by Elian Tars
We walked briskly along the twisting roads between the semi-dilapidated buildings. I glanced around — the landscape hadn’t changed. I wondered why I still couldn’t hear any sounds that’d confirm that the settlement of the giant, humanlike creatures with healthy, strong lungs was somewhere nearby. It was probably really far away from us. This group must’ve been a patrol then. Then again, when we were getting close to the ruins, the Old Man had said that we were almost there… Something didn’t add up.
I glanced at the God of Darkness — his humanlike figure in a black, formless robe floated steadily over the ground to the left of me. The hood “stared” right before it and over the heads of the Ogroids. As far as I could tell by the robe that hid even the slightest movements of his body (if he even had one) and face (if there was one), he was calm, which meant that I had nothing to worry about either.
I couldn’t help myself and glanced sideways at the Old Man again. He had decided not to disappear, and he was even walking to the chief of the Ogroids all on his own. I supposed that he had managed to gather enough strength if he was wasting it so carelessly now. I had to admit, at least to myself, that I was glad that he had chosen me to help him and not some other Disciple. He could’ve simply used one of the Wolves as means of transportation.
But I had been chosen as his “mount.” I supposed that by doing this the Old Man wanted to broaden my horizons and show me the world and representatives of other intelligent races. He obviously wasn’t ready for real revelations yet. And even though our bond was of a high level, something prevented him from telling me everything. He probably also thought that it’d be wrong to keep absolutely everything from me. Then again, he was probably scanning my thoughts and spoon-feeding me bits of information, hoping that that’d be enough to keep my curiosity satisfied. Damn it, even though I’ve seen through his tricks, they were still effective. I was aware that he was using me and I was pretty much okay with it.
It was very difficult to outplay someone who knew absolutely everything about you and who kept their own thoughts and motives a well guarded secret.
There was, however, one thing that calmed my nerves — the two of us were a team.
Grock’s sudden disappearance interrupted my train of thought. The weirdest thing was that the rest of the Ogroids didn’t so much as wince when their leader and the head of our group went missing. They marched on, disappearing like a flash in the night once they’d cross an invisible border.
Don’t worry, boy, it’s all right.
When we reached the invisible boarder, the Old Man leaned forward and disappeared, beckoning his Follower to do the same.
“Let’s go, Vella,” I whispered to the dog, who didn’t seem to be worried at all.
A couple of seconds later, a cacophony of sounds reached my ears: their voices were like thunder and their laughter like a landslide, or maybe like the hitting of either a hammer or an ax against stone.
I quickly turned around. From this side of the “border” I could see the golden glow of the surrounding energy. Zorh had simply walked through it, as if through a bead curtain hanging on a doorframe. I looked around and then up. The Ogroid settlement was covered by some kind of a dome that blocked all sound and created the illusion of a city in ruin.
“Can anyone accidentally stumble upon this place?” I asked the question that had been bothering me for quite some time now.
“WE MEET UNINVITED GUESTS IN ADVANCE,” Grock roared.
“So, there’s some kind of a detection system in the woods?” I guessed. “Something like energy barriers?”
“YES!” he replied, neither denying it nor confirming it.
Oddly enough, the Old Man decided to fill in the gaps in my knowledge.
“Their Shaman and their Priest created the barriers together, boy. The barriers are invisible, but the two will immediately become aware of anyone who passes through them and send scouts. That’s what happened when Vella and you got close to the settlement. Of course, if you cross the main barrier, they’ll know about that, too.”
His hood was still “looking” before him. I thanked him for the info and, having failed to get anything else from him, began to examine my surroundings.
The Ogroids seemed friendly. When they noticed my stare, they smiled and waved their huge hands. Sometimes, they cried out greetings, addressed mostly to the Old Man, who in turn answered with humble bows.
It was difficult to tell how many of them lived here. I thought there were definitely no less than 300 of them, including women and children, but the number was probably higher than that.
