn with the finest of hands. Many symbols on it carried far more finery than any orc would ever cast for a map. Without a question Aru¡¯Gal ordered her ¡°Take them.¡± And left the room once more. She and Bruna shared a glance of their hidden eyes before she did as she was tasked.


    Once they raised higher they reached a room that seemed far more in line with the rest of the tower. Spikes and darkness and many rotten pieces of flesh were in there. Some of the flesh was burned, other pieces seemed to be stitched together. All while but a single window glanced up at where the storm once had been. Crystals and potions littered the shelves that were forged into the walls. All of them strange, and none of them with any sign of what they might do. ¡°Don¡¯t touch them if we don¡¯t know.¡± Aru¡¯gal said.


    ¡°I am not that much of a fool.¡± Bruna answered with barely contained disdain. The Khan just huffed again before they went higher to reach the highest room the tower had. It was protected by a small gate that stood wide open and behind it the most lavished room any of them had ever seen laid bare. Despite the tower''s obsidian it seemed almost warm. In its wall a once cracking fireplace was set. The windows in its back carried many colours and showed pictures of what was meant to be a human woman. In one picture she laid bare, the sun behind her. In another she raised a hand to command an army that was only shown as helmets. And in the last one she carried feathery wings and was rising towards the sun. She was slim yet shown with curves. Even on the two windows that showed her with clothing her attire was still very loose.


    ¡°What a disgusting creature..¡± Bruna said and made Aru¡¯gal nod. Sha¡¯Raph remained silent.


    Before the windows a wide thing with pillows, none of them knew as a bed, was set wide with the most comfortable and lavished sheets not only an orc had ever seen. Aside from it a grand table adored with many foods and wines from the furthest places was set. It was not rotting, yet Bruna could see how it started to dry. The scent in the room carried a strange sweetness and two other doors led even further inside. Aru¡¯gal went to one of those while Bruna went to the other. Sha¡¯Raph however, still had her gaze taken by the windows. She gazed at them long and when Bruna glanced over his shoulder to her he could even hear her heavy breathing. ¡°Is everything well?¡± He asked, not touching the wooden door in front of him yet. A moment longer and she was taken back by his words.


    ¡°Yes..yes..¡± She said distantly and nodded. He asked no further and was about to open the door.


    Aru¡¯gal already did and found a bath. Fresh water casted into a pool that was set right into the obsidian. More coloured windows lit the room as the sun shone brightly into it now. Reflected a second time by the water the room carried a light none of them had witnessed before.


    When Bruna opened the door on the other end, he found not another piece of grandeur, but a long line of cells. With a raised axe he journeyed along them. Five of them. While he walked past four, they were empty but littered with strangely weak bones. Whatever creatures had been captured here were long dead and neither orc nor beast. For their skulls seemed so round and simple.


    Finally he reached the last cell and gazed inside. A pigskinned creature with grey hair and beard was kneeling in its centre. It was gazing out into the sun with folded hands and whispering in words that were but noise to him. There was armour in there as well. Even that was crafted in a way he had never seen it be crafted though stranger to him was that a prisoner would be cast into a cell with sword and armour. For the sword laid next to the man and reflected the sunlight in ways that were blinding him. He made a whistling sound and brought both Sha¡¯Raph and Aru¡¯gal to him. All three glared at the creature, yet none of them knew it was called a human. It was far smaller than Bruna, and would have been smaller than most orcs. Yet Aru¡¯Gal and Sha¡¯Raph were of similar height to it. Slowly it stopped its whispered prayer, grabbed its sword and looked at them. It spoke, yet no orcish word left its mouth.


    Bruna shook his head. ¡°One of the many horrors she created here no doubt.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded. ¡°We should end its suffering.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph however shook her head, while her breathing remained heavy. ¡°No¡­¡± She almost whispered and came closer to the cell. She took the iron bars of the cell as she stared at the creature inside. ¡°I know its tongue¡­¡±

 Chapter 47: A man of justice

    Sir Raimond glared up into the distant sun. His hands were folded and his knees rough on the obsidian ground.


    The light of home had long vanished. It had the moment he held the aging body of fair lady Portfall in his arms. Marie. Her name was Marie. Named after her mother and last of her house. Now it was gone, and he a knight with nothing to protect.


    This was a cursed land. They knew that it would be when they were sent away. Schemes and tricks had forced them here. Away from the courts of the republic and into the service of Magister Aurrilian. A man Sir Raimond had despised from the first day he saw him at a tourney when he was but a squire in the service of House Portfall.


    A man who had lived far longer than he should have. Granted with far more years than any human ever should have and like so many of his caste a leader of just as long. A warden of democracy chosen for eternity.


    Hatred was filling the old knight''s heart the more the magister was running through his memory. And there was so much time for it to run and circle.


    The witch that had stolen his ladies youth had casted him in this cell. Who knew what purpose he would hold for her, he only knew that it would be his blade to end her wicked life. And should he return home, should he find his way back to the silver streets of Goldstein, he would do the same to the magisters. His oath was to justice, to the republic, and to the glory of house Portfall, not to any of their masters.


    There were days when the witch approached him with a wicked smile. Even more wicked since she had taken the form of his former lady. She paraded that body around like it was hers, she tried to lure him with it, she mocked him with it. Yet despite her advances, he would not defile his ladies purity. Once the witch started to understand she instead took his blood. He had heard that the blood of the righteous was of use to witches, yet he also knew very well his righteousness would end once he could cast his sword down upon that hag.


    Yet despite all of it, one day it was all silence. No stomping guards, no wicked laughter, no horns or drums, not even thunder anymore. Only a howling wind and the distant waves remained. He remained on guard. When before he was fed quite well by the witch, now he had to get the rats crawling by. Raw flesh of beasts that had eaten the same. It was hard to swallow, but he would survive to cast justice down upon her. He tried to catch some rain yet it was not nearly enough to drown his thirst. Finally he knew the only thing left to do, that could grant him any hopes of survival, was prayer.


    And so he prayed. Day and night. To the sun and the distant stars. To the sea and the hidden deep. Finally the sun started to pierce through the dark clouds and into his cell and he could hear the distant choirs of the stars. Tears ran down his eyes and reflected the warm golden glow, the very distant promise of hope.


    Time was but a distant thought to him and yet it was broken when he finally started to hear voices again. Rough enough to be of ogres, and with what he thought their tongue. Finally the door at the end of the cells cracked open. He remained praying, expecting another of her wicked plays. Yet what arrived was an entirely new horror. It whistled and brought two more of it and finally he turned to look at them. Only two of them showed skin. Two male creatures with dark ashen skin and burning eyes. One of them far smaller than the other. The big one, carried an axe big enough to cut a man in half and even though smaller than an Ogre was still bigger than the biggest man alive.


    The third one, was masked and clad in obsidian armour, black leather and cloth, enough that no skin was seen. Yet he could tell it was a woman. The first one outside of the witch he had seen in these lands.


    Slowly he took his sword ¡°No matter what forms you monsters take, it will not change my judgement!¡±


    The creatures spoke to each other. Grunted sounds that sounded rough and similar to what the Ogres spoke among themselves. After but a few words the masked woman stepped forth to the bars. She whispered something in their rough tongue while she tolk hold of the bars that made his cell. ¡°You..not with her?¡±


    His eyes widened at her words. A rough accent followed the flow of her tongue yet she spoke with his. He lowered his sword again and stepped closer. ¡°No..I am not.¡±


    She said something in the other language over her shoulder to the other two. The smaller one in their centre nodded. He wore a cloak of big scales and stood tall despite his small height. The big beast of grey muscle next to him only huffed from his horned helmet.


    Then the woman spoke again. ¡°Where?¡± she asked.


    Sir Raimond shook his head. ¡°I am afraid I don¡¯t understand.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It was hard to tell what she meant without a face attached to her words. It took her a moment of thought until she gathered the right words again. ¡°She, Sorceress. Is where?¡± She asked. her words wrongly attached to one another, yet this time he understood.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He answered. She said something in their rough tongue to the small one with the cloak. He answered and the big beast readied his axe.


    ¡°But I assure I wish nothing more than to end her!¡± He exclaimed proudly and held his sword downward in front of him. It was hard to stand with pride after days without proper food or drink or bed or talk.


    She slowly turned her masked face back to him and he could feel her hidden gaze. ¡°You want to kill?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I want vengeance!¡± His words were rougher than usual, and for a moment he was ashamed that he stated vengeance and not justice as his goal. Yet when she told the other two, they answered with dark and deep chuckles. The big one lowered his axe and the small one with the scale cloak and obsidian armour stepped forth to the bars. He said something to the woman. She nodded and he started to speak. Quite a lot. Once he stopped she took word for him, yet far fewer than he had used. ¡°This is Khan. Chieftain of Chieftains. He seeks Sorceress death.¡±


    Sir Raimond didn¡¯t understand much, but savages or not, he knew a nobleman¡¯s words when he heard them. They always started with introducing themselves. He made a small bow and locked his eyes with the Khan¡¯s as he came back up. The Khan looked at him for a while. He punched his chest with his fist and greeted him in their tongue. ¡°Shak¡¯Aruk!¡± He said.


    ¡°Star¡¯s blessing.¡± Sir Raimond answered. The Khan grunted and nodded before the masked woman continued. ¡°He ask. You know to kill Sorcery?¡±


    Raimond was struggling to understand what she truly meant yet he knew the answer would remain the same. ¡°I am a man trained to fight the darkness. I will kill her.¡±


    She repeated his words, or at least what she understood in their tongue. It made the Khan nod and shout an order to the one with the axe. The other two took a step back and he gazed at Sir Raimond for a moment. Finally while the burning eyes stared at him from below that helmet he understood and took a step backwards.


    After he laid his axe against the nearby wall the big beast of muscle started to grab the bars of Raimonds cell. To his disbelief he not simply bent them but soon ripped parts of them out. ¡°This thing could punch right through my armour.¡± Sir Raimond thought. He was glad to be saved by those savages, yet a part of him remained uneasy. It always would.


    After a while in which the Khan said a few more rough words to the other two, enough of the bars were broken away that Sir Raimond could slip through. He took the bundle that was his armour and threw it on the other side together with his sword. Without waiting for the orcs he grabbed his belongings and marched into the big and empty room. Too hungry for shame he went to the table, and took some bites and drinks from it. Behind him more of those grey creatures with burning eyes and big tusks appeared. All bigger than the masked woman and the Khan yet smaller than the beast with the helmet.. They glanced at Raimond and seemed ready to attack when the Khan came from the cells and shouted at them. Raimond didn¡¯t need to understand their tongue to know it was orders.


    After that the Khan said some words to the masked woman again, he went over to the table to gaze at some of the food as well. He took a big pig¡¯s leg and quite a big bite before telling her again.


    She nodded and approached Sir Raimond. ¡°Not time much. You will ride me.¡±


    Sir Raimond coughed and for once corrected her. ¡°With me..¡± he said.


    He doubted she understood, but it did not matter. ¡°So you are following that witch?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°She seeks dragon blood. We will end her be.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He answered. ¡°How fast will we be on our way? I need to put my armour on again.¡±


    ¡°Only till the Riders gather.¡± She answered and took some pieces of fruit from the table into a pouch that hung from her belt.


    ¡°Then I will make ready.¡± He said and went over to place his armour on the ground. He looked at the still gathered three orcs. All of them clad in obsidian armour. Only the big one was mainly free despite his boots and fists.


    ¡°I assume you know how to get an armour on?¡± He asked around. ¡°I might need some aid.¡± She understood and the orcs changed some words before she and the big one started to aid him. ¡°I am Sir Raimond.¡± He told them while his arms were stretched out to get the plate gloves on.


    ¡°I am Sha¡¯Raph.¡± She answered and soon told him the names of Bruna and Aru¡¯Gal.


    It was just when he was done that they went outside with the Khan once more. Raimond could feel his heart raise in panic as he saw their mounts. Wyverns big enough to take a group of horses. Most of them protected by red scales and even in parts obsidian armour. Few of them of different colours. The Khan took to one that seemed strange even among those beasts. Sleek and thin, yet with dotted colours and a twisted tongue that seemed similar to a snake.


    Meanwhile he and Sha¡¯Raph went onto the biggest beast of them all.


    Dustfang made a strange sound of snapping teeth and deep grumbling when they approached. She whispered to the Wyvern in her own rough tongue before she aided him up. The rider''s seat was big and meant for many. Carved into a big scale and hung with trinkets and leather to close it like a tent.


    The Khan shouted at the gathered riders and blew his horn before they dashed into the sky. The sun was almost down by now yet stars took her place over the sea.


    Raimond knew their light would shine once he met that witch again. No matter what the orcs might do to him, or what they might think of his duties, he would cast justice upon her.


    Behind Sha¡¯Raph he whispered prayers in a tongue she started to remember more and more. Her mask remained while she started a distant prayer to her own ancestors.

 Chapter 48: When winds howl

    The distant howling of the wind echoed over the mesa. Cold and fast it carried a scent of rot. It felt wrong. And not only to the shaman.


    Mara was running up the path of the cliffs again. She had rushed for their tent to get some salves and stitches while the druids were preparing mender tents at the top of the cliff. They would need to move back once the Ogres would start to come up. Yet should they reach that far there wouldn¡¯t be much hope in healing any longer. The attack had not begun yet, and every orc of every tribe was running, gathering their weapons, their totems, their mounts or just their strength.


    Thickskin stood at the edge of the cliff and shouted orders. Chieftain Scale-Eye did the same to the Bristle-Pine warriors. Rika and Branak had become messengers, galloping around and giving the chieftains words to warriors at different edges of the cliffs. Kazzok was with the druids for now and prepared the tents. But like almost all of them he would join the warriors until healing was needed.


    Now that she had to run and gather, to see and learn the structure of their defence, Mara finally realised the true grandeur of the mesa. It had six entrances. One for every wind and one between each of them. All of them had simple wooden gates that could be closed, but were far more decorative than protective. The cliffs behind the gates circled in different ways. There were those that carried open spaces for tribes to linger, others were nothing but a twisting path between caves and cliffs. But all of them led to the dolmen in its centre. Most had a second gate all the way back, but those were even more for tradition rather than protection. Some of them didn¡¯t even have the means to close them but were but simple wooden ways hung with totems, trophies and dreamcatchers.


    The night was slowly conquering the sky and the stars drowned by the accursed storm that was cast by the creature leading the ogres. It was still floating between sky and earth and dressed in black clouds. The closer she came, the louder the twisted song that forced the storm was heard. Lightning cracked around her, yet it seemed unnatural almost as if the flashes themselve were made of darkness, yet still they were able to cast more shadows.


    Far behind that being and the Ogre legions, a hint of the sun pierced the clouds and coloured what remained unconquered of the sky in red. A certain promise for the night to come.


    Mara arrived at the mender tents that were built. She saw Kazzok argue with the old woman draped in bat remains and left him be. She knew enough about healing places like this to find her own way. Back in the Frostsong Valley they had used the mines for the healers when an attack happened. And it was not that different here. Leather sheets were lying around, some to make the wounded comfortable, others to make quick bandages. Salves and tinctures, thick stitches and old iron needles to close the wounds. Water and bowls, and totems. Either to ask the ancestors for their aid in the healing to be done, or to guide a lost wounded toward them.


    In the valley they could count on the riders to save them, no matter the threat. And despite his absence she could always count on her brother to come and end the battle. Her heart was aching and her hands twitching as she thought about him. Now that she knew she might never see him again, she wanted nothing more than to hold him one last time. To tell him how sorry she was, how she deserved all the horrors that would be thrown at her for taking Kara along on her journey. Once she questioned if he would hear any of it, tears started to force their way into her eyes. Yet she covered them in her arm and continued. The battle couldn¡¯t start soon enough. At least it would occupy her mind, and maybe even grant her the end she deserved.


    Finally she was dragged out of her mind when Rika jumped down from Branak and approached her. She squatted before sitting Mara and held a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Do you have all you need?¡± Her tone was cold yet the care was warm.


    Mara nodded ¡°I will manage.¡±


    Their eyes locked for a moment and Mara felt her heart and tears swell. Yet neither was bursting out. She wanted to say so much, but knew she had done so many times. Instead Rika smiled and spoke first. ¡°Thank you.¡± She said with all the honesty the world had to offer.


    Mara couldn¡¯t help but echo her smile. ¡°Thank you too.¡± She managed to say, as her voice was brought down to a whisper.


    Rika squeezed her shoulder, smirked and huffed away any hint of tears. Branak came by and nudged her face before he sat down. Rika was about to say more when Kazzok came by as well. He gave Rika¡¯s shoulder a friendly punch and nodded at Mara. ¡°Are you two ready?¡±


    Mara nodded while Rika proudly stated ¡°Always!¡±


    ¡°Ha! Of course you are!¡± He answered loud and with pride. ¡°Have you seen those lazy weaklings?! They might be plenty but they are fat!¡±


    Rika raised a brow, looked down at his belly and back up to his eyes.


    ¡°What?!¡± He asked. They made Mara chuckle. Her chuckle was echoed by their smiles and Kazzok slowly turned to a more serious tone. ¡°Don¡¯t let them take you.¡± For the first time Mara saw his eyes become a plea. He looked over to Rika. She huffed, as she always did when fighting her heart. ¡°Never.¡± She stated.


    Then he looked at Mara. ¡°Never.¡± Mara echoed. They made him smile. ¡°Never.¡± He grunted. And was about to stand up when Rika brought her one arm around him and into a hug. She whispered something into his ear that Mara couldn¡¯t hear. Finally she saw his eyes swell and their foreheads locked together. ¡°I will.¡± He answered the whisper. After a long moment Rika released him again and then shifted closer to Mara. She brought her into a long warm hug as well, her one arm around her. ¡°Ancestors watch you, Mara¡± she whispered in her ear. The sound of her whispered name made Mara hug her tighter for a moment before they as well locked their foreheads for a second that lasted forever. ¡°She does..¡± Mara whispered back ¡°May they watch you as well.¡± It was all she could say, yet once again a smile told her that it was enough. Rika rose again and moved back to Kazzok who stood next to Branak stroking his ear.Stolen story; please report.


    Mara looked at Kazzok for a moment and could see how he fought with emotions. Once he had gathered his composure again he moved towards her. ¡°Come here!¡± he said and hugged her tight as well. There was no word he could speak, yet his embrace gave her strength. Then he just nodded at her. She nodded back and slowly he and Rika moved to the edge of the cliff. They had known for such a short while, but she loved them.


    For a moment Mara¡¯s thoughts shifted to her brother once more. She wondered how their words and embrace would be in a moment like this. With an impending doom and battle upon them. Would he scream? Would he whisper? Would he cry? She didn¡¯t know anymore. And the more she thought about how much the Khan had his fingers in his mind the more fire started to burn inside her. And what use was it to spend your last thoughts on what could be, when the embrace of Kazzok and Rika still lingered on her skin.


    Shouts brought her out of her mind again and once she saw other healers walk to the edge for battle, she did the same. As she came close she could see the legions below. Bigger than any orc and armed with axes even bigger as her fathers. Only few of them were clad in much armour while the rest only had their head and weapon arm truly protected. Those that carried more, often carried helmets with a coloured feather on their head and she could see how one quite in front of them all carried what must have been the most decorated armour she had ever seen. Yet like all the others it was old and showed the green rust of bronze. They had stopped and nothing but the twisted storm above the creature in the clouds made a sound. Unlike the army it still floated closer and soon was ahead of them.


    The orcs had their weapons drawn and spears were thrown at the thing inside the twirling black storm. None of them hit as the entire cloud of spears was shoved away. First by wind, then by lightning. But the tribes wouldn¡¯t stop until a terrible voice echoed from the clouds. ¡°Enough!!¡±


    Both Mara and the Druids cowered down in pain by her voice. It was wrong, even worse than the storm she forced to her will.


    Slowly the clouds shifted and showed a pigskinned creature. It was small and thin and wore nothing but the clouds and black cloth that seemed to become one with them. It smiled at its own display.


    ¡°By the oak..¡± Mara heard Kazzok nearby. ¡°Ugly as dung..¡±


    The sorceress smiled down at the many teeth baring, snarling and grunting orcs, all of them gathered at the mesa¡¯s edge.


    ¡°You are honoured to have me deliver you the choice that you are granted.¡± She said with the most wicked grin Mara any creature had ever cast. While her voice remained utter pain to all in touch with the spirits.


    ¡°I offer to become part of my boys, part of my children, of my army first and my very world next.¡± ¡°Ascension..¡± Mara whispered with wide eyes as they were forced to listen.


    Once the Sorceress continued she only proved her fears. ¡°I will ascend you. I will make you strong enough that death cannot touch you, and together we will spend our eternity with nothing but conquest!!¡± Lightning answered the sorceress¡¯ call as if it was waiting to applaud her.


    For a moment Mara feared the tribes to accept. They wouldn¡¯t have laid down their weapons but the promise of conquest could have been well enough to lure any orc.


    ¡°Go away!!¡± Someone simply shouted back. It made the sorceress lose her smile, and slowly formed one on Mara. ¡°You are ugly!¡± Shouted Kazzok.


    ¡°Your truths are as twisted as your tongue!¡± Mara joined the choir and soon all of the orcs shouted their mind at the floating human before them.


    The sorceress¡¯ eyes grew wild with anger and her smirk deformed into a shuttering display of disbelief. Finally she screamed and moved her hands forward. Lightning followed from the black clouds above and struck behind the orcs. With blinding light and deafening thunder the healer tents were turned to burning ashes. The many scents of the burning herbs and salves started to rise from them and fought the smell of rot that came from the sorceress and her legions. ¡°I ask you again!!!¡± She shouted with the purest wildest fury in her voice while thunder echoed her threat above.


    Silence was the answer. Mara could hear how someone tried to talk yet was cut by whoever stood next to them. She looked up at the sorceress¡¯ angry gaze and quickly darted around the mesa. She found a boulder not far and rushed through the cloud to it. Many angry eyes followed her and some whispered that the darkling was about to flee. Yet when Rika caught her eye she knew there was more plan behind it.


    ¡°You won¡¯t even grant us a fight?!¡± She heard Thick-Skin¡¯s voice shout at the wicked witch.


    ¡°I am granting you all the fights if you join me!¡± Her voice echoed back through the thunder of the clouds and over them.


    Kazzok was next to take word. ¡°Then there will be none!¡± He said with all the rugged defiance his dark gurgling voice could muster.


    Mara approached the boulder and started to climb it. She had never been a climber.


    ¡°So be it!¡± The sorceress said and Mara started to lose hope she could make it in time when she felt Rikas arm behind her. Quickly she aided her up Branak and from there up the boulder just as lightning cracked in the clouds above.


    Mara raised her hand, closed her eyes and sang in the ancient tongue. Wind was rising and circling around her and gathered the hot ash of the burning tents and herbs. As the lightning crashed down some of them dispersed in the air while those that came were caught by her raised hand and finger. Her song was true and deep from her throat. It was about the ancient past, the ancestors and the untouched lands of fury.


