by Garry Spoor
“True, but whose voice was it?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never heard it before. It was so loud and so powerful, and I always thought Grim was loud when he was in a bad mood.”
“It couldn’t have been the foxes then?”
“No, it wasn’t Rowd or any in his sulk, it was like nothing I ever heard before,”
Kile rubbed her forehead and could still feel the effects of the voice in her head, like echoes in her skull. She suddenly looked around the room. “Where’s Vesper?” she asked.
“He’s over here.” Sandson said, pointing to a small pile at the end of his bed. Vesper perked his head up when he heard his name mentioned.
-Kile wake-
He said, leaping to the floor. He ran across the room and climbed up onto her bed.
“You okay, Vesper?” she asked.
-Me okay. Safe here.-
“Why do you say that?”
-Protected.-
He replied, and Kile saw something old, something sleeping, something which shouldn’t be disturbed, watching over them.
“What’s he saying?” Daniel asked.
“He says we’re safe here, that something is watching over this village.”
“Well, that’s not very reassuring,” Sandson replied.
“Does he say what’s watching us?” Daniel asked.
“No, just… something,” Kile replied.
The curtain was suddenly pulled aside, causing all three of them to jump. Sandson was first on his feet, reaching for the sword he no longer had. He had called it a brunrik, but Kile wasn’t so sure. It was definitely as large as a brunrik, possible even larger, but not quite as ugly. It was nearly seven feet in height, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, stocky, muscular legs, and massive arms with hands that looked as if they could palm someone's head. Its face was long and narrow with a huge lantern jaw and disproportionately small eyes. Its skin was the color of swamp grass, a sort of dull olive green, but he had bright red and white markings all up and down his arm as well as a crossed his chest.
He looked at Sandson, and there didn’t appear to be any animosity, only a sense of curiosity. That was a good thing, since he could have easily snapped the soldier in half, if he chose to. He turned and looked at Daniel, who had the good sense to step back.
When he finally looked at Kile, she could see a sadness in his eyes, and she knew he meant no harm. He took a step toward her, and Sandson blocked his path.
“He’s not going to hurt us,” she said, climbing out of the bed.
“How can you be so sure?” Sandson asked.
“Look at him. Do you think we’re a threat to him?” she asked the soldier.
She slowly approached the behemoth, who looked down at her.
He seemed to get bigger the closer she got and she had to arch her back just to look up at him.
“My name is Kile. What’s yours?”
“Ki… eee.” He said in a deep harsh voice and, much to her surprised, fell to one knee. He placed his hand upon the floor, and bowed his head to her.
“Taugh,” he said.
It was a short, hard noise, and she wasn’t even sure she caught it.
“Taugh, that’s your name? Taugh?”
“Taugh,” he repeated.
“Well… Taugh, this is Sandson and this is Daniel,” she said, introducing the two boys. “Oh, and this Vesper,” She added, holding the yarrow out to him. Vesper sat up and looked at the Taugh, cocking his head from one side to the other. There was no fear in the yarrow, and Kile took that as a good sign.
“Ves… poor” Taugh said, and reached out with one large finger to scratch the small yarrow’s head.
“Wonderful, the brunrik learned the rat’s name,” Sandson mumbled.
Taugh suddenly turned on Sandson and shouted in a language none of them understood. Whatever he said, it was not very pleasant.
“Good going, Sandson.” Daniel said, picking himself up off the floor. “Piss off the largest thing in the room, why don’t you?”
Sandson slowly back away. “Hey, I’m sorry. No hard feelings.”
Kile placed her hand gently upon Taugh’s arm. When he turned and looked at her, there was no anger there.
-Me don’t like rat, he don’t like brunrik-
Vesper said.
“Do you understand him, Vesper?” Kile asked the yarrow.
-Old speak, just listen-
Kile looked into Taugh’s eyes, and for some strange reason, she felt safe.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
“Follow.” He said, turning to the door.
