ã€ŠFire in the Desert - An Orc&#x27;s Questã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Vision

    A black shape looms between sand and sky, occluding the stars. A great pyramid of purest darkness, drinking in the light from the heavens and the earth. Its obsidian faces seem to know no end, its height immeasurable by any rule. The observer had some vague memory of traveling here, over miles of desert, facing strange beasts and stranger peoples, but it seems inconsequential compared to the majesty of the edifice towering in front of him. The red sands seem to rise up around its base, concealing an even greater bulk beneath the shifting earth. Suddenly the sky turns red, matching the colour of the endless sand sea, and for an instant the pyramid is illuminated against a backdrop. Thousands of glistening black steps lay before him, and he began to ascend. Up and up he went, his legs lifting and falling as he trudged upwards towards the summit of this artificial mountain. Suddenly there¡¯s a flash of light, and the world turned to fire, and then darkness...

    Koruk awoke with a jolt, his eyes opening to look at a bright blue sky. The red orb of the sun was high in the sky.

    He rose from his bed of dry grass and rubbed his face with huge hamlike hands. What a dream, he thought to himself. Although he¡¯d been sleeping the better part of the day, he felt as tired as if he hadn¡¯t rested at all, and a dull ache throbbed in the back of his skull.

    Bringing himself to his feet, he half walked half stumbled his way over to the river¡¯s edge, and scooped up great handfuls of water to splash his face and wash the fatigue away. Rubbing the water out of his eyes, he opened them, and gazed down into the water.

    A familiar face stared back at him. It had a thick, jutting jaw with two large white tusks that curved up towards a wide, squashed looking nose. Between a heavy brow and high cheekbones were two small, tired looking brown eyes. Wide, pointed ears stuck out sideways from a headful of tousled black hair. And most distinctive of all, was his mottled green and brown skin, which identified him as a member of the White Moon tribe. It was the face of an orc. The rugged face of a creature built in every way to live a hard life in a hard land. His face.

    Feeling more awake after the bracingly cold water, Koruk looked around his little camp, and spotted his fish trap set up in the river. A fish¡¯s tail splashed out of the water, and Koruk¡¯s face split into a wide smile. Forgetting his dream and shaking off his mental fog, he bounded over to the trap, a simple ring of stones in the water with a basket set up between them to catch passing fish. Today four fish had made their way into the enclosure, including one fair sized one. He snatched the basket up out of the water along with the fish. Moktark would be happy. This would be a good meal for both of them, and he knew his friend would be hungry after a hard day of training.

    Slinging the basket onto the ground back at camp, the orc selected a knife, a good flint blade he had knapped a week ago, and got to work gutting them, tossing the entrails into the water. He ran his thick green finger down the spine to to remove the last of the blood, rinsed them off, and returned them to the basket, tossing the rest of his tools in with them. Hoisting the basket up onto his shoulder, he started the short walk up the hill and back to the village.

    Wit¡¯thod village was a humble place. Never the biggest or strongest orcish hold, it was nevertheless ringed by a sturdy stake wall, with several watchtowers visible behind, standing vigil for enemies. As Koruk came up to the open gates, he waved to a warrior standing watch.

    The young warrior leaned in as he passed by.

    ¡°Hey, any luck, Koruk?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get any ideas Runerg, you¡¯ll have to catch your own meal!¡± Koruk said, laughing jovially in a deep, resonant voice.

    Runerg made an exaggerated sad face, but didn¡¯t press the matter, and waved him through.

    The village itself was a tightly packed affair. Times had been good recently, and the narrow streets were crowded with many new huts and other buildings as the village expanded within the confines of the walls. Woven banners waved over dozens of red painted roofs, proclaiming the might of the White Moons, and Koruk noticed many children running through the streets chasing scruffcats and playing games of make believe with sticks. As he reached the centre of the village, his nose wrinkled a bit, as he caught a whiff of the pigpens where the animals were taken in overnight. Moktark would be there, he figured, taking advantage of the open space to practice.

    Koruk soon found his friend, taking swings at a wooden dummy with a club. Moktark was an accomplished warrior, several years older than him, but he still came here every day to keep his skills sharp and his body in shape. The White Moons had been at relative peace with their neighbours for many years now, barring the odd border skirmish or pig raid, but he always said it was important to be ready for the day that wasn¡¯t true. The tribes lived under constant tension, competing for limited resources and space, and the laws and the wisdom of the great council were not always enough to keep the peace.

    Sweat beaded on the big orc¡¯s mottled skin as he trained. He was about half a head taller than Koruk, his bulging muscles taut with exertion. His thick, jutting jaw was framed by a short chinstrap beard, and his long black hair was done up in a braid behind his head.

    Koruk watched his friend in silence for awhile, as the larger orc bashed away at the dummy, occasionally making a feint or lashing out with a kick. Moktark seemed genuinely happy here, and every blow he struck seemed to improve his mood.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Eventually he stopped pummelling the battered target, and stood panting with his hands on his knees, completely out of breath. Wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his hand, he noticed Koruk watching him, and waved a breathless greeting. Koruk held up the basket of fish, a shit eating grin on his face, and they both laughed together.

    Deciding not to eat near the pigpens, the pair went to Moktark¡¯s hut to enjoy their meal. Like most orcish dwellings it was a simple, round structure, built of stone, mud, and roofed with crudely split wooden shingles. The roof was painted ochre red, and the door was daubed with jagged yellow runes: part of some superstition Moktark subscribed to about ghosts and ghouls. Koruk had asked once, and Moktark had told him:

    ¡°With these, I fear no living foe!¡± Moktark had boasted, flexing his huge arms. ¡°But how do you defend against a spirit? How do you strike at it? Even if your axe rips apart its body, how do you kill the dead? He will come back and laugh at you! That is what the magic is for little brother. I don¡¯t want to deal with these things.¡±

    Koruk had doubts ghosts were even real, but Moktark seemed to have none, and his big friend seemed happy with that arrangement. He had gotten the Bone Mother to make the runes herself, and trusted that he was suitably protected against any spooky night terrors that might come to bother him.

    The inside of his hut was comfortable, and suited a bachelor. A hammock was strung between two thick posts in the wall, hanging near a still smouldering firepit in the centre of the dwelling. Trophies of all sorts lined the walls and racks of shelves set up on one side of the room, showing off the warrior¡¯s victories. The skulls of dire wolves and crag lions hung beside broken shields and axes, and the shelves displayed a wide assortment of strange trinkets and treasures taken during raids. Anything particularly valuable Moktark had traded away, but he kept these things out of sentimentality, as did most warriors in the village. Baskets and sacks of dried meat and vegetables were piled randomly throughout the room as well, and Moktark brought out a big clay pot from under his hammock as Koruk proudly displayed the fish he had caught.

    As Moktark rekindled the fire, Koruk got to work on dinner. He impaled three of the fish, including the big one, on sticks, and stabbed them into the sand around the fire for safekeeping. The last fish he began to cut up, slicing carefully through the back and against the ribs, until he had removed most of the meat into two nice fillets. These he chopped into bite sized chunks, and threw into the pot, along with some fresh-ish tubers and herbs. He poured water on top from an amphora, and set it to boil on the fire. As the food cooked and the fire burned down, the two friends got to talking.

    ¡°You should come with me on the next raid little brother! Me and some of the boys were planning on hitting the Beast Tamers again. Their pigs are fat, and their warriors are flighty. It will be a good fight.¡± Moktark said, pulling one of the fish-sticks out of the sand and holding it over the coals. The sun was going down, and the fire cast their faces in dark shadows as they cooked.

    Koruk smiled at the term ¡°little brother¡±. In truth, he and Moktark had no relation at all that he knew of, but ever since they were children, the older orc had treated him like a little brother. They were always going off on adventures to steal this or hunt that. Koruk wasn¡¯t surprised at all that Moktark had taken the warrior¡¯s path. He was a natural fighter and leader.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not much for fighting.¡± Koruk said, looking down at his feet. ¡°I¡¯m not even half as big as you are, and it¡¯s all I can do to wrangle a few fish.¡±

    ¡°For which I am grateful. Here.¡± Moktark said, handing Koruk the larger fish. It was perfectly cooked, its golden skin flaking off and revealing succulent white flesh. ¡°You need to eat big to get big! You don¡¯t eat enough.¡±

    Koruk accepted the fish, and dug in. It was tasty. He preferred pork, but fish was easier to catch. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned.

    ¡°You eat enough for ten of us! If I ate as much as you do the whole village would starve.¡±

    They both polished off the roasted fish. The soup was bubbling in the pot, and smelled delicious. Moktark rummaged around in the heaps of stuff near his bed, and eventually produced two clay bowls. Holding the soup pot between two sticks, he poured an equal measure of soup into both.

    As they waited for the soup to cool, Moktark continued his spiel.

    ¡°You could handle it I think. The Beast Tamers are weak, and we haven¡¯t hit them for awhile so they¡¯ll be lazy. You know, I¡¯ve never seen an orc as scrawny as a ¡®tamer. You and me, we would tower over them like crag lions over rabbits! We could take their pigs and their gold and their women, and live like kings of old Orc¡¯gar!¡± The warrior said, spreading his arms wide, casting a fierce shadow over the wall of the hut. He calmed down a bit, and looked a little embarrassed. ¡°Well, think about it anyways. We could always use a good reliable set of hands, even if you don¡¯t want to do any fighting. The others will accept you. I will personally vouch for you.¡±

    It seemed like they had this conversation every day. Moktark meant well, Koruk knew. However, he had doubts that the other warriors would accept him, even if he wanted to go. He was unbloodied, unscarred, and in their eyes unfit to be a warrior. He was sickly as a child, and the Bone Mother had kept him alive with medicines and sorceries. There were whispers among that he was touched by spirits, who had sustained him. Even if they ignored their superstitions, the other warriors generally thought of him as a potential liability on a raid, and although they were polite around him to avoid offending Moktark, Koruk knew he would never really be one of them no matter how hard he tried.

    So, after reaching adulthood, Koruk had not engaged in the traditional activity of young orcish men, and spent his time fishing and hunting instead, bringing back food for himself and often the rest of the village, if he was especially successful. It was a good, lazy life, and Koruk didn¡¯t mind it. Most days he got to lay in the sun and relax, and the fish caught themselves.

    Koruk and Moktark sat in silence for awhile, watching the embers of the fire dance hypnotically before them. It cast a red glow throughout the hut that reminded Koruk of the dream. After some hesitation, he decided to bring it up.

    He described in detail the pyramid, the red sky, the red sands. Moktark sat silently and listened, gazing at nothing, as he took it in.

    When the story was concluded, the big orc got up and rummaged through his pile again, bringing out another hammock.

    ¡°Sleep here tonight little brother. The house is warded, and you won¡¯t be haunted by spirits.¡± He said, making a strange hand gesture. Koruk sighed, but decided to acquiesce. He didn¡¯t really feel like sleeping in his bare hut anyways.

 Chapter 2: The Visitor

    The next afternoon, Koruk found himself deep in thought. Too restless to fish, he walked down a familiar trail in the hills surrounding the village, occasionally whacking plants with a stick.

    Maybe I should go with Moktark he thought. It was a thought that hadn¡¯t left his mind since last night. But like always, doubts plagued him. How many times has he done this? How many times has he allowed himself to be burdened by these doubts? He cursed himself for his weakness. He wished he was as strong as his friend.

    A flash of movement in the bushes next to him startled him back to reality. Quickly adjusting his grip, Koruk flung the stick into the bushes. A loud CRACK was followed by a brief flailing of limbs, and a rabbit lay dead. Well, at least this wasn¡¯t a complete waste of time.

    As Koruk skinned the rabbit, the same thoughts ran through his head as did a hundred times. Not every orc in the tribe was a warrior. In the raiding season, someone had to stay behind and tend the pigs, and provide food for the womanfolk. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for she-orcs to take up arms or hunt with the men, but generally they stayed home and preformed the menial labour which kept the village running and put clothes on everyone¡¯s backs, which meant some men were needed to feed them.

    Perhaps he should be satisfied with his lot in life. It¡¯s not like he¡¯s a burden on the village, he thought. He carried his own weight, and then some. And in these times of peace, the warriors found themselves bored, which is mostly why they went on these raids. But still, perhaps it wouldn¡¯t hurt to ask¡­

    Koruk¡¯s train of thought was cut short, as he noticed something in the sky above him. There was a bright light, like a shooting star, soaring through the sky overhead. Koruk squinted his eyes to look at it through the bright sunlight. That was no shooting star, it was a fireball. And it was coming right for him.

    As the fireball roared overhead, the sonic boom knocked Koruk onto his rear.

    They say your last words are seldom flattering. In Koruk¡¯s case, they would have been something like ¡°Holy shit, pig shit!¡± Luckily for him though, the falling star continued on to the north, disappearing over the hills towards the ocean.

    Still carrying the dead rabbit in his hand, Koruk ran up the hill to its summit, and scanned the horizon for any sign of it. In the distance to the north, he thought he could see the faintest sign of smoke. Yes, there was definitely a pillar of smoke starting to rise up into the sky.

    Excitement gripped the orc. He had no idea what he had just witnessed. It seemed as though the gods themselves had smote the earth with their fury, and he had lived to tell the tale. He had to get back to the village. He had to tell Moktark.

    Breathlessly he ran, and ran, and ran down that familiar trail. His rucksack rattled behind him. The rabbit, still clutched in a thick green paw, swung around like a pi?ata. Leather shoes impacted earth in an endless rhythm. After half an hour, he sighted the walls of the village and the smoke rising from a hundred fires.

    Runerg the gate guard couldn¡¯t get a word in as Koruk bounded past him. Into the narrow streets he ran past bewildered looking women and children, until he arrived at the pigpens at the centre of the village.

    Moktark looked down at this friend in alarm as Koruk tried to stammer out words.

    ¡°The beach¡­ the fire¡­ came down¡­ haaah, haah¡±

    ¡°Whoh little brother, calm down.¡± Moktark said, and led his friend to the fence.

    Koruk leaned against the fence, panting, sweat dripping from his chin. He coughed and spit onto the ground. He grinned and looked up at his friend.

    ¡°I was, hunting.¡± He said, waving the skinned rabbit he was still holding. ¡°Up on the hill, above town. There was¡­ this light. A fire, it came down, like, BOOM!¡± Koruk gesticulated with the rabbit, failing it above his head. Moktark nodded, trying to take it in.

    ¡°Slow down, what went boom? I don¡¯t understand what you say little brother.¡±

    ¡°I was hunting up in the hills, north of the village. I saw this, this light. It came down from the sky, like a ball of fire! It screamed at me and flew overhead, and then it landed up near the beach to the north.¡±

    ¡°It screamed at you? Was it alive?¡± Moktark said.

    ¡°I guess it must have been yeah. I¡¯ve never heard a scream like that. It was like¡­ I don¡¯t know. A big burning bird I guess. It started a fire up by the beach, there¡¯s smoke.¡± Koruk said.

    Moktark leaned back against the fence and looked up at the sky, a thoughtful expression on his face. He silently mouthed the word ¡°dragon¡± to himself, and his eyes gained a mischievous sparkle.

    ¡°We need to inform the elders.¡± Koruk said, turning to leave.

    ¡°No, wait.¡± Said Moktark, rubbing his chin. ¡°Let¡¯s go check it out, you and me.¡±

    Koruk was dumbstruck. ¡°What? Are you crazy?¡±

    ¡°No think about it.¡± Moktark said, pushing off from the fence and turning towards the younger orc. ¡°Whatever it was, you saw it first. You get first dibs on it. Don¡¯t hurry to give that away.¡±

    ¡°As for me, well.¡± Moktark said, grinning broadly and thumping his chest, ¡°If it¡¯s a dragon or a monster, you and me together should be able to take it down!¡±

    Koruk looked at his friend, who was grinning like an idiot. He¡¯s insane, he thought to himself.

    But he¡¯s right.

    If it is something valuable, and he laid claim to it, it would bring him a lot of respect from the village. Even the other warriors wouldn¡¯t look down on him anymore. He felt his heart beat in his chest. There seemed to be a lump in his belly.

    He looked at Moktark, and nodded. Moktark clapped him roughly on the shoulder and smiled even wider.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get ready.¡±

    Koruk hoped it wasn¡¯t actually a dragon.

    Back at Moktark¡¯s hut, the pair assembled their gear. Moktark grabbed a leather covered shield and a big flint axe, and Koruk selected a stiff bow and a quiver of arrows. Koruk strung it and gave it a few test pulls. A warbow was heavier than he was used to using for hunting, but he had no trouble drawing it back.

    They decided to pack light, forgoing any armour and taking only two rucksacks with a couple days supply of food, two skins of water, and some basic tools. It was late in the afternoon, and they wanted to make quick time, so to not alert the other tribesmen that something was up.

    The two explained to the gate guard, an ancient, geriatric orc who looked like he was ready to go to bed, that they were going hunting for rockheads in the hills. He shrugged, uncaring, and seemed to doze off. Then they set off on their quest.

    They hiked north, moving at a steady pace over the rolling hills covered with tall brown grass. Lazy herders waved at them as they traveled, and they passed pigs snuffling around for roots. Soon the sun set, and the twin moons shone bright in the sky, the larger appearing to devour the other in its ¡°mouth¡±. They were bright enough that they were able to keep up mostly the same pace, and after a few hours of travel, they spotted the smoke cast against the night sky.

    As they approached the beach the terrain began to change. Dry grass grew greener, and huge leafy palm trees began to populate the landscape, the moonlight dancing off their leaves eerily. They could both smell the acrid smoke now, and followed their noses more than their eyes.

    The trees grew denser, and they found themselves having to cut their way through a thick tangle of vegetation with axe and knife. Eventually, after much stumbling and hacking, the jungle opened up into a clearing.

    A great circle of charred ground opened up before them. The still smouldering trees had been toppled over, and lie radially outwards from a strange object protruding from the ground in the centre. The two orcs stalked closer to it, weapons drawn. Koruk¡¯s heart pounded, and he nocked an arrow in his bow. Whatever this was had him on edge, and his sense of wrongness was pounding in his head.

    The object was hut-sized, white, smooth, and oblong, streaked with black scorch marks along the bottom where it had buried itself into the sandy ground. It was covered in strange runes that Koruk had never seen the like of before. He reached out to touch it, and recoiled. It was hot to the touch. Was this the fireball he had seen? Looking around at the ring of scorched trees, there could be no doubt.

    ¡°What the hell is it?¡± Moktark said. He had taken the words out of Koruk¡¯s head.

    ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    Moktark gave it an exploratory bonk with the flat of his axe, and the smooth hull of the contraption rung briefly. He raised his brow and grunted.

    ¡°Different than how I imagined a dragon.¡±

    They walked around the perimeter of it, taking care to avoid the hotter patches of ground. In parts, the paint had been scoured away, to reveal a shining silvery metal surface underneath. On the half buried end, there was a mess of tubes, pipes, and mechanisms feeding into three funnels. The sand around these had fused into glass, which glimmered in strange colours. Finding no openings, they decided to try climbing on top of it. Moktark hoisted Koruk up, and the smaller orc scampered onto the still hot surface of the thing, his feet sliding as they tried to find purchase. He tentatively stood up, holding his arms out for balance.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The top of the ¡°dragon¡± was nearly as featureless as the sides, with one exception. Further up, there was a rectangular, door shaped indent in its surface, with a small glass porthole. Koruk carefully eased his way up towards it, sliding his feet along and trying not to slip. Thankfully, around the indent were some handholds, which he grabbed onto just as he started to feel his feet slip.

    The window was fogged, and he couldn¡¯t see much beyond it. Nor could he see any obvious way of opening it. Koruk took a moment to marvel at this thing they had found. It was like nothing else in the world he had ever seen, or even heard about.

    ¡°What¡¯s up there little brother?¡± Moktark called from below.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s some kind of door, maybe. There¡¯s a hole but I can¡¯t see inside.¡±

    ¡°A door? Here I was thinking this was a dragon egg. The shape seems right. Well, try to open it!¡±

    Koruk had no idea where to even begin doing that. He ran his thick fingers along the seam of the doorway. The door, if a door it was, was fitted tighter than anything he had ever seen, aligning so perfectly to its frame that there didn¡¯t seem to be any gap between the two. There was a strange circular dial near the middle of the door. He was about to try turning it when he heard a loud banging below him, and the hull started to vibrate. He had to grab hold of the handhold to avoid sliding off.

    ¡°What are you doing down there Moktark? I almost fell!¡±

    ¡°Thought I¡¯d try breaking through the shell with my axe! Didn¡¯t even scratch it though. This is something else. You know little brother, there¡¯s enough silver here to be a king. A king of kings.¡±

    Koruk hadn¡¯t even thought of that. He was so caught up with the strangeness of this fallen object that he hadn¡¯t considered that it did indeed appear to be made of solid silver. He doubted this much silver had been mined in all the world. It sure beat the tiny ornaments the soot shamans would cast for sheer impressiveness.

    Restraining his imagination, he went back to the door. The dial seems to have three segments, and he was able to fit his fingers in between them. He rotated it, and it moved. He heard a hiss and a loud pop, and nearly fell as he reflexively jumped back. Trying the dial again, he found that the door was loose, and he managed to lift it off with some effort. It slid down and hit the ground with a loud clunk.

    ¡°I think I got it!¡± He called down.

    ¡°No kidding. Help me up!¡±

    Koruk helped hoist Moktark up, and both of them looked down into the now open doorway.

    A strange thrumming and crackling sound reverberated through the small room, which was lit by harsh red lights. Glowing slates of glass were embedded into a desk, making a noise like a swarm of mosquitoes. It looked as though tiny insects were beating against the light from inside the slate, in a pattern that made Koruk¡¯s head hurt to look at. Panels had fallen off the walls in places, revealing strange devices and nests of tubes and black ropes that shone in the light. In the centre of all this chaos, was a chair, and in that chair, was a creature unlike he had ever seen.

    It seemed to be wearing some sort of bulky cloth armour, coloured in a vibrant blue. Its head was crowned by a helmet of gold and silver, which was open at the front revealing its strange, alien face.

    Its delicate looking face was flat, its skin a pale white. Its small mouth lacked any tusks or fangs, and its chin lacked any hair. It seemed to be unconscious.

    Koruk motioned for Moktark to help him lift the figure out of the chair. Cutting the straps that were tying him down, they easily lifted him free from the strange craft, and working together, got him down onto the ground outside. A quick examination revealed that one of the alien¡¯s arms was laying at a weird angle, that Koruk figured probably wasn¡¯t natural.

    ¡°He¡¯s still breathing.¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°Is he suppose to breathe? He looks like a corpse. What is this thing he¡¯s wearing? It looks like...¡± Moktark began, but then just shrugged, lost for words.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Help me tie him to a travois. I think we should bring him back with us to the village.¡±

    Moktark nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see any harm. He doesn¡¯t look too dangerous. I think I saw some rope inside the egg, you fetch it and I¡¯ll cut some poles.¡±

    As Moktark began delimbing a pair of fallen trees, Koruk climbed back onto the ¡°dragon egg¡± and hopped through the door into the compartment. It was extremely cramped. He couldn¡¯t imagine how that strange creature had lived in there, without even enough space to stretch out. At least the chair seemed comfortable. Glancing around, he saw the black ropes that Moktark mentioned, and tried pulling them out of the wall. They resisted, a lot more than thin rope should. Nothing about this makes any damn sense Koruk thought, and started to cut through the ropes with his knife.

    As he was about halfway through the knot of cords, his hand slipped, and he briefly touched the frayed ends. A brief flash of lightning zapped his fingers and sent him howling in pain. In blind frustration he lashed out with the knife, hacking through the rest of the cord with brute force. He grabbed the wires and pulled at them with all his might, and several of them came free, whipping out of the walls like uncoiled snakes.

    Calming down a little, he bundled up a bunch of them into a loop, and climbed out, hopping back down to the ground.

    Moktark had finished with the trees. He arranged them in an X shape, and placing the door between the two logs, they lashed it together fairly snugly with the rope. Gingerly Koruk lifted the unconscious figure onto the door, and began to examine him.

    Even his clothes were a mystery. The helmet seemed to be sealed to the rest of his one piece outfit, and Koruk had no idea how he ever got the thing on. After a bit of poking and feeling around, he found a pair of latches at the neck of the thing, and pulling them, the gold visored helmet popped off, revealing the head of the figure in greater detail.

    His (if indeed this was a male) ears were short and round, and his hair was brown and cropped close to his head. Koruk stuck a finger into the sleeping creature¡¯s mouth and opened it, revealing rows of flat, stubby teeth. As he looked at the unconscious being in front of him, he felt some strange sense of familiarity. As if he was looking at something familiar, and yet wrong in some subtle way he couldn¡¯t define. He shook his head. No, there would be time to marvel and guess at this later. He was feeling overwhelmed. His gut was turning over. He just wanted to be away from this weird place and back home where things made sense.

    Koruk tried to set the man¡¯s arm back into a relatively straight position, and lashed him onto the door with more of the strange ropes. He and Moktark were about to go back into the chamber where they had found him and look around again, when they heard a horn blow nearby.

    Out of the forest to the east, an orcish warband emerged. All hope quickly evaporated when they saw that they carried the banner of the Beast Tamers, the crest of a red open talon embroidered on it. There had to be a dozen of them.

    ¡°Damn, just our luck. Must have seen the fire!¡±. Moktark said, readying his axe and shield. Koruk steeled himself, and grabbed his bow. He forced down his feelings.

    The leader of the Beast Tamers strode out in front of his warband, wielding a massive spear with a jagged tip. His armour was made from rockhead bones, and he wore a wolf¡¯s skull on his head. His green skin was tattooed with red stripes and swirls that made him look like he was on fire.

    He clambered up onto the roof of the craft like a gorilla, and stood atop it, looking down at the pair.

    ¡°This thing is ours. This thing belongs to the Beasts!¡± He shouted, thumping his spear down onto the metal at his feet.

    ¡°This is White Moon land. You have no place here, mongrel dog!¡± Moktark shouted back, standing up straight and puffing himself up.

    The huge Beast Tamer grinned savagely, his eyes gleaming.

    ¡°You challenge ME? I am Kevesh, warrior of song, killer of the dire wolf!¡± He gestured to the skull on his head, and laughed. ¡°You have a death wish, whelp!¡±

    Moktark motioned for Koruk to stay put, and strode forward brandishing his axe and shield and his sides, arms outstretched.

    ¡°I am Moktark. Twice now have I entered your lands. I have killed your warriors, I have taken your women and your pigs. I will do so again! This thing belongs to the White Moons. This is our land, and we will not be challenged here!¡±

    The other warriors crowded around, keeping their distance. They jeered and shouted insults at Moktark, and bashed their shields with their weapons, but made no move. It was to be a duel then, Koruk thought.

    Kevesh jumped down from the craft. He roared into the sky, and the crowd cheered. Moktark adjusted his grip on his axe and entered a fighting stance.

    ¡°Are you going to posture like a woman or are we going to fight?¡± He said.

    Kevesh roared in rage and charged towards him, slashing his spear down at Moktark. Moktark took the blow on his shield, grunting as his arm absorbed the impact. This guy is strong, he thought. Strong but impulsive.

    Moktark lashed out at Kevesh¡¯s side with the axe, and the Beast Tamer twisted to catch the blow on his armoured belly. It glanced off the thick rockhead skull plate fastened there, sending chips of bone and flint flying. Kevesh kicked Moktark¡¯s shield, and pushed him back. He then came at him again, thrusting the spear in short jabs, trying to get past his opponent¡¯s shield. Moktark held fast, blocking or dodging dozens of these attacks. The two circled the field, Moktark backstepping defensively all the while as he parried blows meant to end him, but he made no move to counterattack.

    The two orcs battled for some time, the Beast Tamer growing increasingly furious as Moktark blocked or sidestepped his increasingly heavy strikes. In a rage, he swung his spear overhand, determined to break through. The spear impacted the shield with a thunderous crack, and the leather straps holding it to Moktark¡¯s arm tore. In the same moment, seeing his opponent was left open, Moktark hacked at Kevesh¡¯s thigh, and his blade found its mark. Red blood splattered onto the scorched ground. Moktark was flung down by the force of the last blow, his shield destroyed, and unable to follow up the blow with a finishing strike.

    The two orcs stood, panting heavily, eyeing the other. Kevesh was wounded, and walking with a limp. Blood dripped down his leg, but Moktark noted, not enough to render it a mortal wound. Moktark for his part, had lost his main advantage in the fight, and his left arm felt numb from absorbing so many attacks. He figured they were still equally matched.

    Nearly a minute passed as the two caught their breath. Moktark circled his opponent, occasionally making feints, testing Kevesh¡¯s defenses. The tables had turned, and now the Beast Tamer was fighting a defensive battle, knowing he couldn¡¯t come to grips with his opponent easily with his wounded leg. Likewise Moktark didn¡¯t trust his ability to parry the spear and get close enough for a killing blow. The two were at a stalemate.

    ¡°A few minutes ago you were eager to fight, Beast!¡± Moktark said, batting Kevesh¡¯s spearpoint aside with his axe, continuing his circling. ¡°Has the fire gone out from your belly? Or have you lost so much blood that you are ready to faint?¡±

    Kevesh roared and limped forward, jabbing at his taunter with the spear. Moktark jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed in the neck. Still, he had an idea.

    Moktark held the axe out to his side, and dropped it on the ground. Kevesh smiled.

    ¡°Giving up so soon whelp?¡± He said, laughing. He seemed tired, and didn¡¯t hide that he was glad this was over with.

    ¡°I¡¯m not giving up.¡± Moktark said, smiling. He turned to the crowed assembled around them. ¡°I need no weapon to fight this coward!¡±

    Moktark turned towards Kevesh again.

    ¡°Come on, come get me. I am unarmed! Come, slay me! Or are you afraid?¡± Moktark taunted, slamming his chest with a closed fist.

    Kevesh was livid. The crowd began to murmur. He thought he caught a couple of them laughing at him. Of all the disgrace¡­

    Forgetting his wound, he lunged forward, determined to end this once and for all. He was going to take this upstart¡¯s head and feed it to his wolves!

    Moktark dodged quickly to the side as the spear whistled past his head, nicking the edge of his ear. He smiled. His opponent had overreached massively. Moktark grabbed the spear in both hands and yanked as hard as he could, and sent his off balance opponent stumbling forward. He then swung his meaty fist into the Beast Tamer¡¯s shocked face, using his own momentum against him. Kevesh¡¯s eyes rolled back in his head, and his nose splattered blood as it broke. He dropped the spear and fell to the ground.

    Moktark quickly snatched it up, and held it at the throat of his defeated foe.

    ¡°You are beaten, now get off White Moon land!¡±

    Kevesh coughed, and spat out blood.

    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting whelp. There¡¯s twelve of us, and two of you. You can¡¯t win.¡± Kevesh said, his face twisting into a grimace of pure hatred.

    ¡°You honourless dog! You are no better than the beasts you lie with!¡± Moktark spat in his face. He looked around at the faces of those assembled. They looked ashamed, but made no move to leave. The dragon¡¯s egg was too great a prize to be won by a simple duel of honour.

    Moktark picked up his axe, and stomped towards the ring of warriors surrounding him. They did not try to stop him from passing, parting easily. They refused to look him in the eye. Moktark gestured for Koruk to follow him. They picked up the travois holding the unconscious alien, and drug it away behind them as they left.

 Chapter 3: Frustrations

    The pyramid loomed before Koruk again, rising up out of the sea of red sands like some misplaced mountain peak. He remembered this. He¡¯d been here before, hadn¡¯t he? The stairs rose before him, black stairs, climbing up into the black heavens. The starlight glimmered off their obsidian faces. He took the first step, but then stopped. Why did he feel the compulsion to climb? It was like there was a voice in his head, telling him he needed to reach the summit, and the more he concentrated, the more it felt like that voice wasn¡¯t his own. It was whispering, pleading, in a beautiful language he both understood and could not fathom. He turned away from the temple, and gazed out over the sands.

    A sea of strange, red faces greeted him. Red as the desert sands, red as the sky above. They were beautiful but strange, their bodies small and their faces soft, and black horns grew from their heads. The fire illuminated the sky, spreading across the heavens like a roiling monsoon storm front. In the distance, he saw the source of the fire, rising out of the horizon like a pillar of death.

    He pushed his way through the crowd, the temple forgotten. They parted easily, every face turned to look at him with curiosity etched on their strange features. Sand and space seemed to blur as he moved at the speed of thought towards the wellspring of fire.

    He stood in front of his village. It was burning. Smoke was rising from ruined huts. Orcs lie dead at his feet. He sank to his knees in despair. The smoke was choking¡­

    Koruk awoke. He heard a weird, high pitched voice babbling from somewhere. Was he still asleep? Was he dead? The words didn¡¯t make any sense, and they got on his nerves.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± he said aloud, and rolled over in his hammock, covering his head with his pillow. The voice continued, and slowly the dream faded away from his mind.

    Koruk flung the pillow to the floor and groggily got up. His head was thumping, and he felt like he hadn¡¯t slept in days. He held his face in his hands for awhile, swaying slightly in the hammock. Eventually he opened his eyes and tried to find the source of the noise.

    On the floor, the white skinned creature they had rescued had finally awoken. It had been two days since the adventure at the dragon¡¯s egg, and it had slept as if dead the entire time. The Bone Mother had set its arm with a splint, and given him a recipe for a strange broth to feed the creature as it slept. She said she had doubts it would ever awaken, but it seemed that she had been wrong, because it was staring up at him with open blue eyes.

    ¡°I can¡¯t understand you.¡± He said, as it continued its tirade. Koruk pinched the bridge of his wide nose. Where the hell was Moktark? The silver door stood in the corner of the hut in a place of honour, propped up with the other prizes he had won during his career as a warrior. It had caused quite a commotion when they got back. At the Bone Mother¡¯s insistence, the village leaders had decided to call up the war council of the entire White Moon tribe, and dignitaries had been slowly filtering into the village for the last couple days. He just wanted to rest and relax.

    Koruk looked down at the alien laying on the floor of his friend¡¯s house. It had stopped speaking, and was just staring at him. It looked so small and fragile, and Koruk was reminded of an ill tempered child. He and Moktark had been given the responsibility to look after it, given that they were the ones who drug it back to the village.

    The fire was still smouldering. The sun was out in the sky outside. The creature¡¯s clothing and helmet had been hung up alongside the door. It had taken ages to figure out how to get it off so they could treat the alien¡¯s injuries, but they didn¡¯t dare rip it open. The leather it was made with was like nothing they had seen before and to damage it would be a shame.

    Koruk threw a few sticks onto the fire, and nestled a clay cooking pot in between them. He began to make another batch of the healing broth the Bone Mother had instructed him in, grinding up an assortment of pungent herbs with a mortar and pestle, and scooping them into the pot. He poured water overtop, and closed it with a lid.

    Koruk looked over at the creature. It was still staring at him. He tried smiling at it, bearing his teeth. It did not smile back. He sighed.

    ¡°This is food.¡± He said, tapping the lid of the pot. ¡°It will make you get stronger, apparently.¡±

    The creature continued staring at him.

    ¡°Food. You know, uh...¡± Koruk stammered. He rubbed his belly and mimed eating out of the pot with a wooden spoon.

    The creature stared at him.

