The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One

by Aiden L Turner

  Beside him, upon a black stallion draped in a gold trimmed, sky-blue caparison, rode the king, who looked as sinister as a tale to frighten misbehaving children. His long face and narrow eyes sought prey amongst the young women who knelt before the royal procession. Accompanying the king and prince were the ever-present royal guard, evenly spaced, behind and to the fore, and to the flanks of the royal personage. Colburn rode directly behind the king, his new sword, a smaller version of the great-sword he once carried when part of the brotherhood, bounced at his side as he struggled with the newfound need to master the skills of riding.

  Lost in thought, Jacob tried to discern the reason behind the king demanding the prince’s presence on this outing. The king often came on these afternoon rides through the outer towns of the king’s personal lands, and it was well known that he often came back with prisoners found guilty of his displeasure and amongst the captives, an unfortunate, unwilling yet pretty girl for him to abuse. Whilst the king often made these tyrannical expeditions, Jacob was gladly left to his own devices. The king’s command that his presence was needed worried Jacob and left him disappointed, as he usually took these times to do things he would only do knowing the king was absent from the castle.

  The king raised his hand, and the procession came to a halt as Kane’s eyes fell upon the kneeling form of a pretty girl, barely fourteen but showing the figure her body would soon become.

  ‘Rise, girl’, the king commanded. The girl rose, clearly frightened, her girlish body trembled in the presence of undoubtedly the most powerful man in the kingdom and rumoured to be the cruellest. ‘Raise your eyes girl, let me look upon that fair face.’ Kane licked his lips causing the girl to cringe as he continued, ‘Yes. Yes, very fair, although that rag that covers you, does you no justice, no justice at all. Corporal, if you would.’

  At that quiet command a leering man of middling years approached the girl and took a firm hold of the loose-fitting gown she wore, and in one fluid movement tore the front of it open and ripped it to the ground, revealing her adolescent body. She stood there shivering as she used her arms to try to cover her nakedness.

  King Kane, the first of that name, known as King Kane the Cruel, had earned his name. He leaned from his horse and said in a quiet voice filled with evil intent, ‘You will let me look upon your nakedness, girl, or if you prefer, I shall let my men use you for their sport right here.’ He spoke as if it were a reasonable request, then his eyes narrowed as he added, ‘All my men.’

  The girl raised her arms. Terror oozed from her every pore like sweat; her entire body shook uncontrollably as she began to weep. Urine dribbled down the inside of her thighs as she lost control of her bladder. All the while the king’s arousal grew.

  ‘Enough!’ The bellow caused silence from the laughing guardsmen and brought the king out of his sordid arousal to turn and look at the author of the command. Jacob stood firm. He had got down from his horse and now stood tensed, arms at his side. The rage written on his face dared any to challenge him. The guards looked to their king unsure how to proceed, but the king just smiled his evil smile and politely asked, ‘Nephew, care to venture an opinion?’

  Jacob moved forward and more than one of the king’s guards instinctively placed a hand upon the hilt of his sword. He took a step forwards and the guards shank silently from his demeanour. Only Colburn looked ready to meet a physical challenge. The once honourable warrior stood silent yet stoic as the prince took the strength from seasoned warriors with silence. Jacob strode with authority towards the corporal who had striped the young girl of her clothes and dignity. The guard looked towards his king as if for protection, but the king only showed amusement at the corporal’s discomfort.

  Jacob grabbed the cloak from the corporal’s shoulders and ripped it with such violent force the corporal was dragged off his feet and stumbled to the mud. The prince walked calmly to the girl who was attempting to cover herself with her arms again and was shrinking into herself, attempting to make herself as small as possible. He gently placed the cloak around the girl and brought his eyes to bear upon his uncle. With defiance he said through clenched teeth, ‘She is not for you!’