“Wait, you’re not going to follow him, are you?” Sandson asked.
“Why, do you have someplace else to go?”
“No, but he’s a…”
Kile held her hand up to stop him. “I wouldn’t use that word, if I was you,” she told him. “Besides, I don’t think he is.”
“Then what is he?”
She looked at Taugh, standing in the doorway, and was almost certain she knew what he was. She just didn’t want to name it, because to do so, would only make things more awkward, especially for her.
Taugh had to duck to get out the door.
“I’m going. You can stay here if you want. I’ll come back for you,” she told them as she followed.
“Well, you’re not going alone,” Daniel said. Sandson was right behind him.
Once outside, Kile had hoped to get an idea of where they were, but that proved to be impossible. When she looked up at the sky, it wasn’t there. Instead, she saw an enormously high ceiling of stone. They were underground. The whole village was situated in a large cavern, three tiers high. Cave entrances dotted the walls and small stone buildings littered the ground. Huge stalactites, covered in some form of photo-luminescent moss, hung from the ceiling coating the world in a soft green light.
As they walked through the village, Taugh’s people came out to watch them. They varied in size; some were as large as Taugh, while others were as small as Kile. The way they looked at her, she knew she was as much a curiosity to them as they were to her. They didn’t appear to be threatening or warlike, and seemed to be at peace so far beneath the ground. They were working their crafts, farming their fields, mending their homes, tending to their children, cooking the meals. In many ways, it was not unlike any vir village, she had passed through, it many ways, it was Coopervill.
Taugh led them up a sloping incline to the opening of a cave, which had been covered with more moss and animal skins. He pulled the curtain aside, and waved them through.
When Kile stepped in, the first thing she noticed was the smell. It was a sweet, if not wholesome smell. She was sure she never smelled it before, but for some reason it reminded her of her childhood. The place was quite spacious, for a cave, and rather well lit, thanks to the large fire burning in the center. The walls were decorated with the same red and white symbols she had seen on Taugh’s arms. A variety of herbs and plants, as well as a few bones tied on strings, hung from the ceiling. As she made her way deeper into the cave, she found the owner, sitting on a grass mat. His eyes were closed, as if in meditation. He was one of the smaller versions of Taugh’s people, probably no more the five feet and a couple of inches. His jaw was narrower and his nose was larger, as were his ears, which protruded straight out from each side of his head, much like the foxes she had met in the wastelands. His skin was still green, but a deeper green, more like a summer grass. His limbs were long and gangly, as were his fingers, and while his body may have been thin, it looked as hard as the stone around him.
Before him was a crudely carved statue. Even though it was difficult to tell exactly what it was supposed to be, it did kind of resemble a person.
He suddenly turned and looked at her, and his eyes looked like two shimmering emerald stones. He held her in his gaze for a few moments, before closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they appeared a little more normal.
“Relative of yours?” Sandson asked.
<
br /> Kile spun around and looked at him. “What do you mean?” she asked a little too quickly.
“It’s just that you pulled that same trick, back in the storage area,” he replied.
When she turned back, the cave’s owner was watching her carefully. Thankfully, his eyes were still normal. He slowly got to his feet and looked her over, and even went as far as to smell her.
Sandson stepped forward. Clearly he wasn’t as intimated by this one as he was by Taugh. “We… have… to… get… back… to… the… surface.” He said, shouting each word and pointing to the ceiling. “We… have… friends… up… there. They… need… our… help.”
“Do you have a speech problem?” the creature asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could speak the King’s tongue.”
“And you thought yelling it slowly would solve that little problem?”
“Well, no… it’s just that…”
“You have to forgive my friend.” Kile said, stepping between them. “He suffers from a race case of stupidity, sometimes.”
“I can believe that.” The creature replied. He turned and, carefully picking up the crude statue, placed it upon an altar of stone.
“I am Kile, Kile Veller.”
“I know who you are, Kile. I was told of your coming. I am Sugorim, high priest of Cabargbu, speaker for Zaheeg.”