They bred huge, furry pigs with big tusks, which grazed in their wooden pens. The Ogroids themselves lived in semi-dilapidated houses, the roofs of which were propped with thick beams and walls overgrown with flowers and grass (just like in the “uninhabited” part of the ruins). What was interesting was that the buildings were definitely too small for their habitants. They had obviously been built by somebody else.
Humans used to live here, didn’t they? I asked the Old Man as I watched the big face of a little Ogroid peek out from the window of a gray, one-story house. Being under the effect of my Magnetism, the little one couldn’t help bare its big teeth in a smile. By the narrowness of child’s skull I knew that it was a female — their heads were somewhat flattened on both sides, while men had rounder skulls. They could also be distinguished by their attire: men’s clothes looked like rough leather armor, while ladies wore saggy robes made of hides.
They did, boy.
The “Ogroids” got rid of them?
They did, the Old Man’s voice still sounded calm.
You sound like you don’t care.
Death is as natural as life. He didn’t even turn to look at me. But you’re interested in something else... I’ll answer you, boy. I treat all intelligent races equally. I would feel the same if any other race had suffered the same fate.
I could understand where he was coming from. As a human, the thought of some giant creatures destroying those like me was repulsive. But to an Ancient, we were all equal. I should keep my emotions under control and follow the Old Man’s example. Right now, the Ogroids didn’t see me as their enemy.
And yet, something was still bothering me.
Why did they destroy the city? To eat its citizens? Or…
Boy, he said, suddenly sounding a little tired. They don’t eat people. The two once lived peacefully side by side, but the city grew and this worried the “Shaman” and the “Guardians.” They tried to come to an agreement, but it didn’t work out. Humans tried to talk things out — they offered the “Ogroids” to leave. But the source made that impossible, boy. Do you want to know who attacked first? he asked, having read my thoughts. It doesn’t matter. The conflict began in the forest, on neutral territory, and grew into a real war. The “Guardians” knew that they wouldn’t be able to win on their own so they asked the ally tribes to help. The “Ogroids” won, and the surviving humans fled. The tribes united and stayed here to guard the source.
And how did Rugus let a city that’s on his territory be destroyed? I wondered. From what I had saw and heard, Rugus, true to his title, liked to keep everything under control. But to lose so many followers, and for such a stupid reason... He could’ve prevented the city from expanding toward the source with the help of his Disciples. Or…
The war happened before the local territories belonged to his “Followers,” boy.
That’s what I thought…
Is he working with the “Ogroids” now? I refuse to believe that Rugus doesn’t know that such a strong tribe lives in the center of the “Duchy of Oruel.”
The Old Man didn’t answer immediately. I waited for a bit, growing impatient with every passing second, but before I could press the Old Man for answers, Grock stopped in front of a long building with a ramshackle roof.
“WE BROUGHT YOU TO THE PRIEST FIRST!” the Ogroids declared, staring intently at the God of Darkness. The Old Man nodded. Grock turned arou
nd and ducked into the slit in the wall.
I jumped off Vella’s back so that I didn’t have to duck to go through. We found ourselves in a cool, dark room. I thought that it’d be brighter here, but what little light managed to sneak through the hole in the roof was blocked by hides that had been spread right under the ceiling.
A white-haired, squinting Ogroid was sitting on the wet ground in the furthest corner of the house. Sitting in a semi-circle around him were two young boys and one girl.
Drohen, the Priest of the Ogroids
Level 132
HP: 15,142/15,142
As soon as we entered, he stood up and silently walked to us. He stopped in front of the Old Man, stared at him for a few seconds, and then slowly got down on his knees and bowed his head.
“It’s such a great honor for me to meet you, oh, Ancient One,” the Priest said. His voice was strong and loud, but it didn’t hurt my ears like the voices of the other Ogroids did. “All my life I could only dream about it. I’m glad that I’ve lived to see my dreams came true.”
