by Andy Remic
Zorkai had taken the meat and eaten. It tasted good. His mind had been working hard, and he’d turned suddenly to Orlana. “You would bring back the mud-orcs, then?” he’d said.
“Yes.”
“You have such power?”
“Yes.”
“What do we need to do?” he’d said, chewing thoughtfully, his head full of raging thoughts, of betrayal, and violence, and Empire. If King Zorkai did this, his name would crash through history for the next ten thousand years. He’d smiled and he’d chewed, Shanaz’s thigh meat caught between his teeth, her bubbling fat running into his beard.
In a low, husky voice, eyes glowing by the light of the fire, Orlana had said, “You must round up from Zak-Tan the ill, the lame, the crippled, the diseased, the slow of wit and slow of body; and you must bring together every second child. We must take these to the Mud-Pits. There, I will perform the Rites. There, we will summon the mud-orcs.”
“My people must suffer?”
“We must feed the Mud-Pits.”
“I cannot travel to the Mud-Pits. It is forbidden. The flesh will peel from my bones. Blood will pour from every orifice. I have seen this with my own eyes. The Mud-Pits are a place of evil. A place that is forbidden to mortal man.”
“I am not mortal,” whispered Orlana, “and you will have me by your side. You: the king. And I, your queen. Are you ready for this? Do you seek empire and immortality?”
“I do.”
“Then gather your people. It is time for them to die.”
THE NORTH
It was dawn, and the Rokroth Marshes stank like a five day corpse in the sun. Kiki, riding at the head of the group, glanced right. The ground was rocky and undulating, with several large boulders of black granite; but beyond this short stretch, this rocky natural barrier, the marshes stretched away eastwards, a putrid plain of coarse grasslands and stagnant water. There were narrow paths through the marshes, as used by the Dagran eel catchers, but they were a guild secret and jealously guarded. For most mortals, to attempt any kind of serious crossing of the Rokroth Marshes was a guaranteed death.
“Wait up!” Dek nudged his horse into a canter and drew alongside Kiki. His horse snorted, pawing the rocks as if annoyed at this short burst of speed. Dek leaned forward and patted its muzzle, muttering calming words and wincing as his shoulder stitches pulled tight.
They’d headed east from Vagan, the War Capital, which was now two hours behind them, and Kiki was glad to be away from the oppression of the city. With a nomadic soul, it rarely took long for Kiki to grow tired of a place, and even before the incident with Lars and the City Watch, she had grown deeply tired of Rokroth, and similarly tired of Vagan. After leaving Vagan behind, they had angled northeast until they hit the marshes, which did nothing, if not remind Kiki of her recent encounter with Lars.
“You okay, Dek? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”
“Yes. Very funny.”
“No. Seriously.” Kiki wiggled her finger in front of her own face. “Your nose is bent, you’ve a cut above each eye, bruising to your cheeks. And you’re favouring your arm; a soldier notices these things.”
“Thanks for the appraisal,” he grunted, rubbing his nose and wincing. “I’ll make sure I ask for your advice next time I need a new wardrobe.”
“Fancy. Been hanging around courtiers, have you?”
“Well, I’ve fought a few in the Pits. You get some pompous, rich, arrogant fuckers; a few drinks, a few fight lessons, think they can take on the world. Usually they have a few whiskies for courage, then come and meet me.” He grinned.
“I expect you beat them all?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Of course.”
Kiki leaned towards him and smiled. “I was talking to Ragorek. Earlier.”
“I thought you might.”
“And you can take that look of thunder from your face, Big Man. He’s your brother, by the Seven Sisters.”
“Go on. Spit it out.”
“Well, he’s your brother. He loved your old mum as well.”
She watched the storm accelerate across Dek’s face, and the pit fighter seemed to swell. His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth. Then he forced himself to be calm, and slowly, very slowly, regained control of himself. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he growled, at last, glancing at her with a sudden embarrassment. His cheeks flushed red.
“That’s fine,” said Kiki, softly. “I meant no offence.”
