by Dean Cadman
Lusam nodded. “It’s alright. I understand,” he said, smiling at Vultog. He didn’t want Vultog to feel bad about having to deny him something which he simply could not grant. Of course, Lusam was disappointed. But he also realised that he could no more expect Vultog’s Oracle to allow him access into their cave, than he could the High Priest of Lamuria to allow a stranger into the Guardian book room.
“If there’s nothing else, my friend, we should go. My father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Actually, there is one other thing. How should I address your father? I don’t want to cause any unintentional insult.”
Vultog grinned. “Don’t worry, he would let you know if you did.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Lusam replied with a nervous laugh.
“You would struggle to pronounce his full title, but you may call him, Chief Vergu.” And with that, Vultog stepped out through the open door, leaving Lusam scrambling to catch up.
Lusam closed the door behind himself and looked around to see which way Vultog had gone. Fortunately, he caught a fleeting glimpse of him as he disappeared around the corner of a building opposite, and raced after him to catch up. As he turned the corner, he skidded to a halt and found himself face to face with a giant snarling wolf. It was truly immense, towering above him on all fours by at least a foot. Lusam slammed up a shield around himself and froze to the spot, as the enormous wolf snarled menacingly only inches away from his face. Its lips curled back over its huge fangs and drool dripped from its massive jaws onto the ground below. Lusam heard the rapid footfalls of someone approaching, but he dared not move his head to see who it was.
“SHUM! … NO!” Vultog’s voice bellowed. The giant beast flinched and turned towards his voice, then swung its head back towards Lusam and sniffed at him.
“Food?” Lusam heard the wolf say clearly in his mind.
“No… not food. Friend,” Vultog said, forcefully. The wolf looked up at him for a moment, then back at Lusam, before sneezing in disgust and skulking off in the opposite direction.
Lusam laughed nervously as he watched the massive creature leave. “That’s one heck of a pet you have there,” he said, jokingly. “What does it eat? Apart from humans, that is.”
Vultog chuckled. “Shum is harmless… mostly. He’s just not that smart.”
“Not smart? I just heard him speak,” Lusam protested. Vultog gave him a strange look as if he didn’t understand what he’d just said. “In my mind,” Lusam clarified. “I heard him speak in my mind.”
Vultog shrugged and continued to stare at him strangely. “How else would you hear an animal speak?” he asked, looking a little confused.
“Wait… what? You mean you can hear other animals speak too?”
“You really are a strange one, my friend,” Vultog said, shaking his head to himself and chuckling. “Anyone would think you’d never heard an animal speak before.”
“I haven’t,” Lusam replied. “Well, apart from the crabs on the beach that is, but I thought I was only dreaming that. And, I suppose there was Alicia’s dog, Mouse, but I didn’t really hear him speak, she just told me that he could…”
Vultog laughed loudly and shook his head. “Come on, let’s go, before my father sends out a hunting party after us,” he said, turning and walking away. Lusam rushed to catch up with him, unwilling to risk any more chance encounters with giant wolves, or Aysha knows what else.
Lusam expected Vultog to lead him to a building of some sorts, but instead, they found themselves approaching a large open area of the village. A large fire was burning in the centre of the clearing and around it, dozens of orcs were sitting on what looked like giant logs. As they got closer, Lusam could see that the long logs were actually tree trunks that had been worked into individual seats, each one equally spaced to the next. Lusam located Chief Vergu easily with his extravagant armour and large spiked shoulders and followed Vultog over to where he was sitting.
A sudden movement out of the corner of Lusam’s eye caught his attention, and when he turned to see what it was, his pulse quickened. It was another of the giant wolves, and at first, he thought it was loose and heading his way. But as his mind processed what he was seeing, he realised that the wolf actually had an orc on its back.
“You actually ride those things?” Lusam asked, pausing to gawp at the spectacle.
“Of course. What else would you do with a riding-wolf?” Vultog replied, shaking his head again. Lusam couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to ride such a beast, but the sudden thought of having to kick it in the ribs to make it move quickly made him change his mind. After all, getting nipped by a disgruntled horse was one thing, but upsetting a beast like that was quite another.
When Lusam turned back towards the gathering he found that he had somehow become the focus of everyone’s attention, and it made him feel more than a little uncomfortable as he approached them with Vultog.
“Ah… at last, our honoured guest has arrived,” chief Vergu declared, standing up from his seat to greet Lusam.
Lusam didn’t know what the protocol for greeting an orc Chieftain was, and suddenly found himself wishing that he’d asked Vultog about it beforehand. He decided to fall back on what he had learned about addressing the King in Lamuria, and just hoped that he wasn’t about to insult the orc leader somehow.
Lusam bowed his head to the orc. “I am honoured to be invited here, My Lord.”
Chief Vergu grunted and nodded his head. So far so good, thought Lusam.
“I look forward to hearing the story of your tribe, Lusam. But first, we must return the sacred Soul Stone to its resting place.”
An orc dressed in fine silk robes stood up from one of the seats and approached them holding an intricately carved wooden box. His eyes never left Lusam’s face, and it felt like his stare was boring into him. Lusam guessed that the strange orc must be the Oracle that Vultog had spoken of earlier. Vultog stepped forward and removed the knife from his belt, then with his head bowed, he presented it to the Oracle.
