by Dean Cadman
“What is this?” the guard asked, looking between Lusam and Vultog. “Give him your weapon so he can defend himself. Or has he come to grovel at my feet and beg for mercy.” The guard and several other onlookers laughed at his derisive words, but Lusam stood his ground.
“I need no weapon,” Lusam said, loud enough for all to hear. He watched as the orc’s face first contorted with rage, then suddenly took on a more relaxed, thoughtful look.
The orc guard spat on the ground once more. “Bah! There is no honour in killing a weak unarmed spoguk like this,” he said, gesturing towards Lusam with the head of his axe. “Take your prisoner away, before I am forced to split him in two just for the fun of it.”
Vultog grinned widely at the guard. “I’ve already told you, Golub, he’s not a spoguk. And neither is he weak. You have challenged him, insulted him, and now he stands before you to answer those claims. Are you now saying that you wish to renounce your challenge and apologise to him?” The gathered orcs roared with laughter when they heard Vultog’s words.
The orc guard, however, didn’t.
Rage contorted the orc’s face and with a mighty battle cry, he raised his massive axe above his head with both hands and brought it down hard towards Lusam’s skull. As the axe began to fall, Lusam stepped towards the orc and extended his right arm. He had already strengthened his magical shield just in case his plan failed, but now he extended the part around his hand a short distance towards the falling axe. He realised that it wouldn’t give him very much time to react, but at least it would help a little. Less than a heartbeat later the axe handle made contact with the extended shield around his hand, and he solidified the strand of magic between the falling axe and the large iron ring.
The massive battle axe stopped dead in mid-flight, and to anyone watching, it appeared as if Lusam had simply caught it with his bare hand. The orc’s shoulders jarred violently as the huge impact travelled up his muscular arms. A look of shock and confusion spread across his face, and loud gasps emanated from the gathered crowd as they tried to comprehend what they’d just seen. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the sudden movement and low clang of the iron ring as it took the full force of the impact.
The massive orc began pulling frantically against Lusam’s grip to retrieve his axe, and when it became clear to him that he couldn’t overpower him, he reached for his knife instead.
“ENOUGH!” a commanding voice called out, and the orc stopped immediately. Lusam released the axe from his magical grip and stepped back, out of the range of the orc’s weapon. He needn’t have bothered, however, as the orc guard fell to one knee and bowed his head to the newcomer.
“As you wish, My Lord,” Golub said, through gritted teeth.
When Lusam looked to see who had spoken, he found himself being visually scrutinised by an orc of truly terrifying proportions. He was easily over eight feet tall and without a doubt the most powerful orc there. He wore a full set of heavily studded leather armour with metal spikes protruding from his shoulders and a helm with two enormous horns attached. His large pointed ears were adorned with dozens of gold and silver earrings, and even his wrist bracers appeared to made of solid gold. He had a large wooden shield strapped to his back and a massive war hammer resting on his right shoulder, which must have weighed at least twice as much as Lusam. An intricately patterned tattoo covered half of his face, marred only by a vicious looking scar which ran from just below his left eye, to his lower jawbone.
Everything about the orc screamed ‘run’ to Lusam, but he held his ground and watched it slowly approach. All he could think of was Vultog’s earlier warning not to show any fear, and he just prayed it would be the right advice. As the orc approached, Lusam could feel its deep red eyes boring into him. No doubt it was trying to figure out how he’d managed to stop the guard’s massive war axe from cleaving him in two. Lusam strengthened his shield.
The massive orc circled Lusam twice, before stopping directly in front of him and addressing Vultog. “What is this, that you bring to our village?”
“His name is Lusam, father. He is a friend to our tribe,” Vultog replied. Lusam turned to look at Vultog in surprise. The huge orc before them was obviously their leader, but Vultog had never mentioned anything about that on their way there. But before he could think anymore about it, the orc guard spoke again.
“He’s no orc, so he’s no friend of ours.”
Lusam saw the anger flash across the orc leader’s face. He turned and crossed the distance between himself and the guard in three swift strides and struck him hard with his fist, sending him crashing to the ground a good fifteen feet away.
“SILENCE!” he bellowed at the felled guard. When no challenge to his authority came, he turned back towards Vultog for an explanation.
“Father, I gave my word of honour that Lusam would not be harmed here. As you’ve just witnessed, Golub challenged his right to enter our village as a tribe equal, and Lusam passed that challenge. He has earned…”
“HE HAS EARNED NOTHING! HE IS NOT AN ORC!” his father bellowed angrily. Vultog remained silent and bowed his head. The orc leader locked eyes with Lusam, as if in challenge, but Lusam didn’t look away. He refused to bring even more dishonour down on Vultog by making it appear that he’d chosen to befriend a weakling. From what Vultog had previously told him, his failure to complete The Right of Ascension quest would already result in a great deal of dishonour for him in the eyes of his tribe. The last thing Lusam wanted to do was to add even more to it.
The orc leader stared at him for what seemed like a very long time before he spoke again. But when he did, his words caused gasps of surprise from the gathered orcs.