“I know. I know! It’s me, Kiki. It’s just, Rag knew our mum was dying. And he chose to do nothing. Nothing! I sat with her, holding her hand day after day, week after week, and she asked me again and again when Ragorek would arrive. She wanted to see him one last time. Before it got too bad. Before she went away.” He stumbled into silence, and Kiki realised he did not have the words to articulate his feelings.
“Maybe he had his reasons,” she said, eventually.
“Yeah. Well. He stabbed her in the back. He stabbed me in the back. There’s no forgiving some fucking crimes. Change the subject, Keek, or I swear by the Chaos Halls I’ll turn this beast around and ride over the horizon and away from here.”
Kiki bit her lip, and sighed, and stared at Dek. She knew him, knew him better than a brother; knew him better than he knew himself. And yet she did not know him. How long had it been? Fifteen years? Sixteen? A lot of things changed in that amount of time. Gods, how she knew the truth about that! Where was the honey-leaf when she needed its sugar and spice? Where was Suza now, a dark god mocking her every decision? Abandoned by her Love, and her Hate. Shit.
“Shit.” She took a deep breath and changed tactics. “Rag told me about the… creature. The horse thing that attacked you both and near chewed off your arm.”
Dek spat out a laugh, and rubbed his bristles. “Yeah, that bastard. That was one hard beast to kill.”
“Did you tell Dalgoran? He has a similar story.”
“Really?”
“Some kind of wolf beast, with an enlarged, twisted muzzle. Killed the Seer who made the prophecy; the reason he’s here to collect us like bad and rotting apples from the bottom of a broken barrel.”
“You have such a way with words, Keek. You always did.”
They rode in silence for a while, the stink of the marshes in their nostrils, a cold winter wind blowing from the north. Far to the northeast, they could just make out the distant tips of the White Lion Mountains, the huge, unbroken wall that effectively bordered Vagandrak and cut them off from Zalazar, the lands of the fabled Elf Rats. Kiki shivered. Tall tales to frighten small children. Her uncle used to frighten her with those. Until the day she put her knife in his eye. But that was for a very different reason.
“Are you well?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Just thinking of the Elf Rats.”
Dek laughed again, but this time it was genuine humour. “Me and Narnok used to joke about them; wondered what the women would be like.” He fell into silence. Then, speaking so quietly his words could hardly be heard over the wind, said, “This is your bastard fault. I haven’t said his name in ten years!”
“Well, you’re going to have to talk to him.”
“It’s never going to happen, Kiki. I’ll come on your damn mission with you, and I’ll do Dalgoran’s dirty work. But I do it for you, Kiki. Only for you. And you know why?” Kiki nodded. “Damn.”
“What happened with you and Narnok?”
“Let that one lie, little lady.”
Again, Kiki nodded. Then she laughed. “When did it all get so complicated?”
“We were children, back at Splintered Bones. We did the training, obeyed the orders, did the fuck what we were told. And we… endured the curse.” He glanced at her, but she looked away. “Then we took Tarek’s gold and we… we were forced to grow up. Afterwards. It’s a bad world out there when you have a purse full of coin.”
“Yes, Dek.” Her words were soft. “But I want you to talk to Dalgoran. I want you to trust him. He’s a good man. He believ
es in this country. To him, Vagandrak is a vulnerable woman in need of protection. And we are the iron to forge the blade.”
“He’s lost in the past,” said Dek, not unkindly.
“Maybe so. But his heart is in the right place.”
“All men’s hearts are there,” said Dek, bad temper returning. “That’s what makes them so easy to kill.”
Night had fallen, and they’d built a fire within the lee of a huge, L-shaped group of rocks. Distantly, wolves howled. Ragorek, on Kiki’s advice, was out collecting more wood and she stirred a pan over the flames which contained a thick broth, which bubbled gently. Dek had found some wild onions and Dalgoran added beef and salt. It smelt fabulous, especially out in the open air; out in the wilds.
I missed this, she thought idly to herself. The bite of the cold breeze. A night under the stars wrapped in blankets. A harder life, for sure, but a more fulfilling one. No comfy beds, weak handshakes and false back-stabbing smiles. The life of a soldier for me.
