by Simon Archer
“Come on, mister,” she mewed. “Before Father sees us.”
Not one to keep a lady waiting, I reached down and let Suli grab hold of my hand. Her little paws could only get around three of my fingers, but once she was latched on, she started to scurry off in her best effort to drag me along. It was adorably cute, but I didn’t leave her cutting a furrow in the meadow as she tried to pull me. I obliged her, letting her lead the way quickly off toward the northern side of the village.
With most of the work being done on the western side of Kaulda, the paths were open and sparse. It truly seemed as if every able-bodied man, woman, and child were pitching in to rebuild, and even those unable to work were helping in their own ways. Suli led me past a large cookfire where a group of elderly folk, elves, humans, ferynxes, and some short, furred person that reminded me more of a monkey than a man, worked to craft a massive meal, and then further still.
We eventually found ourselves on the northmost edge of the village where there was barely a soul to be seen. I thought we would be stopping then, here where we could talk in private, but Suli kept pulling with all her miniscule might, so I kept going. Finally, right when I thought she might take me right out of Kaulda, the little cat-girl stopped in front of a small cottage at the very outermost limits.
At first glance, it looked a lot like the rest of the homes here, made from the same sturdy bronzewood timbers and finer wood paneling, with the same waxy paper doors and raised porch. By the time Suli let go of my hand to run up the steps though, I had figured out just what was different about the place. The intricate bone fetishes painted in vivid colors that hung from the rafters of the porch, the exotic, to me anyway, furs of gold and black that covered the wood-slat floor, and the black pictograms daubed over the doors that were distinctly different from the runic alphabet on Sullah’s map.
When I read the message Suli had slipped me last night, I expected that she would tell me about her father and the orcs, but this was better, far better. This had to be the home of one of the village’s orc families… and that thought was confirmed when the door slid open to reveal the orc-girl I had saved from the ettercaps along with Suli. She smiled at Suli, her little pig snout surprisingly cute compared to the twisted brutes I had fought with, but before she could say a word, her little black eyes moved past them to settle on me.
“Ancestors!” she squealed out, in her case, a literal squeal as she ran past Suli and hopped down the stairs in one go. Before I could even formulate a reaction, the orc-girl, taller and stouter than Suli by a measure, threw her arms around my waist and hugged tight. “Thank you for rescuing us and the spirits for guiding your way!”
I felt a big smile cross my lips as I patted the girl on the back. “You’re welcome.”
Yeah, maybe it was just the fact that she was maybe twelve in human reckoning, clean as a whistle, dressed in the simple garb of her fellow villagers, or simply that she wasn’t trying to kill me, but this orc was way more adorable than she had any right to be. She finally let go and took a step back, still smiling as she brushed some of her straight black hair behind one of her pig ears. During that death hug, Suli had skipped back down the steps and stood to one side of us.
“Mister, this is Una,” she mewed as she pointed at the orc-girl, then turned her finger to me. “Una, this is William. He’s a hero!”
I laughed at that. “I wouldn’t go that far, well, at least I would spread the praise around to my friends.”
“I would do both,” a deep voice barked from the front door.
Una and Suli both spun to the source of the voice as I looked up to see an older orc-man leaning on a crutch, and it wasn’t because of a sprained ankle. No, his right leg was gone at the knee, the breeches tied off into a knot, and to add to that, the left side of his face was deeply scarred as if he had been pawed by the biggest of big cats. Whatever had done that to him had taken his ear along with it and turned his eye into a clouded, sightless orb. Like Una, his ruddy skin was clearer and cleaner than the thugs I’d fought, but there was a hardness around his broad features that matched those warriors.
“Father!” Una immediately bowed her head apologetically to the older orc. “I’m sorry, I should have come to get you, but I thought it was just Suli coming to play and--”
He raised a hand to silence his daughter as a faint smile ghosted across his pig snout. “It’s all right, Una.” He waved his thick fingers at her and Suli. “You two play. I will talk with our friend here.”
