by Dean Cadman
Lusam reinstated his weak shield and tentatively sat up, hoping that nothing was broken or too badly damaged. He barely had much power left as it was, and could ill afford using his magic to repair any broken bones or internal injuries. A sudden noise to his right startled him, but when he turned to see what it was, he was greeted by a bedraggled looking Vultog. Apparently, his journey back to the forest floor hadn’t been quite as painless as his own. His blood ran freely from deep gashes on his face and arms, and his armour showed signs of damage too.
Lusam opened his mouth to apologise, suddenly realising that in his panicked state of mind he had only reinstated the levitation spell around himself. Poor Vultog had simply fallen through the forest canopy and tree branches entirely on his own. But before he could speak, Vultog placed a finger to his lips and beckoned that he should follow him quietly. Relieved by Vultog’s apparent unwillingness to seek immediate recompense for his actions, Lusam got slowly to his feet and quietly followed his lead.
Lusam was amazed by how stealthily Vultog could move through the undergrowth considering his massive bulk. He was obviously an accomplished hunter, and it was equally obvious by the amount dried twigs and branches that Lusam stepped on, that he wasn’t. After a few minutes, Lusam began to wonder if it would be the faeries who eventually killed him, or the ogre for constantly giving away his position. Fortunately for him, however, it seemed that the childhood stories he’d heard of ill-tempered ogres had been somewhat exaggerated.
Ten minutes later Vultog broke into a slow jog and Lusam followed his example. Whether he knew the faeries had found their trail, or it was just a coincidence, Lusam didn’t know. But a moment later the shrill war cries of faeries echoed through the forest. Lusam’s heart sank at the sounds. He knew that he couldn’t defend against them for long and when Vultog set off running, he was only too happy to do the same.
“This way,” Vultog called out to him, suddenly changing direction. A moment later they emerged into a clearing at the base of a long rocky ridge. “Over there,” Vultog said, pointing towards what was obviously the entrance to The Serpent’s Mouth.
Relief washed over Lusam as they ran towards the tunnel entrance.
But a moment later when he realised they were about to seal themselves inside a darkened tunnel, with Aysha knows what inside waiting to kill them, and with little magic to defend himself, his fear and trepidation returned tenfold.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lusam watched nervously as Vultog rolled the giant boulder into place across the entrance and the light faded to blackness within the tunnel. He’d only had a brief time to look at the tunnel before the light disappeared, but what he had seen did little to calm his nervousness. It was far from spacious, and he feared that he might have to crawl on his hands and knees for the most part. He had no idea how Vultog would fit through it, but he guessed that he must have used the tunnels before, so he decided not to mention it.
As the final slither of sunlight faded from the cave, Lusam instinctively created a small magical light orb to illuminate their way. Vultog almost flattened him as he dived over the top of his head to smother the light. Lusam winced as his armoured knee caught the back of his head.
“No light!” Vultog hissed in the darkness.
“You can’t be serious!” Lusam whispered back, cancelling his light orb so as not to upset the ogre any more than he already had. He had seen enough of the tunnel when they had first arrived to know that it was choked with spiders’ webs. How could Vultog seriously expect them to navigate a tunnel full of deadly spiders, beetles, and Aysha knows what else, in complete darkness? It would be suicide. They could stumble headlong into anything in there.
“No light,” Vultog repeated, in a whisper. “The death spiders and fire beetles are attracted to it. Their natural prey in here is a type of glow worm, so almost any kind of light in the darkness will attract them.”
“But there’s a kind that doesn’t?” Lusam asked hopefully, in a low whisper.
“Yes,” Vultog replied and began emitting a low constant whistle. Almost immediately the walls throughout the tunnel began to glow with a delicate purple light.
“Whoa…” Lusam said, breathlessly.
“Sparrena bugs,” Vultog whispered. “The whistle mimics their mating call and they begin to glow for a mate. No one knows why, but the death spiders and fire beetles don’t seem to be able to see their purple light.”
