He climbed the highest pole, thrusting his ax into the air one handed. He amplified his voice and called out, “I have knocked your leaders out. If I wanted, I could kill them. But I would rather they lead! All I want, is for you to follow me. First, we will march on the Greatmothers’ Complex, demanding they help bring us back to greatness. Then, we march on Heart, to avenge what the Titans and the Titanbringer did to your people! We will fundamentally change orc society and forge you into an empire! Stick with me, and we will conquer the world in the name of strength and protection!”
Chapter Thirteen
Tyrosh awoke early in the morning as the sun painted the sky in strikingly vivid pinks and oranges. It was beautiful and awe inspiring, even seen through the dead vegetation that covered her solarium. All the plants were brown and withering away. She had attempted to pull the roots, but after clearing half the room, she gave up.
This dragon had a plan today. Martell was becoming slack in his security over her, thinking her cowed since the old man had slit her Achilles tendon. Now she struggled to match other people's walking speeds. Even halflings in the city could out pace her as she limped through the streets. The Titans had lost focus on keeping an eye on her with her hobbled as she was. She often found herself deep in the castle without any of the empty suits of armor around.
Tyrosh packed a bag, taking a couple changes of clothes and some prized possessions. She didn't have food because the kitchens were watched closely, food was precious in the city right now. The priesthood was lucky that Ogier don't have a malevolent bone in their bodies. They could never turn away anyone who approached them for sustenance. Not even the Titans that Martell sent to collect fruits and vegetables for the temple complex.
While the rest of the city starved, the priesthood ate like kings. Tyrosh lived on a diet of bread and water while they ate fresh salads, vegetables, and fruits of every kind. The once lush fruit groves of the city were death pits of thieves and those hooked on opium now. Tyrosh pulled a large, dark brown coat around her shoulders, over her robes and covered her head with a shawl, trying to cover her ears. She wanted to look like one of the beggars from the fruit groves, to hide herself from the Titans in plain sight.
If it wasn't for the choker on her neck, she would be able to shift her form freely. She may as well wish for a magic carpet to ride on. With the necklace locked in place, Tyrosh could never morph into her true form. She missed being able to change into any shape at will. A humanoid form was entertaining for awhile, but nothing could compare with flying. Being able to stretch her wings wide and catching the wind. A breeze wafted into her room, and for a moment with her eyes closed, she held on to the joy that was soaring through the air.
Tyrosh made her way from her room slowly, the Titans that were usually stationed outside her door weren't on guard. She didn't miss them as she limped down the hallway, trying to appear old and frail. Martell was really getting sloppy.
She admired the beauty of the hallway she followed. Since Tyrosh was limited to a hobble, she had time to admire the richly detailed scenery that would normally garner a quick glance or two, had she not been injured.
A pattern of etchings dominated the theme of the murals on the walls. It was repeated down the long corridor. A great Wyrm, eating its own tail. Inside, three dragons spread from each other, their tails intertwining, making a peace symbol. The three dragons were all different. One was serpentine with yellow wings. It's body a dark green, thin and twisted. The other a monitor, red like rust, fat and slow looking. The last had a crest of silver set like a sail from its blue back. Its body type appearing not thin, but not fat either. They all seemed to be wrestling with the Wyrm, biting into it.
That symbol held a deeper meaning to Tyrosh. She thought of her son and her own hunger growled. She couldn't wait to track down her only son. Even her father, Tryton, wasn't immune to the lure of greed. He continues to chase after his treasure, to the ruin of himself. The lesson was the same, as you mastered each growing period of dragon life, the Wyrm within waited to consume you.
She stepped out into the main hallway, shocked to see no Titans guarding it. Their posts were empty. She hurried as quickly down the hallway as she could, unable to believe her luck. She stumbled out of the barracks, heading away from the temple and into the city.
Today was worship day, the day that peasants traveled to Heart for their pilgrimage to pay homage to Dalanar. She used the cover of the people returning home to cross the bridges over the canal into the city. What she saw filled her with sadness. The trees in the stony landscape were all dead, because the Ogier had left the city unhappy with how the priesthood was treating Tyrosh. This drove the peasants into the countryside, in search of food. Heart offered shelter, but with the plants dead there was nothing to eat.
Statues and dried up fountains were everywhere. Dragons and Wyrms struggling for the world in overwhelming imagery all over the city. Some appeared sculpted into water scenes. Others showed distant lands and peoples. Even the Tuthan, the reptilians, were represented in the stone etchings and carvings. Tyrosh shuddered, seeing a resemblance between her son and the lizard people. Their scaly skin, the light of intellect even coming through the eyes of the cold stone. Fortunately, her son didn't have their elongated snouts.
She shook the negative thought from her head, in the middle of a crowd of pilgrims. They passed her as she struggled to make her way. As they neared the gates, Tyrosh began to fall behind the crowd. She watched in horror as the Titans rushed the stragglers through the gates and out of the city. She turned back towards the fruit groves, refusing to return to the temples. Martell had tortured her enough.