    The sorceress¡¯s eyes grew wide. ¡°A shaman?! You have the dragons spawn among you?!¡±


    Mara¡¯s voice and song was full of pain and the lightning about to burst right through her. Yet with her final strength she slowly lowered her hand and pointed right at the sorceress. Burning memories of her heart, of master Cra¡¯Gal, of her home, her father, her niece and her brother coursed through her as both the lightning and part of the hot ashen wind shot guided by her finger at the sorceress. It hit her with the proud drum of thunder, not the unnatural song of pain they had carried when forced by her, but a true drum of the land and the elements. The sorceress wailed in pain and was shot back out of her black clouds.


    Mara fell to her knees and felt some lightning still running through her veins. She saw Rika raising a hand at her. ¡°Don¡¯t..¡± Mara whispered with her remaining strength. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it might still hurt you.¡± Slowly the huntress removed her hand again and looked back at the falling sorceress. She smiled brightly until a sudden song echoed from the legions below. Mara winced in pain and was forced to almost lay on the ground. Between her gasps of pain she told Rika. ¡°Their casters¡­those that sing. They need to be stopped!¡± Rika looked at her with concerned eyes but soon nodded and rode Branak to Thick-Skin and the Chieftains. More thunder was coursing the clouds above and the black dress of black clouds was moving like tendrils once more. It caught the sorceress and slowly brought her down. Mara could feel she was alive. All the rot and wrongness in the wind still lingered and she was the heart of it. She huffed a few times, like her brother did when fighting pain, and did so herself. Slowly and with pain she stood up and raised her hands once more. A few steady breaths caught the herb filled wind around her and finally with newfound heart she sang from her throat and chest once more. Her voice echoed into the sky and started to battle the dark sorcery ahead, while the battle for ascension began.

 Chapter 49: Joy of the fray

    Third-Fist¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief as he saw their mother shot out of her cloud by lightning. His brothers around him screamed and wailed in terror while he could not help but form a dark pleased smile.


    He heard First-Cast shout at the other stormcallers ¡°Sing you fools! Catch her!!¡± before he started to chant himself and joined the choir of dark ancient sorcery. Slowly the black clouds formed tendrils and gently caught their falling mother. She was brought down to the back of the legions and her favourite sons.


    Third-Fist quickly walked between the squares of their legions while the western wind caught his old torn red cloak. Even the sudden unease of the legionnaires was close to funny to him. Only days ago the fools had cheered for their mighty unbeatable mother and now it took one shaman to have her fall from the sky.


    Once he arrived back at their mother he could see the big burning wound the lightning had caused, right in the centre of her belly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry mother..¡± First-Cast stammered and started to take potions from his belt. ¡°We will fix you.¡±


    Third-Fist felt a swirling pool of emotions inside as he saw her like that. It was excitement he hadn¡¯t felt in centuries that mixed with the tiniest hint of fear. The feeling of battle.


    Suddenly and before First-Cast could aid her she shot her eyes open and huffed like a wild beast. She aimlessly reached out a hand to her right and started to whisper old spells. A legionnaire was drawn through the savannah ground by invisible sorcery until his big face was resting in her small hand. He gasped while his skin slowly became old and wrinkled, his eyes grey and empty. Yet he wasn¡¯t even granted death as their mother stopped quite soon. Her wound slowly closed yet her form became thicker and more deformed with every bit of life she drained. She still looked human yet the ogres fat had become part of her and what would have counted as almost unnatural beauty among the humans before slowly turned to a thicker and more common look.


    ¡°Kill her!!¡± She commanded everyone around her. ¡°Kill her and take her head!!¡±


    First-Cast answered with a wide smile like the dog he was, ¡°We will mother, do not worry.¡± Then pierced at Third-Fist. ¡°You heard her, warlord!¡±


    Third-Fist nodded before a nearby centurion took word as well. ¡°Why is there even a shaman! We should have heard if the north and south had stopped their squabbles!¡±


    Their mothers eyes widened with a hint of panic. ¡°If they stopped it would mean either he or the dragon is already dead..¡±


    ¡°No..¡± First-Cast echoed her words in shock.


    Finally Third-Fist couldn¡¯t contain his laughter any longer and chuckled at their terror. All their eyes were cast on him and in pure fury. But before anyone could scold him another centurion came from the legions behind him. ¡°Warlord! The greenskins they¡­they are attacking!¡±


    He turned around and looked at him with a smile of disbelief before his eyes were drawn to the mesa. Clouds of spears and arrows were shot and followed by orcs that jumped down. For a second it seemed as if they were flying yet they were merely gliding. For the jumpers all wore the remains of winged beasts. Eagles and bats, wyverns and giant beetles. His eyes followed those that jumped down and far too many were lucky enough to glide far enough and into the legions. The cloud of shots before each jump had given them enough room while the Ogres had to shield themselves. Those that were already down started a bloody battle where they landed and hid behind the big Ogres before them when more spears and arrows came.


    First-Cast screamed behind him. ¡°They are going for the stormcallers!¡±


    ¡°Smart choice..¡± Third-Fist said while his big smile continued. It was a grin of battle, a memory of the orc he once had been, and the wardrums that were pounding through his long rotten heart. The grin was cut once their mothers voice forced him to look back at her. ¡°Take that Mesa and KILL that shaman! I will not stand to be ridiculed by beasts! Even less a dragon¡¯s whore!!¡±


    For a moment Third-Fist was to just follow her orders, yet today he dared to ask. ¡°Why is one single shaman such a threat?¡±


    Angry eyes of both First-Cast and her were the answer. ¡°Why do you think I have not simply taken the dragon before?!¡± She asked him with continued fury, that finally made even First-Cast raise a brow at her. ¡°Why do you think I even need you fools?!¡±


    For the first time since the days he was a shaman himself First-Cast had a look of thought on his face while Third-Fist couldn¡¯t help but slowly start to laugh again. As his laughter grew louder some of the nearby fools echoed him, not even knowing that they were laughing at. As it grew louder he glanced back at the Cliff and the gliding greenskins. He felt his mothers fury yet before she could do anything he composed himself, folded his hands behind his back and started to shout orders at the nearby centurions. ¡°Well, let us answer their attack properly! We have the numbers and it seems there is only one shaman! If age has not dared to touch the mesa too much there are six gates. We have 9 legions! I want the first to fifth legion each march for a gate. Starting with the first legion and south west. The sixth to ninth legion will remain here with me.¡±


    ¡°And mother..¡± First-Cast added.


    Instead of echoing it Third-Fist turned to First-Cast. ¡°I want at least two callers with every legion.¡± ¡°You are not to order them, warlord! Who do you think you are?!¡± First-Cast shouted back in disbelief. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Third-Fist continued in his ordering voice. ¡°Unless they are smart enough to hide them, it seems they have only one shaman among them. So the other gates could do nothing against your sorcery¡±


    ¡°They remain with me!¡± Their mother cut them short. ¡°I need them!!¡± There was fear in the fury of her voice and it made Third-Fist smile again before she continued. ¡°Just drown them in bodies until you can crawl up the corpses! I don¡¯t care, just KILL THE SHAMAN!!¡±


    Third-Fist didn¡¯t respond to her but turned to the Centurions once again. ¡°You have your orders! Go!¡± He said and punched his chest with his fist. After answering his gesture the Centurions left him. Only Three of them, those of the staying legions, stayed with them, their eyes glancing with worry at their mother from time to time.


    ¡°What are we doing about those jumpers?!¡± one of them asked. Third-Fist looked over and saw more and more jump down. Some of them already wreaked havoc among their formations and once again he couldn¡¯t help but form a bitter smile. There was a time when he had dreamed of an honourable death like that.


    Finally he shook his head. ¡°They know they are leaping to their doom and I think we should show them.¡± Again he turned to First-Cast. ¡°I say we let their own corpses attack the gate first.¡± For a moment the angry glares of the once shaman and their mother continued before Third-Fist added. ¡°There needs to be some retaliation for the mockery, dearest mother.¡± He hoped he could contain the mockery in his own words.


    She nodded, a good sign. ¡°You are right..they will get slaughtered by their own..no DROWNED by the bodies of their own!¡± With that she stood back up, spread her arms and started to sing her dark spells. The clouds answered with veins of dark lightning that were fighting those caused by the shaman. Quickly First-Cast followed her example and she started to slowly float again, yet she made sure to stay low this time. Only a few feet up as the western wind grew stronger.


    Third-Fist gazed up to the clouds and the battle set between shamanism and sorcery. There was a time when he believed their mothers sorcery a sign of strength, yet doubts had been set over the many many years. Now as he watched how one shaman could stand against a choir of their casters and even their mother herself there was no question in it any longer. Even though the shaman was clearly and slowly losing, it was still a display of utter weakness that it took so many of them to make it happen.


    He walked back through the line of their legions and watched where the jumpers were going. As his gaze went up the mesa he saw how their numbers declined, some by the jumpers, others because they were set out to the other gates by now.


    Finally he saw a group of three gliders come for him. Either his cloak or his armour must have made him a grant target. Legionnaires in the squares next to him started to shout as well. ¡°Warlord! Let me protect you!¡±


    ¡°Stay your ground, warrior!¡± Third-Fist shouted back and slowly drew the long thick curved blade from his belt. ¡°I will honour them with death myself!¡± A smile had returned to the old warlord and once chieftain. His blade was made of obsidian yet from an age where it was not cast by the sorceress but granted by the dragon. At its hilt the sun lion roared while trinkets of their forgotten pride hung from it.


    While more gliders came down to start their battles nearby he concentrated on those meant for him. The greenskins came from different tribes, that much he could tell. There was one adorned in the signs of the great cliffside hawk, another in the leathery wings of a southern salamander and finally a woman in the remains of a big darkwing bat.


    ¡°Death and glory!¡± She screamed and was echoed by the other two. She had a spear and an axe in her hands and was having them ready as she came down. She threw the spear once she was close and forced Third-Fist slash at it instead of her. She aimed to land the axe in his head, yet he ducked down for her to fall behind him. He sliced upwards again to cut the salamander open before he could even attack. Warm blood was spraying down and the salamander orc lumped down amidst the legion only to be hacked into even more pieces.


    The hawk saw the attack and readied his two axes while he screeched. He came in last. For a moment Third-Fist thought the bat would come from behind but she was defending herself against Legionnaires. The fools didn¡¯t even let him have all the fun. Still the hawk was smart enough to land before him and tried to go low. He dodged the axes of legionnaires nearby and rushed for Third-Fists legs while screaming and showing his tusks in pride. The old warlord smiled in the joy of battle before he moved sideways and kicked the orc into the legion where he got cut into pieces as well. Finally the old woman in bat remains roared at him. She had killed two of the legionnaires that had tried to stop her and jumped from their piled bodies at Third-Fist once again. He was about to meet her axe with his blade when lightning cracked above once more.


    ¡°Warlord! Another stormcaller has fallen!¡± A legionnaire shouted and Third-Fists eyes widened. Instead of meeting her axe he took a few steps back. Her raised axe was hit by lightning and once it crashed down it caused through the nearby Ogres. The old woman laughed, yet the lightning had vanished as quick as it came and Third-Fist took his chance. He rushed in and swung at her again and again. She blocked most of his strikes until finally a finger was cut and her axe fell. She kneeled down and held her hand when she looked up at him again. Third-Fist rested his blade at her neck. ¡°Well fought.¡± He said with a smile.


    She spat to the ground before he cut through her throat. While she was falling face first into the red soaked dirt, he looked back at the rest of the Legion. They were fighting, yet the jumpers clearly were not enough, and not an army of their own. They felled a few Stormcallers but enough remained to continue the dark song of their mothers sorcery. As he looked up, Third-Fist could see how true lightning was losing the battle against the dark veins and black clouds. Tendrils were coming down from them and to the dead. Both Ogre and orc were slowly given a life of undeath. His smile vanished when he saw the old womens cut throat as she was forced back to her feet. It was still bleeding yet she was dead. Her eyes empty and her muscles moved by the powers of their mother, not her own will. She took her axe and lumped forward, soon joined by the ogres she had slaughtered and the other two greenskins that had joined her battle.


    Not long and the walking corpses were ahead of the legions and started to claw for the gate. He heard their mother laugh far behind him, yet she couldn¡¯t even force her lightning to applaud her for once. Like the sky he ignored her as much as he could and walked at the spearhead of the three gathered legions at their gate.


    A centurion stood on each side of the path between the squared legions and looked at him when he arrived. ¡°Orders, Warlord?¡± One of them asked.


    ¡°We wait until the others have found their way to the gates and attack all at once.¡± He answered coldly while watching the corpses lumping through the sun robbed savannah to the gate. ¡°By midnight we will be done here.¡±


    ¡°And they will serve, mother!¡± One of the centurions said with pride. ¡°One way or the other.¡± The other centurion answered.


    The old warlord sighed and nodded. Robbed of his smile yet again.

 Chapter 50: The edge of oblivion

    The world was ending around Rika as she rode Branak from one gate to the next. Always gathering the news, always taking the next dire word of slaughter back to the chieftains. The ogres were too plenty and now they were using it. Every gate of the six was attacked by an entire legion. Hacked into it by great axes no matter how many spears and arrows were thrown at them. Once the corpses were piled they simply started to climb their dead brothers until they were dangerously close to reaching each gates¡¯ top. Most of the greenskins answered them with a smile. With a roar of battle as their weapons could finally clash, yet for Rika, who saw the battle whole, it was no more than dying beasts last cry. A last roar before they could meet their ancestors.


    She had just finished another round and was reporting it to Thick-Skin at the top end of the mesa when her eyes turned to Mara. She still stood and sang, but she could see that her darkling friend was shaking. Pain was going through her with every line the Ogres dark choir continued. Above her in the distant sky Rika could see how close the dark lightning of sorcery coursed through the black clouds, while those of nature only desperately held on. She knew they would be burned and crushed by the very sky if her friend failed, yet there was no time to worry.


    She rode next to Thick-Skin. Kazzok and Scale-Eye were there as well.


    ¡°Every gate¡± She stammered out, huffing. ¡°Every gate is losing.¡±


    All three of them looked up at her. It was Scale-Eye who spoke, while Kazzok simply walked up and squeezed her hand. ¡°We need to move further in.¡± Their Chieftain said to Thick-Skin.


    The Rhino was looking down where gliders fought, and up the edge were Scale-Eye would be among the last of the winged who were left.


    After a glance up at the sky he turned to Rika. ¡°Tell them to retreat but man the caves!¡± His voice was rugged from shouts of orders and pride. ¡°If they come through the cliffs they will be drowned with spears and arrows!¡±


    Kazzok walked up to him and nodded back at where Mara was still singing on the boulder. ¡°What about her? Once we move her the sorcery will come for us!¡±


    Thick-Skin was huffing and thinking before Rika spoke. ¡°I will take her once the rest is off the Mesa.¡± The eyes of chieftains and druid rested on her. ¡°I don¡¯t think they can aim their sorcery down the cliff without being there, so it should give us, and her some time to recover.¡±


    ¡°And what if not?¡± Scale-Eye finally took word. The concern in the old chieftains voice was enough to run a shiver down Rika¡¯s spine.


    Thick-Skin shook his head. ¡°Then we know in death.¡± He stated and earned the smiles of both Rika and Kazzok. ¡°Ride on, hunter.¡± He continued at Rika. ¡°Tell them while we prepare our retreat.¡±


    Kazzok glanced back down at the Legions and one Ogre with a wide red torn cloak. ¡°But not too fast..¡± He said and locked his eyes with Thick-Skin. ¡°Or they will notice and think of an answer before we could raise our spears.¡±


    The two chieftains nodded, but Rika wasn¡¯t about to listen much more. She leaned down to give Kazzok¡¯s shoulder a squeeze of goodbye. He tapped her hand in answer. Then she punched her chest at the other two and rode off again. Down the long edge and finally the thin path down into the cliff. Other greenskins, most of them healers, were running along the thin path and pressed themselve against the cliff to have her ride by. They were gathering new healing supplies after the old ones were burnt, at least what they could still gather. Rika huffed as she thought how useless their effort was for they would retreat all of it down again once the plan was moving.


    It was just when she reached the ground between the cliffs when she heard the shouting from the gate behind her. ¡°They have broken through!!¡±


    Her eyes widened as she turned. Both greenskins and ogres, wounded enough that they should be dead, were crawling over the gate. Never stopping, only slowing down no matter the brutality thrown at them. More and more of their warriors were pushed back by the undead and made a line inside the cliff. Yet once they reached the inside of the cliff the dead grew limp once more and fell to their crunching doom. Maybe their sorcery needed sight to work, but it was not for Rika to think or decide. After the Undead fell, living Ogres climbed their hacked corpses and started their charge at the line of greenskin warriors. All of Rika¡¯s being wanted to aid them. She huffed and snorted unsure what to do, yet despite her urge to aid the battle, to get her friends down and to protect them, she continued her own quest.


    She rode through the cliff and into the grand arena and the dolmen in the centre of them all. Nothing but the wind remained. The silence there gave her shivers for no one was left. Suddenly both the battle shouts and thunder seemed quite distant there in the centre of it all. Her eyes went up the big obsidian dolmen and the dark promise it still held. She knew, if the battle continued like that, someone would be stupid enough to take the offer. To turn the tide from one terror to another.


    ¡°You. Can. Save. Them.¡± The winds whispered in different voices to her. It carried the old smell of root and pine and leaf and home. Still she shook her head. ¡°Not with you!¡± She exclaimed and rode into the first of the other cliffs. ¡°Never with you¡­¡± she repeated herself and concentrated on her ride through the dark night of battle once more.


    Once inside the next of the six cliffs she saw that their gate was broken as well. A thinning line of greenskins held the line while others threw and shot down further down to the cliff''s end. Her eyes darted around to find a chieftain, yet she only found a druid next to her. ¡°You there!¡± She made her stop. It must have been a druid from the distant swamps in the deepest south. Her teeth were sharper and both her tusks were split in two as if they were four teeth. Her eyes were reflecting the light and her warpaint made a skull of her already pale green face.


    ¡°Tell your chieftain that we will retreat! They have broken our gate too! We will meet in the centre but drown them in spears as long as you can!¡± The druid only nodded and Rika rode off and to the next once more.


    It was a similar picture in all the cliffs. Four of them had been crashed or climbed by the Ogres already and in one of the cliffs the legions were already dangerously close to the mesa¡¯s centre.


    Finally she rode back to her friends and Chieftains. Their line of warriors had been parted far as well and even far enough that the path up was among Ogres. Even through the night and from a distance she could see how orcs tried to fight their way down. Ogres fell down to their brothers below, and orcs shouted and roared. Blood and limbs were flying in dark droplets and fleshy guts that rained down to the legions below, painting the legionnaires red.


    Stolen story; please report.


    She saw Kazzok and for a moment thought to hear him roar in pain. She couldn¡¯t see enough, only that he stumbled backwards. Her heart pounded in fear and fury and finally with a roar she led Branak directly into the legion. She threw a spear at one of them and hacked away with a tomahawk, at least whenever she could stay on Branak without needing a hand on him. The big wolf jumped far and wide, across the ogres and against the cliff. Some of them tried to bring their axes at him, yet he was fast. And Rika blocked what she could, sometimes with a desperate swing of her tomahawk, other times with a kick of her leather boot against an axe¡¯s hilt. And few times just by killing them faster. Yet the path took its toll. Branak tried to jump from the cliff and around the Ogres and Rika could do nothing more than to hold herself tight on his back. After the great wolf had ripped an Ogre''s throat another was turning to face them. He raised his axe and Rika stood up on Branaks back to kick away his axe. It worked, yet those they had just circled and left behind were following. Behind her two other Ogres raised their axes. She managed to hack the throat of one yet the other was about to bring his axe down at both her and the wolf.


    For a second that lasted for an eternity she was faced with death. She saw the axe above her and knew it would be over. Her life would end, her warrior¡¯s death grantet. A place among the ancestors and next to her father would be given to her. Most orcs, no matter if greenskin or darkling would have been fine with it. Most would have seen this at a proper end after she lost her arm not that long ago, a last chance of a worthy death in battle. Yet she wasn¡¯t most. She was Rika Thar¡¯Rakkan. She who they called Bloodspine. Daughter of the oak and the stag. Huntress of the Bristling pines. She knew Branak would die without her here. She knew Kazzok was in pain up there and she knew Mara had been in pain since the battle began. But more than anything she didn¡¯t want to die. Not yet. She just wasn¡¯t done, no matter how honourable her end would have been.


    She launched herself from Branak and at the axe¡¯s hilt to grab it tightly. With all her weight and the muscle her one arm could give she forced it down to land next to her wolf. The Ogre screamed and raised his axe again while she was still dangling from it, trying her best to keep it down. He took her by the neck and smiled as he slowly tightened the grip. Air left her quickly as she struggled in his hands. She was letting go of the axe by instinct and tried to get her tomahawk again, yet soon the world turned to fog as breathing became impossible. The only thing left was the battledrum in her chest and the sudden roar of wolf and boar. Her eyes returned to light when the Ogre had to let go of her. She gasped and desperately brought air back to her lounges while warm blood was spraying her face.


    Branak was biting into the Ogres leg while Kazzok, in his form of Boar and orc roared and hacked at its head. Soon the Ogre fell yet there were plenty more on the way back down. The line of warriors down in the cliff tried their best to stay close to the path upwards, yet it was clear the Ogres had their own quest as well, and it was Mara. More and more swarmed up to them, an unending tide of fat, deformed, rotten flesh.


    With a pained grunt Kazzok returned his form to a proper Orc and aided Rika up. Thickskin, Scale-Eye and other warriors went by behind them to join the fray, but her eyes remained on him. She saw a big cut at his shoulder, held a hand on it and locked her eyes with his. The concern in hers was echoed by concern of him and finally a hint of a smile in both.


    It was him who spoke first. ¡°We need to bring her down with us.¡± He said, between gasping.


    She nodded and looked down the path they had just come up. It would cost just as much to go down as well. ¡°Is there anyone else up there?¡± She asked and leaned on him for support for a moment as she still took air back to her lounges.


    He shook his head. ¡°Some went down on the other side..there is a path too. I don¡¯t know how it is looking there.¡±


    She huffed. ¡°This is far from the only gate that has been crushed.¡±


    He nodded and looked down at the other warriors. ¡°I need to join them.¡± He said but continued to let her lean on him.


    She nodded too and quickly brought her forehead to his. ¡°Show them fury.¡± She said with a grin that was once again echoed on him, before she added with a whisper. ¡°But don¡¯t die..¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± He answered. And they left each other once more. He looked after her as she mounted Branak again and their eyes locked. She wanted to stay with him, but she knew what had to be done. Both of them punched their chest and she rode off, while he charged into the fray.


    The way up was empty of the living but littered with corpses of ogre and greenskin. One more hacked than the other. The scent of fresh blood mingled with the ever conquering stink of rot that only rose as she reached the upper plateau. It was as empty as Kazzok had said. Only Mara remained on the boulder and sang into the sky. Wind and ash of the burned healer tents was circling her as she did and thunder answered her melody. Yet it was clear she struggled to even stand, one could wonder how she could still sing with raised arms.


    As Rika quickly rode in she saw how the path at the other side was slowly conquered. The last Greenskins were pushed back until even the last one standing was thrown off the cliff. He threw a tomahawk at the ogre who did it as he fell, a final gift before he would crush below.


    It made her and Branak go faster and she only hoped it looked different on Kazzok¡¯s side.