    ¡°Food. Yum! Make you strong¡­ shit, I feel like I¡¯m talking to a baby.¡± Koruk said, his face sagging. The adventure the other day was meant to be a thing of glorious tales of victory to be sung around the fire. How had it come to this?

    Moktark opened the door of the hut, interrupting his moping.

    ¡°Koruk, I talked to¡­ oh, hello.¡± Moktark said, noticing the creature sitting up. He smiled broadly. ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡±

    ¡°He is.¡± Koruk said. ¡°What were you saying?¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°I spoke to the Bone Mother. She said she wishes to speak to you, alone.¡±

    Koruk frowned.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t question the witch. It¡¯s dangerous.¡± Moktark said, shrugging.

    ¡°Right, see if you can get this thing to eat. There¡¯s some broth on the fire. I guess we should give it a name shouldn¡¯t we? What should we call it?¡±

    Moktark drummed his fingers on his chin, a small smile twisting his mouth. How could he always be so cheerful? Koruk¡¯s head still throbbed, and he was thoroughly miserable.

    ¡°He came from the egg of the dragon right? Yes I know it wasn¡¯t really a dragon...¡± Moktark said, waving his hand to deflect the objection Koruk was about to form.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we call him¡­ The Dragon of the North, Crusher of the Pathetic Beast Tamers!¡± Moktark announced proudly, emoting with his broad hands.

    ¡°It¡¯s too long. Plus it was us that crushed the pathetic Beast Tamers. Well, you did. He is also not intimidating enough to be a dragon I think...¡± Koruk said, rising to his feet, looking down at the seated figure.

    ¡°A young dragon is called a drake I think. He¡¯s plenty intimidating enough to be a drake. He¡¯s small, but he¡¯s vicious!¡± Moktark said, a smile on his face. He was having too much fun with this, Koruk thought.

    ¡°Alright, Drake then.¡± Koruk said, and laughed. For a moment his ill mood subsided. Moktark slapped him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Get going, you don¡¯t want to keep the witch waiting.¡±

    As he passed through the village, an uncomfortable number of eyes were upon him. Everyone had questions, but he had been told to keep quiet until the council meeting. It was¡­ highly irregular. He and Moktark should be proudly displaying their prizes, and boasting about their conquests over food and drink. Moktark had singlehandedly bested a champion of the Beast Tamers! He deserved the honour of the victory. The village elders dared not question the Bone Mother though. Koruk was sure she was plotting something.

    And so he had kept silent. They hid their prizes, and refused to speak of the battle, trying to placate questioners by saying that all would be revealed after the council. Ironically, it only seemed to increase the mystique surrounding them and their expedition to the north. Whispers and rumours abounded.

    The children¡¯s quarter was bustling with activity. Children ran and played everywhere, and several looked up at him with awe as he passed through the gate. It seemed that word had travelled here as well. Koruk felt deeply uncomfortable with his newfound fame, and avoided their gazes. Several women wearing fur kilts were engaged in chasing around a grinning child holding a pilfered pork shank, and Koruk smiled. Being back here was nostalgic, a mixture of memories good and bad. The women spotted him, and one of them marched over to greet him.

    ¡°The Bone Mother awaits you, Warrior Koruk.¡± She said, bowing her head in respect. Koruk didn¡¯t fail to notice that he was no longer ¡°Tribesman Koruk¡±. Much had changed over the past two days.

    ¡°Thank you, acolyte. I ask for permission to enter her home.¡±

    ¡°You have it, Warrior Koruk.¡±

    Koruk nodded to her, and she bowed and walked away, returning to her duties with the children. Together with the Bone Mother, these women cared for all the young children of the village, regardless of their parentage or bloodline. He and Moktark had once been raised here as well, and it was here he developed his bond to his ¡°brother¡±. Koruk wished his brother was here with him now.

    The Bone Mother¡¯s hut loomed before him, built atop a small hill at the edge of the children¡¯s quarter. Even in the broad daylight it seemed permeated with an unnatural darkness, as if shadows clung to its sides that would not give up. Bones dangled on strings from the lip of the thatched roof, rustling in the wind and rattling. The structure had a ramshackle look, as though it was long abandoned. Koruk shivered. He had hated this place.

    Steeling himself, he pushed aside the wolfskin door, and entered.

    The interior of the hut was large, probably three times the size of Moktark¡¯s, with a conical ceiling that extended up above him at least thirteen feet. Bundles of herbs and meats hung from lower rafters that criss-crossed above him, filling the air with a complex, overpowering smell. A low fire burned in a pit in the centre of the hut, and smoke wafted up into the thatch of the roof.

    On a low stool in front of the fire, gently stirring a pot, sat the Bone Mother. Her face was shrouded by a cowl, but her long white hair dangled out of it in front of her, and her long yellowed tusks gleamed in the firelight. She didn¡¯t look up at him as she spoke.

    ¡°Warrior Koruk.¡± She said, a hint of mockery in her gravelly voice. ¡°It took you long enough. How is your charge?¡±

    ¡°It is awake. It survived.¡± He said, gritting his teeth. He had barely begun talking to this woman and he was already unnerved.

    ¡°I know that much. I asked, how is he?¡± She said, continuing to stir. Koruk¡¯s brow tightened. What was she getting at?

    ¡°He seems¡­ good. He spoke to me in some weird language. He¡¯s been eating the broth.¡±

    For a moment Koruk caught the gleam of the Bone Mother¡¯s eyes as they flashed up to meet his.

    ¡°Good, good. There is a war brewing you know. You don¡¯t understand what you started.¡± She began, her eyes disappearing again under the cowl. ¡°I have a task for you. You will heed it, yes?¡±

    Koruk nodded hesitantly, not keeping his eyes off the crone.

    ¡°Always such a quiet boy, Koruk. Not like that big friend of yours. The Beast Tamers have begun to invade our borders brazenly. They seek that which you found. The warriors of the tribe will be called away to meet them in battle. You will stay here in the village and tend to your new pet. Learn his secrets, tend his wounds, soothe his discomforts.¡±

    Koruk was shocked. What she was asking¡­

    ¡°What are you talking about? The women should tend to him. I am no healer or nursemaid!¡±

    Koruk bristled. She had conspired to deny him and Moktark their triumph after their great victory. She had denied them the honor they were due. The village called him warrior! It wasn¡¯t strictly true; he hadn¡¯t personally fought against the Beast Tamers, but he finally had a taste of the respect that he craved, and she was trying to snatch it away from him. And now, she expects him to play nursemaid? It was humiliating. His face screwed itself up in rage.

    The Bone Mother chuckled. She tasted her soup with a spoon.

    ¡°I am not doing this to try to wound your ego, Koruk. This is more important than you know. More important than a pointless border skirmish and displays of machismo.¡± She hissed, her sharp voice cutting into him and silencing his thoughts.

    ¡°Go now. It will take time for the tribal strongmen to gather with their retinues. Learn everything you can from this¡­ creature¡­ in the meantime.¡±

 Chapter 4: Cultural Contamination

    Koruk sat in Moktark¡¯s hut cross legged on the floor. Drake was seated in front of him, his knees up. Koruk couldn¡¯t really make out the expression on his face. He seemed¡­ curious?

    The orc wasn¡¯t really sure how to begin. Moktark had gone off with a war party to fight the encroaching Beast Tamers that morning. It might have been the biggest warband he had ever seen assembled, with warriors from several White Moon villages joining ranks together. And so, he was left alone with his charge.

    He reached into one of Moktark¡¯s bags, and retrieved a piece of goat jerky.

    ¡°This.¡± He said, pointing to the thin slice of dark red meat, ¡°Is Food. Food. Fooood. ¡±

    He took a bite out of it, ripping it in half with his huge teeth. He passed the remainder to Drake.

    The smaller man took it, nodding. He bit it, and with some effort tore a small piece away with his flat teeth.

    ¡°Food.¡± Koruk repeated with a mouth half full of meat, grabbing a yam out of the bag. He didn¡¯t bite into it, but stuck it into the pot. He looked expectantly at Drake.

    ¡°F-food?¡± Drake repeated. Alright, now we¡¯re getting somewhere, Koruk thought.

    He continued this with several items, bringing out whatever was nearby at the moment. A pot. A rock. An old drum. An axe. Moktark had a variety of items thrown around his hut and Koruk had no idea where he¡¯d come by half of them, but they were useful for demonstration. Drake seemed to pick them up pretty quickly.

    Koruk pointed at himself next.

    ¡°Koruk. Me Koruk.¡± He said. He changed the direction of his finger to point at the alien, and waited.

    ¡°Oben an ilkanis tirid.¡± He said.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a mouthful. Is that your name then? Oben?¡±

    The creature nodded. He pointed at himself. ¡°Oben.¡±

    ¡°I preferred Drake, personally.¡± Koruk chuckled. He grabbed a stick, and started drawing in the sandy floor with it. Oben looked in interest as Koruk sketched out the outline of a house, complete with pointy roof and door.

    ¡°This is here. Home.¡± He said, gesturing to the building surrounding them. He then proceeded to draw more houses, and a little wall around them.

    ¡°Many homes. Village.¡± He said, opening the door and pointing out at the street. Oben seemed to get the message, and repeated ¡°Village¡±.

    About a foot away from the village, he drew the dragon egg. He struggled a bit at this, trying to remember what it looked like, and then drew a little man next to it. He drew in a line for the coastline, and then a bunch of trees, and continued from there. By the time he was done, he had made a pretty passable map of the area. Koruk pointed at the little figure of the man.

    ¡°This Oben. This village. Koruk village. Where is Oben village?¡± He asked, passing the stick to Oben.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Oben took it, and twirled it in his fingers for a moment idly. Did he understand? Koruk wondered. Eventually he stood up, and drew a big circle around the drawing Koruk had made. He walked several paces away, to the very edge of the hut, and there drew another village. He pointed at it.

    ¡°Oben village.¡± He said.

    Koruk was bewildered. He understood that Oben clearly meant he had come from very far away, but he didn¡¯t understand the meaning of the circle at all. He grimaced. This was going to take awhile.

    Two weeks passed, but they did not pass uneventfully. News trickled in from returning warriors (many of whom were injured) about clashes with the Beast Tamers all along the border. Koruk drank in every word he heard, and asked frequently about Moktark but heard nothing about him. Apparently though, the Beast Tamers had occupied the area surrounding the dragon¡¯s egg, and had brought in tame rockheads as beasts of burden to try to drag it back to their territory.

    Koruk thought about the majestic creatures. They were enormous hairy things, easily twice his height at their shoulder, with four stout legs and a head nearly covered in bony growths and horns. Only the most experienced hunting parties attempted to tackle them, and he couldn¡¯t imagine how difficult it must be to tame one. Still, he had doubts even they could move the massive dragon¡¯s egg.

    The White Moon warriors were harrying them though, and even made a few incursions into enemy territory to burn villages and pillage in an attempt to draw their foes away from the egg. For every group of warriors that came back bloodied, another returned bearing plunder. Koruk wasn¡¯t sure which way the conflict would turn, but it seemed as though it was turning into a real war.

    At Wit¡¯thod village however, life carried on, and Koruk had his own much stranger battle to fight.

    Koruk stared at the pictographs drawn in the sand as Oben put aside the drawing stick and leaned back, stretching his back. It was¡­ fascinating. The world was depicted there, and the two moons, as circles, or as Oben has described them, globes. It seemed that Oben was somehow living above the world in the heavens on a boat of some kind, which travelled around the world by sailing on top of the blue sky as a normal boat would sail on the water. The concept made his head hurt. He was never much of a mariner, nor were his tribe.

    Oben had explained, through a combination of pictographs, props, and broken orcish, that this boat had come under attack. Something down on the ground had struck at it, and the dragon egg they found had fallen out of the boat and landed on the ground with him in it.

    Koruk looked up from his pondering at Oben, who was apparently of some race called ¡°hu-mans¡±, and the latter gazed back at him hopefully.

    ¡°So, this boat you came on from far away, it¡¯s still up there in the sky?¡±

    Oben nodded thoughtfully.

    ¡°Yes, maybe. I not know. I fall before...¡± Oben stopped, thought a moment, and then pointed to the fire and made a whoosh noise.

    ¡°Before, fire? Before the boat caught fire?¡±

    Oben nodded.

    ¡°And the boat, you came from very far away right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, big far.¡±

    ¡°Why? I mean, why did you sail here?¡±

    Oben was silent for a bit. Did he not understand, or was he just not expecting the question? Eventually he answered.

    ¡°I come, I look at world. Um, big look. Look at rock, look at¡­ uh¡­ look at water. Look at orc. Look at moon. Not come for fight, but whoosh, arrow hit boat, now here now¡­ now here.¡± Oben said, articulating his words with his hands as he spoke.

    ¡°You came to look... at everything, to explore?¡±

    Oben nodded. Koruk pondered it a bit more. It seemed unbelievable, and he wondered if it was some strange error in translation. He had never learned another language before, although the orcs from down south spoke a strange dialect and he had heard it when their traders came to visit. The human¡¯s tongue was extremely alien compared to that, but it did have a strange sort of familiarity, and they found themselves picking up each others words quicker than he thought would be possible.

    ¡°Ilkanis¡± was apparently the name of Oben¡¯s tribe, and tririd was his¡­ rank? Or the date of his birth? Everything about the man¡¯s culture seemed incomprehensible. Koruk wondered at what sort of world he must have come from.

 Chapter 5: The Council

    Two more days passed, seeing the last tribal leader¡¯s party arrive, bellowing horns and singing as they approached the gate. These had come all the way from the boundless bog to the west, and their skin was as black as the rotted vegetation that covered that dismal place. They swung jawbones of monstrous lizards through the air as they sang of victory and sorrows to come.

    ¡°They certainly took their time.¡±

    Koruk looked up at the approaching orc. He had been engrossed watching the display from the ramparts on the walls, and hadn¡¯t heard him approach. Runerg the gate guard gave him a friendly smile, and took a place beside him on the wooden battlements.

    ¡°I have never seen the swamp dwellers before. They look so much different to us.¡± Koruk said, turning back to watch the procession.

    ¡°Distant cousins by marriage. They¡¯re White Moons, but they have their own customs. They hope to impress us.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s working.¡±

    ¡°I look forward to the council meeting. You and Moktark have kept us all in suspense for too long, Koruk. The latest rumour has you both fighting all the way to the stronghold of the Beast Tamers assisted by an army of the dead that crawled out of the sea.¡±

    Koruk grimaced.

    ¡°The rumours have been greatly exaggerated. That story doesn¡¯t make any sense. Who came up with this?¡±

    Runerg shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s just something I heard over drinks.¡±

    He was right though, Koruk thought. The long awaited meeting was here, and he would probably be called to give his story. Moktark was still away with the war parties, so he¡¯d be alone. He again wished his friend was with him.

    It didn¡¯t take long. That very night, a messenger summoned him and Oben to the war hall. Koruk gathered up his bow and arrows and threw on some thick leathers. It paid to look the part, he supposed. He explained to Oben what was happening, and the human meekly nodded and followed him out the door.

    The twin moons were low in the sky, casting long shadows down the abandoned streets. None of the village was asleep though, and as Koruk approached the war hall, he came upon a crowd of orcs that had gathered in front of the entrance. As he approached someone pointed him out, and they all cheered. As he and Oben continued on towards the imposing structure looming ahead of them, the crowd parted respectfully. All eyes were on him. Koruk felt embarrassed. He hadn¡¯t even swung a single blow against the enemy, but he was being treated like a hero. It was such a bizarre reversal of fortunes that he didn¡¯t know how to process it.

    The war hall was easily the biggest building in Wit¡¯thod, an imposing round structure flanked by an attached square tower. The sloped walls were of sandstone, quarried into rough shapes and reinforced by broad buttresses. A great red roof topped the structure, sitting like a great red claw atop it. The entrance jutted out of the front like the maw of some great beast, rows of sharp spears implanted in the ground forming its teeth, and between those teeth stairs led downwards. As Koruk stood in front of it, he couldn¡¯t help but feel he was about to be devoured alive. Two proud guards stood at the entrance, bronze tipped spears shining in the moonlight. They waved him in.

    Koruk had never been in the war hall before. It was a sacred place, reserved for the warriors, and he had never felt he belonged. He still didn¡¯t, truth be told. He felt like a fraud who would soon be exposed.

    The main building consisted of a single round room sunken into the ground, with a ring of eight stone pillars arranged near the centre. It had many terraces, sloping down towards the middle, and on these terraces stood and sat nearly a hundred grim faced orcs. Braziers burned hot around the perimeter, filling the air with the smell of smoke and casting the graven images carved into the pillars into relief. The scowling faces of gods and heroes and scenes of battle greeted Koruk from their prisons of stone even as the eyes of living heroes were upon him. Beyond the pillars, sitting in a wide circle on the lowest tier of the hall, were seven powerful orcs engaged in a heated discussion. Their deep voices echoed through the hall, and the smoke and lighting did weird things with their faces, giving them the appearance of savage demons.

    One of them, an older orc with a long white beard, noticed him, and waved at him. The others stopped their argument over military deployments and turned to look at him.

    His footsteps felt leaden. He did his best to look into the eyes of the orcs sitting in front of him. Judging him. He only recognized one of them, Wit¡¯thod¡¯s chief, Avol the Skullsplitter. Despite his name, Avol always seemed to be in a good mood, and the village saw the grizzled warrior as something of a father figure. He smiled disarmingly. The older orc stroked his beard and looked thoughtfully at the pair, but particularly the human.

    Koruk looked at the others, the most dangerous collection of orcs he had ever seen. Their faces and bodies bore heavy scars, and they had easy, confident bearings. If they were at all interested in him, their faces did not show it. Their eyes were on the human. Oben looked frightened, if Koruk guessed right. He displayed his emotions much more subtly than an orc would. He sympathized with his small charge, but the human would just have to bear with it for awhile.

    ¡°So, this is the dragon eh? Doesn¡¯t look like much to me.¡± The white bearded orc said.

    ¡°Neither does this orc. Is this the hero of Wit¡¯thod then?¡± A voice grumbled. The speaker was a great, fat orc, with skin more black than green. He wore a tunic made of the interlocked teeth of some massive carnivore, and one of his own tusks had broken off. The leader of the swamp orcs, Koruk guessed.

    ¡°Have some respect Thurg.¡± Avol admonished. ¡°Now that we¡¯re all finally assembled, Koruk and Moktark can tell us the story of their battle, and we can get an idea of how this conflict began.¡±

    Koruk¡¯s eyes lit up as Moktark stepped down, and took a place beside him. His friend grinned broadly at him and nudged him in the ribs. Koruk noted that he sported a fresh scar, running from brow to lip over his left eye. His tusk had three red strings tied to them. Marks of honor and victory. Moktark had distinguished himself in battle, and risen to join the elite warriors of the village. Koruk¡¯s heart swelled with pride, his anxiety and fear forgotten.

    Moktark noticed him looking at the strings, and winked.

    ¡°Your brother does you credit, Koruk.¡± The whitebeard began. ¡°He says it was you who discovered this, dragon¡¯s egg, for want of a better term. We have heard his story already, but please fill us in as if we had not. It¡¯s important no details are lost.¡±

    ¡°I always appreciate a good story. Yes, tell us. Leave nothing out.¡± Avol said, leaning back against a pillar and stretching his legs out.

    ¡°You are correct, it was I who saw the dragon¡¯s egg fall from the sky and crash into the ground. What¡¯s more, I have here a survivor from that crash. He has told me much.¡± Koruk said, gripping Oben by the shoulder lightly.

    Koruk related the story of the fireball he saw falling from heaven, and the adventure that followed, leaving out nothing. The chiefs listened with rapt attention, with the exception of the fat Thurg who seemed to zone out during the telling. When he got to the human¡¯s story though, even Thurg¡¯s broad ears perked up.

    ¡°A sky boat? What is this fairy tale nonsense? Do you expect me to believe any of this?¡± The fat orc complained. Koruk was beginning to dislike him.

    ¡°It is what I have been told. I see no reason to doubt the story.¡± Koruk retaliated, maybe a little disrespectfully.

    ¡°Nor do I. The ancient sagas recount similar events.¡± Said the white bearded orc, who continued pawing at his luxurious facial hair.

    ¡°You know the old lore better than any of us Soth, save perhaps the soot shamans. The story sounds real enough to me.. As real as that shiny¡­ thing I saw up north.¡± A musclebound orc said. He was an imposing figure. His rippling chest bore deep claw scars, and two of the fingers on his left hand were missing. He wore a patch over one eye, and his hairline was receding. Despite his injuries, Koruk suspected he would easily be a match for anyone else present. He wondered who he was.

    ¡°You witnessed it then, Karnald?¡± Soth asked, finally removing his fingers from his beard and resting his hands on his lap, clasped together.

    ¡°As I witness you here before me. It was as these young warriors described it. It is to my shame that we lost it to the Beasts. They drug it away to their hold.¡±

    ¡°We will get it back. I have appealed to the great chief of Orc¡¯gar. The actions of the Beast Tamers go against the ancient laws of territory set out by our forefathers. The lawgivers must hear us!¡± Said another orc who had thus far remained silent. He was small, smaller than Koruk even, only a little taller than Oben. He didn¡¯t look like a warrior, and Koruk silently wondered why he was a chief, and who he was the chief of.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The council descended into a cacophony of discussion about sending more warriors to attack the Beast Tamers and proclamations of honour and future victory until Avol silenced them, standing and raising his hands.

    ¡°Silence! There will be time for this later. This is still my hall, and I will not have you dishonour the guests before us.¡±

    A few of the assembled orcs looked a little ashamed at their outburst.

    ¡°Now then. Have you told us the entire story?¡±

    Koruk hesitated. Should he bring up the dreams he¡¯s been having? It hardly seemed relevant, but, somehow¡­

    ¡°I¡­ there is something. I have had dreams, and in them I saw a fireball similar to the falling egg.¡± Koruk said. The council was silent, judging him. He immediately regretted bringing it up.

    Thurg was the first to speak.

    ¡°First fairy tales, and now dreams? This is absurd! I will hear no more of this.¡± He said, moving to get up. It was no easy feat for him.

    ¡°You would be wise to listen, courageous ones.¡± A voice spoke from behind Koruk. He turned to see the Bone Mother, slowly hobbling towards the circle of leaders, leaning on a staff.

    ¡°Who invited you here, woman? This is a hall for warriors. Have you lost control of your hall Avol?¡± The fat orc spat back.

    ¡°I¡¯m interested to hear it. Continue Koruk.¡± Soth said. Koruk barely caught the glance he cast at Thurg, and the smile that briefly played at his lips. He nodded at the old orc.

    Koruk related the dream. The pyramid, the red men, the desert, the burning sky. The words fell from his lips quickly, and when he was finished his throat felt dry. There was another period of silence.

    ¡°The horned red men, they haven¡¯t come this far north in many years.¡± Soth said, coughing and returning to stroking his beard. ¡°Have you ever seen one boy? I doubt you have, although maybe you¡¯ve heard the stories?¡±

    Koruk shook his head.

    ¡°They are raiders, and slavers. Evil creatures, look similar to your friend there but have bright red skin and fiendish horns. In your dream you saw them, and this village burning? A bad omen, especially with the tribe already engaged in a war with the Beast Tamers.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t put much stock in these sorts of visions, but it might be worth keeping watch for raiding parties.¡± Karnald said.

    ¡°Our priority needs to be the war with the Beasts. We can¡¯t divert resources to a war against phantoms out of a dream.¡± Another orc chimed in.

    The Bone Mother picked her way forward, passing Koruk, and stood in front of him before the council. Shadows played around her in the flickering light, and her hunched over form seemed to Koruk like some dark monster preparing to strike.

    ¡°It is no coincidence that young Koruk had this vision, and that it is he who brought news of the dragon egg¡¯s fall.¡± She said, leaning on her staff. Her face was hidden by her cowl, and her voice grated in Koruk¡¯s ears. ¡°They are connected by the strings of fate, bound together in this boy.¡±

    ¡°You speak of your war against our neighbours as if it matters. You fools know not what you even fight for. To you the dragon¡¯s egg is a trophy to be displayed in this hall, but you know nothing of it, or this ugly creature that was drug out of it. Do you have any idea what you are dealing with?¡± She continued.

    ¡°Do you?¡± Snorted Thurg.

    ¡°No. I know not. But I mean to, and you would do well to follow. The key to these mysteries stands right there.¡± She said, pointing at Koruk and Oben. ¡°These dreams and the falling star are connected. The ancient stories tell of the war in heaven, when many such stars fell, and the world burned. In those stories...¡±

    ¡°The black temple.¡± Soth interrupted, seeming to talk to himself. He nodded sagely. ¡°Yes, when the world of the gods burned and our ancestors emerged from the mountain, they found the world reborn. The gods were gone, and the new world was dotted with black obelisks. They kept us safe and instructed us, and then departed back into the heavens, giving the world to us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡± The Bone Mother said, annoyance at being interrupted in her voice. ¡°If it exists, it must be found and its secrets plumbed.¡±

    ¡°If it exists is the problem, noble Bone Mother.¡± Said Avol. ¡°We are at war, and it¡¯s hard to justify sending an expedition to who knows where to follow dreams and legends.¡±

    Thurg snorted his support, and nodded.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to. Send the boy, Koruk. He¡¯s all but useless in a fight, but he¡¯s a clever boy and is all too good at finding hidden secrets, aren¡¯t you boy?¡± She said, turning to Koruk. The words stung. Koruk flinched in anger.

    ¡°You¡¯re too hard on him mother. Without Koruk we wouldn¡¯t be sitting here today, and we wouldn¡¯t know about the dragon¡¯s egg.¡± Said Avol.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be involved in a pointless and bloody war you mean.¡± The Bone Mother spat back.

    Avol ignored the comment. He thought a bit, holding his shaved chin in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s a good quest though, and an honourable one. You haven¡¯t completed your initiation rite as a warrior yet have you Koruk?¡±

    Koruk shook his head. Normally before being initiated into the hall of warriors as a full member, a young orc was sent into the mountains on a quest to win glory, generally by killing some large animal or finding some interesting bit of treasure. Since Koruk had never had serious aspirations about becoming a warrior, he had never gone through the rite.

    ¡°Good, this will be your quest then, warrior Koruk. Go south, to the edge of the lands of the orcs. Beyond that you will find the Burning Desert. The red men in your dream, your vision, are said to dwell there. Perhaps you will find what you seek. Moktark will accompany you. I couldn¡¯t separate you two in all the ages of the world! He is newly scarred, and will help protect you. When you return, we will consider your rite complete, and you will be fully a warrior among us, as befitting the title which has been given you recently by so many.¡±

    The other tribal chiefs nodded, but said nothing. It wasn¡¯t their place to deal with the internal affairs of Wit¡¯thod or its members, and none of their warriors were being conscripted.

    Unexpectedly, Oben spoke up.

    ¡°I¡­ want to go with. Koruk and Moktark. The weapon destroyed sky boat, it come from desert. Maybe, I think so. I thank you heal me. Big thank. If I not prisoner, I go with Koruk.¡± Oben stammered out in hesitating orcish. Avol nodded.

    ¡°You are not a prisoner, unless Koruk wishes you to be. You are his charge and it¡¯s his decision.¡± He said. Oben turned to Koruk, and Koruk nodded to him.

    ¡°Ah, one last thing.¡± Avol said, a smile forming on his face. ¡°The discovery of the dragon¡¯s egg and the rest of your adventure are great accomplishments, worthy of song. You have been denied your triumph for too long, and I am sorry. We thought it best not to create a panic in the village until we knew more. Go, have fun! Enjoy your victory!¡±

    ¡°What? No, we should not delay! They should leave as soon as possible to find the black temple. Who knows what is at stake?¡± The Bone Mother said, her voice rising.

    ¡°You are not a member of this council, or this hall, mother.¡± Avol said, his voice dangerous. He rose to his feet once more. ¡°Know your place. They deserve the honour of their triumph and they will have it. You have said your piece, now get out of this hall. We have matters of war to discuss which do not concern the womenfolk.¡±

    The Bone Mother hissed in rage, but slunk away. Koruk was glad to see her leave, and the room¡¯s atmosphere brightened considerably after she was gone.

    As the discussion turned back to the war against the Beast Tamers, Koruk and his companions turned to leave. Soth, the old orc, stopped them, and motioned that they follow him. The big warrior, Karnald took a place beside them as well. Soth led them up a set of stairs to the tower of the war hall, and they ascended to the top floor. A much smaller room greeted them, dominated by a large table surrounded by shelves filled with scrolls.

    ¡°Avol is wise to send you on this quest, but you could use some further guidance.¡± He said, reaching for a scroll and starting to unfurl it on the table. ¡°The quest he has given you is far more difficult than he lets on.¡±

    The scroll unrolled to reveal a large map, showing in detail the orcish tribal boundaries and strongholds, as well as many landmarks. There was a large empty expanse drawn simply labelled ¡°The Burning Desert¡± far to the south.

    ¡°The desert is a forbidden place. No orc has ever returned from it alive in memory, living or otherwise. I don¡¯t say this to scare you, it¡¯s just a statement of fact.¡± Soth said, taking a seat at the table. The others remained standing, gazing at the map.

    ¡°Why are you helping us? Isn¡¯t this a Wit¡¯thod matter?¡± Koruk asked. Soth sighed, and his face developed a complex expression.

    ¡°Avol means well but he gets a bit ahead of himself. He has never been to the southlands. I think he expects you to get as far as the boundary of the desert and then come home with a story to tell. You¡¯ll notice he didn¡¯t ask you to actually go into the desert.¡±

    He was right, Koruk thought. He didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Does Avol not take the quest seriously?¡± Koruk asked, thinking aloud.

    ¡°No, he doesn¡¯t. But I do. That old woman, your Bone Mother, was right. Your visions are remarkable. Remarkably detailed. You managed to correctly describe things that you had no knowledge of. It doesn¡¯t seem like a coincidence that you have them. We live in strange times.¡±

    Soth drew a line along the map with his finger.

    ¡°When you leave, you should head south, following the blue run river to its fork, and then turn east towards Zernthod.¡±

    ¡°The city of the soot shamans.¡± Karnald said. The big orc was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, watching the exchange with interest. ¡°A strong city with strong walls. Their shamans can cast magics which melt rocks into gold and silver and other metals, and they protect their secrets dearly.¡±

    ¡°Yes. When you are there do not stray from the merchant¡¯s quarter, or they will kill you.¡± Soth said, not looking up from the map. ¡°After you get through the city, travel southwest through the Shadowed Basin. You shouldn¡¯t meet much trouble, and after a few days you should make it to Brittle Teeth.¡±

    Karnald guffawed and spat.

    ¡°Brittle backs more like. They are a weak tribe. They have no feeling for battle, no honour. They buy and trade their way to power, even doing business with the red men. They might even be red men wearing green paint for all I know.¡±

    ¡°Yes quite. Brittle Teeth is the richest city in the world, even outdoing Orc¡¯gar for wealth. The red men do business there, and if you¡¯re to discover any path into the desert, they would know it. I will tell you that you don¡¯t have to go on this quest. You can refuse, and me and Karnald will smooth things over so there is no dishonour for you. This is something that should be undertaken by a war party, not two young orcs and a...¡± Soth hesitated. ¡°Hu-man? You look remarkably similar to the red men. I wonder if you¡¯re somehow related to them. A distant cousin perhaps?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not a red man.¡± Karnald said. ¡°He¡¯s not red.¡±

    The comment elicited a brief chuckle from everyone. Even Oben smiled. The joke wasn¡¯t particularly funny Koruk thought, but it helped break the tension. He looked at Moktark.

    ¡°It¡¯s your dream and your quest little brother. I am willing to go through, and it seems like Drake is too.¡± He said.

    In his heart Koruk had already decided though. Somehow, he felt he needed to. He felt some pull he couldn¡¯t explain, and he didn¡¯t think he could say no if he wanted to.

    ¡°We will go.¡± He said. Soth looked at Karnald and sighed, and Karnald returned the look.

    ¡°Alright then. Avol was right about one thing though. You need some time to prepare for this. Go enjoy your triumph. Relax a little, gather your equipment.¡±

    ¡°Bring weapons.¡± Karnald said. ¡°You¡¯ll need them.¡±

 Chapter 6: The Feast

    The following night, the celebration was held outside the village on the shore of the river. A massive bonfire had been erected, and Koruk could feel the pleasant heat on his skin even standing as far back as he was. Tables had been laid out, and a few orcish men and women worked feverishly over a cluster of smaller fires to cook the night¡¯s feast. The cloying smell of roast pork made Koruk salivate, but he did his best to restrain himself.

    A large crowd had circled around him and Moktark, as the latter told an only slightly embellished tale of their exploits in the north. The tribesmen in the crowd were captivated by every word as Moktark paced around the circle. The two heroes of the hour even fought a mock battle, with Moktark acting out the role of Kevesh the Beast Tamer warrior, portrayed as a strong but incredibly dimwitted buffoon who was easily dispatched by a one-liner spouting Koruk. The crowd laughed and roared approval as Kevesh was cast down, and jeered as Kevesh treacherously refused to withdraw his troops in shame.

    It was a clever display, Koruk thought after the battle. Moktark had cast himself as the villain and him as the hero, and thus put him in a good light even though in reality it had been Moktark that defeated Kevesh. He felt a warm feeling in his belly at his friend¡¯s kindness, but was quickly distracted as the crowd pressed forward badgering him and Moktark with questions and cheers.

    During this Oben had sat idly by. A few children had approached him and looked at him with curiosity, but by and large he was ignored by the crowds of partiers. Maybe it was for the best, he thought. He was a stranger in a strange land. He gazed up at the clear sky, at the stars and the moons. The constellations at least were familiar to him, even if nothing else on this world was. A lot had changed in three thousand years. He sighed, and looked over at the crowd of orcs. It looked like the primitives who rescued him had taken the door from his escape pod, and were showing it off to one another. The juxtaposition of childlike wonder on their brutal faces brought a small smile to his face. It was almost comical. He couldn¡¯t blame them he supposed. One of the orcs approached him, the smaller one who had treated his injuries.

    Time to play my role then, he thought.

    ***

    Koruk hoisted Oben up onto his shoulders, smiling broadly. Moktark began a speech.

    ¡°Behold! This is Oben, the fire drake! A man who crawled out of the egg of a dragon, who sailed on the blue sky! Now he will travel with us, to fight our enemies in the south and claim their ancient treasures! Treasures like this door of silver, pulled from the egg of the dragon itself!¡± Moktark said, holding the silver door over his head with one hand. Oben squirmed a bit, looking uncomfortable, and Koruk put him down and quietly thanked him.

    ¡°A fine treasure, brave heroes. May I have a look at it?¡± an elderly yet commanding voice called out. All eyes turned as Soth stepped forward, his long beard dangling to nearly the level of his belt.

    ¡°Of course, chieftain. We¡¯d be honoured.¡± Moktark said.

    Soth spent some time examining the shield, muttering to himself, as Moktark turned back to pleasing the crowd with a tale of his later battles with the Beast Tamers. Feeling that his role in the story was finished, Koruk knelt down beside Soth to observe.

    The older orc rubbed a black stone over the surface of the door, a puzzled expression on his face. He held the stone up to his face and examined it closely, and put it away with a grunt.

    ¡°It¡¯s not silver.¡± He said offhandedly.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Koruk asked. Soth looked at him curiously for awhile, as if deciding whether to answer.