And there was a mouthful.
“I wasn’t aware valrik served any gods.” Sandson said.
Sugorim looked at the soldier and a shadow covered the priest’s face. “I am no more a valrik, then you are a Dower,” he spat.
Kile wasn’t sure what a Dower was, but Sugorim made his point.
“Then, if you’re not a valrik, what are you?” Sandson asked.
“I am Ogre,” he replied.
There it was, Kile thought, things just got a whole lot more complicated.
“Ogre,” Sandson said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There are no such things.”
Sugorim scowled. “And of course you would know, vir,” he replied. It was clear by the way he spit out the word vir, he had no use for them.
Sandson was about to respond, but Kile motioned for him to remain silent. It wouldn’t do them any good to start a war with the Ogre when they already had one with the valrik.
“Why did you save us?” she asked Sugorim.
The priest turned to look at her, but with none of his previous hostility. He obviously didn’t regard her in the same fashion, and she was afraid she knew why.
“Zaheeg commanded me to.” Sugorim said, as if the answer should have been obvious. He approached the stature and gently caressed it.
“Is that Zaheeg?” Kile asked.
“He watches over us from the other world. He speaks to Cabargbu through me.”
“Cabargbu, that’s where we are, in Cabargbu?”
“Cabargbu, we are the last of the Ogre,” the priest replied, hanging his head.
“So, Zaheeg told you to save us.”
“As he told you where to wait for us. You heard him, did you not?” he asked.
It was true. She heard a voice, a voice she had not heard before. Something loud and powerful enough to rattle her skull, but was it the voice of a god? It was hard to say, she had never spoken to a god before.
“I did hear… someone,” she admitted.
“Now, wait a minute, what does this… Zagee, this god, have to do with us?” Sandson asked.
Sugorim turned toward Sandson. His hostility, even more obvious. “Nothing,” he said. “Zaheeg does not waste his time with vir.”
“Well, he wasted his time with us,” Sandson replied.
“You-- he wants nothing with you. You were saved only because you traveled with the Orceen.”
And there it was, Kile thought. She cringed at the word. Orceen, kin to the Ogre.
“The what?” Sandson asked.
“Forget about it,” Kile replied. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But you are Orceen.” The priest said, looking at Kile in admiration. “You heard Zaheeg. You retrieved his most sacred of artifacts.”
“What artifact?” she asked.
Clearly this was not going the way the priest had hoped. His confused expression said she should have known all this. He moved quickly to the other side of the room where he retrieved the large rock they had taken from Eric’s storage room. He handled it with such ease she wondered if it was the same one.
“You retrieved his most sacred of artifact.” Sugorim said again as he carefully placed the rock on the ground in front of her.
“This belongs to Zaheeg?” She asked.
“It is his most sacred of artifacts. It was stolen by the vir and his Uhyre. You must return it to him.”
Sandson huffed, there was no hiding his impatience. “We don’t have time for this,” he said.
Kile shot him a look, which told him to calm down. It would not do to anger their host, but she had to agree with him. They really didn’t have time to go running off returning lost artifacts. “My friends may be in danger,” she explained. “We have to find out what happened to them. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for Zaheeg to give him back his artifact.”
“Zaheeg will call to you, and you will go to him,” The priest replied.
“It’s a simple delivery script, Kile.” Daniel remarked.
In a way, he was right, it was a simple deliver. It was all part of the job of being a Hunter. She could take the stone and deliver it to Zaheeg when she got around to it. It wasn’t as if he needed it right now. Was she really planning on delivering an artifact to a god?
Kile reached down and picked up the rock. It was heavier than she thought. The priest was a lot stronger than his thin framed made him out to be.
“I will deliver this to Zaheeg,” she promised, struggling under the weight.
Sandson quickly relieved her of the burden, and although the priest didn’t like the vir touching the sacred artifact, he made no attempt to stop him.
