by Simon Archer
He glanced over his shoulder at us. “Now, our honor has been tarnished by the Unclean one,” there came another spit, “and I doubt any would deal fairly with us again.”
“Maybe they will,” I ventured. “Because things have gotten pretty crazy since we killed Uruk and freed Libritas.” I stepped forward and put my hand on his shoulder. “The ettercaps are on the warpath, and Kaulda is going to get smashed and enslaved if they don’t get help.”
Ogrith blinked slowly at that, and as I saw the light dawn in his eyes, he turned back towards the space ahead. “Perhaps we can help, but first, we must get these eggs. With them as tribute and tales of your heroism today, I might be able to stir our chieftain into action.”
“I’m sure we can.” I gave him a quick clap on the shoulder and moved ahead of him and into the niche.
I actually had to step carefully once we moved forward, as the floors were glassy smooth. Even my hiking boots found little purchase on the stone, but that only lasted for a moment before I looked back at Petra. I didn’t even have to ask. With a wave of her hand, grasses pushed up through the smooth stone, easing the way forward. With a thankful smile, I made my way towards the shattered spire of stone, the only real feature in this cubby. As I got closer, a few things became clear.
First, there were two oval indentations, large and shallow, in the floor itself. They reminded me of the impressions a pair of very large cats would make in a cat bed, and as the thought crossed my mind, my senses kicked up a notch again. One of this mated pair was gone. Where was the other one?
Second, what remained of the spire was more like a pedestal now, sliced apart at a downward angle then a chunk gouged out to form, well, a sort of nest. Shredded fibers of some kind were stuffed in the gouge, and two steely objects the general size and shape of the dinosaur eggs I’d seen in museums were firmly nestled in those fibers. Lib’s light played off the polished shells, and Petra let out a soft gasp at their wondrous beauty.
Last, there was no other way out of the cavern that I could see. All that meant was that if we were going to have visitors, they’d be able to corner us in here with no way out.
No problem, right?
“We should move quickly but gently,” Ogrith whispered as he stepped up beside me, close to the nest. “To safely transport the eggs, we must scoop up all the bedding carefully and pack them all together in a satchel or sack. It keeps them from cracking, and their parents’ scents will help--”
He was interrupted by the very faint sound of metal on metal, an echoing tink-tink that cut through the utter stillness of the cave. It didn’t come from behind us or from any of the other crystal niches. It came from one of the eggs right in front of us.
“Uh, Ogrith?” I whispered as I took a tentative step right up to the edge of the nest. Petra was right beside me, eyes sparkling at the prospect of a new life. “What do we do?”
The orc rushed to follow us as fast as he could. A small series of dents was forming in the right egg as he gripped the edge of the stone tightly. “No! Once it hatches, it will imprint immediately, then its cry will start the other hatching.” He looked frantically at us. “Please, quickly, we have to separate them. My tribe can lose one, but not both!”
We didn’t waste any time. Ogrith clearly wasn’t going to be able to help with only one free hand, so I looked to Petra as I emptied my pack on the stones. “Scoop up the unhatched egg, bedding too, and…” An idea hit right then. “Wrap it in big leaves of some kind! Anything that’ll keep the sound out.”
Petra nodded sharply and reached out toward the left egg, her vines stretching out further as large leaves began to sprout from their length. As she worked swiftly, vines and leaves winding through the bedding to surround one egg, the tinking at the other egg intensified. The sounds grew louder and faster as more and more dents punched out further and further from the shell. I managed to get everything out of my pack and spun it around just as the first hole punched through. The sound of twisting, tortured metal split the air as that hole widened, just as Petra folded one last thick, waxy leaf around the other egg and hoisted it up.
Ogrith was visibly sweating, anxiety twisting his face and wrinkling his snout as the dryad shoved the leafy bundle into my pack a split second before the other egg tore open. Petra snapped off the leaf stems right as I cinched the now-bulging pack closed, and I only hoped we’d put enough layers between the unhatched egg and its sibling before…
A surprisingly cute, high-pitched version of the big rock wyrm’s kaiju screech split the air, and we all turned to look at the little reptile head that was now poked through a hole in the steely egg. I could see the start of the massive wingless dragon the little creature would grow into, for sure. For now, though, the pale white drake had shiny scales, lustrous blue eyes, and glistening silver claws… and it was … adorable.
