Fallen Crown (Orc Destiny Volume II) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga)

by Jeremy Laszlo

  Crossing the top of the temple, he passed his gloved hand over the dais and continued on towards the front of the platform. Looking down the hundreds of stairs, he watched as the inhabitants of the city prepared to celebrate the completion of his greatest creation. Everywhere meat was being cooked, and goblins danced and played instruments as trolls and Orcs tried their luck at games of chance. The city was perfection. Of course there were incidents. There would always be those who did not conform, but Gnak had them dealt with permanently. After all… for many to live, some would have to be sacrificed. Besides, a little bloodshed now and then kept his people’s violent side satiated.

  Climbing down the seemingly endless stairs, Gnak ducked into a small door hidden upon the shadowed side of the temple and traversing the dark corridor, he entered one of his favorite rooms in the whole city. Here great columns supported the weight of the temple above, and those who had been sacrificed, and thrown through the great hole in the ceiling above, came to a sudden rest here as they shattered upon the floor after their throats had been slit before the masses.

  Here, among the dead, he could speak to those he wished. Those he carried with him. Reaching within he pulled forth a small ball of light and cast it into one of the broken bodies. The room then began to swirl and when it relented he was in a new room. This one was neither dark nor damp, but instead was lavishly decorated with iron and bones.

  A great chair formed of the bones of giants encompassed the center of the room, though Gnak walked past it to look out the window. From here he could see even beyond the walls of the city to the great winding road that climbed up to the mouth of the skull. Upon the road an army marched up to his gates, but Gnak was not afraid. He would kill them all and then make them dance for his own entertainment.

  Turning, he strode to the opposite corner of the room where stood a great mirror of polished silver. Adjusting his breastplate, he looked into its depths and admired the goblin king looking back at him.

  * * * * *

  Gnak imagined it was sometime that night, or perhaps the next, when he felt the kick to his leg.

  “Methinks he dead,” said a familiar voice.

  “Is no dead. Is sleep,” another familiar voice replied.

  “He ugly Orcsie. Looks his hands. And no ear too!” the first voice said.

  “Is battle scar. Is proud.”

  “So says Orcsie. Lets us takes him.”

  Feeling himself hefted aloft, Gnak reached up and wiped the dust from his eye with one boney finger.

  “You right. He’s not dead,” the Goblin king smirked to Bota.

  “Bota says you this. Now we take. Go.”

  Without further warning, Bota dropped him unceremoniously into a cart as the goblin king hopped in beside him. Gnak felt as Bota began dragging the cart forward at a quickening pace through the darkness. Faster and faster his second-in-command pulled the cart as he was jostled this way and that uncomfortably. Though even so, he managed to roll to one side and seek out the goblin king to see what their plan was.

  “Where take Gnak?”

  “To camp, Orcsie. Chief gone two night. We must hurry or we’ll run out of time.”

  “Why hurry?” Gnak asked.

  “Gathos cannots remains without a leader for long. So fars your captains haves kept everything movings as it should, but the big chief has left, many, many clans with no chief. Now is time for Orcsie to strike!”

  Gnak listened through his pain, realizing that if what the goblin said was true, there might never be a better time than the present to unite the clans. But how could he fight? His body was destroyed. There was no telling if he would even recover. If infection set in, he would be a goner for sure. He needed to reason it out.

  “Gnak no can fight. Look,” Gnak said, raising his all but missing fingers for the goblin to see.

  “Gnak can fight,” the goblin replied.

  “How? All body broken. Take long heal. Maybe no heal.”

  “Chief nots be fighting with swords. Chief be fighting with magic!” the goblin king explained.

  It was true. He didn’t have to fight with his hands. It was much easier to simply touch them and… but he didn’t have to touch them either! He had used his power several times on the field of battle without actually touching anything. Of course… all of those subjects had been dead. Could he simply summon the will from a living creature? Was it possible? If it was, then he could do exactly as the goblin king suggested. He could challenge any foe from a distance and simply take their will. Once frozen in place, he could do as he pleased with them. The goblin was right. Now, while all was in confusion, was the time to strike.