    The Ogres were charging for the boulder, yet it was far and their fat bodies slow. Rika stopped next to it and looked up at Mara who remained in trance to fight her battle against sorcery. Neither sure nor caring if it would hurt her this time, she brought a hand to Mara¡¯s leg. ¡°Mara?¡± She asked. Her hand and her voice made the darkling shaman gasp and open her eyes again. She looked down for a second before falling to a knee and holding up her hand with whispers again. The sky was almost conquered by the dark lightning of sorcery.


    ¡°We need to go. They are coming for you.¡± Rika said calmly yet glanced over at the charging ogres.


    Mara nodded and slowly rose one last time while her song turned louder until it became a scream. She fell to her knees and brought both hands down with her. Lightning crashed in front of the Mesa at more than one place, but Rika¡¯s attention was quickly drawn to the shaman''s voice again. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time..¡± Mara said weakly and with a voice as sore as a smith''s hands. Quickly Rika aided her down to sit on Branak behind her while sorcery finally won the battle in the black clouds and the other ogres from the other side were rushing ever closer. Enough that their stomps could be felt in the ground and that Branak growled at them. His maw still bloody from their brothers throats.


    Once she rode off Mara leaned on her from behind and held herself as tight as she could. She was weak, Rika could feel that. Even the heat of her body was fading. ¡°Fire¡­¡± Mara whispered as they turned back to the path of Kazzok and the others.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rika asked and assumed another vision.


    With a sore and distant voice Mara continued. ¡°Fire¡­it is coming for her..¡±.


    Before Mara could wonder more a sudden gigantic roar echoed from the north east where the darkness of night was slowly conquered by clouds turning red, as if fire burned through them. ¡°She wants it¡¯s dead body¡­¡± Mara continued. ¡°They all do¡­¡±


    Rika wasn¡¯t sure if the shaman was losing consciousness but she felt how she still held onto her, even though weaker with the moment. She could do nothing but ride on, yet her eyes remained on the very distant mountains. The last she saw before they went for the path down, was a gigantic shadow in the cloud. Giant wings, followed by nothing but fire and a swarm of riders and their wyverns. The more the horizon turned red the more panic she felt. ¡°What is that?¡± she whispered to Mara behind her as the path was close now.


    ¡°Fire..¡± she only answered weakly again. ¡°All of it¡­¡± a distant fear laid bare in the shamans voice that slowly turned to panic. ¡°All will burn¡­¡±

 Chapter 51: To die in love

    The iron taste of blood lingered in the air. It got more the more Kazzok drove his axe into the Ogres on their path down. His senses were heightened, his body strengthened, yet his mind numb. He snorted while his voice carried far less of an orc but the beast inside. His hair had grown long enough to almost be fur, his cut off nose had turned to the round nostrils of a swine and his mind saw nothing but red. Not only for the blood that was spilled but because the ogre''s mere presence forced his totem instinct to hunt his mind.


    He roared and hacked and slaughtered, to an unending wave of flesh. After a while the ogres organised themselve enough to make a wall of warriors down at the path from the cliff. He was screaming at them yet his muscles burned. He needed to breathe. While leaning on his axe the Ogres were marching up as one wall of flesh. He sighed and rolled his shoulder when other greenskins rushed by.


    It was Thick-Skin, Scale-Eye and the other Chieftains that still had been atop. They screamed the union of their tribes through their longues and into battle. Their spears and axes and blades started to hack at the Ogre wall. Slowly they chipped away at them, yet slowly their own numbers dwindled as well. Everyone who was falling was a chieftain. And all of them of tribes that had vanished somewhere in battle. Yet right here on the edge down, they stood together. From the bristling pines, over the savannah and the earthen plains, to the white wastes and the rot mire further down in the south. They all stood as one. Side by side, screaming and hacking, and dying.


    Yet it wasn¡¯t pride that conquered Kazzok¡¯s heart, but a deep sorrow. They stood proud, but he couldn¡¯t deny the end. They would die. Hacked by ogres and cursed by the witch that led them. But he was an orc and he would die a warrior''s death if it had to be so. If the tribes would end this day, he would die alongside them, to battle on with the ancestors once they met them again. His old teacher would be among them and he would tell him that it was a good fight.


    He roared while both fur and muscle grew stronger on him and charged in once more. Next to the chieftains he did his duty. His axe splintered arms and crashed through helmets into heads.


    Just when more marched in, a roar boomed over the edge of the cliff. It was loud enough to rival the distant choir of sorcery and even the thunder above seemed quiet against its sheer might. It forced the battle to stop for a second. Both ogres and orcs ducked down at the might that echoed through the sky and even the choir of sorcery stopped. A sudden silence went over the battlefield as everybody could feel the lurking doom. Kazzok¡¯s beastial instinct settled in and the hair on his neck rose. It was so much that it forced him out of his swine form and back to an orc. He gasped and coughed yet both in silence for nobody dared a sound. It was as if time had frozen. None of them, neither the Ogres, nor the greenskins and their beasts had ever heard a roar as mighty. Neither dared to tell legends about it, and even most of the ogres chose to forget the beast of all beasts that had casted it before.


    Neither orc nor ogre knew how long the frozen moment went on but soon blood was spilled again, even when another roar boomed over the distant horizon, they continued. Though it was already closer than the last.


    Just after he and Thick-Skin had hacked an Ogre into pieces, his ears flicked. He fell a few steps back as Rika¡¯s scent caught his nose. A grunt escaped him when he saw her riding towards them. Mara was behind her, drooling and her eyes near to closing. Nearby greenskins saw her as well and Kazzok could tell their nervousness as they saw that the shaman wouldn¡¯t sing anytime soon again.


    He walked in and laid a hand on Branak as he looked up to Rika. ¡°Did you see anything? What is that thin~¡± his voice was broken by another roar, far closer and louder than the last two. When his gaze followed it he saw that the eastern sky slowly turned to a red glow. Yet his eyes quickly returned to her with concern.


    She struggled to speak and he saw that even she was nervous for the truth. Before she could, Mara mumbled something. Kazzok didn¡¯t hear and stepped closer. He aided her to sit straight behind Rika again. ¡°What is it, Shaman?¡± he repeated the question to her.


    ¡°..Dragon¡­¡± she weakly answered. ¡°The Dragon¡­her prey¡­the prey they all seek..¡± finally her weak but burning eyes locked with his. ¡°Ascension¡­¡±


    For a moment a natural panic rose in him but he wasn¡¯t allowing it to conquer his thoughts. ¡°What can we do?¡± He demanded to know and was answered by eyes bereft of any hope. She shook her head and leaned onto Rika once more. His eyes went lost in thought before he went back to Rika. ¡°But it has no reason to be after us¡­¡± He looked over to Mara again to get it confirmed ¡°Does it?¡±


    ¡°no..¡± she answered with a sore voice.


    ¡°Then it will fight that ugly floating thing outside and we only have to wait don¡¯t we?¡± His eyes shifted from one woman to the other.


    Finally Rika added. ¡°And survive.¡± ¡°And survive.¡± He echoed her with a grin that was cut short again by Mara. ¡°It is weak¡­and if she wins..¡± she coughed up some blood. ¡°Then we are all doomed¡­¡±


    A nearby greenskin came close after listening in. ¡°Of course a darkling would tell us to protect the dragon! They ar~¡± ¡°Shut it!¡± Rika barked at him and looked back to Kazzok. ¡°Are we truly saved deeper in if that thing comes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± he answered slowly and looked down at the slaughter he was so eager to join again. ¡°But what else can we do than gather?¡± She nodded. He huffed. Their eyes remained locked as the years spent together and those that might be robbed of them went by. Everything was said and both charged into battle. The wolf and the boar side by side. The daughter of the crown druid, and his apprentice. The children of the oak, united in death and battle. She brought her tomahawk down at everybody who dared close while Branak gorged at every unprotected piece of living Ogre he could find. Kazzok swung next to her while his view became narrow once again. Despite everything, despite the slaughter and coming doom, despite the beast taking over his mind and despite the death surrounding them, he was glad. Glad that Rika was with him in these moments. Even though they could be robbed of a future they both had dreamed off for most of their youth, the ending was always like this. Dying in a grand battle, side by side, with those you love next to you until both would close their eyes. They would not cry when one would die, for they knew the other would follow soon. They would not linger on sorrow but die by the same axe or flame or sorcery.


    When he was open for an attack, she slashed the Ogre that tried, when her unprotected side was attacked, he hacked at the Ogre who dared, when either couldn¡¯t see ahead, Branak gorged into necks and bellies.


    There was no room for thought, no room for doubts, regrets or love. Only battle. Once they had fought their way down the cliff the chaos only grew, for even if they stayed at the edge the ogres had more angles to attack them now. As they used their advantage the druid thought his end had come, yet a whisper was carried through the battlefield. The ancient tongue, even though weak and flickering, like a flame in winter''s icy rain. The ogre before him screamed in pain as his weapon started to glow in heat. He used the chance to cut his head and the shaman behind him smiled.


    Before they could continue their onslaught. Horns were sounded outside of the cliff. The Ogres raised their heads, some of them losing them for that moment of distraction, while the rest of the legion started to march back. The greenskins looked around with raised brows and unbelieve in their eyes. Some started to roar and follow before Thick-Skin¡¯s voice ordered through the cliff. ¡°No you fools! To the blood arena!¡±


    ¡°Why not follow them?!¡± An eager greenskin with a bloodied cougar cowl asked.


    Kazzok roared down himself. ¡°The lightning you dimwitted bastards!¡±


    Some heard him and stopped. Some tried to shout the orders further, while slowly the chanting of sorcery started again. He felt its pain creeping in again and looked up to the sky. Where the east slowly turned more and more red, the black clouds above the Mesa were full of thick veins of dark lightning. Some crashed down on the tops while others crashed in front of the gates. Some of them further than others. He knew what it meant and grunted in disappointment, even less to defend them around the Menhir.


    Suddenly above them at the cliff lightning crashed and freed the stones at its edges. He wanted to shout orders yet his instincts set it and only roared. It was enough. The orcs around them realised the rockfall and started to run for the centre. He waited until Rika was riding ahead and followed while his fur grew once more. The wind whispered the closer they came, yet it was not the shaman, neither the sorcery but the dark promises of the obsidian menhir in the mesas centre. And he knew very well that all could hear it.


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    When they approached the inner gate, he looked up and saw it was one of those that only carried tradition and nothing to close it. A grunt escaped him yet he couldn¡¯t deny that it was no different to the oak. Built and added for traditions, not for battle. Because their battles had always been against the north and their wyverns. Against the riders of Karn¡¯Arak when they were looting the south, not against marching armies. Both in the Pines as well as in the savannah. The only reason the outer gates could be closed were beasts, but not armies. And now they paid the price.


    Back when he heard of the Khan and the Scroll he knew it would mean war, yet he never expected a forgotten enemy like this. How could he? They had only ever heard of the Ogres in tales, when master Rakkan spoke of them. Tales of lions that turned to slaves.


    Kazzok and his party reached the big arena in the mesa¡¯s centre. The gigantic obsidian menhir stood watch and mirrored the black clouds above. Kazzok could see how some of the other greenskins glared at it. How they thought of the hope it offered.


    A few healers had readied their small circles around the arena. More and more orcs lumped to them. There was a woman who aided a man walking from one of the cliffs. She had his arm around her shoulder. For the first steps he lumped on but more and more he simply hung from her until there was no life left. She snarled with tears in her eyes and still dragged him on and to the healers. Kazzok couldn¡¯t hear what they said, only see that she was angry. Her anger was followed by sorrow. She looked up at the black clouds and shook her head. Before slowly she simply walked into the cliff. Alone and eager to die.


    His gaze went to Rika and sorrow took over his heart. One of them would be the sad lone walker in the cliff, while the other would have to watch from the afterlife. He wasn¡¯t sure what would be worse.


    ¡°Kazzok!¡± Rika barked at him. ¡°Help me here! She needs water and rest and..I don¡¯t know!¡± He rushed next to Branak and aided Rika down. Mara almost fell when she sat alone on the wolf but he caught her in time. Rika walked around and gathered what she thought to be of their supplies. Leatherbags with herbs to wake the mind, waterskins to wash them down, and minced bones to lure the ancestors for aid. Kazzok looked at what remained while so many healers did their best to aid warriors close to death. Screams of pain and sorrow filled the air and he knew they would not last.


    Rika made a short whistle sound and Branak laid down. Kazzok nodded and laid Mara next to him. Her head was supported by the wolf''s back. Her breathing was heavy and as sore as her voice. Both Kazzok and Rika kneeled down next to her. He looked over the supplies and took some of the herbs from a bag. Dried purple flowers. He minced them between his fingers and started to smear their dust under her nose.


    While he did he looked over to Rika. ¡°Is your wound still holding?¡± he asked while opening a waterskin.


    She answered as she watched him lifting Mara¡¯s head to carefully give her some water. ¡°I think the wound might be old enough now.¡±


    He looked at her with a raised brow before she huffed and continued. ¡°It hurts, but it¡¯s holding.¡±


    Carefully he brushed a finger over Mara¡¯s neck to message her muscles, so the water would go down. After he was done he drank from the waterskin himself before he gave it over to Rika. He was about to speak when another roar boomed through the sky once more. It was close enough to make the earth shake while more and more of the black clouds were conquered by red.


    Mara¡¯s eyes shot open while Branak growled. She wanted to sit up but Kazzok carefully pushed her down again. ¡°Easy shaman. You have drained yourself.¡±


    Rika looked around nervously before she gave Mara the waterskin again. The shaman drank while Rika quickly shifted to dig a small pit in front of Branak. It took longer than it did with two hands and maybe was smaller too. Once she was done she wordlessly took the waterskin again and poured the wolf some of it. Eagerly he drank. As if he knew there wouldn¡¯t be much time for more of it.


    He was right as he suddenly started to whimper. Kazzok felt an immense pain that scratched on his mind while the menhir''s whisper echoed through the arena once more.


    ¡°You. Need. Me¡­¡±. Rika petted Branak. The wolf was coughing up some of the water he just drank and whimpered in fear and pain. Mara lifted herself from the wolf and laid a concerned hand on him and one on Kazzok. Just then the voices continued. ¡°Dragons and sorcerers. Ogres and Wyverns. What can you do against both?¡± Its voice was made of many, it''s warnings made to all. The wind took up once more and circled around the menhir.


    ¡°Dragon..?¡± Someone asked. ¡°Wyverns¡­¡± Scale-Eye continued.


    Despite the pain Kazzok managed to gaze at the menhir. More and more stood around and considered its offer. ¡°No!¡± he was able to grunt out while his form shifted with the rising winds.


    ¡°But he is right..¡± someone said. Kazzoks heart dropped as he saw it was Scale-Eye.


    ¡°Chieftain..¡± he spurted out and forced himself to stand. He looked down at Branak, Mara and Rika. ¡°Whatever happens..protect each other.¡±


    His heart dropped further as he saw Rika¡¯s eyes at his words. He loved her when she was the strong warrior of the oak. Yet he loved her more whenever her armour of muscle and barks fell. She said nothing, he only heard her huff and knew that she understood the duty.


    Slowly he lumped at Scale-Eye in pain. ¡°Chieftain..¡± he took both hands at his shoulders and locked his pain ridden amber eyes with the lizard orbs of his chieftain. ¡°Remember what we gave to get rid of him..remember why we did..¡±


    His chieftain¡¯s eyes turned to him. They questioned him.


    Suddenly a voice came from the menhir. Kazzok turned to see Thick-Skin standing in front of it, his weapon risen and ready. ¡°Whoever of you fools dares close will be cut like the Ogres!¡± Kazzok smiled through the pain and returned his eyes back to his Chieftain. ¡°Don¡¯t forget what he has taken from us..¡± He pleaded and for a moment it seemed as if his words were ringing true. Then the sky turned red.


    With a last roar gigantic claws clung to the cliff above. It was a creature of myth, a mountain of red scales whose height more than rivaled the mesa itself. Around it darkling riders landed aside from it. Their eyes burning through the dark as they gazed down at the greenskins. Their oldest enemies.


    A moment of silence was born. The world did nothing but watch, as the dragon''s throat started to glow. It huffed and gathered its breath before it roared fire into the sky. Its heat was felt all the way down in the arena. The greenskins ducked down by its utter force and Kazzok knew it could not be stopped.


    Scale-Eye pushed him aside and the pain made him fall. Their chieftain charged for the menhir, and he was far from the only one. Thick-Skin was about to swing first, yet lowered his weapon once he saw how many were about to rush in. He gave up. They all did. And finally knives were drawn, hands were cut and blood was granted to the Menhir.


    It was Scale-Eye¡¯s voice above them all that hurted Kazzok the most. ¡°Let the old pacts be renewed. Let the wilds be our voice once more. Let us be part of the hunt!¡±


    Then the old runes on the menhir started to be filled by the blood given to him and the winds began to rise. Every druid, every animal and their one shaman, felt a pain yet unknown. An aching of the mind that went through all their nerves and muscles. Through all their limbs and skin. It tore on them, it pulled on them, it demanded them.


    And finally the winds stopped and from the Shadows of the Arena a shadow appeared. It was the same Mara had seen before, the same that Rika had seen in the pines. The same that had haunted the south for so many generations. And now it would again. Slowly it took its step from the darkness and into the red lights of the blood fed runes. It was a giant, as big as a tree. Fat and with flesh that carried mold of rot. ¡°Finally¡­¡± it said and gazed up at the dragon with a grin of greed. In his hand he held a tree like a staff. From it corpses of orcs dangled with the rising wind. It whispered in the same tongue of sorcery the ogre''s mother did and Kazzok could feel how he turned. How the beast inside him was willing to answer. He saw Branak¡¯s eyes go dark and foam forming around his mouth. Other animals, mounts and companions, turned to the same wild throthing state. A gigantic spider and her rider merely twitched their faces while they clicked their teeth together. A bat who lost her rider in battle, screeched while licking its mouth. And even Kazzok could feel how the bloodlust was taking him over. It wasn¡¯t even the scent of blood that took him over, he had smelled that for the entire night. It was Rika among all that he could smell. A scent of memory, of promise and home. A scent of deep love and far more primal things that urged inside him now. He screamed as he tried to fight it, like all the animals and druids around the arena he tried to fight. He fell to his knees and looked up. His mind still saw how even the riders'' wyverns were fighting nature''s call to hunt, yet the Dragon seemed unphased. It only watched and waited.


    When Kazzok looked at the menhir he saw how all the greenskins that had offered their blood turned to the werebeasts that their totem made them. Scale-Eye¡¯s roar was the loudest among them as the Chieftain of the pines turned to a monstrous combination of orc and wyvern. Mara did turn to nothing yet she was convulsing and spitting as the whispers spoke to her the same. At last Rika could not sit idle and rushed for Kazzok. She laid an arm around him. Her scent was overwhelming him. Her warmth was crushing him. ¡°No..¡± he uttered between his grunts. ¡°Go..please go¡­I..¡± He squealed into the sky as the hair on his arms turned to fur. ¡°Don¡¯t let it be me¡­¡± he pleaded at her. ¡°Don¡¯t let me take you as prey¡­¡±


    He could smell her emotions. Her love and fear, her honest concern for him. ¡°Go!¡± He shouted and fell on his back as his view narrowed. Where there had been colours in the dark before he started to see a greenish hue over it all. Where there had been thought or reason for the battle and his family, he started to see nothing but prey.


    While Rika returned to her throthing wolf and the now puking shaman, he was lost. Lost to the wild and nature, lost to the call of the hunt and the beast inside.


    His breathing became lower and more steady and finally nothing but grunts remained.

 Chapter 52: The grace of gods

    Rika¡¯s eyes were fogged by tears. She was sitting in front of Mara while Branak slowly turned and growled at her.


    ¡°no..¡± she whispered, holding her tomahawk weakly next to her. Before the wolf could do anything Kazzok rose not far from her. She had never seen him as beastlike as he was now. Almost completely covered by fur. His greenskin turned to a thick brown leather and he was throthing at the mouth.


    His eyes were staring at her and his big swine nostrils shivered. She shook her head while the fog in her eyes turned to rain. ¡°Not you two¡­please..¡± her plea fell on deaf ears. ¡°We are family¡­¡± Her words came weakly. She knew she should stand up and ready herself for their charge but her body wouldn¡¯t allow it. She could never strike either of them. Her knees came closer to her body and had she still two arms she would have hugged them. Only one could, and even that one carried a tomahawk. There was nothing left but tears. She was broken. This was the end.


    Suddenly she felt Mara¡¯s arm around her. She still looked soar from her chanting fight against the sorceress. Yet she felt warm. Her arm was far from enough to make it bearable, but it was enough to not be alone.


    No word was spoken, all she did was to be there, to face the end together. Be it by dragonfire, druid axe or wolf teeth. They would end as one.


    But there was more in Mara¡¯s eyes than the end. There was a fire again, not just the dragon¡¯s blessing but what her heart commanded her to do. She had lost her niece by her own axe and she knew should Kazzok and Branak strike at them they would endure the same pain for the rest of their lives. If they would ever get their sense and life back.


    Rika had closed her eyes and rested her head on Mara¡¯s shoulder while the shaman glanced around. She couldn¡¯t find an escape but saw how even the riders struggled with their now feral wyverns. The Dragon next to them huffed in anger while its nostrils flared. For a moment Mara thought it would end them all just when her attention was forced back to the druid and the wolf. Branak tried to jump and Mara did her best to kick him away. When Kazzok charged in, Rika stood up and tried to do the same. Mara followed her example and stood once more. As Kazzok moved in again Rika blocked his big bone axe with her small tomahawk. When they were kids they trained together, and she always won. Yet she wasn¡¯t carrying a big sword anymore and back then it wasn¡¯t to the death. She was forced backwards easily.


    Meanwhile Branak moved in to gorge at them once again but Mara did the only thing she could to stop him and threw herself on the big wolf. He was laying on his back while she tried to keep him there. He barked and tried to bite her and she was almost thrown off by him. The wolf was both bigger and stronger than her. Finally she couldn¡¯t hold him down any longer and was thrown at her back. Just as he was about to snap at her neck Rika kicked him off her. A hint of a yelp was his answer and the warrior¡¯s eyes fogged by tears again. Yet she had no time to linger on her sorrow as she continued to defend Kazzok¡¯s swings.


    As the boarbeast was next to Mara he squealed and brought his axe down at her head while Branak now aimed for her leg.


    ¡°No!¡± Rika declared and threw herself at Kazzok to force him to the ground. It gave Mara the time to shift her leg backwards and to answer Branaks attempt with kicks at his face. He roared afterwards. The sound from his maw carried an unnatural fury. It sounded less like a wolf but more like a swarm of angry bees.


    Around them, similar fights happened. Mounts and companions, druids and their friends, all of them reduced from brotherhood to bloodshed. Where blood was spilled, the ground quickly drank it in and fed the menhir¡¯s runes. The big spider mount from the deepest south had half eaten her rider. Only a torso still hung from her gorging maw while a thousand teeth hacked her down. There was still life in the riders eyes, but they were beyond horror. They were blank. The bat that had lost her rider before was clashing with a wyvern above. And the dragon¡¯s riders tried their best to force their beasts to stay.


    Around the menhir those that had given their blood freely were the wildest beasts of them all as they all launched themself at Thick-Skin. He defended himself as much and long as he could. All the mercy he had with them before was gone. Only fury for their choice remained.