We all held our collective breath, just waiting to see what exactly the little guy would do. It swept its bright eyes across the three of us before ignoring the orc hunter to focus on Petra and me. The drake pulled itself halfway out of its shell and screeched again, just as I saw thin little golden chains wind out of its heart out to connect the baby reptile to us.
17
“He’s just the cutest little thing ever!” Petra cooed as she ran the tip of her finger along the little dragon’s snout. The little guy, something Ogrith was quite certain of after a quick examination, was draped across her shoulders and trilling at the attention his ‘mother’ was giving him. Once he had squirmed free of his shell, the wyrm was about the size of a big iguana, but like the full-grown ones, his little claws and teeth had the sheen of silvery steel to them.
“They do start out rather endearing.” The hunter smiled, his anxiety gone the moment we realized that there wasn’t a second bundle of joy trying to squirm out of my pack, the very pack he kept one hand clenched around as we walked towards the sunlight still shining out in the canyon ahead. “But know that they become rather, well, terrifying in time, but if treated well, they can become incredibly loyal creatures.”
We had a bit of a juggle before we made our way out as I gave Ogrith my pack and we re-sorted all our gear. He was nice enough to give me his haversack, so we managed to get his hunting gear into some sacks he had, then we worked out a sort of rope harness so he could get his gear and the egg back home. On top of that, we scoured the niches of crystal to fill a small sack full of bits and nuggets of Sola. We needed to feed our new bundle of joy, after all, and, well, the sooner the wyrm ate, the sooner we’d start a very slow production of wyrm-fire.
I nodded with a grin. “Well, if this does become the start of a renewed bond between your tribe and the people of Kaulda, you’ll be able to see him grow up.” The baby wyrm glanced over Petra’s shoulder at me and cried, so I gave him a quick snout scratch. “I can only guess he imprinted on us because we both had one of his parent’s scents on us, both from the bedding and from the, uh, battle.”
“It will be alright, William,” Petra said softly. “I don’t know what you Uplanders believe, but here in Etria, life and death are a cycle. When we die, our souls can return in many ways. Either in another life or,” she nodded respectfully to Ogrith, “as spirits who can guide the lives of others. The passing of Silver’s parent is simply a part of that cycle.”
“Silver?” I arched an eyebrow as I grinned. “I must have missed when we named him.”
She gave me a cheeky grin. “Do you object, William? I think it’s very fitting.”
As if the baby wyrm understood exactly what Petra was saying, he added an almost bird-like chirp as he butted my finger with his snout. I couldn’t help myself, I let out a chuckle as I shook my head.
“Even if I did, I think I’m outvoted. Silver it is.” Petra did a little shimmy of joy as Silver let out a happy shriek at that, so I shifted my attention over to Ogrith. “So, Ogrith, do you want us to escort you to your tribe? We really should meet with your chieftain, and with your leg…” I didn’t want to embarrass
him, orcs, in general, seemed to be a proud people, so I didn’t press the issue.
“You would honor me in doing so.” The orc let out a brief snort before he chuckled. “I doubt anyone will believe me when I recount this tale if you all are not there in the flesh to confirm it.” His eyes drifted to where Libritas hung at my hip. “Most of all, the tribe will not believe that the Brand of Freedom has risen again.”
“No,” a deep, snuffling voice barked from the entrance of the cave, “we would not.”
Now, I even though I had seemed relaxed, I still had my eyes and ears peeled for trouble, and the fact that none of us detected a sign of our new friend’s arrival spoke volumes. Very silent volumes.