“They’re beautiful,” Lusam whispered, as he stared down the illuminated tunnel ahead.
“Yes, and very useful for mining too. We sometimes collect and keep them inside stretched-hide cages with a wind chime attached. Whenever a breeze blows through the mine it activates the chimes and the Sparrena bugs light up, just like that. Once stimulated they stay active for quite a while, so just an occasional breeze is enough to keep the lanterns almost constantly illuminated.
“The Sparrena bugs will give us another advantage in these tunnels too. Their purple light causes the death spiders to glow, which will make it very easy for us to see where they’re hiding. But don’t worry, they shouldn’t bite you as long as you don’t disturb them.”
“Shouldn’t?” Lusam replied, with a nervous laugh.
“Well, they have been known to attack without provocation, but it’s fairly uncommon.”
“Oh… that’s alright then,” Lusam whispered, sarcastically. “What about those other things you mentioned… fire bugs?”
“Fire beetles,” Vultog corrected. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear those coming if we’re foolish enough to disturb them. They live much deeper in the tunnels, but do occasionally venture closer to the surface. The faeries frequently raid their nests for their egg cases, which is why they had so many of them to fire at us back there.”
“Oh, is that what those things were?”
“Yes, and the adult beetles are far worse. So once we start moving we should remain silent. Any unfamiliar noises are likely to cause them to come and investigate further. They feed on careless creatures that venture into the tunnels, so we must pass through here as silently as possible,” Vultog said, in a tone which suggested he thought it might be beyond Lusam’s ability to move in such a manner, especially after witnessing his earlier efforts in the forest.
Lusam wasn’t so sure either, but he didn’t admit to it. “And what happens if we do encounter one of these fire beetles?”
Vultog grinned at him. “We won’t.”
“But how can you be so sure?” Lusam asked, slightly confused.
“Because fire beetles never hunt alone. If we’re careless enough to alert them to our presence here, the whole hive will come after us. And if that happens, you better be on good terms with The Keeper, because these tunnels will become your permanent resting place.”
If Lusam hadn’t already been apprehensive about travelling through the tunnels to begin with, he certainly was now. He knew by the tone in Vultog’s voice that he was deadly serious about the threat to their lives. And given how low his power reserves were right now, he wondered if it might not be a better idea to simply wait for the faeries to leave and go around the ridge, instead of through it. That was, of course, if they did leave, and not split their forces and cut them off from both sides of the tunnel instead. No, waiting was not an option. They had to go through, and they had to go now.
Lusam took a deep breath, then nodded for Vultog to lead the way.
Five minutes in and Lusam began to wish that he’d asked Vultog how far it was to the other side before setting off. The tunnels were thick with spiders’ webs, and Vultog had already been forced to skewer two of the enormous spiders with his knife. Scorched animal remains littered the floor of the tunnel, and avoiding their bones soon became a major concern for Lusam. He knew it would only take a single misplaced hand or foot to snap one of the dried bones, and in these tunnels that sound would echo for miles. Twice they came across the charred remains of faeries, and once they even had to clamber over the much larger remains of a
n ogre.
Their progress was agonisingly slow, and with each careful footstep they took, Lusam strained his ears to detect any signs of movement within the tunnels. His heart thundered in his chest as if he had just run for miles, when in fact, they had barely travelled more a few hundred feet from the entrance.
The relief that Lusam felt was truly palpable when the first rays of sunlight appeared in the distance ten minutes later. It was cooler in the tunnels than it had been outside, but he was still slick with sweat by the time he neared the open air of the forest. As he emerged from the tunnel entrance, Vultog laughed loudly and gave him a friendly slap on the back, almost sending him sprawling face first into the dirt.
“I see you’re not a spoguk after all,” Vultog said, booming with laughter again.