  Rising to a sitting position, he did his best to ignore the pain. He needed to know everything.

  “You say Gnak gone two day?” he asked.

  “Yes, we haves a camp set a few miles south of the pass.”

  “How many clan left?”

  “Almost a thousand Orcs, you were ables to saves most. We lost more. There are three thousand goblins left.”

  “Tell me other clans,” Gnak said, then sat back against the side of the cart to listen.

  “Many clans near to Gathos. Many camps. Many in struggle for power. Some leave soon. Must hurry.”

  On and on the goblin king chattered about the other clans, speaking of their sizes and telling which ones already had new chiefs. Gnak tried to listen as best as he was able, but even so it seemed like forever before the goblin told him the most surprising news of all.

  “Big chief injured bad bad. Some says he die soon. Me hears there aints many who will fight to take his place. Maybe none.”

  “What you plan?” Gnak asked.

  “Take Gnak. Fix this,” he said, pointing to both his hands and face. “Then Gnak unite the clans. No big chief, no problem.”

  It sounded easy enough, but it would only work if he could remove the will from a living host at a distance as had done with the dead just days ago.

  “Gnak not know if work. Gnak no try… live thing,” he said, trying to convey his concern.

  “Then Orcsie should try before we get back,” the goblin king said with a twitch of his head.

  Taking his meaning, Gnak turned in the cart. Ahead of him Bota ran as fast as his feet would carry them, hauling the cart behind him like a beast of burden. Raising his skeletal hand, Gnak summoned the orb of Bota’s will to himself and watched as things unfolded.

  Freezing mid-stride, the cart smashed into Bota from behind, throwing him forward to land on his face. Such was its momentum that the cart continued on, rolling over and crushing Bota beneath its wheels before bouncing forward, its handles catching upon a rise in the stone floor of the pass. With such force the cart moved, that it flipped end over end, tossing both Gnak and the goblin king from its confines, sending both sprawling across the floor of the pass. Though both hit the stone floor hard, neither was injured beyond that of their pride, and rising, they both looked to Bota and the cart.

  “Now we know,” the goblin king smirked.

  “Bota, good Orc,” Gnak replied.

  “Then bring him back,” the goblin king suggested.

  “No. Is not same. Is never same. Gnak keep safe. Take with.”

  For the remainder of the night Gnak walked with the goblin king, passing out of the mountains and into the soil and sand beyond. He fought hour after hour to stay upright, ignoring his pain, even as each movement felt like his last. It was early morning when they approached the first of the camps they would find before reaching their own. Without so much as a pause to consider it, Gnak and his goblin companion strode into the camp, demanding that their chief present himself and kneel before Gnak.

  From out of a tent a massive Orc came. Upon his shoulders he wore the skulls of bears and around his neck was a collection of human ears. The chief of this clan had fared well at the battle and appeared to have returned unscathed. Gnak eyed his opponent through his visor with his one good eye. It was good he would not have to fight the man.
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br />   “Come. Kneel here. Say clan, Gnak new chief. If no. You die here,” Gnak ordered, and pointed at the ground at his feet.

  The chief roared in reply and charged, drawing a massive blade from his back as he came. Pumping as hard as he could, the rampaging Orc threw up sand in plumes behind him with each stride, but Gnak did not so much as flinch. Instead, he judged the charging Orc’s speed and size like he would any charging animal and waited for the exact second he needed. When it arrived, he raised the remains of one hand and summoned the chief’s will. Face down, the chief slid through the sand to his feet.

  Stepping atop the fallen chief, Gnak looked out among those who had gathered to witness the impromptu challenge.

  “Come. Now you Gathos. Gathos good clan. Strong clan. You come.”