That was all the encouragement the two girls needed as they scampered off behind the cottage. I smiled after them, happy to see that even a world away, some things never changed, before turning to walk to the porch steps.
“Hello, sir,” I said with a polite smile. “My name is William Tyler, and--”
Again, the orc cut me off with a raised palm. “I mean no offense, hero, but you don’t need to introduce yourself. You are the man who saved my daughter, and that is all I need to know.” He then thumped his fist to his chest in a salute. “Wodag, son of Torin, father of Una. I am in your debt.”
My smile grew as I hooked my thumbs in my belt. “It’s a pleasure, Wodag. Mind if I come in so we can talk?”
“Please.” He stumped back a step, into the cottage proper, and off to one side. “I’m honored the spirits guided you here.”
As I climbed the steps, I quirked an eyebrow. Una had mentioned spirits too, but the other Kauldans kept referring to gods. Maybe some of the rift was religious on top of anything else. Libritas pulsed in agreement in the back of my mind, and as I passed Wodag to enter his humble home, a touch of the Brand of Freedom’s power ran like a subtle warmth through my body and into my eyes.
What she revealed to me was subtle, the faintest glimmer of gossamer chains that wrapped around Wodag. Some of them were the finest jewelry, woven things of gold, silver, and bronze, while others were heavy-linked manacle chains of base metal. They each trailed off, evaporating into mist a few feet from him, but I felt that if I concentrated and followed them, I could follow them. One actually terminated in the center of the main room of the cottage, a beautiful golden chain that seemed to be fused to the low table there.
“The chains that bind all living things,” Libritas whispered in my ear as I tried to take it all in. “Some of the things that deny a man his freedom are, in truth, good things. Responsibility to home, to family, to those we love, these restrict us and yet also give us strength.”
“The precious metal ones,” I sent back as a statement, not a question. “I’m sure the worth of the metals illustrates their beneficence, while the heavy, base metals are negative ones, chains that don’t just restrict him but hold him back.”
“Exactly, William.” Lib sounded delighted at my assessment. “By working out these connections, you can work to free people of that which holds them back while ensuring to keep the chains that lift them up intact.”
“I was right,” I sent with a smile on my lips. “This really is an awesome power.” I swore that I could feel a sense of joy from the brand at my side at my words.
Wodag didn’t pick up on the exchange between Lib and me or my slightly widened eyes at the magic I was seeing, and he slowly led the way to the table he was chained to, the center of his home I realized. The place seemed to be laid out very similarly to Sullah’s home, simply on a smaller scale.
The one major difference that stood out, made even more apparent by a silver chain that led to it from Wodag, was a low table placed against the far wall, adorned with more carved and painted bone objects. Despite the general worry about fire among the Kauldans, there were two sticks of incense burned on each side of what I assumed was a shrine, and a scroll of some kind sat in a wooden holder, held open to display the same pictograms as I saw on Wodag’s front door.
“While I am glad for the chance to meet you,” Wodag grunted as he stumped over to the head of the low table, “I am surprised to find you on my doorstep, especially after spending the eve under our hea
dman’s roof.”
“Because of Sullah’s thoughts on orcs, huh?” I asked with a grin as I followed after him. “I don’t let what one person, no matter how important, says to color my opinion completely, especially when you might be able to help me save this entire village.”
Wodag stopped by the turquoise cushion and glanced back at me, his good eye squinting. “Bold words, William.” He let out a pained sigh as he leveraged himself down at the table’s head. “Sullah is a good man. His thoughts on my kind, well, he has his reasons.” Before I could even open my mouth, the grizzled pig-man waved his hand. “Personal ones. Not mine to share.”
I had a hunch that if I followed one of those dull leaden chains from Wodag, it would take me straight to the headman of Kaulda. Still, I didn’t press. I needed Wodag’s help and making an ass of myself wouldn’t do either of us any good. Instead, I sat down on a threadbare cushion by his side and nodded.
“Fair enough. It wasn’t why I came to you, well, let Suli lead me to you if we’re being accurate.”