    And among them all the molded giant stood watch and glanced up at the dragon. Their eyes were locked. Both of their maws were long rotten and carried the sweet stench of death. Old scars were among them both and they both still carried the fury of ages past.


    ¡°ENOUGH!!¡± the dragon commanded and roared into the sky again. It boomed loud enough to shake the earth. At the distant cliffs rocks were falling again and buried those that were close.


    During a swing of his axe the roar forced Kazzok back to his mind. He fell forward and into Rika while his skin slowly turned green again. The fur retreated. He coughed heavily and blood left his mouth. Rika lost her tomahawk and stood against the soil to even hold him on two legs. Finally he could bring his eyes to look at her. Panic and concern had conquered him completely and he looked her over, while her own eyes did the same. She simply took him into a hug and he echoed her embrace. His axe fell down. And for a second the world¡¯s end was but a distant slow thought behind them. She didn¡¯t want to let him go. She wanted to feel his arms around her. To feel safe and to be there for him. She wanted to go back to the pines and continue their hunts. She wanted to rebuild their home and to forget the horrors of this night. Slowly she brought her face to linger on his eyes. He seemed beaten. Just like her. Their eyes met and their hearts sang the same rhythm. She wanted to bring her face even closer. To finally meet his lips after such a long time and she knew he had always wanted the same.


    Just as she came close he grunted in pain again and the whispers returned to the wind.


    ¡°They. Are. Mine.¡± Slowly Kazzok¡¯s hair turned to fur again. She closed her eyes in defeat and shook her head. ¡°No.¡± she stated. Her gaze went down to Branak who was covering in pain again and to Mara who laid gasping next to him. And finally she looked at the molded giant and his tree with its hanging corpses.


    ¡°Go!¡± Kazzok grunted as he fell to the ground. His eyes turned wild once more.


    Rika wasn¡¯t listening. She grabbed her tomahawk and aided Mara up to her feet. Her eyes never left the giant. Mara followed her gaze and looked at the giant but back to the dragon as well.


    Finally it took word again. ¡°What will we do?¡± It asked. Even though its voice was not a roar, it seemed to turn back some of the transformation the druids and beasts went through. ¡°Will we roar and shout until we split them in two?¡±


    ¡°They. Are. Mine.¡±  the whispers answered and the giant stomped the ground with his tree. The winds rose even stronger and the druid''s pain rose much more. Mara had a hard time standing as well and leaned on Rika. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was the dragon''s presence or her own newfound strength that made her withstand the whispers'' pain, she was just glad that she did. ¡°I will kill him.¡± Rika declared with fury in her eyes.


    Mara slowly nodded while her gaze went around the battlefield. Few orcs were left. Druids and companions might have not been plenty but those that had offered their blood were almost half of the warriors, and they had made a difference in the chaos. Thick-Skin still stood and he was surrounded by a band of warriors. All of them back to back, ready to defend themselves against the next beastial charge. Yet for now, only pain lingered in the beasts.


    ¡°You need them for your ritual. I have no care for them!¡± the dragon''s voice boomed through the arena. Mara¡¯s gaze returned to the dragon and she saw how even the riders glanced up at it questioning. Even from a distance she could see Ur¡¯back right next to it. She would have never expected him to be the watcher after her brother''s exile, but he carried the grey cloak that marked him as such.


    Slowly the dragon''s throat started to glow. ¡°We need to move!¡± The shaman urged. Rika remained for a second longer. The hunters eyes full of hatred and never leaving the molded giant.


    Mara quickly got two pelts from the nearby healer tents and tried to pull Kazzok onto one. ¡°Help here!¡± she yelled at Rika which finally forced her to look at her again. She understood and rolled Kazzok, who was still shaking in pain, onto the pelt. After she was done she tried to do the same for Branak, while Mara knotted a rope around the pelts. Finally both were on them and the two women dragged the heavy bulk of a druid and the big wolf after them. Mara did her best to aid, yet even with only one arm, Rika pulled most of them. A stench neither of them knew, sulphur, was starting to take the air and a heat started to rise.


    ¡°You. Are. Old.¡± The whispers taunted the dragon. ¡°You. Were. Back. Then. You. Are. Worse. Now.¡±


    The heat rose to an almost unbearable height, to a point where it almost scorched the skin. While they dragged the two behind them, Kazzok fell off the pelt. Rika huffed annoyed and desperate while she turned to roll him on it once more. Meanwhile Mara looked back up and saw that the Dragon¡¯s throat had a glow brighter than a torch by now. It lit the arena below with the promise of doom. Maybe it was its growing fire that started to protect her more and more from the immense pain the voices brought, but it still meant death. For she saw, they wouldn¡¯t make it in time.


    She looked back at the cliff where they were trying to hide and finally saw the ogre legions again marching into the Arena. ¡°Rika!¡± She whispered back. ¡°We need a cave!¡±


    As Rika looked at the cliff she huffed but took both ropes over her shoulder again and started to drag their pain ridden companions to another direction. When she saw the next cliff it was filled by Ogres too. Some living, some fed by the black clouds above.


    Once again she shifted and dragged them towards the mesa wall itself.


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    The heat started to burn dried incense behind them, while at the western gate they could see the floating shadow of the sorceress above the main legion of Ogres. In front of the legion was a man with a red cloak and an obsidian curved sword. Next to him walked what could have looked like a shaman were it not for the rot of sorcery he carried with him. Dark crystals, dried heads and tattoos of runes that twisted the ancient tongue. A grim smile was carried on that man while the other remained stoic.


    Mara panted as she did her best to aid Rika in dragging the ropes and pelts. ¡°We need to hide..¡± she said breathlessly.


    Rika glanced around, the fury in her commanded her to fight against that thing that brought her family such pain. But she knew the shaman was right. ¡°Below the stands and into the caves.¡± She huffed to stifle a roar as she put all her weight and strength into the ropes to drag them further.


    Behind them the sorcereres¡¯ voice was echoing through the arena. ¡°Oh, what a grand moment we have chosen my sons.¡±


    Rika didn¡¯t stop but she recognised that ugly ¡°fair¡± voice from before.


    ¡°Run ahead.¡± Rika told Mara. The shaman''s eyes glanced over to hers with concern and a raised brow but Rika continued before she spoke. ¡°If she sees you are still alive you will be the first to die.¡± Her words and their truth weighed heavy on Mara¡¯s heart. Not because she feared death, but because she was reminded that only a shaman was a true match for their sorcery. She breathed in slowly and nodded.


    She wanted to answer ¡°Be quick, if the Dragon unle~¡± ¡°Go!¡± Rika barked at her. The two shared one last look that was far softer than the words spoken. Mara nodded and rushed ahead. It hurt to leave them behind, made her sick to the core to not aid them as they had aided her. But Rika¡¯s words rang true.


    While running she could hear the dragon unleash its breath and saw its fire from the corner of her eye. It blinded her, and its heat even at a distance was burning. Just before it started to reach the arena the sorceress unleashed a banshee¡¯s cry that rivaled the dragon¡¯s roar in its ear splitting doom. Mara fell to her knees, both for the pain in her ears as well as the pain of sorcery that coursed through her once more.


    Behind her the black clouds from both above and from the undead were shot at the dragon''s breath. They circled around each other. They fought each other. The dragon continued to breath and roar while the clouds shooting at him slowly emptied the sky. Even through the stars and moon the night remained black. The battle had taken long enough that it was close to twilight by now and the night at its darkest hour.


    While sorcery and dragonfire both fought to consume the arena, Mara forced herself back up and lumped forward.


    ¡°A Fight. We continue.¡± The voices echoed through fire and darkness. ¡°A fight. Halted. For so. Very. Long.¡± After its words the winds circled around the menhir and started to aid the sorceress¡¯ clouds until finally, the dragon lost its breath. The night was emptied of darkness and the dragon of fire.


    While she ran Mara could hear it huff and breath like an old man climbing the mountain. It would lose a fight against both. Even though its fire could mean their doom, their ascension would as well. She glanced around. A cave wouldn¡¯t do. She needed to get up on the mesa again. She needed to sing once more. Yet the cliffs were filled with ogres and climbing was not an option. Even if she wouldn''t need to hide it was such a lot of ground to cover and she was weakened from running, singing and battling. Her muscles burned and her entire body demanded her to sleep. Soon they would have fought the entire night and it was long due to end.


    Behind her the sorceress left the dragons stare and looked at the molded giant. Slowly she floated to him. She looked different than before. Fatter, closer to an ogre.


    The giant didn¡¯t move but just looked at her with grey eyes. She floated high enough to be at his face. A quick glance was given to the Dragon who still huffed from its roar while one of his riders next to him seemed to speak orders. She didn¡¯t care and brought a hand to the giant''s cheek. Grey mold was growing over it like moss and its stench carried the same biting rot as her land and her sons. ¡°Oh it has been so long my love..¡±


    Once Mara heard those words she turned. Like all shamans she had heard the old tale of the two sorcerers. The tale of how the dragon was wounded ages ago, a tale the elders hated to tell.


    ¡°Time. Has been. Good. To you.¡± The whispers carried with a sweet bite through the winds.


    She chuckled. ¡°Oh I wish I could say the same.¡± She removed her hand from his molded cheek and glanced back up at the dragon. Once her eyes returned to him her voice carried the sweet fair of innocence again. ¡°Last we lost because we were divided.¡± A dark smile spread across her face.


    ¡°It has cost. Us. Centuries.¡± It whispered.


    Mara knew where their conversation would go. The Dragon would stand alone. Maybe the riders could be of aid, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough. By now Rika was close enough to her that they could share a glance again. She hid Kazzok and Branak beneath the wooden stands and fell to her knees next to them. She held a hand on each. Their breathing was slower. There were too many reasons for why it could have been, yet Mara wasn¡¯t to speculate.


    Rika looked at her next to the cliff with a raised brow and Mara¡¯s eyes spoke of goodbye. Even though the sorceress voice lingered through the night and was answered by the whispers, they couldn¡¯t hear it. Their eyes spoke all that was needed. Sorrow, but gratitude. For everything that was, and still might be. For a friendship that bloomed so quickly and for a morning under a tree.


    Unsure if she would ever see them again Mara turned to climb. It was a hopeless effort but she was a daughter of the mountain afterall. Daughter of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain on wings, and shaman of the hollowed. She was a voice among Frostsong and carried the valley¡¯s melody inside her. It gave her purpose, it gave her strength yet it didn¡¯t make it much easier. The cliff was an almost plain rise up. Sometimes she tried to hold herself on a small savannah tree that tried to grow there, other times she could actually take a second of rest as she reached one of the many caves. For a moment she thought if they could lead up, but she knew better. They wouldn¡¯t have fought so hard for the path down at the cliff if that was the case.


    Behind her the dragon slowly gathered itself again while the sorceress spoke once more. ¡°What about your children, my love?¡±


    ¡°Their blood. Is mine.¡± The giant answered and stomped his tree on the ground. Roars and screeches and barks were the answer.


    The sorceress smiled. ¡°So they are for the sacrifice.¡± She smiled back up at the dragon. ¡°So are my sons.¡± One Ogre shifted at those words while most of the legion remained dim and happy about their mother.


    Her gaze returned to him. ¡°We protect them, and this time we share its power.¡±


    ¡°Sharing?!¡± the dragon boomed. ¡°I am not to share, witch!¡± It roared and with its roar the riders finally started to move and swarm the arena. They tried to breath fire at the two dark figures of sorcery yet her voice echoed in the twisted tongue. The pain cast by it almost made Mara fall, but she huffed and grunted through it, like her brother would, like Rika would, like Kazzok and Branak and all of them would, and moved on.


    Behind her a fight of fire and sorcery started. She felt the earth shake when the dragon moved and heard cloudless lightning be cast above. Winds that carried the menhir''s illness of mind and soul were rushing through the arena behind her, but she didn¡¯t look back. She continued. Despite how much her muscles burned, despite the pain of sorcery and the lack of strength her previous fight had left her, she continued. One hand after the other. One foot after the next. She grabbed the earth tight and whispered a silent prayer in the ancient tongue that the stone would hold her.


    The battle behind her slowly took to the sky where the sorceress and the dragon casted fire and darkness at each other. Even though the dragon was withstanding the darkness, the winds came and shoved it too and they were filled with more than whispers. Every bird around the savannah, everything that could fly followed them. From vultures, to bees, to bats to the most colorful birds, they swarmed it. It roared in an attempt to free them from the giant''s shackles, but left itself open to the sorceress darkness as it did. It started to fall but roared through the pain a thousand pecks and stings tried to leave on its scales. Yet when it tried to dash at the sorceress they instead went for its eyes. Once again it was falling down and this time shattered down at the savannah ground outside of the mesa. The earth shook so much by its weight that Mara could do nothing but hold herself in place for a moment. But she knew it needed her now the most. The two couldn¡¯t be allowed to take its corpse for ascension. So despite the shaking earth and falling stones she continued. Sand and dust was falling into her face. She had to close her eyes for a second, she had to spit out dust that was drying her tongue, but she continued.


    Behind her the riders had started a fight with the ogres and the ogres with the small rest of the greenskins. Some were still driven by the bloodlust of the hunt, others by just the simple but strong attempt to survive. Or just by the urge to die with honour.


    She wondered and longed for Rika below. If she was well or fighting once more. If Kazzok and Branak were being taken by the shackles of bloodlust once again. But it made no difference to her quest. She needed to reach the top and sing to the skies and the ancestors. To the close savannah and the distant mountain, to her father and to Kara.


    As the Dragon was laying on the savannah ground and tried to get up, stampedes of the beasts rushed for him. Once again they seemed as if in chaos at first before they got to his old wound and eyes. They tried to bite them, to scratch them, to charge their horns into them, but with a last breath it unleashed fire from its mouth and snout. The beasts that were going for its eyes were turned to ash in an instant and the savannah started to burn. But its opponents gave it no rest. Unrelenting the sorceress unleashed lightning at it while she sang the twisted tongue with the wrongest tones only to be aided by the swarm and stampede of animals.


    Finally Mara reached the top. With her very last strength and while grinding her teeth she pulled herself up. She couldn¡¯t move. She needed to breathe. But there was no time. She stumbled up to her feet and to the edge towards the fight of the dragon and the sorcerers in the east. Her gaze went along the destruction they caused. The fire, the death, the black ashes and dark lightning that all conquered the horizon. But she needed to aid him, and destruction was what she could unleash.


    Slowly she breathed in and out. Calmed her heart and breath while raising her arms.


    She needed to gulp down to dry her sore throat before slowly and quietly she began to sing. Over the destruction of it all, over the screams and roars and charges, her voice was slowly carried with the wind. The ancient tongue that once created the world, the tongue of the dragons, of the land, the ancestors and the elements themselves, went over the battlefield. A low melody that sang about the end of it all.


    Some stopped their flights to gaze at the winds, some lost their bloodlust as the whispers were fought by her melody and slowly she turned the song up. It became louder and from her sore throat, from melancholy and sorrow it turned into defiance and the land answered. There were no clouds but the fire around the dragon rose and with it the first sunless hews of dawn were cast above the eastern mountains.


    The sorceress unleashed another banshee''s wail as she saw the shaman sing. It gathered the smoke of the burning savannah and unleashed it from all that distance back to Mara at the mesa. Mara shifted her song and moved with the winds. She made the black smoke her own and released it back to the winds. Yet after it a swarm of carrion birds led by another giant bat were charging at her. She tried to call to the fire around the dragon and burn the swarm but it wasn¡¯t enough and the Dragon only had eyes for his own enemies.


    She opened her eyes and saw the swarm, the bat, her end coming for her when with a crash a wyvern landed next to her. It breathed fire into the swarm and went into a fight with the bat. She staggered in her song as her heart pounded a louder drum when saw it was her brother on its back. Before the bat could fight properly a grand desert wyvern dashed by in unison with a swarm of riders. Still Mara¡¯s eyes continued to look at her brother, defending her life. With newfound strength she sang louder once more. Her song suddenly aided by the horn of the Khan.

 Chapter 53: Strength of the Pack

    Bruna had seen the fires when they came close. When they followed the wake of blood and destruction the ogres had left in the Savannah. He could see the distant dragonfire lighting the last hour of the night.


    ¡°That fool!¡± Aru¡¯Gal had shouted and spurred his snakelike wyvern to dash onwards. The riders of Karn¡¯Arak followed and readied for battle. Bruna took his fathers axe and was ready to finally earn his warriors death. It was long overdue that he fought alongside his daughter among the ancestors.


    When they came closer they could hear a shaman song and saw the distant fire stirring higher. Only a moment later they reached the mesa and he could recognize the voice in the wind. The small girl he once carried up the mountain. His father''s daughter. The small thing that he was meant to protect. The sister that had taken his little Kara towards her doom.


    His heart started to race with many different drums. He snarled. He was about to unleash his anger at her, yet something stopped him from coming down at her.


    Finally he saw a swarm of birds and a giant bat flying at his sister. He roared like his father would have and dashed on like a mountain on wings. He flew ahead of Aru¡¯Gal and the other riders and was the first to join the fray. Gor¡¯Mash¡¯s old dark red Wyvern breathed fire at the birds before it clashed with the bat. Bruna stood up and walked over his wyvern towards the bat and brought his axe down at its head. It cut half through and old Darkscale tore the rest off. While it started to munch it down he jumped off and glanced at his sister. They shared a long look while behind him dragonfire and sorcery lit the savannah. Above the eastern mountain the first pink hew of morning was cast yet the sun was still absent. Wind was running through their hair as the other riders dashed above. Yet even when the wyverns flew by their eyes didn¡¯t leave each other.


    While his sister looked at him her song ended for but a moment. She was torn by battle. Weak on her legs and in her voice. He could see she was hurt and see how her eyes formed a dew of tears. The thunders of sorcery struck behind him and he glanced back where the three entities fought over their shackles. He pointed his axe towards the battle. ¡°Who?¡± His voice seemed quiet yet deep enough that she could almost feel it in the earth below her feet.


    It took her a moment to speak. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked.


    He breathed slowly with nothing but anger in his eyes. ¡°Who hurt you?¡±


    She took some air and wasn¡¯t sure how to answer at first. ¡°The Dragon protects..¡± She finally uttered. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t care. The other two..¡± She gasped as the twisted thunder of sorcery struck behind him. ¡°Bruna I need to sing, but I don¡¯t think I can beat them.¡±


    He nodded and walked back to old Darkscale. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± He saddled the Wyvern and continued. ¡°I will.¡±


    Darkscale roared while he gave her one last look. Their eyes were filled with a thousand unspoken words, with worry and anger, with love and hatred. But this wasn¡¯t the moment for any of them. Finally he nodded and turned to fly into battle. Behind him his sister''s melody started to be carried by the wind once more. It followed him and became the wind in his back, the storm at his command. He held one hand on Darkscale¡¯s reins while the other held his fathers axe ready to strike. Before him the riders had started to fight alongside the dragon. Some surrounded the sorceress, others aimed to defend it against the stampedes and swarms that followed the giant''s whispers. Dustfang was the most aggressive around the sorceress while Sha¡¯Raph and the strange creature that called itself Raimond tried to come close for a strike of their own.


    Even though the witch kept defending herself with lightning it became clear that even she couldn¡¯t fight alone. The sky was bereft of her dark clouds and not even her own sons were chanting anymore. Every bit of sorcery that she tried to force upon those around her coursed through her stolen body. It scorched on her skin and rang the toll of age on her. The once young body of Lady Portfall had grown thicker when she drained an ogre before, but now wrinkles and yellow warts grew on her. And they became more with every cast she was forced to unleash. Soon enough she couldn¡¯t avoid every breath of wyvern fire and her once fair body was torched. She gasped and screamed more akin to a monster than a human and once she heard the shaman sing again a banshee¡¯s wail was cast by her. It forced the wyverns away and made her fly back towards the mesa. Bruna squinted his eyes. He saw she was going for his sister. He knew well enough that it was that witch who must have fought her. Who must have scarred her and he became so very angry.


    He guided Darkscale through the sky at the witch yet to his surprise she wasn¡¯t even flying for his sister but the central mesa instead. While he tried to cut her off halfway, the Dragon escaped the stampedes and aimed to follow the witch when Aru¡¯Gal flew before his eyes.


    ¡°What are you doing here?!¡± He asked with anger and panic. ¡°They are the only danger you have and yet to fly right into them?!¡±


    ¡°Do not try to stop me, oh so grand Khan!¡± its voice boomed over the burning savannah and to the mesa. ¡°This day, I¡¯ll take revenge! And no little orc shall stop me!!¡± It flew ahead and made both Aru¡¯Gal and some of the riders almost fall from their wyverns as they were pushed aside. One did and splattered down into the ash. The red splatter where he fell was instantly covered by ash again as the dragon''s wings stirred up what had already been burned. Aru¡¯Gals wyvern was the one that held onto the dragon. Like a leech it held onto its scales and just followed.


    Down in the mesa Rika was defending Kazzok and Branak. Sometimes against Ogres, sometimes against beasts. Her muscles were beyond burning and close to falling. She had dragged the two to safety, she had fought them and soon, she thought, she would avenge them. Her swings became weak and she was forced back more and more by every ogre axe or beastial maw. She fell to her knees but smiled. Even as the ogre¡¯s axe came down she smiled for she heard Mara¡¯s song in the wind. She didn¡¯t saw the dripping axe but the distant pink hew of morning and knew it was fine.


    Kazzok rushed by and answered the axe with his own. After the axes had clashed, Branak jumped at the Ogres'' throat. The ogre met his end by the wolf and Kazzok kneeled down next to Rika. He laid a hand on her shoulder. His mind was still fighting the beast but his eyes spoke of care and gratitude as they met hers. She formed a grin, weak but honest. His eyes answered the same before they went to gaze through the arena and at the giant. Her eyes followed his and her grin became wicked while Branak stood next to her. The wolf growled, Kazzok grunted and she barked ¡°I will kill him.¡±


    ¡°It whispered of the hunt..¡± Kazzok grunted with a deep angry voice. ¡°Let the pack hunt, I say hehehe¡­¡± His low laughter was echoed by herself and Branak barked between his growls. Then Kazzok aided her to her hurting feet and they started to take their way through the battle of the Mesa. The only beasts that still listened to the whispers while the shaman song echoed through the arena were those that had offered their blood to the menhir. Chieftain Scale-Eye among them. Kazzok looked at him with anger and saw how the strange creature of orc and wing he had become fought against Thick-Skin. He nodded towards them and Rika looked at him with anger. ¡°He will answer.¡± She uttered with pure anger. ¡°But not by his calls. Only to our fury!¡± She roared after her words and Kazzok started to grin. He was proud to stand next to her again. Despite the shame the hunt tried to cast into him, despite the horrors of the night, he knew their pack would fight once more. One last time, for one last push.


    While they came close, the sorceress flew above the arena. She still tried to float yet soon fell down with a crash near a battle of her sons and the orcs. ¡°Mother!¡± A close legionnaire screamed out with concern and rushed to her. He was answered by her hand on his face while age was quickly cursing him. He gasped as long as he could, yet tried to fight back far too late. Slowly she rose to her feet again. While the ogre turned old and dry she became even fatter. By now none of her stolen beauty remained. Only an old hag full of warts and wrinkles.