Looking at him, I remembered Lao Ri. She didn’t have the word “priest” in her name when I’ve met her, but Drohen did. Was it because he was so close to the source?
For a few seconds we were all silent. The Old Man’s hood was pointed slightly downward, as if its owner was examining the Priest.
“I appreciate your words, but I appreciate your faith even more, Priest Drohen,” the Old man finally said, lifting his left hand in front of him.
A ray of concentrated, dark energy rushed out of his sleeve and hit Dorhen in the head. His friends rushed forward at once, but the Priest motioned them to stop without even looking at them.
“… and as proof of my words,” the Old Man continued as if nothing had happened, “I grant you power worthy of a true Priest.” The black ray disappeared. “Stand up, Drohen.”
The old Ogroid stood up, glanced into the depth of the hood, and bowed.
“Thank you, oh, Ancient One.”
Just like Lao Ri, Drohen changed. I asked the system for additional information at once.
Even though I was getting stronger with each day, I couldn’t help but feel envy toward the Priest who had gotten stronger just by being hospitable to the Old Man.
Drohen, the Priest of the Ogroids
Level 151
HP: 19,578/19,578
Chapter 6
The Mad Chief
“And now,” the Old Man calmly said, “I’d like to meet your chief. And your Shaman after that.”
“As you wish, Ancient One,” the Priest replied, confidently walking toward the exit. He seemed to have become younger. Though his fur didn’t get its initial color back, his shoulders had squared up and he didn’t squint as much. I wondered if that was because of his new powers. Or was it because the Old Man was back and because his visit endowed Drohen with his grace?
The joyful crowd met us outside and went after us. As we walked, more and more Ogroids joined us. It felt like all of the people who were currently in the settlement had come to take a look at the Ancient One. When we stopped in front of an almost completely destroyed, square house that stood right on the border with the forest, we were surrounded by a crowd of happy, chattering Ogroids.
“SILENCE!” Drohen roared deafeningly, baring his fangs. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from cursing. Keeping a straight face wasn’t easy either.
His roar had an effect on the Ogroids as well: they immediately fell silent and turned in his direction. Reverence could clearly be seen in their eyes.
“Step back,” Drohen said to them in a much calmer tone. “Kurh, you stay,” he ordered a level 120 Ogroid with a massive, two-handed hammer on his belt.
“GOT IT!” Kurh roared in reply and waved to a few of his friends. The group took five steps forward, separating themselves from the crowd.
“Grock, you’ll cover our rear. Arg and Varg, you’ll keep the chief restrained.”
“IT WILL BE DONE!!!” the twins roared. Their fur was darker than that of the other Ogroids and their armor thicker. I had an impression the two wore one layer of armor over the other. They also had battered tower shields on their backs and were armored with two-handed poleaxes. Both pieces of equipment had, without a doubt, been made by humans.
Arg and Varg were of the same level and even had the same amount of health.
Level 129
HP: 15,110/15,110
“Nurgia, you’re going with us, but keep your distance,” Drohen ordered to an Ogroid woman.
“As you say, sir Priest.” Just like Drohen, she talked loudly, but calmly.
Nurgia, Mother of the Tribe
Level 98
HP: 8,940/8,940
I looked at her with interest. She was a little shorter than other Ogroid women, with a more slender body and reddish fur. She wore what looked like a dress, while most of the other women had their saggy robes tied in a way that didn’t fully cover their breasts; some didn’t even bother covering their lower regions, either.
Mother of the Tribe, what kind of a title was that?
“Bring me meat!” While I was deep in thought, Nurgia had turned around and started shouting orders. One of the women obediently nodded and ran back to the settlement.
While we were waiting for her to return, I glanced over the Ogroids again. Almost all of them were staring with admiration at the floating figure of the Old Man, who, frozen in place, kept his hood turned in Drohen’s direction. I wondered what the two were telepathically talking about. Was my patron filling gaps in his knowledge? Or was he gathering information about his new Followers? It certainly looked like that.
