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

by Aiden L Turner

  Clan

  Talek’ken, King of all the Orc, sat upon his throne and gazed happily at the funeral pyre of dead men. General Dor’rok, chieftain of the Blood Rain clan, paced back and forth next to his king.

  ‘I understand this not Talek’ken, let me lead the full strength of my warriors against the men now! We shall crush them whilst they are weakened by battle and grief.’

  ‘I have told you before, Dor’rok!’ the king growled. ‘Do not presume to advise me. Do as I order or feel my wrath.’

  Dor’rok was too prideful and too stupid to take heed of the warning. ‘Then permit me to know my king, what did we accomplish, apart from the death of a few of the enemies’ warriors? They have more, much more, and now they are strengthening their position.’

  ‘We have learned many things. How they react to our boar riders charging in formation. How many warriors they can commit to battle in short order. How they stand and fight in the face of fear. Things you cannot comprehend, because you Dor’rok are unable to act above the capabilities of an animal.’

  Dor’rok seemed undisturbed by his master’s admonishment and stated, ‘And yet for all my animal ways, I Dor’rok and only Dor’rok and mine own bloodline will the Blood Rain clan follow. And the Blood Rain clan boasts more warriors than all other clans combined.’

  ‘This is true, Dor’rok, and I am pleased to have you and yours at my side.’ Talek’ken said, suppressing his rage. ‘You have two sons, Dor’rok, tell me of them.’

  ‘The oldest bears my name and my strength. He is a great warrior, full of orcish rage and bloodlust.’ The Orc chieftain held his head high as he spoke of his first son, then growled and continued to speak, his voice now filled with naked contempt. ‘The second, Mor’rok, he thinks too much. His brother and I beat him to increase his strength, but he seems to relish holding his rage inside. Many nights I have contemplated taking my knife to his weak throat, but he is of my line and in battle he has shown skill, if not the bloodlust of a true Orc.’

  A Goblin in flowing black robes announced himself at the edge of the dais on top of the newly constructed tower. Talek’ken growled his admittance to the Goblin scholar who came and knelt before the king.

  ‘My liege, my master. Honour you do me to allow me in your presence. We have recorded all aspects of the battle as instructed. The envoys have been sent to the darkest parts of your kingdom. The Ogres, the Spider Riders and all clans of Orc and Goblin will all be summoned.’

  Dor’rok spat towards the still kneeling Goblin and walked to the edge of the dais to look idly out over the jungles towards the pyre of dead warriors of Man.

  Talek’ken placed a giant hand on the Goblin, engulfing it as the creature trembled before his power. ‘You have done well, little one. You and your kind will have reward in this new world that I, through the Dark Lord’s power, breath into life. And the other matter we discussed?’ the king of all the Orc lands and their servants asked with a casual glance at Dor’rok.

  ‘All is prepared, as you instructed, master.’

  ‘Then it is time for some change, and some sport’, Talek’ken said, his smile revealing huge canine fangs. ‘Dor’rok, come!’

  As Talek’ken led Dor’rok into the open doors of his chamber he walked calmly to his magnificent and macabre throne and sat to enjoy the next few moments. Dor’rok instantly drew his sword as the scene unfolded before his eyes. Green blood splattered the walls and floors. Pieces of Orc flesh lay strewn upon the wooden, blood-soaked floor. Fingers, toes, arms, feet and internal organs. It was as if an Orc had been dismantled in the most violent and bloody manner. Comprehension dawned on Dor’rok as he saw his younger son Mor’rok, gore covered, grinning and holding his elder son’s severed head in his left hand and a large, serrated knife in his right.

  ‘Father.’ Mor’rok greeted Dor’rok. ‘Is this orcish enough for you, Dor’rok, chieftain of the Blood Rain clan. I ate his liver whilst he still breathed, but his heart is still fresh.’ Mor’rok said cheerfully as he kicked his brother’s heart towards his father.

  ‘You treacherous bastard!’ Dor’rok screamed as he charged his remaining son. Mor’rok laughed with genuine amusement as he nimbly sidestepped his father and brought the severed head of his brother up, with lighting speed, to strike with a loud crack upon his father’s face, splitting his father’s left tusk from point to root.

  ‘You think me soft father, weak, like the humans? I am chosen by the king of all, Talek’ken, and by the Dark Lord himself.’