All eyes, even Silver’s, snapped up and forward to the source of the voice. Though the figure was silhouetted by the afternoon sun, both Lib’s light and the faint glow of the Sola crystals let me make out the actual features. It was a male orc, and a big one at that, probably a good seven feet tall and built like a wall. He was dressed in the same white-and-red leathers as Ogrith, but his ghillie cloak was fully intact, and a certain barbaric finery was added to his ensemble. Chips of Sola glowed alongside polished bones in intricate beadwork added to his clothes, and one of his tusks was broken off and replaced with a rock wyrm’s tooth.
Unlike the other pig-men I had encountered before, this orc’s skin was so dark it was almost black, and the row of hair that ran between his pig-ears was dyed an intense green. He settled a strange looking staff across his shoulders, and as he did, I could clearly see that it was, in essence, a form of staff-sling, with a large wicker basket that would no doubt be good for hurling a flask full of wyrm-fire.
The frayed golden weave that connected him to Ogrith made me suspect the identity of the pig-man, but as the hunter awkwardly dropped to one knee, he confirmed it.
“Aroch Steeltusk, my chieftain,” Ogrith proclaimed as he kowtowed as best he could. “I didn’t think you or the tribe would hear my calls, not after--”
“Not after you foolishly snuck off from camp on a fool’s errand to restore our wyrms?” Aroch snorted. “Or was it so foolish after all?” The chieftain’s eyes were a dark blue that flashed as he turned to look at Petra and me. His gaze, however, didn’t focus on either of us, but instead on Libritas. “Is this some foul sorcery I see, or is this the truth?”
I held the Brand of Freedom high as I stepped forward. “If you’re asking if this is Libritas in the steel, then yes, this is the truth.” Then I thumbed behind me towards the still-kneeling Ogrith. “And if you want some other answers, sir, what Ogrith did wasn’t foolish at all, if you judge it on the results. He’s got a wyrm egg in that pack, still unhatched, after all.”
“And he lost one as well,” Aroch grunted as he pointed towards Silver. The little wyrm let out a frightened chirp and hid in the leaves of Petra’s hair, while Ogrith only tried to bow so hard that I was afraid he was going to drive his head through the stone. “If he had waited for my approval, the whole tribe would have come and--”
“You would have lost them both,” Petra boldly stated as she puffed herself up in an attempt to match the mighty orc’s presence. “Silver here was already hatching when we made it this far, and his cries would have woken the other egg.”
I was right by her side as I added, “And, sorry to say it, chieftain, but I don’t exactly see a hunting party out there with you.” I pointed Libritas past him, where there was no other tribesman with Aroch. “Maybe it was a bit impulsive, sure, but if you had come on your own time, both those eggs would have hatched, and you’d still be up shit creek without a paddle. And, maybe I’m out of line by saying this, but it seems mighty suspect that you’re complaining that someone is actually doing something about your problems.”
I could hear Ogrith’s sharp intake of breath at our words just as I could see a shudder of brewing anger run through Aroch’s body. I was tense myself. There was a chance I might have just provoked a fight with the orc, but while I might have been able to be more diplomatic, I had a feeling that the best approach here was the blunt truth. Anything else would seem deceptive, maybe even condescending to these people.
Neither Petra nor I flinched or stepped back when the chieftain’s glinting eyes cast between us, his jaw working as if he were chewing on a month-old steak. Finally, he let out a sharp snort through his pig snout before shaking his head.
“I could burn you where you stand, human, before turning your dryad to ash,” he began gruffly, and while I disagreed with his assessment, he certainly had the confidence that he could do that. Still, before we got a temptation to test him on it, Aroch raised a palm for peace. “But to do so would be to take offense at those who simply speak the truth.”
Ogrith sat up abruptly, a grunt of pain escaping his snout that he quickly disregarded. “Chieftain…? I don’t understand…”
“I see what you must have, Ogrith, that the dryad no longer bears the brand of the Black Runes.” Aroch’s eyes settled on the gold-and-silver spiral on Petra’s chest. “Which can only mean that Uruk,” the chieftain spat at that, “is finally dead. There can be hope for our people once more. Not that it changes anything else, hunter. You still went against my wishes, endangered your life and tribe, and lost one of the last eggs we knew of in the range.”