    Scars and burnmarks adorned her now almost naked body. The few bits of black silk she was wearing with Lady Portfalls beauty were too small to protect her now.


    ¡°Kill the shaman!!¡± She screamed at the gathered ogres and pointed her finger to the sky again. As her voice sang the twisted tongue of sorcery it now carried the rotten voice of her used skin. Only barely was it heard like a song yet still clouds gathered above. First cast, who stood nearby and behind a circle of Ogres, shouted after her. ¡°You heard her, my brothers! Take the shamans head! The battle is far from won but it will be today!!¡± Then he started to sing as well. Next to him Third-Fist remained silent while his eyes followed the creature their mother had become.


    While the ogres started to chant the molded giant started to aid with its whispers.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Kazzok grunted in pain and looked from the ogres¡¯ sorcerers back to the giant. Rika followed his looked eyes and sighed. ¡°Them first..¡± She said and started to run for a nearby caster. Few Ogres were around him and with the aid of her pack they started to fight for their friend above. Mara¡¯s song still echoed through the winds and still they felt its strength running through their veins and their heartbeat to drum with her fury. They would not let her down for they knew neither would she.


    Up at the Mesa Mara could feel her throat go sore again while slowly the sorceress started to float up and landed on the edge of the Mesa.


    The shaman''s eyes opened and her song became a whisper. She glanced at her enemy. The hag was all the way back at the other end of the Mesa. Far behind her the red shadow of the dragon tried to rush back into battle but was held back by more swarms of birds and beasts that followed the whispers of the hunt. The riders and their wyvern were too far away to protect for the moment after they were pushed aside.


    This fight had to be her own.


    For but a moment Mara stopped her song and took long slow breaths. The distant scent of the burning savannah caught her nose, but so did the voices behind the mesa. The animals that had not yet joined the hunt and were running into the night for safety. The river that was running close, its sound of rushing water and the hoofs of panicking does. These were not the lands of her home, and the dragon would not be to her aid, but she was a shaman and both the land and the ancestors would answer her call.


    Slowly the wind rose around her. It started to circle her and gathered both dust and ash. She felt the strength of the earth below her feet, the rushing water that echoed her veins, the burning fury of fire and finally she heard a whisper in the winds. Not by the hunt, nor by sorcery. But of the ancestors. ¡°Fury¡­¡± it whispered. It was fleeting enough to be an illusion but to her it carried little Kara¡¯s voice. It made her heart drop and forced its own drum to her. The breeze was like a gentle touch to her face and and she smiled knowing that her niece was there. One voice became many as she heard the dead shout for battle. The ancestors, both of the frostsong and the north, as well as the greenskins from the south. Old enemies united in their battle beyond.


    A single tear ran down her eyes and for a single second the moonlight reflected its silver sorrow. One tear became many and her whispers rose to a new song, sang in unison with the ancestors and the land. Her tears started to rise with the wind, the ash and the earth.


    Before the fat monster the sorceress had become could do anything, Mara answered her niece¡¯s demand and unleashed the elements of the land right at her. Wind and ash took the rocks towards the witch and started to melt them on their way. But this time the hag didn¡¯t use the clouds to shield herself, instead she shifted around in a form of the stinking darkness and vanished into the ground. Her dark echo was jumping from one shadow to the next and left a scorched path through the earth. She tried to shift directly at Mara. But the young shaman could feel the twist in the earth, the pain the sorcery left inside the land. She stomped the ground and brought her fists to the sky with a roar. The earth answered and split open where the sorceress shadow was shifting.


    Gasping in a cloud of her own darkness she was cast from shadows back into flesh. As her eyes shot back at Mara there was nothing but the pale greediness of a monster. She tried to utter words but only spat out slurs in a tongue Mara couldn¡¯t speak. Neither was she waiting to grant her any chance to cast more. Again the wind shifted at her demand and clashed against the sorceress. This time the hag protected herself by a sudden wail that drowned Mara¡¯s song for but a second. It was enough for the sorceress to shift close once more. She was close when she did and now close enough to force her warted hand around Mara¡¯s neck.


    The shaman gasped and tried to use her strength to free herself of the sting and stench of the sorceress¡¯ hand but it was to no use.


    The sorceress licked her lips and laughed in victory. Yet instead of panic a calm washed over Mara and the winds turned down to a breeze. They circled the witch and the shaman and once they spoke they were speaking through Mara. ¡°Fury¡­¡± she whispered with many voices and the heat around her rose to a fire until she herself roared aided by the drums of fury in her heart. The sorceress cursed and was forced away by a few steps. The circling fire around Mara rose more and more and more until its glow was cast even down to the Mesa below. The wind tried to push it at the sorceress and she hissed in anger only to hear her sons chant again. Among the chants of sorcery the whispers of the hunt aided her. Still, fear was in the sorceress¡¯ eyes. Before her the fire only grew and grew and she could do nothing but hiss at it.


    Away from it all Mara stood in the heart of fire. It didn¡¯t burn her, yet casted its warmth. It didn¡¯t touch her, yet she felt its embrace. Like the warmth of a friend''s arm around her shoulder. Like the hug of a brother''s hands around her, or like the small hands of a girl that was taken far too soon. The shaman¡¯s tears rose, she knew she had to accept the fire but the more it casted its warmth the more the night of the oak returned to her mind.


    The fires around her as she cried next to Kara. Her face when her very own axe hit her. The shock. The void. And how she slowly had to realise that the little girl would never return. Never would she laugh again, never again would she cry or be angry. Never again would she roar like her father.


    She tried to remember the aid Kazzok and Rika had given her and the fires grew. She tried to think of her brother yet only saw the pain in his eyes. Pain she shared but pain she could never heal. Pain that was set in by her foolish choices. Pain that one day would end him.


    Slowly Mara sank to her knees. She heard little Kara¡¯s voice again. Too distant to understand. Too fleeting to grasp, like the breeze that it carried. On her knees the fires went down again and vanished with the winds.


    She lost.


    Before her the witch¡¯s fear turned into a hungry grin. She was ready to chant and drain the young shaman¡¯s life yet while the hag stomped close, Darkscale breathed fire at her followed by Bruna jumping down with his axe. He aimed for the witch¡¯s neck.


    The witch didn¡¯t move to get away and for a small moment Mara felt hope. This was how it had always been. Her brother would protect her, no matter if she deserved to be saved or not.


    Yet her hope was fleeting as she saw the grin on the witch¡¯s face. And she realised today his axe would shatter.


    Once it touched her neck their fathers axe made of black obsidian splintered into pieces. Both darklings looked on in horror as the axe of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain laid broken before the sorceress. She laughed and glanced over to Mara. ¡°You know the tale, little shaman.¡± Her voice had lost any resemblance to a human or even an ogre and was closer to the dragons now. ¡°No orc would harm them¡­¡± She grinned and stepped ever closer to Mara. ¡°Your little chants, the dragon¡­even my own kind are different. But to rule you, to take the all of you, we made the pact and your ancestors accepted.¡±


    The breeze grew again and anger was carried with them. Mara sighed on her knees. There was no one who could save her, no one who could end the fight but her. Yet she was spent. She couldn¡¯t get back up and she had casted away the fires only because her heart wasn¡¯t strong enough to endure the pain. Even now after all that Kazzok and Rika had done for her. After all the warmth their voices, their smiles, their arms and even Branak had given her. She couldn¡¯t.


    Next to her Bruna looked over to his sister and saw her tears. He grunted with deep anger as his eyes returned to the witch. He wasn¡¯t sure if he could beat her, but he knew he would protect his sister. At least one of his girls would live. Even if it would cost his life. Especially if he could pay with his life.


    ¡°Bruna..¡± Mara whispered and looked at him with a weak smile. ¡°She is watching..¡±


    He raised a brow and glanced back at the witch before finally he understood. The breeze touched his face like the smallest hand he ever held. ¡°Father..¡± she whispered in the wind. Distant and too far away to know if it was real or merely an illusion of hope. But it was enough to fog his eyes and give him strength.


    The witch stomped the ground and created a gust of wind that casted away the fleeting promise. ¡°AWAY!¡± she shouted in a voice rough as the dragons. ¡°Your ghosts are those who lost their battles and here you think they will help?!¡± She laughed and Bruna¡¯s anger grew to something he had never felt before. He was beyond roaring. He wanted to kill. Without a warning he started to rush in, jumped and threw a punch at the witch. Once his hand connected to her chin he felt his bones break and shatter just like his fathers axe. He stumbled away from her holding his arm. She laughed and drank in her victory. While she looked down at Bruna the breeze came back. It didn¡¯t whisper yet he felt his daughters touch. Slightly she lifted up his face. Once he looked ahead it was as if he could see her round face once more. The scar left by the beasts. The burning eyes and her wild hair. She smiled.


    When he blinked it was gone, but behind her he saw Dustfang dashing for the Mesa and the sorceress. It took his mind a moment to understand before he grinned up at the witch.


    ¡°Oh you poor little mongrels!¡± She spat out. ¡°Everytime you think to die will be an act of defiance and every time your enemy laughs in their victory!¡± She did as much and started to laugh. Bruna was letting her laugh, taking her time for vanity while he waited for Dustfang and his two riders. He glanced over his shoulders to Darkscale who was laying still after the sorceress¡¯ touch. But the old wyvern still breathed. Maybe it could even move.


    Once his eyes turned to his sister she was on her feet again and stumbling in front of him. His heart sank as she stood before him. ¡°I¡¯m not done..¡± The breeze around the two darklings grew and they knew they were three.


    Bruna laid a hand on his sister''s shoulder and stood up next to her. Her heart sank at his touch yet she smiled and they stood next to each other. The last heirs of Ara¡¯Gash the mountain, ready to meet their end. Watched by the ancestors. By those they had lost. By mothers and their father. By those who died protecting the mountain and those who were slain defending the south. By those they loved and those they hated. By the girl they both missed so very dearly. By Kara.


    There were still a thousand words they had to share, still a hundred things they wanted to stay but here they stood. At the end of the world. Looking not at the witch before them, but the sun behind her. Where the sun would declare the day any moment now. Here they stood. Together.

 Chapter 54: Vengeance

    An axe laid broken. Even from a distance Sha¡¯Raph saw it in horror. ¡°You know¡­to beat her?¡± She asked Raimond behind her. He opened his eyes after a prayer and nodded. ¡°Once my sword touches her true form, the spell will break.¡± He answered and tried to focus. ¡°A weapon wielded by her own kind. The outer sorcerers have always used the same pact.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph didn¡¯t understand every human word he said but enough. ¡°Then we kill.¡± She grunted and guided Dustfang closer and faster through the pink sky.


    In the distance Bruna saw the big desert beast flying for the witch. Even though they couldn¡¯t fight themselves they would show more defiance than to die. While the witch tried to get close and drain them of life, he took his sister¡¯s hand and started running.


    ¡°Coward!!¡± the witch screamed while laughing and shifted around in clouds of darkness. The dark form she had become wasn¡¯t running but jumping from one shadow to the next and it was fast.


    Bruna dragged his sister while the ancestor¡¯s breeze was pushing them from behind. Yet still the witch came ever closer. From every tiny shadow cloudy tendrils tried to grasp at the darklings. Mara had seen her shift through the shadows before and kicked stones of their path. Less shadow for her to cling on.


    Meanwhile her brother only ran and dragged her behind him. Towards the Mesa¡¯s edge and towards Dustfang and his riders. At least one of his girls would live. He repeated in his head and felt his daughters touch in the wind. They were close.


    Sha¡¯Raph squinted her eyes behind her mask. ¡°Ready.¡± She didn¡¯t ask but demanded. Sir Raimond nodded and carefully stood up. He wasn¡¯t used to it like the riders of Karn¡¯Arak, but Dustfang was big enough to make it easy. He whispered a prayer once more and looked to the east. The sun was only seconds away from sharing her glory.


    ¡°By the sun and the sea¡­¡± He started to whisper with his sword drawn.


    Bruna and Mara were now close to the edge, but so was Dustfang.


    ¡°By the Stars and the deep¡­¡±


    The two Darklings reached the edge and looked back at the Witch for a moment.


    ¡°Justice upon you this dawn, witch..¡±


    Still the darklings wouldn¡¯t give up and were about to jump.


    ¡°For the republic, For justice..¡± Sir Raimond breathed in one last time before in a single moment of glory they jumped. The hag¡¯s dark tendrils followed her greedy fingers, trying to grasp them.


    While they landed on Dustfang Sir Raimond jumped off and towards the witch. ¡°And for the Lady!!!¡± He roared and the sun followed his words. Finally she rose behind the mountains and shared her golden glory with the burning savannah. The light reflected from his sword and blinded the witch in fear. He hacked away at her dark tendrils, yet most were cast away by the light before.


    ¡°Look what you have done to her!!¡± He screamed and swung his sword time and time again while the witch desperately tried to defend herself with tiny tendrils of shadow. ¡°You took her life! Her innocence!!¡± Anger mixed with tears in his eyes while he pushed her back more and more.


    ¡°Innocence?!¡± She gagged and made him stop for a second. He slowly circled her with fury in his eyes as she continued. "Aurelian would never send me a girl of purity, dear knight.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, witch!¡± He yelled out.


    ¡°You want to know what truly made her so incredibly delicious?¡± She asked while licking her fat rotten lips. ¡°She was more than one.¡± A dark giggle escaped her that slowly rose to a laugh.


    Sir Raimond¡¯s eyes widened. He knew who the father might have been and he was long dead as well. An entire bloodline cut by the darkness. He roared in fury ¡°Justice upon thee witch!!¡± And rushed at her. Her smile widened as a hidden tendril lashed at his hand. He lost his sword, and its reflection of the rising sun.


    While he looked down more tendrils grasped him and dragged him down. He tried to free himself but it was as if the weight of his armour rose with every tendrils touch. ¡°You will pay!!¡± He roared in a mix of fury and desperation.


    She smiled. ¡°Haven¡¯t we been here before, oh bravest of knights?¡± She laughed while Sir Raimond saw Dustfang and his now three riders come for the witch again. Yet it gave him no hope. No orc would be able to hurt her, not until the spell was broken. Not with violence alone. He wasn¡¯t sure about the Wyvern but he saw how Sha¡¯Raph stood up to jump at the witch. ¡°No!¡± He yelped out. ¡°It will be of no use!¡±


    The witch turned to his comrades and opened her arms as if she was greeting guests. ¡°Oh my dears do it. Take your swings, break your weapons! And what for? Defiance? Pride? Honour?¡± She laughed wide and loud into the sky when one of Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s twin axes was thrown right into her chest. A sound like shattering glass echoed from her form. Somewhere far away and beyond their eyes, a mirror was broken and so was the pact.


    The witch gasped and looked at Sha¡¯Raph with eyes of disbelief. The masked watcher breathed for a moment after she had landed from Dustfang¡¯s back. Sir Raimond watched with disbelief of his own.


    The witch fell to her knees and took the axe out of her chest with a grunt of pain. Yellow pus dropped out of her wound. Sha¡¯Raph was about to rush in when the hag pointed at her and spoke in terror. ¡°The Dagger¡­¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph stood still and felt her heart pound in horror. Only one man had ever called her a dagger.


    While blood ran from her mouth the witch continued. ¡°Has Kru¡¯Gan send you himself?! Was the old man finally foolish enough to betray me?!¡±


    ¡°Why do you know his name?..¡± Sha¡¯Raph asked.


    The witch grinned through her pain. ¡°Oh? Has he never spoken of me?¡± She wanted to say more but coughed pus and blood. Behind her Sir Raimond rose back to his feet and took his sword once more. ¡°The spell is broken..¡± He uttered and started to grab his sword again. Next to them Dustfang landed with Bruna and Mara on his back. The sun washed over the Mountains and the Mesa and soon would even reach the arena below.


    Sha¡¯Raph lost her patience. ¡°Answer me!¡±


    Finally the witch looked around. Bleeding and knowing she was surrounded. She twitched when Sir Raimond laid a sword on her shoulder. Every part of him, every thread of his being wanted to cut her head off. Yet the knight remained calm and his sword started to slowly shine in the sun once more. The reflection started to burn into the witch¡¯s shoulder. He didn¡¯t understand Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s question as it was spoken in orcish. But even with her mask he could see the demand for answers. ¡°Answer her, hag!¡±


    The witch¡¯s breathing became heavier with the moment and Sha¡¯Raph stepped close enough to hold her remaining twin axe on the witch¡¯s neck. Bruna took Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s other twin axe from the ground and readied himself should she try anything. His shattered hand had its fingers pointed to directions they should never point at, so he needed his left hand to swing.


    ¡°I will ask him for you!¡± The witch spat out and grabbed Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s leg. Just as she was about to drain the life out of her, Bruna brought the axe down and cut her hand off. The axe didn¡¯t shatter. The spell was broken.


    Sir Raimond swung his sword sideways at her neck but she twitched and deformed. He missed.


    Screaming the witch withered around and finally turned to a beast. On all fours she slithered away like a snake over the Mesa¡¯s ground and to the edge down to the Arena.


    Sir Raimond tried to swing at her and rushed after her. But even this hurt she was fast. ¡°Don¡¯t let her regain her strength!¡± She left a trail of thick blood and gasped in pain until she reached the edge back down to the Arena. With a final roar she started to slither down the same edge that Mara had climbed before. Sir Raimond looked after her and back to the orcs and Dustfang. ¡°We need to kill her now or she will drain another!¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph understood and silently saddled Dustfang again. Her mind was running with questions she had asked for her whole life. Yet she made the choice that the battle was more important. She looked at Bruna and her axe in his hand. He handed it back over. She nodded. The orcs didn¡¯t speak a word and Dustfang galloped for the edge. Raimond held on to the beast''s leg as they did and they started to rush down into the fight below. Even though the warriors were thinned out more and more, it was still going. But the swings got heavier and the sun was close to cast her light over them.


    Rika, Kazzok and Branak hacked their way from one Ogre caster to another. Yet their eyes always returned to the molded giant. He was their main prey, but they needed to aid their shaman friend above.


    Before they reached the next Ogre chanter a big Ogre with a torn red cloak and a curved sword stood before them. Third-Fist. Rika spat to the side and rolled her shoulder. Third-Fist grinned at them. He was enjoying the fight and the corpses around him told well enough that he had all the reason for it. ¡°Big one.¡± Kazzok said with a grin next to her. They both echoed the warlord''s grin while Branak growled next to them. Just as they wanted to rush at each other, a hissing echoed over the arena and they turned. The entire arena watched what had become of the sorceress slither down the edge. Once she was down she stood up again and quickly stumbled forward. Some of the ogres nearby rushed to her ¡°Mother you are hurt!¡± She ignored their voices and touched them all. They sank down withering in age while her wound slowly closed and she became ever fatter. Yet it was too much. She stopped and puked out a glob of twitching flesh.


    The molded giant whispered through the weakening winds again. ¡°We. Must. Leave..¡±


    Rika and Kazzok shot their eyes at the giant. They wouldn¡¯t let it slip away. The pack rushed into the shadows of battle while the witch continued to force every eye onto her.


    She looked back towards the giant and shook her head. ¡°NO!¡± She shouted with what could barely be heard as a word. She stumbled ahead and tried to get more Ogres to drain. As she came close to First-Cast the once shaman pushed a Legionnaire to her instead. He was drained of life in an instant and the once shaman¡¯s eyes carried more than concern in them. Slowly he started to take a few steps backwards. Back behind other ogres and close to the cliff from where they came.


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    Above Dustfang flew into the Arena and a creature those below didn¡¯t know as a Human shouted words in a tongue they didn¡¯t know. Only the ogres and the molded giant did. Only Third-Fist listened. ¡°The spell is broken! Kill her! Kill her now!!¡± The knight shouted and the Warlord''s eyes widened. Without even noticing anybody but their self declared mother he wandered through the battlefield. His blade just lazily next to him.


    Rika and Kazzok took their way to the giant. They looked around. She found a spear, and he a way up the cliff. Half a beast he quickly climbed as she concentrated. It needed to be one strike. One attack with the strength of the pack.


    To Third-Fist it was all but a shadow in his eyes. While he walked the centuries of slavery went by. The early years when they still were orcs. When they sold their souls to the witch for the promise of conquest. When she started to take their women and daughters. When she used their stolen bodies to influence their hearts. And then when she started to deform them to the fat bastards they were now. He had felt the weight of their mistake for centuries. Even though their bodies would be safe from age their souls were rotten and he had felt how his own was slipping away for so long now. If there was ever a day to die, ever a reason to swing his blade by his own choice again. It was this.


    He arrived through the battle at their still stumbling mother. She didn¡¯t even realise who of her sons stood before her anymore and attempted to bring her hand onto his face. He grunted and swung his blade. Her other hand was cut off. In disbelief she stumbled backwards. He heard his brothers scream but didn¡¯t care. This was not their freedom, but his vengeance. With snarling teeth and the lost glory of his clan he brought his blade right into her chest where the wound had just closed. Still she was gasping. Still she was breathing. Still she was coursing the very air with her rot. While his sword kept stuck in her chest he brought his hands around her head and turned it by force. A crack was heard, similar to a tree falling. Yet still she tried to speak and finally the warlord of Krognar and once Chieftain of the Sun-Lions roared and ripped her head off. As he screamed into the air the sun shone into the arena. Her lifeless body fell down to the side and her ripped off head still tried to speak in panic. Yet every attempted word she spoke was drowned by his roar as it echoed through the arena. Like the lion he once had been, he roared to the sun, his prey in his hand. Held by the remains of her hair he roared until all in the arena saw the pride of Krognar once again.


    The cold eyes of the giant looked on in panic. ¡°No..¡± he whispered and took a few steps back towards the cliffs.


    Rika glanced at him with a hunter¡¯s gaze. ¡°That weakling is trying to escape..¡± She was about to throw her spear when the strange human words echoed from above.


    ¡°His curse! Break it too! A touch by his own kind and he can be hurt!!¡±


    Third-Fist looked up at the knight he had helped to imprison. He wasn¡¯t sure if the knight knew that they once had been orcs, he didn¡¯t knew if it would work if he would try and break the course, yet he would show even the last sorcerer the might of Krognar. With another roar he threw their mothers head towards the giant. It was but a weak hit on its legs. After the head fell down the giant took it into his hand. His eyes went soft. ¡°Centuries..wasted..¡± it whispered and somewhere, far away in lands unknown, a mirror broke.


    Rika didn¡¯t hear the mirror, she only saw that Kazzok was ready. She trained for this, she made her hands soar for this and her shoulder burn for this. With all the might she could offer she threw a spear up to the giant¡¯s head. She brought so much force into the throw that she fell down. Even with her training she still couldn¡¯t balance her one armed footing.


    The spear flew over the arena and through the golden light of the sun right into the giant¡¯s neck. It roared and the winds rose. The beasts that still lingered, those that had offered their blood to the menhir before, all roared with the giant and all of their eyes came to Rika. She was sitting on her back after her fall and looked up where Kazzok was waiting. He was fighting the urge of the hunt and for a moment she was afraid he would turn to her. As did the remaining beasts. Branak withered and winced in pain. She embraced her wolf with an arm and comfort and looked up.


    Kazzok wanted to jump for the giant, wanted to slash through its neck and his shackles, but his whispers were strong while he fought for his life. The spear had the effect they had planned, it took all of the giant¡¯s attention but that meant he had to bite through the pain and the whispers no matter their grip on him. He looked down to Rika and saw the life they had shared so far and the life they still wanted to build.