  Dor’rok swung his sword wildly, consumed with rage and hatred. His sword found only an empty space as Mor’rok stepped to the side with an ease that spoke volumes of the contempt he held for his father. ‘I shall end your miserable life before I leave this world, I swear it by the name of Vor’rok.’

  At mention of the Dark Lord’s name, Talek’ken stood and bellowed, ‘You dare invoke the name of the Darkness’ first? You? You who are not worthy! Enough taunting Mor’rok. End this useless creature.’

  ‘As you command, master.’ Before Mor’rok had finished the sentence, he had brought his wicked-looking knife in a wide arc to strike into his father’s neck, biting deep into the spine at the base of his head. Dor’rok, chieftain of the Blood Rain clan shook violently but remained standing. His sword clattered to the floor; a look of defiance spoke in his silence.

  Mor’rok dropped his brother’s severed head and took a firm grasp of the chieftain’s undamaged tusk. Lifting with prodigious strength he took the full weight of his father’s body and begun to saw the inch-long teeth of his knife through spine, thick Orc muscle and out through the dying Orc’s gullet. The only noise Dor’rok made was a gurgling sound as his last breaths of air escaped through the ragged tears that were once his throat.

  Mor’rok dropped his knife once his father’s head had been fully and brutally removed. He retrieved the severed head of his brother and with a bloodied, grotesque Orc head in each hand he went and knelt before his king. ‘Master, for all you have done for me. And all that you have promised our kind, I shall serve you without question, doubt or hesitation, until the moment of my death and beyond.’

  ‘Rise, Mor’rok. I welcome you to your new position, as general in my army, and adviser at my side.’ Talek’ken beckoned to the Goblin. ‘Come here, little one. Fear not. For too long your kind has been subjected to horrors from the Orc, horrors that we shall now reserve only for Man. Mor’rok, let it be known amongst the clans of the Orc, the Goblin are now under my direct protection, and to kill without reason will be to see my wrath. Go now, Mor’rok, take the heads of your kin to the Blood Rain clan and claim your new position. But remember this, Mor’rok, we are brothers now. Vor’rok, the Dark Lord, has risen. And with him we shall rise together, all the creatures of the Darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Search

  Cameos paced back and forth in his council chambers, his face contorting between rage and disbelief. ‘Another dead’, he hissed at Thakern. ‘I charged you with finding this murderer and not only have you failed, but you allowed the killer to strike again. And to leave her body like that for all to see. It is not Elven, Thakern.’

  Cameos had returned from his shift, digging the great tunnel to find a commotion, a gathering of his brethren inside the grand temple. Heated conversation quickly turned to anger, directed at the chief of Elven Earth.

  ‘Cameos.’ A burley middle-aged Elf, whom Cameos had recognised as being one of the lumberjacks, called to him in a tone that suggested challenge. ‘Nine hundred and five years I resided here, in peace and relative harmony. Now during your reign, we have begun to leave this place of peace and worship. Worse still, we have Elf murdering Elf.’ He had pointed to the mutilated corpse of a once beautiful she-Elf and screamed. ‘Whoever carried out this evil deed the blame lays at your feet, surely as if you had committed this heinous act by your own hand.’

  Cameos had heard the words and his own anger had burned, yet he understood the anger directed towards him a
nd so stayed his fury towards the Elf. He had looked around the temple and found Joleata, the new head of the council of elders. He beckoned her over. ‘Joleata, if you would be so kind, would you have her body wrapped and prepared for her funeral?’

  Joleata bowed her head and said, ‘My chieftain.’

  The lumberjack still seethed with rage. ‘Her body! Her name is Stephine, she was not yet forty years of age. I drank with her father on her naming day. Her parents are digging your tunnel as we speak, and you just wish to hide her away. I say all should see what our race has become under your leadership!’

  ‘You would have her mother see her like this? No! You will go and break this tragic news to her parents. Joleata will prepare Stephine for the next step in her journey. The rest of you will return to your tasks or your rest.’ With that he had stormed into his private chambers, closely followed by Thakern.

  Cameos slumped down into his chair and wept, whilst Thakern sat upon the edge of the desk and bowed his head. In silence he waited and without judgement, he contemplated the heavy burden that rested upon his chieftain’s heart and mind, and he brooded on his own failings. After thirty minutes, the chief of the elves regained his composure.