Wodag chuckled, a thick, meaty sound mixed with a few boarish snorts. “She’ll make a fine headwoman one day, that one. Clever, fiercely loyal, open heart.” He put his crutch on the tabletop and rapped its wooden surface once with his thick fingers. “Then what is it you wish this old hunter’s aid with?”
“I’m sure you know what’s coming,” I began as I leaned towards him. “The Tanglethreads will be back, and next time, it will be in force. If we’re going to save Kaulda and not get ourselves killed in the process, we need every resource we can get our hands on.” I made sure to look Wodag dead on in his good eyes before I finished. “And no matter what Sullah thinks, that means the northern tribes… or at the very least, their knowledge of Sola crystals.”
The old orc’s lips had curled into a frown as I talked, but one corner ticked up slightly when I spoke of the crystals. “Most here in Kaulda wouldn’t truck in such things, no matter how innocent they truly are. We orcs in Solanna were all painted with a bloody brush by Uruk’s actions, casting aside our ancestral ways and their guardian spirits to grovel before the Black Runes.” I thought for a moment he was about to spit at the name, but he held it in. “I’m glad to hear that you killed the bastard.”
“I think you need to thank Petra more specifically for that,” I noted, “but I’ll take the credit for bringing him down so that she could get her just revenge.” I raised a finger. “The important point is that I don’t have the same prejudices of the people here, no matter how justified they might be, and if there’s any chance your people’s methods of harnessing the crystals can save our asses, I want to go for it.”
“Wise as well as brave,” Wodag grunted. “I think I like you even more, William Tyler. Very well, I will tell you what I know if it will save my family and my home.” He leaned back on his cushion, shifting his crippled leg with a faint groan. “I only hope you can endure the danger necessary to use it.”
I frowned slightly and eyed his scars and his dead eye. “I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with your injuries.”
“Your suspicion is correct.” With that, he let out a deep, rumbling sigh. “I’m sure the dryad has told you about the crystals, that Solas are very dangerous if struck too hard or heated too greatly. There is only one safe way we know to harness that deadly power, and that is through rock wyrms.”
I think he expected me to flinch or grow pale or show some signs of trepidation, and when I didn’t, Wodag let out a grunt and kept going.
“The wyrms are cousins of dragons, wingless lizards of great size and ferocity,” he explained. “Their teeth are harder and sharper than any blade I’ve ever seen, and these mighty beasts feast upon the Solas that grows in the northern hills and mountains. We know not why, though perhaps the strange energies in the crystals grant them their acidic spit.” His right hand involuntarily moved to the stump of his leg. “But what our tribes learned, a secret passed down from generation to generation, is the art not only of taming the wyrms if raised from the egg but the amazing properties that their droppings possess.”
To my credit, I didn’t laugh at the idea, because I knew better. After all, bat guano was a key early component of black powder, and livestock manure has always been a vital fertilizer. Just because an animal shit it out didn’t mean it was worthless. I nodded slowly as it sunk in, then simply gestured for Wodag to continue.
“The wyrm’s leavings are a rocky, powdery thing, and when carefully ground. It can either be used in this powdered form or and mixed with clean water to make a sticky paste.” Wodag mimed the process out with his hands. “Either way, when any flame, even the smallest spark, is put to it, it goes up in an inferno. Small amounts will simply make a flashfire, good for blinding prey or scaring off predators. A larger amount or a thick paste will burn hot for hours straight.”
His good eye grew distant as if he recalled his youth. “Often, we would make bladders with weak stitching, line it with animal fat, then fill it with wyrm-fire paste--”
“And so, when you threw it at something, the bag would break and splatter the paste all over it,” I finished for him as my excitement grew. “The fat might have kept the wyrm-fire from sticking to the bag, but when it breaks, it coats and sticks all over the target. Just add a spark or a candle-flame and--”
“Immolation,” Wodag said grimly as he nodded. “The only good fortune that came when Uruk rose to power was that the forests were too tight to take a rock wyrm with him. That left the secrets of wyrm-fire safe in the north.”