    ¡°This stone, it¡¯s a touchstone.¡± he said, displaying the dull, black pebble. It didn¡¯t look like anything special to Koruk, just another rock like you could find anywhere. ¡°If you rub it on silver or gold, a streak will appear on the stone. A trained eye can see the quality of the metal from examining it. Old trick I learned from the soot shamans.¡±

    ¡°I see no streaks.¡± Koruk said, confused.

    ¡°Yes quite right, No streaks. This metal... it¡¯s too hard to be silver. I don¡¯t know what it is.¡±

    Soth pulled out a variety of tools out of the pouch. An obsidian knife, a flint drill, and a beautiful bronze dagger. He tested each in turn, scraping and scratching at the surface of the door with them. None of them made a scratch.

    ¡°Astonishing.¡± He muttered.

    Soth rose to his feet and smoothed his beard. Seeing the look on his face, Moktark interrupted his story and marched over.

    ¡°What have you found old man? You look vexed.¡± He asked. Soth appeared to notice him for the first time, and turned to him.

    ¡°Hm? Ah Moktark, good. I¡¯d like you to hit this with your axe as hard as you can.¡±

    Moktark was taken aback.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t want to damage it. I just got it.¡± He said sheepishly.

    ¡°Trust me.¡± Soth said, taking a few steps back. ¡°When you¡¯re ready.¡±

    Moktark raised his brow quizzically. He fetched his flint axe he was using for demonstration and hefted it in his hand, and then propped up the door on a log. He lifted the axe, and hesitated a bit, looking back at Soth for confirmation. Soth nodded, and Moktark brought the axe down in an overhand stroke. It swept through the air like a bolt of lightning and slammed into the door with a loud crack. Shards of stone exploded into the air. The door flexed and sprang back. Moktark looked at his ruined axe and tossed it to the ground.

    ¡°You tricked me! That was a good axe!¡± He said, pointing accusingly at Soth.

    ¡°Look at the door.¡±

    Moktark¡¯s eyes turned from anger to shock, and then to wonder. The surface of the door was virtually untouched, save for the smallest of scratches where the axe struck it. He ran his fingers over it unbelieving. The crowd gasped and crowded in to look.

    ¡°I think this artefact is wasted as a door for your hut young warrior.¡± Soth said. ¡°But, as a shield...¡±

    Moktark¡¯s eyes lit up. He understood.

    ¡°Anyone wielding a shield like this would be invulnerable...¡± Moktark said quietly. He flipped the door over. It had a couple of handles on the back and some other protrusions. ¡°Yeah, that could work...¡±

    ¡°Put a couple leather straps there, should work.¡± Someone from the crowd said.

    ¡°And look, you can see your enemies through that window, but they can¡¯t hit you! You don¡¯t need to peek around the shield!¡± Said another. Moktark nodded, taking it in. He smiled at Soth, and gave him a nod of appreciation.

    ¡°A shield befitting a great warrior.¡± Soth said. ¡°I¡¯ve done all I can to examine it, but I¡¯m out of my element. When you take it south with you to Zernthod, show it to the soot shamans. They may know more about the magic that went into its construction.¡±

    Other warriors took part in the triumph, showcasing the loot they had pillaged and proclaiming their deeds, but they were largely overshadowed by Koruk and Moktark¡¯s story. The exception came near the end of the festival, when a middle aged warrior drug a trio of goats and a young woman before the crowds.

    ¡°Ah you brought more meat for the feast!¡± Shouted a voice. The warrior shook his head.

    ¡°No, these aren¡¯t for eating. These are special goats! Magic goats!¡± He proclaimed, standing in front of them to ward off the hungry crowd. They looked at him dubiously.

    ¡°Magic goats? Are you going to hit them with your axe and tell us they¡¯re invincible?¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°No. I stole these from the beast tamers. Watch!¡±

    He motioned the young woman forward. She was pretty, Koruk thought. Almost dainty, if a she-orc could ever be described in those terms, with short tusks and a soft slender green body. What she did next however, was disturbing. She placed a pot under the goat, knelt beside it, and began pulling on its udder, squeezing milk out.

    The crowd looked on silently, horror mixed with curiosity on their faces.

    ¡°I¡­ uh, didn¡¯t know you were into that, Tagguk.¡± Someone said. A nervous laugh reverberated through the crowd.

    ¡°What? No you don¡¯t understand. The Beast Tamers take the milk from these goats and drink it! It¡¯s very good!¡±

    ¡°Look I know the girl is cute but this is perverse Tagguk.¡±

    ¡°Just have patience, you¡¯ll see.¡±

    The pot was filled, and the girl gave it to Tagguk. He took a swig of it, and wiped the white liquid off his lip. Jeers and retching noises greeted him from the crowd.

    ¡°What, it¡¯s good! Who wants to try some?¡± He shouted.

    Silence.

    Curiosity got the better of Koruk. He stepped forward.

    ¡°Uh, I¡¯ll try it, I guess?¡±

    Tagguk looked excited, but Koruk¡¯s eyes were more focused on the girl. She wasn¡¯t from his village, and had the uniform green skin of a Beast Tamer. Was she a battle captive? She met his gaze and held it a moment, before breaking away.

    Looking at the pot full of white liquid, Koruk immediately had second thoughts.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to turn into a baby or something if I drink this am I?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Bah, do I look like a babe to you? It¡¯s fine, try it!¡± Tagguk said. His eyes seemed almost pleading. Koruk decided to try it, if only to spare the older warrior some embarrassment.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°How was it?¡±

    ¡°¡­ It wasn¡¯t too bad. It was¡­ weird¡­ but uh...¡± Koruk said, looking at the crowd. They seemed to be waiting for his judgment. ¡°Yeah, it was alright.¡±

    ¡°There you hear it! Who¡¯s next!?¡± Tagguk shouted, pure joy written on his features. A couple other orcs stepped forward hesitantly, and Koruk made his escape.

    After the warriors had told their stories and presented their treasures, Koruk¡¯s nose twitched as a delicious smell hit it. He wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed either, as he eyed a steady stream of orcs heading for the outdoor feasting tables. Moktark and Oben joined him, and they found a seat on a long wooden bench alongside the couple hundred other partiers.

    All manner of delicious food had been laid out. Whole roasted pigs, stuffed with mashed yam and seasoned with herbs. Racks of smoked fish. Coconuts and fruit from the northern shore. Wild game. An epic feast, befitting heroes.

    There was no fanfare, no civility. Orcs hastily grabbed at the food, fighting over the best pieces, and hoarded it in a heap in front of them on the table before digging in. Even the women showed off their savagery, clawing and scratching anyone who tried to deny them their dinner. It was an absolute free for all filled with shouting and flailing.

    Oben seemed uncertain, and Moktark clapped him on the back.

    ¡°Eat little Drake!¡± He said between mouthfuls of pork. ¡°Before it¡¯s all gone!¡±

    Oben smiled, and plucked a piece of pork away from a carcass with his small fingers. He tasted it, and his eyes lit up.

    ¡°I never taste this. It is big good!¡± He said.

    ¡°Here, try it with this.¡± Koruk said, and passed him a bowl of a green sauce.

    ¡°What this?¡±

    ¡°Mint sauce, I think. Herbs from up in the hills.¡±

    Oben tried it. The flavours were unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt his sinuses blasted open, and coughed.

    ¡°Very strong. Wow.¡± He said, but he continued dipping his pork into it.

    When the food on the table was gone, the cooks brought out a second course, along with heady drinks of fermented yam and bowls of the goat¡¯s milk demonstrated earlier. To Koruk¡¯s surprise, Oben seemed to enjoy the milk and drank deeply of it, which encouraged others watching to do the same.

    After the table was picked clean, the table turned to drunken banter and laughter. Koruk¡¯s head felt light from the drink, and he and his companions found themselves stumbling home afterwards with smiles on their faces.

 Chapter 7: Departure

    Koruk awoke in his hut. His head hurt a bit, but he felt rested. A warm body pressed against him in his hammock, and he glanced over at the beautiful milkmaid nuzzled against him. Her hands felt soft on his chest. He barely remembered going home with her.

    It felt strange waking up in his own home, he thought. He had spent so much time at Moktark¡¯s hut recently, that he sometimes forgot he had his own. It was much more poorly furnished than his friend¡¯s home; his fishing gear, his hammock, a few bowls and baskets. He had no great prizes to display, no trophies.

    He sat up, being careful not to wake the woman, and gingerly covered her with a fur. Koruk wondered what would become of her. He imagined she would be indoctrinated into the village and would join the other women, living in the children¡¯s quarter, or perhaps travel to one of the outlying pig ranches. Her skin would gradually change colour until it was mottled like his, and she would fit in. Perhaps the Beast Tamers would launch a raid to try to rescue her and take her back? Taking females in battle helped keep the blood of the village strong, and was commonplace, but Koruk imagined a beauty like her would be jealously desired by her former tribe.

    Koruk threw on a loincloth and looked around again. He wondered if he¡¯d ever see this place again.

    ¡°Uggghh my head...¡±

    It was the most Koruk had managed to get out of Moktark in three successive attempts at waking him. He shook the big orc again, and slapped him on the face.

    ¡°Get up. We have to pack.¡±

    ¡°Why? They said to relax. I¡¯m relaxing, I¡¯m relaxing!¡±

    He is right I suppose, Koruk thought. But something in his belly told him otherwise. He felt anxious to get on with the quest without delay. Was it just excitement to be getting out of the village? To win his place in the warriors hall? Maybe¡­ but maybe not. He couldn¡¯t put his finger on the feeling, which frustrated him and shortened his temper. Koruk kicked the hammock with his foot and got it swinging, nearly pitching Moktark out of it. The big orc swore and fumbled.

    ¡°Ugh, give me water. Where¡¯s Drake?¡± Moktark said, getting up. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

    Oben glanced up hearing his nickname called. He was dressed in orcish garb. A simple sleeveless linen tunic was held in place by a fur belt tied around his waist, and overtop of it was a thin poncho decorated with zig zagging stripes of red and blue. The clothing was sized for children, and he looked a bit overdressed to Koruk¡¯s eyes. He appeared to have been drawing something on a piece of bark.

    ¡°He looks like he¡¯s ready to take on the world and win, which is more than I can say for you. Get up already!¡±

    After a bit more grumbling, Moktark got up and the trio set about preparing for the great journey ahead. They dressed light, deciding to forgo any armour or gear that might weigh them down. Moktark wore only a linen loincloth and a leather sash over his shoulder that supported his newly refitted shield on his back and a single thick fur shoulderpad on his right shoulder. The door-shield had been painted with the white moon, white crescent on black background, and leather straps cleverly lashed that he might hold it on his arm. He selected as well a broad, flat club with razor sharp shards of flint embedded in the edge.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Koruk dressed himself similarly to Oben minus the poncho, his sleeveless linen tunic going down to his thighs. He took with him his thick bow, a quiver of arrows and a small flint hatchet. He gave to Oben a broad stone dagger, which in the human¡¯s hands looked more like a shortsword. Koruk also took a set of fishing gear including a net and rod, and a bundle of medicinal herbs and bandages.

    They gathered baskets of food (dried fish, salt pork, and small cakes made from ground fish and fat), a small pigskin tent, and a set of warm fur clothing for cold nights. These they tied securely to a travois which they would take turns dragging across the vast savanna to the south.

    The following morning, they set out. Nearly the entire village came out to greet them as they departed, wishing them victory in battle and bountiful plunder. As they passed beyond the city gates, Koruk saw the Bone Mother in the crowd. He could have sworn she was smiling.

    The old trails south were largely overgrown with grass and brambles, but still passable. The party made good time. The huge red sun was blazing overhead and the sky was clear and blue. The heat and the light made Koruk feel alive. His skin tingled happily, and sweat rolled down his cheeks as he lugged the travois along. Oben seemed to be having trouble however. His skin had begun turning red, and he had covered it with additional cloth, and cowled his head in his poncho. He didn¡¯t complain though, and simply smiled at Koruk when he inquired.

    In the evening they pitched camp. Koruk fished in the north flowing waters of the blue run, and caught a few fish, and Moktark foraged some honey from a hive. Oben seemed half dead, and fell asleep immediately. He didn¡¯t seem to be in much mood to chat.

    The following day saw them reach the river fork, and they followed it southeast as instructed. They were unmolested as they travelled, seeing no others after leaving the boundaries of the White Moon territory save for a wandering trader who was uninterested in them when he learned they had no money.

    Another night passed, and they began to get into the rhythm of travel. Every day Oben seemed to get stronger, and by the third night he no longer collapsed immediately when they stopped. His skin was starting to turn from an angry red to a light tan, as the orcs own skin bloomed brighter green from the nourishing sunlight. Oben¡¯s injuries were healing fast as well. The bruising was disappearing from below his eyes and he could flex the fingers of his broken arm without pain.

    They sat around the fire together on the third night, roasting fish, joking and laughing. The white moon was high in the night sky, its crescent mouth appearing to devour the smaller dark moon. It was a good omen, Koruk thought, and he told stories of old adventures with Moktark where they had spent weeks exploring the boundaries of the tribal territories. Hunting, fishing, and getting into trouble more often than not.

    Oben laughed at the jokes, and smiled at the stories, but he told none of his own. Koruk found himself idly wondering what sort of life the small man seated next to him once lived. What fantastic and alien adventures his kind must lead, with flying ships of polished silver. Moktark occasionally nudged Oben to share, but the human always declined, simply shrugging and giving a non-answer.

    By the morning of the fifth day they could smell smoke in the air, and by midday they had come into sight of Zernthod, the ancient city of the soot shamans.

 Chapter 8: The City of Fire

    The ancient city rose up on the far side of the river like a stone forest. Hundreds of square towers and high rises competed for space behind a mighty stone wall, and acrid smoke belched forth from innumerable chimneys, kilns, and furnaces. Koruk pinched his nose as they walked. The dirt paths had gradually given way to paving stones as they approached the city; arteries feeding the great city from the countless outlying farms, mines, and ranches. The road was crowded with orcs driving herds of hairy pigs along and pushing carts and wheelbarrows.

    The road led to an arched stone bridge spanning the Blue Run, beyond which the gateway of the city loomed. Twin towers flanked the blocky gatehouse, atop which a pair of huge braziers burned, and wide red banners draped down them displayed a stylized golden flame. The effect was, Koruk thought, extremely impressive.

    The near side of the river was crowded with tents and hand carts, many of which were of unfamiliar make. It was strange that so many people appeared to have taken up residence just outside the city walls, Koruk thought. He was soon to have answers to his questions.

    An ugly guard commanded them to halt as they were about to step onto the bridge. He swaggered towards them flanked by two other goons.

    ¡°Ere¡¯s a toll fer passage. Three gold flames per ¡®ead, or 24 silver tuskets or the same weight in jewelry.¡± The guard grinned at them idiotically as he delivered the scripted monologue he had clearly practiced many times. His breath stank of alcohol and rot, and Koruk could smell it even from several paces away.

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Koruk protested, ¡°Passage south on the road is guaranteed by ancient orc-law.¡±

    ¡°Well see, it is free, right? All we¡¯re askin¡¯ fer is a small fee, for the upkeep of this here bridge. If you don¡¯t like it, you¡¯re ¡®free¡¯ to swim the river!¡± The guard said. His friends chuckled.

    Rage flared in Moktark¡¯s eyes, and he took a step forward. Koruk grabbed his huge arm and led him away. This wasn¡¯t a fight they could win. Not in full view of the city gates.

    When they were a little ways away, Moktark angrily shrugged off Koruk¡¯s hand. He punted a rock across the road out of frustration. Koruk let him roam around for a bit and calm down.

    ¡°Even if we wanted to pay we have no money.¡± Koruk said. Moktark spat and snorted.

    ¡°I would pay them in their own blood. To hell with this city!¡± He sulked.

    Having nowhere better to go, the trio headed for the encampment to ask around. They learned that the orcs there were mostly merchants who had been denied access to the city in the same manner. A few of them had met the head price and gone through, but for most of them it was simply too high. It would render their entire trip unprofitable, and so they had set up camp in the hopes that the gate guards would come to their senses or be replaced.

    Every merchant they talked to had a similar tale of woe, and they were about to give up hope and hit the road again when a figure beckoned them over.

    He was a slender orc, dressed in strange tan robes and resting under a lean-to set up beside his cart. His face and head were entirely covered by a loosely wound turban, which revealed only his eyes and tusks. Devious eyes, Koruk thought. A strange animal was hitched to the cart, looking like a tall goat with a huge hump on its back, and from beneath a tarp Koruk could see many foreign wares hidden away.

    ¡°I have heard you are looking for a way south, past Zernthod.¡± He said. ¡°Getting into the city is impossible now, but there are ways past it, for the strong or clever. You look to be both.¡±

    ¡°What do you know, trader?¡± Koruk asked. Something about this smelled fishy.

    ¡°I know many things traveller. I have walked the world plying my wares, and know the hidden paths and ways better than any here.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, what are you doing sitting here?¡± Moktark asked, scoffing. The trader shrugged his shoulders dramatically.

    ¡°My fate brings me to this dismal city sadly.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°You know a way around?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°I do, for the right price of course.¡±

    ¡°If we had money we could have simply paid the guards. We have nothing for you.¡± Koruk said, turning to leave.

    ¡°Not money. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to have a lot at that artefact, and that companion of yours.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t for sale.¡±

    ¡°I just want to examine them. No harm done!¡±

    Koruk turned back to him. He glanced at Moktark and Oben, who both shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯m watching you.¡± Koruk said, narrowing his eyes.

    The stranger marvelled at the star-metal shield, and asked many questions about its origin. Koruk gave him an abridged summary of how they had taken it and the human from the dragon¡¯s egg in the north, which was later stolen by the Beast Tamers. As he spoke, the merchant drew symbols on a roll of parchment, and sketched both the shield and Oben.

    ¡°What are you doing? What are you drawing?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°This? I¡¯m merely taking notes.¡± He said. Seeing the confusion in Koruk¡¯s eyes he explained.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ storing words on the parchment. Preserving the story.¡±

    ¡°Sorcery.¡± Moktark muttered, but made no motion to intervene.

    The merchant examined Oben closely. He grasped the human¡¯s smooth chin in his hand, turning it this way and that way, and ran his fingers through his hair as if searching for something. Oben looked nervous as the orcish merchant poked and prodded at him until he was satisfied, taking short breaks to draw on the parchment.

    ¡°Remarkable.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve done as you asked, now tell us what you know.¡± Koruk said. The merchant seemed annoyed, but returned to his lean-to and sat down cross legged. He began drawing in the sand.

    ¡°There is a ford in the river to the west, near the fork that splits the Blue Run in half. Cross it, and continue due south. There is a passage in the cliffs there, hidden among the rocks. I have used it many times to go north to Orc¡¯gar. You will know it by its guardians, two great pillars of stone balanced atop each other. There is a road through the mountains leading south on the plateau.¡±

    ¡°Can we not simply follow the opposite bank of the river east after crossing the ford, and then bypass Zernthod?¡± Koruk asked, tracing a trail with his finger. The merchant shook his head.

    ¡°No, the river runs up against the cliffs. There¡¯s no passage on the southern bank.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Moktark said, shaking his head. ¡°The mountains are dangerous. Crag lions and worse things prowl the slopes, and ghosts haunt the caves and ruins. They will come out at night and suck out your soul, leaving your dry bones to bake in the sun. There must be a better way.¡±

    ¡°I have told you what I know. The mountain pass is your best chance, unless you can cough up the headfee.¡±

    Koruk thanked him, and the three of them left to go ponder their options in privacy.

    A rock hit the water with a splash. I wish he wouldn¡¯t do that, it¡¯s distracting, Koruk thought as Moktark picked up another rock to hurl into the river. He knew the big orc was just blowing off steam though, and left him to it. In the distance the great city loomed mockingly. The first great barrier in their quest, and likely not the last.

    ¡°Why not we go around, the other way? By water?¡± Oben asked. Koruk looked at him.

    ¡°By water?¡±

    ¡°Yes, by boat. Sail around Zernthod, to east.¡±

    Koruk scratched his chin. That could work. He motioned for Oben to continue.

    The human demonstrated his plan using river stones. Essentially, they would build or steal a boat, and then sail down the eastern coastline bypassing Zernthod. Koruk idly wished he had asked for a copy of the map back in Wit¡¯thod, but he believed he got the gist of the idea. He called Moktark over and explained it.

    ¡°No way. I¡¯m not getting in any boat. Drowning is no death for a warrior!¡±

    ¡°As opposed to having your soul sucked out by ghosts in the mountains?¡± Koruk retaliated. Moktark was taken aback a bit.

    ¡°That¡¯s not much better I guess. I say we wait until night, and then sneak into Zernthod. Maybe kill one of those stinking guards and take his clothes to disguise ourselves!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s foolish. There¡¯s no way we¡¯d get into or out of the city alive, especially if we killed the guards.¡±

    ¡°Boat idea will work. Stay close to shore.¡± Oben said, crossing his arms. ¡°Climb mountain seem dangerous. This easier.¡±

    ¡°The problem is, even if we knew how to sail a boat...¡± Koruk began.

    ¡°I¡¯m not getting in a boat.¡± Moktark protested.

    ¡°¡­ Even if we knew how to sail, where would we get one? The Shattered Storm tribe to the north are avid sailors but they keep to themselves. They¡¯d be the most likely to have something seaworthy.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re a weird people, live on islands north of the Beast Tamers. Weird customs.¡± Moktark said, sitting down on a wide rock. He looked out at the river and sighed. ¡°I think this is a terrible idea from every angle. We¡¯d probably have to cross the Beast Tamer territory to the north to even get to the waters they ply, and then ambush a beached fishing boat and steal it. They wouldn¡¯t give it to us willingly.¡±

    ¡°Why? Why no go back through village Wit¡¯thod, then go north to water?¡± Oben asked. Koruk and Moktark both grimaced.

    ¡°Being seen returning home with our tails between our legs after barely having been gone a week wouldn¡¯t be a good look.¡± Koruk said. ¡°We¡¯d ideally want to avoid White Moon territory altogether.¡±

    The three of them continued to argue and bicker for some time. Night began to fall. Eventually they decided to follow the merchant¡¯s advice. They would take the mountain pass.

    It seemed the least bad option at the time.

 Chapter 9: The Raid

    Moktark¡¯s belly let out a loud rumble. Koruk didn¡¯t feel much better. The plan had been to restock their food supplies in Zernthod, trading work or trinkets for it. Given that the road ahead of them now seemed far longer than expected, they had decided to ration out the remaining supplies, and morale was suffering. Although nobody was outwardly complaining, yet, Koruk could see the strain on the faces of his companions.

    So it was that they learned from a passing merchant of a nearby settlement to the north, there were no complaints about taking a detour. Koruk told himself that maybe they could trade there for some supplies, but in his heart of hearts he knew better. To the north was Beast Tamer territory.

    Smoke wafted up through the rafters of the hut down in the valley. From their position on the ridge, The party could see several figures walking around, tending to livestock. The sun was setting over the horizon, and the ranchers were leading their animals back to a large pen set up alongside the hut. In the distance further north was another village, consisting of some dozen odd buildings behind a stake wall, reminding Koruk of Wit¡¯thod. Somewhere in that village, maybe another fisherorc was bringing in his catch for the day, saying hello to his own version of Runerg the gate guard.

    ¡°We could talk to them.¡± Koruk said, looking over at Moktark. The big warrior¡¯s jaw was set. He took awhile before responding.

    ¡°Tamers don¡¯t trade with White Moons little brother.¡±

    ¡°We sneak in, take a goat, and leave then. It wouldn¡¯t do us any good to get into a fight here.¡±

    Moktark nodded, but he gripped the half of his warclub tightly. Absentmindedly, he pawed at the fresh pink scar on his face.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Koruk glanced at Oben. The human¡¯s face was passive. Unreadable. His body language was relaxed. He had expected the small man to be frightened. Koruk found himself envious of his composure, and then momentarily embarrassed as he realized that he was frightened. He had never been on a livestock raid before. The fact that even the tiny human was relaxed heightened his embarrassment, and made him angry.

    A rough hand clapped onto his shoulder, shaking him loose from his thoughts. Moktark¡¯s eyes bored into his.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright little brother. In and out, like you said.¡± Moktark said. He flashed a strained grin. Koruk couldn¡¯t return it, and just nodded.

    After darkness fell, the three of them emerged from their hiding place, and stalked toward the farm, keeping low under the bushes and shrubbery. The residents must have gone to bed, because they saw no one. Not even a night watch.

    ¡°Coast is clear, go, go!¡± Moktark whispered, and the three of them sprinted out of cover towards the goat pen. Koruk¡¯s heart pounded in his chest.

    A challenging voice hollered at them. An older orc stood off to the side, brandishing a long spear. Koruk felt his heartbeat slow as his perception of time seemed to compress.

    ¡°Get the animals!¡± Moktark shouted, all pretense of stealth quickly evaporating. He charged at the sentry with a howl, swinging his club over his head.

    Oben slammed into the gate of the pen and started fumbling with the latch. Why didn¡¯t I see him? Koruk thought, as he climbed over the fence and started lashing a rope around one of the goats. He was right there and I didn¡¯t see him!You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Moktark¡¯s opponent fell in a heap as he was easily dispatched. Koruk could hear shouting inside the hut. The goats were scared, and making things difficult. Finally Oben swung the gate open, and most of the animals charged out of the pen into the field.

    An unfamiliar voice challenged Koruk from the other side of the fence. He hastily dropped the goat, unslung his bow, and nocked an arrow. It was only after he had drawn the bow back to his shoulder and swung it in the direction of the voice that he realized it was the voice of a child. A last second twitch of his shoulder sent the arrow flying wide, and the child scampering away in terror.

    Moktark ran over. Oben had managed to grab onto the goat that Koruk let go and bear it to the ground. Koruk stood in shock, still clutching his bow. He felt weak in the knees.

    ¡°Come on. They¡¯re running back to the village to get help! Grab anything you can carry and lets go little brother! Drake, get that goat tied down!¡± Moktark shouted excitedly.

    Koruk followed Moktark into the hut, the two of them began overturning the building, throwing anything that looked valuable into a blanket. They weren¡¯t picky. Dried food, tools, clothing, furs, pots, anything they could grab in a hurry. Koruk closed the blanket up and tied it, hoisting it over his shoulder. Moktark was stuffing furs under one arm when he suddenly dropped them and grabbed a small leather bag off a table. It jingled of money.

    ¡°Oh yeah, here¡¯s the booty!¡± He beamed. He opened the bag and started flicking through its contents with a thick finger.

    ¡°Forget that Moktark, just grab it and let¡¯s get out of here!¡±

    Moktark grunted and shoved the bag into a belt pouch. He awkwardly shouldered the furs, and his shield and they made to exit.

    ¡°We should burn what we don¡¯t take. Teach those tamer bastards to mess with the White Moons!¡± Moktark roared, kicking the front door of the hut off its hinges.

    Koruk looked around the ravaged farm. He thought about the child he had nearly killed. The idyllic little world he helped to shatter.

    ¡°There¡¯s no time, come on, they¡¯ll be coming soon.¡± He said, and turned to leave with his sack of loot. Moktark grunted and followed, waving to Oben to bring the goat.

    It took them the better part of the night to get back to where they had stashed the travois. At last they slumped down and caught their breath. Dawn¡¯s light was breaking, and the adrenaline that had kept Koruk up all night was fading away into a deep feeling of weariness.

    Moktark was excitedly sorting through the loot they had obtained, oblivious to anything else. Oben was breathing hard, and laid spread eagle upon the ground. Something was wrong, but he couldn¡¯t put his finger on it. He was too tired.

    ¡°That was a good raid little brother. It went well.¡± Moktark beamed, prying open a jar filled with some sort of pungent yellow gunk. He dipped a finger into it and licked it, making a strange face as he did so.

    ¡°There was just an old orc, women and children there. There was no honour in that fight.¡± Koruk said, staring up at the sky. Was that what was wrong? No, it was something else.

    ¡°The men are off fighting to the north. Raiding our farms and villages probably. They deserved this, make no mistake. Here, try this.¡± Moktark said, sticking the pot in front of Koruk¡¯s nose. Koruk recoiled at the smell.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Beats me.¡±

    ¡°It cheese.¡± Oben said absently. Koruk looked at him, and it clicked.

    ¡°Keeze? What¡¯s that?¡± Moktark replied, eating a bit more. ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±

    As Oben explained the process of making cheese from milk, Moktark¡¯s face took on a sour expression. He stared at the jar in dismay.

    Koruk watched the pair. During the battle, Moktark had been his usual self, really. Energetic, impulsive, commanding. Good traits in a warrior. Koruk himself had reacted with bumbling fear and caution. Again expected.

    Oben had changed. The formerly and currently meek, harmless little man, was as firm and collected as a stone during the battle. Completely emotionless and callous. The look on his face had been the same as if he were having breakfast. As if he had done it a thousand thousand times.

    Oben laughed as Moktark hastily stuck the lid back on the jar, and began spitting dramatically on the ground and retching. Koruk wondered what was hiding behind that laugh.

 Chapter 10: The Old Road

    The guardians of the mountain loomed over their heads, like two great tusks of rock jutting out of the earth. Between those tusks, a winding path led up a rocky cliffside that was otherwise nearly sheer.

    Moktark whistled between his teeth, and dropped the travois. It had taken them another five days to reach the pass, and whatever ethical qualms Koruk had been feeling about the raid had been suppressed by having a full belly the entire trip. Even the cheese had been alright.

    The following morning they ascended, a rope tied between the three of them in case one of them should fall. Moktark took the lead, having some experience in the mountains already, but it was very slow going. At points the path was too narrow for the travois to be drug, and they had to disassemble it and carry it and its cargo piece by piece, backs pressed against the cliff face for support. Below them the ground dropped away, and Koruk had to mentally stop himself from looking down to hold his stomach.

    At least the goat seemed to have no trouble at all, traversing the dangerous pass as if it was on a summer stroll.

    It was nightfall when they finally ascended, the narrow pass opening up and the ground starting to level out as they neared the top of the vast plateau. It was there that they set up camp for the night.

    Koruk had heard stories of the southern mountains from hunters and aspiring warriors in the village, but he found himself shocked by the desolation of the place all the same. Not a single tree nor blade of grass grew in this place, nor did it seem they ever did. As the sun went down, a chill breeze began to blow, and he felt glad for the furs they had stolen a few nights prior, as the warm clothes they had brought from Wit¡¯thod quickly proved insufficient.

    Without a fire to sit around, it was a cheerless night. Koruk didn¡¯t miss it though. Something about this place seemed to dissuade merrymaking.

    In the night, he awoke to the sound of howling in the distance.

    ¡°Dire wolves.¡± Moktark said. The big warrior was holding his warclub in one big paw against his chest as he slumbered. ¡°They shouldn¡¯t attack us. Not if we¡¯re together that is.¡±

    Koruk nodded, and tried to get back to sleep. Sharp rocks poked him from beneath the furs they were using as bedding. Somehow, he managed to get back to sleep.

    The morning found Moktark loudly complaining about pain in his back. Koruk didn¡¯t feel much better, and from the look of it neither did Oben. Outside they found wolf tracks circling the tent, but none had gotten within ten feet of the party.

    By noon they had reached the old road.

    ¡°Ah, good, we didn¡¯t get lost after all.¡± Moktark said, his voice cheery despite the restless night. ¡°This is Orcus¡¯s march, the old road. Should take us straight south into the lands of the Rock Crusher tribe. They¡¯re friendly, to a point anyways.¡±

    ¡°Have you been this way before?¡± Koruk asked his friend.

    ¡°No, I went up into the mountains once as a kid. You know, test my might against the crag lions. Got spooked by a ghost and scampered home. Made it as far as the road though.¡±

    The old road cut through the rocky landscape like a grey river, its ancient surface shattered into fragments so that it now resembled cobblestone. It was as wide as the blue run river at least, and just as twisting. Moktark absentmindedly kicked at a fragment of the once mighty road.

    ¡°Who built this?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, probably old Orcus. He¡¯s suppose to have travelled down it when he came out of the mountains. I don¡¯t know how long it is. Guess we¡¯ll find out.¡±

    The journey down the old road was, in a word, very lonely. Gone were the trading caravans that travelled up and down the banks of the blue run. Gone were the trees, the flowers, and even the insects. All that remained was a cold blowing wind that never seemed to stop. Occasionally Koruk spotted a wild goat lurking in the hills, watching their procession. He wondered what they ate.

    Branching off the old road, they passed many small tributaries. These led deeper into the barren hills, often disappearing into the mouths of caves and ancient tunnels. Moktark eyed these with suspicion, and quickened his pace as they passed by.

    A few days later, they passed a corner, and a great tower suddenly loomed above them on a distant hill, seemingly constructed of the same stone as the old road itself, and in just as poor of condition. At some point the top of the tower had tumbled down, leading only a rude stump left standing of what was once likely an impressive structure.

    Moktark stopped, dropping the travois. He rotated his shoulders, getting some of the soreness out of them.

    ¡°This would be, uh, Broken Lookout, I think.¡± Moktark said. ¡°We should avoid it, such places are haunted.¡±

    ¡°We might not have that option.¡± Koruk sighed, pulling his furs tighter around himself. The wind was picking up, and the sky had turned an ugly black. Just as he said it, the first hailstones began to fall, skittering across the rocks like tiny bullets.

    Their attempts to set up the tent under the conditions proved futile. Every time they tried, the gusting wind would whip through it and nearly carry it off. There was no shelter to be had, and so they were forced to trudge forward through the storm, dragging the upset goat and travois behind them.

    It was all Koruk could do to put one foot in front of the other. By the time they reached the base of the tower the hail had ceased, but the wind had picked up and threatened to nearly blow them off their feet. Ghosts or not, he was happy to duck inside the ruined building. He instantly slumped to the ground, followed by his two companions and one very miserable goat.

    ¡°We made it! By thunder I¡¯m soaked!¡± Koruk said in panting breaths, tossing a dripping fur to the smooth floor. ¡°What sort of place is this? I...¡±

    Koruk stopped and looked around, his curiosity winning out over his exhaustion. They were in a square chamber, the floor covered with inches of dust, and the ceiling partially collapsed on one side. Lumps of unidentifiable material were scattered here and there. Moktark lay by the front door panting, but Oben was walking around the room with undisguised wonder on his face.

    He brushed inches of dust and sand off one of the lumps, revealing some sort of white rock, which crumbled into dust at his touch.

    Oben thumbed at the dust in the palm of his hand. He didn¡¯t notice Koruk come up behind him, and jolted as Koruk spoke.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Oben said, looking around sadly.

    ¡°We should explore. This seems like the sort of place wolves would hide.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°No.¡± Oben said, dropping the dust out of his hand. ¡°Nobody come here in¡­ um, big time. Long time.¡±

    ¡°I see. Something the matter? You look spooked.¡±

    ¡°Who wouldn¡¯t be spooked?¡± Moktark interrupted, still sitting by the front door. ¡°This place is a tomb. We shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d like, we can go back out into the storm.¡± Koruk bit back. Moktark shrugged and grumbled.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to explore a bit. Give me a light.¡±

    Rummaging through the supplies, they found a small clay oil lamp, looted from the farm, and packed it with lard. It took several attempts and much cursing to light the damp wick, but eventually it blazed happily in Koruk¡¯s hand, casting out some of the shadows of the room.