The Oracle opened the wooden box and revealed a padded indentation which perfectly matched the knife’s shape. Lusam wondered if the box contained any magic, either as part of its construction, or maybe even another Soul Stone hidden within. Curiously, he slipped into his mage-sight to check and gasped inwardly when he saw the knife. Or more precisely, the Soul Stone within the knife’s handle. When he had last seen it, the Soul Stone had only emitted a faint glow after being drained of most of its magic. But now, it glowed brightly again, just as it had when he’d first seen it in Vultog’s belt. The wooden box, however, contained no magic at all, hidden or otherwise; it was simply just a box.
Lusam found himself speaking before he even realised it. “May I see that, please?” he asked, pointing towards the knife. The Oracle’s eyes went wide when he heard his request and several of the gathered orcs gasped and began whispering amongst themselves. Vultog started to turn towards Lusam with the knife, but the Oracle quickly stepped forward and spoke out.
“No. I forbid it!” he said, scornfully. He fixed Lusam in a hard gaze as if daring him to challenge his decision.
Lusam bowed deeply. “Forgive me, I meant no disrespect,” he said, taking a step away from the knife and feeling something dig into his stomach as he moved.
“And you have given none, my friend,” Vultog said, looking directly at the Oracle. “Without you, our tribe would no longer possess the Soul Stone at all,”
“It is not for you to question my decisions in this matter, Vultog,” the Oracle snapped, whilst meeting his gaze. “Your friend may currently be an honoured guest of our tribe, but he is not a part of it.”
Lusam surreptitiously ran his thumb under his belt to try and find the cause of his discomfort, but instead of finding a thorn as he had expected, his thumb struck a hard metallic object inside his pocket. He knew instantly what it was. It was the second Soul Stone that he’d found inside the faeries’ trophy room. But he cou
ldn’t believe that he’d actually forgotten all about it until now. He slipped a finger inside the small pocket and made contact with the Soul Stone, and a moment later confirmed that it too had recovered most of its magic again. Incredibly, it appeared that the Soul Stones had the ability to regenerate their own magical reserves, and at a similar rate to himself, judging by the amount of power they now contained.
Lusam barely heard the discussions going on between Vultog and the Oracle as his mind raced with the various possibilities. At first, he contemplated keeping the second Soul Stone for himself and using it to help replenish his own magical reserves at a faster rate. But he soon realised there was something else which he needed far more, and that was access to The Cave of Enlightenment and the images it contained. His own power reserves would replenish themselves regardless, given enough time. But he knew that if he didn’t know where to start looking for the Guardian book, he would likely waste far more time in the long run. He also knew how important Soul Stones were to Vultog’s tribe, and with that in mind, he decided to take a gamble.
The High Priest had taught him so much about the political wrangling of the King’s court during his short stay in Lamuria. How one faction would often vie against another for the King’s favour, or to gain a financial or political advantage, often at a high cost to others around them. But he had also learned that power was often an illusion, and even a King could not stand against the will of his people for very long. And even from the short time within the orc village, he could see those same forces were at work here, too. He detested becoming what he had hated so much in Lamuria, but he knew that he must if he didn’t want to lose everything he knew and loved back in his own world. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to address Chief Vergu.
“My Lord,” he said, in a loud clear voice. Silence fell almost immediately around the large clearing, and even Vultog turned to look at him. Chief Vergu glanced up at him questioningly. “My Lord, may I have your permission to speak?”
“Of course. You are our honoured guest, after all,” he replied, graciously.
Lusam bowed his head slightly in thanks, then turned to face the gathered orcs. He knew that if he could win their favour, the leaders of the tribe would have no choice but to grant what he asked—or at least he hoped that would be the case.
“First of all, I would like to thank everyone here for welcoming me into your village. I know it must have been difficult for you all to accept a stranger into your midst. Before today, I had never even seen an orc, so when I laid eyes on Vultog for the first time, I didn’t really know what to think. To my everlasting shame, I watched from the shadows as this great warrior fought off more than a dozen faeries single-handedly, and I did nothing to help him.” Lusam paused, and a ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered orcs. It was a tactic he had seen used in the King’s court many times, but he could barely believe that he was now employing it himself.
Lusam raised a hand and waited for the murmurings to die down before continuing. “The reason I refused to help him was not that I was afraid. It was because I also had no idea what a faerie was. All I saw was a large powerful warrior attacking a group of tiny, and apparently defenceless creatures, many times smaller than himself. Unfortunately, I soon discovered how wrong I was, but not before inadvertently distracting Vultog long enough for the faeries to strike at him.”
Vultog stepped towards Lusam and whispered in his ear. “My friend, you must not reveal that which I must speak of during The Ceremony of Truth.”