But not for long, said Suza, sliding into Kiki’s mind like a snake slides into a sleeping woman’s chamber. After all, you have the cancer; you have the growth beside your heart, and I can see it, Kiki, watch it growing, expanding. Can you not feel it? The pressure in your chest? It’s going to grow and grow and finally consume you. You will die, Kiki, coughing your bloody mispumping heart up through your mouth, to vomit it on the floor at your blood-spattered feet.
“Leave me alone.” The words were soft, calm, gentle.
Why? Why should I? You tortured me! You would not listen, after all I went through, after all the horror I suffered. I was in trauma! But did you help? No, you were too busy running off playing at soldiers… were the men there a good fuck, little Kiki? Because that’s the only way I can imagine you surviving in such an environment.
“I saved the country,” hissed Kiki through gritted teeth. “I saved you! Saved you all from the mud-orcs.”
Is that what they tell you? Is that what you really believe? Her mocking laughter echoed as it faded away, and Dek approached, arms full of firewood, eyes fixing on her and making her shiver.
He reminded her of… a better time. A better place. When they had been…
No.
“When will the broth be ready? It smells fabulous,” said Dek.
“It’s ready when it’s ready,” replied Kiki, a smile taking the sting from her tone.
“Yes – but when?”
“Soon. Stop nagging. You never did know when to give it a rest. Go and sharpen your sword or something.”
She got up and moved over to the horses. Her grey mare snorted softly, dipping her head. Kiki patted the creature, whispering into her ear as she loosed the cinch on the saddle and laid a blanket across her back.
Dalgoran came and sat by the fire, holding his hands to the flames. Dek studied the old general. His hair and beard were white, eyes hard and grey. His face was deeply lined, and by the light of the fire he suddenly looked like a marble statue: noble, erect, unbreakable.
“How goes it, old timer?”
Dalgoran glanced up. “I can still kick your skull from here to Kantarok, no matter how big you are, Dek lad; so I advise you to wire that mouth shut before I knock your few remaining teeth right out of your skull.”
Dek burst out laughing. “Still the cantankerous old goat, I see. By all the gods, that parade ground bellow of yours still haunts me in my dreams! Sometimes, I wake up in a mad panic, thinking I’m late for drill. Can you still do it?”
Dalgoran grinned, then. “Yes, Dek; I can still do it. There’re some things that bastard, Old Age, will never rob. By all the gods, that broth smells good. Where’s Kiki gone? Kiki? KIKI? Can I dish out this broth? Look, you’re going to burn it. Dek, get the ladle, lad, dish it out. She’s going to burn it.”
“You’re joking? Haven’t you learned? Never, ever touch that woman’s food before she gives permission. Do you not remember Jester Scolls? She threw him off the battlements.”
“What, at Desekra?”
“Yes. Admittedly, he only broke an arm, but she’d warned him before.”
“I don’t remember that,” said Dalgoran, softly.
“Ahh, you were too busy running the damn fortress. Although I do remember you had time to sample Kiki’s bread.”
“Good days,” said Dalgoran.
“No. Those days were full of horse shit. Polished boots and shining armour. But I reckon we sure saw off them damn mud-orcs, didn’t we?”
“We did, lad. We did. Listen. Kiki mentioned the beast that attacked you. Sounds like a familiar story. Was its head too long, twisted, full of fangs? A big, heavily muscled bastard, like something escaped from the Chaos Halls, or the Tales of the Black Blade?”
“It took a lot of killing,” said Dek.
“Yes. Ours also.” They pondered this for a while.
“You think they’re coming back, don’t you?” said Dek, finally.
“The mud-orcs? Yes.”
“And Morkagoth?”
“Possibly. There has to be a leader, a focal point. That’s the way the Equiem work.”
Dek made the sign of the Protective Cross. “I thought we sent Morkagoth screaming into the Furnace?”
“We did, lad. But some things are too bad to burn.”
Kiki returned, and her face was sombre. She ladled out broth to Dalgoran and Dek, and then seated herself cross-legged, a bowl in her lap, a thick chunk of black bread in one fist. She started to eat.
“Are we waiting for Ragorek?” said Dek.
“I thought you hated him?”
“I do. And I’ll kill him one day, for sure. But the man still has to eat!”
“He’s collecting more wood.”