She walked among the dead trees, spotting people laying back against them. The opium addicts smoked from pipes and seemed lost in another world, as her father had when he meditated. Every race was there, even orcs, their thick fur clumped with leaves and twigs. The air smelled acrid with the sweet aroma of burned opium upon it.
Tyrosh found an empty tree, forgoing a seat against its trunk, and choosing instead to climb into the lifeless limbs. She focused her mind, meditating as she found a comfortable seat. As she relaxed, she closed her eyes and visualized the branches around her drooping with fruit. She mustered every ounce of her magic and strength of will that she could, pouring it from herself into the tree around her. She lost herself to time, just wanting to bring life back into this city her grandfather had built from nothing but thought.
When she opened her eyes she saw that the day had fled. The sun dipped below the horizon, sending long, deep shadows through the trees. The darkness seemed creepy and intimidating as it never had in her life before. Tyrosh had always had her powers though, they had protected her. Now she was a frail elf woman, unable to grow claws and teeth. She didn't even have a belt knife. She searched the tree around her, looking for a higher branch to avoid any predators that might show up. She found a nice spot about halfway up the tree, and leaned back against the trunk. It was comfortable, and she fell asleep quickly.
The next day she stretched, yawning as she awoke. The sun was high in the sky but it was cool and shady under the dense barren branches. Now she knew why the opium addicts forswore the city. She watched as heat waves rose from the bare stone of the road and shops. As she climbed down from the tree, she wondered what to do for food for the next week. She couldn't go to the temple, and most of the stores and shops were closed and empty. The few that weren't didn't have the company Tyrosh wanted to keep.
The dragon jumped to the ground, stumbling a bit as she landed awkwardly. As she leaned over, she stepped on something. It squished under her foot, and she looked down thinking the worst. Instead she saw the ground was littered with little tiny fruit. None of it was full sized, but pears littered the ground under the tree. She looked up, shocked to see the yellow green fruit growing from the tree above her. Its branches were a stark contrast to its still lifeless kin. She reached up above her head, plucking a half dozen from the tree and placing them in her pa
ck. She grabbed a few more and passed them to the surrounding opium addicts. Then she buried her face deep into one, eating everything except the seeds and stem. It was the most delicious pear she'd ever had in her entire life. It also told Tyrosh that she wasn't completely powerless. The necklace may make her unable to transform or wield her magic at an adept's level, but she could still use it. Knowing this, filled her with growing seeds of hope.
Chapter Fourteen
Slowly, Hakim came out of his opium fuzz, the world slowly spiraling down around him. It had been a week since he had any food, and hunger was gnawing him deep in the pit of his stomach. It drove away the opium high. He shook his head and opened his eyes. When he closed them, the world seemed to swirl around him, making him feel dizzy. Hakim looked at his soft brown skin, wondering if it would be worth it to eat himself to fill the hole in his belly.
A pear was thrust in his face. A beautiful woman, her head covered by a brown shawl, handing it to him. She smiled while saying, “Here, eat this.” Then walked to the next tree, doing the same for the next person. He looked above himself, startled to see pears littering the branches.
The tree was magnificent, its fruit laden branches spread through its dead brothers. Hakim reached up, picking more pears, laughing cheerfully and tossing them to others leaning on the trees. “Life comes back!” He cried, a sense of joy filling his heart, one that had been missing since the exodus of the Ogier.
No one in the city had realized how much a part of the community the Ogier were, until they were gone. The trees had held fruit for a short time after.
Hakim remembered the pandemonium that flew through the city the first time that brown had shown in the leaves of the groves. Ever since time remembered, there hadn't been any dead plant life on any square inch of the city.
And when the plants had died, widespread panic had consumed the remaining people. Their frantic, negative energy filling the streets. Riots had erupted, fires started. Neighbor fought against neighbor. All was suppressed by the Titans in the name of peace. People, good people who were merely hungry, died violent deaths at the hands of these protectors. Hakim had lost his children this way.
The more the Titans enforced the peace, the more the religious faithful left the city. They were unable to wrap their minds around what was transpiring. They left in droves when the priesthood began to receive food from the Ogier groves. It felt wrong to watch the soulless constructs marching past starving families. But those still under the spell of the priesthood replaced those that left, and so Heart limped on a broken shell of its former glory.
The streets were lined with poor, children danced and played in the roads, and beggars fought for prime begging spots. The Titans were bringing in a new shipment of food, they carried immense crates on their backs. Knowing that those suits of armor were empty, that the Titans didn't need a bit of that food, filled the populace with hate and malice not felt since the time the dragons were feared.
They saw the predator within their midst, though they felt powerless to stop them.
Hakim stayed, hoping to bring an end to the corruption peacefully. One night, he had huddled in shame as a Titan patrol rushed a building he was heading towards. A meeting had been planned with friends and family on how to approach the Titanbringer about the matter of the Titans' actions.