  The king burst into a laughter full of sadistic amusement and after a few seconds so did all the guards, but Colburn forced a laughter until brought to silence by the abruptness of the king’s sudden silence and look towards them of pure venom. ‘Silence!’ the king screeched, causing the young girl to jump, but Jacob just continued to look on with indifference to the king’s authority. The king’s smile returned as he addressed the crowd. ‘It seems my nephew, the prince, has taken this girl for himself. You may take her nephew. Consider her my gift to you.’

  Jacob whispered into the girl’s ear, ‘Fear not, you have my protection, I swear it.’ With that Jacob took her gently by the arm and led her to his horse. Mounting the horse, he then leaned down to take the girl in his powerful arms and lift her to sit upon his lap. He wrapped the cloak around her fully as he took the reins, turned his horse and began a slow walk back towards the castle, whilst the king’s eyes followed with naked anger.

  Jacob sat at his desk, a large piece of furniture made from mature oak. It was littered with documents, scrolls and books of every imaginable size. He idly fingered through them whilst the young girl dressed in some discarded serving girl’s attire that Jacob’s squire, Jim, had provided. When dressed, the girl sat nervously upon the edge of Jacob’s bed. ‘When can I go home?’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible…’ The prince blushed slightly. ‘Forgive me, I am yet to learn your name’, he said, clearly embarrassed, and now at a loss for the proper etiquette for this unique situation.

  ‘My mother named me Elysabeth, though most call me Beth. Please let me go home. Take pity, Your Highness, I beg you.’ Elysabeth spoke through quiet tears, and Jacob had taken pity on her, for her entire life had been stripped away in the same moment her clothes had, in a matter of seconds by a malevolent man with omnipotent power.

  ‘Elysabeth, I am so sorry for your ill fate, but to leave now or ever would take you from under my protection. The moment you leave the king would send his guard, but you would not be returned to me, you would become the king’s, and he would treat you very cruelly, my dear. I do not tell you this to frighten you. I only speak the truth. You must stay but do not despair. I shall send word to your mother to let her know you are cared for and well. You will be a servant, and report only to me, but for now I think it best you stay here, away from the eyes of those who would have used you for sport. I have many tasks and lessons daily but there is plenty to read and you will have your own room just through there.’ As Jacob pointed towards a closed door on the other side of his living room Beth looked amused then giggled. Remembering whose company she was in, she covered her mouth with her hand and apologised. Looking on with confusion, Jacob replied. ‘There is no need to apologise but, please, tell me what made you laugh?’

  ‘It’s just, Your Highness, why would I know how to read?’

  ‘You were never taught letters or numbers?’

  ‘For what reason? I milk cows and muck out pigs, clean clothes and... well, anything I can do really to earn a penny, short of opening my legs.’

  Jacob turned a bright crimson, as if he had sat out in the sun too long. ‘Well, I shall find the time to teach you. In the evenings perhaps. Then you may write to your mother yourself.’ Beth cocked her head slightly to the side and looked at Jacob with feigned amusement. ‘Ah, she also would be in the need of teaching, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

  ‘My mother named me Jacob. If you have no objections you may also call me Jacob.’

  ‘But it’s not proper, is it, Your Highness? To be overly familiar with royalty, I mean.’

  ‘What is right and proper in the world grows less by the day if today is any account, I’m sure that by using my name rather than my title then the world could yet abide. I have thing
s to attend that cannot be put off, I am afraid, so I must leave you alone. All the guards that walk this castle’s hallways and walls are fanatically loyal to my uncle. It would not be wise to leave these rooms, but you are free to use these rooms as your own. I shall have food and wine sent to you, my dear.’

  Jacob moved to the outer doors of his chambers and opened the door. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’ Beth said as she stood and made a clumsy attempt at a curtsey.