“How much wood do we really need? Are we cooking a pig?” Dek stared hard at Kiki, then grimaced. “I see what you did. You’re playing at being matchmaker again, aren’t you? Think you’ll keep us apart and avoid any trouble. Hah!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” said General Dalgoran, words gentle. “She cares about you, Dek. I care about you.”
“Horse shit,” said the large pit fighter, his temper starting to rise. He threw his bowl to one side and stood. “You’re patronising me, and I’ll not be standing for it. If me and Rag start brawling, well that’s between us brothers. But you people come back into my life after all these years, at this fucking time, of all times, and expect me to roll over and let you tickle my belly? No. Not happening. Fuck you.”
Dalgoran stood, and stared hard at Dek. “You need to stand down, soldier, before you say something you can’t take back. I haven’t ridden half way across Vagandrak for this sort of raw recruit behaviour. I’ve come for my Iron Wolves. The men and women I remember were hard, they kept their mouths shut, they did the job that needed doing. All I’ve seen of you so far, boy, is an argument with a brother over a dead mother, a few corpses and a burned down house. You tell the big tale of killing the creature, but I’ll believe the actions when I fucking see them.”
“Yeah?” growled Dek, looming close.
And then Kiki was there, her hand on his massive arm. “We’re on the same side,” she said.
“No, we’re not,” growled Dek, eyes still fixed on Dalgoran. “He’s come here spouting his tale of woe, of seers and prophecies and horse shit. What do we really know? What evidence? Just this old man’s intuition. It makes me fucking sick, the lot of it.”
“Is that how you’re going to be?” said Ragorek from the edge of the camp. His arms were laden with thick sticks, and he let them fall with a crackle. He walked forward until he stood before the flames; stood before Dek. Then he slapped Dek, hard, across the face. Dek’s head came up, eyes narrowed. “Stop being a bitch, and behave like a soldier!” snapped Ragorek, his face a snarl. “You got the chance to change the world, and you did it. But you left me at home looking after mother, didn’t you? You ran off to train with the best army in the world, under the best fucking general. And you fought the mud-orcs, and killed Morkagoth,
and you’re the hero they teach to the little children in schools. You became a legend, Dek. A legend. They built statues of your ugly mug. But not me; I was left out, despite my sword-arm being just as strong as yours. You know how that felt, little brother? Watching you fly into the sky, soaring like a bird, whilst I was down in the shit with the worms. You were fighting at Desekra Fortress; I was cleaning out the shit from Shankell’s Pig Farm with a shovel. And now, your old friends are here and they need your help… so get your head from up your backside and help them.”
Ragorek slumped down, and accepted a bowl from Kiki. Head down, he began to eat, trembling either from rage or tears; it was hard to tell by the firelight.
With a snort, Dek stormed off into the huddle of darkened trees. Kiki rose to follow him, but Rag touched her arm. “Best let him go. Let him cool down.” Then he grinned. “He always was the hot-headed one.”
Kiki nodded, but looked after him into the darkness. A cold wind blew. Kiki shivered. “General?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Do you really think the mud-orcs are coming?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
“Just on the words spoken by the seer?”
“I can’t explain it. It’s in my bones. In my soul. We’ve been at peace too long; the timing just feels right. As for that creature that attacked us… it wasn’t anything from this mortal realm, Kiki, my dear.”
“Well, I hope you are wrong.”
“I, also. Truly I do. I want to die knowing my children and grandchildren have the safest of futures. I am too old to be fighting another war. But those mud-orcs are coming; or something far worse. And Desekra is our only bastion against our enemies in the south. We need to petition Yoon; rebuild the army. We need to oppose them.”
“You think he will listen?”
“General Jagged is heading there now. If anybody can persuade Yoon, Jagged can. We will talk tomorrow.”
Dek stood in the trees, listening to the darkness. It began to snow, and a sideways breeze made the snow hiss against dry, brown, winter leaves. He crunched forward until he came to a clearing, a former campsite. Logs had been dragged around a central fire pit and Dek sat on one of the logs, stretching out his long legs. A break in the clouds above allowed shafts of moonlight to fall through the snow, illuminating him. He smiled and imagined his mother was looking down from heaven.