    A song echoed from Dustfang through the arena and with it the cold touch of the ancestors. Rika smiled at the song while the beasts were but a second away from her. She looked up to Kazzok and saw him jumping from the cliff at the giant. His axe high and the fury of the boar inside his eyes. She wouldn¡¯t just accept her fate, she wouldn¡¯t before and she wouldn¡¯t now. And she knew this wouldn¡¯t be the day she had to. Just before the beasts bit and clawed her and Branak, the druid of the burned oak landed his axe into the giant¡¯s head. In pain the beasts twitched away while the giant fell to his knees. The tree and its dangling corpses fell from his hand and Kazzok continued. He hacked himself deeper and deeper into the giant¡¯s head until his axe was deeply buried into it.


    With a tree¡¯s winter groan, the giant fell and silence went over the arena.


    The remaining menhir beasts twitched but didn¡¯t turn to orcs again. Rika¡¯s eyes found the half wyvern their chieftain had become. They spoke of sorrow before he flew off. Branak next to her looked on. He was fine and pressed himself against her in their victory. He licked her face and she used his support to get back to her feet.


    In the centre of the Arena Third-Fist laughed at the violence they had unleashed and the dead sorcerers it had brought. His brothers stood in silence. Many of them unsure what had happened, few to echo his laughter. First-Cast to slid away into the shadows.


    Kazzok jumped from the giant and looked around. Just as his eyes found Rika she fell into his arms. He held her close. She held him closer. They felt each other''s warmth in the sunlight because the night was over and they were alive. They dreamed of the days ahead, of the life they were meant to have since their hunt for the wyvern. And it was all the victory they ever needed. Their eyes locked with each other for the longest time and they knew their hearts would drum on, in unison. As a family. As a pack.


    Dustfang landed close and Mara jumped off. She reached her pack and they laughed. She ruffled Branaks hair and looked at the two with the greatest smile of gratitude. She brought an arm around each while both of the greenskins laughter echoed over the arena. Their hearts were free. The horrors of the night over and victory theirs.


    Still on Dustfang, Bruna watched his sister smile. He wanted to echo her feelings, yet his daughter''s touch still lingered on his cheek. He was meant to be angry at her. If not at her then to who else? All the fury he had felt after Kara¡¯s death, where to unleash it if not in battle? But there was no fury. There was nothing. The tiniest spark in his heart was glad for his sister. No matter if it was greenskins or not, she had found her place. Maybe he would protect it and her. Like he always had. But if she would want that he didn¡¯t know. If he could do that, he didn¡¯t know either. He had lost both his woman and his daughter. Who was he to say he could protect?


    A horn stopped the laughter and forced Bruna out of his thoughts.


    The earth was shaking and the dragon landed at the mesa¡¯s edge. Before it, on a poisonous wyvern, the Khan blew his horn. The riders answered and landed around at the edges of the Arena to look down at the greenskins and the ogres. Sha¡¯Raph looked at Bruna for a moment before she asked. ¡°Do you want to stay down here?¡±


    He looked at her mask for quite some time and back to the concerned look on his sister¡¯s face. As he saw how the two greenskins stood next to her weapons ready, he shook his head. ¡°My place is in Karn¡¯Arak.¡± He grunted. She said nothing and Sir Raimond didn¡¯t understand. The old knight only saw the face of a warrior who was empty after battle. He had seen it more than once. Sha¡¯Raph guided Dustfang up to land next to the Khan and pressed her fist against her chest. ¡°The battle is over.¡± She stated. Ur¡¯Back was on the other side and the two watchers looked down with their Khan.


    Bruna remained distant and hidden at Dustfangs back.


    And Aru¡¯Gal smiled. ¡°We may see.¡± he answered Sha¡¯Raph before he glanced back at the Dragon. ¡°You should fly back.¡± The Dragon''s eyes remained on the corpses of its old enemies. They were distant and slowly closed for but a moment. It grunted. It was hurt and it showed. As its eyes opened again they were but half lid. The same eyes Aru¡¯Gal had seen for years. ¡°You had your vengeance now~¡± Before the Khan could even finish the Dragon flew off again. Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes followed its direction. It seemed unsure if it was to go to Karn¡¯Arak or back to the Frostsong. It chose its own home. Back to its hoard. In silence and alone.


    And Aru¡¯gal smiled.


    His gaze went back down to those that remained. Greenskins of many distant tribes. Ogres that remained clueless and even one Darkling. His eyes widened. ¡°The traitor..¡± he whispered almost more to himself before he looked over to Bruna. ¡°Have you seen her?¡± he asked.


    Bruna just nodded.


    ¡°Then why does she still live?¡± He demanded to know and earned Bruna¡¯s angry gaze.


    ¡°We had a battle to win.¡± the Orc they called the beast answered.


    Aru¡¯Gal just smiled and shook his head. ¡°You will get your chance.¡± He said and was about to take word at those below. Just before he did he looked back over to Bruna again. ¡°Has your Wyvern fallen?¡±


    Again, Bruna nodded. ¡°I fear she was taken by sorcery.¡±


    ¡°A shame.¡± Aru¡¯Gal said. ¡°You need to be more protective, brother.¡±


    His words fueled Bruna¡¯s anger yet he gave him no time to speak.


    ¡°How long have you fought?!¡± He yelled down below.


    Some ogres started to count with their fingers while some Greenskins proudly declared that it had been the entire night. Others roared that the darklings would be next and Thick-Skin watched Mara from a distance.


    ¡°Strong!¡± Aru¡¯Gal declared. ¡°Do you wish to fight on? If so I am more than willing to fulfill that wish!¡±


    Many sighed but all held their weapons tight and ready.


    Mara next to her pack gazed up at Aru¡¯Gal with nothing but hatred in her eyes. Yet she couldn¡¯t fight on either.


    ¡°You will follow.¡± He declared and got a raised brow of Ur¡¯Back next to him.


    Aru¡¯Gal looked over to him and smiled. ¡°Do the riders have the spare reins with them?¡±


    ¡°Of course¡± The watcher answered. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal nodded and took his own from his wyverns saddle. He threw the chains down and pointed directly at Mara. ¡°And you!¡± Their eyes met and both burned with hatred and Dragonfire. ¡°You! Will be the first!¡±


    Rika and Kazzok were about to protest when Thick-Skin came from the crowd. He was battered and broken, yet stood as tall as he ever did. ¡°No one here will be put into any chains, darkling!¡± He pointed at Mara. ¡°Neither her, nor anybody else!¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal dashed down on his Wyvern. Yet Mara¡¯s eyes went back up and to her brother. She saw the anger and sorrow in his eyes and for a moment their gazes locked. She raised a brow and nodded at him. A question without words. It made his heart pound but he couldn¡¯t help himself but answer the same. Silently he nodded.


    Just as Aru¡¯Gal was about to speak or do worse at Thick-Skin, Mara took word. ¡°If you take us today we will fight tomorrow.¡± She declared and looked around the arena, both to the greenskins as well as Third-Fist in the ogres centre. ¡°I know it is hard. I know many of you long for death in battle after the losses of the night¡­but trust me.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal frowned at her, yet he looked around. Before he could speak again she approached him and took the chains he had thrown down. A heavy breath of shame escaped her as she brought the chains around herself. They were made for Wyverns not orcs and there was no way to actually chain her with them. ¡°You will need ropes.¡± She told him in anger.


    He smiled and pointed at her while he addressed the Arena. ¡°Trust in a shaman¡¯s wisdom! For once the traitor speaks it!¡±


    Mara looked back to Kazzok and Rika who stared at her in shock. She knew that every fiber of every orc would be against the chains. Never would they give up. But she also knew it would mean the death of the few that remained and so one last time she pleaded. ¡°Trust me.¡± With an angry grunt Kazzok threw his weapon away. Rika followed and after a moment longer Thick-Skin and the rest.


    The Khan smiled and ordered the Riders to bring rope and chains but it was all distant to Mara. Her eyes went back to her Brother. ¡°I trust you.¡± She thought and knew the battle for ascension was still ahead of them.

 Chapter 55: One Last Ride

    Darkscale¡¯s breaths were slow and heavy. Her eyes just barely open and her mind, by looks of it, half gone to the ancestors.


    Bruna stood in front of her, an ogres axe ready next to him. He had gotten one of the corpses below. It wasn¡¯t a good weapon for him. Far too many symbols and once bronzen runes were carved inside for him to truly appreciate its craft. It was made for beauty, not for battle. And it wasn¡¯t won in battle either. Not by him at least.


    His eyes locked with the slowly breathing wyvern before him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry girl¡­¡± he finally said. The wyvern only huffed. He kneeled down before her and continued to look into her eyes. They were just as heavy as her breathing. Only half open, if even. She was pleading for an end. Not welcoming it like a warrior, but longing for it all to be over. To go on into the battles beyond and stand side by side with the ancestors and her children once again.


    It was the same look he saw all those many years ago in his Tash¡¯Gavek. On the dying wyverns eyes. It was the same look he had seen in the dragon. And now the same he carried himself.


    He had carried it since he carried his daughters corpse. And now his eyes had become even more tired after he had carried his sister''s chain. After the battle was won and the corpses of gods laid down, Aru¡¯Gal had ordered them to chain the rest. It was on him to put the first chain on the first prisoner and the first prisoner was his sister. The traitor. The woman that had stolen his daughter. The girl that had to take care of him and Kara when his women was dead. The little thing that laughed when he carried her up the mountain.


    Her eyes were the worst. When he made a knot around her hands she looked at him, tried to lock her fiery gaze with his, but he couldn¡¯t. He felt that she didn¡¯t carry any anger, but trust. Somehow she still carried trust. Despite all he did, despite all they had lost.


    He removed his helmet and the evening sun brought a cold breeze from the west.


    After a moment of glancing to the downing sun he continued to share the wyvern''s glance.


    She huffed again, long and deep as she saw him without his helmet. She opened her mouth as if she was trying to talk, but only the slightest hint of a growl escaped her.


    ¡°I know¡­¡± he said and shook his head, not able to hold her stare any longer.


    Far in the distance to the north he could see the long line of prisoners. Surrounded by the riders as they flew above. Sometimes they settled close and their beasts roared, other times they landed on a big stone or small mesa to glance down as the line walked by.


    They had fought the whole night and he had seen how it had left his sister. He shook his head and felt how his eyes swelled up again. He tried to fight against them, he had cried enough these last weeks but it was no use. The weight of his weakness only grew with every tear he shed.


    ¡°What kind of man am I?¡± he asked darkscale. It didn¡¯t matter if the dying wyvern understood him or not. He wasn¡¯t sure if she ever did, but he needed to believe she was. It was hard to look at her as he continued, so his glance remained on the distant prisoners. ¡°What man lets another treat his family like that?¡± He huffed himself to anger a few times. ¡°His sister!¡± He stood up and kicked away a stone. Shaking his head he thought of little Kara¡¯s touch in the winds. ¡°His daughter¡­¡± He whispered and longed to see her again. To hear her again, even to fight her at least once. To stand against her on top of the hollowed mountain, to see her as a grown woman fighting her father after years of hatred. He would have been the proudest loser any orc had ever been. Yet it wasn¡¯t meant to be and the breeze of morning was gone. Only the burning sun of the day remained as she was going down across the savannah of the west. Every breeze she brought made his heart swell in hope for her touch. But there was nothing but the cold.


    Behind him, Darkscale used all of her remaining might and rose to her feet. She stumbled forward and nudged his back with her snout. He turned and looked into her eyes. They were further open than before and her glare was close to anger. She huffed, had a glow on her throat and smoke from her nostrils until she stood up properly and breathed fire into the air. She fell down on her wings again and looked at him with the same burning eyes.


    He nodded. ¡°You are a strong beast, old one.¡±


    She growled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what..¡± his words trailed off. He knew what was needed to do and it should have been so very easy. Aru¡¯Gal might had been his brother once, but those days were long gone. Now he was taking prisoners, slaves even, denying them of a well earned victory. A true warrior would have granted them the night to get a better fight the next day. But not the snake. Not the man they called their Khan. It was without honour, but so was war. They had pillaged the south for so long and they were always using their wyverns to be stronger. Yet at least the great hunters of the south had a chance. There was a time he wouldn¡¯t have thought about it as dishonour, just as a well used chance. Maybe he would have this day too, if Mara wasn¡¯t among them.


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    He still wanted to be angry at her. It was her who had taken Kara with her into exile and it was that very exile that killed her. After all that he had to tell himself. He had deflected his sister''s axe back then, and he sent it down to his daughter. He saw it before him again. Her lifeless face, frozen in shock and pain. Her empty eyes, bereft of the dragon''s fire and the axe in her shoulder. It was all wrong. All so very wrong. She should have lived, she should have been here to fight alongside his sister, or against himself. She should have been the spark to burn Aru¡¯Gal and his grand plans. She should have lived.


    His eyes were drenched and his mind was spinning. Once again Darkscale huffed to take him out of it.


    Smoke still rose from her nostrils and mixed with the distant but still burning savannah. Beasts of all kinds were fleeing from it, few of them into the west, others into mesa and the mess that was left there. Mountains of corpses, most of them ogres, many of them greenskins, some of them beasts and two of them sorcerers. Vultures had started their feast already and the sun had made sure that the dead were decaying fast. Neither sun nor vulture made a difference between the dead. The molded giant and the ogres¡¯ mother were rotting and eaten just the same as the rest.


    It was a shame that so many warriors were denied a pyre and a man of honour would have granted them to mourn their dead. He thought for a second but shook the thought himself. His father was known as a brutal man, and he would have taken the chance as well. Would have taken prisoners as well if it was of use. Maybe he would have burned the corpses in a display of power and honour, but who was he to say?


    Finally his eyes turned fully back to Darkscale. ¡°Can you ride?¡± he asked her.


    She huffed with the defiance of battle still lingering in her.


    ¡°Then let us go.¡± He said and put the helmet back on his head. Carefully he saddled on Darkscale. He could feel how she tried to get ready but the sorceres¡¯ short touch had taken a lot of her. ¡°We will find you the river, and you will drink. Then we may fly north.¡± He told her and slowly guided her to the edge. She tried to run faster and take speed before their flight, but it was no use. She remained slow and once they reached the edge she simply spread her wings to glide down. They came close to the fire. He wondered how long it would burn. A normal fire would have already been hard to quell in these lands but dragonfire could burn for centuries. The Frostsong knew that well, and he had witnessed it himself as he went across the boiling sea so many years ago.


    Darkscale didn¡¯t need much guidance and glided down to the river. Their landing was far from soft and she growled in pain. Slowly she then walked close to the river and planted her head inside to drink.


    Bruna saddled down again and walked next to her. Making sure she was on the lower end of the stream, he filled his waterskins. Like many riders he had three on his belt to be ready for longer flights.


    Their closeness to the fire brought his mind back to Karn¡¯Arak and Aru¡¯Gals words to him and Sha¡¯Raph. ¡°If you see it and still think I am wrong, beat me.¡± It wasn¡¯t the dragon their Khan was wrong about, but everything else. The dragon was about to die. He had seen it even back in its own hoard. But what he was going to do for it, the sacrifices he was willing to pay and what for? Because he thought their kind needed a leader, a master, a slaver! Never. Bruna thought, and gazed over his back and the Savannah to the distant line of prisoners. The thought that his sister was among them angered him more and more until he got finally nudged by Darkscale again. Her huff looked almost like a smile as she saw his eyes. He nodded. ¡°You are right¡­¡±


    She turned towards the north and the prisoners and he saddled her again. Slowly she tried to slap her wings. The wind she made started to push away earth and ash, yet it was almost too little to fly. Bruna knew this would be her last ride. If things would go as they were meant to be, he could at least bring her back to Gor¡¯Mash for a last goodbye, but he questioned if she would even be able to ride across the Savannah. And he wasn¡¯t sure if this would be anything but his last battle either. His eyes were as tired as hers, not from the battle, but time, losses and shame. What kind of man would lose his daughter like he did? And what kind of man would allow his sister to be in chains? His father would have beaten him to the edge of death if he would see him now and nothing in him could believe he could ever right the wrongs he did. But even if he couldn¡¯t, he would see his end, and he would see it soon.


    He would give Aru¡¯gal one last chance to return to honour. He was a great leader, he was a good friend, he would listen. And if not, he would fight. And Bruna¡¯Gash the beast, would earn his warriors death. He hoped to be with his daughter once again. Because what else was left to do for a man like him? Then to fight, and die.


    Aru¡¯Gal wasn¡¯t even with the riders anymore, but had dashed ahead to the Dragon in Karn¡¯Arak.


    And Bruna would follow. It was a long way, and Darkscale was weak. He petted her neck and she roared in defiance to her looming death. Just one last ride, so the beast and the snake would settle it all. As the fires of Karn¡¯Arak would watch them. One way or the other Bruna¡¯Gash the beast and Aru¡¯Gal the snake, once blood brothers, would settle it all.

 Chapter 56: The Traitor and the Beast

    Mara¡¯s legs were giving in but she wouldn¡¯t allow them. No matter how much they burned, no matter how much pain was flooding through them. It was her who had claimed chains were a better choice, if only to fight tomorrow. She would be the last to take aid while walking. Before her Thick-Skin was chained, behind her Kazzok and Rika. And behind them the Ogre¡¯s warlord, Third-Fist was his name, was chained. He had made sure that he was chained close to them. Something none of them were happy about, he had been an enemy mere moments ago, yet there was nothing to avoid it. And Aru¡¯gal seemed happy to have the leaders, the traitor and her friends, his greatest trophies, bundled together.


    Thick-Skin did the same and had made sure he was chained close to Mara. He allowed the chains and with that his people to be chained, but would be close to her. If she truly had a plan he would know it and decide if it was good or not and he would make the greenskins call to fight, not a darkling.


    Even Branak was with chains and the fact that Aru¡¯Gal had allowed the beasts and mounts to be chained instead of being killed told Mara all she needed to know. He knew it would have been a fight if he had tried to kill them and he knew the riders would have won. Yet he needed them and he needed them alive. The scroll would demand sacrifices and despite the chains she had put on them she would not see anyone be sacrificed for a Khan¡¯s lack of strength.


    ¡°I hope your plan goes further than these chains, shaman.¡± Thick-Skin whispered over his shoulder.


    Dusk was settling over the Savannah and they had walked all day before he had finally spoken.


    She huffed. ¡°I won¡¯t see us be used by that coward, if that is your fear.¡± Her words rang back, yet were gently carried by an evening breeze.


    He looked around and to the riders nearby. Always watching, always ready to strike at them should they try anything. Yet there was more. Those that didn¡¯t carry a helmet had it written all over their faces. They were angry. They had been when their Khan flew off and they were now when they had to watch broken warriors in chains.


    ¡°Your Khan isn¡¯t the most liked is he?¡± he whispered over his shoulder again.


    She couldn¡¯t help but grin and glanced around herself. ¡°There are those that are loyal¡­¡± she started. ¡°Too many that the rest dared anything yet..¡±


    Suddenly Kazzok grunted from behind Mara. ¡°Well¡­we are many too..¡±


    Thick-Skin chuckled when the druid''s words reached him. A nearby rider landed next to them. ¡°What might be so funny, greenskin?!¡±


    Thick-Skin looked up to him. A rather pale Darkling with an edged face and a cloak on the back of his obsidian armour. Before the chieftain could spit back anything Mara took word. ¡°Ur¡¯Back?¡± She asked. The rider looked down at her. For a second a hint of shame was in his eyes. Then he composed himself again and spouted. ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you, traitor!¡±


    He was settling his gaze back to Thick-Skin when she spoke once more. ¡°Look at me.¡± She demanded. He followed. ¡°You know why he wants us alive, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The watcher shook his head and answered with a coldness that was hard to read. ¡°I know what you and his father tried to tell about him..¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°Master Cra¡¯Gal..what happened to him?¡±


    His eyes became somber and he knew he could not hide his feelings any longer. Yet his words still tried. ¡°A traitor¡¯s destiny.¡± He answered and made her raise a brow before he continued. ¡°Killed by his own family¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh..¡± She simply answered and looked down to the savannah ground again. She felt its warmth below her feet as memories of his teachings came to her mind. When she looked back at Ur¡¯Back her eyes were fueled by a newfound anger. ¡°He was a good teacher.¡±


    ¡°He hated your brother..¡± Ur¡¯Back told her again. ¡°He wanted me to fight him. To kill him ev~¡±


    ¡°You wouldn''t have.¡± She stated with cold eyes. After gazing up north and across the prisoners line she continued. ¡°I think he just feared someone man enough to face his son.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Ur¡¯Back blew his horn and made the march stop. He jumped down from his Wyvern and grabbed Mara¡¯s arm. Kazzok and Rika grunted, ready to launch themself at him despite their chains.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget where you are!¡± He shouted loud enough that even the riders could hear it. Then his voice became lower. ¡°And don¡¯t forget where I stand either..¡± His grip on her arm softened, yet he remained there, making sure it still looked like a threat. ¡°I am man of the mountain, watcher of our clan. I only want the best for it and I have seen both Dragon and Khan do their duty.¡±


    The coldness in Mara¡¯s eyes softened as his grip did.


    It took a long moment and both of them could feel the many eyes on them. She was about to ask him many more questions, but knew they were not meant for every riders¡¯ ears.


    Just before he could say more a hand was around his arm and forced it away from Mara.


    Bruna was breathing slowly and angry as he watched the watcher. His eyes slowly turned to Mara and her arm. No wound, nothing. Either Ur¡¯Back was weak or smarter than he acted.


    As he looked back to Ur¡¯Back he commanded. ¡°Let them rest.¡± the watcher raised a brow before the beast continued. ¡°You soon reach the mountains.¡± He shook his head. ¡°And none of them is strong enough for the hike right now.¡±


    Ur¡¯Back watched the beast for quite some time. His answer was no words but two quick blows of his horn that made the riders settle down. Two of them came by before Ur¡¯back ordered them. ¡°I want them in groups of ten around a spike. No need to complicate things with this long chain.¡± Glances were changed between both riders and the prisoners. ¡°Watch them over the night, let your Wyvern sleep on their chains if you have to.¡±


    Then he looked back to Bruna. The beast¡¯s eyes became a silent gratitude and the watcher nodded before he went back to his Wyvern.


    Slowly Bruna turned to his sister. There were still so many things to say and yet no place to do such. His helmet hung on his belt and he felt her eyes on his own.


    Finally she asked him. ¡°What will you do?¡±


    ¡°I follow Aru¡¯gal.¡± He simply stated with a deep and low voice.


    A rider wanted to guide Mara and her pack to a nearby spike they had placed into the ground. They started to bind their ropes and chains around it.


    Bruna raised his hand ¡°Just a moment.¡±


    ¡°She is a traitor, beast!¡± The rider shouted at him and got an even louder echo from Bruna. ¡°Touch her now and I¡¯ll be the next!¡±


    The rider and the beast stared at each other before Ur¡¯Back came by and whispered to the rider. Their eyes broke off and Bruna got the moment.


    His sister¡¯s eyes were soft and her face close to a smile. She took his hand. ¡°What will you do when you find him?¡± her words were but a breath in the rising breeze.