    Oben waved him over to what appeared to be a depression in the floor.

    ¡°This go down. Move dirt.¡±

    Using their hands, Koruk and Oben dug handful after handful of accumulated dust out of the hole, which slowly revealed a stairwell, leading down into the earth. Moktark stayed by the front door.

    ¡°What are you doing Moktark, come check this out!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not moving! You¡¯re going to disturb the restful dead!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re being silly.¡±

    Moktark stood up.

    ¡°No! Have you ever thought that there might be a reason no one has come here in, in..¡± Moktark stammered, kicking a cloud of dust into the air with his boot. ¡°Pig shit, probably millennia? This place has bad vibes. We should get out of here little brother.¡±

    ¡°Stay by the door then. I¡¯m going to explore the stairs.¡± Koruk said, continuing to dig. Oben didn¡¯t even seem to have registered the conversation. He was totally fixated on digging.

    Half an hour later a gap was revealed, and by the light they could see another room beyond. The pace of digging intensified. Moktark warily got up and joined them, although he didn¡¯t help. After another half hour, or so, Oben thought he could squeeze through, and crawled into the other room to help dig from the other side.

    After Koruk and a reluctant Moktark managed to crawl over the remaining mound of dirt at the bottom of the stairwell, they found themselves in a long hallway of featureless grey stone, studded with strange devices at intervals in the ceiling. Koruk ran his fingers along the walls, but could feel no gaps that might indicate bricks. It was like the entire room had been hollowed out from a single monolithic piece of stone, which bore long cracks from age.

    The hallway wound on and on, low doors of metal and dark rooms branching off at regular intervals. They peeked into a few of them, finding ruined furniture and a few ancient animal nests. Koruk motioned to stop at a few of them, but Oben shook his head and led them onwards.

    The deeper they got, the better preserved the ruins became. There were painted glyphs on the walls in greens and reds. Little carts were strewn here and there with strange equipment resting on them. And there were bodies.

    Koruk gasped as the flickering light revealed a skeleton, slumped against a wall. Its head had fallen away to rest at its side. It was a small skeleton. As Koruk picked up its skull and examined it, he noticed the rows of blunt flat teeth. It reminded him a bit of¡­

    ¡°It human.¡± Oben said, answering his unasked question. Koruk raised his eyebrow at that, but Oben had already turned away, leading them further in.

    At the very end of the corridor Oben appeared to find what he was looking for. A set of double doors, fitted with the same strange clear glass that formed the window in Moktark¡¯s shield, opened up into a wide room. The place had been trashed. Tables were overturned. Equipment had been literally ripped out of the walls and cast to the ground, their guts torn out and missing. Oben approached a row of box shaped machines, and examined them. He thumped his hand on them, muttering something in his own language.

    ¡°More bones.¡± Moktark said, drawing Koruk¡¯s attention. Moktark gestured at a pair of skeletons splayed out on the floor. One of them had a caved in skull.

    ¡°Shit. Shit. SHIT!¡± Oben shouted, switching to orcish. He slumped down beside the metal boxes and wrapped his arms around his body. Moktark and Koruk looked at each other.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been acting weird ever since we got here.¡± Moktark said. ¡°What in the hells is the matter with you?¡±

    Oben didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Let him relax.¡± Koruk said.

    There wasn¡¯t much left untouched in the room. In the corner a bunch of boxes were spilling thousands of sheets of parchment onto the ground. They crumbled as he tried to pick them up, and even if they didn¡¯t, the inked symbols etched onto them were so faded with time as to be barely legible. Then, stuffed into a corner, he saw a sheath of parchments bound with some sort of strange glassy material.

    This seemed to be in better shape. The waxy feeling pages bore countless tiny symbols, arranged in neat horizontal rows.

    ¡°Hey, Drake, what¡¯s this?¡± He called out.

    Oben lifted his head and looked over.

    ¡°You know what this is don¡¯t you? All of this...¡± Koruk said, gesturing at the room around them.

    ¡°It all ruin. Destroyed.¡± Oben responded sadly. But nevertheless he got up and went to examine the papers. He began flipping through it, spending a few minutes reading each page.

    ¡°This is like what the merchant did, isn¡¯t it? Putting words on parchment.¡± Koruk asked. Oben nodded.

    ¡°This is, I do not know words. Um, this is sort of, story. Tells how much gold is dug, in time.¡±

    Moktark¡¯s ears perked up at the word ¡°gold¡±. He suddenly looked a lot less apprehensive about being there, and dropped a piece of junk he had been examining.

    ¡°There¡¯s gold here?¡±

    ¡°Dug here once. Long time ago.¡±

    Oben explained that once, long ago, there were mines here, and many humans working and living in them. They used to mine gold and transport it on the old road. This old building seemed to have been some sort of office or command centre which controlled the operation. He said he didn¡¯t know what happened to it. He pointed to a group of symbols, a sentence, on the front page of the book, embossed in the clear material.

    GRARS NEL8Y ORE PROCESSING

    11104356

    3094 IY FULL CYCLE PRODUCTION RECORDS

    He mouthed out the words, which meant nothing to his orcish companions, and explained that Grars NEL8Y, or ¡°Nelby¡±, was the name of the world they were on, and that the world was once teeming with human life. 3094IY was the year of the book¡¯s writing, and likely one of the last years of human life on the world. His companions nodded, trying to take it all in. There was silence for a time, but Moktark was the first to break it.

    ¡°The Rock Crushers still mine gold out of the cliffs. They send it to Zernthod to be magicked up into stuff like this.¡± He said, pulling a shining object out of his belt pouch. It was a golden ring, intricately patterned. Snatched during the farm raid. Oben¡¯s eyes widened as he beheld the shining ornament.

    ¡°Not just gold. Obsidian, copper, all sorts of stuff.¡± Koruk said, looking around the ruined room.

    ¡°If your people were mining gold, where is it now? Where are they now?¡± Moktark asked.

    Oben explained that the gold was shipped away in great ¡°flying boats¡± that took it into the sky. Beyond the sky. The humans went away with it. Moktark seemed confused, but Koruk nodded, a memory returning to him.

    ¡°The Bone Mother, she used to say that in the first times, before we came out of the mountains and founded Orc¡¯gar, we used to send gold into the sky as a sacrifice to the gods. The sky father needed the gold to keep the white moon shining in the sky. Otherwise it would cease to shine, and the dark moon would grow big enough to eat it, throwing the world into darkness.¡±

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he need the gold now?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°He does, but Orcus looked out over the ocean one day, and he saw the white moon reflected on the water. He realized that we didn¡¯t need to bring the gold into the sky, we could just drop it into the water, and it would get there all the same. Now we do that.¡±

    Moktark nodded.

    ¡°More importantly...¡± Koruk said, turning to Oben. ¡°How do you know all this?¡±

    Oben hesitated a bit before responding.

    ¡°I was here. Long ago. Before you find me. I live in time long ago.¡± Oben said, thinking about his next words carefully. ¡°Fell asleep, long time. Wake up, find you.¡±

    Koruk nodded. There was more to it he knew. But he wasn¡¯t in the mood to press.

    ¡°Light¡¯s getting low. Let¡¯s get out of here. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything else here for us. If there is, the dead can have it.¡± Moktark said, turning to leave.

    When they crawled back up the stairs into the lobby, Moktark swore and quickly drew his weapon, running over to the travois.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been robbed! Pig shit!¡± He said, frantically looking around. ¡°Goat¡¯s gone too!¡±

    ¡°What was taken? We weren¡¯t down there that long!¡± Koruk said, fumbling to set his bowstring.

    ¡°Food mostly.¡± Moktark said. The remains of the cheese jar lay broken open, its contents gone. ¡°We still got some, they didn¡¯t like the vegetables.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s tracks.¡±

    Moktark spat.

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t wolf tracks. Orcs. No, too small. Red men? Barefoot too. Shit, I should have stood guard!¡±

    They tracked the prints to the door, but outside the wind still howled, and had blown away any trace of them.

    That night they clutched their weapons tight, and didn¡¯t get much sleep.

 Chapter 11: Brittle Teeth

    The next morning, they wasted no time in getting away from the accursed ruins. The journey south along the last stretch of the old road was made in relative silence, with many furtive glances cast at every cliff face and cave entrance the party passed. Food supplies dwindled a little more each night, and many of the harder tubers couldn¡¯t be eaten at all, for want of a fire to cook them.

    With each passing night, they began to have second thoughts. Second thoughts about choosing the old road through the mountains. Second thoughts about the whole journey.

    The mountain goats taunted them from the clifftops, and the howls of the wolves seemed to grow closer every night, although they never saw a sign of them beyond pawprints. Several times Koruk attempted to shoot at the goats on the ridgeline, wasting many arrows in the process. Eventually, by sheer luck, he managed to hit one, and Moktark patted him on the back many times for it. But when they attempted to track the wounded animal, they lost the trail in the rocks, and wasted the better part of a day trying to find it.

    Koruk decided not to waste any more of his arrows.

    Several days later, with the supplies of edible food having been gone for a full day, they ran into a pair of orcs walking in the opposite direction. They introduced themselves as prospectors of the Rock Crusher tribe, looking for new veins of ore to exploit. After much haggling, Koruk managed to convince them to part with some of their iron rations and a pot of water in exchange for two gold trinkets. They also got directions to a nearby pass in the south that would finally take them out of the mountains. After they had waved goodbye to the prospectors, Koruk spoke up, ending a silence which had lasted for days.

    ¡°We could have bought an entire years worth of food with that gold in Wit¡¯thod.¡± Koruk said, stuffing his face with some sort of unidentifiable pemmican-like food. It tasted stale, and had no other flavour of note. Moktark poked through his coinpurse.

    ¡°We got one gold ring, and a few silver left. My belly is full and I¡¯m not complaining. I hope they have something better to eat at Brittle Back.¡±

    ¡°Brittle Teeth.¡± Koruk corrected. He hoped so too, he thought while swallowing.

    By nightfall they sighted brown grass and trees in a valley far below. They marched through the night by the light of the moons, desperate to be out of the barren mountains, and through much slipping and sliding on loose rocks. By daybreak they found themselves entering a vast savannah dotted with thick barrel-like trees that rose up like islands out of the brown grass. Morale greatly improved that day, as they were able to roast some of the tubers left over a blazing fire. They rested until the following morning, and were untroubled by the howls of wolves or skulking thieves.

    The journey through the plains was mostly uneventful, and went quickly over the flat, even terrain. The silence and pensiveness of the old road was gone, and they talked and joked easily. A week and a half passed traveling southwards, when the land began to change shape once again. The ground began to slope down into the beginnings of a great valley, and massive pillars of stratified rock began to jut out of the ground like the teeth of giants.

    Hence the name of the place, Koruk supposed. This must be Brittle Teeth. His journey had brought him to the very edge of the world. Somehow, he imagined it would look¡­ different, but it was still fantastic to his eyes.

    As they continued into the valley, the teeth began to crowd closer together. Some of them had fantastic forms, looking like two or even three rocks balanced precariously on top of each other, and Koruk marvelled at what mighty beings must have crafted such a place. They began to pass people as well, hand carts mostly, but a few of the strange humped beasts too.

    One afternoon they rounded a corner, and all of a sudden the city was in front of them.

    Brittle Teeth (the city) was a strange sight to their eyes. Dome shaped adobe buildings of a radically different style than the usual orcish constructions rose up behind a low wall of the same material that didn¡¯t look particularly defensible to Koruk¡¯s eyes. Standing between them and that wall were thousands of striped tents in a dizzying array of colours, adorned with all sorts of ribbons and tassels and streamers that danced in the hot breeze. Beyond the town on two sides rose up a great range of jagged cliffs, and it looked for all the world as though the little settlement was sitting in the great maw of some enormous beast.

    Many people were milling about the tents, going into and out of the town, and fussing with animals and speaking loudly to one another. They looked to be dressed up as their tents were, wearing long garish robes that seemed to be interwoven with sashes and turbans and streamers in a cacophony of colours that made Koruk¡¯s eyes hurt. Every inch of their bodies were covered, from head to toe.

    As the party entered the crowd, Koruk caught glimpses of violet eyes and red skin hiding behind the colourful masks, and he knew he wasn¡¯t looking at orcs. They were red men. He had only heard of them in stories. From those stories he had imagined a horde of snarling wildmen come streaming out of the endless desert to rape and kill. The reality of them seemed far stranger, and he wasn¡¯t sure if he liked it more or less.

    Every now and then he noticed a rather bulky bundle of cloth with two tusks sticking out of it, and knew that he was looking at an orc who had adopted the dress of this foreign race, albeit usually with far more muted colours.

    ¡°Look at them.¡± Moktark said, nodding his head in the direction of one of the orcs. ¡°Covering up their bodies like that¡­ as if they¡¯re ashamed. Even orcish women shouldn¡¯t act so effeminate. It¡¯s outlandish and obscene.¡±

    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a reason for it.¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone native. They can¡¯t change their skin to be red so they cover it up.¡± Moktark said. He shook his head. ¡°Isn¡¯t right.¡±

    ¡°We need to find a way into the desert. Should we ask around?¡±

    ¡°All you¡¯re likely to hear here is sales pitches.¡± Moktark said, looking around at the throngs of merchants loading up carts and pack beasts. ¡°We need to find some proper, normal orcs to talk to. Come on, maybe we¡¯ll find some in the city.¡±

    The city gate consisted of a low, rounded archway crowded with traffic. They weren¡¯t challenged by any guards on their way through, and there was no gate and no real defences. Nobody seemed particularly worried about it. Koruk thought they must be crazy, but then he realized that any raiding army would have to first get through the tent city to even reach the gates. Maybe those merchants weren¡¯t as helpless as they seemed, he thought.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The city was a lot¡­ bigger up close. Brittle Teeth was a far cry from the cramped narrow paths and tiny huts of Wit¡¯thod village. It featured broad paved avenues lined with market stalls, massive adobe brick buildings with multiple stories, and crowds of people haggling, shouting, and going about their business. For the most part the inhabitants were wearing the colourful robes of the red men, but every now and then they caught a glance of green skin laid bare to the sun, and the largest group of these seemed to be congregating around a large building that seemed to have been built out of several smaller dome-houses that had been joined together.

    As they approached, a group of drunk orcs stumbled out of the doorway, laughing and propping each other up as they climbed up the flight of stairs that led down into the building. They had bright green skin, and sported angry red tattoos. They were Beast tamers. Koruk and Moktark both readied themselves for a fight.

    ¡°Hello friends! Brothers! It has been so long since I¡­ hic¡­ saw another friendly face! How are things at home? Things are great here!¡± One of them said, stumbling towards Koruk. He leaned on the young orc¡¯s shoulder and whispered conspiratorially into his ear.

    ¡°Stay away from the cactus wine, that shit hits hard.¡±

    He winked at Koruk, slapped him roughly on the back, and stumbled away to rejoin his friends, laughing raucously all the while.

    Koruk and Moktark exchanged a dumbstruck glance. Did they not realize that they were White Moons? Did they just not care? Koruk shook his head.

    This was a very strange place.

    As they entered the tavern, they were greeted by a cacophony of sights and smells that were utterly alien. The lighting was dim, cast from softly glowing lanterns suspended from the ceiling by the same coloured ribbons Koruk was used to seeing everywhere by now. There was a pungent odour of smoke and spice in the air, and amidst the many crowded tables Koruk saw for the first time red men with their heads uncovered, enjoying drinking and conversing with each other and occasionally with orcs.

    They were very peculiar to Koruk¡¯s eyes, looking a lot like his human companion Oben, but with dark red ochre skin. From their foreheads jutted a variety of small horns. Some of the red men sported two horns, or four, or even a whole row across their foreheads, but they were always perfectly symmetrical. Their hair was raven black, just as his was, but it seemed much finer, usually curly instead of straight like an orc¡¯s. Their faces and bodies were covered in strange swirling black tattoos that gave them a savage, ethereal appearance. They had no facial hair, nor any body hair from what he could see of their arms and legs, and their faces were so soft and feminine to his eyes that he wasn¡¯t able to distinguish the men from women, if red men even had both sexes.

    Moktark nudged him in the ribs.

    ¡°Don¡¯t gawk at them. Let¡¯s find a place to sit down.¡±

    Moktark selected one of the few empty tables and motioned for them to sit. Koruk felt utterly bewildered, and Oben didn¡¯t appear much better. The two of them looked around at everything like it was going to sprout wings and fly away. Moktark seemed the most comfortable, and sighed.

    ¡°Wait here, I¡¯m going to go get some drinks.¡±

    Moktark went to the bar, and after awhile returned with three clay mugs of some kind of drink. Koruk at first thought it was some sort of clear beer, but it was sweet to the taste, almost overpoweringly so, and contrasted by a bitter aftertaste of some spice or herb he had never tasted. It was delicious.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go talk to people at the bar about getting passage into the desert. Maybe someone will have heard of this black temple of yours.¡± Moktark said, gulping down the last of his drink in one go. With that, he walked off, leaving Koruk and Oben alone at the table together.

    Koruk felt great. That beast tamer was right. Everything was great.

    He hiccupped.

    The wine, or beer, or whatever it was, was especially great. Really great. He wished he could buy another mug, but Moktark had taken the money bag with him. Shit.

    ¡°Drake¡­ drake! We need more of this. We need the money. To get more of¡­ this. What is this?¡±

    Oben smiled, but seemed distracted by something. He didn¡¯t reply.

    After awhile a group of partying orcs wandered by, and spotted Koruk sitting alone with the human looking morosely into his empty cup. They approached.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? It¡¯s no good seeing a young orc looking so sad in this house of pleasure!¡± One of them remarked. A female orc leaning on the speaker nodded empathically, smiling broadly.

    Koruk shyly mumbled something about being out of money.

    ¡°Speak up! I¡¯m too drunk to understand you.¡± the orc laughed. The others in his group laughed with him, as if on queue.

    ¡°We¡¯re going upstairs to party. Why don¡¯t you tag along? Your pale imp friend there is welcome to join!¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t be surprised if you end up with some broken bones!¡± Another orc said.

    Oben politely declined, but before he knew it Koruk had been swept up out of his chair by the throng of merrymakers and taken up a flight of stairs to a back room.

    The room had several pieces of short furniture, and a level of decoration that bordered on ¡°gaudy¡±. Uncomfortably short furniture for an orc, but they must be for the red men. Koruk sat down on a sort of low stool with a cushion on it, and it creaked alarmingly under his weight. Feeling a bit awkward and out of place, he looked around the room.

    The orcs who brought him there seemed to be from a wide variety of tribes. Beast Tamers, with their angular red tattoos. Shattered Storm, with their weird teal skin. The leader of the band looked to be a Bloodmaw, a hulking representative of what was universally considered the strongest of the orc tribes. They ruled the city of Kalzuk¡¯thod, the warrior city, sister city to Orc¡¯gar itself, and served as peacemakers when the clans and tribes had disputes. The Bloodmaw had bulging muscles and was covered in scars, but his good humour belied his brutal appearance. On either of his arms was a tall, barely clothed orcish woman.

    He threw one of them towards Koruk with a swing of his arm, and Koruk caught her, nearly falling off his stool in the process. The big Bloodmaw gave Koruk a toothy smile, his huge tusks shining crimson in the red light of the lamps overhead, and he winked before turning away laughing.

    Koruk felt extremely confused. One of the most dour, brutal warriors imaginable from the tribe that struck fear by its very name was acting like a friendly, excited kid who hadn¡¯t a care in the world. Koruk watched him burst into dance with a Shattered Storm tribesman, who was easily a foot shorter than him. He looked at the giggling woman in his arms, pawing at his chest.

    Had he died and gone to paradise? He thought there would be more fighting in paradise.

    A red man ¨C one of the orcs called him an imp? - entered the room. He, or maybe she, was carrying a large pitcher decorated with lavish and, as Koruk looked closer, extremely lewd scenes. The Bloodmaw cheerily danced up to him and dumped a green fistful of silver into the red man¡¯s small hands, which nearly overflowed from them. The imp pocketed it into a purse, gave a courteous bow from the waist, and left the pitcher on a low table. The Bloodmaw let out a startling bellow which shook the ceiling, which Koruk could only interpret as a cheer, and started pouring the drink into small cups which looked comically dainty in his huge hands. He passed them around the room, and gave Koruk one, before thinking better of it and taking it back. He poured half the cup¡¯s contents back into the pitcher and handed it back.

    ¡°Best to take it easy young one.¡± He said.

    The clear liquid in the cup looked and smelled like nothing in particular. Koruk drank it.

    For awhile nothing happened. Then the world began to change into one of bright colours and pure joy, and he lost himself into the arms of his giggling partner.

 Chapter 12: Many Questions

    Moktark swirled the drink in his cup, lost in thought. He had spent the better part of three hours cold approaching random orcs in the tavern, buying drinks, having laughs, and getting blown off if he even tried to broach the subject of passage through the desert. He had thus far avoided talking to any of the red men. He wasn¡¯t sure how they¡¯d react, or how to even begin with that.

    He drained his cup. Over those three hours of carousing and drinking he had spent the last of his silver. All that was left in his purse was a single gold ring, and he wasn¡¯t in a hurry to spend it. Maybe it¡¯s time to pack it in for the night, he thought, slamming his cup down and turning to leave.

    Out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone watching him. Further down the bar, near the end, a hooded figure was staring at him with a gleam in his eye. An old orc, with a scraggly white beard that drooped down nearly to his waistline. As their eyes met, the old orc beckoned him over.

    Moktark sat down beside him, and the two of them sat in silence for a time, the aged orc seeming to study his face the entire time.

    ¡°If you have something to say be out with it.¡± Moktark said finally, breaking the silence. The old orc smiled in satisfaction, as if he had won some sort of game.

    ¡°Why do you want to go into the desert?¡± He asked suddenly.

    Moktark was a bit taken aback by the sudden question, but soon enough found himself recounting his tale, only occasionally interrupted by questions asking him to clarify this or that. He told the story of the vision, of the war with the Beast Tamers, of their quest for the black temple in the desert and the strange pale skinned man they travelled with who called himself a human. It felt good to finally find someone willing to talk to him, and in his inebriated state Moktark didn¡¯t even consider holding anything back.

    ¡°That is¡­ an unbelievable story.¡± The old orc said. He waved to the barkeeper, a tall red man wearing the robes of his kind, and ordered two cups of cactus wine. He slid one over to Moktark.

    ¡°Unbelievable but, yes, I do think I believe it. A good story deserves a good drink. Your throat must be parched.¡±

    Moktark nodded his thanks, and nursed the drink.

    ¡°I saw you enter, actually. That pale creature, the human you described, caught my eye. ¡®Albino imp¡¯, hah. He¡¯s more than that by far, that much is unmistakable.¡±

    ¡°Who are you old man?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m a soot shaman, or was once. I spent my entire life in the forges of Zernthod. One day I got tired of it, and decided to come here.¡± He said. He picked up his cup and took a long swig of the liqueur. ¡°The drink is better. The air smells cleaner.¡±

    For a moment, the old orc looked sad, but the feeling seemed to dissipate quickly from his face. He thought for a bit, tapping his finger on the table as he did so, and looked over at where Oben was sitting alone. Moktark followed his gaze. Where did Koruk get off to? He wondered to himself, frowning.

    ¡°A most intriguing tale, ah...¡±

    ¡°Moktark.¡±

    ¡°Moktark. I am called Semthak. Do you know why no one will answer your questions about the desert, Moktark? Why no one will help you?¡±

    Moktark shook his head.

    ¡°The red men, impid they call themselves, imps, won¡¯t allow it. They never allow orcs to go into the desert with them. For them, the sand sea is a sacred place, and they see it as theirs by the order of the gods. Theirs, and theirs alone. This valley is as far as any of them will willingly set foot outside of it, and serves as a sort of neutral ground between our people and theirs. No one here would willingly violate that neutrality.¡±

    Semthak paused to take another drink.

    ¡°Recently, they¡¯ve been stirred up, agitated. More and more of them are packing up and returning to the desert, taking with them all their belongings on those wooden sand-sailing skiffs they ride on through the dunes. Not a one of them will talk about it with outsiders, not even to those orcs who are native to this city and who have, in a large part, ¡®gone native¡¯, speaking the red tongue and wearing their clothes. The orcs are lamenting the loss of business and declaring that the end times have come, which they do in jest but...¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    The old orc shook his head and sighed.

    ¡°Something about this whole thing doesn¡¯t feel right. And now with you showing up with this story of visions and with that human in tow¡­ ¡± He said, pausing. ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to the rest of your party, but it¡¯s late now. It is late, and both of us are too drunk for it. The sun is down, and it¡¯s a bad idea to wander the streets at night. Go gather your companions, rent a room for the night, and I¡¯ll meet you outside in the morning. I need to go think about things.¡±

    Semthak rose from his chair and departed without another word, leaving Moktark alone. As they had talked, the tavern had slowly cleared out for the night. Moktark finished his drink and went to look for his companions.

    With Koruk being shanghaied by the revellers, Oben was left alone at the table. It was the first time he was able to be alone with his thoughts in some time, and he leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room, taking in the atmosphere and the carousing orcs and red skinned men. Of all the slave races to have survived the calamity, he surmised that it would make sense that it would be the orcs. They were always the hardiest denizens of this planet, engineered to watch over the miners and keep the peace. He¡¯d seen no sign of the stunted miners or any of the other xenohumans he was familiar with from his previous life.

    These red men with the horns he was utterly unfamiliar with. Could they have evolved on their own in only a few thousand years? It seemed impossible. But then, he thought it was impossible for any life larger than a microbe to have survived the apocalypse which had scoured this world three millennia ago, but here he was, sitting in a tavern that wasn¡¯t to dissimilar from the one he used to frequent while he was off duty, surrounded by¡­ people.

    It was strange to think of them as even being people. Certainly in the past he hadn¡¯t. Especially so with the brutal orcs, who he remembered only as mindless shock troopers. More of an engineered bioweapon than anything, kept under neuro-sedation for their own safety most of the time. They were different, having developed their own language, culture, manners. The green skin was new too. Some sort of infectious disease maybe? A symbiotic lichen or fungus? They didn¡¯t seem to have any trace of equipment he remembered them being outfitted in either. In fact, nobody here seemed to have any technology past bronzeworking.

    One of the red men in the table opposite him appeared to have some sort of sword strapped to his belt, so metalworking wasn¡¯t unheard of in this world, but it seemed that civilization had completely collapsed, and started again from scratch.

    Oben leaned further back in his chair, until he was staring at the mud brick dome that made up the ceiling. In his mind he was staring past it, up into the sky where above his head, sat tens of thousands of humans in space. Sleeping in suspended animation, waiting for a signal to awaken. Why hadn¡¯t they awoken? Grars Nel8y was clearly hospitable to life, so why wasn¡¯t the signal to awaken given? Did the messages and ships sent to the capital ever arrive? There was clearly no relief force sent. Why did his ship¡¯s sensors indicate that this world was a radioactive hellscape when he could see vegetation, clouds, and blue oceans with his bare eyes as he looked out the window of his sleeper ship? Why did he wake up, but seemingly no-one else?

    As Oben looked around the room once more, he realized with sadness that other than the cryosleeping passengers in orbit, he might very well be the last human being left in the world. Maybe the entire universe. It was a sobering thought.

    He thought about his companions. It still frightened him even being near orcs, but they seemed friendly enough he supposed. He still found himself unable to trust them, but what choice did he have? He was alone, an alien on an alien world that might have once been his home but clearly wasn¡¯t any longer.

    If only he could reach the array in the desert that shot down his ship, which as far as he could tell was the only remaining functional piece of technology left on the planet, maybe he could somehow use the equipment to send the awaken signal to the remaining ships and habs in orbit. Humanity could return to reclaim this world! He had doubts his companions would want that. They seemed perfectly content living in savagery, banging rocks together. By some twist of fate they seemed to be on the same quest as him. This ¡°black temple¡± they seemed obsessed with could only be some sort of technological artefact, and most likely the very same structure that he was seeking, although he put no stock in any dreams, visions, or religious experiences.

    Oben began to nod off a bit, the weird drink they served at the tavern starting to go to his head. It was pretty good, whatever it was. He was shocked back into reality when Moktark prodded him.

    ¡°Where did Koruk wander off to?¡±

    Oben started. He hadn¡¯t even heard the huge orc walk up. How long had he been out?

    ¡°Uh, he went off with other orcs. Up there. Big party.¡± Oben said, pointing to the door Koruk had disappeared into.

    Moktark slapped his head and swore, dragging Oben up out of the chair.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s find him before he gets into any real trouble...¡± he said.

 Chapter 13: Strange Journeys

    Koruk opened his eyes, and stared at the ceiling. The ceiling stared back, the rows of bricks seeming to twist and warp into familiar forms. Faces. Scenes. Beside him a naked female form was writhing in her sleep. Her touch against his skin caused his entire body to prickle.

    The orc¡¯s body vibrated with energy. He felt as if he could reach out toward the sky and pull it down. The universe was his to command. Koruk leaped to his feet, the motion feeling mechanical, as though it was not him rising, but the entire world sinking as he pushed off against it.

    ¡°Whoh.¡±

    The party seemed to have petered out, and the other orcs were laying around or staring intently at the walls. All except for the big Bloodmaw. Koruk watched him, dressed in full battle regalia, exit the room out a yawning door in the back. Stealthily, or what he imagined was stealthily, Koruk followed him, creeping through the halls of the building. The floors groaned in protest under his weight, and he realized that he was suddenly very heavy. The back door of the tavern loomed ahead of him. If he could only make it a few more feet¡­

    With one massive burst of energy, Koruk leapt through the doorway. But instead of finding himself out in the streets, he was in the desert. Red sand dunes surrounded him. The city was gone. Koruk turned around to look back at the tavern, but instead of a comfortable adobe building an enormous black pyramid rose into the sky, seeming to drink in the light from the stars and the moons overhead.

    He heard a chanting, and suddenly all around him were red men. Their faces were expressionless, turned up towards the sky. All at once, the heavens above seemed to catch fire, and the world turned blood red. Red men pushed up against Koruk in a frenzy, a net of arms seeking to smother him. He saw the Bloodmaw climbing the pyramid, pushing towards a shining light at the top. The red men were pursuing him but he cut them down with his axe as they grabbed at his ankles and tried to drag him down.

    Koruk fought against the crowd, desperate to get to the other orc to help him. Red bodies swarmed around him, holding him back. In the struggle somehow he managed to get free, and he ran to the pyramid to help the Bloodmaw, ascending the steps with panting breaths.

    Together the two of them fought side by side throwing aside foes left and right, and after what seemed an age, they reached the top and confronted the light.

    The light seemed to dim as Koruk stared at it, coalescing into a glowing orb above the side of his head. Out of that orb a face began to emerge, bathed in radiance. The face laughed, mockingly, and spoke into his mind.

    ¡°The moons will devour each other. The sun is chained, the stars are silent. The wolf burns with hunger, and turns his eyes towards the pig. The balance of the world sits on a blade¡¯s edge.¡±

    At this, the face in the light transformed into a monstrous snarling wolf. Koruk raised his axe and struck it down, and it disappeared, along with the light.

    Koruk looked around. The Bloodmaw was gone. The red men were gone. The sky was dark again. He was alone at the top of the pyramid. He looked down, and saw that he was wearing the armour and trophies of the Bloodmaw, and holding his axe. Koruk felt wet, as it started to rain. He felt cold¡­ wait¡­ this wasn¡¯t right¡­

    Koruk groggily came to, laying face down on a hard brick paved surface. His head swirled, and his vision was fuzzy. He looked around. He seemed to be laying on the ground, surrounded by fruit and smashed wooden debris. He heard a gibbering noise as someone shouted angrily in a foreign language, and a more familiar voice shouting back.

    Moktark put down the water bucket he had dumped on Koruk¡¯s head, and pulled the smaller orc to his feet with a heave. An imp, a merchant maybe, was shouting loudly at them. Moktark chucked a gold ring at him and gave him a rude hand gesture, and supporting Koruk with an arm, led him back to the tavern.

    Koruk felt himself flop down onto a soft straw bed, and he fell asleep. No dreams troubled him.

    The morning greeted Koruk with a throbbing headache that left him unsteady on his feet. He crawled out of bed, the room he was in unfamiliar. It was a sparsely decorated room, featuring three other beds inset into the walls, and a small table in the centre upon which sat a bowl with some sort of black fruit. Koruk ate some and found it agreed with him. As he got his thoughts in order, he realized this must be a room in the tavern. He wondered where Moktark and Oben were.

    He found them downstairs, in the main hall of the tavern. Moktark waved a greeting to him, and Koruk sheepishly approached his friends, rubbing the back of his neck. For some reason he seemed to have a kink in it.

    The tavern had mostly emptied out. Only one guest remained other than his two companions, an old bearded orc who was looking at him with naked amusement in his eyes.

    ¡°Sleep well, little brother?¡± Moktark asked, grinning.

    ¡°Not really. Who¡¯s this?¡± Koruk asked, nodding his head towards the old orc.

    ¡°Meet Semthak. He¡¯s going to help us get into the desert.¡± Moktark said. Semthak held up his hands to stop him.

    ¡°I said only that I wished to hear your tale, young warrior.¡± Semthak said, smiling and turning to Koruk. ¡°But, that may end up being the case. You look like you had quite a night. Cactus wine didn¡¯t agree with you I take it?¡±

    Koruk grinned sheepishly.

    ¡°I guess not.¡±

    ¡°I want to hear about these visions you have, about the desert.¡± Semthak said, suddenly serious. ¡°But not here. There are too many eyes and ears around. Come join me at my home, where we can talk in private.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Koruk looked to Moktark, who nodded, and then motioned for Semthak to lead on. As the party walked to Semthak¡¯s house, Moktark explained the circumstances of their meeting, and also how they had found Koruk face down in the ruins of a merchant¡¯s fruit stall outside later that night. Koruk winced as he heard the story, but remained tight lipped about his own adventures that night. Oben remained silent as they walked, seeming to be off in his own thoughts.

    Semthak¡¯s house was a low, square building built mostly underground, and set awkwardly in the middle of a group of other similar structures. The entrance was in its flat roof, with a bridge connecting it to the neighbouring buildings. Koruk wasn¡¯t used to how people lived in cities, but he got the impression that this house might not be the most desirable real estate. Regardless, as they climbed down the ladder leading inside, he decided that it seemed comfortable enough.

    Semthak¡¯s home was sparsely decorated, but seemed very lived in and... homey. A small brick firepit sat in the centre of a single large room, surrounded by pillows of a fine make. Herbs and pots of vegetables were heaped up in a corner of the house, and a pile of blankets and pillows in another corner seemed to serve as a bed.

    Semthak lit the fire and put an earthenware kettle over it to boil while the others got their bearings, and he poured out four cups of a refreshing herbal tea for himself and his guests. As the tea cooled, they sat down together before the fire.

    ¡°Now then, I¡¯m interested to hear your story. I have heard some of it but, leave nothing out.¡±

    Koruk related the story of their adventure, of the visions, of their quest for the desert, of their battles, victories, and defeats. Koruk paused for a bit, and decided to tell the story of his adventure last night as well. This drew out some chuckles and slaps on the back from Moktark, but the old shaman¡¯s attention was rapt, and he simply nodded while sipping at his tea, a faraway look in his eyes. He asked a few followup questions, focusing on the being of light Koruk had seen in his vision.