“Thanks… I think,” Lusam replied. He remembered Vultog calling him a ‘spoguk’ in the faerie village, but he had no idea what it meant. He knew it must have been some kind of insult by the way he’d said it at the time, but had to admit that he was curious to know exactly what it meant. Before he could ask, Vultog answered for him.
“It means ‘a coward, without honour’, if you were wondering,” Vultog said, smiling at him. Even though he had started to trust Vultog, it was still unnerving seeing an ogre smile at him like that.
“Oh, I see. I’ve never heard that word before. I guess it’s originally from an older ogre language,” Lusam replied, brushing off the dust and cobwebs from his trousers.
Vultog grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ve never met an ogre,” he replied with a puzzled look on his face.
“But… I thought you were an ogre?” Lusam blurted out, then immediately regretted it, hoping that Vultog wouldn’t take his words as an insult. Instead, Vultog let loose a deep rumbling belly laugh and slapped him hard on the shoulder once more. I’m going to have one heck of a bruise there come morning, Lusam thought to himself, trying not to wince at the pain.
“I’m an orc, not an ogre,” he said, between belly laughs. “Ogres are big, mean and ugly… and they smell really bad too, from what I’ve heard.”
He couldn’t say that he’d noticed if Vultog smelled particularly bad or not, but Lusam thought that the rest of his ogre description fit himself perfectly—even though he wasn’t about to say so.
“So, my small friend… the question is, what are you?”
“Me? Oh… I’m human,” Lusam replied, slightly caught off guard by his question.
“Huu-man,” Vultog said, struggling to pronounce the unfamiliar word. “I’ve never heard of a huu-man before. Where does your tribe live?”
“My tribe? Oh… yes, my tribe,” Lusam stuttered, not really knowing how to answer his question. “I came from the water. From an island far to the east of here.”
Vultog’s face hardened. “There are no islands in The Endless Blue. Why do you dishonour yourself by speaking such untruths?”
Lusam’s face flushed under the steady gaze of Vultog. He had no wish to lie to him, but he didn’t know how he could possibly tell him the truth. After all, the truth was so bizarre he barely believed it himself. He sighed to himself, then met Vultog’s eyes.
“If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Lusam said, in a resigned tone. Vultog didn’t respond, he simply continued to wait patiently for an explanation. Lusam shrugged his shoulders and sighed again. “Fine, if you insist on hearing the truth, here it is. I came to your world in search of something from another realm. I travelled here through… actually, I don’t really know what it was. I guess you could call it a magical doorway. Anyway, I was pulled from my own world into yours and dumped in the sea a few miles east of where we first met. I almost drowned, and would have died there if a woman, no… not a woman, she was more—”
“Like a fish?” Vultog interrupted.
“Yes, I guess you could describe her like that.”
Vultog’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Are you saying that you came through The Keeper’s gate?” he gasped.
“I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s a large sea arch where water suddenly appears in mid-air and falls to the sea below.”
Vultog cursed several times under his breath, and after a few moments of pacing around in circles he stopped and faced Lusam once more.
“Those creatures that rescued you are called mermaids. They’re often seen around The Keeper’s Gate foraging for food, or anything else that they can find. You should know that ever since the dawn of time, my people have wondered what lies beyond The Keeper’s Gate, but no one has even discovered what that was—until now. Over countless generations, many have tried to pass beyond the gate, but most were found dead shortly after by the mermaids and taken to deeper waters to feast upon. Nothing again was ever heard of the few who didn’t return to feed the mermaids, but they were once believed to have been favoured by The Keeper, and allowed to remain by his side forever.”
“But no longer?” Lusam asked, curious as to why the orcs had changed their beliefs.
Vultog paused as if deciding whether or not to voice a reply. But eventually, he shook his head and spoke. “May The Keeper forgive me,” he whispered, under his breath. “Many of the tribes now openly question the continued existence of The Keeper. Some believe that he has simply abandoned us, whilst others believe he has been killed by some great cataclysm in the heavens. A few, like myself, still believe he will return one day, and that his absence is only another one of his divine tests that we must overcome. But whatever the truth is, one thing is beyond doubt, he has not been seen or heard of in more than thirty generations.