“My son, Vultog, claims you are a friend to my tribe. And I did see you answer the challenge of strength with my own eyes… but you are not an orc. Although I will not dishonour him by killing you now…”
“Father…” Vultog pleaded.
“SILENCE!”
“No, father… I cannot. I believe you should know the full truth of what Lusam has done for us before you blindly decide his fate and bring dishonour on yourself and our tribe in the eyes of The Keeper.”
“You dare to challenge my decisions?”
Vultog shook his head. “No, father, I challenge nothing. I only offer you the truth, so that you may make your choices with a light heart before The Keeper.”
Lusam looked at Vultog and knew instantly that he was about to reveal his own failure in front of the tribe to save him.
Lusam shook his head slightly. “Just let me leave,” he whispered.
Vultog smiled down at him and shook his own head. “They would all know soon enough anyway, my friend. You should be honoured for your actions, not threatened and chased away by our people,” he said, quietly. Without waiting for a reply, Vultog removed the Soul Stone knife from his belt and held it aloft for all to see. Then he spoke loud and clear so that everyone could hear his words. “I have returned our sacred Soul Stone…” he began to say, but was interrupted by the loud cheers of the gathered crowd.
He held up a hand to silence them, then continued. “It is with a heavy heart that I must admit to failing The Right of Ascension…” Again, the crowd interrupted him, but this time with gasps of disbelief and whispered murmurings. Vultog waited for them to calm down before continuing. “The precise details I will reveal later during The Ceremony of Truth, but suffice to say, I lost possession of the Soul Stone to the faeries. Lusam not only helped me escape capture but also retrieved our sacred Soul Stone from them. Without him, our entire tribe would have suffered a great loss of honour, and our standing amongst the other tribes would have also suffered greatly. That is why I am now proud to call him a friend. And that is why I gave him my word of honour that he would not be harmed by anyone here whilst he rests and regains his strength.”
The disappointment of Vultog’s father was clear for all to see, but as he looked at his son there was also a hint of pity in his face. Lusam could feel the eyes of
everyone in the crowd staring at him, but when he scanned their faces expecting to see open resentment, he saw only gratitude and relief. There was one orc, however, who stood out from the others. He wore a different expression entirely on his face. One of self-satisfaction and glee. When he noticed Lusam looking at him, he gave him a withering look of disdain, then quickly vanished into the crowd.
Vultog’s father held up his hand and the crowd fell silent.
“My son is wise indeed to call you a friend, Lusam. It seems our tribe owes you a great debt which can never be repaid. If you still wish, you are welcome to stay in our village to regain your strength. If you accept, we will begin preparing a great feast in your honour.”
Lusam was starving, and at the mere mention of food his stomach let out a loud rumble, causing a wave of laughter to ripple through the crowd. Vultog and his father also saw the funny side of it.
“It sounds like your stomach just answered for you,” Vultog said, slapping him hard on the shoulder and almost sending him sprawling into the dirt. Up until the mention of food, Lusam wasn’t at all convinced that he even wanted to step foot inside the orc village, let alone sleep there. But now with the promise of an entire feast to come, he could barely contain his enthusiasm. That was until Vultog mentioned the consumption of copious amounts of strong orc ale, and the vivid memories of a certain ‘morning after’ in Fairport came flooding back to him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lusam was shown to one of the many village dwellings and advised to rest until preparations for the feast were completed. Initially, he had looked forward to the opportunity to rest, but soon found that his mind had other ideas. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about Neala and the others back in his own world. How could he possibly relax, let alone sleep, when he knew they were still in so much danger. And added to that, he was still no closer to finding what he had come for.
A light knock on the door startled him out of his reverie, and he quickly sat upright on the edge of his bed.
“Come in,” he called.
Vultog’s face appeared around the edge of the door and he gave Lusam a wide grin. “I thought you might be asleep, that’s why I didn’t knock so loud. I hope it’s comfortable for you.”
“Oh, yes, it’s fine, thanks,” Lusam replied. The hut was small and basic, but it was certainly comfortable enough. In fact, the reed mattress was probably the most comfortable bed he had used in quite some time. He just wished that he had been able to get some sleep on it.
“Was there something that you wished to speak to me about?” Lusam asked.
“No, not I. But my father wants to speak with you once you are rested.”
“Oh?”
Vultog grinned. “Don’t worry, he just wants to ask you some questions, that’s all. I told him that you came from beyond The Keeper’s Gate, but I didn’t mention your… abilities. I would suggest that you do the same. I believe my father would be open-minded about it, but there are others within my tribe who might not.”
“I thought he was the leader of your tribe,” Lusam said, slightly confused.
“Yes, you are correct, my friend, he is our Chieftain. But there is also our spiritual leaders to consider, and they would likely see your abilities as a direct affront to The Keeper. My father has dominion over most of our tribe’s affairs, but anything which is deemed to relate to The Keeper or his wishes is strictly the domain of our Oracle and his underlings.”
“But if I can’t reveal my magic ability, what should I tell your father when he asks me how I managed to pass through The Keeper’s Gate, or even survive the faeries for that matter? I don’t wish to lie to him.”