    After the story was concluded, Semthak sat back and thought in silence for awhile. Eventually he leaned forward, and drank the last of his now cold tea.

    ¡°I too have had such dreams.¡± He said, after a time. ¡°Although nowhere near as detailed. For me it was little more than a few images, feelings. I¡¯m not originally from Brittle Teeth, you see. Once I was a soot shaman of Zernthod. You know of us, yes?¡±

    Koruk nodded.

    ¡°You can use magic to create items out of shining metal.¡±

    ¡°Well, yes we can certainly do that. But there¡¯s more to it. I was a soothsayer. I would read the charcoal in the forges, examine failed castings, that sort of thing. Try to decide if it was a good day or a bad day for a pour. Whether the gods were in a good mood that day. Where the gods had hidden the best ores when they built the world. That sort of thing. I was sitting in my forge meditating, and trying to do the latter, when I began to see visions of the desert. I saw this pyramid as you describe it, and the red sky, although this¡­ being of light is new to me. I knew after the second vision that I could not stay in Zernthod. I would come here, and seek it out.¡±

    Semthak finished, and sat unspeaking for awhile. He poured himself another cup of tea.

    ¡°And you, a human are you? I have never seen your race of being before. Tell me your story.¡±

    Oben related his story in brief as he had described it to the orcs. His home was another world very far away, and his sky-boat had fallen from the sky, after it was attacked from the ground somehow. He wanted to go home, but he did not know the way, and so had joined on the adventure to find the black temple, hoping it held answers. He seemed distracted as he told the story, and the old sage¡¯s eyes bored into him all the while but the orc said nothing until the end.

    ¡°Your sudden appearance in this story is¡­ an interesting synchronicity. I have heard of many strange people who supposedly inhabit far off lands, but I¡¯ve never heard of someone from another world entirely before. That shield of yours, Moktark, you mentioned that was part of his ¡®sky boat?¡¯¡±

    Moktark nodded and Semthak examined it for a time in silence.

    ¡°Do you intend to go into the desert and find this pyramid?¡± Semthak asked.

    ¡°I do.¡± Koruk replied. He felt emboldened by hearing of the shared vision, and suddenly any doubts as to the authenticity of his dreams had been alleviated. Koruk had never felt more ready for anything.

    ¡°I figured you¡¯d feel that way. As I said I had some interest in going into the desert as well, but a solo trek into that hellish place would be suicidal.¡±

    ¡°Why not travel with these red¡­ these imps, who seem to know the way?¡±

    Semthak shook his head.

    ¡°No, the imps can¡¯t be trusted even if you did manage to convince them. Trust me on that.¡± He said in a low voice.

    ¡°Well, how do they travel through the desert?¡± Koruk pushed.

    Semthak explained that the imps used sailing barges with which to cross the sands, much like the catamarans used by the Shattered Storm tribe to cross the waves of the sea. They also had animals which could make the journey, Semthak said they were called ¡°camels¡± and described them, but it seemed that the sandsailers could move across the desert at an incredible pace in comparison to the slow march of the animals.

    Traveling fast meant nothing if one didn¡¯t know where he was going though. The imps maintained wells in the desert, but they kept the locations a guarded secret, for to find the oases was to find their secret cities. They were a paranoid and reclusive people.

    ¡°If that is the case, we should try to get passage on one of these sailing ships and convince the red men to guide us through the desert!¡± Koruk said, slapping his fist into his palm.

    ¡°No. Haven¡¯t you heard anything? When I say they are paranoid and reclusive I mean it! They would never travel with an orc. They see us as enemies, even those fools who strut around outside wearing their clothes and speaking their tongue.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot!¡±

    The two of them argued back and forth, until they were interrupted from an unexpected source.

    ¡°I will talk to them!¡± Oben said, practically shouting to make himself heard. ¡°I will talk to them.¡±

    ¡°Well, go on then.¡± Semthak said, motioning for him to continue.

    ¡°I am not orc.¡± Oben began. ¡°I am not enemy. Most people they think I am pale imp. I will talk to them.¡±

    ¡°¡­ That¡¯s a good idea.¡± Moktark said.

    ¡°If we dressed him up like one of them, I bet they wouldn¡¯t even realize he didn¡¯t have the horns and such.¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Semthak relented, letting out a breath he didn¡¯t know he was holding. ¡°It¡¯s worth a try. We should wait until dusk though. The imps sleep during the afternoon and move at sundown.¡±

    ¡°In the meantime, we can get some gear for the journey!¡± Koruk said, rising to his feet and grinning.

    ¡°We¡¯re broke.¡± Moktark grumbled.

    ¡°What do you mean we¡¯re broke?¡±

    ¡°Spent the last of the money paying off that merchant whose stall you trashed. Not that I really blame you he had it coming.¡± Moktark said, not meeting Koruk¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°We can sell the furs. The loot we got from the farm. I doubt we¡¯ll need furs in the desert.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll fetch a good price here.¡± Semthak said. ¡°I will meet you back here at sundown. I have some preparations of my own to make.¡±

    ¡°To an adventure worthy of song!¡± Moktark said. The three orcs cheered, and they parted ways.

 Chapter 14: Expectations

    Finding buyers for the furs and other loot was easier than expected in the marketplace, and Moktark thought he got a good price for them as he hefted his freshly refilled coinpouch. With the money, they purchased some clothes which were supposedly more suitable for the desert, restocked on provisions, and ended up having enough left over to maybe grease a few palms and buy a few drinks. In addition they purchased a small container of a vibrant red dye, which cost a pretty penny.

    Meeting back up at Semthak¡¯s that evening, they found the old shaman had gathered supplies of his own. He wore loose robes, and carried a backpack and a long quarterstaff.

    ¡°You look ridiculous in that.¡± Moktark scoffed, seeing the robes.

    ¡°Better to look ridiculous than to turn brown in the desert heat. You¡¯re going to wish you had these robes, but you won¡¯t be getting mine.¡± Semthak replied.

    ¡°We got some as well.¡± Koruk said, giving Moktark the eye. ¡°We¡¯re ready. What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°Go to the tavern, get a few drinks, ask around...¡± Semthak said.

    ¡°I know which one of those you¡¯ll be tackling.¡± Moktark said, smiling and folding his arms.

    Semthak raised his hands defensively.

    ¡°Hey, I just thought maybe the red men would be more likely to agree to this ridiculous scheme if they were drunk is all. Let¡¯s get him ready.¡±

    Semthak and Koruk dressed Oben up in the impid clothing, which fit his frame almost perfectly, and mixed the red dye with crushed charcoal to produce a deep crimson hue which they helped him smear all over his face and hands. Semthak drew a few swirling lines on Oben¡¯s face in black. He stood back and appraised the result.

    ¡°Won¡¯t do much good if he takes his clothes off, but¡­ this might actually work.¡± He said softly.

    The tavern was as lively as ever, and as they quickly identified several tables with likely-looking groups of imps who had the weary look of travellers. Oben approached them, flanked by the orcs, and made his case.

    It was to be more difficult than they had planned. The first three groups they approached simply looked at them in total confusion, made it known that they couldn¡¯t speak a word of orcish. With one table they got as far as buying them a round of drinks, but as soon as they broached the idea of going into the desert, the imps passed the drinks back and refused to say another word.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    By the fifth table, they had gone around to nearly every group in the room. Before Oben was even able to speak a word, the imps shook their heads at him, the universal sign for ¡°no¡±. A few suspicious glances started to be cast their way, and sensing the change in atmosphere they chugged the last of their drinks and made to leave. Stepping out into the night air of Brittle Teeth again felt relieving.

    ¡°I had hoped that the ones at the tavern would be more¡­ openminded.¡± Semthak said, sighing. ¡°I guess not. I think this might be a waste of time.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry.¡± Oben said. ¡°I try my best.¡±

    ¡°We should kidnap one of them, and steal one of their sand boats or whatever they are.¡± Moktark said, looking around him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s other places we can try first.¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°That tavern is frequented by outlanders. Those are probably the most friendly, xenophilic imps you¡¯ll meet in this place.¡± Semthak snorted.

    Most of the countless market stalls that lined the street were closed for the night, or were in the process of doing so. A few still remained open though, their barkers calling out into an increasingly deserted street. Oben felt the hairs on the back of his neck perk up a bit, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something move, but when he turned to look he just saw a pair of imps loading pottery into a camel cart.

    ¡°Let¡¯s ask these merchants. Most of them are imps.¡± Koruk suggested, moving off to do so before anyone could say anything elsewise.

    A gust of wind blew one of the decorative ribbons ornamenting Oben¡¯s clothes into his face, and the human adjusted his robes and tucked it aside. When he glanced again, the pair of imps were gone.

    As Koruk was talking to his second merchant, who seemed to only speak broken orcish, Oben caught a flash of movement. He shouted in alarm, and Moktark¡¯s thick hand wrapped itself around the head of a figure still in the process of reaching out to clutch at his coinpurse. Moktark didn¡¯t even turn around, but simply flung the figure aside where he landed like a bundle of laundry. The orc snorted derisively.

    ¡°You strong. Strong orc!¡± The merchant said excitedly, pointing at Moktark. ¡°That one, he trouble!¡±

    The merchant seemed to reappraise the group.

    ¡°Maybe have work. You bodyguard? Guard shop?¡± He suggested, his violet eyes twinkling.

    ¡°Ah, no, we¡¯re looking for caravan work. Work on sand ship.¡± Koruk explained, talking with his hands and trying to gesticulate what a boat might look like despite seldom having seen them before. The merchant looked a little less keen but still remained helpful.

    ¡°Who he. Imp. Come close! Come!¡± He said, gesturing for Oben to approach.

    His eyes seemed to bore into Oben¡¯s for a long while, and the merchant cocked his head to the side as if appraising his value.

    ¡°Maybe work, for friend of the desert. I show you maybe.¡±

    ¡°We would be very grateful!¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°Mmmm, my head, it not so good though, no? What is word, hard to¡­ remember, remember where go.¡±

    Semthak rolled his eyes, and tossed the merchant a square coin.

    ¡°Ah yes, now I see it, in eye of head.¡± The merchant said, tapping his forehead dramatically. He called out, and a young imp appeared, a bundle of surprisingly drab robes barely reaching his master¡¯s belly. The merchant barked a few orders at him or her in their tongue, presumably telling him to watch the stall, and then motioned for the party of adventurers to follow him.

    It was impossible to tell for sure through his facewrap, but he looked to be smiling.

 Chapter 15: Into the Great Unknown

    A slender wooden contraption was parked at the edge of the city, alongside several others and a gaggle of robed figures milling about them. It had three thin wheels under its triangular frame, five furled sails, and three crew, all imps. The merchant introduced the party to them, speaking their own language, and then turned to translate the conversation to the orcs.

    ¡°Yes, they say, have not enough crew. You see, I knew good people yes? Good business. You join. They take you to desert.¡± He said, pointing into the distance beyond the city. Beyond the stone teeth jutting out in front of his finger, Koruk could imagine the red sands beyond. He felt... strange, and he realized that this was probably as far as any orc had ever gone before in all of history. All the history he knew anyways.

    The leader of the imp group, the captain Koruk supposed, looked over them expressionlessly with deep black eyes. His hand rested on the hilt of a shortsword at his waist. His eyes seemed to linger a bit longer on Oben, and eventually he spoke to a shorter imp and turned away to go back to his ship.

    ¡°The Kuumlah says you may come. But you will do as you are told. You work as you are told. You will drink when you are told. You do not leave the sandskimmer. We will leave tonight. Do you understand?¡±

    Koruk nodded, and the imp directed him and the other orcs to help load the sandskimmer while Moktark went to gather up their own belongings on the much abused travois. Likely the last journey of the trusty thing that had seen them to the edge of the world, Koruk thought. He felt almost mournful to leave it.

    The bulk of the cargo being loaded onto the ship seemed to be water. Jug after jug of it. Koruk was a strong orc but even his muscles started to hurt after an hour of lifting, and he wished Moktark would hurry back. The imps for their part sat back and did nothing but watch.

    ¡°Ah the joys of being the new guy.¡± Semthak grunted, hefting a water jug. Koruk noticed with some annoyance that the old orc was sweating less than he was.

    After the sandskimmer was loaded, the orcs begrudgingly dressed in the robes they had purchased, which clung uncomfortably to their skin, and they set out. The imp explained that they had to reach the sands before they could set sail, and so they pushed.

    Hours passed, the wheels of the sandskimmer creaking as they rolled over a well worn but still rocky path through the hills.

    ¡°Do you always have to do this?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°No. We usually use camels.¡± The imp replied. Koruk swore under his breath, and Semthak let out a mirthless chuckle.

    Oben he noticed, did not have to push. He sat on board the cart with the other imps.

    ¡°You could help you know.¡± Koruk said. Oben shrugged.

    ¡°They say to do what they say. I will. You are do good.¡± He said. Semthak chuckled again, and Koruk just pushed.

    He didn¡¯t know how many hours passed before the rocks started to become scarcer, and ground looser. The ground ceased to rise in sharp protrusions but in soft rolling hills instead. The sun began to peek up over the horizon. The captain called a halt, and the crew began taking the sails down as he had words with them. Koruk was exhausted, and slumped to the ground behind the craft, joined by the other two orcs.

    The imps unfurled two striped sails onto the sand, and pitched them up like tents. The orcs and Oben were given one tent to sleep in, and the imps another. During the day they slumbered and rested and ate, although few words passed between the two groups.

    The following evening they broke camp, and after some setup the sandskimmer finally began to roll under its own power. The sails whipped in the hot breeze, the wheels creaked, and soon the cliffs fell away behind them, to reveal nothing but open sky and endless undulating waves of red sand in every direction.

    Koruk¡¯s stomach lurched as the craft slid rapidly down the dunes, and he was forced to cling onto the railing as it snaked its way back up the next sand drift. It took him some time to get his sea legs, such as they were. The imps had no issues, and stood on the deck as if this was something they did every day, which to Koruk¡¯s knowledge they probably did.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Occasionally a shooting star would flicker into being overhead, and the imps would point at it and murmur nervously to one another. Koruk tried asking the more talkative imp what it meant to them, but he didn¡¯t answer. The other two either didn¡¯t speak a word of orcish or wanted to give that impression, and Koruk thought the odds of learning their language were very slim, so he focused his questions on the shorter of the three, although he seldom received clear answers.

    ¡°How long will the trip take?¡± He asked the imp.

    ¡°Not long. Maybe too long. You will come to love the sand, or you will come to hate it. Who can say?¡±

    For the most part though, the journey was made in relative silence and after the initial novelty of the dune sea had worn off, even boredom. Once the craft was underway there was precious little to do. The captain and the other impid crew directed the craft with skill, occasionally measuring their course by the stars and a curious bronze instrument. One sand dune began to look the same as the next to Koruk¡¯s eyes, and he found himself zoning out. The night passed quickly, and then the day, and then more nights and more days.

    Food was plentiful but water was carefully rationed, leaving Koruk¡¯s throat feeling perpetually parched. His skin itched under the robe, and he saw that despite the robe it had begun to turn a muddy brown. During the days while they rested, Oben looked very haggard, and Koruk gave him a little of his own water ration, as well as reapplying his red makeup. Thankfully it had held up well, and the imps didn¡¯t seem to have noticed.

    On the fifth day Koruk woke up in his tent, this one apparently made from the flying jib that led out the front of the slender barge, and stepped outside to relieve himself. It took him a moment to realize that the ship was nowhere in sight, as was its crew. He frantically glanced around at the horizon, shielding his eyes from the red tinged sunlight, but couldn¡¯t spot a thing.

    They were alone.

    The word ¡°stranded¡± appeared in Koruk¡¯s mind, and he felt panic coming on. He quickly roused the others. After a brief argument and climbing up the nearest dune to search for the missing sandskimmer, they began to take stock of what they had.

    ¡°We have a single jug of water, a sack of dried fruit, and this tent and poles. That¡¯s it. Everything else is gone. Even the shield. It was all on the bloody boat!¡± Moktark said, sighing. ¡°At least we still have our weapons.¡±

    ¡°Lot of good they¡¯ll do us. Damn it! I knew we shouldn¡¯t have trusted those horned devils!¡± Semthak said. ¡°I knew nothing good would come of this!¡±

    ¡°Come on. We can¡¯t just sit here. Calm down! What do we do?¡± Koruk said. He felt anything but calm. His words seemed to have an effect on Semthak though.

    ¡°Well, I know we were traveling west southwest, but I don¡¯t know where to. They never said how far it was to their well or encampment or wherever they were headed. The wind blew their tracks away. I didn¡¯t find a trace of them. And...¡±

    Semthak sighed heavily, looking about himself.

    ¡°And we¡¯re too far into the desert to turn back. Five days by sandskimmer is probably twenty by march, and we don¡¯t have enough water to make it back even if we did navigate correctly.¡±

    ¡°In other words, we¡¯re completely boned.¡± Moktark said.

    ¡°It would seem so. But¡­ hm.¡± Semthak began, thinking to himself.

    ¡°How do you find water back home?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You look for plants. Plants grow strong where there¡¯s water. Trees.¡± Moktark replied. Semthak shook his head.

    ¡°No, there¡¯s a better way to do it. You douse for it. You see, even when a river is no longer flowing on land, it is still flowing under the ground.¡± He said, pointing at the sand beneath his feet. ¡°If the imps do have an oasis somewhere, that water has to come from somewhere. It must come from below. In ancient times it is thought that the land used to be different, and that rivers once flowed through here. This desert was once a much wetter place.¡±

    ¡°How do you know there are rivers under the ground? Why wouldn¡¯t the water just spring up wherever it pleased?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°And how do you find it?¡± Moktark finished.

    ¡°I am a soot shaman remember? A soothsayer! Here hang on a moment.¡± Semthak said, and began taking the tent down. ¡°Help me with this!¡±

    Semthak selected one of the tent poles that had a fork in it, and cut shorter. Holding it out in front of him, he closed his eyes, and began to murmur. A murmur that turned into a sort of chant, sung from the orc¡¯s deep belly. He walked in a wide circle around the camp, when he got back to his starting point, his eyes jolted open.

    ¡°Ah!¡± He said. ¡°There¡¯s no water here!¡±

    The rest of the party groaned collectively, but Semthak quieted them down and suggested that they continue further southwest in the direction that the red men probably travelled. They might not know exactly where they were going, but thus far they¡¯d plotted a straight line since they left Brittle Teeth, and there was no reason to think the imps wouldn¡¯t continue that way. On the way, they would continue dousing, and if they found a trace of water, they would follow it to its source.

    It was a plan of desperation, but nobody had any better ideas. They set off into the desert that night, following the stars and the magical stick.

 Chapter 16: For a Few Drops More

    Koruk felt the last few drops of water touch his parched lips and wet his tongue. The cup in his hand was empty far too soon. The water jug was now nearly empty, and they had been rationing the last remaining few cups as far as they could.

    His throat felt dry. His skin felt dry. His lips were cracked and swollen. Conversation had stopped days ago. It hurt to even open his mouth.

    Surprisingly Oben was coping the best out of any of them. The small man needed less water, and his legs were still strong enough to walk where Koruk¡¯s threatened to give way.

    After a few days they had resorted to drinking their own urine. When they stopped being able to pee, they started wringing out their sweat from their clothes and tried drinking that, but found it salty. Oben tried rigging the sail above a pit to condense water overnight, but marching through the day proved impossible as the heat burned their feet through their shoes and completely halted their progress.

    Semthak led the group, holding his stick in front of him, bobbing it up and down.

    Always with his stupid stick. What good was it anyways?

    Koruk swallowed the bitter thought along with the last of his saliva, and marched on. The moonlight threw a blue hue over the normally red desert, and cast the rolling dunes into beautiful reliefs. Above his head another shooting star twinkled into existence and then vanished. Had he not been so parched, he might have wondered at the rare cosmic event. As it was, it was all he could do do to put one foot in front of the next.

    When the last of the water was gone the next day, his heart sunk in his chest.

    So this is how it ends. He thought. He contemplated laying down in the sand and giving up. Gods but he could use the rest.

    Semthak¡¯s stick twitched.

    The old orc halted suddenly, and Koruk nearly walked into his back. What was the old fool doing?

    Semthak¡¯s cracked lips split into a huge grin, and he began frantically pacing around, murmuring to himself and following the twitching stick towards something only he could see. Has he gone mad, Koruk thought, looking around. This patch of desert looked the same as any other.

    Semthak tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a strained noise. He pointed animatedly at the ground at his feet, dropped to his knees, and started to dig with his hands. Koruk joined him, as did the others. They shifted handful after handful of cool sand, a pit starting to grow in front of them.

    At that bottom of that pit, began to pool a tiny few droplets of water.

    Seeing this, the digging intensified, until the droplet became a handful. They took turns sucking at the water coming out of the ground, swallowing sand while they did so but not caring. The trickle soon dried up, but although they dug more they found that the sand began to collapse into the hole faster than they could excavate it, and they could get no more.

    Koruk crashed into Semthak, embracing him in a wide hug, laughing hysterically.

    ¡°It worked old man! You saved us!¡± He said, his words slurred slightly. He felt revitalized.

    Semthak continued leading them, following a winding path westward by the twitching magical stick. As morning began to break every day, they stopped and dug, and every day they found a little more water at the bottom of the pit.

    One night, the scenery finally changed. As they scaled another dune, in the distance they spotted a parting in the sand, and the ground began to descend and grow rockier. The next night they found themselves entering a valley, a chasm hewn out of the earth, flanked by sandstone cliffs that seemed to lean in over their heads. Here when they dug for water, enough sprung out of the ground that they were able to refill their water jug. The heavy weight on Koruk¡¯s back made him feel a joy unlike any he had ever experienced, and he shouldered it without any complaint.

    With his throat no longer dry and his head clear, he was able to properly appreciate the beauty of the land he found himself in. As they went deeper into the chasm, it took on the appearance of a long tunnel. In places the stone wrapped around right over their heads, forming archways that bridged the two halves of the valley, and strange stone teeth rose out of the ground much as they did at Brittle Teeth. Plants too grew in the valley here and there, their deep taproots going down into the aquifer. As they camped for the day, they noticed a few scurrying creatures that they couldn¡¯t identify.

    The air here was cool, and they found they could travel by daylight again. They stopped and rested an entire day, and their spirits were good.

    The following day the chasm widened, and the found themselves entering a huge crater carved out of the earth. In the centre of that crater was a small lake, its clean waters blue as they reflected the sky above. Ringing the lake and extending all the way to the walls of the crater was a jungle of palm trees, ferns, and other plantlife. Huge insects buzzed by their heads, and they heard the squawks and calls of many strange birds and animals.

    Moktark ran towards the water and the rest of the group wasn¡¯t far behind. The big orc slipped in the mud and landed facefirst into the lake with a loud splash that sent birds erupting out of the trees squawking in anger as their home was disturbed. Koruk dove in after him, Followed by Oben and the slower Semthak. They splashed each other with the water and laughed idiotically.

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    Then they noticed that they weren¡¯t alone. Semthak called for them to be quiet, and they sunk down into the water up to their noses. On the far bank, hidden behind some trees, there looked to be some buildings, the same colour as the sandstone cliffs around them. And looking closer, parked near those buildings, was a sandskimmer.

    ¡°Those conniving bastards, we found them!¡± Moktark said. He crept back ashore and grabbed his obsidian lined warclub, which he had stubbornly held onto the entire march.

    ¡°If they didn¡¯t know we were here before they certainly do now.¡± Semthak said. ¡°You should have been more careful before splashing around like an idiot!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you holding back old man.¡± Moktark growled. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Let them see us coming! Let them feel the fear after what they pulled!¡±

    ¡°Quiet both of you! What¡¯s done is done.¡± Koruk hissed. The two arguing orcs shut up.

    They waited for awhile, listening for any call of alarm of sign of approach. Nothing.

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t they attacked?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°By some miracle they must not have seen us. We might still get away with this.¡± Semthak said, wiping his brow with his still dripping robe.

    ¡°Get away with what? Are you scared old man? Let¡¯s kick their asses!¡± Moktark said, rising up from his crouch and swinging his club menacingly.

    ¡°You idiot! There¡¯s a whole town there! There could be hundreds of them.¡± Semthak hissed. ¡°We need to see what we¡¯re dealing with first.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right Moktark, don¡¯t be brash. They¡¯ll get what¡¯s coming to them.¡± Koruk said. Moktark grunted and hunched down again.

    The companions snuck toward the village, hiding amongst the reeds as best they could. As the village came into view, they saw some lazy movement around the sandskimmer. One of the imps pushed a large basket aboard the ship, and another had his feet dangling off the edge and was napping under the shade of a tarpaulin. Not a soul stirred anywhere else in the village. It was as if it was abandoned.

    ¡°They¡¯re sleeping.¡± Semthak said incredulously. ¡°No sentries. No wall. They¡¯re just napping in the sun without a care in the world.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re about to care!¡± Moktark said furiously, rising to his feet.

    ¡°No, wait!¡±

    Moktark roared in fury as he stood, shaking water and bits of reed loose from himself, and charged. The imp who was carrying the basket dropped it, and started shouting in alarm. The other two imps on the barge were slow to react, rising from their nap in confusion, but Moktark found his charge slowed by the mud sucking at his feet with every step. By the time he had reached the sandskimmer the crew had abandoned it, running for the hills. Koruk arrived soon after Moktark, and loosed an arrow at the fleeing imps, but the shaft clattered off the rocks and missed its target.

    Worse, after they had gained a higher vantage point, the imps began slinging stones down at them, and the orcs found themselves battered and bruised by the projectiles, and were forced to retreat back to the safety of the sandskimmer.

    ¡°Filthy cowards!¡± Moktark yelled at the cliffs as a stone whizzed past his head. He sighted something shining on the deck of the skimmer, and rolled out of cover to snatch it. His lost shield. He grabbed it and swung it out in front of himself just in time to hear a stone smack against it where his head would have been.

    ¡°Wait you fool! We need them alive!¡± Semthak yelled between breaths. He was covered in mud, and must have fallen in the muck at some point during the charge.

    ¡°What for!?¡± Moktark yelled back.

    ¡°Can you pilot this thing!?¡± Semthak said, thumping the side of the sandskimmer for effect.

    ¡°Yes! No. Probably!¡±

    ¡°No you bloody can¡¯t! Use your head you oaf!¡±

    A rock skipped off the deck of the sandskimmer and whacked Semthak in the face, causing him to swear in a way that Koruk never would have expected from him. Suddenly the hailstorm ceased.

    ¡°They go up the hill!¡± Oben called out. He was holding his knife in a white knuckled grip and hiding behind a pile of baskets filled with fresh fruit.

    ¡°Damn!¡± Moktark said.

    The party pursued the fleeing imps up into the cliffs ringing the oasis. They quickly lost sight of them, but Koruk and his brother had years of tracking experience, and had no trouble finding their poorly disguised tracks in the sandy soil. A winding path made its way up and up along the cliff face, and for nearly an hour they relentlessly pursued their quarry, breathing hard as they ascended.

    Suddenly from ahead of them they heard a cry of alarm and pain. A huge black shape swooped over their head, the captain of the red men dangling helplessly from its mighty talons. It was some kind of enormous black bird, its wingspan so wide that it blotted out the sun as it passed overhead. It, and the captain of the sandskimmer, were gone before Koruk could even raise his bow. They forged on ahead, towards the sounds of commotion.

    The two remaining imps were taking cover behind some boulders near the entrance of a shallow cave, desperately slinging stones at a group of the terror birds that were flapping about them. Moktark bellowed a war cry and charged forward, and the orcs joined the battle, bow and axe against talon. The imps didn¡¯t object to the unexpected support, and increased their missile barrage with renewed vigor.

    Koruk fired an arrow which dug deep into the belly of one of the birds and as it fell from the sky Moktark beheaded it with a heavy blow from his razor edged warclub. Another bird took a stone to the skull and tumbled down the cliff out of sight.

    Suddenly Koruk felt huge talons dig into his sides as one of the monsters attempted to pick him up and carry him off. Unfortunately for the beast, it found him a great deal heavier than one of the thin red men, and it flapped around unable to fully lift him off the ground, Koruk headbutted it, driving his tusks into its belly, and it released him and flew off with a shrill cry that made his ears ring.

    One by one they killed the monster birds. One of the imps took a talon to the face and was left bleeding out, and Semthak rushed over to tend to him. Eventually the flock had enough of them, and fled into the sky, leaving them alone.

    Koruk clutched at his side where the beast¡¯s talons had dug into his flesh, but he didn¡¯t seem to be badly hurt. The imp on the other hand¡­

    The older imp coughed up blood as red as his skin, and clutched at his throat, gurgling and rasping for breath. As Koruk approached, Semthak looked up at him and shook his head. He soon perished, and breathed no more.

    The smaller imp, who Koruk recognized as the orcish speaking one he had talked to on the sandskimmer, was huddled in a corner, his legs pulled up against his chest. Semthak approached him, and he didn¡¯t resist as the orc bound his hands behind his back. Koruk picked up the body of the dead imp, and together they returned to the village.

 Chapter 17: A Calm Respite

    Semthak roughly sat their prisoner down on a stool in the village square, while Koruk laid the body of the imp¡¯s companion down gingerly on the sandy ground. The village was completely quiet except for the warbles of birds and the buzzing of insects over the lake. Under better circumstances, it might have been a nice place to go fishing, Koruk thought.

    ¡°Now then, lets have a look at you.¡± Semthak said, and unwrapped the headscarf from the seated imp.

    The face that stared back at them was beautiful. A slender feminine face was framed by a mop of tousled black hair, and crowned by four short black horns arranged along their brow. Almond shaped violet eyes darted back and forth between the orcs and the dead body, marred with a deep sadness and fear.

    Koruk was dumbstruck.

    ¡°Right, you speak orcish?¡± Semthak asked. The imp nodded, not meeting his gaze.

    ¡°Uhhh...¡± Koruk began, his words catching in his throat. Semthak gave him a strange look, and went back to questioning the prisoner.

    ¡°We need you to drive that boat thing. Can you do it?¡± Semthak asked.

    ¡°Uh, are you a girl?¡± Koruk interrupted. Moktark made a choking noise and struggled to suppress a laugh. Semthak¡¯s shoulders slumped, and he let out an audible sigh.

    ¡°I am Kiwai. I am not a girl!¡± The imp responded defensively. Koruk¡¯s features froze as he attempted to process this information.

    At this Moktark was unable to hold in his giggling. He slapped Koruk on the shoulder, and his giggle turned into a laugh.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get any ideas little brother!¡± He said mockingly.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Koruk yelled, a little too harshly.

    ¡°Quit being stupid. This is serious!¡± Semthak chided. ¡°Now, can you control this sandskimmer?¡±

    ¡°I think, yes.¡± The imp, Kiwai said in heavily accented orcish.

    ¡°Ask him if he knows about any black pyramids.¡± Moktark said.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that! Would you shut up already?¡± Semthak said. He calmed himself, and continued. ¡°Ahem, well, what he said. Have you seen any pyramids?¡±

    Kiwai¡¯s face turned to stone at the mention of the pyramid.

    ¡°How do you know of this, savage?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter? Saw it in a dream. Speak!¡±

    The imp hesitated awhile longer, his eyes glancing at the body of his companion.

    ¡°We were going there. We are all going there.¡± He sighed. ¡°Why did you come here? Why did you come to our land?¡±

    ¡°Why do you keep avoiding the question?¡± Semthak pushed.

    ¡°I do not understand what you outlanders want in this place. Why do you seek our holy places? Why do you brave the red death and attack us? You who travels in the company of demons. I will not allow you to desecrate the sacred places of my people!¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t in a position to stop us from doing anything.¡± Semthak growled. ¡°What¡¯s this about...¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t here to attack you.¡± Koruk interrupted. ¡°We just want to find answers.¡±

    Before Semthak could protest Koruk began explaining their quest, the visions and events that brought them there. The imp listened wordlessly, his expression calming and then becoming one of wonder as he listened to the strange tale.

    ¡°We call it the Oracle. The temple. For you to have seen it¡­ it¡¯s impossible. And yet, it can only be fate that brought you here.¡± Kiwai said. Oben returned, turning a corner. His face was uncovered, and his now tanned skin shone through the smudged and flaking red paint.

    ¡°Where did you run off to? We were interro¡­ whoh!¡± Semthak fell to the ground as the prisoner kicked him hard in the knees. The imp tumbled off the stool, his hands still bound behind his back, and tried to crawl away when he found he couldn¡¯t push himself to his feet.

    Moktark seized him by the shoulders, and the imp bit his fingers with sharp teeth, eliciting a cry of pain. Moktark made to hit him but Koruk grabbed his arm to stop him.

    ¡°Wait, calm down! What the hell is going on?¡±

    ¡°Should have bound his legs is what¡¯s going on! He¡¯s got spirit I¡¯ll give him that. Semthak said, rising to his feet.¡±

    ¡°Stay away demon!¡± Kiwai shouted, followed by a gibbering stream of words in his own language.

    ¡°We aren¡¯t demons dammit! We¡¯re just orcs! We don¡¯t mean you harm!¡± Koruk pleaded.

    ¡°Not you! That! Changeling!¡± Kiwai said, gesturing as best as he could with his head towards Oben.

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    ¡°Drake?¡± Moktark asked, holding the small imp in a bear hug grip. ¡°He¡¯s harmless. Relax. He¡¯s like a scruff-kitten! Quit flailing or by the gods I¡¯ll make you quit!¡±

    ¡°Maybe I go?¡± Oben said, backing away.

    ¡°No. You stay. HE stays. We all stay right here, and we talk. Got it?¡± Semthak snapped.

    Moktark sat Kiwai back down on the stool. The imp¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t leave Oben. Try as they might, they could not get another word out of him. Eventually they sent Oben away, and the prisoner visibly calmed down.

    ¡°I knew there was something off about him. The kuumlah said so. Said he was a thing of evil in our midst.¡± Kiwai said frantically. Even when he was fighting the monster birds, he didn¡¯t seem nearly so rattled, Koruk thought.

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you think Oben is, but I can give you my word that he will do you no harm. He won¡¯t do anyone any harm. This is a case of mistaken identity or something, I don¡¯t know.¡± Koruk said.

    The imp took in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, and he slowly calmed down.

    ¡°You saved my life when you did not have to, and you tried to save the life of my friend. The kuumlah may yet live. If you help me search for him, I will take you to the Oracle. The¡­ black pyramid you seek.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great. Thank you. Finally.¡± Semthak said, rolling his eyes in frustration. ¡°Was that so hard?¡±

    ¡°You mentioned before that your people were all going there? Why?¡± Koruk asked. He crossed his arms and frowned. Something about this didn¡¯t feel right. The imps reaction to Oben in particular was jarring.

    ¡°Look above you.¡±

    Koruk looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to set behind the cliffs, and the sky was slowly growing darker above their heads. Koruk noticed a streak of light flash through the still blue sky, and then a second one. Shooting stars. He¡¯d been seeing them every night now for days.

    ¡°In the daytime¡­?¡± He mouthed to himself. He noticed Kiwai staring at him, and was again struck by the exotic beauty of the foreigner.