“Are we seriously thinking of doing this?” Sandson asked.
“It’s the right thing to do.” Kile replied. “When Zaheeg calls for it… I will deliver it,” she added. Hopefully, he won’t be calling for it any time soon. She turned back to the priest. “Can you tell us how to get back to the surface?”
“Yes, but not now. It is too dangerous. We must wait,” he said, taking a seat on one of the grass mats beside the fire. He directed her to take the other one.
Kile shrugged and sat down. It wasn’t as if they were going to find their way to the surface without his help. “What are we waiting for?” she asked as she tried to get comfortable.
“For Zaheeg to tell us when it is time,” Sugorim replied.
That could take a while, she thought.
When Daniel started to sit down, Sugorim jumped to his feet. “No, vir no longer needed. They must wait back at the kali,” he shouted.
“Now hold on just a minute, if you think…”
“Sandson, please,” Kile said, stopping the soldier before he made matters worse. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”
“I don’t like it,” Sandson grumbled, but followed Daniel out of the cave.
When they were alone, Sugorim removed a water skin, from its place on the wall, and filled two small clay bowls with a clear liquid. He picked up one of the bowls with both hands and presented it to her. He wouldn’t move until she took it from him, and even waited until she sampled it. The liquid was cold and had a sweet lemony taste. When he was sure she had taken a sip, he retrieved the second bowl and sat across from her.
“Now we talk,” he said, taking a sip from his own bowl. “Long has it been since the Orceen have been here.”
“I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with the Orceen, or the Ogre, for that matter,” she confessed.
The priest didn’t seem at all surprised, and took another long sip from his clay bowl before setting it aside.
“Long have the Ogre lived in these
lands. Long before the coming of the vir, long before the coming of the Uhyre, long before it was destroyed by the Alva, but not before the Orceen.”
“The Orceen were here before the Ogre?” she asked.
“The Orceen were here before any of us. Long did they nurture the lands, long did they tend to the wild. They were one with nature. They led us out of our darkness, they taught us about the light. They helped us build our cities, farm our lands, and heal our sick. They taught our children, so our children would know.”
“Know what?”
“Life, Kile. They opened our eyes and showed us the world. They showed us how to live, not against the wild, but with the wild. That was before the coming of the Alva. The Orceen taught them, and showed them the world, taught them how to live, but they wanted more. Always they wanted more. The Alva tried to drive us from our cities, from our world, but we fought back. We reclaimed what was ours. Then the vir came, and they joined the Alva, and soon we lost all that we loved. The Orceen tried to help us, but they did not believe in war, they did not believe in violence, and soon they were defeated. We were driving from our cities, from the light, back into the darkness, and here we sit, waiting for the day we can reclaim our cities, our world.”
Kile sat in silence, letting the words sink in. It wasn’t quite the history she learned. The Academy went out of their way to teach them about the Mudd Wars, and the role the Hunters played, but nowhere did they say anything about the Ogre, defending their way of life. The way Master Voreing taught it, it was the Ogre who were the invaders. They stole the land from the Alva, and only with the aid of the Aruvians, the vir, did the Alva reclaim what was theirs. Was it possible, Kile wondered, that the Alva deceived the Aruvians, and led them to believe the Ogres were the aggressors. It was naive to think so, but the alternative was that the Aruvians knew what they were doing all along. And what of the Orceen? What really happened to them? If what Sugorim said was true, then the Orceen were the real victims in all this. They only tried to bring peace and understanding to the world, and in return, they got annihilated, and history paints a pretty bleak picture of them.
But, they weren’t all annihilated. They couldn’t have been. The Toreen, out of Balaa, claimed to have traveled with the Orceen, which meant the Orceen were everywhere at one time. Could she really be Orceen? It would explain her connection with nature. Now that she heard Sugorim’s story, the notion that she possessed Orceen blood, was not as shameful as it once was. In fact, it was the one thing which made sense in her life. Although, how it came to be, she had no idea.