The Titans had slaughtered everyone in the house. They removed the heads of the men, placing them on spikes outside of the home. A Titan had stepped forward, its voice booming through the streets. “We are protecting the fine citizens of this city from harm. These men wished to commit acts of terror and treason, but they have been stopped. Please, let your nearest Titan know if you hear anyone speaking dissent within the city. We are just trying to keep you safe, after all.” The last spike was slammed into the ground by one of the other Titans. It had taken Hakim a month to get up the courage to tear them down.
That's when the man gave into his opium addiction. It was such a good friend to Hakim. He would go lean against a dead tree in the grove. And with one hit off his pipe, life sprang around him as the opium took hold, transporting him to another world. A world away from all the pain and suffering of this life. He gave into his demons.
But today, he felt a lightness in his heart he had not felt in a long time. He looked to the woman who had brought him the fruit. She was dressed plainly in a dirty brown robe, coat, and shawl. She limped along, like a bird with a broken wing trying to fly. Hakim was filled with a need to protect this woman, this angel who had come to brighten lives. He chased after her, offering his arm to help her along, but she stubbornly and silently refused, continuing on her way. Hakim followed a polite distance from her, close enough to protect her, and hear any words she might say, but far enough away as to not interfere with her.
She calmly walked to another grove in the city only crossing the streets when she needed to. She seemed to walk through the dark shadows of the trees like a beacon of light, though she was dressed humbly and plainly. As she reached the center of a grove, she climbed into a tree and sat. Hakim was curious. She hadn't said a word to anyone else that day that he could tell. Only telling him to eat.
Hakim went and leaned at the base of the trunk, relaxing against the wooden tombstone. He let his mind drift not focusing on the past, present, or future. It was nice, and he found a peace that only opium had offered him in the last few months. Memories of loves past, his daughter and son. His beautiful wife.
Slowly the dark thoughts came back. He remembered them, killed because they had the audacity to try and stand up to a dictator who refused to see them as people. Rage began to fill Hakim, and then despair at his helplessness.
The opium in his pouch called to him, and he gave in. He succumbed to his addiction, feeling the sweet burn of the smoke as it filled his lungs. Peace and happiness and tranquility settled over him again. And even though he knew it wouldn't last, he didn't care, satisfied with what was. He drifted to sleep on the waves of his opium high.
Tyrosh sitting in the branches above Hakim smelled the unpleasant odor of opium being burned. She opened an eye and looked down, seeing a man leaning back against the tree. He had followed her all day, like a puppy needing attention. The dragon had tried to drive him away. She hadn't been rude, but she did spend most of the day ignoring him. She had stopped in this tree to try to repeat yesterday, but as she looked down on this broken man, pity filled her heart.
Tyrosh turned her energies from the tree, attempting instead to help fix the torn down soul below her. She searched his being and mind, rudely intruding where it wasn't asked. She found a gaping wound she doubted anyone could ever fix. His body was sound that she could see. His skin was a soft mocha, and he did have lovely amber eyes.
The wound was emotional. Tyrosh saw a crude dangerous stitch over the wound, it spread infection and worsened the emotional pain the man felt. She knew it was his addiction, probably the only thing that kept him sane, and decided she would no longer chase this man away. Instead she would attempt to teach him to live in a balance, at peace. But she knew you could only lead a horse to water.
Maybe Martell was just a rotten apple in a barrel of healthy fruit. Humans may have redeeming qualities to themselves. After all, Amon had gone to study with the humans in the Mouth of Truth. He had come back a changed elf, different in his direct approach and manner. A change that had swept through elven society just as they had lost their leadership. If humans had such great teachers amongst their numbers, they couldn't all be bad.
Chapter Fifteen
The party ahead of Lov began to slow down and stop, coming to the edge of the city. Lov gazed at an entire complex large enough to house an army ten times the size of what was at The Horn. He stood astonished, seeing grand block buildings cut from the very granite itself. They were sharp, with multiple right angles. No edge was rounded. Everywhere banners flocked, proclaiming for one tribe or another. Thirteen distinct flags flew over the city, all with a glaring eye among the symbols. Some flags domina
ted broad expanses, while others covered small pockets of the city.
Lov thanked the gods for sending him The'oak, who taught him everything he needed to know about the tribes. Some would take less convincing than others to join him. The leaf brothers for instance, where the orcs sent their homosexuals. All Lov would have to do is promise them an equal voice among the warrior tribes, and they would come to his support easy. Doing that might anger other tribes and make them harder to crack, but as long as Lov could keep them fighting each other more than they fought him, he should be safe.
The young half-dragon looked to Manatua, another godsend. He and the young shaman had spent many nights discussing the spirit plane. The'oak was a practical shaman, he believed what Manatua said, but thought that the young orc spoke to evil spirits. Lov didn't know what to think. He was just now beginning to realize that everything is connected. If the sun wasn't just where it was in the sky, everything would be different.
Manatua showed Lov how to connect to more than just the physical plane he was on, and the young half-elf had been experimenting with the new techniques.
Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy Page 22