A few minutes later, the woman came back, carrying half a pig on her shoulders. She stopped and gave the meat to Nurgia, who took it by the shank with one hand and came to Drohen.
“Everything’s ready, sir Priest. We can go.”
Drohen nodded and roared loudly.
“Arg, Varg! Let’s move! Open the entrance to the chief’s chambers.”
Without saying a word, the twins approached the half-destroyed wall of what I supposed was once a temple. Bowing their heads, they entered. Nurgia whisked in after them, followed by Drohen, the Old Man, and Vella and I. Grock’s squad followed but stayed at a distance.
Part of the floor of the first story had crumbled long ago and merged with the basement, which led down at an angle. As we were moving forward, the stone floor and the walls changed to earthen ones supported by wooden beam. The tunnel had probably been dug by the Ogroids.
We had enough light: the fire from the torches sticking out of the walls lit our way. The wood reminded of the material that the Ogroids used to make barbs on their pauldrons. The wood could apparently burn for a long time, as the light seemed to be constant. For when there was an emergency, I supposed.
“The chief doesn’t like being locked up, does he?” I asked, noticing a hole in the form of a fist in one of the walls. A little earlier, I saw four thick furrows that looked like they had been left by fingers. If my guess was correct, and the marks were left by their chief, he was much bigger than his people.
“You’re right, half-Wizard. Sometimes, my husband gets especially furious and manages to escape,” Nurgia answered without turning around.
She didn’t seem like she was trying to offend me, so I guessed that the Ogroids didn’t mean anything bad by this strange title. More importantly, I finally knew what the title Mother of the Tribe meant — she was the chief’s wife. Also, Grock had said that the chief was born mad. Was he kept underground all this time? Despite his madness and violent nature, they still gave him a wife.
“Does the chief have an heir?” I wasn’t shy to ask.
“Yes,” Nurgia answered as calmly as before. “Two sons and a daughter.”
“And are they... Normal?” I asked, deciding to probe further. “Did the curse pass on?”
“Luckily, it didn’t.”
So, the tribe (or more likely, the Priest),
did everything it could to make sure that the chief’s lineage continued. Interesting.
We walked in silence for a while. I wondered if they would’ve answered the “half-Wizard” as honestly as they had did had the Old Man not been here with me. Or would they have told me to piss off?
Of course, I wouldn’t get an answer to that question.
“GRRRRAAAAA!!!”
My train of thought was interrupted by an ear-splitting roar, which made the walls shake and dust and debris fall off the ceiling.
“THE CHIEF IS AWAKE!” Varg roared.
“He smelled us too early,” Drohen remarked dryly. “Let’s hurry before he breaks down the door!”
We all began running, but I managed to have a look around. As we were getting closer to the chief’s cell, I saw more and more marks on the walls.
Finally I saw the “door.” It was a massive stone slab that blocked the tunnel; it shuddered from the mighty blows, but remained standing.
“Open it!” Drohen ordered to the twins.
The two rushed to the slab and pushed it from the left side. Only then did I notice the grooves above and under the stone, into which the slab had been set in. I had no idea how they were fixed into the earthen walls, but when I examined them closer, I sensed energy. Had they been made by the Shaman and the Priest? Was their “magic” sustaining the prison?
Whatever it was, the door couldn’t be opened from the inside, and it took the strength of both brothers to move it.
The slab rolled to the side (there was some free space to the right) with a creaking sound. As soon as a crack appeared between the stone and the wall, giant fingers covered with dark fur wedged into it.
“GRRRAAAAA!!!” My ears nearly popped from the roar. The slab began to move faster — the chief was “helping” the brothers from the other side.
The sight was an awful one. Did the poor guys have to go through this every day? I wouldn’t envy the twins. Maybe they fed the chief in a different way? Maybe they threw him food through an opening in the ceiling.