    He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± He answered and looked around the riders. He knew most of them and they knew him. Some of them had shed blood together, others with each other when they trained.


    Finally his eyes returned to her. ¡°I will talk to him..he only wants the best for~¡±


    ¡°Himself.¡± Mara stated.


    He sighed and it took another long moment for him to speak while her hand remained around his. ¡°If he will not listen to stop this foolery of sorcery I will make him.¡± He stated clearly. ¡°I brought him the scroll. I can take it again.¡±


    Her heart filled with hope for a short second before she saw Darkscale behind him. ¡°Your Wyvern..do you truly think she can fight?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He said. ¡°It will be her last.¡± After a moment longer he continued. ¡°And it might be mine.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°You know you are stronger than him.¡± There was nothing he could say to deny her.


    Her hand squeezed his even stronger and she took a deep breath. ¡°I know you are still in pain..and I¡¯m the last who should tell you how to~¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡± He commanded. She sighed. The breeze touched them as the sun settled down in the west.


    Finally she added. ¡°Just..don¡¯t fight to die.¡± She leaned down to catch his eyes as he tried to avoid her gaze. ¡°But to live.¡± Their eyes locked and their hearts sang the same song. Finally he answered the squeeze of her hand with his own. She smiled. For only a moment he echoed it.


    ¡°I will not see you sacrificed.¡± He stated.


    ¡°I know.¡± She answered.


    He wanted to hug her, but she was still a traitor to their people and the riders. Slowly and almost with pain he was letting go of her hand. He huffed and nodded to the rider. When she was brought to the spike and her pack, their eyes didn¡¯t leave each other. It made him sick to see her like this. Even more when she smiled. Finally he had to look away and quickly got his helmet back on. After he saddled Darkscale he saw Ur¡¯back again. Pressing his fist on his chest he said his silent farewell. The last moment before he took flight he looked back to his sister, one last time.


    Her eyes followed him through the night sky and soon he and Darkscale vanished into the north. Towards the fires of distant Karn¡¯Arak.

 Chapter 57: Heart of the Dagger

    For the first time Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s heart didn¡¯t feel joy as the ashen wastes laid across before her.


    The night had conquered the sky and the egg was judging from above, resting among a sea of a thousand stars. The winds were low that day and the ashen storms but small waves of grey that wandered the dunes.


    Sir Raimond was still with her on Dustfang. He seemed lost after the battle and so she took him along. But it wasn¡¯t just for the good of her heart. But answers. By now he suspected the truth behind her mask, it was hard to deny, yet she would need to find out herself. Watching the stars above, he whispered a prayer to them. The battle was over and justice delivered. At least here. At least for now. Back home Aurellian and his order of Magisters still lingered. An enemy so distant to reach, and yet so clear in his mind. Maybe the republic would start to see the truth if he brought news from these lands. Maybe they would understand the truth behind the sorcery. Yet it was all but distant dreams. He was but a knight without a house, journeying lands unknown.


    ¡°What will..do, when done?¡± Sha¡¯Raph asked him as she guided Dustfang over the ashen lands she called home.


    He sighed and looked around. ¡°I need to find a way back.¡± He answered. It seemed so foolish but it was his duty. ¡°Across the storms and the ocean, until I see the towers of my home again.¡±


    A moment of silence crossed the desert before she broke it once more. ¡°Heard tales about¡­far west.¡± She said. Her accent was still thick with orcish grunts, yet it seemed to soften the more he spoke to her. ¡°Tales of Shamans in pointy hats. And warriors wearing silver.¡± She looked back at him and his armour. ¡°Not silver.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Not anymore. But I assure you it once carried a shine, and should I clean it, it may once more.¡±


    She answered his chuckle with a hidden smile beneath her mask and looked ahead to the grey desert again. The obsidian spires rose from the dunes. Some half buried beneath mountains of ash, others plain and open. Many of them carried the colours of a shaman. The tales of the dead, even if only in the strangest of shapes.


    Sir Raimond moved forward on Dustfang. ¡°What are these things?¡± He asked and pointed down at the spires.


    ¡°Fangs of the dead.¡± She told him. ¡°They gather ancestors ash¡­and shamans paint their stories.¡±


    His mind was reeling. This was far from the first time he had seen such spires, even though back home no one would ever dare and touch or even paint them.


    ¡°Are there more sorcerers in your lands?¡± he asked her distantly.


    She raised a hidden brow. ¡°No?¡± It was a question not an answer. ¡°Ogre Mother was not of our land..¡± She declared. ¡°And hunt king of the south.¡±


    ¡°And the Dragon?¡± He asked darkly.


    ¡°Dragon is master..¡± She said, yet there was no determination in her voice. She remembered the grandest of all the beasts below Karn¡¯Arak. Its sickness, its rot and its fear. And she remembered how it was flying away from the battle, even worse than before. Tired and broken, like a simple warrior. Seeking its end. ¡°Its¡­ill..¡± She said.


    He nodded while the horror of truth was slowly building inside him. He knew these spires were far from natural and he knew their use. Yet he could only speculate as to whom it would serve.


    While his mind spun around, Sha¡¯Raph¡¯s eyes squinted the horizon.


    There, in the far distance a campfire was seen. Two figures stood guard around it. They carried spears of chetin yet cloth of darkness. On their heads they wore masks not unlike Sha¡¯Raphs yet theirs only covered the upper half of their faces. The lower half showed their tusks in pride. Pierced and like a shaman carrying chains from it to their nose and ears. Even carvings were forced into their tusks, showing the same strange symbols as the spires.


    ¡°Here¡­¡± She whispered. There was an uneasiness in her voice and Raimond could see how she took a long heavy breath. Then she guided Dustfang down.


    The two figures at the cave entrance looked up at the grand desert Wyvern yet didn¡¯t move. With a crash and rising ash he landed.


    Quickly she jumped down and walked at the entrance. Without a word she pressed her fist against her chest.


    ¡°Watcher.¡± One of the two guards said while both answered her gesture. Behind her Sir Raimond came down from Dustfang and slowly walked close. It made the guards ready their chitin spears.


    Sha¡¯Raph shook her head. ¡°He is an ally.¡± She declared. The guards shared a look through their masks and lowered their weapons. Yet it was clear they remained tense.


    She didn¡¯t care. ¡°Where is Master Kru¡¯Gan? I need word with him.¡±


    ¡°I fear he is meditating.¡± One guard said.


    ¡°Nice word for sleeping! Ha!¡± The other answered and both laughed.


    Sir Raimond smirked. Once more he didn¡¯t need to understand their tongue to know he had been on the same duty as them before.


    Sha¡¯Raph didn¡¯t show any sign of a smile or laughter. Neither above nor below her mask. ¡°Where?¡± They stopped laughing as they heard the watchers'' words. Despite the immense size difference a hint of fear was seen around their mouths at their watcher¡¯s cold words.


    One of them composed himself before the other did. ¡°Deeper inside, I could show you. But that thing.¡± He pointed at Raimond. ¡°I will not let that take a foot into the caves.¡±


    She nodded and looked back at Raimond. ¡°I understand.¡± She responded. ¡°Then you will bring him here.¡± The guard could feel her piercing eyes even through their masks.


    He nodded and without a word went inside while the other remained. It took as long as she expected and she imagined the jests and threats Kru¡¯Gan would make while following the guard.


    Stolen story; please report.


    She used the time to go back to Dustfang and took the supplies she had gathered after the battle. They were bound around the grand beast and she had taken plenty. While she climbed around the wyvern, Raimond took the bundles she unbid and carried them to the cave entrance. He shared a look with the guard, was ready to defend himself, but the night remained calm. The bundles he brought were of leather and carried herbs and waterskins. Dried meat, pelts and weapons. Even though the Ashen nomads could survive from the few things the deep desert granted them, it was always a feast when they could get supplies pillaged from the south.


    Finally when he brought another bundle, full of pelts and weapons, the guard returned and behind him Kru¡¯Gan approached. The seer carried not the same masks as the other nomads but a blindfold and a hood. Both hung full of trinkets. Coin like metal with runes crafted on them, and obsidian stones that hung from his ears. He stopped as they arrived and Raimond looked at him. He could feel the blind man¡¯s stare and raised a brow when Kru¡¯Gan¡¯s voice finally escaped his mouth. ¡°Ahhh..¡± He nodded a few times and the smile he had when he came up vanished. ¡°So you brought us a human, my precious dagger.¡± He hissed and leaned on his staff.


    She looked down at him while unbinding another bundle on Dustfang before she jumped down herself.


    ¡°Leave us¡­¡± He whispered to the guards but was cut while she walked close. ¡°No.¡± She exclaimed. ¡°You stay right where you are!¡±


    His face became cold and she spoke further. ¡°I think I¡¯m far from the only one who wants to know answers!¡±


    The guards looked at each other with hidden but confused looks as she continued.


    ¡°Why did the sorceress know my purpose?! Why did she of all creatures of the land call me your dagger?!¡± Her words became louder and more to shouts the closer she stepped to him and the cave. ¡°And why did she know your name?!¡±


    He grunted deeply, gathering his words before he asked cold as a spider. ¡°Is she dead?¡±


    She huffed and was about to answer him when she stepped closer. The guards seemed ready to strike as they slowly grasped the gravity of the words before them.


    Raimond remained silent and ready, next to Dustfang.


    Finally Sha¡¯Raph spoke again. Her words were as cold as her old master¡¯s. ¡°Would it change your answer?¡±


    A caught smile was born on his face and he sighed. ¡°Oh my dear, you think you are the one who was betrayed..¡± He started with a grim voice that seemed to rumble through the dunes. ¡°But I assure you, I am but a man concerned for his people.¡±


    Her mind fought for words and she wanted to shout them all. Before she could find any he spoke the one command she never expected. ¡°Show us your face, Sha¡¯Raph.¡± She froze. So did the guards and even Raimond seemed tense. But Master Kru¡¯Gan continued. ¡°Show us why you are so upset.¡±


    Her anger was lost with shock. And her hands moving without her own command. Slowly she grabbed her mask and the hood and finally shed both. The guards watched in shock while Sir Raimond simply watched from behind, still unable to see.


    ¡°Come.¡± Kru¡¯Gan suddenly told the knight speaking human tongue. It showed a similar rough accent as Sha¡¯Raph yet was spoken more clearly. Slowly the knight moved forward until he stood next to her.


    Her face didn¡¯t carry a darkling¡¯s ashen grey, nor the southern green. It didn¡¯t carry tusks or burning eyes, but the same fair skin his own kind carried. Her hair was curled and clearly cut by herself. A mess of heights and lows just to have room below the hood. It was black and her face stained with dirt and ash. Her eyes carried a brownish green and darted at Master Kru¡¯Gan with continued defiance.


    ¡°Why?¡± she repeated all of her questions.


    He slowly came closer and laid his big hand on her face. He smiled. ¡°She thought you were a gift to her.¡± He started. His face, despite everything, was full of admiration. ¡°She thought you would be her last shield should one of us discover a way to use her magic.¡±


    Her eyes darted around still not grasping. As they shot back to him the ashen winds were almost frozen, and the light of the egg shone at the caves entrance. ¡°But why would you..how did I end up here?¡± Her breathing was heavy as her world shattered.


    After he had seen enough he brought his hand away from her face. ¡°It has always been our duty to care for the dead.¡± He started yet for once struggled to find his own words. ¡°You were far from the first..it was always us seers who had to take care of you..and it was always the likes of you that were meant to be watcher.¡±


    Both her own eyes as well as the guards rang in shock. They had known the watcher before her a few years ago.


    She thought for the longest moment while only the sound of the distant desert breeze went over the ashen dunes.


    Kru¡¯Gans words shifted to the human tongue and Sir Raimond again. ¡°With one of you here, I gather that finally she lies dead.¡±


    ¡°She lies rotten and eaten by vultures.¡± The knight answered with pride.


    Kru¡¯Gan ignored the pride and asked on. ¡°Did your home sent you to kill her or~¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Raimond declared. ¡°It was a trap so she could drain my lady..¡± his words trailed off and he looked over to Sha¡¯Raph. ¡°That greedy hag said she didn¡¯t have a feast in a hundred years..how can she still send children to you?¡±


    Kru¡¯Gan grunted in displeasure. ¡°Some are sent to be drained for life and beauty. Others are made by herself to be the vessel should her home stop sending them.¡± He started to form a mismatched smile. His broken tusk pierced through the edge of his hood while the metal chain on its remains reflected the moonlight. ¡°Or to be a dagger in need.¡± His blind gaze went up to embrace the egg in the sky. ¡°It seems, Sha¡¯Raph, even though you were far from the first. You might indeed be the last.¡±


    Sha¡¯Raph breathed heavily. She wasn¡¯t used to her face being seen or the need to fight tears. ¡°Was I her dagger, or yours?¡±


    He shook his head with melancholy. ¡°She lies dead and I know you will not heed my commands.¡± His blind gaze pierced right to her eyes. ¡°But you have witnessed the spell their sorcery can do, did you not?¡±


    They were talking in orcish again and all Raimond could see were the tears of the woman next to her. She nodded and Kru¡¯Gan continued. ¡°Then you know the spell our beloved Khan seeks to cast. The very power he sought and to demand reality that no orc may harm him.¡± He sighed. ¡°That is why you are so very precious, my little dagger. Why she always made sure to have one of you close to the Khans, even though you might be a danger to herself.¡± He sighed. ¡°And it is but one reason why you were so precious to me.¡±


    The longer they talked the more he seemed to grow to melancholy himself. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you be. The choice is yours now..¡± He turned and started to walk away before he spoke over his shoulder one last time. ¡°All good I ever said about you was spoken in truth¡­¡± Then he vanished into the cave and left them there.


    Once more the desert winds were the only who dared to speak.


    She was shaking. Trying to find the truth in her mind and the choice in her heart. Slowly she turned and simply continued to unpack Dustfang. Sir Raimond followed and did the same. No word was spoken until they were done. The guards just remained, one of them took the supplies and brought them in while the other continued to watch the desert.


    Once they were done she finally took word again. ¡°What will you do?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°As I told you, I will try and find a way back home..¡± She nodded, her mind distant.


    He laid a hand on her shoulder and forced her eyes to him. ¡°What about you?¡±


    She thought for a long time. Unsure what to do or how to be. There was a time when she longed for the far west but now its promise seemed less of adventure and more of truths she rather wouldn¡¯t know.


    Her gaze went up to the sky as another Wyvern flew by. Darkscale and Bruna. They didn¡¯t fly down, but only continued to fly through the night. Always to the north. To Karn¡¯Arak and Aru¡¯Gal. She knew she couldn¡¯t go away from her duty. But it would take her the night to see where it lied. Once she had dreamed of sailing the west with Aru¡¯Gal. Now, she thought, he needed to die before she could leave.

 Chapter 58: The Snake and The Beast

    The ashen plains of Karn¡¯Arak burned below the Khan. His slim snakelike wyvern dashed across them, quite close to the ground. Ash was flying up by the wind of its speed and revealed the obsidian earth below. The sky was almost empty that day. Not a single ball of fire that was born from the burning mountains crossed the sky. ¡°The Dragon is resting.¡± He thought with a smile.


    The battle wasn¡¯t part of his plan but it only aided him all the more. No more sorcerers that could steal his prey from him, no more illusions that the dragon was at even a fraction of its power. And more than anything, more sacrifices for his ascension. He was willing to sacrifice the clan if he had to. One clan for the entire north, if not their entire people, to survive, but now he had the greenskins, the ogres and the traitor.


    His smile vanished when he thought about Bruna. He knew he would not be fine with her death, never. No matter if she was a traitor or not, even if she would be a sorceress herself he would not lose the last of his family. Aru¡¯gal sighed and thought back on the Khan¡¯s of old. On Bruna¡¯s father, Ara¡¯Gash the mountain. On his heir and on all those that came before. Those that left their words deep inside Karn¡¯Arak for him to read and finally be the one to save their people.


    So many of these fools believed that their eternal war with the south was about honour. A show of strength that would make their deaths worth anything. Nothing but excuses by weaklings who couldn¡¯t bear their losses.


    Aru¡¯gal would end the wars. He would burn all of their enemies. He would make the clans grow fat and lazy because there would be so much to pillage. And finally, he thought, he would even lead them across the sea. To the lands of the far west and burn everything until they would return from the screaming mountains in the east. All enemies, distant and close, ancient and young, would burn. One final conquest to end them all.


    Before him the mountain slowly rose upwards to the volcano of Karn¡¯Arak and the ancient obsidian structure next to it. He lashed his reins at his beast and guided upward. Not simply up the mountain but into the skies and their smoke. And higher until they had crossed the smoke. Above the black clouds he watched the stars and the moon for one last time. He was so close. No mistakes were allowed anymore. For a single moment his mind went to his father. Even now, even from death, he was judging. Aru¡¯Gal shook his head. ¡°No.¡± He declared to the moon and the ancestors before he dashed down again. Through the black smoke into the eternal fires of Karn¡¯arak.


    He landed on the high plattform. And quickly saddled down. His beast, Venomclaw, hissed at him as he did. He roared back and the snake wyvern bowed her head down again. He was letting go of her and she flew into the night. There wasn¡¯t much to hunt in these lands, but she would make due. She always did.


    As she flew off he started to take his way down. Over the obsidian stairs, and through the long floor. Aside of the many wooden doors and Sha¡¯Raphs black curtain. Down further into the fires. The dragon was breathing. Sleeping once more. Its snores rumbled through Karn¡¯Arak and even its heartbeat was a distant drum in the fires below.


    Aru¡¯gal felt the rising heat with each breath that went through the old spire. Each snoring huff of sulphur that came from the grandest of all beasts lifted his long hair and scale cloak.


    His heart was drumming a faster beat. This could be the last time he ever went down the stairs. The last time he ever went to talk to the beast before its demise.


    Finally he reached the lowest part of Karn¡¯Arak¡¯s circling steps below. Without hesitation he started to walk the long obsidian bridge across its hoard.


    Once he stood at its end, he gazed through the smoke and at the beast below. Its head rested on a stone while most of its body was covered in the lava it made. If it would cool enough, if it would sleep enough, it would become stone again and the dragon would become but a statue. A distant memory. But Aru¡¯Gal would not allow it. Their kind needed a dragon, and he was ready to make it true.


    He drew his big obsidian sword from his back. The runes on it were glowing in the fires. Each of them for an element and or clan, and the last for the riders themselves. He planted it on the obsidian ground next to him. The ring of metal on stone rose through the hoard and for a moment the dragon mumbled. Something was running out of its mouth. A black blob that must have been meant to be fire. Yet still it didn¡¯t wake up.


    One more lie and the fires would be his. Aru¡¯Gal thought and shouted below. ¡°Master!¡±. The Dragon''s eyes shot open. Slowly, while the mountains shook by its movement, it rose up.


    Even when it had its head at the plattform it did not speak but only slowly breathed. Aru¡¯Gal huffed and let his sword sing through the volcano once again. Finally the dragon realised it and without any hesitation was about to breathe fire. Its throat started to glow and the heat around rose even more. It was hard to bear but Aru¡¯gal didn¡¯t move. He knew the beast was done.


    Finally it roared but where fire was meant to come out nothing but black gue left its mouth and dropped below. Finally Aru¡¯gal took a step backwards to not be hit by the blob. He looked from it and back up to the Dragon.


    ¡°Will you truly pretend to fight?¡± He asked and his voice echoed through the volcano. The fires listened and the dragon only sighed.


    ¡°Finally you show your face¡­oh greatest of Khans..¡± It said and moved back. It would be quite a jump for Aru¡¯Gal to strike it now. And even though the dragon would have a hard time to hurt him, the fires below certainly would.


    He shook his head. ¡°Did you think you were safe here?¡±


    ¡°I thought¡­it would grand me more time..to heal¡± The beast answered. Its voice still booming through the mountain, yet it was no match to the might it carried before the battle.


    Aru¡¯Gal raised a brow. ¡°What for?¡± Finally he took a step closer again. He avoided the black goo that came from its mouth and looked right into its distant gigantic eyes in the smoke. ¡°What else is there for you than to accept your end?¡±


    The Dragon breathed out. The heat from its nostrils still burned, yet even those seemed more like a breeze than a storm. It looked up and through the smoke right up where the midnight moon was meant to shine behind the smoke. Once its voice boomed through the hoard again it closed its tired eyes. ¡°Your people always were so similar to the flesh that gave you birth..¡± It seemed to smile for a second. ¡°Defiant. Angry. Furious. True heirs to the dragon of wich¡¯s rot you were born.¡± Its eyes turned down to Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°All until you¡­oh greatest and last of Khans..¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal smirked. ¡°You think I won¡¯t allow a Khan?¡±


    ¡°I think no matter what form you take you couldn¡¯t bear someone else being better at it.¡±


    The Khan¡¯s smirk vanished and the Dragon¡¯s tired eyes pierced through the smoke at him again. ¡°You are such a fool¡­¡±


    ¡°The fool that will strike you down.¡± Aru¡¯Gal exclaimed and was forming a grin again. It vanished once the dragon started laughing. The laughter became louder with the moment and was a mixture of coughs and laughs that shook the mountain while the fires below burned in its applause.


    ¡°Do you truly believe to be smarter than a beast like me?!¡± finally its voice carried its old roar again. Its head snapped forward as it spoke and Aru¡¯Gal had to move a step backwards. He readied his sword, before it roared again. ¡°Do you truly think, little Khan, that a beast like me, wouldn¡¯t prepare for the likes of you?! For sorcerers and traitors?! Hungry for power you might be but I lived longer than any beast on this world. I have witnessed the stars and the deep. I survived beasts and sorcery not even your dreams could comprehend and yet here you are thinking you could trick me!¡±


    The Dragon''s words finally caused fear to run through Aru¡¯Gals mind.


    It moved to two of its four feet and spread its wings. Showing its full might and size. Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes widened and he fell back another step.


    It returned to its four feet and had its gigantic head right above the stone bridge and Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°I know the true purpose of your mines, Khan and I am so full of gratitude. My latest subject!¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal huffed and tried to clear his mind. If it knew of the scroll and the spell, if it knew of the circles their mines were meant to be, then why did it allow all of it?


    ¡°Don¡¯t think too much, little Khan! Your people will live and serve and I will continue to be your master.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal shook his head and readied his sword, about to jump for the Dragon¡¯s throat when another voice came from the end of the hoard.


    ¡°Aru¡¯Gal!!¡± Bruna¡¯s voice echoed from the other end of the bridge. Slowly the Khan turned to see his once blood brother through the smoke. In his hand an ogres axe. His face told he was ready to use it.


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    The Dragon started to chuckle once more. Bruna ignored it and slowly stepped closer to his once brother and still Khan. ¡°You will stop!¡± Bruna shouted at Aru¡¯Gal.


    ¡°Stop..?¡± Aru¡¯Gal asked in disbelief, his mind still reeling from the dragon''s words.


    ¡°Yes, oh mighty Khan..stop..¡± The dragon mocked and laughed.


    Bruna rose an eyebrow of his own at the Dragon just before it started to spread its wings. He saw how Aru¡¯Gal was ready to strike the beast and heard his voice in his head once more ¡°beat me.¡±


    He rushed in and grabbed the smaller orcs hand, stopping him from swinging his sword at the Dragon, or rushing for it. ¡°No..!¡± Aru¡¯Gal shouted as the dragon slowly started to fly. He was about to ignore Bruna yet the son of Ara¡¯Gash held him in place.