Lusam nodded and smiled at Vultog, then turned back to address the gathered orcs. “My friend, Vultog, has just informed me that I should not speak of what occurred next, as he must be the one to reveal it during The Ceremony of Truth. And of course, I will honour his wishes,” Lusam said, bowing his head towards Vultog. He knew Vultog was far too honourable to be complicit with any lie that he might tell about his involvement in acquiring the second Soul Stone. But if the slightly embellished truth could help him retain his honour in the eyes of his tribe, Lusam wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to at least try.
“So with that in mind,” he continued, “I shall say only this. Never have I met anyone more honourable than my friend here, Vultog. And I know with absolute certainty that without him, I would not be here with you all today.” Lusam knew the orcs were beginning to get bored of his apparently pointless speech, and so he expertly brought it to an end with the punchline. “And without Vultog, I would also not have been able to offer your tribe this sacred gift.” Lusam pulled out the metallic object containing the Soul Stone and held it up for everyone to see.
The effect was instant.
Gasps of shock and awe echoed around the clearing, and one after another the orcs moved forwards to see the precious object. Lusam turned to face Chief Vergu and found him already on his feet, staring open-mouthed at the object in his hand. He held it out towards him and bowed his head. Lusam felt like a complete fraud acting like one of the King’s noblemen, but if it helped Vultog retain his honour and himself find the Guardian book, he knew he could live with it.
“May I present you with this token of friendship and appreciation for what you have given me,” Lusam said, choking back the bile as he said the words. When he looked up he saw the wide eyes of Chief Vergu still staring at the object.
“You give this to us freely?” Chief Vergu asked, breathlessly.
“I do,” Lusam replied.
“You have no idea how much honour you have bestowed upon our tribe with this gift, Lusam. Your name and deeds will be remembered forever by our people. From this day forward you will always be considered one of us. Our tribe, is now your tribe,” Chief Vergu said, clasping Lusam’s shoulder. He held the object aloft so that everyone could see, then loudly announced, “Now we truly have a reason to feast.”
The gathered orcs cheered loudly and swept Lusam off his feet onto their shoulders in celebration. “I couldn’t have done it without Vultog,” he called out, but his muffled words were swept away on a sea of elation.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lusam lay on the bed holding his throbbing head. The room constantly spun around him. He had no memory of arriving back at his small abode, but someone had apparently removed his boots and placed them neatly by the door. A pitcher of water called out to him from the bedside table, but he simply dared not turn over and reach for it. Sweat coated his face, and his sweat-drenched clothing clung uncomfortably to his skin.
He couldn’t believe he had done it to himself again.
Lusam would have liked to be able to say that the celebrations had stretched on well into the night, but truth be told, he had no idea how long they had lasted. Only that it seemed to be a very long time indeed. Endless amounts of food and alcohol had been consumed, and at the start he found himself enjoying the orc’s obvious love of revelry. But the enjoyment soon began to wear thin after the first five or six hours of continuous eating and drinking.
He didn’t really remember very much of night before. Or was it the day before? He didn’t really know for sure. The fact that there were no hours of darkness was playing havoc with his sense of time. One thing he did remember, however, was the conversation he’d had with Vultog. Vultog had waited patiently for several hours until he had finished answering all of Chief Vergu’s questions about his own world and how he had managed to pass through The Keeper’s Gate into his. After that, the Oracle had had many questions of his own, but those had felt far less friendly, and he’d been very grateful when Vultog had finally come along and interrupted their discussions. The Oracle didn’t seem pleased at all by the interruption, but he reluctantly allowed Vultog some time alone with him all the same.
Vultog thanked him for his generous gift of the Soul Stone for his tribe, and also for the misguided attempts at restoring his honour. But he assured him that it wouldn’t work, as his chosen Right of Ascension quest had been very specific: to return with a faerie’s head.
Lusam’s stomach churned violent
ly and the taste of orc ale filled his mouth once more. He never thought it possible, but he suddenly wished that he had some of the harbourmaster’s foul-smelling scorby fish that he claimed was a cure for hangovers. Then as the memory of the vile-smelling fish reasserted itself in his mind, he quickly changed his mind again. Just as he was deciding whether or not he needed to throw up, a quiet knock came at the door. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth and speak, nor did he particularly feel like having any company at the moment.
The knock sounded again and then the door creaked open.
“Are you awake yet?” a familiar voice asked quietly.
“I wish I wasn’t,” Lusam croaked, holding his head in both hands. Vultog chuckled loudly—or at least it sounded loud to Lusam.
“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re even awake yet, given the amount of ale you drank. Here, drink this,” Vultog said, offering him a half-full mug of liquid.
“What is it?” Lusam asked gingerly sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun around him, and he suddenly felt like he was about to vomit.
“It’s called Kinori. It tastes like swamp water but it’ll make you feel better,” Vultog said, handing him the mug of liquid with a grin. Lusam took the mug from him and dubiously looked at its contents. It certainly looked innocuous enough after some of the things that had passed his lips during the celebrations. But when he tasted it, he almost choked. Vultog roared with laughter, sending a fresh wave of pain shuddering through his head.
“Don’t sip it, just drink it down in one,” he said, still chuckling at the look on Lusam’s face. “It’s really not that bad once you get it down.”
“Getting it down is one thing. Keeping it down… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t stand so close, if I were you,” Lusam replied, between gaseous burps.