  It took three hours for that first clan to break camp and gather up all they owned to follow Gnak. His small green companion collected one of the chief’s bear skulls as a souvenir, though what he intended to do with it, Gnak did not ask. After their chief, none had bothered to challenge him and he was thankful for it. The whole of his body sent mind-numbing pain to his brain with every step. He doubted he could fight if he wanted to. Using fear of the unknown was better. Just scare them into doing what he wanted and leave it at that. Later, when he was recovered, he could bash some heads if he needed to. For now, however, he moved forward with his newly acquired clan behind him to the next camp they happened across. He was pleased to find it was his own.

  Greeted by cheers as they arrived, the Gathos clan rushed out to meet them, goblins and all. Though they met his return with pride and celebration, the looks in their faces upon seeing his condition spoke of things other than cheerful reunions. Without pause a pair of his captains showed him to the shaman’s tent, and once there he ducked painfully inside to find the shaman smoking leaves from a pipe.

  “Gnak need heal wounds,” Gnak stated, as if it were not obvious what he had come for.

  He knew the shaman distrusted him, even thought him a demon, but he also knew that the shaman would not refuse to treat him lest Gnak use his magic on him. Without a word, the shaman placed his pipe aside and motioned Gnak nearer.

  “No armor, must off,” the shaman stated and Gnak began peeling armor and flesh from his body.

  Grimacing, Gnak pulled each piece from his body, tearing away small chucks of flesh as the shaman watched on intently. Though he fought the urge to cry out, upon seeing the condition of his body he could fathom no reality in which he survived without becoming infected. Nearly every inch of his flesh had been badly burned, much of it either peeling away altogether, or cracking and splitting down to the muscle beneath. Here and there a section remained that was only blistered from the human’s wretched magic, but like his fingers, his toes were little more than bone, and every one of his joints was split. Thick blood oozed from hundreds of wounds, and pus was already beginning to form in pockets beneath his ruined skin. He would likely die in less than a week unless the shaman worked a miracle.

  “Orc medicine can no fix,” the shaman began. “Can take pain yes. Can make salve, help heal. But no fast. Will not live.”

  “Gaghf!” Gnak yelled. How could he do as he was sworn to if he died? How could he bring Jen back and make up for his failures?

  “Orc medicine can no fix,” the shaman repeated. “But human healer yes.”

  Gnak snarled at the man’s reference, and despite the pain he jumped upon the man for bringing up Jen after having called her a demon so many months ago. Driving the shaman to the ground upon his back, he raised a skeletal fist to strike the man, but uninjured, the shaman was faster.

  Reaching out, the shaman grasped at the curtain that separated his tent down the middle, keeping his sleeping area separate from where he treated the Orcs. With a tug the curtain fell away and as it fluttered to the ground, Gnak could see that which the shaman had hidden behind it.

  In the back corner of the tent sat a human boy in a white robe. He appeared the size of a human adult, but his features were not yet mature. Climbing off the shaman, Gnak took a closer look and found the boy was both bound and gagged. Turning, he sneered back at the shaman for keeping such a secret from him.

  “Is healer?” Gnak demanded.

  “Yes. Saw human heal at battle. Captured. Bring here.”

  “Why bring?”

  “Gnak catch human, get god magic. Kukta want human magic. Make heal better,” the shaman replied.

  By Orc logic it stood to reason. If one Orc could capture a human healer and become blessed for doing so, why couldn’t another? If nothing else, perhaps the human could have taught the shaman something useful. Though not like this. No. The shaman had planned to sacrifice the boy as Jen had been sacrificed.

  Snatching up one of his blades off the shaman’s floor, he strode across the tent and yanked the small human to his feet. Though obviously afraid, the boy did not cry out. Cutting his bonds and the gag from his mouth, Gnak held up one skeletal hand before the young human’s face, watching his blue eyes widen in disbelief.

  “You healer?” Gnak asked to a replied not. “You listen Gnak. Heal Gnak. Make good. Gnak let live. Give home. Give woman. Give honor. Give pride. Then boy teach Gnak talk human more good. Teach Orcs human gods. Yes?”