  Smiling as he left, he replied, ‘Jacob, please my lady.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Change

  Talek’ken stood before his newly constructed monstrous tower and beheld his glory. Thousands of Goblins had died in the three short months its construction had taken, yet he felt no pity, for these were Goblins that offered nothing to his war effort – the opposite in fact. He had the remains of the worthless creatures beheaded, their skulls cleansed of flesh, and their eyeless skulls now stared back at him from every inch of his circular bastion. These were those of the Goblin race who could neither fight nor think, and they had been purged. Talek’ken had looked for strength in those lesser orcs, those far weaker and smaller of the race referred to in the derogatory term, Goblin. And he had found treasure within them, for they could think and strategize, rather than only fight in blood lusted rage. They could build rather than just destroy. He had found much use in the lesser race.

  He approached the great doorway. Two huge iron-bound oak doors opened as an oversized Orc at either side put their immense weight and strength into the task. Talek’ken gave a low growl as acknowledgement as he walked past them, their heads bowed before the king of All. He ascended the great stairway upward and round he climbed its spiral route till he emerged from its darkness into the blinding light high above the jungle’s canopy. To the north, west and to the east the dark green canopy of his domain stretched out before him until his eyes could see no further, yet toward the South is where his attention was drawn. Now and always, he looked to the south.

  A mile or so from his great tower the trees stopped abruptly, and gently sloping hills and meadows filled his vision until he rested his eyes upon the enemy’s stronghold at a place the Men called Iron Guard. He looked upon his adversary’s stone fortress with amusement and contempt. From three miles away, he could still make out the movement of the guards patrolling the fort’s battlements that stood only sixty feet from the ground. He contemplated his cunning as he watched them from a tower that stood almost two hundred feet from the ground, yet they could never see his glowing red form or the crown of fire that forever adored his head, due to the angle of the tree canopy and the sun that rose from the north to set in the south. He stood quietly preparing his battle strategies as below him in the clearing that stretched for over two miles to the north, east and west of his tower, his minions hurried upon various tasks that were turning this clearing with its stronghold into a city.

  A city of all the sentient creatures of the jungle. Soon, he thought to himself the city of the Orc will hold tens of thousands of warriors all trained and armed, an army the likes of which Man had never seen, and he would lead that army out of the trees and sweep away the enemy of the Orc like dust upon the wind. That thought gave him such pleasure, more than he had ever known, and he lusted after that day as he would lust after a powerful female when her scent caught his nostrils. And just like mating, the time would come when he could no longer contain his lust and he would take with savage wanting.

  Talek’ken regretfully left the tower’s rooftop, and his musings over the complete annihilation of his enemies and descended the stairway to the floor below. Leaving the stairwell, he came to his war room where already seated on multicoloured furs upon the wooden floor, drinking blood beer from large curved horns, were the king’s two strongest chieftains, Dor’rok chief of the Blood Rain clan, and Sol’mok chief of the Bloody Tusk clan.

  Both rose as their king entered. With a balled fist they struck their chests above the heart, bowed their heads and growled a low deep sound of their submission. Talek’ken returned their salute and indicated with a sweep of his hand that they should sit. He turned and walked to his throne, a thing of dark power and death magic, it radiated evil and hate. A gift from Dor’rok at his coronation. It was like all gifts he had received, a sign of respect and gratitude, yet he favoured this over all others. Its legs and armrests made from the bleached bones of humans, lashed together with dried and treated human skin, and sealed with the souls of the dead. Its back and seat made from the heads of his enemy, dozens of heads of fallen warriors of Man, with faces still intact and held from decay by some witchcraft. Their wide-eyed look of terror always filled him with such joy as he savoured the feeling of the skulls grinding together, with a squishing noise as it took his weight.

  ‘I am pleased’, he said in a voice devoid of pleasure. He gestured towards the outside of the fort and continued, ‘This is but the beginning of the time of the Orc. A new dawn arises. We shall build again as once our ancestors did. Here it will begin, with blacksmiths and scholars.’

  Dor’rok looked openly confused. ‘Forgive me, my king, I do not know this word “scholar”.’