    ¡°The signs in the heavens speak of the end of the world. As does the coming of the changeling.¡± Kiwai began, his voice a low murmur. Koruk¡¯s ears perked up as he struggled to make out his words over the noises of the oasis.

    ¡°So, we gather to speak to the Oracle. To ask it for guidance, and knowledge. It has always protected our people and this beautiful land.¡±

    ¡°Beautiful isn¡¯t how I¡¯d describe this desolate place.¡± Semthak said. ¡°Although this valley is nice enough.¡±

    ¡°Is the temple, the Oracle, far?¡± Koruk asked.

    Kiwai smiled, for the first time since they had caught up to them at the oasis.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Deciding that he had nowhere to go, and probably couldn¡¯t operate the sailing barge on his own, the companions decided to untie Kiwai and let him walk around free, so long as he kept in sight. He made no attempt to flee or attack, but stayed conspicuously far away from Oben when he could. They returned the imp¡¯s sling to him as well, deciding that if the birds returned they¡¯d need all the help they could get.

    The orcs buried the body of his friend, which was apparently the impid tradition. They found no sign of the lost captain of the sandskimmer, although they did find his sword sticking out of the sand a short distance from the oasis, its gleaming bronze blade shining like a beacon in the sunlight.

    Moktark plucked it out of the sand, and examined it.

    ¡°Hah, I¡¯ve seen more impressive eating knives. Here, take it.¡± Moktark said, throwing the sword point first into the sand at Koruk¡¯s feet. Koruk pulled it free.

    The beautiful metal weapon was like nothing he had ever held before. It felt light as a feather in his grip, and the edge was razor sharp. He wrapped it in cloth and stuck it into his belt. Despite it being more of a dagger than a sword for an orc, Koruk recognized it for the treasure that it was. He nodded at Moktark in thanks, and the big orc simply smiled.

    The party stayed at the village for several days, resting, rehydrating, and exploring the abandoned houses. They seemed to have been evacuated in a hurry, and the residents left nearly all their belongings, perhaps intending to come back for them at some point. There were fine linen cloths, beautiful ornaments of brass, bronze and silver, lamps, rugs, and all manner of other treasures. They even found some orcish gold and obsidian axes, either raided or traded for.

    Moktark whistled as he took it in.

    ¡°You know, if we packed up this treasure and bring it back home on the skimmer, it would be quite a thing. We¡¯d be heroes. Maybe even join the chiefs. There¡¯s a dragon¡¯s horde here.¡±

    Koruk thought about it for awhile. It was a tempting idea. Semthak seemed to be considering it as well. Oben had run off somewhere again. Where was he getting off to?

    Koruk thought back to the raid on the ranch. The terror and excitement of it. He thought about the vision. Wit¡¯thod burning.

    ¡°No. We have a quest, and this would only weigh us down.¡±

    Moktark sighed, and dropped the valuables he¡¯d been pawing at. He laughed.

    ¡°Yeah, being rich would make me soft. To hell with it. But you know, if we come through here on the way back...¡±

    ¡°Alright alright.¡± Koruk smiled. ¡°On the way back.¡±

    Although they left the valuables, they didn¡¯t hesitate to refill on provisions. They collected baskets of figs and other fruits, some sort of flat cakes made from fine flour, and clean water from a well. Moktark found a copper headed axe, designed perhaps as a felling axe, but more of a hatchet for him. Koruk found bronze tipped arrows, and was grateful to replenish his quiver. Semthak took some strange smelling herbs and medicines, asking the imp about them. They took also lamps, and a few pots of oil which Kiwai explained are needed to keep the skimmer functioning correctly. Half-wild goats and camels roamed about the valley in herds: the livestock of the residents. Unlike the Beast Tamers these imps didn¡¯t need fences to keep their animals in. They had nowhere else to go. They contemplated hunting them, but decided against it.

    The stay at the village was relaxing after such a long adventure. Koruk cast out his fishing line into the water. The first time he had used it in weeks. Months maybe. He wasn¡¯t really sure, at this point. He had lost track.

    He wondered how things were going at home. Whether the war with the Beast Tamers was successful. It all seemed so far away now, in this peaceful, idyllic place. Koruk thought that maybe one day, after all this was done, he¡¯d like to live in a place like this. Quiet, sheltered from the world. Somewhere he could fish and sleep in the sun without a care in the world. After the quest was done, maybe. After they found this black temple, and returned as heroes. It seemed the adventure was finally nearing its end.

    He felt a twang on the line, and a fish leapt out of the water with a splash. As it landed, he felt his line go loose, the fish having pulled itself free somehow. Koruk let out a deep breath, got up, and gathering up his more successful catches by their gills, walked back to the village.

    As he did so, he caught sight of Oben, sitting on a rock, staring up at the noon sky. Koruk waved a greeting, which Oben lazily acknowledged.

    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± Koruk asked.

    Oben pointed up at the sky. Across the blue sky there was a shower of lights, tiny streaks of shooting stars coming into existence and leaving it just as quickly. For a moment the sky seemed filled with them, but then the celestial event ended as quickly as it had begun.

 Chapter 18: A Fire in the Sky

    Koruk took a last look around at the pleasant oasis. Somewhere a fish jumped out of the lake, and a flock of birds took off at the sound of it splashing against the tranquil water. The sandskimmer was fully restocked with supplies, and Kiwai had instructed them on how to sail it and lubricate its wheels. The imp was very reserved in their company. Koruk supposed that made sense. They were asking him to violate the sacred traditions of his people by helping them.

    It seemed a shame to leave this beautiful place, he thought as he walked idly through the cobblestone paths of the village. Paradise abandoned. What if they just, stayed? Or looted the place and went home like Moktark said.

    No. Nice or not, he had a quest to complete. Some feeling in his heart told him to get a move on. It felt like time was short, although he had no idea why he felt that way.

    ¡°What are you doing over there little brother? Let¡¯s get a move on!¡± A voice called from further down the hill, where the sandskimmer was parked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a moment. I¡¯m just having a look around!¡± Koruk yelled back. He took one last look at the oasis, and marched down to meet his friends and companions.

    They pushed the barge through a narrow pass in the cliffs, which was made considerably easier by not having three imps standing on it while they did so, and when the wheels hit soft sand they hoisted the sails and set off. Night had fallen, and they had decided they would travel until dawn, resting during the day as they had before. It would take some getting used to the change of schedule.

    All that night they rolled along, the wind whipping at the sails. Semthak occasionally took a reading of the stars with a strange device Kiwai had showed him to use, his brow furrowed in concentration. Overhead the shooting stars were frequent sights. Streaks of light in the heavens big and small. Once a massive one seemed to pass over, and it lit the ground briefly with a flash. Kiwai hunkered down as best he could and bent himself into a strange posture as he performed some sort of prayer. Oben seemed worried as well. For the orcs though, it was just a light show.

    The next morning the winds kicked up. Sand began blowing around in the air, stinging their skin like tiny needles. Kiwai called an emergency stop.

    ¡°Sandstorm! Take cover!¡± He shouted.

    ¡°Under what?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°Anything you can find!¡±

    Struggling against the wind, the orcs built a hasty barricade out of baskets and supplies on the deck while Oben and Kiwai brought the sails down. Koruk coughed as sand blew up his nose.

    ¡°Is this normal!?¡± He yelled over the howling wind.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Kiwai replied. ¡°Here, stretch the sail over those baskets, we¡¯ll make a shelter!¡±

    It was a tight fit in their makeshift wind shelter. The cloth sail overhead flapped alarmingly in the wind, and Moktark held down the edge with his arm as he leaned against it. It seemed to last forever, and the rhythmic flapping of the tarp and wind started to sound hypnotic in Koruk¡¯s ears. He felt his eyes drooping, and he nodded off.

    When he woke, he found the deck of the barge almost completely submerged in sand. The main mast stuck out overhead looking like a tree growing out of the ground.

    ¡°What do we do? We stuck!¡± Oben groaned.

    ¡°We dig!¡± Moktark replied, shaking sand out of his ear. Kiwai nodded.

    And so they dug. It took an entire day to unearth the boat, and much heaving and pushing to get it out of the pit it found itself in, but eventually it came loose and began rolling again. The party cheered, and clambered aboard as it began rolling away.

    More days passed. A second sandstorm nearly buried the skimmer, and they weathered it just the same, digging the vehicle out in the evening after. Kiwai directed them on a course south by southwest, and he gradually grew more comfortable with his new companions. He still refused to speak to Oben, but around the orcs grew more relaxed. Koruk found him a good traveling companion. Several times the imp¡¯s advice saved them from hitting hidden boulders or falling into valleys between the dunes from which the barge would not easily escape, and gradually they began to trust him and his judgment.

    One week after they had set out from the oasis village, they spotted a speck in the distance. As they got closer over the course of another day, that speck grew bigger, the shape of its faces growing in detail. Koruk felt a frog in his throat looking at it. Could it be¡­?

    As they rolled up toward it there could be no doubt. A towering four sided pyramid rose up out of the ground, occluding the night stars behind it, seeming to drink in the light. Hundreds or maybe thousands of stairs were carved into one side, leading up into the heavens. Never before had he seen something so obviously artificial with such scale. It was like a manufactured mountain. If the stairs were anything to go by, it was at least 500 feet tall.

    There could be no doubt in Koruk¡¯s mind. He had seen this place so many times already that it felt like returning home in a way. He fought against a feeling of tightness in his chest, could hear his breath moving in and out of his lungs as time seemed to slow down. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and not just from the lingering heat trapped in the sand, he knew.

    He looked over at Semthak. The old orc¡¯s features were tight. His lips were pressed together. He stared unblinking ahead. Kiwai and Oben looked similarly stiff. Only Moktark was at ease, his arms folded against his chest.

    ¡°Impressive.¡± He said. Koruk simply nodded. Impressive didn¡¯t hope to do it justice.

    Around the base of the pyramid they saw that a city of tents had sprung up. Thousands upon thousands of colourful cloth structures were nestled in the shadow of the smooth faced black mountain, and little pinpricks of light from fires flickered like fireflies. More sandskimmers, sailed to and fro the city occasionally, and Kiwai explained that they were delivering food and water to the city. When they arrived they would be expected to surrender their cargo as well to help supply the pilgrims.

    ¡°So what happens now?¡± Moktark asked. ¡°Do we just wait for the sky to turn red or whatever?¡±

    Koruk glanced over at the old shaman, and Semthak shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good question. You saw the visions more clearly than I did. Your decision, Koruk.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I...¡± Koruk began. He tried to shake off the anxiety he felt. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense to just sit here. We need to see if we can get closer.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be noticed. Last time I checked my skin wasn¡¯t as red as a tomato.¡± Semthak said.

    ¡°We can wrap ourselves up in our robes. As long as we don¡¯t get too close hopefully they won¡¯t notice.¡± Koruk began. The plan seemed dodgy even to his own ears but he couldn¡¯t think straight at that moment. ¡°Kiwai can lead us. He¡¯s one of them.¡±

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    ¡°I said I would take you to the Oracle. I have done so.¡± Kiwai said. ¡°Now I will leave you.¡±

    ¡°What? No, wait. We could use your help!¡± Koruk stammered.

    ¡°He did bring us here. I¡¯d say fair is fair.¡± Semthak nodded. ¡°He held up his end of the bargain. If he wants to leave he should be allowed to. Not that we could do much about it. If he wanted to raise a fuss we¡¯d be noticed.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Kiwai said. ¡°I will not reveal you to the others. Best of luck on your vision quest.¡±

    Koruk forced an uneasy smile onto his face and nodded at the imp.

    They maneuvered the skimmer into an open plaza between a circle of tents, and disembarked, trying their best to hunch down and shield their faces. As soon as they had stopped a crowd of imps began unloading the water and baskets of food from their skimmer and carting them off. Koruk winced a little at the blatant robbery, but said nothing. Thankfully their personal effects were left behind, along with a little food and a small jug of water.

    ¡°Generous aren¡¯t they?¡± Moktark growled.

    ¡°Shut up, they¡¯ll hear you!¡± Semthak whispered harshly.

    Koruk looked around for Kiwai, but the imp had already departed it seemed, blending into the crowd. Koruk spotted him in the distance. The imp gave a parting glance to the party, before turning and disappearing.

    After the skimmer was unloaded, the crowd dispersed and they were left alone for a moment.

    ¡°Should we take down the sails and set up camp?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°No. We might need to make a getaway.¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been awfully quiet Drake. What are your plans? You wanted to see the temple right?¡± Moktark asked the human. Oben acted as if he had been jarred awake from some daydream, struggling to bring himself back to the present place and time.

    ¡°What? Yes. I never thought¡­¡± He started. ¡°I will go with you. See temple.¡±

    Moktark nodded slowly.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go then.¡±

    As they began walking into the city towards the pyramid, Moktark pulled Koruk aside.

    ¡°What¡¯s up with him little brother?¡± He whispered. ¡°He¡¯s been acting like he¡¯s possessed ever since we left Brittle Teeth. Barely a word to any of us, disappearing randomly. You don¡¯t think...¡±

    ¡°Think what?¡± Koruk whispered back. Moktark made a face, and a warding hand gesture.

    ¡°Ghosts. Maybe he really is possessed.¡±

    ¡°No. What? Okay I admit Drake¡­ Oben, hasn¡¯t been the most¡­ talkative traveling companion...¡± Koruk began, scratching at his neck through his headscarf.

    ¡°Forget talkative. And what was that crap with the imp? Look I¡¯m just saying, keep an eye on him alright?¡±

    Koruk looked Moktark in the eye. The bigger orc was tense, a sort of tension he¡¯d never seen display even before battle. Koruk nodded to him seriously, and Moktark seemed to calm down a little.

    If Oben had noticed the exchange he said nothing. It was strange, Koruk thought. In their adventures he had found himself constantly amazed by the sights they¡¯d seen. The mountains, Brittle Teeth, the desert, the oasis¡­ they had all felt so novel, so interesting. He¡¯d never experienced anything like it.

    For Oben on the other hand, it was as if he was just going down to the river to catch fish. Walking down familiar paths and seeing familiar things. Koruk found himself struck by a feeling of incredible age as he looked at the human. Something about his expression, or his posture perhaps. As if Oben was an old man who had lived too long, and seen too much, so that nothing seemed new anymore. That didn¡¯t make any sense. From his face, the human looked quite young, as far as Koruk could tell anyways. In any case, his hair wasn¡¯t white, and he didn¡¯t seem feeble. Why then did he seem so¡­ dispassionate?

    As he pondered these things, Koruk found himself looking up into the sky. All at once there were thousands of shooting stars lighting up the night sky, like a spray of white rain through the heavens. The sky began to light up, and then a massive fireball flashed in the distance. It soared overhead followed by a roar that nearly knocked him flat. A screaming, groaning noise, more horrible than anything he had ever heard. The ground trembled. The sky was engulfed in fire as flaming debris streaked through the air overhead, and smaller meteors slammed into the sand with loud thumps, kicking it up in great clouds. The greater mass of the fireball disappeared into the distance, over the horizon.

    ¡°That is¡­ my ship¡­?¡± Oben said to himself, staring in shock.

    A few of the tents had caught fire, and were billowing smoke. The groaning noise and the light in the sky died out quickly, and the sky returned to its normal darkness. As quickly as it had begun, it was over.

    The silence was not to last. Voices started to cry out from in amongst the tents. Fanatical cheers. They spread like wildfire through the city, and from the crowd surrounding the companions. The imps raised their arms and weapons to the heavens and cried out in their strange melodic language. It was as if they were possessed. Every tent was emptied, the crowds of cheering imps pressed in around them. One of them bumped into Koruk, pushing the sleeve of his robe up his arm a little, revealing a thick wrist with mottled brown and green skin.

    Koruk quickly brushed the sleeve back, but the imp had noticed. He began shouting in alarm.

    Without hesitation Koruk ran. He grabbed Oben, who was still staring startled at the sky, by the arm, and drug him along. Moktark and Semthak quickly caught on, and followed, Moktark desperately trying to unwrap his weapon and shield from the canvas he had concealed them in.

    Koruk ran for the temple, practically carrying Oben, Moktark and Semthak close on his heels. In hindsight, he didn¡¯t know why. Why didn¡¯t he run back to the skimmer they had left, and probable escape? For some reason it never even entered his mind.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the cry of alarm to proliferate through the camp around them, but in the confusion they managed to evade pursuit all the way to the foot of the temple, where a crowd had formed in a wide circle around the structure. As they crossed that line formed by the edge of the crowd though, they were quickly pointed out, and all at once a surge of thousands of angry red figures pushed forward, weapons in hand.

    ¡°Keep going! Up the stairs!¡± Koruk shouted. Oben tripped, and Koruk lifted the light man into his arms as he ran. Moktark managed to get his obsidian war bat untangled, and swung it in wide arcs behind him, warding off attackers armed with knives, spears, and hurled rocks and sticks.

    The climb up the stairs of the temple was a frantic affair. Most of the crowd seemed hesitant to touch the glassy black stone of the pyramid, but a few braver imps ascended after the fleeing orcs. They fought a retreating action up the stairs, with Moktark swinging and kicking at the pursuers, occasionally sending one tumbling down the pyramid head over heels.

    Semthak took an unlucky hit from a stone slung from below, and went down hard, his staff clattering away.

    ¡°Koruk! Get him! I¡¯ll cover you!¡± Moktark yelled. He repositioned to stand over Semthak¡¯s fallen body, swinging his sharp weapon in a figure eight pattern and howling. The imps crowded around him, reluctant to get close. Koruk dropped Oben and shouted at him to run for the summit, and grabbed Semthak by the collar of his robe and started to drag him away from the spears and blades of the imps.

    Somehow, they managed to reach the top of the stairs. The top of the pyramid was a flat, square plaza, just as it had been in the vision, but instead of a being of light in the centre, there was a hole, a shaft leading down into the depths of the structure.

    ¡°In there! It¡¯s our only shot!¡± Koruk shouted. Moktark didn¡¯t reply, too busy warding off a long spear that a screaming imp was jabbing furiously at him.

    Koruk ran to the hole in the centre of the plaza and looked down into it. It seemed to be a shaft, leading down into pitch darkness.

    ¡°Oben! Give me a hand!¡± Koruk shouted. Oben hastened to to his side.

    Oben dropped his pack, and they managed to extract a rope from it, and Koruk swiftly tied it to the shaft of a spear that the imps had thrown up at them, hoping to skewer one of them. He gave it a tentative flex, and it seemed strong enough to hold one of their weights, maybe. It was going to have to be. He placed the spear over the hole and threw the rope down, gesturing for Oben to descend. To his credit the human wasted no time in jumping down and rappelling down the rope. The spear shaft bent alarmingly under his weight.

    Koruk then tied the rope around Semthak¡¯s waist, and lowered him into the hole. He winced as the unconscious orc¡¯s head hit the walls of the shaft on the way down, but he didn¡¯t have time to be gentle about it.

    Moktark felled one of the red men in his berserker rage, sending a mass of bloody rags flying down the stairs into a teeming horde of other imps. It only slowed them down for a moment, before another one took his place. Koruk yelled at Moktark, and the big orc abandoned his defensible position and rushed to Koruk¡¯s side.

    Moktark glanced down the hole, and grunted.

    ¡°Go! I¡¯ll hold them off!¡±

    Koruk grabbed the rope and began rappelling down into the darkness. The rope burned his hands badly, but he didn¡¯t care. The adrenaline in his blood made him largely immune to the pain. He bounced off something on the way down, but eventually hit solid ground.

    Moktark followed behind, but suddenly dropped as the rope lost tension. He tumbled down the hole yelling at the top of his lungs and landed on top of Koruk hard with a pained yelp. The spear clattered down behind him, broken in two.

 Chapter 19: A Hard Landing

    Koruk quickly shifted Moktark away from the opening of the shaft, fearing that the imps would throw stones or spears down at them. Nothing fell after them. There was only silence, and darkness.

    A square patch of moonlight directly below the shaft was the only illumination. Koruk and Moktark huddled in the darkness for awhile, on guard for attack, but nothing came. Slowly the adrenaline began to subside, and a weariness crept over them.

    ¡°I think I twisted my ankle.¡± Moktark said. He barked in pain as he tried to move his leg. ¡°Where¡¯s Semthak and Oben?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± Oben replied from somewhere in the dark room.

    ¡°Semthak¡¯s down. He¡¯s still alive.¡± Koruk said. ¡°I checked his pulse. I don¡¯t know how bad he is.¡±

    ¡°This is bad.¡± Moktark said softly. ¡°Where the hell are we? What is this place?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Oben, tell me you have the lamp!¡± Koruk said.

    ¡°I maybe. I do!¡± Oben said, rustling around in his pack which thankfully Koruk had had the foresight to throw down after him. He brought over a lamp. The handle had broken off, but it was otherwise intact. Koruk sighed in relief.

    With shaking hands he managed to kindle a small fire, rolling the firestick between his hands quickly until the tinder began to smoke. He blew it into flame, and used it to ignite the wick of the lamp, illuminating the surroundings.

    The flickering light revealed a large square room, hewn out of the same monolithic obsidian blocks that seemed to form the rest of the pyramid. A series of deep channels were cut into the floor and ceiling, forming an angular geometric pattern that seemed to focus around the shaft they had fallen through. The chamber had four triangular doors leading out of it, one set into each wall. The light from the lamp did not penetrate the pitch blackness beyond their yawning apertures.

    Koruk looked Moktark over, and winced. The big orc was in bad shape. His ankle appeared to be broken, and he was covered in bruises and cuts from the battle above. Although none of them seemed to be fatal in of themselves, Moktark was losing a lot of blood and wasn¡¯t going anywhere in a hurry on that leg.

    Koruk ripped his robes into bandages, and did his best to tightly wrap Moktark¡¯s wounds and stop or at least slow the bleeding. Using a piece of the spear shaft that had saved their lives, he made a simple splint for the broken ankle, and wrapped it tight to Moktark¡¯s leg.

    ¡°I think I managed to stop the bleeding.¡± Koruk said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing. I¡¯m not a healer...¡±

    Moktark clapped him on the shoulder and smiled wearily. He started laughing, but it choked off as he winced in pain.

    ¡°It¡¯s funny, you know.¡± Moktark said, cradling his sides. ¡°We got a healer over there, but he¡¯s decided to take a nap.¡±

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    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem funny where I¡¯m standing.¡±

    ¡°You did fine little brother. I¡¯ll live. I¡¯ve been through worse spots than this.¡±

    Koruk doubted it.

    ¡°What we do?¡± Oben asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here, and guard the old man. I¡¯m not going anywhere anyways for awhile.¡± Moktark said, wincing as he readjusted. ¡°Give me my weapon and prop me up.¡±

    Gingerly, Koruk helped Moktark sit up, and propped him up using a rucksack. Moktark cradled his war bat against his chest and seemed to mentally psyche himself up. Koruk noticed that several of the obsidian blades were missing from the weapon, and there was a long crack running through the wood.

    ¡°Go little brother. I¡¯ll keep him safe and watch your backs. Go find what we came here for.¡±

    What we came here for.

    ¡°What did we come to this place for?¡± Koruk whispered to himself. It seemed so foolish now. He thought finding the temple would be the end of the quest he supposed, that coming here would just somehow reveal all and they could return home. It seemed that the quest wasn¡¯t quite over yet.

    Although what he was looking for now, he had no idea.

    ¡°Come on Oben. Pick a door and let¡¯s see if we can find a way out of here.¡± Koruk said.

    As they disappeared through a door with the lamp, the entry hall, if it could be considered that, returned to darkness.

    Moktark sighed, and closed his eyes.

    Oben and Koruk found themselves in a long twisting corridor just wide enough for two to walk abreast that didn¡¯t seem to lead in any definite direction. The smooth obsidian walls sloped inwards disorientatingly, culminating in a peaked ceiling. On and on they walked. They found no stairs or doors branching out, although the path did seem to gradually be sloping downwards. Deeper into the pyramid. The geometry of the walls did weird things to the echoes of their footsteps as they plodded along, and it combined with the flickering light to lend an even more otherworldly feeling to the strange structure.

    Koruk gritted his teeth. Somewhere in the back of his head he could almost feel a sort of¡­ fuzziness. As if there was a mosquito landing on him that he couldn¡¯t swat away. Get ahold of yourself, he thought.

    He lost track of how long they walked down the corridor. It turned at seemingly random intervals, left and right, but always led downwards. Something about it bothered him. A feeling that something wasn¡¯t quite right. It was like¡­

    ¡°We were here. Before.¡± Oben said. Koruk halted, and looked at him as if he had just said something insane. Which he had.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Left three, right four, left three, right four. The way it¡­ repeats? It is the same again.¡± Oben said, struggling for words.

    ¡°¡­ What?¡±

    Oben shrugged, and leaned up against a wall. He looked deep in thought.

    ¡°Leave thing on ground.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Leave thing. If come again, we see again, yes?¡±

    Koruk rubbed his eyes. He felt like he was developing a migraine.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying we¡¯ve been here before? That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    Oben slowly nodded, scratching his bare chin.

    ¡°How¡­ no. We¡¯ve been going downhill the whole way. At least, I think we have¡­¡± Koruk said. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been any branching paths either. That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    Oben shrugged.

    ¡°Is trick.¡±

    Koruk sighed, and rummaged through his backpack for something to drop. This is stupid, he thought. He selected a few pieces of fruit, dates he think that imp had called them, and chewed on them. He spat the seeds out onto the ground.

    Oben nodded, looking thoughtful as he pushed the seeds into a little pile in the centre of the corridor. Then he set off again downwards.

    Three turns left.

    Four turns right.

    Three turns left.

    Four turns right.

    The pattern repeated itself four times. And then Oben halted, and pointed at the ground.

    In the flickering light, the seeds were in a little pile at their feet.

 Chapter 20: Mazes of Madness

    Moktark¡¯s ears twitched as they heard a groaning and a shuffle in the darkness. He gradually opened his eyes. Somewhere off in the darkness he heard mumbled cursing.

    ¡°Whys it so bloody dark?¡± The voice called out hoarsely, before breaking out into a hacking cough.

    ¡°Because there¡¯s no light.¡± Moktark replied lazily. He yawned and moved to get up, but the sudden pains in his body reminded him of why he was laying in the dark in the first place.

    ¡°Very funny. What happened? Where are we?¡±

    Moktark briefly explained that he had been knocked out by a rock and they had dropped him down a hole into the pyramid. Semthak grunted something that could have been a curse, and Moktark could hear him slowly shuffling towards him.

    ¡°Where¡¯s my damn bag?¡± The old orc grumpily asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it¡­ ouch, watch what you¡¯re doing you old fool!¡± Moktark cried out as Semthak bumped into him and started pawing at his face in the dark.

    ¡°Ah there you are. Give me my bag.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± Moktark said, tossing the bag at the old orc. ¡°Quit pawing at me.¡±

    ¡°Where are the others? Are they alive?¡±

    ¡°They went deeper in.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    Semthak rummaged loudly through his bag, various pots and jars bonking around in the dark.

    Moktark couldn¡¯t see what he was doing, but was thankful when the noise finally stopped.

    ¡°Did you find what you were looking for?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Be silent.¡±

    Moktark laid back down in the darkness staring at nothing. Little spots danced in his vision. He always wondered what that was about, but figured he just hit his head one too many times.

    There were lots of different colours of spots dancing around. Red ones, green ones, even some purple ones. There was a blue one. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever seen a blue one before. The spots seemed to grow a little brighter, and they flowed around in a circle above him. They didn¡¯t usually do that either.

    Gradually the little motes coalesced into a ball of light, and floated down. Down into a bowl that Semthak was holding. There the ball hovered for a bit, before seeming to settle into the curvature of the bowl like a glowing pool of water.

    The light from the bowl illuminated Semthak¡¯s features with a soft blue glow. He whispered something, and the glow seemed to increase, bathing the chamber in luminescence.

    ¡°You look like shit.¡± The old shaman said, looking over Moktark. ¡°Who did these bandages? You¡¯re bleeding out.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look great yourself. What the hell did you do? What is that magic?¡±

    Semthak smiled mischievously, his big teeth shining in the light.

    ¡°Oh, just a trick I picked up from somewhere. It occasionally works in old places like this.¡±

    ¡°Is that a ghost?¡±

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    ¡°I suppose it could be, yeah.¡±

    ¡°I thought they¡¯d be¡­ scarier.¡±

    ¡°Roll over, I need to check those bandages.¡±

    Semthak removed Moktark¡¯s blood soaked bandages. He ground up some herbs in a bowl, and smeared them on Moktark¡¯s wounds. The sensation was chilling, like sticking your hand in cold water. Gradually, the pain began to dull, bit by bit.

    ¡°Hey that stuff¡¯s pretty good. What is AAAAAAAHHHHEERRGG!¡±

    ¡°Your brother didn¡¯t set your ankle properly. If it had healed like that you¡¯d never walk straight again.¡±

    ¡°DAMN YOU WARN ME BEFORE YOU¡­ ARRGG!¡± Moktark yelled, thumping his fist onto the floor to resist the urge to knock Semthak out. Semthak chuckled cruelly.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright. Here, drink this. For the pain and the swelling.¡±

    Moktark drank something pungent smelling which had the same cooling sensation as the ointment spread on his wounds. Gradually he began to feel better. His heart rate slowed, and he started to feel sleepy.

    ¡°In a better world I¡¯d let you lay there and recover, but we should go find your brother. Which way did they go?¡±

    ¡°That way, I think¡± Moktark said, pointing to a doorway. ¡°Or was it that one?¡±

    ¡°One way to find out.¡±

    Using the last pieces of the spear haft, Semthak managed to lash together a crude crutch. Placing it under his arm, Moktark found that he could hobble along on one leg. Together the two orcs picked a door, and by the magical blue light of the bowl, started down, deeper into the temple.

    As they hobbled along through the gloom, Moktark started to notice flickers of light at the edges of his vision, but when he turned his head, they were always gone. He rubbed his eyes in annoyance, and then squinted at the bowl of light Semthak held.

    ¡°So, you know when you look at the sun and you get those bright spots in your vision?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°Uh huh.¡±

    ¡°Is that, those ghost things? Can you put them in a bowl?¡±

    ¡°It just means you¡¯ve been staring at the sun too long. You¡¯re going to go blind doing that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah but, when you summoned up those ghosts, they were coming out like the funny shapes you see when you look at the sun.¡±

    ¡°How the hell should I know? I don¡¯t¡­ wait, there¡¯s something ahead.¡±

    The two orcs passed into a large room, with a ceiling so high that the ethereal light from the bowl faded away long before it touched it. The walls were carved in deep set angular reliefs that reminded them of the floor of the entry chamber, and Moktark felt his eyes drawn down into them, tracing their paths.

    Semthak quickly walked around the perimeter of the chamber, and swore under his breath.

    ¡°Dead end.¡±

    ¡°What is all this? These symbols? They¡¯ve got to mean something.¡±

    Semthak sighed, and looked at them, and then looked some more. He felt...

    ¡°They¡¯re cool right? No matter how far I follow one of the lines, I never seem to reach a dead end in the maze, but they all branch off constantly. How do they do that?¡± Moktark said quietly.

    He felt... old. A sort of nostalgia welled up inside of Semthak, like a little bit of kindling was thrown on an ember from a fire that had nearly burned out. He remembered a bright eyed young student of the mysteries who seemed to find wonder in everything. He remembered sitting in awe as he watched his first casting, and listening to the priests as they explained the different properties of the metals¡­

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He said softly. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ very cool. I wonder what this place is made out of? I¡¯ve never seen anything like this black stone.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just obsidian? Like we use for tools?¡±

    ¡°No. It looks sort of similar I¡¯ll grant you, but you wouldn¡¯t be able to carve obsidian like that. It would flake away, whereas these grooves look like they were carved in a much softer material.¡±

    ¡°Like clay?¡±

    ¡°More like metal. It feels almost as if these blocks and the reliefs in them were cast out of some sort of black metal.¡±

    ¡°Huh. That is cool.¡±

    ¡°Yes. It doesn¡¯t help us get out of here though. We should head back and look for another way.¡±

    ¡°Feels kind of like they all lead in one direction, yknow? Like, if you follow the lines long enough, and they never lead to a dead end, then they¡¯ve gotta lead somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about, Moktark.¡±

    ¡°Yeah me neither probably. Feels like they all kind of converge over here.¡± Moktark said, pointing to a spot in the wall. It didn¡¯t really look any different to Semthak. Looking at the relief was starting to give him a headache.

    ¡°Huh, something in there?¡± Moktark asked. He jabbed a thick green finger into the wall and started feeling around. ¡°I think I can pull it out. Damn! It fell into a hole or...¡±

    In almost complete silence, a triangular section of the wall began to slide backwards, revealing a secret passage. Semthak held up the bowl, and the two orcs both peered through the new doorway.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s just weird.¡± Moktark said.

 Chapter 21: A Duel in the Dark

    Koruk and Oben both stared at the pile of date seeds, as if daring it to do something. It did not. It was in fact, merely a pile of date seeds. The same pile, in all probability. After a long period, Koruk managed to say something.

    ¡°What..?¡±

    ¡°Is trick.¡± Oben retorted.

    ¡°What do we do? Should we keep going?¡±

    ¡°Maybe go up? Maybe split up.¡±

    ¡°We only have the one lamp. We should stick together.¡±

    Oben nodded and the pair began walking the way they had come.

    Three turns left.

    Four turns right.

    After four repetitions, and a wasted half hour, they arrived to find themselves standing beside the pile of seeds again, albeit from the other side.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s just great.¡± Koruk said. He sat down and rummaged around for something to eat, pulling out a few more dates. He chewed them and dutifully spat the seeds into the pile.

    ¡°Maybe split up?¡± Oben suggested.

    ¡°Alright. You take the lamp. I¡¯ll try to feel my way along. Maybe we¡¯ll meet back here.¡±

    Koruk looked over his shoulder and watched Oben disappear around a bend. After he turned it, the hallway fell into blackness. Koruk held his hand in front of his face and wiggled his fingers, but couldn¡¯t see a thing.

    ¡°Why did I give him the lamp?¡± Koruk muttered to himself. Keeping his right hand on the wall, he started working his way forward through the gloom.

    After a time he spotted a flickering light ahead of him. Koruk sighed. He had looped back around again, he thought.

    As he turned the corner though, he found himself walking through a doorway into a large room. In the centre of that room, sitting on the floor, was the oil lamp.

    ¡°Oben!?¡± Koruk called out. He was greeted with silence.

    With trembling hands Koruk picked up the lamp and made out the room. It was squareish, the walls seeming to taper inwards as they did in the corridor that led there. Dividing the room in half was a deep chasm falling into inky blackness, and a narrow bridge of square cut stone blocks spanned it, connecting the two sides of the room. The bridge had no railing, and two orcs would have struggled to walk side by side across it. As Koruk approached the bridge, he caught a glint of something on the other side. Cautiously, he started across, careful with his footing on the smooth stone lest he slip and fall into oblivion. Out of the gloom the glint he had noticed resolved into another figure, crossing the bridge from the opposite direction towards him.

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    It was Oben.

    Koruk smiled and raised his arm to wave in greeting, but his words died on his lips. Oben had a knife drawn. The flickering firelight danced off its sharp metal blade.

    ¡°Oben?¡±

    Oben didn¡¯t respond. Koruk continued edging closer to his traveling companion, who had not yet sheathed his knife. For a brief moment Koruk thought about drawing his own blade, but quickly shelved the thought.