That’s when the real reason behind the fraying of the chains between Ogrith and Aroch became clear to me. Maybe it was some more of Libritas’s magic, maybe I was just a good judge of people, or maybe it was just the fact that even when he seemed to be backing down that the chieftain was still standing on the past. Whichever it was, it seemed obvious now that after the crimes Uruk had committed, Aroch Steeltusk had given up. That was why he hadn’t been here with their whole tribe, why Ogrith had been here alone: Aroch hadn’t ever intended to try to get these eggs.
Ogrith’s jaw clenched, as if he was about to speak his mind but feared to, and as I turned towards him, Lib whispered in my ear, urging me to do what I already wanted to.
“Tell him, William. Have him speak his intentions, to bring light on the truth you have already seen. Only then can the chains be mended.”
So that’s what I did.
“Ogrith,” I said firmly, “you’ve got something to say, and I think the chieftain needs to hear it.”
“Savior or not, human,” Aroch tried to cut in as he stepped forward, “you shouldn’t butt your snout into our tribe’s matters…” But before he could go on, Ogrith sucked in a deep breath.
“No!” The brief shout echoed through the cave. Aroch seemed thrown off by the very idea that the hunter had raised his voice to him, which was more than enough of an opening for Ogrith to push on, his volume lowering even as his words became more fervent.
“It doesn’t matter that the monster who split our tribe is dead! His death never stopped us from moving on, no matter how terrible his curse was on our wyrms.” Ogrith spread his arms wide, his crutch sweeping a wide arc as he did so. “The Whiteswords extend for days to all sides. There are always more rock wyrms, always more eggs if we would have bothered to try… but you and the other elders were too ashamed, too broken by what happened. You thought the ancestors shunned us, but they never did!”
The words were like slaps to the giant orc, and Aroch seemed to recoil back from them just a little. Even still, he tried to argue back in halting words. “But… we did not stop him when we could, and then there were those that joined him. No matter how much we may not have loved the plainsmen or the rest of Solanna… the things our tribesmen did…” For all his immense size, the chieftain seemed to deflate to an almost human stature as he sighed. “When we could not kill him ourselves, we shamed ourselves in our ancestors’ eyes. We should have…”
“Died?” I finished for him. “I can only imagine the pain Uruk and the Black Runes caused you and your people, Aroch, but rolling over and dying… it’s not the answer.”
Petra was even bolder than I was, because she walked right up to the pig-man and wrapped her a
rms around him, her vines stretching out to allow her to embrace him fully. Though Aroch stiffened at the sudden touch, he didn’t object as she looked up into his eyes.
“You say your ancestors were ashamed, and maybe they were, but as William said, you cannot give up.” Her tone was gentle, compassionate, and to see that made me fall even deeper for the dryad than I already had. “Even if you cannot make up for what you have done, you cannot condemn the rest of your people, your children and their children, to continue to suffer.”
Aroch could only bear to look Petra in the eye for a moment before his gaze broke away, only to find mine. “Could this be? Could I have let my shame cloud me?”
I nodded slowly. “It can happen to anyone, chieftain, to the lowest and the greatest among us.” A thoughtful frown crossed my lips. “Sometimes, we find ourselves wrapped up in chains that hold us down even when we think we’re doing the right thing. You wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last… but that doesn’t mean it’s too late to fix things.”
“Yes, great Steeltusk,” Ogrith added firmly as he managed to struggle to his feet and leaned on his crutch. “In my pack, I have the start of our new future, and with Uruk,” another spit, “dead, the great curse is lifted. We can become strong and flourish again.”
That was when Silver darted his head out of Petra’s hair and added a triumphant screech as if to tell Aroch that he too wholeheartedly agreed. I cracked a smile at that and nodded to the little wyrm.
“See, Aroch? How can you disagree with that?”
Petra stepped back to give the orc chieftain some space and rejoined me at my side. There was a long moment of silence, Aroch’s brows knit in deep thought as emotion flashed across his stormy blue eyes, but finally, he let out one more deep sigh, but unlike the last that had been one of shame and despair, this one was almost… cleansing.