“So,” I said thoughtfully, “I think this means that I need to go to the hills and either find a whole lot of rock wyrm droppings or your old tribe. This wyrm-fire, if we use it right, could give us the edge we need to defeat the Weaver’s forces.”
The old orc let out a long sigh at that, his gaze dropping to the table and his crutch. “Neither will be a simple task, friend. The wyrms are rare and dangerous in the wilds, and my people are fractured by Uruk’s betrayal and suspicious of outsiders.” He looked up at me then, a faint glimmer in his good eye. “But you bear Libritas, and that means there is hope that you can succeed where many would fail.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” I replied with a thankful smile. “But I won’t be doing this just on a wing and a prayer.” I leaned an elbow against the table and nodded to him. “I’ll have everything you remember about your old tribe and the northern hills to help me, assuming you’re willing to tell me.”
The old hunter grinned with pride and nodded. “You saved my daughter, my hope for the future, and for that, you will have anything I know. Now, where shall I begin?”
12
By the time I was done talking to Wodag about the orc tribes, it was mid-afternoon. At least Etria seemed to approximate a twenty-four-hour day-night cycle like Earth, so despite the alien skies and twin suns, I didn’t feel as disoriented as I might have. Things were definitely looking up as I made my way back towards the heart of the village. While getting a supply of this wyrm-fire might be dangerous, I was sure it would be key in saving Kaulda.
Still, even if we did manage it, there was one last hurdle in our way to using it, and to be honest? I wasn’t going to leave the hurdle for last, not when I could get past it before we even left the village. After all, time was of the essence. We couldn’t be sure exactly how long the Weaver would wait for us to walk into his traps, and by Wodag’s reckoning, it was at least two days of hard marching before we had the slightest chance of finding either the orc tribes or a rock wyrm.
The last thing we would need at that point would be to arrive with little time to spare and run into the wall that was Sullah Sona. It was to that end that I went with my hunch and followed the one lead chain from Wodag that led deeper into town. Interestingly, while that chain remained visible to me, the others, even those that led in this basic direction, disappeared the moment I was away from the old orc.
That chain led me back into the village squa
re. As I expected, almost no one remained here as the sounds of rebuilding echoed from the west side of town. In fact, the only living soul still there was Petra. Her walnut brown skin and green leaves were both paler than usual as she knelt in the center of the meadow, hands planted in the grass. The vines that always curled around her wrists and ankles were plunged into the soil. When she didn’t look up at me, I walked up to her, my eyes trained on the leaden chain as I went to one knee beside her.
“You okay, Petra?” I asked, and at the sound of my voice, she turned her head to look over at me with wide eyes.
“Oh, William!” The dryad’s tone was almost embarrassed, and she snapped her eyes back down to the ground. “I am sorry, I didn’t think…” She let out a huff. “I will be fine in a few moments.”
I chuckled a bit and put a hand on her shoulder. “That sort of answered my question, but not really.” I glanced around the square before settling my eyes back on her. “I more meant… is something wrong? Because I thought you’d be over where all the work is happening.”
“I should be,” she murmured, the color starting to fill out in her skin and greenery. “I am so sorry, I simply… I overextended myself a bit, as Sir Thorpe said.” Petra’s hands curled up under her, digging into the dirt in what I guessed was either shame, frustration, or more likely both. “Every time I think I am strong enough--”
I didn’t need a full play-by-play to figure out the rest. Petra wanted to prove herself, and she just kept pushing. I guessed that she pushed far too much, to the point of exhaustion as she summoned up more trees and plants then shaped the rest to help rebuild. When Reggie figured it out, he sent her off to rest.
So, I didn’t let her finish her self-chastisement. I cut her off by sliding my hand along her back so that I was now hugging her by the side.
“Stop that,” I said with a smile on my lips. “I get what you’re doing, but I don’t get why. You’ve proven yourself to me and to everyone else here.”