  ‘They are creatures of learning, with an intellect that goes beyond the cunning of warriors. They are the race of Goblin who hide when there is fighting to be done’, the king said, his voice calm but dripping with power.

  ‘Cowards!’ Sol’mok spat. ‘My warriors make such sport of these weaklings.’

  ‘And the next warrior to do such will be my sport. Fools!’ Talek’ken roared. ‘How do you think I built such a great fort; how do I make such strong steel? The scholars have kept knowledge from a time when we were so much more than what we have become. With their knowledge and the strength of the Orc we shall conquer all the lands under the sky.’ He had risen as he spoke, but now he returned to his throne.

  ‘You, Sol’mok.’ His voice calm again. ‘Will take a raiding party to the west, and Dor’rok will raid to the east. You will take warriors, only the strongest and fastest. You will bring me those who know things, men who have knowledge.’

  Sol’mok grunted his obedience whilst Dor’rok spoke again. ‘What use is all this plotting and scheming? It is not the way of the Orc.’ He shook his head as he spoke, the long tusks and battle scars a testament to his age and prowess. ‘We should swarm out of the jungles and kill all who stand in our way. That is the way of the Orc.’

  Talek’ken looked slightly amused for the briefest of seconds before his entire body suddenly burst into blinding light. Both the king of the dark lands’ generals shielded their eyes with their hands as Talek’ken with unnatural speed came to stand before Dor’rok. He took hold of one of Dor’rok’s large tusks and lifted him with ease, so they were eye level. ‘Fool’, he roared into his subordinate’s face. ‘The way of the Orc! I am the way of the Orc! I am power! I am the future, past and present. Forget your place again, Dor’rok, chieftain of the Blood Rain clan, and I shall pull your heart from your body and eat it whilst the life leaves you.’ He dropped the now cowering chief to the floor and returned to his gruesome throne. ‘I shall know all of our enemy and under my heel they shall be crushed root and stem. Now leave.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Oath

  The clearing was lit only by the faint moon glowing a foreboding red, and the small fire Brother Robert sat beside. Around the clearing stood eight men-at-arms, all dressed for war, all watchful, all suspicious. Wilhelm stood beside Zachary as they looked out through the trees. Silent they stood, eyes accustomed to the darkness and they searched for enemies hidden amongst the dark. Holak, Askia and Gulkin stood together in silence, their eyes ever watchful over the men Robert had collected from the brotherhood. Brondolf left his place at the edge of the clearing where he had been standing alone and brooding and approached Red Rob. The veteran was a grizzled bear of a man in his late forties, with short, cropped hair, a clean shaven yet ofttimes scared face and the nearly black eyes of a bird of prey. He had refused
outright when Robert had suggested that he leave to become part of the prince’s personal guard. It was only when Father Robert of the Order of Light reminded him he had no choice did he begrudgingly accept his fate. He was also the only one out of the five who had travelled with the priest, with a name of meaning. Brondolf, meaning “Brother Wolf”, had no wish to leave his wolf pack, famed for their counter ambush techniques. Knight-captain Brondolf and his platoon were hunters of Goblins, taking great pride in cutting off the enemy’s escape and leaving none left alive.

  ‘Tell me Father, why do we wait here, in the dark, like criminals or assassins? You take me from my duty, from my brothers to serve the prince, yet we are here in shadow. Why do you not take me straight to the prince?’

  Red Robert beamed his never-ending smile upon the humourless warrior and stated simply, ‘Because, Knight-captain, your prince commands you attend him here.’ Before Brondolf could retort, a voice, soft yet with authority, came out from the dark and behind it walked a man of impression. Slowly he walked, yet with every step he seemed to radiate a quiet power.

  ‘Because Brondolf, son of Brondolf, warrior of the Order of Light, I would have you hear things before I take your oath.’ Jacob said warmly, yet with an unyielding authority.

  Askia and Holak took up position and walked slightly behind and to either side of the man who had already taken their oath. Hands upon hilts of swords, they eyed the selected brothers keenly.