  ‘I do not recall the name of the elf who publicly blamed me, but I acknowledge the truth behind his words. The path I have chosen for the future of our race is changing who we are. I feel dread and despair at what we might become.’ He looked up at Thakern, his eyes red and sunken. ‘Have I brought doom upon the people with my narcissism and ego?’

  ‘What is done is done, my chief. You did not kill those elves, but the people are angry. Now is the time for logic and reason. Put away your emotion for the moment, and let your mind seek those that wish to undermine you. Then we shall find the villainous fiend who murders in cold blood.’

  A knock on the door was answered by Cameos, and Talako, one of Cameos’ most trusted warriors, entered. ‘My chief, I apologise for the interruption, but Elder Joleata waits without.’ Cameos bowed his head slightly. ‘No apologies needed, my trusted friend, and your brothers, they are close by?’

  ‘Tasunka and Tatanka wait in the shadows. Within either sight or sound of you, my chief, your personal guard are on highest alert.’

  ‘My thanks, as always. Invite Joleata to join the council.’

  Joleata was shown in and Talako closed the door behind her as he continued his guard. ‘My chieftain.’ Joleata said humbly as she bowed low. ‘My acolytes are preparing Stephine for her departure from this land. Her parents’ grief is a terrible thing to witness.’

  ‘And the crowds? They are dispersed?’

  ‘They are, but there is a consensus that these murders are signs that the tunnel is a thing of unnatural making. The people believe they are encountering the displeasure of the Mother. In short, Cameos, they refuse to dig.’

  Cameos bridled slightly at Joleata addressing him so informally but made no comment on it. ‘The time for seeking this criminal in the shadows and in quiet is over. We shall lift the rock where this serpent lays and remove its venom along with his head.’

  Joleata appeared slightly smug, but Cameos dismissed it as her enjoying her newfound power as she said, ‘There is but one of your new steel weapons unaccounted for. Find it and surely we find the snake.’

  ‘And how would you know of this unaccountable weapon, Joleata, head of the council of Elders?’ Thakern spoke harshly.

  ‘There is little for the council to do in these beginning days of this new world. And so, I talk with the people, give them comfort where I can. Nothing is hidden as you would believe, not in Elven Earth, Thakern, master of combat.’

  Cameos did not have the patience for this bickering, no matter how subtle they were being about it. ‘Enough!’ he bellowed, bringing his fist down upon the table with enough force to cause pain to run through to his shoulder. ‘I shall send for Macik; he has the respect of the people, and his honour is beyond reproach. We need to make a concise plan on how to catch this murderer, and we must stand united, myself the chieftain, Joleata of the Elder, and Macik an Elf of the people.’

  ‘You may need to drag Macik from out of his chambers.’ Thakern said. ‘He has not been seen out of them since...’ Thakern halted.

  ‘Since the Elven way was changed with violence’, Joleata continued for him, with suppressed anger lining her words.

  Cameos stood. ‘You go too far Joleata!’

  Joleata dropped to her knees in obedience. ‘Forgive me, I am distraught from seeing Stephine brutalised. With your leave, I shall summon Macik personally and cool my temper on the way.’

  ‘It is understandable to feel anger Joleata, but we cannot have discord between the council and the throne. You have my leave to go to Macik. If he is stubborn, you may remind him he is summoned by his lawful chief to serve his people.’

  Joleata knocked upon the door for the third time, this time without patience as she slammed her balled fist against the solid wood door, the door itself a novelty in the living quarters of Elven Earth. Some residences had cloth coverings whilst most just had an archway carved into the malleable yet firm clay.

  ‘Macik’, she shouted. ‘Cameos, your chieftain, summons you. Macik. Open the door. For the Mother’s sake. Elves are starting to stare.’ Joleata heard a latch being raised and the door slowly moved outward, causing Joleata to step back. She put a hand to her mouth and nose as the smell hit her. Ale, sour sickness and psychedelic weed smoke caught her by surprise. She gained her composure and entered the once elite warrior’s living quarters.

  Macik sat on the edge of his cot and motioned for Joleata to take the only other seat, a chair in front of a desk and the only furniture in his quarters.

  Macik was clearly drunk, and high. His weight had decreased whilst the lines around his eyes had increased. He slurred when he spoke.