“Then don’t,” Vultog said, shrugging his shoulders. “Tell him the truth. Tell him that you possess something inside of you that we do not, and that is why you can pass through The Keeper’s Gate. The same is also true regarding the faeries. After all, is it not what you possess inside of you which allowed you to remain unharmed by the faerie’s poison?”
“Well, yes… I guess,” Lusam replied, less than convinced by his use of such economical truths. But he supposed that Vultog knew best. If he was so concerned about what information was revealed to his father, then Lusam supposed that he should be too.
“Good, that’s settled then. I’ll go and inform my father that you’re already awake. I’m sure he’ll want to see you right away, but I’ll return soon to let you know,” Vultog said. Lusam nodded, then watched the huge orc disappear through the doorway. He knew that Vultog’s impending dishonour was not of his making, but he still couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of guilt over it. Especially having watched him openly admit to his failure in front of so many, just so that he could enter the orc village and rest. It just didn’t seem right to Lusam, and he promised himself that he would do all that he could to help him recover his lost honour, whatever it took.
Lusam had been left alone in the small hut for at least three hours before Vultog had arrived, and during that time he’d had plenty of time to think about his current situation. It seemed clear to him that his priority should be to locate more of the Soul Stones so that he could quickly replenish his magic reserves. If he could do that, he could then move on to searching for the Guardian book in a more constructive way. After realising the likelihood that much more time had already passed than he’d first thought, due to the lack of any sunset in the hidden realm, he realised that his regeneration of magic was even slower than he had first feared. At the current rate, he guessed that it would take at least several weeks to fully recover, and that was he didn’t need to use any more magic to defend himself in the meantime.
Lusam found that he’d had plenty of time to ponder over things whilst he’d been alone and unable to sleep in the hut. Such as Vultog’s mention of The Keeper, an all-powerful being with apparent God-like abilities. But he’d also said that no one had seen or heard from him in over thirty generations. Lusam had no idea how long an orc generally lived for, but if they had a similar lifespan to a human, that would mean it was the best part of two thousand years—give or take a century or two. Almost the exact same length of time since the Guardians had vanished.
Surely that was more than a mere coincidence?
Could The Keeper have actually been a Guardian? And was that why Vultog knew what a dragon looked like? Sure, Vultog had believed that dragons were only a myth and that they didn’t really exist. But wasn’t there often an element of truth in many of the myths and legends? If the Guardian’s dragon had been seen in the sky by Vultog’s ancestors, and then the stories had been passed down through the generations, wouldn’t that explain how he’d known the difference between a dragon and a wyvern?
It all just seemed like too much of a coincidence to Lusam. The Keeper’s magic-like abilities. The fact that he lived north of The Sacred Mountain in the exact same place where the magical Soul Stones are found—the only apparent source of magic in the entire realm. And then there was the almost perfect description of a dragon, and the fact that The Keeper had not been seen in almost two millennia. No, it was more than just mere coincidence, he was sure of it.
But Lusam knew he would have to be extremely careful in the way that he chose to approach it. From what Vultog had already said, anything which threatened to undermine his people’s beliefs in The Keeper, would no doubt be met by a fanatical response by some in his tribe.
The more Lusam thought about it, the more it all seemed to make sense to him. He knew, of course, that the Guardian would be long dead by now. But the mere fact that he had chosen to live north of The Sacred Mountain—a place where no one else could reach—explained a great many things. The most obvious of which, was that it would have been the safest place to hide the Guardian book, due to the deadly gas that Vultog had described earlier. In fact, now that he thought about it, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that the Guardian might have created the gas in the first place, simply to keep others away from the book.
; Lusam was deep in thought when he heard another knock at the door, but before he could call out for whoever it was to enter, the door opened and Vultog’s face appeared once more.
“My father will see you now, my friend.”
Lusam nodded. “Vultog, may I ask you something?”
Vultog shrugged. “Of course,” he replied, stepping inside the room.
“Before, when you pointed out the differences to me between a wyvern and a dragon, how did you know? I mean, how did you know what a dragon looked like if you’ve never seen one?”
A wide grin spread across Vultog’s face. “I have seen one. It’s inside The Cave of Enlightenment.”
“There’s a dragon living in a cave here?” Lusam gasped.
“Of course not,” Vultog replied, chuckling to himself. “I’ve already told you, dragons are only a myth. But there is an image of one, created a very long time ago by our forefathers.”
“Are there any other images inside the cave?” Lusam asked, excitedly. He knew the description that Vultog had given him of a dragon was far too accurate to only be a coincidence. He might never have seen one himself, but it seemed clear to Lusam that at least one of his ancestors had. And if that image was made around the time of the Guardian, could there be other images in the cave which might give him a clue as to the whereabouts of the Guardian book?
“Yes, of course, there are many images inside The Cave of Enlightenment. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering if one of those images might help me find what I’m looking for. Would it be possible for me to see them?”
Vultog slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so, my friend, sorry. The Cave of Enlightenment is our most sacred place. It contains the entire history of our tribe, all the way back to The First Day. Only members of our tribe are permitted to enter, and even then, only after they have proven themselves worthy. It is strictly controlled by the Oracle, and he would never allow an outsider to enter its sacred space,” Vultog replied sadly.