“The stories of our ancestors speak of a time when he once walked amongst us. The Time of Ascension, they called it. A time when individuals, or occasionally, entire tribes were chosen to ascend to the next plain of existence. Those who achieved the greatest deeds in life were often the ones chosen by The Keeper, and that is why some of us still perform the Right of Ascension quests to this day. To achieve the highest status amongst your tribe is to guarantee your own entry into The Sacred Hunting Grounds when you die. And more importantly, the eternal blessing of The Keeper once you arrive there.”
“I see. And I take it that you were on one of those ‘Right of Ascension’ quests when we first met?”
Vultog nodded sombrely. “To take a faeries’ head in battle and return alive with it, is one of the greatest achievements any warrior can accomplish. And I failed miserably at it, almost losing my own life and my tribe’s most sacred possession in the process.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about distracting you like that,” Lusam said, quietly.
“No. It is I who should apologise to you, my friend. The battle was already lost long before you arrived, but I simply sought to blame someone else for my failure. And by doing so, I ensured my own dishonour was absolute,” Vultog said, hanging his head in shame.
“Vultog, no one else needs to know anything about what took place there. Maybe you can simply do another, less dangerous ‘Right of Ascension’ quest later,” Lusam suggested.
Vultog shook his head. “No. I would know what happened. As would The Keeper when the time came to weigh my heart. What is done, is done. But I will be forever grateful to you, Lusam, for allowing me to at least restore the honour of my tribe by returning the Soul Stone to them,” Vultog said, placing his hand on the knife in his belt.
“And your tribe won’t give you a second chance?”
Again, Vultog shook his head. “No, they will not. To be given a chance at all is a great honour and privilege amongst my people. One which most warriors will never receive. You see, Lusam, for any Right of Ascension quest to be deemed successful, the warrior must carry with him a Soul Stone of The Keeper, to act as a witness to his actions and deeds. But if that Soul Stone was lost due to his failure, the tribe would suffer a great decline in honour and standing amongst the other tribes. So as you can see, my friend, they will not wish to risk the safety of their Soul Stone on me again. Nor would I e
xpect them to.”
“I take it your tribe doesn’t own many Soul Stones then?”
“No, we don’t, but we still possess more than most other tribes. We used to have three Soul Stones, but one was lost five generations ago by a warrior named Ergoth. His name and dishonour will now be known amongst our tribe forever, as mine would have been, if not for you,” Vultog said, bowing his head slightly at Lusam.
Lusam was very curious as to where the Soul Stones came from. If he could find their source, then maybe he could use them to recharge his power reserves. And although that may not speed up the process of locating the Guardian book—as he could no longer levitate above the forest to search for it, because of the dragons—it would certainly go along way towards making him feel safer in this strange place, where just about everything seemed to want to kill him.
“Doesn’t anyone know where the Soul Stones came from?”
“Yes, of course. Everyone knows where they came from,” Vultog replied.
“Then why doesn’t your tribe simply gather more of them?” Lusam asked, slightly confused.
Vultog laughed loudly, startling Lusam and making the forest come alive with the sounds of disturbed animals.
“If it was only so simple, my friend,” Vultog replied still chuckling to himself. “The Soul Stones can only be found in the land of The Keeper, beyond The Sacred Mountain. Only one has ever successfully crossed The Boundary and returned from those lands; a great warrior by the name of Hagu. But that was many generations ago, and although many have tried since, none have succeeded in completing that journey again.
“Hagu brought back the original thirty Soul Stones and distributed them equally amongst the tribes, but he vanished shortly afterwards, never to be seen again. Some say he ascended in his sleep, others that the lure of The Keeper’s lands were too much for him and he returned there to live out his final days.”
“What’s The Boundary?” Lusam asked, curiously.