  ‘And what would the great visionary Cameos want with a failed warrior who has forsaken his honour and waits in solitude for his death?’

  Joleata tried to make eye contact, but Macik’s head was drooping, his shoulders sagged. ‘Why did you aid Cameos in his rebellion against our traditions if you take no pride in your actions?’

  ‘Because he is right, Joleata. And I prayed to the Mother, that by fighting by his side I could die with honour.’

  ‘You know of these murders Macik, the people are being pulled apart, the sense of community is failing. Are you too shut away to know the horrors being visited on our people, by our people? Or do you simply not care, old friend?’

  ‘Friends?’ Macik said looking up into Joleata’s eyes chuckling. ‘We used to fuck in secret, and fun though it was, you made your decision when you joined the council and decided I had never loved you, or you me.’

  She reached out and touched his cheek. ‘You were always special to me, Macik, but I have a duty. And you have a duty now to your chief. Or will you break oath?’

  ‘I shall come Joleata when I am ready, and not before.’

  Joleata stood, and Macik noticed a power within her he did not know she possessed. With complete authority, she stated. ‘Macik, son of Malacil, bondsman to chief Camochee.’ She pointed a finger downward into his upturned face. ‘You have been summoned, and you will raise yourself from this pit and come with me. Now!’

  Macik walked meekly aside Joleata as they made their way through the grand temple towards Cameos’ chambers. Elves stopped to stare, but neither took notice of the crowds. As they came to the fountain of life Joleata stopped Macik and forced him to kneel at the water’s edge. ‘Drink deeply and feel your wits restored.’

  Macik put his face in the pool and drunk the cool waters when Joleata stood and placed both hands on the back of Macik’s head, forcing his entire head under the life force of the Elven folk. Bubbles escaped his lungs and popped on the surface, but still she held him under. He panicked. Drowned in the pool of life was no way for a warrior to die, yet she had surprising strength. Just as his mind begun to darken and his will break, she released her gri
p and took a step back. ‘Breath brave warrior. Breath and feel the life of the Mother restore you.’

  Macik stood, his arms tensed, hands balled into fists, a pure and undiluted rage written on his face. His mind reeled. The fibre of his being ached for mortal combat. To break this she-Elf who dared to impose her will upon him.

  Joleata smiled. ‘Yes, Macik. Rage is a warrior’s friend, and you have been alone far too long. Now there is a council to attend.’

  They sat in council for hours. Many petitioners sought Cameos, but Talako had been stoic in his refusal to allow entrance to any, or even to disturb the council with a request for Cameos’ time. It was decided to find the missing blade was to find the murderer. It was also decided the murderer would strike again so it would be on their person or hidden in an area personal to them.

  ‘So, it is unanimous then? We summon every Elf to the great hall where each will be searched. Whilst this is happening teams already searched will first search the living quarters, then the workspaces’, Cameos said, regret in his voice, but resolved to end this madness.

  ‘Elven Earth is large; the knife is small’, Thakern added.

  ‘And yet it seems the most prudent and only course of action’, said Joleata. ‘But although I agree to this plan,’ she continued, ‘it will surely cause anger amongst the populace; I suggest we use most trusted masters of the trades as leaders of the search and let them choose the others. That should quell some discord and the possibility of yet more violence.’

  ‘Agreed’, Cameos said. ‘And we here shall be first to be searched, and our living quarters and our places of work.’ The chieftain stood. ‘Joleata send forth the word. This will take place immediately. Macik, you have remained silent but for your one word of agreement. Have you any suggestions?’

  ‘No Cameos, I have not.’

  The great temple was packed with all the folk of Elven Earth, and to Cameos’ surprise and gratitude the complaints were few and made with little conviction. Cochise, master forester stepped to the front of the crowded temple. With him Deleif and Akakios, both apprentices to Cochise, and both formidable fighters. Adela, master carpenter, walked slightly behind with one of his apprentices, Elfric. Last of the first group who would search the leaders of the Elven world and the only she-Elf came Yaxkin, master weaver and bondswoman to Releaka. None objected to Yaxkin being amongst the first, on account of her relationship to Releaka, Cameos’ mate. She was far too respected in the populace. Cochise spoke for the group. ‘We would also have Bidzil, amongst the first group, with your leave?’ With a nod from Cameos, Bidzil, warrior of renown and honour guard to the chief joined the group.