    ¡°I thought I had lost you in this place! I found the lamp on the floor over there!¡± Koruk said, gesturing back the way he had come. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Oben didn¡¯t reply, but when he reached the midway point of the bridge, he halted, and drew himself into a combat pose, left arm angled in front of his body to deflect blows, and knife drawn back at his side ready to stab.

    ¡°What are you doing? Why won¡¯t you talk to me?!¡±

    Oben slowly began to advance on Koruk, maintaining his defensive posture. Sensing the danger, Koruk sat the lamp down behind him, and drew his sword. The bronze weapon once owned by the skimmer captain felt light in his grip, but he didn¡¯t relish the idea of using it.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you!? Snap out of it!¡±

    Oben lunged at Koruk with the knife, and the orc quickly backpedalled, nearly knocking the lamp he had set down into the abyss. Koruk lashed out with an uppercut punch, but with surprising resilience Oben blocked it with his free arm. The impact knocked the human back a few feet, but he immediately sprung into another attack.

    Koruk saw it coming, and slapped his thrusting knife aside with the flat of his sword. The impact sent the knife tumbling out of Oben¡¯s hand, into the darkness. Koruk quickly grabbed the front of Oben¡¯s shirt, and headbutted him, knocking the human out cold.

    ¡°What the hell? Shit.¡± Koruk said to himself. He slung the unconscious Oben over his shoulder, and carried him to the other side.

    ¡°You better not be dead.¡± He said as he laid the human down on the smooth floor. He examined him for injuries, and sighed in relief that he didn¡¯t seem to have broken Oben¡¯s neck. The little man seemed so fragile.

    Still, he wasn¡¯t really sure what he was going to do now. He supposed he¡¯d have to carry Oben, but what if the human tried to attack him again? Was he possessed? Maybe he could bind his wrists?

    Koruk shook his head. No. He wasn¡¯t going to tie up his friend and treat him like a prisoner. He didn¡¯t know what was going on, but he wanted to give Oben a chance to explain himself after he woke up without feeling like he was being treated as an enemy.

    He hefted Oben up onto his shoulder, and started trudging forward. He hoped Oben woke up soon because the weight was going to kill him if he had to do this for the rest of the day. Ahead of him he could feel a breeze and smell fresh air. There must be a door or a passage ahead, he thought.

    The air smelled peculiarly like flowers.

    Sure enough, at the far end of the room he found another door. This one was closed, a massive slab of stone being set in the archway. Koruk gently laid Oben down on the floor, and ran his hands over the slab. He found handholds on it, and as he pushed it he found that it rolled out of the way without much resistance at all.

    As he stepped past the doorway he was greeted by an amazing sight. He found himself outdoors, in a vast field of flowers and tall grass. A river sparkled in a valley below, and he could see smoke lazily rising from a village next to it.

    An orcish village. Red roofed huts were clustered in a rough circle, and he could see figures walking amongst them.

    He sucked in the fresh, clean air through his nostrils, and all his stress seemed to disappear. He smiled, and turned back towards the door to retrieve Oben, only to find it had disappeared, along with the temple. He looked back at rolling hills and blue sky, as far as the eye could see.

 Chapter 22: Nostalgia

    ¡°This is some sort of dream. It must be.¡± Semthak said.

    ¡°If it was a dream, my leg wouldn¡¯t hurt so much.¡± Moktark replied.

    The pair walked, or hobbled in Moktark¡¯s case, down a wide city avenue. Tall, square sided buildings rose up around them, peaked with overhanging tied roofs in red clay. Smoke was in the air, and the sounds of industry were all around them. The ringing of hammers on anvils, masters shouting at apprentices, the whoosh of bellows. Merchants lined the streets, haggling with traders and customers, rows of gleaming bronze tools and other items lined up on their tables.

    ¡°Zernthod.¡± Semthak said. ¡°How?¡±

    Moktark simply shook his head. The two wandered aimlessly for awhile, taking in the sights. The pyramid was gone, along with its black stone and puzzles and too-cool air. Where it once stood was the front gate of the city as seen from the inside, flanked by two massive stone statues depicting an orcish face and a giant snake, respectively. The fangs of the snake gleamed in the light. They were cast from solid bronze, each of them at least a metre in length.

    ¡°That had to cost quite a bit.¡± Moktark remarked.

    ¡°The Soot Serpent tribe can afford it. This is the richest city in the world, in all likelihood. The question is, how did we get here?¡±

    ¡°Wonder if Koruk is here too? We should look around for him.¡±

    ¡°Yes I think that¡¯s...¡± Semthak began, but was cut off when he heard a familiar voice behind him. He spun on his soles, and saw a big orc with a back hunched from age and overwork. The orc¡¯s hair was receding, leaving the crown of his brown head shining in the sunlight. He seemed agitated, and was searching between the shop stalls leading the streets for something.

    ¡°Semthak? Don¡¯t play games with me lad!¡± He called out.

    ¡°Coming, Master Morzol!¡± A child¡¯s voice replied. A small boy dashed out from somewhere, carrying a stack of incense sticks. He tripped and nearly fumbled the lot of them, but managed to catch them.

    ¡°Ah you got them. Come! They¡¯re about ready to begin the ceremony!¡± The big orc said, hustling his young apprentice away towards a tall building that appeared to be a giant stone chimney.

    The older Semthak stood dumbfounded and without words. Moktark nodded sagely beside him.

    ¡°Yep. It¡¯s a dream.¡±

    ¡°How¡­ why are we here? Why are you here? That was Morzol, my old teacher...¡±

    ¡°Mess with ghosts, this sort of thing is what happens. That¡¯s why you leave spirits to the spirit world.¡± Moktark said, pointing to the bowl Semthak still held in his hand. Semthak glanced at it, and saw that it was empty.

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± Semthak asked, still in shock. Moktark shrugged.

    ¡°Might as well follow them.¡± He said, pointing to the chimney-like building. ¡°We¡¯ll see what we see.¡±

    Semthak pushed open the door to the building, and was hit with a blast of heat. He held it open for Moktark, who clambered inside on his crutch, and then shut it. An enormous fire glowed red hot in a pit in the centre of the building, and a circle of orcs surrounded it, wearing tattered aprons dripping wet with water. The steaming orcs hurled pots of charcoal into the flames, occasionally stopping to rush to a waiting boy who threw a fresh bucket of water on them, keeping them from burning in the intense radiant heat. Semthak led Moktark to the water station, and the child splashed them with water, reciting a litany as he did so.

    ¡°Be blessed by the waters, that you may stand the trial of the flame.¡± The child chanted, the words rolling off his tongue mechanically.

    ¡°Through the flame we burn away our weakness.¡± Semthak repeated without thinking, the words appearing in his mind unbidden.

    Sopping wet, they found the heat more tolerable. A hot breeze whipped at their skin, blown in from openings at the base of the walls, feeding the fire before escaping up into the open sky above. The building had no roof, and was effectively a giant flue.

    Chains lifted a crucible out of the fire, and it was swung to the side of the chamber where indentations had been carved painstakingly into the sand of the floor. As it tipped over, a stream of glowing molten bronze flowed from the pour lip, splashing spectacularly as it filled the molds, running in rivulets in channels between them. The orcs cheered and crowded around, watching the metal cool into rows of freshly made arrowheads.

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    ¡°You might be the first uninitiated one to witness this.¡± Semthak said to Moktark.

    ¡°It was quite a show.¡± The big orc admitted.

    ¡°Come on. My other self isn¡¯t here, he must be in the workshop.¡±

    As Semthak pushed open the door to the familiar workshop, he saw himself sitting at a desk working on something. His younger self didn¡¯t look up as he approached. In fact he didn¡¯t seem to take any notice of him whatsoever.

    The young orc appeared to be working a hammer and chisel on an axehead, painstakingly carving tiny runes and patterns into the surface of the tool. Semthak smiled. He remembered doing that, for hour after hour, under the guidance of his master. The old orc leaned over the shoulder of his younger self, to have a closer look.

    Semthak¡¯s blood turned cold as he laid eyes on the artefact.

    ¡°No, it can¡¯t be...¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Moktark asked.

    Semthak didn¡¯t respond. The old orc glanced around frantically, panic in his eyes.

    From an adjoining room a door swung open, and Master Morzol appeared, draped in a great leather apron. The balding orc looked cheerful, and called out to his apprentice.

    ¡°Semthak! They¡¯re ready to test the new furnace! Come on, you get to work the bellows!¡±

    ¡°Bellows again?¡± The young Semthak replied, making a face. ¡°When will I get to pour?¡±

    ¡°When I say you¡¯re ready, which isn¡¯t too far off if you keep it up. Don¡¯t make that face at me, you know the bellows is an important job.¡±

    ¡°Yes Master.¡±

    The young orc hopped off his stool, leaving his work half finished. The older Semthak put his hand on his shoulder to stop up.

    For the first time, the youth turned to look at his older self. Semthak felt his own cold blue eyes staring back at him, as if from a mirror. He shuddered, and his grip faltered. The young orc hopped away to join his master.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to die. I have to stop him.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to die!?¡±

    ¡°No, not me. If I was dead how would I be talking to you? Morzol, my master.¡±

    ¡°Well lets save him then!¡±

    Semthak nodded grimly, and the pair rushed off after them.

    They entered another furnace room, similar to the first but larger, and were again hit with a blast of heat that seemed to suck the moisture from their skin and eyes. Semthak quickly directed Moktark to the water station, and they doused themselves.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see him!¡± Moktark said.

    ¡°Over there, by the big kiln.¡±

    In the centre of the room, rather than an open pit, there was a sort of cone shaped structure made of baked clay. Into the top someone was throwing in buckets of rocks, followed by buckets of charcoal. The young Semthak was frantically working a pair of bellows, one in each hand, sweat glistening on his brow.

    ¡°In a moment the kiln is going to explode. Morzol is going to¡­ he¡¯s going to be killed.¡±

    Moktark nodded, and started pushing his way through the crowds of priests and workers surrounding the kiln. He shouted at Morzol, but his voice was lost in the noise of the workflow. The closer he got, the more bodies seemed to get in his way, as if they were intentionally blocking him. Semthak appeared at his side, and the two of them working together bodied their way through the wall of flesh. No matter how many they pushed aside though, it seemed like two more stepped in to fill the gap.

    As they were struggling frantically against the crowd, they felt the crack of an explosion ripple through the air and they were forced to the ground as the crowd suddenly surged against them in the opposite direction, desperate to escape.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Semthak exclaimed. There were tears in his eyes. ¡°Why are we here!?¡±

    The air was choked with shouts and smoke. Semthak burst into a coughing fit, and Moktark assisted him back onto his feet and led him out of the disaster area back into the workshop.

    The old orc sat down on the stool. He laid his head into his arms, and sat unmoving for awhile.

    ¡°Old man? You alright?¡±

    ¡°No I¡¯m not alright! He was like a father to me. Do you know what that¡¯s like?¡±

    Moktark nodded.

    ¡°I think so.¡± He said. Although he didn¡¯t know his father, Moktark thought about chieftain Avol, and the time they had spent together when he was a child. ¡°Something similar, maybe.¡±

    Semthak slammed his hand down on the table.

    ¡°What is this? What is this hell I¡¯ve been brought to? This was almost it you know? I¡­ ran away. I wanted nothing to do with the soot shamans anymore. I almost didn¡¯t return. When I did, they didn¡¯t say a damn thing, you know? Didn¡¯t say anything about Morzol. Just gave me an apron, said I was ready. Made me a full fledged member. I ran away and they gave me a damn promotion...¡± Semthak said, the words coming out in a stream of consciousness. He choked, and coughed again, the smoke still tingling in his throat.

    Semthak sat unmoving for a time, staring at the unfinished axehead in front of him. The axehead that would never be finished. At the tools arrayed in front of him, lined up in perfect little rows on the table, just as he had always liked to leave them. Hadn¡¯t he and Morzol made a cabinet for these though?

    Semthak blinked. The axehead lay in front of him, and beside him was a cabinet, the drawer open. His tools were aligned in the cabinet, in perfect little rows, just as he always liked them.

    Semthak frowned.

    ¡°This is a dream. It isn¡¯t real.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been saying!¡± Moktark exclaimed, slapping his leg for emphasis. ¡°The ghosts! They can make you see stuff yknow!¡±

    Semthak grimaced.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we ever left the temple. None of this is real. None of it!¡±

    Semthak swept the axehead off the table. It fell towards the floor, but never made it.

    The back of his head hurt when he woke up.

 Chapter 23: Wrongs Left Unrighted

    Koruk walked in a circle around where the doorway was. He waved his arms around through the air, trying to feel for it, as if it had somehow turned invisible.

    ¡°Oben!? Where are you?¡± He called out. Only silence greeted him.

    ¡°Just when I thought this couldn¡¯t get any weirder. Did I get sent home?¡±

    Koruk breathed deep, and sat down on the grass. He felt exhausted. The fight had taken more out of him than he realized. The dry grass felt good under him, and the sun felt good on his skin. He decided to lay down and think.

    When he opened his eyes, the sun was starting to set. Koruk smiled in spite of himself.

    ¡°That always seems to happen.¡± He said to no-one in particular. He tried to recall his dreams, but remembered nothing. As he rose to his feet, he felt refreshed, although he still had a bit of a headache.

    He checked his bags, ate a few more dates, and relieved himself. Assuring himself that the doorway and his unconscious friend weren¡¯t going to reappear out of the ether, he decided to make for the village, having no better ideas.

    The smell of smoke and cooking pork greeted Koruk as he approached the village. The river bubbled lazily alongside the cluster of houses, and orcs were going about their day. Koruk noticed with relief that the village residents all had the mottled brown and green skin of the White Moons, and he smiled. He was among his people again. It felt as thought he had been away for years.

    The villagers smiled at him and nodded in greeting, welcoming him as a distant cousin come to visit. Otherwise they didn¡¯t pay him much mind, letting him wander the heavily trodden paths of the settlement and marvel at the simple things that he didn¡¯t realize he missed so much.

    The crackle of pork over a fire. Children playfighting with sticks. A fishing line lazily cast into the gentle river. Warriors in training grunting as they wrestled in a field. The sun on his skin, reinvigorating yet not too harsh.

    It was idyllic. A perfect scene of Orcish country life. And it was not to last.

    Koruk was awakened from his reverie by the distant sound of a horn blowing, answered by another, from another direction. He heard a cheer rise up from beyond the town, and the red banner of the Beast Tamers rose over the crest of the hill, followed by dozens of painted orcs. They howled in excitement and fury as they charged the village, swinging their weapons through the air. From another direction came a force of riders, mounted on dire wolves and brandishing long spears.

    The villagers ran about in panic, orc and she-orc alike grabbing what they could to defend themselves, but they had been caught completely off guard. They did not even have a proper wall to defend themselves, merely a tall fence. Nevertheless, a call went out, and the two previously wrestling orcs attempted to rally anyone they could to defend the fence gates where the majority of the enemy was charging towards. Koruk took up his bow and climbed up a crude wooden watch tower, and took in the attack.

    The fence gates were shattered in seconds by the charge of a howling berserker wielding a massive club, but the villagers were managing to hold their ground there, although the battle was swiftly devolving into a chaotic melee and Koruk couldn¡¯t tell who was winning or losing. But there was a bigger problem. Near the river, the riders had broken down the fence, and were streaming into the village. Torches blazed in their hands, the light glinting off the savage eyes of their panting mounts. The riders wore animalistic wooden masks and armour, painted in dazzling patterns of reds and whites, and they looked as bestial as the fearsome creatures they arrived astride.

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    As they rode uncontested through the village, Koruk made a decision. He shouted a warning to the orcs defending the gate, and he climbed down from the tower and ran off into the village, bow in hand, to fight. He would not let this happen. He would not allow this tranquil place to become a charnel house.

    Smoke was already filling the narrow streets, obscuring his vision. He heard muffled shouts and cries of pain nearby, but couldn¡¯t see where they were coming from. Huts burned all around him, the riders having decided to forgo looting and just raze the village to the ground.

    Koruk coughed as the smoke stung his eyes and throat, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he scanned for enemies. He was thankful he did so, because out of the gloom ahead of him he caught a glint of fire reflected in the eyes of a monster.

    The wolf bounded down the street toward him, barking loudly, drool flying from its open mouth as it charged. Koruk raised his bow and loosed an arrow, and to his relief it struck true in the neck of the beast. The wolf whimpered and spasmed as it fell, throwing its rider to the ground where he tumbled. It wasn¡¯t over yet though.

    Koruk watched in horror as the wolf stood up again and charged him. It was upon him before he could draw another arrow, and wolf and orc tumbled to the ground together as the beast tried to rip Koruk¡¯s face off. Koruk fended the monster off with one arm while he fumbled for his sword, holding onto the arrow lodged in its throat and struggling to keep it at bay. The wolf¡¯s eyes were wild. Its breath stank of rot. Its teeth edged ever closer to his throat¡­

    Finally he managed to get the sword free, and he stabbed it into the side of the animal again and again, until it finally laid still.

    Koruk¡¯s heart raced. He coughed as he sucked lungfuls of smoke, desperately trying to catch his breath. He was still alive. He could hardly believe it. He had actually killed it. He wanted to laugh, but it only made him cough more.

    Unfortunately that wolf was now laying on top of him, he tried to throw it off, but his arm was numb from the fight and he didn¡¯t have the strength. He was trapped.

    The rider¡¯s masked visage appeared, standing over him. Koruk tried again to shift the weight of the huge wolf, to no avail.

    The Beast Tamer slowly reached up and removed his mask, dropping it to his side. He looked familiar somehow, a youthful face that Koruk had seen somewhere before.

    ¡°I¡­ *cough*¡­ know you.¡± Koruk managed.

    ¡°You killed my father. You looted my farm.¡± The young orc replied.

    Suddenly, realization dawned. Koruk understood why the face looked so familiar. It was that boy he had almost shot during the raid, all those weeks and months ago. He had aged though. Grown up. Had Koruk been gone that long¡­?

    ¡°Why? Why have you done this?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°This is the way of things.¡± The boy replied.

    The boy readjusted his grip on his spear, and jabbed it straight towards Koruk¡¯s face. Koruk dodged his head out of the way at the last second, and through some sheer force of will managed to roll the weight of the slain wolf off himself and scramble away, getting to his feet. He looked back at the young Beast Tamer. He simply stood in the street, watching. Challenging him.

    Koruk turned and ran. He ran through the smoky streets. The smoke seemed to grow denser, and he soon became lost. He turned this way and that way, but he never seemed to get anywhere. Soon he couldn¡¯t even see his hand in front of his face through the thick black smoke. He tried to call out but his voice was lost in his throat. He felt faint.

    And then he woke up.

 Chapter 24: The Things We Leave Behind

    Oben watched Koruk collapse in front of him, the primitive stone knife embedded in his chest. He fell to the stone floor heavily, and laid still. Oben panted, panic welling up inside of him. He didn¡¯t have a choice, he told himself. The orc had attacked him on the bridge. It was me or him.

    He stumbled away, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. No. He couldn¡¯t afford to feel that way. He had a mission to complete. Everything was riding on him. He had to figure out a way to send the awaken signal. This place must have some technology, some power source that he could use to rig up a radio transmitter. So far he hadn¡¯t seen any sign of anything technological though in this ancient ruin.

    He turned back one last time to look at Koruk¡¯s dead body. It was a shame. The orc seemed kind in his own way. He didn¡¯t know what had prompted him to turn violent. Some flaw in his psyche perhaps. Reverting to programmed instinct? He supposed he¡¯d probably never know now.

    As he turned and stepped through the doorway, he was shocked to find himself outside. It was a cloudy day. When he turned, the door had vanished behind him.

    It¡¯s a trick. They¡¯re in your head, Oben.

    ¡°It has to be a trick¡­¡± He finished aloud.

    Green grassy fields stretched out before him, and beyond that, was his home.

    For a long time Oben just stood there. Intrusive thoughts ran through his head, and he mumbled the mantra of pure thinking under his breath to try to quell them, to try to dispel this obvious illusion. It didn¡¯t seem to help much.

    Eventually he found himself walking. Putting one foot in front of the next. The building that was once his home loomed closer with each step. Its white walls stood out beautifully against the surrounding hills. The hydroponic greenhouse fans turned on, and the loud whirr of the motors sent a chill down his spine.

    When he poked his head into the greenhouse, a familiar voice greeted him.

    ¡°Oben!¡±

    A young woman rose from tending her plants, a broad smile on her face. Oben felt his heart drop through his stomach.

    ¡°A-Aliyse.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you back so soon! Did they give you leave? What did¡­¡±

    Her words died on her lips when Oben embraced her tightly.

    ¡°I-It¡¯s good to see you.¡±

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    ¡°I can see that. What¡¯s gotten into you? Not that I mind.¡± Aliyse giggled. Oben didn¡¯t respond but just held her.

    ¡°Umm, do you wanna see what I¡¯ve been working on?¡± She asked, patting him on the back awkwardly. Oben nodded.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    As his wife showed him her latest research on grain speciation, Oben stood stonefaced. His mind was blank with shock. This was clearly some sort of illusion but¡­

    ¡°¡­ oh and this is really cool! We spliced in genes to make this one grow better in the arid northern regions. It doesn¡¯t even need to be watered! Well not much anyways. And guess what? They¡¯re giving us a grant for it, and a limited deployment! All under controlled supervision of course. If this got out into the wild it would be an ecological disaster!¡± She laughed. ¡°Honey are you listening?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ sorry Oben! You must be tired from the flight and probably don¡¯t want to hear about plants. I know I go on sometimes. Come inside, I¡¯ll get you something to eat!¡±

    She gripped his hand and led the shocked Oben across the compound, towards a small white habitat with plastic walls and shining glass windows, rising out of a sea of short green grass.

    Inside the house, Aliyse disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Oben to look around the living room. He walked around slowly, his footsteps padding softly on the textured plastic flooring, and he brushed his hand along the back of the sofa, feeling the tight weave of the fabric. It felt familiar, and yet so alien compared to the rough homespun cloth of the orcs.

    That¡¯s right, I must look like a wildman right now, he thought to himself, but when he looked down at himself he noticed he was wearing a crisp, clean, system defense force uniform.

    ¡°Was it all just a dream?¡± He asked aloud.

    A soft light in the corner of the room caught his attention. His personal computer console. He smiled, despite himself, and went up to it, pressing his thumb into the unlock button. The machine registered his identity and greeted him. He wondered what was new on the nilbynet. When he was off work he would typically spend most of his free time using the computer, while his wife worked in the greenhouse with the other compound researchers.

    As he sat down on the chair and rolled it up to the computer, he noticed the time and date displayed on the greeting screen.

    Firstday, Third Quarter, 3094IY

    The day the world ended.

    It took a moment for it to register in Oben¡¯s brain what he was looking at, and then when understanding came he stared in shock at the date. The day the world ended.

    Memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered the battle in orbit. The klaxons had woken him in the middle of his sleep cycle, and he had rushed to the flight deck. He remembered watching the ship disintegrate into a cloud of shining metal fragments behind his fighter. Seeing the flashes of light as the outsiders bombarded the surface, clouds of ash and dust spreading across the planet¡­

    ¡°Honey, are you alright?¡±

    Oben snapped back to the present. Aliyse was standing behind him, holding a tray of yeaststicks. He wondered if he should tell her. No. No, there¡¯s no point. Better she remain ignorant.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I just¡­ I¡¯m just glad to be home is all.¡± He said, giving her a weak smile. ¡°Tell me more about your desert grain thing.¡±

    They sat on the sofa together, and Oben listened to his wife go on an intricate tangent about the biological properties of oatgrass that was far above his pay grade. He was never really that interested in science, and had only barely passed the engineering requirements to be a pilot.

    As they sat, a light flashed outside, and the world went white.

 Chapter 25: The Oracle

    Koruk felt his way along in the darkness, holding his right hand against the cold stone wall. His head ached ever since he woke up, as though someone had dropped a rock on him while he was dreaming. Fragments of that dream still arose to haunt him, but he pushed them down, and focused on trying to figure out where he was.

    He had turned several corners, and he thought he might have circled around on himself at least once, but in general he was heading downhill, deeper into the temple. He considered that maybe he should turn back, and try to find Moktark, but he doubted he could find his way back to the entry room.

    ¡°Might as well just see this through.¡± He said to himself.

    After what seemed an age, he caught a glimpse of light coming from ahead.

    ¡°Moktark! Oben! Is that you!?¡± He yelled, but received only silence in reply. As he got closer, he found that the source of the light was a knot of translucent tubes, embedded in the walls. They seemed to pulsate, and reminded Koruk of giant grubs more than anything.

    ¡°Gross.¡± He said, poking one. It felt like it was fully of jelly. Koruk¡¯s stomach grumbled, and he wondered how long he¡¯d gone without food. Too long. Still, he doubted that these were even remotely edible.

    The tubes seemed to lead off deeper into the structure, and he opted to follow them, if only to have some sort of light source.

    Koruk followed them into a large chamber. It was different than the other rooms he¡¯d seen thus far. They had been largely barren, just empty spaces of stone without much to look at. This on the other hand¡­

    The room was crowded with strange devices, glowing crystals, and apparatuses he couldn¡¯t begin to guess the function of. Clusters of the tubes ran into those machines, casting a soft blue light over the whole assembly. The floor of the room sloped down into the centre, where sat a large table-like structure of shining black stone.

    Somehow, the table seemed to dominate the room, and Koruk was drawn towards it. He laid his hands on its perfectly smooth surface, and wondered if it was supposed to do something. It had to be there for a reason right? Then again for all he knew this was where the imps ate lunch.

    As though in response to his unspoken query, the table began to glow. Thousands of tiny glowing lights swirled out from the surface like a swarm of bees, and started to amalgamate into a towering, glowing being. It seemed to stand, or rather hover, over 15 feet tall. As it formed, familiar features started to manifest themselves. A nose, mouth, arms and legs all seemed to grow out of the amorphous blob of lights, becoming a thin, feminine looking form.

    Koruk felt a voice speaking inside his head that was not his own. It was in his own tongue, but it was a strange resonant sound, like the buzzing of ten thousand insects formed into a woman¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Welcome, Koruk.¡±

    ¡°Hello.¡± Koruk managed meekly. ¡°How did you¡­ what are you?¡±

    ¡°What am I? I am the soul of this place, the Heart of Stone. I guide the young and watch them grow old, but none are as old as me.¡±

    ¡°You sent the visions. Led us here.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°To draw you closer. To test you. See your character. Your innermost being. A mountain stands upon your shoulders, and only the strong can withstand the burden.¡±

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    Koruk remembered the trials he had faced in his visions. He felt a bit violated, knowing that someone was watching him in his own dreams.

    ¡°And did I pass your test?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± The voice echoed through his mind. It seemed to soothe his doubts and anxiety, and Koruk was consciously aware that it was manipulating his feelings. He tried to push back against it, to keep its tendrils from snaking deeper into his mind, and it retreated.

    ¡°I mean you no harm, young one.¡± The voice cooed. ¡°I mean to bring you a warning.¡±

    Out of the corner of his eye Koruk saw Oben stumble into the room, the lamp cradled between his hands. Koruk ran up to him and clapped him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Oben! It¡¯s good to see you! I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright!¡± Koruk said, but his smile faded when Oben looked up at him. The human¡¯s eyes looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess. But it was his eyes that Koruk noticed most. Haunted, black ringed eyes.

    Oben looked at Koruk in a kind of dull shock.

    ¡°You live?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Well yeah, last time I checked.¡±

    ¡°Tricks.¡±

    A voice in his head called him back. Oben appeared to notice it too, his haunted eyes widening suddenly.

    ¡°Doom is upon this world.¡± The voice echoed in Koruk¡¯s mind, and when he turned back to the apparition of light it seemed to glow with increased intensity with every word spoken.

    ¡°Ghosts of the old world return to consume the young. The wolf howls at the white moon. He hungers for the dust of the world. The pig and the goat must stand together, or be devoured together.¡±

    ¡°Can you try not speaking in riddles? What is that suppose to mean?¡± Koruk bit back.

    In response, Koruk began to see images, projected into his mind. Images that didn¡¯t make a lot of sense. He saw grey towers rising over the towns of his people. He saw glittering spires spinning through a void of stars. He saw hundreds of humans, marching in lockstep, emerging from the bellies of shining birds.

    The humans at least, he understood.

    ¡°There¡¯s going to be more humans come? Is that the doom?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Oben¡¯s eyes widened further. Understanding dawned on him, and he temporarily suppressed the feeling of horror churning in his gut. He stepped in front of Koruk, arms outstretched.

    ¡°Do not listen!¡± He implored. His eyes burned into Koruk¡¯s.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°It tricks! It is¡­ it is demon. Demon god of red men! It tricks, and red men attack!¡± Oben stammered, trying to find the words in the harsh orcish tongue.

    ¡°The visions seem real to me.¡±

    ¡°No! It tricks! It lead here, so red men attack! They sit outside black¡­ uh, hut. Demon lead you to attack!¡±

    Koruk tried to parse the broken orcish. It was true that they had come under attack as soon as they had arrived at the temple, and the red men were generally hostile to them.

    ¡°Are the imps your servants?¡± He asked the being of light. ¡°Did you lead us here so they could attack us?¡±

    ¡°They are my servants, but I do not control them. They are free to pursue their own path, as are all the young who frolic through the garden.¡±

    ¡°You see? It is enemy.¡± Oben continued. There was a desperation in his voice that Koruk had never heard before.

    ¡°Are you some kind of god to the imps? Why did they attack us at the foot of the temple?¡±

    The reply was cut short when Oben darted forward towards the table. He had drawn his knife. Koruk jolted, seeing the knife in Oben¡¯s hand again.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± The voice hissed in Koruk¡¯s mind. He hesitated though. What if Oben was right, and it was another trick?

    Oben approached the table, and quickly appraised it. While Koruk watched in confusion, he grabbed one of the glowing tubes, and ripped it out of the base of the table. The being of light began to lose shape, as the motes that made up its body started to drift away from their positions. Another tube was ripped out. Viscous fluid spilled onto the floor from the table from the holes left by Oben¡¯s vandalism.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± The voice repeated.

    ¡°Oben, stop!¡± Koruk yelled. The human ignored him.

    Oben noticed something shining inside the table, and reached his hand inside one of the wounds he had created. His hand gripped something hard and hot, and he pulled hard.

    All at once the apparition vanished, the motes of light scattering into the air, seeming to flee into crevices in the walls. The room grew dark, as the light from the crystals and tubes faded away.

    Only two sources of light remained. The lamp, burning low on the floor near Koruk¡¯s feet, and a soft blue glow cradled in Oben¡¯s hands.

 Chapter 26: Betrayal

    ¡°What is that!? What did you do?¡± Koruk yelled. Oben looked at him in fear, but didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Answer me!¡±

    Koruk ran up to the human, who ducked behind the table, still clutching whatever he had pulled from the table.

    ¡°I had to! The demon tricks!¡±

    ¡°Well how are we going to know now that you¡¯ve killed it?! You ripped its heart out!¡±

    ¡°I protect! It bad!¡±

    ¡°Show me what you took!¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    Koruk chased Oben around the table, but the human dodged away. The orc sighed.

    ¡°This is stupid. I¡¯m sorry for yelling. Sky¡¯s bones this has been some day.¡±

    ¡°It demon!¡±

    ¡°Fine! I believe you! Alright? I believe you.¡± Koruk said. He sat down on the floor. ¡°Can I see the thing now?¡±

    Cautiously, Oben approached, although he stayed out of arms reach. He opened his hands.

    Cradled between his palms was a small, oval stone of deepest blue. It seemed to pulse slightly, as though it had a heartbeat.

    ¡°Heart of stone¡­¡± Koruk mouthed.

    Koruk heard a thumping noise behind him, and a foul tempered curse echoed through the room. He turned, and found Semthak and Moktark hobbling along in the dark. Moktark leaned heavily on the old orc¡¯s shoulder, but Koruk was happy to see him up again.

    ¡°Moktark! Over here!¡±

    ¡°Damned light went out!¡± Semthak complained, as the pair approached. The old orc noticed Oben defensively cradling the stone, and then he noticed the puddle of fluid on the floor and the ripped apart tubing.

    ¡°What the hells happened here?¡±

    Koruk explained what happened. Semthak nodded and scratched his beard, but kept his eye on Oben. The human shifted furtively on his feet.

    ¡°That was idiotic. Who knows what we could have learned from this¡­ oracle. Wasn¡¯t the whole point of this quest to come here and figure out what the visions were about?¡± Semthak asked. Koruk nodded.

    ¡°Oben seemed to think it was dangerous. It was leading us into a trap, I guess.¡±

    ¡°And how did the two of you get split up anyways?¡±

    Koruk described the hallucination in the tunnel, and the vision he experienced. Semthak nodded, and said that they had a similar experience, but the two of them had stayed together.

    ¡°Maybe the oracle wanted the two of you apart. Maybe it figured one of you meant to rip its damn guts out.¡± Semthak said.

    ¡°It is demon. It speaks tricks!¡± Oben said.

    ¡°You know it wasn¡¯t too long ago someone was calling you a demon. That skinny imp. Well I guess this whole bloody quest was a waste of time then.¡± Semthak said, kicking the silent table.

    ¡°What if we put the stone back into it?¡± Moktark suggested.

    Three pairs of eyes turned on Oben. The human clutched the stone more tightly.

    ¡°Well come on then, give it here.¡± Semthak ordered, outstretching his open palm. Oben clutched it more tightly. His eyes darted around, as if looking for a place to bolt.

    ¡°What¡¯s with him?¡± Moktark asked. Koruk shook his head unknowingly.

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    Semthak sighed and closed the gap between himself and Oben with one long stride. He effortlessly wrenched the stone out of Oben¡¯s grip. Oben retaliated by punching him in the jaw, an effort that hurt the human¡¯s hand far more than the orc¡¯s face. Semthak staggered in surprise.

    The old orc¡¯s face split into a fierce snarl, showing all too many sharp teeth. Oben scrambled backwards in fear, fumbling to draw his knife.

    ¡°Stay back monster!¡±

    ¡°Oben, stop this!¡± Koruk yelled.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Oben yelled back, turning to Koruk. ¡°You are dead! Everyone dead by you! Dubarae! Outsiders! Monsters!¡±

    Oben took a few additional steps back. Semthak¡¯s snarl turned to a look of bewilderment at the human¡¯s behaviour.

    ¡°I smell your stink many days! I eat your food! I¡­ no! Cave man nightmare not real! This is all wrong! All wrong!¡±

    Oben paused to catch his ragged breath. Then with one final look into Koruk¡¯s muddy eyes, he turned and bolted into the darkness.

    Semthak gave Koruk a look as it to say ¡°What the hell was that?¡±

    ¡°Hey don¡¯t look at me.¡± The young orc raised his hands.

    ¡°You pushed him too much old man.¡± Moktark said, folding his arms. ¡°Drake! Come back!¡±

    ¡°Unfortunate. This whole business has gone ugly.¡± Semthak said, looking into the gently pulsing stone. It felt warm in his hand, and he could almost feel it looking back at him.

    ¡°Tell me what happened again, Koruk. Leave nothing out.¡±

    ___________________________________________________________________________________

    Oben slumped against the cold stone wall in the blackness. He was an idiot. He knew he was an idiot.