    ¡°You will not take it!¡± Bruna declared.


    Aru¡¯Gal looked at him with rising anger. ¡°It will take all of us if we don¡¯t kill it now!¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Bruna shouted. ¡°You have spilled your lies and poison long enough!¡± He declared and forced Aru¡¯Gal to look at his burning eyes.


    ¡°Now of all times you decide to defy me?!¡± Aru¡¯Gal shouted and freed himself from Bruna¡¯s grip. Their eyes locked still and both were full of fire.


    Above the Dragon roared and Aru¡¯Gal gazed up. He heard Bruna speak but had no time. He rushed back over the bridge. The beast behind him, and the dragon above.


    He had underestimated both, but still wouldn¡¯t allow either to take his reward.


    Just before he reached the end of the hoard he heard Bruna roar and spun around. He saw the ogre axe flying for him. The Khan roared himself and deflected the axe with a swing of his own. Bruna¡¯s axe was cast away and flew down to the fires below.


    Aru¡¯Gal pointed his sword at him. ¡°Do not dare to stop me, brother!¡± His words rang of anger and desperation.


    Bruna stopped after his weapon was cast down and glared at Aru¡¯Gal from the other end of the stone bridge. ¡°You sound different.¡± He grunted deeply.


    Every fiber of Aru¡¯Gal wanted to follow the dragon but Bruna¡¯s words held him in place. He knew they rang true.


    Bruna huffed as he realised his words¡¯ effect and continued. ¡°Remember last time we were here?¡± He asked and slowly stepped closer to Aru¡¯Gal. ¡°You told us to stop you. You yourself told us to beat you if there was any doubt in your plans..¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal sighed and looked down. He shook his head before he answered. ¡°Beat me all you like. The dragon will do the same.¡±


    Bruna stopped and glanced at his once blood brother. He spoke no word but studied him.


    Aru¡¯Gal was the one to break the silence once more. ¡°Ask yourself brother¡­after all is done who will be easier to beat.¡± He pointed at himself. ¡°Me?¡± He then pointed up to the skies above Karn¡¯Arak. ¡°Or the Dragon?¡±


    Bruna huffed a few times. His eyes followed tha Khans hand upward. He knew he wasn¡¯t meant to believe Aru¡¯Gal yet his words rang just as true.


    Displeased for the lack of violence they would unleash he grunted. ¡°What will it do?¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal lowered his sword. ¡°The same that I would have.¡± He answered and remained plain and tall for his statue. ¡°It will cast the spell¡­and take the life of our Clan~¡± ¡°You would have taken the life of our clan?!¡± Bruna shouted and stepped closer again.


    Aru¡¯Gal took a step closer himself, anger carried his voice. ¡°I would have taken the prisoners as our sacrifice but who knows that what beast w~¡±


    ¡°My sister is a prisoner!¡±


    ¡°She is a traitor!¡±


    ¡°And my sister!!¡±


    ¡°I was your brother, Bruna! The brother you chose! The brother that spilled blood with you, the brother that took care of you!¡± Aru¡¯Gal shouted himself.


    By now they stood close to each other, close enough to strike if need be. ¡°What did she do?!¡±


    A thousand memories came to Bruna¡¯s mind. How she ran up the mountain, how she held his hand when his women died, how she cried when Kara was wounded, how she cried when Kara died. And finally how she told him to live.


    Aru¡¯Gal continued. ¡°She took your daughter¡­she rebelled against ME and took YOUR daughter with her!¡± Aru¡¯Gal laid a hand on Bruna¡¯s shoulder. ¡°She is the rift between us¡­she and my father were the rift through us and through our clan.¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal sought his eyes from below, similar to his sister back in the line of prisoners. ¡°I did my part, Bruna. I ended the man that called himself my father and despite the tears I would do so a thousand times again.¡±


    Bruna¡¯s eyes shot back to him. He understood what Aru¡¯Gal wanted from him yet his mind wouldn¡¯t allow him to go there. He remembered Kara¡¯s dead body. He remembered the last words they shared and the promise of a life she would never have. He shook his head and his mind went to his sister in the battle of the mesa. How beaten she was but how she continued. How she stood between him and the witch in defiance. And how her song carried his back.


    He opened his eyes. ¡°No.¡± He declared calmly.


    Without hesitation Aru¡¯Gal swung his sword down at Bruna¡¯s legs. Pain rippled from them to his mind and forced him to his knees. He saw that Aru¡¯Gal was about to strike him down and grabbed the Khans neck. As he slowly gripped him tighter he realised that Aru¡¯Gal was about to swipe his sword at his arm. He threw him away just before he did. The Khan''s sword landed close to the edge. Aru¡¯gal took his time to breath while Bruna desperately tried to stand up, despite the pain and blood from his knees. Aru¡¯Gal grabbed his sword from the edge and stood up once more. Bruna tried to get up, but fell down again and again with more and more pain. Slowly Aru¡¯gal rose before him. ¡°I will not kill you..¡± He uttered and pointed his sword down at Bruna. ¡°But I assure you this is the last time. When next we meet, no matter what form I take, you will be loyal or you will meet your daughter again.¡±


    Bruna roared at him in pain and anger on his knees. Slowly Aru¡¯Gal sheathed the obsidian sword on his back once more and looked up. Quickly he then started to rush out of the hoard and up the stairs. Leaving the beast, the man he once called a brother, behind. ¡°A traitor like the rest of them..¡± Aru¡¯Gal thought with bitterness as he rushed the long way up.


    Bruna was bleeding from his legs and stumbled forward. Aru¡¯Gal had cut the right spot. There wasn¡¯t anything to bring strength to his legs. He grunted and snarled until his voice had gathered enough strength to scream after Aru¡¯gal. ¡°COWARD!!¡± He breathed heavily. ¡°Strike me down you coward! But don¡¯t leave me here!!¡±


    Aru¡¯Gal heard Bruna¡¯s screams below. For but a moment he was to return and show him the mercy of death. But he shook his head and continued upward. Even in its wounded state the dragon was fast and he needed to stop it before it would reach the mountain. Anger grew at himself. How he didn¡¯t see the dragons own plans. How he had played right into its schemes. But he would stop it and end it all. All their slavery to dark masters, all the chains to sorcery. He would end them and he would become the eternal protector of their people. A dragon that would not just rest but lead them to conquest.


    Down in the hoard, Bruna crawled over the obsidian bridge. A line of blood followed him and he knew it would take a day if he was to go up like this.


    Finally above him a wyverns roar went down and Darkscale flew by. He smiled at her. Usually the Wyverns didn¡¯t dare the dragon''s hoard. Maybe it was its absence now, or the fact she knew her end was close, but she flew down.


    Bruna was just glad to see her. She glided down and just barely hit the bridge right next to him. He raised an arm and smiled into her eyes. ¡°Brave fool you are, dark one..¡± He grunted at her with a smile. Her own grunt seemed like a smile. After he huffed himself to strength a few times, he held onto her scales and lifted himself up to the saddle once again. Up he leaned down and petted her neck. ¡°It¡¯s a long way up..can you do it?¡±


    She glanced up the hoard and roared. Slowly she flapped her wings and started flying. Not fast and not all the way. Just enough to take a hold of the volcano¡¯s cliffs to breathe again and fly to the next. Bruna meanwhile did all his arms could to stay in the saddle. Usually a rider was using their legs to stay there. But there was no use in those. Aru¡¯Gal had managed to strike the one place that truly wore protection and still cut right where the armour was open enough. Bruna¡¯s mind was answering it in return. He saw the Khans armour before him and tried to imagine the right places to cut. If all else was deemed to fail, he would have to cut his head off. But he had to find a weapon. Yet if all failed he would rip it off.


    Darkscale came closer to the volcano''s maw atop and they could hear the distant dragons thunder through the red clouds.


    While they were reaching the top edge of the volcano and the hoard, Aru¡¯Gal was moving across the many floors of Karn¡¯Arak and aside of the many rooms once again. As he reached the outside stairs to the platform above he took his horn and blew it into the wind.


    Bruna and Darkscale could hear it below. ¡°Follow him..¡± Bruna told Darkscale. ¡°Burn him.¡± He added and Darkscale roared. She started to climb and fly aside the structure that was Karn¡¯Arak and came ever closer to the Khan. It was easier than the Volcano below and they were close.


    Aru¡¯Gal had reached the platform and looked around for his mount. He blew his horn again and watched the dragon fly for the east and the lands of their clan. He needed to stop it. Nothing and no one would take his price. He grinded his teeth when he heard a roar behind him.


    Bruna and Darkscale had reached the top. The orcs stared at each other. Aru¡¯Gal drew his sword. There was nothing to say.


    Bruna lashed the reins and both him and Darkscale roared in unison. The old Wyvern charged Aru¡¯Gal and the Khan held his blade ready.


    Bruna could see the focus in the Khan¡¯s eyes and knew he was fast. Just before Darkscale reached him he guided her sideways. Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s blade hit nothing but smoke while aside from him the old Wyvern¡¯s throat started to glow. Aru¡¯Gal¡¯s eyes widened and he answered with snarling teeth. He rushed at her his sword first. Bruna saw that he would reach her before she could breath fire and used her scales to climb further up her head until he could launch himself at the Khan below. Giving the last his legs could muster. Aru¡¯Gal couldn¡¯t believe his brother would have the strength and was buried below him. He got punched to his face that broke a tusk before Bruna grabbed him as they were laying down and held the Khan up towards Darkscale. Panic flickered in the Khan¡¯s eyes as the old wyvern opened her mouth for fire.


    Just as the first flicker of flame left her maw she was stabbed by Venomclaw¡¯s tail. The sting went right into her throat.


    The two mixed venoms, one for poison, one for fire, ignited each other and tore Darkscales'' throat open in a tiny explosion of red flame and flesh.


    Bruna looked on in horror and Aru¡¯Gal used the moment to answer with his elbow. Hitting Bruna¡¯s face behind him. He was let go off and whistled for Venomclaw as he ran towards the edge of Karn¡¯Arak. Bruna was falling to his knees and next to Darkscale once more as he watched the Khan as his Wyvern at the edge. Aru¡¯Gal jumped onto Venomclaw and they flew off for the east. Where the Dragons red clouds rose above the mountains and red lightning struck through.


    Bruna sighed as he looked down to Darkscale next to him. She still tried to breath yet half her throat was missing and blood ran out. He laid a hand on her head and she sighed. Calm in the end, facing her last moment. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± he whispered just before she stopped breathing. He was alone. He couldn¡¯t move. He lost.

 Chapter 59: Pride and Chains

    The Ogre¡¯s skin wasn¡¯t used to the sun anymore. Too long had they lived in the shadows of sorcery. Be it in their home of Krognar or the clouds of their casters in distant lands of battle.


    Like the rest of his people, Third-Fist had felt the burning sun on his skin. When they walked chained through the long Savannah, he felt the burns. But unlike the rest, he smiled. Despite the chains, despite the burns and despite what should be the greatest loss, he smiled. Their mother was dead. Ripped apart by his own hands. She was gone and they were free. Despite the chains, despite whatever the Khan had planned for them, they were finally free. For the chains wouldn¡¯t last. Even if they would end up as nothing but sacrifices to the Khan¡¯s dark ritual, at least finally they were allowed to die.


    Too long has it been, since he felt such joy. Once they were a menace in the savannah, riders of the grandest lions that came across the sea to raid and pillage. Even those few of them that became part of Karn¡¯Arak sought beasts that wore wings and manes of pride instead of leather. They were the pride, no matter how far they would fly or ride or sail. They were one pride of lions that would show the world their teeth. Conquerors of the highest honour. But now that all was lost over the many centuries, he was only glad that they were finally allowed to die.


    As they were forced to walk through the hot savannah sun the old memories flooded Third-Fist¡¯s mind. When he was not deformed into an ogre but still an orc. When the hot wind was running through his hair and when he roared in unison with his mount. Days of glory they were. He was glad that they could see the savannah sun one last time, even should those days never return. There was comfort in the end. No matter what it would hold.


    He had made sure that he was chained close to what must have been their leaders. The shaman, the chieftain and a few others. One of them a druid, another a warrior with but one arm. Her wound there seemed fresh enough to be recent but far enough that he knew it wasn¡¯t caused in their battle. During their marsh over the day he had gazed at the wildlife around them. Disturbed by the distant fire, yet all in their natural beauty given by the land, not forced by sorcery. He saw the birds and the vultures that eagerly followed the scent of blood in the mesa. He felt the warm wind and the dusty sand wash over his rotting skin, and no matter if it was his mind or his ears he could even hear a pride of lions beyond the horizon.


    Yet when night was falling they were chained together, he started to watch the other prisoners. Not his own people. Fools they were. Still in shock of their mothers death, still lost in nothing but sorrow. Instead he watched the orcish leaders. The grand chieftain of the mesa. A man who wore a rhino''s head as a cowl, and even after the battle still took pride in carrying the heavy thing. Third-Fist almost had to chuckle when he saw how much he struggled to continue but composed himself. He was not in search of a fight, but for allies and they had just murdered each other''s people not even a day ago.


    While the sun was setting he listened how the shaman talked to two of the riders. One seemingly her brother, the other a leader of the riders around. He could hear that there was anger towards their Khan and he knew well if there was any promise an orc would like, it was to unleash their fury.


    A rider hammered an ironspike into the earth. Their chains and ropes were all bound to it. Around them a similar thing happened until the endless line of prisoners was broken into bundles of few. It would be easy to escape if they wanted to, Third-Fist thought, and he doubted the riders didn¡¯t know. Either they thought their tiredness after battle would last long enough, or they were but fools.


    He was sitting across the chieftain, the spike between them. Many around them were too uneasy to sleep yet their eyes were forced to shut by their tired bodies. But not that chieftain. Even though his eyes were so very eager to sleep, he stared across the spike and at Third-Fist.


    The warlord grinned. ¡°You should find rest while you can.¡±


    Thick-Skin huffed deeply and angrily while the others, the boar, the wolves, and the shaman, were just staring at him too. The one armed wolf woman was close to sink into the boar¡¯s shoulders as he had his arm around her. Her body was as tired as her eyes.


    Thick-Skin shook his head. ¡°How could I rest when my people are in chains?¡±


    Third-Fist made a bitter smile and looked away for a second. He watched the stars and the egg above before he nodded a few times. ¡°I know that feeling well.¡±


    ¡°How would you?!¡± Thick-Skin yelled over to him.


    Rika opened her eyes again for a moment and barked at them both. ¡°Shut it.¡± She then leaned back again. Partly into big wolves Branak¡¯s back, and partly into Kazzok¡¯s arm.


    The chieftain glanced at her for a second before he stared back at Third-Fist.


    It was the warlord who broke the silence again. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept for hundreds of years and I tell you that I might never again.¡±


    ¡°Why would I care?!¡± Thick-Skin shouted back, yet indeed more quietly than before.


    Third-Fist couldn¡¯t reply a thing. There was no answer.


    Before either of them spoke, the shaman took word. ¡°Do you know the kind of sorcery they are all after?¡± Her words were cold yet her eyes burned as they studied his face.


    ¡°Ascension¡­¡± He replied and studied her for quite a while. Then he continued. ¡°I think you know enough to reason that it should not be allowed to happen.¡±


    Slowly she nodded. ¡°Will you?¡± she asked, just as cold.


    He was taken back by her words and raised a brow. It took a moment before he finally smiled. ¡°You see much¡­¡± He grunted darkly.


    She was not smiling at his remarks but continued her play. ¡°Your mother chained you for centuries. Do you think our Khan will do anything else?¡±


    Third-Fist folded his arms before him and gazed up at the cloudless night. After a moment he answered. ¡°Your Khan is no human without faith. But an orc that seeks to conquer.¡±


    Her eyes grew even angrier and Thick-Skin shook his head on the other side. ¡°What else do you expect from an abomination like him?¡± He asked the winds. Finally words that hit Third-Fist. His composure was falling and his eyes grew angry before he looked back at Mara. ¡°If you are lucky he may act like a dragon. He may conquer and rule for a while until he gets fat and tired.¡± He sighed. ¡°Or..he seeks to be more. He seeks to alter not only the land but your people as well. Not to strengthen them as much as he would like to tell you, but to be better and more foolish slaves that will serve him until the end of time when finally he is ripped apart by his own abominations!¡± The warlord grunted and stared back at Thick-Skin.


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    The chieftain showed a hint of a grin. ¡°It was such a brutal sight.¡±


    The warlord started to grin back. ¡°She would have deserved even worse and I would have given anything to bathe in the rain of her blood.¡±


    For a moment the two grinned at each other until slowly Thick-Skin''s eyes finally were forced shut. He fell forward. His Rhino cowl fell off his head and he started to sleep.


    Third-Fist looked over to Mara. His voice became lower and he leaned in closer. ¡°Do you have any plan but to be chained back to your home?¡±


    She simply continued to look at him with cold eyes before he spoke yet again. ¡°You may have trust in your brother but even should he defeat your Khan, what do you think your people will do to the rest of us?¡±


    Her cold wall started to falter as doubt crept into her eyes.


    Still he simply continued. ¡°You are enemies. Even if you might have earned the trust from some of these greenskins, they are still the enemy to most of your people.¡±


    She was about to answer but his words wouldn¡¯t stop. ¡°Look at the riders and tell me you see any chance that they would let go of anyone here only because their Khan is dead.¡±


    His eyes went up where a wyvern was crossing the skies. They were scouting for food. ¡°I can tell that some would even take the chance of glory and use the lot of us as a display of power. Hungry to rule just like the man they so desperately want dead.¡±


    She huffed and looked from him and around the many different spikes and groups of prisoners. Finally he added. ¡°Your Khan might be vicious, he might be a snake after all I heard, but do not believe that he is the only one. Among lions, snakes can hide the best and even the grandest of beasts can fall to poison.¡±


    She thought for a while longer and her breathing became heavy. Finally she looked back at him. ¡°If we would have continued to fight they would have burned us all..¡± She defended herself.


    He continued to stare and cut her words. ¡°And in the morrow they will have regained their strength and even more of their fury.¡± She glanced at him and knew he spoke the truth. Yet he continued. ¡°And there will be blood.¡±


    Desperation was caught in her eyes and she shook her head. Trying to shake the truth away. ¡°Then what am I to do?¡± She asked him of all people. Her eyes were far more of a plea than she would have liked. ¡°These are my people..my clan. I know so many of these riders and I will know even more once we are home.¡± She looked at Kazzok, Rika and Branak. All of them were sleeping now. Folded into each other, around arms and pelts. She smiled with melancholy. ¡°But I can¡¯t just abandon them either. They have aided me so much and I can¡¯t¡­¡± Her words trailed off. She looked away and into the distant night of the savannah. Beyond the horizon it was still burning. Who knew if it would ever stop.


    Third-Fist followed her gaze to the sleeping Greenskins and then to the fire. ¡°It is often those that care the most that are cursed with the greatest pain.¡±


    She chuckled at his words and looked back over to him. ¡°A calming thought..¡± She replied.


    He smiled back. ¡°Hence why I tell it myself so often.¡±


    His mind went back to the atrocities they committed on their way to the Mesa. To the fire and slaughter they had left behind and his eyes went to Thick-Skin. For the first time since his self declared mothers death he thought about the future. ¡°There will be more..¡± He said distantly and gained a raised brow from Mara.


    Slowly he shook his head. ¡°There will be so many more¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    For but a second longer he gazed into the dark before he looked back at her. His mind was struggling for words. When a distant Wyvern was roaring above, he found them. ¡°Her home..my moth~ the sorceress¡¯ home.¡± He knew their politics after centuries of service yet he struggled to make them simple. ¡°There will be more like her, and sooner or later they will try to chain us all. She was among the shunned because she needed centuries to get other clans, but that will be all the more reason for them to send another..¡±


    ¡°Another sorcerer?¡± Her mind was struggling to get to his words, as it still lingered on their current chains.


    He nodded. ¡°You want to know why I am here with you? Why I didn¡¯t send my people at all your tasty throats after her death?¡± His eyes were a strange cold fury. ¡°Because once they come, once the far west knows what happened to her, they will abandon the wait. The only thing that held them back was the hope that one day she would finally do it, but she failed. Now they will send more, and plenty. If the clans don¡¯t stand together in the next years then they will all be crushed by the might of the west.¡±


    She remained silent. ¡°Why..why do you tell me?¡±


    ¡°You are a shaman.¡± He replied. ¡°You might be young, but it is you who are to fold words into meaning, and meaning into song.¡±


    She struggled to look at him. For a few moments after the battle she had felt a weight be lifted off her, but now there was even more.


    ¡°And you are already on your way. The greenskins saw that you, a Darkling, defended them against the sorcery. My people, saw that thanks to you that sorcery is so much weaker than a shamans true elemental song..¡± His eyes were staring with intent. ¡°Only question that remains is your own people¡­and even if my ears are rotting my eyes can see that not every rider is willing to give their lives for the Khan, no matter if snake or lion.¡± Just then a wyvern crawled on a small mesa nearby and gazed over the prisoners. It didn¡¯t bother him and he whispered. ¡°But you can¡¯t wait only for your brother to take victory. You must carve one for yourself. For all of us or they will do so themselves and unleash all their fury at each other.¡± He huffed and saw nothing but the growing fire in her eyes as he continued. ¡°Times are changing shaman. There will always be blood in our lands but it is on us to make sure few of it is spilled with each other. You must find a way.¡±


    ¡°We all do.¡± She answered darkly. Something inside her was stirring at his words and she answered the call. ¡°Words will never be enough. You might have forgotten who we are, but strength and fury is the clan''s language and I am not a woman of either.¡±


    He was simply waiting, for he saw that there was more to be said.


    Finally she continued. ¡°But I know that words can guide fury. They only need to answer their pride.¡± She sighed and looked up at the distant egg in the sky. ¡°There will be a slaughter~¡± She started and he answered. ¡°There always will be among our people.¡±


    She continued without taking her eyes off the moon. ¡°But if we can guide it at his most loyal riders¡­then there might be a chance.¡±


    ¡°Promise them slaughter, promise them vengeance. If there is anything an orc will answer, it is the drums of fury in their burning heart.¡± Third-Fist added and she nodded. She seemed determined yet in doubt. ¡°Still I must trust my Brother and take his victory¡­or it will all be for naught. They won¡¯t abandon Aru¡¯gal. Despite their hatred. Some fear him, many feel like they owe him a debt. He saved lifes, plenty of them yet his words remain poison.¡± She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°But he will die.¡± She told herself and then looked over to him. ¡°He will die.¡± She repeated in trust to her brother and turned her back to him. She needed to rest and like many of them her eyes were shut by her body soon enough.


    Sleepless like the other Ogre¡¯s Third-Fist remained awake. He looked over to another spike where one of his centurions was chained with a few others. They looked at each other for a long moment until Third-Fist held his hand horizontal above his belly. Then he made a fist. A sign to wait for orders. The centurion nodded and looked on sternly. Yet like many other ogre¡¯s their eyes rested on the cloudless night. The many stars and the egg¡¯s silver shine. It had been so long since they saw it. And here it was in all its beauty. For the first time in so long there was hope. It was slim but there was hope. Either for a great victory for orckind, or for one final death and an endless rest under the stars.