  The boy looked at him a long time as if lifeless, his gangly limbs unmoving. Though it seemed a simple enough choice to him, Gnak wondered what it was that the boy was weighing within him. Was it his value of his own life, or something more? Regardless of what it was that delayed him, it was a long time before he again nodded, his sandy colored hair half covering his eyes as his head bobbed up and down. Then, looking up to the chief’s eyes, the boy spoke to him.

  “I am a new healer and your wounds are bad. I might not be able to fix them all.”

  “Is good. Fix good can. You try trick, Gnak kill. Yes?”

  Again the boy nodded.

  Gnak laid down upon the shaman’s floor and watched cautiously as the boy knelt down beside him. Just as Jen had done before, the boy tipped back his head and began to pray as light sprang across the surface of his hands. Holding them just a fraction of an inch above his ruined flesh, Gnak could feel the power coursing through him as the pain subsided and was replaced with an excited giddy feeling that left him feeling drunk and happy at the same time. For more than an hour the boy worked to restore his ear and mouth before moving on down his chest. Another hour, and the boy fainted from exhaustion.

  Sitting up, Gnak found his hands still destroyed, but reaching up to his face he found flesh where none had been, and a new ear and lips now stood where his had been obliterated. Where his eye had melted within his skull, the void was now covered by skin, sealing the wound permanently.

  They let the boy sleep for several hours before the shaman forced water down his throat and rubbed a stinky salve beneath his nose to revive him. It worked within seconds, but even awake it was near three hours later before the boy was recovered enough to try yet again.

  Another hour of healing passed and the boy began to wobble. This time Gnak stopped him, and told him to rest. Appraising himself once more, he found that most of the flesh on his chest and abdomen, though terribly scarred, was restored and the blisters and pus had subsided.

  “Next hands and feet?” Gnak asked.

  “I tried. I can’t,” the boy replied.

  “What mean can’t?” Gnak asked.

  “It’s like the tissue is dead, it won’t heal. Maybe I’m not strong enough yet. I don’t know.”

  Gnak thought it over for a minute. If healers grew stronger as they got older, he could wear gloves and boots if he needed to, until the boy could complete the process. No shaman he had heard of would be able to repair such wounds. Though he was not the fine specimen of Orc kind he had been just days before, the pain was gone already, and he was strong and could move with ease. There was only one thing he could do.

  “You stay. No try run?” Gnak asked.

  “Lorentia lets me heal any I cho
ose. If the Orcs are in need of a healer it is my duty to stay if I am treated well. I would be happy to learn your culture and teach you of mine,” the boy replied.

  “Then is done. Gnak do as say. Make human strong. Give home. Give woman. You teach. Show us way. Know us human gods.”

  Turning, Gnak reached out his hands and summoned the wills of both his shaman and the boy to himself. For just an instant he held them both, pondering the morality of what he did, thinking of Jen and all she had taught him. The shaman was wicked, and was about to kill, when he could have simply learned from the boy. Decided, Gnak returned the orbs of will to both the boy and the shaman, switching them with fantastic result.

  Watching as both fell jerking and spasming to the ground, Gnak waited patiently as minutes passed before gasping, both calmed, clumsily rising from the sand. Then, leaning in close, he snatched the form of the human boy up with one great hand and looked it dead in the eyes.

  “Now you go. See if Kukta live long. Stay, Gnak kill,” Gnak snarled at the disgusting wretch.

  Then, tossing him bodily through the flap in the tent to land outside among the Orc and goblin clan, Gnak grinned as he turned to the other Orc in the room.

  “Now you name Kukta, yes?’

  The Orc nodded.

  “Can Kukta still heal like this?” Gnak asked, motioning to the Orc body before him.

  Watching as the Orc leaned back its head and began to pray, Gnak was excited to see its hands burst into light.

  “Good. You new shaman. Heal Orcs. Gnak come talk much. Learn humans. Learn gods. Kukta teach Orcs. Teach more shaman, yes?”

  “Yes, Gnak. Thank you for saving my life.”

  “Was right choice,” Gnak said, as he collected his armor and left the tent.