    How had he let himself be rattled so easily? His mental barriers he has erected had completely collapsed, and reality had flooded back in. The life he had known was gone. His home. His love.

    He was alone.

    He was alone and he had let the outsider get under his skin. Get inside his head. Take advantage of his inner weakness. And now he had turned his only allies, such as they were, against him.

    The younger orc, Koruk, still haunted him. He had watched him die. Oben told himself it was just a mind game but somehow it didn¡¯t help. He didn¡¯t seem to be able to keep his mind on reality. On the mission.

    Seeing his wife¡¯s face again had renewed his resolve in his quest. Locate technology. Somehow send a signal to wake up the fleet, assuming there was still anyone alive up there. For all he knew he was the last human being in the universe, but he had to have hope that somehow, someone else had survived the calamity.

    Well, here he was. Surrounded by alien technology. He had some vague notion that this must be outsider tech, but had no idea what he was dealing with specifically. The enigmatic aliens had attacked the colony, and must have left something behind when they were done wiping out his people. A gift in case anyone came back.

    So what was he supposed to do? He had thought, maybe somehow, he could use the power core he had ripped out of the hologram emitter or whatever it was. He didn¡¯t have any real plans with it he supposed, and it was foolish to spark a confrontation with the orcs over it, but when he had held it in his hands¡­

    It was like holding a link. A link to a world long gone. Maybe the power to get that world back, and he had lost it by losing his nerve in the face of that razor toothed behemoth imitating human form. He had been terrified that whatever ai construct was behind that hologram would tell the orcs of his plans, of what happened to this world- and turn them against him. Ironically he had ended up turning them against himself all on his own.

    He sighed. This was pointless.

    Oben spent some time sitting in silence, staring into space. Trying to clear his mind, as his academy instructor had taught him. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flash of light. Just my imagination, he thought. But no, there it was again.

    Oben got to his feet and strained his eyes. There was the faintest trickle of light still running through the weird fluid filled conduits that seemed to snake through this level of the complex. Some last traces of power perhaps, or a short circuit. Still¡­

    If there was still power, maybe there was still a chance.

    Maybe he could still bring them home.

    Legs still shaking from fading adrenaline, Oben got to his feet. Keeping one hand on the still warm power conduit, he started following it to its source.

    Oben followed the conduits to where they came together in a nexus, clustering together above a low doorway. As he stepped through, he entered a room not unlike the one that housed the hologram table. Power thrummed in the walls still, and crystalline machines were arranged around the space.

    The human examined them for a time, and gradually a smile began to form on his face.

    ¡°This could work...¡±

 Chapter 27: Activation

    ¡°Why the blazes doesn¡¯t it work? Pig shit!¡± Semthak swore, kicking the stone table. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s where the stone was suppose to go?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡± Koruk replied. The Heart of Stone sat inside the table once more, suspended in a cradle of fibrous mesh that reminded him of some obscene spider web. Liquid had ceased dripping from the table, and begun to congeal into jelly.

    ¡°You think so? That isn¡¯t good enough. There must be some way to¡­ to fire it up again.¡± The old shaman snapped.

    ¡°You¡¯re the soot shaman here not me! You¡¯re suppose to know all about rocks and magic and stuff!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not magic it¡¯s¡­¡± Semthak began, but paused, a contemplative look quickly passing his face. ¡°In any case, I¡¯ve never seen a stone like that before and I doubt anyone else has either.¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡± Moktark asked.

    ¡°What was what?¡± Semthak replied. Then he felt it too. A low rumble in his feet, as though the whole temple was vibrating.

    ¡°Well that can¡¯t be good.¡± Moktark said.

    <hr>

    Oben¡¯s heart jumped as the temple shook, and light pulsed through the crystalline machine in front of him. He gently replaced the crystal rod back into the lattice he had pulled it out of. Cautiously he tried another crystal, and another, watching the machine react to them.

    He scratched his head in frustration. This definitely wasn¡¯t intuitive. He found himself regretting not paying more attention in engineering class. Still, he seemed to be getting somewhere. From what he could tell, the crystals somehow modulated the energy flow through the temple, and the pattern in which they were inserted in the matrix seemed to determine how that energy manifested.

    Maybe he could somehow reconfigure the temple to send a radio burst with the code? He was sure it was possible, but he hadn¡¯t the slightest clue how he¡¯d do that.

    No, no I¡¯m overthinking this, he thought. He pulled out a cluster of crystals in a group. A large burst of energy seemed to light up the room, and the floor shook slightly. This building is a weapon of some kind right? It shot down my ship. If I can cause it to fire, or overload it, I bet I can send the sort of signal that nobody would be able to ignore.

    He started pulling crystals out at random. A humming started to intensify, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as static electricity crackled.

    ¡°Yeah, this could work¡­"

    <hr>

    The temple didn¡¯t just rumble this time. It shook. All at once the room lit up as every crystal and pipe began to glow.

    ¡°I definitely felt it that time.¡± Moktark said. ¡°Forget the table, lets get out of here! This place is going to come down on our heads.¡±

    ¡°No! It has to work¡­¡± Semthak said, his arm buried in the depths of the table.

    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it old man!¡± Moktark yelled. He looked at Koruk, pleadingly.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

    Moktark nodded. ¡°It¡¯s your quest little brother. Come on old man. We¡¯re not leaving you behind!¡±

    ¡°What about Oben? We should look for him!¡± Koruk said. Moktark nodded.

    ¡°Go find him then! I¡¯m sure I can fix this, come back when you find him.¡± Semthak said.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

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    ¡°Go.¡± Semthak said. The old orc looked Koruk in the eyes. ¡°I need this. I need to know what it was all for.¡±

    Koruk and Moktark stuck together as they ran through the halls of the temple as fast as Moktark¡¯s injured leg would let them, stumbling occasionally when the floor shook with an especially violent tremor. They called out Oben¡¯s name and beseeched him to return, but got no response.

    The temple seemed different as they traversed it this time around. More linear. Maybe even smaller. Certainly better lit. Blue fire had begun to glow from within the very walls, coursing through the complex maze of engravings carved into them. When the oracle had disappeared the temple had felt so empty. So dead. Now it was alive again, but in a terrifying way.

    The ache in the back of Koruk¡¯s head intensified suddenly. He wiped his nose and saw his hand stained red with blood.

    ¡°Where the hell is he?¡± Koruk asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t like the look of this little brother.¡± Moktark said, staring uneasily at the walls. ¡°I don¡¯t think fire is suppose to be blue.¡±

    Koruk gave his friend a long look. He made a decision.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get Semthak and get out of here.¡±

    ¡°What about the quest? Your visions?¡±

    ¡°¡­ The quest is finished.¡±

    Moktark nodded, and the pair ran back the way they had come.

    <hr>

    Around a couple more bends, in a small room surrounded by alien machines, a human sat on the floor. He sat amongst hundreds of rods of crystal which had been torn out of alien machines, and they danced and jittered on the floor as the structure reverberated with energies it was not meant to withstand.

    There was no way the fleet¡¯s sensors wouldn¡¯t pick this up.

    His nose and ears began to trickle blood. Was this the end then? Maybe it was. He felt okay about that. Somehow, it felt like release.

    He had done his duty.

    ¡°Aliyse, we''re coming home.¡±

    <hr>

    Semthak sat leaned up against the table, his arms covered in goo and a defeated look upon his brow. The Heart of Stone was clutched in his hand.

    Koruk roughly lifted him to his feet.

    ¡°Come on! We gotta go.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work.¡± The old man murmured. ¡°Now I¡¯ll never know.¡±

    The trio rushed through the temple, Koruk supporting his friend, and Semthak close behind. As they climbed up towards the summit of the pyramid, the reverberations became stronger, and the walls pulsed erratically. Motes of light, tiny wisps like those that had made up the body of the being of light flittered though the air. They seemed to have the same idea as the orcs, and were generally headed towards the exit.

    It didn¡¯t take them as long as they expected to reach the hall they had descended from. The geometry of the temple seemed to have changed to facilitate their passage, and they found the route straight and easy to navigate. As they burst into the entry hall, they found it awash with blue light. The entire room thrummed with power, and all three of them held their temples as a wave of nausea washed through them.

    ¡°Come on! There¡¯s only one way out of here!¡± Koruk said. He trudged forward in spite of the pain, and the others followed him to the shaft that led to the surface.

    Koruk glanced up the hole. He could see stars overhead.

    ¡°How do we get up? The rope was knocked down.¡±

    ¡°We climb.¡± Moktark said. ¡°You climb. I can¡¯t do it with my ankle and the old man sure as shit isn¡¯t in shape for it. Come on, I¡¯ll give you a step up. When you get to the top throw the rope down for us.¡±

    Koruk nodded, and stepped on Moktark¡¯s outstretched hands. The big orc gave him a boost up into the shaft, and Koruk managed to wedge himself into it by putting his back to one wall and bracing himself against the opposite with his legs.

    Gradually, Koruk began to shimmy up the smooth shaft, pushing himself up with his hands. The air had begun to stink of something he couldn¡¯t identify. The thrumming of the temple had grown louder, and he could feel it all the way down in his bones. Occasionally he slipped and fell back a few inches before he caught himself, and he cursed himself. His hair started to lift up off his scalp and stand on end. The coiled rope dangled from his mouth where he held it in his teeth.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to make it. I¡¯m going too slow.¡± He told himself, again and again, but he kept pushing up and up. And then he made it. He felt his hands grip the top of the pyramid, and he hoisted himself up and rolled himself over, panting heavily.

    Wasting no time to rest, he lowered the rope for his companions, and one by one they clambered up onto the summit of the pyramid. With Semthak supporting Moktark¡¯s weight, they began to run down the stairs toward the desert floor.

    Before they had reached the foot of the pyramid there was a flash of light at their backs that left halos in their vision, and a column of blue light lanced up into the sky with a sound like a thunderclap.

    The beam was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but a rain of black pebbles that gently clattered across the stones.

 Chapter 28: New Friends

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    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

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    ¡°As much to himself as to us maybe, Semthak thought, but the orc kept his mouth shut.

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 Chapter 29: Awakening

    Admiral Benice Ilkanis Fost sat at her desk, nursing her cup of articaf. She stared unfocused on the datapad in front of her, and her haggard reflection stared back at her. Her short grey hair was parted wrong. Her face looked sunken. Her eyes were ringed with deep black circles, and the fire in them had dimmed. She felt terrible. The acrid taste of the articaf stung her throat, but it was all that was keeping her going today.

    She hated cryosleep, and this one had been worse than most. Behind her the stars gently rolled by as the habitat ring spun slowly through the void. It made her nauseous. The liquid gently drifted to one side of her cup as the gyro-gravity kept it planted firmly on the desk, but unfortunately it did the same thing to her stomach contents.

    The door chimed again, and she tapped the button to admit them. It slid open, and a young lieutenant appeared in it. She saluted crisply, arm held at a perfect right angle pointed up. Fost motioned for her to be at ease.

    ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°Sir¡­¡± She began, clearly trying to suppress the emotion in her voice.

    ¡°Out with it lieutenant.¡± Admiral Fost snapped. The lieutenant instinctively straightened her posture.

    ¡°Sir, Initial astronomical data suggests that we¡¯ve been in suspended animation for roughly 3130 years, with a standard deviation of 3.4 years. Seventy Nine percent of cryo pods were able to be recovered. Two percent are experiencing malfunctions but may be recoverable. Nineteen percent lost. Estimated casualties projected at over two hundred thousand.¡±

    Fost nodded, mentally tallying up the figures. The lieutenant continued.

    ¡°Currently we¡¯ve begun awakening senior staff and essential personnel, starting with engineering and science staff. We¡¯re opting to keep the civvies frosted until further data is gathered. Thus far, we¡¯ve detected no gravitational wave patterns that would suggest outsider activity in the system, other than the initial graviton burst that was detected 23 standard hours ago.¡±

    ¡°Has there been any sign of the relief fleet? It was due to be dispatched¡­ some time ago.¡±

    ¡°N-No sir. Regrettably, there has been no evidence that the relief force entered the system. Thus far there¡¯s no sign of the retreat column. Or any communications from imperial space. Investigations are ongoing.¡±

    ¡°Very well. You¡¯re dismissed Lieutenant.¡± Admiral Fost sighed, spinning her chair to look out the window. The junior officer smartly saluted, and turned to leave.

    ¡°And Lieutenant¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes Sir?¡±

    ¡°The next time you come in here, make sure you¡¯ve ironed your uniform correctly. Cryosickness is no excuse for tawdriness.¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes Sir. Very good sir.¡±

    Fost allowed herself a small, cruel smile as she watched the panic flash across the face of the young junior officer in the reflection of the window. Outside the dark mass of the moon was gently scrolling past, and beyond she could see a thin blue crescent shining against the black void. Nelby.

    She returned to sipping her coffee, and began reading the initial long range surveys of the planet.

    <hr>

    Kiwai gently glided the sandskimmer to a halt outside the familiar Oasis village, parking it beside several others laying in the sand. The village where he had first met and been ¡°rescued¡± by the orcs had been resurrected, and was now teeming with red hued figures. The party had travelled northeast now for nearly a week, but their guide had led them well and they were all glad to see the beautiful waters of the oasis again.

    Kiwai had directed them to cover themselves and stay with the sandskimmer, as he went to gather water and supplies for their journey back to Brittle Teeth.

    ¡°Should have taken the loot.¡± Moktark grumbled. He¡¯d been whinging ever since they arrived about their lost opportunity to loot the village of its valuables. Koruk was beginning to get annoyed. He sat on the edge of the sandskimmer, watching birds swoop and dive towards the oasis. A boat had been launched into the lake from the shore, and a pair of imps were attempting to shoot them down with blunted arrows.

    ¡°We could have been home by now, and rich. No way we can fight through these crowds.¡± Moktark continued.

    Koruk had a flash of memory. Of masked riders on wolves burning a peaceful village to the ground. Something inside him snapped.

    ¡°Then we will go home poor! Who are we to destroy the homes of these people!? To wipe the smiles off their faces? They didn¡¯t do anything to us.¡± Koruk growled at Moktark, straining to keep his voice down. Moktark looked taken aback.

    ¡°Just saying, missed opportunities you know?¡±

    ¡°This whole damn trip was a missed opportunity.¡± A voice said behind them. Further back in the tent Semthak tossed off his bedroll. ¡°Least you can do is let me get some shut eye.¡±

    ¡°Plenty of time to sleep when we¡¯re dead old man.¡±

    ¡°Who you calling old man, you pup!¡±

    Koruk sighed as Moktark and Semthak began bickering. They¡¯d been at it for days now. Ever since they started the trip home really. Koruk couldn¡¯t say he blamed them. His nerves were frayed too and being stuck in a hot tent while they waited for Kiwai to come back with supplies wasn¡¯t helping.

    ¡°It was a hell of an adventure wasn¡¯t it?¡± Koruk said, out of the blue. Moktark and Semthak both quieted and looked at him.

    ¡°Yeah, guess it was at that.¡± Semthak begrudgingly agreed.

    ¡°Just be nice to be going back home with something to show for it.¡± Moktark added.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think any of us really got what we came on this adventure for. But maybe¡­ maybe that isn¡¯t the point. Maybe there wasn¡¯t a point. Maybe all we¡¯re bringing back is the memories, the experience. We can say, I saw the black temple of the red men. I went further than any orc ever did before, and saw things no orc ever did. I think that matters. We¡¯ve all grown a bit stronger, I think.¡±

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    Koruk¡¯s two companions sat in silence for a moment. Semthak broke the silence by snorting.

    ¡°Yeah, sounds about right.¡±

    Moktark clapped Koruk on the back.

    ¡°Good speech little brother.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    A knock sounded on the side of the barge, and a red face peered inside the tent. Kiwai had returned with supplies.

    They set off quickly, not wanting to spend any more time in the village risking getting caught than necessary, and continued the journey north. Over the weeks the orcs had spent in the desert, they had gradually grown accustomed to the heat and dry air, and it no longer sapped their strength as it once did.

    8 days into the journey, their transportation unexpectedly slid to a halt.

    ¡°Wheel¡¯s busted.¡± Moktark announced, dusting sand off himself.

    ¡°Can we fix it?¡± Koruk asked. Moktark shrugged.

    ¡°No.¡± Kiwai said, answering the question for him. ¡°Not easily.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out.¡± Moktark assured him. During their trip the big orc had quite taken to the sailing craft it seemed.

    Koruk left them to it. The night gradually dragged on. Despite the circumstances it seemed almost peaceful.

    A flash of blue light caught Koruk¡¯s attention from the edge of his vision. Had it come from the tent? Curious, he parted the canvas, and Semthak looked up at him. A blue fleck of light was dancing around him. It seemed startled by Koruk¡¯s intrusion, and disappeared.

    ¡°Close that you clumsy fool!¡± Semthak chided him, looking around for the vanished apparition. Koruk hastened to comply, but not before stepping into the tent himself.

    ¡°What was that?¡± He asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. I think it followed us from the temple.¡± Semthak muttered. The old orc scratched at something at his side. A belt pouch. His fingers found the loop, and opened it, and he withdrew the blue gemstone Oben had pulled out of the Oracle. He absentmindedly rolled it between his hands, looking thoughtful. Koruk had noticed him playing with it before during the journey.

    ¡°I remember seeing them there. I thought it was just a trick of the mind though.¡±

    Semthak nodded.

    ¡°Is it¡­ magic?¡±

    Semthak looked contemplative before answering.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in magic. I suppose it¡¯s as close as it gets though.¡±

    ¡°A soot shaman who doesn¡¯t believe in magic?¡± Koruk snorted. Semthak smiled softly, but didn¡¯t elaborate.

    Out of the corner of the tent the light reappeared. It darted between the poles holding the structure up. Koruk almost thought it was acting shy. Semthak noticed it and motioned for Koruk to be still. Gradually, the wisp approached. The gemstone in Semthak¡¯s hands seemed to glow slightly in response to it, and the wisp eventually descended into a slow orbit around the pair of orcs.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Koruk said. He held out his hand and the ball of light shirked back, before resuming its circling.

    ¡°You want this don¡¯t you?¡± Semthak asked it, holding out the stone. The wisp drew closer. Semthak placed it into a wooden bowl, and the creature settled into the container. Its light seemed to engulf the gemstone, and the two pulsed as one.

    The two orcs sat in silence for a time, watching the spectacle. Semthak carefully removed the Heart of Stone, and the wisp remained in the bowl, seeming to spin in a slow circle.

    ¡°There we go. See? Practically tame.¡± Semthak chuckled.

    ¡°Have you seen these before?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh, yeah. Many times. You find them lurking in old ruins and abandoned places. Not often you catch one out in the open like this. Seems to be attracted to the stone. The soot shamans think they¡¯ll guide you to hidden treasures, but I think they¡¯re just curious about us.¡±

    ¡°I never imagined. I guess Moktark was right, about the ghost thing all along.¡±

    Semthak seemed to contemplate something, and then he reached into the bowl with cupped hands, and lifted the glowing ball of light out. It danced around in his hands.

    ¡°Cup your hands. They like hollow spaces.¡±

    Koruk did so, and Semthak dropped the wisp into his open palms. It was warm to the touch, and he felt the crackle of static as it bounced off his skin.

    ¡°What do I do with it?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you want.¡± Semthak said. He smiled thoughtfully.

    Koruk held it for a bit, and then leaned his face in towards his palms.

    ¡°Find me a treasure.¡± He whispered.

    The wisp leapt out of his hands and darted off somewhere, leaving the tent in darkness. Semthak laughed at Koruk¡¯s shocked expression.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good kid Koruk.¡±

    ¡°Where did it go?¡±

    ¡°To find you a treasure? Who knows.¡±

    ¡°It really is magic.¡±

    Semthak shrugged.

    ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. I¡¯ve seen too much of the world to be closed minded.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said¡­¡±

    ¡°I know what I said. A lot of things widely believed to be magical aren¡¯t. I should know, I worked with ¡®magic¡¯ my entire life. It was just a bunch of hoo-haw. Melting metal is about consistent heat and technique. The gods might have the final say in whether a casting will take, but I always suspected it was more on us than them when we failed.¡±

    ¡°That seems¡­ uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Heretical? Maybe a bit. I think the soot shamans like to dress it up a bit because they don¡¯t want anyone to realize that it isn¡¯t that hard. Anyone can do it. Course they don¡¯t want you to know that. They build a kingdom on their secrets.¡±

    ¡°I see. I think they¡¯d probably be upset at you sharing their secrets.¡±

    Semthak laughed.

    ¡°You¡¯re right of course. Somehow I don¡¯t really give a shit anymore though. Their secrets seem like children¡¯s games compared to what we saw out there.¡±

    There was an excited shout outside. Koruk peeked his head out to see what the commotion was about, and saw Moktark running towards the tent with an excited grin on his face. The sandskimmer was slowly moving again as the wind puffed out its sails.

    ¡°It¡¯s ugly but it¡¯ll work!¡± Moktark said gleaming, and pointed towards the barge excitedly. They had removed the wheel and replaced it with a sort of crude ski made of a bent plank. ¡°Might be a bit slower but as long as we keep it greased it¡¯ll bring us home¡­ whoh!¡±

    The wind gusted, and the sandskimmer started to roll away from them faster. Kiwai struggled to furl the sail as Moktark sprinted to help.

    ¡°When we get back to Brittle Teeth I¡¯ll show you a thing or two if you¡¯re like. Some real soot shaman ¡®magic¡¯. Give me a hand with the tent.¡± Semthak said from behind. Koruk turned to help him take it down as Moktark brought the vehicle under control. Above them another shooting star fell. But unusually, this one didn¡¯t travel east to west. It was falling towards the north.

 Chapter 30: Rescue

    Oben felt a surge of fleeting relief as the last few drops of water fell onto his tongue. That was it, he though to himself. The end. His skin was completely empty.

    Somehow he was still alive, although his strength was fast failing. Alive, but trapped. The power surge he had initiated in the temple¡¯s mechanisms had caused the masonry to collapse around him, blocking any exit. Ruined crystals lay scattered on the floor.

    By all rights he should be dead of dehydration a week ago, but somehow the temple seemed to be condensing water, and a slow drip occasionally fell from the ceiling during what he assumed to be night. Assumed, because he had lain in complete darkness for¡­ days? Weeks? He did not know. Time merged together, and he slept dreamlessly in spurts.

    He didn¡¯t know why he even bothered. He contemplated pouring the water out and allowing himself to succumb to death. His orcish companions had clearly abandoned him, and he didn¡¯t blame them. It was possible they were killed in the collapse. Probable even.

    He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He didn¡¯t want to think anymore. He heard voices. A woman¡¯s voice? It reminded him of Aliyse, soft and honey-like. He didn¡¯t want to think about Aliyse anymore. He wanted to sleep.

    Oben¡¯s eyes jolted open. There were definitely voices now. A man¡¯s voice he didn¡¯t recognize had joined the female one.

    They were speaking low standard. A familiar language he thought he would never hear again.

    Oben tried to call out to them, but his voice choked in his parched throat. He struggled to even open his mouth. With a surge of willpower though he powered through.

    ¡°Hel..llo!?¡± He called between coughs.

    An indistinct voice seemed to answer him, although he couldn¡¯t make out the words. He repeated his greeting.

    He heard a hammering outside the doorway. Fallen stones being moved. A bright light shone in his eyes, blinding him, as huge silhouetted forms entered the room. Steel fingers closed around him and picked him up as if he weighed nothing and he was carried.

    When he came to again he was laying on a stretcher in a familiar looking environment of steel and plastic. He felt his stomach lurching in his chest. He was flying.

    A huge form hovered over him and called to him in a honeylike voice. A small dark face peered out of a bulky suit of white exo-armor, like an angel of mercy from the ancient religions. She smiled at him and her mouth moved as if speaking, but the words washed past his enfeebled consciousness. He gave a weak smile in return. Oben fell back asleep, but this time he dreamed.

    Oben woke up once again in the hospital bed in the windowless room. The gentle centrifugal gravity still felt strange, as if a weight had been lifted off his chest he had forgotten was there. His wounds had been tended to, and he still felt woozy from the drugs he¡¯d been given. An IV bag hung at his side, dripping fluids into his veins.

    The door slid open, and a short woman wearing a grey uniform with admiral¡¯s bars entered, flanked by the doctor who had routinely been in to check up on him the last few days. The doctor sat down next to him, but the woman remained standing, her face an expressionless mask.

    ¡°Good morning Third Lieutenant. T-This is Admiral Fost, she¡¯s here to ask you some questions about your um, your recent experience.¡± The doctor said. He rubbed his hands nervously.

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    ¡°Of course.¡± Oben responded.

    ¡°Your um, report leaves a lot of questions we¡¯d like to addre¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough doctor, I¡¯ll take it from here.¡± The woman said, snatching a clipboard away from the doctor. The frightened man shrunk away from her instinctively.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get down to business Third. Tell me everything that happened from the moment you awoke from cryosleep. Leave nothing out.¡±

    And so Oben relayed the story of his adventures in their entirety. From the crash all the way to waking up to his armored rescuers saving him from a slow death in the ruined temple. After he had told his story, he told it again.

    And then a third time.

    ¡°¡­ and why did you not activate the distress signal in your escape pod?¡± She repeated again. Oben shifted uncomfortably.

    ¡°It¡¯s like I told you, I was unable to regain access to the vehicle.¡±

    ¡°Yes after the alleged¡­ ¡®orcs¡¯ kidnapped you. And then allegedly fed you, clothed you, and taught you their language. And you didn¡¯t simply ask to return to your vessel because¡­?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t! The other tribe took it, the ones with the red paint and the animals!¡± Oben snapped. Admiral Fost¡¯s face tightened.

    ¡°Surface teams haven¡¯t encountered any sign of any green skinned hominids on the surface, nor were there any recorded as dwelling on the planet. Are you telling the truth, Third?¡±

    Oben¡¯s response was cut off when the doctor interrupted.

    ¡°Um, excuse me sir. The patient is um, displaying a heightened adrenal response. He¡¯s in need of rest and medication.¡±

    If looks could kill, the doctor would have dropped dead on the spot as the admiral shot him a glance.

    ¡°It¡¯s just, y-you know, he¡¯s been through a lot of stress and um¡­¡± He stammered. Sweat ran down the back of his neck.

    ¡°Fine. I wouldn¡¯t want to endanger the health of your patient, doctor. Forward the transcript of this conversation and his medical logs to intelligence.¡±

    The admiral stood, and strode purposefully out of the sick bay, leaving Oben alone with the cowering doctor. He sighed and laid back down as the doctor appeared to make himself look busy at the counter.

    ¡°Anything?¡±

    Fost turned towards the figure waiting for her in the hall as the sick bay doors slid shut. A clean cut man with grizzled features, cropped grey hair, and sharp blue eyes leaned up against a bulkhead, scrutinising her out of the corner of his eye.

    ¡°He stuck to his story, as ridiculous as it sounds.¡± She responded. He grinned smugly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never known you to fail an interrogation Fost. I¡¯m surprised I can¡¯t hear him sobbing from out here.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ve never known you to be a voyeur, Vissald.¡±

    The man¡¯s small grin turned to a smirk.

    ¡°It¡¯s my business to keep informed if there¡¯s potential threats.¡±

    ¡°From what he reported, whatever inhabitants are still on the planet are primitive in the extreme. They pose no threat.¡±

    ¡°And you believe him? We have six scout ships unaccounted for. Spear chucking savages don¡¯t shoot down spacecraft.¡±

    ¡°A combat team found him in what appears to be the ruins of an outsider outpost. But you already knew that, Commander.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer the question. Do you believe him?¡±

    Fost hesitated, glancing back at the door in thought.

    ¡°They found him wearing some ridiculous garb. He had a bunch of stone age tools on his person. Either he¡¯s gone native or he¡¯s gone insane. So no, I don¡¯t trust a word he says. But he might be useful. I want you to send some armed landing parties to the northeastern peninsula of Nelby Primary. Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t flush out some of these little green men.¡±

    Vissald grinned a bit wider.

 Chapter 31: Landfall

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 Chapter 32: Prisoners

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what difference it makes which of these things we grabbed.¡±

    ¡°The young third lieutenant seemed to think it did. Apparently he knows these two.¡±

    Fost curled her lip at the idea, as an exo-armoured soldier tossed the two unconscious green giants into a holding cell.

    ¡°What even are these? They stink.¡±

    The scientist held up a data pad, and quickly perused it before replying.

    ¡°Truthfully, we don¡¯t know sir.¡±

    ¡°Give me your best guess.¡±

    ¡°Ah well, we think these might be an extant population of orcus, although they seem to have diverged significantly evolutionarily since the fall of the planet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar. I didn¡¯t spend much time dirtside.¡±

    ¡°A sort of hunter-killer chimeric organism. They were designed to put down worker revolts in the mines during the upheaval of ¡®48. A one-off model, based on the common pig/human base they use for medical transplantation on worlds like this.¡±

    Fost leaned closer to the electrified bars of the cage, getting a better look at her prisoners.

    ¡°Who makes a green pig?¡± She said, almost to herself.

    ¡°Ah that. We haven¡¯t had time to run a DNA analysis but based on the biopsy we took on the shuttle, it seems to be some sort of lichen growing in its skin. Likely a symbiotic organism or a generational disease. Notice how that one has more of it than the other. It¡¯s possible that these creatures are able to photosynthesize nutrients in the sunlight.¡±

    ¡°Right. Well, see if you can establish communication. And get Tirid down here, maybe his presence will make them more pliable. I want a full report by this time tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Yes Admiral.¡±

    <hr>

    Koruk stared at the box in front of him. His stomach churned. Somehow it didn¡¯t feel like up was up, and down was down, as though there was something wrong with the ground below him. He rubbed his bare feet on the smooth, white surface of the floor, and saw his reflection in the tiles when he looked down.

    ¡°LOOK AT BOX. PUT THING IN BOX.¡± A voice called out in badly formulated orcish. It seemed to be coming from some sort of hole in the wall. Koruk figured there must be someone hiding behind it. If only he wasn¡¯t chained to this damned chair...

    Sighing, he turned his attention back to the box. It had a number of shapes cut into the top. A circle. A square. A triangle. On the table beside the box were arranged some small blocks. A circle, a square, and a triangle.

    Above him an eye stuck out of the wall. He got the impression it was watching him.

    Koruk stuck the circle into the circle hole, and the square into the square hole. He hesitated before inserting the triangle, rotating it between his thick fingers for a moment, before hurling it at the eye. It hit dead on, and the eye shattered into shards of glass, which pleased him. He noticed that not all the shards found their way back down to the floor again, but seemed to just float around weirdly.

    He was forced to endure several more pointless and humiliating tests. In one, he had to move boxes into holes in the ground. In another, he had guess which door a piece of meat would come out of, based on a pattern.

    ¡°What is the point of this?¡± He asked aloud. ¡°Did you capture me and kill my people to play games with me, Oben?¡±

    The hole in the wall stayed silent.

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    The door opened, and a black armoured giant strode in to unlock him and take him back to his cell.

    Koruk laid down on the hard floor after he was tossed roughly back in. It had been a full week now, or near to it. It was hard to judge time in this place. He wondered where he was, and where Semthak was. He hoped Moktark was alright too, and Kiwai too for that matter.

    <hr>

    ¡°I told you, they¡¯re intelligent! You have to believe me now.¡±

    Fost barely glanced up from her pad to look at Oben, but made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

    ¡°Of course they are. We wouldn¡¯t be rounding them up alive if they weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What? But then¡­¡±

    ¡°You. Bowen was it?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. Warrant Officer Bowen, Xenobiology.¡±

    ¡°Can we use them?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir I believe we can. The subjects have demonstrated superior physical stamina in the adverse conditions of Grars Nel8y. I think they¡¯d prove to be fine labourers, if we managed to subdue their latent aggression.¡±

    ¡°I assume you have a way to do that?¡±

    ¡°I believe a large dose of tranquilizers would suffice. They should also be fitted with a neural lockdown, for emergencies.¡±

    Oben looked at the faces seated in the conference room, talking calmly about the enslavement of an entire race of people as though they were deciding what flavour of nut spread they¡¯d like on their protein bar. Much of the senior staff of the fleet had been assembled, as well as the science teams studying the orcs and other fauna from Nelby.

    ¡°What about these alleged red skinned hominids?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve found no trace of them. Admittedly most of our air assets are held up in the northeastern peninsula, but the patrols we sent over the deserts found no trace of anyone, beyond a few abandoned settlements. Who knows how long those have sat empty.¡± A gravelly voice answered via speaker. Commander Vissald had joined the conference via vid-link, his scarred face looking bored in the monitor above the table. ¡°All the same, with your permission I¡¯d like to increase patrols. I don¡¯t want to be caught be surprise if there really is an army of them hiding out there somewhere.¡±

    ¡°You needn¡¯t concern yourself with them, Commander. There¡¯s nothing they can do against us. How goes the occupation?¡± Fost asked. Vissald¡¯s eyes brightened, and he grinned at the camera.

    ¡°We¡¯ve encountered more resistance than expected at one of the larger settlements. They¡¯re holding one of my teams hostage, and so far their walls are holding out against our artillery. Only a matter of time though. This seems to be the strongest group, and I figure the rest will surrender once we set an appropriate example.¡±

    Fost nodded, and looked at Oben with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°You look like you have something you want to say Third? Out with it.¡±

    ¡°I just¡­¡± Oben began. A bead of sweat formed on his neck as he looked around the room at his compatriots, and it wouldn¡¯t seem to go away. ¡°This is in violation of the Imperial Charter of Rights, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    A long silence pervaded the table, unbroken by so much as a sniffle or a cough.

    ¡°Those laws deal with humans and imperial subjects, not aliens.¡± Fost said definitely, and broke eye contact. ¡°Now then, how is the settlement construction progressing?¡±

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    Koruk¡¯s ears twitched as he became aware of a presence nearby. It wasn¡¯t that he heard anything, it was more that he felt it. Like a change in the air, or a static charge like if you pet a scruffcat too much.

    He stayed very still. Something about it seemed familiar. The harsh light overhead began to annoy him, but he dared not even blink for fear of spooking whatever it was. Then he saw it. A little flash of blue at the edge of his vision.

    He couldn¡¯t help but smile a little. The wisp darted around the periphery of his vision, bouncing off the cold metal walls.

    ¡°How did you get in here?¡± Koruk whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where here is.¡±

    The orc sat up, and the wisp hid somewhere.

    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t be like that.¡±

    Koruk cupped his hands, and sat still for a time, trying to lure it in. Sure enough it soon appeared, darting out from a tiny air vent in the ceiling, and slowly settled in between his palms.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can get me out of here can you?¡± He asked. The sprite seemed to respond to his words, and flickered slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know, open the door or something.¡±

    As he said it the wisp lept out of his hands and disappeared. Koruk sighed.

    ¡°Was worth a shot I guess.¡±

    There was a pop and a crackle, and suddenly the hum from the door ceased. Koruk hesitantly poked at the bars with his finger, and touched the bars without getting singed.

    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned.¡±

    He grabbed the bars, and pushed. The cell door slid easily out of the way.

 Chapter 33: Escape

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 Chapter 34: Bark or Bite

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    normal. Somehow he knew it wasn¡¯t going to last.

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 Chapter 35: Suicide Mission

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